#sandbank island | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scotianostra · 3 months

Text

On February 5th 1941 the S S Politician, with a cargo of whisky, ran aground of the North Shore of the Island of Eriskay.

The SS Politician was an 8000-tonne cargo ship which left Liverpool on the 3rd February 1941 laden with amongst other things 260,000 bottles of whisky, bound for Kingston in Jamaica and New Orleans. The whisky was for the American market and therefore no duty had been paid. She sailed up past the Isle of Man towards the Hebrides where the winds increased to gale force.

On the morning of 5th February a young man was combing a beach in South Uist when he saw the ship in trouble and beginning to list. After a valiant struggle by the Captain, Beaconsfield Worthington, to keep his ship on course, the SS Politician eventually ran aground in the storm onto sandbanks off the Isle of Eriskay where she began to flood. Unfortunately as the ship had veered off course an incorrect location was given to the lifeboat crew on Barra. Local islanders were roused and they set forth in a sailing boat to offer assistance to the crew. The lifeboat finally reached the ship and all the crew were rescued.

When the locals learned from the crew exactly what the ship was carrying, a series of illegal salvage operations took place at night, before the customs and excise officials arrived. The islands supplies of whisky had dried up due to war-time rationing, so the islanders periodically helped themselves to some of the 260,000 bottles of whisky before winter weather broke up the ship. Boats came from as far away as Lewis as news of the whisky travelled across the Outer Hebrides. No islander regarded it as stealing, as for them the rules of salvage meant that once the bounty was in the sea, it was theirs to rescue.

This of course was not the view of the local customs officer, Charles McColl, who was incensed at the blatant thievery that was going on. Not a penny had been paid in duty for this whisky so Mr McColl whipped up a furore and made an official complaint to the police. Villages were raided and crofts were turned upside down. Bottles were hidden, secreted, or sometimes drunk in order to hide the evidence.

On 26 April at Lochmaddy Sheriff Court a group of men from Barra pleaded guilty to theft and were fined between three and five pounds. Mr McColl was furious at the leniency of the men’s sentences, but the police, being mainly locals themselves, were tired of the bothering the locals who had not, in their minds, done such a bad thing. However, Mr McColl continued his crusade against these illegal salvagers and some of the men were sentenced to up to six weeks in prison in Inverness and Peterhead.

Back at sea, the official salvage attempts were not going too well, and it was eventually decided to let the Politician remain where she was. Mr McColl, who had already estimated that the islanders had stolen 24,000 bottles of whisky, ensured that there would be no more temptation. He applied for, and was granted, permission to explode her hull and as one islander, Angus John Campbell, commented: “Dynamiting whisky. You wouldn’t think there’d be men in the world so crazy as that!”

In 1987 Donald MacPhee, a local South Uist man, found eight bottles of whisky in the wreck. He sold them at auction for £4,000.

The wreck of the SS Politician still lies off the coast of Eriskay, although it is below the water line as winter gales have destroyed the deck and cabins. In 1988 the island got its own ‘legitimate’ pub, named ‘Am Politician’.

The story was used by Compton Mackenzie for his book Whisky Galore, and later for the Ealing Studio comedy by the same name.A remake was released in 2016 starring James Cosmo and Gregor Fisher amongst others, I didn't expect it to be any good, but was pleasantly surprised.

#scotland #scottish #history #outer hebrides #ship wreck #whisky

22 notes · View notes

kiwianacats · 4 months

Text

This blog’s not dead yet, hurruh! I’m back with a fleshed out map of Duskclan’s territory; I’m planning on making Dawnclan’s next and then piecing them together.

This was actually a lot of fun to make! Difficult to know where/how to start but I think I executed it the way I wanted to. I’ve left a long rambley guide of each landmark in the description below :)

(Quick disclaimer; this is likely not a realistic depiction of NZ geography/ecology, I did very little legitimate research outside of loosely referencing the environments I’m familiar with. This is very much a passion project based largely in fantasy lmao)

Duskclan’s territory is situated within temperate rainforest/native NZ bushland. It lies on the coast and has a significant portion of its border against the sea; in its eastern portion bordering Dawnclan the river splits as it meets the ocean creating wetlands known as the Riverlands by the clans. Duskclan has no western border, their territory extending out into the wild bush indefinitely (although they rarely, if ever, travel further west than the expanses of the map)

Duskclan’s Camp: Situated in a hollow in the crest of a hill that slopes towards the rivers and Duskclan’s territory (full post: https://www.tumblr.com/kiwianacats/682314420444151808/heres-a-revisit-of-duskclans-camp-or-at-least)

Moon’s Key: Duskclan’s sacred place of worship to Starclan, an island only accessible when the low tide reveals a sandbank that stretches towards it.

Training Hollow: Exactly what it says it is.

Other Landmarks:

- Farbridge (unlabelled): A human made motorbridge over the river in the furthest north of Duskclan’s territory; rarely patrolled to, avoided due to distrust of humans/vehicles.

- The Split (unlabelled, but circled): An island formed by the first fork of the river as it splits off into the branches that form the Riverlands. Neutral territory to both clans, used as a gathering place once per season.

- Marsh Banks: A hunting area where the bush transitions into the marsh, popular as its well populated by prey, but hunters can avoid getting their paws wet if desired.

- Riversroots: Where the rivers meets the sea, carving through the seaside cliffs. Dangerous during high tide due to the rocks and strong currents.

- Scarlet Lake: A lake higher in the hills north of Duskclan’s camp. Known to freeze over during the winter, seldomly visited due to superstitions of it being haunted/unprotected by Starclan.

- Sunset Bay: A sandy bay that curves inwards towards the Moon’s key, frequently travelled by the clan’s clerics.

- Starside Bluff: A bluff/cliff side that faces towards the sea; Duskclan’s dead are buried in the flower fields atop it so they can journey down along the bay to meet Starclan at the Moon’s Key.

You might notice that a lot of my place names are just two words mashed together; unnotice that thank you. It’s obviously an intentional reference to the clan’s two-name system rather than an inability to think of anything more original /j.

