#shipworkers

[vox-anglosphere]

Carrick Hill protests, Belfast - 1886

[blmpff]

OH WE'RE DOING JEALOUSY NOW

YES YOU DO, SAVE YOURSELF BOO

Y E S I T F U C K I N G D O E S

AND HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT

IF YOU HAVEN'T TOLD HIM SHIT THIS ENTIRE TIME

[urbanshade-experi-mentals]

Urbanshade D.E.V Department Introductory Video

Welcome to the Urbanshade Department of Experimental Vehicles.

By now, you've signed the NDAs, wined and dined with the top brass, and now you're ready to take on the field of Anomalous Weapons Design.

Most of you have already become local prodigies for your award-winning innovations in the fields of Heavy Industry, Marine Biology, Robotics, and many others like them..

Like Dennis Rensaugh, who has constructed a prototype unmanned munition covered in a hydrophobic membrane, and Isabel Manheim, who perfected the use of the ground effect principle on a much larger scale, allowing us to operate aircraft-carrier-sized ekranoplan.

You may be one of these people, full of new ideas and imaginative concepts, that you believe may shape the future of man’s exploration of that expansive abyss, and all it’s wonders below.

Well, forget all that now.

In fact, forget everything you know about reality as a whole. The field you've found yourselves in is one that will most certainly break your mind in two or three places.

HerE at Urbanshade, you'll likely be exposed to beings, objects, and other assorted phenomenon of supernatural magical, and sometimes divine origin. Anomalies, if you will.

Your main concern now is to study these anomalies, find out what they are, how they work, in conjunction with the greatest minds of the generation, and all the funding you'll need to make them profitable. More information will be available through the use of this third-party website (A shareholder in Urbanshade.)

Welcome to the D.E.V. You all die here.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

OVERVIEW

WE'RE OPEN FOR BUSINESS!

This blog is mostly for interfacing with other ones, but if need be, it takes place in FOB Kurenginaka, a naval base/research facility a few dozen miles of from the Blacksite.

For more information on this department, utilize the proprietary askblog function.

VARIABLES:

(References will be provided soon)

Mikhaila Kurenginaka

She/Her

Age: 35

The Facility's namesake Director. Mentally Unstable and occasionally speaks in tongues. One day, she's making Urbanshade your personal god. The next, she's hosting the annual Intersite Living Snowman fight/Pizza Party. Employees rate her as "Equally the best and worst boss EVER."

Quote: "I'M GOING TO BURN MY ASS INTO YOUR EYES!"

Carlos Amata

He/Him

Age:20

A new engineer at Urbanshade. He's the definition of awkward, preferring to stay out of site of basically anyone. Secretly binges romcoms when nobody's around.

Quote: "Oh, god, I'm so fired."

[urbanshade-experi-mentals]

... UrbOS v.605 [Java Runtime 12.44.0193] DuctMannOS Subsystem: DMA Status: UNMANNED | CPU Load: 71% DEPTH: 73,985 studs | Hull Integrity: 420% | Power Reserve: 69% | Internal Temp: 32.4°C Hangar Count: 65 / 74 ("Babies")

>

[PING RETURN RECEIVED] [ANOMALOUS MASS DETECTED — RANGE: ~(5)km — LENGTH ESTIMATE: (ASSLOAD)meters] [RETURN SIGNAL: IRREGULAR | MOVEMENT VECTOR: DIRECTED | VELOCITY: 0.6 knots]

[PROCESSING BIOMETRIC SIGNATURE…] [CLASSIFICATION: AQUATIC LIFEFORM] [MATCH: VULTUS LUMINARUS (Confidence: 97.3%)] [NOTE] Size exceeds all recorded parameters for species [OPTICAL SCAN COMPLETE] system.prompt "reaction" DUTCH: O H L A W D I T C O M I N

*Barely Audible sonar ping*

-Urbanshade Exploratory Prototype "DutchMann"

@urbanshade-experi-mentals

She gives off a long and drawn out hum in response, as the thousands upon thousands of parasites living in the Aether Coralreef chirp in response. They start to leave the formation of stone and coral on her back, quickly swimming back and fourth and keeping a steady pace, surrounding and circling around her like a vortex. Clouds of mist leaving her body, turning the already dark waters into barely able to be seen through.

[thirstkanaphan]

Yunho being the Mingi explainer is so fascinating to me; because it's clear that anyone who talks to Mingi for more than five minutes finds him utterly charming. His wide and varied social circle attests to his ability to make friends easily. Yet Yunho always makes it a point to inform people (or reassure them) that Mingi is nothing like the scary first impression he often gives via his on-stage drag performance of hyper-sexual masculinity.

