fishing tug


This was inspired by @caffeinewitchcraft‘s story here:

You take her, because she is beautiful, and you want her. You call it love.

You take her, and she does not struggle or try to break free. You call it love.

And you build her a house by the shore, and you do not reprimand her for her odd ways; the strange songs she sings in her crying, crooning tongue, and the way she always stares out at the sea. You are gentle to her, and she does not complain. And she is still beautiful, and you still want her. So you call it love.

You always ask her what she wants, what she needs, in everything except the most important thing. You want to forget that she is a captive, so you never ask if she wants to be free. You want her to be happy, so you ignore the sadness in her eyes. You want her to love you, so you kiss her salt-rimed lips and press your warmth into her cold body, and believe that her tongue in your mouth means everything you want it to.

You want her to forget she is chained, and so you hide the key. She smiles at you, now, and she does not object when you twine your fingers through her dark hair. She is perfect and beautiful, even if she does stare too much at the sea. When she bears your first child, you are overcome with joy, and a little of the sadness lifts from her as the dark-eyed baby boy is placed in her arms. His skin is soft and fair, and you do not notice the slight webbing between his fingers and toes. You come to forget that she is chained, and you forget where you hid the key.

The children (the years have flown and there are three of them now, dark haired, eyes like the seals’, with sturdy chubby bodies made for playing in the waves) swim in the ocean and catch fish with their bare hands, three more links in the forgotten chains. You hear their laughter, and smile, and never wonder why it is that your wife never laughs.

You have almost forgotten how this started, your family in the cottage on the shore. You no longer taste salt on your wife’s tongue, or feel any coldness on her skin. Her voice is familiar now, and the odd inflections and rolling consonants that puzzled you at first cease to be noticeable at all. She is still beautiful, and you are sure that she loves you.

One night, when the full moon is shining brightly, the seals come in to shore, and cry like children in the waves. You have not seen a seal since the day you took her. Your wife runs down to the strand and cries back to them, speaking in the language that she still uses to sing to your children. And fear runs through you.

You follow her out, and shout at the seals, and throw rocks at them (seal skins are fetching a good price, now, but somehow you know better than to bring out your gun). They dive into the waves, leaving the sea dark and blank, and your wife collapses sobbing on the sand. You stroke her hair and whisper words of comfort, and lead her back to the house, ignoring the way she falls against you, as though she’s forgotten how to walk. (Long ago, you supported her in the same way, and she left a trail of water behind her as you walked her to your home). Inside, you pour her a dram of whiskey and watch over her until she falls asleep.

She is quieter after that, and often you catch her walking on the beach, looking out at the sea. Your fear grows, for you need her now, and you believe that this is the same thing as love. She sleeps more often now, and sometimes when you come home the children tell you that she has not been able to get out of bed today.

You do not ask if she is sick.

The fourth child is born, and this one has yellow hair and grey eyes, eyes the color of a stormy sea. She does not look like either you or your wife, and for a moment, you wonder…. But you love your wife, and you put this out of your mind, forget it as you have forgotten so much else. And the child has one good effect, at least, for your wife seems happy again; she smiles at the baby, and plays with the children, and your worries fade….

Until the baby is four years old, and wants to climb everything: the rocks on the beach, the furniture, the walls….

And she climbs into the attic, back in the rafters, where none of the other children ever tried to go.

You are out fishing when she tugs on her mother’s skirt and asks the question: “Mother, why does Father keep an old fur coat in the rafters?”

Her heart skips a beat. For through all the years, she has never forgotten that she is a prisoner, nor has she ceased to feel her longing for the sea. Her voice scrapes in her throat as she says, “Show me.”

And there in the darkest corner of the attic, cobwebs clinging to her face and hair, she sees the bundle wedged between the rafters. She reaches out with trembling fingers and takes it, and a shock goes through her, like a stroke of lightning. Suddenly, she is alive again, alive after years upon years of feeling like a corpse made to walk and talk, living in her own grave… The pelt is still soft and smooth after all these years, and it smells of oil and fish. For a moment, all she can do is stand there, holding it to her cheek, remembering.

The children know that something has changed when she walks down the stairs, holding the pelt to her like a baby. They stare at her with wide, dark eyes, and she tries to smile for their sake, pitying them. “I must go,” she says. “The ocean is calling me, and I must go home. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The sea longing?”

They nod. The oldest, Ronan, says, “But we cannot live in the ocean.”

“No.” She clutches the pelt to her, a voice in head crying that she must go now, now, now! “You cannot, for you are not of the seal folk. What I have given you is… not an easy gift to bear. But the tides will obey you, and your fishing nets will be full, and—if ever you need me—truly need me—you may call out to the ocean, and I will come.”

They are looking at her with sad, wise eyes—seal eyes—and she feels both regret and pride when she realizes that they understand, that they will let her go. “Tell your father…” Her fists clench as she thinks of you, as she thinks of what you’ve done. “Tell him that I was never his for the taking. And I will never be his again. Tell him that the seals will remember the wrongs done to us. He will pay.”

“He loves you, Mama,” says Aine, the youngest. “He says so.”

She almost chokes, mouth twisting, and spits, “He doesn’t know the meaning of love.” She looks at the boys, Ronan, who is thirteen (he soon will be a man, she thinks) and Breen, who is eight. “Boys,” she says, seriously, “Promise me this: that if ever you love someone, you ask them to love you of their own free will. And if they do not, you must leave them be.”

“We promise,” they tell her. Breen is crying, and Ciara, eleven, is trying to hold back her tears.

She doesn’t want them to be unhappy, but she cannot stay here, in this tomb, any longer. “I love you,” she says, and hugs them one last time, and walks through the door.

The children follow her, silent, to the water’s edge, and watch as she drapes the pelt around her shoulders, as she dives into the waves.

After a moment, a seal’s head breaks the water. She gives them a final look, then swims away, rolling and playing in the waves, before she dives and disappears.

You come home to a silent house, and the accusing stares of your children. You don’t believe them when they tell you that she’s gone, until they show you the space in the rafters where the pelt used to be. When you want to cry and rage, they tell you it was your own fault. That you didn’t really love her.

It takes a long time for this to sink in.

You stop fishing, for your nets always come up empty and broken, and storms become unpredictable, the winds dangerous. You begin to believe that this is the seals’ revenge. They will not forget. They will make you pay.

