#no way to seaway

[ognimdo2002]

Dymphna – Lady of No Way to Seaway

Dymphna is a saint and a fictional character of the same name introduced in No Way to Seaway as one of the overacting protagonists in main series, as the only saint as hidden or cameo in most stories. Dymphna was also introduced in Weather Dragons, Two Lights, Worldcraft, and Rescris.

Take Note: All of my drawings and photos of people, animals, plants, mythology, disasters, organizations, events, and more are purely fictitious. These are included in real-life situations and events with fictional characters or creatures that aren't real, be at your own risk. For nationality or indigenous, be advised. Ognimdo.

Story

This is alternative history for Dymphna is lesser than actually real story of this pri-. Dymphna was a guardian for Ronaldo Kealani and Meranie Jorpassadal from newest threats in 2010s, as both are reincarnation of Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl.

Reference

[tomsmusictaste]

Seaway // Turn Me Away

[judgemark45]

The largest warship to ever transit the Great Lakes. The 8-inch gun Heavy Cruiser USS Macon came through the Seaway in 1959 to officially open the new waterway. She is seen here in the Eisenhower Lock. Note the missing radar antenna, removed in Boston to allow passage through the Seaway 's lift bridges due to her high air draft. The ship had all sorts of problems rubbing bottom and bumping into walls on her way through due to the large size, powerful engines, and the open ocean design of her hull.

[writingcold]

Bound

AU Jake X Chris slash 

A/N: At the announcement of Mirador, and that first picture of Jake and Chris, my brain went to the following blurb. I have been working on an AU currently titled The Dead. This story is about soulmates that have been cursed to live apart - and at the time of story, they have lived many lifetimes apart. Within the story there are 6 versions of our Jake set in many different eras, just as there are 6 different versions of Maéva - the Y/N character. It has been so fun to write! But I am rambling. The point is, the following blurb is just ONE of the lifetimes that Jake has across 400 years. I was only going to share it with a few friends, but then @katuschka, @its-interesting-van-kleep and @thewritingbeforesunrise really have thrown their support behind me and this blurb. The rest I’ve shared with - you know who you are - are such an amazing group, so I hope they enjoy the revisited blurb. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, polished it, honed it a little more. This will NOT be in the story proper, it’ll be mentioned, but not known to the main character. At least at this point, it is not. Our secret. And as always, thank you to @edgingthedarkness for listening to me carry on and on and on and on… and on about this story and being so patient with me over the mess that it is. 

***This is an 18+ story for adults only. This is a blurb of Yakov Petrov (Jake) and Christian Hertel (Chris Turpin inspired). It is an AU set in time when Michigan was voted in as a state.***

Content warnings: Sexual situations m/m, oral, unprotected sexual situations, a little angsty (of course, and loops back to the actual story), a touch of Yakov (Jake) being a brat.

Word count: approximately 2600

Journal Entry - Yakov Petrov, June 1862

     The commission had come in August of 1854 to survey the new territories of the northwest. Christian had reservations, but the money would be good, lodging and food was included. He had enough hands to set out like a grand jungle expedition into the wilds of the unexplored lands of the United States. I did not understand his reservations. To set out into the wilderness that only those native to the land had known? What adventure. What a privilege to see and paint and study. But, my Christian was the one who gained the commission, not I. It would be his decision to go and his decision to take whom he felt would be fitting to the project. Just because we shared our appetites with each other, did not mean that I would attend the expedition. 

     We had boarded the ship in Boston, May of 1855, that would take us first to New York, then up through the St. Lawrence Seaway, into Lake Ontario. We’d then follow the Niagara River to Lake Huron. From Lake Huron, we’d find ourselves on the Detroit River to finally push our way into Lake Michigan. Detroit would be our destination for a fashion. Christian had called it our last stop of frayed civilization before traversing into the untamed wilds of the north lands. 

     I will not be untrue - being aboard those ships brought me a joy from the core of my spirit, but a mournfulness as well. I felt this joy to be old, sunk down in the marrow of my bones and beyond me in a way that was confusing and best forgotten the moment my feet touched the land of Detroit. We were housed in what was considered a grand house of the region, but after such luxury in Boston and Philadelphia, I was finding myself holding my tongue from spoiled and rude comments. A tent in the grand garden of our townhome would have been more comfortable.

