tarantulasagna

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literally everything is unisex if u stop giving a fuck

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Hey kid you want a job?

Great get online and go to a job board. Indeed, Linkedin whatever. Now you're gonna search for a role that's in your city, fits your qualifications, and doesn't seem like a bad time.

See that easy apply button? Don't hit it they just throw those in the trash. Now you're gonna want to go to the company's website and check their careers page.

Oh? That job doesn't exist anymore. Cool go back to the job board and find another one.

Great you found another job, you're on the company's career page and the job exists!! So you're going to need to make an account on the career page website. They're using Workday, the same site as the last job you applied for? Who cares? You need to make another account for THIS job's workday page.

Now you're going to upload your resume. That'll autopopulate about 15 boxes with everything on your resume, except formatted wrong and with tons of errors. So just go through and painstakingly check the dates on all of that and rewrite everything you already laid out in an aesthetically pleasing format on your resume.

Ok time for the cover letter, explain why this specific job and company are deeply important to you. You love their mission statement and wouldn't even laugh if their ceo was gunned down in the street. You'll really want to reiterate the things you just spent the last 20 minutes filling out on the resume section

(Remember to include language from the job description, people who work in HR are lower than dogs and they need patterns or they get confused.) Write about a page, but hey don't sound too desperate or robotic this is where they judge your character!

Maybe add your portfolio site at the end here, who knows if that helps no one has ever clicked mine haha.

Anywayyy time to hit apply! Congrats! You'll see that confirmation email come in and you should be getting the rejection letter in about 2 weeks. Unfortunately your resume didn't have the right buzzwords and the AI auto rejected you :(

Time to start again and try not to kill yourself!

[tarantulasagna]

I have a very rough idea in my head that I don't think I can clearly articulate beyond "And that concludes tonight's reports on German air forc—WHAT'S THIS? IT'S KING ARTHUR WITH A STEEL CHAIR"

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Diictodon, who survived the most brutal extinction event on Earth, is happy to see you made it to the other side of that year. Eat well and rest for a bit, you deserved it

[tarantulasagna]

Being real about this: look in to the possibility of late diagnosis ADHD. If you have a mild form (among other variables) you may have been perfectly functional in school/college/University, with regular task switching and limited external responsibilities and cognitive load. But moving in to adulthood, not having external structure with breaks in the same way (in most jobs), having to manage all your own stuff... It could be enough to tip the scales, and start pushing you the threshold of function, or at least have enough impact that you notice it.

If so, there are absolutely strategies and techniques to help you get back to feeling like yourself again. I'm just at the beginning of that journey myself, and it's helped so much already.

It won't be this exactly for everyone, but generally speaking it's more likely that your circumstances have changed than it being something fundamental to you - and that if you can find a way to manage or mitigate your circumstances, you can get that spark back. It might not be quite the same, but it does get better.

[tarantulasagna]

Also, there should be a fanfic site called the Shipyard.

The thing about those ship brackets is that a lot of them end up decided by how high the quality of the work is/how popular it is, rather than just the intensity of the ship. Those octolings could have the most chemistry of any couple ever but nobody notices because they're stuck being flavor filling in a switch game for kids going up against one of the most compelling well-written fantasy narratives of the past couple years.

[tarantulasagna]

The mental whiplash I got from assuming this was some to do with naval architecture, talking about the quality of ship brackets. Brief mental image of a shipyard full of octolings on the way back to comprehension.

The thing about those ship brackets is that a lot of them end up decided by how high the quality of the work is/how popular it is, rather than just the intensity of the ship. Those octolings could have the most chemistry of any couple ever but nobody notices because they're stuck being flavor filling in a switch game for kids going up against one of the most compelling well-written fantasy narratives of the past couple years.