And so you pay.

You wait until the children are grown and gone, off to be fishers and sailors far away. And on a moonless night, you take your boat (old now, and leaky) down to the ocean, rowing out across the black waters, away from the protection of the bay.

Long ago, you took a seal woman, because she was beautiful, and you wanted her. You called it love.

Now, when it’s far too late, you think that perhaps you did not know the meaning of love. You hope that you know it now.

The boat is found a few days later, washed up on a beach far from your home. It is empty.

The seals remember the wrongs done to them. And now, you have paid.

obsessedw-u  asked:

What would be an ideal date with the RFA+V/Unknown?

slight nsfw hints?



  • Cinema dates are like heaven to Zen, whether it was the middle of the day or after midnight, he loves it all, and he would love spending it with you.
  • He likes seeing romantic movies but sometimes, Horror can be good- (he’ll get to hold on to you and you’ll hold on to him so it’s a win-win.)
  • also loves the popcorn they sell? it’s like legendary??? so good??
  • He’ll take you to a park after seeing the movie and he’ll sing you songs and maybe swing a little w/ those swings hanging from the trees (he loves them- he’s such a child)
  • He also loves taking you randomly out on his motor-bike, he just loves hearing you squeal while hugging him from the back (it’s so cute?)
  • also, each time ya’ll go out, you get ice cream. he loves getting you ice cream. he loves ice cream and he loves you so what a perfect score!


  • He really likes Jazz clubs? they’re his favourite date spots. He enjoys talking to you over a cup or two of wine (or whatever you prefer) and music in the background.
  • He also finds you enchanting and elegant dressed in your formal attire and in dim lights. it’s like he’s in another era and it’s with you!
  • If he sees you uncomfortable in public or you just don’t like formal places, he’ll take you on a boat-ride! (if it was summer)
  • you’ll either fish or take a swim- it’s fun either ways. (except fishing takes patience and lol who has time for that when you can literally make out with your boyfriend and ignore the fact that there’s an actual fish tugging on the fishing rod!)
  • also mostly because he likes seeing you in your shorts :’)
  • and because having sex on a boat is always nice :’)


  • She enjoys a casual night out in a cafe or a restaurant. She doesn’t like anything too fancy or anything too casual.
  • she’d actually prefer if you just hung out at home and cuddled watching Zen’s musicals, spending the night next to a fireplace.. that’s an ideal date right there
  • if you actually got her to get out, she’d prefer going through stores, shopping or something like that.
  • There’s those grocery stores that serves a ton of samples on the weekends, she likes to go there and try out new things, go back home and spend it with you making those appetizers.
  • she thinks it’s a fun way to shopping and it’s good to try new things all the time.
  • She also likes to go to the Amusement Parks nearby, she likes Ferris Wheels, because it’s so cliche and she loves giving you a kiss when you two reach the top


  • his ideal dates are just staying in home doing the silliest things ever
  • This dude loves cooking, and he loves cooking with you even more! he likes it when you search for recipes to cook.
  • bonus for you because you get to eat the foods you want to try so it’s a win-win!
  • If there’s a con or a gaming event going on, he’ll take you there and it’s always fun because there’s so many new things and you meet alot of new friends
  • he thinks that you+games+competitions+food=ideal date night. He loves seeing you literally embarrass his guild-mates because you always beat them in pvps.
  • if you don’t like staying home for dates, then he’ll take you to the nearest waterpark, and guess what? water gun fights.


  • hop on into his car and listen to him sing “I can show you the world” because you’re having a mini-trip.
  • When Seven decides to take a break from his job, he takes a three-days break just spending it with you.
  • Either he’s going out with you or staying at home doing stupid things. (it’s so stupid it’s hilarious)
  • He likes taking you somewhere filled with people in the middle of the day, maybe a cafe at a local sight-seeing area.
  • if it’s raining outside, he’ll literally push you out of the house and spend the night in the rain. he’ll also dance, sing and kiss you because he’s the lord of cliche moves
  • he will get it on with you in his car. literally. Everytime you go out with him on that mini-trip, he makes a joke about that sweaty hand-print in Titanic.
  • he loves re-creating it in the passenger seat, and it never gets old.


  • Jihyun’s the type of guy that sometimes prefers taking his lover out alot and other times, he just wants to keep his lover all to himself.
  • He LOVES stargazing in the middle of the night, and it’s a bonus point for him if you’re there. He’s supposed to be taking pictures of the sky- but noooo he’s taking pictures of you.
  • Heading to the Opera or formal theaters is one of his favourite dates. There’s something really sexy about being dressed in your best as you watch in a darkened theater.
  • Even if you both don’t understand what’s going on the stage, he’ll still feel that he’s being swept away off his feet and falling in love with you again with the dramatic music in the background.
  • Ice skating is also an option, museums are also great- he has so many ideal date-spots.
  • If he just prefers staying at home, he loves to cuddle up with you on the couch and marathon his and your favourite netflix series with hot coca and cupcakes (+ a warm (fur because he’s that aesthetic) blanket in winter)


  • He doesn’t like going out in public alot, he prefers just staying in home and cuddling up in a little ball with you.
  • You can actually do alot of silly things with him. One time, you got him to choreograph a battle from your favourite anime in the front lawn.
  • He loves writing down secret codes/clues for you to follow, whether it was around the house or in the park nearby. He would have you break the codes he placed and in the end as your reward, he’d do whatever you wanted him to do for a whole day.
  • bonus point: he often uses your favourite shows/movies/animes as a reference for the codes/clues he makes.
  • If you actually manage get him to leave the house for a proper date, he’d take you somewhere classic. It’s either the cozy cafe he loves going to or spending a whole day in a field.
  • He loves all these date ideas, but his ideal date is just him and you in your bedroom sharing rough kisses and his hands roaming all over your body. this type of date gets him all the time.
Rewritten Justice

Author: Me.
Length: 2,028 words
Fandom: Magic Kaito
Characters: Nakamori Aoko, Kuroba Kaito, Hakuba Saguru, Nakamori Ginzo.
Rating/Triggers: T for Teen. Triggers are wounds, guns/weapons, etc.
Summary: “Of course, she does. She’s not an idiot.” 
A rewrite of Chapter 36 in the Magic Kaito manga. KID genuinely did pass out on top of Aoko, instead of faking it and switching places with her.

