#Towing Port Orange -

[floridafasttowing]

[ofthecaravel]

Brandy

Chapter Three

Summary: A port on a western bay serves a hundred ships a day, and the lonely sailors flock to the Caravel Cantina, run by the Kiszka brothers (minus one). But when their brother returns with a handsome sailor in tow, the youngest Kiszka brother finds his perspective about his family and himself turned upside down.

Tags: Secrets and angstttttttttt, mentions of murder/blood/trauma, big talks lol

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Woof. Enjoy

~~~

Sam made a point to wake up before his brothers, wanting to repay them for their kind breakfast the previous morning.

Usually when he was up this early, Sam was groggy and irritable, but as he tied his shoes and weaved his hair into two neat plaits, he felt shockingly alert and calm. After doing a sweep of the kitchen, he decided it would be nice to pick up some bacon and fruit at the morning market to make his own breakfast for them. He wasn't as skilled a cook as Jake was, but he had somewhat caught up skill wise in their time without him. He felt pretty certain that he could whip up a meal that would earn him at least a couple of begrudging compliments. 

Sam slipped quietly out the door and found himself enjoying the short walk to the docks, gratefully breathing in the cool, salty air and grinning into the breeze. He even giggled under his breath while he watched a flock of seagulls fight over a bagel behind the bakery. This was strange, and the people serving him at the stalls seemed to be perturbed by his bright, cheerful conversation.

"You feeling alright, son?" asked the butcher as he handed over the wrapped slab of marbled meat to Sam, who thanked him and slipped it into his bag.

"Right as rain," Sam answered truthfully. The other man blinked and hmphed, and Sam felt his eyes watching him as he walked away, humming a shanty to himself as he skirted past the stalls. The woman at the fruit stall watched him with a similar curiosity as he weighed oranges in the palm of his hand and dropped them into his bag, not taking his usual route of haggling for lower prices for lemons and limes for the bar. Instead, he pressed a coin into the palm of her young daughter and walked off without giving them any grief about their citrus stock.

Something had changed. Sam felt it inside and all around him. He found his pace slowing ever so slightly as he passed the inn. His eyes were pressed to the windows, hoping to see the curtains in the first room parted so he could catch a glimpse of dark hair and tanned skin. But they were drawn tight, and Sam knew that Daniel was more than likely deep in sleep, so he pushed away the warmth in his face and hurried on, trying not to let his thoughts linger. He focused on the thought of breakfast, of bacon sizzling in fat on the old skillet, of oranges crushing into fresh juice in clean glasses, of broad chests under thin linen…

-

"Christ," Sam whispered as he opened the door, physically shaking his head in hopes it would knock the thoughts in his brain out his ears, leaving them on the street so he could make this meal in peace. 

When Sam walked in, he was surprised to see that both of his brothers were awake. He was even more surprised to see Josh's standoffish stance at the oven with his arms crossed and glaring a searing look at Jake, who stood by his door with a similarly frustrated look.

"Hey," Sam greeted weakly, the words barely cutting through the silent tension in the air. 

"Sam-" Jake started, looking away from Josh to catch Sam's eye. He looked tired.

"Tell him." Josh said firmly, his usually sweet voice sour and rough. Sam startled at it, quietly setting his bag on the kitchen table and looking between them in confusion.

"What's going on?" Sam asked nervously, his heart thrumming anxiously in his chest. Any feelings of easygoing he had been riding that morning disappeared in an instant as he watched Jake shake his head and look at the ground, his tangled hair obscuring his unshaven face.

"Tell him, Jake," Josh repeated, emotion thick in his throat. "He deserves to know."

"Josh," Jake whispered, his usually confident voice jarringly weak. "I-"

"Or I can tell him," Josh cut in, resting a hand on the counter and angling his body towards Sam. He was all sharp edges and fiery focus and it was starting to scare Sam. "Sam, last night, when you were with Daniel. Tell me what he said about the ship."

"Josh." Jake looked up again, and his round eyes were watering. 

"Uh," Sam faltered as he always did when he wasn't sure which brother's team he was supposed to be on. "He said he was hired a few months ago. He...does the crew's hair. He said he'd give me a tour."

Sam laughed a little, but it wasn't received by either of the twins. 

"The name," Josh snapped. "The name of the ship. What did he call it?"

"Barbarian," Sam recalled, growing more confused by the second. "The Barbarian. Why?"

"It's just, it's funny you say that," Josh laughed tersely and without humor. "Because, you see, when I was talking to Jake, he said their ship was called The Broken Bell."

Sam blinked. Jake scoffed and shook his head but said nothing, chewing on his lip as anger curled off of Josh's small frame. 

"Oh," Sam said. "I...I'm lost."

"So was I," Josh went on, his voice rising as he began to gesture wildly. "See, I asked him about it, and the motherfucker can't seem to give me a straight answer about anything. I started asking questions. I thought I had that luxury, what with the sharing the womb and life and all, but still nothing. Can you believe that shit? So I've been thinking about it. Trying to figure it out. When you were out just now, Sammy, did you see any new ships in the port?"

"No," Sam answered, thinking hard about it. "Not that I remember. What do-"

"So where's Jake's ship docked?"

Sam stood there dumbly as his mind raced, trying to follow the manic string that Josh was pulling him by. The thing that scared Sam the most about this conversation was Jake's silence. Jake was never one to go down without a fight if he felt he was in the right.

"Jake?" Sam asked. Jake didn't meet his eye, still focused on the floor. "Where's your ship?"

"I could give a fuck," Josh interjected, smacking his palm against the table. "Sam, why wouldn't Jake want his ship to be seen?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, his thoughts too jumbled and anxious to do any critical thinking.

"What kind of ships don't want to be seen, Sam?"

Suddenly, there was an answer in Sam's mind. It sank straight through to his stomach, dropping like a rock into a cold sea. He could feel his body temperature drop as he stared down his brother. 

His big brother, whose every move he had copied up until the age of 17. 

Jake. 

Jake, who would never lie about the big things. The things that mattered. 

But as Sam stared at his brother, he couldn't push away the nagging feeling that clawed its way through his heart and into his head. A feeling that he'd been diminishing for a year now. A feeling that, for some reason, Jake wasn't telling them the whole story of his time out at sea. A feeling that there might be reasons that Jake never wrote about certain, glaring details of his job. 

"Pirate ships," Sam breathed, heaving out a bitter laugh when Jake flinched at his words. 

"Pirate ships," Josh echoed, his anger fizzling into a sullen upset as they glared at Jake wilting in the doorway. "Ships that change names. Can't be spoken about. Even to family."

"You don't understand," Jake finally whispered, his eyes flashing as he finally made eye contact. "You don't understand the danger this puts you in. I'm risking enough as it is to see you guys. I'm putting my men in considerable danger just by being here. They don't get the luxury of being out in the daylight on the off chance that someone somehow knows who they are. What they do."

"What do you do, Jake?" Sam asked, his voice quivering. Jake was silent, running his fingers through his hair and looking out the window as he swallowed hard. 

"What I do is show up for you," Jake replied coldly. "Isn't that enough? I'm here, I'm safe. I have it under control."

"Is this what you've been doing the whole time?" Sam prodded, his heart an electric pulse in his chest. "You left us to g-to go be a fucking murderer?"

"This wasn't the plan," Jake hissed, approaching his brothers with tensed hands. "I really did start out on a cargo ship. Hell, I'm still on a cargo ship. I didn't lie about that. We deal, we get our money, we move on. It's just...the stakes are higher."

"They're life or death, Jake," Josh whispered furiously, his eyes brimming with tears as he shook his head in disgust. "Unbelievable."

"We were boarded by pirates," Jake pushed on, his own voice rising and shaking. "I did what I had to do to survive that. These are the cards I've been dealt, okay? I have a lot of people's lives in my hands and I'm going to have to keep doing what's necessary to keep us all alive. And, yeah, it's not pretty. You would not believe the shit I've seen. The shit I've...done."

Jake trailed off, huffing a sob into the sleeve of his shirt before wiping a hand over his face and staring up at the ceiling. Josh and Sam looked at each other, emotions tangled in their stomachs. 

"I just wanted us to be together again," Jake whimpered, cries coming out in strangled bursts that he stifled with the back of his hand. "I didn't want this. I wanted to protect you from it and I'm just, I'm so fucking sorry. This is all my fault."

Silence fell over the house again. Jake tried and failed to steady his breathing, looking into space as Josh and Sam's own tears spilled over tensely and speckled their grimacing faces. 

"So what happens when you leave?" Josh finally spoke, his voice barely audible. "We just sit here and make drinks and wait for you to die at sea? Wait around for a blood soaked letter to show up? Wait for some drunk to mention that they heard another pirate captain on the coast bit the dust?"

Jake didn't reply, his eyes still pressed into his hand as he held his sweaty forehead.

"We get people in the bar all the time," Sam started, fighting to keep his tone even. "Who only started drinking because they lost someone to pirates. Most times, they're drunk before they walk in. How am I supposed to listen to that knowing that's what you do to people? To families?"

"To our family," Josh added cruelly. "That's what you're doing to us."

"I don’t know," Jake murmured, sliding down the door frame to sit on the ground. "I'm sorry."

"I can't deal with this," Sam spat, putting his hands up in surrender and walking back towards the door.

"Sam, come on," Jake tried, lolling his head against the wall and giving Sam a desperate look. 

"No, let him," Josh growled, taking off towards his own room. "We need time to process all of...this."

Sam didn't wait to hear anything more, he just stomped out the door and out into the sunshine. Half an hour ago, Sam had found the weather pleasant and uplifting, but now he felt like it was taunting him as he stalked down the street, headed for the inn. 

-

Sam parked himself in front of Room 1, rapped his knuckles three times on the wood, and stood back. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he knew that he was going to lay into Daniel within an inch of his life. His mind was still caught in the storm of anger and fear and betrayal, and those emotions were pushing what felt like gallons of adrenaline through his body to give him the courage to give Daniel the yelling that he deserved. Sam knew he couldn't channel his upset at Jake because he was clearly already crumpling under the weight of both his and Josh's anger, so he decided Daniel was the next best thing. 

Sam heard footsteps approaching the door, and in the split second while the door was opening, he pulled all his fury to the forefront of his mind and prepared to unleash it on Daniel. What Sam did not prepare for was Daniel answering the door shirtless with a cripplingly sweet smile that knocked almost all semblance of rage out of Sam.

"Hi!" Daniel chirped, resting his bicep on the doorframe and cocking his head at Sam. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Sam kept his eyes very firmly on Daniel's own, trying his hardest not to let the sight of Daniel's bare chest and the faint sprinkling of hair that adorned it distract him from his warpath.

"Pirates?" Sam hissed, narrowing his eyes at Daniel while Daniel's own widened anxiously.

 Daniel looked into the space behind Sam before reaching out, grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt and yanking him into the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

Sam shrieked in surprise and smacked Daniel away, stumbling backwards into a flimsy dresser as Daniel sat harshly on the bed.

"What the fuck?" Sam cried. 

"Listen-" Daniel began, but Sam held his hand up and Daniel's mouth snapped shut obediently.

"No, no, you listen," Sam snapped, approaching Daniel while trying to speak concisely through furious, heaving breaths. "When were you going to let it slip that you've been lying about being a goody two shoes, innocent, box lifting, well adjusted gentleman sailor?"

"I am!" Daniel insisted, letting his shoulders fall as he looked up at Sam. "I just, you know. Have some more sides to me that I'm less proud of."

"You're a fucking pirate," Sam whispered angrily.

"I'm..." Daniel's eyes danced around the room before landing on Sam again with a defeated sigh. "Yeah. Okay. I'm a fucking pirate."

"What the fuck."

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel similarly about the whole situation."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Not before your brother! But I'm guessing that just happened."

"You can say that," Sam scoffed, swallowing back tears that threatened to resurface. None of them made their way to his tear ducts but Daniel leaned forward as if they had, concern and regret writing itself all over his face. 

"Sam," Daniel said simply, reaching a tentative hand up and resting it lightly on Sam's arm. "I'm really, really sorry."

"I'm sure you are," Sam scoffed, curling his lip in disgust. "I can't believe this."

"It's hard to believe," Daniel reassured him, taking a moment to grab a crumpled shirt and slip it on. "I don't believe it myself sometimes."

"I just..." Sam sat defeatedly on the bed next to Daniel, all the fire in him dimming slowly with the emotional exhaustion starting to catch up with him. "Why?"

Daniel sat quietly for a moment, and with a sidelong glance, Sam could see Daniel genuinely thinking about his answer. With all his thoughtfulness and the cute crinkle between his brows as he thought, Sam wished that he could forget that Daniel was a lying pirate scumbag.

"I don't know how much Jake told you about his career, but I got my start in a similar way," Daniel answered, hanging his head and fiddling with his fingers. "We were on the same ship, you know. Before the ship was... I was a real, genuine sailor before we got hijacked by these, well, pirates. A real nasty crew. I don't know how it happened but I got backed into a corner by the captain. You ever heard of  Candlewax Jack?"

Sam nodded and Daniel let out a low whistle.

"He was a real piece of work," Daniel managed a laugh, but Sam saw the far away look in his eyes and felt his heart clench. "Just, this huge, bear of a man with this big, stupid sword. God have mercy on my soul, but he bled like a fuckin’ pig."

Daniel's words halted and Sam, already cold, kept his eyes glued on Daniel's profile, which had gone still and shadowed as his hazel eyes bored a hole in the wall.

"I thought Candlewax Jack was still around," Sam said quietly. "He sails near here 'cause he knows nobody will fuck with him.”

"The thing about pirates..." Daniel paused before looking at Sam. "They don't really die. When they're gone, whoever overthrew them takes their name. Their title. The respect of the crew they had. The guy dies, sure, but the name lives on."

There was another lull and Sam found himself completely enraptured with Daniel's words. It was gruesome and disgustingly real and inspired even more anger that curled in his core, but he was hanging on everything Daniel said like it was a story and nothing more. 

"The thing is," Daniel's voice cracked slightly and Sam fought the compulsion to rest his cheek on Daniel's shoulder. "I didn't want to be a fucking pirate captain. I know it seems all badass and cool when you're little, but when you're on the brink of death and there's this living legend who's turned out to be just a man bleeding all over your boots and you can hear all this screaming on the deck above you, it's just not. It's really not."

Another pause. Sam wondered if he could make himself get angry after hearing all of this.

"I couldn't," Daniel breathed. "Everybody knew that. And Jake seemed like the next best choice. He's the kind of guy who knows what he's doing even if he doesn't think so. I knew he could lead us, and so far he's doing a damn fine job of it. Jack before him was always doing the typical pirate pillaging and bloodshed and whatnot, but Jake's not like that at all. I know you're angry and feeling betrayed and you're more than entitled to that, but I don't want you thinking that we're going around swinging swords and plucking eyeballs on the daily. Sure, sometimes our shipments go awry and we need to make threats and...yes, we follow through on occasion. But we play it really safe. We lay low a LOT. Whatever bloodshed happens is justified, for the most part. And it's few and far between. I guess what I'm trying to say is, whatever feelings you're having are justified, but we could be a lot worse."

"Bold words coming from a pirate," Sam muttered, allowing the ghost of a smile to creep onto his face. Daniel physically relaxed at the sight and both men felt the tension melt a little. 

"I know, I know," Daniel admitted. "I'm not saying I'm the good guy here. Not completely. But I try really hard to be a good guy. Your brother doesn't have to try. He just is."

Sam sat with that for a moment as he curled his legs under him and let out a sigh.

"I just don't want him to die," Sam choked out finally, summarizing his feelings as succinctly as he could considering the state of disarray he was still floundering in. "And I...don't want you to die. Either. Yeah."

"Did you know that's the nicest thing you've said to me?" Daniel teased.

"Yes," Sam agreed. "But you're still a liar."

"I-yes," Daniel stammered, his already rosy cheeks flushing again. 

"And a thief."

"On occasion, yes."

"And you're too tall."

"Now you're just attacking my character."

"Yes," Sam grinned cheekily, looking away at the light tapping of rain on the window over the simple double bed. He hadn't taken the time to appraise the room properly, but he found it very simple and unassuming. It didn't suit Daniel very well at all.

"Of course it starts raining after all this drama," Daniel rolled his eyes, standing and closing the window. "Mother Nature is fickle like that."

"You wouldn't happen to have an umbrella, would you?" Sam asked sheepishly, frowning at the thought of walking home in the quickly escalating weather. 

"No, sir," Daniel confirmed and Sam groaned. "You can camp here until it blows over. Then I'll walk you back, how about that?"

"Sounds good," Sam agreed, hoping his nervousness at being cooped up with Daniel in the room that seemed to be getting smaller and more intimate by the second wasn't being betrayed by his face. He found out very quickly that he was not successful by the smug smile on Daniel's face as he sat next to Sam again, giving him an amused grin.

"I don't bite," Daniel purred, poking Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Unless you want me to."

"You know, maybe I will walk in the rain," Sam declared, standing up abruptly as Daniel laughed. 

"No, come on, relax," Daniel whined, reaching out to grab Sam's arm and yanking him away from the door. Sam let it happen, unsuccessfully masking a smile as Daniel smiled innocently up at him.

"I'm having a hard time pinning you as a ruthless killer when you keep begging me to hang out with you," Sam blurted, and he relished in the shock on Daniel's face as he scoffed and flushed again. 

"First of all, the killing thing is usually very begrudging on my part and has historically been- you don't actually care, do you?"

"No, please, enlighten me about your piratey killing sprees. I'd love to hear your justification."

They grinned at each other, and the odd, hopeful feeling returned to Sam as he and Daniel rode out the storm bickering and trading snippets of stories.