     A month of those conditions prepared us for the path before us. We had native guides and set out with a troupe of sixteen hands to carry and maintain our academic venture. Christian was a marvel in his organization of those men. He wanted to start at the northern point of Sault Ste. Marie. That meant more travel by water, which was fine. The commission demanded each step be documented - not just in paint and charcoal, but recording for scientific reasons, the flora and fauna, the animals, the geography. All of it was to be recorded and sent to Washington, DC, for study. That was to be our nature of work, and we would follow it to the letter.

     My foot touched the aged pier of Sault Ste. Marie and I felt an illness within that I could not explain. Christian wanted to send me home to Boston, I was so taken. I took to a bed in a passable inn and shook with a fright that I could not shake. It was in my blood. It invaded my breath. I sent Christian on with the promise that I would catch up if he were to leave me a guide. I was behind him by weeks, only, but in that time, my soul seemed to cry over the wild, windswept land that was this already old place. I found myself walking upon the grounds of a once great shipmaster’s house that overlooked the great lake of Superior. The French manor house that barely clung to its elaborate balconies, was a ruin. It was a ghost of memories that seemed to dance and toy with any and all who passed it by, eliciting the imagination of grand balls and fancy turns of women’s voluminous skirts. 

      It was on this scrap of field that I felt it for the first time, an ache that would go on to haunt me the rest of the journey. I set up my easel and painted what I saw: the town and the port beyond this desolate beauty that hurt my spirit for unknown reasons. Perhaps it colored my stroke a bit, leaving me with a melancholy piece that once set, was boxed and housed to make its way back to the capital. This ache was ever present as I finally was well enough to move across the peninsula to catch up with Christian. It was a dogged feeling that I knew this land as sure as I knew myself. Odd, as I never had been anywhere except the grand cities of the east coast.

     It was a reunion of quiet touches and catching up when I did finally reach the party. My Christian was always so enigmatic when it came to our relations. He might one day grasp me by my whole body and not let go without a laugh and caresses that were never hidden, while the next, may only be in the form of a clandestine brush of the back of his hand against my thigh. I did not mind. It kept me guessing and intrigued and returning to him for more. This reunion, however, he walked away from me as if upset. I followed him, calling his name like a wounded puppy might.

     I followed into the deep woods, where the light dappled on the ground as if fighting to penetrate with its goodness. I suddenly realized, goodness was not meant to see what he needed, nor wanted from me. His mouth crashed into mine with a carnal anger that left me breathless and needing more. No coherent words passed between us. Only desperate touches and demanding utterances graced us as he nearly tore my clothes from my body. His fingers knocked my hat from my head and his eyes stilled in absolute offense.

      “Damn it. Why did you cut it, Yakov?” he growled as he discovered my hair much shorter than when he had left me.

      He tugged it at the roots, pulling my head back to expose my throat to him. He ravaged my skin, leaving not an inch untouched. My man knelt in the black dirt and sucked me down, leaving me ruined and ready for him and only him to love as only he could love me. He kissed and lapped and ground his mouth on me until I was nearly weeping and close to orgasm before he clutched me with a kiss that was full of passion. He wrapped his hand around both of our girths and began to rub hard. Feeling his cock against mine was one of my favorite things, and to have him eye to eye with me, reading my face as he fed my need was near otherworldly. My love poured out on the air in my sighs and moans of pleasure.

      He turned me, helped me to find my hands on the gnarled bark of a tree. His mouth sucked at my shoulder with promises of love and adoration as his cock found my entrance. And he loved me. He penetrated me in a hard press that filled me with a desire that no one had ever given me. He loved me. Each in was demanding while each out was a caress and need for more. Yes. He loved me. And when we both reached a pitch that could no longer be staved off, we danced in ecstasy as our high crescendoed into a shared gratification. He held me and I held onto him in the dirt. Our skin was inflamed with joy and our words gentle towards each other. 

