#sailors and seadogs

[flaredonut]

Sailor/captain/first mate vaporeon tests

There ain't so much depictions of a sailor-outfit vaporeon...

[leiascully]

with halloween coming up i’ve been dying for a spooky mermaid/siren au… scully being a beautiful scary ass mermaid and maybe mulder being a captain of a ship or something? maybe she just wants to lure him to his death or maybe it’s smutty or both? (i love your work you have no idea!! ty!!)

Scully snapped the telescope open and peered into the fog. There it was again - that flash or glint. It looked like metal, but there wasn’t any metal out there. Surpassing strange. She holstered the telescope at her hip and went to find her captain.

“Sir,” she said to Captain Skinner, “I think there’s something out there. I keep seeing a flash, like light reflecting off metal. But there’s no light, and no metal.”

“It’s the fog,” Captain Skinner said. “It’ll play tricks on your eyes, Scully. I’ve seen things over the years you wouldn’t believe. Keep your head level.” He patted her shoulder with a firm hand. Far firmer than he would have had he known she was a woman. Scully had run away to join the Navy, disguising herself as a man named Daniel. So far she’d managed to maintain the charade, padding out her uniform a bit and binding her breasts down. She shaved her face diligently every day while the crew teased her aspirations, and she had a sack full of sand that she tucked into her breeches to mock a member. She’d worked herself up to become Skinner’s first mate. They were on a little-regarded ship — the crew joked she ought to be called The Exile rather than The Exhilaration — but Scully was still proud of the accomplishment.

“I’ll return to my post, sir,” she said.

“Sometimes it feels like the fog is alive,” Skinner said. “Trust an old seadog. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Yessir,” she said.

The fog seemed thicker as she returned to the bridge. Scully couldn’t see any of the other crew members from her lookout spot under the figurehead. They sat at anchor; most of the crew were in their hammocks below decks. It was as if she was alone in the world. She leaned on the low railing and peered into the blankness. It was strange to see so much fog in the Caribbean; the waters had been clear when they’d left Bermuda, and the sky had been cloudless.

There it was again: a flicker of light, anomalous and uncanny. It flickered again and again, almost like a signal. Scully couldn’t see anything. She unholstered her telescope again, gazed out over the invisible water. There! A sinuous curve broke the surface, gone as quickly as she’d glimpsed it. And then, oh, a face! She saw it so clearly through her lenses: it had a square jaw and deepset eyes. A man, in the water. She skinned out of her jacket and rolled her telescope into it, tucking them against the hull of the ship. She kicked off her boots and stepped onto the rail. For a moment she balanced there, hesitating, but no, there was someone in the water and it was her duty to rescue them. She dove neatly into the sea.

Almost as soon as she’d delved under the surface of the water, she was swept up in a strange current. She opened her eyes, trying to get her bearings. The salt burned, but she could see something circling her. The coils of something tightened around her until she could feel scales sliding over the thin material of her shirt and breeches. She was embraced from shoulders to knees. She couldn’t move. She ought to be panicking, but she felt strangely calm. And there was the face again, those deep eyes peering at her.

(read the rest on AO3 - 4300 words, M for sexual situations, Navy sailor Scully has the time of her life with a merMulder)

[beanbagbuddies4life]

Seadog the Dog

via

Born July 22, 2001

I love to feel the ocean breeze When I sail on the open seas A sailor’s life is right for me There’s no place that I’d rather be!

Interestingly, Seadog isn't on the Ty birthday calendar online.

[rustbeltjessie]

I went back as often as I could, to sing with him, get stoned, watch the boats. His name was Jack. Shorn-headed white boy into soul, ska, and reggae; always in a flat cap and black pants torn off just below the knee, fraying. He had bright blue eyes which I can’t describe except to say the bright didn’t lie in their color, but something behind them. A St. Elmo’s Fire raging inside him. He dreamed of one day sailing on one of those tall ships. Autumn came, then winter, and we met at the pub, and I followed him like a lost seadog and he the lighthouse.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from "Jack Was Every Inch a Sailor" (Tupelo Press 30/30, Day 4)

Each day's poems can be found here. My fundraising page for the month is here.

[mixergiltron]

Arrr Laddies!

Aye,be it that time o' year a'gin. The day where we speak the tongue o' the buccaneers. 'n t' save ye seadogs from scurvy,I've a pair o' grogs t' make ye merry. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

Mix #227 Peg Leg

1oz Plantation 3 Star 3/4oz Lemon Hart 151 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz simple syrup 1/4oz Demerara syrup 2-3 dashes grapefruit bitters

Shake wit' ice 'n pour inta mug.

Sink me,t'is a beauty of a riff on the traditional grog/daiquiri. Birthed by a landlubber named Kyle Davidson,a barman in the former tavern Blackbird in Chicago,this will send you t' Davey Jones if ya have t' many. Blackbeard hisself would'a drank dis.

Mix #228 Capt Vadrna's Grog

2.5oz spiced rum 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz white grapefruit juice 3/4oz Demerara syrup 1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake wit' ice 'n pour inta mug.

