#boatside

[gun-roswell]

A view from the stern of the boat

A view from the stern of the boat

“The setting sun left behind, the bow set towards the night, sailing across the high seas, to the pending darkness, but for now, the warmth of the shiny ball is still on our backs“ Gun Roswell A view from the stern of the boat The splashing waves causing ripples onto the water’s surface, the sunny rays reflected, without a real purpose, but it does not make it any less appealing, watching the…

[liz-lukas]

House iterations I made for my project: Berry's Boatside Bakehouse

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

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Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: The fallout from the storm leaves more answers than questions for the crew, as they do their best to heal from wounds past, present and future.

A/N: Hiiiiiiii, besties! Chapter 5 is officially here! Whoop whoop! Who's ready to board the Angst express? Also, Happy Easter!

Content Warning: Knives, mention of injuries, trauma, sensory overload, mentions of drowning and blood. I think that's everything. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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She watched as the ship came rolling in. A flurry of activity upon the main deck, as the anchor was dropped, and a plank lowered to connect the boatside and port. Something was wrong- she could sense it. Usually when the Revenge paid a visit to the Republic of Pirates, there was a certain frisson of excitement and promise of good times. This time around, the crew's calls were not sentiments of hopeful anticipation but anxious haste to disembark.

Spanish Jackie's eyes narrowed, as she spied upon the weary form of one Oluwande, supporting an equally worn out Jim and Archie. Damn, she had never seen them looking for forlorn and exhausted. Sure, pirating was not the most glamouroud of professions but cuts, bruises and...what even was that staining their clothes? Yeah, the trio had seen better days, that was for sure. "What the fuck happened?" the bar owner forgo her usual greeting, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

Oluwande regarded the business woman with a look of pure reluctance. He was tired- no, scratch that- he was bone-achingly, soul-wearily exhausted, to the point where talking felt like a curse and a chore. Every fibre of his very being was screaming in unison for him to collapse upon the ground and become one with the dirt. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that jazz.  "Ship got caught in a storm."

"Any casualties?"

It only happened occasionally but there were times when Oluwande would get overwhelmed and it was like something in his brain switched off, needing to go on standby for a while, until he felt more settled and assured. His partners were aware of the main triggers that would induce a sensory overload. Things like a cacophony of clashing ambient sounds or extreme exhaustion would prompt him to remain silent for a while.

It had never really phased Jim, Archie- and when she was visiting- Zheng. As soon as he had explained it to them, their only main concern was making sure Oluwande felt supported during those periods of quiet. Whether it was finding him a safe space to decompress or making sure he got enough rest- the great loves of his life always endeavoured make sure his needs were met.

Sensing their partner's increasing distress at having to be verbal, Archie quickly spoke in Oluwande's place. "We're bringing them out now. Is there a doctor nearby?" the grateful upturning of his lips confirmed her suspicions. Always happy to help, the pirate have him a gentle squeeze around the shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah...Oi, you! Yeah, you!" Jackie called out to one of her many husbands. How she kept track of them all was anyone's guess but damn, Archie was impressed. The lady had mad game. If the pirate weren't so burnt out, she might have been even more impressed byt in the particular moment, she just wanted a comfortable seat and a warm meal. "Send the doctor to the local Inn. Tell him he's gonna have a real busy fucking morning. Oh and that The Genital Pirate will be paying!" like hell was Jackie going to foot what was going to undoubtedly be one expensive bill. She knew Stede was loaded but hopefully he had enough coin in that silk purse of his to pay the handsome fare.

Jackie's attention refocused when she caught sight of Swede supporting Blackbeard's right hand man. Damn, did every single member of the Revenge look equally as haggard? "Fuuuuck, you look like you've seen better days." Izzy could not bring himself to respond with his usual sharpness. Gods, he felt as fucking wonderful as he looked. The rescue mission had been an absolute nightmare. So many collective moments of thinking, 'this is it, this is how I go', that amounted to finally pulling Pete's unconscious body from the watery depths. It was a miracle that the First Hand himself had not drowned. In all honesty, Izzy could not decide which was worse, this storm or the night he lost his leg. "Wow, must be bad if you aren't even telling me to 'fuck off'."

The sound of more footsteps took the spotlight off of the weary First Mate, who was glad to have Jackie's attention directed elsewhere. In that moment, the silver-haired pirate allowed himself a moment of weakness to lean upon Swede more than he generally would have done, under different circumstances. But he was tired. Tired of always having to be capable and strong fir those around him. It was quite nice having someone support him for a change.

The charismatic business woman offered her signature wolf-like grin at the two co-captains, who had finally made their way to shore. No obvious wounds to be seen upon their persons, she noted, wondering who it was out of the cohort whom required such urgent care. "Eddie. Hello, Stede. So, a storm, huh?"

A storm, yeah. Some storm, Stede thought, as he felt Ed's grip around his waist tighten at the mere metion of what they has all just survived. Before the blonde could even open his mouth to give a retort, his lover beat him to the punch with a bitter laugh. "If you could call it that. Felt more like a trip to fucking Hell."

