#bosun

[skelleste]

Drew over some of Scratch's old reference to clean it up for Art Fight.

[oledavyjones]

Not sure about this one/ just thinking aloud: A veteran bosun is overseing the loading of the cargo in the hold, giving hand signals to the men in the hold - and perhaps to the guy operating the crane.

This photo feels like the 70s, but it's a guess. Found it at pinterest.

[midi8]

[davekopka]

“Go ahead, try ‘n see what happens…”

Say we try to fit an aggressively fed-up Sam Eagle personality into a Watership Down character type? 🥶

We love her anyway!

New addition to the DnD npc group ✍️

[uamariner]

Maritime English. Marine Stores Guide. Pneumatic & Electrical Tools. Part 2

[hairmetal666]

Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?

Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.

Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?

Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.

Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.

"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.

"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."

He glares. "You know I hate boats."

"You do not," Gareth accuses.

"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.

"I didn't do anything!" He wails.

Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."

Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"

"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.

"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."

"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.

He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.

The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.

Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.

As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.

He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.

"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.

"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."

"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"

"Guess so."

"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."

"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"

"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."

"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"

Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."

"See? It's not my fault."

"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."

"I'm not leaving."

"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."

"Too bad."

"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."

"You wouldn't."

"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."

"The bos-what?"

"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"

"I was not ogling him."

"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."

"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.

Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.

Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.

"Good to see you." She deadpans.

He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"

From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.

Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.

---

The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.

He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.

"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."

"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.

"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."

His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"

Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."

Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."

"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."

He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.

Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.

"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.

"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."

"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."

"The topless women," Steve says.

Eddie groans. "You know about that?"

Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."

"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."

"Oh, I know." Steve grins.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."

"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."

"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.

"I know," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.

---

It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.

The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."

Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.

It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.

"You were great tonight." He says.

Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."

"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."

There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.

"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.

"If you want."

The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.

"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."

"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"

"Situations." Steve finishes.

"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."

"Take me on a date tomorrow."

"It would be my pleasure," he says.

He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.

"Tomorrow, sweetheart."

[focsle]

Season’s Greasons

[ltwilliammowett]

A tiny silver bosun's call recovered from the wreck of the Tudor Ship Mary Rose, before 1545

[frau-kali]

[sidereous]

[here-be-descriptions]

Great Dragon Sphinxes: from “Bosun’s Journal”. Artwork by CaptainStroon.

“Bosun’s Journal, MET: 2’526’681’825’101’541 seconds with a possible deviation of 1 second

Long ago in a faraway ship… Well, actually not that far away, it’s this ship, the Nebukadnezar. But as we’re currently very far away from pretty much anything else, it still counts. So, let’s get back to my little story. Long ago in a faraway ship, which is also right here, the passengers of habitat one weren’t satisfied with owning cats and dogs and birds as pets, they wanted something more. And the genetech companies, seeing the opportunity to earn massive profits provided. They created new licensed human species, the petlings. Small cuddly critters inspired by cats and lapdogs. No longer sapient, but human nonetheless.

That was 80 million years ago. The pet owners, geneticists and biotech executives are long dead, along with all the other passengers. But the petlings outlived their creators. But they are neither small nor cuddly anymore. Well, the cuddly part might be debatable, but if I was a passenger from long ago, I wouldn’t try to cuddle with one of these petling descendants. There are many species of them which I collectively call sphinxes due to their carnivoran but still somewhat human appearance. The biggest and meanest of them are the great dragon sphinxes.

Reaching the length of a traincar, these apex predators feed on the wooly humie herds and the posthuman megafauna inhabiting the arid steppes of habitat one. They have oversized trapezoid muscles on either side of their neck, giving them immense strength to rip into their prey or shake it to death. Their bite strength might not be as strong as that of their rivals, the crushjaws.

Oh, I’ve not mentioned the rivalry between great dragon sphinxes and crushjaws yet. I haven’t mentioned the crushjaws at all yet. So here’s a rundown: Crushjaws are apex predators from habitat one just like great dragon sphinxes. They are the feral descendants of the desert ravers, who in fact shared some DNA with the petlings. But instead of tiny lap pets, they were bred to be fierce intimidating warriors with a biteforce to match. The same biteforce serves them well as animalistic hyper carnivores now. As the street reef network separates the surface of habitat one into various isolated biomes, the two species could evolve into a very similar niche. Occasionally they cross the natural borders which is the street reef and come across one another. Those meetings usually end in violence. The two species attack each other on sight seemingly aware of their natural competition.

But let’s return to great dragon sphinx biology for a bit. The face of a great dragon sphinx features elongated brow ridges which serve as display features. Some of their relatives like the changeling sphinxes portray vast sexual dimorphism. This isn’t the case for the great dragon sphinxes. Both sexes are similar in appearance and behavior. Both feature the elongated brow ridges and show them off to each other in their courtship dance.