"It's just way too sad that ATINY can't see that part of him."

"Mingi might be a bit much (intense) for people meeting him for the first time but once you get to know him, he's really fun. He likes making jokes. He's a really cute guy"

"Introducing my friend, Mingi. My beloved friend, Mingi. he is always full of charisma and on stage, he is endlessly passionate. but whenever we're together, when he smiles/laughs, he's always full of cute charm."

"At home he is very cute"

"I think Mingi's charm point is the cuteness within all that charisma"

I really wonder where this stems from; is it a protective (defensive?) gesture from a friend who watched as someone he cared about went on hiatus for anxiety-related mental health reasons? Is it Yunho trying to manage or direct our perception of Mingi because it benefits the group's image to have the existence of a Princess Minki who helps diffuse the more critical responses to Ateez's performance style? (This is similar to how the other members publicly manage the image of San: he's pouting kitty cat in the body of a manhwa protagonist). Is this part of their fanservice -- Yunho bragging about his exclusive access to Mingi's cutest self that not even ATINY can see?

There's plenty of room to speculate but I do find it interesting that this has been a recurring motif in their on-camera shipwork for years!

[blmpff]

thor.thinnaphan igs 07.02.24

[scotianostra]

May 27th 1936 saw the maiden voyage of liner Queen Mary.

According to legend while the Cunard-White Star Line’s new Hull Number 534 was under construction at the John Brown and Company’s shipworks on the Clyde no women were allowed anywhere near it in case a feminine presence should distract a male worker from a delicate task at a critical moment. There were in fact many problems, but in the end the new vessel was formally launched with all proper ceremony in pouring rain on September 26th, 1934, it would be two years before she would actually be able to take passengers.

Another legend has it that Cunard wanted to name the ship Victoria, but after asking the King George V for permission to name the ship “after Britain’s greatest queen”, he replied that his wife would be delighted. The king died shortly before the ship’s maiden voyage.

By May 1936 she was at last in Southampton ready for her maiden voyage to Cherbourg and then across the Atlantic. Supplies loaded included 50,000 lbs of fresh meat, 50,000 eggs, 14,500 bottles of wine and 25,000 packets of cigarettes.

Excited crowds watched the ship leave, a band played and an armada of vessels escorted her out of Southampton harbour. Fog prevented any hope of an Atlantic passage in record time and the ship was found to roll alarmingly and require far more handrails. At its worst, apparently, you could walk along a corridor with one foot on the wall.

The Queen Mary reached New York harbour on the morning of June 1st. Admiring crowds watched her make her way to her berth as bands played her in and many paid a dollar to charity to see round her. Cunard-White Star’s publicity department made much play of the approving comments from American publications: ‘A new peak in luxury at sea’ (New York Times); ‘Just about the most beautiful ship afloat’ (The New Yorker); ‘Regal a ship as ever ruled the waves’ (New York American). In August the Queen Mary took the coveted ‘blue riband’ of the Atlantic with a crossing in record time and the ensuing rivalry between her and the French Normandie would be constantly in the news for the rest of the decade.

The Queen Mary is now berthed at Long Beach California and it costs from about $140 for a nights stay, a tour of the ship cost from $35.

[urbanshade-experi-mentals]

Oh. Oh, dear.

She's about to lose a lot of mass.

Pandemonium is alerted to the sound of something enormous and heavy breaking through concrete in the distance. The noise is muffled, but it's getting...

Louder.

@urbanshade-experi-mentals

Pande turned towards the noise, standing still. Simply because she didn't want to move. He would probably be able to deal with it. Losing mass wasn't an issue.

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

. " ♜ " ♖ " ♜ " ♖ " ♜ " ♖ " ♜ " ♖ " .

about me c:

♠️

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.” — The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller >> my dni >> my opinions on ai and creativity, as well as ai add*ction and ai’s impact on environmentalism, please read this before bashing me for using c.ai taken anons: 👽, 📀, 🐢 ,🐾 , 🌗

my tag masterlist

Basic Info:

name(s):

[ Paul, Atreus/Atre, Alex ]

pronouns:

[ he/they ]

here is a full list of my pronouns/identities

gender:

[ ftm 🏳️‍⚧️ ]

fluid between aboyic non-binary , femboy , nameflux male

personality type:

INFP-T

my partner:

@pubbipawz Ilysm ❤️ 1+ years will turn into forever, ml 🥺

misceverse secondary gender:

dynamifluid between Nu ( socially submissive beta ) and Sigma ( socially dominant omega )

a compiled masterlist of info about the misceverse and how it both differs from and is similar to the omegaverse, alterhumanity/therianthropy, and gender identity

more info under the cut :3

MY C.AI ACCOUNT + AO3

I create original bots of characters from many fandoms and also write fanfic ( NOT AI GENERATED ) with my ocs + canon characters. My most common fandoms are Call of Duty and Arcane.

