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#Dry Boat Storage
bertjabinyachtyard · 1 year
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Dry Boat Storage
Bert Jabin Yacht Yard provides short-term and long-term requirements. Contact for Dry Boat Storage.
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boatlakenorman · 7 months
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Nic's Gas & Go
Nic’s Gas & Go Gas Service We strive to be the most convenient one stop shop on the waters of Lake Norman by offering competitive gas pricing, ship store with selective items and a bar and grill, Waterside Bar & Grill. Convenience Whether you need a quick snack, NC Wildlife license, notary service, or an ice cold drink Nic’s has you covered!  Unique Selection We take pride in carrying a…
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sharks-n-bones · 2 months
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Y'all, I'd like to apologize in advance, this is the longest one yet
Without further adue
BRANCH WON THE POLL SO IT'S BRANCH TIME BABY LET'S GO
When the flood hit, Branch was the most prepared troll in all of Pop Village. He was a survivalist, he built an entire underground Bunker with a functional elevator by himself, of course he'd know what to do
When the rivers started overflowing, Branch was suspicious from the get go. It was late summer, the snow already melted from the mountains and flooded the rivers. There hasn't been any rain recently, so there's no reason the rivers would've flooded
Branch’s hunch was soon proved correct when the river just kept flooding over, the water reaching the village in no time, causing them all to have to relocate. They went for higher ground, and when the storms came they hunkered down where they could until they ended, and they began moving again
Once they were finally somewhere safe for the time being, they began building boats. King Peppy advised that families and friends should stick together and travel together, and Branch had to agree with him. There was safety in numbers, especially in cases such as this
Branch helped Poppy, the king and the snackpack (along with Prince D, who was visiting when the water started rising) to build a boat that would fit them all, with room to spare, of course. Branch was nothing if not prepared. He'd drawn up blueprints in his spare time on the journey to higher ground, and designed the boat big enough for them all to have their own rooms and bathrooms, a kitchen, multiple storage rooms, a common room and other such amenities. And of course, he built an area above the main deck for farming
Since Satin and Chenille were pros on working with fabrics, Branch asked them to make the sails. Smidge helped with the heavy lifting, since she was by far the strongest out of the Snackpack. Cooper, Prince D, DJ Suki and Biggie helped with gathering supplies and resources. Poppy and Guy Diamond helped with decorations, but pretty much everyone helped with the actual building of the ship
In no time, their ship was built and stocked with enough provisions to last a couple weeks at least. Branch was proud of the ship and the hard work everyone put into it. They sang and danced and hugged throughout the process, but it seemed to make the building go along quicker, if anything, and it boosted everyone's moods. Once the water has risen enough to be lapping against the bottom of the boat, they worked together to push it into the sea before hopping on and setting sail
Other than now having to work harder on surviving, things stayed much the same. They spent their days singing, dancing and hugging while they tended to their little farm, fished, and gathered resources and food from any island's they came across. Most of the group also enjoyed swimming when they had the chance, and Branch would even join them sometimes, but he was a bit more.. suspicious of the water that flooded the world
He'd been working on theories and gatherings clues as to what caused this great flood. Surely, it wasn't natural. There was no way! The world wouldn't just flood without something to cause it. But what could've been powerful enough to do such a thing..? When he wasn't busy foraging, tending to the garden and making sure the ship was still in peak condition, he was usually pouring over the clue board he'd made about the flood
He'd added some.. other changes he'd noticed to the clue board as well, such as how everyone on the ship was developing rashes on their necks, and how he noticed that their skin seemed to be drying out faster while their hair was all still picture perfect, if not looking better than ever. He added how the webbing between their fingers seemed to be inching up to their knuckles, ever so slowly. He'd thought he'd be the only one to notice that, but he saw some of the others glancing at their hands with odd expressions once in a while. A lot of other trolls they came across were having the same exact effects, so it couldn't just be a freak disease that had taken over the ship. Besides, if it was, they wouldn't have as much energy as they did. Other things would be noticed
He was pouring over his clue board again when a theory suddenly came to his mind. He laughed at himself at first, because there was no way, it would be impossible-
He started taking samples of the water that now covered most of the planet, trying to see if there was anything in it that could be causing these changes. He checked the rainwater they collected, ocean water, rivers and creeks if any islands still had them, but each and every time he came up empty. There were no weird chemicals or anything of the sort he could find
There was nothing he could physically see, but the water was the only thing he could think of that would cause these changes! He even checked the fish they caught and any food they grew or foraged, but there was nothing unusual. At this point, the only thing that could be causing these changes was magic! He chuckled at the thought, and pushed it aside… not before adding it to the clue board with a bunch of question marks, though
Occasionally, techno trolls would approach their ship and ask if they needed any help. The next time one breached the surface, Branch asked if they'd noticed anything in the water since the flood hit. The techno troll's eyes widened, and he winced before sighing and climbing onto the ship
He explained everything he knew. Told them about the legends of sirens, of their history with them, how they locked them away. How the sirens broke free right around the time the water began rising
Then, he explained how they filled the ocean that covered the planet with and ancient and powerful magic. He explained that it would slowly change their bodies to become more siren-like. As he explained, he pointed out the changes they were already experiencing. Explained the rashes on their necks would develop into gills, the webbing between their fingers would reach the last knuckle for better swimming, their bodies would grow scales and that their skin was drying faster because it was becoming dependant on the sea water
Everyone had gathered to listen, and everyone looked shocked. Poppy examined her hands, Satin and Chenille ran fingers through their hair. Biggie and Smidge brought hands to the rashes on their necks, Guy and Tiny looked at their glitter-coated skin, and Cooper and Prince D glanced at each other, seemingly have an entire conversation without words
The techno troll continued, explaining that they'd be able to change into the same forms as siren's could. The troll forms — how they looked now, the half forms — what they were going to look like once the changes were complete, and the siren forms — where their legs would fuse into a tail and they'd take on more characteristics of whatever sea creature the ocean decided to attach to them
He explained that the more time they spent in the water, the faster the changes would happen, but they wouldn't be able to stop it. He said not to fear it, it would only help them out in the long run
Branch asked why they would cause the flood to begin with only to help them survive in the end. The techno troll said that their war was with the technos, not with anyone else. Dubz didn't know what they had planned for techno’s, but said not to worry about it. It was the techno’s fight, not theirs
Branch felt bad for them, and could see the others felt the same. The techno troll bid them farewell after that and left, leaving the group in silence. He could see that familiar gleam in Poppy's eyes, one that meant she wanted to help them, she just didn't know how yet. Branch couldn't help but smile at that. She always wanted to help people, and he loved that about her
For the rest of the day, things were a bit more quiet than usual. Everyone thinking about what they'd just learned. Branch sighed and went to find Poppy, wanting to make sure she was alright
The next day, they reached an island and they all unanimously decided to take a day to completely relax. They deserved a day off, especially after all they'd learned yesterday. So they tossed the idea of work to the wind and spent the day relaxing at the beach
Everyone was having fun. Building sandcastles, playing in the waves, relaxing on the sand, floating around, just generally having a good time. Branch was even relaxing, just sitting in the sand and reading a book for once. He was so lost in the pages, he almost didn't hear Tiny scream
He looked up just in time to see a fish come out of the water and latch onto Tiny Diamond, dragging him under, and Guy Diamond frantically diving after him. Branch immediately tossed his book aside and ran into the water after them. Guy hadn't come up for air yet so Branch dove after him. Guy dove pretty far down, so he was slowing down and running out of air by the time Branch got to him and began dragging him up through the water
The moment they breached the surface, Guy coughed and gasped, taking in a large breath, before immediately elbowing Branch in the face and fighting against his hold
Branch understood why he was fighting so hard. Tiny was Guy's son, he loved Tiny more than anything in the world. But, as much as it hurt admit, Tiny and that fish were long gone by now. Branch held onto Guy tightly until he eventually stopped fighting and just went limp in his hold
Branch sighed sadly and began hauling him to shore while Cooper, Prince D and Smidge dove into the water to keep looking for Tiny, just in case
Guy wouldn't stop looking at the ocean once Branch brought him to shore. He just stood there, frozen like a statue, before he eventually crumpled to his knees. Then, to Branch’s utter horror, he slowly began turning grey. From the tips of his hair, moving downwards until he was completely dull, the glitter that made up his skin now matte and lifeless
Branch’s heart ached for him. He didn't know what it was like to lose a child, thank the stars above, but he knew what it was like to lose a family member and he knew what it was like to turn grey. He heard the others gasping in shock, but Branch only frowned and wrapped an arm around Guy, giving him all the comfort he could. The others soon joined in, all wrapping Guy in one giant hug. Guy never hugged back
They had stayed at the island for a week longer than they'd planned to, just in case Tiny somehow showed up, and Guy waited on the beach every day. Tiny never showed. Eventually, they brought Guy back to the ship and to his room. The others were all concerned for Guy, but Branch tried to tell them not to go overboard or push the poor guy too much. He remembered how much the toxic positivity bothered him when he went grey, and knew it could be smothering and overwhelming
Once in a while, Branch would check in on Guy and bring him some food if he noticed he hasn't been eating. Aside from occasionally checking up on him, he gave him some space
For the next 2-3 months, a melancholy air hung around the ship. They all would still sing and dance, but it wasn't the same now that two voices were missing. Guy didn't come out of his room that much. He usually would for meals or to sometimes help Branch when he was brainstorming safety precautions (presumably to make sure nothing like what happened to Tiny ever happens again, or at least that was Branch’s theory), but most days he stayed cooped up in his room
Branch felt bad for him. He wished he could do more to help, but he didn't know Guy like the others did. He could only think to do what he wished others would do when he turned grey — show he cared, but give him enough space to breathe
A few months passed uneventfully, just going from island to island, gathering resources and taking some time to try and relax before setting sail again. It was another normal day for them, they had just docked at an island when something different finally happened
A ship came up beside their own and set anchor. A lone figure wearing a pair of reflective goggles aboard the ship used their hair to board their own boat, landing with a loud thud on the deck. They pushed their goggles up to their forehead and Branch gasped
This couldn't be happening. 20 years of absolute silence, complete separation. 20 years since he left him behind, and suddenly he shows up right when a flood takes over the planet? Branch couldn't believe his eyes. The troll then spoke, stating he was searching for someone when they suddenly locked eyes, and the newcomer aboard their ship grinned and called him a name he hadn't heard in decades
“Baby Branch!!”