#duskclan #duskclan lore #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #warriors fanclan #warrior cats fanclan #my art

25 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 1 year

Note

Do you have some more Medusa au snippets to share 👉👈

Ok but it's unedited

Medusa and the Blind Woman

////////////////////////

Lexa breaks the surface of the cooling water. Feels the sun-warmed air caress her face as she treads the rock of the sea. It's more bearable now, the pleasant mix of ocean salt and island stagnant heat. She wades inward up the sandbank to the shore, pausing at the sight of Clarke sat right where she'd left her and fighting with the impulse to cover her nudity before remembering that's not at all necessary. Logically, she knows this, though she still feels the rush of pink that blots her cheeks as she curls her arms around her waist and slushes up to the beach in hurried steps.

"Where'd you go?" Clarke calls as soon as Lexa's only a few feet away, blue eyes drifting toward the sound of water lapping around Lexa's ankles as she keeps her distance and uses her trusty shred of cloth to wick away the rivulets of water running down her face.

"For a swim." Lexa tosses the rag down to cushion herself, drawing on the fresh shift she'd laid out before in and settles into her seat beside Clarke in the sand. "I like to take a dip after a long afternoon. Rinse off the sweat. Slowly relax the muscles."

The moment feels awkward when all Clarke does is nod and continues braiding a few pieces of beach grass.

"You could… go with me next time," Lexa says, halting and stilted even in her own ears. "If you'd like."

Clarke turns just enough for Lexa to catch the barest hint of a smirk. "Thanks for the invite, but uh, I'll most definitely have to decline."

"Next time, though. Another afternoon. Maybe you'll feel up to it then."

"Doubtful."

"Why just say no? You don't know how you'll feel then."

Blonde hair gets shook loose and back from her face as Clarke lifts her head from her work, turning toward Lexa to show the full breadth of her smile. "For starters, I don't know how to swim."

All Lexa can manage is a few owlish blinks. "I... I beg your pardon?"

"Oh. I didn't take you for the begging type."

An unseen roll of her eyes is all Lexa can muster as she chooses to ignore that comment entirely. "How can you not know how to swim? You're on an island. Surrounded by water."

Clarke exclaims in faux surprise over poorly contained laughter. "No! Really? Here I just thought the flooding season was bad."

Lexa fails to find the humor. "I was referring to the fact that you sailed here. Poorly, albeit, but sailed nonetheless. How could you possibly manage that without being able to swim?"

"Mm. Well, I didn't so much sail as determinedly drifted in the general direction they pointed my boat, and prayed for the best. Hence my graceful entrance." Clarke gives her one last fleeting glimpse of her rueful smile and turns back to the suddenly consuming work of twining blades of grass. "That's rather different from swimming."

"But that still doesn't entirely answer my question."

Clarke's fingers pause in their rhythmic pattern. "They didn't think my learning to swim was a priority growing up," she says after a moment, so hushed Lexa can barely hear her over the lapping waves beyond them. "When I lost my sight, everyone just… stopped paying any mind to teaching me things like that. And after a while, I stopped asking as well. Instead I just learned to figure things out as best I could as I went."

Lexa watches her let out a slow breath, shoulders rising and falling under the weight of thoughts she doesn't share.

The moment passes on a shrug, small and with no heart behind it as Clarke carries on with the delicate twists of her fingers.

The thought of Clarke, this loud and boisterous and borderline obnoxious woman slowly closing herself off settled like a stone in her mind. Anger rose up inside of her, the one that curdled and soured deep in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of the people who'd sent this woman here to do their bidding.

Or be lost in the fray trying.

The implications of Clarke's words make Lexa feel restless in her skin, mind working with great visions of revenge. Of scolding words and swift acts of vengeance. Of finding each person who'd cast Clarke aside as some nuisance, as not with their time, as some annoyance akin to a bothersome fly, and explaining to them exactly how deluded they are.

Forcefully.

She watches Clarke's profile for a moment longer, feeling the somber beat of her heart as her eyes trace the slope of her cheek and the cleft of her chin, the way lashes flutter in the gentle breathes of wind.

"I could teach you," she offers, the words out before she can give it much thought. Because in the few scant moments that had passed in silence, she'd decided the resigned calm that has settled over Clarke's sun-kissed features simply would not do.

Clarke straightens with a laugh.

She thinks Hercules himself would scoff at her efforts not to blush at the immediate thought that floods her; that somehow, Clarke is even more beautiful when she smiles.

"Excuse me?" Clarke says around a snort. "You're going to have to repeat yourself, I think I just hallucinated you being kind."

Lexa clears her throat at the wriggling that's taken up residence low in her belly and looks back out over to the safer rip tides of the water. "I said I could teach you to swim. If you want."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"You're surrounded by water, Clarke," Lexa reasons with a useless gesture toward the sea. "Being on an island and not knowing how to swim is… Well. It's almost as stupid as living in a cave and wearing threadbare sandals."

The comment earns her a rogue handful of grass blades thrown directly in her face. "You're an ass," the little criminal says in the aftermath of her assualt.

"I'm right though," Lexa says, barely able to temper the sound the smile in her words that she tries (and fails) to bite back. "And it would be easy enough, I'm sure. I used to teach the children in the village by the temple. I can't imagine teaching you would be any different… The intrinsic difficulties in your personality and agreeableness aside."

Clarke scoffs and lounges back on the beach to rest her weight on her palms. "You using this as an opportunity to insult me really doesn't bode well as foreshadowing."

Lexa snorts and leans back as well.

Mirrors her position in the sand.

"So?"

"So swimming lesson tomorrow?"

Clarke sucks in a deep breath, ribs bowing and collapsing with a force that Lexa absolutely does not trace from the corner of her eyes, before Clarke finally lets a hum. "I suppose it couldn't hurt… And if you insist."

"If you don't want to—"

"No," Clarke cuts her off as her head snaps around. "You already set the plan. I'm being dragged along, but this is still very much your plan. You can't just cancel your own plan, so… I guess I don't have a choice, do I."

The feigned weariness of her voice has Lexa hiding a smile into her shoulder and burying traitorous wiggling toes deeper in the sand. "Right. Well then. I'll wake you up at sunrise—"

"Sunrise?" Clarke practically yelps with a look of horrified devastation. "Are you insane?"

"The waves here tend to be at their most calm in the morning," Lexa explains.

"Sunrise, though? No. Forget it."

"Clarke."

"I don't need to learn how to swim. I do need my beauty sleep."