~~~

[youroriginalsublimecupcakestuff]

After meursault dazai and chuuya both adopted a cat.

Chuuya rescued a fluffy suicidal cat who tried to drown himself and scratched him when he saved him and who would always found a way to go back to his appartment even when he updated the security so he gave up and named him mackerel.

Mackerel is a spoiled cat and Mori Ougai mortal enemy especially because Elise adore mackerel and he can't get ride of it because it's his executive's cat, the worst is that the cat will play many prank on him and act innocent.

While dazai found and adopted a small and fierce orange tabby cat with heterochromia who have one reddish Brown eyes and one stricking blue eyes the color of the ocean that he named slug.

Slug have beef with ranpo and he had to stop fukuzawa many times from trying to steal him , kunikuda tried many times to get him out of the office because he's a distraction but he can't still he like this cat who can achieve the miracle to get dazai to come to the office on time ( by hitting him and jumping on him).

Dazai and chuuya didn't have many interaction with the others cat but all changed when dazai moved in chuuya's penthouse, well invited himself and his cat over to chuuya's loud disagreament to be more precise.

Chuuya wasn't amused to say the least, especially because dazai haven't told his coworker that he moved out of the dorm and when an angry kunikuda with atsushi and kyouka came to dazai's dorm room because he didn't gave any news in two week and didn't do his paperwork and found it empty with the only news of him that they found was that he was last seen in port mafia territory.

They then all went with weapons and ability in tow to chuuya's doorstep thinking that chuuya and the mafia kidnapped him , to learn that dazai somehow moved in with a Port mafia executive and it ended with them shamelessly mooching on his food.

But the worst in all that is that mackerel and slug would always fight together, when dazai and chuuya aren't fighting for who will win , they're trying to get those two appart.

Mackerel didn't like that the two moved in, he was living his best life, a comfy and soft bed , steak and raw expensive crab with high quality cat food, he's spoiled, doted on and pampered and he don't like to share it get worse when slug tried to play with his favorite toy , his odasakuman plushie that chuuya gave him. Him and dazai have problem too the cat will not hesitate to cockblock him ( and be rewarded for it by Verlaine and kouyou) and don't like that he's taking chuuya's affection and attention away from him.

Slug like chuuya and all the confort that he get and that finally he's eating something else than canned crab ( well kunikuda help for that too) but with mackerel he won't hesitate to throw hand .

But they end up discovering that the others isn't so bad and cuddle together.

[lonestarbattleship]

August 4, 2023 Restoration work on the Battleship Texas

"I am 'declassifying' Hunter Miertschin's 'Top Secret' picture from a few weeks ago.

Atlantic Theater Map Declassified

On behalf of our crew, our colleagues at Texas Parks and Wildlife Department's (TPWD) Cultural Resources branch, and OnAim Conservation, I am pleased to announce that the stabilization, conservation, and partial restoration of the Atlantic Theater Map in the Captain's Cabin is complete!

This map of the WWII Atlantic Theater was painted on a bulkhead in the Captain's Cabin after September 1944 (based on references in the map). It shows the ports of call Texas made during WWII (white dots with anchors in them), where she performed shore bombardment (noted by little explosions), national capitals (yellow triangles), and a few surprise discoveries as the map was conserved.

The 1966 newspaper photo of Chief McKeown, with the map in the background. This is the only known photograph of the map prior to it being painted over.

Sometime after 1966 (which is when the only known historic photo of the map was taken), the map along with the rest of the Captain's Cabin was painted white. That act was not great, but not terrible either. What was truly terrible is a window was cut into the bulkhead right in the middle of the map sometime in the late 1970s, after the map and compartment were painted white. We believe that because the map had been painted over and the loss of institutional knowledge of the map, those who made that decision did not know it was there.

Fast forward to around 2000 when the map beings to reveal itself as the white paint begins to flake off and the map is rediscovered during the planning for the Captain's Cabin restoration. When the Captain's Cabin was restored, the window was welded up and the map was partially uncovered exposing the Mediterranean and most of Europe. In 2009, I discovered the 1966 picture of Chief McKeown with the map in the background, which spurred a lot of excitement about what possibly survived. However, due to budgetary constraints we were not able to perform any real conservation treatments to the map.

This is the map in 2002. You can see Italy, Southern France, and the Mediterranean emerging. At left you can see the frame of the infamous window.

The map sat partially uncovered and untouched until last summer. In partnership with TPWD Cultural Resources we hired OnAim Conservation to stabilize the remaining paint on the bulkhead, just prior to the tow to Galveston. This initial step preserved what remained and protected it from any vibrations from the tow and/or shipyard work. It also set the stage for uncovering the rest of the map and recreating the missing sections.