"Heard you got some injuries..." the words died, as she and the rest of the waiting crew, moved to let Fang and Roach carry the first of several makeshift gurneys up the hill. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah. 'Oh, shit'." Ed muttered, watching was a solemn gaze, as the body was carried into the nearby Inn.

"That's a lotta fucking blood."

====

Perhaps they should have washed up before sitting down in the Inn's small dining area. Well, if you could really call it that. It was more of a gloried room with a few tables and chairs. Still, the plates of cheese and bread were more gratefully recieved by the famished pirates, who could barely recollect when they had last eaten. What day was it even? The storm had felt like it had lasted an eternity.

"There was so much blood." Wee John commented, as he bit into another piece of bread. It was almost inedibly dry but thankfully, the cold pitcher of water, in the middle of the table, solved such issues.

Swede nodded with mild enthusiasm. He did not mind the bread's texture so much, having eaten some truly horrific meals during his time at sea. However, the cheese. Oh, the cheese. It was chalky in texture. The blonde was not aware that cheese could be so powdery. "So much. Maybe even too much?"

"I didn't even realise a person could bleed that much." yeah, no. The cheese was actually worse than the bread, John decided, pushing away his plate in disgust.

"Surely that was an abnormal amount of blood, right?"

Whilst Roach was the most seasoned out of them all when it came to seeing blood...and severed body parts, even he had to admit, it had been an alarming amount of...red. "Yeah, that's gotta be some witchcraft or something. People don't bleed that much." he blamed the fairies. Yeah, it was the fairies fault for sure. They must have been displeased with his offering of thanks, after they made the bread rise.  and cursed the ship with their fairy magic. That was the only logical answer.

Also, the bread at the Inn really was fucking disgusting.

====

It felt almost sickeningly self-indulgent to allow someone so intrinsically well-meaning to tend to such a wretched soul as he and yet, Ed could not bring himself to push away Stede's gentle touch. In fact, the once gruesome legend found himself leaning into the tender caresses. Despite the apparent care he was receiving, Ed could not quieten his racing thoughts. No matter how much he proverbially tried to smother the insidious voice,  that whispered vile realities, from the recesses of his mind. "Fuck." he cursed, as his lover carded his fingers through the silvery tresses. "This is bad, Stede."

The Gentleman Pirate faltered in his ministrations, knowing full well that Ed was not referring to his loving gestures. "I know." there was a graveness that tinged his tone, confirming all of Ed's most intimate fears. If happy-go-lucky Stede Bonnet thought the situation was dire, then Ed was well and truly fucked.

"The crew's gonna blame me for everything, you know?"

He did not want to agree. Oh, how he did not want to but despite his whim-prone ways, Stede knew that they both had to be realistic about the given situation. It would be a fool's error to assune that everything was okay with the crew, that things would magically go back to the way there were and a few weeks time, the Revenge would set sail once more. "I do."

"And they've gotta point. If I hadn't royally fucked them all up during the last storm, we'd've had all hands on deck. And..." the question tasted bitter on his tongue, souring the lingering taste of all the sweetest kisses they had ever shared. Ed knew that Stede's answer had the potential to break his heart into a million pieces but as a suckered for punishment, the pirate had to know his lover's honest opinion. "Do...do you blame me?"

Moving to stand between his lover's legs, Stede gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Ed's ear, noting just how defeated his boyfriend looked. That would just not do, he thought. "Honestly? No, no I don't." the co-captain's attempt at a smile was strained at best but still, it allowed sone light to encroach on the heaviness that dwelled within Ed's heart. Stede Bonnet, the Gentleman Pirate, truly was a lighthouse to the once lost soul. "In fact, I blame myself. I underestimated how deeply traumatised the crew was. So, if anyone is to blame, it's me."

What, no! No, no, that did not make any sense to the silver-haired pirate. No, he and he alone was to blame. How could some so...so good and loving as Stede be to blame for the atrocities caused in the name of Blackbeard? "But they wouldn't have been traumatised if I hadn't-"

As much as Stede was usually a firm believer in talking things through as a crew, he also was well-versed in the thought pattern of his fretting amour. Such a conversation could go round and round in circles for hours, if he did not shock the man into breaking the spiralling of his mind. Nothing too drastic, just enough to snap him out of the self-loathing and bring him back to the present moment. A tender kiss was often the best option for such a task. It was short, sweet. No taking, only giving. Providing comfort and a promise of unconditional love.

Pulling back after a beat, Stede kept his forehead pressed against Ed's, savouring the closeness and allowing the pirate the option to lean in for another, should he crave such a thing. "Guess we'll just have to be co-blamed, hmm?" Stede whispered, offering another freely given smile. This time, it felt more genuine. Easier. Almost as easy as breathing.

And with that, Ed tugged the

Gentleman Pirate closer into his encircled hold, until the blonde was situated on his lap, needing him to be as near as physcially possible. "I needed that." the silver-haired man mumbled, as he buried his face  against the drenched fabric of Stede's shirt.

The once pristine material was tainted with...he did not even know who's blood it was. All he had witnessed was the bloody aftermath in the hold, before he ordered Buttons to clean what he could and leave the rest for the repairmen to  deal with. The familiar iron scent overwhelming Ed's senses. Man, the stench of decay transported him back to that unwelcome memory of when the night the Kraken was truly purged from existence...