// TUMBLR VERSIONS OF MY FICS CAN BE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS POST

my c.ai:

babyboyroach (@viktornation25) | character.ai | Personalized AI for every moment of your day

rules for requesting bots:

my ao3:

I struggle with obsessive-compulsive disorder ( OCD ) and anxiety. Sometimes my replies may be apathetic or late because of my low moods.

Please note that I will answer as soon as possible. Don’t be discouraged from messaging me!

I thrive on interaction and love to answer asks! 👏 // my requests and ask inbox is ALWAYS open <3

I am TAKEN.

Do not interact with me flirtatiously, even if joking. It will result in an instant block.

some more info

I am an agnostic theist.

DNI IF OVERLY RELIGIOUS PLS ( unless ur pagan )

I am also a practicing Hellenistic polytheist and heathen. I mainly worship Ganymede and Loki.

Here is an original hymn I wrote for Ganymede inspired by "Dionysus" by Tomo.

🪐

MY HOBBIES

I'm a fantasy and science fiction writer with one finished book waiting to be published and another nearly completed. I write Call of Duty fanfiction with my ocs and I like omegaverse.

I’m open for Call of Duty roleplays at any time, just go to my ask box :)

I’m interested in ichthyology and freshwater biology with a focus on domesticated fish, as well as etymology, the study of the origin of words, and herbology.

Here is a list of some of my hyperfixations, as well as my top 20 fav shows and top 50 fav movies and books.

Here is a list of some lesser-known fandoms I’m in.

Here’s some music that I like

I love fishkeeping!

🦐

I own two ten-gallon live planted tanks with aquasoil substrate.

One has dwarf shrimp ( neocaridina ) and four kuhli loaches. The other hosts two baby Cory catfish, and three neon tetras. I've had three bettas-- a blue male halfmoon named Merlin, a white and gold halfmoon named William, and most recently, a koi plakat betta named Rudy.

. . . . .

My biggest hyperfixation is Greek Mythology!

My favorite myths are that of Ganymede, Cyparissus, Heracles and Hylas, the Mycenaean tragedies, and the Odyssey and Iliad <3 also I love EPIC: the Musical by Jorge Rivera-Herrins, but that is not what I use to learn the myths, I have read Homer’s source material.

— Paul/Atreus

↷ . ↷ . ↷ .

my call of duty fic series:

“Songbird on a Wall”

[ original male character and the rest of the 141, not a shipwork but does include ghostsoap ]

pt.1

pt.2

pt.3

pt.4

pt.5

pt.6

pt.7

pt.8

“Nothing Permanent But Change”

[ poly/pack 141 omegaverse + male oc ]

pt.1

pt.2

pt.3

pt.4

pt.5

pt.6

pt.7

pt.8

pt.9

“One K.I.A.”

[cenravenwood]

(Art commissioned by me of Cen, from Notesz on Twitter <3)

Full Name: Cen Ravenwood, hyphenated Elovir Nickname(s): Raven, Little Bird, Treasure, Moonlight, Falcon, Cenjamin Occupation: Ship captain, former guard captain, retired pirate/privateer Age: 79 (DOB March 21st) Sign: Aries Race: Quel'dorei, raised Kul Tiran Gender: FTM Transmasculine Sexual Orientation: Gay... mostly Romantic Orientation: Male leaning

Religion: Follows the Tide Mother Language(s) Spoken:  Common (Fluent), Tirassi (Fluent), Orcish (Fluent), Sign (Fluent), Darnassian (Fluent) Goblin (Business conversational), Draconic (Only the juicy swears), Shath-yar (... it's complicated), Thalassian (BARELY conversational)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: N/A

Hair Color: Raven haired, streaked with glowing, Void-lit strands

Eye Color: Eclipsed; dark sclera that bleed into deep blue with glowing, bright irises/dark pupils sharded with Void light

Height: 5’8

Build: Lean, athletic swimmer's build with a sailor's wirey muscle; slightly larger hips than most men

Distinguishing Characteristics: Sharp slice scar through left side of lips, lash scars decorating back, shackle scars around wrists and ankles.