This is the map in 2011. During the 2002-2003 Captain's Cabin restoration, it was partially uncovered. But work stopped out of fear of damaging the map further.

All through July 2023, the incredibly talented husband and wife team of Zak Miano and Ariane Roesch (who own OnAim Conservation), with the expertise and hard work of artist and conservator Bob Pringle, performed the tedious work of uncovering the map by removing the remaining white paint, revealing that much more of the map survived than anyone thought. They also discovered that whoever painted the map, had painted the State of Texas in Africa in burnt orange!

This is the map as it appears today. The gloss is from Damar varnish that was used by OnAim to protect the paint and bad lighting.

Europe afte the remaining remnants of white overpaint was removed and the the destroyed sections of Spain and North Africa were recreated. You can see the explosions where the ship did shore bombardment at N. Africa, Normandy, and Southern France.

We made the decision to use French Morocco as Morocco was a 'protectorate' of France and French Morroco showed on a lot of 1940s maps.

Once the map was uncovered, OnAim added Kati Ozanic-Lemberger to the team to recreate the destroyed section and features of the map. In consultation with TPWD Cultural Resources, it was a unanimous decision to touch up the paint of the surviving sections of the map, fill in and blend in missing areas within surviving sections, and recreate the large missing sections. We made this decision for two main reasons, 1) it would preserve the existing map longer 2) it would allow us to tell the story of what happened to this map. The artistry of OnAim is phenomenal in how they blended the recreated areas of the map with the original, infilled and blended missing patches, and emphasized the surviving features that were being last. The map blew me away, but the skill of these folks was just as impressive.

The big surprise: TEXAS!

The Eastern seaboard of N. America, with all of Texas's Dec 7, 1941 to September 1944 ports of call. Another discovery OnAim made was the remnants of 'North'. THis do not show in the 1966 photo, Referencing period maps, we opted to infill the missing sections of 'North' and create 'North Atlantic Ocean'. As that seemed the most logical as to what was there -there was no 'South'. Because this was largely on the destroyed section we would not be harming the original map.

The faded areas are what survived of 'North'. The more solid and brighter blue is what was infilled. Same with the gray for the oceans.

I also want to add that Ariane, Kati, Bob, and Zach were working directly under the work going on the Signal Bridge. They performed their magic while having to deal with the sounds of needle guns, grinders, hammers, et al, right above their heads and occasionally getting smoked out from welding and cutting smoke that would get sucked into Captain's Cabin. How they kept steady hands and focus amid the normal cacophony of a shipyard environment is astounding.

Custom matching and blending colors

The detail work....

Bob and Katie recreating the destroyed section of the map.

The on OnAm team: Kati, Ariane, Zak, and Bob

As to the future of the map, we plan to have it on exhibit in the Captain's Cabin shortly after we reopen and are planning to incorporate it into an AR experience."

Posted by Travis Davis on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link

[samabigailalan]

💫 favourite drink, favourite way to unwind after a long day, and favourite Teslen headcannon!

1. favourite drink

non alcoholic probably fresh orange juice, alcoholic port and lemonade.

2. Favourite way to unwind after a long day

Depends what kind of day I had. I do love walking if I have a lot of pent up energy, especially around forests or countryside and Usually with my dog or sister in tow.

Otherwise there’s nothing better then getting into Pyjamas, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea and blanket to keep me warm and watching a show I have probably watched for the hundredth time, (I promise it’s not always sanctuary) 😆

3. Favourite Teslen headcannon

Oh boy! I have to think about that one.

Ok nikola refuses to talk to women wearing pearls because of Helen.

drawing from the real life Nikola Tesla he didn’t talk to women wearing pearls also he dislikes women wearing less feminine clothes, I thought this is all because of Helen.

At some point He was so fed up with Helen not seeing him as someone she could love and it was probably around the time nikola started swearing off women for work, He loved everything about Helen up until this point.

back at Oxford he new she rebuffed his advances because of her engagement to John, then it made sense to nikola that she wouldn’t see him with any more potential then a friend after the ripper business, she was grieving. But some where down the line he decided that it had been enough time and she should start noticing his advances, because you know why would she not.

Probably at some point he tried get her attention or ask her to dinner but his behaviour probably ended in another argument Helen storming out accusing him of being insufferable. That last encounter left an imprint in his mind, a perfect image her in fashionably smart women’s trousers long coat and wearing pearls.

He decided that women weren’t worth his time (and by women I mean Helen). she was a far cry from the women he had met at Oxford, the first and probably only women he had ever loved and tried to convince himself that this wasn’t that helen anymore. that she had changed.

But we all know he never stopped loving her.

I think I explained that right, hope it makes sense anyway.

Thanks for the ask ❤️

[skylarstabat]

He was General Solomon Arya. And as blood trickled from the gash on his forehead, he knew that his once great name had faded into nothing.

That girl, that disgrace that sat upon the throne, was a horror beyond belief to face on the field of battle. The small nation of Sieri Lycar could not afford the size of mutiny he commanded, this he knew. Once they turned against the crown, it was only a battle that would last a week, maybe two, before it claimed the crown, and the bitch’s head that it sat crookedly atop. After that, Arya would rule, and they would continue the Great Conquest on this brave new world. The United Kingdom had been missing its monarch and much of its parliament for some time. Sieri Lycar would step in, fill the vacuum, and carry on East. The Conquest renewed.

A day passed. Only one. And the Rebel General’s easy campaign vanished behind the smoke billowing from sunken ships that never had a chance to leave port. Rivers of blood cascaded down the cobblestone, soaking the soles of the Genera’s boots. The rules of War were broken by a combatant who boasted the strength of gods and made a mockery of prudent positioning by willing herself to any corner of the field that she so chose. Even worse still: there were two of them, these Raptyr. One combatant armed with the spear that killed the Lycari’s great king, and another who cut her teeth on an endless turf war with a wolf the size of a large horse by her side. Yes, they had infantry of their own to protect them…but they only flowed with momentum made by those two horrors.

The Queen and her companion savagely cut down the rebels until they fled for the navy yards, hoping to set sail on ships that were struck down by a spear that pushed through iron like a sheer veil before returning to its wielder as if called, only to be thrown again.

“We must get the ships out to sea!” the rebels heard their General say. “They cannot sink them all. If even one escapes, the men on it will live free of that witch’s rule!”

By that time, his inspirational baritone had deflated into meaningless noise that sat on his men’s ears like false hope.

“No,” Garret, his second in command shouted back to the General as they ran through the streets with the remaining rebels. He pulled the General aside and forced him into the wall of a nearby flower shop. “We must surrender.”

The general scowled and lunged east to the naval yard, “I will not surrender this campaign to those harpies…!”

There was no running. Garret held his general firmly against the wall. “This campaign is doomed!! We all see that, why can’t you?” The words reached the ears of passing rebels and they lost the will to run. Garret was right. The naval yard was miles away from them. It was a mere step through a portal for their enemy. Whatever gates they could conjure for themselves, they could also conjure for the defending armies.

No amount of misplaced faith in a proud general could make this mutiny winnable.

“We wave the white flag.” Garret released General Arya. “We march single file to the palace and beg, on our knees, to be spared–”

Even though the blood spatter obscured his vision, he recognized the spear that plunged into Garret’s back, and out through his heart. The very spear that killed Sieri’s Lycar’s former king, the spear his daughter used to take power and destroy their way of life. 

The spear exited the wound, soaring through the air down the street before it found the hands of its queen once again. “Don’t bother!” The queen called to the general. “There’s only one fate for traitors to the crown.”

The general looked to the shore, and even miles away, the General could hear the screaming. Worse still, he could see the faint orange glow of flames growing larger and larger. The world before them broke like shattered glass, and Abidalla stepped through the fault like a door with the massive beast of a wolf in tow. From the shores to the streets in seconds. She dropped the bloodied insignias of dead lieutenants and ship captains at the general's feet. Just before the portal closed, he could see behind her the bulk of the forces loyal to their queen, slaughtering the rebels like sport.

The general stared his queen down, from one side of the street to the other, and gathered what little pride he had left. “Long Live King–”

The queen lifted her spear and launched it with devastating precision. The name of her father fell like wet, panicked gurgles out of the general's throat through a wound in his neck.

The queen walked the length of the street, supported by her escort. As she entered the street lights, he could see clearly that she was not dressed for battle. She was dressed for bed.

The general remembered to grasp for his bloodied neck, to hold the spear up so that he wouldn’t tip over. But his strength was fading fast, and his knees were the first to buckle, landing in the lifeblood of the ill-fated temper tantrum he once called a rebellion.

“Did you forget that I bested my father?” the queen asked. “Did you forget that I felled him and his campaign? I brought an end to the Great Conquest that scorched the lands of Ond’s Eye, and you thought you could end me with a treacherous outburst? The gall.”

The strength in the General’s hands left him next, and they fell to his sides. But the Queen performed the kindness of supporting the spear's weight. She used the weapon’s shaft to tile his chin upward.  And there, on his knees, bleeding through his throat, did he make proper eye contact with Skylar Stabat for the first time.

“Did you believe that in my quest to leave the war behind, I had suddenly forgotten how to fight them?” Skylar’s disgust was apparent in her voice. “No, Solomon.” She tore the spear from the general's neck and slid the tip across the cobblestone. The stone gave way to a portal…but to where, no one could discern. Not even Skylar. The only prerequisite she gave to the portal’s creation was simply “Not here.”

“I may vow to never again engage in needless conquest, but I WILL defend my nation from those who would harm it. Especially if they wish to poison it with our past habits.” She planted her knee against the general’s skull. “You and your rebellion are free to rest in the same void that we buried my father in.”

The rebels saw the general fall into the portal, pushed by the gentle nudge of Skylar’s knee. He fell, with no ground in sight. And when the portal closed, his legacy as the King’s trusted butcher ended in shame and defeat. Felled by a woman in a nightgown with the greatest of ease

Skylar held her spear to her side and looked to Abidalla. “I’m afraid I have much to do tomorrow morning, with the cleanup, Enid’s preparation, and whatnot. You’re the more seasoned warrior between us: may I rely on you to finish up?”

Abidally pulled the axe from her back and turned to face the scattered rebels. The crowded streets backed away from her as she approached. “Between your forces and I, the rebellion will be flattened by sunrise.”

“Very well.” Skylar handed her spear to her escort, who immediately busied themselves with its cleaning. “I’m going back to bed. This needless riff-raff has exhausted me enough.” She turned and started the long walk back to the palace.  She didn't dare look back–the instant her back was turned, Abidalla and her wolf Okir went to work. She could hear the rebels on the street plead for their lives, begging for the army to accept their surrender. And afterward, she could hear their screams and the sounds of flesh tearing and bones crunching.

No general. Skylar thought to herself. I did not forget how to wage war. But I did lose my stomach for it.

[evanderhilloway]

Souls at Sunset

Chapter One ~ Raining Men

“Damn, betcha he wishes he had wings.”

“It just shat ‘em out!”

“Moose, ya idiot, clouds don’t shat people.”

