#fish finder's fee

[kaechan]

Hi...

So I uh, treated myself to some early Christmas presents.

Found these both on etsy.

;)

[reminiscingtonight]

Vending machine, Jammed, Disbelief - Leah Williamson

Late Night Adventure (Leah Williamson x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s quiet in the hallways as you try to make your way to the lounge. It’s quite late, and you know if any of the staff catch you you’ll be in big trouble. But all you wanted was some hot water for a lovely cup of tea. And given that the electric kettle in your room was broken…

The last thing you expected was to stumble across a very familiar looking blonde staring quite crossly at a vending machine on your journey for tea. 

Leah hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, angrily muttering under her breath as she kicks at the box in outrage. 

“Woah there, careful with that golden foot of yours.”

Blue eyes look up frantically, relaxing slightly when she realizes it’s you. “What are you doing out of bed so late?”

You raise an eyebrow, not at all fazed by the hostility in Leah’s voice. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Your captain sighs, dejectedly thumping her head against the glass of the vending machine. You have to muffle your laughter at the whine Leah lets out. “It ate my five and won’t give it back.”

“Do you mind if I…” you trail off just as Leah huffs and steps back, not really expecting to get her money back or her snack, but not seeing much harm in letting you take a shot at it either.

Humming, you peer through the glass. Sure enough, Leah’s packet of crisps is sat diagonally, resting between its slot and the glass. Your want for tea is all but forgotten, the task at hand seeming much more intriguing than your inability to fall asleep. 

Leah tsks when your fingers trail to the buttons, randomly pressing at the coin return in hopes that it might magically treat you better than the blonde. 

“I already did that,” she sighs, frowning when you seem to ignore her. 

You muck around for a little longer after that, fiddling with buttons, randomly seeing if your hand could fit through the chute. Everything you do is met with an equally as loud breath of impatience by your captain. Despite being a calm head on the pitch, it’s obvious that her patience didn’t translate well off the field. 

In the end, all it takes is a well placed whack by the heel of your palm dead center of the glass. 

Leah stares in disbelief as a whirring sound rings out, her packet of crisps dropping down the chute as distinct clinks of coins could be heard.

You fish out her snack and money like it’s nothing, smugly grinning her way. “Feel like I should take a finder’s fee, but I guess I’ll be generous this time.”

Leah rolls her eyes when you drop her things into her hands. “Gloating takes away from the actual feat, you know.”

“What? A hero can’t revel in their success?”

“‘Hero’ is pushing it.”

“Your white knight in shining armor?”

She doesn’t even bother with a response.

“The Spiderman to your Mary Jane?”

Leah’s eye twitches. 

“The Superman to your Lois Lane?”

“You do realize the more you talk, the less attractive you become?”

Your grin widens. “So you think I’m attractive.”

Leah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning on her heels. “Goodnight.”

“Hey! Where’s my thank you kiss?”

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

Help Wanted Flyer

If you see a giant wooden cross near Silver lake, look around it for a direction:

North-South-East-West

If you swim in that direction, you'll find a barrel of whisky underwater. I'll pay you a good finder's fee if you find them all.

For more info, come to the Can of Worms fishing store and talk to Sherri.

A note by Sherri Woodhouse, found both at the Can of Worms Fishing Store and Tanami Residence. ❇︎ Notes of Hope County

[shirleyjconnors]

What Are GEICO’s Options for Boat Insurance?

GEICO offers boat insurance. Many options are available. Let's explore what they offer.

Basic Coverage

GEICO's basic plan is simple. It covers common risks. Collision damage is included. Fire and theft too. Storm damage gets covered. This protects your investment. You can relax on water. I once owned a sailboat. Basic coverage saved me. A storm hit our marina. Many boats got damaged. Mine had scratches and dents. GEICO paid for repairs. It was quick and easy. The policy also covered theft. My friend's boat got stolen. He had no insurance. Big mistake. He lost everything. With GEICO, you're protected. Peace of mind matters.

Liability Coverage

Accidents happen on water too. You might hit another boat. Or injure someone water skiing. Liability coverage helps here. It pays for others' damages. Legal fees get covered too. I saw this firsthand once. A speedboat hit a dock. The dock was badly damaged. Repairs cost thousands of dollars. The boat owner had liability. It saved him from bankruptcy. Always get liability coverage.

Personal Property Coverage

Boats carry lots of stuff. Fishing gear, water skis, electronics. These items need protection too. Personal property coverage helps here. It replaces stolen or damaged items. My cousin lost his gear. A thief broke into his boat. Took all the fishing rods. And the fish finder too. Insurance replaced everything. He was fishing again soon. Don't skip this coverage.

Uninsured Boater Coverage

Not all boaters have insurance. Some take risks on water. They might crash into you. Or cause other problems. You need protection from them. Uninsured boater coverage helps. A friend learned this lesson. An uninsured jet ski hit him. His boat got damaged. The rider couldn't pay. My friend's policy covered it. He avoided a big headache. Always be prepared.

Additional Coverage Options

GEICO offers more choices too. Mechanical breakdown coverage is available. It pays for repairs. Fuel spill liability is another. It covers cleanup costs. Emergency assistance is useful. It helps if you're stranded. I once ran out of fuel. Miles from shore. No cell service either. Emergency assistance saved me. A tow boat came quickly. Got me back safely. Worth every penny.

Choosing Your Coverage

Pick what fits your needs. Consider your boat's value. Think about how you use it. Where you boat matters too. Discuss options with GEICO. They'll guide you well. I started with basic coverage. Added more over time. Now I'm fully protected. It gives me confidence. I enjoy boating stress-free. You can too with GEICO.

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[rocksolars]

Benefits of Owning a Portable Power Station for Boating

Boating is a great way to relax and enjoy the outdoors. But if you want to make the most of your boat, consider investing in a portable power station. Portable power stations provide reliable electricity and are easy to store, making them perfect for your next boating trip. This blog post will look at how portable power stations can enhance your boating experience.

Benefits of Owning a Portable Power Station for Boating

Owning a portable power station for boating offers many benefits, including powering and charging a wide range of electronics without needing to rely on an external electrical source. This portable solar power station can charge phones, laptops, speakers, and other devices. It also provides a reliable source of electricity which can be used to power lights, portable cookers, and even electric tools while out on the water. Furthermore, portable power stations are relatively lightweight and easy to transport, making them a great option for anyone who wants to enjoy their boating trips without worrying about running out of power. This convenience means that you can keep your electronics running all day, no matter where you are boating, enabling you to enjoy the freedom of being on the water without worrying about running out of juice. Also, owning the best portable power station can provide extra peace of mind while boating. Knowing that you have a convenient and reliable energy source to charge your electronics can help alleviate your worries about being stranded at sea with no power. With a portable power station, you can now enjoy the best of both worlds - the freedom of being on the open water and the convenience of having a reliable energy source for all your devices.

Cost Benefits of Portable Power Stations

Portable power stations have become increasingly popular due to their versatility and convenience. One of the key benefits of owning a portable power station is its cost-effectiveness. While traditional power sources can be expensive and require ongoing maintenance, a portable power station offers a more affordable and sustainable alternative. With a portable power station, you can charge your electronic devices, power lights and fans, and even run small appliances without needing an external power source. This means you can save money on expensive docking fees or the cost of a generator. Additionally, many portable power stations are designed to be energy-efficient so that you can save money on your energy bill in the long run. Overall, owning a portable power station can help you save money while still enjoying the benefits of having a reliable and convenient source of power wherever you go.

Ways a Portable Power Station Can Improve Your Boating Experience

The portable power stations are a great way to make your boating experience more convenient and enjoyable. It can provide a reliable energy source to power all your electronic devices, including lights, stereos, and fish finders. A portable power station is convenient and can also be used as a backup power source when your main power supply goes out. This can be a lifesaver if you are stuck in the middle of the ocean and need the power to make it back to shore. Additionally, some models have built-in charging capabilities to charge your phones or other electronics during your voyage. Investing in a portable power station for boating is worth the cost and can help ensure you have an enjoyable and safe time on the water. Not only can the portable power station provide you with energy, but it can also give you peace of mind knowing that you have a reliable source of energy in case of an emergency – such as inclement weather conditions or mechanical failure – while out on the water Beside the portable power station providing you with energy, it also gives you peace of mind knowing that you have a reliable source of energy in case of an emergency out on the water. From inclement weather to mechanical failure, portable power stations are essential for safe boating.

Conclusion

To conclude, investing in a portable power station is a great option if you're looking for ways to enhance your boating experience and make the most of your time on the water. Their reliable electricity and easy storage capabilities provide a convenient and reliable source of energy while you're out on the water. So don't wait any longer - get yourself a good quality portable power station and set sail!

[frontoffline]

115 mercury motor

Crestliner has taken advantage of the space below the helm with more cargo netting storage. You can store your phone and wallet in the slash pocket on the front of the dash located just below the switches. The rocker switches are at your fingertips along with a 12volt socket for portable equipment or to charge you cell phone. The standard Crestliner dash has a three-spoke wheel with a cup holder over on the left side and analog gauges above the wheel for a clear view, while some of the smaller gauges are mounted behind the wheel and a little harder to see, and to the right is a standard Lowrance X50-DS depth finder.