A/N: ( Written because Gosho… Please give Aoko a gun… ) / AO3

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Nagisa and Rei going fishing and Rei starts to get sick first but in the end Nagisa is the one who gets incredibly sea sick and ends up puking a lot. He gets embarrassed from it but Rei is there to help him with lots of TLC! <3

>>>I didn’t really know what what kind of relationship you wanted them to be in.. so I make it really FLUFFY romance. Hope that’s okay.

(Author’s note: reminder I drop honorifics (chan) for dating couples. Also, Shoji is Japanese chess.)



“I just need a minute.” Rei was leaning over the edge of the boat with a handkerchief over his mouth.

Nagisa was rubbing his back with a concerned look. “Rei… you okay?”

“I’m fine, really. I’m just waiting for it to pass.” Rei told him.

He was swallowing constantly and he felt his stomach reeling. The nausea was worse than he had experienced in a long time. He truly though he would have grown out of such a thing by then.

Rei felt his stomach lurch uncontrollably and he leaned further over the side of the boat. Nagisa held on to him to make sure he wasn’t about to fall overboard.

“I’m sorry.” He said guiltily. “I honestly thought I would have gotten over this…”

“Don’t apologize Rei.” Nagisa encouraged.

Rei burped softly into his handkerchief then felt his stomach lurch again. He heaved over the side of the boat and puked up his breakfast into the water. He coughed weakly and wiped his mouth. “Hey, I actually feel a bit better now.” He said with relief.“

Nagisa smiled widely. “Oh good!”

“Alright. I promised you we’d do some real fishing and gosh darn it we will.” Rei said with determination.

Nagisa’s eyes lit up and jumped up with his hands in the air. “Yay!”

Rei showed Nagisa how to set up the fishing line and he listened intently to Rei. He even managed to set up his own line by himself.

Once the lines were set up Rei sighed with a satisfactory nod. “And now, we wait.”

Nagisa looked up at him. “That’s it?”

Rei was confused. “Well… yeah?”

“Oh…” Nagisa sounded disappointed.

“But- the exciting part comes when we get a fish!” Rei tried to sound enthusiastic.

“Oh yeah!” Nagisa seemed to get his spirt back.

“In the meantime, what would you like to do?” Rei asked.

Nagisa thought hard, looking around the boat. “Oh- could you teach me to play Shoji!” He had seen that below there was a Shoji board.

“Sure!” Even Rei was getting excited after that.

They played Shoji for over an hour on deck, waiting for their lines to be bitten and by that point Nagisa had seemed to reach his limit.

He yawned as Rei step a particularly long time thinking about his next turn and he looked about readily to doze off.

“Nagisa… Nagisa?”

Nagisa shook himself out of daze and looked up at Rei.

“It’s your turn.” He said.

“Oh, right.” Nagisa stared down at the board for quite a while before Rei finally realized he wasn’t really playing anymore.

“Why don’t we stop for now?” He suggested.

“Oh, you don’t mind?” Nagisa tried not to make his disinterest too obvious.

“It’s fine! We can just do something else.” Rei put the game back in the box and went below deck to put it away.

Nagisa let out an inner sigh of relief that he didn’t have to play anymore and leaned against the side of the boat looking out at the water.

It was quite beautiful with the sun shining against the blue water but he had only been staring off at it for a minute when he suddenly felt the boat move underneath his feet. It moved only slightly but it somehow managed to throw off his balance.

It wasn’t a new feeling, as he was sure it had been happening the entire time but it was the first time he had really noticed it.

He felt strange for a moment from a jolt going though his stomach. But he forgot about it when he looked to his side and noticed that one of the fishing poles was twitching.

For a moment, he thought this odd, then he realized what was happening and got excited. “Rei! Rei! Come back!”

“What is it?” Rei ran back up to the deck. “Oh! We’ve caught one!” He unlatched the fishing pole and tugged on it.

“Is it heavy?” Nagisa was ramped up.

“A bit.” Rei began trying to reel it in. Then he suddenly lost his footing and was pulled forwards.

Nagisa grabbed onto him and helped him pull the fish up. The entire time they were jumping around on the boat trying to keep their balance and Nagisa found the movement was slightly unsettling.

He still enjoyed himself thoroughly though as they pulled the fish up and into the boat.

“Wow!” Nagisa’s eyes widened as it flopped around on the deck.

“Unfortunately, it’s not big enough to keep.” Rei said sadly and picked it up to throw it back.

“Aww! Really?” Nagisa was bummed.

“That’s alright! We’ll just set up a new one.” Rei tried to get him to cheer up.

As they were setting up a new line, Nagisa found himself feeling strange as he stood looking out at Rei and the open water.

He swallowed hard, then to his dismay, he finally realized what the feeling was. It was the same feeling he got when he had been riding in a hot car and driving on a curvy road for too long.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was feeling seasick.

He hoped that it was just a temporary thing and that it would go away on its own but instead it only seemed to get worse.

After about an hour suffering through the feeling, he finally laid down on a lounge chair and closed his eyes.

“Tired Nagisa?” Rei chuckled. “I know standing around doing almost nothing can be pretty exhausting.”

Nagisa put his sun hat over his eyes and nodded.

Rei smiled and sat beside him in the sun to read a book.

Nagisa tried to sleep for about half an hour, but sitting still on the deck only made the motion of the boat even more obvious.

As his nausea increased he began finding it harder and harder to sit still and he ended up tossing and turning in the lounge chair. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Nagisa? Are you okay? Are you dreaming?” Rei’s soft voice was somehow calming and welcoming so Nagisa didn’t feel as nervous.

“I’m okay. Thanks.” He said, not daring to open his eyes for fear of feeling worse.

“If you’re sure.” Rei told him. “If we don’t catch anything in the next hour, I was thinking of opening some of the canned fish we brought along.”

Just the thought of eating fish at that moment made Nagisa’s stomach turn. “It’s okay! I want to wait until we catch something.”

Rei sounded hesitant. “Well… I’m not sure if we’ll catch anything before we have to get home…”

“It’s fine, really! I’m really not that hungry.” Nagisa insisted, still keeping his eyes closed.