[tarantulasagna]

Yuko Noire aka ゆこ aka Yuko aka XxxYono aka Forêt Noire (Japanese) - 夜行 (Night Travel), Paintings: Acrylic, Pencils, +Digital

[tarantulasagna]

this will be the year I finally convince everyone to abandon New Year's resolutions in favour of Yule Boasting, the clearly superior tradition

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I don't really think it's fair to dismiss the idea that that guy might have been framed for killing the CEO as like an unfounded conspiracy theory when NYPD has a proven history of planting/fabricating evidence on people. in 2011 there was a massive investigation of the NYPD and hundreds of cases against people were dismissed after a former police officer testified that they literally have a name for planting evidence on people: flaking. you cannot be out here acting like considering the possibility that cops who do this shit under normal circumstances might possibly also do it when they're under intense global pressure and scrutiny is the same as republicans thinking democrats run a secret pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza restaurant

[tarantulasagna]

The Sea-Wolf

Scene: The Ocean, 1942. Somewhere off the coast of Norway. We see a bright full moon over the fjords. The view travels down to the surface of the sea. The calm water is broken by a periscope- our first sight of the HMS TREBUCHET, a T-Class submarine. The name is seen on the bow as the view swings around the vessel, and in to the interior, where we see CAPTAIN HARRY MCHOWL operating the periscope. There is currently nothing about him to indicate that he is a WEREWOLF, aside from the fact that he is enormous, and Scottish.

Cpt. McHowl completes his rotation, and relaxes a little.

LIEUTENANT HORROCKS (Offscreen)

All quiet tonight, sir?

The two men are a stark visual contrast. Horrocks is every inch the English public school boy rolled through Dartmouth and into a uniform, tall, though not quite as tall as McHowl, and of slender build. He oozes an easy confidence. McHowl is a hulk of a man, having to duck under equipment and doorways, and with muscles to match. Having completed a sweep of the sea, he is now more relaxed.

Cpt. McHowl

No sign of anything.

He glances over at the sonar readout, where a RATING is monitoring the output with a screen and a pair of headphones.

Cpt. McHowl

No sound either. And with a bright full moon, they're not likely to slip by us.

Lt. Horrocks

I say, can you actually see the moon from here through that?

Cpt. McHowl

(Laughs) No, not with this. What, forgetting your tide charts?

Lt. Horrocks

(Light chuckle) No sir, just the sight of the moon. Don't you miss it?

Cpt. McHowl

The moon? Never given it much though, lieutenant.

There is quiet for a moment, as they check various instruments, and operate various controls, clearly operating as a well-practiced team. Eventually McHowl loses an internal battle with his curiosity and asks:

Cpt. McHowl

Why the moon? Sun, fresh air, good food… of all the things to miss, why the moon?

Lt. Horrocks checks how close the ratings are, and drops his voice a little.

Lt. Horrocks

(Light chuckle) Well sir… nothing like a nice romantic full moon to get a young lady in the mood, is there?

Cpt. McHowl supresses a flash of irritation, and gives a wry smile instead.

Cpt. McHowl

I'll have to take your word for that, Lieutenant.

Lt. Horrocks

(Surprised) Really? But surely you've… ah… I mean… sir.

He trails off in the face of a hard look from McHowl.

Cpt. McHowl

I suppose I've just never been a romantic, lieutenant.

Cpt. McHowl checks his watch.

Cpt. McHowl

Right, I'll be back in 6 hours. You have the watch, lieutenant.

Lt. Horrocks

Thank you sir. (Salutes, then holds out a hand) Very generous of you.

McHowl rolls his eyes and gives a short laugh.

Cpt. McHowl

Let's hope it stays quiet, Horrocks. It'll give you time to think of a second joke.

Captain McHowl moves through the submarine, exchanging rank-appropriate pleasantries with crew. We see that he is well liked, with people cheered by his presence, and him happily lending his considerable strength to the occasional task as he passes through. We also see how much larger he is than most of the rest of the crew- not abnormally so, but noticeable.