At the Wheel The raised helm allows the driver plenty of leg room. The companion dash has a large divided glove box in the top and cargo netting underneath for added storage. Rods up to 10' feel long can fit into the six rod rack on the port side of the cockpit. In fact, when it gets sloppy, flip on the raw water wash-down mounted at the back of the cockpit and give her a quick rinse. The vinyl flooring has aggressive grip, so you don't have to walk around gingerly when the floor gets wet. The cockpit is another great place to work fish, nets and pots from the cockpit with its high 27" depth walls. In the Cockpit Moving to from the bow to the cockpit the high, protective framed windshield has a large center walk-through. A handy flip-down cup holder is mounted on the front of the companion dash for the person fishing from the front deck. The center locker has two lids separated by a powder-coated seat base for one of the custom Concept DX casting pedestal chairs. The large platform offers good working space with four large lockers for gear and batteries for the trolling motor. The bow light stores in clips in a bow storage space located behind a snap cover in the peak. Over on the port side, the 1850 has a folding stern light stored behind the cargo netting in clips so you know exactly where to find it. Under the gunwales in front, this model has cargo netting to keep the rain gear and life jackets handy. Equipped with the optional bow and cockpit railings that are popular with families and crabbing crews. This coating also makes clean-up fast and simple. Features The entire interior of the Canadian 1850 is coated with Crestliner's special vinyl-coating that helps to insulate the boat and dampen noise. Please call 262-269-OO8lThis boat can be seen in our heated showroom by appointment, and stored there for 90-days with full payment until your ready for it this spring. Additional photos and video are available at CategoryĬheck out The price will also go up to $21990 3/1/16. For more information, please call toll free 86. Price is plus sales tax/fees and is subject to change without notice. Leaders Marine is one of the largest marine and motorsports dealers in the Midwest with over 70,000 sq ft of showroom, parts, and service under one roof located in Kalamazoo, MI. Competitive financing rates and terms are also available. Trades will be considered and delivery is available.

It has been inspected by our factory-trained technicians and is mechanically sound. There are minor cosmetic scuffs on the exterior (see pics/video). This boat is in very good overall condition with minimal wear and fading. Also included is an E-Z Loader bunk trailer including 13” wheels, composite fenders w/steps, spare tire w/cover, tie down straps, bearing buddies, and swivel jack. Features include: convertible top, Aquatronics AM/FM stereo w/weather guard, gauges including speedometer, tachometer, fuel, and voltmeter bilge pump, electric horn, navigation/anchor lights, bow seating w/under storage, full walk-thru windshield, passenger console glove box, in-floor ski/board storage compartment, driver and passenger back-to-back seats (lay flat to make sunloungers-see pics), port and starboard cockpit storage, (2) stern jump seats, beverage holders, passenger safety handles, integrated swim platform w/boarding ladder, stainless ski pylon, (3) stainless mooring cleats, fire extinguisher, and 6 person carrying capacity. 1999 STARCRAFT 1700 BR! A 115 hp Mercury outboard engine with power trim powers this fiberglass bowrider.

[greyssbook]

Fishing runabout boat

Fishing runabout boat professional#

Other key points to remember to look for include ventilation (our covers have vents sewn in and come with a vented support pole), and security (Westland™ covers come with a draw cord and sewn-in loops). Speaking of inferior – before you settle on a cover also make sure you don’t get saddled with one that’s made from anything less than a material like Sharkskin™ or Sunbrella® (yes, those are the ones we use) or it won’t last very long. Shop around, and you’ll see that many others only come in two- or even four-foot increments, which is likely to produce an inferior fit. And remember: our covers are made in one-foot increments. You choose which is right for your boat in theĬover Finder, where you also can opt for the appropriate length and beam. More details please check out exchange and return policy.Also note that since runabouts are built with both stern drives and outboards, we create covers to match one or the other. When you purchase products from ECCPP official site, you agree to our policy about returns, exchanges, and refunds as outlined. Please contact the retailer directly for specific guidance on their warranty process. For the products purchased from one of our retailers, we do not provide support related to after-sales.

Fishing runabout boat professional#

We offer a 1-year warranty for our products, if you get any warranty-related trouble with our products, you could contact ECCPP directly for professional and quick support, we'll help you solve the issue 100% sure! We also take care of all quality-related issues with a replacement including any return shipping costs. More details please check out shipping policy. Please wait patiently and don't worry, thank you. (2) The parts won’t all fit in a single package. If your order contains multiple parts, you may receive more than 1 package for the following reasons: (1)The parts ordered are currently in different warehouses. After checking your location, we will send the actual shipping fee to your email for confirmation. We could only offer an International shipping service for Canada. The order will be shipped on the same day or the next business day, especially for the order on Friday or weekend, it would be shipped on the next business day.ĮCCPP website orders were being supported by USPS, UPS, and FedEx. The handing and shipping should be started up as soon as the payment is successful. Product Description: Well protect your boat so as to extend its lifespan You may in need of our 600D Oxford Fabric High Quality Waterproof Boat Cover with. Special Case: For the transaction paid by using a PayPal eCheck, the payment will be completed within 3-6 business days. Once the order was placed please allow us 1-2 business days for packing and shipping, checking the order information is a very important step to build a better shopping experience. The shipping address should be a physical address, we DO NOT ship to the P.O. Please confirm the shipping address and billing address. double stitch at all seams for longer-lasting use, large storage bag, Tie-down straps.ħ.With Storage Bag, you can fold it up when it is not used, for your next time easy and convenient use. Navigloo Boat Shelter for FISHING/RUNABOUT 14-181/2 ft with tarp 18x26 - Since 1998, iboats is the most trusted water lifestyle online store for boat parts. FeatureĢ.Collapsible for easy storage, mooring and traileringģ.Constructed with strong material 600D, for maximum waterproofĤ.Ultra thick soft cotton lining, it will not damge the paint of your boat, a well protectĦ.Tight double stitch, Extra roomy cut allows more room for accessories such as boarding ladder, spotlights, pedal seats. Wearing this cover, your boat will effectively avoid any potential damage. Our Runabout line is based on the same rugged, commercial-grade platform as our cabin boats, but re-engineered with an emphasis on family use and sport fishing. Built with a quick-release buckle, it is quite easy for operation. Well protect your boat so as to extend its lifespan! You may in need of our 600D Oxford Fabric High Quality Waterproof Boat Cover with Storage Bag! Our boat cover, featuring superior quality, competitive price and durable life! It adopts high-grade 600D oxford fabric with PVC coating, so it is waterproof, dustproof and scratch-proof. Most of the plate boats Ive reviewed over the years have been of a reasonable size, mainly in the 5.8m to 7.0m category, and have been fairly specialised.

[undyingwinter]

↳ National Treasure Sentence Starters

ʺ You're not supposed to be up here, looking at that. ʺ

ʺ What was the secret? ʺ

ʺ It's not about the money. It's never been about the money. ʺ

ʺ But don't go by me - I broke a shoelace this morning. It's... it's a bad omen ʺ

ʺ Look... this is a waste of time. ʺ

ʺ I'm just relieved that I'm not as crazy as everyone says. ʺ

ʺ We are one step closer to the treasure, gentlemen. ʺ

ʺ Wait a minute. What do you mean, "invisible" - "an invisible map"? ʺ

ʺ We could borrow it. ʺ

ʺ In another life... I arranged a number of operations of... questionable legality. ʺ

ʺ What are you gonna do? Are you gonna shoot me? ʺ

ʺ Anyone crazy enough to believe us isn't gonna want to help. ʺ

ʺ I think I'd better put you gentlemen in touch with the FBI. ʺ

ʺ You're treasure-hunters, aren't you? ʺ

ʺ Must have taken you a long time to hunt down all that history. ʺ

ʺ No idea what you said. ʺ

ʺ I'm gonna steal it. ʺ

ʺ You are gonna go to prison, you know that? ʺ

ʺ Do you know what the Preservation Room is for? ʺ

ʺ Our evil plan is working. ʺ

ʺ I'm gonna turn off the surveillance cameras. Ready? ʺ

ʺ Get out of there. Get out of there now. ʺ

ʺ Are you trying to steal that? ʺ

ʺ Lock it down. Nobody leaves the building. Get the FBI on the phone. ʺ

ʺ Still a little on edge from being shot at, but I'll be OK. Thanks for asking. ʺ

ʺ You'd do well to be a bit more civilised in this instance. ʺ

ʺ I wanna reassure you, you are not in danger in any way. ʺ

ʺ It's not a conspiracy theory. ʺ

ʺ I know. I know. It's only a matter of minutes before the FBI shows up at my front door ʺ

ʺ What do we do about them? I've got some duct tape in the back. ʺ

ʺ I look pregnant? ʺ

ʺ This better not be about that dumb treasure. ʺ

ʺ I have a job, a house, health insurance. ʺ

ʺ You gonna untie me? ʺ

ʺ He tied me to a chair. ʺ

ʺ And he stole my car. ʺ

ʺ We look kind of conspicuous, don't you think? ʺ

ʺ I'm hungry. This car smells weird. ʺ

ʺ Well, you're certain the treasure is real, despite what anyone else thinks. ʺ

ʺ Wait a minute, wait. You're gonna love this. ʺ

ʺ Why can't they just say, "Go to this place, and here's the treasure, spend it wisely"? ʺ

ʺ I don't think we can get out of here without being spotted. ʺ

ʺ Door number one, you go to prison for a very long time. ʺ

ʺ Is there a door that doesn't lead to prison? ʺ

ʺ You know, something I've noticed about fishing: it never works out so well for the bait. ʺ

ʺ You all right? No broken bones? A jump like that could kill a man. ʺ

ʺ OK. Who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first? ʺ

ʺ How do a bunch of guys with hand tools build all this? ʺ

ʺ End of the road. The treasure's gone. Moved. Taken somewhere else. ʺ

ʺ I'm sorry I yelled at you. ʺ

ʺ Looks like someone got here first. ʺ

ʺ I've never been so happy to be proven wrong. ʺ

ʺ It's a big... bluish-green man, with a strange-looking goatee. I'm guessing that's significant. ʺ

ʺ I still have this splinter that's been festering for three months from an old piece of wood. ʺ

ʺ Next time we find a treasure that redefines history for all mankind, you make the call on the finder's fee. ʺ

ʺ Yeah, someone that did something in history and had fun. Great. Wonderful. ʺ

[kaechan]

I made this for my Twitter banner <3 showing off my new emote thought I'd show you here.

Artist of little can I has Rose Red is from NahokoVeta on Twitter.

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 2

A/N: Ayyy. Seems like no one hates the concept so I decided to go ahead and continue... Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sex, guns, slow burn

Word count: 3190

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

Once you reached the depth of the boat, you released the anchor, letting it fall out of view. You swam across the Grady-White, looking for anything worth collecting, hoping not to find a body, especially your dad’s body.

Near the floor of the bow of the boat, there where keys. You swiftly picked them up, your lungs beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen. You worried that you would take an involuntary gasp of air, so you turned back with only the keys. You wondered how the keys didn’t get lost during the storm.