====

"Did you see his face?" the mystic questioned his drinking buddy, as they sat side by side, outside in the pleasant warmth.

Though he preferred the silvery light of the divine moon, Buttons could certainly appreciate all that the sun had to offer. The basking rays of golden splendor were a much welcome gift from Mother Nature, after the heavy downpour of the previous days. It was too nice a day to be stuck inside. Plus, someone had to pay mind to the crew's clothes, as they dried outside on the line.

"Who's face?" Fang questioned, as he took another swig from the bottle he had brought from Spanish Jackie. Though his usual preference was rum, the fresh orange juice was definitely a nice change of pace. Good for you too, he thought, savouring the sweet, citrus flavour.

He was thankful to be able to experience something as simple as drinking juice from a bottle. After the events of the storm, he had been so sure that none of the Revenge's crew would live to see another day, let alone taste an orange. It was terrifying to even pause and consider how close to death they had been only a mere twenty four hours ago.

No, no, enough of that, the pirate chided himself, as the tell-tale sting of tears threatened to blur his vision. He was safe now. They were all safe. Well, most were safe, Fang thought glumly, remembering how all good cheer for surviving the beast of a storm, had instantly been snuffed out at the emerging form of Captain Stede. Damn, there had been so much blood.

Fang was well-versed at witnessing so much gore but outside of a raid environment, the sight had turned his stomach. He had fight back the waves of nausea, that threatened to cause bile to spill past his lips. Thankfully, no such incident had occurred. The last thing the pirate needed was a vomit-inspired nickname.

"Izzy's."

"No."

"Looked like he'd seen a ghost."

Were Izzy sat with them now, he would have undoubtedly told the pair to 'shut the fuck up' but the First Mate was nowhere in sight. In fact, Fang could not recall when he had last seen the other pirate. He assumed that, like the rest of the crew, Izzy had locked himself away in one of the many rooms but now that he pondered on it more, had Fang caught sight of Izzy following in tow, as your body had been carried off the ship? Perhaps he was by your side right now. Fang liked the idea of that better, than Izzy being holed away in some dingy space, with only a bottle for comfort. He also liked the prospect of you being kept company.

"Probably has." Buttons continued, his gaze scanning the nearby shoreline. On the horizon, you could easily spot the Revenge, in all her damaged glory. Once a proud vessel, now a shell of her former self. "The ship'll be haunted now, for sure. No way anyone can survive bleeding that much and live to tell the tale." he added gravely.

====

"What's the damage?" the once fearsome First Mate asked, as he sank into a nearby armchair opposite the lengendary- oh, who was he kidding, it was fucking Edward, for goodness sake- who was busy doing fuck all but getting lost in his spiralling thoughts.

Pouring his new companion an equally large dose of rum into a secondary glass, which had been meant for Stede but he was off somewhere, talking to the doctor about an update. "Multiple crew injuries, a damaged ship and a potential mutiny on our hands." he rattled off the list as if it merely contained supplies needed for the crew.

At the sound of the word 'mutiny', Izzy could no suppress his scoff. After everything that had happened, the pirate highly doubted that the shipmates of the Revenge were even thinking about rebelling against their co-captain. If anything, their main focus would probably be getting a change of clothes, food and getting absolutely stinking pissed in their rooms. Hell, that was all that Izzy had planned his agenda that evening. In fact, a glass of this poorly aged rum was a good start. Downing the drink in one go, he savoured the familiar burn, as it warmed his throat and chest. Urgh, it was truly disgusting. Had the owners watered it down? "The crew actually mentioned anything about kicking off, or are you just being a narcissistic prick?"

"Izzy..." Ed all but begged for the man to take him seriously. Emotions amongst the crew were surely running high and once the option of a mutiny entered their minds, the idea would spread like wildfire, burning through everything he and Stede had fought so hard to build together, leaving in it's smoldering wake nothing but ash and potentially, his charred corpse.

"Look," "I'll keep my ear to the ground, see if I hear any actual rumblings, okay?"

"Thank you."

"Twat."

"Have you been to see them?"

"Don't-" during his time on the rocky waves, he had been thankful that you were at least safe in the hold and not there to witness both the demise of him and your friend. If only he had known what was really afoot in the hold, Izzy would have kept you by his side. Hell, he would have left the crew to their own fucking devices- storm be damned- and kept you hidden from sight in the safety of his cabin. "I can't...not with you. Not right now, Edward. I..." the uncharacteristic break in his voice caught his lifelong companion by surprise.

Ed knew how much Izzy cared about you. For fucks sake, the man was not as subtle as he thought he was when it came to his pining. However, Ed could list on one hand the amount of times he had witnessed the First Mate's stoic mask crack under the pressure of intense emotion. It felt almost blasphemous to pay witness to the glassiness, that built up in Izzy's eyes, as the silver-haired pirate tried his damned hardest to not breakdown right there and then. "I'm not blaming you but-" a gloved hand came to settle over his mouth, as a sob ripped through his body.

