#sailors and seadogs

[shattered-matrix]

Chapter 1: Threads of Fate

Soulmate Pirate AU | Hongjoong x Reader

Themes: soulmate marks, cursed ships, ocean magic, emotional tension, old gods, yearning, pirate crew shenanigans, mapmaker heroine who does not swoon on command

2.1k words

Taglist: open

Dryness is a sensation you gave up when you came to Stormwind.

The port is perpetually bathed in seamist, woodrot, and treacherously slick cobblestones—each as much a part of the landscape as the people who dwell there. It’s a truly spectacular port—not as grand as your relatives would certainly prefer, but settled, and worn in a delightfully old way. The kind of age that endures.

Stormwind has stood long enough to watch kingdoms change hands, wholly indifferent to whose ass warms the throne. Those who’ve called it home for generations know the truth: themastery of men is little more than playacting in the face of the sea.

Its waters give freely—sustenance, trade, safe passage. Its fury is death.

And for all the court’s posturing, no king will ever rival it in benevolence… or capriciousness.

You walk one of the many docks, the harbor a cacophony of activity. Sailors haul merchandise to and from ships—some familiar faces, some not. Those who don’t know you take one look at your brown trousers and billowing white shirt and let out a low whistle. You’re clearly not one of the wenches who flit about the docks in hopes of securing attention or pay—but a woman in pants is just as likely to be noticed as one with her bosom threatening to spill from her corset.

The crew of the Seadog doesn’t leer or whistle.

They shout warnings, bark at you to move aside as they cart barrels and crates up and downthe slick wooden planks.

One of the many reasons you like sailors: they rarely have the patience for pleasantries.

The captain—a man whose sun-worn face makes him appear older than his thirty years—waits at the top of the gangplank, giving orders. When he spots you, he nods.

“Didn’t have to come all this way, lass. Coulda met ye at the tavern.”

You tilt your head back to look up at him, shifting the strap of your leather satchel with a shrug.

“I heard you had a tight turnaround, Captain. Thought it best to make the delivery.”

The captain waves you up the gangplank without ceremony, stepping aside as you pass. You move quickly, darting up to keep from delaying the crew’s work.

Inside the Seadog’s modest captain’s quarters, you pull the scroll case from your satchel—careful, even though it’s tightly sealed against the damp—and offer it to him with practiced ease.

“Your northern client’s chart,” you say. “Route options, tide overlays, and the hazards I couldmap from your notes. Marked the shifting sandbars in red.”

He takes it with a grunt of thanks, already placing it carefully on his chart table like it’s worth more than gold.

You know it might be. It certainly feels like it when he hands you a heavy purse—the second half of the commission pay.

“Yer wasted on dry land,” he says, not unkindly.

It’s not the first time a hopeful captain has made that sort of comment. You respond as you always do, your expression bland as you put the purse in your bag.

“Dry land pays me in coin,” you reply. “Not rope-burn and salt sores.”

He laughs, then jerks his chin toward the open door.

“Go on, then. Ye’ll have dock rats on yer heels if ye stay long. Or worse—drunken romantics.”

You hum in amusement, stepping out into the daylight again. Back down the gangplank and the dock, onto the mist-slick stones of the harbor proper.

You’re headed back toward the cartographer’s shop when you hear the whistle—the sharp, melodic trill that marks a rendezvous from the waterline. You change direction easily, cutting down a narrower dock that leads toward the older mooring posts—where the deep water curves in close to the pilings, and ships don’t always need sails to reach shore.

You kneel at the edge of the dock, crouched low as a sea-dwelling male surfaces—glossy dark skin, gill-slits twitching just beneath his jaw, golden eyes peering up with a touch of mischief. Inhuman and strangely beautiful, if one ignores the razor teeth peeking out from behind his thin lips.

He clicks softly in greeting, then speaks in that odd, wet voice of his.

“Chart?”

You pass him the sealed scroll, and he tucks it into the leather pouch slung across his chest. Afew coins, a polished shard of bone, and a scrap of weathered vellum change hands in return. It’s always intriguing to see what the sea-dwellers bring to trade. Their sense of value doesn’t quite align with those of the land-dwellers, but the more savvy ones know which shiny or lost baubles to trade for what they want.

You click in gratitude, the sound heavy in your throat, and slip the payment into your satchel. Your muscles tense as you prepare to stand.

A wave strikes the dock.

Sudden. Sharp. Not the slow lap of tide, but a pulse—a rush.

It soaks you.

Water drenches your shirt in a single pass, plastering the thin fabric to your skin from collarto ribs. You hiss, jerking back on instinct, but it's already done.

A compass rose, dark and clear, glares from beneath the wet fabric.

Your client sees it, blinks once—and dips beneath the water without a word.

Gone.

Cursing, you stand, pulling the drenched shirt away from your skin. A nuisance, but you don’t think anything of it. This happens sometimes. The tide pulls oddly near the deeper channels. Scowling, you wring out your shirt, feeling the unpleasant squish of your boots as you stalk back toward the cartographer’s shop.

You don’t notice the man seated on a crate a few piers down. His clothing is ragged and his skin sun-dark, but his eyes are sharp—and fixed on you. His breath catches, and then he slides off the crate and vanishes into the crowd with surprising purpose for a man who smellsof fish and cheap rum.

The cartographer—who might be as old as Stormwind itself—doesn’t look up as you pass. He moves with slow, careful precision, eyes fixed on his work. The same as ever. You can’t say you’re upset by the dynamic—not when privacy is such a rare commodity.

You climb the back stairs to the room above the shop, pushing open the trap door with a dull thud. As soon as it’s closed behind you, you peel your shirt away with a grimace, stripping it off and tossing it into the basin. You’ll need to wash it in fresh water before the salt has achance to stiffen it.

The rest of your clothes follow—pants, undergarments, socks. You shove your boots over next to the fireplace, where a low bed of embers simmers. Fortunately, you shouldn’t need to go out again today.

You wipe yourself off with a towel, then pause—gaze caught by your reflection in the slightly warped mirror above the washbasin, water still dripping down your sternum.

The mark is there.

Always there. Dark as spilled ink and sharp as a blade: the compass rose, etched over your ribs like a brand you never asked for.