Lexa laughs and shakes her head. "Believe me, you do not."

She doesn't realize what she's said until blue eyes turn soft, teeth racking at the pink swathe of Clarke's lower lip as Clarke looks to bite back a smile.

With another coughed clearing of her throat Lexa sits up, nodding to herself as she brushes her hands together to rid herself of the suddenly annoying grit of sand and grass that clings to them. "Right, so. Tomorrow morning then."

#clexa #anon #medusa au #BUT THAT'S IT #no more #i want it to be fun when it posts 🥺#it can't be sweet and hot and lovely and devastating if it's all spoiled so

108 notes · View notes

namu-the-orca · 1 year

Note

Has there been a case of a hybrid between a bottlenose and an Atlantic spotted dolphin?

Perhaps! No one knows for sure. There has been no definitive proof from DNA samples of wild animals, nor has it ever been confirmed in captive animals. However, there is much reason to believe it is plausible, and one possible hybrid has been observed.

Let me take you to The Bahamas. Specifically, Great Bahama Bank and Little Bahama Bank. They're sprawling sandbanks surrounding the islands, and many Atlantic spotted dolphins as well as coastal Common bottlenose dolphins make their home there. The spotted dolphins have been studied for more than 30 years by Denise Herzing and her associates. While by far the most encounters are with single-species groups, there have been dozens of mixed species encounters as well.

Many of these are aggressively sexual in nature, with males of both species sparring and trying to enter each other. Male bottlenose dolphins often seem to dominate the smaller spotted dolphins during these encounters, though the spotted dolphins have been seen retaliating, and it is speculated they don't actually experience the harassment as very negative. Since much of the action is male-on-male or involves juvenile animals not yet sexually mature, it seems in many cases the nature of these encounters is more social than sexual. However, multiple cases of interspecific male-on-female copulation have been observed.

With so much going on, the potential for hybridism is great. And since the two species are morphologically quite similar (especially when young), a hybrid could easily fly under the radar.

In February of 2003, Herzing and her team observed a female spotted dolphin with an unusual looking calf. The calf had a shorter rostrum than is normal for spotted dolphins in the area, but it was longer and more elegant than that of a Bahamian bottlenose. Herzing assumed it could be a hybrid calf. However, since no DNA testing was done and the calf was only observed for two days, this can't be confirmed. In 1989 and 1996 there have also been observations of female spotted dolphins mothering over bottlenose dolphin calves. In one case the calf was emaciated, and the spotted dolphin swimming with it wasn't lactating, so most likely the calf died. In another case it was only a temporary association and the bottlenose calf returned to their real mother after a while.

So a lot of interesting things going on. The studies are still ongoing. To my knowledge no large scale DNA testing has been done, nor any new "suspect" animals observed. Perhaps in the future a hybrid will be confirmed! Or perhaps it turns out this is one of those mixes that just doesn't work.

I highly recommend you read the study the photo comes from: "Interspecies interactions between Atlantic spotted dolphins, Stenella frontalis and bottlenose dolphins, Tursiops truncatus, on Great Bahama Bank, Bahamas". And many of the other studies done by Denise Herzing's team can be read for free here: https://www.wilddolphinproject.org/media/scientific-publications/

#namtalk #hybridism #hybrid #dolphin hybrid #Common bottlenose dolphin #Tursiops truncatus #Atlantic spotted dolphin #Stenella frontalis #dolphin #The Bahamas #Great Bahama Bank #Little Bahama Bank #Denise Herzing #Wild Dolphin Project

129 notes · View notes

teeny-tiny-revenge · 7 months

Text

Thinking about Ed's purgatory coma dream again and I'm getting struck with how some elements of it suggest he's actually distantly aware of some stuff about the real world/his body in the real world?

Like, sure, from a Doylist perspective, Ed enters the dream world by washing up on a beach and he has all the injuries he got during his suicide by mutiny attempt because in the beginning of the episode the audience is supposed to believe the bit where Izzy says they dropped him on a sandbank and let nature do the rest. With that in mind it would be believable that he somehow was washed to shore on some island by the tides (and then things start getting weird and we and Ed realise that it's a dream, while in the parallel plot line it's revealed that Ed is actually on the Revenge and has been there the whole time).

But I'm a fan of Watsonian takes, and so, Ed is conjuring up this dream, and it makes sense with his last memories. There was a storm, he could have been thrown or washed overboard, that makes sense. He is badly injured at first. He passes out again in the dream. Is clearly in pain, can't get up when he comes to the second time. Does he subconsciously feel the real pain from his actual injuries? Is he drifting in and out of consciousness, but can't even stay in a dream at first, because he got hit over the head with a cannon ball and that's probably a whopper of a concussion?

Like, his subconscious hallucinates a "reality" for him that makes sense at first, and then it strays away from this realism, as dreams do. He goes from too weak to get up or resist being fed soup to walking around. Hornigold turns out unkilable.

But when he is asked to make a list of things to live for, the first of them is warmth. Yes, there's probably symbolism there, and warmth is a metaphor for many good things, but also, his near dead body is laid out on a cot (table?) in a dark, slightly flooded storage room. He must be there for hours. He's gonna be freezing! He's injured, he can't move, he's wet, he'll get cold very quickly. And this is a dream and it follows random dream logic in many ways that become increasingly obvious the longer it goes on, but some of the sensations from the real world bleed through. He's hurting. He's cold.

And as soon as Stede pulls the cloth from his face, he's aware he's not alone. He doesn't know who it is or what it is and he's still in the dream world where he's underwater (waiting to drown), but a few things do get through and inform the way the dream goes on. And this time instead of pain and cold translating into the dream, it's the sense that someone's there for him, that he isn't alone, and he starts to hear Stede's voice. Because yes this is all a near death hallucination, but he's not actually dead, he's still there in his body.

#is this making sense?#I don't know #I should be in bed I'll regret all my life choices again tomorrow at work lol bye #ofmd #ed teach #ofmd meta #teeny rambles #s2 ep3 #ofmd season 2

23 notes · View notes

hakugreenfinch · 10 months

Text

Iggy the Stray Dog - ch2 (1/2)

Author: Otsuichi

Original concept: Araki Hirohiko

Originally published: JOJO Magazine 2022 Spring

*** This is a fan translation made purely for entertainment. Please do not repost/reuse/etc without my permission and credit! ***

Note: Since the next three chapters are very long and I don't want to keep you waiting forever, I decided to split them up into 2-3 parts. Thank you for your patience, I'm super excited to deliver the rest of this short novel!