     My fingers tangled in his sun kissed golden hair and smoothed across the manicured mustache that resided over his lip. How many days had I woken to this face only to be so enraptured by it each and every time. And he looked upon me the same. His fingers in my dark brown threads, even though I had cut it quite short, and across the hair on my chin. Always with such love. Always with such care.

     We worked our way across spidery waterways. Through dense forests and broad meadows. One word was always on my tongue - beautiful. There was no green like it on the wind battered east coast. Surely, this virginal green was unlike anything on this fledgling continent. It was strong against the eye, yet the wind pushed it as if with a whisper of promise of what settling it would provide. Eagles, in grand mass, relegated in towering pines, while the deer were thick in numbers, grazed unaware of the dangers that were to come. Industry was waiting. It was our purpose to sell the dream of this ground to industry. Christian both hated the idea, but loved it for what riches it would bring to the region. Hated for it would surely be destroyed under the bootheel of man. Loved it, as he captured the most natural golden beauty through our work.

      We had been in the wilds for well over a month. We pushed our way south, sketching, recording, painting. Day after day brought something new to be cataloged. Something new to be puzzled over. But most of all, captured. We were capturing the spirit and nature of this land. 

      The cold came swiftly in this region. Our party was forced to choose - build cabins and wait out the harshness of winter, or try to rush to the south and east to Detroit before the ice bound up the land and winter there. Christian ordered for cabins to be built - we were to settle and capture a winter’s season in the new land. We were not the only ones in this region. A new village was chartered and was beginning to grow as the last of our timbers were set in place for our shelters. I spent hours sketching and painting - even putting in the men as they labored. Frankenmuth. They were going to call the village Frankenmuth, so I titled the painting as such.

      I knew hard winters. I knew winters where the sun seemed to extinguish itself for days on end and the ocean would lash at the shore in unrelenting undulation that was sure to tear permanently at the land. But this - this winter in this land of Michigan was beyond me. There were moments of crystalline beauty and desperate cruelty of storms that lingered. Christian laughed at my poetic rendering of what was around us, but it is what it was. Horrid. But beautiful. 

      The spring of 1856 was slow to thaw. Despite there being still snow on the ground, Christian and I were out, wrapped in heavy furs and easels in hand to sketch the landscape. It was midafternoon before I realized that he had put me into the picture he created. I laughed at him as he gazed at his work with an eye that I knew well. He was smitten with me, still. He had started to apply paint here and there, but he left it unfinished as my ministrations to him had become too blatant for him to ignore. My usual trick to get him to love me rather than paint me.

      On the eve of our resumed expedition, he held me with the lament of wanting me to be his forever. He wanted to marry me as he would a wife. He seemed so adamant and passionate about it. We were together, that was enough for me. 

       He became sullen and started to argue with me. He pulled away and it was as if the Earth was pulling away from the moon. He was unconsolable in the moment about how I was changing with this land. I was changing? How? He said to look at his drawing, how I looked to the land like it was my lover. I was baffled. He said that I would talk in my sleep about love. At first he thought that it was himself that was causing my midnight sighs and caresses. 

     “Unless my name is suddenly changed to Maéva, I doubt very much that it is I who is featured in your deepest dreams, Yakov,” he had argued.  

     “But if you’re angry about dreams, surely you see the absurdity of your argument,” I fought back, showing that I was totally unaware of what he was talking about.

      I smoothed back his hair, dragging my fingernails over that patch of skin just behind the shell of his ear. I watched as he quivered under my touch. I pressed kisses to his furrowed brow, cooing and whispering my love. I promised that I would be his husband and he would be mine in our hearts. It would be enough. I took his tongue into my mouth, sucking it hard enough to elicit a soft chirp. I relished the taste of his creamy skin, passing my mouth across the sparse, downy patch in the middle of his chest. 

      “I want you to quit cutting your hair,” he growled as I found his cock with my lips. “Why do you cut it when it’s so pretty?”

       I pressed behind his ball sack hard as I slid my mouth up the shaft with a saucy pop. “Ever think it’s to make you upset with me, Chris?”