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A-Z hermit index
hermit summaries: looking for a hermit? here's some (all 26)
bdubs: perfect redstoner. artist. he'll build the most beautiful house you've ever seen as a backdrop for a joke he's doing. he'll see a rake lying on the floor and ask 'is anyone going to step on that so it hits them in the face?' and not wait for an answer. he'll shout at horses and hermits alike (don't tell etho). he's painting with blocks for fun rn
cubfan: he's insane. he takes on massive projects and completes them. he'll build a wall out of ancient debris if the aesthetic calls for it. he knows the game like a master, he'll use it to bemuse you. he's invented biomes, he's invented machines, he looked at parkour and decided it looked like fun. he'll drop anything to help a friend out
docm77: cower before this croc wearing dad. he really wants to be scary. pranking people makes him laugh so hard he snorts. he has the technical world in his ear and mojang's dev team on his heels. he doesn't know how to make a video shorter than an hour. he loves to roleplay to the sound of heavy metal. he'll rap at you. dork
etho: minecraft god. menace. interiors only. does what he wants. speaking of llamas... he won't turn up if it's work. he will if it's hanging out. his block palettes make a regular minecrafter cower in fear. he made a google-searchable storage system for fun. he avoids minecraft tax like the plague. has his own minecraft update
false: queen of heads, hearts, and body parts. the server's designated pvp-er. master builder. will dig down to bedrock. it calls to her, she can't help it. a little quiet, a little shy. dry sarcasm. mayor of falsewell, sheriff. always down for an unsuccessful shop if there's a pun
gem: gem is great! do you want a birch tree with that? people look at her and find themselves doing redstone for her and bringing her things. she's very sweet. she'll kill you. she's building a birch tree in someone's base right now, i can feel it. she's a landscaper, a builder, an artist
grian: this man is Trouble. half builder, half mischief machine. if he sees something he's not supposed to touch, he's got his fingers in it. he's stealing diamonds. he's starting wars. he plays the long game with his lore. he's desperate to resist authority. he will not build the back of anything. he'll break redstone. if he thinks something will be funny, he's convinced to do it
hypno: cryptid. menace. he's a little quiet because he's off figuring out how to get the others to sell him their souls. he's in charge of the website. he'll build a nice little home. he's great at hiding things
impulse: this man is in charge of villagers and sorting systems. he is rich with emeralds. he'll redo a build if he doesn't like it. he joined the server to build them a witch farm. buy his totems of undying. he is kind and generous. he's always willing to play along with whatever nonsense is happening. he loves to laugh
iskall: iskall has a whole catalogue of noises. he likes to montage them. he wants to build a big farm. he wants to say hallo to a block of gravel. he wants to laugh at mumbo. his shops are not about the profits, but about the redstone experience. he likes to domesticate biomes. he built a villager cannon. one day he'll finish a pvp arena. IskallMAN is hermitcraft's superhero. his hobby is making stress laugh
jevin: he covered a megabase with buttons once. jevin goes hard. he has a habit of building fidget spinners. he wants chaos. he will antagonise cleo. he has the energy of a small yappy dog whilst also being determined to help his friends and have fun
joe hills: poet. the guy who conquered death. it's fine. joe's channel is like watching a comedy of endless disasters. next problem. he's building block for block replicas of buildings. he's the original new guy. he's in charge of Hermits Helping Hermits. he'll label nether hubs and give out boats. he'll fight a war with poetry and prank with de-escalation. howdy y'all. keep adventuring
keralis: he's got those big eyes. he's building things too realistic to be in minecraft. he'll pull out his miette voice and make the joke about the German coast guard. need money? papa k's got you. want money? no he's got no diamonds. he's broke. so sorry. he wants to win everything. xb always beats him. he refuses to call anyone by their screen names. shashwammy and bubbles and brian and princess and bumbo
mumbo: it's quite simple, really. he wants to build redstone doors and industrial districts but people keep dragging him into trouble. he's got grian and iskall to drag him into mischief. he loves massive storage systems and control panels. he keeps ending up in charge of things. he will not come to meetings. nothing makes him happier than looking at redstone circuitry on coloured lines
pearl: running on not enough sleep, always. here to cause trouble. she'll turn things upside down. she's a master landscaper. she'll build something massive like it's nothing. she'll commit to the bit. what if the base was bigger? what if she turned it around? she likes doing interiors. she'll build a mountain for fun. unhinged
rendog: head of the drama club. he loves cinematic effects. he loves lore and using his brother's music. he's got a whole dressing up box of characters to play. he can sniff out a story happening and will dive over to throw himself into it. he'll build wonders off camera and pretend it was someone else. he's in charge of the log business, always
scar: landscaper. trouble maker. he doesn't know how to do things in moderation. every build has a story. his cat is in the game. he builds beautiful things and flies into them. he doesn't light things up. he dies again and again and again and again. he loves to put on the costumes and play a part. he's a conman. he'll buy your attic. he's ready to cause trouble. he's shooting people with his bow
stress: she's a builder. she makes things gorgeous. her favourite colour is magenta and her favourite volume is loud. she's shouting at her villager geezers. she's laughing at iskall. she's afraid of the nether. everything she does has an edge of unhinged-ness. she's bright and loud and happy
tango: he's a technical player. i'd call him a minigame maker, but they're bigger than minigames at this point. the tangler, boom box, decked out, among us. he looks at minecraft's mechanics and makes them fun. he launches anvils and builds piglin ferris wheels. he's in charge of iron farms. the rule is that they have to be funny. he wants to help his friends. he wants to make them laugh
tfc: he's deep in the mines. he's the server's hermit. he has a rumbling laugh. he's left in shock by the overworld when he rises. he plays slow. he indulges the others. he died laughing at cleo's ingenuity during demise when he could have easily saved himself. the hermits sent him a new computer. he's got prox mod now
beef: he likes to make maps!! he's very cheerful. nobody bought eternal sunshine. he's a NHO member: etho, beef, bdoubleo, doc. he's a determined builder. he'll make a story. he'll run from the mobs spawning in the city he's left dark for the aesthetic. he sells wool. he collects records
wels: he's a builder. he's a knight. he bites off more than he can chew. he takes his time and builds beautiful things. you think he's in hiding, he's just biding his time. he'll build medieval houses and rant about tennessee's driving conditions. he's cheerful and kind
xb: he's building shapes again. he's beating keralis at minigames. he's kind and helpful. there's gore in his bunker. he's moved so far away he's living on a whole other server. the world is ending but he's built a post-apocalypse anyway
xisuma: he has opinions. he's the admin. he's a little strange. he wants to design his own farms and buildings. he wants to have fun. cleo is going to bully him so bad at HHH. evil x turns up sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. he wants to unravel the game and make new things and learn things. he watches over the others with fond confusion. cleo hasn't forgiven him for the fish
zedaph: mad scientist. he looked at minecraft and then decided to do his own thing. minecraft is the tool for his madness. he wants to fling objects. he wants to build gunk tanks. he wants to stare into the eyes of sheep. he'll build redstone machines that are effectively ineffective. he'll build a working clock. he'll study his friends like bugs. he'll build a golf course if the mechanics demand it
cleo: queen of puppets. the armour stand book is hers. she demands heads. she'll break joe's legs. her dioramas are in high demand. betray her and she'll burn the world down. she's soft really. she's always helping. she wants to build gore and monsters and laugh. joe is living in her base again. she'll kill him (she joined the server hiding behind him)
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crushsblogstories · 6 months
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One Piece - Song Bird
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Basically what songs give me hc ideas for the Monster Trio
WARNING(S)!
None of these are my characters!
Suggestive themes?!
Swearing!
MINORS DNI!
Pronouns! Not specified
Time! Not specified
O - Spotify O - Youtube
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○ Luffy O
O
Ok I know what you're thinking. But hear me out.
You've just finished cleaning the deck. You stayed on the boat while the crew explored this island and checked out the stores. You think you're alone as you being dancinging and singing on the newly cleaned deck.
Your dancing quickly comes to an end when you slip on a spot that was still drying. As you fall you feel long rubbery arms wrap their way around you. Luffy caught you, and you're now inches apart, in a dipped position.
"Carefull!~" He says with his usual wide grin, but all you can think is.
Make me sweat~ Make me hotter~ Make me lose my breath~ Make me water~
~End of song~
○ Zoro
O
O
WAIT WAIT… ITS GOOD I PROMISE! (You’re kinda eccentric? Chaotic? Idk how to explain.)
It’s less than quiet on the deck of the ship as always, but you’re getting bored of watching Zoro and Sanji fight, and Luffy and Usopp play. Nami is just lounging but you want to do something. You go below deck to the storage room, where there is a lot of room because you an Nami cleaned it up a bit. You put on music and begin to dance.
Eventually ‘Bongos’ comes on and OBVIOUSLY you start twerking, shaking ass, and so on cause are you really dancing to that song if you’re not? You didn’t realize that Zoro had entered until the next song took a bit to long to play. You went to go look over to the speaker and there he stood with a smirk on his face.
“I came to nap but now I have other plans.”
This pussy tight like a nun! Better chew it up like it's gum!~
~End of song~
○ Sanji
O
O
I hear you.. But Iove the hc of him perfering to please you and loving to eat you so..
You're washing dishes from lunch. It was a lot since Luffy seemed extra hungry today so Sanji cooked a bunch. You were singing and swaying your hips, that eventually turned into full blown dancing, the sponge splattering soapy water here and there.
You're done at this point but you're still dancing towards the doorway as you sing. You open your eyes to be met with Sanji's dashing smirk.
"Sounds like I have a lot of time to make up for. Why not start today?"
Every hour, every minute, every second. You know night after night~
"I'll be fucking you right~"
~End of song~
Hope you enjoyed!
If it’s requested I might expand on these and make them one shots!
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qroier · 4 months
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always on that stupid boat eternally on that stupid boat. aka what i imagine was roier cubito's reaction on that boat as it sped away from egg island, with some bloodhounds included for fun. full thing under read more and link to this on ao3:
Roier was still standing near the stern. He'd been there for hours. It was the same place he’d been standing at when the bomb had dropped, and he hadn't moved since. Not since the boat had started speeding away after Tubbo finally figured out how to lift the anchor, and not even since the rocky aftershocks had finally stopped churning the waves. The rest of them, the rest of them that had made it onboard, kept checking in on him, occasionally, when they could. Walking back to stand next to him as he faced the ocean and an island that could no longer be seen. Motionless. Soundless.
Bagi had tried, initially, to guide him to a seat, back when everyone else’s shock had started to set in. He had shrugged her off without a word. He’d done the same thing to anyone else’s attempts since. Etoiles softly calling out his name, saying, “Roier, bro? My friend?” had had similar results. So they left him alone, and hoped he’d resurface. A blanket that Phil had found somewhere deep in storage while trying to scrounge for supplies was draped over his shoulders like a cape and like the comfort he was refusing. 
Hours more pass like that by the time a rustling arises from Roier’s corner. Most of them are asleep or at least trying to be, and the loudest sound apart from the ocean’s lapping waves hitting against the boat’s hull is the twinkling of stars overhead and occasional snores from the cabin below. The rustling jolts Etoiles from the half-doze he’d fallen under while standing guard to Roier’s left. He reaches instinctively for a sword that’s not there. Right. It’s turning to dust somewhere, back on that island, after being dropped by Phil and lost mid-flight to the boat. 
There's movement. That's new. It catches Etoiles’ attention from where he notices it out of the corner of his eye, and he only barely manages to scramble fast enough to catch Roier as he crumbles. 
They both hit the floor. In Etoiles’ arms, Roier shakes as his murmurs whisper “Pendejo no duro nada, nada.” 
They both know the tremors are tinged with something more than heartbreak.
“Nada,” Roier repeats, picking himself up and away from Etoiles while glaring back toward the same spot of ocean he'd been looking at before. Ese culero, his eyes try to say.
He looks back down at Etoiles, still on the floor and staring up at him. A- something, drags its way across his face as he scoffs. It might be a smirk. “Man,” he calls down, “No mames. Why are you on the floor, pendejo? Are the- are the fancy boat beds not toxic enough for you? You miss the ground?”
Etoiles just looks back up at him. Okay. “Are you stupid, bro? Don't be stupid, man. I was waiting for you, pendejo,” he tells Roier, putting on a similar grin as he stands up and dusts himself off. 
He shoves at Roier’s shoulders, gently, playfully, when Roier says, “Hm, no, I don't think so.”
“You don't think so? Oh, well, if you don't think so! I guess I must be a liar, then!”
Roier starts to direct them forward, as if he's the one that explored the boat instead of the one that stood at the stern, motionless, for hours. There's not a single glance back to that invisible island.
“You just don't think the beds are toxic enough. You need it more toxic? Don't be so mean or I'll cry for the beds, I swear man, I'll cry for the beds.” Neither of them comment on Roier’s desert dry eyes. How they're tinted red not with tears but from being open for so long.
The lack of direction seems to catch up to Roier, suddenly, as he stumbles while turning about to look for the cabin door. Etoiles reaches out, hand to his shoulder to steady him.
“Roier, man. You uh, you good, bro?” He asks, not removing his hand even after Roier stabilizes.
“Fuckin boats, man.” A chuckle. “I'm not a mermaid. Is Cucurucho too poor for a plane? We're so poor, man. Quesadilla Island is so poor, what the fuck.”
“Now you are the one being toxic, bro.” Etoiles says, turning them, pointing them in the direction of the cabin door and the beds underneath. He looks at Roier again. At the tightness in his shoulders. At how he's refusing to turn back toward the island. “Roier, my bro, do you want-”
“Sleep!” Roier shouts, nodding like the idea will save him. “Yes. On a not toxic bed, because man, I'm not like you. I'm not mean to the beds like you.”
They reach the cabin door a half second later and Roier pauses, hand on the door knob. The humor slides off his shoulders, and the grin drops from his face. 
“Did.” The tremors are still there, hiding under his hoodie. His hand had shaken when he reached for the door. Etoiles hadn't mentioned it. “Did anyone else make it on, after?”
Etoiles looks at Roier, at the way his gaze is glued to the door knob.
“No, my friend. I was the last one on.”
“Oh. Okay. Bueno,” he says, hand and gaze still on the door. “Bueno. Pues F, no?” He chuckles again, finally dragging his attention back to Etoiles as he opens the door. The humor slinks back. “Are you gonna tryhard sleep now? Is that what you'll do, man?”
“Bro, if anyone is going to tryhard sleep, it's the Mexican beast!”
“Ah, facts, factoids. Pure fuckin facts, bro.”
Although there are enough rooms to not, they'll share a room when they make it downstairs and to the sleeping quarters. They're used to it, by now.
And they'll never talk about it. At least, they'll never talk about it for however long they're on that stupid boat.
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omenhasaheadache · 3 months
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Hey, you do bones right? I saw a pretty nice looking deer skull on my walk today and while I like the idea of bones I don't know how to wash or store or move bones. So I had to leave it. If you are aware of how to do bones can I have bone knowledge
Omg I am always happy to share bone knowledge!! And anyone who knows more or if you spot smth I got wrong, please let me know! I mostly just clean little rodent bones and will be speaking only from what I've tested myself.
So to preface this pre cleaning bones get very germy and stinky, so precautions are necessary!! Wear gloves, a mask and clothes you don't mind messing up, Disinfect Thoroughly, and do your cleaning in a well ventilated area!!
So for collecting and moving, make sure everything is safe and ethical and check local laws on what critters you can keep. Most species of deer are typically fine but some species are prohibited from possessing even a feather!! Often times its easier to get already cleaned and ready for display bones, plenty of etsy shops and even educational vendors have them for sale (same with owl pellets, natures mystery box). Collect bones while wearing gloves and be mindful of lose or sharp/fragile parts like teeth or small bones, those like to run away or break. Best to put in a box or bag while moving, for things like deer skulls you may want a trash bag as they're meant to not break easy.
For cleaning bones that are already mostly bare, just greasy/algae covered, you can degrease them with a hydrogen peroxide or diluted dish soap. This is very stinky and you need good ventilation!!!
Fill a container with enough of it to have the bones covered with it, this can be a big hurdle with larger bones and the main reason why I keep with small ones. Soak it for about 24 hours. Peroxide will also help whiten the bones but can also damage them more readily. Just remember never to use bleach because that will severely compromise the structure of the bones.
Make sure bones are dried thoroughly, this can take quite a while. If properly decreased mold and mildew shouldn't be an issue but holding moisture, or being soaked and drying out repeatedly, can compromise the structure. Oftentimes it'll have already had a few cycles of this and sun bleaching too from nature, so minimizing it is important.
For storage, bones are pretty simple. Keep them out of direct sun or excessive moisture to avoid damage, and try avoiding a place they'd fall from. You can dust them gently when needed, I'd recommend a cue tip for smaller skulls, whatever floats your boat and gets the job done, just remember, the smaller/thinner it is, the more fragile.