You’ve stopped trying to ignore it. But you don’t talk about it, either.

Everyone knows what a soulmark is.

A sign of fate. Of destined bonds. A thread meant to draw you toward another—your other. Most believe in love at first touch. In harmony. In completion.

You’ve never been that romantic.

Your mark appeared when you were ten. Too old for innocence. Too young to understand the weight.

You’d hoped it meant adventure. But your minders were quick to dismiss and hide it. Nobility has little use for soulmarks when an advantageous marriage is in order. Unsightly, they called it. Unnecessary.

By the time you arrived in Stormwind, you had long since stopped paying it any mind. It was just a mark—a rare half of a whole you’d likely never see completed. The world is a wide place, after all. And who knows where the other half is?

You started paying it more mind after a night at the tavern.

You wouldn’t consider yourself friends with the barmaids there, but they seem to like youwell enough. At least enough to tell you a story.

You’ll never forget how the pretty blonde leaned across the bar, speaking in low tones, hereyes alight with excitement.

She told you of a pirate captain, doomed by his own ambition and greed. The master of a ship that never dies. A man who laughs in storms and sleeps with monsters in the hold. A man cursed—and seeking the one fate marked to help him break it.

“He’s looking for her,” the barmaid said, her expression alight. “He’ll know her by thecompass on her skin.”

Something cold curled along your spine at that.

She didn’t notice, giving a dreamy little sigh.

“Isn’t it romantic?”

You haven’t found it romantic in the least.

Knowing it might be the match to a crazed and supposedly cursed pirate makes you miss when it was simply unsightly.

You finish drying off and apply fresh wrappings. Then you reach for your spare shirt—a thinner one, soft from wear but dry and clean. You pull it over your head without fanfare, adjusting the sleeves and collar out of habit. The mark disappears beneath the fabric once more.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

You retrieve a pair of trousers from the hook by the door, pull them on, and pull a threadbare pair of slippers from under the bed. The chill in the air has less bite than it did earlier, but the smell of rain still lingers.

There’s work to do.

You settle back at your worktable near the window, your fingers already reaching for your compass and inkstone. A half-finished chart waits beside you, the edges still curling slightly where the parchment was damp the night before.

You let out a quiet breath and begin to mark a coastal line with slow, practiced care.

The harbor hums below.

The tide rises, quietly.

And somewhere out there, a message is already on its way—carried by a man you never saw, to a captain you’ve never met, about a mark you’ve long since stopped believing in.

But for now, it’s just you, the chart, and the sea.

The bird arrives just before dawn, as the sun kisses the clouds with the first hints of soft blue.

It lands on the railing of the quarterdeck, claws clicking softly against the salt-slick wood. Not a gull or a messenger hawk—but one of his. Lean-bodied, ink-feathered, eyes too knowing for a creature that shouldn’t speak but sometimes does.

It cocks its head at him, then opens its beak.

A scroll slips free—sealed with wax, marked with the crude symbol of one of the informants he pays to watch the edges of the world. The small roll of parchment falls onto the tablebefore him and rocks slightly.

He doesn’t rush.

Hongjoong finishes his tea, slow and deliberate, letting the steam warm his face as the first threads of morning creep across the horizon. Only once the cup is empty does he reach for the message.

He breaks the seal.

Unrolls the paper.

Reads.

Once.

Twice.

Then, slowly, he smiles.

Not the practiced kind—the showman’s grin he wears for tense deals and wary kings. No. This is sharper. Quieter. Almost reverent.

Compass. Female. Port Stormwind. Dockside. Sea-soaked.

His mark begins to burn. A low throb beneath his ribs—like a drumbeat waking up after too long asleep. The ship seems to shift beneath him, as if it, too, has heard something.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A yes.

He looks out over the water, gaze cutting through the morning mist.

“Three days,” he says aloud. “You’ve been right under my nose.”

Footsteps behind him. Seonghwa steps up to the table, coat dark with dew, hands behind hisback.

“Was it her?”

“It’s her,” Hongjoong replies, folding the message neatly and sliding it into his coat. “At last.”

Seonghwa says nothing for a moment. Then:

“You’ve said that before.”

Hongjoong doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

“I’ve felt her before,” he murmurs. “But this time? The ship stirred when the bird landed. The mark burns like salt on an open wound. And the sea—”

He inhales, long and slow.

“—the sea feels still.”

Not calm. Not forgiving.

Expectant.

Below deck, ropes creak. The Delirium groans softly, like something old and dreaming beginning to wake.

Three days out.

That’s all.

And she doesn’t even know he’s coming.

[4thenorthstar]

the last pretty girl ☠️

i was actually not gonna post anything this week, but your girlie here has an important job interview and needs to distract herself. so here is my new theory.

pretty is a word that i've somehow associated with beth, i don't say there are literal dialogues or conversations mentioning beth being pretty though. more like this:

the last chance by emily

this song is about beth and daryl, this is one of the few things that we're all sure about. when i first heard this song, i didn't think much about the word. then, i watched an episode from dds1, don't remember which one, and i noticed daryl used the same word when laurent showed a photo of his mother, lily. @twdmusicboxmystery made a video about lilies and beth, and i did my own research about lilies and what they symbolize, including virgin mary. that's why i was sure there was something about pretty, but couldn't find any reason.

i've checked the origin of pretty.

tricky, cunning and so on didn't ring a bell to be honest. in this website, there're also annagrams for each word at the end of the page, so i thought that looking into anagrams of pretty could work.

pretty -> pyrett

this is obviously not a real word, but its pronunciation is: pirate. you can check it out from one of those phonetic transcription websites.

let's go back to season 10, episode 1. i don't remember every season and every episode, but i'm pretty sure that was the first episode i heard the words pirate and seadog. seadog means an old sailor, but it has dog in it, so i'll take it. carol says maybe she or they can become pirates and just leave.

in a different episode of season 10, carol finds a book in daryl's home called "the golden age of piracy".

why bother though, right? they could easily create a fake cover with a fake name. also, at first i saw the book as a symbol for daryl's love towards carol. she mentioned becoming a pirate, so he got a book about pirates. i'm not so sure now.

i've mentioned in this post that maybe we can see beth with a new name, or a fake identity. female pirates in history often disgused themselves as men, changed their names. one of them is anne bonny.

according to historical sources, calico jack at first didn't want anne bonny due to her being a woman. why did he change his mind? it has an interesting story.

beth killed gorman, a serial rapist, just like bonny. there are a lot of garbage men in history, so this story (unfortunately) is not special, but it's still something.

the meaning of the name bonny is also interesting.