Manhattan Island is located at the mouth of the Hudson river. It is four kilometers in width, twenty kilometers in length, a sandbank elongated in a north-south direction. Navigator Henry Hudson discovered it in 1609 and it is said that the Dutch East India Company purchased it from Native Americans for 24 dollars in 1626. Its name Manhattan translates to „the island of many hills” in their language.

The morning after my arrival, the air was still clouded by yellow. White steam rose from the gutters all over. I bought a toasted sandwich at a corner store to eat. Crispy bacon and fresh lettuce was held between fragnant bread.

I took the subway on my way to the city center. To participate in the „stray dog hunt”. Passing ticket control and ascending the stairs, I found myself in a desolate place. It was a district with empty bear cans lying around and closed shutters of shops bearing graffiti. On one side, there stood a brick building, the ground floor offices of which belonged to a company specializing in pest extermination.

Its name was Reliable Pest Control Services, or RPCS for short. In addition to pest control, they undertook everything from vermin extermination and cleaning up buildings to waste management. At this time, the Speedwagon Foundation had contacted the manager, requesting their help capturing Iggy in exchange for financial support.

As I stated the purpose of my visit at the reception desk, a large, middle-aged Spaniard showed up. His stern face looked like it was carved from stone, and three vertical lines ran down across his right eye – they seemed to be claw marks.

„You’re Avdol, right? The chief told me about you. So you wanna catch that damn Boston Terrier?”

„My American friend has entrusted me with this request.”

„I’ll let you watch, just make sure you’re not bothering us!”

„All right. For now, I would like to study your work. I won’t intervene or disturb you, I’ll just watch from a distance.”

„Admirable attitude, Egyptian.”

The Spaniard led me inside the office. It was like a labyrinth of miscellaneous packages piled up on top of each other with desks, blackboards, a billiard table, a darts board and empty liquor bottles in the gaps between them. On an old sofa set, four men were gathered, exhaling cigarette smoke and playing poker.

„These guys are my team,” introduced them the Spaniard. The men put down their cards. turning their gazes to me, as if to observe me. They all had vulgar faces. One of them clicked his tongue, putting out the cigarette he’s been smoking on an ashtray. He was a large, white man resembling a rugby player.

„So you’re the Foundation’s buddy? The chief told us if we keep an eye out for you the Speedwagon Foundation would pay us a nice sum. But y’know, this is a lot of extra work for us.”

„I will not bother you. All I wish is to stand by and watch your work from a distance, to see how the dog could be captured. I don’t believe that would increase your work at all.”

„You coming with us means you’ll be taking up a seat in the car. We’ll have to take less equipment like that!”

They were going to drive to Manhattan Island in two cars, one of them a van equipped with dog cages. The space in the vehicles was crammed with all sorts of nets and traps, tranquilizer guns and such. It appeared that with my participation, they could load a lot less into the cars. The Spaniard tried to calm down the man.

„Hey, don’t say that. It’s not like animal traps are any good against that Boston Terrier, we’d be bringing them for nothing.” He pulled me away from the men. „They’re just pissed because that shitty dog got the best of them.”

„What do you mean by animal traps?”

„Cages you can’t leave once you’re caught in them, like bear traps. You know bear traps, right? Like the Gustave Courbet painting, „Fox caught in a trap”? The iron trap that the fox’s leg is stuck in. But no such trap can catch that Boston Terrier, they were useless even with his favourite coffee chewing gum inside. I don’t know how but he just ran away with the chewing gum, without triggering the trap.”

A map hung on the wall, the places where Iggy had been spotted marked on it. He had been seen all over Manhattan. Wall Street, Times Square, he even seemed to be frequenting the ferry to Liberty Island with the Statue of Liberty.

„I made some posters with his image and put them up all over Manhattan. I wrote on it that we’ll reward anyone that has any news, so we got some information from the citizens.”

He showed me an actual poster. Drawn on it was a foolish image of a Boston Terrier, drool dripping from his mouth.

„The claw marks on your face, was that also him?”

„A while ago we tried strike him down when he was taking a nap. We got a report and when we rushed there, he was basking in the sun, snoring like hell. I decided to shoot him with a tranquilizer gun from a distance. As I pointed the gun at him and aimed, he woke up but didn’t try to run away. He saw us and yawned without a care in the world. I pulled the trigger and a tranquilizer dart shot out. My aim was sure, no doubt about it.”

However, the dart didn’t hit its target. It flipped midair in front of the Boston Terrier, just as if it was being blocked by something invisible.

„I dunno why. Maybe it was a faulty dart, it changed its direction in the middle of its track. We had to try and catch him with a net, but that damn dog jumped up and scratched my face. He tore out some of my hair and farted once before escaping us. It’s a mystery what he ate that made him fart like that but it was putrid.”

I was thinking about the invisible thing that was said to have deflected the tranquilizer dart. There was no way the dart was faulty. They couldn’t see it. Something invisible was present before Iggy and it protected him. I had a pretty good idea what that mysterious something could have been.

A bell’s sound echoed in the RPCS office. The staff member from the reception desk at the front entrance called out to us. The men playing poker stood, leaving the room running.

„Where are you going?”

„The locker room. We’re changing into work clothes and leaving. Tha bell only rings when we get news of someone seeing that damn Boston Terrier. If we don’t hurry, he’ll get away!”

In a matter of minutes, they all finished changing into grey work clothes, getting inside both cars in the garage. I myself accompanied them, getting inside the van carrying the cages. The van was driven by a slim, young Black man. The Spaniard sat in the passenger’s seat and I took my place behind them.

„The phone call came from someone living near the Harlem River, they saw that shitty Boston Terrier stealing chewing gum” said the Spaniard, folding out a map to check the route. The two cars took off, rushing towards the area facing Harlem River.

Inside the hurling car, I was debating whether I should tell the man with the strict face sitting before me that the Boston Terrier actually has a name. In the end, I decided not to do so. They wouldn’t have cared too much for what the dog’s name was anyway.