“Quiet the lot of ya. Evander, what did ya see?” Captain Taprick cut through the racket of the small but growing crowd pressed eagerly against the port-side rail, his demanding voice aimed at the clean-cut sailor gasping in front of them. A rather large, rather sea-soaked stranger lay unconscious on the main deck beside him.

Dripping wet and out of breath, Evander's small frame cradled the man twice his size. Captain was impressed Evander managed to retrieve such a mass, but his question still lingered in the salty air.

A question, oddly enough, that would never be answered.

Evander raised his head, his sandy brown hair dripping saltwater down his soft, bare face, a pair of striking orange eyes meeting the captain's own. He grinned.

“Does that really matter right now? Did you see that?! Lightning struck this lad AS HE FELL!” Evander glanced back to the bulky heap of a half-elf in his lap. “I’m gonna name you Lucky!”

“He’s not a pet ‘Vander!” Cap howled as he turned, shaking his head. “Take him to the hold. Soon as he wakes, I want to know.” He spoke over his shoulder, eyes low. “As for the rest of ya, back to work. Acting like the sky be shittin' men. Have I got a crew of men or vultures?!”

Most of the crew dispersed and echoed back a firm “men!”, though truth be told, there were more than a few “vultures” quietly uttered in there. The sailors resumed their duties - albeit begrudgingly - trying to forget that the clouds did in fact just expel a real, live man. A half-elf to be precise. And probably live, anyway.

The stranger was undeniably a good-looking fellow, though considerably larger in stature than a typical half-elf. His fair skin made for an elegant contrast against the nearly black mop of hair atop his head, shaved sides giving him a somewhat hardened look to match his otherwise striking features. A strong jaw served as a foundation to a grecian nose, angular cheekbones, and a strong brow. Plain clothes and awkward tan lines about his neck and chest, and a strange tree-like birthmark at the base of his neck added to the mystery of “Sky Man” or “Icarus” as Evander had started calling him.

“Welp, ye scared him to death.” A large half-orc named Pea took a gruff inhale over [Dewdrop], a silver-toothed grin teeming with satisfaction at his assessment.

“If the lightning didn’t kill him, Vander’s breath would've.” Moose called from the bunk adjacent the stairs.

“Or his high-pitch lady voice.” Collin added, trying to mimic the unusually soft voice Evander possessed.

“He’s not dead, Pea… I think he’s trying to decide if he wants to stay.” Evander said matter of factly.

“Ever the poet.” Captain lingered on the stairs from the main deck to the quarter deck, warily eyeing his crew and the unwelcome and unhelpful extra body. “At least he’s not eating any rations. Moose, move 'em below. No sense in letting ‘em be comfortable if he ain’t conscious.”

Moose, true to his name, grunted in agreement and easily heaved [Shark Boy] over his massive shoulder. Evander opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Noting that the glow and position of [Failed Flyer’s] soul remained unchanged.

“Come on. This world ain’t so bad.” Evander thought as he willed his newest friend to stay.

Evander kept a watchful eye on Moose as he disappeared below deck with [Mr. Freefall] in tow, hauling the invalid down to a bunk in the hold. Evander then brushed himself off, and took to his normal jaunt of cheery jabs and belly laughs, working diligently to usher the crew back to normal in no time.

Before long, and finding himself on break, Evander hurriedly descended the ladders between decks before dropping softly on the wooden floor of the ship's hold, eager to check on his new friend.

Below deck Evander's orange eyes dimmed, the darkness softening their appearance to a resemblance of peaches, both shape and hue. His eyebrows relaxed as he took a good look at the recovering adrenaline junkie in front of him. The stranger's body swayed as the boat crashed gently against the ocean's waves.

“Unfortunate entry, but I think you’ll like it here.” Evander spoke as he eyed the dimly lit orb in the center of [Skydiver’s] chest.

●●●

Since the day he was born, Evander could see souls. Not apparitions or ghouls, but the glowing orb of life in everyone’s chest. He could see how high it sat, how much it glowed, and the effects that different actions had on it. Since childhood, Evander vowed to be the reason souls glowed around him. He would never speak in a way that would break a spirit, lower a soul, or darken the glow. He loved life. He loved love. He was the brightest, most spontaneous, giving person you’d ever meet.

And he was going to save [Mr. Flying High].

“Welcome aboard The Changeling, Cloud Rider.” Evander uttered softly, as he hopped down from his barrel perch on and hoisted himself up the ladder once again to continue his duties above, leaving the gently swaying half-elf to rest.

●●●

“Betcha wish we had a healer now, eh Cap?!” Collin jeered, as he gathered a nearby rope, coiling it around his elbow and the crook of his thumb.

“Not one bit. Y’know their kind is nothing but witchcraft. Bad luck is all it brings. No place for it here.” Captain shot back, eager to finish the conversation.

Evander entered the conversation as he emerged from below deck, chewing on dried fish. “No such thing as bad luck, cap.”

“Maybe not to you, Sunshine. You’ve been on water, what, six years? Ya greenie.” Evander turned to the sea so he didn’t catch him mouth the following in mocking cadence with the captain “until you’ve sailed for 22 years I’ll hear nothing from your baby face.”

Captain Tapia was of course referring to the fact Evander hadn’t a hair on his face or chest. Not a single sprig of manly prowess to be seen. It didn’t bother him. Truth be told, he preferred it this way. He told the men it was common in his family. They named him Baby Face and were done with it.

Moose, who had a grand beard, offered multiple times to share his trimmings with ‘Vander, granting him a roar of laughs from the crew.

After a few days of waiting, watching, regular checkups, and plenty of one-sided chats from Evander, [Sparky Sparky Boom Man ™] opened his eyes at last. He wasn’t awake, by anyone’s standard, but his yellow eyes blinked, drinking in his dank surroundings. The black gave way to a dimly lit hold, where shelves lined with haphazardly strewn parchments could be made out, alongside a particularly excitable, though not particularly discernible, form perched nearby. On what, the stranger couldn't quite say just yet, his vision still blurred and foggy in his half-asleep stupor. A wide smile and bright eyes met the barely conscious stranger's before he slipped back into darkness once again.

●●●

Waking to a pair of dimly lit orange eyes startled [Meteor], sending him into a panicked scramble, sitting himself just upright enough to reach a burly arm across his person and draw a seemingly imaginary sword from his hip. A mixture of confusion and disappointment spread across [Engine Failure’s] countenance as with the flooding realization that whatever he expected to be there, was in fact, not. A half a second’s thought later, and he was cracking his knuckles, fists held at the ready for what he perceived would be a little casual hand-to-hand combat instead.

“Woah there. I’m no threat. Take it easy…” Evander raised his hands as his friend stumbled in the dark, on edge and confused.

Teeming with rage and uncertain whether he had found himself on the defensive or offensive side of this whole situation, and unsure of what this whole situation even was period, [Dead Weight], still a little sleepy and dazed, stammered back, “I- if you’re not a threat, g-give me your sword then.” Keeping one fist clenched and held close to his jaw in a readied block, [Dragon Rider Sans Dragon] extended a hand out to Evander, waiting for him to relinquish his own weapon in truce.

“Mm ya know, dunno if you’re a threat yet.” Evander placed his palm on the hilt of his blade, only slightly cautious.

Not willing to lay all of his cards on the table, or any of them for that matter, and also acutely aware of the fact that the emptiness of his mind, devoid of any memory as to who he was or where he came from, indicated very strongly that he had no cards to lay down anyways, [Free Fall] opted for the most honest yet intimidating response his muddled brain could muster, “Of course I’m a threat. But there’s no need to find that out the hard way. Just give me the damn blade, boy.” He managed to keep his voice collected and even.

“Sure ya are.” Evander slowed, watching the heap in front of him glance hastily about the room, casing his immediate surroundings, before resigning himself warily back to the blanket Evander had left on him. He kept both eyes fixed firmly on Evander, gears turning about his mind behind them.

“Welcome to The Changeling! What should we call you?”

Silence.

Clearly [Divebomb] wasn't in the mood to chit chat, a mood Evander didn’t empathize with though he was quite familiar with it in others. He was, however, in the mood to relax his posture a moment, feigning surrender to his predicament long enough to distract his overly optimistic and trusting “companion” into letting his own guard down…or in the very least, he hoped, leaving him the hell alone.

“Right then. I’ll leave ya to it, Cap’s gonna wanna know you’re up though. Expect company, Birdman.” Evander climbed up the ladder as he had a thousand times, eager to uncover the mystery that grumbled from the depths. But the grumbling in Evander’s own mind came to a swift halt with a hardy knock to the back of his head. As he tumbled from the ladder with a groan and succumbed to the now inevitable state of unconsciousness, Evander’s last thought wriggled through. That was a lantern. Definitely a lantern.

This segued nicely into [Shooting Star’s] following thought, Where the fuck is the key?, as he rifled through Evander’s pockets, turning up nothing more than a feather, some skipping stones, and a copper piece broken in two. Contemplating a more thorough search, [Sky Captive] opted not to be too invasive with his pokings and proddings. He wanted out, sure, but he wasn’t a monster. He paused for a moment, looking down at the hands that he didn’t recognize. Or maybe I am?

Shaking off the intrusion, he continued his search into the hold itself, once again finding little of use - a stray barrel stopper and what looked to be a brittle old peg leg. Ugggggghhhh, fuck…gonna have to try the hard way I guess. Gonna lose all my fucking dignity before I even have any…

[Ripped Parachute] clambered up the ladder - wincing to himself at the egregious embarrassment that would ensue from what he was about to do next - clenched his fist, scrunched his eyelids in despair, and knocked a positively ridiculous diddy on the hatch above - Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. He peeked one eye open in anticipation.

“That ain’t it, Star Lord ™ “, was the gruff and jeering response he got, followed by an echo of rolling laughter about the deck above.

This time, he pounded the hatch with both fists, screaming in anger. The chortling only grew louder among the crewmates guarding the hatch above, as they took immense pleasure in the futile escape efforts of the stranger below.

Where ya gonna go, anyway? [Penguin Pretending to Be A Fucking Goose] asked himself, much to his own chagrin. Sliding back down, he crumpled into a cross-legged heap at the base of the ladder. Taking note of the irony that now he was the one awake and forced to watch his sickeningly cheery captor slumber, [Satellite Reentering the Atmosphere] tossed an exasperated gesture toward Evander and grumbled to himself, “Fuck, I guess I really gotta make nice with Sleeping Beauty here.”

●●●

Opening one eye to a pounding headache, and stifling a groan, Evander squinted at his surroundings, spotting his perpetrator sitting criss-cross applesauce at the bottom of the only escape route. He let a sleepy smirk pan across his face, in recognition of his companion's failed attempt at an exit.

“What’s the plan, Icarus?” Crossing his arms behind his head as he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, Evander inhaled sharply as he felt the sore spot on his head. “Hold me hostage for all I’m worth? Start a mutiny? Take over the ship with my wee dagger? Kill everyone and take The Changeling for yourself? I’m guessing by now you’ve alerted Moose and Collin that you’re up. Curious how you thought this was going to end for you.”

[TIMBEEEEERRR!!!] chuckled a little at the small man’s quips. He was, however, a little unsettled at his inability to find that dagger Evander just mentioned. But hell would have to freeze over before he'd let on to this puny excuse of a sailor before him.