“Alright… Nagisa?” Rei paused and waited for an answer.


“You’d tell me if something was wrong… right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay… just checking.” Rei sat back with his book again but he couldn’t shake the feeling he had that something wasn’t right.


After only another half an hour of enduring the nausea, Nagisa realized he was losing the fight with his body and that it was time to call it quits.

Luckily, Rei was all too familiar with the symptoms of sea sickness, along with being familiar with how Nagisa acted when he was sick.

“Nagisa?” Rei put his hand on his shoulder again.


“You’re not feeling so great are you?”

Nagisa shook his head.

Rei sat on Nagisa’s lounge chair and stroked his arm. “Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

Nagisa nodded and Rei laid next to him on the lounge chair and wrapped his arm around him.

Nagisa curled up in a ball, clutching his stomach with a groan. “Reiiii. I feel like I’m ganna be sick.” He whined.

“It’s okay Nagisa.” Rei stroked Nagisa’s curly hair, pushing it behind his ear. “Do you need to right now?”

Nagisa nodded, still whimpering.

Rei helped Nagisa sit up and the moment he opened his eyes, his stomach lurched. A strange noise came out of his throat and his hand shot over his mouth.

Rei grabbed him and hurried him to the edge of the boat.

Nagisa gagged over the edge and his eyes watered.

“It’s okay Nagisa.” Rei stroked his back and Nagisa started to break into tears. “Don’t cry. It’s all going to be fine.”

“Rei… I don’t feel good.” He said again, this time in tears.

“I know, I know.” Rei coaxed. “It’s okay.”

Nagisa hiccuped a sob and let out a wet burp. Then he lurched forward and vomited over the side of the boat.

“That’s it. It’s all okay.” Rei spoke softly.

Nagisa let out a wet burp that brought up more liquid. He coughed as landed in the water and Rei wiped off a tear that had rolled down his cheek.

“Do you think you’d be able to sit down?” Rei asked.

Nagisa swallowed hesitantly, then nodded and followed Rei below deck.

Rei had Nagisa sit in a large lounge chair and gave him a cylindrical container. He sat in the chair with Nagisa, wrapping his arms around him.

Nagisa groaned and hid his head in Rei’s shoulder. “I don’t like being sick.” His voice was muffled in Rei’s shirt.

“I know.” Rei brushed his fingers through Nagisa’s hair.

Nagisa’s stomach bubbled and he felt a burp trying to escape. He turned away and let it out with embarrassment. Then tried to swallow again but ended up spewing his stomach contents into the vessel.

“There there.” Rei rubbed his arm up and down. “It’s okay.”

Nagisa laid back again with a pained expression on his face.

Rei placed his hand gently over his stomach and ran small circles over it.

Nagisa burped again and his cheeks turned red. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rei leaned his head against his and continued the rubbing motion.

“That makes it feel a bit better.” He told Rei.

Rei kissed him on the head. “I’m glad.”

Jervis Tetch x Female Reader - Stick to the Schedule (Rated M Super Smut)

Before Jervis picks up the newly wedded Bride and Groom from their wedding, he has to attend to the duties of his scheduled timetable, which involves getting you to the Wedding, the only Bridesmaid at the Ceremony. But he has plans for you first.

WarnIng- SUPER DUPER SMUT, masturbating, fingering, anal, penetration, SINNING EVERYWHERE

Originally posted by twofacedharveydent

Keep reading

No but imagine it tho–

Kirkwall misfits have to be on the Wounded Coast for a while, waiting for Aveline to meet up with them for something. Isabella offers to teach them all how to fish because they’re there, and it’s not like Varric’s going to suddenly turn into a mighty hunter and shoot them a nug. 
[He insists she apologize for insulting Bianca’s competency, but she’s right]
Merril knows how to fish with a net, but considering her Second’s training she hadn’t learned line fishing. 

Imagine Isabella getting the crew to to hook little tide pool morsel fish to lines and sit there waiting for bites. 
Varric grumbling about nature while leaning against some ruins. 
Merrill giggling at him, and watching her line like a hawk while sitting cross-legged on a rock so she could see any fish closing.
Fenris, who keeps tugging on his line because the waves keep moving his line, and he’s about 5 seconds from telling Anders to piss off but isnt because Anders keeps laughing at him about it but Anders hasn’t noticed his bait has gotten stuck on a rock.
Varric eventually tells Anders.
Anders grumbles, because while he used to fish before he went to the circle, a small pond by his house is nothing like the literal ocean. He manages to catch some seaweed and insists he meant to do that when Fenris snorts. His pride no longer extends to eating it to prove that, thank the wisdom of age and also the Maker. 
Isabella meanwhile has 4 lines in tied to rocks with bells on them and is a fucking show off, what with her catching like 3 fish. 

Hawke meanwhile caught a trout and Isabella isn’t quite sure how.



or: Four Times Moana and Maui Surprised the Crowd, and One Time They Did Not

My first shot at a 4-and-1 type gig! I tried to keep these short, but you know my writing, that didn’t end up happening. I think this is like seven thousand words total. Look, my hand just slipped for four hours straight. 

Happy, happy birthday to my dear friend @paperjam-bipper! You’re so old now, you shmuck. Congratulations. Hope you enjoy the gratuitous amounts of fluff I stuck in here, just for you. :) 

Fandom: Moana
Words: 7,400
Category: Gen
Relationship: Moana & Maui

Summary: Four times Moana and Maui surprised the crowd, and one time they did not. 


It’s when the first wave breaks on the deck of their ship that Aronui decides, quite firmly, that she does not like storms.

Even shielded as she is from the worst of the rain by her mother’s sturdy legs and swollen belly, there pellets of water sting against her eyelids, and Aronui has to squint to see the deck of the boat mere feet in front of her. Her hairband was lost long ago to the frenzy of the wind, which whips her hair around her face. When Aronui spares a hand to try and tame it, she ends up nearly ripping off the right half of her head.

“Hard about to port!” shouts a familiar voice, commanding against the fury of the storm.

Aronui looks over to see Moana astride the canoe. Despite the writhing waves that tower around her Moana looks at ease, balanced perfectly atop the edge of her canoe while wrestling with the halyard in both hands. She’s planted at one end of her tiny craft, which sways dangerously in the water, and is somehow using the boat’s instability to clamber up the side and look intently at Kara.