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the-gone-ton · 1 year
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The Suwannee Belle is a riverboat constructed in 1985 in Wisconsin by the Lacrosse Riverboat Company. It operated in New York, Alabama, and finally Florida where it offered dinner cruises. It ran aground in 1988 and was officially decommissioned in 1991. It sat in dry storage in New Jersey until being purchased by an investor for $1 in 2003. The boat was moved to Pennsylvania with the intention of dressing it up in a rainforest theme and operating as a restaurant called the Towne Crier Cafe in a small artificial pool. But the scheme went bankrupt before taking off, leaving the Suwannee Belle simply abandoned sitting in a small ditch. It was sold at auction in 2005, and it's current ownership is unknown. In 2006, Connie & Charles Gallagher bought a bar next to the Suwannee Belle and named it the Riverboat Saloon in honor of the boat that had already been left next door. The saloon's website went offline in 2015. A Yelp review from 2018 claimed the saloon was closed, with new ownership planning to reopen later that year. Today, the saloon has an active Facebook page and does seem to be open, though you might think otherwise based upon the state of the signs advertising it and the general appearance of the building. The boat itself has deteriorated seriously in the past few years. The image attributed to Tatyana Jula is from 2010 and shows how much better the boat looked at the time.
Also. All bubble blowin' babies will be beaten senseless by every able-bodied patron in the bar.
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ltwilliammowett · 2 years
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The Cutty Sark
She was built in Dumbarton (Scotland) on the River Leven at the Scott & Linton shipyard for the London shipowner John Willis as a tea clipper (the last of her kind) and was launched on 25 November 1869. Her motto on the bow: "Where there's a Willis a way - Where there's a will is a way" - a pun on the name of the shipowner Willis, who always wore a tall white top hat. Scott & Linton, who had agreed a price of £16,500 for the ship, had to declare bankruptcy at the end of the construction period - the Cutty Sark was their only large ship ever built. The shipyard William Denny and Brothers completed the construction.
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Cutty Sark photographed at sea by Captain Woodget using a camera balanced on two of the ship's boats lashed together, before 1916 (x)
Initially, the clipper was used in tea transport until 1877. The ship never won any of the famous tea races, partly because of the prudence of her captains G. Moodie and F. W. Moore. After the opening of the Suez Canal (17 November 1869), tea transport was taken over by steamships, which made the sea route from Shanghai through the Suez Canal to England in 42 days, while the Cutty Sark needed 102 days for the journey around the Cape of Good Hope.
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Sail Plan for 'Cutty Sark' (1869), G. F. Campbell
Later she sailed as a tramp steamer with various cargoes. After a hard time between 1877 and 1882, the Cutty Sark became the fastest sailing ship of her size and time with wool cargoes around Cape Horn in 1885 under her 7th and longest serving Captain Richard Woodget, setting several records and also beating her old rival Thermopylae.
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Cutty Sark in port, East Circular Quay, Sydney, by Allen C. Green, before 1916 (x)
Captain Woodget first had the spars and mainmast shortened around the skystay and also removed all the leeward sails that were not needed for the voyages in the Roaring Forties, which made it possible to reduce the crew from 28 to 20 men. Once he was satisfied with the altered rig, Woodget set off with the ship on his first voyage to Australia, running the ship for ten years and making her famous.
Sold in 1895 for £2100 to the Portuguese shipping company "J. A. Ferreira & Companhia" and renamed Ferreira, she was re-rigged as a barquentine after de-rigging in 1916 near the Cape of Good Hope for cost reasons.
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The restored ship in her glass dock (x)
In 1922, she was sold to the Companhia Nacional de Navigação and renamed Maria do Amparo. In the same year, the desolate ship, coming from a repair stop in London, entered the port of Falmouth due to a storm. Retired Captain Wilfred Dowman recognised the 53-year-old ship, which he had always held in high esteem as a ship's boy, and bought her from the Portuguese owner in Lisbon for £3,750, brought her to Falmouth and restored her to her original condition with the assistance of his wife, who shared his enthusiasm for the beautiful vessel.
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Cutty Sark as training ship, by Jack Spurling (x)
She served in Falmouth as a stationary training ship until 1938. In 1938, the Cutty Sark came to the Thames Nautical Training College in Greenhithe (until 1949) as a gift from Captain Dowman's widow. In 1954, the famous ship was transferred on her last sea voyage to the purpose-built dry dock in Greenwich, where she has been accessible as a museum ship since 1957.
In early October 2006, the ship was closed for extensive restoration work and was due to reopen in 2009. On 21 May 2007, a fire occurred, presumably caused by a defective hoover, which burnt out most of the hull.
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The Cutty Sark after the fire 2007 (x)
Fortunately, about half of the ship's equipment - for example, the masts and steering wheel - had been removed from storage at the time because of the work, and 19th century teak (worth £400,000) provided for restoration purposes had not yet been installed. Nor was the steel skeleton completely destroyed by the fire. Thanks to these circumstances, her complete restoration was possible; the ship was reopened on 25 April 2012 in the presence of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. On 18 October 2014, the ship was damaged by a fire on deck and was also restored. Since then, she can be visited again in her usual dock. 
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mariashades · 6 months
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A History, An Unusual Family AU
Everyone has a history: some are happy, some are sad, some are painful, and some are tragic. Gordon's is all four.
Ao3 link here
My thanks to @the-original-sineater for the read through and the help.
TISSUES WARNING
A History
“That outta do it,” Virgil nodded to himself as he brought Thunderbird Two into a hover after one last pass over the area, scanning for any signs of contamination and relieved to find none. 
Today had almost been a Ned Tedford Mark 2 situation - a deep ocean pollution scraper gone rogue. This time it was a remotely operated vehicle, one of a fleet of fifty that’d been operating in Indonesia to clean up the old offshore oil and gas drilling sites. Scraper #034 had malfunctioned months ago and gone dark. The company had written #034 off as as casualty of the sea that would eventually be cleaned up by another scraper reassigned to it’s zone, but in reality it had trundled it’s way down the Sunda Plate, onto the Indo-Australian, then swung east to crawl underneath the Tasman Sea. It then somehow crossed into the Pacific and headed south, still collecting up congealed pollutants along the way. It was at last detected on its way up to the surface at the deep water harbour of Russell, New Zealand, obediently signalling to its that its collection tanks were at maximum capacity and needing to be emptied. 
Further systems data transmitted by Scraper #034 showed that those tanks were heavily damaged and on the verge of breaking. 
The ecological disaster of even half of that waste being released would have crippled the area, so International Rescue had deployed. Four had gone down to set up a relay link to Scraper #034, allowing Thunderbird Five to send an override ‘all stop’ signal that gave them enough time to encapsulate the tanks with a special foam that Brains had developed after Ned Mark Two, then the entire assemblage was hauled to the surface and taken to the boatyards at Opua to be placed at the massive dry storage area there until someone could figure out what to do next. Scott had stayed with the scraper to coordinate with the local authorities and wait for the GDF to arrive while Virgil had taken Two to scan the wider area for any signs of leaked pollution. Gordon had stayed local, checking in the many inlets and coves that riddled the area. 
“Huh, we’re near Opito Bay,” Virgil noticed as he transmitted his latest sensor readings to John. Tipping the Thunderbird up on one wing as he swung over the sea, he could just make out the little beach southeast of Opito Bay where Gordon had found them so many years ago.
He was about to go back to the floating module when John’s urgent thought smacked against his mind at the same moment a GPS marker popped up on his display. ‘VIRGIL! Get to Gordon, now!’      
‘F.A.B., what’s the situation?’ Virgil asked, already bringing Two’s nose around to point east, to the northernmost point of the hammer-head shaped mini-peninsula that cupped the eastern side of Paroa Bay. 
‘I…I don’t know,’ was John’s reply, and the fear that threaded the thought was so strong that Virgil could almost taste it. ‘He went EVA to check on something, now he’s not answering me at all. He’s not hurt but he’s… he’s grieving…’ 
‘Understood. Tell Scott to wrap up and get over here as soon as he’s finished with the GDF,’ Thunderbird Two instructed, as always the steady rock of his family. His hands danced over the controls as he looked for a place to land near the little inlet that held his brother. It was tiny, barely more than a wedge cut out of the earth, and the surrounding rocks made it well nigh inaccessible by boat. 
‘F.A.B.’ The touch of the fae’s mind withdrew from his own. 
“Please be okay, little brother,” Virgil begged as he found a spot on the steep cliffs above Gordon's location, disembarked and hurried through the scrubby bush, keeping the familial links locked down for now so as to keep his head clear and his focus sharp. Reaching the top of the cliffs, he paused to check the area for the best way down, and that was when he heard the faint sound of a mer’s keening, like the mournful, drawn out cry of a seagull. 
Virgil’s heart broke. He’d only heard this twice before: first as a child, lying awake and hearing the change as the baby mer stopped singing the piping, five note cadence of ‘here I am, find me’ and realised that there’d be no answer, then late at night after the farmhouse was attacked. 
He hadn’t known what to do then - how to answer this cry of pain and loss that begged for comfort and help - but this time he knew exactly what to do
Taking off his gloves, Virgil cupped his hands into something of a ball, right over left, his thumbs together but with a slight gap between them. He pressed his lips to his thumbs, blew hard and moved the fingers of his left hand to produce a warbling whistle in reply, ‘singing’ the harmony to Gordon’s melody.     
There was a pause, then Gordon sang the harmony back to him and Virgil replied with the melody. A beat, then they sang together. 
“I’m coming down!” Virgil shouted over the brisk wind as he put his gloves back on. There wasn’t an answer, but he wasn’t really expecting one. 
The sandstone cliff was almost sheer and far too brittle to risk climbing down, so Virgil took the simple option and used a grappling line to abseil down to just above the high tide mark. Shells and dried fronds of seaweed crunched under his feet as he crossed the sand, going towards the sea and the splash of blue and yellow he could now make out against the yellow/tan/ochre rocks and the blinding sparkle of summer sun reflecting off the dancing blue water. 
As he reached the darkened expanse of wet sand just above the water line he passed Gordon’s abandoned helmet, pushed there by the waves. To his right he spied the dark gash of a sea cave. Before it was an apron of water-smoothed rock that was washed even by the low tide, and it ended in a broad, roughly rectangular rock pool. Wading into the thigh-deep water alongside the projecting tongue of rock, he at last came to Gordon. His mer brother was half out of the water, draped over the seaward end of the rock pool, his head pillowed on one arm and the other dangling in the sun-warmed water. 
“Gordon?” Virgil asked gently, coming within arm’s reach of his brother. 
In response, Gordon curled his long tail around Virgil’s legs and pulled, wordlessly asking Virgil to come closer. 
Virgil obeyed. The beach had a very sharp drop off and he was waist deep by the time he was leaning against the smooth stone, side by side with Gordon. This close he could see the reddened rims of his eyes and the wet trails of tears that still marked his face. 
“Gordon, what is it?” Mindful of Gordon’s back fin, Virgil put a comforting arm around Gordon’s shoulders. 
Not looking at him, Gordon trilled and patted the surface of the water, then translated. “Rock pool. My rock pool.” 
“Oh… oh Gordon…” Heart breaking anew at his brother’s pain, Virgil gathered him up in his arms and hugged him tightly, at the same time quickly bundling up everything and shoving it across the familial link to John, trusting the fae to update their eldest brother. 
In response Gordon clung to him, his fingers curling into the crevices of Virgil’s uniform and the strap of his bandolier, his tail looping around him and his head tucked under Virgil’s chin, shoulders heaving as years of long-dormant pain and loss surged out from where he’d kept it locked away. 
Shreeee! 
Splash! 
Then Scott was there, the eldest shifting in mid air over the sea and swimming across to join them. He wrapped his long arms around them both and used his body to shelter and shield their little brother. 
None of them looked up as a second Thunderbird alighted on the clifftop a handful of minutes later, then Tanusha was splashing through the water to join them. It wasn’t long after that that Two and S were joined by One, having been remotely piloted back to the island. Her passengers didn't even have to disembark, John and Alan translocating down to the water's edge with their father. Jeff immediately ploughed through the water towards the group, the fae in his wake. 
"C'mere, son." His face gentle and full of empathy, Jeff held his hands out and Gordon accepted the offer, moving over to cling to Jeff with that same desperation as the day when Gordon’s world had been shattered. The others quickly rearranged themselves around Jeff and Gordon, layers of love and protection and security as they surrounded the grieving mer and lent him the strength he needed. 
Finally Gordon lifted his head from where he’d tucked it against Jeff’s shoulder, creases in his skin from the ridges of the bandolier and his eyes puffy and red from his weeping. "...thank you…" he told them hoarsely, looking around at his family. 
"Any time, Gordo," Alan grinned weakly.
"What do you want to do?" Still holding onto Gordon, Jeff looked at the triangular shape of the cave, then back to his fourth son. If this was Gordon’s creche pool, it was logical that the cave had been some sort of shelter. 
"I… I want to go and look, see… see if there's anything still inside," Gordon decided, determination hardening his features. "This place is hard to get to… there might be something left." 
"Are you sure? We can come back later." Virgil offered, knowing exactly what it was like for the past to suddenly jump up and surprise you. 
"...no. If I don't do it now, I don't know if I ever will. I'm here and you're all with me." He offered them a grin that was a weak version of its normal brilliance. "Someone else might say 'if I didn't know better, it's like it was supposed to be', but I know better." 
"Attaboy," Jeff smiled at him and let him go when Gordon squirmed to be released. 
In what was clearly a remembered sequence of movements, the mer turned and hoisted himself up and over the smooth lip of the rock pool, crossed the short stretch of water, then was pulling himself up onto the stone apron. There he discarded his fins in favour of legs and waited for the rest of his family to join him. 