"yeah, i'm happy. i'm just not blind." remember this? also, if i was right about beth's possible eye-loss in this post, imagery wise being pirate would fit her.

if she's not a literal pirate, maybe she's just an outlaw, a mermaid luring sailors just to destroy them. this would explain tricky, cunning side of being pretty. this is going to be the topic of another post though.

[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)

[stardustbarbarians]

Go to Sea No More

A Daniel Wagner / Sam Kiszka fic

Summary: You can take the sailor off the ocean, but you can’t take the sailor out of the man.

Tags: humor, fluff, hijinx, very very light angst at the start, ofthecaravel's Brandy au

Words: 3.6 k

A/N: Hi I missed the Brandy world a normal amount so I wrote this. This all began when I started to hyperfixate on shipwrecks and fell down a rabbit hole. All of the superstitions I use here are REAL I did not make a single one up. Huge shoutout to the youtube channel Maritime Horrors for posting about all of these hilarious beliefs. Dedicated to @ofthecaravel because yeah this is her universe. Title taken from Go to Sea No More by Sean Dagher. Enjoy everybody! <3

+++

Old expressions float around and are used almost daily. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. When it rains, it pours. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But one old phrase in particular haunts Sam near daily: You can take the sailor off the ocean, but you can’t take the sailor out of the man. Sam was very aware of that when Jake had chosen the sea over his own family for two years. Even more so when the man he loved had abandoned him in the middle of the night for that briny, fickle mistress. 

However, both men had returned to port and promised to stay forever. Sam had never been more elated, finally feeling complete with their constant presence. All of them knew that while Josh was able to hold his own with his twin out at sea, Sam was worse off. Each time Jake would visit or send letters and gifts, it would make Sam more temperamental and anti-social. 

But, that was the past. With Jake and now Danny remaining in his life for the rest of the time they were able to spend on this earthly coil together, Sam was practically unrecognizable to his bitter counterpart. Instead of clipped conversation with shopkeepers and vendors, he was pleasant and amiable. While this could be blamed on the return of those he loved, Sam was also just tired of being a curmudgeon. He never wanted to be that venomous firecracker of a man, it was just his defense mechanism. But just like the change of the current is controlled by the sun, when Danny stepped into his life with the promise of forever, Sam had slowly shifted and made himself a better man. 

That wasn’t to say that their relationship didn’t have its quirks. 

Sam, having been born and raised in a port town, knew firsthand how superstitious sailors could be. He’d always signed off all those ridiculous fears as nothing but the salt water rotting away those seadog’s brains. While he paid them no credence, he found it was mighty easier to simply follow along with these fallacies. He’d long since tired of hearing “you’re trying to summon pirates, boy!!” roared at him after accidentally letting the dinner knives cross as he served men their dinners. 

And then he started living with a sailor. Suddenly, all those old seadog tales that Sam had scoffed at had to be heeded with the utmost respect. It was always extremely strange for Sam to watch the very level-headed and reasonable Daniel to act superstitious and fearful on a dime. It seemed logic and rational thought were all thrown out the window when it concerned the volatile nature of the seas. 

It all started one day when Sam was doing chores around the cantina. He had opened the windows to let in the cool ocean breeze to combat the scorching hot summer day, hearing the calming crash of waves against the shoreline. As he was apt to do, Sam was whistling while he worked hard to maintain his family’s bar. It was an old shanty that had been rattling around his skull for a few days now, hoping that whistling it would finally relieve him of the cursed tune. That was when Daniel had made a mad dash towards Sam, clamping his large and calloused hand over Sam’s mouth. To say the least, Sam had been startled and slightly afraid of Danny’s now erratic behavior. Sam had started to fear that perhaps some of Danny’s enemies from his old job had been spotted - Danny silencing Sam to avoid being noticed. 

It wasn’t until Danny had hissed a reprimand at him that Sam understood Daniel’s reaction. 

“Are you mad?? Are you trying to summon a gale?!” Daniel had this almost crazed look in his eye as he spat out his scolding. He kept his hand firmly pressed against Sam’s mouth as he leaned out of the window Sam had been mopping next to, screaming: “Apologies, Neptune!! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!!” 

Bewildered and more than a little annoyed, Sam managed to wrestle Danny’s hand off of his lips. “What are you doing??” 

“It’s bad luck to whistle! You’re challenging Neptune! Next thing you know there’ll be a hurricane battering us!” 

Sam looked out the window to see nothing but a clear blue sky and calm waves lapping the harbor. 

“You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.” Of course Sam knew Danny was a sailor, it was hard to forget. However, he had, apparently wrongly, assumed that Daniel was better than all those superstitions. 

Danny only blinked at Sam, sparing one last nervous glance out at the cloudless sky before slithering behind the bar to grab a bottle of wine. Sam watched on incredulously as Daniel walked towards the door with a bottle of the bar’s good wine in hand as if he were a soldier given direct orders. 

“What on earth are you doing now?” Sam cried, trailing after his sailor as he tore through the Caravel Cantina and out the door. 

“Making an offering to the sea god,” he solemnly answered, not even glancing at Sam as he spoke, his eyes dead set on the shoreline a few hundred feet from them. Sam could only watch on in dismay as the man he loved more than anything kneeled down onto the rocks of the shore, raised the wine bottle as Cain had raised the club on Able, and smashed the dark green bottle onto a rock, the crimson alcohol splashing everything in the vicinity. The former seaman watched as the briny water drank up his offering, picking out shards of glass from the rocks. Kids toddled this beach very frequently or else he would’ve left the glass shards as an additional appeasement to Neptune. 

Later that night when Sam would talk to Jake about it, he far from expected the man to take Danny’s side on the matter. 