What also plays a part in their courtship rituals is their love for shiny things. Which reminded me of their namesake mythical creature. Not the sphinx, but the dragon. Regardless of sex, they portray two distinct courtship behaviors: There are hoarders and seekers. Hoarders collect metal and crystal shards and basically anything which reflects light in fancy ways. Some have even realized that breaking apart rusted metal scrap might reveal shiny surfaces. They dig for ancient debris of the long gone civilizations of the past and gnaw on whatever metal they find to polish it. They then collect all their treasure in one big hoard which attracts potential seeker mates by glittering in the sunlamp light. The convex curvature of the habitat means that seekers just have to look up to see fellow great dragon sphinxes’ hoards glint in the distance. What happens when they reach those hoards depends on the mood of both sphinxes. Sometimes they mate, sometimes they fight for the hoard. Hoard thieves behave like seekers until they conquer a hoard, then they switch to a hoarder lifestyle. Hoarders generally have much smaller territories than the nomadic seekers. Which means that it’s usually the seekers which get into fights with crushjaws.

I’ve used my old population survey algorithms to monitor the population of both species. Currently there are 141’227 great dragon sphinxes and 53’098 crushjaws living in habitat one. If their habitats keep overlapping, one species will eventually drive the other to extinction. And looking at the numbers, it will probably be the great dragon sphinxes winning this evolutionary arms race. Which is a shame for the crushjaws, sure, but that’s natural selection. I could play zookeeper and micromanage the ship’s biosphere, but leaving nature run its course will for sure lead to a more organic rise of sapience eventually. There are already a few very promising candidates for that. But neither great dragon sphinxes nor crushjaws are among them. Still, both are fascinating creatures, even if they might not last forever, as all animal species sadly do.”

[acowardinmordor]

There is this song that YouTube algorithmed to me. And good job. This is exactly my jam. Tale of the Shadow.

And unexpectedly, my brain wants to make it a Max and El thing.

You should pause and listen real fast.

Okay, you’re back? Good.

Something about El having escaped it before, Henry was trying to use her and the powers she has to try to capture it. Henry got taken, and El barely escaped. Max is the daughter of a privateer, and has been on and off the ocean all her life. She has heard stories about The Shadow for years, Billy has always sworn he’d take it one day. Max meets El in one of the rare seasons she spends on land, this strange, sweet girl who was found on flotsam after a storm.

A year or two later, in which Max has made sure to come to port more often, just to see her friend, she and her brother lose their dad, and Billy inherits the ship, the Camaro. Max hugs El goodbye at the dock and climbs abroad expecting the trip to be rough as she proves to his newly hired crew that she’s more than the young woman they see. It’s worse than she knew. Billy is going after The Shadow, but Max doesn’t find out til they’re at sea.

And, to be fair, Billy does catch it, which few ever do. They board. And for whatever reason, Max is the one to touch the helm. She watches The Shadow kill her brother and his crew before it takes her eyes, and shackles her to it.

Another ship nearby saw them in pursuit of the Shadow, and brings the story back to land, along with the empty and battered Camaro. El is brought a letter that Max wrote after finding out what her brother intended to do. The second crew had the decency to deliver it since they found it while salvaging what they could.

It's an apology, and an explanation of what Billy wants to do. Everyone knows that no one survives the wrath of The Shadow.

But El did. And now it’s taken her friend. Henry was a bad man, but he was smart, and he was sure that El was strong enough to defeat it.

She finds the captain of the ship that hauled the husk of Max’s ship back to shore. She demands they help her. Demands they believe her when she says she can defeat it. Throws an entire fit when they don’t, until the walls shake and thunder rolls, until they see a bit of the power she holds that made Henry steal her and try to use her.

The Captain refuses to put his crew in danger. A few of his crew start to argue for her. The captain holds the line until the scarred sailor with frizzy dark hair who has been fiddling with dice the whole time joins in on El's side. With a sigh, the captain stands, looking to his second in command, a woman with a sharp wit.

And thats how Elle Hopper meets Captain Steve Harrington and his crew. Who are not pirates, but they’re not not-pirates.

It doesn’t matter. She needs them. They sail a few days later, Elle going on the ocean for the first time since Henry, chasing the Shadow, so she can save her friend.

—

This is a Hot potato fic. Add to it if you know more pieces of the story or the world.

[cobra-creampuff]

"morale is the highest it's ever been!" while buttons looks like he's about to die of torment from having his selkie skin off for too long

[bugsinthebayou]

the jasmine playlist... for now....

[focsle]

Yay she’s cone-free now! Thank you for all your kind words 💛