After a little while, he returns to his cabin -which is directly connected to the control room where he started, and he has clearly taken this little jaunt around part of the vessel just to interact with the crew- and enters. There is a beat, before he visibly relaxes, shakes and stretches.

He crosses to a wall by his bunk to where there is a calendar on the wall, next to two photographs of an attractive young woman, one either side. In one she is a WREN uniform, in the other in civilian clothes in the Scottish style popular at the time.

Cpt. McHowl

(Whistful) I'll see you soon, Morag.

He looks at the calendar, where the full moon marker has been circled. He checks his watch, and a chart pinned to the other side of the calendar with moonrise and set times.

Cpt McHowl

Hm, they'd be mad to try anything tonight.

He crosses out the square for the day, sets an alarm clock for 4 hours time, and settles down with a book of Highland folklore.

The view pulls out from his cabin to the sea, the HMS Trebuchet cutting through the water, and up to the bright full moon.

Pan down again to a Type 39 Torpedo Boat. Zoom in to the Captain's captain

Scene: Captain's cabin, interior. A small room of utilitarian design, sparsely decorated with a few political posters. The COMMANDANT (if that's the right rank) sits at his desk, examining an object (out of shot or blocked from view) and making some notes.

There is a knock at the door.

Commandant

Enter

Enter an ENSIGN

Ensign

Heil Hitler! (Salutes enthusiastically)

Commandant

Heil Hitler. (Salutes perfunctorily) What news?

Ensign

Rendezvous with the convoy in an hour sir. Maintaining radio silence.

Commandant

Good. That damned Sea-Wolf is out there somewhere. Best he doesn't find us.

Ensign

You mean the Trebuchet?

Commandant

I do… More shipping lost to them than any other submarine that we know of. But with this-

He waves the object at the Ensign; it is a steel plate coated with a complex layer of perforated rubber

Commandant

-We might turn the tide.

Ensign

What is it sir?

Commandant

An anechoic tile. Greatly reduces sonar and audio signature. Developed for submarines, primarily, but through some connections, we are now the test ship for a surface version.

Ensign

So we're invisible?

Commandant

Ha! I wish. No, we can still be seen, and heard, but harder to detect and target. If we can at least force them to stay periscope down, we should be very hard to hit. If they surface, we have them at our mercy.

Ensign

Sounds like we could do with some more ships like this.

Commandant

We could… care to guess what's on the cargo ship we’re on our way to meet?

Ensign (confused)

You can't fit a destroyer on a single steamer…

The commandant rolls his eyes

Commandant

The plates! Enough to refit half the fleet at Trondheim. We'll have the North Sea to ourselves in a matter of months, and with the technology proven…

He gestures at a map to encompass the whole ocean.

Ensign

A brilliant plan sir.

The ensign hesitates for a moment, then decides to say nothing- but the Commandant has noticed.

Commandant

There is something you wish to say?

Ensign

No… well, it just seems a little odd, sir. Why test it like this, and ship it up to us, rather than refit the fleet at Kiel and then try and secure the channel?

Commandant

Are you suggesting that this decision is less to do with strategic planning, and more to do with my niece being a member of Hitler's tennis club?

Ensign

I… what? No, sir!

Commandant

(Laughs) Relax! I'm joking, Ensign. They're testing some different designs. We're the second batch- more experimental. And I don't have a niece at Hitler's tennis club. Right, dismissed. Tell me when the convoy is in sight.

Ensign

Yes sir. Heil Hitler! (salutes, as before)

Commandant

Heil Hitler (combines a salute with a wave of dismissal)

He waits for Ensign to leave, then leans back in his chair.

Commandant (to himself)

Niece at Hitler's tennis club… Ha! It's a nephew who works for Goering's dressmaker.

He gets up, and walks to the window. He lights his pipe as he goes, opening the window once it is lit and smoking well.