“You should never whistle where the ocean can hear you, Sammy,” Jake had told him very solemnly. He had even taken on a somber look as he lowered his eyes to lock them with Sam’s. It had unsettled Sam to no end. That was when he knew there was credence to his belief that spending too much time out on sea rots your brain just like the driftwood she spat out from the shipwrecks she claimed. 

Making sure neither seafarers he kept company with were in sight, Sam stood on the pier and whistled a tune into the still waves of the night. When nothing happened for the few minutes he stood there, Sam walked away with a self-assured smile, proving to himself all those pointless worries by the sailors were just that. 

The near gale force winds the next day were just a coincidence. 

+++

Despite knowing how ridiculous it was, Sam kept his whistling to himself when Jake or Danny were near. However, that was far from the only superstition they subscribed to. Sam would learn all of these the more time he spent living with Danny. 

For instance, Danny just about had a heart attack when Sam handed him a salt shaker rather than set it in front of Danny for him to grab. He went pale as a sheet and refused to take the shaker out of Sam’s hand. 

“You don’t want to give me bad luck, now, do you?” Daniel nervously bargained with his boyfriend, an anxious smile tugging weakly at the corners of Danny’s lips. 

So, now Sam had to make a conscious effort to place the salt shaker in Daniel’s reach and not hand it straight to him. 

Another fear, the most ridiculous in Sam’s opinion, was that of bananas. It was agreed that Danny and Sam would trade off weeks getting groceries, writing down items that were needed on a list in the kitchen. So, when Sam had brought home the groceries one Tuesday and set down a bunch of bananas, he hardly expected to see Daniel gazing at them as if they had killed his sister. 

“What? Don’t you like bananas?” Sam innocently asked, glancing between the yellow fruit and Danny. It was eerie the way Danny refused to take his eyes off the fruit. 

“You don’t know? You’ve lived around sailors your whole life and you don’t know?” Daniel finally looked Sam in the eyes, that haunted yet slightly afraid look in them Sammy had come to associate with another superstition. 

The land-lover sighed heavily. He felt himself deflate as he forewent unpacking his groceries to lay his hands on the table to ground himself. You love him you love him you love him- 

“If you tell me they’re bad luck-”

“THEY ARE!! They’re nasty little buggers that rot all your rations and harbor poisonous snakes and spiders!!!” Daniel raved, his arms flailing as his eyes went wild. Sammy loved Daniel. He really did. Daniel was the only one who had wanted him for him and not just his pretty face. However, he was making it very hard to remember that at present. 

“Daniel,” Sam started, gently taking his lover’s face in his hands, making sure those picturesque hazel eyes were trained onto Sam’s, “you mean so much to me. I have been abiding by all your superstitions and asinine fears. However, I am not giving up bananas for you. So for the love of the sea you regard so highly, please let me have this one little thing.” 

After Sam’s speech, Danny took a deep breath. He leaned himself into Sam’s touch, sliding his rope-hardened hands to cover Sammy’s. “Alright,” he breathed. 

Laced into his single worded reply was an apology. Sam had heard it, Danny didn’t need to say it. As a sign that he accepted his mea culpa, Sammy left a tender kiss on Danny’s tanned forehead. 

“I’ll put them in the cupboard so you don’t have to look at them. How about that?” Sam offered, keeping his hands in their place at Danny’s cheeks. 

“You’ve got yourself an accord, matey.” Daniel’s smile was wide and dazzling, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the corners. 

Sam couldn’t help himself, he started to pepper Danny with hundreds of kisses all along his face. 

+++

The next few superstitions all came in a batch of a few weeks. And there was a good reason for that. Jake and Danny had finally saved up enough money to buy a two sail, forty-two foot cutter. It was an older girl, perhaps a few decades spent traversing the blue brine, but it was nothing that two experienced sailors who were former pirates couldn’t handle. Sam helped where he could with the maintenance, but there was only so much he could do. It was as if you asked him to speak Latin. But, he lent a hand and some elbow grease when the occasion called for it. 

Within a few months, the old battered cutter was more than seaworthy. Sam had wanted to get out on the water right away, eager to see the mighty and vast ocean he’d only glimpsed at from his port city his whole life. However, as usual, there was a superstition preventing that from happening. 

“It’s bad luck for a ship not to have a proper name, Sammy,” Danny gently explained, tucking a piece of Sam’s hair behind his ear. 

“It’s amazing she hasn’t sunk yet,” Jake strained, his torso hanging over the port-side bow of the ship, taking in the chipped paint where the name was meant to be. 

“But, it’s such a beautiful day out,” Sam lamented, looking longingly out at the sparkling, cerulean waves that seemed to beckon him with every undulating swell. 

Danny, glancing over at Jake to make sure he wasn’t looking, snuck a quick kiss to Sam’s temple. They weren’t a secret, but Danny had always wanted to save his former captain the grief of seeing his little brother getting kissed - Danny knew he’d appreciate it if Josie’s boyfriend did the same. 

“Tell you what,” Danny started, lacing his finger’s with Sam’s, “you can christen the ship. How does that sound?” 

“Why does he get to do it?” Josh whined, no longer distracted by the fish swimming along the harbor. 

“Well, it is traditionally done by a woman,” Jake mused, unable to hide his teasing smirk. The mirth in his eyes was all too telling that he knew he’d gotten right under Sam’s skin. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Sam spat, not really meaning it. Jake knew this, shoving Sam on the arm with a chuckle. Sam reciprocated the gesture, giving a begrudging smile to his older brother. 

“Josh, why don’t you pick the name?” Danny suggested. 

Josh pondered for a second, kicking his dangling feet off the railing of the ship. “What about The Clarice?” 

“Josh, all due respect to you and your daughter, but I’d rather walk around with a pegleg, an eyepatch, and a parrot on my shoulder before I name any ship I sail after a chicken.” From the look on his face, Jake was not kidding either. He picked off a piece of flecking paint from the railing Josh was sitting on, casting it into the water below. The paint job was the last thing on their to-do list, wanting to pick out a name for her before finishing up the maintenance. 

Josh grumbled, a knit in his brow as he said something under his breath that sounded like “you’re a terrible uncle”. 

“What about Calypso? It’s pretty close to Clarice,” Sam suggested, his thumb absently rubbing Danny’s knuckles. 