       His eyes pinched at the edges as I looked up at him, my chin coming to rest on his thigh. He trailed his fingers down my cheek. I knew what he wanted of me. I knew and so I took him into my mouth until I was downright slobbering. I spit into his entrance as he moaned loudly, egging me on. I wrapped my hands around his thighs to spread him enough for me to enter him. And we made love, face to face.  My eyes roved across his lean body, loving each turn of bone and stretch of skin. The way his mouth stretched with pleasure, and how the head of his cock peeked out as he stroked himself tightly as I moved with confidence within him. I bent, his thighs pressed hard around my hips as I lapped at the precum on his head with a moan of satisfaction. The hard inhale of breath and I knew one more trick to send him into another plane. I swirled my tongue over the head as I pressed in, snapping my hips into his rump. My fingers dug at the meat of his flanks as I dragged my tongue over the softness of his belly, circling across his nipple before sinking my teeth into the flesh of his shoulder to unravel each other until we were a complete mess.

       In the darkness, he slept well as I held him close. I listened to his breathing for hours. It was shame that kept me stirred. He was not wrong about how this land was claiming me. This woman - Maéva -  was haunting me in my slumber. The meaning of it was so blurred. It made me hold to him all the tighter. It was him that I loved. I belonged with him. He understood me best. Yet, this woman was a memory of deep time. She belonged to another time, another existence. I knew it deep in my bones, just as I had felt the joy of crossing all those rivers to come to this land. But my heart was cleaved in two, wasn’t it? A fractured shard that belonged to one that was not in my time of now. It was that piece that I could never surrender to my Christian. And he was mine. I pressed my face into the mass of golden hair to allow his perfume to swell around me. He was mine.

I hope you liked my tangent here into Yakov’s life. It was such a tangent that strangled me, and continues to play in my brain even though this is pretty much it for Cake Lane in this story. I’m not sure when The Dead will be ready to go. Life has been so busy, making writing time sporadic, but I’m getting there. I will be putting out a new tag list sign up when we’re closer to release, but for now, this will remain tag-less as it's just a one off. Until then - happy reading, happy writing, happy creating!

[proflambeovt]

Paleovember 2023, Xiphactinus!

Also known as the X-fish or the Bulldog fish, Xiphactinus swam the Western Interior Seaway during the Late Cretaceous, and  was probably one of the most terrifying fish to ever exist. Not only did it grow up to 20 feet long, it turns out to have an attitude as ugly as it's face; specimens have been found having choked to death on fish way too large for their gullets, and it's likely that their own kind would have been on the menu as well.

[applin-bottom-jeans]

third sweater...

this one had a weird history. i finished the back, then the whole bottom part first because i thought getting the self striping thing for the front to match would be easier to figure out that way, then i realized that when i bound off the bottom that cast on the the wrong number of stitches for my size and i had to frog it, so i did the grey sweater, got back to this one, and now the bind off for the bottom edge is a lil too flarey but by this point i don't care.

Me having no brain aside, this was a nice simple pattern to do. I like how simple it feels and how the cables add a lil somethin. I'd like to make this pattern again in a different color sometime in the future. Pattern is Seaway Pullover by Hailey Smedley.

(There's one more sweater that i have to finish out of the "i listened to the dark side and bought enough yarn for a sweater Multiple Times god i'm never doing this again" from last year/early this year. And then i am done with knitting for a bit...)

[gremlins-hotel]

After driving about 8-9 hours yesterday, man I had some thoughts.

Do you ever look at the names on the billboards and highway signs you pass by? The people of the small blink-and-you-miss towns that in the mind of a driver only seem to serve the purpose of breaking up the monotony of the road. Names that if you were to search them would most likely bring up no results except for an obituary and a grave marker. Who were they to those towns, who were they to their families and the people around them that wrote about them, what made them so beloved so as to rename the streets or have a sign made in their honor?

And as your tires eat away at the miles and the minutes do you ever gaze out at the roadside and wonder how it came to look that way? I can sit and know and tell myself that yes, Texas was once part of the seabed of the Western Interior Seaway, which split North America in two, and that is why we have so much limestone and why our elevation is so low. Why we have the Edwards Aquifer as we were molded into a bed of karst at the tail end of the Great Plains. But what specific current made it so that we were perfectly hilly as you reach the Edwards Plateau? And how goofy must we look as you go from the tall, straight pines and forests of the Eastern Woodlands to the yawning deserts several hours west, having to cross through every biome in between. What winds and rivers and floods and storms shaped my seabed home into the geographical crossroads that it now occupies?

