#having a cat aboard a ship was important
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disneyvillainsinlove · 2 days ago
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It’s a merry time of year where Disney villains are showered with love and gifts. Tis good form ye know to have a kibby on the ship. 🥰
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Uriel's subtle revenge
Past =-= Next
Author's note: y'all inspired me to make a Uriel Ventris chapter with the Serf Reader. I hope y'all enjoy!
Warnings: A bit of Bully Cato, let me know if I need to add more.
Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @barn-anon @c-u-c-koo-4-40k
Tagged: @i-am-a-dragon34 @egrets-not-regrets , @gra93fruit-blog
‘Sometimes,’ Uriel Thinks to himself as he carefully tracks down one particular Serf that comes from his planet of birth from a farming community near where he'd grown up, “I think Captain Sicarius believes His own hype a little too much.’
While the Captain of the Second company is an exceptional fighter with few who could match him in sword, bolter, and tactics. His personality was something that rubbed others the wrong way, like stroking a cat's fur the wrong way far too roughly.
He spots the Serf dutifully tending to their tasks, their hair pinned up and out of the way as they diligently clean the room. They look up and around, feeling eyes on them. They look into his eyes briefly before they look down and properly Bow to him, pausing their work.
“Greetings, Lord Angel,” They say with very care pronunciation.
Uriel remembers when he had Pasinius were young Aspirants and they’d been with a whole barracks full of boys within the acceptable age range from every planet within Ultramar and the teasing and mockery he and his oldest friend had gotten for their ‘hick planet accent’.
Your particular version of their shared accent is really adorable in his opinion. Even when you are trying to hide it, which is a shame in his opinion.
“Greetings Serf,” he says, allowing his Calthian accent to come through.
Their head shot up and they stared at him wide eyed for a moment. Recognizing their shared accent.
“I hear you come from a place near where I used to live,” Uriel continued. “Have the grox-cheeses in the deep caves aged into the wine-dark musk that I remember?”
“Yes, and the festival of cheese wheels happened a few months before I left, Lord Angel,” you reply, your accent thickening back to what it was before you'd come aboard the space ship.
You knew that The Angels of Ultramar are from all over the planets under the protective Custody of the Imperial Regent. But you hadn't realized that one of the farm boys of Calth had actually managed to become an Angel, from what you can read of his Armor, he's a Captain, which is somewhat high ranking. Although at least as far as you can tell, it is.
Uriel and you talk about the various festivals and celebrations that their towns share, to mark the seasons and other important Holidays and events that are celebrated either for local planetary things, or for more important Imperium wide events.
Uriel is regaling you about one of the times he had done the Space Cooper's-hill cheese rolling and wake, one Of the few that he'd participated in before becoming an Aspirant.
You had started to smile and giggle as Uriel was describing something when a voice called out, haughty, And annoyed, “tch, must you speak in such a low way Ventris?”
Uriel's smile only faded somewhat, but his eyes sharpen at the way that you were slightly edging away from the sharp, sour tones of Captain Sicarius.
Uriel allowed himself to glance towards the older Ultramarine, noticing the way he was fuming and scowling at the pair of them.
Uriel stopped himself from smirking a little bit as he realized just how Annoyed the noble-blooded Ultramarine was.
“Ah, Lassie,” Uriel drawls, thickening his accent further, glancing down at you with an innocuous smile,“th’ Cap is fair steam'd.”
“Speak. Properly,” Cato hisses at his annoying younger brother. “You are the Fourth Captain of the Ultramarines.”
Cato clenches his fists and relaxes them a couple of times. He had been going in this direction for a purpose, but what that way flew out of his head when he had heard and seen Uriel speaking with you.
And realizing one of the things is that had bugged him about you. That deeply annoyed him, throne-Cursed Ventris is also from Calth. And the little snot likes to use that accent, which no one but him and his fellow country Bumpkins can understand.
He is ignoring the fact that part of the reason he's so angry is that Ventris got you to smile and giggle at him. He should go to an Apothecary because one of his hearts had started hurting A little to see you look at a different Space Marine like that. Then the bizarre hurt turned into welcome and familiar rage.
“If you aren't doing anything important,” Cato barks at the pair of Calthians,”stop blocking the hallways and get back to work.”
You started to curl in on yourself As a hot flush of shame has your cheeks turning red. You had continued to work, albeit At a slower pace as you spoke and listened to Captain Sicarius's word.
“I think you need to dislodge your sword from your scrotum,” Ventris snarks at Cato.
Cato feels a vein start to throb in his forehead at the younger Captain’s Words." You and I need to go to the sparring ring. Now.”
“Gladly,” Uriel says, giving you a nod before following after an angrily stomping Cato.
He was glad he was able to speak with you for a little while. There aren't many fellow Calthians that go off planet.
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noco-alienau · 8 months ago
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Stay Back!
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writing below the cut!
The house shook as the impact of the fallen object outside rolled throughout the ground. Items of all kinds were knocked off their surfaces, a few of which shattering as they made contact with the floor.
The animals nearby reacted accordingly, a hairless cat sprinting for the only bedroom while a golden labrador began to bark in the direction of the sudden noise. Cody was the first to leave the dining table, kicking aside the mess that had been made and watching nervously as the source of the ruckus had still yet to cease.
It was a ship of some kind, three mechanical limbs protruding from a saucer-like shape with blaring green lights. Whoever the pilot was, they had very little knowledge over how the machine worked. It rocked awkwardly, stumbling over and finally falling still in the flattened grass.
"Noah, stay inside."
"Cody, what's going on?"
"Just get Daisy and stay inside."
Cody grabbed whatever blunt object he could, a baseball bat, racing towards the exit. This wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. Not now.
He hesitated as he approached the front door, a wave of realization washing over him like a cold rain. This - all of this - should have been forgotten years ago. Why had they returned? He had no significance to them, no importance. Why now, years later when he had finally settled down, did his past catch up to him?
Noah had the dogs collar in his grasp, but he hadn't left his spot. The two had seen the same thing. He wasn't sure what to think of. He didn't get the chance to ask again, his partner leaving for the outside. He could only watch.
A hatch on the side of the ship swung open, a mixture of steam and smoke escaping into the air as it did. An odd scent of dust and dirt spilled alongside, as if the area couldn't get any worse. Two passengers stumbled out and over one another, seemingly fighting.
"Is it really that fucking hard to land?" One hissed. "We've been in training for ages! This is why you pay attention, asshole!"
"This was all last second," the other would argue. "If you know so much about ships, why didn't you fly?"
Their bickering seemed to have no end. Cody inched closer to get a better view of who exactly he was to deal with.
They were relatively tall, both donning similar clothing and features. Their skin was a bright shade of blue, they shared a somewhat similar antenna and tail shape. Both pieces of clothing had a set of stripes to specify their color ranking. It was all too recognizable to the brunette before them.
Their argument came to a quick pause once their eyes settled on the human nearby. Cody grew tense as they approached, lifting his weapon and intending to bash their skulls in. The taller of the two aliens caught it in their claws before any contact was made.
"Cody 6827," he spoke, ripping the bat away. "We have been ordered by the king to return you to your home planet. You have information that he needs."
The boy was stunned. "How did you find me?" He blurted out.
"You had been tagged by your caregivers before you had been sent here. We can explain further once you come aboard our ship. You will be given a temporary room within the palace, so long as you comply."
"If you don't," the shorter alien inched closer, "we aren't arriving back empty handed. Best decide if you want to go there in one piece."
"5728, there is no need for threats."
"Cody?" A voice called. "What is all of this?"
Noah kept his distance from the rest. He was unarmed; something that made his partner more anxious than anything.
"Noah, stay back-"
"Step away, newcomer," one of the aliens warned. "He isn't what you believe for him to be."
"Cody, what are you?"
Noah's tone was unreadable. Was it disgust? Fear? He couldn't tell. There was no point in hiding any longer. No facade he put on could hide the world around him.
Cody's form shifted unnaturally. Two long, green antennas emerged from his hair with a matching tail following suit. Green splotches grew on his skin, although it seemed difficult to get far past this stage. The transformation was visibly uncomfortable. He never intended to reveal this again, and having hidden for so long left certain aspects of his appearance irreparable.
Words couldn't save him now. Cody waited for a response. He was met with nothing but a long gaze.
"Noah, I.. I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner-"
"You should have."
"But you would have thought I was crazy! I didn't.. I didn't want to lose you."
"Cody," the brunette gave an agitated sigh, "that summer camp we met at taught me that even the weirdest shit is possible. This wasn't exactly on my list, but.. guess I need to get back to writing it."
Despite everything, Noah came closer in reassurance of his loyalty to his lover. The green alien's ears perked up. He couldn't have asked for a better partner.
"Besides, there were.. signs."
"Signs?"
"Yeah.. remember that time I caught you breaking into the pantry because I tried to cut off your candy-fix for the night?"
"Yeah. Child locks don't work anymore."
"I learned. Anyway, when I found you, your eyes looked off. Later realized they were glowing. Thought it was the flashlight, but no, you're just.. spacey."
It was nice to see Cody's tooth-gap smile, especially now.
"Are you two done?" The shorter alien called out. "It's either you get in or we'll make you!"
"The king isn't one to wait," the other warned.
"He's only going if I can go, too," Noah stated.
There wasn't a lot of time left to waste. No, neither of the earthlings wanted to leave, but it was all or nothing. It seemed the intruders had a similar mindset.
"Get in," they ordered.
Hesitant but less worried, the couple slowly made their way inside the unidentifiable ship. The many blinking lights, screens, and buttons were a tad bit overwhelming, but they had no choice than to adapt.
"Everything will be fine," Cody told himself. He only hoped it wouldn't be a lie.
Noah and Cody are open for questions!
♡writing done by @plushii-gutz !♡🧸
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whencyclopedia · 2 months ago
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A Gallery of Cats Through the Ages
Wild cats were most likely domesticated in Mesopotamia c. 12,000 BCE, but, like the dog, there is no scholarly consensus on where or when domestication first took place. All that is certain is that cats and humans have a long history together and that they remain one of the most popular pets in the world today.