You broke the surface with the keys in your hand, brushing your hair back from your face. Your friends were over the side of the boat and John B let out a sigh of relief.

Kiara huffed too, “Oh my god, that took forever.”

Pope asked if you had found any dead bodies and you shook your head no. You saw JJ mutter something to himself and look at you with slight guilt. You were gone awhile. He probably thought he had pushed you to your death.

You hoisted yourself up onto the bow and swung your legs over.

When you told the rest of the pogues that what you had found was a motel key, they seemed slightly discouraged and sarcastic that that was what you had salvaged.

Kiara suggested that you guys report the wreck to the coast guard, hoping for a finder’s fee.

On your way there, JJ approached you at the bow, his hand resting on your shoulder. You turned, and he looked at the deck.

He patted your shoulder and pulled his lips inside his mouth, making his face resemble a monkey’s.

“I’m glad you didn’t, ah, drown or something, aight?” He patted your shoulder awkwardly and walked away before you could even respond to that extremely random statement.

You heard Pope laugh at him, slapping his head, “Dude, glad she didn’t drown? Is that the best you can do?” JJ stopped his laughing real quick with a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Ay, shut the hell up, will ya?”

Going back to your beer, you turned back to the water. Kiara nudged your shoulder. “JJ’s right you know, that wasn’t rational.”

You smirked, swirling the last of the beer at the bottom of the bottle. You wrinkled your nose as you realized it was probably just backwash. You took a swig anyways, “Since when am I rational, Kie?”

Kie scoffed, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You could have died you wretch!”

You shrugged, tossing the bottle aside, “And? Wouldn’t have been the worst way to go. Y’all would have had a helluva story to tell, eh?”

“Story, what the fuck, Y/N?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Her nurturing reminded your brother. “Honestly, you and John B are the same person. Just gender swapped. You’d be amazing together. I’d never escape your combined mothering powers.” You watched your legs swing over the edge of the boat, something that was far from safe but kept you on edge in a good way. You saw Kiara’s blush and smirked. “Diving was fun, anyways.”

Kiara pursed her lips. “Honestly, you guys are perfect for each other, too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but you had a good idea. You knew asking questions would simply draw more attention, so you decided to let it slide.

When you reached the coast guard, John B and JJ went inside to notify them, trying to make their way through the loud crowd.

You crossed your arms as you waited with Kiara and Pope. Pope was staring at you intently and eventually you had enough of it. “What is it, Pope? Why are you looking at me like one of those corpses you so badly want to study?”

Pope didn’t flinch at my obvious attempt to deflect the conversation. “You gonna keep pulling shit like you did back there?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You said.

Kiara raised her eyebrows as Pope said. “Even if you don’t, I think you should know that John B’s blood pressure can’t take you risking life and limb to check out a goddamn boat wreck.”

You rolled your eyes, “I think I know what my own brother’s blood pressure can take, but thanks for the evaluation, Pope.” You brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, folding your arms, “Besides, it’s not like my blood pressure can take John B’s constant delusions that our dad’s not dead at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.”

“Y/N!” Kiara hissed at my bluntness.

You held your hands outward, questioning, “What? We all know it’s true.”

Just then, John B and JJ returned, JJ saying, “Well, that went well. So what’s the plan?”

John B insisted that you guys check out the motel room that those keys opened, Kiara agreed to be look out.

As you guys pulled up to the motel, JJ let out a low whistle. You could see why. Agatha had really done a number on this place, even worse than the Chateau. The shingles were barely hanging on to the roof and the entire place just looked drowned, like it had aged fifty years overnight. You noticed furniture all around outside, probably to dry since it would collect mold and mildew if left damp indoors.

It didn’t make sense that someone who owned a Grady-White would stay in a run-down place like this. John B voiced this thought of yours.

You, John B and JJ hopped out of the boat, JJ tying it down. As you guys turned to leave, Pope said to John B, “Don’t let them do anything stupid.”

JJ shrugged, “Oh, we will.”

You winked at Pope, John B sighing, “I’m not making any promises.”

Kiara handed the motel keys to John B, warning in a low voice, “Be careful.” At John B’s lack of response, she leaned forward, giving him a hard look. “I’m serious, be careful.”

You nearly laughed out loud at your brother’s dumb response, an awkward chuckle and a breathy “Heh, yeah…”

As you guys walked down the hall, JJ nudged your side and nodded his head at John B, as if to say, “Watch this.”

He grabbed John B by the shoulder and chin, turning his face towards his; they were only inches apart.

John B’s eyes widened, JJ saying with an overly romantic tone, “Just be so careful, John B.”

Laughing, you watched as John B shoved JJ off harshly, sending him into you. Your back hit the back of his tank top and you caught a whiff of his scent. At first you were repulsed, expecting boyish BO, but surprisingly, JJ smelled of salt, sea salt. He must have been surfing this morning. You pushed him forward, ignoring his dumb grin.

John B looked disgusted, “God, you’re so weird.” He said to JJ.

JJ shrugged, his shoulders reaching his ears. “Dude, what the heck was that about?”

John B looked at him sarcastically. “I don’t know; maybe she wants us to be careful.”

JJ rolled his eyes, clapping him on the back, saying “Every since you’re being threatened with exile, she’s just been like—” JJ caressed John B’s face again, “Oh, be so careful, John B.”

You snorted when JJ added, “Just give me that John D already. Like when are you gonna swoop in on that?”

You but in, agreeing, “You two need to just bang already. I feel like I’m going to puke every time I look at you guys.”

John B’s looked tense. “You know the rule, guys. No pogue-on-pogue macking.”

JJ looked over at you, mocking John B’s statement silently.

You giggled and John B said, “JJ you need help. Not like a little help, you need a lot of help. ‘Cause it’s like every girl who has a heartbeat, you’re just like… UNGHHH…” John B stuck his hands out, acting as if a magnet was forcing him forward, dragging his body.

JJ scoffed, “What? It’s not a big deal. Your sister’s no different!” He defended, gesturing to you.

You slapped him on the shoulder for bringing you into this.

John B turned to JJ, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t bring my sister into this, dude.”

JJ held his hands up. “Whatever, man. I was just sayin’…”

You sighed, walking over to the door. “I think this is us guys, twenty-nine.”

JJ walked over, knocking on the door swiftly before raising his voice to a high-pitch and mimicking in one breath, “Housekeeping.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. That sound nearly sent you. JJ had always been a master of voices, but this was one of your favorites.

When John B asked if he should open it, JJ added something in Spanish and your eyes widened. You brushed your hair forward, hoping no one would see your random flush of skin.

“No power. No security cameras. No one’s gonna know,” said JJ. It was true, this was a beyond ideal situation.

Your brother unlocked the door, letting the three of you in and locking it behind him.

There wasn’t much inside. You figured it was probably a man over 50 given his choice of clothing, but there was no identification. There was a map with some coordinates pointing to off the continental shelf, which made no sense since no one fished there.

John B found a safe, but was trying to guess and check the password, JJ focused on the map. You realized there was a post it with a pin number on it and you picked it up, handing it your brother. “Here, try this.”

It worked. When he opened the safe, you immediately saw piles of cash. “Well, shit…”

You called JJ over and a giddy smile took over his face as he saw what was inside. Of course, he immediately went for the gun.

He picked it up, turning this way and that, pretending as if you guys were in some sort of lame action movie and he was taking down some cronies after him.

In all honesty, you were jealous. Crossing your arms, you pouted. “I wanted the gun.”

JJ shrugged. “Too slow.” Adjusting his position, he asked, “Come on, take a picture of me.”

John B stood up, shaking his head.

You looked at him like he was an idiot, “Seriously? You want to make our own incriminating evidence?”

Suddenly there was a hard rock hitting plexiglass sound from the window and John B looked over, before jumping to the blinds by the door of the motel room, hissing, “Cops.”

There was no way you guys would make it out in time.

You looked over at the window, ushering the guys over, “Hurry! Out here.”

JJ went out first, John B following. You shuffled out quickly, and felt an arm at your waist. You turned to see JJ, who was looking at your feet, focusing on helping you onto the ledge he was on. You leaned out, nearly falling but trusting him to hold on to you as you closed the window door with your hand. JJ pulled you back to the ledge with one swoop, the quick movement making you crash into his side.

Luckily your hair was in a braid, or it might have gotten you guys caught.

John B held his finger up to his lips, gesturing for you guys to be quiet.

You nodded. JJ didn’t remove his arm from around you. There was hardly enough room for one person. Afraid you would fall, he pulled you even closer, so that your feet were on top of his. You were chest to chest, your back against the wall, JJ caging you, but not touching you. He wasn’t looking at you but into the window, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiousness.

Without anything else to look at, you stared at him. Your breath was coming fast from your fear, making you pant and take in large gulps of hot air.

Sea salt. Once again, you could smell it. Stupidly, your mouth moved before you could control it, “Did you go surfing this morning?” You whispered.

JJ turned to you, face blank and confused. “What?”

You saw Kiara and Pope run back to the HMS Pogue.

You flushed immediately, and JJ watched your blush reach your chest. “Uh, what?” You repeated. “Nothing, never mind.”

You looked to the side, trying to ignore his stare on you. His hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from your braid behind your ear.

He leaned back towards the window and John B and him shared a look of astonishment. They had taken the money. The cops had stolen from a crime scene. JJ whispered, “What the fuck?”

You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, he shuffled slightly, and the gun that was loosely tucked into his waistband slipped, clattering on its way to the ground.

Fuck.

JJ punched the wall slightly in frustration and cursed under his breath.

John B glared but didn’t say anything. You all flinched when the window curtain was opened abruptly. Afraid you guys would be seen, JJ moved closer, his chest flush against yours now. You could hear his heart racing and you were sure he could feel how fast your chest was rising and falling. Because of the crisis. Right, because of the crisis.

He leaned forward, hiding his face beside yours, his scruffy blonde hair tickling your left cheek.

You took a deep breath before holding it, your eyes closed. You didn’t want to catch anymore of his scent. It made you foolish and disoriented.