That 'ol seadog Beachbum Berry made dis t' honor his matey Cap'n Stanislav Vadrna. 'tis a bit tart,but then mayhap so was his heartie? The 'ol pirate Hemingway would'a toasted Calypso with this'n.

'n here be some more pirate drinks I've done,t' keep ye smilin'.

Mix #10 Traditional Grog

1.5oz navy strength rum 1oz lime juice 1/2oz Demerara syrup

Shake with ice and pour into glass or mug.

Mix #11 Navy Grog

1oz light rum 1oz dark rum 1oz Demerara rum 1oz honey syrup 3/4 oz lime juice 3/4oz grapefruit juice 2oz club soda

Shake everything except soda with ice. Pour into double rocks glass and top with soda.

Mix #12 Sailor's Grog

1.5oz spiced rum 1/2oz 151 Demerara rum 3/4oz lime juice 3/4oz orange juice 1/2oz falernum 1 dash Angostura bitters 1.5oz ginger beer

Shake everything except beer with ice and pour into double rocks glass. Top with beer.

Mix #15 Black Beard's Ghost(mine)

2oz light rum 2oz orange juice 1oz lemon juice 1oz blackberry brandy 1/2oz orgeat

Shake with ice and pour into mug.

Mix #14 Pirate's Parley

1oz Demerara rum 3oz pineapple juice 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz apricot brandy 1/2oz orange curacao

Shake with ice and pour into mug.

Mix #13 Corsair Punch

2oz Appleton Estate 8yr Reserve 2oz orange juice 2oz pineapple juice 3/4oz lime juice 3/4oz grenadine 1/2oz orgeat

Shake with plenty of ice and pour into mug.

Mix #51 Blackbeard's Ghost

1.5oz white rum 1/2oz demerara rum 1.5oz orange juice 1oz lemon juice 1oz falernum 1/2oz apricot brandy 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake with plenty of ice.

Mix #84 Mariner's Ghost

3/4oz dark rum 3/4oz light rum 1oz mango juice 1oz grapefruit juice 1/2oz lime juice 1/2oz allspice dram dash of simple syrup

Shake with ice and pour into mug.

Mix #94 Skull & Bones

1.5oz Lemon Hart 151 rum 1/2oz Bacardi Gran Reserva Diez rum 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz passionfruit syrup 1/2oz grenadine 1/8tsp Pernod 1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake with ice and pour into your spookiest mug.

Mix #124 Tortuga

1oz Demerara 151 rum 1oz gold rum 1oz sweet vermouth 1/2oz orange curacao 1/2oz white creme de cacao 1/2oz lime juice 1/2oz lemon juice 1/2oz orange juice 1/4oz grenadine

Shake with plenty of ice and pour into classic style Tiki mug.

Mix #116 Buccaneer's Bounty

1oz Navy rum 1oz dark rum 1/2oz Demerara 151 rum 1oz honey syrup 3/4oz grapefruit juice 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz cinnamon syrup 2 dashes bitters

Shake with ice and strain into glass with fresh ice.

Mix #130 Yellowbeard's Grog

2oz Pyrat XO Reserve rum 1oz lime juice 1/2oz Pierre Ferrand Yuzu 1/2oz Small Hand Foods orgeat 1/4oz Demerara syrup

Shake with ice,stagger-stagger-crawl-stagger,then pour into upturned skull of someone you don't like. Garnish with Mr Prostitute's moustache and a speared piece of Spam.

Pleasant seas me hearties,'n here be a pirate's blessin':

May your ANCHOR be tight, Your CORK be loose, Your RUM be spiced, And your COMPASS be true.

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: Expanded Shatterverse

In One More Hero, after OMT!Tails had recovered from the crash-landing in Boscage Maze (Dimension PR-GRO-2023), he and Nine were walking through the expanded jungle.

Nine: You know, Boscage Maze wasn't always like it is today.

OMT!Tails: It got expanded?

Nine: A lot of the Shatterspaces have, Tails. Funnily enough, me and Thorn are really the only two that actually remember what transpired in the past, and yet no-one else does.

OMT!Tails: Oh? How so?

(Logmill Marshland sprites by DanielMania123)

Nine: Well, after Sonic and Shadow were forced to leave to protect our realm, it made the Shatterverse expand beyond what I knew before. It even caused Shatterverse counterparts of them both to come into existence, alongside three sets of people I never knew prior. Over in New Yolk, for instance, Sonic's counterpart is Enforcer Sonic, who was said to have traded his freedom for the safety of the critters in the city before we kicked the Chaos Council out, Shadow's is Prism, but made by me from abandoned blueprints the Council left, and there are three more named Crème Brûlée, Nitroxide and Lodestar Nova.

