#boathook

[normalbrothers]

Arthur: Tommy Shelby? How about fucking Arthur?! Fucking nice to meet you.

[catilinas]

does anyone want to give me $7500 for the master and commander longboat

[breadvidence]

I beg y’all’s pardon, in my recent shitpost my inexperience thinking hard about Grantaire’s character arc led me to make an inadequate punchline, and in place of “The—no;…” I would like to present as a revision:

G: So you’re a man of Aegeus’ sin, so beloved of the nineteenth century, though we perhaps thought too little of the marriage of the boathook and the bloated flesh after. You prefer a watery baptism at the tail of life as well as the head—not my preferred sacrament, when Christ has been so good a host as to give his blood, and I a gracious guest, but one can’t judge another man’s religion. Besides, she’s a very fine thing, the Seine, a romantic. All the same, a bullet’s quicker.

J: That’s well enough, but the ninny had my pistols.

[ceescedasticity]

I've done so much thinking about Alqualondë that the possibly canonical "felony murder" approach is starting to grate on me.

(Felony murder: Any deaths which occur during commission of a felony are murders committed by everyone committing the felony.)

(In this case the felony is grand thefts swanship, those committing the felony are all the Exiles who were planning to travel on said ships, and the deaths are everyone who died in the First Kinslaying on either side, deliberately killed or otherwise.)

(Felony murder makes a certain amount of sense in some cases, but in other cases it ends up with stuff like a suspect being charged with the murder of his partner who was shot by police, and that can't possibly be right.)

(Anyway I seem to be losing my patience for All Exiles Must Repent Of The Murders Of Alqualondë. No, That's Not Really Repentant. More Repentant.)

(They betrayed and robbed/were accessories to robbing their friends. That's bad. The ones involved in the actual Kinslaying also did Even Worse Things — for a myriad of reasons ranging from "I'm mad at you" to "I want this ship and you won't leave" to "oh fuck you're about to stab my buddy with a boathook" to "I have orders" to "you came up behind me and I lashed out without thinking because we're all under unimaginable levels of stress what with the metaphorical sun going out, and it turns out I'm holding a sword", probably. And those aren't all the same and shouldn't be treated the same.)

[totheidiot]

i am working on a drawing of richard from if we were villains which got me thinking about the book again, also thinking about tsh and like, why do people feel the need to compare the two books when they quite literally have such different plots? analysing every significant detail on why they are so different and unique from each other would take a 10k essay at the very least but i'll focus on one thing: bunny's death vs richard's death. THEY ARE FRAMED SO DIFFERENTLY AND THEY PLAY OUT SO DIFFERENTLY AND PEOPLE STILL FIND THE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THEM IN THE SAME BREATHE????

if we were villains is a classic whodunit. oliver doesn't know who killed richard and neither do we, the audience. but in tsh, we are privy to the fact bunny died and it was the greek class who had killed them and we know that from THE FIRST LINE. there is no confusion about it. we know from the start, bunny will die and they will be the ones to kill them. on top of it, how the murders were brought up on: bunny's death was totally on purpose. even though there was hesitation before, in the end, the act was done 100% on purpose. literally, none of the greek class showed much guilt over his death either. they were just very worried that the authorities would find that they had done it.

now in richard's case, even though we all know james technically murdered him but i don't really think he should be given all the blame for it. when the thespians found him in the lake the next day, richard was still alive and potentially, they could have saved, or they could have tried to. and besides, i would argue that richard's death was a total accident on james' part, considering the insurmountable guilt he had felt afterwards and how he had only accidentally hit richard with the boathook at the heat of the moment. and the next day, james was literally the one begging everyone to save richard.

[swanmaids]

ulmo grants his favourite couple a gift on the day of the birth of their first grandchild. written for the @yearoftheotpevent april prompt ‘peace’.

It was sometimes said by the Men of Númenor that in the early days of the reign of Elros Tar-Minyatur, the Star of High Hope was four times seen to shine in place from morning till night, never moving nor fading, and this tale was indeed the truth.

~

Elwing, albatross, soared with the rising dawn to greet Eärendil her beloved aboard Vingilot as he drew in towards her tower. She landed on the deck barefoot in her woman-shape, nude, and wound her arms around his shoulders.