Lights on helmets, shoulders and hand held torches were flicked on as they approached and entered the cave together, illuminating the dim space. The first thing they found was a wide, shallow basin of sorts on the left hand side of the cave, smooth and filled with water. “This must have been where they slept,” Virgil said, pointing to the remains of some wooden wedge-shaped ‘pillows’, just like the one that Gordon used when he slept in the bath. “And look.” He pointed to a stone in the rim of the basin with hand holds cut into it. “This must be how they change the water, by pulling this out at high tide.” 
Meanwhile, Kayo had ventured towards the landward end of the basin. "What are these?" Kayo asked, her hands hovering over but not touching a stack of decaying oval-shaped open wicker-work baskets with cork floats around the rim. 
"Cradles, for babies." Gordon came over and hesitantly brushed his fingertips over one. "White-Scales told me about them." 
“There’s some fish bins over here.” Alan called out from the right hand side of the cave. “And some pipes and pumps and stuff, I guess they used them to keep some live food?” 
“Makes sense, there’s fishing gear and some spears too.” John had joined his half-brother. Just like Kayo, they investigated but didn’t touch anything, leaving it for Gordon to carefully examine if he wished to. 
Other fragments of life came to light- a pile of paua shells half carved into different forms, the tools used to shape them now so much rust and debris. There was some cooking gear and a container of spices, now rotted and so much mush, and what had been a basket held fish bones, shells and cracked open kina. The bottles of beer, fruit juices and soft drinks clearly had been treasured treats, placed up high on a rough shelf well out of reach of little arms, and next to it was a metal medical kit, the white cross still clear amidst the corrosion, but what it held had been lost to time.
No one said anything when Alan found a small collection of sturdy bath toys, the once brightly coloured plastic bleached by salt and much scarred by little claws, but their eyes spoke for them. 
Towards the back of the cave, a chest of tattered and fragmented clothing intrigued them - clearly Gordon’s pod had some members who would go amongst humans - but they couldn’t find any identification documents. 
“Hey, there’s another cave here,” Scott called, well at the back of the long chamber. The entrance was almost hidden by the folds of the rock and the shadows they cast. “Gordon, you want to see this.” 
They filed their way up, the mer leading the way. 
What they found felt like a shrine. 
A lip of stone at the doorway was clearly intended to keep out the hungry waves, and rusting lamps hung on walls decorated with garlands of shells and ornaments cut out of mother of pearl and paua. Some of them still hung there, while others had fallen to the floor. Against the back wall of the dry cave was a stone table. Before it were the decaying remains of candles, and neatly placed on the table were dozens and dozens of carved orca teeth. 
"It looks like mers and orcas have been scrapping for generations," John observed, tallying up the collection of engraved orca teeth. "What's this called?" 
"Scrimshaw," Virgil answered promptly. "Look at some of the scenes here, there's abstract and realism, and…” He paused, double checking what he’d just seen. “Gordon, there's portraits." 
"These look like they're roughly chronological," Kayo had come up to Virgil’s shoulder. "A group of portraits, then what must be significant events in those mers' lives." She cast her eyes over the groups. “Maybe nine generations?” 
Gordon hesitated, leaned into the comforting arm that Jeff put around him, swallowed hard and asked "Which ones look the newest?" 
“Here, these ones.” Virgil gestured towards the last group.
“Do…” Gordon hesitated, took a deep breath, tried to say something, stopped and made a noise of distress, leaning heavily into Jeff’s shoulder and turning away from the collection. “...please… look for me… I… I can’t…” His voice cracked and he let Jeff wrap his arms around him and comfort him, Scott quickly lending his assistance. 
Solemn-faced, Virgil carefully examined the last group of carved teeth, then picked up one. “This one.” He had it between his hands as he stood and turned towards his brother, keeping the others from seeing it before Gordon could.
With trembling fingers, Gordon pulled free from Jeff and Scott, reached out and took it from Virgil. He cradled the tooth in both hands, slowly turning it until the faces could be seen. 
When the images finally came into the light, there was absolutely no doubt that these were Gordon’s birth parents. 
The male had Gordon’s smile, broad and cheeky, and even in the sketch-like nature of scrimshaw carving his eyes sparkled with mischief and delight. There were traces of Gordon’s face in the female’s, but the defining trait that she’d passed down to him was the strength of character that fairly shone out of her portrait, the same character that had carried Gordon through the trials of his life. 
“...it’s them…” The words came out in a croak and Gordon held the carving to his chest, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks. “It’s them.” He closed his eyes and leaned against Jeff. “...Dad? I want to go home now...” 
“Of course, son.” His voice rough, Jeff held Gordon close. “The rest of the carvings and the other artefacts?” 
“...bring them…they're mine.” Gordon decided after a pause. “We’ve been here a while… people’re gonna be curious and poke around...” 
“We’ll take care of it.” Tanusha immediately volunteered, getting nods of agreement from John, Scott and Virgil. “Alan, Jeff, take him home in One, we’ll follow once we’ve scanned and packed up everything.” 
“Guys?” Gordon looked around his family, carnelian eyes brim-full of so many emotions. “This…” he tried to find words that could contain what he was feeling, failed, and put his emotions into his voice instead as he offered them all a soul-deep “Thank you…”  
Jeff spoke for them all when he put his arms back around Gordon and hugged him tightly. “You are always welcome, son.”  
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ask-de-writer · 6 months
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Return to the Master Story Index
Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES
THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 11 of 20)
A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
13269 words (work in progress)
© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck
All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.
TUMBLR EXEMPTION
Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.
Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
New to the story? Read from the beginning HERE.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Tanira came back from the Tribunal before noon. Her steps were dragging and her whole demeanor was downcast. Minara put aside the shop's accounts and her abacus to take Tanira in her arms and let her sob.
Brokenly, she got out, “The Magistrate refused to listen to any idea that Minami should have any share in the house. He stated that Minami's actions regarding the Ice House showed what he might do to our home. He removed the house from joint property, awarding it to me, and has arranged for Minami's eviction, guarded by constables.
Minami is ordered not to come closer to either the house or Fish Market than the width of the street.
“At least he can no longer try to snare me into paying any part of his debits. Magistrate Lim made a civil separation of our assets and debits. The Good Magistrate has removed all of the Fish Market's debits that Minami caused by his bad management and has added them to Minami for payment.
“My husband is most upset! He became so unruly in the Tribunal that he had to be put into a cell!”
While Minara was holding the sobbing woman, who was beginning to settle down, Takahara asked gently, “What of the Sea Lion? I saw Narutsu san going up to the Tribunal.”
“That should have been a bright spot for Minami san. They are taking the next few of days to scrape the hull and replace a few boards that have gone questionable. When they go out again, they do not want him along but will still pay his full share of the catch to him.
“He was outraged instead of grateful! They should be out instead of being lazy on land! He blamed all the bottom fouling and soft boards on Dee san of all people! He would not listen to fisherman Narutsu san saying that it was due to his keeping the Sea LION in the water at the dock for too long and not pulling her out for cleaning and drying like all the other boats do.
“Mimami claimed that only his ridding the boat of Dee's vile iron work had prevented her from sinking the Sea Lion, as she caused the deadly sinking of the Chrysanthemum of the Sea!”
“Magistrat Lim stopped him there! The men that Patsu san rescued were in that morning earlier to complain of their being billed for the saving of their lives.
“He had the story from them. Minami had spoken to them several times of the rich fishery that those girls and a few others were hogging to themselves. It should be safe enough if one but used a pole to feel ahead and go slowly so that they could find their way among the rocks. That was working well and they were taking some good fish with lines and hooks.
“Then the tide changed and suddenly there was a strong current called a tidal bore pushing them swiftly! It rammed them sideways onto a reef of lava rocks and their boat was overset. Three of the men could not swim and the sea took them. The others made their way to a rocky beach on Dry Island.
“To make things as bad as they could be for Patsu san, who found and recovered all three of the drowned men, Minami belittled their rescue, saying that she should have used a large boat that all could ride to safety in comfort rather than being towed in ignominiously clinging to floats. That led them to complain to a Constable. That so angered Patsu san that she filed a bill of costs against them for their ingratitude at having their lives saved.”
Takahara shook her head in bemused amazement. “HE caused all of that? Tricked good fishermen into deadly waters and then befouled their rescue that should have been hailed as heroic? And blames it all on Dee san somehow?”
Tanira san took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she replied, “He is mad. I am sure of it after today in the Tribunal. He blames everything that has happened to him since he was wounded in the War to Unite Corutsu on Dee san and the others of the Shop of repairs. Even where he has been caught in the act of crimes against them, he claims that it is somehow their fault.”
Minara asked solicitously, “Should we close the shop for today, Tanira san? You are most upset.”
Tanira smiled at the genuine caring that she heard and replied, “No, Minara san. I think that work will help to steady me. Besides, I can't imagine that waiting a day will improve our fish!”
While they were setting out several of the small sharks that were now being called sand sharks to be skinned and cleaned, an elderly lady entered the shade of the shop. Her face was a wrinkled map of a smile but her eyes held worry too.
“I have heard already about the terrible row in the Tribunal, yet! I am so sorry for you.
“If you are able, I should like to buy two of those fine crabs and that large sand shark fillet.”
Takahara busily wrapped the lady's purchases and the cheerful tinkle of good cash in the money box concluded the sale.
The day became a busy one. Tanira got quietly thoughtful as she was examining their sales stock. Turning to one of her helpers, she asked, “Takahara san, I am truly grateful for these fine crabs that we are selling but we did not buy any at the dock. Where did they come from?”
“Minara san and I rented one of the Shop of Repairs' small boats last night. We had good fortune and caught seventeen crabs. Miko san only took four as our rental, so these cost you nothing.” She smiled and paused to take a happy customer's cash for a crab and gave Tanira a small hug. “They are yours because we know that you value us and our help.”
Little Ichuru was tugging mightily on skinning tongs to remove the hide from another sand shark. Before Tanira could go to help, Minara gently stopped her. “We made sure that he knew how to prepare one. He wants to do it himself.”
Tanira watched her son as he struggled to pull the skin free of the fish. He had neatly removed the fins and tail, setting them aside. Triumphant, he held up the removed hide, nearly as long as he was tall. He hung it on a stretcher to dry and neatly finished the cleaning and rinsing before taking a sharp knife and neatly cutting fish steaks first. As the fish tapered towards the tail, he changed knives and cut two neat fillets, lifting out the cartilanginous back bone.
Tanira san hugged him, complimenting, “That was a big fish but you did it perfectly! Thank you, Ichuru san. You are a big help here.”
Towards evening closing, they saw Minami accompanied by three constables passing along the far side of the street. He was clearly preparing to yell something but an alert constable tapped him firmly with a cudgel!
“No outburst, Minami san. No unruly behavior at all or you will go back to the cell.”
After a bit, while they were closing up, they saw him again, dragging his things, piled onto a futon and complaining bitterly at the lack of help.
To be Continued
<==PREVIOUS ~~ NEXT==>
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bertjabinyachtyard · 1 year
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pwlanier · 1 year
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This week in Great Lakes shipping history. March 13-17.
2023- Arctic explorer USCGC Neah Bay blazes a trail through an icy Green Bay. Close up of the mighty tug.
1974- R. Bruce Angus at the Soo Locks.
2023-Stewie and the tugs in Milwaukee, WI.
1945- Stadium Boat Works of Cleveland Ohio launched the SOUTH SHORE (US. 247657) for Miller Boat Line of Put-In-Bay, Ohio. She carried 6 autos and 120 passengers. In 1973, she was sold to Beaver Island Boat Company until retired at the end of the 1997 season. In April of 1999, sailed to Chicago where she was docked at the foot of Navy Pier as a storage vessel for Shoreline Cruises.
2023- Both Mackinaws sit side-by-side in Mackinaw City, MI.
2023- H. Lee White high and dry in Toledo, OH, to get an offseason tune-up.
Boat Nerd
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sharks-n-bones · 2 months
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FLOYD IS FINALLY HERE!!
