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Description
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a59gmG… (was the best I could do )

“Now don’t try and eat it. That’s what the sandwich’s are for. Heh. SANDwiches” Captain chuckled at his own joke and gently set the intrepid toddler down onto the beach.

Anchor made a little hiccup of surprise at the new terrain. The gritty sand was nothing like the smooth, cold side paths of the Search And Rescue Centre. Nor in fact, was it anything like the warm cotton of the many arms he had been held in. It was granular, and filled with little specks of every colour the toddler had ever seen before. It fascinated him. Best of all; it was warm.

“You like the beach? Chip off the old block, eh?” Captain chuckled, kneeling down on the sand and gently scooping a small pile of warm sand onto the boy’s leg. Anchor squealed in delight, and ran his tiny little hands through the exotic substance, fascinated by the cascade of little shingles that ran down the warm honey hue of his legs.

“We’ll make a seadog of you yet” The coast guard ruffled the amber locks of the small child fondly.

“Doggy!” Anchor’s turquoise eyes swivelled around in wonder, as if expecting a large hound to rise from the ocean beyond.

“Not today champ, Lucky’s on duty” Captain shook his head.

“And you should be too” came a gruff voice from behind them, an edge of disapproval in its tone.

“Ah. Bulstrode. I see you’re feeling your usual cheerful self this morning” Captain stood up and turned around to face the portly man that was walking towards them.

Bulstrode sniffed contemptuously, not amused by the coast guards humour. Then he caught sight of the small boy sitting on the ground, throwing handfuls of sand over his legs and then kicking as hard as he could, so the sand sprayed over the back of Captain’s calves.

“I don’t remember saying that it was bring your child to work day” The beach guard narrowed his dark brown eyes in suspicion. He had never liked children much. He liked them even less now his barge was out of action and he was forced to work with them. There had once been a rumour that Bulstrode himself had never been a child, but had simply been born middle aged and cantankerous. Many of the Sodor children were afraid of the pensioner’s grumpy ways and fierce voice. But Captain was a respectful man, and never backed down to opposition.

“He’s here to get a taste for coastal life. All the Barnetts’ do, the sooner the better. I assumed a man of water craft interest would approve. I’m sure Dilly would” The bronzened man teased.

Bulstrode sniffed again. “And what about your lad?”

The coast guard blushed; a rare occurrence. But he wasn’t going to let petulant old Bulstrode ruin Anchor Barnett’s first day at the coast. It was a generational tradition, and Captain intended to uphold it.

“Oh what trouble could this one get into?” Captain asked, his voice a little stiffer than normal as he picked up the toddler, who seemed disappointed to have his new play terrain taken from him. “He’ll be by my side all day”

“So long as that little red and green kid doesn’t play that ‘fake drowning’ trick again. I’m pretty sure that was your other one’s idea”

“Oh Gareth’s just thinks he’s being funny. Boy who cried wolf. I’ll speak to Rheneas about that later” Captain promised, struggling with the aggravated toddler in his arms as they walked down the beach. “And I’ve already told Pirate off about that, but you know what that boy’s like ...”

It was early morning, and the beach was not yet filled with its usual array of families. There were one or two adults milling about enjoying the serenity, and a young child with honey blond hair was clinging onto the arms of Rosie Hill as the two paddled in the shallow calm of the early tide. The child was shrieking with delight at the cold water, but the wind was carrying her words away further down the coastline.

Further down the beach, a young couple strolled slowly down the shore. Unlike the child, they didn’t seem to be speaking at all, or perhaps were whispering. One of the blond heads (for they both were flaxen) turned towards the taller male, and in turn he kissed the button nose of the shorter. They stopped momentarily in their meandering to share a more romantic kiss, the freckled faced partner on his tiptoes. After a few moments, they continued their walk holding hands; the metal glint of the prosthetic on the shorter winking in the sun.

At the far end of the beach there were a couple of teenagers splashing about near the rocks, and canon-balling recklessly into the sea. Their pale skin sparkled with thousands of tiny droplets, and their fringes were plastered to their foreheads with water as they shouted over the roar of the waves.

