This photo went viral in 2015 claiming to be a sea monster in Greece but, in reality, it might be far from a mysterious sea serpent. The image was taken by 52 year old
Harvey Robertson while he was visiting the country on vacation with his family. He leaned over the side of the boat to snap some photos of the water while in a sea cave and when he looked over the pictures he took, he saw this. However, after about a week of this picture spreading around, the real ‘creature’ was found.
Dr. Darren Naish of the National Oceanography Center at the University of Southampton thinks that what Robertson captured on camera was most likely what is called a low freeboard fender. It is an object that helps protect boats from taking damage on dock walls and other obstructions.
The sign above was freshly painted and affixed to the wall
and overhead from the second story with a rather large piece of metal and
ornate finial jutting out. It was a
sturdy fixture and would take some effort to remove. But that was not the plan. It hung there solid and strong; a silent
declaration of permanence.
(160130) @hermosavidaluna / _minzy_mz: my precious friend kkungkkung minji. 😘 minji who first postponed all her schedules and came to my first solo concert the quickest. she gifted me the most beautiful flowers and the most beautiful heart. i will work hard and pay back the people who i am thankful to …….. i love you, minji. 💕 i love you to the fans who were with f(x) today!
It’s hard to get a good photo of the tank haha! The bright lights up top want to be overexposed while underexposing everything under the water. No, my water is not “dirty”. It’s tea-colored because of the tannins in the driftwood. Tannins are good for fish!
But I just wanted to show off the current layout and everything that’s in it. I love water-change days, everything looks so nice after the tank gets cleaned and filled. I lose about an inch of water during the week (so about a gallon?) due to evaporation so by Friday there’s a visible waterline and there’s condensation residue from daily misting, etc etc.
Nice fresh happy tank!
Everyone gets to enjoy:
1 large piece of driftwood 1 thick synthetic vine and 1 thin synthetic vine looping around the tank 2 times a day it “rains” when I spray the enclosure (Lil’ Prince the betta loves chasing droplets if I spray the surface of the water. Lady is less amused and usually runs away. Hey girl, this is for YOUR benefit, this is how you drink!)
For Lady the anole up top there is:
1 reptile hammock hung sideways to make a climbing wall 1 floating reptile dock (I put her food there, since she loves dropping down on it from above) 1 cork-log hide 2 synthetic plants hanging on the back of the tank 1 combo heater lamp with both night and day basking bulbs 2 thermometers 1 humidity monitor
For the fish:
1 glass bauble Many rocks Several live plants Nice sand substrate 1 Sponge filter 1 Heater
Everyone is settling in really nicely. Lady is really starting to venture away from her favorite spot in the green plastic plant, although it’s still her favorite place to hide. I just added the cork-wood hide today and she really likes it. I love watching her hunt crickets! She likes watching the fish heh.
Speaking of, the fish are doing great! There was a brief ich breakout on one of the panda cory after everyone was transferred into the big tank but that was taken care of easily with some medication. Lil’ Prince enjoys sleeping on the sloped edge of the reptile dock - not its intended use! but adorable nonetheless. One of the shrimp is pregnant! The neons are doing just fine too.
Arthur was being unusually tense. He’d avoid looking at you
dead on unless you weren’t looking at him, then you’d catch him staring at you
as if he’d never seen you before. Each time you brought it up he dismissed it
and asked you to do something for him to ‘get you out of his way’.
“Arthur did you finish this week’s order?” You asked as you
wondered into his office at the back of the Garrison.
“No… I’m doin’ somin’ else.” Arthur yelled back.
“Arthur what is so important that you haven’t finished
odering booze for your pub?” You asked with an arched eyebrow and a
“I was um…” He sighed and lose his eyes for a moment,
opening them and setting his gaze on you as he played nerovulys with his hands.
“I was figuring out how to… ask you to marry me.”
Your eyes widened and you found yourself speechless, he
swallowed when you left his office with a stunned look on your face. He called
after you as you hurried from the pub, still in a daze as he tried to explain
Adam Milligan imagine requested by anon! “Can I request an Adam one shot where he’s having a hard time adjusting to life out the pit again so the reader is helping him but he thinks he’s a burden in the reader who doesn’t think that at all and loves helping him?" I’m very fond of Adam Milligan’s character, but I rarely get to write for him. If you have any requests, send them my way! Hope you like it!