It was tense minute. It felt like hours to you. Finally, they were gone. You released your breath onto JJ’s shoulder, and you noticed him shudder slightly.

He pulled away, making eye contact for a little too long before moving. John B opened the window and hopped inside. JJ followed, disentangling his limbs from yours.

JJ reached his hand out to you to help you up, but as usual, you slapped it away. He rolled his eyes as he watched you hold onto the sides of the window frame, hoisting yourself through the space. For some goddamn reason, today had to be the day the tip of your foot got caught on the frame and you stumbled.

Instantly, JJ had his arms out, helping you through.

Once inside, you patted him softly on the chest and he let go of you.

You straightened your shirt, clearing your throat and following John B out the door.

When you reached the HMS Pogue, Kiara and Pope had it ready to go. You guys got in and Pope drove off.

Pope asked if you guys found anything and JJ held up the money and the gun. While Kiara and Pope shouted at him for taking something from a crime scene, you gave him a high-five.

What was life without a little danger, anyways?

When you guys returned to the docks, they brought in Scooter Grubbs’ body. Apparently, he had drowned while taking his brand-new Grady-White into the storm.

When you returned to the Chateau, you guys pieced it together. It was obvious that Scooter had to have been a drug dealer, otherwise it wouldn’t have made any sense that a marina rat like him could have copped a goddamn Grady-White.

Despite Pope’s initial doubts, you guys wanted to go after the contraband that was no doubt hidden in the boat.

For now, you had to lay low. Of course, to you guys, that meant throwing a kegger on your side of the island. You even invited the kooks. They were great at attracting attention, which meant less attention on you guys, and less attention from the fact that you guys had a gun stolen from a crime scene.

It was late, and you walked over to your brother with a beer in your hand. He was leaning over one of the campfire logs, looking out wistfully with his chin in his hand. You followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at Sarah Cameron, the local, certified golden girl of the kooks. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a shove. “Find someone in your own league, bro!”

He shook his head quickly. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

You stopped him from saying anymore. “I don’t care, JB.”

You turned, looking to get more beer when someone twirled you from behind. You were met with a solid chest and looked up to see Asher.

He gave you a grin and you gave a wary smile, uncomfortable with his sudden physical contact.

“We always run into each other at keggers, ay?” Said Asher.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Seems that way.”

Asher threw his arm around your shoulder, taking the rest of your drink and downing it. “We should really try to change that.” He suggested.

He was asking you out. Embarrassed, you tried to shoot him down nicely, “Ahh, I kind of like it better this way.”

Asher turned to face you, stopping your pace. “Aw, come on! Let me take you out, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Sorry, Asher, but dating’s really not my style.”

Confused, Asher laughed, “But whoring it up is?”

You heard a sharp, “Hey!” and JJ appeared from behind you. How long had he been there?

He shoved Asher. “What the hell did you say?” He questioned, gaining on Asher.

Asher put his hands up in the air, “Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble. Besides, who the fuck are you?”

You saw Topper appear, Sarah Cameron at his heels. “What’s going on here? You dirty pogues giving my little brother a hard time?”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Asher was Topper’s younger brother? You had slept with that?

Repulsed, you wrinkled your nose. John B approached to see what the commotion was about as well. He asked what was happening and JJ gestured accusingly at Asher. “This one’s calling Y/N a whore.”

John B’s eyebrow rose, his expression dangerous.

This was not going to end well.

“He did what?” Before he could reach Asher, Topper shoved John B, provoking him to shove back, leading to an all-out brawl.

You were tempted to join in, but Kiara held tight to your arm, not letting you out of her grip.

One thing led to another and Topper had John B’s head in the water, drowning him.

“JOHN B! Topper get OFF!” You screamed.

You watched as JJ’s jaw clenched at your hysterical cries. Steeling himself, he ran up to the fight, pulling the gun out of his shorts and holding it to Topper’s head.

Everyone on the beach scattered at the sight of a gun. Pope cursed with his hands on his head, furious.

JJ muttered something to Topper and he held his hands up, releasing John B. Kiara finally let you go and you ran up to your brother, who was coughing his lungs out.

Kiara joined you, helping John B up and walking him out of the water.

He shook you guys off, glaring at JJ.

You guys blew it. This was the complete opposite of laying low.

To be continued…

Masterlist

@treestarrrrrrrr​

[blueiscoool]

Bronze Age Spear Found by a Metal Detectorist

One of the most spectacular bronze age weapons discovered in northern Europe has been found by a metal detectorist on a Jersey beach.

The perfectly preserved 35cm long spear head made from copper alloy was found buried point down at the low water mark on one of the lowest tides of the year.

It is in such good condition that the finder Jay Cornick thought it must be a modern fishing spear. He put it in his bag and didn’t think much more about it until he showed it to archaeologists from Jersey Heritage.

The spearhead was found last August but the find has only now been made public after radio carbon dating confirmed it is at least 3,000 years old. Remains of the wooden haft which were still in the socket of the spear head also confirmed it had been made from field maple, which was commonly used for hafting tools and weapons in the late Bronze Age.

No similar spear head has been found in the Channel Islands although a handful of similar examples have been found in France which is just 14 miles from Jersey. Most bronze age spear heads discovered in the islands have been much smaller and part of hoards that were deliberately broken and buried as part of some long forgotten ritual.

Mr Cornick, 34, an electrical engineer, had detected on the beach near Gorey Harbour in the east of the island many times before making the find. He said: “It was very close to the harbour wall. Down on that part of the beach we usually find a lot of musket balls and old bullets and that’s what it sounded like. It was just about the first signal I got, I was in two minds whether to dig it but I did anyway.

“It was a good 15in to 18in deep. It was at a 45-degree angle and when I dug it I saw the end of it and just pulled it out. It came out with a sucking sound. It was deep enough into the black, clay-ey sand that doesn’t move with the tide that it may have been there since it went in.”

He said: “When I found the spear I didn’t think it was that important or that old. My initial thought when I dug it out was that it was a modern fishing spear and probably less than 100 years old so it was just thrown in my bag until I got back to the car. Then I looked again and thought it might have a little bit of age to it.”

After sharing a photograph with Neil Mahrer, the conservation specialist with Jersey Heritage, Mr Cornick wrapped the still damp spearhead in a bin bag and took to the museum in St Helier where it went on display this week. Mr Mahrer described the find as “incredible”.

Mr Cornick says he has only had it in his possession for three days and does not know whether he will get a “finder’s fee”.

The carbon dating carried out by York Archaeological Trust confirmed the wooden haft dates from between 1207 BC and 1004 BC.

Olga Finch, Jersey Heritage’s Curator of Archaeology, said: “The spearhead is a really exciting find for Jersey – it is unique and very rare in terms of its large size and the fact that it is intact.

“This spearhead is completely different from everything else we have.”

The style of spear head is known as Tréboul after a site in Brittany but this example is so large and delicate that Mr Mahrer says it is possible it was made for ceremonial use. It is thought it survived in such good condition because it was protected from the air by the black sand.

Somehow it had survived not only the construction of Gorey Harbour and the medieval castle which dominates the headland but three millennia of tides and winter storms.

By Simon de Bruxelles.

[bookandcranny]

Rely On The Lighthouse Keeper

So once upon a time, the icebergs melted and the sea levels rose and people died and people lived and now there’s a lighthouse standing half-submerged a half mile or so off the shoreline. Charlotte dreams about the lighthouse every night. Not so unusual, since she thinks about it every day.

Every morning she runs the length of the docks where the fishermen call her Lottie. Her legs are long and lean and her sandals go thwap thwap thwap against the saturated wood two planks at a time. She cuts her hands climbing the tide-battered cliffside and eats clams with every meal for want of pearls. Boiled, steamed, fried. She’s trying to turn salt into diamonds between her chipped teeth and so far? Not much luck.

After her morning run, she works the floor of her uncle’s dive shop, pandering to wannabe treasure hunters. 

“All kinds of hidden beauties in the sunken cities, ripe for the picking,” he tells them.

“Whatever hasn’t already been picked dry years ago, or eaten by fish. Treasure hunting is a sucker’s game,” he tells her.

He’s not really her uncle, except in the ways that count. They sell thermo-control, pressure-control wetsuits that only sometimes tear at inopportune moments and gadgets to evade sensors in the places where such activity isn’t strictly legal. Mostly their customers come back with satchels full of scrap, green with age and algae- worthless except to be melted down for raw material. Her uncle drops a few coins into their open palms, subtracting a generous finder’s fee for the equipment, and sends them on their grumbling way. They’ll be back though, because it’s a bad gamble but it’s one they don’t know how to live without, and one big win is all they need to change their lives for good

Suckers though they may be, Charlotte can’t help but feel for them. Something about the way they cycle through fervent hope and resignation in tight circles like a dog chasing its tail, she’d be blind not to see the resemblance. Every kid in this town has the exact same haunted look in their eyes, tailed by the loss of something that died long before they were born. 

For dinner Charlotte boils rice in a thin salinous bone broth until it becomes pale, barely palatable mush that her uncle can press comfortably into the space of his missing teeth. She eats two boiled clams and her own porridge, marginally thicker and with some actual meat in it to make it more resemblant of a meal. They don’t speak very much as they eat, outside of the same old discussions about Charlotte’s education or the future of the shop which resolve without conclusion and will be forgotten by the next time it comes up. Neither one is much for conversation.

Afterwards the girl pours a bath as cold as she can stand and sits and scrubs and fills her lungs. Hold, hold. She can keep in her breath for over two full minutes on a good day, but it’s not good enough. She needs more practice.

Outside her bedroom window the lighthouse beacon blinks in and out of sight as it turns, winking at her where she sits wide awake in bed. She dips into sleep only long enough to get what she needs, and it comes to her in a pool of golden light and promises. Her and those suckers at the shop, they’re just the same, except where they cast about blindly in the ruins she’ll never lose sight.

In the other room she can hear her uncle groaning as he works the heel of his hand against his bad leg, trying to exorcise a memory. For people who live seaside ghosts are as common a problem as bedbugs or radiation poisoning. Everyone has a story, from so-and-so’s brother’s neighbor’s cousin who had a grandfather who died in the first tidal wave that took Long Island and so on and so forth. In most of the stories though, or at least the good ones, it’s women they see. Ghost women bobbing in the surf and dressed only in moonlight. Always naked. Sailors are so predictable.