Gods, it was just one nightmare after another. But you. Oh, you. Just the mere recollection of your body being bundled onto a makeshift gurney and carried past the crew, as they stood in horrified silence on the hill, was sure to haunt Izzy for the rest of his wretched days. And Izzy could not even blame Frenchie for what had happened. The poor bastard had been lost in a hallucination, caused by unresolved trauma. Had he been in control of his mind, there was no doubt that the young man would never have dreamed of injuring you- accident or otherwise. "you might as well have been the one to put the knife in his hand." he all but whined, sounding as broken as he felt.

"Iz, I'm-"

"No. No, I don't want to hear it. Fuck your apology, Edward." he meant every word. Izzy did not want Ed to feel any worser than he already did. Isreal Hands was many things but he was not vindictive. Well, he was not feeling vindictive at that particular moment. Calm him soft but sailing the seven seas with Bonnet's ragtag group of misfits had shown the First Hand an alternative life to being a pirate. One full of love and a found family. While Izzy could still be hurtful with his words, he was trying so desperately to be better. Anything for those he loved. Had he not promised the exact same thing to you? "I'm at fault too." but before Ed could even dare to interrupt with a protest, the silver-haired pirate was quick to shake his head. Roughly drying his tears, Izzy delivered one last line to his captain, "I fed your fucking darkness back then. Let them blame me too."

Let (y/n) hate me too, it's what I deserve, Izzy thought, as he downed the rest of the glass and stood to make his exit, wanting nothing more now than to get blind drunk on whatever disgusting excuse for rum the inn could offer.

====

"I'm not saying I blame him completely. I'm just saying it's his fault." Jim whispered to her partner, as the sat outside the door to their shared room. Oluwande was inside decompressing after his sensory overload and while the two pirates knew he needed space, they felt more assured remaining at least in the hallway, should he need anything.

It felt good, Archie thought, as they took a bite of the cheese Wee John had brought up for them to share, to be able to rest for a moment. After everything that had happened, it was a miracle that they had survived the storm. What a blessing it was to be able to sit beside their partner, share food and even breathe the same air. When quite frankly, they should have all been sleeping with the fishes. "Completely, yeah and I hear you, babe. It's just that- you know- if Izzy hadn't poked the bear-"

"Oh, no. Totally. The guy fucked us all over." Jim agreed half-heartedly. It was not anything personal to Archie. Usually, the pirate would be all for talking things through. However, it had gotten to a point in the day where, they felt unable to really process any more information, let alone mentally dissect the thought pattern of another person. So, whilst they were not fully engaged in the conversation, Jim recognised that Archie obviously needed a sounding board while the worked through some things. And, hey, once Oluwande was awake, he could take their place, while they got some much needed rest.

Taking another bite, they ruminated over the chalky consistency of the cheese. Yeah, there was something  definitely not quite right with it. After one more testing bite, it was then they realised that the kind gesture had not been all that kind. Wee John had proffered bad cheese on them! That bastard...

The more Archie considered the gravity of the situation, the more she found herself not being able to completely cast the blame onto the First Mate.

So much had happened during the Kraken era. So many horrible, terrible, unforgivable things. And yet, she knew that deep down, things could have been so much worse. There were times when they had been so sure that Blackbeard was going to punish them for something but the cut of a knife never came. There was no barrel of a pistol to stare down. Archie had always considered those moments to be based on pure luck or prayers answered by the snake god, Manasa. Knowing what she did now, the pirate realised that it had been Izzy taking the fall for their shortcomings. He was not a guardian angel by any means but credit was given where credit was due, the guy had suffered for his infatuation with the lethal myth. His anatomical sacrifices had saved their lives on more than one occasion. "I guess he did kinda pay the price by losing his leg."

====

"We've managed to stabilise them. It'll be a bit touch and go over the next few days but right now, we're optimistic for a full recovery." the doctor explained in a hushed tone, as he and the co-captain lingered outside his patient's door.

A sigh he had not been aware he was holding, escaped his lips. Okay, that was something, right? They could work with 'touch and go'. The battle was not over yet, at least. There was still hope. "That's...that's really great news. Thank you for all your hard work. Myself and the crew really appreciate all your efforts."

"I'd recommend in the meantime, minimal visitors. Only people they're closest to on the ship, that kind of thing. Just while we're monitoring things." at the mere mention of visitors, Stede was already knew who should have be first in line to pay the patient a visit. The only question was, were they sober enough to sit by the bedside without throwing up everywhere? He highly doubted it. The last he had seen of the other man, he had been clutching a bottle tightly to his chest, as he made his way up the stairs and to hide away in his room.

"Of course, I'll let everyone know."

"One last thing, Jackie did mention that you'd be footing the bill."

"Ah, yes. Of course." the blonde dare not think about the extortionate amount that the doctor was about to charge him. Still, the gentleman had at least stabilised any serious wounds, so Stede supposed he did deserve some coin. "Let me get my purse."

====

With your fight or flight insticts in overdrive, the sound of the door opening, had caused you to reach for the knife you kept concealed under a nearby pillow. The pirate would have assumed that following your plight in the hold, you would have been unsteady upon your feet and yet, you moved at an surprising speed. In the blink of an eye, you had abandoned your post on the bed and had the serrated edge of the blade pressed against his throat.