This was how Elwing began each day in Aman, yet this morning was different. For instead of preparing to land as always, as she released him Eärendil raced to the wheel at the bow and turned, so that the great sail billowed across the other side of the wind, and Vingilot turned.

“We haven’t time to spare!” he cried, “Ulmo came before me as I sailed tonight, and he spoke to me of one blessing he has granted us; but only for today- we must make for Númenor with haste!”

~

Elwing dressed herself in Eärendil’s spare tunic (too wide in the shoulders) and trousers (which barely grazed her ankles), and returned to Eärendil’s side on the deck. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and pressed his face into her neck, breathing her in, the light of the silmaril bound to his brow glowing in the blue-black of her hair.

“It’s beautiful in the dawn,” she said, meaning the ocean, and it was. The coral-pink sky sparkled with Arien’s light and the light of the silmaril on the water, and off the coast of Aman it was so clear that flying low as they were, they could see shining pearls tossed about on the sea-floor, and fish like many-coloured jewels.

As they crossed the Enchanted Isles, and over the wider sea, many among the great and small creatures of Ulmo appeared to the flying ship. There was the mighty whale Uin, shooting a jet of water up onto the deck in greeting as he swum among the islands; and as they came closer Elwing and Eärendil saw that one rock was no island at all, but the dread turtle Fastitocalon, yet he did them no harm. Swimming among a school of porpoise were a dozen mermaids with hair and scales of many colours, who rose to the surface and sung in a tongue unintelligable to see Vingilot; and following them was Uinen their queen, unmistakable in her beauty and fierceness.

After Uinen had passed, Eärendil raised the ship higher in the sky and Elwing armed herself with a boathook; for where Uinen went Ossë was sure to be close. Yet when they did encounter him, he simply skated over the waves and raised a hand to the mariners.

Eärendil smiled, and said that all the spirits of the sea must have come out to see his fair wife, and she laughed. And at last when they reached the star-shaped island of Númenor, Salmar appeared before them and he played the great horn of Ulmo, and the song awoke in the hearts of many mariners across the land.

High above the island they soared, and each looked down through a spyglass. As they flew, the seabirds of Númenor flew to join them, the sea-mews and the puffins and the gannets, and they spoke to Elwing and told her to sail as far as the Palace of the King in golden Armenelos.

~

Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond his twin, and his wife Gennoril and their newborn child, yet to be named, had waited since the coming of dawn under the tree of Nimloth for their miracle, and late that morning, it came. The star of Elros’ father shone upon his grandchild beneath the tree, and the boy smiled. And though they could not see nor speak to their parents, Elros and Elrond knew that they were with them then, and had never truly left their sides, and they smiled and wept.

That day, the Star of High Hope looked down on the royal family of Númenor until Arien journeyed out of sight, and Gennoril looked upon her child and said, “Vardamir”.

~

Elsewhere in the ocean, fishes darted through the wreckage of Sirion and mussels and limpets clung to the sunken skeleton of Ancalagon. The remains of Turgon’s ships continued to rot and crumble under the water, the bones of their sailors laid in the sand while their bodies reborn walked in Aman. And above it all, the Blessed Mariner and his wife winged with feathers looked down together as they sailed; and while they knew that the gift of today could not make up for their many losses, they held each other in gladness that it had been granted them all the same.

[byz-was-here]

Chronicler's company as Toa Au: Toa tools edition

Going off of the "Toa tools as upgraded matoran impliments" theory,

Kapura ends up with the disc he used as a guard being upgraded ito a huge captain america-esque shield. It may take a few ricochets, but it always hits his target.

Macku's tool would probably be an upgraded boathook.

Tamaru gets a machete. as a treat.

Hafu winds up with an upgraded hammer from his carver's tools

Taipu Gets a similar looking hammer-pick upgraded from his mining kit. Hafu Is not pleased about having another thing to confuse the two over.

Kopeke has a staff that he used to help him get through the ko wahi drifts.

[transdunbar]

For the WIP game: potc 1

i genuinely dont think ive touched this doc since the last time i participated in wip Wednesday but here we go anyway!

Her yelling brought Holloway and Rafael, along with several other sailors, running. When they saw she wasn’t lying, panic settled in and everyone started shouting and running in an attempt to bring the boy onboard. Hayden was gently led away from the railing, but she didn’t miss much from the sidelines; soon enough, the boathook had been cast out and brought back in, ensuring the boy’s safety aboard. After making sure the boy was still breathing, however, attention turned away from him and back to the water.