So the story goes: “The widow of a navy marine. She went half mad when the call came in and fully mad by the time the war was over. When the waves went up she refused to retreat to higher ground, still waiting for her husband to come home. They say she waits to this day.”

So the story goes: “She loved to dance on the beach even though she knew it was forbidden. A healthy young woman in her prime, but died suddenly of a vicious pneumonia. At her autopsy they found a tiny ocean in her lungs, coral reefs growing all up the sides and freckled with starfish. Real coral, can you imagine?”

So the story goes: “Their daughters were possessed by a longing for the world that was. When at last it was more than they could take, they met under a red moon one night and threw themselves from the cliffs in despair.”

So it goes. In another month Charlotte can hold her breath for almost three minutes. Soon it’ll be four. The rising bubbles tickle her cheeks as she breathes out. Clams every day, still no pearls. Her hair is growing long now and on rainy days it slaps her back and shoulders as she runs. 

A season of fishermen return to the docks while another sets sail and they don’t recognize her there anymore. She’s not Lottie to them but “that girl”. They make jokes to mask their unease. They say she runs like she has the devil on her heels. She knows though, she knows the devil doesn’t chase. He waits.

He waits for her to get slow, to take her eyes off the horizon. She’s seen it happen. As she gets older it’ll get harder to dream except for of her next spot of luck, a good business quarter or a diver with a rare bounty, and her treasure will slip away from her. The devil is a man o’ war, the devil is the scar that streaks diagonal down an old man’s calf as he tells tales of days when sharks swam the seas in great numbers, the devil is a lazy trawling net caught in a propeller. If she waits, someday she won’t wonder who lights the abandoned lighthouse at night. Someday she might not notice it at all. Just another part of the scenery like craggy cliffs and sunken skylines and the gates. 

“The devil is a tall iron gate,” she mutters, disinfecting her scraped palms.

“That’s a new one,” her uncle says. “And I’m pretty sure those gates aren’t made of iron. Would rust, wouldn’t it?”

“Iron sounds more,” She casts about for the right word. “Epic.”

He laughs and his laugh is the only thing still completely dry in this shop. Then he says, “You could be a real writer if you put in the time. Didja give anymore thought to going back to school?” And the conversation is over.

The devil is the slow broadening of her hips. Three minutes and forty six seconds until she can’t take the burn anymore, but instead of resurfacing she sucks in an involuntary lungful and comes up retching. More clams come up, and a yellow starfish smaller than her pinky nail. 

There’s a medicine woman in a shop a few doors down who claims a paste made from dry-earth roots will expand the chest and bellows. It can’t be any worse than pinching crawlies from the bait-box. What she really needs though is a remedy no one’s given her yet. She needs a cure for time.

Another few months and she can run from one end of the docks to the other in sixty six identical strides. Before she so much as hits the docks her legs are shooting out to the bow and stem of her like a dancer. Meanwhile her uncle can barely walk anymore. She isn’t ready to go.

The fog is so constant, so oppressive now that the lighthouse shines not just at night but throughout the day. From sat upon the cliffs she times her blinks in rhythm with the beacon and looks out on the waves, for ghosts, or just for a sign. 

For five minutes this time she quiets the hurting part, the signal that burns bright and angry, and focuses on the chill of the water engulfing her. 

In a year not quite to the day, while preparing dinner, she cracks open a particularly stubborn shell to find a lumpy pearl bigger than her goddamn knuckle. She leaves the pearl at her uncle’s bedside while he’s sleeping, paralleling nicely the way her mother left her once upon his doorstep, though she can’t know this. In the morning the dockworkers see a girl- a young woman they used to call Lottie, sprinting along the boardwalk so fast that she seems not to touch the ground. It’s another gray day, misty and magical, and when they tell this story to their mothers’ good friends’ nephews she will be naked with skin made of gold and ambergris.

She dances the length of the boardwalk and down to the wire fence surrounding the bivalvarium and without breaking stride she begins to climb. Right up and over, planting herself in the sand with a muddy thunk, one foot sailing in front of the other over rocks and ridges and into the chaste waters where fishermen and treasure seekers alike are forbidden. The oysters buried in the earth are singing, chattering their shells like castanets. The coastguard siren sings its angry song too. With no time to spend languishing on the beach, she wades on and begins to swim.

The current doesn’t welcome her, but she wouldn’t expect anything less. The state tried to make her go to a nice inland school once and it felt a little like this. The resistance isn’t anything personal, it’s just how it is. 

“Go back where you belong, land-walker,” it says. “There’s nothing here for you but heartache.” But stroke by stroke she insists herself upon it. Somewhere someone is screaming from the shore. Whether in excitement or recrimination, Charlotte can’t hear any of them now.

Hand over hand, out of the surf and then in again. As she approaches her destination, squinting against the salt in her eyes, she breaches a final time and then nosedives to the bottom. Five minutes. The tide and the air trapped in her ballooned lungs try to buoy her back to the surface so she activates the weighted bracelets filched from the shop. They’re tricky little trinkets, only used by the more experienced or reckless divers. Once they’re cracked a chemical reaction within the donut-shaped shell makes them heavy as anchors, giving the wearer an extra bit of depth but also limiting their movement. Charlotte had her reservations about them, and still does, but right now they get her just where she needs to be.

At the base of the sunken lighthouse there’s a crack. An ordinary crack, worked open naturally by the years and the pressure. It’s down deep though and the point of entry is small. An adult burdened with lots of heavy diving equipment couldn’t fit. She squeezes in, scraped raw on all sides, struggling to release the clasps on the weights when they get her stuck in the gap. 

She’s all through but her ankle now. Two minutes of air left by her rough estimation and she still needs to make it back to the surface. Panic will eat up her air faster. She knows this, she knows. She grabs one of the bracelets and hammers it against the stone until she breaks free. A small burst of blood halos her ankle as she races for the faint light above her, winking at her in a rhythm she knows so well.

There is movement in the ocean around her. Big flat-bodied fish? Monstrous mutant eels perhaps? Or ghosts. So the story goes.

She swims up and breaks through and her ears are ringing. Only now does she let herself feel the cold and the ache in her lungs and the throbbing of her muscles, and she wails like a newborn, her cries echoing to the heavens. She’s survived, and the surviving is an agony unlike anything she’s ever known, ever could have anticipated. The collision of the dream and the reality is less breaking a fever and more hurtling through a pane of glass.

“Well that was dramatic,” say the ghosts. They do indeed look like women, although they have clothes fashioned from layers of seaweed and rubbery fish skins so thick Charlotte can’t tell where it ends and they begin. Their bodies are thin but only in the way flounders are. They twist and writhe like a child’s lost ribbon floating in the tide. One sniffs and touches her wounded ankle curiously as she floats, and she doesn’t feel much like a ghost at all. She feels as plain to her as fish porridge.

So the ghosts who are not ghosts swim her over to a ledge, where the water laps upon the stair. Their ribbon tails shimmy back and forth in hypnotic rhythm and when the pale light shines upon them they glisten like jelly. Charlotte doesn’t know it but sailors didn’t always just tell stories about ghosts. It’s just that tall tales lose some of their zest once they come true.

“Since you’re here I guess you’ll be staying,” says one gilly girl, not cruelly but not kindly either. “You might as well get comfy.”

Another, smaller than the first with a bob of inky hair matted to her cheeks, tugs shyly at the hem of her top. “Did you bring anything fun with you? Oh, do you have any movies? We found a VCR the other day in the old houses.”

“It won’t work.”

“You don’t know that. I want to watch movies again. I miss having new stories.”

“Do you know my brother? He’s a bivalve farmer back on the cape. Unless he isn’t anymore. It has been a while since I saw him.”

“Is the president still a prick? I promised myself I wouldn’t be coming back until there was someone with half a brain in office. Oh hey remind me, what year is it now?”

“I have a blockbuster card in my purse! You can use it if you bring back some movies.”

Two of the girls begin to drum up a chant of, “Moo-vies! Moo-vies!” Charlotte just sits and stares.

A different one swims up to her, shooing away the clinging creatures who poke and prod and inspect her person. Her features are long and angular, more mature to Charlotte’s reckoning, not knowing how meaningless the term is here. Like describing the maturity of a fossil or an insect petrified in amber.

“Ignore them, they’re just excited,” she says. There is something moving behind her dark eyes, flitting about like a school of minnows, yet her expression is peaceful. 

Charlotte, finding her voice, asks, “Are you the guardians of the treasure?”

She cocks her head. “Treasure?”

“Yes, the- the treasure!” she struggles to explain. “I dream about it every night. Treasure from the old world, a golden light, guarded by the lighthouse keeper…”

“You’re in shock, dear. You look pale. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Who’s in charge here?”

“No one is. We’re a self governing body of-”

”Who lights the lighthouse?” she demands, ignoring the fish-woman’s protests. She braces her hands on the slick stone wall and pulls herself up. “Someone must light the lighthouse, but none of you have legs. None of you can climb the stairs. So who lights the lighthouse?”

“Oh, silly girl,” the not-ghosts not-fish not-women fawn. “You do.”

So much love in their eyes. So much love living behind them, wriggling in the shiny shells of their bodies like happy mollusks.

Charlotte’s legs feel weak. The elder mermaid touches the back of her knee gently, comfortingly. When, she wondered, had anyone last touched the back of her knee, of all places. She nods up towards the stairs which spiral skywards in the shape of a conch’s crown.

“Would you like to see?"

So once upon a time, a girl chased a dream to the edge of her world and in consequence fell off of it. Not the worst outcome. Not for Charlotte, who was just one girl against a great big ocean of trouble after all. And still the sea levels rise, and still the lighthouse lantern turns around and around, reliably guiding home ships full of sailors who tell all sorts of old stories and know well enough not to try and see them through to their ends.