Nine passed Tails a sheet listing all the major ones between dimensions. (Sonic and Shadow ones (alongside the Temperature Split bunch) are owned by @son1c)

New Yolk City: - Myself (Tails) - Renegade Knuckles - Rebel Rouge - Rusty Rose - Denizen 1998 (Big) - Enforcer Sonic - Prism (Shadow) - Crème Brûlée (Cream) - Nitroxide (???) - Lodestar Nova (???) - The Chaos Council (Eggman) Boscage Maze: - Thorn Rose Scavengers - Prim (Rouge) - Gnarly (Knuckles) - Hangry (Big) - Mangey (Tails) - Halcyon (Shadow) Newer Residents - Windthrow (Sonic) - Shroomik (Eggman) - Hoodie and Topian (Cream and Cheese) - Wildcard Nitro (Is that second word the name of the yellow hedgehog? Odd...) - Hostas (???) No Place: - Knuckles the Dread Dread's Crew - Sails (Tails) - Black Rose - Batten (Rouge) - Catfish (Big) Neutrals and Other Crews - Gale (Sonic) - Bermuda (Shadow) - Sailor Cream and Seadog (Cream and Cheese) - Skipper Nitro - Rogue Nova - Captain Robotskis (Eggman) Temperature Split: Freeze Team (Deepfreeze Domain) - Alabaster (Rouge and a Pink Wisp) - Hatchet (Tails and two Yellow Wisps) - Rocketeer (Nitro and an Orange Wisp) Burn Team (Heatwave Hearth) - Roundgear (Eggman and a Cyan Wisp) - Blister (Knuckles and a Black Wisp) - Ardent Rose (Amy and a Blue Wisp) - Aquatic (Big and a Green Wisp) - Constellation (Nova and an Indigo Wisp) Neutrals - Syzygy (Sonic) - Callisto and Jupiter (Shadow and Maria) - Star and Power (Cream and Cheese, a Heart Wisp)

(What the four Nitro Shatterverse counterparts look like, in the order mentioned in that list:)

OMT!Tails: A whole book about them? Hmm... Let's see...

OMT!Tails had a flick through, finding it pretty interesting.

Nine: Some of their stories are quite interesting and shaped who they are today. Lodestar saved Nitroxide from being turned entirely robot, Shroomik is one of the few humans here in Boscage and has been helping out on terra-firma, Gale's been one of THE strongest versions of Sonic I've seen, and Callisto's essentially a Shadow-Wisp fusion that's a friend to all Wisps.

One of the points in the book caught OMT!Tails's attention.

OMT!Tails: Wait, Star lost her mother?

Nine: Yeah, I'm afraid so... Thankfully, Syzygy took her in with some other younger companions away from Temperature Split's main planet, in hopes of trying to end the Wisp Races for good.

OMT!Tails: Honestly? I can relate to Star's pain.

Nine: You... You can?

OMT!Tails nodded.

OMT!Tails: Before we met back at New Yolk, a monster known as OMT attacked my world, and... left some nasty scars on me... Vanilla, my Cream's mom, never came back from that, so I had since adopted Cream as my little sister. It's been a year since then, and I still haven't been able to move on...

Nine: Hey, Tails. You're a strong guy, I know you are. I mean, come on! You made it out of that crash-landing practically in one piece AND fought off "Agen" or whatever his name was, so that deserves credit!

OMT!Tails: Heh, thanks, Nine.

Nine: But, you know... For both of us, I guess it just isn't the same without the Sonics we knew...

OMT!Tails: Hey, Nine? I know I'm not the best with advice, but I know neither of our Sonics would want us dwelling on the past and what happened before. He always told me that if I want to do something, that I do it right away and when I can.

Nine: Heh, I get what you mean, buddy. Even then, it's a shame the grown-up Sonic couldn't be here to hear this.

OMT!Tails: And he wasn't even the best mentor, either... When do I know if I'm ready?

Nine: You're not meant to by normal means, Tails. The way you know you're ready is to find that courage in yourself. And to do that, all you need is the will to take that first step.

OMT!Tails: "Take that first step"... Honestly, I never heard that advice before, but it can work! Thanks, Nine.

Nine: You're welcome.

Nine noticed a small canister Tails had.

Nine: What's that you got there?

OMT!Tails: Oh, this? They're the remaining particles from OMT.

Nine: Once we get back, I'm gonna put some study into them. I might have something to invent that can give you a helping hand back home.

OMT!Tails: Awesome! Well, here you go.

He passed the canister to Nine.

Nine: Well, we should go get you some practice around here.

OMT!Tails: Ah, yeah! Thorn said she'd be setting up some targets around the jungle for me to work with, right?

Nine: Mhm.

OMT!Tails: Then let's do it to it!

He raced off, ready for his target practice, as Nine followed.

[fandomsideworks]

favorite ‘90s films -- muppet treasure island (1996)

a reworking of robert louis stevenson's classic tale in which the muppets take to the high seas in search of buried treasure. young jim hawkins is given a treasure map by a mysterious sailor and sets sail with his friends the great gonzo and rizzo the rat. among the crew is the mutinous seadog long john silver, who has his own plans for the loot.