It is well-established that cats were highly regarded in ancient Egypt, associated with the goddess Bastet, but they were also appreciated by other cultures. The cat was valued by the ancient Phoenicians for pest control aboard ships and in ancient China and Japan for the same reason, but the Mesopotamians preferred dogs for this task as a dog could be counted on to do as it was told while a cat did as it pleased when it felt like it.
A story from ancient China tells how the gods originally gave cats control over the world and the power of speech so they could communicate clearly; but the cats were not at all interested in this job, preferring to sleep and play. The gods kept checking in on the cats to see how they were doing and found they were not actually doing anything. Finally, the cats explained they had no interest in any of this nonsense and humans were better suited for the task. Humans were then given the power of speech but, since they were not to be trusted with important tasks, cats kept the job of keeping time, which maintained order.
The concept of the cat as a symbol of divine order also appears in Norse mythology as the goddess Freya has a chariot drawn by cats but, in medieval Europe, the cat's reputation took a turn for the worse as they came to be associated with witchcraft and demonic forces. It was only after the Enlightenment, during the Victorian Age, that cats were again regarded as favorably as they had been in the past.
The following gallery presents images from various cultures of the ancient world up through the modern era. Anyone who has ever lived with a cat will recognize how little they have changed over time and, as in the Chinese myth, still do whatever they please whenever they like.
Continue reading...
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ragana62 · 1 month ago
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A very important HOTD Headcanon
I can’t fall back asleep, and my cat is trying and failing to help with that, so guess what, we’re all getting treated to a series of fluffy little HOTD headcanons based on one unified theory.
Corlys Velaryon is absolutely a cat guy. I’ll expand below the break.
Ships cats are a very important and useful thing to have to control rodent/other pest populations, and we know it’s canon that the man was very involved in the maintenance of his ships and spent a lot of time on board them. There is absolutely a cat on The Sea Snake, and it’s definitely something like the seventh generation on from a scrawny little kitten he found near the docks when he was getting ready to sail with his uncle that first voyage to Pentos as a young boy.
This of course has led to a number of moments over the years where he has responded to his wife and children and their fascination and adoration for their dragons by bringing his cat home and having little cloaks made for her (I’m declaring it’s a her, her name is Thea now) and making snarky little comments about how his mighty beast is a far better hunter than theirs AND can still fit inside High Tide (a comment he very much regretted once a young Laenor and Laena took that as a challenge and tried to sneak baby Seasmoke into the house).
Rhaenys finds all of this absolutely hilarious, and does try and steal the cat’s cloaks and the like to embroider little wings onto them so she can tease her husband about finally understanding them and having a dragon of his own. The children did take this literally, which has led to several consecutive generations of ship’s cats aboard the Sea Snake being trained to respond to similar commands as their dragons, assuming they feel like it anyway, much to his sailors’ amusement.
Corlys responds to this affront to his beloved beast’s dignity by making up bullshit titles to confer upon his cat. If Meleys can be ‘The Red Queen’ then Thea can be ‘Lady Protector of the Sea Snake’. The first time he said that, Rhaenys exiled the cat from their bedroom for two weeks in mock jealousy. This ban was only lifted after he found the both of them curled up together for an afternoon nap and she was forced to admit that she didn’t actually hate the cat.
He regretted forcing the issue when she insisted on introducing Thea to Meleys as she had the children when they were babies because ‘you’re the one who said she’s an important member of our household, this is what we do for important members of our household’. Thea and Meleys don’t fully get one another, but in the grand tradition of cats everywhere, Thea does respect the very large spiky cat for being a skilled hunter and good protector of her little colony. Meleys decided Thea is just a hatchling who refuses to grow and out of concern began trying to bring her fish and sheep carcasses to help, in case she was just too small to hunt successfully on her own.
If this gets even one like, I’ll probably draw Corlys and Thea, baby Corlys and Thea I (because they are all named Thea now, it’s tradition), Laenor and Laena sneaking baby Seasmoke into the house under a cloak, Thea and her little cloak with the embroidered wings and a far too fancy pin to denote her rank aboard the Sea Snake, Thea and Meleys, all the bullshit really, because honestly the idea is kind of a whole mood. Thea might be making an appearance in my HOTD fics now.
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gatitties · 1 year ago
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can i ask for something based on my daily suffering? It's interesting (or not) something fluff, welcoming, consoling, kind and gentle, I need happy things
Headcanons or Scenario for Red Hired and Whitebeard ( Whitebeard's daughter)
-My friends won't talk to me after a little annoying fight after I said how I felt about myself and apologized for something I shouldn't have, now my friends won't talk to me (whatever I was already alone)
-I'm desperate about grades in high school and no one wants to understand my situation of extreme anxiety, panic and depression
-I am not getting psychiatric and psychological help
-my cat died, now I'm suffering
-I tried against my life
-I don't have anyone to talk to about it, I'm practically alone
- I hate myself
Sorry for that, do it if you want, thank you 🫶
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─Red Hair Pirates & Whitebeard Pirates x fem!reader
─Summary: You are not having the best days but your family and friends make you see that you should not drown in a glass of water
─Warnings: none
I feel your loss :( and hey, everyone argues from time to time, things can be solved by talking if both parties want to work it out, I hope you are feeling better now love, feel free to message me if you need anything! 🫶🏻
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Your mood was really shitty lately, you argued with some important people over something silly, nothing seemed to go your way and you thought you were being a complete nuisance to all of your father's crew right now, so you decided to run away for a few weeks hoping a break would lift your spirits.
It seems you couldn't enjoy your alone time either because it just made you overthink the situation you were in which caused anxiety to kick in, everything was going so bad lately that you couldn't take it anymore, you needed to unload everything you had but you did not find any psychologist or doctor who convinced you to be able to try to calm your mind.
You were in the middle of a mental breakdown, in the middle of nowhere, on your way to another island when you saw it in the distance, you hadn't seen them many times, but you knew the Red-Haired Pirates, you thought it was better not to bother them considering your state in deplorable spirits, but once Shanks saw the ship with Whitebeard's mark on it it was inevitable that you would not end up aboard his ship.
The screams, belches and music made you shudder at first, too used to your deafening stupid thoughts, you looked like a little animal about to be run over while you watched all those men dance and drink without worries.
"What's the long face? This is a party, you should celebrate!"
Yassop patted you on the back offering you a drink which you refused, Benn denied seeing the interaction, coming closer to see how little receptive you were, he knew that something was occupying your mind now and it wasn't a party exactly what you had in mind.
"Don't listen to this idiot, you can do whatever you want, you can even hit Shanks if you want."
A grimace similar to a smile appeared on your face, a bit amused by Benn's words, apparently he summoned the redhead just by saying his name.
"What's up with me?"
"Oh nothing, we were just planning the way to kick you."
"Again? You should stop inciting our guests to hit me!" he looked at you, changing his silly smile to a fake look of a kicked puppy "Don't listen, okay? I know you're better than that! Someone like you wouldn't kick me, would you?"
You were amused by his nonsense, sharing a quick glance with the other two men, the grimace on your face turning into a wider smile.
"I don't know, the offer sounds good, what do I get if I kick it?"
"It!?"
Ignoring Shanks's betrayed expression, Benn and Yassop looked at you laughing, both patting their captain on the back making him take a step closer to you.
"Whatever you want! As long as you hit him with your greatest force."
"Hey! I'm the captain what the hell is wrong with you?"
They started a silly argument which the others joined in, making you chuckle slightly at the absurd situation, this little visit didn't exactly fix your problems, but spending time with this crew made you clear your mind and feel a little better, you decided you could deal with your problems a little later, for now you needed to release some tension.
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Coping with the loss of a pet, arguing with some friends, feeling like everything you do is not paying off, it all came crashing down on you like a storm hitting hard, you felt so bad you didn't even want to bother your father with your problems or the others.
You felt miserable, the days began to go by like a blur, unable to leave your room or socialize a bit, you felt alone and locked up, you were terrified of facing your father to talk about your problems thinking that you would only be a burden to the whole the crew, you felt bad asking for help even if you needed it.
And, honestly, you would have kept drowning in your own misery if it hadn't been for Ace noticing your absence, he could tell you weren't fine pretty quickly, although he didn't want to push you, he felt that you were simply making things worse for yourself by locking yourself away.
He asked Marco for help because he knew that he could not approach the subject delicately, the least he wanted to do was cause you to have an anxiety attack because of him, he did not want to be abrupt or direct when talking about the subject, so it was Marco who asked you how were you.
You didn't know if it was due to despair or mental exhaustion but you ended up telling between sobs that you weren't feeling well, that lately you felt that everything was against you and that your life became a constant uphill.
"Okay, calm down, everyone has bad streaks, does your father know anything about this?"
"N-no…"
"You don't need to say it right away if you're not comfortable, but talking to him will calm you down, it's stupid for me to say it but Whitebeard is a kind man, your father will understand you perfectly."
You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder, tightening the hug a little more before letting him go, it took a couple more days before you faced your father, it was hard for you to open up about the situation but Marco was right, once you let go everything, your father hugged you saying that everything would be fine.
"Oh my daughter, you should not worry, life turns its back on you sometimes so you have to stay strong, please, if there is something that can cheer you up right now I will do it for you immediately."
Your father's devotion to making you dear raised your spirits a lot, you smiled widely, denying his proposal for the moment, there was nothing he could do right now, you just wanted to hang out with the others since you had wasted a lot of time locked up.
"Oh look, isn't she my favorite girl? It's good to see you around here again, come on, just tell me what you want and you'll have it as fast as possible."
You laughed slightly at Thatch's enthusiasm to see you appear in the kitchen, ordered your favorite dish and got to work, while Izo walked in just to pick up something he'd forgotten, although he did stop to talk to you about some gossip you'd lost, put you up to date with everything.
"Is that food I smell? Can I have one piece?"
"No way, back down demon!"