“I love it,” Danny added, instantly backing Sam’s idea. 

“God, you guys disgust me,” Jake groaned, rubbing at his eyes, “but, it’s a really good name. Nicely done, Sammy, you actually had a good idea for once.” 

Sam flipped Jake the bird, causing Danny to purse his lips to keep himself from laughing. 

Josh sighed, conceding to the fact that he was outnumbered. “I still think The Clarice is better.” 

When the time came to finally set sail on their fully refurbished boat, it was hardly recognizable from the near derelict ship it was months prior. Calypso had been carefully painted in neat print in a beautiful dark green on both the port and starboard-side bow, Sam watching Danny dutifully sketch each letter as he sat on the pier. 

Now, Sam was standing on that same stretch of pier, bottle in hand the same color as the paint Daniel used, his heart pounding in his ribcage hard enough to bruise. Just like everything else in his life after Daniel became a permanent fixture in his life, this moment was colored by superstition. A bad christening for a ship is the same as a death sentence, Sammy, Danny had told him one night, the two of them lying in bed after spending their day fixing up the new ship. 

“Swing it as hard as you can, Sam!” Jake cried, sending his little brother two thumbs up and a reassuring smile. As cheesy as it sounds, the fact that Jake trusted him helped ease Sam’s nerves. 

With a steadying breath, Sam clenched his jaw before swinging the bottle of liquor above his head and bringing it down against the side of the bow as hard as he could. 

To his absolute relief, the sound of shattering glass filled his ears. 

In an instant, he snapped open his eyes to see amber liquor pouring down the wood of the ship, the smell of saltwater mixing with that of a fruity aroma. 

“I thought you were supposed to use champaign,” Sam breathlessly inquired, his head turning to take in Danny standing at his side. He was the one to hand Sam the bottle used in this ceremony. 

With a blinding smile that made Sam’s heart flutter in his chest, Danny shrugged his shoulders. “Figured brandy would be more fitting. And this way I know this ship will be lucky if you distilled her christening liquid.” 

He pulled Sam into him by his waist, planting a kiss onto the top of his head. Sam all but melted into Danny like butter against a hot knife. 

“Blegh! Get a room, you two!” Jake pushed himself between the two lovers forcefully, the pair of them giggling at his discomfort. 

Josh smiled at them, always the more romantic of the twins. “Don’t listen to him. I thought it was delightful.” 

With the christening done, they were finally able to sail out on the ocean. As soon as Sammy stepped onto the deck of that cutter, he knew in his heart he was going to run into numerous more superstitions. However, he was far from expecting to run into one as soon as they finished shoving off of their port. 

“Right,” Jake started, glancing over at Danny standing to his left, hands on the helm he was manning, “you know what we have to do.” 

Before Josh or Sam could even ask a single question as to what that vague and slightly ominous statement meant, they watched helplessly as both sailors produced a herring. Their confusion only mounted into abject horror as, almost in slow motion, the former pirates bit off the heads of the fish and began to chew. 

It wasn’t clear who screamed first, but soon both land-farers were shrieking in terror. They were both frozen in place as the sailors not only continued to chew the heads of those poor fish, but swallowed them whole. 

“Oh, stop your whining! We did this for you, you know!” Jake yelled, tossing the rest of the half-eaten fish off the side of the ship and into the water below. Danny followed suit, his face scrunched up in distaste. 

“How was ANY of that for us??” Josh shrieked, his arms thrown out in dismay at the horror show he just witnessed. 

“It’s frightful bad luck to shove off on a Friday,” Danny explained, going about checking the various knots and lines along the deck. 

“So that means you’ve gotta eat the head of a raw fish?!” Sam cried, feeling like he was on the brink of tears. 

“We had to make an offering to Neptune! This way he may forgive our transgression and keep the seas calm for us,” Jake defensively shouted, his eyebrows knitting together. 

Sam and Josh looked at each other. They didn’t have to speak a word to understand what the other was thinking: they’re insane. 

“God, it never gets easy, though,” Danny lamented, picking a scale off of his tongue before tossing it overboard as well. Sam had to hold back his gag, a hand flying to his mouth to keep the bile threatening to purge itself at bay.

“I’m never kissing you ever again.” There was a firmness in Sam’s tone that lent severity and weight to his words. 

That solemn promise only lasted a few hours. Daniel had brushed his teeth under Sam’s watchful eye. Three times. 

+++

While Calypso was meant to be crewed by at least three people, you could get by with only two if you were only going out for a few hours. And after a few weeks of Sammy asking Danny and Jake to teach him the ropes (quite literally), he was deemed trained enough to go out with just Danny on the water. 

It was going to be a fun day out on the water, Sam helping Danny pack enough food for lunch and dinner. There were also a few bottles of liquor carried aboard as well, the day well prepared for. 

After they had shoved off without a hitch (and not on a Friday, thank you very much), Daniel had stepped away from the helm and sauntered up to Sam. The inexperienced sailor was tying off a knot as he felt a rough hand cover his own, ceasing his movements. 

“You know,” Danny started, his voice low and rumbling like a roll of thunder, “it’s bad luck for a lady to be on board.” 

Sam was, understandably, shocked. In a dramatic move, he swiveled his head around to look for whatever lady the man was referring to. “Daniel, it’s just us two.” 

“Unless she’s naked. Now, unless you want to piss off good ol’ King Neptune,” Danny continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken, “you might wanna lose all your clothes.” 

For a moment, all Sam could do was look at his boyfriend in shock. The man in question held his gaze with Sam, a wolfish smirk growing on his lips. 

“I’m not a lady, Daniel,” Sam spat, throwing down his rope and crossing his arms over his chest. 

This only seemed to amuse Daniel more, teeth poking out of his crooked grin as his raven curls haloed around his head at the behest of the wind. 

“Don’t you want to be my Brandy girl?” His voice had dropped to a lower register, sounding as smooth as the very liquor Danny was invoking. It had worked unfairly well to Danny’s favor, the other man weak in his knees. Sam had to grab hold of the wooden railing on the ship to steady himself, his cheeks getting hot. 