“It’s those two again” Bulstrode rolled up his sleeves purposefully “Never listen! And I think we ALL know whose side of the family THAT comes from”

“Oh it’s useless with those two” Captain agreed “They weren’t nicknamed the ‘hornets’ for nothing. Even Pirate listens ... eventually. But they’ll get bored soon enough”

“All the same I still think I oughta give those Bagnall twins a piece of mind”

“Go ahead” Captain smirked “I can’t wait to see how the Scot’s will react when you insult their son’s and husbands”

Bulstrode’s jaw and fists both clenched. A flicker of consideration flashed across his eyebrow and a muscle under his right eye twitched. The coast guard watched in bemusement as the old man made the decision between self satisfactions and having to face off with the McIntosh’s. His shoulders slumped, and he merely shrugged, satisfied with shooting disapproving glares at the cousins. Captain rather hoped they wouldn’t make any rude gestures. Luckily they were too busy trying to out-do each other’s biggest splashes to notice the grouchy old beach guard.

“What do you think the call will be today?” Bulstrode asked, looking towards the other end of the beach.

“Well it’s calm” Captain jerked his head towards the clear sky as he attempted to pry Anchor’s fist’s off his necklace “I’d say we could have a quiet day so long as everyone’s sensible – ouch!” the toddler had indeed let go of the charm, but was now grabbing a rather large chunk of the his father’s hair.

The other man watched, unamused, as Captain managed to gently untangled the infant’s fingers and set him down on the beach. Anchor seemed happier being on the beach again, and in his excitement, fell over and face planted into the sand. Captain chuckled with bemusement and crouched down to help him, ignoring the burning glare of his friend.

“I couldn’t deal with that”

“Well, you don’t have to” The lifeguard sighed, unable to conceal a slight edge to his voice. “Stay here, Anchor”

Captain was one of the few residents of Sodor that could usually put up with Bulstrode’s complaining. But the man’s constant droning was enough to break anyone eventually. Captain wondered how on earth his wife put up with it. No, Captain wondered how Bulstrode had even gotten himself married in the first place. It was bizarre. In all fairness, it was probably a good job the man hated children. The coastguard amused himself momentarily with thoughts of Bulstrode as a father, both as a grumpy one and in some alternative universe where he actually smiled.

Whilst he was diverted, Captain had failed to notice that his own offspring had wandered off down the shore towards the sea.

The sand was a great plaything, but Anchor was more drawn to the large blue expanse yonder. Perhaps it was simply the natural yearning for sea life that many of his ancestors had had before him. It was genetically programmed into Barnett’s to love the sea, as Captain had often said. Of course Anchor was too young to comprehend a concept like this, but it applied to him regardless of whether he knew it or not.

At the edge of the shore he stopped, his turquoise eyes taking in the vast blue of the ocean, stretching into the horizon till it blurred. Anchor sat down on the sand, but promptly stood straight back up again. Unlike the sand he had been set down on, this stuff was wet and not as much fun. The toddler was about to cry for his dad when something else entirely caught his eye.

A sleek black triangle was gliding through the water, graceful as a swan. It was utterly mesmerising, and Anchor wanted to play. He took a few clumsy steps forwards, and squeaked as he had his first encounter with the waves, the shock of which knocked him backwards so he was sitting in the gentle waves. Uncomfortable with this new experience, Anchor stood up to run back to shore, when the triangle passed him again. Whatever it was fascinated Anchor far more than getting back to safety.

He waded out a little further until the water was up to his neck. Every instinct told him to go back, and so Anchor turned. Then the triangle bumped into the side of him. The boy squealed in surprise, but the up thrust of the water kept him afloat. He stared at the triangle thing, and the triangle thing stared back, two eyes glinting at him from below the surface of the water.

Being so very young, Anchor had limited concepts of animals. He knew ‘doggy’ from Butch’s dog Lucky. And he knew ‘birb’ from his ‘brother’ Pirate’s Jesse. But he could not have known that was staring into the eyes of a shark. A shark pup perhaps, but a shark none the less.

