#how this works is kinda complicated but for some reason it sticked

[afklancelot]

🖊!

okee lemme think, cuz a lot of my ‘ocs’ are technically committing identity fraud (in that in my mind i take characters from other medias and change em up to the point where they’re completely diff ppl: only in my mind tho, i keep that shit to myself)

ok so, oc’s name is Paul (last name unknown even to me). he’s frequently been a part of life-threatening events but he’s survived them all due to a kinda prophecy that basically says that no one can kill him unless he Feels like it. he’s also unnaturally lucky, to the point of rolling jackpots all the time in casinos. unfortunately this luck is dangerous and contributes to entropy/heat death of the universe if left unchecked, so they get him addicted to gacha games, and it works. he has all the 5 star characters in fgo and he’s f2p (free to play). his partner stabbed him and he died (not rlly bc of the stabbing), but he came back three months later

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[cyanocophrenic]

Obsession

I'm not a complicated woman, I swear.

I'm so boring.

I'm quiet. I live alone. I drink decaf. I file my taxes in January. I majored in art history.

I crochet, goddammit! I crochet cardigans, the most boring kind of sweater! And then I wear them! Like Mister Rogers, aka the plainest person to ever exist.

No one could possibly suspect how deeply weird I am.

I've been perfect. I've never left a browser history. I've never worn blue and red together. I've kept myself as trim as my mom's genes let me. No one's ever caught me watching the movie.

You know... the movie?

You know the movie.

Well, I mean, I guess it's "movies" now, but... I know which one left a violet stain on my soul.

You can't blame me.

Well... you certainly can't, anyway.

If you were me, maxed out on good karma, toeing every line you've ever met, perfectly alone in all the universe... what would you have done differently? What other choice was there?

Never mind how I got the chance. As soon as I found out about it, there was nothing else I could do. Everything I thought I knew about myself fell away. All the safe choices and good behavior just gone, poof, like they never existed. This is my fate, it was made for me.

I was always going to be the one chewing this stick of gum.

In the end, it was like they wanted me to find it.

Dodging through an unlocked door, stealing through low-lit corridors, drawn to it like the heartbeat of the universe.

It's so silly. I know it is. Some stray neutrino passed through my brain as a child, and I watched the wrong movie, and I twisted into whatever it is that I am. All I've wanted is to become something else, and that something is big, and round, and draped in the shreds of the last clothes she'll ever wear.

That last part is really important for reasons I just can't explain. All that matters is that I literally get too big for my britches. I just need to hear that little "pop". That's it.

I can never seem to imagine past that. Regardless, I'm putting the gum to my lips, completely, defiantly unaware of how this will end. It's on my tongue, and the flavor is unreal. I guess they didn't bother with the roast beef or anything. It's just violently fruity. Juicy, and warm, and way too sweet.

A door creaks open. I was so sure I wouldn't be found, but joke's on them. It's too late.

It's a mousy woman woman with huge glasses, wearing a lab coat. She peeks around the door before she enters, like she doesn't want to offend me.

"Oh-" she says.

"Um," I say around a mouthful of juice. "I-"

And then I think, hey, wait, I've made my choice. It doesn't matter how this ends! What's she going to do, save me? I'm in control here! Kind of!

"... um." I say again. Actually, it's hard to talk. I'm swallowing a lot of juice.

She steps all the way into the room.

"Uh, hi," she says, fiddling with her glasses. She looks at me, and then down at her clipboard, and then back to me. "Are you-"

"I'm not spitting it out," I say, before gulping down another burst of juice. I'm starting to feel kinda bloated.

"No, I mean. Um," she says, "sorry, I'm new here, um."

I'm tired of my mouth working so hard, so I make a show of swallowing the gum.

"Oh!" she says, "that was fast," and she makes some sort of mark on her clipboard.

What.

"Um, could you follow me this way, please?" she asks, gesturing toward another door I hadn't noticed. One of those big ones like they have on loading docks that roll upward.

"What?" I ask, reflexively.

She walks over and pushes a big red button on the wall. The door starts lifting.

"Oh, sorry, we can wait if you want," she says, "you'll fit, don't worry."

I start to have a thought, but then my stomach gurgles and I feel like I'm on an elevator going down. I clutch my sides and double over, but... it's getting hard to bend.

"Don't worry," she says again, "it just feels weird, but you'll be okay."

The thought comes back. Someone was expecting this. They're prepared for this.

I look back at the pedestal the gum was resting on. It's already been replaced with another piece.

The worst feeling in the world is thinking you're making a defiant last stand, only to find out that the hill you chose to die on was ready-made for your dramatic exit, and that you'll be asked to leave through the gift shop and pay way too much for the photos they take of you. You know, figuratively.

I have to do something they won't see coming.

I turn around and lunge for the new piece of gum. Or, at least, I try to lunge, but my thighs are filling up and it's getting difficult to move dramatically. Still, I grab it and cram it in my mouth. Might as well be a brat.

"Oh!" she chirps again, and makes another mark on her clipboard. "Wow! So-"

God, I'm feeling so full. I can feel every inch of my clothes pulling taut against my skin. I gave in to temptation and wore a blue top, blue jeans, and a red belt. I couldn't help myself. Now, that belt is starting to dig in, trying to squeeze me in half.

I swallow the new gum, too, and look down at myself. I'm getting pretty big, bulging out around the belt. My shirt is riding up, exposing my swelling blue belly to the cool air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her make another mark.

I try to touch my growing midsection, but it's getting hard to move my arms. They're filling up too. I feel warm all over now.

"You're blowing up so fast!" she says.

She opens her mouth to say something else, and that's when my belt snaps apart. My equator surges outward, jiggling and sloshing from the violent release.

It feels so, so strange, becoming something completely alien to what you use to be.

That said, it also feels amazing. Swelling bigger and bigger with gushing blueberry juice, bursting out of- wait.

I'm still growing, but besides the belt, everything's still on.

I try to look down again, but all I can see is the blue horizon of my belly. I flap my hands in frustration.

The lady speaks up again. "Since you're likely unable to move by yourself now, may I have your permission to roll you?"

"Um," I say, trying to think. I'm freaking out a little right now. "Uh."

I need this. It's all I've ever really needed. I just need need need to blow up and burst out of my clothes, that's it, and who cares what happens to the blueberry that used to be me.

All I need is to burst one little button and I'm done. I'll have won. Good day, miss.

The problems is, I'm perfectly round now, and my jeans are so, so tight but haven't so much as snapped a stray thread.

"Miss?" she says, "may I roll you away?"

I try to think of something to say, just to stall for a little more time. I'm so close, so so close.

Instead, I break down.

"Please," I beg her, "I'm going to lose my mind if I can't pop this button."

"Hey-" she starts, but I'm in a full-on panic right now.

"I have to, I have to, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to be a blueberry, and like what if you roll me away and I never get juiced and I'm just stuck like this forever which would be hot but still or like what if this is as big as I can get and it's just impossible like what the fuck who even makes clothes that fit spherical women I knew I should have worn the red ones-"

"-but-"

"And I know what you're thinking! She broke the rules, it doesn't matter what she wants, she's just a blueberry now, blueberries don't want things, they're not even people! She had her chance and she blew it except she couldn't even blow it-"

"Miss! Please," she snaps, and she walks over, reaches up, and pinches my lips closed.

We lock eyes, because where else can I look, and for a moment, I just cry silent blue tears down my puffy cheeks, pouting all the while.

Then she smiles, and says, "I'm a trained professional, Miss. I can help you with that." She lets go, brushes her frizzy hair out of her eyes, and disappears behind me.

I feel her warm little hands on either side of me, like she's trying to give me a weird hug. Then I feel her squeeze into me. It feels startling, she must be way stronger than she looks. The pressure builds more and more, and I can hear her making an adorable little straining noise.

Then, there's a pop, and immediately a sense of relief. I hear a little zipping noise as the fly on my jeans explodes open. I gasp at the sensation.

Finally.

I give a little shudder, releasing the tension I hadn't realized was building the whole time. How Freudian of me, I guess. The oral stage ain't got nothing on this.

"Now then," she says, appearing in front of me again, smiling wider, making yet another mark. "May I please roll you away, Miss?"

[delicateartisantrash]

Author Update

yoooooo

Thank you all for being so patient with me

I'm chomping at the bit to write and there's just been so much going on, I've squeaked it between tasks and also taking time to rest myself so i don't burn out either on writing or in general

I wanted to take some time to thank you all for supporting and encouraging me; i really feel like i can Make This Work.

Some good news to share!

Fester (though he's understandably less pleased about it) got his snip snip appointment done at the Purple Cat Clinic, so we no longer have to worry about kittens between the siblings @.@ he's already a few days healing from the surgery and doing very well.

I talked with my parents today, about a decision I've come to realize I'd where i want to go with my life; i want to move out on my own with my Symbiotes. Get away from the crazy parts of our blood family and all the drama and issues, have my own sanctuary space, etc. i moved back in with my mom after only a few years living on my own due to health reasons and my first home water highschool being infected with black mold, and it's been... Gosh, YEARS since that and this is the first time in a long ass while i feel truly confident I'm healed enough i can stand on my own two feet again, with some very strategic help along the way.

I've started the application for disability again and this time, i think I've found a lawyer firm willing to truly help me with my case and all the complications of applying ;w; i have no idea what they think i will qualify for but I'm hoping it will help in the long run, but i know better than to rely on it or count on it-- i don't know what the future holds

So I'm really going to be focusing on my art, and the pewter. Something i was already focusing on, but i feel like i have such a more clear direction than the aimless and helpless feeling of "make enough money that relatives don't kick us out of the house we've already paid over 50,000 into in mortgage payments"

Making enough money to pay for the far more reasonable mortgage of a humble house and property just big enough to support my tiny little family and a garden, is much more concrete in my head.

I'm really hoping they'll be supportive of that-- they being my aunt and uncle. I think they'll be relieved, honestly, to be free if this place since it's been a headache to them. I don't agree at all with how they've taken that out on us or how they've changed the original arrangement and the like.. but i like to hope they at least be decent enough to realize this would be good for all of us if we are discerning and conscious in our choices and selling the property and house to New ownership

I'm hopeful that us taking the reins as it were and deciding to move from this property we all like living at but are being dragged down by, will mean we have a better chance of leaving on good terms and in safer financial status than if our "landlords" decide to make that choice for us.

I love it here. i love it so much.