“You’re pretty enough to be a lady,” Danny continued, reaching a hand out to caress Sam’s jaw and beckon his eyes to meet the sailor’s, “I don’t think the king of the sea would be able to tell. Better safe than sorry.” 

Sammy couldn’t suppress the shiver that wracked his body, feeling the warm breath of Danny’s honeyed words ghost across his skin. He knew he’d lost the battle, but he was far from upset at having to concede. 

“Yeah,” Sam swallowed thickly after his voice cracked inside his throat, “better safe than sorry.” 

That evening, under a burning red sunset and with their blood humming with brandy, the Calypso was christened once more. 

+++

tags:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @pr41sethemoon @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop

[roseofithaca]

Sea Wenches

Set in my Second Chances au, where mine and @idiotwithanipad 's ocs have moved on and are experiencing a second childhood.

-

Even after all these years, Elysabeth's heart ached as she dragged herself away from the waterfall, and the image of her dear friend who had been oblivious to their visit. The brief burst of joy at seeing his bumpy, furry head again with a smile of crooked teeth lasted for a good five minutes before the melancholy set in, and she knew they had to leave before it became all too tempting to stay and watch forever. She wondered if her companion felt the same sadness in his chest, for if he did he did a good job of hiding it.

The pirate gave her a gentle pat on the back with his big, beefy hand.

"Cheer up, Starfish! Ye saw 'ow happy he be. Ain't it reassurin' to know the old seadog still be in good company?" William said, encouringly.

"Sure t'is. But I ca'nae help but feel sad that we not be a part of that company for Rogh." Lyssie confided, "Every time we dock ashore, I pray that he be a'waitin' for us on the sands, wavin' them great paws of his."

"He will be one day, lass. One day." William said with such confidence that it was impossible not to have a little of her hope restored. ""Ere, how's about we pop in to see young Amy while we be close? She must'a finished buildin' that manor of hers by now. May be she'll wanna join us on our next voyage?"

The suggestion perked Lyssie up a little. It was always tough to be sure for how long they'd been away from this land during their adventures. Time acted very strangely in this world, if it could even be called a 'world'. For there seemed to be no globe to map and the ocean itself appeared boundless, with passages leading to all sorts of mysterious places to visit.

Going on pure intuition, honed by centuries as a sailor at this point, she reckoned it to have been at least a year, if not more, since they'd last set foot on these parts and visited the waterfall that granted them a window to look in in their old friend.

There were others they would need to check in on as well. Clarence's parish, Godric and Rebecca, Wise Elder Kya and some of her tribe if they be close. But the 'Bone House' as Amy titled it was closest to them right now.

Just as they entered the woods, following the footpath that would pass straight by their destination, a black shape bounded over the hill and made its way straight for Lyssie, pink tongue dangling out of its mouth.

"Oh!" Lyssie cried out as a happy looking dog approached her, tail wagging away; "'Morrow, sweetheart! Where dids thou come from?"

"Ha! Made a new friend there, Starfish?" William chuckled, reaching to scratch the dog behind the ears; "Aw, she be a beaut. Been thinkin' it's about time we got a pet for the ship."

"I's seen this dog before, I's sure of its." Lyssie frowned, taking note of the creature's red muzzle and prominent eyebrows; "Be this not the same pooch who we'd see resting by the water durin' the full moon?"

"Hmm. By Jove, I think it may be..."

"JESS! Jess, where've you gone? C'mere, baby girl!" A young, high pitched voice rippled through the trees.

Little feet skipped nearby. Lyssie looked up to see a young maiden, no older than six or seven, running towards them. She wore a rather fancy gown of crushed velvet, black and violet, her appearance incongruous to her wild surroundings. At least her footwear seemed more appropriate for playing in the dirt.

The dog turned towards her mistress, tail still twirling away behind her. The child wrapped her arms around the beast's neck.

"Why'd you run off, silly? You know better than that." The girl softly chided, barely taller than her dog's ears.

"This be your pooch, young miss?" Asked Elysabeth, "I think she did recognise us, we has seen her about these parts before."

"Yeah, this is my Jess!" Chimed the girl, a bob of unnaturally black hair framing her face, along with some glittery spectacles over her eyes.

Lyssie frowned. Perhaps it wasn't the same dog then? The dog who they'd spotted before was said to belong to Mary Guppy's foster child; Amy and Rogh's friend Silver. Who was older than she was, same as Amy, ten and nine, right?

The girl looked backward; "Annie! Ames! I found her, she's okay!"

Ames?

Another little form soon appared, also dressed rather formal but suited for a child. A pale young think with black hair past her shoulders, her dress red as blood with fluffy black trim. She rushed to catch up with the other girl.

"These guys said they know Jess, Amy! Haha, she's made more friends here than me." The spectacled maiden grinned.

"Amy?" Elysabeth stared at the other girl, finally seeing the resemblance. "Amy....Bone? Be that thou?"

The long haired girl blinked at her, expression blank.

"I....How do you...?" She seemed to shuffle nervously, one little hand reaching for Silver's, then turning her head as if to look for her parent.

Lyssie stepped back, sensing something was very wrong here. She tugged at William to do the same, though he seemed as much as a loss as she was.

"Well ain't this strange? Are you a relation of our friend Amy Bone, young miss? Cousin perhaps?" He asked, his booming voice doing little to reassure the nervous kid.

"I...I...."

"Hehe, she is Amy Bone!" The other girl chirped.

"Thilv!" Her friend hissed, clearly being more savvy about revealing names to strangers. Or at least, what she believed them to be...

"Silv? As in...Silver? Mary's daughter?" Lys pieced together; "Rogh's 'Moonah Girl'?"

"That's right! You're friends with Robin too?" Silver bounced on her toes with excitement.

"Aye, lass! We be a part of his old crew! Best friend I ever did have." The pirate said with cheer; "William's the name! Pleasure to meet ya!"

He held out his hand for Silver to shake, which she happily did.

Amy, however, still seemed lost; "Wi...With'iam?"

Lyssie could spot the twitching muscles in her face. She looked like a kid who was slowly waking up from a bad dream, unsure of what was real or not.

She knelt down to the younger child's level.

"Amy? Does thou remember us? I be Elysabeth." She said gently, "We has met many a time, by the waterfall, 'member?"