Do you ever think too much on how that influenced the way people lived when they came to live in those places? In all of Texas’ rivers it brings the alluvial floodplains that would later feed crops, then commercial farms as the course of history took. The draws formed by rains and that were used to hunt bison that would also one day break hooves and ankles in the age of the cattle trails. Who knew mesquite had so many uses? And though so many of them lay still and dormant half the time, the fact that we have enough wind for people to sport the great twisting turbines in an effort to try and be green.

I know I’ve never gotten to really travel outside the United States but honestly I wonder how I could answer these same questions if I did. What would I find if I looked long and far? And even driving through my home country, they still stand. What of the ontogeny of the Appalachians? The windward caress of the Rockies that made the Pacific Northwest? The evidential meteor that may have influenced the Chesapeake?

[klonoa-at-blog]

From: Klonoa 2: Lunatea’s Veil Official Guide Book (Published by Famitsu/Enterbrain - 2001) (Pg. 206)  

~Messages from the Klonoa 2 Staff~ Lastly, we would like to show you messages from those who were involved in the development of Klonoa 2 to the public. You'll find hard work, inside stories, and a few positive ones(?!) here and there! ......So, thank you all for your hard work!

Asuka Sakai Profile: ● Age: 26 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Music for Joilant (minus the Haunted House and Tat), Ark, Polonte, King of Sorrow, and staff roll. ● Comments: I struggled to create a song that would fit the characteristics of each kingdom so that the world of Klonoa would come to mind just by listening to the song. When I was making the music for Joilant, I myself was cheerful and upbeat, but the theme for King of Sorrow, the last song I made, I was crying a lot. I still cry when I listen to it. (Or rather, a song that makes me want to cry??). ● Favorite character: Leptio

Yuji Masubuchi Profile: ● Age: 24 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Sound effects, Volk, etc. ● Comments: Thanks to the nap room and my jerseys, we were able to manage 1,000 sound effects without incident. By the way, the voices of the creatures and bosses are the result of Mr. Go Shiina's enthusiastic performance. Hooray for strange noises! In the initial setup, a mad scientist named Garlen was  someone who would have said "Hooray for Volk! Woohee!” while operating Biskarsh. Of course, I put on my lab coat and started composing, and after some trial and error, I completed the groovy tunes. However, that day I learned that Garlen had been removed... ● Favorite character: Klonoa's ears (a feeling I would like to have as a pillow)

Katsuro Tajima Profile: ● Age: ? ● Blood Type: Eh...?! It’s a secret. ● Responsibilities: BGM and sound effects (Seaway, Quenchless Curiosity, etc.) ● Comments: I think the fantastical elements have become even more intense than in the previous Klonoa. The more you play, the more you discover new things and double the fun! ● Favorite character: Moo

Go Shiina Profile: ● Age: 26 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Sound (Music, Voice Editing) ● Comments: I am a voice actor in various places, so please listen to me. For example, the elephant in Jungle Slider? ● Favorite character: Joila-kun (Joilant mascot)

Hiromi Shibano Profile: ● Age: ?? age ● Blood Type: B ● Responsibilities: Music ● Comments: I was in charge of the background music for the "Maze of Memories," "Noxious La-Lakoosha," and "Folgaran" (Boss 1). It was quite picturesque working through the night, watching the sun rise over Yokohama Harbor through the condensation-drenched windows. ● Favorite character: Popka

Kohta Takahashi Profile: ● Age: Secret ● Blood Type: Secret ● Responsibilities: Leorina related, named the insert song (Music composer) ● Comments: Well then, farewell everyone. ● Favorite character: Leorina

[ognimdo2002]

The Hawaiian royal characters in Late Cretaceous – Meranie, Ronaldo, and Paris

Meranie: Do you want to swing zwing in the river at the beach.