And the peaceful gossip talk went overboard when Ace came into the kitchen drooling from the smell of your food, you and Izo laughed as Thatch tried to hit Ace with a spatula to scare him away, a small fight started in the one where the cook was juggling your plate while trying to keep the other boy from touching your food.
You lost it when Ace tripped over a cloth on the floor, grabbing onto Thatch's apron which knocked the plate into the air, they both fell to the floor and mysteriously the plate remained intact right on top of the cook's toupee. Izo smiled seeing how you laughed at the dumbest fall you'd seen so far, everyone knew that you hadn't been feeling very well lately and seeing that you were beginning to have a better mood made them happy.
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bellacatt-art · 3 months ago
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Okay so, a little Red Dwarf rant up ahead because I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I need you guys to be sad about it with me:
We all know that despite Red Dwarf being a comedy show the premise is super depressing, especially with all the characters experiencing loneliness in a different way. Lister is the last human alive, Rimmer is a hologram who is dead and cannot fully interact with his surroundings, Cat has been separated from the rest of his species and Kryten has spent ages on the Nova 5 assisting crewmates he didn't know were dead.
But what about Holly? Because I have a LOT to say! :")
I can say with confidence that Holly is one of my favourite RD characters, and that is because I adore the concept so much - the idea of a sarcastic computer who's tasked with keeping the entire ship together is just so funny to me, especially since one thing I've noticed is that over the course of S1-5, Holly has slowly felt like more of a member of the crew rather than just the ship's computer, yk? It might have something to do with Hattie Hayridge's portrayal of her because she subtly gives her a bit more expression which I really love, but she feels like she has more emotions later on, and throughout the course of the series, she's always cared for the others despite being, yk - a robot.
And the events of S5 Ep6 "Back To Reality" really prove that. Idk guys, I just love that *she* was the one who saved everybody from the despair squid, like yesss!!! She is a valuable member of the team, and I love her for that! ^-^
But what I've been thinking about lately is what happened between S5 and S6. We're told that the others lose contact with the Red Dwarf ship - and Holly as a result. Now, imagine how that must be for her - maybe the others went on some kind of adventure before this huge disaster occurred, and she was waiting for them to return, and they never did.
Imagine the original Red Dwarf, floating around in the depths of space, completely empty except for the old computer who slowly realises that she will never see the others again. :(
Idk maybe I've messed up the continuity somewhere bc I need to rewatch S6 again, but I've just been picturing a lonely computer waiting for her crewmates that are never coming back, and it's just so sad, like it really proves that the Red Dwarf characters are all so deeply tragic! 😭💜
I need everybody's thoughts on this because I may or may not have made an illustration based on that concept and I need more people to be sad about Holly with me! ♡♡
(Also S7-8 don't count, they find the Red Dwarf again but it isn't the original. That version of the ship has been revived as essentially a duplicate of the ship before the radiation leak in S1. The Holly aboard is also a duplicate, which must mean the original is still stuck in the vastness of space, I thought it was important to add that for continuity purposes hehe! 😅)
Also I'm sorry this was longer than it had to be, but oh my god, I'm so sad now!!
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bigidiotenergytm · 19 days ago
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The god of waves watched as the small king slowly stood up, an amused smirk never once leaving his lips.
There was no way out. Odysseus could escape death no longer. Poseidon knew that. Everyone on the ship knew it.
Oh, how sweet this victory was going to be! After more than a decade of this pointless game of cat and mouse, the god of the seas would finally have the last laugh.
Quiet sobs filled the air, the men aboard crying as they held each other close in their arms, not willing to descend into Hades' domain alone.
Still, in spite of his ruthless reputation, Poseidon was just. He had offered the captain a chance to appease him in order to save himself and his crew.
Regardless of how much he wanted to see the prideful Greek dead, he wouldn't go back on his word. He would answer the captain's question for he saw no harm in doing so.
"Yes, indeed."
He began speaking, shrugging nonchalantly as he replied.
"You've committed many crimes against me. That I cannot forgive. You've blinded a son of mine and boasted about it.
Had you simply killed him, you could've avoided all of this. His death would've been honourable for he would've died in combat.
But no. You couldn't help leaving him alive, bleeding and weeping in pain."
The lord of the ocean continued his speech. His voice was furious, as if recounting the king's acts of blasphemy lit the rage within him anew.
"Of course, that wasn't enough for a man such as you. You ran away from my divine punishment like a coward, hiding for over a decade, though it was all in vain.
Had you forgotten who I was? That you lived on an island? That no matter where you hid, I would always find you?
Even if you had managed to, by some miracle, evade me, I could've always turned your dear little kingdom into another Atlantis."
Poseidon concluded his monologue with a cocky smile. Pressing his trident further into Odysseus, the god, once again, gave him the final choice.
"Now, choose: either get in the water or offer me something that could compensate for your sins. If such a thing even exists, of course."
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Poseidon speaks. And Odysseus tries. Tries to listen to him instead of the men that are sobbing. He knows. He knows all of what the Sea God says and is about to say. He hadn't been the only one asking why the mortal let the Cyclops live when-
The king blinks himself out of his thoughts. Only for a RAGE and DREAD so deep to hit him when his island comes from Poseidon's lips. Perhaps his trembling was a blessing in disguise. If he hadn't from the fear, his anger at the God threatening his son and wife would've. But that trident presses more into him. KEEPING HIM AT BAY.
"... leave me alive," Odysseus begins, repeating the God of Storm's words, "You... You can take my blood. M-My weeps. My reputation. ... me."
"I'm— I'm a king." A hand goes to his medallion pinned on his cloak. Gripping it. Making it tremble within his hands. It resembles all of what Odysseus represents. A king. A Warrior of the Mind. Athena's side broken as she denounced him. It resembles all of who he is. And can easily begin to resemble all of who he WAS. His hand goes to the chain that attaches to the amulet. Shakily unpinning the thing so important to him. All to toss it aside.
It's not the only thing that goes. His opposite hand finding its way to the golden band around his arm. Another thing tying him to royalty. The band he'd traded Penelope as he'd given her the band he had worn around his forehead as well to remember him. As a promise he'd return home one day. And it, too, is tossed aside.
Arms shrinking in then to quickly pull his cloak over his head to let it join the other symbols. The cold air of Poseidon's sea wrap around his shoulders. And he stands there. Stripped to being JUST A MAN.
"And let everyone know, the King of Ithaca... DETHRONED himself to be your humble SERVANT."
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istumpysk · 1 year ago
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to bad lady stoneheart will crown arya in robb’s crown leading her to be queen of the north at least sansa can enjoy her life with her two timing husband in the vale 😌
Top 10 Funniest Ship Girl Foreshadowing
10. Gendry's very important question.
He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?" "You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it." "What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?" "Then there's oars to row." - Arya II, ASOS
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9. Excellent names!
I mean to use your second son as well. He will take Lady Marya across the narrow sea, to Braavos and the other Free Cities, to deliver other letters to the men who rule there. - Davos I, ACOK
x
"Just so. Your father was oarmaster on a galley. When your mother died, he took you off to sea with him. Then he died as well, and his captain had no use for you, so he put you off the ship in Braavos. And what was the name of the ship?" "Nymeria," she said at once. - Arya II, AFFC
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8. Hey, what's with this Stark they keep telling us about.
That's a Brandon, the tall one with the dreamy face, he was Brandon the Shipwright, because he loved the sea. His tomb is empty. He tried to sail west across the Sunset Sea and was never seen again. - Bran VII, AGOT
x
It was Bran's turn to tell a story, so he told them about another Brandon Stark, the one called Brandon the Shipwright, who had sailed off beyond the Sunset Sea. - Bran III, ASOS
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7. Arya spells it out.
Only Braavosi were permitted use of the Purple Harbor, from the Drowned Town and the Sealord's Palace; ships from her sister cities and the rest of the wide world had to use the Ragman's Harbor, a poorer, rougher, dirtier port than the Purple. It was noisier as well, as sailors and traders from half a hundred lands crowded its wharves and alleys, mingling with those who served and preyed on them. Cat liked it best of any place in Braavos. She liked the noise and the strange smells, and seeing what ships had come in on the evening tide and what ships had departed. She liked the sailors too; the boisterous Tyroshi with their booming voices and dyed whiskers; the fair-haired Lyseni, always trying to niggle down her prices; the squat, hairy sailors from the Port of Ibben, growling curses in low, raspy voices. Her favorites were the Summer Islanders, with their skins as smooth and dark as teak. They wore feathered cloaks of red and green and yellow, and the tall masts and white sails of their swan ships were magnificent. - Cat of the Canals, AFFC
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6. Arya spells it out again.
Arya bit her lip. She had crossed the narrow sea to get here, but if the captain had asked she would have told him she wanted to stay aboard the Titan’s Daughter. Salty was too small to man an oar, she knew that now, but she could learn to splice ropes and reef the sails and steer a course across the great salt seas. Denyo had taken her up to the crow’s nest once, and she hadn’t been afraid at all, though the deck had seemed a tiny thing below her. I can do sums too, and keep a cabin neat. - Arya I, AFFC
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5. Arya spells it out one more time. (Plus one more, because she's so generous!)
It made her think of the sea. Maybe that was the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. - Arya V, AGOT
x
"It won’t be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure - Sansa III, AGOT
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4. Ned Stark makes a bizarre prediction about the future of one of his children.
"No," Ned said. He saw no use in lying to her. "Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king's council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother’s Faith and become the High Septon." - Eddard II, AGOT
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3. An entire fandom forgets what made Nymeria famous.
He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. - Sansa VI, ACOK
x
He had not noticed that before, no more than he had noticed the picture on the tapestry, a scene of Nymeria and her ten thousand ships. - The Soiled Knight, AFFC
x
That is Nymeria's star, burning bright, and that milky band behind her, those are ten thousand ships. - The Queenmaker, AFFC
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2. They could be like Nymeria, and sail beyond the Sunset Sea.