I'm also working really hard to keep my heart open enough to love anywhere else just as deeply, too, no matter how painfully it fractures leaving this land and the trees to someone else's hands and designs. I'm kinda hopeful we may even be able to sell to a conservation group.... That'd be freaking amazing, honestly. This house would make an epic little staff building for housing field researchers and storing equipment to manage said land.

So we'll see what shakes out in the future, but.... Yeah. Lots going on in my life and it's eaten into my writing time quite a bit, but I'm still writing and trying really hard to get some chapters ready to publish for this month ;v; thank you for sticking with me even though my pace has slowed on some projects because I've had to increase energy put towards others.

I dunno if I'll stay in my state or move outside it yet.... Really, that'll all depend what my finances and prospects look like when The Time Comes. I like Minnesota for many reasons, but also it has the best health insurance and assistance for low income people in basically the entire United States, and I've really benefited from that even as shitty as many of my medical experiences have been. It ain't perfect here but it's still damn good for what i can get. Gosh i sound like Lightshow defending Kaon sometimes. "Yeah the winters try to kill you and so does summer okay and also Spring and-- okay yes my state is Very Deadly but it's also very pretty i swear"

In the meantime, the possibilities are wide open, and I'm focusing on shaving down my belongings to what i truly need and am willing and able to haul and take care of, and my Symbiotes come first on that list.

[spiegelgestalt]

Vi stands for Violence

One of the more ironic things in Arcane is that Vi is running around everywhere judging because they are violent and mean and idk not good enough and she’s arguably one of the most violent characters and without a doubt one of the most destabilizing forces in the entire show. (Sorry Vi fans – I say this with love but homegirl is really kind of terrible).  And the reason for that is that Vi kinda wants to be a hero in the traditional sense. She wants to do everything on her own. She wants to defeat the bad guy. She wants to save the damsel in distress. And she wants everything to be black and white.  In a lot of shows she would have thrived. But she is sadly in a show which looks you straight in the eye and says: Wow you managed to beat Sevika up. Awesome! And now? How did this help anyone? Here the damsel in distress you were trying to save is beating you over the head with a stick. Such a nice Saloon western stand off and nothing changed. No one cheered. The day wasn’t saved.

Deeper analysis under the cut

Vi’s original sin is being unwilling to see the perspective of others. She’s the oldest. She knows best. You can see that in arc 1 in season 1. Milo was correct: powder wasn’t ready. Powder messed up. Vi didn’t want to hear it because she loves Powder and that’s why Powder isn’t allowed to be criticized until Vi explodes on her in the end of the third episode. And theres something interesting about the fact that Vi apparently can’t think of Powder as a flawed person – either all she does is understandable and excusable or she’s a terrible Jinx who needs to be punished/stopped/killed. And you see the signs early on. In the “enemy music video” you see Vi screaming at Powder and shoving her, you see it at the end of episode 3, and you now see it in action in arc 1 of season 2 – Jinx doesn’t have the attitude that Vi thinks Powder should have (i.e. siding with the enforcers/Piltover against Silco - why would she do that?; accepting Vi and being grateful that she’s back) Vi trys to pick up the status quo before Vanders death. Jinx wont let her. Jinx wants to have a conversation. Both her elaborate traps remind you of the past and they remind you of the fact that Vanders death happened. Vi sees them as slights against herself and not as conversation starters. Because that’s not something she wants to think about (and notice that her mind goes immediately to her abusive behavior; because those challenge her self concept as the hero of the story). She doesn't want to admit that Powder = Jinx = Powder. Because that would mean to accept shades of grey. It would mean letting go of her anger (or at least accepting her anger) and accept that stuff changed things are complicated and people are flawed.

And she does the same thing everywhere else:  Silco caused Vanders death – ergo Silco is the cause of all evil: he’s the cause for change, for drugs, for powder being weird, for Zaun not being what it once was, for her not having a place to come home to etc. etc. I

It's even more evident with Sevika. Many have noted that Sevika hasn't actually betrayed Vander but has acted in Zauns best interest. But Vi doesn't want to even think about it that way. Sevika's to blame for Vanders death. As is Silco. (as is Powder) I dare anyone to look me in the eye and tell me that Vi accomplished anything by fighting Sevika. That was pure lust for vengeance. Especially the second time. But she messes up the most with Jinx. I find it fascinating that after Sevika is defeated and Silco is gone all of Vis anger concentrates on Jinx who refuses to become her precious treasure who needs to be protected- ergo Powder must be dead. And I’d argue that Vi is in search of a Damsel in distress and she isn’t finding anyone. Ekko is the leader Vi wants to be, Caitlyn is becoming more dangerous to Zaun by the day (and refuses Vis council) and Jinx is Jinx. Add some real resentment over Vanders death that Vi hasn’t worked through yet and it kinda makes Vis action make sense. Especially when there’s a cute blonde enforcer who admires what Vi’s doing and thinks it’s heroic and great she beat up all the bad guys in Zaun.

And one more thing. Vis attachment to Caitlyn is very similar to Powders attachment to Silco (-the sexual attraction of course). Bear with me here: who’s the first person who showed Powder kindness after the disaster: Silco. Who’s the first person who showed Vi kindness: Caitlyn. Both are charismatic leaders and both are very close to the people who destroyed their families. Vi and Jinx are more similar than you might think.

[voidofthevoidmv]

I was looking through some of my old unfinished fanfics- And discovered this one from my old Danny Phantom hyperfixation.

I kinda just pasted the whole thing that I managed here- It’s basically if Jazz got ghost powers instead of Danny, but like- Different I guess?

Enjoy.

PLAZMA-JAZZ

Jazz (Pov)

Jazz had stayed home the day that Danny and his pals decided it would be a grand idea to make their way down to her parents lab. Sure, any other day she would've gone over to the library to study up on schoolwork at this particular plan- In fact, that had been what she would have done that day had no complications come up. However, it was late afternoon, and with her car mysteriously broken down under unknown circumstances, Jazz really didn't feel like walking.

She didn't know why, but she had this deep impending feeling that staying home was her best bet that day.

Of course, she knew better than to listen to unreasonable urges of fear for no obvious reason, but Jazz had a peculiarly long day, and she may as well catch up on some school work from the safety and sanctity of her own home.

The safety and sanctity that of which it should have stayed.

She had initially been focusing on the next 2 weeks of homework she had- When she heard the familiar sounds of her brother and his friends, chatting by the stairs and with hushed voices.

Jazz didn't know why she intervened, but she would never regret it.

“Danny- There is no way you're going in the labs unsupervised- Let alone without permission- That's practically rule number one and two on Mom’s list of laboratory safety!”

She remembered saying this to Danny, who was halfway down the cement stairs to the basement, and both he and his friends were clearly not amused with her attempts to keep them safe.

“Jazz, you need to relax-” He had said, rolling his eyes. “It's not like anything actually works down there.”

“Well… That is true…” Jazz paused before shaking her head and cementing her decision. It was her job as an older sister to make sure her younger brother didn't get hurt when he inevitably did something foolish and childlike. She was like his secondary parents. Sort of. In a way.

“Fine. Ok.” She relented, only for a moment, but only because she knew that Danny was far more reckless nowadays, and disobeying her was practically inevitable. No matter how hard she tried, she was most certainly NOT his parent. Besides, all she wanted was for him to be ok. She could make sure of that.

“-I know I can't stop you guys-”

Danny and his friends visibly brightened at the thought of her giving up and going away, but she would not falter. She may be a tad bit lenient, but not too much so that she was simply going to let the three 14 year olds go inside a dangerous laboratory with no regards for anything beyond them.

“But, I'm going with you guys. There's NO WAY I'm letting you mess around in mom and dads lab without proper supervision.”

Jazz had tried to ignore the whispers between her brother's friends- Words like ‘Buzzkill’ and ‘stick in the mud’ passing between them, but Jazz let it phase through her without a second thought.

She would take being a stick in the mud any day over the guilt of letting her brother get hurt.

And so, despite being not exactly how she wished to spend the rest of the evening, Jazz shrugged on her own protective bodysuit, modeled slightly after her mothers seeing that she was a growing young lady and her body was maturing. (Although she didn't forget to peel off the weird velcro sticker of her fathers face-) Despite the extreme doubt anything bad would happen, she decided on wearing the suit anyways, the 3rd most important rule of lab safety, protection just in case- She even went as far as to tie her long reddish orange hair back into a loose low ponytail.

After all, no loose hair in a lab either. She learned that lesson when she was 5 years old and dipped her hair in places it didn't belong. Irrelevant now though-

All in all, that is how she ended up being somewhat like a shadow in the background, watching the 3 14 year olds carefully as they dropped the wariness of Jazz being near and simply pretended she wasn't even there. Goofing off as normal kids do. It only made Jazz a tad bit jealous. She remembered being only slightly bitter watching them act so carefree. But she had also been glad for them. She was glad that they were enjoying being children, being little kids a little while longer-

-SAFELY of course, Jazz had thought, remembering the sharp look she gave the so-called defective inactive fenton portal.

In a household full of insanity and craziness, Jazz had to grow up fast. Somebody had to be the voice of reason after all.

But of course, even the most reasonable of people make mistakes, and at some point during the short lab tour, Jazz made her first error.

She had decided to take her eyes off of the 3 teens for a split second decision to multitask on some digital assignments, going as far as to utilize the Fenton family computer that just so happened to be located on her parents' nearby workbench.

It was a mistake for her to draw her attention away from the 3 foolish teenagers. Putting blind trust in a trio of freshmans is never the right way to go- And Jazz remembers the dropping feeling in the pit of her chest as she drew herself away from the computer at the sound of shuffling fabric and velcro peeling off of fabric.

“WHAT in the WORLD do you think you're doing!?!?” She had exclaimed, eyes blown wide with complete shock at the thought of what her brother had planned to do- Investigating the portal?! It was still experimental, the entire idea was foolish, to an extreme. She really thought her dear brother was brighter than this.

Even so, the raven headed boy only rolled his eyes at her with a small scoff, likely expecting her reaction to a point and shrugging, his own black accented and white base colored bodysuit moving as if it were a second skin as he blew her panicked words away.

“It's not like it works, Jazz, remember? So what's the harm in exploring?”

“Danny- While it may not have done what Mom and Dad intended for it, it's still super EXPERIMENTAL- You could get seriously hurt! Honestly Danny, you should know BETTER than to act like this!”

Jazz recalls how Danny bristled at this, squaring his shoulders as his baby blue eyes narrowed and he planted his feet firmly to the ground. Scowling, he retorted back with his hands raised with infuriation.