Ronaldo: Dear, there is much more say that no more reason of the river is given a value.

Meranie: This is start and end when the sea close the land my love, Ronaldo.

Ronaldo: We got you Meranie, as my score of nature.

Meranie and Ronaldo: No Way to Seaway.

There it is.

Teaser screenshot for Wednesday before Star Wars of May 4, not May from Pokemon.

Let's start with Meranie Jorpassadal, Ronaldo Galicinao Kealani, and Paris Jorpassadal Kealani, a dinosaur.

Meranie or Maryanne Janine Ilonesrama Jorpassadal of Delirtinia, as Common Saurfolk in modern times, a real princess in her kingdom, but she was born in Hawaii at Planet Earth because no perfect hospital contact. Hawaiians immediately brought Queen Lillie Ilonesrama, her mom and Prince Jared of Delirtinia, her older brother in hospital at Maui, Hawaiian Islands where Paolo and Ronaldo were born here by Kahiau Kealani, his father of Native Hawaiian, and Maia Galicinao, his mom of Ilocano people. Both his parents are indigenous peoples.

Meranie was born in rare condition, was polydactyl, however, she have five fingers both hands and feet, and she have plantigrade feet, make Meranie a human being looking.

Her father Christian Henrico and the first uncle Christian Mikey died after the incident on Seattle, Washington before the event and during the Historya Davvun where Punzalan brothers and Lesley Punzalan with Tasi Padilla around inside Abstergo Industries. Their incident was caused by Daniel Cross, the enemy of humanity that he eradicate most of members of Templar Order, Assassin Order, and Conservationist Hunters, including the leaders and Princess Diana Spencer. Which is happened the first wife of Kahiau Kealani, the Japanese Hawaiian named Hikari Tsubasa die by Abstergo soldiers before the hunters and saurfolks initiate the guerrilla in Maui, Hawaii.

Ronaldo Galicinao Kealani, on the other hand, the main protagonist and only non-white or mixed people partially percentage of being Hawaiian and Ilocano by his parents. Unlike his brother, he was born with magical powers by natural. Ronaldo was very good fighter and adventurous guy, he was born leader and he outstanding for shares his allies from Padre Salvi and his henchmen. He was very know that he connection with nature and magic. He likely to mixed fire and ice magic that Salvi burns and chills him at some point, Salvi flee from Ronaldo's fury.

Ronaldo's history was followed by Princess Meranie. Both birthday date was November 18, which is National Princess day 😁

Ronaldo was only Kealani family born with magical powers by mixed qi energy, bioenergy, mana (used for Polynesians as part of magic), dharma and the force, he's only his allies, except for Meranie Jorpassadal and Paris of Nevada the Dakotaraptor steini.

Paris of Nevada or Tiracahne Paris Jorpassadal Kealani is the fictional character and a Dakotaraptor introduced in No Way to Seaway series, he was tritagonist of Ronaldo Galicinao Kealani the Hawaiian Filipino main protagonist, and Meranie Jorpassadal as later deuteragonist after Margaret of Pembroke left for Thomas Nawombedi from South Dakota, a Shoshone people.

Paris abandoned him and keep him safe for himself alive and find the few surviving Dakotaraptors in Everrealm and he follows most beautiful girl was first childhood of Ronaldo, Meranie Jorpassadal was a princess of her heartwarming life for avoiding the contact towards him until Joszef Horvath and rest of his allies follow the steps to the new events for Ronaldo's new passive life and Meranie.

According to Maia's bestfriend, Liway Santos about the preservation magic of love between Ronaldo and Meranie are both born in Hawaii State out of nowhere because of Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto or now in Modern English as Eostre, a living goddess now established in Maui, Hawaii.

Lore

Prior to No Way to Seaway event, Maia Tala Sanderson Galicinao, the mother of perpetual sons via Hawaiian father, Kahiau Kealani after losing his first wife from 1999 preemptive strike worldwide caused by Desmond Miles and Daniel Cross, even the Conservationist Hunters allied with Templars and Assassins.