[yeetmetotheforbiddenwildwest]

I dOnT kNoW hOw HoRsE GeNeTiCs WoRk

Artemis is a seal brown

Jorvik Name: Quailquiver

Coat: Seal Brown

Gender: Mare

Professions: Archery, Soul riding, Exploration, Ranger work

Original Owner(s): Harriet and Larry (The totally not pirates)

(The Championship pirates- oh sorry. In Harriet’s words, “This Seadog is my Brother Larry. Don’t be afraid; We are NOT pirates. We are respectable sailors who unfortunately got seasick a lot so our captain marooned us on this Island.” The ‘Respectable Pirates- Sorry! Sailors. Respectable Sailors (totally not pirates) at Fort Pinta and… Pari the parrot. Larry’s parrot. I think they’re pirates. Or at least they were?)

(So, apparently the ‘totally not pirates’ siblings are afraid of horses… but they agreed to run a championship at which they were guaranteed to see horses every day and arrived on Jorvik with five horses. Four beautiful high-end stallions and one beautiful mischievous Trakehner filly (Artemis) who they were all too glad to hand off to the 14-year-old who had gone for a walk on the beach to investigate the new championship. …eh, whatever it’s Jorvik, there are horses everywhere you look. Doesn’t matter where or what direction, there are horses everywhere.)

Sarafina or Hera (Artemis' mother) is a Dutch Warmblood x Trakehner cross stolen by the totally not pirates' crew (the liver | I was also thinking that Bay Quarter could be her coat color)

Nightfall (aka Neo, nicknamed for Catherine's horse Nemo but short for Neoptolemus) is a Chestnut Sorrel (more on the brown side though)

His mother is a chestnut/sorrel DWB except her coat is duller in color and more brown

Breed: Jorvik WB-Mustang cross x Dutch WB crossbreed

Barn Name: Neoptolemus (Neo)

Jorvik Name: Nightfall

Past Owner: Thomas Moorland

Owner: AZ's Ranger uncle

HC(s): Has star and snip face marking

Shasta is a Flaxen chestnut (also on the brown side)

Mistdrift/Misty is his mother

Calypso is a Bay Pangare gotland pony.

Barn Name: Callie

Name: Calypso

Jorvik Name: Leafpool

Coat: Bay Pangare

Gender: Mare

Owner: Rhiannon (Wild Warden; Keeper of Aideen; Druid)

Rider: Arizona

Here's her mother

Their father is a Norfolk Roadster(HC: the breed is extinct everywhere but Jorvik) x Ardennes cross Starbreed named Nanook.

Please bare with me. Wait until January when the Ardennes are released, I will get back to you on what Nanook's coat color is.

This is a lore post. Forget genetics. They're a family. I may give them different mothers because people tend to breed stallions with multiple mares.

Spent way too much time on this. Thanks for reading my ramblings.

[missmeltycat]

Upon A Foggy Day

A Остров сокровищ | Return to Treasure Island (1988) fic!

A particularly saccharine oneshotty songfic based after many days at sea in fog.

Rating: Everyone

BE WARNED - It's nauseatingly sweet and cheesy! Song credit: For the Dancing and the Dreaming by Craig Ferguson

Fic below or in the link!

The voyage had been long and arduous, and the crew was having a ‘down day’. The last 5 days had all been at sea, attempting to gain their bearings due to an odd sort of fog that had settled all around them. Many of the sailors were superstitious and were blaming Rae Taylor for the streak of bad luck.

It had only been a few weeks since it had been revealed that she was a woman and not the round-bottomed male deckhand that she had been posing as. Many saw it as an insult, even Captain Smollett, who had accused her of being a stowaway, but it had been Livesey who had stepped in to explain that she had indeed signed up for the voyage fair and square.

It was also Livesey who had been the only one who had known her secret all along and, being the man that he was, he had kept it a secret for her benefit. It had only been due to an injury that she had been forced to reveal all.

The crew saw her presence as being a curse on them, as women aboard were still often considered unlucky by many an old seadog. No amount of trying to explain that it had only been recently they hit the mysterious fog bank and that it had been fine up to that point with her on board would convince them otherwise and Livesey, Trelawney and Jim had decided to just leave it be. Smollett, on the other hand, would intervene should it have any effect on work being done, so that was a small mercy.

The fog had slowly lifted through the course of the day and all it revealed was more ocean. The waves were calm, but there was a sort of electricity in the air.

Rae assumed it was a potential storm on the way and kept her eyes on the horizon for the red sails of the Sanguine. It was her turn on watch duty on deck, so she had made her way to the bow of the ship and leaned against the wooden balustrade humming to herself to keep her brain occupied. It was an old tune that she had picked up many years ago and it had entered her head by complete surprise. As she absentmindedly scanned the horizon for the pirate threat, she slowly mumbled the words to herself…

"I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life…”

Suddenly, she felt a presence beside her and the distinctive chuckle of the good Doctor. “Ohhh, I know that one.” Livesey instantly started singing along in his own way, each line punctuated with a small fit of giggles.

“No scorching sun nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey…”

Rae turned her head with a smile. She had not heard him sing often, so it was a very nice change. There was something about the enthusiasm in his words that made her join him in a very spontaneous and impromptu duet.