[danetobelieve]

Baywatch || Blanche and Winston

With the amount of people telling her not to go back to the beach along with the amount of people she was telling not to even go near the beach, Blanche was pretty sure this wasn’t the greatest idea. Someone had to do it, though. Someone needed to get close enough to the chest. Blanche desperately wanted to know what was in it like everyone else, but she, thankfully, knew better. Just get the pictures, and then get the fuck out of there. Maybe fight a killer lobster or two. Blanche pulled up to the address Winston gave her, self-consciously patting her pocket with the mace Cece had graciously let her keep. First thing she did was put a nice sticker of, ironically, a crab on it when she got home so she wouldn’t mix it up with a can of actual mace. Her back seat had other makeshift weapons. Hairspray and one of those large candle lighters, a baseball bat, and a can of RAID. She glanced to the back seat, frowning. Maybe she over did it. She looked rolled down the window when she saw Winston approaching, leaning looking out the window. “I think this is where I’m supposed to call you a loser and make a mean girl’s reference.”

Honestly, moments ago Winston had been stood looking at what they had decided to call their survival pack. They were certain that they would need more then this. But they had ‘borrowed’ one of Ricky’s axes that they used to cut firewood and they had also grabbed a first aid kit, water, some food (just in case) and a few other essentials. This after everything that had happened to their house with Skylar and Ricky, well Winston wasn’t entirely sure that they were sane anymore. But Blanche was cool, in a way that not many people were and she was funny too. Winston didn’t want anything to happen to her and so they were going to go with her. Even if it meant lying to Remmy. Something that Winston felt immensely guilty about. This was a really bad idea. They hadn’t even bothered to tell Ricky what they were doing. “Probably, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears because that is one film that I have never watched,” they chuckled nervously and then realised what they were doing and tried to make it sound natural except it probably just made it sound even more anxious then before, “we should probably get this over with.”

“That’s got to be a cardinal sin or something.” Not having seen Mean Girls wasn’t important. They were more nervous than she was, and that was saying something. Blanche wondered if she should call the whole thing off - probably - especially if Winston was anxious about it. But, in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn’t going to do that because at the end of the day she knew she was just going to go anyway and if she went without Winston they were going to get mad at her and she didn’t want that. She liked Winston, and she wanted them to be her friend because… Well, she needed those, and also they were funny enough that almost dying in the middle of the woods via hedgehound (moose?) was a little less terrible. So that had to count for something, right? Blanche glanced over at them, glancing them over - “Is that - Is that an axe?” Blanche gapped. Red axe for red lobsters, she guessed. A giggle came out of her, mostly because she was trying to imagine Winston swinging that thing at a giant lobster - Karkinoid, really. Snickering, she shook her head. “Christ. Toss it in the back with the rest of my makeshift weapons. The good news is -” Blanche said, checking her blind spot before she pulled back out onto the road. “- that someone offered a ‘small finders fee’ for any parts of crab - er, Karkinoid we kill. So that’s cool. How’s your housemate?”

“Well if not seeing Mean Girls doesn’t send me to hell for my sins then I am sure Rick or Remmy will after they find out what I have agreed to here.” Winston was a person full of regrets as they reached over towards the back seat and deposited their axe there. “Uh, yes, it is an axe, Ricky had a whole tool shed off of his studio that is just fool of odd tools and this looked like it would be the best option,” they weren’t sure why Ricky had an actual fire axe but in a time of need like the one that they found themselves in, Winston wasn’t about to ask a bunch of questions about a good thing. “You really … came prepared.” Winston wondered if perhaps they really should invest in a gun. They weren’t sure that their morals would allow them to honestly. After watching their dad work at the WCPD for many years, they had become convinced that they weren’t the sort of thing that everyday people should just have access to. “Ricky?” they asked quietly, “Yeah he’s fine, a little banged up but he’ll do ok.” Winston was glad that the back porch was at the back of the house and not the front. They would hate for Blanche to see the mess that the karkinoids had made.

“How about this: You deal with Ricky, and I deal with Remmy once we’re back,” Blanche said. “Or, actually, send them both after me. This is my fault anyway,” she shrugged slightly. If the shoe fit, she would deal with both the wrath of Remmy and Ricky once it came down to it. Now, maybe her morality was slightly corrupted now that she also fully had a plan of killing one of the Karkinoids so she could show Regan - though, she wasn’t quite sure how that was going to work. Maybe if she just took it’s head or it’s giant claw or something… She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it though because there was something in Winston’s quiet tone that sobered her up a little. “Good,” Blanche said, glancing at them. Not good. People were getting hurt because of this. “Even better, there’s a clear forecast. I didn’t get hit with a single salmon or carp on my way here.” She made the turn off to get to the beach. “Alright, so, you know what the plan is right? No touching or trying to open the stupid thing. Just pictures of it.”

“Or we can just not tell them about any of this,” Winston replied, “we’re just getting in and out and nothing is going to go wrong so there won’t be anything to tell them.” Winston knew that they were kidding themselves. This was something so big that there was no way that they were going to be able to hide it from their friends. “I’ve got your back,” they said with a shrug, “you’re not forcing me to come.” They knew that they didn’t have to do this, the truth was that they really didn’t want to, but they wouldn’t let Blanche do this on their own. Helping people over come adversity was the name of the game, this was just different from forensics. But after everything that had happened at their own home the other night, Winston wasn’t sure that they could just sit back and let nothing happen. “This may be the first time that I’ve ever used fish as a descriptor for the weather and I have to be honest, if a large fish never misses me narrowly as I walk to work then it’ll be too soon.” They nodded calmly, pulling out their inhaler and taking a quick preventative breath of it before flashing Blanche a quick smile. “No touching, in and out.”

“Mmm, well you should know that I'm a notoriously bad liar,” Blanche grimaced, remembering all the bullshit with Regan. Her so called jenga tower of lies was only staying up with pieces of string, duct tape, and chewing gum. “If they ask, it’s not worth it to even try.” She glanced to them, feeling a little touched that they had her back. Was this what friendship was? Blanche was bad at that - gauging just what type of level she was on with people. “I have your back too,” Blanche said, truthfully. If anyone was going to get hurt on this mission impossible/investigative bullshit, it should be her and absolutely not Winston. “Ugh, you should have seen the size of the salmon that almost knocked me off my bike - and the bruise to prove it.” She glanced at them, grinning. “In, out, might mace a few lobsters here and there. Sounds like my ideal beach day, to be honest.” She made the last turn, and carefully pulled her car up where she had the last time with Remmy and Moose. Blanche undid her seatbelt. “Alright - pick your poison from our weapons cabin. I’m taking the mace -” she held up her acid mace. “Because this shit could probably melt through steel.”

“Me too,” Winston admitted, “I don’t know why but I always forget that I’ve told a lie to set up the lie I’m telling, and then after that my preceding lies begin to contradict each other and then I get confused and slip up.” They didn’t often try to lie because of it. “If they ask we come clean and I’ll hide with my parents until Ricky inevitably tells them what I did.” They laughed mutely at their own joke. It was reassuring to know that Blanche was there to help them should things go south. It was nice to know that there were other people who got this. Ricky had always known about this and it wasn’t exactly the same. “I saw a swordfish go straight through an awning and almost impale an old woman named Gertrude.” They raised an eyebrow at the idea of the upcoming activity. “Where did you get lobster mace from?” They paused for a moment longer before scratching behind their ears and fidgetting a bit. They could never sit still when something big was coming up. “I’ll take the axe then, I guess, unless there’s something better you think I should take instead?” This felt like the weirdest walking dead cosplay ever.

The good part about being cut off from her parents is no one could tell her to do anything anymore. What was Remmy going to do, call up her mom and tell her what she had done? That would result in a mad voicemail she wouldn’t even listen too because it wasn’t like she answered her mother’s calls anyway. She winced at their description of a woman named Gertrude almost turning into a shish kabob via swordfish. What was it, Regan said? Weather patterns her ass. “Um -” Blanche took her keys out of the ignition and stuffed them in her jacket pocket. “A friend. One of my friends that I can’t tell you about,” she added, and hopefully that would put an end to that. She did not want Cece to go all memory-wipe on her ass. Raising an eyebrow as she got out of the car. “You want the axe? I mean…” It wasn’t that she doubted they could use the axe to their advantage, it was just a little more close for comfort if they did get into some crabby trouble. “That should be fine. I want to take a chunk out of one of’em anyway.” She glanced down the rocks, to the beach, spotting the chest. Blanche pointed. “There she is. Stupid thing.”

Grabbing the axe, Winston paused for a second before scooping up the hair spray and some candlelighters too. Y’know. Just in case. Fire seemed to work fine, though Winston wasn’t sure that they really wanted a repeat display of the other night. They’d felt exhausted for hours afterwards before sleeping for 12 hours. “I’m hoping that we don’t even need this,” Winston replied, praying to whatever gods actually existed that there wasn’t about to be some vicious crustaceans that were going to make their lives a misery. Stepping away from the car, Winston made sure that they only had the absolutely necessary things with them. Phone, inhaler, axe, hair spray, candle lighters, y’know the essentials. “How do you want to do this?” Winston asked as they slowly crept towards the rocks that overlooked the beach, hoping to get a better view. For the moment everything seemed relatively clear, but there was a lot that they still couldn’t see. “You’ve got a plan right?”

Blanche relaxed half a bit when Winston grabbed the candlelighters and her can of hairspray. Shit was cheap, that could set anything on fire. She glanced out at the chest before glancing at them when they asked her what her plan was. Somehow, she didn’t think would would be helpful to tell them that she was just going to be like Nike and just do it. Just get down, rush to the chest, snap her photos, kill a lobster when the inevitably came to try and chop their limbs off…. She just needed to make it sound more formulaic than that. That would make Winston feel better. “Um.” Which all would have been fine and good if she could think of a better way to do it. “Well….” She squinted down at the sand and could itty bits of remains of lobster from the last time she’d been here. The acid, plus the other Karkinoid feasting on each other, there wasn’t much left. She patted her pockets. Mace in one, cell phone in the other. Shivering slightly,  “All that’s left is to just do it now. There’s a bathroom over that way on the beach where we can run and hide if it’s too much.” Blanche shrugged, before carefully sitting down on the edge and pushing herself off so she could carefully climb. “Careful, the rocks are slippery, it’s a miracle I didn’t break something the last time I flew down them at top speed.”