“To act like what-? An IDIOT? Newsflash Jazz, not EVERYONE is as smart as you.”

Taking a step closer to her younger brother- Unknowingly urging the younger boy to take a step back towards the portal- Jazz tried to mediate the conversation, but getting harder with how distanced her brother was getting.

“Danny! That is NOT what I'm saying. You are smart Danny! But there is a difference between being stupid and acting stupid- And listen to me when I say that going into that portal is a stupid idea!”

She tried not to yell, really she did. But you can't change memories- And Danny only seemed to be getting more irate by the second, eyebrows scrunching as he scowled, taking a few more steps back towards the portal. It was then, she recalled, something flashed in his eyes. An idea. Jazz had doubted it was anything good.

“You'll see Jazz- You have nothing to worry about!”

Luckily for Jazz, her reflexes from years of dodging ecto-contaminated dinners coming in handy for in a split second- Danny shoved her away and made a run for the portal, a big spiteful grin on his face while he did so. But Jazz was faster by just enough, arms darting forth to grasp her brother’s arm in a vice grip, and her teal eyes blazing now.

She had a long day, and all of it- The car breaking down, the pressure of school, and the STUPID sinking feeling in her gut- It all came crashing down. Jazz was irritated now, equally so, and with this in mind, she sunk back down to a lower level. She couldn't help but yell, tugging her brother's arm back towards her, while he held his ground.

(Perhaps, had she been paying more attention outside of her brother, she would have noticed how both Sam and Tucker, Danny’s friends, seemed to shake their heads in disappointment with how the evening was progressing. Sam, being particularly disappointed, and Tucker showing mild interest in how the interaction would end. Jazz doubted, had she been paying attention at the time, she would have cared.)

“Your acting immature!”

“And you're acting like a helicopter parent on STEROIDS! Let go of me!”

Tugging on his rubber gloved covered arm with her own suited limbs, she pulled back on him away from the device with a shake of the head, her red hair- Tied back into a low ponytail because having loose hair in a lab was also a no no- Hair flipping back and forth as she struggled to pull the younger boy away.

“No! You're endangering yourself and everyone else here- Stop fighting and get away from the portal!”

“Make me Jazz- What are you going to do? Lecture me away from it!?”

At this point, looking back, Jazz knew that the whole thing had escalated to a tipping point, into a terrible sibling spat. It's been a while since they have had one this bad… She knew that at this point, she should have regained her bearings and taken the role of the respective older person in the room, de-escalating the situation, as she should have a while ago…

But she had not been in the right mindset that day. She had been reduced to the same childlike level as her brother, and her demeanor was out of control. Everything, all the pressures and annoyance had crashed down on her, leaving her cool and collected mindset behind- Making her sensitive and vulnerable to sibling attacks. Danny knew just what buttons to press. But she didn't care about this at the time.

From her perspective, Danny never really wanted to go inside the portal- It likely had been one of her friends' ideas- And NOW, because she insisted otherwise, he wanted to go inside the portal just to hurt her. It wasn't fair, and she will admit that it made her mad. Her emotions were running high, and both Sam and Tucker were long forgotten.

All that mattered to her was to get back at her little brother and make him SEE-

So, when Danny shoved her- She shoved back.

“Danny- Listen to me-”

“Why do you always have to be in my business Jazz?! Don't you have better things to do- Like studying for the ‘I'M A TOTAL STUCK UP’ test?!”

“Argh! I'm in your business because I CARE for you!” Sniffing slightly, Jazz tried to swing Danny around so that he would be on the side closest to the door, but her efforts remained futile as he wrestled her back- (Unknowingly, the two of them only grew closer and closer to the gaping maw of the deactivated portal itself. She never should've let them down there. That portal was d a n g e r o u s…)

“And I am NOT a STUCK UP!”

“Are…” Danny paused to shove Jazz again- Face screwed in annoyance and exhaustion. “TOO!” He finished his sentence with a loud shout and another shove, but Jazz was ready this time, taking the opportunity to tackle him under the arms, but while this move had succeeded, her efforts to drag him away from the portal were still futile. Kicking and elbowing, Danny weaseled his way out of her grip with a fierce scowl, somehow the duo making their way inches from the lip up to the portal.

Funny thing about Fentons- They never backed down and were stubborn as bulls. Neither party would go down without a fight, as silly as it was for Jazz to admit. She really had been acting foolish- The world likely punished her accordingly…

Gripping her brothers wrists tightly, she began to walk forward with Danny walking backwards, both too busy in their squabble to notice how they stepped up onto the ledge leading to the portal and where making their way inside the dark abyss of the machinery itself.

She should've noticed sooner.

“Danny! Just! Stop it!”

“No you stop it Jazz! You're embarrassing me in front of my friends!!!”

“You’re IMPOSSIBLE Danny!”

(Meanwhile, Sam and Tucker slowly begin to approach the portal where the two siblings continue to fight, Tucker audibly wishing he had brought popcorn and Sam punching him in the shoulder in response. Sam wonders vaguely if they should step in before things go sour. If only she stepped in sooner-)

At this point, both Jazz and Danny seemed to devolve into dirty tactics, with Danny kicking at her knees and Jazz pushing him harshly out of the way in hopes of swinging him out of the portal. Pretty much atomic at this point, Danny was reaching a blowing point, and the opposite for Jazz, who finally was beginning to come to her senses.

They were in the portals deactivated gaping maw- She had to get them out. The machinery was dark and cold, she had to-

Danny shoved her abruptly once again, further into the portal but close enough to the edge that they could just as easily get out- They wrestled while standing a little longer, white and black meeting blue and black, and baby blue meeting cyan.

Danny reached the tipping point, and Jazz practically could see his brain blow up from behind young, irrational eyes.

“ARGH!!! JAZZ- SOMETIMES I THINK I JUST HATE YOU!!!”

“...”

…Danny’s eyes widened exponentially as he managed to weasel an arm out of Jazz’s now limp grip, and placed a hand on his mouth as if to reverse the words that came out of it.

The world felt frozen for a second. In the background, both Sam and Tucker’s mouths agape with shock, eyes darting between their friend and his sister as if debating their own reactions.

… Jazz couldn't breathe. Once again- Emotions clouded her judgment, hand hovering over her slightly agape mouth as her eyes began to water slightly.

“You. You…”

She knew he didn't mean it. He couldn't. But how dare she let this escalate to the point where he felt the urge to say such a thing. Danny didn't take it back either. He only stood there, frozen just as she had been as they both took steps back away from each other. The white and black jumpsuit wearing 14 year old seemed to wilt under her gaze, cyan eyes which had begun to soften at the sight of him.

“I-”

His voice died in his throat and Jazz straightened up to take another step back- To create more distance between them, the silence in the air thick enough to qualify as the fenton family fudge-

But the funny thing about the portal was that it was particularly narrow for all rights and purposes… Nowhere really to back up into except-

“Oh… I'm so sorry Dan- DANNY!!!”

Jazz hadn't thought. Hand clicking a button from behind her, she heard the faint beginnings of a whir sound, signaling the portal being turned on. Danny, Danny looked terrified- A spark of green illuminating his pale face as the color drained from the both of them.

Jazz had not thought.

She moved before she could even process what she had been doing.

She couldn't let her brother get hurt.

Not on her watch.

No.

She was his big sister.

Practically his parent.

And parents had a duty to keep.

“JAZZ!!!”

She put her everything into the push- Shoving the younger boy out of the portal so hard, he practically tumbled into both Sam and Tucker as if they were pins in a bowling alley. Jazz would've been close behind, but somehow in all the scuffle, her foot got tangled in a pile of wires.

Danny tried to get to her, but Tucker and Sam held him back.

The portal hissed now with beginning power- And Jazz got that feeling. That sinking feeling. The same one she had felt when she woke up that morning. That same one she felt the rest of the day. A single split second slowed into hours as she attempted to free her foot from her tangled up bindings, furthermore tripping in the process.

She. Was. Stuck.

She had so much left to live for.

Who was going to drive Danny to school in the mornings?

Who would be the one to make second dinners when the food prepared by her parents inevitably came alive and attempted to murder them?

Who would be the one to tell Danny that he should work on his homework?

Who was going to be the one keeping this family from falling apart?

Who?

That didn't matter.

It would be fine. It had to be.

The portal isn't working- Remember? Logically it wasn't going to- It couldn't-

In those few seconds, Jazz could see Danny and his two other friends, standing just outside the portal with faces pale and reflecting an eerie green glow as the portal sparked a tad bit more- Jazz only let out a breath, hot and smoky somehow as she extended her arm out in a final attempt to escape.

In a split second, fire entered her veins-

Then everything turned green.

And

She

S

C

R

E

A

M

E

D…

Who knew dying felt so terrible?

She knew better now.

***

Danny (Pov)

“Jazz…?”

Danny’s emotions were completely out of whack, that was for sure. It made sense, after all, everything had gone so fast. Deciding to go down to the labs. Putting the dumb fenton hazmat suit on. Deciding to go inside the portal… Fighting…

T̶e̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶H̶A̶T̶E̶D̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶-̶

“I didn't mean it, Jazz… I- I didn't mean it…”

This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.

Jazz never did have a knack for practical jokes.

For some reason it was hard to breathe.

Sam and Tucker looked no less horrified, their vice grip on his arms practically going limp as he slumped out of their hold and to his knees, his blue gaze never once leaving the swirling green portal that had been where his sister once stood.

He never heard her scream like that before, let alone at all really.

Jazz had always been good at covering her true emotions with a smile to protect him. To make him feel safe.

Heart beating in his ears as he stared blankly at the portal, casting an eerie glow on his pale face, he no longer felt safe anymore.

Jazz was….

Dead.

Probably.

No. She couldn't be.

Right?

He told her that he hated her and didn't even apologize for it. He didn't even take it back. His last words to her were absolutely rotten- The worst thing he could have ever said. All for what, to push her buttons?

It didn't help the fact that this only happened to her because of him.

Because of him.

Him.

̶I̶̶̶t̶̶̶ ̶̶̶w̶̶̶a̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶s̶̶̶u̶̶̶p̶̶̶p̶̶̶o̶̶̶s̶̶̶e̶̶̶d̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶o̶̶̶ ̶̶̶b̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶i̶̶̶m̶̶̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶p̶o̶r̶t̶a̶l̶-̶̶̶ ̶̶̶

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry Jazz… I didn't me-ean it… I didnt…” Speaking now felt like there was cement in his throat, and something hot and salty dripped down his cheeks from his wide blue eyes, past his mouth and under his chin. The sound of the portal whirring was too much sound stimulation for him at the moment. The chipped black fingernail painted hand resting on his shoulder felt like the weight of a thousand hammers- And he could practically feel Tuckers trembling from here.