The north-eastern parts of Manhattan were mostly inhabited by immigrants. Most of the people passing us by were Puerto Rican or Mexican, the majority of the conversations I overheard were in Spanish. Many brown mansions stood by the riverside. The city of New York built these for low income citizens and they referred to them as a „project”. There were nearly 2900 of these „projects” in New York City, with roughly 420,000 people inhabiting them. Some apartments were used for drug trafficking, they were a hotbed for crime.

The stray dog hunting team got out of the vehicles parking on the roadside and set out looking around the neighborhood. I decided to stick with the Spaniard. First of all, he wanted to meet and talk to the person reporting the dog.

The Spaniard approached a young man of Latin American descent standing by a payphone on a street corner. He smelled like marijuana.

„You’re the guys looking for the Boston Terrier, right?”

„Yeah. Can you tell us what you saw?”

„It was just now, like thirty minutes ago. A weird dog came out of that supermarket over there, it was eating something. The store clerk ran after it but it got away. It was black and white. I thought it was a French Bulldog but it had a slim body so I figured it was a Boston Terrier. I called the number from a poster when I saw that.”

The young man rubbed his index finger and thumb together in a gesture of requesting his reward. The Spaniard handed him a couple of bank notes but he didn’t seem impressed.

„Hey, this isn’t even enough for a beer!”

„If you have more info, I’ll give you more.”

The Spaniard sent the young man away and set off in the direction of said supermarket. It was a small store standing in a dirty, graffiti-covered alleyway. I call it a supermarket but it was nothing more than a private business, with colourful vegetables on its racks that looked fresh and delicious. The store clerk, a fat Black woman, was standing there with a troubled look on her face. The Spaniard called out to her.

„We heard a Boston Terrier stole some of your merchandise, is that true?”

„Yeah, just look at this!” she beckoned. The Spaniard’s work clothes had the logo of his company embroidered, she must have known he was an expert of vermin extermination. Right as we stepped inside the supermarket we found a candy shelf. The goods had been stolen from it and the empty shelf was sticky with a clear liquid dripping off of it. „It’s just like ’Alien’, isn’t it? The movie. Have you seen it? The monster was drooling just like this.”

The store clerk furrowed her brows. The Spaniard took out a ballpoint pen from his chest pocket, picking up some of the liquid with its end and examining its viscosity and smell.

„It’s drool. Those shelves had coffee flavour chewing gum on them, am I right?”

„Exactly! A small black and white dog devoured it right here. I tried to catch it but it picked up the entire box and ran off. I reported it to the police as well, just in case, but I’m surprised to see that you guys showed up! Then again, there’s so much crime on these streets, the police must be very busy.”

Leaving the store, the Spaniard got in touch with his men. Each of them carried a transceiver, making it possible to exchange information between each other so long as they were within a couple kilometers radius.

I decided to investigate our surroundings as well. I moved through dirty alleyways scattered with trash, looking for a Boston Terrier.

The wind carried the stench of alcohol and urine. It was probably drunks standing in the alleys and taking a piss. A row of cars stood parking on the roadside. It was a lonely street with no people or cars passing by.

Someone from our team was questioning a vagrant, holding the handle of a large net. It was the white man that complained to me in the office and reminded me of a rugby player. It seemed like his work clothes were about to burst with his muscles.

„Didn’t you see a dog around here? A small, black and white one. It has a short snout and it farts a lot.”

The vagrant our rugby player was looking down to was an elderly man, leaning back onto a building’s wall as he was sitting on the ground. He had put down a piece of cardboard to make his sitting place more comfortable. His mouth seemed to be mumbling something in response to the rugby player’s question, however he couldn’t form his words properly, having lost all his teeth.

„There... right there...” The vagrant’s words came in fragments. He pointed a finger at the wall right across the street. I turned to the rugby player.

„I believe this old man is pointing us to around there.”

The rugby player glanced at me, turning his gaze to where the vagrant was pointing.

„There’s nothin’ there. Nothin’ strange. Not a Boston Terrier, not a place where a small dog could hide.”

„But this old man is trying to bring our attention to something.”

On the other side of the line of parking cars was nothing but old brick buildings, lined up without so much as a crevice between them. The vagrant was pointing at one of those walls.

The rugby player shook his head.

„That’s just a wall. We asked the wrong guy. Maybe he’s hallucinating!”

The vagrant, however, kept on murmuring.

„...weird... how...? It’s gone... I don’t...”

I decided to walk across to the other side of the road.

„Hey, Egyptian! Don’t just do whatever you like! Come back here!” I heard the rugby player’s voice but I ignored him.

I approached the wall the vagrant was pointing to, and trailed finger along it. Its surface was just slightly damp, but also coarse. It was probably the speckles of sand dancing in the wind that stuck to it.

„Hey! Egyptian!”

An odd sense of discomfort came over me. My finger tracing the wall got caught in the corner of a brick, which then quickly crumbled. As I tried to apply some force, my hand sank into the brick wall.

„H-hey... what’s that?!”

What we had thought to be a brick wall crumbled into sand. It collected into large heaps under my feet and a small alleyway appeared on its other side. It looked like there wasn’t a crevice between the buildings but in reality, they weren’t stuck together at all. It simply appeared so because the sand’s fine imitation made it look like they were lined up continuously. The vagrant likely found it odd that the alleyway that was supposed to be there disappeared, and tried to bring it to our attention.

Sand speckles danced around me from the collapse. When my vision cleared, I realized something was hiding in the dim depths of the alleyway. It was small, small enough for me told hold in my hands.

He was chewing on something very, very loudly. He must have been hiding himself right here all along, creating a fake wall with sand.

„Is that you, Iggy?”

The moment I called his name, the chewing noises stopped.

A pair of eyes appeared in the dim light. I saw the whites of them clearly. Apparently he still remembered his name being ’Iggy’. His self-awareness had him reacting to me calling his name.

Someone grabbed my shoulder from behind with great force. It was the rugby player.

„Hey, hey, hey! There he is! I thought it was sand dancing, but there’s a street there now? Looks like a dead end, so I guess he’s got no choice but to come over here, huh?” He fixed the net in his hands and took off in the alley’s direction.

„Hey, wait!”

In response to the rugby player approaching him, he got up on his four legs in the dark. His form was that of a small dog’s, but something was manifesting behind him.