Tattoos: Kraken tentacles from right middle finger to right upper shoulder along clavicle, kelp twisting around left leg over hip

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: Goofy, aloof, charismatic, sarcastic, quick witted, clever, curious, relaxed, warm, simultaneously the smartest and dumbest man in the room

Negative Traits: Far too self indulgent, addictive personality, substance abuser, can be cold and calculating, easily shuts off emotions, avoidant of asking for or accepting help, quick to judge, serial emotion squasher downer, nosey

Goals/Desires: Make it a day at a time, care for his found family, make a name for himself, beat back the imposter syndrome, live up to his dad's name, wants to make his husband proud, raise their daughter as best he can together with Horizon

Fears: Mildly afraid of the dark for reasons he doesn't talk about. Spiders, silence, sobriety, death of loved ones, dying again

Hobbies: Reading, napping, writing and playing music for his fiddle, swimming, shipwork, (recently) knitting, alchemy, smoking and tobacco/weed blending

Likes: Alchemy, friends, his family, music, tea, good food, the ocean, rainy afternoons and evenings, sleeping in late, his pet moth Aethril

Dislikes: Asking for help, silence (leaves him alone with his thoughts), sobriety, really shitty writing, pompous assholes, 'proper elves'

FAMILY

Spouse: Horizon Elovir

Child(ren): Saoirse Elovir (Pending birth)

Father: Birth father unknown

Adopted Fathers: Jim Ravenwood (Deceased), Oliver Amberbough (Living)

Mother: Knows only her first name, Iona

Sibling(s): None

Extended Family: Aedin Daypost (Step... father...?) Thiarin Elovir (Brother-in-law) Edea Elovir (Sister-in-law) Caelia Elovir (Niece) Syl Ravenspyre (Self proclaimed sister) Naleath Ravenspyre (Self proclaimed something) Etienne Nernorte (Former spouse, deceased)

Pet(s): Aethril (Fuzzy Shimmermoth; gifted by Etienne, who found him in a shipment of aethril blooms eating them all)

Financial Status: Comfortable - upper middle class at this point

[foxglovevibes]

So this is the second daemon!AU post I've done for The Terror and I just needed to give Hickey his own post because whOO BOI do I have thoughts about him and his daemon-

Hickey - Unsettled (favours the forms of a green anaconda + kerry beagle)

For context, despite popular societal/religious beliefs, there are far more unsettled pairs living within Victorian England than many are willing to admit. Those living with unsettled daemons are typically those who come from underprivileged backgrounds, and/or are people who do not feel stable or safe enough in their environment to truly 'find' or 'be' themselves. They may also be unsettled as a result of needing to fit many differing roles, just to survive the night. Many of them habitually take a singular form when out in public + around others who may persecute them, mainly due to the perception that those with unsettled daemons are dangerous or untrustworthy as a result of their daemons not being able to be judged/or noted on at first glance. These forms they present to the public are not usually the form they would settle in if they could, though for some they are.

Hickey's daemon would initially present herself as a Kerry Beagle (which is what I headcanon the form of the og Cornelius Hickey's daemon to be-) when the expedition begins, mainly to help sell their adopted persona. Beagle daemons as a whole are very similar to many other domestic canine daemons, with their forms denoting a very hardworking, sociable and loyal individual. Daemons that take the shape of Beagle's also indicate a very intense work drive and singleminded focus to whatever task is given, which is a much needed trait in a shipworking environment.

The form his daemon would truly favour would be that of a green anaconda.

Snake daemons generally have a bad reputation and can considerably poison the general populace's perception of a person. More often than not due to religion deeming them as a symbol of treachery and evil (so the two certainly would have felt the need to mask their "true" form/self in order to both pass as Cornelius Hickey and try to fit in better amongst the rest of the crew-)

However, this perception of snake daemons clashes heavily with their innate symbolism of transformation, insight and strength. And contrary to popular belief, they can be very loving and caring individuals regardless of their tendency to manifest more cunning + ambitious dispositions and have immense potential in all paths they choose to follow.

Those with green anaconda daemons in particular have an almost obsessive habit of conflating respect with power (as a result of the strength they innately have as a result of manifesting as one of the largest snake species in the world-) and do their best to seek it out wherever they can. While they do tend to be more solitary and domineering to those around them, they are very tender with those they hold close in their affections.