Like a dam being broken, Danny flinched violently, teeth clenching loudly and in a bout of morbid devastation, he stood on shaky knobbly knees, not yet processing his actions. His blue eyes never left the swirling green death device as he managed a few steps forward, slow muttering of manic apologies tripping over his tongue as Sam’s hand slipped off his shoulder and hit her skirt with a resounding fwump. A wave of terror washed over the three fresh teens, Danny taking another shaky step in the portal's direction as Tucker’s voice broke the air.

“We… Your sister… Danny we just saw your sister DIE- How are you-”

“Tucker!” There was probably a punch to the arm that followed, Tucker being the most precipitated recipient, but it was likely it held no strength and either way Danny could not hear it.

All he could hear was the static sound of the portal and the echoing scream of his only sister.

“She. She isn't. She can't be- She can’t- She isnt de-Heh-” He couldn't finish the sentence without clamping a hand over his mouth and withholding a gag at the thought. He couldn't breathe. He didn't WANT to breathe. Not when the sickeningly sweet, yet sour smell of burnt human flesh still permeated in the air.

His fault.

His fault she was-

His stiff zombie-like stagger turned into a shaky speed walk- Eyes wide and unblinking still as he continued his approach towards the swirling green portal. He was close enough now to touch. Close enough to see. To see…

A sharp pain in his eyes caused him to gasp loudly and cover them with an arm, the other arm quickly being grasped and held firmly by a pair of pale hands- Sam having come up behind him once it dawned on her what Danny was trying to do.

“Don’t. Don't look.” Her voice was firm, but her grip was shaky, and Danny ripped his arm away with ease, blinking harshly from lack of blinking before refixing his stare towards the swirling green tear in reality. He needed to see. His morbid thoughts seemed to swirl in his mind as the possibilities churned inside.

What exactly would he see? What was left?

̶T̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶.̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶s̶u̶p̶p̶o̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶-̶

“Jazz. Jazz. I'm sorry, I just-”

“Ngh…”

All three of them froze.

A sound. From inside the device.

The slumped figure in the portal moved, shifting from where it lay unmoving.

It seemed to find its footing before stumbling a bit, obviously very disoriented as it leaned up against the wall of the portal in a very vulnerable position.

Something was inside the portal.

Moving.

Towards them.

Danny could feel something in his chest soar-

Backing away, Sam and Tucker once again attempted to coerce Danny away from the portal, but he simply wouldn't- COULDN'T- Draw his eyes away from the flickering figure.

Could it be?

Was that…

Hope?

Or was it…

Fear?

“Danny- Get away from there!- There's something-”

Sam didn't have time to finish her shout before the figure stumbled out of the portal with wobbly feet, its tall figure lunging forward to grasp on something, anything to break its fall. A loud whooshing sound permeated throughout the room as the blur of SOMETHING practically tumbled into Danny, who happened to break the rather solid seeming things fall exponentially.

“Gah…” Rubbing his bonked head sorely, he positioned himself up again to a sitting position, the figure which had barreled into him attempting to bring itself to its knees as well, Danny’s own eyes casting upwards to meet its own…

In an instant, the blue eyed, ravenette couldn't breathe again.

The figure, female it seemed, had bright lighting blue neon hair pulled into a low ponytail, almost ethereal looking as she stared at him with bright reddish orange ectoplasmic eyes. She seemed to blink down at him with such confusion.

She wore a bright orange jumpsuit with white accents and a pair of orange goggles hung loosely on her neck. Face slender and a nose just like his own, Danny couldn't help but breathe out her name with a stifled sob.

“Jazz?”

“Danny? What…” The ghostlike person hesitated a second, pulling herself up to standing position, she put a hand up to swipe away a stray hair escaping her ponytail- Only to freeze at the sight of her newly white colored gloves and brightly colored glowing hair. She stared at Danny and his friends with such genuine confusion, with her glowing reddish orange eyes shining brightly as she did so.

Gulping loudly, Jasmine Fenton, half ghost, half human psychiatrist hopeful, as well as established older sister- Had to take a few steps back.

“What… Happened to me?...”

Danny tried his hardest not to cry- But was greatly unsuccessful.

After all, it was that night when everything changed…

That was the night his big sister, his only sister, died a death that didn't belong to her…

Kinda.

***Chapter start:***

“-Despair evaporates when we stop denying who we really are attempt to uncover and accept our true nature- However-”

Jazz Fenton felt a sharp jab to her side, startling her out of her ambient morning reading, red hair flipping to the side as to face the perpetrator head on, swiveling where she sat by the kitchen counter.

“Psst! Hey!” Her brother, Danny Fenton, hissed loudly- Leaning forward in his chair in a clear attempt to grasp her attention, waving his arms a tad and such. Jazz could only frown and glance him over quizzically, wishing to get this over with so she could go back to reading the wise and thought provoking words of Nigel C. Benson- Author of the current psychology book she was reading to clear her head for the day.

“What? What is it?” She stage whispered horribly back- To which her brother stared at her with wide blue eyes- Waving his hands around and glancing about frivolously- Before grimacing nervously, furrowing his brow almost hesitantly and pointing up at his face with both hands.

“Your uh- Your face is uh-”

Danny cast a few more furtive glances in the direction of their mother, Maddie Fenton, who seemed to be working on some sort of device at the dinner table- Blow torch illuminating her mask covered face in an almost haunting way.

Jazz was confused for a moment, before it dawned on her- Chills running up her spine as she glanced over quickly in the direction of the nearest reflective object- This being a toaster and-

“Gah!” Low and behold, Jazz’s head was completely invisible! She tried to shake the transparency away with a frantic shake of her head- Which worked somehow, but it also succeeded in mussing up her normally smoothly brushed out red hair. Even so, she was glad for the warning- Facing her brother again with a concerned expression painting her face, she gestured upwards in hopes that all of her top half was now fully visible and she didn't miss a spot- Danny sent her a wink and a dorky thumbs up, while her only response was to smile thinly and sweat drop the tiniest bit.

“Thanks Danny-”

“Itph nophin relleh-” Danny scooped another spoonful of cereal into his mouth whilst speaking, spattering milk and food bits everywear as he shrugged and Jazz cringed away begrudgingly with a painted smile. Boys- Ain't it so?

She was glad for her brother nonetheless- Getting caught invisible by their parents certainly would NOT end well- That was for sure…

Jumping upwards, the two siblings watched with almost casual expressions as Maddie Fenton leaped from her seat at the dinner table with a bright grin, hands on her hips while doing so and nodding firmly at the sight of her latest creation.

“Okay! All it'll take is about 2 or so days- And it's done!”

“What did you say?” Leave it to Jack Fenton, their father, to pop out of the woodwork at the sound of an invention being proclaimed. Maddie Fenton seemed to want to say something to the disastrous behemoth of a man- But he was a bit too quick and excitable for her. Both Jazz and Danny sweat dropped at the sight of the older male sweeping the device off the table, out of his wife’s reach, in order to display the invention outwards towards the ceiling dramatically as if it were baby jesus.

“Is it done? IT'S DONE! The Fenton Finder is done!!!”

Shaking the device slightly in the air- Or was it his arms simply trembling from keeping them up for so long- He let out a hearty laugh and brought the device closer to his abdominal area in order to flick on a few switches and press a button or two to activate the device. Proudly, he pointed a finger upwards in a matter of factly position… Much to the ire of his wife.

“This baby uses only the most high end, Fenton Family patented, satellite technology to lead us to any ghost in the vicinity- Rain or shine!”

“It uses what to track what?” Danny raised a dark eyebrow and tilted his head at the sight of his father stroking the device close to his face- Maddie seemingly accepting the situation for what it is and allowing a smile to ghost onto her face as well. She seemed to swoop in after Jack, leaning over his arm in order to press one more button on the back, causing an automated voice to emanate from the device- Paired with the small tiny signaling dish to swivel around like a spinning dog.

Jazz shuffled in her seat awkwardly- While Danny leaned forward a bit more to gain insight.

>Welcome to the FENTON FINDER™ A ghost is near. WALK FORWARD<

The automated voice reverberated through the room as the two adults walked in unison, following the beeping noise of the Fenton Finder™ with great anticipation- Meanwhile, Jazz gulped loudly- Closing her book for the time being and a sliding it to the side in order to pay careful attention to the situation at hand.

>WALK FORWARD<

The beeping grew louder as both the parents stepped closer and closer in Jazz’s direction- In only a few seconds, the red haired 16 year old was practically nose to chest with a neon orange hazmat suit- Cyan eyes glancing bashfully upwards to meet bright blue eyes. Sweat practically pouring from both she and Danny’s heads by the bucket full.

Beeping a few times, the Fenton Finder™ spoke once more.

>Ghost Located. Thank you for using the FENTON FINDER™ Dispose of THE GHOST immediately<

Taking a step back, both Maddie and Jack glanced at each other quizzically, Jazz and Danny both watching the two adults with rapt attention- Panic clearly painted on their features while Jazz fiddled nervously with her fingers.

Jack Fenton hummed dopily, giant thumb coming to pinch his chin with confusion.

“What? Oh that can't be right…”

“Well honey- I did say it would be finished in a few days- Not now… Its not finished yet-”

Jazz let out a breath of hot air, tension leaving her body as it began to fluctuate a few times, much to the terror of her brother who could only stand beside her as in a span of a few seconds, Jazz went invisible, intangible, floaty, and glowy all in a quick succession before returning to a normal human state. Albiate, a tad bit disoriented.

Shaking her head with a furrowed brow, Jazz faced the two adults solemnly as she placed a normal hand on her nearby psychology book- Danny looking on with an unreadable expression.

“Actually… Mom? Dad? I have something extremely important I need to tell you-”

“Oh GEEZ look at the TIME!!!” Jazz is taken aback alongside her parents at the sound of two hands slamming onto the counter abruptly- Danny coming to a standing position with both his arms either side in front of him and a giant nervous grin etched onto his features like a really uncomfortable statue. Pushing back out of his seat quickly and wrapping an arm around Jazz’s own empty arm, he let out a forced laugh- Wagging a finger for extra emphasis for his words.