The speckles of sand in the alley rose up, defying gravity, gathering in one place, taking shape seemingly too big to even fit the narrow alleyway behind the dog.

However, the rugby player didn’t see it. It was a projection of life energy that regular people were unable to detect. Before his eyes, there was nothing but a single small dog.

He charged towards Iggy with his net. The giant behind Iggy moved, picking him up and jumping, scattering sand as it trampled the rugby player. The moment he hit the ground, it rushed out of the narrow alley. Its large body leapt over the line of parking cars with ease.

As it appeared in a vast and well-lit place, I could take a good look at it in its entirety. The giant holding Iggy had the appearance of a dog with wheels. Its two front legs were dog-like, but its hind legs were missing, sporting car wheels in their place. On its head it wore feathers resembling Native American ornaments. It was a form blending machinery and organic life, scattering speckles of sand from its entire body.

A Stand. That was what I and my American friend referred as to such entities. Something standing by one’s side like a guardian. This must have been the reason behind the odd sand related episodes happening around Iggy.

Stands do not possess a physical body. It was more like Iggy’s guardian. Some would call it a visualization of his psychic powers, others might even claim it as an evil spirit.

Iggy exchanged a glance with me, carried by his own Stand, then turned away as if he’s lost interest in me already. His Stand that leapt over cars so easily rotated its wheels, dashing away on the streets.

The rugby player stood up from where he fell on the ground and called for assistance with his transceiver.

„He-he’s here! The Boston Terrier! Come right away!” He tried to chase after Iggy instantly, but he failed. The huge mass of sand that until just now had been forming a wall was covering the ground. Before I could have noticed, it all centered on me. The sand swallowed me up to the knee and firmly hardened. Without a doubt this was Iggy’s doing. Pulling as hard as I could, I freed my legs but he had already disappeared behind a corner.

„Shit... don’t let him get away!”

The rugby player ran off, and I followed him.

#reminder that im not a native english speaker nor american #im doing my best but if theres anything weird its probably because a) of that or b) the original text is like that #iggy the stray dog #野良犬イギー #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #stardust crusaders #my translation

21 notes · View notes

exhoetic333 · 1 year

Text

the rest is confetti

JJ Maybank x fem!Reader

[2.4k words] An insight on yours and JJ’s life, from the day you met to the day you made it.

He’d been about thirteen years old when he went to his first party. It was at the Boneyard, so no biggie, but it was the first one he’d ever attended for real, no sneaking in with John B and getting shit on by the older teens or nothing.

So JJ had worn clean clothes (not his), fixed his hair and had chewed gum the entire walk so when he’d kiss a cute touron girl, his breath wouldn’t smell bad. They’d gotten the invite through the eldest boy of the family that lived right across the Château, the Routledges’ humble abode—though JJ treated it like it was his—and John B had made fun of JJ for being so eager. “This is when our life starts, bozo,” the blonde had told his best friend in his defence.

The party was a ruckus: crumbled red solo-cups in the hot sand; vivid flames outstretched, touching the midnight sky; honey-melon moon basking the teenagers’ faces in a drunk limelight. Everyone was either drinking, smoking weed or doing hard stuff behind the sandbanks, and music was blasting loudly through multiple speakers placed strategically around the beach.

Enjoying one of his favourite songs and the island heat in the summertime, JJ had lit a joint and went to sit by the shore. He was pissed because John B has found himself a girl to talk to before he did, and he cursed him mentally for leaving him alone at their first party ever. The blonde boy had used up his false bravado on half the girls attending, and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere. He took another draw of the joint only to find it empty, so he let out a loud groan in frustration before tossing it away.

Loud laughter interrupted his fit and he looked up to find you standing in front of him, showing all your pearly teeth like a trophy. You had your hands on your hips, creasing the soft fabric of the fitted yellow sundress you wore, and thick curls that fell in cascades over you shoulders. In truth, you might have been the prettiest girl he has ever encountered in his entire lifetime. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he was just a kid anyway.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” you joked. Successfully, your sarcasm coaxed a laugh out of him and you could have sworn its boyishness was the most attractive thing you’d heard all night.

JJ flipped you off, then introduced himself. You extended an arm out for him to grab, then pulled him off the sand and by the bonfire, where his best friend was glancing at him with wide eyes and wiggling his brows suggestively. You’d laughed again and JJ melted at the sound and when he asked you to dance, you found yourself unable to deny his proposal.

By the end of the night, you’d shared two joints in addition to the one he started the night with, gained a new scar on your knee from where you fell in the sand after he tried to dip you and made a friend for the rest of the summer. You exchanged numbers just as your school friends urged you to go back home. Right as you got in the car, he had texted you, not wasting a second, asking you if you wanted to go surf in the morning.

From then on, you and JJ had become inseparable. Joint at the hip, really. He introduced you to the rest of his friend group, the Pogues, and you fit in like a glove. Every morning, he’d come pick you up from your house and you’d walk to the Château where everyone else was waiting in the backyard. Your mother grew to love him, your father a little less.

When the start of the school year rolled around, you were both delighted to find out that you had a bunch of classes in common. For two fresh high schoolers, it was about as blessed a miracle you could receive from the higher powers. It was written in stone apparently, you were in this together.

You begun to truly see him when you fifteen. The sky was purple and an angry storm had ravaged the island and, still, JJ had showed up at your window. He was all drenched, tears and rainwater alike, but it was the bruises that blossomed from the hem of his pants to his neckline, littering his torso like flower buds, that alarmed you the most. You offered him fresh clothes and shelter. When he sat in your bed, making it warmer than you’d ever known, he told you all about his father and the atrocities he survived living in the Maybank household.

As soon as morning rolled around, you’d given him a key to the front door and said: “This is your house, too, Jay. You can come whenever you want, even when we’re not home. You don’t ever have to endure your dad ever again.”

JJ had always looked at you different than how you looked at him, but the sentiment had only deepened when he saw just how much you cared about him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, like he wanted to lean in and never pulled away. When you hugged him that morning, he didn’t care that his entire body was on fire, that the bruises put on his body by the hands of his acerbically agressive father felt like gulley wounds, he wanted you close like that forever.