“If you will promise me your heart

And love me for eternity”

But what Rae though would just be a simple case of a short sing along became something else entirely, as Livesey reached out a hand. She took it, spurred on by curiosity and was instantly whipped into a jig to accompany the song. It was not at all her forte, but it was a well needed and appreciated bit of entertainment after a dull few days in foggy conditions.

After letting out a small yelp of surprise, she continued with her part of the duet. After all, it was all in good fun, right? She wanted to be a good sport at least.

“My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need for mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me.”

To her surprise, he spun her so that her arms were crossed in front of her and drew her back-first into his broad chest as she sang the last line, his arms curled around her tightly, before spinning her back out again.

“But I would bring you rings of gold

I'd even sing you poetry

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me.”

By that point, Trelawney, Smollett and Jim were all watching from the door of the captain’s cabin with curiosity. A rare bit of lively dance and song was too much to pass up. Though, Smollett was sulking that Rae was shirking her duties by doing so, but Trelawney was quick to provide an elbow to the ribs to silence him on the matter.

Jim was about to run over and join in, but it was then that he got a strange feeling sweep over him as he watched the two interact and so he stopped himself.

Rae laughed happily. This certainly beat watch duty.

“I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry…”

Livesey and Rae linked arms and stepped first in one direction, then the other in unison.

“I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me.”

He swung her around and took hold of her hand, bringing them in to his chest and back out again in an extravagant stepping motion.

“To love and kiss to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life's sorrows

And delights...”

The smile that had formed on Rae’s face almost made her cheeks ache with the strain as she was flung around in a tight spin once again. Finally released against his hip, where the pair swayed, hands linked, Rae couldn’t resist the smirk she offered him.

“I'll keep your laugh inside me…”

The meaning was not lost on the Doctor and his huge grin merely widened in a way that almost seemed to split his face in two.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas…

He spun her once more, pulled her in and dipped her to finish the dance and song.

“With ne’er a fear of drowning…”

But the finish was more hushed and not at all what each had expected.

“I'd gladly ride the waves of life…”

Their faces each burned bright red, the heat almost palpable and Livesey delivered the final line, his smile fading into a look of anxiety.

“If you will marry me…”

There was a silence that fell as the pair were almost frozen in place, Rae dipped and Livesey’s face inches from hers, each wearing an expression as if they had each seen a ghost, their cheeks redder than the blood of beets.

Then, almost as quickly as it had happened, the pair had righted themselves, dusted themselves off and went about clearing their throats in an attempt to brush off the strange feeling that they seemed to share.

“Oh! Oh I say! Is it that time already?” Livesey had fished his pocket watch from his inner jacket pocket and was scanning the face with interest. He didn’t care what time it was. Not one jot! But the face of the watch seemed a lot easier to look at that it was to look Rae in the eye.

“Y-Yes!” Rae had no idea what time it was. “I… Should probably get back to my watch!”

He tugged on his collar and cleared his throat with a shaky laugh. “Yes! Yes quite!”

“Yes! Mmm!” Rae turned on her feet and slammed herself against the balustrade once again to try and watch the horizon again.

Livesey turned in one swift motion and began striding his way back slowly to the Captain’s quarters.

The pair slowly turned their heads for a sneaky look back at each other, made eye contact and turned even redder.

By that point, Trelawney had dragged Jim and Smollett inside the cabin to try and give Livesey and Rae some space and was eagerly awaiting his friend’s return. He didn’t have to wait long, as Livesey had widened his strides to get to his destination faster, lest he combust on the spot.

When he entered the room, his face was red, sweaty and his breaths ragged. It was an almost alien sight on the usually calm, composed and collected Doctor and Jim piped up. “Are you OK, Doctor?”

Trelawney grinned knowingly as the large man reached into his coat for his handkerchief, mopped his brow and attempted to put on his best smile as a cover. “What’s that, Jim my boy? Oh! Y-Yes!” He waved a hand to try and fan away some of the heat from his cheeks with a chuckle. “It’s just a little, um… Warm out there.”

Smollett tapped his foot and shook his head as he caught sight of Trelawney’s meddling smirk.

“It most certainly looked warm.”

Livesey didn't look any of them in the eye, he couldn't. He simply took a seat, rested his chin on his palm and heaved a sigh. "I blame the fog entirely."

[disneydarlin]

Muppet Treasure Island —Aesthetic

Movie Description

The Muppets take to the high seas searching for buried treasure in this reworking of Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale. Young Jim Hawkins is given a treasure map by a mysterious sailor and sets sail with his friends. Among the crew is the mutinous seadog who has his own plans for the loot.

[captainofthepearl]

Barbossa was manning the helm, he turned in the direction of what those uncharted maps gave him. Set course to north it read, using the coordinates from the map. The crew were swabbing the deck except for...Norrington? Where was he? Was he anywhere above deck? Or--perhaps he was taking a caulk. It was rather unusual for his pet to just leave so suddenly, you'd think he would show up on time but nay, he ain't.

Barbossa's eyes scanned toward every sailor, seadog and deckhand that was swabbing. He rolled his eyes, annoyed by the absence of the crew. Curiosity got to him so he stormed down the stairs to enter the crew's quarters--or whatever they could sleep on. To his surprise he couldn't see the commodore anywhere until he finally spotted him--he looked rather off.