Pausing, Winston moved through the rocks as carefully as they possibly could. “Ok, just … just do it.” Winston felt their heart race. They felt blood surge around their body. They felt adrenaline roar. They could feel everything tense as they moved down towards the beach. A can of hair spray in one hand and a fire axe in the other. This was perhaps the bizarrest they had ever picture themselves. A nervous bead of sweat trickled down their left temple and rolled off their jawline. “Just do it. Just do it.” They weren’t sure why they were repeating that. Honestly it wasn’t making this much better. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything else to my ankle unless I can absolutely see no other option.” They were joking of course. “There doesn’t seem like there’s anything around, let’s just get in and out.” They moved off from their hiding spot, slipping down the beach as silently as they could. Unaware of anything else there as of yet. They hoped that wasn’t just about to change. “How close do you want to get?” they asked Blanche, adjusting their glasses to sit more comfortably on their face.

“As god as my witness, if you hurt your ankle again, I will - “ Blanche was going to say kill you but that somehow didn’t seem appropriate. She dropped down onto the frozen sand and looked at them. “ - I’ll - don’t hurt your ankle again, I can’t pick you up and then I’ll have to call 9-1-1 and then the police and firemen are going to show up and it’s going to really not end well.” Or maybe she was getting ahead of herself and needed to chill out. Blanche’s palms were were starting to get sweaty, and she rubbed them on her thighs anxiously, glancing out at the chest. “I dunno, 10 feet, maybe? You think that’s too close? My iphone has a great camera and can zoom.” Maybe, after all this was over, she should invest in an actual camera. Funnily enough, it was going to be easier to get a gun rather than get a camera. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with - you’ll hear the clicking.” Blanche glanced at them, before patting them on the shoulder and strode forward. Cece had let her lead the way, and she did, so she was going to just… just do it again! Perfect.

“I promise that I will do everything that I possibly can to avoid injuring my ankle again, because I don’t want to be hobbling around on a busted leg when giant crustaceans called Karkinoids try and cut me in two.” Maybe Winston was being dramatic, but they didn’t feel like they were being dramatic. “At least we’ll probably have some signal here, after all, this is a beach right. Why wouldn’t you get signal at the beach?” Winston was almost too afraid to look at their phone at this point. They considered how close too close really was. Honestly, Winston thought that they were too close right now, but they weren’t about to chicken out in front of Blanche after they had been the one that had insisted that she couldn’t possibly go on her own. “I can deal with ten feet I think,” Winston replied after chewing their cheeks for a second, “let’s go,” they agreed as they set off again across the beach. They followed after Blanche, craning their neck for crabs or lobsters or anything with claws.

Blanche snorted. After this was over, she was going to have to tell Winston they were funny. Because they were - especially in the face of danger. That had to count for something. Maybe a merit badge for facing adversity. “We have signal, I looked before I jumped down here,” Blanche assured them. At least, she had signal. She wouldn’t know about their stupid andriod phone. They moved down the beach, inching closer and closer to the chest. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, but she decided that she didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid of anything! If she wasn’t afraid of anything than some stupid lobster wasn’t going to prevent her from doing what she wanted. Fuck that! It was easier to go on a tangent in her head than it was to actually follow it. Surprisingly enough, they’d gotten pretty far before the fucking clicking started and she went rigid on the spot. Blanche cursed quietly, stuffing her hand in her pocket and pulling out her phone, shoving it to Winston. “Take the photos, I’ll spray the stupid things and see if it gets them to back off. They like to eat each other once one is dead,” Blanche said, quickly - she didn’t know if anything she said had come out clearly because she was talking very, very quickly. Low and behold, there were the crabs. Lobsters. Karkinoids. Whatevers. There was only a couple, thank god. But who knew where the others were. Blanche had her mace out and had it pointed in the right direction and sprayed. Better melt them now before they got too close. The unfortunately familiar smell of burning burning lobster filled her nose. “Don’t forget to focus the camera!” She called, eyes darting around the beach for more crustaceans.

“Ok, good, because although I’m not sure what a cop would do against a massive armoured crab, I do know that I’ll feel much better risking my life if there’s someone to yeet me out if you get my meaning.” Winston wondered how many cops had seen these things, why was it that none of these things were ever discussed? Why had they never realised how dangerous a place they were living in until now. If none of the last few weeks had happened, would they have continued living in denial indefinitely? As they crept closer and closer, they couldn’t help but keep their ears pricked. They could hear the clicking as they got close. They were about to complain that they were the one taking the photos when they realised that this meant that they weren’t going to have to be dealing with the crab things. Winston fumbled with their phone, pulling up the camera that they knew was supposed to be superior to an iPhone camera although at this moment it was taking way too long to focus. Sprinting closer, they tried to be quick, they didn’t want Blanche to get hurt because they were too slow. Their hand shaking, Winston tried to take a deep breath, before snapping several shots of the chest. “How many of these do you want?” they shouted Blanche’s way.

Ewwww. She’d been right in saying that they would eat each other because now that’s exactly what the other one was doing. Blanche wrinkled her nose, keeping careful watch as she turned her head to check on Winston briefly. “Take pictures of each side of the chest. And one from above, too! And don’t touch it!” Blanche didn’t think the warning to Winston was completely needed at all, but it never hurt. She crept closer to the crab that was still alive and clicking, before it’s head snapped up to look at her and she sprayed it in the face. Blanche realized she was certainly not fucking around. The thing twitched and wailed slightly before falling down dead. “Gross, gross, gross!” She mumbled, making a face before looking for more of its brethren that she could take out. Figuring Winston was done with the photos, she called out to them. “Alright, c’mere. Before the rest of the Krusty Krew get here. I need the axe, I want a claw.” she nudged one of them with her foot. Onces face had completely dissolved because of Cece’s acid, but the other one… It might work.

Winston sprung into action, circling around the chest taking photos from each side. They could thank their lucky stars that they were relatively tall and therefore easily able to lean over and take photos of the chest. It occurred to them in that very moment that they could’ve simply placed a camera on one of the drones that they had back at the house and done this with that. Apparently they were an idiot. Not allowing themselves to have time to regret their foolishness however, Winston dashed away from the chest a few moments after snapping their final photos. “I think I’ve got enough,” they said, slightly out of breath but surprised that their fitness had improved a little, maybe running for their life would actually have some long term benefits. As they arrived by Blanche’s side, they raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you joking?” they asked, knowing full well that she wasn’t. They gave her a look, before sighing and handing them the axe. “Fine, just hurry up before more of them find us.”

Blanche hoped they were right, but knew that she had to trust them. They definitely knew how to take photos on an iphone. Maybe she was just nervous. Blanche shook her worry off and shot them an equally withering look until they handed her the axe. “I need proof for Regan,” she said flatly. She did make it snappy, though. Deciding last moment that a claw was going to be too much of a bitch and a half to carry back (and heavy), Blanche went for the head. Or well, she stopped before she swung the axe, looking back at Winston. “... Don’t watch me chop off its head.” She mumbled, before waiting a moment, and swinging the axe. Gross. Gross. Gross. Her stomach churned, “ Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.” Blanche shuddered slightly, before handing the axe back, before unzipping her jacket, shrugging it off, and collecting the now fallen head in it. Glad she had worn a sweater, she stood, looking up and down the beach. “Do you want to make a run for it back?” Blanche asked, flatly. “Before more of them decide to pop up and try to snap us in half?”

Winston had to admit that the last thing they expected was for all of this to go this well. Though they had been unfortunate enough as to run into Karkinoids, it seemed as if Blanche had been able to deal with them and as they handed their axe over, Winston had to admit there was a gentle sense of awe. “I don’t know who that is but if you need proof then this is probably a pretty sure fire way, although y’know, the denial can be strong. They were watching eagerly when Blanche protested, and with a groan of protest turned their back on the butchery that was taking place. Once Blanche was ready, they nodded. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” They set off towards the car, glad that this had gone so well. Things could be worse. 

“If she doesn’t believe me after me bringing her a giant Karkinoid head, I’m projectiling myself off the first cliff I see.” Blanche said, absolutely being dramatic. No one was dead, and they had a lobster head. Hah, Blanche thought, that rhymed. Pleased with the outcome of events, Blanche took off after Winston, trying not to slip and slide on the frozen sand. After all this was over and winter left, Blanche was going to spend a nice day on the beach, alone, and get a tan. No lobsters, no crabs, just one normal day in the fucking - was that more clicking? Blanche glanced over her shoulder. More crab,s but more interested in the caracusses of their fallen friends than them, for the moment. “Gogogo! Before they notice us and King Louis’ head!” Blanche hissed. They slid up to the rocks. “Do you need a boost?” Blanche asked, kindly, as Remmy had done the same for her and Cece the last time they were here. 

“Ah yes suicide, the only rational answer to irrational morons who refuse to see the truth.” Winston was sore, sweaty and out of breath. They had been far too close to lobsters for their liking and now they were in the presence of one of their heads. This day was truly turning out to be memorable. As more crabs arrived, Winston moved faster to the rocks and shook their head. “I think I’m tall enough to reach up on my own, I’ll boost you first and then you can help pull me up.” They didn’t give her anytime to argue, they weren’t about to start messing about with those lobsters again and they needed to get out of their quickly before the smell of one of the karkinoids dead brethren attracted some foes.

With no time to argue or say anything sarcastic - because she would have. Probably something giraffe related - Blanche let Winston help boost her up and once again scrambled to the safety of the small cliff. Dumping the head wrapped in her jacket onto the ground, she turned and reached a hand down to help them up. Once the both of them were safely away from where any Karkinoid could get them, Blanche let out a giant sigh of relief. “Holy shit -” She looked at Winston. “- That just worked! We did it! No one lost a limb! Or rolled an ankle!” Blanche pointed to their ankle, maybe a little too excited over the fact that neither of them died or got maimed. She bent, scooped up the lobster head and grabbed her keys to unlock her car and dump the head in the trunk. “Karkinoids my ass.”