Lord Gylbert began to speak. He told of a wondrous land beyond the Sunset Sea, a land without winter or want, where death had no dominion. "Make me your king, and I shall lead you there," he cried. "We will build ten thousand ships as Nymeria once did and take sail with all our people to the land beyond the sunset. There every man shall be a king and every wife a queen." - The Drowned Man, AFFC
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A marriage is arranged between Arya and Elmar. El mar. The sea.
"Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age." - Catelyn IX, AGOT
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okay-j-hannah · 2 years ago
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Lovey Dovey
Pirates of the Caribbean : Fic
Will Turner x Reader
Word Count: 1541
Warnings: Hilarious sibling banter... Will be a king treating his woman like a queen 👑 swashbuckling pirate swears
Request: “This is me absolutely begging and foaming at the mouth for you to write a Will Turner x reader. I’m fine with fluff or smut lmao. I have a couple ideas if you also want to write multiple (or blend them into 1), you totally don’t have to though. 3. Being Jack Sparrow’s (sister/close relationship) and dating Will - First of all,THE C H A O S Jack constantly bugging you about being all “lovey dovey” on his ship (even if it’s not a significant amount). Jack also always complaining in general lmao. I think this is cute because Jack being over protective of you dating Will just seems so precious to me. PLEASE INCLUDE SOME FORM OF SIBLING BANTER 🙏🏻. Having accurate sibling teasing or banter is so important when writing relationships like these! Plus Sharing a hammock below deck” @gingerdissapointment​
A/N: Jack has never been overjoyed at the thought of you and your boyfriend - especially when you’re kissing on his ship
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The skies were a rich coastal blue between the clouds. The gulls gave their cries as they flew overhead, pestering the inhabitants below for a morsel to eat. The sea was gentle as it rocked the ship.
Rocked the ship and the first mate.
(Y/N) was clearly taking her position on the ship very seriously as she lay across the edge of the starboard side. Her hat drawn to keep the sun off her face, she looked as a cat might just before a long nap.
Until the captain, laden with beads and braided scarves, came from his quarters. The black, heavy lids of his eyes fell into a squint as he spotted his first mate. She did enjoy testing his authority.
Sucking on a gold tooth, Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered over, slamming a hand onto the weathered wood beneath her. “I say, man! Hoist the sails, pull anchor, and undock this ship before I find another to replace yer useless, sleepy arse.”
She barely flinched as he bombarded her beginnings of sleep. A heavily ringed hand lifted to tilt her hat back, shooting the captain a look. It clearly spoke of how disappointing his efforts had become in motivating her.
“Go back to your Tortugan women and let me doze.”
“For your information, missy – we’re not on Tortuga anymore.”
“And you’re telling me you haven’t kept a few pretties in your cabin?”
Jack chewed the inside of his cheek, speaking lowly, “You know Gibbs will cause a mutiny if he sees any woman on this ship but you.”
“Yes, and being unable to escape your persistent stupidity, I’d thought challenging Gibbs would make smuggling barmaids all the more fun.”
Hat back over her face, (Y/N) couldn’t see the way Jack flailed his arms in a pitiful attempt to express his frustration. “If I hadn’t promised mum…”
“If you hadn’t promised mum what?” she suddenly sat up, swinging her legs so she was facing him.
His expression was dry, “If I hadn’t promised to watch over you aboard this ship – I would push you off this instant – to hell with the plank.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she smirked.
In a flash, Jack shoved her shoulder, just enough that she was caught off balance. And the fear that flashed across her face, however short lived, made him smile. “You should be kinder to your captain.”
He went for the wheel, fishing for his compass. (Y/N) slid from her spot, stomping after him, “You really would let me fall in?”
“You can swim.”
She punched his shoulder and he winced.
“You wouldn’t last a week on the seas without me.”
It was the usual bickering between the captain and the first mate. And many of the crew had to dodge as buckets of water and empty rum bottles flew at each other. There was rarely a voice of reason between the two – Gibbs had given up after an incident with a sea turtle and a peg leg – making only one option for a mediator.
“Mr. Will Turner,” Gibbs laughed gruffly, “��Bout time you came aboard.”
Will raised his eyebrows, stepping off the boarding plank, “Are things really so severe without me here?”
A wooden chair came flying from the captain’s quarters, splintering against the wheel. A second later (Y/N) came bounding out, a small chest in her hands, and ran to hold it over the side of the ship.
Jack cried after her, flailing his arms and tripping over the broken chair along the way, “DO NOT toss that treasure overboard.”
“What does it matter? You’re a pirate – go find some more!”
“Yes, but that chest is particularly valuable to me, and I would sorely miss it’s contents. So kindly return it before I tie you to the mast and let the seagulls shit down your pretty face.”
Will coughed obnoxiously and both siblings turned to face him. “What’s so important about the chest?”
(Y/N) grinned, “Will!” She let go of the treasure chest and ran for him. Jack yelled as he dove for the chest, catching it just before it fell over the edge.
“Why must you pester your brother?” Will asked, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek, “I would rather he be reasonable when I visit – he’s not overly fond of me.”
She grabbed his face and gave him a proper kiss, “I don’t care what my brother thinks.” She kissed him hard, losing balance.
A retching could be heard from behind them, “I’d sooner battle the kraken than watch you two swabbing tongues.” Jack sauntered back to his cabin, “We’re leaving in an hour.”
“He’s just jealous the longest he’s ever had a partner was overnight.”
Will snickered, taking her hand, “Best leave him be. I want you all to myself tonight.”
Jack poked his head out of the door, “And if I catch any lovey dovey nonsense on my ship, you can walk the plank and get your quota of kisses from the sharks!”
(Y/N) bit her lip, dragging Will by the hand and below deck.
“Did you hear me?” Jack cried almost desperately, “You keep that hand a safe distance from her!”
“I don’t care how much you fight,” Will said as they descended the stairs, “Jack loves you.”
“He’s protective, is all,” (Y/N) sighed, “I wish he showed he cared in other ways. Like letting me have first pick in a treasure hoard.”
They laughed and kissed all the way to the hammocks used for sleeping while sailing the seas. (Y/N) pushed him into one and jumped on top of him. The hammock swung from the jump, their tangled limbs fitting snug into a cocoon. (Y/N) wrapped herself around him, feeling safe and warm and vulnerable next to him.
“I want to tell you something,” Will whispered to her, running his fingers lightly down her arm.
She squirmed at the tickling, “What is it?”
“I’ve been meeting with the Port Royal banks, building a line of credit with them.”
(Y/N) became very still, her thumb trailing down his ribs, “Why do that? You already own the smithery.”
“I sold it.”
She sat up, hand against his chest, “Why do that? You’re an excellent blacksmith.”
His eyes were shining in the dim light, “I’m buying you a ship. A ship for us.”
“What?” There was a smile on her lips like she didn’t believe him, “A real ship?”
“I’m doing it the right way,” he mumbled, “It takes longer, but… We’ll have a home on the sea.”
She giggled, “A real ship? With a crew?”
“If you want.”
“And you’ll be the captain and I’ll be the first mate,” she grinned, running a hand up his neck to hold his cheek.
Will smiled fondly, “You will be captain. And I’ll be your first mate.”
(Y/N) marveled at him, getting quiet when she said, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” And he tilted his head to catch her lips, gripping her tight by the waist.
She kept ahold of his cheek, giggling as he tickled her sides. They were too preoccupied to hear a set of footsteps tromping down the stairs.
“Oh, God! Damned Davy Jones. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
(Y/N) fell into Will’s shoulder, sighing, “What does it look like we’re doing?”
“Not on my ship, missy. Not. On. My. Ship.”
“Oh, sod off,” (Y/N) yelled, “Grab your rum and go.”
“I’m going to be honest with you, mate,” Jack pointed a wavering finger, “If you don’t get your sticky paws off my sister, I’m going to chain you to a cannonball and throw you overboard for the kraken to eat.”
(Y/N) toppled out of the hammock, “Jack you’re taking it a little far. Will’s been nothing but good to me since we’ve known him. I don’t understand this vendetta you have against him.”
“He’s… well, there’s something about him.” Jack twiddled his fingers, “And I promised – I swore to mum that I’d…” He suddenly became quiet, “That I’d look after you.”
Her heart softened, “And you’ve done a pretty damn good job so far.” She knew he needed to hear it, “And I’m not asking you to stop looking after me. I’m asking that you let someone else help. Someone good and kind. And a partner for me – I’m sorry captain, but that’s not something you can give me.” She tried at a smile.
And Jack did have the slightest crack of his lips, “You were always going to outgrow me.”
Will came up behind (Y/N) and placed an arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly Jack didn’t retort, “You’re not the only one that cares about her.”
“I’m still not a fan of the lovey dovey nonsense.”
“That’s fine,” (Y/N) laughed, “We’re gonna do it anyway.”
Jack laughed too, taking a step back and making for the stairs. He snatched a bottle of rum from the stores as he said, “Put a sock on the cabin door next time. I already have enough trauma without seeing whatever you two do alone.”
And that was about as close as Jack was going to get in saying he accepted his sister dating. Will gripped her side and whispered jovially in her ear.
“You want to get all lovey dovey?”
“Let me grab a sock first.”
~~~
Tag List:
@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree 
Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List
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ooksaidthelibrarian · 6 months ago
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Babylon 5 Rewatch S1E22 Chrysalis
German title: Chrysalis. I am SHOCKED they managed to not replace it with something dumb
I missed G'kar
pro tip: if you need to say something with your dying breath, start with the important information, like the name of the person about to be killed
I feel sorry for Catherine and Sinclair that this won't work out
so many gods to offend
'nibbled to death by cats' LOL
Mister Morden is back, I'm sure nothing bad will happen
Lennier is looking at Delenn's puzzle with such trepidation
OOOH it's this dude
don't do it Londo!!!
no price is a fucking high price
I love Delenn getting a look at Kosh, and us only hearing the sound of wings
G'kar's robe is such a delight
that moment between him and Sinclair is so good, Andreas Katsulas really nails that mix of hesitation and resignation
aw man Garibaldi, I wish you would get to be best man
the Shadow ships always look like whip spiders to me
yeah right viral infection my ass
Hey, remember when Garibaldi's friend told him to watch his back?