Crossing his arms atop his barrel of a chest, his yellow eyes gleamed as he smirked, “Turns out I don’t really have a plan. Don’t suppose it’s too late for a truce?” He held out his hand to Evander, somewhat less a threat than before.

“All ya had to do was ask.” Evander reached to clasp the extended hand but pulled back at the last second “I’m gonna need something in return…”

The yellow-eyed stranger pulled at the seams of his loose-fitting, white linen, “Look man, I don’t know what ya want, but I clearly don’t have much. Whatever you’re asking for, I can almost guarantee I can't give it to ya. ”

Evander stepped around his captor and climbed the ladder “if you’ve got two eyes, you can oblige. You owe me a sunset, Icarus.”

Shit. [Not Icarus] released an audible sigh, “Fine, but you’re gonna have to call me anything but that. I ain’t no damn Icarus.”

Considering for a moment, and noting the unique traits of this half-elf, stranger in a strange land, Evander landed on an elvish name for his unlucky traveling companion “How about Vagor?”

An awkward pause filled the silence. “Why Vagor?”

“Damn you really don’t know? It’s Elven for ‘Wanderer’, which seems fitting enough for ya.”

Reaching up instinctually to take in the slight point of his ears, the half-elf uttered in response, half to himself, “Huh, how ‘bout that?...I guess I can get behind ‘Vaaaagoor’", as if testing the name out for himself. "Just as long as that’s really what it means and you aren’t just pulling some stupid-ass prank on me.”

Understanding the mistrust but eager to prove himself, Evander happily added “You’ll find out pretty quickly that’s not really my style.”

As Evander heaved himself back up the ladder, to finally exit the hold - this time hopefully uninhibited - Vagor exhaled sharply, catching his once benevolent captor’s attention one more time, “Look, kid. You seem like a decent human being. So I’ll be straight with ya. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I came from. I don’t know why I’m here or what I’m capable of. And you would do well to continue to see me as a threat, not a friend." He flung both arms out in exasperation, "Heck, you’d probably do best to throw me fucking overboard.”

The boyish sailor let out a laugh to break the remaining tension, “Everyone’s a friend unless proven otherwise, and even then, walking the plank isn’t up to me, you’ve gotta convince Cap on that one.” Evander paused, eyeing the sad state of a soul in front of him “You can call me Evander.”

Vagor paused too. “Well, Evander, when’s sunset?”

“Gonna be a few, stars are out.” Rubbing the back of his head he adds “thanks to your batting practice, we’ve missed it today.”

“Hey, don’t blame that shit on me. You coulda just left me for dead in the middle of this godforsaken sea and then you’da been able to watch your damn sunset none the wiser. So it’s thanks to your damn diving practice, actually.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Evander seated himself on the slightly slanted ladder, a perch he has taken many times now.

Vagor snorted, “Presumptuous of you to assume there was a ‘thank you’ on the way.”

Evander smirked and shook his head in reply.

An awkward pause filled the silence a moment longer than necessary, before Vagor quickly added, “Goodnight then, I guess, Evander,” himself clearly not planning to fall asleep any time soon.

“No way you’re sleeping now. The whole ship knows you’re up, and Cap’s gonna have questions.”

“Wasn’t aware I owed anyone answers,” Vagor replied, a renewed tinge of hesitancy tainting his voice.

“Plenty of us have secrets. Ya don’t owe anyone anything, but until we make port, yer gonna have to pull yer own ass. Cap just wants to know yer willing, and if not, the plank at night is a gorgeous sight.”

Vagor chuckles, “Don’t tempt me.” Before he even realized he’d done it, Vagor let his countenance fall into an unexpected sheepishness, his gaze quickly falling into his own lap. He hesitated a moment, unsure if he could find or even knew the words that were to follow, “I- I’d just like a few minutes alone down here. The dark. I like it. It- It feels familiar.” He returned his gaze upward to meet the shimmering orange eyes of the closest thing he now had to a friend, which was, in his mind, still not close at all.

“Sure thing.” Evander was familiar with the comfort of darkness.

Vagor nodded in appreciation of Evander’s understanding, at last releasing his peculiar new companion to take his final leave of the dark, dank hold.

[swldx]

Voice of America 0322 17 Mar 2024

9775Khz 0257 17 MAR 2024 - VOICE OF AMERICA (UNITED STATES OF AMERICA) in ENGLISH from MOPENG HILL. SINPO = 55445. English, s/on with dead-carrier. @0259z Yankee Doodle int fb news anchored by Tommy McNeil @0300z. A first aid ship plying a new maritime corridor from Cyprus began unloading its cargo of desperately needed food in Gaza on Friday as Hamas proposed a new six-week truce in the war. AFP footage showed the Open Arms, which set sail from Cyprus on Tuesday, towing a barge that the Spanish charity of the same name says is loaded with 200 tons of food for Gazans threatened with famine after more than five months of war. World Central Kitchen, the U.S. charity working with Open Arms, said it was readying another boat with supplies of beans, canned meat, flour, rice and dates in the Cypriot port of Larnaca but stressed the need for more road access to bring aid into Gaza. Stalled talks aimed at securing a cease-fire in the Israel-Hamas war are expected to resume in earnest in Qatar as soon as Sunday, according to Egyptian officials. The talks would mark the first time both Israeli officials and Hamas leaders join the indirect negotiations since the start of Ramadan. International mediators had hoped to secure a six-week truce before the Muslim holy month started earlier this week, but Hamas refused any deal that wouldn't lead to a permanent cease-fire in Gaza, a demand Israel rejected. Niger's ruling military junta has revoked a military accord that allows military personnel and civilian staff from the U.S. Department of Defense on its soil, junta spokesperson Colonel Amadou Abdramane said on Saturday. A crowd of about 100 people tried to shove through a metal gate in Haiti's capital as a guard with a baton pushed them back, threatening to hit them. Undeterred, children and adults alike, some of them carrying babies, kept elbowing each other trying to enter. "Let us in! We're hungry!" they shouted on a recent afternoon. They were trying to get into a makeshift shelter in an abandoned school. Inside, workers dipped ladles into buckets filled with soup that they poured into Styrofoam containers stuffed with rice to distribute to Haitians who have lost homes to gang violence. Voters across Russia cast ballots Saturday on the second day of an election set to formalize six more years of power for President Vladimir Putin, who faces no serious challengers after crushing political dissent over his nearly quarter-century of rule. The voting comes against the backdrop of a ruthless crackdown that has stifled independent media and prominent rights groups. Putin's fiercest foe, Alexey Navalny, died in an Arctic prison in February, and other critics are either in jail or in exile. Former Vice President Mike Pence said that he will not be endorsing Donald Trump in the 2024 general election. Pence would not specify whom he would be voting for but made clear it wouldn’t be for President Joe Biden. A volcano in Iceland erupted on Saturday for the fourth time since December, the country's meteorological office said, spewing smoke and bright orange lava into the air in sharp contrast against the dark night sky. In a video shot from a Coast Guard helicopter and shown on public broadcaster RUV, fountains of molten rock soared from a long fissure in the ground, and lava spread rapidly to each side. @0305z "VoA-One" program: pop music DJ'd by female announcer. Backyard fence antenna w/MFJ-1020C active antenna (used as a preamplifier/preselector), Etón e1XM. 100kW, BeamAz 350°, bearing 84°. Received at Plymouth, MN, United States, 14087KM from transmitter at Mopeng Hill. Local time: 2157.

[dragonsfell]

yassarra lore.

PORT NYANZARU / While we generally reject Yuan-ti lore (for obvious Yassarra reasons), most of Chult races actually, and how evil races are treated in Faerun lore; the way that Port Nyanzaru of Chult is described is wonderful, here's the little pre-written opening speech for DMs to read from Tomb of Annihilation

You appear in a tropical city under the blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas. Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing, and singing.

the rest of Port Nyanzaru's descriptions are under the cut.

Port Nyanzaru hugs the coastline at the south end of the Bay of Chult. No other city exists in Chult, along the coast or anywhere else, except in ruins or overrun by monstrous creatures. Until recently, Port Nyanzaru was under the firm control of Amn, a foreign nation. Amn was forced to relinquish the city to a wealthy and powerful consortium of Chultan traders backed by the Ytepka Society (pronounced yeh-TEP-kah), or risk a bloody conflict that probably would have ended with the city winning its independence anyway. Seven Chultan traders have since grown into influential merchant princes, enticing folk from up and down the Sword Coast with their wares.

Port Nyanzaru is a bastion of civilization and commerce in a terrifying land. The amount of business that unfolds here and the cash that moves through its counting houses would make any merchant of Baldur’s Gate or Waterdeep jealous. It’s also a colorful, musical, aroma-filled, vibrant city in its own right. Other than trade, the biggest attractions are the weekly dinosaur races through the streets. Locals and visitors alike wager princely sums on the races’ outcomes. The city also boasts grand bazaars, glorious mansions and temples, circuses, and gladiatorial contests.

Enemies surround Port Nyanzaru on all sides. The jungle teems with ferocious reptiles and murderous undead, pirates prowl the surrounding sea, and the mouth of the bay is home to a greedy dragon turtle.

When describing the sights and sounds of Port Nyanzaru, emphasize the heat, the humidity, the exotic sounds and smells, and other unique aspects of Port Nyanzaru. Some of its notable features are described hereafter:

Medium and Large dinosaurs are used as beasts of burden to haul two-wheeled carts, to hoist heavy loads on cranes, and to tow boats along the canals.

Dinosaurs compete in weekly races through the streets. These brightly painted racing dinosaurs are fast, vicious, and barely under their riders’ control.

Flowers, green plants, and vines grow everywhere, seeming to spring out of the building stones themselves. The profusion of greenery needs constant tending to prevent roots and shoots from damaging buildings or tile roofs.

The city’s defensive walls and towers are topped with colorful awnings to shield guards from the sun and rain.

All streets within the city walls are paved with cobblestones or flagstones, and they have deep rain gutters as much as 2 feet wide. Residents of Port Nyanzaru pay little attention to any but the heaviest deluge.

Tabaxi minstrels wander the streets, performing for anyone who tosses them a few coins.

Walls divide the city into districts, and the open archways above the streets are painted with murals of dinosaurs, mountains, and mythic heroes.

Crumbling ancient buildings covered with vines and lichens indicate the city’s great age.

The ground floors of most buildings are made of stucco-covered stone and have tiny windows to keep out the heat at street level. The upper floors have bamboo or thatch walls with enormous windows to let in the breeze, under broad thatched or tiled eaves. All buildings are richly decorated with paint, ivy, and vivid flowers. Some are painted in symmetrical, geometric patterns of straight lines and sharp angles, while others portray animals, monsters, landscapes, and heroes in a stylized manner unique to Chult. Where space permits, buildings traditionally include a walled yard or garden.

All the city’s water comes from rain, so every building has a cistern or wooden barrels to catch water running off the roof. Every public square is built around a fountain or rain basin. With so much water running downhill, Chultans also make excellent use of water-driven mechanical gadgets. Many buildings have water wheels built into their cisterns. Rainwater running through spouts or channels turns the wheel, which pumps water into pools, turns millstones, powers bellows or lathes or saws, or accomplishes any other labor-saving or amusing task Chultan engineers can dream up.

