#ships prow

[echo-bleu]

Eärendil WIP

[quinloki]

Ooh ghost ship... horror but make it bittersweet. Imagine being a castaway. Delirious, struggling to survive on a barely functional escape boat, no food, soaked to the bone from the storm that constantly threatens to capsize you- and then through the fog comes a ship so huge it fills your whole field of vision. You drift to the side of it, the davit(I think that's what it's called? The crane they use to get little boats up and down) seeming to attach itself to your boat. You're welcomed aboard, something about all these larger than life figures feels surreal to you. It's like... you can't truly focus on their faces. But you're out of it, so you chalk it up to that, thanking them tearfully for the food the one in white serves you, the fresh set of clothes and warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. One man, clearer than all the rest, gives you a checkup. Maybe even puts you on an IV after everything you've been through. You're there for a few nights, enough to recover, for your head to clear. And then you wake up, and... the ship is empty. The sky is clear. The quietest it's been in ages. You wander the deck, calling the names of the friends you've made, but you aren't close to death anymore. There's no response. But you find a proper dinghy, fully stocked. A map and log pose are laid out for you, and a letter wishing you well. And along with that- what appears to be a vintage photo of the crew.

THE EMOTIONS I WENT THROUGH READING THIS ANON

How

DARE.

T-T noooo my heart.

You did this right in front of my salad too, I just -

I need to recover.

[fluentisonus]

triumphal arch, orange, france

+ close up of naval scenes

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

Y'know, if it weren't for the fact that the open ocean scares the shit out of me, I think I'd go pretty well on a sailing ship. But like, the older kind with proper sails and masts and rigging and whatever. Because by now I've gotten used to working at (somewhat precarious) heights and having to hold/adjust/remove/fasten things with both hands while up ladders or amongst rigging platforms

So like. That's gotta count for something on a ye olde sailing ship, right?

[misterlemonztenth]

12-08-23 | misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Page 422 of Rule of Wolves <3

[omegasmileyface]

dreams are so awesome. had a totk dream last night where i did side quests and shit it was awesome. it was also very explicit about the fact that the botw games are, canonically and explicitly and deliberately, set in the fallout universe

[honourablejester]

One thing I’ve never understood about D&D druids is how they’re so often imagined as stationary. They’re found ‘guarding sacred sites or watching over regions of unspoiled nature’. And, I know. This is mainly because of the imagery and popular imagination around sites like Stonehenge. But.

If I had the druid spell list? I would take Create Bonfire, and I would take Goodberry, and I would take Create or Destroy Water, and I would pack up a sleeping bag, and I would just start walking. Where? Everywhere! What’s down that road? What’s over that hill? What’s up this river? What’s past this forest? What’s over those dunes? Let’s go see! I can’t starve. I can’t parch. I can’t freeze. I can go forever. So I’m gonna.

Honestly, the druid should be the picture of the wandering vagabond. They have everything they need. You can just walk and keep walking, wherever the wanderlust takes you. You wanna go across an ocean? You can make drinking water. Ships should pay to carry you. You wanna go across a desert? A baby druid with one level and 2 measly spell slots under their belt can still make food and a gallon of water a day for 10 people. Druids should be the explorers, the navigators, the pathfinders. They can travel endlessly, without hurting that which they pass through, the very picture of ‘leave nothing but your footprints’. They can walk the earth, stopping here or there along the way to help where they need to help, and fight what they need to fight, and then they can move on again.

Yes, some druids get tired and settle down. Circles are formed, and that’s how baby druids get their starts, finding a circle. And some areas do need a permanent circle to defend or watch over them. But I do think there should be more of a picture, more of an image, more of an option, for the druid as the wanderer, the rover, the vagabond. A pocket full of berries and a wave of a hand for some rain. Just head out and follow your feet. What could stop you?

(Particularly the Stars druid, my beloved. Could there be a better picture of a navigator? That’s where a Stars druid belongs, at the prow of a ship, or guiding their people across trackless dunes, or carrying news across vast ice fields under an endless polar night to keep tiny isolated hamlets connected. Follow the stars, follow your feet. Yes, accomplish things in the process, but the journey itself is also enough. Just walk. Go. The stars will guide you).

Sorry. In real life, so often, I just really want to see what’s down that road, or over that hill. And, like. As a druid you could just go. You have all you need from a standing start. Well. You’ll have to get clothes and good boots and shit, but you can totally feed and water yourself for completely free and regardless of natural resources out there.