Yeah.
'What if you're wrong?' 'Then speak well of me when I'm gone.' that exchange, oh my heart
aw Lennier
it's an awful day for everyone
Londo, it's a bit too late to ask what happened!
I fucking love that clip of Clark being sworn in mirroring Lyndon B Johnson's inauguration aboard Air Force One
expect me when you see me - I quote that all the time
'Nothing's the same any more.' you can say that again
Man I can't believe I already watched all of season 1! I'll be moving right along to season 2 next week, I'm having so much fun with this rewatch.
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snippychicke · 1 year ago
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I don't know I you're taking requests (if you aren't, ignore my presence), but imagine this: our cat boy Kuro saving the reader who ate devil fruit from drawning and being worried about her health (sorry about any misspelling, english isn't my first lenguage)
I am indeed taking requests at this time! I wasn't sure if you meant the devil fruit!Reader from the first little thing I did, but I just ran with it. Either way, here you go!
Tw for drowning
One minute you were running along the railing of the ship in your feline form, the necklace clutched between your teeth. The diamond was bigger than a human fist and alone would sell for millions of berries.
You could see the smaller, steam-powered boat that you and Kuro claimed as your own, sitting in the shadow of the much larger galley shop. Kuro already had the small engine billowing smoke, ready to run as soon as you were aboard.
You reached the end of the railing at the back of the ship and jumped. You would have easily made the distance.
If someone hadn't grabbed your tail at the last minute.
The slick black fur pulled easily from their grasp, but it had screwed up your trajectory. You didn't have enough momentum, and ended up falling too fast.
Right into the ocean.
The seawater sapped you of your energy as soon as you touched it, as well as knocking the air from your lungs. You don't even have the energy to hold on to the necklace. Hell, you couldn’t do anything as your body sinks like a stone, as if the ocean itself was pulling you down to your grave.
~*~
Kuro watched as your black form raced across the railing, a.trio of guards racing after you but falling behind. The heirloom necklace of a royal family glinted in the sunlight, one small item that promised plenty of berries in reward alone, never mind the items he alone had raided from the ship.
Things were smooth until a guard appeared out of nowhere just as you jumped, briefly grabbing your tail. His stomach dropped as he watched you slip away, but obviously not going to make it.
Shit.
Kuro was already pulling the heavy captain's coat from his shoulders by the time you hit the water, and jumped in shortly after. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust so he could see your small black body in the water, already sinking far deeper than seemed normal.
But that was the price of the devil fruits, as far as legends went. He knew a simple splash made you weak and woozy, and feared what being submerged would do.
If you didn't simply drown. Could you even hold your breath as a cat?
If you had been anyone else, he would have cut his losses and ran. There was a dark voice from the back of his mind that pointed out that if you died, your half would be his and it would be more than plenty for his plans.
Had this happened just a few months ago, he probably would have followed that voice. But you had become more important; more important than riches or anything else.
He scooped the small black cat in one arm before quickly kicking back up to the surface. He could hear the grand ship behind them lowering dinghys into the water when he surfaced, and quickly climbed onto the smaller steam boat, (the ship was revolutionary, really, and you had gleefully convinced him that you needed it. Stealing it had been an adventure itself, especially considering it was a prototype not to be actually used.) kicking the engine into gear and quickly outpaced their attempts at rowing.
But Kuro was focused on your limp body in his arms, grabbing a blanket and quickly toweling the water off. He didn't know if it was a good sign or not when you shifted back into your human form, but it made things a lot easier. He could easily check your pulse--soft and fluttery beneath your skin-- which was a relief.
Except you weren't breathing.
He swore as he rubbed your sternum hard, encouraging you to breathe. "Damn, no. You are not dying. You are not allowed." You couldn't die. You were the only person he trusted, the only person he needed.
Except seconds ticked by and there was nothing. No signs of life. Kuro leaned closer to you, feeling his heart constrict painfully in his chest. He couldn’t lose you. Not when you were both so close to achieving your dream. "Please, kitten. You can't leave me like this." He rubbed more water from you, as if that would make you breathe again. He'd do anything, give anything, for you to live.
As if answering his prayers, you suddenly gasped and began coughing, seawater spilling from your lips as you rolled on your side. Kuro helped as best he could, rubbing circles on your back, pulling your damp hair away from your face, and even giving soft encouragement as you caught your breath. “That’s it. Breathe. You’re okay, just breathe."
"I'm sorry," you whispered as you sat up, though still weak enough you leaned heavily against him.
"For what?" Kuro asked, grabbing his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders as your began to shiver. He didn’t even hesitate as he pulled you close, both for warmth and just because he was so thankful you were okay.
"I lost it. The necklace."
He didn’t even think before giving a humorless chuckle. “Better the necklace than your life.” He pulled you closer. “You’re far more valuable to me.”
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sullustangin · 11 months ago
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Fluffy February Day 1: Snow
Fandom: SWTOR
Pairing: None (Gen fic)
Rating: PGish
~~
“It’s snow.”
Risha leaned around the corner, peering down the hall into the cockpit.  The words had been said so breathlessly, she wondered if --
No.  It was the cold weather variety, not the fun sort.  She wrinkled her nose as she made her way up to the other human members of the crew aboard.  “The cold weather better not delay the delivery of that gonk droid.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eva said dismissively, utterly distracted by the flakes that danced across the front viewport of Virtue’s Thief.  She’d just landed at Pallista Spaceport on Alderaan.  The proper systems were being shut down, but Eva was on autopilot, enthralled. 
Corso, perched on the edge of the co-pilot’s seat, stabbed at a few flakes that fell on the other side of the viewport near him.  “You can even see all the angles and crystals on these.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen snow before.”  Risha craned her neck down slightly to get a look at the angle of approach.
“I have!” Corso insisted, slightly offended. 
Eva was unashamed as she continued to marvel.  “I heard rain for the first time when I was three years old.  I think I was… five, six?  When I first saw snow.”
“You’re a true-born spacer,” Risha commented.  Her parents’ ship had been planetside far more often than this hand-to-mouth smuggler family.  But there was something about Eva’s open awe and …child-like behavior.  Not childish – important distinction. 
“On this ship, not far from Bespin.” 
That struck Risha in… she didn’t want to say heart, because she still wasn’t completely sure Eva and her dump of a ship weren’t disposable. 
She felt something fuzzy twine himself between her ankles, as if sensing the lies in her head.  Damn that cat.  “Likewise.  Outer Rim.”  She almost added “the Mandellian Gambit,” but she checked herself; she’d already told that story about Nok to Eva, and the last thing she wanted to do was blow her cover.    “We eventually settled on Dantooine.  The only action on Dantooine was the change in seasons.  But winter stayed far too long, most of the time.”
“Well, Dantooine’s a backwater.  Anyone would get bored, even with snow,” Eva noted, eyes still fixed on the outside. 
Just then, one of the hatches to the outside of the ship opened up.  That snapped Eva out of it, and she spun in her chair to look back down the hallway.  Risha could almost hear the gears whirring as Eva passed her by.  Hylo unwound himself from Risha and trotted after Eva.  She disappeared down the stairs into the cargo hold.
Corso and Risha exchanged a look and followed her. 
The frigid air poured into the bay, the gangplank down and the doors open.  Eva casually strolled down the walkway.  She made bootprints in the thin layer of snow already on the ground and leaned up against one of the Thief’s landing gear.
Hylo put one tiny paw out into the snow, inspected his print, then turned tail and went back up into the warm ship…
Which wasn’t going to be warm for long.  Risha shivered.  “Ugh, why didn’t he just use the regular exit?”
“Maybe didn’t think of it.  He came up through the cargo hold while we were loading up… because he was used to it,” Corso answered uneasily. 
Risha almost made a comment about him being a poor merc if the thought of sentient trafficking shook him up but … she bit her tongue instead when her eyes adjusted to the stark white and the dark figure a few yards away from the ship.
Bowdaar stood out in the little snowstorm.  He seemed to be shifting his weight back and forth – no.  He was…
He was wiggling his toes in the snow for the first time in … stars knew how long.  A century?  Maybe?
He tilted his head up, letting his mane tumble back from his shoulders.  The wind grabbed at the edges of his fur, making them dance. 
And then a snowball hit him square in the chest.  The Wookiee turned to stare –
“Oh, sithspit, he’s gonna eat her!” Corso grabbed at Risha’s arm, but she shook him off. 
Bowdaar stared at Eva, who already had a second snowball in her hand.  She tossed it in the air once, as if considering her options, caught it ---
And then Risha was eating cold slush – “You TRAMP!” 
Before she could control that impulse or play it off cool, Risha found herself scrambling half-blindly toward the snow, because Eva Corolastor was due for a snow facial.
This indignity would not stand-- !
Risha was dead-set on taking out Eva, but then she heard Corso laughing –
She’d fix that—with two fistfuls of snow shoved right down his shirt—
Corso screeched like a little girl.
And Bowdaar huffed, loudly – and launched a snowball the size of a boulder at Eva, knocking her off her feet.  She cackled, the entire way down.
“Captain!  The ship’s temperature—”  C2-N2 stopped dead in his tracks as he realized he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
The volley of snowballs sent him shuffling back to the safety of the hallway.
@fluffyfebruary
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ofpineapplesanddawns · 1 year ago
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I mentioned the other day I wanted to write something with the lesbian version of the Crowlien au, so here's something with the wives before their lives were horribly changed because of aliens.
Warning: flashback that is safe, present day is... not so much, missing limb
On with the fic!
--
Crowley was breathing, but did she really need to?
She could feel pain, but that seemed so cruel, so very cruel. Why would anyone program an android to have pain receptors?
She stared at the ceiling, the lights were still red, but the alarms had turned off a while ago. Bentley was curled up next to her, sleeping, as if chaos had not happened over the past few hours. There was no noise other than the typical sounds of the ship, a few sounds of sparks, from a broken piece of wall or Crowley's leg, she wasn't sure.