For a little while, he tried to drown those feelings by putting some distance between you two, but it ended absurdly. You caught onto his game immediately, called him out for it and left him standing with his feet in the sand and hot regret brewing in the pit of his stomach. He’d apologized that same night, and you’d shared a bed, entangled under the covers. JJ told you that he didn’t feel good, and you simply assumed that what fuelled his odd behaviour was his horrible home life. You’d never have guessed it was you.

Kie tried to point it out a couple of times and, when John B started dating Kook princess Sarah Cameron, she had told you the exact same thing. Pope was sick of the both of you not acknowledging the blatant chemistry that was close to burning every lightbulb in the room. John B, knowing exactly what his best friends had been feeling through all those years, was living off cheesy jokes and not-so-subtle innuendos. Long story short, you two might as well have been the blindest teenagers there ever was.

That point of view was shared by everyone on the island, who simply assumed that the two of you were together. Belonged to each other. When you’d say you weren’t, they’d use it against you. At parties, boys would flirt with you to rile him up and you knew girls often texted him out of nowhere just to get a reaction out of you. But you often were calm and collected, whereas JJ was a boy that shared his father’s anger and didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. When a boy got too close to you while dancing, enough to make you uncomfortable, he’d swing first and apologize later.

You discovered that part of him the hard way and it had taken you a while to get used to what exactly JJ Maybank could do. He could beat up a boy a hair from death for trying to spike your drink at a party, just like he could be the gentlest person and carry you to John B’s bed at the Château after you’d had one drink too many. He was duality in itself and you’d have to learn to live with it because, knuckles bloody or not, he would always be the same boy who asked you the dance with a wide grin and boyish, disheveled hair on the night you met.

By seventeen, it was shared clothes, hours on the phone and him constantly in your room no matter the season. Summer was your shared favourite season because it meant you could spent all day at the beach, fighting over the surf only to end up flipping a coin for the waves. On the way back home, he drove and you sat in the passenger seat with his hoodie covering your salt-drenched figure and him obviously trying to steal glances at you through the rear view mirror.

When you got a car, a real, functional vehicle that didn’t ressemble the van John B had to jumpstart every time you planned a trip, you’d hooked one of the bracelets that adorned JJ’s wrist from the dashboard. Your father taught the blonde how to drive in it under the golden summer sun, in a supermarket parking lot, and from then on you were exchanging the car back and forth, leaving it there and there for the other. You even planned a google calendar to make sure your appointments didn’t clash. The car was the first thing you owned together.

During your late teenager years, you and JJ had become a lot more domestic. At the Château, you’d cook and he’d wash the dishes, and vice versa. He would drop off his laundry at your house whenever his father forgot to pay the bills and you’d sit on the ground and separate the colours together, either listening to some soft reggae on the old radio in the your kitchen or watching a movie on your computer. When you told the Pogues that his favourite film ever was Mamma Mia, they hadn’t believed you. That night, JJ pinned you down on his bed in the Chateau and you had a pillow fight over it, with ended up with him getting way too close and the door swinging open, which made you both push each other to opposite ends of the room, breathing heavily.

But that was simply how things were between you two. Oftentimes, your mother would joke that you act more like a married couple than her and your father and you’d get upset whenever she said it in front of him. Perhaps that was because you were hiding feelings you didn’t understand, magnetic fervour that only called out for him and no one else.

It didn’t matter how many boys you hooked up with and if he was on top of a girl in the next room, you’d meet for a joint on the front steps of the Château right after, unable to look at each other but still craving the proximity. That entire dance you both were doing was ridiculous but there was no stopping the music.

You got JJ a signet ring with the first letter of your name engraved in the centre for his birthday and quoted an old song that had played in the garage of your house one day when you were playing cards with the Pogues. He hadn’t taken off since he opened the tiny box and hugged you tight enough to break your bones. But you’d enjoyed it and kept your hands in his corn-gold hair and a wide grin plastered on your face. When JJ blew his candles on the kitchen table of the Château, you had grabbed his hand and let him outside, and all of you had danced in the April rain. All of a sudden, you were children again and there was nobody in the world but you and him, grinning kids, with hummingbirds in your ribcages.

It was during the summer of your eighteenth that everything took a turn.

It begun with a sunny morning, humid heat turned up to the max, and ended with two fresh adults sitting on the shore with their hands interlaced, swollen lips and eyes crinkled with blissful, eternal smiles.

JJ picked you up at the same time he always did. You said you want to walk, so you left the car parked in the driveway of your house and walked to the beach instead. The sweat on your bodies made them shine like glitter and you smiled the entire way, catching stolen glances of each other as you crossed the island. Whoever you crossed shot you knowing glances, you and him, which you ignored like you always did. But something felt different and it was floating in the island heat.

After a couple of hours in the water, you found yourself sitting in the sand next to the boy whose eyes were bluer than the surf you’d just enjoyed. You’d shared a joint and, just as it ended, kept your hand over his and didn’t move it. He wanted to part his lips and question it, but was afraid you’d pull away and leave him alone. JJ was a miserable man when it came to you, no surprise, and he begun to see his feelings of desperation in you as if he was staring at a mirror.

When you leaned closer and grazed your lips with his, the softest of touches, he could have sworn he found his new religion. JJ slid his hand in your hair through the nape of your neck and crashed into you feverishly, like he had been waiting his entire life for it. And he was, anyway.

You were both awake and sober and aware. Nothing about the moment you were living was fake. For a second, you were sent back to a foggy night at thirteen when you picked the loneliest boy in the crowd and made a beeline for him hoping to make a friend. You’d found a lot more than friendship that night. The both of you took too long to pull away. Once the pair of you realized what had happened, it was as if a wave ofc relief crashed over your shoulders. Like you both had been stuck in purgatory for the lay six years and you were just now entering the gates of heaven.

The waves crashes at your feet. The ocean was fully aware of the moment you had shared and vowed to remember it forever. Blissful, you pushed him in the sand he tossed a handful at you as his lips twisted into the widest grin you had ever seen him wear, and your laughter echoed all across the beach, ricocheting off the ocean.