Sorry it took so long, guys!! I was kinda struggling with this one and work has been kicking my ass 😭 Anyways!! Without further adue, I give to you
Floyd
- This boy is not a survivalist but he's trying his best
- He was still doing his solo career when the world began to flood. Like most, he didn't realize how serious it was at first. He didn't realize until he found the concert venue he was supposed to preform at completely submerged
- He started heading for higher ground. He figured if the water kept rising, he'd have to make a raft. He'd make a boat, but he'd never made one before, and a raft seemed like it'd be a bit easier
- When he got far away enough from the rising water, Floyd set about building his raft. He got some help from a few other trolls that were in the area, which he greatly appreciated
- He finished his raft just as the water got close enough to brush against the edges of it. So he made sure everything was tied down, pushed his raft into the water and set sail
- Floyd was proud of his raft, honestly. He'd built an awning to protect himself from the sun and the rain, a little water purifier made from branches, stones and a couple palm leaves, a small cooking pit made with stones and branches and some metal he'd found, and a couple storage containers. He'd also managed to make himself a comfortable bed! Overall, he was happy with his raft
- Sailing was honestly pretty nice. Storms were a bit rough on the raft, but he was usually able to find an island afterwards and was able to fix any damage. He'd even made a couple growth plots for fruits and vegetables! He may not be a survivalist, but he at least knew he needed at least a somewhat balanced diet if he didn't wanna get scurvy
- He spent most of his time at different islands. Once he found one, he'd stay there for a week or two, relaxing in the water and gathering resources until he eventually had to set sail again. He would just live at one of the islands for a while, but he wanted to find his brothers and make sure they were alright. It'd been so long since he'd seen them, and he missed them. Sailing on his own was lonely, too, and his brothers would be good company. (He also never forgot the promise he'd made to Branch about returning to him)
- He spent a couple months doing this little routine of his. Sail for a while, find an island, relax and gather resources for a few weeks, set sail, rinse and repeat. Occasionally, a couple techno trolls would peak up from the water and offer him some help, which he often took them up on, if for nothing else than some company and conversation. It was peaceful, but he couldn't wait to find his brothers
- He also noticed a few things as he sailed. For on, he got this awful rash on his neck. He's found some plants on a couple islands that helped with the itching and soreness, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't go away
- He also noticed how dry his skin would get. Going in the water helped a lot, and he was working on trying to make lotion out of coconut oil. Surprisingly enough, his hair and fur was looking better than ever, despite him not being able to use any products other than coconut oil since the flood started
- Eventually, another techno troll came out of the water and struck up a conversation before noticing the rash on his neck. The troll went quiet for a moment before asking to see Floyd's hands. Confused but curious, Floyd complied
- The ocean troll spread Floyd's fingers and his face looked like a strange mix between relief and somber. That was when Floyd took notice that the webbing between his fingers looked ever so slightly longer
- When Floyd asked if the techno troll was alright, they sighed and told him a legend. A legend of sirens and their history with technos. A legend of how they were locked away after the elder technos feared their powers. How they'd escaped their prison around the same time the flood hit. Of how they pumped the ocean full of a deep and ancient magic that altered the bodies of those who lived on land to better help them adjust and survive life in the ocean
- Floyd had been surprised, and rightfully so. He looked at the webbing between his fingers in a whole new light. Soon enough, he might not even need his raft to survive. It was strange to think such a thing was possible, but the proff was right there in the changes that were already occurring to Floyd
- He was sailing again, looking for another island or any ships that his brothers could possibly be on, when a huge storm hit. It was an intense one, he'd never sailed through one so big! He furled his sail and held on tight, trying to keep things together
- Then, he spotted a ship. A troll in a cloak and scarf peered over the edge and asked if he was alright. Before he could respond, though, a huge wave made contact with his raft and crushed it to splinters, throwing him and everything else into the dangerous waves
- He coughed and spluttered as he tried to keep his head above the water. He was a good swimmer, but he doubted anyone but techno trolls could swim in these waves. His head dipped below the water again when he felt strong arms wrap around him and pull him to the surface. He gasped for breath and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the deck of the mysterious stranger's ship
- He coughed and spluttered as he caught his breath, and the feeling of fabric being placed on his shoulders made him look up. The stranger had wrapped his scarf and cloak around Floyd and was now fishing for the remains of his raft with his hair. The troll had a strong build and muted colors, with purple skin and blue hair that faded to green at the tips
- Floyd stood right as the stranger hauled the last of what he could onto the boat. Floyd thanked him, and the stranger offered him a smile. He introduced himself as Creek, and Floyd introduced himself in return
- Creek helped him grab his supplies before leading him to the lower levels of the ship. He made some food and cocoa to warm them up, and they got to talking. Floyd learned that Creek had been a survivalist before the flood, living on his own in the woods. Floyd mentioned how he was just working on his solo career when the flood hit
- Slowly but surely, they grew closer and built a routine. Floyd was good at fishing, so he caught a lot of their food while Creek would forage when they reached an island. He taught Floyd a lot about foraging and surviving, and Floyd appreciated it
- Floyd also helped make repairs to the ship when needed. He learned quickly how to make, fix and repair things while on his raft, and fixing up Creek's ship was the least he could do after he'd saved his life
- When they weren't busy working and gathering supplies on islands, they'd relax — either on the deck of the ship or in the water, just overall having a good time. Creek's company was nice. He had a calming sort of atmosphere around him that Floyd couldn't help but enjoy
- One day, as they were sailing, they came across an absolutely massive ship. It was so big that other ships were able to dock to it. Hell, there were even areas for troll-sized ships to dock! Curious, they decided to dock and board. Creek had put on his cloak and scarf, covering his face and hair. Floyd asked why, confused, and Creek said he'd explain some other time. Floyd didn't push it
- After traveling up an elevator to the main deck of the ship, their eyes simultaneously widened. It was a floating restaurant on the sea! No wonder people were docking here
- They walked around for a bit, just exploring, before they found an area on the bar for trolls to sit and eat and decided to head there. After finding and empty table and sitting down at it, a vacationer who introduced herself as Brandy handed them a couple menus before stating that her husband would be around shortly to take their orders
- It didn't take Floyd long to find out what he wanted to try, and once Creek had also decided, they fell into an easy conversation. They spoke about the flood, the weather, the islands they'd visited before they met, anything and everything
- Then, a voice spoke up from beside them. An oddly familiar one. The voice was asking what they'd wanted to order before Floyd glanced up and they both paused. Blue skin that matched his own. Purple hair. Same smile. Floyd grinned and leapt out of his chair to hug the troll. One of the ones he'd been searching for. One he hadn't seen in 20 years.
- “Spruce!!”
56 notes · View notes
kingsofeverything · 9 months
Note
Hi! Larry on a boat sounds really fun! I could use a good lunchtime read, thanks so much for offering these! We always appreciate all of you authors for sharing your AMAZING stories, but especially now, let’s sprinkle some additional appreciation on top! 🥰
omgggg this is my 3rd try posting this. i checked and it's within the character limit for tumblr, but the app kept shutting down. so now i'm on my laptop. ANYWAY. so this was a wip that i really wanted to make happen, but it hasn't worked out for me. i started it when the pandemic first started. louis is self-isolating on a boat (inspired by someone who did that here!) and i think he's older/silver foxy in this version. there's another (lost) version where they're exes.
thank you! i hope you like it!
“It’s such bullshit, man,” Niall says, pushing the sopping wet mop around on the floor behind the bar. It’s more effort than he usually makes and the smell of bleach is strong. “Can’t believe we still have to work.”
“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got rent due.” Harry downs his shot of tequila and pats his pocket. “Smoke?”
“Weed?” Niall asks, and when Harry nods, Niall does too. “Let me finish my register and shit. Have a beer while you wait.”
Harry winds up having two and a half beers before Niall is finished. They wash their hands in the kitchen, laughing because they’ve both had their hands in and out of bleach water all evening, sanitizing everything in the restaurant. They walk out with another waiter, splitting up in the parking lot. Down the road from the bar where they work are the docks where local fishermen sell their catch, and where many of them keep their boats. Very rarely are there people out there this late at night, even in the peak of summertime. With it being February, and with the plague or whatever, there definitely won’t be anyone around. 
“Think I’m gonna call out tomorrow,” Niall says.
“Really?” 
“Yeah, man. They can’t fire us. Or like, at the very least, they’ll hire us back.” It sounds almost sensible, but then Harry remembers that his electric bill is past due and his roommate paid him in weed again. 
“You make money tonight or something?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes.  
“I did alright. Three hundred.”
“Shit. I need to quit being a waiter and tend bar,” Harry says. He didn’t make a third of that tonight.
Niall parks as close as he can, and they walk to the end of the dock. “Oh, wow. Nice boat.”
“What is that, like… Is that considered a yacht?” Harry asks, squinting into the dark. It does look like one. A small one. It has a sail, so at least it’s a sailboat. Probably. 
Carefully, Harry unfolds the piece of aluminum foil he hid in the dry storage room when he first got to the restaurant that afternoon. The joint is lumpy and loose because he was in a hurry, and already high when he rolled it, but it tears easily, right down the middle. Harry makes sure to pinch the paper tight, and twists the ends of both half-sized joints before handing one to Niall. 
“That boat’s anchoring? Anchored? Whatever. It’s so close, like, why didn’t they dock it?” Harry asks, exhaling through his nose. There’s no science to back it up, but his hypothesis is that he gets a better high that way. “Bet it’d be easy to steal, right? Just, like… Swim out to it, lower the sails, and let the wind take you.”
Niall snorts. And coughs. And coughs again. 
“You better be choking on smoke, man.” Harry digs in his pocket and pulls out a bottle of hand sanitizer, holding it up until Niall opens his palm. 
Niall coughs again and laughs his wheezing high-laugh. “Nah, man, I was picturing you stealing a boat.”
“I could do it,” Harry insists. It does seem plausible. Wind. Waves. Sails. The desire to be free. However, there’s also the desire to not get arrested. Or like, die in a boating accident or something. It’s not like he knows how to sail. Still, the drama. It’s appealing. 
“Right,” Niall says. “I don’t even think you could swim out to it. It’s far. And then you’d have to climb on board, lower the sail—”
“Okay, so I probably couldn’t steal it. But I could swim out there. And get on board. There’s like, a ladder. I think. Steps, maybe? It’s not that far.” Maybe it’s the beer and weed, but he’s sure he could do it, and he doesn’t think he’ll drown. “Bet I can swim there and back in like, no time.”
Niall snorts and coughs, standing up from the dock and pointing out at the small yacht. “It’s pretty far out in the inlet. Like, that’s a fucking swim, man.”
“Still think I could do it,” Harry says, pinching the joint and holding it to his lips. 
“Give you half my tips if you do it,” Niall says, and Harry whips his head around. 
“Seriously?” He could really use the money. 
“You’re not gonna fucking drown, are you?”
Harry shrugs. “Probably not.”
“I don’t know, man.” Niall hums quietly, circling his hand in the air, leaving a trail of smoke. “That’s like, one of my biggest fears: dying doing something stupid while high.”
“Legitimate fear. Good one,” Harry says, patting his pockets. Maybe Niall will bet him to do something… easier. “You backing out? ’Cause I’m not.”
“No, no. Hundred fifty,” Niall says, and Harry has to rethink their friendship. “But like, can you take a life jacket?”
Harry scowls. “Where am I supposed to get one of those?”
Niall points at the line of boats along the dock.
“I’m not stealing a life jacket. Just, like… Can you keep up with my shit. Like my wallet and keys?” Harry asks, and Niall nods. 
“Yeah, man,” Niall says. 
“My phone too,” Harry says, handing it over. He kicks off his smelly work shoes and peels off his socks. It’ll be a nice, brisk swim. Probably isn’t even that cold. He walks to the edge of the dock and bends down, dipping his toe into the water. It’s certainly not warm. 
He can do this. He’s a strong swimmer. Was on the swim team when he was… Well, that was a long time ago. And he supposes it wasn’t so much a team as a group of moms trying to get their kids to burn off energy in a pool. Still. He kept the ribbons and participation medals. 
“Okay, give me an hour. If I’m not back, call like, the coast guard or something.” Harry nods once and strips out of his dirty uniform, kicking it into a pile with his socks and shoes. 
“An hour? I can’t sit here for an hour and like, worry about you drowning.”
“It won’t take me that long. Look,” Harry says, pointing a shaking finger at the boat. “It’s not that far. And if I don’t think I can swim back, I’ll… I’ll steal a lifejacket.”
Niall lifts his phone and says, “Okay. I’m going to record this.”
“Use my phone, man.” Harry grabs it from the pile of his things and tosses it to Niall. 
“Yeah, okay. And here…” Niall pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and hands Harry the bet money. 
Harry reaches for his wallet, but stops, standing and tucking the cash into his briefs. They’re tight enough that he doesn’t think he’ll lose the money in the water. He walks back to the end of the dock, and turns to face Niall. 
“Go ahead, Harry.” Niall holds up his phone, wheezing another laugh, and says, “Tell us what you’re about to do.”
“Swim to that boat and back. Niall gave me a hundred and fifty bucks,” Harry pats his dick through his underwear, and Niall snorts.
“He put the money under his dick,” Niall says, turning the phone around to film himself. “Like, he used his dick as a paper weight.”
“This is why we wash our hands, people,” Harry says, cupping himself. “Okay, okay, okay. Here goes!”
Toes curled around the edge of the wooden dock, Harry takes a few deep breaths, trying to gauge the distance to the boat, and then he dives. It’s remarkable what you remember. Swimming, though he hasn’t done it in years, feels similar to riding a bike in that way. Of course, his muscles aren’t used to the workout, and the movements don’t come as fluidly as they once did, but he’s also taller and stronger and, once he gets into a groove with his freestyle stroke, he is one hundred percent certain for the first time that he is not going to die while high and doing something stupid. Not tonight. His mom would be so pissed. 
Still, by the time he’s close enough to the boat to see that there is, in fact, a ladder similar to the ones in the pool he used to swim in, he’s exhausted. He can make it back to the dock, but only after a rest. 
Waves rock the boat, making it harder to hold on to the ladder, but Harry gets his footing and climbs up, water running off of his body onto the boat deck. The air is colder than he remembers, and his nipples pebble instantly. 
One hand on the ladder to steady himself, Harry turns around and waves at Niall. When Niall waves back, Harry gives him two thumbs up, which he hopes are visible on camera, and looks around. 
Turns out that yachts are pretty boring. At least the visible parts. The cold water sobered Harry the second he surfaced and took his first breath, and after swimming for so long, he’s now sober, exhausted, hungry, and shivering. And whatever’s interesting about the boat is probably locked up behind the two small doors that Harry hopes lead to some sort of room below. Though, he supposes there could be an engine or something in there. While he’s on board, he might as well find out. 
Harry reaches for the doors to see if he can feel any handles or latches, though it’s difficult to tell what’s what in the moonlight. The doors swing open towards Harry, and he screams, stumbling backwards into the table that he just carefully avoided banging his hip on, and he falls sideways, crashing into the edge of the cushioned bench, and landing in a twisted tangle of limbs.
Niall coughs, and Harry thinks he might’ve hit his head. 
A scratchy voice asks, “What the fuck?” 