“Look- This chat has been GREAT- But it's time for Jazz to drive me to school!!! After all- You know how it is! Nowadays, a young, growing, adolescent teenager like myself can't afford to be late for school- You know, and miss out on all that great knowledge and brain stuff! You know me- I love school! School school school!!!”

“Danny what-” Jazz didn't have time to finish her sentence, before she found herself being dragged off and out the door by the younger sibling of hers- Leaving both their parents in a state of confusion- Watching on as Danny abruptly shoved Jazz out the door with a giant fake smile and rambles pouring from his mouth like a sprinkler.

“C'mon Jazz- Let's GO- See you guys later- Love you guysgottogoBYE!”

Jazz no longer tried to resist as Danny practically dragged her into the driver's seat- Slamming her car door with such force, she couldn't help but fumble out of her seat slightly. Even so, once Danny was buckled in the passenger seat- She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and put her key in the ignition…

Meanwhile- Inside the house and watching the bizarre behavior of their children through the living room window, Maddie and Jack Fenton could only tilt their heads and ponder away.

Maddie let out a loud hum, her glove covered dainty fingers coming upwards to tap against her chin with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Huh. That's… Odd. Danny is almost never this excited to go to school… He's been acting so strangely lately…”

“There can only be one explanation…” Jack paused for a moment before a light in his brain blinked on and he raised a finger in exclamation- Much to his wife’s confusion.

“That's not our little slacker! That's a ghost! In DISGUISE!”

“Jack- That’s- OH! That would explain how the Fenton Finder picked up an ecto-signature!”

Maddie’s eyes seem to widen from behind her goggles with this observation, now facing her husband with equal vigor coinciding with her own exclamation. The both of them now seemed to meet each other's gazes, speaking in unison.

“That means…”

Jack was the first to pounce towards the front door- Rocking his fist in the air as if in retribution and his other hand reaching over to his zipper pocket to grasp the keys to the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle- GAV for short. Maddie followed him close behind as Jack bellowed to the open air.

“Never fear Jazzy!!! We’ll save you from that ghost scum!!! Daddy’s little princess!!!”

***

“I just don't see the appeal in keeping it a secret Danny- Mom and Dad love us, and they would never do anything to hurt me…”

“... On purpose you mean.”

Jazz didn't make eye contact with her black haired teenage brother in the passenger seat beside her, in favor of keeping her cyan blue eyes on the road- Steady foot on the gas pedal as her hands gripped the steering wheel firmly. Fiery orange hair whipping out behind her, and messy black bed head hair doing something similar, the two teenagers seemed almost normal sitting in the seats of the open topped red convertible.

Despite the clear distast in the open air concerning the conversation, Danny Fenton took Jazz’s silence as a signal to keep going, leaning forward in the convertible’s passenger seat to level his older sister with a blank unamused stare, though the slight curling of his lips betrayed the initial deadpan expression he had been aiming for.

“It's been a month, Jazz. A month, and I don't really see you jumping for joy at the opportunity to tell them that their only daughter isn't exactly the most human nowadays. You're not ever going to tell them, are you?”

“I am going to tell them!” Jazz sounded indignant before her eyes flickered off to the side slightly, her soft pink lips curling downwards a tad more into a frown. It almost seemed like she was convincing herself of this fact, sweat beading near her temple as she shifts her hand placement on the wheel, and a sigh billows from her lungs.

“... Eventually.”

“Rrrrrrriiiighhht.” Danny leaned back into his seat with a cross of his arms and a lazy smirk painting his expression. This makes Jazz face the boy again, this time with an extra determined look on her face.

“No really- I will!”

“It's fine Jazz, you don't have to explain yourself. I get it. No reasonable superhero wants to reveal their secret alias to their parents- It's expected even!” Jazz could only frown curiously at Danny’s words, face curling into a processing expression, before glancing over at Danny fondly again and turning the wheel at the next intersection.

“Hero ali- Danny. I'm not a superhero. These aren't superpowers, these are just the aftereffects of the accident, that's all. They will fade in time, I'm sure…”

“Again. Been a month. I think we're past the point of ghostly refunds.”

Jazz and Danny met eyes again, before the orange haired 16 year old halfa shook her head and stopped for another intersection, lifting the lever for her blinker and the dashboard began to click, signaling she was to be turning right. She could only sigh at her brother's antics, noting how pleased he looked in his theorem.

“Still. Not a superhero Danny- Who would I even battle against? The only ghosts we've seen come out of the portal are those weird octopus thingies- But even then, putting those guys back in the portal does not exactly count as an epic superpowered battle like it does in your video games.”

“Well- These kinds of things don't just HAPPEN to a person for no reason! You have superpowers Jazz- REAL superpowers. It's a only a matter of time before bad guys start to show up- And let's be real, Mom and Dad are NOT ready for that kind of confrontation, so it's gonna be up to you to beat em’ back to the front lines”

“Yeah right Danny. Besides, unlike your comic book heroes, I much prefer to fight my battles passively. After all-” Jazz waggled a finger condescending with her free hand in the direction of Danny, a calm preening smile grazing her features while she did so.

“-Words have power too y'know.”

“Right.” Danny flashed a thin smile in Jazz’s direction, leaning forwards a bit to squint blankly in her vicinity. Feigning innocence, he tilted his head in false condescension.

“I'll have to remember that when an evil, all powerful ghost kidnaps me and tries to eat my face off or something..”

Cyan colored eyes flickering upwards, Jazz noted the stoplight in the distance- The school was getting closer, halfway there, she figured. Getting closer to the stoplight, now turning yellow, she moved her foot from the gas over to the brake pedal, getting ready to ease down on it, but not quite putting pressure. Concerning the conversation between her and her younger brother, the red head only shrugged playfully and rolled her eyes fondly.

“Well, I guess we're just going to have to cross that bridge when we get there. And for the record, I DO plan on telling Mom and Dad about my situation- I just… I think it would be best for everyone if i got these new abilities in check beforehand… I mean- I could barely control them as it is-”

“You've been doing just fine right now...”

Jazz let out a noncommittal hum in response to Danny's short notation, but didnt grace him with another retort, now beginning to press down onto the brake pedal, seeing that a busy yellow stop light was coming up. It was true, throughout this whole drive, Jazz had been yet to fall ill to any of her current ghostly attribute issues- The thought made her lip curl upwards. Perhaps she finally found her anchor, allowing her ghost powers to settle and stay dormant under her skin, driving the answer? That didn't sound right, but neither did ghost powers in general…

Who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth, coming up on the stoplight, speed now starting to gradually diminish, she had to admit it was true- Her ghost powers were not acting out throughout this whole drive… Was it luck or happenstance? She didn't know…

She just hoped thinking this in her mind wouldn't…

Jinx….

It…

Jazz suddenly felt a buzzing feeling in her leg, the hot resting bubble of feeling in her chest soaring as her heart dropped into her stomach.

“Jazz…” Danny’s blue eyes flashed nervously in her direction, speaking with a small lilt in his voice, pushing himself back in his passenger seat as the car continued onwards closer to the next stoplight intersection, showing no signs of stopping as Jazz punched her foot down frantically.

“Jazz- There's a stoplight coming up- Jazz, we should stop-!”

Danny glances over to the driver frantically, only for his expression to shift into one of terror, the sight of his sister beginning to phase straight through the bottom of her seat and holding onto the steering wheel for dear life causing him to lurch forwards with an alarmed yelp.

“Jazz!!!”

“Danny! Danny pull me up!!! Pull me up!!!” Jazz could only screech as the stoplight grew closer, only a few feet away as the car began to swerve, her younger brother Danny now beginning to claw at her shoulders in an attempt to yank her back out of the car cushions and into sitting position. He wasn't the most successful, and Jazz's bottom half continued to remain intangible, cushions now up past her chest, arms fully extended and clutching onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Ah!- Ah!- Break!!! Break- Where-”

“LEFT DANNY!!!”

The screech of his older sister rattled Danny to his bones, and the honking of a horn to their side forced the 14 year old into a panic- Slamming his own foot straight through his sister's transparent lower torso last minute and onto the brake pedal.

SCREECH!!!

“OOF!”

“Argh!”

Rubbing his head where it had rammed into the dashboard, and keeping his foot plastered firmly on the brake pedal- Danny Fenton could only stare out into the distance of the windshield, past the giant dent in the dashboard where his skull had rammed into, wearing an expression identical to the resident ghost girls own features, who now seemed to gain a semi balance of ghostly control and began hovering upwards from her place inside the diverse seat cushions. Floating above her seat, she let out a small noise as the sudden bout of weightlessness deactivated causing her to fall not so gently into her seat. Even so, the two shaken up teens continued to stare blankly outwards, both their hair now mussed up and windswept, trembling like leaves and for a few moments the world was silent.

The light turned green.

The sound of honking frantically from behind snapped the red headed teen out of her stupor, causing her to blink harshly a few seconds before shaking her head. Shakily, Jazz nudged Danny's foot away with her own and pressed onto the gas pedal, crossing the intersection only to stutter to a stop by the next curb, placing the vehicle in park.

Jazz let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and slowly turned to face her brother. Turning the key and pulling out, the red convertible stuttered to a stop.

“H-How do you feel about walking to school Danny?”

“Great. Fantastic. I could walk. Just as soon as my legs stop feeling like jello.”

Jazz could only sigh, glancing downwards at her own legs, which seemed to flicker a bit alongside the rest of her body. She shook her head almost somberly.

“You're telling me Danny… You are telling me…”

***

(And that’s all I got back then. lol)

[ipso-faculty]

A review of intersex/intergender flag mashup techniques

I really like it when I can figure out what a new pride flag means just from my knowledge of other flags, and I know I'm not alone on this. For example, here are some flags other people have made that I could immediately figure out were <thing> plus intersex:

So, I've been thinking about how we as intersex flag creators can create hybrid flags in consistent way. I'm most motivated to figure out a recipe for intergender flags: genders that are connected to being intersex.

I assembled a spreadsheet of 66 gender flags, and wrote a Python script to take my csv file, parse it, and use the drawsvg library to draw the different flags in different ways. And then I stared at the results, showed them to friends, and discussed what would be both reliable in terms of producing clear, decent-looking results. (A subset of the results are under the keep reading cut.)

In this post I'm gonna review five mashup techniques that I automated and talk about advantages/disadvantages to each. But first a TLDR: adding yellow border stripes is a simple and reliable way to make an intersex-hybrid flag that is now my favourite (and recommended) way to make a new intergender flag.