Keep reading

Can you hear me?

“Can you hear me?” I don’t understand how I could or even should hear it but I did. Coming from beneath the waters of that still lake. A voice, clear as the waters this lake would have during the day that I was fishing on, loud enough to make me feel like it was right in my ear, yet soft enough to hear what was definitely pain inside that plea. “You’ve been hitting the bottle too much Riley. That’s enough for tonight” I chuckle to myself. The moonlit water was always my sanctuary from the constant blaring noise and flickering neon lights of the city. None of that here. Just the crisp breeze of the wind, the stars shining on the now black waters of the night lake. “Help me…” I thought I heard but I don’t have time to react before my fishing line tugs softly, then hard. Something pulls on my roughly, angrily it seems for being snagged. “Goddammit, there shouldn’t be anything this big in the lake, it’s too shallow.” I try to reel in the line, pulling on both my pole and using the reel with all of my strength. I grunt, having never used so much force, “Argghhh..” when the line snaps. All that’s heard afterwards is the echoing of the loud thud from my behind hitting the inside of the boat. Catching my breath for a few moments, I get back up to check on the now broken line. My boat begins to rock, as if it’s starting to shake. Something seems to be trying to rock it. I try to balance myself and the boat by keeping my feet right against the inside edge, but it doesn’t stop. Faster and faster the boat rocks when all of a sudden, it stops. “F*** this, I’m done” I say to nobody I thought. “HELP ME!! HELP ME!!! HELP ME!!!!!” Loud screams fill my ear, hell bent on making them bleed. They grow grow louder, shrieking agonizingly in my ear drums. I lose my balance as the boat is starting to rock again, harder than before. I don’t remember hitting the water. Everything is in shades. I’m swimming underneath the water but there isn’t a way to resurface. The moon looks disgustingly gray now. I don’t know if I can do anything now. What happened? Who was calling to me? What was that voice? Wait, I think I see something. It’s… It’s a boat! Yeah! “Hey!” I swim up closer to the boat. It’s you! I see you! “Hey! Oh my goodness, I thought I was losing it, I’m so glad you’re here…” You look down right at me but it doesn’t seem like you notice me. “Hey!” I’m losing my mind. I don’t understand. What should I do? I swim as close as I can. You’re right there… “Can you hear me?”

Catch of the Day

Shamelessly inspired by @fuckyeahmabill‘s Monster Falls pic. It isn’t anything like the description beneath it, but I saw the picture and this is what popped into my head. I’m not entirely familiar with Monster Falls or Hunter Bill, so a lot of this is just what I made up on the fly, I hope ya’ll like it!

It was a warm sunny day in early summer, the air still had the fresh hint new life that usually accompanied Spring. The lake was cool and blue, a perfect spot for a day of fishing Bill decided. But it would only be a few weeks until Mother Nature turned up the thermostat and that lake would be a little more inviting for other activities. 

Keep reading

Do you guys sometimes think about Arya and Weasel and feel like you’ve been punched in the gut with an iron fist of feels?

As they were running toward the barn, Arya spied the crying girl sitting in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by smoke and slaughter. She grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet as the others raced ahead. The girl wouldn’t walk, even when slapped. Arya dragged her with her right hand while she held Needle in the left. Ahead, the night was a sullen red. The barn’s on fire, she thought. Flames were licking up its sides from where a torch had fallen on straw, and she could hear the screaming of the animals trapped within.

Hot Pie stepped out of the barn. “Arry, come on! Lommy’s gone, leave her if she won’t come!” Stubbornly, Arya dragged all the harder, pulling the crying girl along. Hot Pie scuttled back inside, abandoning them…

At the sound of her voice, Weasel came creeping out from the bushes. Lommy had named her that. He said she looked like a weasel, which wasn’t true, but they couldn’t keep on calling her the crying girl after she finally stopped crying. Her mouth was filthy. Arya hoped she hadn’t been eating mud again.

“Did you see people?” asked Gendry.

“Mostly just roofs,” Arya admitted, “but some chimneys were smoking, and I heard a horse.” The Weasel put her arms around her leg, clutching tight. Sometimes she did that now.

“I don’t know about fish.” Arya tugged at the Weasel’s matted hair, thinking it might be best to hack it off. “There’s crows down by the water. Something’s dead there.”

“I’m sick of carrying him, and I’m sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I’d knock his teeth in. Lommy’s no use to anyone. That crying girl’s no use either.“

You leave Weasel alone, she’s just scared and hungry is all.“ Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once.

"She ran off when she heard you coming,” Lommy said. “You made a lot of noise." And Arya thought, Run, Weasel, run as far as you can, run and hide and never come back.

Arya was nine years old, lost and scared in a countryside that was brutally ravaged by war, but she took care of Weasel because she was a "scared and hungry” child (that’s what Arya herself was, too!) and even risked burning to death to save her.

I need an adult. 

When I was 8 or 9, this girl came to my birthday party, but her mom only let her get out of the car to say, “My mom wanted me to tell you that your house is weird.” Then they left.

I think that was the same year that no one would eat my birthday cake. We’d made it look like a graveyard, with sugar cookie tombstones, green icing for grass, and crumbled Oreo wafers to look like fresh grave dirt. It was really cool,  but way too goth for third graders, and they all thought there were dead bodies in the cake. 

We also had a fake skeleton from a Halloween prop store that we’d painted realistically to look like a burn victim. My dad dug a shallow grave in the woods and put a tombstone over it. That night, he took the group of us out into the woods to view ‘Mr. Burns’, and as everyone gathered around to look, he tugged a fishing line that made the skeleton jump up into a sitting position.

Cue ten young children running screaming and crying through the woods. 

brannerdoodles-deactivated20160  asked:

Beach, babies, birthday

Three Words Prompt #21 (Spy Castle AU in which they’ve met much earlier in their timeline at roughly 23 and 33 yrs of age)


She was soaked to the knees, though Wyatt clung stubbornly to the rolled cuff of her jeans, wet as it was. The two of them stood on the shore while Castle, stripped to his boxers, paddled a few feet away from them in the shallows of the lake, helping James learn to swim. 