More druid wanderers, is my point here. Yes, still some druids guarding henges and forests, but more druids just walking about, poking their noses into things. There is no better spell list to indulge your wanderlust and curiosity. And that’s without getting into wildshape and the eventual ability to explore under the oceans and into the air. There’s a whole world full of nature. You don’t have to tie yourself to one little bit, unless you want to.

[misterlemonztenth]

01-13-24 | RIP legendary-scholar. misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[whats-in-a-sentence]

And now the winds which had so long been from the northwest began to blow from the west itself and every morning when the sun rose out of the sea the curved prow of the Dawn Treader stood up right across the middle of the sun.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" - C. S. Lewis

[echo-bleu]

Eärendil the Mariner

Who deserves a pirate outfit more than Eärendil?

The background is largely inspired by one of Philip Sue's paintings. It was fun to draw a flat earth!

In other news, I love drawing ships but that was the worst angle possible to figure out. In my head, the Silmaril is at the prow in some kind of glass/mirror lantern that amplifies its light.

I wanted him to look soft, and little wry maybe, rather than fierce. I'm sure he's fierce aplenty but I mostly headcanon him as tired. His fate breaks my heart. Also, it doesn't really show here but my Eärendil is blind from overexposure to the Silmaril (and half-human fragile eyes).

I always waver between giving him locs or a shorter Mannish haircut, but his hair is really too kinky for the shoulder-length, Aragorn-style cut, so locs it is!

IDs in alt text.

[wolfythewitch]

Calling my blorbos 'she' the way a captain fondly pats the prow of his ship and calls her she

[yourtamaki]

shanks and his terrible habit of dropping the most heart-stopping truth bombs while he fucks you. he’ll thumb at your clit and tell you what a gift your love has been to him. he’ll crook two fingers inside you and just underneath your own moans you can hear him saying that he hears you in the waves that crash against the prow of the ship and sees you in every sunrise. and when he’s buried inside you he’ll take your hand, place it right over his heart, and tell you he’d carve it right out if you asked. it’s yours after all.

[lunette-png]

Waves of Ithaca

As the daughter of Odysseus, you were born with salt in your veins and the sea in your soul. Blessed by the god of tides, the ocean bends to your will-your ships always swift, your voyages touched by uncanny fortune, as if the waves themselves rise to meet you. While your father's name echoes through Ithaca, you carve your own legend, a captain whose fate is bound to the sea. Yet, where mortals tread, the gods often linger. A song heard in passing, a stranger's fleeting smile-moments that brush too close to the divine. The world hums with an unseen presence, a warmth in the light, a whisper in the breeze, as if eyes linger just beyond the edge of sight. You are as much a part of the sea as the waves that kiss the shores of Ithaca, caught between the pull of mortal legacy and the quiet lure of the gods. Sailing onward, you become a story told in salt and sun, a name woven into the tides. Whether you rise as a legend or fade into the murmur of the waves, the fates whisper-your odyssey is far from over.

The sun's golden rays dipped low onto the horizon, casting shadows amongst the waves. The ship's timber hull cut through the water, these waves being familiar to the captain of the ship, who stood on the ship’s prow being outlined by the light of the sun. Her eyes that mirrored the ever-changing tides fixated at the looming silhouette of an island, of her home- Ithaca. After weeks of voyaging, the promise of home was within reach, as the wind carried the scent of saltwatee and pine; mingling with the smell of faint of tar and sweat.

She lets out a slow exhale of relief, taking off her helmet- letting her dark hair be blown by the wind. A smile of pride slowly creeping in, she looks back at her crew, who were hard at work with their duties. She walks towards the ship's helm, taking a breathe before announcing- "Land in sight, everyone!". Her voice rising above the rush of the wind, with the ship erupting with joyous cheers, as they longed to be reunited with their families and loved ones.

"We're finally getting home!" most exclaimed.

The tension from the weeks spent at sea vanished, as laughter and excitement filled the air. The weight of the endless days, the storms, even the quiet moments of doubt—all of it dissolved into the warm embrace of the island’s promise. The crew, though worn and weary, straightened their backs and hurried about, their movements now lighter, faster with the eagerness of getting home. They exchanged smiles, clapped each other on the back, and some even cheered in celebration, their voices rising in a chorus of hope and relief.

Their captain stood at the helm, watching them with a sense of quiet pride. Her gaze soon turned back at the shore, the silhouette of Ithaca growing clearer with each passing moment. She had led them through the worst of the seas, and now, they were nearly home. The ship creaked with the energy of anticipation, the wind howling through the rigging as if joining in the chorus of joy.