If anyone else had dared to attempt such an act, they surely would have been impaled on their own weapon but with you, the silver-haired pirate, fought tooth and nail to keep his insticts at bay. He let you slowly regain your sense and return to yourself, as you blinked a few times. Whatever fear plagued your mind, slowly lifted, allowing you to recognise your surroundings and not deem the man before you as a threat.

The blade clattered to the floor, as you arm dropped to your side. You supposed this was the moment you were meant to feel shame for having threatened the life of the man you called co-captain and yet, you felt nothing. No emotions bubbled to the surface. All that remained, in the wake of your momentary lapse of mental control, was a much-welcomed numbness, that sat heavy as a stone within the center of your sternum. The feeling of nothing was far better preferred to the overwhelming waves of grief and terror, that had previously coursed through your veins.

Ed's gaze momentarily broke your intense eye contact, to survey the discarded knife. Only then did he notice the tarnished metal. Crimson coated it's exterior and while he could not be fully certain that it was not your blood, that adorned the crude metalwork, there was not doubt in his mind that, this was the same weapon that Frenchie had brandished in the storage hold. The Captain had his suspicions as to why you had kept it in your possession but such thoughts would have to remain entirely his own, until you were suitably taken care of.

You watched the man warily, as he bent to pick up the knife. Despite the tensing of your muscles, he did not pay your on edge disposition any mind, while he took his time to place the blade upon the modest writing desk. Ed was conscious to keep his movements steady- no sudden gestures, nothing to spook you in your heightened state of alert.

With the knife out of harm's way, his attention zoned in once more on you, as you stood just a few feet away, anxiously wringing your hands, as if you expected something foul to befell you, now that you were without your trusty blade.

Despite your fears, your demeanour softened a fraction, when the once fearsome myth of a man offered you a rare smile. It was small. Hell, barely even noticeable to the untrained eye but you spotted it all the same. It was a gesture meant to comfort, to put you at ease and well, whilst your nerves remained frayed, you could not deny that, his presence was more than welcome in that cramped space of yours. Company served as a distraction from the intrusive memory of your time in the storage held.

He dared to take a step towards you, and then another, when you did not cringe away from his approach. Edcarefully watched you for any subtle changes to your physical appearance. From the rise and fall of your chest, to the wide-eyed stare- any discernible flicker of your trepidation rising by even a fraction, he would back away. All he wanted was to help you feel more like yourself again, not worsen your mental and physical stare further.

Toe to toe, you now stood. So close in fact, you could feel the much welcomed heat radiating from his leather clad body. Perhaps you should have listened to the adrenaline-fuelled alarm bells that screamed in your head, as you allowed the pirate to take your hand in his but there was something about his gentle touch, that kept you rooted firmly to the spot. He turned your hand to be palm up, as he examined the crude, jagged line, that marred the skin from the base of your digits, to the crook of your elbow. Really, it should have been cleaned and bandaged hours ago by the doctor. Roach had tried his best but your hysteria had prevented any actual medical intervention. Now that it was just you and Ed, alone in some random room at the inn, you finally became aware of how painful and itchy the wound felt.

You winced, as his ran a thumb along the inflamed skin, noting the budding infection that bloomed beneath the damaged surface. You could have sworn you had heard him mumble a quiet, "Sorry." Though, in your current state, it could have just been your mind playing tricks on you. "You have two choices." he suddenly stated, interrupting the stifling silence that had sat heavily in the atmosphere. "Get cleaned up and then have the doctor take a look at this." Ed explained concisely, carefully letting your arm drop to your side. "Or you can see the doctor now and we'll get you cleaned up later." his arms roamed over your shirt. The once pristine (colour choice) was now completely ruined by the nauseating dark red, that now saturated most of the cloth. Ed doubted that it was your arm that had caused such monumental stain.

The overwhelming sense of guilt reared it's ugly head, as the pirate felt the familiar tug of sorrow pull at his heart strings. To hell with what Izzy had said, this was his fault and his alone, Ed thought, blaming himself for the precarious predicaments of his crew's wellbeing. Izzy may have instigated his bad behaviour all those many moons ago but Ed had allowed himself to thrive in the darkness and pain of Blackbeard. This was all his doing but by the grace of Calypso, he was going to make amends. Anything and everything to make his crew feel whole and mentally stable once more. Starting with you. "So, what'll it be, (y/l/n)?"

=============================

A/N: It's your choice, dear reader, what would you prefer- get cleaned up first and then see the doctor or vice versa? Chime off in the comments or vote in the poll here and I'll write whichever decision gets the most votes.

P.S. oh, just one more thing, either choice will completely change the trajectory of the story. So, pick wisely!

[fishermcn]

scorned be the sea's daughters.

Beneath their feet the wooden vessels hum and groan with the din of their quarries' songs, and the gathered Fishermen steady their footing and test the tautness of their ropes, waiting with bated breaths for the tension to break and their hunt to begin in earnest. Hours spent not paddling nor steering but drifting on waters flowing to the whim of the Queen Below, the tainted riverways as much a slave to Her will as the raging sea from which She first dredged Herself from. Nary a breath out of turn is exhaled, nor a twitch of the muscle save for gripping ever more tightly the rigging tying the ragged band of hunters to one another, for all it takes for their quarry to sense them would be an errant ripple... so late is the hour of night and so dark is the evening without the moon that it'd been impossible to say when it was that they've arrived, the shores of the great lake out of sight even as they take to finally stirring the waters with oars to assume positions and lure out their prey.