Commandant

Alright, Englishman. I know you're out there somewhere… and I have had enough of you harrying my flock. Well, tonight the shepherds have new tools. Let us see you escape this time.

The wind whips the smoke from his pipe and out toward the sea. He shivers, slightly, but tightens his coat rather than retreat inside- until a second gust drives him back in, as it starts to whip around the papers on his desk, and he is forced to close the windows and head in to tidy up.

The scene returns to the HMS Trebuchet. Captain McHowl is finishing a light breakfast of poached eggs on toast in his cabin, while reading a letter. He is interrupted by knock on his door.

Cpt. Mc. Howl

Enter.

The door is opened by a RATING.

Rating

(Salutes) Ships sighted, sir. Looks like a German cargo ship and escort.

Cpt McHowl

Alright. Maintain distance, sweep for other forces on instruments. I'll be there in a moment.

The Rating salutes, and withdraws, closing the door behind him. Capt. McHowl carefully refolds the letter, returns it to an envelope, and tucks it back behind the picture of Morag in uniform. He glances at the door, and then at his unfinished breakfast. After a beat, he succumbs to impulse, turns round, grabs the plate and tips the remaining food down his throat in one go, drops the plate back on his desk, grabs his hat off the back of the door, and heads out, buttoning up his uniform as he goes.

Cut to the command room, where Lt Horrocks is in command, surrounded by other officers and sailors. He is hovering behind the two operating the periscope and the ASDIC. He turns and salutes as the captain enters.

Lt Horrocks

One cargo ship, two escort ships, formation bearing 30 west, mile and a half away

OFFICER

Intercept course plotted, sir.

He hands a sheet of paper and an Is-Was to Lt Horrocks.

Lt Horrocks

Thank you, Smethwick

He reads it, then passes it to McHowl

Lt Horrocks

Looks good to me. Permission to engage?

McHowl makes a show of studying the plan and thinking about it.

McHowl

Hmm... If we had more torpedoes left after that last attack... If we engage, we'll need to make it count. It'll spoil our streak if we don't get this one. (he switches from thoughtful to commanding in an instant) Bring us 5,000 yards off their course by the shortest route, then go deep and silent with torpedoes ready to attack at 2,000 yards. Let them come to us, then we'll slip in behind the first escort. Play it safe tonight, stay off the surface, one full salvo from dive and head home for resupply.

Lt Horrocks

We've still got the extra 2 torpedoes in the external aft tubes.

McHowl

I hope you're not suggesting that we sit around on the surface moving them to the front while in sight of a target?

Lt Horrocks

Well, no… but it's a second salvo if we need it.

McHowl

I'll bear that in mind, lieutenant.

Horrocks looks a little disappointed at the plan, but pleased that his suggestions is appreciated- completely failing to pick up on the fact that McHowl is just being polite. He salutes and starts giving relevant orders (down periscope, 60 degrees to port, ahead flank, etc.) McHowl observes all of this, checking his watch with a careful nonchalance, and a flicker of concern crosses his face as he sees there are still 4 hours to go before moonset. The worry passes, and he returns to a state of calm focus, preparing for the imminent ambush.

The submarine manoeuvres to position, and the crew wait in tense silence, periscope down, passive sensors only. McHowl keeps time with his pocket watch, while Horrocks watches the readout on the instruments, the sound audible to the audience. They all speak in hushed voices.

Lt Horrocks

First ship should be coming in range any minute now.

Capt. McHowl nods, but says nothing.

There is a long, tense pause.

Lt Horrocks

Come on... Where are you?

The sound coming through on the sensors increases in volume

OPERATOR

Should be in range now

A ripple of excitement runs through the command room.

Capt McHowl

Sonar.

A second operator switches on the sonar, and the immediately get a return.

SONAR OPERATOR

Ship detected, bearing 30 degrees starboard, 1700 yards.