[imaginecoderealize]

Hi everyone 😊 have you any headcanons or stories about boy's childhood?(with Hansel and Nemo )

We hope you enjoy this small glimpse into the kids’ lives before they became the heroes we love!

- Mod Apostle and Mod Nautilus

LUPIN:

- Lupin started out smaller and weaker than most of the otherstreet kids, but he proved to also be the cleverest. The other kids began tolook up to him and treat him as a leader, despite his youth and small size.They were so skilled at their work using Lupin’s methods that people began toavoid the popular markets they haunted. The police took notice and the kidsonly grew more talented at playing hide and seek with the police and makingthem look like fools. 

- Lupin’s first brush with being a ‘thief with a heart ofjustice’ was when he saw a frail old woman robbed and thrown down into analley. He always picked the pockets of the rich and considered it poor form topick on ‘easy targets’. He stole back the woman’s purse, only to find it veryheavy with gold. He was tempted to keep it, but recalling the woman’s frailty,he dutifully brought the purse back to its owner. The old woman exulted overhow honorable he was and gave him his first ‘finders fee.’ Which turned out tobe more money than he could steal in a month.

- Lupin was intelligent, but he preferred practical studies tobook learning. (His teacher did make sure he knew how to read and write, etc.Even though he balked about it being boring.)

- He and his fellow urchins often made up their own gameswhich helped them with their thieving.

- Lupin usually had to sleep outdoors, so thefirst time he had a bed of his own he was so happy that he didn’t even want tomess the sheets up. … Of course, about twenty seconds later he jumped right onin and rolled the sheets around himself like a cocoon.

- Lupin was surprisingly nervous the first time he left France, though he would never admit it. He loved the adventure, of course, but there was something a little anxiety-inducing about taking those first steps.

VAN:

- Van was always a dutiful brother and son. His father passedaway when he was still quite young, so he felt it was his duty to care for hismother and little brother. They didn’t have a lot of money, so he learned tomake the things they needed and repair clothing and other things to extend their life. He became quite skilledat woodworking and made his mother a beautiful vase that she kept on herdresser that held three flowers, one for each of his family.

- Van and his brother always went berry picking in the summer.It was the brothers’s favorite time of year when their mothers would make themmagnificent pies. One time Van decided to make a pie for his family… withpredictable results. The mess in the kitchen was extraordinary, but his mothercouldn’t scold him because he tried so hard, and pretended to enjoy hiscreation. It may have been better for his future friends if she had told himthe truth.

-  Van was a smart, serious student. His favorite subject inschool was mathematics. He taught his little brother to read. 

- Vanwas always athletic and participated in many different sports.

- Would always help his mother with the sewing andclothing repair. He learned how to knit when he was eight years old, and becamequite skilled. His family could never leave the house in winter without ascarf. And gloves. And a hat. 

- He was always very open about how he doted over his family. He once had his heart on his sleeve….

FRAN:

- Fran grew up surrounded by beautiful natural wonders. Of ascientific bent since childhood, he found it soothing to walk in the woods andstudy nature. He could often be found reading in the shadow of his favoriterock, or collecting various specimens to study in his little attic laboratoryunder the eaves of his home. 

- Fran had a cute spaniel that always stayed at his side whenhe was a kid. They went on many adventures together. Fran even taught her tosniff out certain plants or other things to use in his experiments.

- Fran helped keep his parents’ gardens. He had his own littlepatch where he grew his own medicinal herbs. 

- Fran’s favorite subject was obviously science, especiallyalchemy and biology. He was equally good at all subjects and was recommended togo to college in the U.K.

- Knew he wanted to be a doctor for as long as hecould remember. He was the greatest teddy bear doctor in all of Switzerland,always performing regular check-ups. Of course, if someone came to him with adoll that needed repairs, he’d have to go to his mother… but he would alwayssupervise the procedure!

IMPEY:

- Impey was alone much of the time as a young child. He neverreally fit in with his peers and always dreamed of leaving his little villageand seeing what the world beyond held. Many vampires hated the cities, but Impeyknew that his future would lie in the cities beyond his claustrophobic littletown even before he saw the train. 

- Impey was an eager student once his imagination was ignited.The Old Man was delighted with how smart he was. He read voraciously once hehad the opportunity, though he found history boring. He hated stories about waror weapons, but he loved the romances. (He cried easily over tragedies.) 

- Impey’s first device was a telescope to look at the moon,made from a cardboard tube, a piece of glass and a broken mirror. He was veryexcited and proud of his creation. 

- Impey never had any sense of a bedtime, and often tinkeredand experimented with machines all night. The old man would often find himslumped over his work bench fast asleep. In that way, not much has changed.

- Impey didn’t change too much from when he was akid, so he would always be running on fumes. All too often, his old man wouldfind him passed out with a wrench in hand and grease stains on his cheeks. Heonly put a stop to it one time after Impey caught a bad cold. “That’ll teachyou to not get proper rest, now you have no choice.” (I think it’s cute we both had the same idea about Impey sleeping on his work bench - Mod Nautilus)

(Because there is so little information about Saint’s youth,this is longer and more… dramatized… than the others… – Mod Apostle)

SAINT:

- Saint doesn’t remember his childhood before he was a slave,erroneously believing he was born into slavery. The trauma of the sack of hisvillage made him block it from his memory. He was born in an ancient isolatedvillage in the eastern foothills of Mesopotamia. Its isolation meant that theever-changing political situations and the rise and fall of cultures passedthem by harmlessly, until an avalanche caused the king’s military to divertcourse and they raided the peaceful village. 

- Saint was a priestess’ son. He was a gentle, fragile child.His task was to read and memorize the holy books, study their rituals, andlearn from his mother how to lead their people. He was a dreamer who loved thestars, the quiet hills at night, and the sound of his mother’s voice singingthe sacred songs. 

- Despite being two years younger, his brother always lookedafter him. They played games, told stories, read every book in the village,especially the tales about a time when they lived in a city overlooking thesea. Neither of them had ever seen a body of water larger than small lakes andrivers. They had never even seen the great Euphrates or Tigris. They promisedeach other to go to the sea someday. To sail away and find their lost city andbecome kings. Saint said he would be the high priest and talk to the gods,while his brother could be king and govern the people. The village elder’sfortune said Saint would suffer much and travel far before he found hisdestiny, but then such things seemed incomprehensible to the children who builtstone forts for castles and tended their goats. 

- Later, after he forgot his past, he still sought out tabletsand and stories of the gods and sacred texts, never wondering how a slavelearned to read. Despite the differences in language, he was able to teachhimself the new alphabets and lettering. He kept a horde of discarded tabletsand broken styluses buried in a hole with his few belongings, including a stonenecklace given him by his only friend, the boy who he no longer recognized ashis brother. 

- Saint sang to himself at night sometimes when he could getaway with it. They soothed him and helped him to sleep. He still remembers thesongs, though the source is lost to him.

- In a life usually filled with misery, Sainttreasured every bit of ‘ordinary happiness’ he could find. Usually, this was inthe form of watching the sun rise. It was such a little thing, but he lovedwatching the light slowly paint the sky different colors. The sun looked like abig bright ball that he wanted to play with, but he was content just to feelits warmth.- Out of all his duties, Saint enjoyed fishing themost. He wasn’t able to do it often, but being near the water always made himfeel at peace. He enjoyed the fact that what he was doing allowed people to befed. He wanted to be a gracious host for many people from a very young age.

HANSEL (AND GRETEL):

- Hansel’s favorite memories are of the summers before the warstarted. His mother would bake cookies and make a picnic lunch and Hansel wouldtake Gretel on forest adventures. Hansel would gather wildflowers and makeflower crowns for Gretel and the siblings would splash around in the brook andlaugh and play until nightfall. 

- Gretel occasionally had trouble sleeping and would visit herbrother’s room. He would let her cuddle with him and told her fairytales untilshe fell asleep. 

- Hansel made friends with the deer of the forest and lovedtaking Gretel out to feed them sometimes.

- Hansel became Omnibus’ precious son, and she knew that treating him as such would tie himfurther to her. She taught him personally about the duties of Idea, somethingthat was usually reserved for a fellow Apostle. Saint would often joke withOmnibus about how he was being spoiled. 

- Omnibus would teach him in the garden, and he wouldoften occupy his hands by tending to her garden. It shone even brighterafter receiving attention from him, and afterwards Omnibus would reward hisobedience with a cookie shaped like a daisy. Those were always his favorites…

NEMO…?:

(FUN TRIVIA! According to Jules Verne, Captain Nemo’s birthname was Dakkar. Mod Nautilus has adopted this into her Code: Realizeheadcanons, so if you see the name “Dakkar” floating around—it’s pre-RevolutionNemo.)

- Dakkarwas a polyglot from a very young age. Languages always came easily to him,among them English, German, and French. (And back then he actually spoke… um…he didn’t sound like… HE DIIIIIDN’T TAAAAAAAAAALK LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIIS.)

- Dakkar had two little sisters that meant theabsolute world to him. Oftentimes, late at night, he would sneak out of hisquarters to spend time with them. Once he started getting caught, he would slippast by dressing up as a beautiful woman. As long as he kept his mouth shut,nobody noticed.

- … He was always very, very proud of being called “brotherdearest”.

- Dakkar was an accomplished pianist, but he much preferred playing the pipe organ, saying that it stimulated his mind more.

-  He was sixteen years old when he became a lead strategist in the uprising against Britain, though he participated in any way he could long before then. He has always been passionate about the things important to him, and the freedom of his country was the most important thing to him growing up.

*BONUS* SHOLMES:

- Herlock —er, Sherlock as he was known backthen—has an elder brother named Mycroft. Though Mycroft is just as much of agenius as his little brother, the two of them often clashed on a moreclandestine subject: housework. See, much like Sherlock, Mycroft was also arather deplorable housekeeper and they would often compete to see who could getout of the most chores. It became a game for them, one which Sherlockultimately won by devoting his time to a new hobby: the violin.

[kaechan]

I love so many of Matthew Lillard's characters.

But quite honestly I think Fish from Finder's Fee is my most favorite.

That's my husband!

Right there!

[cardsclub785]

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