Fuck, what a way to find out the truth about yourself. And just moments before your beautiful, amazing, angel of a wife sacrificed herself!
Crowley let out a ragged sob as she looked towards the airlock, sealed tight, with no hint of Aziraphale returning. She had no idea what happened beyond those doors, but it had to have been an hour, maybe longer. There was no sign of the alien, no sign of Aziraphale.
It was just Crowley now.
It was never meant to be just Crowley. This was supposed to be a simple mining mission...
--
"One more week." Crowley said with an exaggerated sigh, stepping into her shared flat with her wife. Bentley came towards her with chirpy meows and the redhead scooped up her baby, giving the cat kisses all over her face.
"One more week, indeed." Aziraphale said as she stepped out of the kitchen, flour on her hands, her cheek, all over her apron. Oh no, she was stress baking.
"Angel, you no we can't take any of that with us, whatever it is you're bakin'. We're gonna be stuck eating the slop that the company provides for us." Crowley kissed her as she walked over, then stepped into the kitchen.
"I know, I know. But..." She could see Aziraphale pout.
Crowley smirked and set Bentley down, he ran off to do whatever it was that curious kitties did. "You want me to sneak on contraband on our very important mission? Hm? Is that what you're tryin' to ask me, Dr. Fell?"
Aziraphale huffed, turning her nose up at her wife, but her smile gave her away. "It would violate the rules they have of what we can and cannot bring aboard!"
"Ah, but when have I ever been a rule follower, angel?"
"You fiend." Aziraphale laughed and pulled Crowley into a hug. "I made your favorites, you'll be happy to have them when you wake up! Oh! And speaking of..."
Crowley kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, I spoke with Tracy. She'll have the AI inject you with E while you're in cryo-sleep."
"Oh! You beautiful dear!" Aziraphale was grinning as she lifted Crowley up and spun her around. "You always take good care of me!"
"Of course I do!" Crowley laughed as her feet were set back on the floor. "I love doing things for you, it makes me so happy to be your hero!"
Aziraphale laughed and stepped back, dusting the flour off of Crowley's black jacket. "That it does, dear. But one day, I'll get to be your hero!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes! Maybe in this mission I'll get to be your knight in shining armor!"
"Ha! If Furfur hits on me again, you can play hero then."
Aziraphale snorted and laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. "Yes, yes, I suppose that could count. Now, come on, you deserve a treat. I've got the most scrumptious raspberry white chocolate scone for you to try!"
--
"You wanted to play hero, angel." Crowley whimpered, turning away from the door. Her eyes back on the ceiling, she tried to ignore the spasm she felt in her damaged leg, she could smell burning metal and wires. She didn't dare look at the fluid on her hand, she didn't want to know if it was red or white.
Another sob escaped her. "Well, you did it. You got to be my hero. But at what cost!?"
No one answered her, not that she expected one.
She was alone now, just her and a cat.
And no heroic angel in sight.
--
I made myself sad with this one.
A reminder, Aziraphale is a trans woman in this au, because yes. Also, I love trans woman Aziraphale, we need more of her in the fandom. (and just more t4t ineffables really).
Yes, Crowley found out she was an android in this au before her leg was damaged. I wanted her to have a more startling realization than what Aziraphale got in the main au, and the damaged leg also means she gets a weird saunter to her walk when she repairs herself. And yes, she had no idea she was one, just like Aziraphale hadn't known.
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allwaswell16 · 1 year ago
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— Animal Fics by allwaswell16 —
One Direction fics by me that include an animal that is important to the story in some way. I always think I'm done writing these, but...
—Louis/Harry—
🐒 Ace of Spades (E, 80k) : spider monkey
Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic.
Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.
🐕 Consequences (E, 78k) : dog
Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.
An amnesia au
🐐 Until (E, 60k) : horses, a dog, and a weird goat
Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.
🦎 I Didn't Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) (E, 20k) : monitor lizard
These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.
Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...
🦜 That's How I Know (E, 19k) : African grey parrot
Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.
Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.
😽 Charity Ficlets (NR, 10k) : cat and niffler
Chapter 1: Shiny Objects: Louis isn't so sure about Professor Styles, but when he must save him from a loose niffler, things change between them.
Chapter 4: Grease Lightning: Louis' cat likes to give out his phone number.
🐬 Never Been Knotted (E, 9k) : aquarium animals
Harry doesn't mind that he presented as a beta. It mostly just makes his life easier and more convenient. There's just one small problem: he'd really like to be knotted.
🦀 The way you smile (E, 9k) : crab
Harry doesn’t need to go on holiday. Unfortunately, his mum and sister disagree, which is how he ends up alone on holiday in the Caribbean. Luckily, he's not alone for long.
🐈 Won't You Please Come Around (M, 5k) : cat
Harry has lived in London for a month, and so far the only friend he's made is his sister's cat, Mr. Whiskers. When the lock on the window breaks, Mr. Whiskers begins exploring his new neighbourhood a bit too thoroughly and brings back mementos of his escapes.
Or a Valentine's Day story where Harry has a really fit neighbour, and his cat is a thief.
🐽 Let the Feeling Last (T, 5k) : pig
Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.
😼 Do You See What I See (T, 2k) : cat sort of, have to read to find out
Harry may or may not be rescuing stray animals as an excuse to see the very hot local veterinarian.
Or an absurd pet fic inspired by She Is Beauty We Are World Class
🦓 White Stripes (E, 3k) : zoo animals
Harry’s roommate is gorgeous, kind, generous, and basically everything Harry has ever wanted in another alpha. The only problem is that he isn’t even sure that his alpha roommate is into other alphas. In an effort to finally get over him, he lets Niall set him up on a blind date.
🪳 Happy Valentine's Day, You Cockroach (E, 2k) : meerkats and cockroaches
Harry Styles, new director of the Milltown Zoo, has a great idea for a Valentine's Day themed fundraiser. For a donation, they'll name cockroaches after people's exes and then feed them to the meerkats on a live stream. He just didn't foresee how many cockroaches would end up with his name...
—Rare Pairs—
🐎 Need (E, 21k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) : horses, a dog, and a weird goat
Niall Horan loved his job. Who wouldn’t? He was the biggest pop star in the world, and he’d found his kindred spirit in songwriting and friendship, Louis Tomlinson. The sky was the limit now. He had the perfect place they could hide themselves away from the world and write his next album...his uncle’s horse ranch in Colorado. What he didn’t expect was the cowboy next door.
🐱 Next Door (NR, 2k, Louis/Rob Pattinson) : cat and a dog
When a stray cat starts coming round Louis' garden and bothering his dog, Louis and his best friend set out to capture it.
Or a famous/famous fic where Louis and Oli embarrass themselves in front of Batman.
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ambiguouspuzuma · 9 months ago
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The Horologist
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The HRS Azimuth was doomed on the eighteenth of August. It had lost its bearings early in the morning, at exactly a quarter past three, and thus began its sombre journey across the Styx - for all souls aboard were lost when it was finally found again. A ghost ship, run into a sheer cliff face as if on purpose; scuttled, like the crabs which now roamed freely across its decks.
Maritime calamities are rarely recorded with such precision. This is inevitable, despite the best efforts of their attendant historians, due to the way that wood decays, or salt preserves; meaning that whilst corpses may be examined, in order to determine a general time of death, there is no knowing how slow and drawn out the wait for it had been.
There are too many variables: one crew might have saved more rations, or doled them out more carefully, and hence postponed starvation for at least a few more tortured days. The end was set, but they could take their time in getting there. In this case, however, Arturo knew the moment of the struck ship's doom for certain. After all, he had planned it all out in advance.
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Of course, it could be argued that the ship had been doomed all along - dead in the water from the moment that she left her berth, the crew's fate having been sealed long before that fateful night. If he had been pressed on that point, Arturo might have pointed to an evening some months hence, the minutes following a dinner which had been too rich for his tastes; digesting his own first taste of crab, but struggling to stomach his dining companions most of all.
"And have you ever worn a beard yourself?" asked Lord Gastan, seated to his right. He stroked his own forked number as he spoke, consciously or not, in a way that shed stray hairs across the tablecloth. Arturo moved his glass a few inches to the left.
"I am afraid not, my lord," he replied, without a question of his own. He saw that topic opening up like a chasm before them, a long-winded conversation about nothing of interest, and did his best to close it down. "I must confess that I have never seen the appeal."
"Ah, but perhaps you are right." Those taciturn tactics seemed not to have worked; Lord Gastan only nodded sagely, as if prompted into deeper thought. "They are such work to care for! The lotions, the oils, the constant tending - oh, like a Persian cat, or a pedigree Afghan hound!"
He bore the air of a man who had neglected to shave one morning and, rather than apologise for such slovenliness, decided to make it his entire personality. Such men always spoke of wearing their facial hair, an accessory to be consciously donned or discarded at will, rather than a disordered growth which freely sprouted from untended skin.
Arturo kept his bat straight. "I have never kept pets either, my lord."
"My God, man! Whatever do you do?"
That roused his attention. I work, Arturo wanted to say: both to sap more energy from the conversation, and to emphasise the difference between them. But he had to make the effort of civility. These Guild dinners were a chore, but they were all part of that work, an important investment in his career.
The city's Makers were often self-made men, but there was a limit to how far that path could take them. Even the greatest artificers could only make so many sales directly from their crooked shops, largely surrounded by competitors and peers. To truly reach their potential, they required a degree of patronage - investment in the latest apparatus, commissions, introductions, renown - and that meant being patronised from time to time.
The Guild arranged these dinners so that those two worlds could meet, to mutual gain; playing matchmaker between aristocrats and artificers, between money-men and, well, matchmakers. The likes of Lord Gastan could invest in Arturo's work - purchasing a stake in the future, anxious not to be left in the past. They would make a tidy profit, increasing their wealth and forestalling that irrelevance, whilst helping him up to the first rung of a ladder they had never had to climb themselves.
"I am a horologist," he replied instead. "A crafter of pillars and plates, balances and barrels, caps and cases. A maker of fusees and escapements. A cutter of wheels, a painter of dials, an engraver, a piercer, a finisher. That is what I do, and that is what I am."