With such obvious baiting, they were not left waiting for long. The first man is dragged from the boat with a scream he can see but not hear, eyes bulging with terror and mouth agape as he disappears beneath the surface without so much as a splash. The second flails at the touch of clawed hands, lashing out with a shout that's choked with pain, then water as his head cracks against the boatside before joining the first beneath the dark depths. Another joins him, then two more as the beasts seize from amongst the ragged band most unwitting consorts, before their brethren respond-- knives are drawn and flint retrieved, and the midnight's shadows are chased away with the grinding of sparks into torchlight. They flare to life almost at once, illuminating the waters within their wide, loose circle only enough to see the distorted forms writhing just beneath as they dart to and fro. A chorus of their own rises to war with the siren's song, a hail of hellfire unleashed from the iron maws of blunderbusses and rifles, and their prey shake the timbers beneath their feet in rage and pain as their blood paints the water crimson.

Their wooden vessels groan with the sudden swell of the dread song from just below the surface, the brackish waters churning furiously with the fury they've willfully roused, and Samuel Whist breathes in time to every kick of the rifle. Even deafened by beeswax, even with the press of frantic bodies and the trembling of the rowboat, his aim strikes true time and again-- steady, breathe, release, and a Daughter bares pearlescent fangs in a snarl now forever frozen. Steady, breathe, release, and the scales of another are torn like wet paper as a bullet pierces her heart and keeps her from seizing another Fisherman.

Another bullet, another jerk of the rifle, another slain Daughter of the Queen Below, before the waters to his left erupt with sudden violence, hooked claws only just failing to maul his arm but shredding the firearm as though it's mere kindling. In the guttering torchlight her face might've been the picture of beauty, high cheekbones and full lips... yet they part to reveal a maw of shark's teeth to match the cruelty of her blackened eyes as she slithers aboard, and for the cry of the dread song that pours over them from her throat there could be no mistaking her for anything but a monster. Beside him, Grime clutches his head as tears of blood pours from his ruined eyes and Wren slumps forward without so much as a gurgle in death, and Sam's own ears scream from the strain even with the beeswax.

She lunges then, murderous melody still upon her cruel lips, and Sam lashes out with the edge of his saw-toothed knife even as he reaches for the pistol on Wren's corpse. Her spined tail lashes with the force of a rogue wave, flinging Grime into the hungry waters with the muffled snapping of bones and nearly capsizing the rowboat as her claws savage the prow, screaming in rage as a bullet punches a hole clean through her shoulder. Blood and sapphire scales scatter across the boat as another two shots bloody the beast before the Daughter closes the distance, and Sam only just manages to avoid getting his head taken off by her fierce jaws, the pistol knocked from his hand from the sheer strength of her. Another rake of her claws goes just wide of gutting him as he slashes in kind with his own blade, furious red lines drawn across his stomach with sickening ease even as the teeth on his knife wrenches another wail from the Daughter as it flays open hideous wounds along her side.

No way out, though. Her grip is iron as the Daughter seizes Sam on the next swing, wrenching his shoulder out of place before slamming him into the floor of the vessel, the howl of pain in his throat choked to death as the wind's driven from his lungs. Her expression shifts to something more harrowing than hatred as the curtain of her sodden hair obscures any sign or sight of hope, abyssal eyes almost demure in their hunger even as her jaws part and claws clench even tighter where they've bitten into his thin shoulders... before jerking, suddenly, confusion the last thing passing across the beast's face before slumping overtop of him as the thunder of another gunshot peals out faintly.

Wheezing, coughing, Sam scarcely has the strength to shove her off of him nor the moment to try before another boat bumps into his own none-too gently. A rough kick to the Daughter frees him up to take a shuddering wheeze of air before a familiar pair of hands, as calloused and rough as his own, all but heave him back onto his feet and into her chest.

"Carline." His voice is a harsh rasp, and the round of coughing that strikes him probably kills the already quiet affection in his voice.

"Sam." There's relief and concern and about a hundred other things all balled up and gummed up just beneath her thin layer of snark, thankfully. "Little too fresh with me, aren't you?"

"Shut up." He doesn't quite lean into her, but it's a near thing as the minutes pass, his breathing steadying and the coughing fit he'd been fighting tooth and nail dying back down. With a quick squeeze of her hand, he steps back, scanning the remaining vessels and the now calming waters shrewdly even as he starts rooting about for his knife. "Lose anyone?"

"Grim, Hook." He hears more than sees the slight shrug to her shoulders.

"Anyone important?"

"Nah, just bastards. You?"

"Grime... and Wren." He lets a frustrated sigh hiss through his teeth, soot-stained fingers smearing with blood as he tears a rag from Wren's cloak to cover up the corpse's empty eye sockets. "Stupid fuck. Told'm not to skimp on th'wax." His hands linger over Wren's pockets before crossing the dead man's hands over his chest with a shake of the head.

"Shit. Stupid bastard."