The weight of the sea causing the timbee vessel to creak, with its sails taut and billowing as the wind caught them, sending the vessel gliding steadily toward Ithaca. The crew moved with practiced ease, as their eyes focus on the horizon, with their hands working the ropes and adjusting the sails. Theie attention often drifted back to the figure standing at the helm. She stood there, as if part of the ship itself—still with her back straight, eyes scanning the waves as if though they spoke to her. The wind whipping through her dark hair, as the sun cast its golden glow on the hardened features of her face.

"(Y/N)!" called Penelope, her voice raising over the hum of the sea, quiet and affectionate. As Telemachus stands by her side, a smile plastered on his face.

The crew then paused for a moment, turning their heads in unison, as a family was reunited before them. The ship filled with seasoned sailors, yet it was her name they all knew, her presence that was one of constant respect and awe. The princess of Ithaca—once a child who played along the shores, now a woman who commanded both the land and sea. There was no hesitation in her movements; the crew trusted her, and she trusted them in return. The sea was her domain, her birthright.

(Y/N) turned her head, a pridedul yet sincere smile touching her lips. Her gaze softened for just a moment as she met her mother’s eyes. “Mother, Telemachus! ” she called back, her voice clear above the crash of the waves, her eyes wandering to the waters for a split second. She wasn’t just a princess in name—she was a captain. A leader, a warrior who knew the pulse of the ocean as well as she knew her own heart as though the sea had claimed her as its own.

"I'm home."

The princess of Ithaca had returned—her name carried not only by blood, but by the ocean itself.

AN: Hello! I haven't written anything since highschool so forgive me if this isn't well-written. I'm reconnecting with my passion for hobbies I had, such as drawing and writing, and I want to improve my vocabulary too. If you have any tips, suggestions or such- they are appreciated. This was a random idea I had, it's like nearing 12 am and I have a 7 am class tomorrow but I couldn't sleep without getting this out my head. I never posted any of my writing TT I want to improve tho, if anyone is interested in this then I might continue it. The title and oc name is a place holder, but if a reader insert is much preferred then I will edit it in the future. Anyways, that's all!

AN #2: I decided to change it from an oc to a reader insert

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Ramming Speed

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The idea of ramming space ships into each other as a form of combat maneuver was beyond many galactic military minds comprehension.

A single spacecraft, let alone a military grade class vessel, would cost up in the billions of credits. Entire galactic economies had nearly bankrupted themselves trying to maintain a fleet large enough to secure their borders, so in turn each military ship became an asset not to be squandered lightly.

Perhaps it was this conservative mindset that nearly shattered when these powers first looked upon the Terran ship codenamed “The Ram”.

Unlike other modern vessels the ships of this new classification lacked all weapon emplacements. No energy cannons, missile launchers, rail guns; it was entirely free of weapons. What it did have was excessive amounts of armor plating, several separate shield generators, and a pair of overly powerful engines that could reach max speed in roughly five minutes.

The first time it was observed in combat was during the Terran/Crux war. Both powers had sizable fleets at their disposal and for the first couple months the two powers played cat and mouse games between each other; each trying to find a more advantageous position to commit their forces. Much to the dismay of both powers the first large scale battle was triggered by mere chance than a tactical decision.

A Crux patrol stumbled upon a Terran patrol emerging from a dense nebula in the Viper System. Both patrols requested reinforcements. Nearby patrols were soon diverted to the engagement and within short order what was a small skirmish ballooned into a full scale battle.

There were no battle lines or frontlines as ships opened fire at near point blank range with each other. Even when higher rank Admirals arrived to take charge both sides were too embroiled in the slugfest to make any more nuanced tactical moves without exposing themselves to the enemy.

It was here that the Ram emerged and showed its prowess.

Crux warship crews were not trained on how to handle enemy vessels rushing towards them. What’s more several gun crews became panicked when they saw the Ram ships rushing headlong towards them without diverting course.

With the extra armor and shielding the Terran ships not only struck head on into Crux ships but emerged from the attack relatively unscathed. In most cases the prow of the Ram ships punched clean through the entire hull of the Crux warship and emerged through the other side.

The Crux fleet desperately tried to regain order and form battle lines but each time they did so the Ram ships would plunge head first into their formation and take out the command ship coordinating the effort.

As more and more Terran ships arrived and formed their own battle lines the tide of battle soon drastically changed. After thirteen hours of intense fighting the last of the Crux fleet withdrew from the battle leaving the Terrans the victors.

A full fifth of the Crux navy was lost during the battle with the Ram ships having personally claimed 45% of the kills.

While the war itself would continue for another two years, the Ram ships and their unorthodox tactics had earned them a modicum of respect from the wider galaxy, and a great measure of fear from the Crux.