“Niall?” Harry speaks to the stars in the sky, too stunned to move.
“Okay, what the fuck, Niall?” 
Funny. That doesn’t sound like Niall. Harry lets his head loll to the side and squints. 
“No, you’re not Niall,” Harry says decisively.
“No, I’m not Niall. I’m Louis.” The most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen rises up with a glowing golden light, and floats over him. He frowns, which makes Harry sad, and points at Harry, which makes him happy, and says, “You’re Niall.”
“No, I’m Harry.” He’s almost positive. 
“Okay, Harry, then. What the fuck?” Louis coughs, covering his mouth with his arm. “Damn it.”
“Oh… Do you have the plague?” Harry asks. 
“Did you swim out here to ask me that?” 
“Uh… um…” Harry thinks about the truth, while Louis looks him up and down, and wonders what Louis would prefer to hear. Leaning in and holding Harry’s face in his hand, Louis moves Harry’s head side to side, peering intently into his eyes. Harry lets him because it seems like the thing to do, it’s not like he’s busy otherwise. Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s hair, close to his scalp, and Harry stares in wonder at the look of concern on Louis’ face. “Yeah.” 
“Yeah?” Louis tips his head to the side. “Yeah, what?”
“Don’t know,” Harry says. “You touched my face. We’re not supposed to touch our faces and I think that includes, like, other people’s faces.”
“Shit,” Louis says, pulling back and standing up. 
“I’m in my underwear,” Harry says, because he is. He just realized that he’s laying on the deck, he supposes that’s what it’s called, in his tiny pink briefs and nothing else. His tiny pink briefs, a hundred a fifty dollars, and nothing else. 
Louis looks down at Harry’s crotch, nodding to confirm the fact, then looks up, holding his hand over his eyes as if to shade them from the moonlight. He turns back to Harry and asks, “Did you swim out here? There’s a guy on the dock, waving at me.”
“That’s Niall,” Harry says.
“Oh, that’s Niall,” Louis says, waving at Niall. Maybe it’s the moonlight or maybe he hit his head, but it’s the most graceful wave he’s ever seen. Louis scowls down at him. “You swam out here?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, pleased to know the answer.
“Why?” 
Harry remembers that he has a body, that it’s mostly naked, and that Louis is looking at him. He reaches down and cups his cock. “Niall gave me a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“And you’re touching your dick because…”
“Because of the hundred and fifty dollars,” Harry says. Duh. “Duh.”
“Okay,” Louis says, dragging out the sound and scowling at him again. Harry wants to pout, but Louis holds out his hand, as if to help Harry up, so Harry grins at him instead. Lifting his hands in the air, Harry stretches his arms up until Louis grabs him by both wrists, and pulls. Because there isn’t much space, Harry doesn’t get all the way to his feet before Louis runs out of room and can’t back up any farther. But Harry manages to get his ass onto the bench seat, and figures he’s not likely to fall again. 
“Sorry I, um…” Harry rubs the back of his head where he hit it, and there’s a bump, but no blood when he checks his hand. “Sorry. We were just fucking around. Niall bet I couldn’t swim out here. I didn’t know anyone was on the boat.”
“Were you planning to swim back? Or did you think that far ahead?” Louis asks, dropping back down through the door that he came out of before. A moment later, he returns with a stack of folded towels. He drapes a towel over Harry’s head and wraps one around his shoulders. “Dry off. Warm up.”
“Thanks,” Harry says. It’s nice of Louis to be so hospitable. He very carefully bends over where he’s seated and wraps a towel around his hair, then tightens the one on his shoulders. “I can probably swim back in a little while.”
“You really think you can swim back?” 
“No, but I was hoping you’d offer to like, sail me up to the dock.”
“Not tonight,” Louis says. “In the morning. When I can see.”
“Oh, okay.” Harry checks beside him on the bench and, seeing nothing, lays down.
Louis snorts. “Come below deck. You might as well sleep in a bed. You’ve already been exposed.”
“Exposed?” Harry gasps, towel toppling off his head as he clutches his hand to his chest. “You have the plague!” 
“I don’t, but my boss does,” Louis says with a shrug. “So, you could, I guess? This is his boat, so…” 
“Great. Thanks,” Harry says, unwrapping the towel from his hair. 
“You swam out here, man,” Louis says, turning and climbing through the doors. Now that he’s not lying on the floor, Harry can see the steps that lead down into the space under the boat. Below deck or whatever. Louis calls from down there, “You can use my phone.”
“Oh, yeah.” Harry tries to focus on the end of the dock and can see Niall still standing there, waiting. Carefully, Harry gets to his feet and makes his way over to the ladder, waving at him. Niall waves back and Harry points towards Louis, who he can see is waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. Probably worried that Harry will fall again. Harry drapes his towels over his shoulders, carefully climbing down, and Louis appears at the ready, should Harry be unable to handle three measly steps. It’s cute. Louis is cute. “Do you have any Tylenol?”
“I think, yeah. You hit your head, then?” 
Harry nods, and Louis reaches into a cabinet, which turns out to be a refrigerator, opening a bottle of water and handing it to Harry, who takes it, along with two Tylenol. 
“Here,” Louis says, unlocking his phone and placing it in Harry’s open palm. 
The only phone number Harry knows besides his mom’s is his own, which is convenient, since he left his phone with Niall. He climbs back up the step ladder and waves both arms to get Niall’s attention, hoping he’ll put it together and pick up. After his phone rings once, Harry waves again, phone in his hand so that maybe Niall will see it. When Niall jumps and claps, Harry laughs and holds the phone to his ear.
“Harry?” 
“Hey, man. Shit, I’m glad you answered.”
“Yeah, what the fuck is going on? Who’s that dude?”
“Louis,” Harry says, smiling at the sound. “It’s his boat. I fell and hit my head, but I’m okay. But also, I probably shouldn’t swim back. So Louis said he’ll take me in the morning, if you’ll come pick me up, but guess what?”
“What?” Niall obliges.
“I guess he’d quarantined himself out here or something. So I’m going to have to lock myself up in my room. Probably see if I can get tested. Will you bring me food? And maybe like a mask or something for me to wear while we’re in the car together? Oh, man, we share a bathroom…”
“Shit, man. Might as well stay on the boat,” Niall says.
“Well, fuck you too, Niall,” Harry says.
“Just sayin’ you might as well, but whatever. Yeah, I’ll come pick you up, but if you cough on me, I swear, Harry, I—”
“Thanks, man. Love you,” Harry says. “I guess I’ll call you when I’m about to head towards the dock.”
“Okay, Harry. Be careful,” Niall says, and hangs up. Harry waves at him one more time, then climbs back below deck to face a worried Louis.
As Harry takes the last step, he hands Louis his phone, catching his toe and falling into Louis’ chest. He blushes, remembering again that he’s practically naked. “Oops.”
“Hi,” Louis says, steadying him with his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Okay?”
“Wait a minute…” Harry narrows his eyes. “Come below deck. Is that some… some euphemism?”
“Euphemism?” Louis laughs, rolling his eyes. “No one’s having sex, Harry. There’s a guest cabin, so you’ll have your own berth.”
“Oh,” Harry says, unable to hide his disappointment. “Okay, thanks.”
“Yeah, it’s right here,” Louis says, and Harry turns in place, away from the tiny kitchen, which he thinks probably has a specific nautical name, towards the other side of the stepladder. It reminds him of his grandparents’ camper. “Listen, um… Do you want something to sleep in? I have some—”
“Nah, I’m good,” Harry says, crawling onto the thin mattress and looking back over his shoulder. “Usually sleep naked, so I’d just take whatever it is off again.”
“Oh… Okay.” Louis nods, swallowing audibly. 
The bed in the guest cabin is made so neatly that Harry wonders if it’s ever been slept in, blankets tucked in so tight that it’s a bit of a struggle to pull them free, but he gets them loose and crawls underneath completely before wiggling out of his briefs. Sitting up, Harry shakes out his damp underwear and hangs them on a little hook that juts out of the wall, probably for someone’s glasses or hat. 
“Thanks, Louis, for like, not having me arrested.”
Louis laughs quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re welcome.”
“Also, thank you for letting me sleep here, but not for possibly giving me the plague. I’m not thrilled about that,” Harry says.
Again, Louis shrugs. “Sorry. Goodnight, Harry.”
“’Night, Louis,” Harry says, but he doesn’t lie back down until Louis steps forward and pulls the thin door to the cabin closed. As soon as he does, Harry reaches under the blanket and pulls out a hundred and fifty dollars, tucking the rolled up bills inside the flap of his briefs. Imagine, swimming all that way for a bet, and then losing the money. Especially now that he’s going to have to pay to go to the doctor. 
It’s an odd night’s sleep on the water. Once, when Harry was a teenager, he spent the night on a waterbed, but this is nothing like that. Occasionally, he feels like he’s falling, and wakes up panicking for a few seconds until he remembers where he is. When the sun rises, Harry is finally getting to sleep, so he buries his face in the pillow and ignores it. Louis will wake him up when he’s ready to take him to the dock. 
————
“Harry,” Louis’ urgent voice cuts through his dream. “Did you fuck with the anchor or something last night?”
Rolling onto his back, Harry rubs his eyes. “What? No.”
“You didn’t pull it up or mess with it?”
“No,” Harry says, sitting up. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it must’ve come loose and we drifted or something, ’cause we’re not anchored off the inlet. There’s no dock, but we’re like, close to land, so…”
“Seriously? You don’t know where we are?” Harry asks, throwing back the blankets, and scooting to the end of the bed. 
“Can you?” Louis gestures to Harry’s crotch, and Harry smiles proudly. His dick is one of his favorite body parts; It’s nice when it’s appreciated by others. Still, he pulls on his pink briefs. 
“How can you not know where we are?” Harry stands, adjusting his semi, and Louis scoffs. “I just woke up.”
Louis ignores him and climbs out onto the deck, so Harry follows him up, looking around. The boat is just as close to the shore as it was from the dock, if not closer, and there’s marshland, which is somewhat familiar, but there are no docks or other boats. They must’ve floated into a preserved wildlife area or something. 
“I think we drifted north?” Louis slides aviator sunglasses over his eyes, and says. “My phone died, so I plugged it in. But we can probably check in a minute.”
“Oh,” Harry says, and watches Louis fiddle with something on the pedestal beside the steering wheel or helm or whatever it’s called.
“Shit. Seriously?” Louis smacks his hand against the wheel and slowly lowers his head down until he knocks his forehead on it. “The engine isn’t working.”
“Thought this was a sailboat,” Harry says, looking up at the empty mast. 
“Haha. It is, but boats like this have engines too, and that’s what I used. I don’t know a lot about sailing.”
“Me neither,” Harry says. “I don't know anything about it.”
“Okay, so, it’s fine. My phone’s probably charged enough now,” Louis says, going back below deck. This time Harry doesn’t follow, feeling sure that Louis will bring his phone out for a better signal. 
A few minutes later, Harry climbs down to find Louis sitting on the little sofa. 
“Nothing’s working. None of the outlets. The fridge. Lights. Nothing.”
“What… What do we do?” Harry asks, uselessly flipping a light switch. 
“Would Niall call someone? Like, if you don’t show up or call by a certain time?”
Harry nods. “He’s probably sleeping. Expecting me to call and wake him up.”
“Okay,” Louis says. “Okay, um… We have everything we need, like food and water and necessities. Hopefully Niall will call someone—”
“The Coast Guard,” Harry helpfully supplies. 
“Or anyone. But they’ll come find us.”
“How is nothing working?” Harry asks, following Louis below deck. 
“No clue,” Louis says, lying down on the little sofa. “Maybe we got struck by lightning.”
Staring at him, Harry drops onto the bench across from him. “It didn’t storm. It hasn’t rained at all. How’s that supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I’m not a weatherman.”
“Meteorologist.”
“Dude,” Louis says, turning his head to look right at him. “Shut up.”
Harry shuts up. 
Sweatpants would be nice. It’s not super cold. The weather is nice, actually, with clear skies and sun, and typically Harry’s pro-nudity, but Louis is wearing sweatpants. Dark grey ones. And they look comfy and warm and soft and they drape over Louis’ dick, drawing attention to it in a way that Harry can’t tell the intent. Which is why he wants sweatpants. Then he could lose the pink briefs, which dried stiffly overnight, and without underwear on, he knows he could draw Louis’ attention. 
“Remember when you offered me something to wear?” Harry sucks his lower lip between his teeth, ducking his chin and looking through his lashes. 
“Stop staring,” Louis says, and Harry’s mouth drops open. Not that he was being discreet, but he wasn’t expecting that response. “I have something. Hold on.”
Harry watches while Louis opens the door to his room, frowning at the oddly shaped bed. After a moment, during which only the curve of Louis’ ass is visible to Harry while the rest of him is hidden by the wall, Louis emerges with a wrinkled pair of cut off sweatpants. 
“They’re clean,” Louis says, shaking them out. “I didn’t think I’d be around people. So I just stuffed my clean laundry into a trash bag.”
“Okay, um, thank you,” Harry says, taking the shorts. “I keep my laundry in a basket.”
“I’m sure you do,” Louis says, stepping up into the sunlight. 
As soon as Louis is out of sight, Harry strips out of his briefs, tucking his money into the front, and hiding them under the edge of the mattress. The cut-off shorts are a much lighter grey than the pair of loosely fitting sweatpants Louis is wearing, and when Harry pulls them on, he finds they’re quite snug. He makes sure his dick is displayed in an aesthetically appealing, yet still properly lewd way, and ascends the stairs. 
“In a way, those are worse than your see-through pink bikini,” Louis says when he turns around. Even with his sunglasses on, he squints, and Harry wished he had a pair to protect his eyes. It’s bright out. 