You knew he was awake, though he was very obviously feigning slumber, his chest moving systematically to match the pace of your own breath, his body’s warmth exuded from unmoving limbs, the dip in the mattress beside you falsifying the owner’s state of consciousness. His exhales were steady, timed to precision, his breath hardly disturbing the air save for the rush of near silent sound created by the expulsion of air from his nostrils, a gentle sigh that, admittedly, almost had you fooled. And he would have had you fooled, had you not been fully awake yourself, timing your breaths to his, listening for the ragged inhale you knew would filter through his facade every hundred breaths, when the hair at the back of his skull would bristle softly against the motel’s pillowcase, a fidget here and there displaying his deep-rooted discomfort. If you knew anyone, it was the man underneath your covers. Adam Milligan couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, try as he might. The man was practically your ward, under your care and protection since his brothers finally managed to wrench him from the cage he’d been trapped in for… for God knows how long with two vicious, never-tiring archangels. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived with enough brain function leftover to blink his eyelids, let alone pretend to sleep to keep you from investigating the cause of his insomnia. He cleared his throat as gently as was humanely possible, shifting to accommodate for the sound, passing his actions off as re-positioning, seeking better comfort. He went stiffer than before, waiting, listening. You kept pace with your breathing. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Your lungs expanded with lazy breath, your face snuggling into the cotton fibers covering your pillow. After a moment of his evaluation, he determined you to be deep in sleep, silently slipping from the covers, his fingertips prodding the comforter back into place along your spine, careful not to touch you. He knew hunters to be light sleepers, and he of all people would fear waking a beast like yourself. Then again, how could you compare yourself to someone like Michael? Like Lucifer? His bare feet prodded away from the bed, cautious of the floorboards, choosing his footfall as if his life depended on it, creeping away, a mere whisper against wood.
He tread near the window overlooking the motel’s dirt parking lot before stopping, a faint thud alerting you of his body’s weight, now resting against the wall. You turned over, clothes itching against the fabric cocooning your body, propping your face up on a hand, your elbow buried in the warmth of Adam’s recently abandoned pillow. His silhouette was illuminated by a sliver of light peeking through the stiff curtain, his fingers peeling back the fabric to gaze out at the streetlamps, a single shard of golden light slicing through your darkness. His shoulders were rigid, shifting downward upon your movement, his profile catching the light when his face turned in your direction, his features unreadable… yet something about the set of his brow was off-putting. This fissure in his facade caught your eye as he closed the curtains, your gaze pinpointing his trembling hands as they shifted away from the window, sheathing the room in shadow once again.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled, voice gravelly, weighed-down by exhaustion, his throat crunching rocks on every syllable. He stumbled back to the bed, plopping down with his back to you, his fingers gripping the bedspread like iron vices, as if strangling the blankets would somehow cure his sleepless suffering. You erected yourself behind him, shifting beneath the blankets so that you were sitting as he was, your hand extending to rest atop his. He flinched away, shoulders hardening beneath the thin cloth of his tee shirt, your own hand retracting from his sudden movement. He cursed under his breath, his head shaking just slightly as it ducked into his chest, his expression hidden by your position. He inhaled slowly, his face angling towards yours as he had by the window, only displaying his profile, never looking you straight on. “Sorry,” he sighed again, clenching and unclenching his fist before moving his hands to his lap, hunching over his thighs. He brought his fingers over his face and further, venturing into his hairline, a common action with stress stamped all over it. How could you blame him? The man spent millennia locked away in Hell with the Devil himself and God’s favourite kiss-ass. His hands remained locked in his hair, his body curled in on itself. He made no attempt to speak again. You kicked the blankets from your body, your feet striking the floor as you made your way from the covers. The floorboards carried a certain chill atop them, striking through the balls of your feet as you scurried to the other side of the bed, to Adam, stopping in front of him. He nodded into his hands, chuckling to himself softly, a whisper of defeated humour. His face lifted from his hands, fingers clasping as they fell between his knees, his arms propped–up on his thighs. “You weren’t asleep,” he acknowledged. You tilted your head, raising your eyebrows.
“Neither were you, Milligan,” you whispered, your voice startlingly aware of the thin walls and the hour, docking your volume to a decibel above a breath. He grimaced, crystal eyes shifting to meet yours, wordless. He was just… so thoroughly tired. It was etched into his face, smudged beneath his eyes like charcoal, it polluted the clarity of his irises. You sighed, defeat tainting your exhale, as you took in his night-darkened features. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” You offered, his head shaking sloppily as you spoke, his eyebrows pinching in preparation to reject your therapy.
“No, no. It’s fine. I’m… I’m fine. I’ll be alright, just a little tired.” He muttered, his hands moving to rest below his chin, though his hand and jaw did not meet. They hovered below his face, fingers twitching as he made his excuse. You pursed your lips, a hand finding it’s way to your hip, painting the picture of a stereotypical mother reprimanding her lying child.
“Adam,” you pressed, voice harsher than before, gaining strength rather than volume, his eyes locking on yours once more.