For example, here's the interfluid flag (genderfluid in a way that is specifically intersex):

***

Method 1: put a ring on it - advantages: simple to do, simple to understand - disadvantages: incredibly dependent on how well the ring colour works with background stripes, and the number of stripes. Would very roughly estimate only ~20% look decent.

Here's a subset of the results. Some, like genderfaun, look nice, but most look awkward:

A yellow ring is even worse:

I think the purple ring has a bit of potential, but I think it's not really viable for being used as a consistent, procedural way to make intergenders. ***

Method 2: stick a belt on it - advantages: already used for some existing mashups - disadvantages: some other genders are doing similar things, like voidpunk, and a white belt has been used by tons of groups for their mashups (e.g. neurogender).

It looks better than the ring alone, but I was still kinda underwhelmed because of how much it depends on the background stripes to not clash. Very roughly I'd say about 40% of the total results look good. Again, here's genderfae through paragender for comparison:

Using a purple belt helps in some cases but makes for some visually busy results:

The purple ones make me think of pokéballs. Again, there are some nice looking ones, but the effect over the whole group was underwhelming. ***

Method 3: inset into the ring - advantages: it's the most clearly "intersex plus X" - disadvantages: hard to read flags where the stripes are similar to each other; might clash with ring colour

When zoomed out like this the results aren't always super easy to read, but overall I'd say this is a reasonably reliably method - very roughly 60% of the results look good to me.

Playing with lightness and contrast on the inset flag likely would improve that number, but my goal here is to compare methods without tweaks.

Insetting into the intergender flag has similar results:

Method 4: add intersex-coloured stripe to the middle - advantage: seems like it would be simple - disadvantage: yellow middle stripe used for pansexual mashups; purple stripe is used in a bunch of of existing mashups - also disadvantage: turns out to actually be complicated in how to do it. Many flags have an odd number of stripes, not all flags have equal-length stripes, etc. I got buggy results on a whole bunch of flags like hijra and hypergirl and honestly if it takes dedicated debugging to fix it's probably too complicated.

When the original flag has an odd number of stripes, I doubled the original middle stripe up and this only works if there's a symmetry to the flag and all the stripes are of equal size.

The results are kinda busy. It looks good to my eyes very roughly 1/8 of the time (~12%) (I did an alternate version where I doubled the purple stripe around the original middle stripe and it's way worse.)

Purple stripe:

Yellow stripe looks less busy but more confusing:

Method 5: add border stripes with intersex colours - advantages: simple - disadvantages: maybe not as obviously intersex

I honestly didn't expect to like this one, but it has turned out to be my favourite. It works really reliably, like ~90% of the time, and it's distinctive.

Surprisingly, using purple gives a really different vibe. It kinda makes me feel claustraphobic:

Method 6: change the colours

This one I don't have automated results to share (at least not yet). Right now there are flags like how ultergender recolours the trans flag, that could serve as a template for recolouring.

This is much more complex computationally - I spent a bunch of time playing around with different colourspaces (HSV, LCH, oklab, okLCH) to try to do this automatically and have concluded that this actually a difficult computational problem and not feasible as a widescale recipe.

Part of why the ultergender recolouring works is there are just two colours to recolour. How should one recolour the genderfluid flag? The demigender flag? It's possible to create a convention but not something I'm up to this moment.

I think recolouring is better suited to creating entirely new identities (like ultergender) rather than intergenders that are "<gender> but in an intergender way". ***

Discussion

My goal in all of this has been to try and identify some reliable recipes for creating hybrid flags particularly for intergenders.

My entirely subjective and imprecise estimates of how reliably each method yielded a decent-looking result were: 1. Add yellow border: ~90%-ish 2. Inset: ~60% 3. Belt: ~40% 4. Ring: ~20% 5. Add middle stripe: ~1/8-ish

I was honestly surprised at how much I liked the yellow border method and the friends I've shown it to so far have liked it as well!

I'd like to propose adding yellow border stripes as a recipe for creating intergender flags. This is already in use for interfluid (genderfluid in a specifically/uniquely intersex way):

Indeed, it's the only one of the mashup functions I wrote that yields something for genderfluid that I actually like:

Extrapolating, here are examples of some gender coinings that I think would work: Interdemigender: demigender in a specifically/uniquely intersex way and/or demigender in a way linked to being intersex/intergender

Intervaguegender: vaguegender in a way that is specifically intersex, such as in a way that is connected to being intersex (i.e. one's gender is vague not just for being neurodivergent but also intersex)

I think it works well! I hope you like it! Let me know if you have any feedback. If there are other mashup techniques I didn't think of, let me know. :)

[quirkwizard]

So like… what are your thoughts on Chapter 419? AFO modifying Overhaul into Decay kinda makes him come across as a dumbass. Because why not just mold Overhaul into your successor unless AFO was just that petty which considering that he killed the light baby for being the “first” Quirk user, that’s fair. But then he had all these convenient pushes like making Kotoro more abusive or inspiring Tenko, or convincing Kotoro to have another kid.

In the latest chapter is all for one implying that Tomura’s decay was a mutated copy of overhaul?

How do you feel about 419 when it comes to Overhaul now?

I will get to All For One's influence on Tomura's backstory soon, but for now, I'll just stick to "Decay", Overhaul", and everything surrounding that.

For Tomura being given a Quirk by All For One, I don't mind that part too much. There has always been something sketchy about Tomura's backstory, especially him awakening "Decay" in the first place. It all just seem too convenient for me given the circumstances and a figure similar to All For One appearing in Tomura's backstory. So the set up was there for this. My only possible reservation is now that "Decay" isn't Tomura's Quirk anymore. One of my favorite parts about Quirks is how much thematically they tie into the user. Tomura especially since so much of his theming and growth is tied into his Quirk. I do think that some of that is lost if Tomura's Quirk is not "Decay". However, I think that there could be some interesting thematic reasoning for it as well and new ways you can read into it. Because now, I think it reaffirms that Tenko wasn't just born evil, for lack of better wording. That he didn't have this terrible need to destroy everything and how that was forced upon him by outside forces.

My problem comes in tying it to "Overhaul". While I vastly prefer this to it being Deku's Quirk, I do not see the point in connecting the Quirks like this. If you want Tomura to be given "Decay", why not just say Garaki made it? We know that he can with Quirks like "Warp Gate". Tying these together raises a whole lot of questions as well. If Overhaul was at one of the orphanages, how did he get with the Boss? Was he adopted like a normal kid? If so, why on Earth would All For One or Garaki ever let him go? Why waste someone as promising as Kai? Even if you want to argue that he couldn't work as a vessel for whatever reason. Like the ability to heal and fix things somehow made him unsuitable, Tenko far more malleable as a target, or that All For One is just such a petty chump. Why not keep him around as a minion? And this all raises a bigger question: why didn't All For One take "Overhaul"? "Overhaul" is one of, if not the most powerful Quirks in the setting and All For One had it within arm's reach. Why not take it? Is it because it was too complicated to use? Well, that there isn't anything about how the Quirk is used that implies it's that hard. It just raises so many questions.

[kerizaret]

Keep in mind it's just the opinions of the people I've been exposed to haha. The Generic Elitist type™, there's definitely more classical people who like or at least neutral at pop music and are more open-minded in general. But being in the industry does inevitably come with biases and thought he is not fully in that black and white mentality I do believe Harumichi is a rather severe case.

Does he consider Saki's career choice as better than Toya's and set her as an example?

In the terms of her hanging out with more "straight-laced" people, maybe. Musically, probably not by much, if any. I think Harumichi is more preoccupied with the kind if music Touya played rather than if he was successful, so a lot of it ties in into classical being superior to other genres. Leo/need is (irrc) a pop-rock group which isn't that much better that street (a mix of freestyle, rap, and seemingly pop - keep in mind that street music is either only a genre in-universe or isn't meant to be a genre as much as the style of performance, so it's kinda hard to tell what they mean by Harumichi hating street music. Kohane's solo from KIUAN is pretty much just pure pop).

Does he value the keyboard and think of it as a worthy instrument like a classical piano or would he think she should've sticked to the latter?

Synth/keyboard isn't even considered a "piano" in classical circles, per se. Which does have it's reasoning, as the key weighs, spacing, and the technique is very different from "acoustic" piano and a lot of finely-tuned skills from piano playing won't transfer to keyboard and vice versa. It's kind of how classical violinist don't usually consider electric violinists worth their salt because acoustic anything is much more unforgiving in terms of technique than the respective electric option (but also provides additional challenges that acoustic instrument don't have, especially depending on the genre. Not one option is inherently better or worse unless we're going into specific situation at hand in which a preference might be discussed). So, we can safely say Harumichi doesn't respect keyboard, either at all or at least as much as he would a piano.

What does he think of the music she plays, since it's not classical?

A wide spread opinion is that all pop music sounds the same, basically. Pop music, including rock, rarely diverts form 4/4 time and common chord progressions. It doesn't need to, because what it can't express through complicated music, it compensates for lyrically. However people heavily immersed in classical lyrics, which typically doesn't have lyrics and voice, find music with lyrics redundant in a way. Which is also among the reasons why so many classical musicians are actually not fans of opera. So there's both no appreciation for the instrumental which is likely not impressive to them and no desire to dig into the lyrics. This is something that is held against the genre overall rather than individual artists. There's some nuance for this in (pop)rock and I think some classical elitists are actually willing to give rock music a pass, especially one that's innovative and creative with their instrumental part, but Leo/need probably wouldn't be one of them all things considered.

Has he actually ever listened to leo/need?

Unlikely. He doesn't even take the time to listen to Touya's work until he literally begs to. This is somewhat explained in-universe, but I do think his prejudice goes deep enough that he'd not willingly engage with Leo/need, if he was even aware if their activity, except maybe out of politeness.

I'd be pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong though. Like I said, I think there's more to him than his character archetype of overly strict classical musician dad.

Harumichi forced to listen to leoni by having tenpapa play the leoni soda advertisement 15 times in a row during a joint dinner sobbing his eyes out about how proud he is of his daughter /silly

But thank you!!! This is very insightful and really cool :0 all that is to say though it's moreso unlikely he'd be very enthusiastic about Saki's music. Tenma-Aoyagi dinners must be so funny what does this man even see in the Tenmas I need to know. Is it only tenmama and harumichi talking about classical 2 hours straight

Poor guy saw three kids with so much classical potential and one went to sing in the streets, the second switched to an electric counterpart and changed to pop and the last one decided being a clown is a better career choice. I'd be bitter too /silly /j

[alpaca-clouds]

Baldur's Gate 3 - Or: Why Endings are hard

The last few days I have seen quite a few posts going around about Act 3 and in general the ending of BG3. Which is understandable, because yes, the ending still kinda feels... off. Some decisions feel forced, some of the character endings feel unsatisfying, and how the game deals with Orin and Gortash also kinda feels off. There is a reason, why I did not write just one, but two fix its for the ending.