Like he wasn't bright and early, nor was he prepared to take orders. Barbossa stood in the doorway, questioning the commodore.

"Wha' in tha blazes are ye doin ere'" Barbossa grumbled. "Oi!, look upon yer cap'n when he speaks ta ye".

(@ashortdropandasuddenstop)

[chetttt]

captain foxy

[absolutewifey]

I'm doing research for my Seadog Summer DnD campaign and I'm looking at different gods because each community the sailors visit is going to have an INCREDIBLY different and isolated culture from the others. So I was looking at pantheons from different cultures and I am so into these different creation myths.

Genuinely gonna try to categorize them all and see if there are any details that stay consistent throughout every human culture.

[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

Albatross Elseworld Notes

Civil War GG Albatross: The basics seem pretty clear— Clipper ship captain Colin Rodgers, Intrepid Victorian Lady Naturalist Lora Saunders, Steampunk gadgeteer Kurt Burdett, etc. The hardest thing might be coming up with an excuse to have them in the United States interacting with the rest of the Golden Generation who would be more directly involved in the war. Interestingly, Colin would be among the first generation of British colonists born in New Zealand and would probably think of himself as British. (And in any earlier AUs he probably would just be British.)

Albatross 1886: Not all that much different from the above except that it’s peacetime and we could actually do a plot set at the America’s Cups of that era and have Riptide be a robber baron’s spoiled son. Maybe this one is more outright Steampunk whereas the previous was straightforwardly “historical but with superheroes”.

Golden Age Albatross: Just works as a pre-WWII sailor in the final days of sailing barques, had his origin in the Southern Ocean as usual, lots of WWII-set adventures in the Pacific Theatre, maybe regarded as more of a New Zealand patriotic hero. Colin might have a full beard as a “stereotypical seadog”. Lora could be a scientist/spy lady working for the British government who’s his official contact. (Thankfully this is a modern comic so Joey and Tori would be depicted with a lot more sensitivity than we might expect for Māori characters in an actual Golden Age comic.) Silver Age Albatross: This is actually the hardest, with the first famous single-handers and the OSTAR and Golden Globe Race, Colin could have his origin as a sport sailor in the late Silver Age, but he’d be a “debuting during the mid-late 60s” character, not a 50s-into-60s character. (It’s not that ocean racing didn’t exist, there were transatlantic and transpacific races, the Sydney-Hobart is just the only example anywhere near the Southern Ocean IIRC.) I almost wonder if his origin might be altered to be more “scientific” rather than magical, as with the Silver Age versions of Green Lantern, Hawkman, etc— given weather control powers by an accident with a weather control machine? Could have his mustache and long hair (but not quite a mullet) in a hippie-like look, or be clean-cut if the emphasis is on him as a scientist. FIORE definitely get to shine, since this is the era of superscience and enthusiasm for “the conquest of inner space!” There would probably be a lot of comics about fighting giant monsters created by pollution.

Bronze/Iron/Dark Age Albatross: With his superhero debut in in-universe 1982, standard Albatross IS a Bronze/Iron Age character (but not particularly dark.)

Frozen Mana Now/“If the Golden Generation Started Today” Albatross: This is pretty easy— “the last edition of the Race before the current one” moves Colin’s accident up to the 2017-18 Volvo Ocean Race, and the boats, gear, and technology change accordingly, but broadly things follow the same lines as his usual 1980s history. Instead of a direct parallel to Peter Blake, Colin could be someone inspired and perhaps mentored by him or a fictional counterpart. He might have a mustache or beard in the currently-fashionable styles. Instead of coincidentally resembling Peter Burling despite being based on other, earlier people, Kurt is probably a direct parallel.

[grantgoddard]

My life as a seadog : 1985 : The Voice of Peace, Tel Aviv

The prostitute was perched on the edge of my bed. Using the elementary Hebrew I had learned from children’s television, we chatted about her young daughter and the disastrous economic situation in Israel (inflation nearing 1,000%) that had forced her into this profession. I had been asleep in bed when the room door had opened, the light was abruptly turned on and I opened my tired eyes to see a ‘Little & Large’ couple framed in the doorway. Having ordered her client to take a shower before starting ‘work’, she had ample time for a conversation with me.

Was this another chapter of my punishment, to share a hotel room with a fat drunken Dutch sailor whose mission was evidently a missionary position in every port? I had come ashore after spending a week of nights sat alone on the ship’s bridge as ‘lookout’, tossed from side to side by the stormy Mediterranean. This was the sentence handed down by a Dutch captain angered by my point-blank refusal to enter the anchor chain locker alone and clean it of seabed debris. I cared not a jot that other DJs on board had accepted his prior orders to execute this task. I was adamant that I had not signed up as a seaman. I was there as a radio DJ. Neither the captain nor his crew had ever been required to assist us in the radio studios, so why was I expected to take on ship duties? Besides which, I suffered from claustrophobia.