Capt. McHowl

(focused) Right. The target should be behind by about-

Operator

Second signal detected

The ripple around the room is consternation, this time. Capt. McHowl raises the combat periscope and scans the horizon.

Capt. McHowl

They've closed formation. Target ship is slipping behind the first escort.

A ripple of frustration, etc.

Lt Horrocks

Can we pull round and get them from behind?

Captain McHowl is visibly torn, weighing risks and opportunities.

Capt. McHowl

If they know we're here, it'll be suicidal. Where's the second escort?

Operator

Nothing on sonar

Capt. McHowl

Periscope depth, slowly!

He returns to the periscope as they rise, tense music in the background.

Operator

At depth, sir.

McHowl raises the periscope and swivels to the right direction

Capt. McHowl

They've fallen back... No, they've turned back!

Lt Horrocks

Turned back?

Capt. McHowl

First one is dropping back more...

Lt Horrocks

One having to go back for some reason, the other closing distance for a closer guard?

Capt. McHowl

Could be... Could be a trap. And this isn't the night for a risk...

Lt Horrocks

Pardon?

Capt. McHowl

(realising he's let something slip) Slow ahead. Let's not miss an opportunity if we get one...

The crew are diverted by the call to action, but Horrocks retains an air of suspicion, having noticed the captain is trying to hide something.

The submarine advances, slowly, quietly, the crew operating with a collective furtive energy. Scenes of torpedoes being prepared and loaded, repair equipment being made ready, etc. Capt. McHowl remains at the periscope.

McHowl

Lead ship turning toward us! Full stop, go silent!

Silence descends on the submarine and all activity comes to a halt, dark, tense, the crew holding their breath.

We see two crewmen who have been left holding a torpedo that they were in the midst of loading when the silence order was given. They try to communicate silently how to put it down, but with their arms full of torpedo, can only mouth words and gesture with their heads. One moves to try and load it, the other is slow, and they narrowly avoid dropping it; after some more head shaking and nodding, they try again, this time roles reversed, the second one trying to push it forward, the first trying to lower it. Eventually they co-ordinate just putting it down, but slip at the last moment, dropping it to the deck with a clang. Not hugely loud, but enough that it echoes through the silent submarine quite noticeably.

Horrocks

(Whispered) Shit

McHowl

Shh!

They wait. Then;

McHowl

They're still turning!

Horrocks

What?

McHowl

They're turning back as well… They still don't know we're here…

Horrocks

Then let's hit them now!

McHowl

Why would both escorts turn back? Something isn't right here…

He pans the periscope in a roughly 50 degree arc.

Horrocks (checking instrument)

No signals on sonar or hydrophone. Maybe a rendezvous failed to arrive?

McHowl

Or is arriving any minute now…

Horrocks

Then let's hit them both while we have the chance and get out of here!

McHowl checks his watch again… and decides

McHowl

Attack speed, full salvo at 1300 yards, target the cargo ship as a priority, lead corvette as a secondary

The sub bursts in to life, engines hum back in to action (running on electric power while submerged at periscope depth? Or would they surface, close, dive, and fire? Scout around for someone who knows about submarine warfare on Reddit, or somewhere. Maybe an excuse to talk to some nautical people at work), and the HMS Trebuchet surges towards the ships.

We briefly see the oncoming sub from their perspective, panic arising as they start taking defensive action.

Shots fall in the water near the Trebuchet, but not enough to cause damage. Depth charges are launched but they fall short. The Trebuchet lines itself up, and fires a full salvo of 6 torpedoes. They streak through the water towards the two German ships, catching the cargo ship with several, and the escort with two.

McHowl

Turn us round and let's get out of here! And get those last 3 torpedoes loaded in case we run in to something on the way home.

More frantic activity as the sub turns. McHowl walks in a small circle to keep the periscope facing back toward their targets.