The look of petulant distrust soon melted away as there shone a glimmer of recollection in those eyes.

"Oh...Yeah. Yeah, thath wight. Lyth. Will. I wemember you..." She said with a shake of her head; "Fuck, wath w'ong with my head?!"

William snorted at the child's swearing through her adorable lisp.

"That be Amy Bone, I bet my finest boots, it be!" He smirked.

Silver squeezed her friend's hand; "I think it's the potion, Ames. Our heads are too little to hold so many memories so they keep falling out."

"Potion?" Lys blinked; "Oh! Is that be how...?"

"We goth thmall. Yeth." Amy blushed, sharing a knowing look with her friend. "Long thtowy."

"Hahaha! Oh, bless my barnacles, what a surprise this be, ey Starfish! For once you ain't the little sprog of the group!" He winked, ruffling Lys' braids until she shoved him off.

But indeed, it did feel odd to not be the youngest for once.

"I don't understand. Why woulds you...? How, even-?" She began, flustered.

"Ah, them boring questions can come later." William waved off, kneeling down in front of the girl with the dog; "Now, young Silver is it? That be a pirate name if I ever did hear one!"

"Hehehe, you're really a pirate? Robin told me about you but I didn't know if he were fibbing!" She grinned.

"Fibbing?! He may tell some tall tails, our Rogh, but not about his tribe! I be a pirate indeed, as is young Lyssie here." He said, jostling his first mate's shoulder; "We just finished one of our great voyages, didn't we Starfish?"

Lys nodded, but could see the contrast between the two girls. Amy still seemed a bit unsettled, not quite as comfortable in her regressed form as her friend. Her heart panged with sympathy.

"Maybe we best go to Silver's mums? Or back to Amy's house-?"

"Poppet!"

They turned to see another two approaching. Lyssie recognised the woman in the flowing short yellow dress with dark hair. But the man at her side, panic on his bearded face as he headed towards Amy, was new.

He reached out to pull the small Amy into his arms.

"'Cor, you are quick! Your dad ain't used to running, remember?" Said the man.

"Hmm, been telling ya to join me on the morning jogs. 'Allo strangers!" Annie beamed as she recognised them.

"Annie! Come 'ere, ya gorgeous Siren, you!" William crushed the former Puritan into a hug. She and Elysabeth exchanged fond smiles.

The man with the neatly shaved beard placed his hands on Amy's shoulders.

"You all know each other then?" He asked.

"'Course we do, nitwit!" Laughed Annie.

"And we know you too, lad! Humphrey Bone, as I neither live nor breathe! Haha, c'mere!"

William all but grabbed the slimmer man's arm and tugged him into another bone crushing hug.

"Good for ya to join us here at last! And in one piece at that! Haha, get it?"

"Mmmf...yeah...Not heard that one before." Humphrey mumbled against the other man's shirt.

"Release him, Will, before young Amy need to start carryin' his head around again." Lyssie scolded, suppressing a laugh.

The pirate did so, Humphrey needing to take a deep breath after being freed.

"Forgive my Captain, sir, it be a rite of passage for all the friends of Rogh he meets." Lyssie smirked. She then remembered that he were a Knight and tried her best to curtsey, though she was a bit out of practice; "How d'you do?"

"Uhh, very well, thank you..."

"Lythbeth." Amy whispered to him.

"...Leaf Beth?"

The Saxon maiden shook her head, as William and Silver laughed; "Lyssie is fine, milord."

-

She could hardly believe that, in their absence, they had missed not just one, but two ascensions. Both Amy's father and Mary's daughter. Lyssie tried not think how much Rogh must be missing them both. So often she had watched him and the 'head bit' exchange dry witted jokes over the centuries. And he'd watched over the Silver maiden sleep with such reverence, as if she be the daughter of the moon itself.

They sat on a blanket on the sand, close to the pier where their ship was docked. Lyssie had gone back in to grab some crab filled sandwiches from the fridge in storage, one of the few pieces of modern technology they'd both agreed to keeping on board.

Annie was just finishing catching them up on her side of the story of how and why the girls were suddenly so much younger.

"Well ye can't say 'avin' a witch in the house don't keep things interesting!" William boomed, "'Ere, little Silver, ye don't have any spare of that potion, do ye? Could do with gettin' rid of some of these grey 'airs in my luscious locks."

"Ugh, so vain!" Elysabeth moaned, "I ain't letting ye have a sip of that, knowin' my luck I'll be stuck babysitting thee."

"We had best be off. Been lovely to catch up but Mary's gonna be worried." Annie said, getting to her feet.

"Aww, but Will said he was gonna give us a tour of the ship!" Silver moaned.

"Can always be done another time, love. We don't wanna make your mum fret, do we." Annie said, holding out her hand.

Young Silver pouted, looking forlorn at the gorgeous ship resting in the low tide. She had just had a fresh coat of paint, Lyssie had seen to that herself. It were her home now, as much as the girls had their own manor or cottage.

"Ey. She could stay 'ere if she wished whilst you go back to see Mary." William offered; "Look how excited the nipper be."

"Please, Annie! Please!" Silver bounced.

"Hmm...I mean...'spose it be no harm. Ye woulds help keep her safe for me, wouldn't ya Lys?" Annie asked.

"'Course." She nodded, taking the young Silver's hand.

"Can I thtay too?"

All heads turned to little Amy, who had been rather quiet for most of the picnic.

"I...I uthed to love my gwandad's boat. Weally wanna go on one again." She shrugged; "Lookth cool."

Humphrey cleared his throat; "I...dunno how I feel about leavin' you alone on the ocean, Poppet. No offense to your friends, I just haven't really-."

"Ah, no offense taken, sir! Ye da'nae know us from Adam!" William smiled, "So 'ow about ye come with us? I could do with some male company, less these wenches 'ave me runnin' round in circles after them!"

Amy's face lit up at that. She reached to tug at Humphrey's shirt.

"Can we, Dad? Pleath?"

Elysabeth watched. It was clear there was no way Humphrey was going to deny his daughter this request, but she could just as easily see the man was not as keen to be upon the water. But he wouldn't reveal that fact. Not if it meant accompanying her.

Annie gave him a shrug.