“D-doggy?” Anchor questioned, reaching towards the shark’s snout. It snapped at him, but the infant drew his hand back just in time. “Bad doggy” he giggled, but he was not afraid. He assumed the creature wanted to play. All fear had since vanished, and the child was having fun splashing about in the waves, the shark swimmingly lazily about, foraging for food under the seabed.

This only made the boy more excited as he reached a hand out to touch the shark. His finger’s stroked the smooth, cold surface and took him by surprise. Lucky was furry and dry and fluffy. This thing was ... not a doggy?

The shark did not appreciate the contact, and quickly made sure Anchor knew about it.

The next thing the child heard, other than his own screaming, was a frantic splashing as someone waded through the water and gently scooped him up into his arms.

“ANCHOR? Oh my gosh – Bulstrode was right!”

Anchor blinked a few times, tears spilling down his cheeks. Water trickled off his legs into the ocean below. But he was pressed against a familiar dark, strong chest that was holding him close, and a soothing voice was muttering gently to him. Captain had come to save him.

“Where did you – is that a SHARK?” Only the coast guard used one or two more words. The pup glided lazily through the waves, happier now that he wasn’t being pestered by the small child. It turned in a circle, and swam further down the beach.

The two watched it swim away, then Captain turned to the toddler, a blaze if anger and relief in his cobalt blue eyes.

“Anchor you silly boy, I told you to – OH ****!”

The volume of his parent’s voice startled the infant, who began to cry again.

“Everything alright out there Cap?” Bulstrode yelled from the shore. “You’re trembling”

“I-it’s ... well” Captain’s voice was quieter now, guilty. He kept the toddler close to him as they made their way back to shore.

“You really are shaking! What hap – OH ****!” Bulstrode’ word was even worse than Captain’s.

“It’s not ... too deep?” the coast guard murmured, gently kissing the toddler’s forehead as he sat him down on the beach wall. Bulstrode didn’t wait to be told what to do, and ran to fetch the medical supplies.

“Oh Anchs ... what are we going to do with you?” Captain muttered to himself quietly as he allowed the child to lean against him.

The shock of the incident had numbed most of the pain, but it was slowly beginning to come back to the boy. He whimpered quietly. And yet ... he was strangely awed at the attention. There was something about it that made him feel special, and despite the bite he still wanted to see the smooth ‘doggy’ again. There was a sort of ‘chosen one’ mentality to it, and he basked in the attention. Anchor decided he liked it, whatever it was. Although he hadn’t cared as much for the water, it was too cold and wet.

A few moments late Bulstrode returned, and got to work gently cleaning and patching up the wound. Captain watched, surprised at the man’s composed attitude, especially around a child. Maybe below his affronted persona, there really WAS a much nicer Bulstrode trying to break free. Finally, the wound was sanitised and bandaged up, and Captain had fetched a sleeved jumper to protect the dressing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take him home?” Bulstrode frowned “I can just put a ban on swimming for today”

“No! Stay!” Anchor hugged Captain’s leg tightly, living up to his namesake as he was literally anchoring him on the beach.

“Well, the shark swam off, but we should put up signs. We don’t need any more accidents ...” The coast guard ruffled Anchor’s fringe. Then he gulped. “Thank you ... for being so patient with him”

“No problem” Bulstrode grunted, back to his gruff ways. “What’s your one going to say?”

“Well ...” Captain glanced at his son, who was happily trickling sand onto a rock and watching it dribble off the sides. “We’ll have to have a talk about that ...”

Bulstrode nodded.

“Good luck, and if you ever need to, Dilly could –”

They were interrupted by a sudden duo of screams. Two people were scrambling out of the water, pushing and shoving to get to shore. Both of them fell face first into the sand before scrambling up again, still fighting, and running up the beach towards the wall.

Bulstrode smirked.

“I think those little ‘hornets’ just met an even scarier animal”

Captain chuckled.

“Well luckily for them neither got hurt. But we really should put those signs up” He took a whistle from his pocket and beckoned the attention of the other paddlers.