Castle’s chest brushed the bottom, she could tell, and he used his knees to keep him level, but James - the kid was an otter, the water clearly over his head even if he’d been standing, loving every bit of it.

Wyatt did seem faintly morose to be left behind.

Kate dusted her fingers over the top of his head, combing back the wet strands from his face. “It’s okay,” she told him. He might not be able to hear her over the sound of the waves washing over the sand at their feet. “You don’t have to swim right now. I can teach you when you’re older.”

Wyatt’s head tilted back to look up at her, as if he heard the sounds but not the words. Both he and James were only in diapers, and those sagging a little, waterlogged, but their little legs had some roundness to them, sun dappling the creases of their skin.

Kate smudged a white line of sunscreen with her thumb, rubbing it into Wyatt’s cheek. He whined and ducked his head into her knee, but he wasn’t upset or unhappy. He just seemed to like to talk back, to raise a fuss or let her know where he stood on things. He just - talked. Not with words, maybe, but he wanted to be in on the conversation, the exchange.

She reached down and gripped his wrist, prying his fingers from her knee, and she started walking. “Let’s leave the swimmers to it. You and me, Wyatt. We’ll go exploring.” She shaded her eyes with one hand, surveying the narrow strip of beach. The trees came right up to and into the water, so that one finger of forest blended right into the lake, creating an illusion she wanted to explore.

Wyatt came with her, grumbling about the shifting sand under his bare feet, gasping aloud when water came over their toes. His grip on her finger was tight, belying his easy-going attitude, but even as it scared him, he really loved it.

He loved what scared him.

She knew the feeling.

She led Wyatt towards the grove of water-trees, the sand mixing with soil now, becoming mud and clay rather than beach. Wyatt seemed to like that better, and she found herself enjoying the thick wet feel of mud between her toes. Wyatt got into the spirit of their adventure, began hopping forward, or trying to hop, little two-footed skips as he splashed in mud puddles and splattered them.


“I know,” she laughed. “It’s so fun.”


“He’s back there swimming with James.”

Wyatt’s face flooded with a frustration she’d seen often these last few days, an indication that what he’d wanted her to know she hadn’t guessed. He grunted something into the sky and splashed purposefully in a muddy puddle, making spatters across her calves.

“Daddy!” he insisted.

She hesitated, half-turning back for the beach where they’d been keeping lookout on her two fish, but Wyatt tugged on her hand. Tugged and tugged until she wasn’t facing back anymore.

“Daddy,” he said, growling again at the end of it as it failed to produce the response he wanted.

He was searching for words. Could a fourteen month old be so linguistically developed? And why couldn’t he? Castle surely talked enough. Whatever was in his special blood had passed down to the boys. Who knew what they were capable of?

Kate bent down over Wyatt, cupped his face, hoping he could sense somehow just how much she wanted to know. “What are you trying to tell me, baby?”

“Daddy,” he said, sighing a little. This time he plopped his foot into the mud and it squished instead of splattering, sucking at his toes. This seemed to have surprised him, because Wyatt startled with laughter, releasing her hand to applaud.

And then she got it.

“Oh, baby, you meant like Daddy in the Jeep? When Daddy drove us here and it splattered mud everywhere.”

“Daddy!” Wyatt lifted both arms to her, beaming so delightedly. She grinned and picked him up, mud ruining her white shirt, but she didn’t care. She’d understood what he’d meant, she had actually done it right.

“Daddy drove us and splattered mud everywhere, didn’t he? We’ll have to wash our Jeep when we get home.”

Wyatt beamed. “Eep!”

She laughed, delighted herself now, hugging him against her as his muddy fingers smeared her neck. “What a smart boy. You can teach your brother that one, James. Jeep.”


“Who needs swimming?” she murmured, kissing his cheeks.


At age 18 a curious Yvon Chouinard learned the art of fly fishing. This eventually led him to the centuries-old Japanese technique tenkara—or “simple” fly fishing. He’s passed this knowledge on to experienced and novice anglers ever since, and recently penned Simple Fly Fishing: Techniques for Tenkara and Rod & Reel, with co-authors Mauro Mazzo and Craig Mathews. But Chouinard’s passion for nature and fish also translates to direct action. A self-proclaimed dam-buster, Chouinard co-produced the film DamNation, to explore how our river ecosystems are endangered as a result of man-made dams, and how we can all be part of the solution.

You just got back from the premiere of DamNation at SXSW?
Yeah, we had 400 people show up, that’s pretty good.

Why was it important to make this film?
I was taught that if you make a mess, you’re responsible for cleaning it up. Somehow corporations and governments are immune to that kind of thing. They pollute a river and they walk away. They build dams and when they’re no longer useful it’s left to the taxpayers to clean it up. That’s wrong. So I wanted to establish a precedent, starting with dams, that if you build something massive like that—divert a river, or whatever you’re doing, you need to put money into a trust so that when it is obsolete, you have to restore it to its original pristine condition. If that should ever become law they’d never do these massive things again.

The other reason for making this film is that I’ve been a dam-buster all my life. Patagonia’s been involved for a long time in trying to take out dams. Our first victory was Edwards Dam on the Kennebec in Maine. It was preventing hundreds of miles of salmon tributaries from going up there. But it was a local issue. We decided to make it a national issue by coming out with full-page ads in the New York Times.

A lot of interest was given to the thing and it came out. It’s gone, and salmon are now roaring up there, as well as shad and striped bass. It’s amazing there. We were involved with the Elwha Dam even though it was absolutely hopeless at that time. Now it’s gone and the fish are back! So we’ve had some of what I call “concrete” victories.

Most of us in the US grow up going to see these dams, not really understanding how bad they actually are. So what was really nice about the film was that it shined a light on the destructive nature of dams.
[The film] makes a good case for taking out obsolete dams and harmful dams. We need to make a stronger case for not building any more dams and talk about the unintended consequences of existing dams: things like preventing sand from reaching the coastlines, which is very important, especially with the rising seas in the future. We’re losing the beaches. And then we’re losing nutrients. The Colorado doesn’t reach the Gulf of California anymore; two-thirds of the Gulf is a dead zone. All the big fish are gone, because there are no nutrients. And the Aswan Dam of the Nile has killed the Mediterranean. The Mediterranean is a dead sea.