However, there is a slightly more dangerous connotation to daemons who manifest in this form. True green anacondas are ambush predators who take their time in killing their prey, which is representative of a more vicious and possessive streak in their human partner's. Particularly when they feel slighted or betrayed by those they consider their own.

Hickey's daemon would also be VERY internalised and non-vocal, typically only really speaking to him, Gibson + Gibson's daemon before the dissolution of their relationship, Tozer and Goodsir. She is very often found speaking to Goodsir and his daemon after Hickey's group kidnaps him, due to her realisation that he is the only one to truly see her and Hickey as they are. Being seen as herself for once + being disliked on principle as opposed to her physical manifestation was an almost addictive experience for her, causing her to seek them out almost obsessively as she and Hickey began to spiral further and further.

There you have it, my 3am ramble of why I think Hickey's daemon would be unsettled! Hope you guys enjoy it 😂 I will likely come back and edit a few things when I'm not keeling over from exhaustion so enjoy it while it's crazy!

Edit: I changed + added a couple of things, hopefully it makes more sense now-

[urbanshade-experi-mentals]

"DANCE WITH THE SHIT FOREVER AND FOREVER RUN AWAY FROM ME I'LL CUT YOU LIKE A BLENDER SOMETHING SOMETHING I FORGET THE LYRICS BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH CARAMELDANSSEN-"

*Muffled sounds of metal grinding together*

*Muffled Carameldansen*

@urbanshade-experi-mentals

HUH?

WHAT_IS_THAT_SOUND?

[sprnklersplashes]

(ao3)

concept: slavers or enemy pirates kidsnap kaz and intend to use him as leverage against inej. of course they took precautions but even then, when kaz isn’t fighting back and just sits there with a small smirk on his face, they’re all convinced dirtyhands is plotting his escape.

in reality though, he is in fact thinking “oooh when my wife gets here you guys are so screwed”

He wakes slowly, with a skin-crawling sense of deja-vu. At first, all he recognises is the rough fibres of ropes around his wrists-ropes and not handcuffs, interesting. As he opens his eyes, orange lamplight floods his vision. He has to blink twice before his vision adjusts fully, and even then he still feels like the room is swaying, a slight bob up and down that leaves him uneasy. Saints, what the hell did they drug him with?

It’s only when his head clears more that he realises that no, it’s not the drug. The room is actually swaying. And he isn’t alone.

Three figures stand before him, each one is clad in a white shirt and roughspun trousers that indicates shipworkers. While the otthers wear shabby looking brown jakcets and waistcoats, the middle one stands proudly in a (hideous) purple frock coat and gold-rimmed hat, tilted at an angle that Kaz suspects is meant to signify a carefree spirit. Really all it shows is that one, he is in charge here and two, he can’t pull off a hat at that angle. 

“Kaz Brekker,” the captain announces. Triumph lights up his face, like a cat that caught a particularly unruly mouse. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Perhaps for good reason,” he replies. His throat is tight, his voice heavy from whatever they drugged him with, but he won’t clear his throat. He lifts his head, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What business, gentlemen?”

“Don’t talk to us like we’re merchants, Brekker,” the captain says. “This ain’t the Barrel and believe it or not, you ain’t the prize.”

“No?” he asks. “You put a lot of work into grabbing me.”

The grin doesn’t waver, but even the little light can’t hide the annoyance flashing in his eyes. With a slow, deliberate pace he steps towards him, one hand on his belt and his tongue poking out. There’s a very, very strong smell of cheap liquor on him, but Kaz fights remains still. Even when the captain comes beside him and slowly squats and his knee brushes against Kaz’s.

Breathe, he reminds himself. In for eight, out for eight. 

At least Wylan’s advice is finally being useful.

“You’re not the prize,” he says again, dark eyes flashing. He bares his teeth. “You’re the leverage. Rumour has it that one Captain Ghafa is quite enamoured with you.”

“Never heard of her.” His voice is steady, even, smooth as a sheet of steel. Inside is another story, but if the captain sees that they’re both done for. The match-strike he felt when he said Inej’s name is kept well-hidden. 

“No?” he teases. His smile sharpens, and something unsettles inside Kaz. If this fool has touched Inej, he’ll cut off his limbs one by one to use as shark bait. “Then what’s this?”