Sam feels her fingers just tangle in the tangled mess of his hair as Carline crouches beside him, shoulders just touching. He soaks it in, lets it and the sorrow linger long enough to ache, before shunting it back into its box to deal with later as what little Wren had to his name finds its way onto his person. "Blackhart still kickin'?"

There's a sudden, raucous cheer that echoes across the lake, led by a particularly loud and familiar roar. The dark green of Carline's eyes seem to gleam, the crow's feet accompanying her dry grin making her seem all the more amused. "Seems so."

Sam doesn't even bother giving voice to his thoughts, his flinty eyes saying more black oaths than he possibly could in a single breath as he follows Carline onto her markedly more intact rowboat, the morning light only just signaling the arrival of the day through the thick cover of clouds. With a rope lashed to the old ship, it isn't long before the two of them are paddling properly to join in the supposed success of another hunt.

[lifecyclesofmayflies]

I wish I could tell you this was a good post. It is not.

I wish I could tell you about how this fish fought hard, ate boatside, and that smiles were had having released it. That would be a lie.

This morning, while fishing with a local guide friend he spotted this fish near the surface. After casting toward it a few times, it became obvious something was wrong. As it swam away I noticed a line trailing from its mouth.

I assumed, as any musky fisherman would, that the line was that of a bait that had broken off in the muskies mouth.

In an attempt to get the bait out and hopefully let the fish start a road to recovery I made a cast over its back and intentionally snagged the fish in the side with one of my baits.

Upon netting the fish, however, the mood became sad indeed as what looked to be an otherwise healthy fish was suffering from severe damage from where some careless angler had tied a paracord around its jaw. On top of that one of its eyes was completely missing from the socket, and the other was sunken so far into its head that it looked like it would likely not regain use of it.

It did, surprisingly, have an awful lot of fight left in it as I was getting the paracord freed, as it thrashed in the net violently.

I do not believe that it was malicious intent that set this particular musky down the unfortunate path it was on, rather ignorance. Perhaps a young angler without knowing tried to tie it off while they went to get a camera because "No one will ever believe me."

I cannot say for certain what caused the angler to do this, but I think we can all agree it was the wrong course of action.

After removing the paracord, I spent time trying to revive the fish, and after several minutes it did swim away under it's own power.

I don't know what the fate of this fish is. I'd like to think it's possible that in the Spring I will land a one eyed musky in that hole. Perhaps, as a thank you from that one for saving it's life. I don't believe that is likely, but I do know that even if that fish has a 5% chance of making it, it is better than the 0% chance it had before I floated by.

[kittycatherder]

Doubt any of the real big ones are in that net but it can't be overstated that alligator gar can actually be longer than alligators

[spikemd]

The Blu-Ray Project: Anaconda

We’re watching every movie we own in alphabetical order, and I’m tracking our progress and collecting my thoughts here.

My wife was so excited to get to introduce me to this camp fest. You have no idea. It’s one of her comfort movies. And good lord was I not prepared for the camp level.

First off, Jon Voight’s accent and whole schtick are a lot. And the animal effects (even beyond the anaconda) are hilarious. Throughout it all JLo had a very bad time throughout the entire movie, and her boyfriend who got poisoned immediately was useless (and should have died on day 1 from raging sepsis after their boatside tracheotomy).

Of course the anaconda effects are iconic (and ridiculous). Every time it essentially flew through the air to spin around someone or screamed menacingly I just started giggling. It was so over the top that it couldn’t even really be scary.

I laughed a lot. What an absurd movie.

[greatheartprince]

From Beachside to Boatside: Relish the Coastline on a Yacht in Goa!

The sandy paradise of Goa is the best to experience a perfect beach holiday with your near and dear ones and yachting in Goa offers a unique and luxurious way to experience the region's beautiful coastline and tranquil waters.

Rent a Yacht in Goa and dive into a world that is adventurous and full of new experiences.  

Here’s what you can typically expect:

Exclusive Experience: Yachting provides a more private and exclusive way to explore Goa, away from the crowds typically found on land. Get a yacht in Goa on rent and enjoy the beauty that Goa has to offer.

Customized Itineraries: Some operators offer customizable routes, allowing you to choose destinations like secluded bays or specific beaches.

Relaxation and Comfort: You can rent yacht in Goa that comes equipped with comfortable lounges, sunbathing areas, and sometimes even luxury amenities like a Jacuzzi or gourmet dining options.

Scenic Views: Enjoy breathtaking views of Goa's coastline, with its pristine beaches, lush greenery, and sparkling blue waters.

Sunset Cruises: These are particularly popular, your rented yacht might offer a serene experience with stunning sunset views over the Arabian Sea.

Activities: Depending on the charter, you might have the chance to engage in activities like snorkeling, fishing, or swimming in the clear waters.

Luxury Sailing Yachts: Majestic and elegant, these yachts offer unparalleled comfort and style.

Overall, it’s a chance to experience Goa from a different perspective, with a blend of luxury, adventure, and relaxation onboard a yacht Goa.

If you're determined to spend time on a yacht with your loved ones on your next trip to Goa and have no idea about Goa yacht rent, then look no further and check out the great services Universal Adventures has to offer. 

