ghost shipping

I refuse not to be a part of Pocky day


“…Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire…”

Telling George

Jack is nervous when he knocks on the front door of George’s house. He’d wanted to have this conversation in person, but it’s not one for public consumption, and he feels like he owes it to her to let her be the first person in the Falcs to know since she’s the one who scouted him. He doesn’t know a lot about George, aside from the fact she’d played in juniors, then for a couple of the few professional women’s hockey teams they’d had prior to the NWHL, and she’d played in the Olympics. He doesn’t know anything about her personal life except that she wears a wedding ring, he realises.

And the door opens. The woman on the other side is not George, but she looks familiar. It takes a moment for Jack to place her due to the weird context, but he realises she’s Thirdy’s wife Carrie.

“Oh hey Jack,” she says, sipping the wine she’s holding. “George said you were coming by. Come on in. Everyone’s in the kitchen.”

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I had resigned myself to everyone being dead by the end but somehow I wasn’t prepared for them to lose her. 

“S.O.S. from Ourang Medan. All officers including the Captain, dead in chartoom and on the bridge. Probably whole crew dead…. I’m dying.”

This is the last morse code message from the SS Ourang Medan in June of 1947. When Silver Star crew located and boarded the seemingly undamaged ship, they were horrified to find the entire crew and the dog dead. They were frozen solid on their backs with their mouths and eyes wide open, with some even pointing toward an unseen enemy. As soon as the crew discovered the horrific scene, the ship burst into flames, sending them fleeing. There are a number of theories as to what happened to the doomed ship ranging from carbon monoxide poisoning to paranormal activity, with many preferring to believe that the ship was targeted by aliens, hence the terrified expressions on the deceased. Over the years, there has been a number of scepticism surrounding this story, with many believing the entire story to be a hoax.

π day

Kent is…confused.

He’s been confused for most of the past two years, it’s true, but he’s more confused that morning than he is usually. Because literally every surface in the kitchen is covered in pie. The top of the microwave, the top of the fridge, every inch of counter space, the breakfast table, the top of Kit’s water jug, and as Kent walks into the kitchen, two more pies are pulled from the oven.

“Uh, honey? What are you doing?” Kent asks.

“There’s a bake sale, publicity thing,” Bitty says, scanning the kitchen for somewhere to put the newest pies. “All the SOAPs are supposed to make somethin’ and we’re gonna sell ‘em at the rink around practice. All proceeds go to charity etc.”

“Uh huh,” Kent says, glancing through the kitchen door to find the dining table is also covered. “And you made this many because…”

“Because I’m not going to shirk my responsibilities,” Bitty says. “Unlike some people I know who are going to buy some cookies from the Harris Teeter.”

Kent blinks at him. “You know, I don’t think we have those in Vegas.”

Bitty waves him away as if this is inconsequential, and goes to place the pies on the coffee table. This is where Kent finds Kit, curled up under the entertainment centre with huge eyes like she’s terrified of whatever’s happening. Kent doesn’t particularly blame her.

“Don’t you have to be at work?” Kent tries. One of the pies is bright green, and that’s something they’ll have to address in a moment.

“I told Joe he was in charge for the day,” Bitty replies airily. Kent internally debates the wisdom of Bitty leaving his ornery line cook in charge of the diner for the day but doesn’t say anything.

“And is that pie green?” Kent asks.

“Of course it’s green,” Bitty says, pulling a carton of heavy whipping cream from the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet.

“Because it’s key lime,” Kent says. He says it as pointedly as he can.

Bitty huffs. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Mr Parson–”

“I’m implying that you stole the limes from our neighbour’s tree again and that the man works for the mob and is going to have us killed,” Kent says.

“If he doesn’t want me to use them, he can have his tree trimmed so that it doesn’t cross our fence like I’ve requested thirteen times,” Bitty says, his nose in the air as he starts on the whipped cream.

Kent looks around at the minimum two dozen pies covering the main floor of their house, their terrified cat, and his boyfriend furiously whipping cream.

“Baby, what the hell got into you?” Kent asks.

Bitty huffs. “If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the Aces organisation who decided to host a bake sale fundraiser on Pi Day.”

Kent lets it sit a moment, and then slowly dissolves into fits of giggles. Bitty looks affronted right up until Kent cups his face and kisses him.

“You are an absolute dork, and I love you very much,” Kent informs him, kissing him again quickly. While Bitty makes indignant noises, Kent snapchats their kitchen, dining room, and living room first to Swoops, Hearts, Jeff, and Elsa, and then to his story. He posts it on the diner’s Instagram for Bitty’s sake, and then kisses him again.

“I’ll help you get these boxed up,” he says, digging out Bitty’s bakery boxes from one of the cupboards.

“The key lime one can stay here,” Bitty says.

“So you can leave it on the mob boss’s doorstep like a ransom note?” Kent asks. Bitty just hums.

This is a deleted scene/filler type scene from a much longer PB&J WIP I’ve got around somewhere, that will eventually be entitled “Is There Somewhere?” but only after I’ve finished writing it. Anyway. Happy Pi Day folks


The Ghost Ship of Kentucky

Tucked away in a small creek just a bit downstream from Cincinnati, Ohio rests a 114 year old ghost ship known as the Celt. It simply fascinates me the history that this one ship has and upon first glance of this rusted hulk you would never imagine so. Originally setting sail back in 1902 as a luxury yacht of a wealthy railroad executive, Celt was 180 feet long and powered by steam. The ship changed hands in 1917 when the US Navy started renting small, quick vessels to outmaneuver German U-boats during World War I. It was during this time that it was renamed the USS Sachem (SP-192) and was used as a coastal patrol boat after being outfitted with depth charges and machine guns. One of the most notable things about it’s life during WWI is that it was loaned to Thomas Edison while he conducted US Government funded experiments onboard in New York as head of the Naval Consulting Board.

After the end of WWI the Sachem changed owners a couple of times before landing back in the hands of the Navy for $65,000 in 1942. The Navy then changed the name to USS Phenakite (PYc-25) and used the vessel to patrol the waters off of the Florida Keys. Phenakite was used for a brief time after WWII to train soldiers to test sonar equipment before being decommissioned and returned to the previous owner in 1945. Subsequently it was sold to Circle Line of NYC and renamed Sightseer but was soon renamed Circle Line V and served as a tour boat until 1983. In 1986 a Cincinnati local named Robert Miller bought the ship for a mere $7,500 and before leaving the New York Harbor it had a cameo in Madonna’s video for ‘Papa Don’t Preach’. After traveling up the Hudson, through the Great Lakes, down the Mississippi and into the Ohio River, the ship settled in a small creek next to Miller’s property in Northern Kentucky where it has rested since.

Little Sour Hearts

this would be the Holster/Esther Shapiro 6k Valentine’s Fic literally no one asked for. enjoy <3

Valentine’s Day 2013 – Freshman Year

Holster doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day. It’s some Hallmark Holiday based on a Christian saint of some sort, and it’s an excuse to be sickeningly sweet with someone you love, and a good day to have just dumped your significant other the night before so you can go to the single’s bars and get wasted. For Holster, it’s always been a day to gorge on chocolate. It always was in Juniors and he doesn’t see any reason to change now that he’s in college.

“What are you doing for Valentine’s Day, bro?” Ransom asks, buttoning one of his nice shirts and holding up a couple different ties to judge their relative colour.

“Being bitter,” Holster says. “What are you doing?”

“Girl from my bio class,” Ransom replies.

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