Anchor sat demurely by his feet, still scooping sand onto the rock. But his eyes were cast out to the sea, still looking for the wriggle of the grey triangle that had left a mark in his mind – and on his shoulder.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whooo I finished the freakin story! I LOVE writing but GAWD it takes forever

And yeah, offical conformation that Captain is Anchor's dad But I mean did that really need confirming? J-just look at them? Same hair, same nose, sameISH skin, both names are semantic fields of watercraft ect

After I had finished: butterfrogmantis.deviantart.co… , I felt it wasn't really fair to make Skiff mess up twice and be the only one with babysitting problems. As it turns out, everyone that looks after Anchor seems to feck up! Two babysitters, two scars. Smh. Do NOT let Harold babysit. Anchor would probably get caught by the helicopter blades or something But also I had explained the scar on his cheek but a bite mark? Hmm that needed more explaining.

I decided to link it to Anchor's love of - yes you heard, LOVE of - Sharks. Not fear Anchor's one tough cookie.

Later in life, Anchor dedicates himself to protecting marine life, and educating people about them. The shark didn't bite him out of spite, it just didn't like being touched. It was an accident. So to prevent more accidents, Anchor researches and educates properly. He probably uses some of Diana's help to organise funding campaigns to save the aquatic life, and he really enjoys talking to Toad about the whale he once saw.

Anchor is scarily good at identifying individual animals, even naming them. He feels uncomfortable in aquariums, despite most people thinking he'd like them. The less said about captive marine mammals the better, he can and WILL chew your ear off about that. This also explains why he hankered after the necklace so much - occasionally telling other NG that the necklace on the tooth is from the same shark that bit him. (it's not)

I did do some research, attacks in British waters are VERY unlikely. Also most of the sharks are filter feeders, Whatever bit Anchor might have been in the waters on accident?

Also I have to shamelessly admit to following 's tumblr blog, because that is filled with interesting (and occasionally heartbreaking) tales of Anchor's passion. It was TOTALLY that blog that inspired me in the first place

And whilst we're on the subject of confessions - I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was about 10, I still have a collection of shark teeth, and still have a shark tooth necklace that inspired Anchor's own Although it's very worn I need a new one

This used to be my FAVE thing!!! www.youtube.com/watch?v=uy-fi0…

Captain (c) TTTE

Anchor (c) Me

Description
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a59gmG… (was the best I could do )

“Now don’t try and eat it. That’s what the sandwich’s are for. Heh. SANDwiches” Captain chuckled at his own joke and gently set the intrepid toddler down onto the beach.

Anchor made a little hiccup of surprise at the new terrain. The gritty sand was nothing like the smooth, cold side paths of the Search And Rescue Centre. Nor in fact, was it anything like the warm cotton of the many arms he had been held in. It was granular, and filled with little specks of every colour the toddler had ever seen before. It fascinated him. Best of all; it was warm.

“You like the beach? Chip off the old block, eh?” Captain chuckled, kneeling down on the sand and gently scooping a small pile of warm sand onto the boy’s leg. Anchor squealed in delight, and ran his tiny little hands through the exotic substance, fascinated by the cascade of little shingles that ran down the warm honey hue of his legs.

“We’ll make a seadog of you yet” The coast guard ruffled the amber locks of the small child fondly.

“Doggy!” Anchor’s turquoise eyes swivelled around in wonder, as if expecting a large hound to rise from the ocean beyond.

“Not today champ, Lucky’s on duty” Captain shook his head.

“And you should be too” came a gruff voice from behind them, an edge of disapproval in its tone.

“Ah. Bulstrode. I see you’re feeling your usual cheerful self this morning” Captain stood up and turned around to face the portly man that was walking towards them.

Bulstrode sniffed contemptuously, not amused by the coast guards humour. Then he caught sight of the small boy sitting on the ground, throwing handfuls of sand over his legs and then kicking as hard as he could, so the sand sprayed over the back of Captain’s calves.

“I don’t remember saying that it was bring your child to work day” The beach guard narrowed his dark brown eyes in suspicion. He had never liked children much. He liked them even less now his barge was out of action and he was forced to work with them. There had once been a rumour that Bulstrode himself had never been a child, but had simply been born middle aged and cantankerous. Many of the Sodor children were afraid of the pensioner’s grumpy ways and fierce voice. But Captain was a respectful man, and never backed down to opposition.