Within a decade or two, there won’t be a single river in China reaching the sea. The whole South China Sea will be another dead zone. We’re killing the oceans with these dams, because the nutrient cycles are being stopped. Then you’ve got evaporation. In the film we talk about how 8% of the total water behind Glen Canyon Dam is lost to evaporation every year. That’s a lot of water.

We’re having a big drought here in California and people are talking about building dams again. That’s not the solution. The solution is to replenish our aquifers. The Ogallala Aquifer is under the whole Midwest and responsible for all that agriculture. It used to be, on average, 30 feet under the ground. Now it’s 300 feet. In another decade it’ll be gone. And it’s fossil water. It’s millions of years old. So it’s not being replenished. Instead of building dams, why not replenish our aquifers, which is completely possible to do.

The film makes the case for protecting these areas and rivers so we can actually enjoy them. You just made the book Simple Fly Fishing, which talks about fishing on rivers that are healthy and the beautiful art of simple fly fishing, or tenkara. What’s so special about tenkara?
The book is a metaphor for society. The overlying problem is growth, which is what no one wants to address. Whatever gains we make as a society in cleaning up our act and becoming more so-called environmental are completely erased by growth. Whether it’s population growth, the growth of companies, or the growth of consumerism. We’re not getting anywhere. In fact, we’re losing, every single day. The only solution is to go back to a simpler life.

You perfect a sport when you can do all of these things with less stuff. The most impressive ascent of Everest was by the Swedish guy who bicycled from Stockholm to Kathmandu and then soloed Everest and bicycled back to Stockholm. That is cool, as opposed to this huge multinational guided thing with computers and internet cafes at the base of Everest. I’m really stoked to see some of the routes I did on Capitan that took us nine or ten days being soloed by guys in their gym shorts. That’s the way sports should go.

Unfortunately, fly fishing has gone the opposite way. The industry has made people so insecure that they feel like unless they have a $1,000 rod, $500 reel, and multiple ones, they won’t catch a fish. They have reels with drags on them that can stop a truck. So it’s an industry based on enticing people to consume more and more. Which is the problem with our society. We need to get back to a simpler life where we consume less. We buy used clothes, we patch our clothes, we make things last. We buy less, but buy better quality that’ll last a long time and hand it down to our kids. That’s what tenkara’s all about. The technique goes back to 210 ad, when it was first written about. That’s the way I and a lot of people in my generation learned to fish. We bought a bamboo pole, or cut one, and put a line on the end with a worm and we caught fish. Tenkara is a pole with a line on the end and an artificial fly. I started doing this as a novelty. Then I realized the combination of the flexible pole and being able to control the action of the fly—which you can’t do with a stiff fly rod—I can make that fly dance in front of a trout’s nose and he can’t resist it. I’ll go out with some of the best fly fishers in the world, and at the end of the day, they’ll maybe have caught 10 fish, I’ll have about 50.

In Simple Fly Fishing you ask fly fisher Lefty Kreh to describe in two sentences how to cast a line. Can you describe in a couple sentences how to use the tenkara system to catch a fish?
I could teach somebody to cast in three minutes. It’s that simple. If you want to turn someone into an angler, they have to catch fish. They can’t go three days without catching a fish (laughs). As soon as they catch
that fish, they’re hooked. I was just down in Argentina and I had a waitress in a lodge and I promised to teach her fishing. I gave her a three-minute lesson casting a tenkara rod. I told her what to do, and she went out, she landed two rainbow trout! Two twenty-inch rainbow trout all on her own. So it’s a metaphor for society in that if we have to go to a simpler life, it won’t be an impoverished life, it’s going to be a great life.

A lot of people learn a sport without ever learning the basics. A lot of climbers learn to climb in a climbing gym. Then they go out on a real crag and they don’t know how to place protection or anything. They never learned any of that stuff. Fishing’s the same thing. People start out and immediately take a casting class or they go out with a guide. Unless the guide is a real teacher, your mind just shuts off. It’s like being driven by a chauffeur to a place in the city 10 days in a row. Unless you actually drive there on your own, you’ll never be able to do it because your mind shuts off while that guy’s driving you there.

Tenkara teaches you the absolute basics. The most important thing is that it gives action to the fly, instead of this dead object that’s floating on the surface with no drag. The thing is dancing around like a real fly does. If you get it in front of a trout’s nose, it’s a killer.

Fishing is such a male-dominated sport, women may be intimidated to pick it up. You look through fishing magazines and there are women fishing in their bikinis. To fish, you either have to put on a bikini, or deal with the burly tattooed guy.
It’s not only male-dominated, but if you look at magazines and stuff, all the guides, they all have these great big bushy beards, they have tattoos, and they’re talking about ripped lips, and it’s become this testosterone-laden sport, where it used to be the gentle, contemplative sport. It’s you against the fish now. And it’s crazy! Women look at that and say, “Gee, that’s not me.” But 38% of our business right now is women’s fly fishing stuff, because no one else is paying any attention to [what they want].

Your wife doesn’t fish. Has she tried the tenkara?
No, she doesn’t want to poke holes in a fish’s mouth. But you know, catch and release causes very little damage to the fish. There’s the rare occasion where you could kill or hurt a fish. But I’ve caught the same fish in two different casts. I’ve caught a steelhead, released it, cast again and caught him again.

The fish was probably so annoyed.
You’re tormenting fish, no doubt about it, but it’s pretty harmless for the good that it does, which is to create anglers who really care about the environment and clean rivers and stuff like that. If you don’t have any relationship with a river, then you don’t care whether it’s polluted or not. It does a lot of good in that respect. If you really didn’t want to hook a fish, but you like the idea of outsmarting one, you just put a fly on that doesn’t have a point or barb. The fish will tug on it and that’s it. You get the same enjoyment.

Can you talk about the idea of “reading the river” and how it’s important to fishing and being able to catch something?
Like I said, I could give people a three-minute lesson and then they can really start catching fish—if I tell them where the fish are. It’s like robbing a bank: that’s where the money is, but there better be money there! It’s the hardest thing for people to learn, and that’s something they have to learn on their own, studying and even going out with guides who point out where the fish are. But that’s the enjoyable part—learning.