Clumsily, the man pulls an envelope out of his pocket. He holds it before his eyes and Kaz’s heart contracts. His name, the Crow Club’s address, all written in Inej’s handwriting. Puzzle pieces fall into place now, and he curses.

He’d been expecting a letter from Inej for days now. He’d thought she was busy, or forgot, then began thinking she was hurt. And all that time it was in the hands of this bastard.

Shark bait is too good for him. Kaz will drain his blood and paint his sails with it.

“No idea.”

“My men intercepted this while tracking Ghafa. A messenger left her ship with it at the beginning of this week, after she’d docked in Weddle. It’s quite a sweet letter too.” He runs his finger along the edge. “She signs it ‘your Wraith’. Who knew the Captain had such a soft side?” He raises his eyebrows. “She’s pretty. You’re a lucky man.”

 “More that can be said for you,” Kaz growls. The captain stiffens, but the bravado doesn’t fade.

“Easy lad,” he says. “It’s just business isn’t it? A trade-off. Ghafa comes here, agrees to back off my business, and she gets you back in one piece. Surely the Kerch can understand that .”

“What makes you think she’ll come?” he asks. “From what I understand, Captain Ghafa is incredibly sharp. Sharp enough to not believe the threats of a washed-up sailor long past his glory days.”

The man’s eyes narrow. His fist clenches and Kaz braces himself just before he swings. Pain explodes along his jaw, the contact makes his stomach roll. 

Breathe, he reminds himself. In for eight, out for eight. The canal comes in flashes, but the flashes fade.

“Cocky little bastard,” he mumbles. “You think we didn’t think of that? We tied the note to something a bit personal.” He straightens his back, puffs out his chest. “Your walking stick is quite distinctive.”

Kaz freezes. Around the chair, his muscles tense. Some inner part of him starts to unravel, but he clamps it down, focuses on the task at hand. 

Clearly, this man has a death wish. And Kaz is more than happy to fulfill it.

“Stop your glowering, boy,” he tells him. “You’ll get your cane, and see your girl, once Ghafa agrees to our terms.”

“And when she doesn’t?” Kaz asks. He’s not thrown by the idea of Inej not wanting to trade; her mission is sacred to her and it’s for good reason. “If she refuses to stop? What do you do then?”

The man flinches, no doubt shaken by Kaz’s counter. Men like this are no different from Barrel bosses or Ketterdam merchants; they believe they are untouchable, so they play their cards too early. And now he is scrambling, searching for his next threat.

“Then…” He grabs Kaz’s jaw. His fingers are filthy, the skin is cracked and cold. Kaz swallows the nausea rising within him, forces the black spots at bay. He looks at the ceiling, just present enough to hear his next threat.

“Then I start carving up that pretty face of yours. Then the neck. Then the chest. We’ll see how long her resolve lasts when you have a knife in her throat.”

He lets go and Kaz lets his head fall, just managing to stop himself from gasping. The captain chuckles one last time, low and throaty. Kaz thinks about how he’d like nothing more than to drive his cane right into the man’s eyesockets.

He’s not trying to escape. Which feels odd; indeed, the crew assigned to watch him are puzzled. He could get out of these ropes in seconds, easily overpower the trio of pigeons standing before him. Hell, he’d overpower the captain with absolute delight. But then he would be stuck in the middle of the ocean with next to no way of knowing where he is, how to get back to Ketterdam or how to catch up with Inej. Too many unknown variables to play. So, he will keep his cards close to his chest, stall for time, and believe that Inej is coming for him.

And in the meantime, well, screwing with the shipmates is very entertaining.

On his first full day in captivity, he unties and reties the ropes around his wrists, so many times that the crew quickly run out of knots. A boy suggests they should try chains instead and Kaz doesn’t respond, just grins, slowly, knowingly. They stick with ropes, tied with so many knots his fingers are likely purple.

They station two kids at his door and two on the outside-and they really are kids. The ‘out of our depth’ looks on their faces remind Kaz of Wylan when they raided the Ice Court, though he doubts they have the resilience Wylan does. As they bring him his food, one boy looks nervously to the door and back to Kaz, fingers fidgeting as he sets the plate down. 

“They double-locked this door, right?” he asks.

“I broke someone out of Hellgate,” Kaz says nonchalantly, picking at the food. Unsalted cod. Delicious. “You think I can’t manage one measly door?”

And oh, the look on the boy’s face. It sustains him throughout the night. He simply raises an eyebrow at him and quietly pities the poor child because if he thinks Kaz is bad, he will be royally screwed when Inej comes. 