McHowl

Other escort returning… aft tubes stand ready. Whether they chase us, or head to the others, we'd best be ready…

They continue their retreat at full submerged speed, periscope down, watching the readings on the ASDIC. Cut between action shots on the submarine, and on the two hit German ships to speed through the passage of time.

McHowl

Stand ready to target as soon as they're close enough for a good salvo

Horrocks nods, and moves to stand next to the ASDIC station, while McHowl monitors various other stations and activity.

Horrocks

Target at 1800 yards, sir!

McHowl

Good enough!

He raises the periscope for final targeting, takes a bearing and performs a calculation with an Is-Was

McHowl

Gyro 10 degrees starboard, 15 degree spread. Fire!

We see the action as the torpedoes are loaded and launched, and follow them as they streak through the water. About 3/4 of the way there, we see the prow of the 4th ship emerge from behind the stricken cargo ship.

McHowl

There's a 4th ship! There's a 4th damn ship!

Horrocks stares at the ASDIC, exchange looks with the operator who shakes his head and shrugs.

Horrocks

Where, sir? There's nothing on instruments!

McHowl

What do you mean there's nothing…

He trails off, seeing from the readout that they are correct

McHowl

(Growled) Then what the hell am I seeing out there?

He drags Horrocks over to the scope.

Horrocks

I don't… I don't see…

McHowl

Just rounding the bow of the cargo ship! They've been hidden behind her from this angle.

Horrocks

I'm sorry sir, I don't... Ah! There! Looks like they're heading straight for us. still don't… Ah! There! Found them!

McHowl

Damn... Can't outrun them submerged, won't get away surfaced... get us turned round!

Horrocks

How did they creep up on us?

McHowl

Masked by the sound of the other ships, I'll bet. Especially at that range.

Horrocks

What if it's some new stealth... Thing?

McHowl

(Grunts, pauses, thinking)

We'll soon see. (giving orders) Dive and drop to half speed. Keep watch for them on all instruments. As soon as we have them, surface enough for a salvo, then dive again.

He continues tracking the oncoming ship as they submerge until they pass per, performing more calculations with the Is-Was and a slide rule.

McHowl

20 minutes till they're in sonar range. Keep up passive listening in the meantime

The 20 minutes pass (accelerated, cutting between shots of preparations, repairing minor damage from the earlier) fight, and tense waiting. Tense background music throughout.

McHowl

Come on... Where are they?

Horrocks

Nothing on sonar yet... Have they turned back?

McHowl

No... With us that close? Maybe they're tacking in from a different angle...

He checks his course calculations from earlier.

McHowl

20 degrees to starboard.

The order is executed, indicated by sound and action in the background.

Horrocks

(looking at McHowls notes) Ah... Take us off the line of pursuit. What if they come in from that side?

McHowl

They'd have to be damn fast to cut round that way. No, if they're not here already, they must have -

He is interrupted by the boom of a depth charge rocking the submarine, albeit at a distance.

McHowl

Here already it is. Why the hell aren't they on the sonar!?

Operator

I don't know sir, all other returns normal!

McHowl

Damn thing must be damaged…

Horrocks goes to speak but is interrupted:

McHowl

Yes, or it’s some new stealth thing, thank you Horrocks. Dive as deep as you can, and go silent!

The bridge bursts into action

Horrocks

You think we can hide from them?

McHowl

I think we've got a better chance of that than fighting them on the surface. 3 torpedos and the deck guns against a Destroyer? Not impossible, but easier if we can catch them off guard.

Horrocks

Doesn't that make now our best chance? Take them by surprise?

McHowl considers for a moment.

McHowl

No... If they think we're still running, they might go past. Then we'll have them. If not... Well, that ends the same either way.

Horrocks

I'd... I'd rather go out fighting up top than hiding down here, if it's all the same to you, sir.

McHowl

Let's see to it that it doesn't come to either.

They all fall silent as the sub reaches maximum depth. McHowl checks his watch: still 2 hours to moonset (go back and adjust times in editing).