You’re known to go off on your own when you’re fishing. Is that a good time for contemplation?
It takes an incredible amount of concentration to be a good fisher. You have to really study the water flow and think like a fish: “Where’s the fish going to be in this kind of water? What insects are likely to come out at 2 o'clock this afternoon?” It’s very intense.

People say, “I don’t fish because I don’t have the patience.” That’s a different kind of fishing. That’s throwing a worm or some bait and sitting there waiting for something to bite it. Fly fishing’s not like that. It’s a completely proactive thing. Each person is in his own world. You may as well just go and do it yourself. Plus you want to get to the good places before your buddies.

Do you consider fly fishing a sport?
I don’t think it’s a sport. A sport belongs in the sport pages of a newspaper. Climbing doesn’t belong there, and fly fishing doesn’t belong there. It’s a passion. With the tenkara, if you catch a big fish, you have to replace that reel with physical action. You have to run after the fish, you’ve gotta do all kinds of stuff to get that fish in. But that’s the fun of it.

Does Patagonia have a particular fishing ethos that’s different from other companies?
I think we’re more concerned about protect- ing resources than a lot of companies. There are 30,000+ manufacturers of fishing gear in America. Of those, only 13 belong to the global organization 1% for the Planet. You’d think a company that’s dependent on having clean rivers and healthy fish populations would feel more responsibility to do some- thing about protecting them than your average taxpayer, but no. It’s really a crime.

Then, I’m interested in getting people into fly fishing because they’ll be advocates for protecting their resources. Right now, it’s a dying sport. Kids are sitting at home, playing their Game Boys and they’re not out. Especially urban kids, who have a long ways to go before they can catch fish. I’m particularly interested in getting women and their daughters into fly fishing. There’s tremendous interest from women, if it’s done right.

You started fishing with your brother back in Maine. Were you fly fishing?
No, I didn’t get into fly fishing until I was 18 years old when I was in the Tetons. One of the mountain guides, Glenn Exum, who owned the Exum Guide Service, was teaching his son how to fly cast. I was watching him out in the meadow and he looked over at me and said, “Hey. Come on over here, son.” He taught me how to cast, and that was it. I put away my spinning lures and became a fly fisherman.

The last time we talked you said you had to survive off cat food one summer because you were so poor—
—that was the summer!

So once you learned to fish, you didn’t have to eat cat food anymore?
(laughs) I only did that for one summer. I mean, I ate porcupine and ground squirrels. The butcher shop in Jackson would save bones for me. I scavenged a lot of different things. And yeah, I ate fish.

From top: Yvon Chouinard, 2013. Photo: Jeremy Koreski; Yvon Chouinard on the Henry’s Fork River in Idaho fishing for Rainbows, 2013. Photo: Jeremy Koreski; Salmo Salar, no reel no problem, Iceland. Photo: Malinda Pennoyer Chouinard; Don’t fence me in. Yvon Chouinard wrapping up a bad day of fishing. Still beats workin’, Wilson, Wyoming. Photo: Tim Davis

Closed RP W/ King-Denmark ~ The Valkyrie

A young girl, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, her skin slightly tanned from the sun, wearing a dark blue cloak, which covered the rest of her clothing, and was coved in mud at the bottom walked through a small southern town, with her towering companion, whom looked like a older brother. Her brother had simple clothing, as well as short pale blonde hair, and no cloak, and was carrying a small travel bag on his back.

Both remained silent as they walked, seemingly from a different world then that of which they walked in. Their posture was slightly different, as was the way they walked, and carried themselves. Even their features didn’t match up to what everyone else’s was in the area..

The girl stopped as she spotted a seller, whom was selling fish, tugging on her brothers sleeve, and asking a silent question. Which her brother refused, and kept walking.

The girl stood there for a minute, alone.. Watching her brother walk off. She let out a sigh. Slightly looking around, her eyes ending up meeting another pair of blue..

bill: view one

Of all the Weasley boys, Bill was the one who pulled people in. He was the baby who got the most compliments from strangers, the kid who got the most play dates, and the son who got the most gifts from relatives on holidays. His mother strongly suspected he would have gotten the most girls as well, if he’d really wanted to be that kind of teenage boy, but he didn’t. Because he was Bill. 

There had been an awful lot of fretting after the encounter with Fenrir, even once that first full moon had passed with Bill locked up in the basement of Shell Cottage. He and Fleur had laughed themselves into tearful hysterics when she’d taken the security and fortification spells off the door and he was absolutely fine. Breathing never came so easy. This was the end of their werewolf troubles, thank Merlin. Besides coming around to Fleur’s magnificent steak tartare, he would stay the same old Bill. It felt almost boring. (Something he would only confess to Fleur, because what a ridiculous complaint that was.)

But the thing they don’t tell you about scars is that, with alarming speed, you forget about their existence. Even the ones bestowed upon you by a psychopathic werewolf. So it wasn’t until after the war ended, after life settled into this strange normal where there were dead brothers and new babies and a person could venture back into the world again, that it began to creep up on him. 

At first, he was sure he was going a bit mad. That had to be it. He would smile tightly (tightly because all the scar tissue never loosened its grip), and other people (clerks, shopkeepers, old ladies on the street) would smile tightly back, but it wouldn’t reach their eyes, because they’d be too busy looking around nervously for an escape. Bill had never made people nervous before. He was the Weasley who brought calm. This wasn’t him at all.

But where once the shoulders of Gringotts clients would sag in relief at the sight of him and all his humanness, they awkwardly ignored him now. Better the inscrutable goblin you know, than the possibly infected mauled-by-a-werewolf guy you don’t. And Bill got it. He understood. But he was also Bill Weasley, the smart guy, the laid back guy, the guy you wanted to know. He wasn’t some carved up thing Fenrir had left behind. So he practiced turning on the charm a bit more, smiling but not twisting his features too much, jumping to introduce himself and be friendly and nice and pleasant, not relying on what was once natural social magnetism. It was like learning a whole new kind of disarming spell. 

And it worked, but not always. The first time a fellow Hogwarts parent avoided touching him and outright flinched when Fleur called them out, Bill felt it anyway. That small hitch in his gut, like a fish hook, tugging, tugging. Because he was Bill. And now he looked mean and scary and not the kind of person you wanted to know.

And yes, Fleur was good-looking enough for the both of them. And yes, there were greater losses in this world. But he was Bill Weasley. And that once meant something else.