Well, how did I get here? I had spent 1984 living at my mother’s house, unemployed and submitting applications for every UK radio production job I could find, none of which proved successful. All I had been offered was a six-month contract to work as a volunteer DJ on pirate radio station ‘The Voice of Peace’ in Israel. I promised myself that, if no proper job turned up by year-end, I would pursue this as a last resort. That was why, in the New Year, I was on a flight to Tel Aviv with two suitcases. It was sheer desperation. I had to convince myself that ‘doing radio’, almost any sort of radio, would be better for my career than trying to get work in radio but failing.

The deal on offer was that, for each month’s work on board the ship, I would receive US$100 in cash and be granted one week’s shore leave in paid Tel Aviv hotel accommodation. However, the seas proved too rough for crew transfers during my first three months on board, depriving me of returning my feet to land until April. It was particularly frustrating during that period to be able to clearly see the twinkling lights of Tel Aviv city at night from the ship but to have only spent a few hours there between my airport arrival and having been ferried on board.

The only ship I had experienced before was a cross-Channel ferry, so my first few weeks were spent being seasick and adjusting to the meals served by amiable cook Radha who professed he had pretended to be a chef to land this job. Initially there were plenty of DJs on board and my shifts presenting on-air were reasonable. However, as the months went on, most of my colleagues either completed their six months or quit early and were not replaced. There were occasions when I was required to present programmes for more than twelve hours a day when our number was reduced to two. I consoled myself that, detained in a floating prison, it was better to be kept occupied than to spend time reflecting on the notion of freedom.

Nominally in charge of the station’s programmes on the ship was the genial Daevid Fortune who, I seem to recall, had previously worked on Twickenham AM pirate ‘Radio Sovereign’, a station that had existed for eight months in 1983 playing only oldies. At the ripe age of twenty-seven, I was older than most of my colleagues and more experienced, having previously worked full-time for UK commercial local station ‘Metro Radio’ not only as a presenter but as a manager who had implemented an innovative playlist system to reverse its dwindling audience. However, within the ship’s radio team, I maintained a low profile as there was no incentive to propose improvements or seek additional responsibilities without decent compensation.

The many hours of off-air boredom were relieved by listening to previously unheard stations from Lebanon, Cyprus and Egypt. There was a television room on-deck where I would watch the afternoon post-war American movie of the day on Jordan TV. I would write letters to my thirteen-year-old sister back in the UK. I would read cover-to-cover all the English-language music magazines, including heavyweight weekly ‘Billboard’, that we received. I would comb the small record library and listen to previously unheard discs in the second production studio. Once the weather became calmer in the summer, it was an idyllic existence to live without day-to-day responsibilities. My hair grew longer than it had ever been, my skin turned dark brown and my body became even thinner as a result of seasickness and Radha’s meals.

The station’s Persian founder and owner, Abie Nathan, was a peace activist who had been making grand publicity-seeking gestures in Israel to promote his cause since the 1960’s. He bought the ship second-hand in 1973, allegedly with the financial assistance of John Lennon, and had installed the radio broadcasting equipment. However, after more than a decade continuously anchored a few kilometres off Tel Aviv, the ship and its facilities had seen better days by the time I arrived.

Like many station owners, Nathan was given to flights of fancy, calling up on ship-to-shore radio to demand airtime for content that interrupted our on-air routines. During my stint, Nathan hired a duo of British ‘radio consultants’ to improve the station. Their big idea was to split the station into two different services on FM and AM during certain dayparts, requiring both studios to be used simultaneously for live programmes. This proved not such a practical idea when the station was so regularly short-staffed. I was allocated the evening FM show, for which I used Steely Dan’s ‘FM’ track as theme music and selected soft rock songs. I was rewarded with a letter from a listener in Finland who had heard my show and sent me a cassette recording postmarked the following day to prove it (remember this was pre-internet).

If there was one lesson I learned from my six months at sea, it was the first occasion I had worked with self-styled ‘radio consultants’ who seemed to talk endlessly about their successes, obviously possessed the gift of the gab, but who were revealed as less knowledgeable than they might appear. In those pre-digital times, I was surprised to be the person on-board who was asked to explain which of a quarter-inch reel-to-reel tape machine’s three heads has to be used for marking up edits. In future years, I was to meet more ‘consultants’ who promised to deliver radio ‘success’ but who seemed to lack the requisite skills to achieve anything more than talking about it.

My experience presenting programmes for hours every day on-air confirmed my thinking that being a DJ was not my ambition in radio. I was told I possessed a good ‘radio voice’, I could operate the equipment and loved playing music, but I much preferred a production role in which I could contribute creatively beyond just opening my mouth. One of the most enjoyable programmes I created on ‘The Voice of Peace’ was a ‘special’ to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Sharpeville Massacre with a selection of pertinent African and American music. I wish I had put a cassette in the studio tape machine to record it!

After having been denied shore leave during my first three months, I now had to endure an hour of bonking noises from the second bed on the other side of our small shared hotel room until the lady of the night slipped away, leaving the seaman to snore loudly until daylight. The hotel turfed us out during daytime, so I regularly retreated to the nearby White House café where office staff, hangers on and the station’s most loyal listeners would sit at a roadside patio table and chat ‘radio’. I came to love Tel Aviv during my total three weeks of shore leave … despite the ongoing war, the terrible economy and random acts of terrorism.