"Go on, you daft sod, ye could do with making some friends." She encouraged.

He gulped.

"Eh...I suppose so long as we don't go too far."

"Nah. Just a quick sail beyond the reef. Try and spot some whales, maybe." Will agreed.

"Or dolphins, they're gorgeous." Lyssie grinned, "Or maybe we can visit the lagoon and see the mermaids."

"Mermaids?! There are mermaids?!" Silver gushed.

"Haha, sorta, lass. They be human souls who change themselves to live as merfolk. T'is a lifestyle choice, to each their own." He explained; "Right, Lyssie, you get them little maidens settled aboard and give them a wee safety lecture. Humphrey, you're with me on the bow!"

Annie laughed and waved them off as they made their way along the peer. She took Jess with her, who was more interested in breakfast than being aboard a ship.

William clapped an arm around Humphrey's shoulders while the girls went ahead.

"Did ya know, I met your ancestor, I did. Alexander Bone?"

"Oh! Really? What a small world." Humphrey smiled.

"Yeah....it be him who drove that dagger into my chest and did me in."

Humphrey froze. His throat went bone dry.

"I...Oh. I wasn't aware of that." He gulped, "If it means anything, I never heard nice things about the man, in fact that whole side of my family-."

"HAHAHA! I is having you on!" William cackled, slapping his back again; "There be no hard feelings, man, I were tryin' to rob him after all. Anyway, if not for that, I wouldn'ts have found my land crew. Includin' my pal Rogh, not to mention the little Starfish there. Light of my horizon, she be."

Humphrey watched the bawdy man's eyes turn soft with affection as he looked at the golden haired young teen go through some safety rules with Amy and Silver, both of whom were distracted from their strange ordeal for once and eager to explore the ship.

He smiled; "I know the feeling."

[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.

[redstainedglasses]

@ira-sturm liked for a starter

The lighthouse lit up the ocean as the waves crashed against the cliff side. A storm was brewing, dark clouds hung heavy with rain in the sky. Currently only a light rain was drizzling but by the looks of it a thunderstorm would be raging soon. 

Vertebrae did not mind it though, welcoming the cold refreshing water as it rained down on her. It was assisting greatly in helping her remain cool. 

Leaning against the railing overlooking the cliffside she hummed while she worked. Peeling the meat from the bones of a severed arm she held.

In the tavern inside the village that sat quietly below the lighthouse she’d won the arm in a bet against a sailor. The old seadog assured the female jester she couldn’t possibly win against him in an arm wrestling contest.

A smile creased her lips as she fondly recalled the look upon his face when she easily snapped his arm at the wrist before yanking it clean off. The way he hollered, crying out as he bled out and the gasps and screams from those within the tavern were such a thrill. 

She’d managed to slip out before the village guards showed up thanks to her shadow. Now hidden at the abandoned lighthouse she watched as her antics were forgotten as the village holed up to ride out the storm.

Vertebrae would wait as well, who knew, storms caused a lot of damage. The jester might find herself even more bones to cart home if she bided her time. 

[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.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Crossover minecraft; Pirates vs. Cowboys

T-minus 10 until pvp opens

Pirate flotilla, barracuda bay

Foxy, Pirate King: Listen up Scallywags and Seadogs! We set sail in 5 sailor minutes! By drawing of lots, Captain Wallmaster of the Ashen winds is the commanding officer for this assault!

Wallmaster: The fleet shall sail for Golden sands port! From there we shall raid Gold dust Junction, with the intent to take the town for ourselves!

Buford: the northern coast? Hold up, that's right next to Zoé's fort! What's the plan to deal with their artillery?

Wallmaster, smirking: the persistence, above the cloud level will cast an illusion crafted by Gus, to trick the garrison into believing we'll be making landfall further south at mirage coastline. They'll have wasted their ammo on nothing while we approach them from behind the guns! prepare to cast off! The Thunderstreak will take point!

Rainbow dash: hell yeah! Tip of the spear!

*the crowd of pirates cheer, preparations underway*

Chloe, Captain of the "Honeyed words"; do you honestly think that a plan that simple will work?

Wallmaster; only if somehow everyone forgot today is pvp opening day. I've got plans flowing into plans. *under his breath* I've learned from my mistakes.

Meanwhile, at Dust Devil Ranch, deep in cowboy territory

Roxanne: *leading four horses out of the paddock* These are the best horses you could ask for. Speed and stamina for days.

Ulrich, Cowboy bounty hunter: you sure this plan of yours will work kid?

Gregory: they'll never see it coming! But we gotta hit them as fast and hard as we can!

Chargebolt: set the fleet in chaos and break for their main base. Simple enough.

Pegasus: take these to! Luz made these Target marker glyphs for mortar support.

Amity, railway Engineer: Luz finished them? I told her she shouldn't overdo it...

Roxanne: and hey! Don't forget applejack's potion stock either! You've got enough supplies to wage war for a whole day, don't let it collect dust, use It!

*Gregory, Ulrich, Denki, And Amity mount up on their horses, armor of their steeds shimmering with enchanted light*

Gregory: Allright, at top speed, we'll be at the coastline once pvp is live!

Ulrich: let's ride.

Once again loving how the Crossover Minecraft does include at least some bnha characters but laughing at them being the ones to use fake usernames lmao

[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.

[chetttt]

captain foxy

[knightoflodis]

Hm. That’s fair. Also. This just reminds me of how cool grizzled and experienced guy workers can be. Like electricians, mechanics, engineers that have been in the business for over a decade that know what they are doing and are tired of other people’s shit. I would bet that if I met an old seadog or sea wolf that they would remind me of the cranky old men that I work with.

Also. If we have a sea werewolf that is hiding from the moon. I think it would be fun if that character was also a cranky old sailor with a heart of gold.

[almostourgalaxy]

@jackals-ships wwvait consider-

Saturn in that one au nicknaming them Dog, not bc he's bein a dick and can't be bothered to remember its name, but because he's still recovvwering from blunt force head trauma and PHYSICALLY CAN'T REMEMBER THEIR NAME.

"Dog" coming from SeaDog, the common slang term for Sailors. He's trying to be Decently Friendly, it's coming off as assholish.