[ecodweeb]

2019 Hyundai Ioniq: A Sijo Review

Welcome to my review of the Hyundai Ioniq Electric (16) Flatly Spoken in Sijo, The Korean form of Haiku. (15) Korean haikus have longer stanzas and more syllables (15) (46)

===== Last spring I acquired this two thousand nineteen Hyundai Ioniq Since then, I've racked up Thirty thousand miles in adventures The car has fared quite well despite the hell I've put it through. ===== twenty nineteen's most efficient vehicle was Ioniq The tax credit made the electric cheaper than the hybrid The mainstream, affordable, boring, and bland E V has arrived ===== Despite the low price, it features impressive engineering the forced air thermal management system is highly effective which enables the twenty nine minute D C fast charge time ===== Every Korean appliance sings you a song on start or stop thankfully Ioniq doesn't play thirty second interludes That would go against its inoffensive and compliant nature ===== inoffensive design exemplified with the battery gauge lacks a percentage reading to quell range anxiety The gauge has blocks in white and red like every other Hyundai ===== Thirteen percent charge triggers Ioniq's low battery warning it is represented by the last two red blocks on the gauge Lone red block triggers tortoise mode, charge battery  A S A P ===== The dash board layout and color scheme differ between drive modes Normal uses blue hues, Sport uses Orange, and Eco is green also, regeneration can be customized For each mode ===== Hyundai E Vs regenerative braking is unique Paddle shifters let you select: none, low, medium, or high It acts like manual transmission coasting and engine braking ===== With regeneration disabled, A peculiar thing happens The car rolls backwards like a manual transmission Enable auto hold to prevent creeping and keep it still on hills ===== Configure the regeneration to highest level brake lights auto deploy when the accelerator is released Timed right, this will give you a one pedal driving experience ===== avoids sensationalism, unremarkable materials claims Car and Driver regarding the Hyundai's interior But the materials are on par with Mazda and Toyota ===== Blending into the crowd, very few notice this electric Hyundai Mainstream means bland, boring, which best describes Ioniq The ideal rental, ride share, or corporate fleet vehicle ===== tire rack sells A set of tires for less than three hundred bucks twenty six dollar cabin air filter is a D I Y job Good Windshield Wiper blades run a little over forty dollars ===== The L E D tail lights are cool, but the halogen head lights suck The Base Cloth seats lack of lumbar on long trips leads to back aches The Charge port resides in an inconvenient spot, but has a light ===== A seven inch infotainment system is standard equipment It supports Android auto and Apple CarPlay  mirroring The system will lower fan speed if using Google Assistant ===== infotainment system manages several schedules The departure climate control and time of use charging control It also displays energy consumption and history ===== auto defogging system eats up range, thanks resistive heater The car must be plugged in for scheduled climate control to work The Virtual Engine Sound System keeps pedestrians safe ===== The twelve volt auxiliary battery is a weak link So Under-powered that hybrid models have a jump start button The electric got Aux Battery Saver Plus and free towing ===== I have a black car hex, and it has infected the poor Hyundai smashed the driver side mirror, then, Two accidents, front and rear, Let's not Forget the twelve volt failed and D C fast charge lock broke ===== The dealership experience was the only silver lining Any Hyundai dealer with hybrids can service the electric The Ioniq can be serviced in more states than it is sold =====

Would I buy it again? Probably. I loathe front wheel drive though. Has it been a good car? Absolutely has been a good car I'd buy another Hyundai, but I want it to be all wheel drive ===== My name is Chris Maxwell, and you can call me the ecodweeb I aim to create informative and useful E V content I will see you next time, please don't forget to like and subscribe

[usaitbari]

If There Is a ‘Male Malaise’ With Work, Could One Answer Be at Sea?

If There Is a ‘Male Malaise’ With Work, Could One Answer Be at Sea?

Before dawn on a recent day in the port of Seattle, dense autumn fog hugged Puget Sound and ship-to-shore container cranes hovered over the docks like industrial sentinels. Under the dim glimmer of orange floodlights, the crew of the tugboat Millennium Falcon fired up her engines for a long day of towing oil barges and refueling a variety of large vessels, like container ships. The first thing to…

[floridafasttowing]

[reportwire]

If There Is a ‘Male Malaise’ With Work, Could One Answer Be at Sea?

If There Is a ‘Male Malaise’ With Work, Could One Answer Be at Sea?

Before dawn on a recent day in the port of Seattle, dense autumn fog hugged Puget Sound and ship-to-shore container cranes hovered over the docks like industrial sentinels. Under the dim glimmer of orange floodlights, the crew of the tugboat Millennium Falcon fired up her engines for a long day of towing oil barges and refueling a variety of large vessels, like container ships. The first thing to…

[ukrainenews]

Daily Wrap Up June 23, 2022

Under the cut: The European Union has approved the application of Ukraine [and Moldova] to become a candidate country for admission to the bloc; The UK government has issued an update to the list of goods that are banned from being exported to Russia; The United States will send another $450 million in military aid to Ukraine, including some additional medium-range rocket systems; The regional governor of the eastern region of Donetsk said on Thursday that no town is safe for residents as fighting between Russian and Ukrainian troops intensifies; Three cruise missiles hit southern Ukraine port city of Mykolaiv.

“The European Union has approved the application of Ukraine to become a candidate country for admission to the 27-strong bloc. EU leaders meeting in Brussels have followed the recommendation of the European Commission, which was made on Friday 17 June.

Ukraine has been seeking EU membership since the 2004 “orange revolution” and more emphatically since the 2013-14 Maidan protests. In the expectation of a positive outcome Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskiy had said: “This is like going into the light from the darkness.”

Ukraine’s ambassador to the EU, Vsevolod Chentsov, had said the move would mark “is a signal to Moscow that Ukraine, and also other countries from the former Soviet Union, cannot belong to the Russian spheres of influence.”

The move comes just one day short of the four month anniversary of Russian President Vladimir Putin ordering his troops into Ukraine for what Russia has insisted is not a war, but a “special military operation”.

The accession process to the EU can be lengthy. Until today the official list of candidate countries included Albania, the Republic of North Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia and Turkey. Turkey gained candidate status in 1999, the Republic of North Macedonia in 2005.”

-via The Guardian

I did a longer write up of this here with more information about what this means and what the future could look like for Ukraine and proper EU status. Both Ukraine and Moldova have been granted candidacy status.

~

“The UK government has issued an update to the list of goods that are banned from being exported to Russia. The new details include:

Prohibitions on the export to, or for use in Russia of jet fuel and fuel additives.

Prohibitions on the export to, or for use in, Russia, of Sterling or EU denominated banknotes; as well as prohibitions on the making available, supply, or delivery of such banknotes to a person connected with Russia.

Prohibitions on the provision of technical assistance, financial services, funds, and brokering services relating to iron and steel imports.”

-via The Guardian

The official notice from the UK government can be found here.

~

“The United States will send another $450 million in military aid to Ukraine, including some additional medium-range rocket systems, to help push back Russian progress in the war, officials announced Thursday.

The latest package includes four High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems, or HIMARS, which will double the number they have now. All four were prepositioned in Europe, and training on those systems has already begun with the Ukrainian troops who will use them, said Marine Corps Lt. Col. Anton Semelroth, a Pentagon spokesman. The first four HIMARS that the U.S. previously sent have already gone to the battlefield in Ukraine and are in the hands of troops there.

According to the Pentagon, the aid also includes 18 tactical vehicles that are used to tow howitzers, so the weapons can be moved around the battlefield, as well as 18 coastal and riverine patrol boats, thousands of machine guns, grenade launchers and rounds of ammunition, and some other equipment and spare parts.”-via AP

~

“The regional governor of the eastern region of Donetsk said on Thursday that no town is safe for residents as fighting between Russian and Ukrainian troops intensifies.

“There is no place, no town in Donetsk region where it would be safe,” Pavlo Kyrylenko told Agence France-Presse, citing latest intelligence data.

“It is extremely dangerous for residents to stay in any places of the region,” he added, given the current scale of fighting around the towns of Lysychansk and Severodonetsk.

Kyrylenko added that the priority was to prevent Russian forces from advancing into Slovyansk and Kramatosk some 80 kilometres away further west. He said around 45,000 people remained in the latter city - about one third of the pre-war population.

He also said that civilian evacuations were ongoing with 251 people taken out Wednesday from the area. According to him, deliveries of foodstuffs were continuing throughout the Donetsk region despite power outages and intermittent cuts to supplies of water and gas.”-via The Guardian

~

“Three cruise missiles hit Ukraine’s southern port city of Mykolaiv today, while air defences shot down another two missiles near the southern city of Odesa, the Ukrainian armed forces said in a statement.

Reuters reports that the military said one civilian was wounded in the strikes on Mykolaiv. The claims have not been independently verified.”-via The Guardian

[ao3bronte]

Transience

This is my contribution to @mlwriterzine Once Upon A Season! It was a pleasure to be a part of the project and the finished piece (a gorgeous 260 page paperback) was a treat!

Also on AO3!

Adrien is and always has been a young man of many talents. He excels in sports, outshines in academics, and loves tinkering with the vintage 1962 Ferrari he keeps in a secret garage just up the road from their belle-époque penthouse apartment in Paris. So honestly, Marinette shouldn’t have been surprised upon finding a sailing yacht waiting for them in the luxurious marina of Saint-Tropez.

“Um...” Gobsmacked, Marinette slips off her sandals and follows him over the exquisitely varnished toerail, “... since when do you know how to drive a boat?”

“Since I was eight.” Adrien shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Mère loved to come down every year to watch the annual regatta. She even sailed in a few of them herself.”

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyes grow wide as she gawks at the opulent 16 metre sailboat. She’d never dreamt of setting foot on one, let alone cruising on one through the French Riviera for a week on her honeymoon. Elated, Marinette can hardly keep the stars from her eyes as she drops her shoulder bag and scampers across the deck until she reaches the front of the vessel, splaying her arms out wide.

“I’m the king of the world!” she cries, laughing as Adrien runs along behind her and plants his hands on her hips, holding her steady.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She grins into the salty breeze coming off the Mediterranean and steps onto the first rung of the railings. “Just don’t let me fall overboard.”

“You’ll be flying soon, M’Lady.” Adrien pulls her against his chest and presses a kiss to her temple, his stubble scratching softly against her skin. “But first, we have some fenders to collect.”

Marinette blinks. “Uh... what exactly is a fender?”

Adrien’s indulgent laughter echoes in the headsail. “You’re about to get a crash course in Sailing 101, Buginette. Are you ready to be my first mate?”

Marinette spins around in his arms and bops him on the nose. “Teach me everything you know, Captain Kitty.”

Adrien hums, tipping her chin upwards to kiss her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

~

After a few minutes of acquiring her sea legs, Marinette and Adrien Dupain-Cheng are off amidst the serene waves of la Côte d'Azur for a honeymoon trip of a lifetime. Marinette can’t keep her eyes off of the hill-perched towns dotting the coastline, sun-drenched and prismatic against the turquoise waters of the Med. Beside her, Adrien keeps their vessel steady, his seasoned gaze trained on the horizon as they pull out of port and soar northwards, the wind at their every beck and call.