Both Maia and Kahiau are married in Oahu, Hawaii, but moving to Seattle before the event of Punzalans. Kahiau and Maia learnt both Iloko and Hawaiian language, which both of them are indigenous peoples. Many whites considered Maia was less heritability of European descend and she was descendant of Queen Rapunzel and King Eugene Fitzherbert. Meranie's parents: Lillie and Henrico are married at the same location, and same exiled country. Making the princess as oldest sister of Prince Jared.

Queen Arianna survived with Napoleon Bonaparte, Constantin Sanatescu, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and Mirabel Madrigal found Arianna's three descendants, which are learned her new moves than any Conservationist Hunters. Before Desmond sacrifices himself for protect his friends and allies in Chicxulub, Mexico as the Aesir stronghold temple was found by Assassin Order in Mexico and Varrios Los Aztecas (unrelated to GTA San Andreas/GTA V counterpart).

#weh.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

USS Macon

The largest warship to ever transit the Great Lakes. The 8-inch gun Heavy Cruiser USS Macon came through the Seaway in 1959 to officially open the new waterway. She is seen here in the Eisenhower Lock. Note the missing radar antenna, removed in Boston to allow passage through the Seaway 's lift bridges due to her high air draft. The ship had all sorts of problems rubbing bottom and bumping into walls on her way through due to the large size, powerful engines, and the open ocean design of her hull.

[avalonbestiary]

We start off the southern coasts of new avalon a pod of boxer whales (a small but suprisingly agressive rorqual) are acompanied by the equally intolerant sea bears (large walrus relatives also fairly agressive). these two species usually highly intolerant of other creatures close to them but along the southern artic seaways and south avalonian coasts these two surly giants come together to feast on the vast schools of fish and other sea life that gather in these cool waters. initially this relationship seems one sided as the sea bears school the fish into tighter and tighter bait balls allowing the boxer whale to swallow them in one easy gulp leaving the bears the stunned individuals from that but the boxer whales are pulling their weight, as even though the sea bears are large Being nearly as big as their living earth relatives here on avalon there's always predators large enough or tenacious enough to hunt them especially in the open ocean but few predators will risk the wrath of a pod of boxer whales while smaller than a lot of their earth cousins they make up for it with a agression going out of their way to attack anything that might be a threat which since the arrival of humans has included boats hence has made studying these feisty beasts a difficult task

(Swear i haven't forgotten this blog just had a hard time actually knuckling down and making presentable works and updating old models i made an age ago)

[sainamoonshine]

#like st lawrence baby im so sorry they’re doing this to you Marie what?!? Do people call it the St. Lawrence river? Nooo! It's the St. Lawrence Seaway! It's way too cool to be a river! Also Seaway is such a great term and I never get to use it otherwise. Boo to the people calling it a river!

…….. am I now learning this now, after translating my entire book wincing every time I called it a river because that’s what google, antidote, and every damn dictionary in the world told me to call it

Have I failed at being a Canadian…..

[garblegarden]

Height charts, who doesn’t love ‘em? I’m trying to think together a story about my dino characters.

All of these guys (Except fungus, the sauropod) are from an ARPG on deviantart, but I wanted to make something dinosaur related of my own with these guys so I’ve diverged quite a bit from their canon designs. I figured that if I’ve got dino characters already kicking around, why not just rework them?

I’d think this version of these guys would take place around 66 mya. In order I’ve got: -Fungus, in the shape of a sauropod (Their favorite kind of dinosaur!) -Lyocell, a parasaurolophus who was granted immortality by Fungus and has found her way across the Western Interior Seaway recently -Asparagus, an arambourgiania (Originally a therizinosaurus... but for location purposes that didn’t really work...) -Seltzer, a teeny tiny seabird of some sort who likes to hang out on Galgithor -Galgithor, a dryptosaurus who’s missing an arm (And really wants to kill Lyocell)

But those are just my names for them. They’d probably know each other by other identities. Fungus is often known as a behemoth of bleached muscle, for example.

[comicavalcade]

Submariner Summer 8

Hey Namor Nation, its time: part 8 of #SubmarinerSummer read through--Tales to Astonish #77, To Walk Amonst MEN! Hulk gets the cover, and frankly from here on Hulk and Namor will alternate the covers pretty much. Should I not post the Hulk covers? Let me know if you think so!