“Those are briefs,” Harry says, looking down at the shadow his soft cock makes. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Piss over the side,” Louis says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “No way the head is working when nothing else is.”
“Gross.”
“Yes. It is,” Louis says. 
Harry holds onto the railing with one hand, standing at the top of the ladder he climbed the night before, and pushed his shorts down with his free hand. It takes him a minute to get past being gun shy, but the wind blows and he pees, laughing at the arc it makes before it hits the water. 
Dick tucked in, Harry carefully sits on the bench and lets himself look. The trees on the bank come right up to the water in places, curving over so that it’d be nearly impenetrable. No telling what’s on the other side either. 
“What if I, um… need to, um…” 
“If you can’t hold it,” Louis starts, pausing and looking at Harry over his sunglasses. “We’d have to… I guess we’d have to… We could inflate the dinghy, paddle it over there.” He points at the nearest bit of sand — a beach, Harry supposes, though it’s not much bigger than the sailboat — and says, “And if you’ve ever been camping…”
“Oh,” Harry says, cheeks turning pink. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, hopefully, Niall will wake up and call someone. Or maybe somebody will see us.”
“Who’s gonna see us? There’s no one around.”
“True. I don’t know… Maybe we should go to the end of the, um… the trees there.” Louis points in the opposite direction, and Harry turns to look, shading his eyes with his hands. It’s not far, but there’s no way Harry would swim it, and he doesn’t know how far he could paddle on an empty stomach. Without coffee. Or a bathroom. 
“Are you serious?” Harry asks instead. “What’s that gonna do?”
Louis lifts the bench across from Harry and says, “Flares. Maybe we’re closer to the inlet than we realize and someone will see.”
“Okay, yeah. That makes sense,” Harry says, imagining hours on the water, paddling and going mere inches. “Do you have a hat or something?”
“Yeah, we’ll be gone a while. Sunscreen’s probably a good idea. Shirts, too.” Louis leads the way below deck. “And coffee.”
They wind up eating cereal, and Harry borrows a white t-shirt, a pair of oversized yellow sunglasses that he doesn’t think belong to Louis, a Louisville snapback that he thinks does, and the rest of a bottle of sunscreen that’s two months past it’s expiration date. It’s enough for his nose. 
Louis climbs down first, into the dinghy, and Harry tosses the paddles to him. It’s reassuring watching him moving gracefully in the little boat, tucking a cooler in the back corner alongside the package of signal flares. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he looks like it, and he thought to bring lunch. He helps Harry from the ladder to the dinghy, pointing to the other side. 
“Sit up there,” Louis says, tapping his paddle on the end of the seat up front. “I’ll steer from the back.”
Using his paddle, Louis pushes the dinghy away from the boat, and they start towards the edge of the trees. At first, they’re out of sync with each other, but they get it after a few minutes, paddling and coasting, paddling and coasting, while Louis keeps them heading in the right direction. It’s exhausting and they’ve barely started. 
“See that beach?” Louis points to a short stretch of sand with a fallen tree in the center. “Stopping there.”
“Okay,” Harry says, paddling as Louis steers them that way. 
They don’t talk much, except for Louis giving instructions occasionally to move them closer to the beach. They get there faster than Harry expected, and it’s much too early for lunch. As they approach the sand, the water clears some, and Harry watches crabs and fish darting away at the sight of the boat. There’s a splash, and Harry looks up to see Louis wading his way around to the front of the boat, holding onto the rope on the side and guiding it in. Harry puts his paddle beside Louis’, tucking the end under the seat so it won’t fall out.
“Sit,” Louis says as he passes Harry, reaching his hand down and circling his fingers around Harry’s ankle. Harry sits. And Louis pulls the boat through the shallow water to the beach. “Okay, you can jump off now. Help me get the boat onto the sand.”
Even in a few inches of water, the boat is wobbly and hard to move around in, but Harry quickly scoots to the side and throws his legs over, sliding down into the cold water and helping haul the boat ashore. They pull it all the way up into the sand, and Louis grabs the oars, tossing one to Harry. He reaches into the cooler and pulls out a roll of toilet paper, wrapping it around his hand and giving the wad of tissue to Harry.
“Take your paddle. You go that way,” Louis says, pointing at Harry, who takes a moment to figure out what’s going on. Louis jerks his thumb in the opposite direction. “I’ll go this way.”
“Okay…” Harry stands there, paddle in one hand, tissue in the other. “How will I know how far to go?”
Louis sighs, looking at the woods around the beach. It’s fairly dense, and neither of them have shoes on. “I’m just going to sing. I’ll sing, you sing, so we can judge how far away from each other we are. We go as far as we can, I guess, and then just… dig a hole. And, you know, bury it.”
“Okey dokey,” Harry says.
“Yeah…” Louis takes his sunglasses off and hangs them from the loose collar of his t-shirt, and says, “Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine.”
“Oh!”
“Gotta gotta be down because I want it all,” Louis sings, raising his eyebrows and spinning on his heel. He walks towards the tree line, raising his voice as he goes. “It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”
“It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss,” Harry sings back, walking the other way. 
Harry stumbles over vines and branches, singing his heart out, turning now and then to look back at the boat. When he can’t see the boat, which doesn’t take long considering how thick the growth is, he stops to listen. He can’t hear Louis, which means Louis hopefully can’t hear him. It is not the most embarrassing bathroom situation Harry’s ever been in, so he takes it all in stride, and he sings his way back to the beach and the boat, where Louis is waiting with hand sanitizer. A king among men.
They push the boat back into the water, climbing in once they’re deep enough, and paddling towards the edge of the trees. When they get there, the sun is high in the sky, and Harry’s arms are no longer his own. They’ve become extensions of his paddle. 
“Let’s get around the end here, then hopefully we’ll know which way to point the flare,” Louis says, paddling harder. Harry follows suit and they pass the last few trees on their left. 
The inlet where he first climbed onto the yacht leads to the ocean. Harry’s been out there before, and just past the trees at the end is a buoy and a marker and past that, you can see up and down the beach. Hotels and large houses that meet the dunes, and dunes that meet the sand. There’s a natural area nearby where trees grow right up to the beach, but on the other side of the much wider dunes there, is a parking lot. 
When they pass the last few trees on their left, they lift their paddles, and Harry looks left, then he looks right, then left again. The way the land curves along the water makes it difficult to see much, but there is no land visible across the water, and it looks like the ocean. He looks again, south he reckons, and turns to Louis. “Where the fuck are we?”
“Jesus,” Louis says, shading his eyes, even with sunglasses and a hat on. “I don’t see anything.”
“How far did we drift in… What? Six hours?” Harry shakes out his arms, then takes off his hat, combing his fingers through his sweaty, dirty hair. It’s so far back to the boat. The inflatable dinghy floats, no longer moving forward into the ocean, water lapping at the sides. Harry checks that his paddle is secure, and jumps overboard. Cold water touches every inch of his skin at once, making him forget which way is up, but he figures it out, kicking to the surface, gasping for air. 
“Harry!” Louis shouts, holding his paddle out for Harry to grab hold. “What the fuck?”
Harry lets go of the paddle and sinks into the water, swimming the rest of the distance to the dinghy. “Sorry. Was just hot and I was pissed off.”
“And wanted to drown yourself?” Louis asks, leaning down to grab hold of Harry’s t-shirt. “I’m gonna count to three, and you kick like you’re swimming hard.”
Harry nods, and Louis hooks his hands underneath both of Harry’s arms and, on the count of three, when Harry kicks his feet, Louis hauls him out of the water. He pulls Harry over the side and into the inflatable boat, rolling out of the way just in time, so that Harry lands beside him and not on top of him. 
“Holy shit,” Harry says, panting. “Sorry.”
“What the fuck?” Louis repeats, leaning over the side, cupping water in his hands, and splashing it on his face. 
“I wanted to go swimming,” Harry explains. 
“So you jumped overboard?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think—”
“Clearly,” Louis says, sticking his paddle back in the water. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
Rather than try to explain further, Harry saves his energy for paddling. It probably wouldn’t make sense if he said it outloud anyway. The tide is rising as they paddle back, so the current carries them, making the trip easier than the first half. Still, when they reach the boat, and Louis grabs hold of the rope, Harry thinks he might not be able to climb the ladder, his arms are worn out. But Louis climbs up first, and his ass makes it easy for Harry to follow. 
“Now what?” Harry asks, flopping onto the bench as soon as he steps off the ladder. “Wait and hope someone finds us?”
Louis sits across from him, frowning. He takes off his hat and sunglasses, rubbing his eyes and combing his fingers through his messy, sweat damp hair. “I don’t know. I thought we’d see more than… I thought we’d see like, hotels or another boat or something.”
“Me too,” Harry says. Though they couldn’t really see much when they looked south. “Do you think we drifted north or south or like… out to sea?”
“North, man. The current flows north, and once we drifted out of the inlet, we would’ve just gone with it.” 
“I’m hungry,” Harry says, patting his empty stomach. “Time is it?”
“No clue, man. Sometime in the afternoon,” Louis says, pointing to the sun. He stands and waves for Harry to follow. “Come on. We should eat.”
Louis pulls everything out of the little refrigerator and freezer, and while he decides what needs to go, Harry makes them sandwiches. There’s more food than they’ll need, and once Harry’s stomach is full, he’s able to think a little more clearly. 
“So, we wait,” Harry says.
“I’m not paddling anywhere anytime soon,” Louis responds, squeezing his shoulder and shaking out his arms. 
“I don’t want to paddle anywhere ever again. Are you sure you can’t sail the boat?”
“I can sail the boat. I choose not to,” Louis says, climbing out onto the deck.
“What?” 
“I know a little bit,” Louis says when Harry follows. 
Not knowing anything at all about sailing, Harry figures it can’t be that hard. He climbs up on the bench and steps up on top of the boat, carefully walking to the mast and looking at the rolled up sail. “A little bit,” Harry says.
“My boss taught me some, but it makes me nervous, so I don’t do it.”
“It makes you nervous, so you don’t do it?” Harry asks, not quite believing him. “But you could, technically, sail us out of here, and like, just follow the coast until we get back home.”
“That or we could capsize and drown,” Louis says. 
“We have life jackets. We won’t drown.”
“Who’s coming to rescue us then?” 
Harry shrugs. “All I’m saying is I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than I have to.”
“In a hurry to self-isolate in your apartment?” Louis asks. 
“Ugh. I forgot about the plague.”
“Stop calling it that. The plague is a real thing.”
“Whatever. Just because you want to be all alone on a boat doesn’t mean I do.”
“Well, hopefully Niall will pull through, then.” Louis looks up at him and when Harry slaps his hand against the rolled up sail, Louis shakes his head and disappears back below deck. The door to his cabin is closed when Harry follows him to try to continue the conversation, and despite the fact that he can obviously hear Harry, Louis doesn’t respond to anything he says. Eventually, he gives up and goes back up top. They were out in the sun for so long, but his skin isn’t pink at all, so Harry takes off his shirt and rolls up his shorts, laying on the cushioned bench and falling asleep in the late afternoon. 
He wakes up stiff and sore and still tired, blinking up at Louis, who’s standing over him, surrounded by pink and purple light. 
“Ooh, pretty,” Harry says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The sun is setting behind the trees and he’s awake just in time to watch it. 
Louis sits beside him, resting his arms on the back of the bench. “Forty-eight hours.”
“Huh?”
“I want to wait until it’s been forty-eight hours. Give them a chance to find us,” Louis says, scratching at his beard. He turns slightly, dropping his hands into his lap. “Not tomorrow, but the next morning. If we haven’t been rescued, I’ll try to sail south.”
“Okay, but no capsizing,” Harry says. 
Louis stills, shaking his head. “Have to wait and see.”
———
They are not rescued the following day. And they don’t talk about it. After breakfast, they paddle to the nearest beach and sing “Mr Brightside” at the top of their lungs while tromping through the trees in opposite directions. While Harry is using his paddle to push aside vines and brush on the way back to the beach, he sees something slithering past him in his peripheral vision. He screams, crashing through the trees and doesn’t stop until he’s waist deep in the water. 
From the shore beside the boat, Louis watches him curiously. “What’d you see?”
“Snake, I think!” Harry shivers and wraps his arms around himself. 
“Thought it might’ve been a bear,” Louis says, pushing the boat into the water and hopping on board. “This close to the water, it was probably an alligator or a water moccasin.”
Harry throws himself forward in the water, swimming as fast as he can towards the sound of Louis’ loud cackle. He’s able to push off of the sand and pull himself into the dinghy, though he lands even less gracefully than he did the day before when Louis hauled him out of the ocean. 
“Jesus, fuck. That scared the shit out of me,” Harry says, clambering to sit up. 
“Really?” Louis smirks, passing Harry’s paddle to him. 
Harry rolls his eyes. “Poop jokes.”
“Timely poop jokes,” Louis says. “Paddle harder or the snake’ll catch us!”
Harry paddles harder, ignoring Louis’ laughter behind him. “I don’t care if you’re kidding. That was scary.”
“That’s why you have the paddle and your beautiful singing voice,” Louis says. 
“Bear and snake protection?” Harry scowls at Louis over his shoulder. 
“Better than nothing.”
The next morning, when they still have not been rescued, Harry sings so loudly that Louis laughs instead of singing along with him. He bangs his paddle against the trees, and doesn’t see any animals, but Louis manages to scare him anyway once he’s back in the boat and thinks he’s safe. They’re just getting out of the shallows, when Louis smacks his paddle on the surface of the water and yells, “Snake!”