“I’m fine!” He urged, his stare unfeeling, locked away in a vault somewhere his emotions could be kept safe, kept away from the world… from you. You began forming his name once again, but his hands dropped to his lap, fingers unlacing, hands raised at his sides. “I didn’t want to worry you, Y/n, alright?” He hissed, voice broken, facade falling away. He was aggravated, he was hurt, and most of all… the fear clung to his voice like saran wrap, coating his every word with a thick, obvious paint. Your mouth closed slowly, his hands falling to his legs with a fabric-softened slap. “I can’t sleep without going back. I didn’t want you to worry about me, so I just…” He stumbled, eyes searching the ceiling for the strength to continue. Coming up blank, he began anew. “I dealt with it then, I can deal with it now. I just didn’t want to keep you up again with my problems.” He whispered, eyes falling on yours, exposing you to the miseries within. You slouched down, stabilizing yourself on your knees, your hands wrapping around his waist. He froze up as soon as you made contact with him, but soon he realized your approach was non-violent, your arms around his core were meant to soothe, not inflict harm. He relaxed breath by breath, his arms inching to yours, his palms resting on your elbows.
“Don’t be afraid to wake me up. There’s a reason I’m here, Adam,” you spoke, your voice a whisper against his shoulder, your skin tingling where his hands met your arms. “If you can’t sleep, we’ll stay awake.” You separated your face from his chest, craning your neck to view his face. The planes of his cheeks glowed softly in the absence of light, his eyes sparkling, if dimly, boring into yours.
“This doesn’t bother you?” he mumbled, his breath breezing across your face. You smiled, easing closer still, shaking your head at his silly assumption, your lips reaching up to peck his cheek. Surprisingly, he didn’t wince away from your touch. You burrowed back into his shoulder, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you to him like you were his life preserver. In many ways, you were. “Thank you,” he sighed, his face buried in your hair.
For the first time since his liberation, he felt safe.
Thoroughly Modern Beast- why shove that stylish “Millie Dillmount” wig back in the box when you can use it again and give your Beast that quirky 1920’s flair? Accentuate this chic look with some hot pink fabric taped to the theatre’s loading dock wall and voila- a picture perfect moment…..
My bday is also Sept 2! Bday smut is always a perfect gift! Thank you!
Mmmmm birthday smut! Happiest of days, @b-boop5!! Your delicious little slice of Everlark perfection was written especially for you by the inimitable @titaniasfics. Enjoy!
The Lady of the Lake
Summary: The Everdeen family have been the only occupants on
Lake Vivian since her grandfather built their home fifty years earlier.
However, fate brings a new neighbor to their shores. How will she adapt
to this new situation?
So many thanks to @akai-echo, for the inspiration and for
prereading. All mistakes are mine.
is my lake.
exaggerating a little but not much. My family’s small house has been on this
lake since my Grandfather, Emmett Everdeen, bought the land for a song and
built our house along its shores. Because it’s a small and obscure
mountain lake on the outskirts of a small town, you’d think people would
eventually forget that it’s there. And most have - there are only a handful of
visitors from town who park at the public boat launch and go out for an
afternoon of bass fishing, or the occasional troop of teenagers who will fool
around along the lake’s edge, leaving wet footprints and empty beer bottles
that are fastidiously cleaned up by me the very next day. I can’t help but
feel a proprietary possession towards the small lake, even though I technically
don’t own anything more than the plot of land my family’s house rests on. After
all, it’s only ever been the Everdeen’s cottage on Lake Vivian and town folk
always treated it as ours.
It’s April 10th, which means in 1912 at around noon, the call of “Let’s go!” rang out aboard Titanic as the maiden voyage got underway. Tugs pulled the Titanic away from the dock wall so she could start her engines, while officers on the bow and stern supervised the taking aboard of the mooring lines(I believe it was Wilde on the forecastle and Murdoch near the aft docking bridge). The Titanic then began to make her way down the channel and around the corner of her berth…..and then something happened. Something that never makes it way into media depictions of the Titanic for whatever reason is her dramatic close encounter with the SS New York.
As the Titanic left her dock and began making her way down Southampton harbor, she began passing by White Star Line’s Oceanic and the American Line’s New York which was moored outboard of the Oceanic.
Both ships were among many laid up in Southampton due to the
lingering effects of a coal strike. The strike had ended several days
previously but coal supplies had yet to recover, White Star actually had
to scavenge the bunkers of ships in the International Mercantile Marine
to ensure enough coal for the Titanic’s maiden voyage. As the Titanic passed by the Oceanic/New York, the suction created by her large propellers began to strain the mooring lines of the New York.
The lines then began snapping, witnesses in the crowd said the breaking
lines sounded like gunshots going off(mooring lines are very thick).
The stern of the New York began swinging towards the port side of the Titanic
with near everyone on deck holding their breath in anticipation of
collision(seriously look at all those heads popping out of the A deck
promenade in the first picture). The day was saved though with literally
only feet to spare between the stern of the New York and the hull of the Titanic. A tow line managed to be successfully thrown from a tug onto the New York and attached to her, while on the Titanic the port engine was thrown astern to try to reverse the suction. The New York was towed back to where she belonged at dock and the Titanic continued her maiden voyage down to Cherbourg, albeit delayed by almost an hour. In retrospect it would’ve been better for the New York to hit the Titanic.
This would factually be the closest the Titanic ever came to something called New York.