“Mary, mother of God…” Mister Hale muttered.

[potcscripts]

WILL: To arms! Load guns -- defend the masts! Boathooks to the prow, don't let it get a grip! It will attack to starboard. I've seen it before! Set cannons and hold for my signal!

[nightbringer24]

I am looking forward to getting the Never Mind the Boathooks! rules, since it’ll be interesting to see what a skirmish-level Medieval naval wargame plays like.

[milkteahoe]

OLIVER YOU STUPID IDIOT BURN THE FABRIC AND THROW THE BOATHOOK IN THE LAKE

[normalbrothers]

on that note, tommy not being able to defy or say no to mosley directly, lead to a pretty interesting interaction where mosley enters the dining room while polly, lizzie, tommy and arthur are treating a recently shot linda

tommy, despite this being his own house and having every right in the world to send mosley away himself, doesn't do that, doesn't address him directly (while still being standoffish as he tends to be, to be clear), instead he sends arthur to tell him off

which is then followed by this fascinating moment between mosley and arthur (and some pretty cool compositional choices as well)

mosley remains out of sight, and we only figure out that's he's left through arthur and the others' reactions, but there's something to be said about arthur being positioned in a protective, almost "fatherly" way in front of the women and tommy (who are sort of blending together) to threaten the (male, sexually menacing) intruder, if not out of the house entirely, then at the very least out of the room

(you do have to wonder, though, how much this dynamic playing out made mosley consider to try and recruit arthur in the first place (and the fact that arthur, after all, falls for it))

[avonlady44]

Today, Prayer is surrender to God’s will and cooperation with that will. If I throw out a boathook from a boat and catch hold of the shore and pull, do I pull the shore to myself, or do I pull myself to the shore? Prayer is not pulling God to my will, but aligning my will to God’s will.

Our personal agendas and aspirations must take a backseat to God’s will for our lives and this world. That’s what prayer is about—not what we want, but what God wants. When you pray, do you give instructions, or do you report for duty?

I Believe

We can do Better

LUKE 22:40–42

[endeavoursea]

Auckland Regatta 2024

What a great weekend at the Auckland Regatta at Lake Pupuke. B.R.A.V.O to the UNI Water Activities Team for pulling together a great event. 350+ Youth camping and competing is great to see after a number of disrupted years.

A number of other Groups have made puns about it being an oar-some weekend, so I'll hold off from that.

For the record here are our results:

Achieved Camping Standard

Achieved Seamanship Standard

2nd Junior Cutter Sailing

2nd Junior Kayaking

3rd Junior Seamanship

1st Intermediate Tug of War

2nd Intermediate Rowing

1st Senior Cutter Sailing

3rd Senior Rowing

3rd Senior Iron Man

1st Catepillar Race

2nd Cutter Sailing Aggregate

2nd Aggregate Rowing

3rd Aggregate Kayaking

3rd Senior Aggregate

3rd Stevens Boathook (Overall Annual Competition including Swimming Sports & Canoe Carnival)

And just to show the Leaders can do as well as teach

2nd Open Cutter Sailing

3rd Open Rowing

3rd Open Regatta Aggregate

A massive thanks to all the Leaders and Parents who gave their time to organise, cook, pack up, pack down, lift, shift and generally help.

Click here for photos (in roughly chronological order)

[gentlemansgentleman]

ABOUT

Name: Reginald Jeeves

Occupation: Valet

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 35

Orientation: Pansexual

Employment history: In his youth, Jeeves worked as a page boy at a girls' school. After that, a batman (a soldier assigned to a commissioned officer as a personal servant,) in the military.

Before entering Bertie Wooster’s service, Jeeves was employed as a valet by Lord Frederick Ranelagh, Lord Worplesdon, (resigning after nearly a year because of Worplesdon's eccentric choice of evening dress,) Mr. Digby Thistleton (later Lord Bridgnorth), who sold hair tonic, Mr. Montague-Todd, (a financier who is now in the second year of a prison term, and Lord Brancaster, (who gave port-soaked seedcake to his pet parrot.)

He is currently employed as a valet (not a butler; that is, he is responsible for serving an individual, whereas a butler is responsible for a household,) to Bertie Wooster.