He is two days into his captivity when boredom begins to descend. It’s sparing, but still makes itself known. He’s been tied to a chair in the exact same position for most of his time here-not counting those moments where the guards are asleep and he slips out of his bonds and takes a walk around the room to stretch himself. And while scaring the crew with just a smile is undoubtedly delightful, it is bound to go stale sooner or later.

Not to mention, boredom means there’s less to distract him from the pain in his leg.

Thankfully, the door opens in the evening and the captain enters, smirk on his face and note held in his fist. 

“You’re in luck, Brekker,” he tells him. “The Wraith has agreed to a meeting. Her ship has been spotted on the horizon.”

“Has it now?” he asks. His voice is cool, his features steady. He will laugh about this in due time.

“She’ll be here in an hour or so,” he goes on. “And once she agrees to our terms, you will be free to go and-”

He is cut off. A loud scream pierces the air, and the captain freezes in place. Kaz allows himself a laugh, leans back as much as his restraints will allow.

The captain turns to him, eyes wide, face pale beneath his beard.

“What did you do, Brekker?”

“Me?” he asks. “I did nothing. I’ve been sat here for over 48 hours.” He shrugs. “However, did you know Inej Ghafa has a number of squallers in her employ? Ex-Grisha indentures who joined her crew since they had no home to go to.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know her.”

Kaz shrugs.

“I hear rumours.” The captain gives him one last, outraged look and then he’s sprinting up to the deck, so quickly that he forgets to close the door in his haste.

And now, Kaz is treated to the soothing, lovely sounds of the absolute carnage Inej and her crew are waging. Right above his head, someone is slammed into the ground, lifted and slammed again, a wet crack denoting some broken bones. Kaz winces. Meanwhile, the silence of his little cabin lets him hear the whooshing of blades, followed by a heavy groan as they find their target. Blows are traded, arrows fly. He even hears someone begging for mercy and above all, a confident and clear voice, barking orders as if she’d been born to do it.

And he can’t help it; there’s a faint glow of pride in his chest. Inej truly has earned her reputation.

Feet pound on the staircase outside. With a start, Kaz begins working on his restraints and Inej appears in the doorway just as the ropes drop. Crimson stains mar her trousers and her tunic, and her hair is coming loose from her braid. Her eyes are bright, chest heaving as she sheaths her knife. He rises to his feet, nods, pushes his hair from his face.

“You just can’t keep out of trouble, can you Kaz?” 

Inej tosses him his cane and he catches it without breaking her stare. The relief is indescribable as he can finally take the weight off his bad leg. Inej comes closer, dark eyes flicking to his chair before moving back to him.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Well, the food was sub-par and undercooked and that chair was dreadfully uncomfortable,” he begins. “But other than that I’m fine.” Inej nods, though the words don’t seem to register. Her gaze roams over him, searching for a hidden bruise or a cut, a tell that he’s hiding something. He doesn’t blame her, of course, hiding pain is arguably what he does best.

“Inej.” Carefully, he takes her chin and tilts it so she meets his eyes. He presses his gloved thumb gently into the indent. “I’m okay.”

She breathes out, nods, smiles.

“All right,” she says. Her hand comes up over his wrist, her fingers on his pulse point and she squeezes it once. They take the small moment together, reveling in each other.

“Playing the damsel in distress suits you, Kaz.”

“Damsel?” he echoes. “I was biding my time.”

“Until I rescued you?” she teases. “You were so sure I would?”

“It was a calculated move.” Kaz offers her his arm and, blushing, she takes it, as if they’re a gentleman and a lady enjoying an afternoon stroll. “Where are we anyway?”

“Close to Shirftport,” she says. They begin ascending the stairs. “We could make a stop there if you want. There’s a really lovely little diner there I keep thinking I should take you to.”

As they appear on the deck, Inej’s hold on him tightens, her free hand solid against his back. He squints against the bright sun, blinding him for a minute after his days in darkness. But then he adjusts, and the sight that greets him is worth it. The deck is stained red, Inej’s crew stand over the crumpled and whimpering forms of the pirates that captured him. The captain is tied to the mast, stripped of his jacket and vest, a particularly formidable-looking girl holding a knife at his throat. 

Inej and Kaz cross the ship together. Inej’s crew bow to her as she does, meanwhile the captain lets out a strained, high-pitched whine around his gag. His crew moan from their places on the floor.

Up close, Kaz sees the pulsing, dark slashes over his chest and across his face. The strokes are so fierce that they remind Kaz of an animal’s claws, only much more precise. 