Details about Yacht Rental in Goa:

1. Activity Location: Panjim, South Goa

2. Activity Timing: Between 8:00 AM to 8:00 PM

3. Activity Duration: 2 hours minimum 

4. Price:

Private Yacht: INR 17,999 (price is inclusive of 6 people)

5. Reporting Time: 20 minutes before departure time of the boat.

6. Age Limit: As of now, there is no age limit.

Yachts in Goa are a sight to behold. They offer you breathtaking views, luxury amenities, relaxation and adventure that will help you create memories that will last a lifetime!

[ska-suggestions]

The waves were pretty strong but it was still easy to stay afloat so I took the opportunity for to have some extreme wave-pool fun by hanging onto some rope by the boatside and just repteadly being rocked, crashed, and dunked.

Afterwards my palms felt incredibly smooth due to the exofolating properties of mooring line.

[amontageofloveandromanticpoetry]

몽생미셸 해변의 남자 PART 2 | Man on the shores of Mont Saint Michel PART 2

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I've lost blossoms of harvest, and I was in no tongue taste to lick the bitter words of my caretaker.

The night is young, and the stars watched as blankets and hay-filled pillows made itself comfortable on the floor of the old boat the old man beside us owned.

The village, the land, the abbey above me stays afloat as I lay asleep--floating in the lagoon.

I dream of nothing, for nothing is pleasant when you spoil hard-worked, harvested blossoms.

My hair is grass and water, creating a spillage, frocking and weaving through sheets as I curled and rolled for warmth.

I cannot sleep, for I feel as though I deserve no rest.

I can only bring myself to sigh wistfully. Filled with woe and emptiness as my fingers dance amongst the idle waters.

"You are a lighthouse of all foolish mortal acts." The god appears by my boatside.

And with the words he spoke, I kissed him.

And in pure and utter disgust, he kisses me back.

The scales on his lips scar mine, pressing it back hungrily. His hair clings to both our faces, and I can taste the sea and my blood in this foolish act I brought upon us.

I started it and I was to finish it. His webbed hands pulling me closer, in a wordless action to say that he wishes we were one.

"You can never fathom," He kisses, "How long I have waited for this."

I try to pull away and speak from the kiss, "You hated me."

"I spite your tardiness of making your presence be acknowledged by me." The deity peppers my skin with sea salt and my blood in his lips. "How dare you." He berates me with a harsh kiss, "How dare you be mortal."

My mind is a reef, filled with unfathomable colours and too many things fleet by.

The god notices my state and kisses me again.

His scaled palms holding me tightly, and with this kiss, I knew I want to do this again.

By: Kang Jae-Ho

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[liz-lukas]

Sketches of one of my final project concepts: Berry's Boatside Bakehouse! The inspiration for this is a combination of my experience working as a cupcake decorator and the waterhouses I saw on a recent trip (some pics below <3)

[joshpkramer]

What do you call curbside when you're in a boat and you pull up to another boat and a person cooks you Pad Thai? Boatside? Canalside?

[notallfay]

I went on a #boatside today, and took my #spyglass with me. It was rather a lot of fun. #bjd #balljointeddoll #abjd #doll #dolls #dollstagram #instabjd #minifee #lucywen #lucywenelf #elf #elfgirl #whitby #wgw #whitbygothweekend #seaside #yorkshire #yorkshirecoast #sea (at Whitby Bay) https://www.instagram.com/p/BwKldsngRQy/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1awnbmfg68u9p

[vastreets-blog]

We went on a boat trip today saw some hazy fish...🐟 & sites of menorca & celibraty house's #boatlife #boating #boattrip #boattrips #holidayfun #holidaypics #turquoisesea #turquoise #menorca #beautifulday #beautifulscene #boatside #travelphotography📸 #travelphotography #travelholic #exploration #exploremore #glassbottomboat #glassbottompool #adventure #adventuretime #adventurer #adventurers #funtimes #instragra #instragood #picoftheday #beautifuldestinations #beautifulhomes #funtimes (at Menorca) https://www.instagram.com/p/BomW3q_n8lH/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ojhckyvqo0p8

[airflashmls]

AirFlashMLS.com https://bit.ly/2MFPqjw Sell your Yacht or Boats Here! You can also List them for Charter as well in our Rental Section Free Classified ADS Regular ADS Auction ADS Also Buy Now Ads with Paypal Available FACEBOOK Login • • • • • #BOATS #boatsonics #boatstuff #boatside #boatsandbirds #boatstand #boatsandbikinis #boats #boatsandbros #boatsonland #boatsearch #boatsafari #boatshedcafe #BoatShowPhotos #boatskeleton #boatshed #boatstar #boatshopping #boatshirts #boatshoot #boatsweekly #boatselfie #boatsforsale #BoatsAndDrones #boatshoe #Boatsmart #boatshell #boatshowmiami #boatsatsea #boatschooling (at West Marine) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1d4of6Adoe/?igshid=e2d2daokakuf

[henchwife]

I WANNA CATCH YOU LIKE A FISHERMAN

I WANNA REEL YOU FROM THE BOATSIDE

I WANNA CATCH YOU LIKE A FISHERMAN

MY WHOLE EXISTENCE IS ROD

IT GETS ME CLOSER TO COD