For centuries, every Parisian worth their salt flocked to the French Riviera to soak up the Mediterranean sun and the Agreste’s were no different, once upon a time. Adrien’s childhood memories aboard the Éphémère remind him of bouillabaisse and happier days spent scampering across deck pretending to be a pirate in search of buried treasure. It’s something he hopes he can share with his own children one day, especially now that he and his wife no longer have to spend every spare moment of their lives fighting Hawk Moth.

Sensing her husband’s pensive mood, Marinette snuggles deeper into his side as the afternoon sun begins to dip towards the horizon. She doesn’t need Adrien to assure her that their evenings onboard together will be positively serene with nothing but the seabirds to obstruct the sunset that will surely steal their breath away. He kisses her forehead and hugs her close, his guiding light within the storm that had been brewing since his childhood. After all those years of rough seas at the hands of his father, things were finally settling into an even keel.

Marinette learns the ins and outs of sailing quickly, securing lines and watching for traffic as they navigate along the seaboard of Saint Raphaël . Jibs and boons soon become a part of her vocabulary, and once they've successfully moored in the neighbouring marina, Marinette feels like she's run a marathon.

"That was exhausting," she groans, slumping into the cushions on the sundeck.

Adrien beams, having barely broken a sweat. "Come on; I'll make it worth your while."

Hauling her back onto her feet, Adrien leads her down into the main cabin. All clean lines and warm teak, Marinette leaves her duffel bag on the sofa and explores the spacious interior with curious eyes, carding her fingers through the decades old fashion magazines stacked in a woven basket resting on the floor. He leaves her to explore and hauls their luggage and a cooler down the ladder, filling the marine fridge with fixings for their first dinner outside of Paris. It's peaceful, with nothing but the sounds of the waves to keep them company.

The lights are warm and low in their galley kitchen, a cozy escape from the endless vistas of rocky crags and pastel-orange buildings whose narrow streets spill into the sea. Their table is just large enough for two wicker placemats and a bottle of Mouton-Cadet; old vases filled with seaglass and shells rest on every side table, their edges wrapped in nautical rope. By the counter, Marinette grates a snowy pile of Pecorino cheese over a mound of steaming spaghetti while beside her Adrien grinds fresh pepper into a ramekin, his stomach growling after an afternoon spent at sea. A comfortable silence ebbs and flows between them as the evening tide laps against the hull, drawing them towards the tangy, indulgent nest of cacio e pepe they made together.

~

Marinette wakes the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and a deftly wrapped gift on the bedside table of their lavish master cabin. Slipping her bare legs across the silk sheets as she sits up, she opens her present and plucks one of her own Chat Noir inspired creations from the tissue paper along with a note attached inside.

Care to go for a dip with me, M’Lady?

Marinette snorts and ties the black and neon green bikini up at the neck and hips, leaving a few very tantalizing strings to pull should Adrien let his feline instincts get the best of him. Goodness knows he wouldn’t be able to resist himself, what with the way he could hardly keep his hands off of her last night while they were trying to find a deck of cards in the saloon. She glances at herself in the mirror to wipe the sleep from her eyes and quickly fastens her hair into a loose ponytail, ready to tease her husband senseless.

“Welcome to Cannes!” he announces as she emerges from below deck, mesmerized by the morning sun illuminating his blond hair like a halo. He’s gorgeous in every sense of the word, thoughtful and generous and unfailingly kind, and even in his darkest moments, he never ceases to steal her breath away.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, hooking her fingers into the belt loops of his chinos, “but not as beautiful as you.”

A ruddy flush blooms across his cheeks, a constant victim to her soft-spoken praises. “I can hardly compete against you, Buginette, especially when you’re wearing that.”

“I don’t know...” She grazes her fingernails against his bare chest and smirks as the familiar rumble in his sternum kicks into low gear. “I think the sun suits you.”

“Enough to consider moving down here for good?”

Marinette shrugs; keeping their lives rooted in Paris has been a point of contention between them since the arrest of his father. “Not permanently, no, but I wouldn’t protest if we vacationed here more often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you overwork yourself,” he responds, closing his eyes as she continues to explore the chiseled planes of his abs. She’s always been gifted when it comes to distractions and this morning is no different; like wayfaring on a starless night, she’s always been the beacon to guide his way. “Now, I thought I invited you up here for a swim?”

“You did.” Marinette steps back, giving him the merciful reprieve he’d needed to calm his beating heart. “And it is kind of hot up here.”

His grip on the ship’s wheel tightens. “No thanks to you.”

“Easy there, Captain Kitty.” Marinette smirks, flicking the golden bell sewn to the bridge of her bikini top. “Race you!”

“Hey!” he gapes at her, scandalized. “I still have to drop anchor!”

Marinette giggles as she zooms past him, leaping off the back of the boat with delight. “Last one in the water has to make breakfast!”

~

Meandering through the Medieval streets of the old city, Marinette and Adrien pause to catch a glimpse of Villefranche-sur-Mer ’s idyllic harbour. There’s an enormous cruise ship dominating the horizon and Adrien is thankful that they’d brought their disguises in tow. No one has recognized either of them with the way they’ve camouflaged themselves in their floppy beach hats and oversized sunglasses.

Marinette spends the afternoon popping in and out of boutiques with turquoise shutters, snapping photos and picking up little trinkets along the way. They stop for lunch at a peaches-and-cream couloured bistro nestled against the water’s edge, its open windows basking the sunlit stone walls with salt-scented air. Adrien joyfully devours his meal, a simply grilled loup de mer with fennel and lemon, while Marinette chatters over a bowl of Niçoise octopus salad that she had been eager to try since spotting it on the chalkboard menu outside.

“It feels weird, not having them around.” Adrien balances a piece of julienned fennel between the tines of his fork. “It’s the first time I’ve taken my ring off in ten years.”

“I promise you, Tikki and Plagg are appreciating their vacation too,” Marinette assures him around a mouthful of cherry tomatoes. “They deserve a break after what happened. We both do.”

Adrien nods and is quiet for a while.

~

“When I was a kid, I used to watch the cliff divers jump into that cove,” Adrien mentions as they sail by, pointing towards a sharp craig jutting from the coastline. “I always wanted to do it myself. Maybe I will.”

“You’re free to do whatever you want now.” Marinette smiles into the wind, the skirt of her sundress billowing up passed her thighs. “So chart us a course, Captain Kitty. Where are we going next?”

“First, we’re stopping in Èze .” Adrien brushes his bangs from his eyes and relishes in being at the helm of transience. “There are galleries all over the place that I know you’ll love. And we have a dinner reservation. I thought you’d appreciate the view.”

Marinette lowers her sunglasses. “I like the view here just fine, thanks.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Adrien smirks and snags her by the hips, easily hauling her up onto the dash of the cockpit. She squeals as he savours the salt on her skin as he plants a kiss on her knee in mock apology. “There. Now I have you right where I want you.”

She kicks and he dodges easily, catching her foot with lightning fast reflexes born from being merged with the Black Cat Miraculous for so long. It’s a familiar song and dance between them, a playful contest sparking in their eyes as he peppers kisses along her ankle, her calf, anywhere he can reach. He stops just shy of the constellation of freckles at the hem of her dress and makes eye contact through his lashes, flashing her a mischievous Chat Noir smile. “I wonder if you’re ... ticklish?

Marinette shrieks as Adrien starts tickling her toes, running his fingernails up and down the arches of her feet. She’s tortured him a thousand times by attacking his sides when he least expected it so he figures it’s about time he seeks revenge. “Adrien! Stop!”

He doesn’t, of course, and chooses to memorize each and every facet of her beauty instead; her smile and her pained laughter, her marks and scars from the final battle only a month before their wedding day. “I’m never letting you go!”

“You’re going to— stop it! —have to if we ever want to get to Èze .” Marinette manages to wrench her ankle free and hops down from the ledge, landing easily in his outstretched arms. “That is, unless you want to crash.”

“If we shipwreck,” Adrien bends low and devours that little spot on her neck that makes her weak every time, “promise me you won’t hog the whole door?”

Marinette bursts into laughter. “Are we seriously going to have this debate again?”

“I’m serious! Jack could have totally fit on that— mmpf! ”

Cupping his cheeks, Marinette hurriedly kisses away the space between them and silences his long-winded debate once and for all. It’s an effective way to shut him up—all things considered—and an astonished gasp spirals from his lips as she hoists herself up his body and brackets his hips with her thighs. She claims him, covets him, her tongue sweeping across his lower lip, and he’s helpless to her siren’s song as he braces her against the cockpit’s controls and clings to her like a drowning man.

“Alright, you win.” Breathless and lightheaded, Adrien pulls back after a while just to soak her in, to remind himself that he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the world. He gazes in awe as she recovers, her flushed cheeks and parted lips swollen and wet. Adrien is drawn back in like a magnet, kissing her with every intention of stealing her breath away.

She buries her hands in his hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as Adrien all but melts in her embrace, groaning with pleasure. He deepens their kiss, and Adrien feels drunk with his desire to claim, their passion speaking more than words between them ever could. Every gasp and moan conveys their everlasting partnership and the terror of nearly losing one another in the whirlwind. Shell-shocked and injured, they still held their wedding ceremony, even as the fallout had tugged at their ankles, gossip and chaos pooling around their feet. Together, they’d inherited an empire he’d never wanted in the first place, thrusting them into a world unprepared and raw with nothing but each other as a tether in the storm.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips, her heartbeat hammering a tattoo inside her chest. He can feel it against his own, fast and strong and wonderfully alive. “We’ll get through this; together.”

Later, as they draw nearer to the charming port town of Èze, Adrien draws her close and hopes she never leaves his side. “Where to, Miss?”

Marinette smiles. “To the stars.”

~

Nothing comes so abundantly as time when you’re sailing through the seemingly endless vistas of the Med. Their honeymoon stretches on for longer than a week simply because it can; he owns their floating home-away-from-home and she’s working remotely, snagging a Wi-Fi signal whenever they’re in port.

Neither of them seem to be in any hurry to leave the solace of the French Riviera behind. It’s where he’s feasted on fresh seafood and felt better than he has in weeks. It’s where they’ve kissed and made love under the stars a thousand times over. It’s where he’s confessed his doubts about living in Paris and where she’s supported his struggle to leave his father behind.

They’re moored in Antibes tonight and the skies are awash in vibrant pinks and apricot. He drizzles balsamic vinegar onto a shimmering pond of Italian olive oil; she wears hair pins with flowers on them and pours wine like an expert, heedless to the way he’s staring at her like she’s his only source of air.

“I love you,” he whispers. It’s enough.

[funky-boat-zone]

can this be a “pilot episode” if it’s a fic—

(the first fic for my salty’s lighthouse au is finally done! enjoy (or don’t). also it’s not going on ao3 because there’s no tag for this show and i don’t wanna clog the tugs tag.)

It was 6:30 in the morning, with the sun just starting to cast its light over Snugboat Harbor. All twelve tugs (plus Grampus) waited in front of Captain Star’s window for their orders. No one knew what they were waiting for besides the fact that Star had specifically asked the Zero Fleet to wait at her window instead of his.