“He’s here to get a taste for coastal life. All the Barnetts’ do, the sooner the better. I assumed a man of water craft interest would approve. I’m sure Dilly would” The bronzened man teased.

Bulstrode sniffed again. “And what about your lad?”

The coast guard blushed; a rare occurrence. But he wasn’t going to let petulant old Bulstrode ruin Anchor Barnett’s first day at the coast. It was a generational tradition, and Captain intended to uphold it.

“Oh what trouble could this one get into?” Captain asked, his voice a little stiffer than normal as he picked up the toddler, who seemed disappointed to have his new play terrain taken from him. “He’ll be by my side all day”

“So long as that little red and green kid doesn’t play that ‘fake drowning’ trick again. I’m pretty sure that was your other one’s idea”

“Oh Gareth’s just thinks he’s being funny. Boy who cried wolf. I’ll speak to Rheneas about that later” Captain promised, struggling with the aggravated toddler in his arms as they walked down the beach. “And I’ve already told Pirate off about that, but you know what that boy’s like ...”

It was early morning, and the beach was not yet filled with its usual array of families. There were one or two adults milling about enjoying the serenity, and a young child with honey blond hair was clinging onto the arms of Rosie Hill as the two paddled in the shallow calm of the early tide. The child was shrieking with delight at the cold water, but the wind was carrying her words away further down the coastline.

Further down the beach, a young couple strolled slowly down the shore. Unlike the child, they didn’t seem to be speaking at all, or perhaps were whispering. One of the blond heads (for they both were flaxen) turned towards the taller male, and in turn he kissed the button nose of the shorter. They stopped momentarily in their meandering to share a more romantic kiss, the freckled faced partner on his tiptoes. After a few moments, they continued their walk holding hands; the metal glint of the prosthetic on the shorter winking in the sun.

At the far end of the beach there were a couple of teenagers splashing about near the rocks, and canon-balling recklessly into the sea. Their pale skin sparkled with thousands of tiny droplets, and their fringes were plastered to their foreheads with water as they shouted over the roar of the waves.

“It’s those two again” Bulstrode rolled up his sleeves purposefully “Never listen! And I think we ALL know whose side of the family THAT comes from”

“Oh it’s useless with those two” Captain agreed “They weren’t nicknamed the ‘hornets’ for nothing. Even Pirate listens ... eventually. But they’ll get bored soon enough”

“All the same I still think I oughta give those Bagnall twins a piece of mind”

“Go ahead” Captain smirked “I can’t wait to see how the Scot’s will react when you insult their son’s and husbands”

Bulstrode’s jaw and fists both clenched. A flicker of consideration flashed across his eyebrow and a muscle under his right eye twitched. The coast guard watched in bemusement as the old man made the decision between self satisfactions and having to face off with the McIntosh’s. His shoulders slumped, and he merely shrugged, satisfied with shooting disapproving glares at the cousins. Captain rather hoped they wouldn’t make any rude gestures. Luckily they were too busy trying to out-do each other’s biggest splashes to notice the grouchy old beach guard.

“What do you think the call will be today?” Bulstrode asked, looking towards the other end of the beach.

“Well it’s calm” Captain jerked his head towards the clear sky as he attempted to pry Anchor’s fist’s off his necklace “I’d say we could have a quiet day so long as everyone’s sensible – ouch!” the toddler had indeed let go of the charm, but was now grabbing a rather large chunk of the his father’s hair.

The other man watched, unamused, as Captain managed to gently untangled the infant’s fingers and set him down on the beach. Anchor seemed happier being on the beach again, and in his excitement, fell over and face planted into the sand. Captain chuckled with bemusement and crouched down to help him, ignoring the burning glare of his friend.

“I couldn’t deal with that”

“Well, you don’t have to” The lifeguard sighed, unable to conceal a slight edge to his voice. “Stay here, Anchor”

Captain was one of the few residents of Sodor that could usually put up with Bulstrode’s complaining. But the man’s constant droning was enough to break anyone eventually. Captain wondered how on earth his wife put up with it. No, Captain wondered how Bulstrode had even gotten himself married in the first place. It was bizarre. In all fairness, it was probably a good job the man hated children. The coastguard amused himself momentarily with thoughts of Bulstrode as a father, both as a grumpy one and in some alternative universe where he actually smiled.