"Ah... very good." After bearing with his babbling for three courses, Arturo was pleased to leave Lord Gastan lost for words. "And these, ah, escapements..."
"I make watches and clocks."
"Right. Yes. Such valuable work! Why, I myself was saying just the other day - to none other than the Admiral, you understand - that we have such a wealth of talent in the city, we really must be able to solve the issues his chaps have been having in the fleet."
"Issues?" For the first time, in over eighty minutes - according to Arturo's watch, which was never wrong - their conversation threatened to become interesting.
"Oh, yes! The search for new chronometers, of course - just as vital as the hunt for new uncharted lands, to hear the Admiral tell it, and of course crucial to their success. The current batch of instruments are just not up to snuff, and his office has decreed a new Trials to muster up some alternatives."
"They need... clocks?" The colonial machine had always seemed, well, imperious. Arturo couldn't think of it running on clockwork, let alone struggling to do so.
"Something to do with co-ordinates, as I understand it," Lord Gastan said. "Mariners have no way of telling longitude at sea, and there have been some terrible disasters as a result. I always thought they used the stars, but apparently they're not up to anything but latitude."
He stroked those luxurious moustaches when thinking, as if hoping to turn the conversation back to his subject of choice. Arturo resented them, knowing just what a luxury they were: he had answered honestly about his lack of facial foliage, but it was not a matter of never having seen the appeal, rather needing to retain his appeal to others.
As a newcomer in this city, he'd had to appear clean and clean-shaven at all times in order to be invited to Guild dinners in the first place. Arturo was a watchmaker by birth, but an Armestadter by trade. Upon arrival, he'd made it his vocation to steep himself in the city's stereotypes and culture: first to earn his residence, and then to earn a living. Flowing locks might be accepted on imported cats and hounds, but the city's great and good would only brush shoulders with a certain kind of immigrant.
He wore his curls cropped-close, his brown cheeks bare, and a simple, pressed white shirt - always tailoring his personality to match, keeping within the box they'd made for men like him. People wanted to do business with young Arturo, the neat and tidy islander whose impeccable service always came with a bow and a smile. He'd had to dispense with his traditional dress, his long, braided hair, and his pride most of all. They would not take him as he'd come, independent and free, so he'd suffered in subservience - and found pride in his work instead.
"Disasters?" That had his attention, even more than the talk of keeping time.
"Without a bearing, ships can be lost. Have been, in fact - and more than a few. Small wonder that the Admiral is making this a priority."
"Of course." The gears in his own mind were still turning. "Do you mind explaining how it works? I have a professional interest, you see."
"Well, from what I was able to grasp - and I am far from an expert, you understand - if a clock is set at its home port, and well-maintained, the navigator can simply check the time wherever he is and compare the two. The difference is his longitude: the number of degrees east or west."
"How would he know the local time?"
"Why, by observing the heavens!" Lord Gastan spoke as if it was obvious, the numbers plastered across the sky. "Again, I am hardly a mariner myself, but I gather that this is what sextants and such are for."
He talked as a man who often gathered, but rarely sowed. Lord Gastan was not the type to work the field himself. Arturo doubted he'd ever held a sextant, or any other tool more complex than the oyster fork he waved to make his point. It was his liberty to talk about such things as matters-of-fact, another man's life's work distilled into an anecdote, enjoying the fruits of a knowledge he had never had to earn.
Arturo eyed his shabby, ill-fitting clothes with contempt. Not for the style - having grown up on hand-me-downs himself, he had no right nor inclination to prejudge a book by its jacket - but that he was able to carry it off, due to the vest of privilege worn underneath. A chainmail forged from silver spoons. How much had he saved for his Guild dinner clothes, fretting each time over starching them enough? All when Lord Gastan could roll into this grand hall as if it was his drawing room. The nouveau riche could afford to dress well, but only old money could afford not to.
"That does sound useful." Arturo was an expert in the detail of his craft, but he hadn't considered such far-reaching applications. "But we have perfectly well-functioning clocks. I work on them every day. Forgive me, but I fail to see the problem."
"Well, this is your profession, not mine." Lord Gastan didn't try to hide his exhaustion with this line of questioning, but Arturo let the sigh go without comment. He was glad to be the bore for a moment. "But it is all to do with the pendulum. A reliable timekeeper on land, yes, but it simply cannot abide life at sea. The temperature, motion, corrosion, friction, lubrication..."
"I see." Arturo smiled. The pendulum. He would simply have to make a clock without its central part. "Well, I could certainly take a stab at that."
"If you wish to add your name, any and all attempt are welcome," Lord Gastan said, both magnanimous and patronising. "The two-hundred arum reward has attracted many young hopefuls. Of course, only the Masters have succeeded at a Trials before."
"Of course," Arturo echoed. He was not a capital letters Master, nor had much prospect of becoming one, though it was not for want of skill. In its lower case, he had achieved mastery within months of arrival; after years to hone consistency, he now produced a masterpiece every other week. But ability was not enough. Even Armestadt, that great beacon of talent, was far from a meritocracy.
The rank could only be bestowed by invitation from the Guild, and the Guild was comprised of Masters. They had grown old and rich on the backs of imported genius, young minds to be apprenticed and bound to their brands, shackled to their workshops with a distant promise of inheritance. They saw no reason to end that careful balance; the gate they kept barely ajar, so that they alone could mete out the proceeds of their work. They had no reason to promote him from inferior to equal; from underdog to competitor.
Arturo had forged his own path, but it had been a narrow, winding one, and it could only take him so far. He was a man who preferred his own company, to be left to - and with - his own devices, but he needed these dinners, the charity of patrons, in place of a Master to serve and suckle from. Then there was the prospect of these Trials: two-hundred arums would fund his work for months, or reduce his reliance on sponsors like Lord Gastan. For an independent Maker, it was a tempting reward all its own. But Arturo had another prize set in his sights, and it was worth far more to him than gold.
After dinner he retired to his workshop, the place where he'd strived to retire so many of his competitors. Arturo had never lacked for motivation, but now he was charged with a new focus: Lord Gaston had sold him the vision of a clock that could go anywhere in the world, and still dance to his beat with perfect rhythm. At least, Arturo thought, he had a project worthy of his talent. After years toiling in the shadows of the greats, this would be his masterpiece.
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Armestadt was the city of the future. There were others with more prestige, certainly, more intellectual pedigree - and the Guild might have chosen the university towns of Tornfut and Roelm to seed its roots, if it had wanted thirsty minds and bright ideas, or the market capital of Hasanbout, if it was in need of golden arums most of all, raw materials and hefty coffers to buy them.
But it had settled here. Not for knowledge of the past, or the riches of the present, but the promise of the future. Armestadt was a city of Makers, most of all. Its bustling streets were crowded with all manner of artisans who had dedicated lives to their particular professions: polymaths who expounded genius with their hands rather than words, alchemists who created things from iron worth far more than their weight in gold.
It was Makers who crafted the specific, delicate pieces required for the advancement of Science - lenses for refracting light, intricate pulley mechanisms - and thus kept the wheels of progress moving on. Since his arrival in this foreign land, it was all Arturo had ever wanted to be. He had been powerless, impoverished, and knew that he could never gain the wealth or power lords like Gastan had been born with. But he could have knowledge, and talent, and graft. As a Maker, he could make himself their equal.
His workshop was nestled in the crook between Candlewick Lane and Creechurch Street, a thin building whose bulging bow windows gave the impression of being squeezed by its neighbours. It was an expensive part of town, with space at a premium, but convenient for his clients and potential benefactors. A twenty-minute walk from the Guildhall, if he made good time - and Arturo always did.
It was also his temple. He did most of his work in a narrow room, cluttered with all sorts of contraptions, half-finished, half-begun. It was a house of clockwork faces ticking in step, as Arturo did himself: he heard the music of the passing time, and knew how to play it on almost any instrument. His lungs breathed with the second hand, his heart beat with the pendulum.
Or not. He would have to find another way.
It wouldn't be the first attempt. There had been experiments with springs, for pocket-watches and carriage-clocks, but so far they'd lacked the precision of his more traditional work. Portable clocks were a novelty - some found them for short-term use, but they lacked the perfect accuracy Arturo had always craved. Still, if the Admiralty demanded it, he would have to see what he could do. He had long laboured at perfection; now he set his sights higher still.
It could be said that the HRS Azimuth was doomed that night: the moment the crew's fate was sealed behind glass, wound up and set to run. But their end might have been foretold even earlier, on another ship, bringing Arturo to their shores - or perhaps on the ships of the past, heading to conquer the land where he'd been born. He was the fruit of those seeds; the reaper their ancestors had sowed. The enemy who'd grown here in their midst. The cuckoo who now emerged from amongst his clocks.
Armistadt was the city of the future, as all of its local nobles loved to boast. Unfortunately for them, Arturo hailed from one of the nations of the past. His homeland was a once-mighty kingdom, brought low by the greed of its own rulers, and dragged lower by the greed of their new ones: imperialists who'd arrived to trade their sovereignty for a handful of magic beans, trinkets such as those he now made for their approval. When one man can be bribed to sell his kingdom, even the likes of Lord Gastan were rich enough to buy a crown.
Conquest had been a matter of business. They'd taken over the local mines, replaced their textiles, all industries now run from Hasanbout, native owners paid off for a fraction of their worth. With no opportunity at home, Arturo's peers had fled the sinking ship: their best minds flocked to Tornfut and Roelm, to learn how to supplant their mother tongue, to memorise the approved version of history. So it was that the ship continued to sink, with no-one left who knew how to right it again.
Arturo had arrived in Armestadt no better, but with little other choice: there were no Makers at home, no patrons, no Guild. If he wanted to master his craft, as he so sorely did, he would have to do it here. Armestadt was the city of the future, and it drew it in from miles around, leaving other places with little future left. This city was oft described as a melting pot, but Arturo had worked with furnaces, and knew that raw materials rarely arrived willingly. They were wheeled in as tributes to the flames; a sacrifice to something greater than themselves.