And the rest is confetti.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagines

28 notes · View notes

adam-underwater · 2 years

Photo

“PUFFY” | Maldives 🇲🇻 Valentin’s sharpnose pufferfish 5.6079° N 72.9527° E 🌅 Prints: Link in bio, visit www.billiondollarart.art 📸Gear: @Sonyunderwater @Nauticamhousings @seaandsea.eu @Scubalamp_supe @Pelican @dbjourney 💡Tip of the week: Learn the behaviour of the animal you are going to shoot. For example, the longnose pufferfish might swim away at first, but will almost all the time just find some cover. Then it’s too curious so it will peek out again to check you out. That’s the best photo opportunity, in its natural behaviour. When the opportunity is given, you’ll need to be positioned correctly or at least in level with the subject. 🍿Seaspiracy The film explores various environmental issues affecting oceans, including plastic pollution, ghost nets and overfishing, and argues that commercial fisheries are the main driver of marine ecosystem destruction. #expatlife #tourists #travelgram #travel #maldives #sandbanks #snorkeling #dive #discoverscuba #padi #diveclubmaldives #instatravel #island #beach #dolphinwatching #diving #divers #nudibranch #maldives #picoftheday #indianocean #paradise #hanifarubay #scubadiving #diveinstructors #diveholidays #waterfulexperience #awaterfulexperience #turtles #billiondollarart @adam.underwater #raw_oceanlife @raw_oceanlife (at Maldives) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfBuQKRKIAl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

0 notes

cityofdreamsrp · 9 months

Text

THINGS TO DO: LET’S EXPLORE THE MALDIVES!

The island paradise of the Maldives, with its dreamy white beaches covered in palm trees, turquoise lagoons and breathtaking and varied underwater world invites you to experience an unforgettable stay. The islands are oases of peace and beauty, while the country's natural landscape will astonish you.

Sandbank Dolphin Cruise

Make the most of your visit to the Maldives with this small-group tour for a sunset dolphin cruise from Hulhumale. The first stop of the day is a sandbank where you’ll get a fresh view of the ocean. From there, visit two sites near Male to see colorful tropical fish, sea turtles, reef sharks, rays, and coral. Finally, enjoy a sunset cruise with the chance of spying dolphins along the way.

Male Atoll Snorkeling & Diving

North Male Atoll has the most extensive coral reefs and oldest scuba diving sites in the Maldives. Curve-shaped Banana Reef (also known as Gaathugiri) was the first one to be discovered and remains very popular. Its shallow and deep zones are suited to divers of all levels, plus snorkelers. The topography is dramatic with cliffs, caves, vivid coral, and an abundance of diverse marine life.

Central Atoll Surfing & Stand Up Paddling

Maldives' waves can't be considered super powerful, as the swell normally reaches shoulder-to-head high, but it offers big chances of barrels and long fun waves. It's the perfect trip for intermediate and advanced surfers. And perfect for paddle boarding. The surfing season in the Maldives depends on the Atolls, but most of the archipelago is good for surfing from March and November are also good and have the best weather. Swell is amazingly consistent in this part of the plane

WindSurfing & Renting a Boat

Windsurfing is an exhilarating blend of surfing and sailing, designed for the best experience above the sea. Drift across the crystal-clear lagoon at Vilamendhoo, guided by the wind as you take in the wonderful views. Learn new skills, tips and tricks from our very own water sports professionals. Select your learning pace, ranging from private lessons to intense group experiences.

Hike on a tour of Medhu Ziyaaraiy Shrine

Medhu Ziyaaraiy Shrine is undoubtedly one of the most famous historical places in the Maldives. This place is considered as the shrine of Abdul Barakat Yoosuf Al Barbary. According to the folklore, he was a Moroccan scholar in the Maldives in 1153 AD. It is believed that he helped the Maldivian people to get rid of a sea demon. Whoever visits Medhu Ziyaaraiy Shrine will be blessed and will have the courage to fight demons.

Explore Kuruhinna Tharaagandu

Archaeological experts found Kuruhinna Tharaagandu to be a former Buddhist Monastery. Easy to reach, this famous archeological site’s option makes Kuruhina Tharaagandu the famous historic site in the Maldives.The archeological society survey team claims that this site was used in the pre-Islamic era between the 7th to 8th centuries. If you want to see the evidence of the Maldives’ Buddhist history, explore the island of Kaashidhoo on your Maldives trip.

Yoga Pavilion

Choose a yoga session that is most suitable to your needs. Maintain core strength, muscle tone and good energy levels whilst on vacation. Breathe fully and reap the therapeutic benefits in sublime surrounds.Complimentary sunrise and sunset yoga classes are available to all our guests on the Yoga Pavilion at The Spa.

Nautilus Spa

Immerse yourself in the energy of a Maldives spa at the island Solasta Spa, a natural haven of wellness surrounded by serene and sparkling seas. Solasta Spa specialises in the bespoke, designing wellness programmes and daily rituals that refresh and relax, pamper and protect.

Ithaa Undersea Restaurant

The Maldives is renowned for having several transparent undersea restaurants—yes, you can dine under the water and watch sea creatures (including sharks) swimming all around you! Ithaa Undersea, 16 feet below the surface at Conrad Maldives Rangali Island, was the first one to open. It provides an intimate experience with only 14 tables. Fusion cuisine is served according to set menus. Be prepared to fork out for a glass of bubbly and some canapes during Champagne hour.

Dinner at Zeytoun

Zeytoun is The Nautilus' Middle Eastern restaurant located near the spa. Even if you opt to take advantage of The Nautilus' flexibility to order from a different menu (for example from Ocaso or Thyme) I highly recommend dining at Zeytoun at least once near sunset time, given the view and ambience.

Sunset Drinks at Naiboli Poolside Bar

While I don't spend much (any) time lounging by pools, Naiboli enjoys a lovely view both during the day and at sunset, which complimentary drinks and nibbles are served to guests.

Market Shopping

Shopping in Maldives becomes exciting as soon as you enter Male Local Market. This huge market is one of the most popular street markets in Maldives located on the north waterfront. A favourite of locals, this bazaar tempts foreigners as well with numerous stalls selling local handicrafts, mementos, and gift items. Kiosks selling local snacks are the highlights of these market.

Luxury Shopping

If you are fond of beauty products, especially perfumes, do visit Le Cute, which is a renowned retail beauty shop in Maldives. This is a swanky store dealing with cosmetics, toiletries, health care products and herbal products that are some of the best things to shop in Maldives.

#cityofdreamsevent #codgoestomaldives

9 notes · View notes