Whilst he was diverted, Captain had failed to notice that his own offspring had wandered off down the shore towards the sea.

The sand was a great plaything, but Anchor was more drawn to the large blue expanse yonder. Perhaps it was simply the natural yearning for sea life that many of his ancestors had had before him. It was genetically programmed into Barnett’s to love the sea, as Captain had often said. Of course Anchor was too young to comprehend a concept like this, but it applied to him regardless of whether he knew it or not.

At the edge of the shore he stopped, his turquoise eyes taking in the vast blue of the ocean, stretching into the horizon till it blurred. Anchor sat down on the sand, but promptly stood straight back up again. Unlike the sand he had been set down on, this stuff was wet and not as much fun. The toddler was about to cry for his dad when something else entirely caught his eye.

A sleek black triangle was gliding through the water, graceful as a swan. It was utterly mesmerising, and Anchor wanted to play. He took a few clumsy steps forwards, and squeaked as he had his first encounter with the waves, the shock of which knocked him backwards so he was sitting in the gentle waves. Uncomfortable with this new experience, Anchor stood up to run back to shore, when the triangle passed him again. Whatever it was fascinated Anchor far more than getting back to safety.

He waded out a little further until the water was up to his neck. Every instinct told him to go back, and so Anchor turned. Then the triangle bumped into the side of him. The boy squealed in surprise, but the up thrust of the water kept him afloat. He stared at the triangle thing, and the triangle thing stared back, two eyes glinting at him from below the surface of the water.

Being so very young, Anchor had limited concepts of animals. He knew ‘doggy’ from Butch’s dog Lucky. And he knew ‘birb’ from his ‘brother’ Pirate’s Jesse. But he could not have known that was staring into the eyes of a shark. A shark pup perhaps, but a shark none the less.

“D-doggy?” Anchor questioned, reaching towards the shark’s snout. It snapped at him, but the infant drew his hand back just in time. “Bad doggy” he giggled, but he was not afraid. He assumed the creature wanted to play. All fear had since vanished, and the child was having fun splashing about in the waves, the shark swimmingly lazily about, foraging for food under the seabed.

This only made the boy more excited as he reached a hand out to touch the shark. His finger’s stroked the smooth, cold surface and took him by surprise. Lucky was furry and dry and fluffy. This thing was ... not a doggy?

The shark did not appreciate the contact, and quickly made sure Anchor knew about it.

The next thing the child heard, other than his own screaming, was a frantic splashing as someone waded through the water and gently scooped him up into his arms.

“ANCHOR? Oh my gosh – Bulstrode was right!”

Anchor blinked a few times, tears spilling down his cheeks. Water trickled off his legs into the ocean below. But he was pressed against a familiar dark, strong chest that was holding him close, and a soothing voice was muttering gently to him. Captain had come to save him.

“Where did you – is that a SHARK?” Only the coast guard used one or two more words. The pup glided lazily through the waves, happier now that he wasn’t being pestered by the small child. It turned in a circle, and swam further down the beach.

The two watched it swim away, then Captain turned to the toddler, a blaze if anger and relief in his cobalt blue eyes.

“Anchor you silly boy, I told you to – OH ****!”

The volume of his parent’s voice startled the infant, who began to cry again.

“Everything alright out there Cap?” Bulstrode yelled from the shore. “You’re trembling”

“I-it’s ... well” Captain’s voice was quieter now, guilty. He kept the toddler close to him as they made their way back to shore.

“You really are shaking! What hap – OH ****!” Bulstrode’ word was even worse than Captain’s.

“It’s not ... too deep?” the coast guard murmured, gently kissing the toddler’s forehead as he sat him down on the beach wall. Bulstrode didn’t wait to be told what to do, and ran to fetch the medical supplies.

“Oh Anchs ... what are we going to do with you?” Captain muttered to himself quietly as he allowed the child to lean against him.