Skills: Jeeves presents the ideal image of the gentlemanly manservant, being highly competent, dignified, and respectful. One of his skills is moving silently and unobtrusively from room to room. According to Bertie, Jeeves noiselessly "floats" and "shimmers.” In addition to being a proficient valet, Jeeves can serve capably as a butler, and does so on a few occasions.

Jeeves has an encyclopedic knowledge of literature and academic subjects. He frequently quotes from Shakespeare and the romantic poets. As a result of his smooth words and romantic notions, he has a wide range of lovers. Often mingling with the maids, cooks, butlers, and valets of other wealthy households, he's well versed in the gossip of the local upper class and frequently used this insider knowledge to the benefit of himself and his current employer, Bertie Wooster.

One of Jeeves's greatest skills is making a special drink of his own invention, a strong beverage which momentarily stuns one's senses but is very effective in curing hangovers. Not simply a hangover cure, the drink can also give energy to someone who needs it, yet calm down someone who is agitated. Additionally, Jeeves is capable of typing and writing shorthand.

Jeeves has knowledge in more dubious subjects as well. He is well-informed about how to steal paintings and kidnap dogs. Capable of action when the situation calls for it, Jeeves uses a golf club to knock out Sippy Sipperley in "The Inferiority Complex of Old Sippy", and takes down a swan with a raincoat and boathook in "Jeeves and the Impending Doom". After Jeeves uses a cosh to knock out Constable Dobbs, an astonished Bertie describes Jeeves as "something that would be gratefully accepted as a muscle guy by any gang on the lookout for new blood".

Hobbies: Jeeves often reads intellectual, "improving" books, including the works of Spinoza, Shakespeare, and "Dostoevsky and the great Russians". He also enjoys the works of romance novelistists, and regularly reads The Times.

In "Jeeves in the Springtime", he went dancing in Camberwell, where he was seen by Bertie's friend Bingo Little. Bingo says that he saw Jeeves "swinging a dashed efficient shoe.” Once a week, Jeeves takes the afternoon off to play bridge at his club, the Junior Ganymede.

One of Jeeves's hobbies is fishing, which he tends to do during his annual summer holiday. Appreciating travel in general, Jeeves wants to go on a cruise in two different stories. Jeeves occasionally enjoys gambling.

[aerialsquid]

FFXIVWrite Day 5: Barbarous

Yes, it's more of the Charlemend/Edmont that I've been putting up chunks of all month. Not my fault the prompts keep lining up with the plot beats.

Edmont waited in the rank, dark hold for a few moments, savoring the lingering embers of touch.

Then he muttered, "What am I even doing?" and went fumbling for a weapon.

Outside the deck was slick with blood as well as seawater now. Edmont couldn't set eyes on Charlemend. 

Blutwyn had come aboard without weaponry and didn't seem to need them, thrashing about her with a commandeered oar. A glowing serpentine form surged up from behind him and lashed out with its tail to send several pirates flying in a burst of saltwater, before reforming into the more pleasant form of Gerald's carbuncle .

The small knots of struggling pirates at least meant Charlemend was alive, that they still had something to fight over, and almost no one seemed to pay Edmont any mind.

Except for the miqo'te pirate with beaded hair who snarled 'you'll do' and came at him with a knife. Edmont got his shield up in time and the pirate laughed, grabbing it with both hands and whirling him about until it was yanked from his fingers.

"Useless," she spat, flashing a smirk that was missing an incisor, and rapped his wrist hard enough to make him drop his sword. Edmont had only one bare heart-stopping moment to say his prayers before her knife came down.

Came down, but did not strike. A jingling blur of red and pale blue shot between them, faster than Edmont's eyes could track, sending the pirate tumbling across the deck. 

Dragon? was Edmont's first, dazed thought. No, but it was far too thin for a dragon.

The creature stood chest and head above him, with pale rubbery skin like the elbst but with plumes of cresting from its back, head, and lower arms. Chains of small, linked plating hung from its chest and legs, along with a larger golden piece for a headdress. Woven bands of some kind of fabric were tied at its forearms, and hung down as tassels from its waist to its legs. The pirate's knife landed in one webbed, clawed hand and the creature immediately flung it back out into the ocean.