Still, it may not have been a Namor cover, but the title page is a banger. Regal af frfr, Gene Colan ate, etc etc. Clearly Stan was inspired to get fancy with the words when he saw that page

Anyway, Namor informs his council he's going to the surface to take care of the disaster at the source. The Council isn't thrilled, worried about the danger to him from the surfacers, though Vashti backs him up. Only Namor alone can save Atlantis! Imperius Rex!

Meanwhile, the people continue to suffer, crying out for their Prince to act. But not Dorma, she wants to go with Namor; Namor, of course, says no, firstly because he doesn't want her in danger, but also because she has to watch for The Behemoth, a mysterious weaponized monster created by Atlantis for a doomsday scenario

So off to the surface Namor jets, soon encountering a massive drill that's causing the destruction. At least it wasn't nukes this time 😀👍

Then we cut to the surface and...oh oh oh of course. Dr. Hank Pym, the human science disaster himself. (also Jan!)

At any rate, Namor makes sure the drill stops hurting his people, then goes to tell the surfacers to *not* destroy the indigenous people of the place. Which, of course, means its time for the US to attack; nobody tells 'Merica what to do

And, lets be serious: Namor is always ready to let the surfacers fuck around, because he will let them find out. Oh, sorry, I mean: "If it is battle they seek...it is battle they shall get!"

Even still, he actually slips into the US ship rather than just destroy it outright, but he's in no mood for diplomacy; its his way or the seaway and he commands a halt. Dr Pym isn't having it though, he's got a job to do. And...we've reached our cliffhanger!

This issue is cooking for sure. A touch of Atlantean politics, a bit of exposition with Namor and Dorma foreshadowing a threat, and then a classic "the surface goads Namor into hostility" scenario with a reveal of Avengers Ant-Man and the Wasp themselves in their civilian identities.

The title and end pages are both especially good, great book-ending. Colan really continues to deliver on this series. And so come back for the next installment--Tales to Astonish #78: The Prince and the Puppet!

[tomsmusictaste]

I wonder what happened to Seaway they kind of just stopped doing stuff and that’s upsetting because I think about something wonderful constantly

Something wonderful was, well, wonderful. Big Vibe was incredible too; I know they were struggling during the pandemic, but I do hope they come back in some way. Far as I can tell they're still together, been no announcement of anything, so I'd guess they're just taking a little break atm In the meantime, at least they've still got a cracking back catalogue for us to enjoy

[catboy-spike]

seaway

Familiar faces and old lovers lost, Spike found the driving need to throw himself overboard. Into the abyss; tossed with starlight and dust, he sunk. Down, down to the deepest layer, the currents found him. Rotten, with rose petals and empty casings, he let the ocean take hold.

Nothing ever went his way. Through ichor and static, the inhabitants of the bloody depths filtered him into the cracks, churning saltwater and twisting him on his head in a turbulent cycle until he couldn’t tell up from down.

With bared teeth and broken bones, he hit the bottom; clawing his way through the muck to find his own bitter, broken fortune. Gasping for air, his head bobbed above the surface once, twice, three times before he was sucked into the void again, darkness and scattered memories overtaking him until the roaring waves came to a screeching, grinding halt in his mind.

Quiet. All there was left once the tides had turned was an aching, deafening silence. On the weathered coastline, Spike looked up—

The sky above cracked like a whip, and all at once: the glittering stars of lightyears past filled the night with such brilliance he found it hard to look away. Couldn’t. Milky Way as far as his eyes could see, something shifted within him—torn open with a burning glow that drove him to his feet—and he took off towards the distance; an indescribable urge telling him to go, go, keep going, racing for the light at the end of the tunnel.

There, on the other side of his cage, he found only a man. And there was something about this man—he was so very clearly not of this world, facing inward, eyes wide with worry and wrought. Spike couldn’t help but to laugh. There, he found his solution. There, he came to terms with what he truly was. On steady legs, rowboat teetering beneath his feet, he reached for the hand reaching for his.

No, compared to the hell he came from, a proper ship didn’t sound so bad at all.