All four cities were a distortion that sat low across the landscape, a drain that drank in a hemisphere. Armestadt drew in talent as Hasanbout did cobalt, gold and iron ore, as Tornfut and Roelm did raw intelligence, and they all thrived like ticks upon their host. But such asset stripping was not without its costs. Trading routes were slung like grappling hooks across a vast and hostile continent, harpoons buried in the belly of a great whale, forgetting that roads run in two direction - and, once hitched, could be boarded from the other side. They exported resentment, and imported revenge.
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Arturo made for an unassuming architect of destruction, stooped over his workbench: bow spectacles perched upon his nose, bow window allowing in the first glimpse of dawn to filter through. He worked delicately, as if wiring the clock to explode - his nimble touch dictating hands more graceful still, its calamity calibrated to the minute and minutest detail. He'd always taken care over his work, but this device might be his only chance to call an empire's time of death. Moreso than ever, he had to make it count.
Time was of the essence, with the Trials so soon. He worked around the clock, and then again, tinkering with every aspect to perfection, and then adding his imperfection back in. The trap would need to be intricate, to avoid detection by the judges, or those who oversaw the final installation. But nobody saw him now. The political philosophers loved to ask who watched the watchman, whilst the watchmaker entirely slipped their lofty gaze.
Arturo toiled for sleepless nights and restless days, counting down the seconds, one lined face above another. Time danced for him, allowing him to fit a month's work in a week, and he aged a year in exchange. But all that sacrifice was worth it. When the day of the Trials arrived, the device was finally ready: a carriage clock to fit a ship, more and less accurate than any that had come before. Arturo had cut his teeth on grandfather clocks, and now he'd created a clock worthy of his unborn grandchildren. Time had danced for him, and he'd plucked this dial straight out of the next century.
As promised, the Trials were flush with Masters. Arturo knew most of them by reputation, or past encounters, all of them disappointing. Lord Gastan had also shown up for the big event, along with some other high-rolling patrons of the Guild, as had the top brass of the admiralty. It was as if his whole world had been condescend into the docks for the day - or at least the ceiling that had always kept it contained. These were the limits of his present, and the pathway to his future.
As a late entry, and the lowest in seniority, Arturo's was the last scheduled attempt. He liked it that way. He was able to sit back and watch the so-called Masters expose each others' flaws, failing and falling one-by-one, before he took to the floor and exposed them all again. He needn't have worried so much before; or perhaps his fears had been well-placed, and driven him to resolve each and every one. Either way, there were no worries on the day. It all went like clockwork.
Going last, and coming first, meant that his coronation was easily lined up. Arturo stood clear as the most successful applicant, and there could be no doubt that his work had improved on all those who had come before. The device had worked just as intended; meaning that it worked well, for now, and didn't reveal the secret at its heart. Many of the Masters hadn't stayed past their own failed attempts, and Arturo thought it was the shame the whole Guild couldn't see his coronation - but it was sweet enough to be crowned by none other than the Admiral himself.
"I must congratulate you," he said, clasping his arm with a presumptuous hand. "Master...?"
"Arturo," he said, not bothering to make the correction. There was no stolen valour there. The rank was a formality he'd more than earnt in practice. "I am new to the Guild, but rising fast."
"As I see." The Admiral had seen what little he had permitted, but was the sort of man who liked to feel in charge. "Yours was an unexpected entry, as I understand, but the admiralty is fortunate that you decided to compete. You have your people's gratitude."
Arturo did not doubt it; though he suspected the Admiral was mistaken as to whom his people were. He was grateful now for the onerous Guild dinners, all of the practice with the likes of Lord Gastan, which had been rehearsal for this main event. He smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled. He was a metalworker, amongst everything else, and he knew how to manipulate the highest brass.
"It is my honour to serve," he said; a poor facsimile of patriotism, his mouth dry in the salt air. He was a far better liar with his hands. It was fortunate that these men heard only what they wanted to hear. "The fortune is all mine. But I have to thank Lord Gastan for his patronage. It was he who inspired me to stand before you here today."
He waved to his beloved patron, who seized this invitation to come and stand there with them. Lord Gastan had derived such pride from his previous conversation with the Admiral - none other, you understand - and Arturo knew he wouldn't resist a chance to bask in this reflected glory.
"Well, I can't quite take all of the credit," he said, as one who still felt tempted to give it a try. "But yes, it was my suggestion, I confess. I have always believed in the promise of Arturo here, and thought that this might be just the project for his keen and brilliant young mind."
Lord Gastan was hubris as always, but Arturo did not begrudge him the idea. It was true that, had they never spoken, he might well not be here today. He had planted the seeds of this ambition: the device, the Trials, the Admiralty's hour of need. There had been much about dogs and moustaches besides, but Arturo supposed that not everything the man said could be waffle. What was it they said about broken clocks?
"In fact," he said, "His Lordship deserves to enjoy the fruits of his inspiration. I have other commissions which keep me here, alas, rather than accompany my device on its grand voyage, but please, let him set sail in my place. If there is bounty, let him claim a share of it, in compensation for his generous patronage. If there is glory, doubly so."
"On uncharted seas? At my time of life?" Lord Gastan was as full of bluster as the dockside wind. "Oh, come now. In my youth, perhaps; but my seafaring days are long since past. I leave such adventures to the courage of younger men."
The Admiral coughed, perhaps to indicate that the pair were of an age; Arturo took the opening. "Oh but my lord, surely you do not doubt that the Admiral can keep you safe and secure? On his own flagship, no less? I am but a humble Makers, but surely our fleet are the power upon any waters they so choose to sail. Can you really question that?"
"I cannot," he conceded, although his eyes said otherwise.
"It won't be as frightful as it seems," the Admiral moved to assure him. "Ours is only an expeditionary voyage: to see and then return, with no drawn out engagements. We are simply to observe the unobserved; wonders never seen before by civilised man. I can offer you every comfort. Of course, it goes without saying that you can share my personal quarters."
Lord Gastan brightened at that prospect; a captive audience for his tedium. "You honour me, Lord Admiral."
"The honour will be mine, I am sure, to have such an esteemed guest upon our maiden voyage."
Arturo let them carry on the dance. He had learnt some of the steps, some of the words, across his early Guild dinners, but only aristocrats truly had the gift of it: like the food served, the language of diplomacy was too rich for an artificer's palate, and sickening in any but the merest quantities. Only those born to wealth, having been raised on its receiving end, actually had the stomach to enjoy it.
If Lord Gastan suspected a trap, he no longer shied away. He might recognise Arturo's insincerity, but think his motive plain: favour, patronage, influence with the Guild. He would be accustomed to such flattery, after all: the efforts of ambitious Makers to curry favour with whatever they had to offer as a bribe, compliments and complimentary mechanisms. All bare-faced manipulation, but all in good taste. He had courted such courtship himself, in attending Guild events. It he did not enjoy it, he would not have been there.
Arturo smothered the inner protests of his own anaemic pride. Against all odds, he had acquired two champions of the highest rank; with their support, should he continue, he would surely now make Master within the year. With a foot in that door, his path would be cleared for the next decade: to greater recognition, arums more than he could need, commissions to the greatest in the land. But he was himself a champion to others, from before he had arrived at these docks, and his first duty was to them.
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At 3:15 on 18 August, the crew of the HRS Azimuth could feel that something was wrong.
They knew no fear upon these waters. Theirs was the flagship of the expeditionary fleet, the apex of the admiralty's ambition, the quill which would better divide the globe from Hasanbout. With sister ships to starboard and port, fore and aft, they'd set a course over the edges of the map, afraid of no peril or piracy that might assail them. They were the cutting edge that pierced the veil of ignorance: the Masters had crafted a sharper deadrise for speed, more powerful cannon for strength. Every plank of their ship was state-of-the-art.
Of course, that was where they were undone. Arturo's art had served a different state, a different muse. Following the successful Trials, he had been commission to outfit the whole fleet with his perfected chronometers, each set to the same exact time. He decked them out and cabined them in, a device wherever one might fit, and the Admiral was pleased to stand upon the future's gleaming prow: a line of shining clockwork galleons, a dozen cogs filled with a thousand gears and pinions.
It was a fortnight out to sea before the fear made itself known to them. For some, having grown used to the rhythm over the past weeks, it was simply a silence they couldn't place: a hole in the air, a lacuna in the melody of lashing surf and ocean gales. Amongst the music of the far side of the world, they'd been soothed by the ticking of a shell held to their ears, a clockwork conch that held the sound of home.
Some officers, with devices in their quarters, their every hour, minute and second tolled away, had found themselves attuned to that metronome: their breathing subconsciously aligned, their heartbeat keeping pace. It had become a crutch, taken for granted, until it fell out from underneath them; at 3.15 they found themselves stumbling, awoken gasping from their sleep without knowing why, before their assorted organs remembered how they'd functioned before.
For the navigators, it was an even graver problem. The night shift were already a skeleton crew, and they didn't notice when their bearings disappeared: the clocks simply stopped, frozen at a quarter past, and it was several minutes before they realised it had been a few. They tried to keep track, but there was no hope of counting on their own. From that point on, their hours were already numbered.
The next bearing was wrong. Days of ocean in every direction, not a glimpse of land in sight. As ever, Arturo had timed it to perfection. Stripped of its ability to navigate, the ship had been forsaken on the open sea: at the mercy of the winds and the tides and the twinkling mockery of the stars above, tracing a map that none on board had ever learnt to read. Such was the price of progress. Each advance in understanding covered over its own foundations.
Arturo knew all about that. Armestadt was the city of the future, and it built atop whatever past it came across, diverse cultures buried underneath its steel grey perfection. The progress of this expedition had a price that he had deemed too great to pay - and so he buried them instead. There were no bells to toll their death, nor the salvation of the lands which would go unrobbed, unmolested by the hunger of their endless tomorrow. The sand in the hourglass simply ran out, as the HRS Azimuth was quietly lost to time.
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