No, not the creature, the person. This was no beast, with how the narrow red eyes turned thoughtfully upon Edmont's chest, then his face. Edmont had never met a Sahagin before but he'd heard enough lurid tales up from the South to know he was speaking to one.

"Clutchfather Duraindaire?" the person asked. The gurgling, guttural voice was deep enough for Edmont to stick 'he' onto the person until told otherwise.

Bloody hells, even they want Charlemend?

"No-" And then, in case that answer seemed cowardly, "No, but I'm his friend."

The Sahagin snorted wetly, and patted the clinking panels on his chest. "Then I am also a  friend," he rasped. Behind him, another pirate tried to charge them with a boathook, screaming something about fishman scum. The Sahagin sidestepped the attack neatly, grabbed the hook as it passed by his head, and used the momentum to sling the pirate around them and send him back the way he came, minus the boathook and his hat. The entire movement was done with the resigned lack of effort you saw from trained knights under attack by ambitious children. 

"Where is Durandaire?" the Sahagin asked, tossing the boathook overboard.

"I don't know," said Edmont, resigning himself to his new ally. Good gods above and hells below, this might as well happen today. Any port in a storm, as the pirates said.

The Sahagin abruptly grabbed him around the midsection and leapt ten fulm into the air, using the rigging to launch them higher still up the foremast as Edmont clung as best he could to the wet scales. His eyes scanned the fracas below.

"stay," he said, stuffing Edmont onto the foretop platform before leaping down into the melee with an elegance to rival Isgard's greatest dragoons. The Sahagin moved through the crowd like the prow of a ship cutting through water, drawing no blood but not letting a single blade come near him. 

A sunburnt sexagenarian in culottes running at full tilt with a sword in each hand and screaming "Northward" at the top of his lungs had apparently taken both armies by surprise, and Charlemend had made it to the other side of the ship before every man and woman still standing had managed to tackle him. 

 In the thickest of the fighting Edmont could just barely see the peach and amber blossoms on Charlemend's shirt, smothered by a mass of bodies. The Sahagin plucked him from the fray with delicate grace and leapt again, grabbing hold of a hanging rope and hauling himself upward in short, forceful yanks of a single arm.

Blessed be the Fury, Charlemend was still moving. There was blood streaking his face and running down his leg, but most of it seemed to belong to other people. Both swords had gone missing but he was waving the dagger around, until the Sahagin tossed him up onto the foretop and plucked it patiently from his hand. 

"Fight me like a man you damn cross-eyed–"

Edmont put a hand on his friend's arm before he could swear and writhe his way right off the platform. "Charlemend, I think he's here to help."

Charlemend looked up, his face a mixture of relief and confusion. He looked down to the fighting, then back up to the Sahagin, who'd perched himself on one of the crosstrees just below the foretop.

"Help?"

"Yes. My name is Clutchfather Novv," the Sahagin said, as pleasantly as if they were taking tea in someone's study and not sitting directly above a pitched battle. The 's' sounds of words slurred into soft 'shh' noises in his mouth, but he seemed to be making a dedicated effort to be understood. "And you are Clutchfather Durandaire and Clutchfather Fortemps, yes? And we are friends now."

"I don't recall making friends with any bloody–"

"Sahagin," Edmont cut in, before Charlemend could say any words that weren't that.

"Sahagin," Charlemend echoed sulkily. He reluctantly rolled over to sit up, back against the mast. Edmont reached to check his wounds and he shook his head, showing off that they were mostly scrapes and minor cuts. A blessing, that so many blades had come after him that they'd all gotten in each others' way.

"A new friend is still a friend," said Novv. It was hard to tell on a face full of thorn-like teeth, but Edmont got the impression Novv was intending to be beaming at them. "And a better one than your last set of hosts."

"Aye, and we do thank you for your help, Master Novv." Edmont put in, cautiously looking below. The ranks of the pirates were thinning, judging by how many of the still-standing fighters didn't have shirts on. The one with the tentacled tattoo was fighting with the rage of a wounded dragon, his axe cleaving paths through the fray. "Will you be rejoining the battle?"

"No, no. We are safe here. And I am not here to fight. I am, expressly, specifically, not here to fight." Novv set an emphasis on the last words that made them even more gurgling and rasped. "It shall all be over soon, anyway. Rest your fins and drift to the current's flow, clutchfathers."