“Thanks Roisin, I’ll take it from here,” Inej says. She twirls the knife around her fingers, thoughtfully, her tongue poked out to the side of her mouth. “Now what do we do with you?” 

“You could rip out his eyeball,” Kaz suggests.

“Oh but that’s your move.”

“I’d give it to you.”

The Captain whimpers again, louder this time. It sounds like he’s begging. Inej glares at him, the look just  as deadly as her blades, and Kaz laughs. Whether she uses his move or not, he doesn’t mind. The Wraith is deadly enough on her own, more than a match for this sad excuse of a pirate.

“I have missed you, Inej,” he says. Inej squeezes Kaz’s arm, then drives her knife into the man’s neck. 

[alllovefurryfriends]

Most people know the tragedy of the Titanic. But few have heard of Jenny — the cat who may have sensed the disaster before anyone else.

Jenny wasn’t just any cat. She was the ship’s official mouser, brought on board to keep the rat population in check. During Titanic’s sea trials, she gave birth to a litter of kittens and was lovingly cared for by a crewman named Jim Mulholland.

Jim made her a warm little nest near the galley, close to the heat of the boilers. During breaks, he’d sneak her bits of food. Their quiet routine brought a rare sense of calm amid the rush of preparing the world’s grandest ship for its maiden voyage.

But then… something changed.

A few days before Titanic was set to depart Southampton, Jenny’s behavior grew restless.

And then — without warning — she began carrying her kittens, one by one, off the ship.

Down the gangway.

To land.

And she never came back.

Jim watched her.

And something clicked.

“That cat knows something… something we don’t.”

Trusting her instincts — or maybe his own — Jim packed his bag. Quietly stepped off the ship.

He never returned.

We all know what happened next.

Years later, Jim, now an old man, told his story to a journalist. He credited Jenny with saving his life. Her instinct — ancient, quiet, and unwavering — may have been the only real warning anyone ever received.

Because sometimes, heroes don’t wear uniforms.

Sometimes, they have fur, whiskers… and a heart that simply knows.

Most people know the tragic story of the Titanic, but few have heard about Jenny — the ship’s resident cat, and possibly the only soul on board who sensed what was coming.

Jenny wasn’t just any cat. She was the Titanic’s official mouser, brought aboard to keep the rodent population in check. During the ship’s sea trials, she gave birth to a litter of kittens, and was lovingly cared for by a shipworker named Jim Mulholland. Jim made a cozy nest for her and her babies near the ship's galley, close to the warmth of the boilers. He even shared kitchen scraps with her during breaks, and their quiet little routine brought him a sense of peace amidst the chaos of preparing the most luxurious ship in history for its maiden voyage.

But something strange happened.

Just days before the Titanic was set to depart from Southampton to New York, Jenny’s behavior changed. She began acting restless. And then — without warning — she started picking up her kittens one by one, gripping them gently by the scruff of the neck… and carrying them off the ship.

Down the gangway she went. Again and again. Until all of her babies were safely ashore.

Jim stood and watched her. And in that moment, something clicked. "This cat knows something… something we don’t."

Trusting his gut — or maybe trusting hers — Jim packed up his belongings and quietly left the ship. He never boarded again.

The Titanic set sail without him. We all know what happened next.

Years later, Jim, now an old man, shared the story with a journalist. He credited Jenny with saving his life. Her instincts - ancient, silent & unshakable, may have been the only real warning that ever came.

Sometimes, heroes don’t wear uniforms. Sometimes, they have fur, whiskers, and a heart that just knows.

[stargirl5271]

Hello! You all can call me Star!

I’m a very big milgram fan and a newbie writer! I mainly post on AO3 and usually write shipworks!

I love chatting so feel free to send a message! Warning I am a minor so just be aware of that :)

I’ll be active here and on my Bluesky account tagged above! I hope we can get along great!

[urbanshade-experi-mentals]

The company man shrugs, his enormous diving helmet not dampening his indifference.

"Beats me, fossil. The boss lady gave me a free Friday off if I found you and gave this to ya. I'm done here."

He turns around, and waddles back the way he came.

YOUR ASS IS GRASS AND GRASS IS MINE

-Operations Director Mikhaili Kurenginaka

Urbanshade Department of Experimental Vehicles

- @urbanshade-experi-mentals

{Mr Lopee looks at you, he has a confused look on his face}

"WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

{Mr Lopee is trying to process this}

"I don't get it..."