Once my six months were completed, I visited the station’s Tel Aviv office to collect my final wages. I reminded Abie Nathan that I had worked an additional three weeks beyond my contract as a result of having been denied shore leave during my first three months on board. Would he pay me an additional US$75? He adamantly refused. Unlike some of my DJ colleagues, I harboured no intention of returning for a further six-month stint. Rather, I never wanted to work or live on a ship again. Surely there must be a radio job I could secure that did not necessitate me being sick in a bucket after eating unidentifiable meals.

In 1993, I was working in East Europe when I read that the ‘Voice of Peace’ ship had been deliberately scuttled at sea by its owner after two decades’ broadcasts, the final day having comprised non-stop Beatles songs. I have never mustered the enthusiasm to attend subsequent ‘offshore radio’ nostalgia events but my experience of Israel left an indelible mark on me. Pass the halva!

[queenfisher1]

A God

Here's the seventh prompt for @writeblrfantasy's 12 days of writer's self-love. I decided to incorporate a seadog for this short story along with a diety. The prompt is God.

As the Grumpy Potato sailed on the sea, Captain Fisher grumpily stared at the seadog who was fidgeting with their fingers. Their hair was a golden blond and wore a red and white bandana over their head. She leaned forward and inhaled sharply. They started to feel very nervous and leaned back towards the bow. The tension grew as she was trying to remember why she had let them board her boat. Their eyes darted toward the sea as their awkwardness grew. Queen exhaled heavily and crossed her arms.

“Tell me,” she began. “Why did you board my boat?” They continued to fumble with their thumbs as they looked at the deck in front of them.

“I-I needed some more money,” they stuttered as their shoulders shrunk to their face.”I saw that I could g-get a lot of gold out of w-working… as a seadog… You were the only one who didn’t have a full crew…”

“What did I tell you when you first stepped onto this boat?” she huffed. 

“Don’t antagonize other sailors,” they sighed in guilt, “unless on your command.”

“And what did you do?” she braced herself for their answer, anger slower rising within herself. They clasped their hands together as they felt her intense aura.

“I, uh,” they become quieter and quieter, “shot… at a… trader.”

“Now how about you just stick to fishing, ok?” she grunted.

“Yes, ma’am!” they stumbled about the deck, getting their fishing rod prepared. Queen sighed as she cast her line into the sea, regretting life decisions already. Far in the distance, she could hear the unmistakable shouting of a far-off voice. Her irritation grew worse as she could hear their narcissistic ranting. The sound of cannon fire echoed in the atmosphere. She turned around, looking very unamused, seeing the white-robed and arrogant captain she wished didn’t exist. Their gold crown wrapped around their forehead gracefully, contrasting with his gnarly face and ignorant look. His almost white blonde hair violently waved in the wind. 

“Captain, is… something wrong?” they nervously asked. Queen shot up onto her feet and screamed at the top of her lungs, the poor seadog almost dropping his rod. Cannonballs were splashing in the water behind the stern.

“I REALLY DIDN’T NEED THIS TODAY!” she cried out. She turned to the cowering seadog and pointed toward the advancing destroyer. “You want to shoot at someone? Fine! Shoot at that idiot!”

“W-Wait,” he stuttered, putting the fishing rod down.

“Why are you hesitating?!” she gestured toward the boat. “Shoot at them!”

“Y-Yes ma’am!!” they stumbled, getting the cannon ready. Queen put her fishing rod down and started to aim a cannon toward the ranting captain. Their ship was of average size, its sails vibrant red, and a large cannon fixed to the front of the ship. Queen grabbed a cannonball without losing eye contact with her main target and stuffed it into the barrel of the cannon.

“Let’s see how you like this!” she muttered under her breath. She lit the cannon and fired away at the ship. The cannonball rammed into the center of the boat, making a large hole in its bow. The captain seemed to be growing furious. The seadog had finally managed to load the cannon and fired. It frighteningly grazed the top of the captain's head and put a hole in the deck. The ship started to slowly sink into the ocean. Queen looked at the seadog in shock for a moment before smirking. “Nice shot!”

The once arrogant captain began to flee, turning the ship to the port side. They watched as the ship disappeared to the horizon before laughing at each other. What an idiot, she thought. He thought he could pick a fight with me? Serves him right if his ship sinks. The seadog curiously looked at their captain as they were preparing their rod once again.

“Do you know who that was?” they asked.

“Hm?” she turned to him.

“That guy we were shooting at,” he clarified.

“Oh, him,” her smile turned into an angry frown. “He’s a centuries-old deity who just loves to sink other traders and fishing boats. He is really annoying.”

“What’s their name?” they tilted their head.

“How about we leave it as he is very annoying and a sore loser,” Queen ordered. “Now let’s get back to fishing and making money.” The seadog stared at the ocean blue before casting the line. The sun slowly dipped to the horizon, marking the start of evening.