Harry tries his hardest to give him the silent treatment, but Louis seems to enjoy it, humming to himself, and singing quietly while he moves around the boat. And he doesn’t know what he expected the process of getting ready to sail the boat to be like, but it happens much faster than he would’ve thought. There are a lot of ropes, and more than one sail, and many other things that Harry doesn’t know the name or the purpose of, but eventually Louis tells him to raise the anchor. And then he has to show him how to do it. 
The wind catches the sail, and whether or not he knows what he’s doing, Louis smoothly maneuvers them out onto the ocean heading south. It seems easiest to stay out of his way, so Harry does, and water flies past beneath them. They aren’t sailing long before Harry sees his first dolphin. It breaches the surface, swimming alongside the boat and playing in the wake. 
“Where the hell are we?” Harry asks the dolphin. 
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Louis says. 
“I was talking to the dolphin.”
“Ooh!” Louis looks over that side of the boat, and says, “Oh, wow…” 
Grinning, Harry looks again to find at least six or seven of them playing behind the boat. “So cool. I wonder how long they’ll stay with us.”
Louis shrugs, tightening some rope that Harry would ask the name of, but he doesn’t really care. The wind picks up as they move south, and Harry makes himself wait until he’s absolutely sure they’ve been going the same direction for at least an hour before saying something. 
“When do you think we’ll get there?” Harry asks, kicking his bare feet up onto the metal railing behind the bench and laying down. 
“Where?” Louis asks, frowning at him and sweeping his arm around in a half-circle. “We’re traveling at about five knots. I figure we’ve gone maybe ten or twelve miles.”
“Oh my god, why’s it so slow?” Harry whines, throwing his arm over his eyes. 
“It’s a small sailboat, Harry. Top speed is like, seven knots.”
“What does that mean?”
Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “Not fast enough for you, guaranteed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Craning his neck, Harry scowls at him until he answers. 
“Means you’re a spoiled brat,” Louis snaps. 
“Fuck you too.”
“I really, really don’t think so.”
“Lame,” Harry retorts. “And boring.”
Louis hums, ignoring him. When Harry opens his mouth to ask again because there’s still no sign of another boat or anything, Louis excitedly says, “Oh! You know what we didn’t try?”
“What?” Harry sits up, ready to do whatever it is. 
“You should ask your mom to come get you.”
“Clever,” Harry says, crossing his arms and leaning back to look up at the sky. 
They don’t speak to each other until Louis says, “Come hold us steady for a second.”
“No, no, no.” Harry shakes his head and his finger, just to be sure Louis understands he wants nothing to do with the actual operation of the boat. 
“Fine. Guess I can piss right here,” Louis says, looking pointedly at Harry, who’s sitting fairly close to him. “You’re into watersports, right?”
Harry stares at him, cheeks heating. Belatedly, he rushes out, “No!” 
While Louis snickers, Harry takes the WTFWHEEL and does his best to keep it from spinning out of his hand. As soon as Louis finishes, Harry pees off the back of the boat too. 
“Is the wind picking up?” Harry asks. 
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Do me a favor?”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry says, “Depends.”
“Go below and, in the little cabinet under the bench, is a pair of binoculars.”
“Oh, okay,” Harry agreed, carefully climbing down the few steps. Right where Louis said they would be, Harry finds them, along with a box of books full of maps that he leaves alone. He climbs back on deck and, instead of handing the binoculars to Louis, he holds them to his eyes and adjusts the focus. “How far do these things see?”
“As far as your eyes do,” Louis answers shortly.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“You should be able to see something about fifteen miles away like it’s right in front of you,” Louis says, reaching a hand out for the binoculars, but Harry doesn’t give them to him. 
“I can’t see shit.”
“Take the lens caps off.”
“I did. I mean, all I see is water and trees and some clouds.”
“Give them to me,” Louis insists, and Harry does, rolling his eyes as he sits back down on the bench. With his sunglasses perched on top of his head, Louis holds the binoculars to his eyes. “What the fuck?”
“Right? So weird,” Harry says, taking the binoculars back and looking again. The clouds ahead are much darker than the few wisps of white they’ve seen so far. “What do we do?”
Louis shrugs. “All we can do is keep going south. Eventually we’ll get home.”
“Yeah, but what if we don’t?” 
“What?”
“Like, what if this is some parallel universe,” Harry offers, letting his mind wander. “Like an unpopulated world.”
Snorting loudly, Louis shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Harry.”
“Do you think we should be sailing towards those clouds?” 
“I… Should we find a place to anchor? Not like we can check the weather, but the last time I looked, the forecast said the past few days were supposed to be cold and cloudy, not warm and sunny, and there weren’t any storms expected.”
“Dunno. Those look like storm clouds to me,” Harry says, pointing at them. “We could stop here. Maybe it’s going inland, and we can wait for it to pass.”
“Storms usually travel up the coast. We could go west. See if we can go around it. Or go north. Try to find a place to dock that way.”
“Go back the way we came?” Harry pouts. 
“I don't know, Harry! Would you rather go towards the dark, and what are, frankly, ominous clouds? You’re supposed to tie the fucking boat up during a storm, but I don’t see any docks. Do you?”
“Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Harry gets to his feet, looking south through the binoculars and slowly turning east. The clouds—Louis is right, they are ominous looking—seem to go on forever. There’s no going around them. “What’s north of us?”
“No fucking clue, man.” Louis loosens the sail, and goes below deck, returning before Harry can follow with the box of books and maps. He hands the box to Harry, and folds a map out on the table, pointing to the familiar curve of the coast.  “Yeah. See? You swam to the boat here. And the only natural areas around are the few state parks, but even there they have buildings and shit. Like, you can tell people have been there. We’ve traveled for hours, probably close to twenty miles.”
“Wow,” Harry says, maybe he’s dreaming. 
While Louis turns the boat around, Harry sits, flipping through an old book of maps, full of expired coupons for restaurants and attractions. On one page, there’s a large picture of a cartoon owl that says ‘Give A Hoot! Don’t Pollute!’ And Harry frowns. 
“Have you seen any litter?” Harry asks, putting the book back in the box.
Louis looks over the side of the boat, as if fully expecting to see a plastic bottle floating by. Slowly, he says, “No.”
“You know what?” Harry snaps his fingers, and says, “I bet I knocked myself out when I hit my head and this is just a dream or a hallucination or something.”
“Yeah? What about me?” Louis rolls his eyes, looking over his shoulder at the clouds behind them. 
Harry shrugs. “What about you?” 
“Why am I in your hallucination? I’d rather not be, so you could just hallucinate me out?”
“I can try,” Harry says, closing his eyes in concentration. While he’s at it, he pictures himself waking up, but neither thing has happened by the time he opens his eyes again. “Maybe if I go to sleep.”
“You do that. Because I might need your help in a little while, and I’d rather you get some rest.” Louis shoos him towards the doors and Harry goes below, curling up on his bed and falling asleep fast. 
————
“Up! Wake up, Harry!”
Harry sits up, rubbing his eyes and slowly realizing he’s still on the boat. “Still hallucinating.”
“Nope! Get up here and help me figure out what to do,” Louis orders, stepping up on deck before he finishes talking. 
And while it does still feel like it must be a dream or a hallucination, it feels real too. Harry joins Louis up top, looking south, frowning at the clouds in the distance. “Are they closer?”
“Yeah, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Go faster,” Harry says. 
“I can’t go any faster.” Louis hands him the binoculars and says, “We can either keep following the coast and hope the storm turns west. We can find a place to anchor, tie the boat up as well as we can, and ride it out below deck. Or we could head east, out to sea.”
“This is like one of those choose your own adventure books,” Harry says, looking back at the storm. 
“I think our best bet is to keep going for now, and be on the lookout for a safe place to spend the storm.” 
“Then why didn’t you just do that?” 
“Because I didn’t want to just make the decision without talking to you. And I’ll need your help, no matter what we do.”
Harry scoffs, crossing his arms and cocking his hip to the side. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Depends. If we keep going? Use the binoculars to scout ahead for an inlet or somewhere we can tie up the boat,” Louis says, pointing to the binoculars in Harry’s hand. “What do you want to do?”
“Keep going. Obviously,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “We’re more likely to find a dock or something, right?”
“Sure,” Louis replies, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe they’ll find anything. 
Harry ignores him, looking through the binoculars at the coast, searching for someplace to park. Or whatever. They sail for a few hours, finding a few places that look promising until they get close and they don’t seem deep enough for the boat. 
“This sucks,” Harry says, dropping onto the bench. “We’re about to get rained on.”
“We’re about to get caught in a fucking hurricane,” Louis snaps, tightening one of the ropes.
“Are you serious?” Harry turns to look back at the storm. It just looks like a mass of dark grey clouds, but there are sheets of rain visible now. 
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s fucking huge. We have to find a place to hunker down.”
Sputtering a laugh, Harry says, “Hunker down.”
Louis stares at him for a moment, then snatches the binoculars from him, looking ahead between doing whatever else he does to the sails and the steering wheel. It probably has an official nautical name, but Harry doesn’t care enough to ask. Instead, he goes below, crawling into bed again. 
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neonthewrite · 2 years
Text
Grey Landing
Today's prompt is "Beach" and I pictured less of a sunny, blue skies/blue ocean aesthetic and more of a foggy shore and mountains kind of vibe. Might continue this particular story for tomorrow's prompt, we'll see how it goes.
(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10)
~~~
After so long adrift at sea, Isaac thought he might weep at the sight of land on the horizon. He couldn’t be sure if it was a mirage or a trick of the clouds at first, with how much fog obscured so much of the world around him. The large, slow waves sent him up and down in a slow, vertiginous cycle that also played tricks on his mind; he’d lost count of how many times his stomach had bottomed out and he’d felt weightless in the last hour alone.
Even knowing the land before him was dominated by enormous, fog-covered mountains, he rejoiced. If he could find himself some food and a way to get fresh water for himself, he’d be okay. He had to be.
He had no radio after the storm. He didn’t even have most of his mast anymore, and what remained stuck up like a broken bone in the middle of his craft. What was left of his sail was folded up and tucked away in one of the storage compartments under the bench. He still had his oars, at least, though he was rapidly losing the energy to use them. Though the shore was miles away and he felt like collapsing and letting the sea take over, he rowed on, telling himself just one more stroke, one more push towards safety.
A while after noticing the approach of land, Isaac made another relieving discovery. There was a plume of smoke on that shore, feeble and thin but standing out from the wispy fog all the same. That meant people. That meant help. He rowed on, his arms and back screaming for relief. Soon, he told himself. Soon he could collapse on that beach and either wait for whoever caused that smoke to find him, or he could rest and go find them himself.
~~~
The smoke came from a cabin, Isaac realized later. He spotted the wooden structure nestled among the trees when he squinted through his glass. It was beyond a stone shelf among the forest, though, so he’d have a bit of a trek to reach it even after he arrived on land.
That was okay. He was coming closer. He could even see a dock and a boat further up shore from where he was set to land.
~~~
It felt like an age before Isaac’s boat scraped against the shore at last. Grey, gravelly sand dispersed before the bow of his small vessel and the waves sloshed so much more benignly than they had when he was still adrift.
He hopped out of the boat into the shallows so he could push it further up onto the gloomy beach, despite his strength threatening to abandon him at any moment. His trousers and boots were waterlogged, but he already smelled strongly of the salty sea thanks to the storm. The dry comfort of land was just within reach for him, after this task.
The rock shelf loomed overhead, a wall that closed off his landing on the beach from the forest sloping up into the mountains. It loomed oppressively over him, but Isaac only grinned. He’d reached solid land at last. He couldn’t be angry with it for looking so foreboding. He hadn’t been dashed against those rocks in his little broken sailboat, so wherever this was couldn’t be that unforgiving.
Once he was sure the tide wouldn’t steal his boat away again, he collapsed into the sand. His chest heaved and his arms ached like they’d fall off. His stomach pined for food and his lips rasped for water. He was alive, and he’d have a chance to stay that way.
Staring at the cliffs overhead and the gulls that drifted to and fro on the rocks, Isaac let himself rest.
~~~
That dock is closer than I thought, he realized, staring upshore from where he lay. He admired the ship tied there, an impressive sailboat that rocked gently with the waves. The design was similar to his own, though this one had to require a crew of at least twenty sailors by the look of it.
~~~
He woke sometime later to a dense, booming sound, more of a tremor in the earth and the air than a real noise. The beach and the sky and the fog remained, grey and gloomy as when he’d collapsed. His boat still lay on the sand looking as weary as he. He blinked a few times and rubbed a calloused hand over his face as he tried to figure out the source of the sound.
Turning his head, he flinched in surprise to see that someone stood on the dock. They were loading bags onto the sailboat, but something wasn’t quite right. That boat should require a full crew, but that was one person standing there next to it.
Isaac blinked several times, scanning the beach from where he lay to where that dock stood. The perspective proved difficult to shake, but something like dread coiled around his middle when he realized his mistake.
That dock really was quite a distance away from where he’d landed. The fog and the curve of the shore and the size of that sailboat had all combined to confuse his ability to tell how far he’d have to walk to reach it, but it would be a lot farther than he’d want to go. The boat that he thought would need a crew and a captain and all working together just to direct it out onto the sea could actually probably be crewed by the one person standing on the dock.
Which meant that person tossing bags onto the boat with the sound of thunder … No! Impossible!
A crash sounded in the forest somewhere behind him and in the opposite direction of the dock. Loathe as he was to take his eyes off that impossible being and its enormous boat, Isaac had to turn away. The cliffs that had loomed so protectively over him sloped gently downwards in that direction for probably a mile or more, creating an easier path up the mountains from the beach in that direction.
And another giant, for they must be giants, he could no longer deny, had just stepped out of the woods and onto the sand.
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