The shock of the incident had numbed most of the pain, but it was slowly beginning to come back to the boy. He whimpered quietly. And yet ... he was strangely awed at the attention. There was something about it that made him feel special, and despite the bite he still wanted to see the smooth ‘doggy’ again. There was a sort of ‘chosen one’ mentality to it, and he basked in the attention. Anchor decided he liked it, whatever it was. Although he hadn’t cared as much for the water, it was too cold and wet.

A few moments late Bulstrode returned, and got to work gently cleaning and patching up the wound. Captain watched, surprised at the man’s composed attitude, especially around a child. Maybe below his affronted persona, there really WAS a much nicer Bulstrode trying to break free. Finally, the wound was sanitised and bandaged up, and Captain had fetched a sleeved jumper to protect the dressing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take him home?” Bulstrode frowned “I can just put a ban on swimming for today”

“No! Stay!” Anchor hugged Captain’s leg tightly, living up to his namesake as he was literally anchoring him on the beach.

“Well, the shark swam off, but we should put up signs. We don’t need any more accidents ...” The coast guard ruffled Anchor’s fringe. Then he gulped. “Thank you ... for being so patient with him”

“No problem” Bulstrode grunted, back to his gruff ways. “What’s your one going to say?”

“Well ...” Captain glanced at his son, who was happily trickling sand onto a rock and watching it dribble off the sides. “We’ll have to have a talk about that ...”

Bulstrode nodded.

“Good luck, and if you ever need to, Dilly could –”

They were interrupted by a sudden duo of screams. Two people were scrambling out of the water, pushing and shoving to get to shore. Both of them fell face first into the sand before scrambling up again, still fighting, and running up the beach towards the wall.

Bulstrode smirked.

“I think those little ‘hornets’ just met an even scarier animal”

Captain chuckled.

“Well luckily for them neither got hurt. But we really should put those signs up” He took a whistle from his pocket and beckoned the attention of the other paddlers.

Anchor sat demurely by his feet, still scooping sand onto the rock. But his eyes were cast out to the sea, still looking for the wriggle of the grey triangle that had left a mark in his mind – and on his shoulder.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whooo I finished the freakin story! I LOVE writing but GAWD it takes forever

And yeah, offical conformation that Captain is Anchor's dad But I mean did that really need confirming? J-just look at them? Same hair, same nose, sameISH skin, both names are semantic fields of watercraft ect

After I had finished: butterfrogmantis.deviantart.co… , I felt it wasn't really fair to make Skiff mess up twice and be the only one with babysitting problems. As it turns out, everyone that looks after Anchor seems to feck up! Two babysitters, two scars. Smh. Do NOT let Harold babysit. Anchor would probably get caught by the helicopter blades or something But also I had explained the scar on his cheek but a bite mark? Hmm that needed more explaining.

I decided to link it to Anchor's love of - yes you heard, LOVE of - Sharks. Not fear Anchor's one tough cookie.

Later in life, Anchor dedicates himself to protecting marine life, and educating people about them. The shark didn't bite him out of spite, it just didn't like being touched. It was an accident. So to prevent more accidents, Anchor researches and educates properly. He probably uses some of Diana's help to organise funding campaigns to save the aquatic life, and he really enjoys talking to Toad about the whale he once saw.

Anchor is scarily good at identifying individual animals, even naming them. He feels uncomfortable in aquariums, despite most people thinking he'd like them. The less said about captive marine mammals the better, he can and WILL chew your ear off about that. This also explains why he hankered after the necklace so much - occasionally telling other NG that the necklace on the tooth is from the same shark that bit him. (it's not)

I did do some research, attacks in British waters are VERY unlikely. Also most of the sharks are filter feeders, Whatever bit Anchor might have been in the waters on accident?

Also I have to shamelessly admit to following 's tumblr blog, because that is filled with interesting (and occasionally heartbreaking) tales of Anchor's passion. It was TOTALLY that blog that inspired me in the first place

And whilst we're on the subject of confessions - I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was about 10, I still have a collection of shark teeth, and still have a shark tooth necklace that inspired Anchor's own Although it's very worn I need a new one

This used to be my FAVE thing!!! www.youtube.com/watch?v=uy-fi0…

Captain (c) TTTE

Anchor (c) Me