Various different booms at distance, steadily growing closer. Superficial damage, if any. Eventually one hits close enough, and substantial leaks begin, primarily in the upper hull.

Horrocks

Sir, we need to surface!

McHowl

(growl of frustration)

Surface! Ready to fire as soon as we see them!

He eyes an exit hatch.

McHowl

When we surface, I'm going to give you command and head up to operate the deck gun... Or find some other way to end this.

Horrocks

Sir, that's-

McHowl

Listen. I'm going up alone and it is essential that you do not follow me, you don't send anyone else to follow me, and you don't open the hatches for 2 hours. Or better yet, till dawn.

Horrocks

Sir... Harry, what are you talking about?

McHowl

Just do as I say! You wouldn't disobey my last order, would you?

Horrocks

But... Sir...

McHowl

No arguing! Get on that periscope and find that ship.

Horrocks

(confused, and torn with conflicting emotions)... Aye sir.

Horrocks salutes, grabs raises the periscope and starts scanning for the ship.

Horrocks

Target sighted, 12 degrees starboard... About 200m away!

A ripple of dismay; too close for torpedos. McHowl explodes in to action, up the ladder, out the hatch, on to the freshly surfaced deck, slamming the hatch shut behind him, despite the protests of the crew that can be heard behind hime, locking it just as the transformation begins. His limbs extend, fur bursts from his body, along with huge muscles, claws and teeth. His hat remains wedged between his ears. A light sweeps across him, then pauses and returns. He howls and leaps forward in to the sea, swimming toward the German ship.

He rapidly reaches the side, scales the gunwhales, and the shot pans up to the moon as the screaming begins.

Dawn the following morning. Horrocks opens the hatch and climbs on to the top of the submarine, followed by a couple of ratings, one of whom carries a tightly rolled white flag. He is carefully not waving it, but is poised to do so at the first sign of trouble. Nothing happens.

Horrocks

(cautiously) Ahoy?

No response.

In the absence of small boats, they carefully manoeuvre the submarine along side the eerily silent ship.

The party climbs aboard, lead by Horrocks, to find scenes of utter devastation, wrecked doorways and gun emplacements, and a lot of dead kriegsmarines.

Eventually they find McHowl fast asleep on the bridge, his hat on the floor under his head, otherwise naked, covered in blood, and clutching a chunk of bone (possibly a spine) in both hands and his teeth.

Horrocks

What the hell...?

Similar muttering and concern from the rest of the crew.

Horrocks

Grab blankets, get him back to his cabin. Round up a relief crew, take control of this ship, and let's get going.

RATING

But... Sir... What is he?

Horrocks

... He's our captain.

A flurry of activity as they take command of the now de-crewed ship, and get the still-comatose captain back to his cabin, carried by Horrocks. They reach the cabin

Horrocks

I've got him, I've got him.

He carries the captain in to his cabin alone (struggling), and lays him down on the bunk.

He turns to leave, and sees the various moon charts on the wall.

Horrocks

What the devil...

He sifts through the dates and times.

Horrocks

Full moon last night...

Horrocks turns to stare at the captain.

Horrocks

What are you?

He begins leaving the room

Horrocks

(to himself) and what the hell am I going to report about this?

[tarantulasagna]

[tarantulasagna]

So I decided I was going to write a quick thing for this:

Then a bunch of stuff happened, the idea expanded while I was busy doing other things and several weeks later I was still researching technical details of WWII submarines...

I came to my senses at the point that I was about to get a map of Norway and do some travel time calculations, so none of this is quite what I had in mind, and probably still has technical errors, but, uhhh... Yeah. Here's a thing.

(After reblog, as pictures and script are now on separate devices)

[tarantulasagna]

[tarantulasagna]

brooding men who cannot communicate their feelings if their life depended on it are only hot when they're fictional. if i have to deal with one in real life i will curse him and pray for his downfall every night before i go to bed