But let me talk a bit how this happens and why this is in fact quite a common thing to happen. If I had a dollar for everytime I enjoyed a thing where people were unhappy with the ending of the "thing", I would have enough to cover this month's rent lol

Now, let me talk about the most obvious fact first: Act 3 of BG3 is very long. Mostly because of all the side quests you can do - though you theoretically do not need to do, of course. Though even if you do only do the story-stuff, it is fairly long for one reason: The companion quest most finish up here.

As in my other stuff about the ending: Spoilers under the cut!

Let me quickly make a list of the stuff that is more or less essential to the plot happening in Act 3. Like, quite a bit of this you do not need to do to finish the game, but... For the story to properly finish up this is part of Act 3.

Confront Gortash (Karlach's quest is tied to this)

Confront Orin

Finish off Cazador

Save/Kill Shadowheart's parents

Save Duke Ravengard

Do the Balduran quest

Do the Sorceror's Tower and have Gale talk to Mystra

Deal in either way with the Githyanki revolution

The Counting House

Rescruit Minsc

Deal with Raphael in one way or another

Deal with the Elderbrain

That is a lot, right? And this is all without other sidequests that you can do in Act 3 (like dealing with Ethel and "Build-a-Clown").

The only companion, who does not give you anything to do in Act 3 is Halsin. (I don't know about Minthara, because I never managed to recruit her so far.) Okay, admittedly, also kinda Karlach, because you have to go against Gortash either way and other than that there is nothing that happens in her questline. Which, yes, is one of the reasons her ending feels so unsatisfying.

Now, I absolutely understand why this happens. Because of the thing we actually see with Karlach. It kinda feels off that one character does not really have anything to do towards the end. It feels unsatisfying.

Let me stay with Karlach for a moment. Because she is a good example. One of the main reasons her ending feels so unsatisfying is, that you do not really do a lot for her. Like, in Act 1 you fight Zariel's people sent after Karlach and talk to Dammon. In Act 2 you talk to Dammon. In Act 3 you fight Gortash, which you gotta do either way.

I would argue, that her ending would feel a lot more satisfying, even if it stayed the exact same, if you just were allowed to try and fix her. Maybe do something for the Gondians or Ironhands so they might try and fix her. Or try to get Gortash to fix her (like I wrote about). Or do a more complicated quest for Dammon to get something that might fix her. It does not need to actually work. But just you trying to do something would make the ending feel better.

I have seen people argue that Wyll has the weakest stuff in Act 3, which I very much do not agree with. Like, Wyll and Lae'zel both get a very short end of the stick in Act 2 (there is not really a lot happening for either in Act 2), but Wyll actually has two quests in Act 3, which is in fact more than anyone else. Especially as the Balduran quest ties him directly to the main plot.

Of course, I am still going to argue that Astarion and Shadowheart have the most satisfying ends of their questlines.

But let me get back to the main issue. The main story ending does feel... Hollow. And I think really that this boils down especially to one thing: The main plotline does take away your choices in Act 3. Yes, sure, you can try to become the new Absolute and stuff. But... That's about it.

Sure, you can ally with Gortash. But he dies either way.

You cannot really ally with Orin in any way.

And as I bemoaned so many times: The game forces you to choose whether to ally with the Emperor or Orpheus. Either way does only give minor differences for the ending. And no matter how much you allied yourself with the Emperor so far, he won't listen to you no matter what you say.

In the end the issue with Act 3 - as it is with so many of those endings in stuff that people felt were unsatisfying - is a pacing issues. You want to give all storylines (in this chase the character quests) a proper ending, which all needs to happen in that last Act, because it would feel off, if a main character does not get to do anything in that Act. (Again, like Karlach.)

Yes, I absolutely agree that we actually needed MORE STUFF in Act 3. Especially for Gortash and Orin. But on the other hand the third Act was already SO MUCH.

And that is without going into the problems of development cycles. Like, I don't know how bad it was with Larian working on Act 3, but especially the stuff with the Epilogue feels a lot like they actually did not finish everything. This feeling also gets supported by the fact that Act 3 to this day is more buggy than the first two Acts.

Yes, the problem is the writing - but given this is a game, that writing also needed to be implemented. Maybe they wanted to do more with Gortash and Orin - but they didn't get around to implementing it all.

If this was a non-interactive story, one could have probably tied up several character quests together. But of course that does not work here, because the game cannot know which characters you will have along in Act 3. Like, sure, it would totally make sense to tie up the plots of Karlach and Wyll. But there is a chance either might have died or left the party - or that you have not recruited one of them. Hence... bloating.

And really, the only thing one could do about it would be to add more. But that would make the bloating worse. It is... complicated. Planning stories is complicated.

[monkeyislandtwo]

tumblr is NOT letting me answer this ask directly for some reason so i screencapped it HDFHDG anyways here goes

i vagguelly knew abt otherkin stuff beforehand but that was like. very vague and more in the lense of "eww cringe" bc that was all that was talked abt it

fast forward to me being 16 or so (maybe 17?) and i decide that today on www.tumblr.com im gonna go through the werewolf tag, and between all the art and poems abt werewolves i view a few werewolfkin posts and i go "huh.. thats interesting" bc i only vaguely heard of it but never really looked into it

so i dip my toes into it, and fall into the lake completely, and now im here

from which i will give some advice:

disclaimer: most of this advice comes from a psychological kin perspective, for spiritual stuff i can gather some info if you ask me but overall im not spiritual kin

1: sometimes the answer is not too clear, being alterhuman can stem from many reasons and overlap with many other things, furryness, autism, psychosis, spiritual beliefs, familiarity and importance to an animal or myth, a lot can play into it! for some beings, the experiences are very separate from each other, for others, they may cause each other or be linked or overlap, it can all depend and change around, so dont stress too much on whats what, but if you wish, you can play around and see what belongs to what, ive had the fact im a furry sometimes overlap with the fact im otherkin, and even fuel each other, but i still see them as separate identities, its all a big complicated soup. and i will say to just fuck around and see what labels you see fit

figuring out your kintype can take a while, and its not uncommon that what you first consider to be your kintype may not be the one that you actually feel you are. for example my first through upon discovering kin stuff was that i may be a cat, ive loved cats since i was practically born, ive always wanted to be a cat and themed myself around cats, hell my fursona is a cat! turns out im not one, ive tried and figured stuff out and experimented and well a cat just wasnt it. from this i'd just say to explore different animals or mythic beasts or types of robot etc etc

from that, what has helped me personally to figure out kintype stuff is to see what you desire feel and act, what kind of environment do you crave for? forests? mountains? deserts? theres a lot! what do you wish your body looked like? everyone talks about wanting claws and fangs and such but really think about it, what do you want for your body? what would make you happier? what would make you see your body more as your true self? any particular diet you have or wish to have? any behaviors you've derived from a being? maybe you hiss maybe you bark maybe you knead. do you feel limbs that arent there? such as ears? tails? horns? just look around outside and inside to see what you crave what you do what you want and such

one thing that i did while trying to figure out kin stuff was to just. draw how i view myself in my mind, and not concentrate on design or what i like and dislike on character designs, just like, draw what comes to mind on an "ideal body", you shift around features from the vague idea of who you are in your mind, draw different tails draw different snouts draw different body shapes, and see what fits and sticks, sometimes you can land on yes "thats exactly me", sometimes you can land on "its a vague idea of me but can aid me in figuring it out". thats kinda how it lead to me figuring out im primatekin, i had multiple different attempts and sketches of what i think i look like in my mind, and i just kept going until much trial and error later i found something. it went from "humanoid?" to "halfly animal-like" to "has a long tail" to "small and expressive" and eventually to a primate! (and thats how my mizamonkey design came to be QSHFHD). again for some this may bring a concrete design while to others it may be just a vague guide, not every tip works for everyone.

despite a few points ago where i stated that being obsessed with an animal or myth doesnt always equal to it being your kintype, it sometimes can be! and its sometimes how kintypes can originate to people (if we're taking the psychological otherkin route, this doesnt work too well with spiritual otherkin). sometimes youre just so obsessed and interested with an animal or myth or fiction trope that your brain kinda, adopts it for your identity. this is what happened to me for werewolves, since i was a wee lad ive been OBSESSED with werewolves and i read about them and drew about them and made stories about them that my brain has seemingly just. grabbed it and went "thats you". so look into your childhood or current state of living and see what animals and beings and such you connect with! again just as a few points ago, it doesnt always mean its your kintype, but it can be!

being alterhuman is different for everyone, i sometimes still think of this message i saw ages ago that went "ask 10 therians what being a therian means for them, and you get 11 different answers", so just because this otherkin experiences xyz, doesnt mean everyone does, and vice versa! i used to have a lot of stress about this bc i felt like i was a faker bc i didnt experience like others but after a while i managed to mellow out on it and its making me feel better!

related to that i would be careful about the resources you seek out bc from my experience seeking out resources has been a very 50/50, some tips and advice is great! while others are just why would you follow that. use your critical mind and see what suits you and what helps you.

this is more a personal opinion but i feel like the whole "choosing your kintype" debacle doesnt have a correct and concrete answer. to me if you were to just choose whatever kintype you want it may not actually be the kintype you feel like you are. i would absolutely choose to be a wolverine if i could! but it just doesnt align with my kintype and i cant force it as my kintype even if i tried. i would say that you can "try out" kintypes to see if it fits, its all about experimenting after all. its just that for most, its not as easy as pick and choose. its mainly bc your freely chosen kintype may just not be who you are, if you wanna choose a kintype either way, the community has adopted the term "copinglink" for such. for most alterhumans they did not choose their kintype. again its about trial and error

overall its going to be a lot of trial and error to figure stuff out. it took me 2 years to finally land on my proper kintypes! you may find kintypes and you may drop them. you may find yourself to not be otherkin after all! if you want more personal tips and questions you can message me here or on discord! (but i prefer discord bc tumblrs dm system is kinda cramped and buggy).

[artnevoa]

Any lore for your oc and her relationship w/ muds? 🥒🥒

AHAH oh god, it’s rough.