Ten Cents yawned. “Why’d Captain bring the Zeroes here instead of just waiting for Zero to come to work?”

“What, do you have a problem with us staying at your dock?” Zorran snapped, Zug glancing apologetically at Ten Cents on his behalf.

Ten Cents sputtered in irritation. “No, of course not! Sheesh, are you sure you’re not the one with a prob—“

“Have some respect! If she called all of us over, it must be something serious!” Top Hat protested.

“D’ya think somebody sunk?” ZB tactlessly wondered aloud to Zak, earning him a few horrified looks from his fellow tugs.

“Well if the Coast Guard’s not here, it probably wasn’t someone that important.” Zak replied, only to spot Zorran glaring at him. “… What?”

“Shh, here she comes!” Hercules ordered, which promptly stopped the boats’ chatter.. for the time being, anyway.

Sure enough, a blue and white-striped megaphone popped out of the window. “Star Fleet, Zeroes, Boomer’s owner wants to know if Snugboat Harbor has the right kind of jobs for him and he’s coming to assist you all with work today! Whether or not he decides to stay, I expect you all to be on your best behavior!” With that, she returned to her office, closing the window on the way and leaving the tugs to talk amongst themselves until Boomer inevitably arrived.

Ten Cents groaned. “Oh no, what’d we do?”

“What do ya mean?” Zip asked.

“He’s jinxed! Cursed! No reasonable captain would make their tugs work with Boomer unless it was some kind of punishment!” Big Stack cried.

Ten Cents’ sighed. “I remember when he wanted to ‘help us out’ with a liner.”

“How’d that go?” Sunshine asked, although she quickly realized her mistake when she saw how Ten Cents’ face fell. “… Too soon?”

“Lighten up everyone, it’s not like he means to bring bad luck.” Warrior chided.

“And it’s not like Sunshine means to run bow-first into other tugs because she can’t take two seconds to look where she’s going, what’s your point?” Zorran argued, ignoring Sunshine’s cry of “Hey!” from across the jetty.

“Can’t we at least try to be nice to him?” Sunshine suggested. “Who knows? Maybe his luck will turn if we stop acting like everything he does is bad luck, just saying.”

The dead silence from both fleets indicated that they weren’t feeling inclined to take her suggestion.

—

Roughly an hour later, ZB spotted a tug in an orange worker’s cap and matching livery entering the harbor. What stood out to him the most was the tape and bandages covering the vessel, no doubt covering the cracks, dents, and holes from his countless accidents. “Must be Boomer.” He thought aloud to himself, pulling his barges out of the way so he could pass by. From how far away the other tug was, there was almost no way Boomer would actually hit the barges, but better safe than sorry, right?

Almost as soon as the tug in the orange cap was out of sight, ZB heard Zero cry “Watch the dock, watch the dock— I said *watch the dock!*”, which was in turn followed by a loud thunk and Zero lamenting the damage to his newly-repaired dock.

“Yep, has to be Boomer.” ZB corrected himself.

—

Much to the dismay of everyone, including the captains, Boomer’s first job for the day involved helping Warrior and Big Stack transport explosives. Both fleets were ordered to give them plenty of room, which they gladly did, excessively so: Not just because it was captain’s orders, but because no one wanted to be hit with flying shrapnel in case this job went wrong.

“C’mon, I’m pretty sure we don’t need to give them that much room.” Hercules sighed, noticing how both fleets were stationed almost a liner’s length apart from each other. Despite his reassurance, no one made a move to get closer.

“Well, I may end up in a museum someday, but that day will not be today and my exhibit will not be one on shipwrecks!” Top Hat argued, earning a few eye-rolls from the rest of his fleet.

“Really, you guys need to stop assuming the worst of him! He’s not even the one towing the explosives, there’s no possible way he could—!“ Hercules was interrupted by an explosion, followed quickly by Big Stack proclaiming “I’m okay!” in the distance. He looked to his horrified fleet. “O-Okay, that was just a fluke! Besides, it doesn’t sound like all the barges exploded—!” As if on cue, there was another explosion.. And another. And another. Warrior, Big Stack, and Boomer met up with their fleet and were thankfully all still afloat and intact, albeit covered in soot and understandably shaken.

“… Did you manage to save any of the barges?” Top Hat squeaked out, looking at the smoke rapidly rising in the distance.

“Some of them! Well, I don’t know how much good they’ll be, since they’re.. kinda-sorta—well, very much on fire now.” Boomer stammered. “But we tried!” Almost immediately after Boomer stopped speaking, there was a bright orange light in the distance, with all the tugs recognizing it as a fire.

Sunshine winced as her fleet scattered and passed her to find the Fire Chief. Ten Cents sighed.

At the very least, the blaze was only the second worst fire he’d ever seen in port.

—

“Who needs the Star Fleet? Zero’s been looking for another tug anyway.” Zorran noted as Boomer and the rest of the Zero Fleet prepared to pull down a group of old buildings. “Now, all you have to do is secure your line to these buildings, sound your whistle to make sure everyone gets clear, and pull them down.” There’s no possible way Boomer could mess this up, it’s so easy that even Zip and Zug can do it!

Boomer did as he was instructed, sounding his whistle as soon as he got his line on the building’s superstructure. The rest of the Zero Fleet stayed back, shut their eyes, and waited for the sound of the building to come down.

… And waited. And waited.

“I’m not hearing any…” Zug stammered to try and find the right word before settling for just poorly imitating the sound of a building falling down. “Y’know, any of that.”

“Zorran?” Boomer called. “It’s— Uh, the building’s not coming down!”

“… What?” Zorran asked incredulously.

“I think I made myself pretty clear, I’ve been—“ Boomer stopped to catch his breath, “I’ve been at it for at least a few minutes and it hasn’t budged.”

Zorran steamed over to where Boomer was struggling, wondering how he could fail such a simple task. “Move over and let me see that!”

ZB cringed as soon as he saw his boss head toward Boomer. “D’ya think the building’s gonna collapse if he—“

Zak quickly wrapped his line around ZB’s towbitts, making sure he stayed put. “Nah, let Zorran figure that out for himself.” He said. ZB stayed out, failing to notice the smirk on Zak’s face.

Zorran approached the building, having pushed Boomer out of the way. “I don’t see any reason why it hasn’t fallen yet—OH NO!” Shrapnel and dust flew everywhere as the building finally collapsed as the Zeroes had hoped.. right on top of Zorran, who sunk to the bottom with a terrified yelp.

Once the dust cleared, the rest of the Zero Fleet hesitantly steamed over to check if Zorran was okay. Thankfully, he wasn’t fully sunk, since the water near the abandoned buildings was too shallow to let that happen. In fact, he seemed relatively fine for a tug who’d just had a small building collapse on top of him.

“You—“ ZB coughed, “You okay?” he asked nervously, turning carefully to avoid hitting the debris in the water and coughing from the still-lingering dust.

Zorran just shook his wheelhouse resignedly, his eyes unfocused. “At this rate, those kids will go blind if they keep talking to that lighthouse.” He muttered.

The Zeroes exchanged a nervous glance with each other.

“I’ll get him to Lucky’s.” Zak sighed.

—

Zorran returned from Lucky’s good as new, although he looked just as irritated as usual. With the Zero Fleet done with their jobs for the day, he planned to meet up with them near a set of old docks, hoping the Star Fleet wouldn’t come by. “So, who do you think is going to be the oh-so-lucky fleet who gets stuck with Boomer?”

“Probably the Star Fleet, I’m calling it now.” Zak said. “They’ll take anything! I mean, look at Grampus! What’s Captain Star gonna do with a submarine, make him check the docks for barnacles?”

“Hey, he could check boats for barnacles too!”

“Not my point, Zug.”

“Sorry.”

—

Unbeknownst to the Zeroes, the Star Fleet were having a near-identical argument at their own dock.

“I don’t wanna say I don’t want him around—“ Sunshine began.

“I do.” Top Hat said snootily, causing the rest of the Stars at the dock to glare at him.

Sunshine ignored Top Hat and went on. “—But Captain just got Grampus, and I didn’t hear her talking about buying another tug.”

“Ah, so Zero wants him, then.” Big Stack sighed. “Never thought I’d say this, but I feel bad for the Zero fleet.”

—

Both the Stars and the Zeroes apparently had the same idea, because Warrior, Big Stack, and Zorran all found themselves gathered in front of the Star Dock in hopes that they’d get Captain Star to change her mind.

“What’s the problem, Star Fleet.. and Zorran?”

“Well, it’s not that we don’t like Boomer..” Warrior began, only for his brother to cut him off.

“We just hate working with him! I keep telling you, every time someone works with him, they end up crashing, sinking, or getting set on fire! Unless you put something into place to keep this from happening, he can work alone!”

Zorran cut in. “Or at least get someone more expendable to—“

“Zorran!” Both brothers snapped, prompting the Zero Fleet’s leader to shut up.

Captain Star sighed. “I guess now’s a good time to tell you that Boomer likely won’t be working with either of your fleets. Zero and I have thought it over and talked it out, and he doesn’t need a new harbor tug and the Star Fleet has plenty of tugs as is.”

“… Oh.” Big Stack and Warrior responded awkwardly. As much as they didn’t like working with Boomer, it wasn’t as if they wanted to drive him out of the harbor.

“Yes!” Zorran cheered quietly, though not quietly enough to keep Warrior from hearing him and shooting him a disapproving glance.

Captain Star ignored the tugs’ reactions and continued. “Star Fleet, I’d like you to say goodbye to him once you’re all done with work. Snugboat Harbor wasn’t the right fit for him, but let’s wish him luck.”

“Aye aye!” The Star Fleeters agreed before leaving to help the rest of their fleet finish work for the day. Zorran just turned around, headed for his own dock, and prepared to go to sleep.

—

The sun was just beginning to fall as the Stars and the Zeroes gathered to say goodbye to Boomer. The Zeroes arrived twenty minutes late, because Zorran refused to leave his dock and it took the rest of his fleet to drag him to the meeting spot.

“Goodbye Boomer! We wish you the best of luck!” Sunshine cheered.

The Zero Fleet looked to Zorran, only to realize he was falling asleep where he was floating. Hoping Boomer wouldn’t notice, ZB bumped his leader, jolting him awake.

“Uh— what she said!” Zorran shouted as his fleet sighed disappointedly behind him.

Thankfully, Boomer took no notice. “Thanks guys! I’ll be sure to write or visit or something once I find my new job!” He shouted before sailing off toward the horizon.. But not before accidentally sinking a buoy on his way out.

“Should we tell—“ Otis wondered aloud before Hercules cut him off.

“Nah, Captain doesn’t have to know.” Hercules said, wanting to just enjoy the moment.

But once Boomer passed under Snugboat Harbor’s bridge, a small piece of infrastructure came loose and crashed down onto his bow. While it wasn’t enough to collapse the bridge, it was certainly enough for Boomer to notice as he yelped in pain.

The Star Fleet froze in horror, wondering if they should go and help before Boomer’s voice broke the silence. “I’m okay!”

Realizing the rest of his fleet was staring at him with an expression that could best be described as “We told you so”, Hercules sighed and turned around to head to his dock. “I know, I know, I’ll go tell Captain.”