It’s like an enemies -> kinda friends -> friends -> friends with benefits -> lovers for a very brief time -> bitter exes -> coworkers and friends (with sometimes benefits) -> strangers

More under the cut

It’s complicated and nothing really ends well. They started out as apartment neighbors pre-gorillaz in 95/96-ish, and they HATED each other. (This takes place in London btw because I like to think that she frequented Rick Black’s Record Shack often. I know he was in Stoke in canon, but I also think Murdoc could potentially live in different cities or towns during his search for potential band members or his many questionable and odd jobs. At least right before Phase 1).

Until she went to one of his failed gigs and offered a cigarette to console him for getting booed off stage. On a whim, she invited him to her gallery show, which also was a failure because the gallery printed the wrong date on the flier. He was the only one who showed up because he remembered the correct date. They started hanging out, then fucking around until they decided to start dating. But it was an on and off relationship cuz his priority is to become famous and honestly he’s pretty scummy. Murdoc moved back to Stoke, and I think she’d move elsewhere too.

Eventually she dumps him for good and they go on their separate ways until he reaches out to her on D Day after getting arrested and tries to convince her to bail him out (he lied saying he was framed and he was just a pedestrian walking by LMAO). She does not bail him out. But she does hang around because she found out he has to take care of Stuart and she knows that Murdoc is NOT a reliable caretaker. She doesn’t try to involve herself too much though since they’re exes and it’s just overall weird for her. Eventually, Murdoc offers her a job at Kong Studios to be a storyboard artist since she’s been stuck working a couple of shitty minimum wage jobs and despite him being an asshole, he does care about her as a friend at least. She ends up taking the job but is only around for phase 1 and 2 because Murdoc’s inflated ego when he reaches fame is hard for her to be around. There’s a lot of tension between them (sexual/anger/sometimes romantic but that’s very rare) during this time while she’s trying to be professional and do her work. After the tabloids found out they used to be a thing and took that out of context photo, it really strains a lot of things because she didn’t want to be in the spotlight, especially as being known as his ex. She gets harassed by paparazzi and he doesn’t care too much.

There comes a point where she has enough and she got a great art gig out of it, so she leaves him. This is around the time when Noodle “passed” and the movie failed to happen and his whole band is falling apart. So Murdoc has this psychotic breakdown and flies to Mexico. All the while he’s in denial that she left him for good and keeps calling her phone to leave voicemails of how angry he is, how much he misses her, updates on where he’s at, etc etc. She never picks up and eventually blocks his number from calling. I should mention that during this breakdown, he’s convinced that she’ll come back and stick around like she always does and for some reason thinks she’ll meet him in Mexico.

She moves back to the states and goes to rehab all the while. They eventually meet each other again years and years down the line, but she’s married and he never forgot her. (Those love songs on plastic beach are about her). They never end up together, but at least there’s closure.

This is their dynamic btw. Out of all of them, they’re the most like Bojack and Diane.

[cadilver]

intro post :)

this is cadilver!

they/he. nicknames are cool (cad/caddie/whatever)

they're a normal Point with normal Hobbies and a very normal Not Too Dangerous World that is Hospitable to Visitors. Definitely! they don't know why Cyalm Named it Night of Nightmares it's just a Graveyard and a Haunted Mansion and a Catacombs with no Nightmares to be found Anywhere not even in their Vault. um. well they might be Lying about That but it's really not your Business anyway.

// will be the ooc marker for this blog. and yeah cad talks like That (not in 3rd person) and the Capitalizations are worse when he's nervous/lying.

Asks are open! I'll probably make/write stuff even if no one asks anything, but hey why not.

run by @p7agu3 btw

Lore/Design/Backstory infodump below (may contain spoilers, if i end up actually doing anything with this storytelling wise)

cadilver is a portmanteau of "cadaver" and "silver". his aspects include, predictably, metal and general undead shenanigans, though he was also really into Halloween for backstory reasons when he was. alive? (complicated) so that carried over as well. he gets to join the holiday gang (compale and arrolin). stuff happens :) that i may write about proper if i get the motivation

his true form symbol is a concentric cloverleaf pattern, in the orientation associated with metal jewelry and not highways. mostly cause i thought it looked cool and not for deeper meaning. their normal symbol is more. interpretable. it's his prepoint's 'eyes', yes, but also infinity, cool sunglasses, ouroborous, venn diagram. you can really go crazy with it. it's mostly just them big ol eyes.

oh yeah! prepoint lore. i haven't fully decided how much of the p7v plague lore i want to use for him (some of it is insane and wouldn't fit AF well) but what's definitely sticking is the facts that he was undead (if cyalm can pointify a robot then reanimating a reanimated corpse is light work. also, name), cavorted around in a plague doctor costume, was powerful enough to at least hold out against cyalm in a fight, and [definitely something i wanna reveal later].

interestingly, they're more "alive" now than they were before, having a complete kinda-organic body, fully functional senses, and the capability to experience emotion normally. cyalm did some witchery fr. on the downside they just "die" as a extreme stress response now. like a possum. apparently that's called "thanatosis", which is a really good word. usually it takes specific triggers to set him off that badly.

cad's world is functionally the 9th because ixol has been pretty much exiled from the Emporium. the two have never met (cad was Pointified later), and (probably) won't meet until AF2's events. ixol has yet to draw the message or their symbol on the walls to indicate their location. the other points knew ixol somewhat but unanimously (some more reluctantly than others) agreed to exile them once they started hearing voices.

the world is called Night of Nightmares (double reference lol) and is located in the same area as Battery Canyon, maybe on the right side.

[echolepzy]

hm yes i enjoy reading your opinions, nice opinions you have. i will now share my own because that’s probably how humans converse or something idk /j

ship? i’ve really only seen isafrin and sifloop, and personally i enjoy sloop but like as a weird not romantic but secret 74th option that they invented one afternoon at 11:56am. isafrin is a classic, always chefs kiss. yes very ship very nice very good will read fics of them being dramatically torn apart to the point of insanity. i just like the classic sloop “i fucking despise you wanna cuddle” dynamic. better if loop is human and isabeau is there to break up their arguments. cuz it’s funny

my favorite silly has gotta be loop. they suck i hope they die in a supernova. sif is a very very close second, and my third would deffo be bonnie. they are a child who brought a child here. i think the only reasons loop is my favorite rn is 1) loop plush THAT I GOT yippee it doesn’t arrive until next year but. i’ll have it eventually and i will treasure it. forever. i’ll be buried with it. 2) funnysillyjokespun person traumatized x32 edition

trauma has gotta be the fact that sif almost destroyed the world with his abandonment issues. like dude…. which also includes mal du pays. the embodiment of homesickness itself is here to fuck shit uppp let’s go. i also really like time loops so really just the entire time loop situation(basically the whole game) especially when there’s fics about it post-canon. those are so fun.

THE LOST COUNTRY yessss i love this thing. a lot of my headcanons revolve around a fic that i thought was really cool that dove deep into its culture (fic here https://archiveofourown.org/works/56032411 i think). some of the things i remember and liked are bonds being expressed through nicknames(im like 85% sure that sif calls them all by nicknames but changes to calling some by full names in the game but i might be delusional so). i just really liked a lot of the culture deep dive in that fic. i also imagine them being rather technologically advanced in comparison to other countries, since like all that knowledge about stars. i think it’s also possible that there were still people who could perceive colour on that island(not majority, maybe like 20% of the population). and y’know how vaugarde is fantasy france? north island is fantasy greenland. just imo

leading off of that- poteria is fantasy america(so. they use fuck as curse :]) and idk what mwudu would be. i think it would be fun though, to have the various countries be fantastical irl countries, and is also supported by evidence with ka bua being fantasy japan. so yeah this is actually canon now.

and ngl i really wanna cosplay siffrin someday- like, i can’t this halloween cuz i already have a sick asf dragon costume in the works but maybe a thing in the future. maybe i could even do winged sif to make moneys worth of the wings im using for my dragon costume. maybe i’ll do it for next ren faire one day-

(i wish i had a sibling to have the loop-siffrin dynamic with… alas, as i am a lonely child and have none. i killed them in the womb /j)

-same mutual if you couldn’t tell (guess who lol)

First of all *absorbs that fic link* I'm reading this now thank you

Secondly fuck yeah Loop plushie buddies!! I'm sharing mine with my little brother since he's the undeniable Loop kinnie but the sticker is mine and it's going on my laptop

The wiki says Vaugarde is based on France, Ka Bue is based on Japan, the Forgotten Country is based on Guadeloupe (but insertdisc5 likes seeing other interpretations too), Poteria is based on Italy (which was my headcanon before I even saw it on the wiki lol), and Mwudu isn't really based on anything (I headcanon Germany for some reason, but also not? idk it's complicated, my main Mwudu headcanon is that they have this whole deal with fire). As a creature of low intelligence who always fails geography I kinda just stick with what the wiki tells me XD Also, Ka Bue is on the other side of the world but the rest of the countries are closer together, I think that's kinda interesting to think about-

Finding parts for my cosplay is proving to be a huge pain in the ass, right now I'm just settling for "close enough" and I'll try to customize the parts when I get them- Agh the hat is probably the hardest right now ;w; I wonder if they'll let me bring a dagger to my vocational school... My friend on the bus has actual knives with her every day so I don't see why I can't have a costume dagger (a real one would be cooler but I don't think my family would trust me with it).

[nwarrior777]

Hello! I wanted to say that I have been in love with your art for some years now and kinda think of you as a teacher when it comes to self-love and drawing/generally showing fat people in media! So I'm seeking your advice on this topic if that doesn't bother you... (tw fatphobia from people)

There is one fandom character who I love and accociate myself with a bit, so I really want to draw them fat, but most of the people think it's "not logical" for him to be fat, and all of the fanart of him are thin (despite the original book never stating this). And this fandom already has another character for who it's more "logical" to be fat but I want that specific one because he is so dear to me. I also want to cosplay this character but people told me I'm "too fat" to do it :( So I want to hear your opinion about this because it's very important to me!

Oh hello!

Big honor to hear such a thing about teacher! And very big letter, oh! Always happy to get it. But it is big responsibility to answer on that!

And oh i wrote a whole poem so i put it under the cut.

So first thing first, very important thing i want to say (it's like, in general) - please don't idolize me and don't put on pedestal.

Don't treat me like biggest authority - but like a soldier next to you in battle. It needed, for if you for some reason will find me not pleasant as a person, my words which describes my, very not individual, believes, would not be sticked to me as individual in your mind. Believes (about we need to strive to world of care, comfort and kindness in all aspects of life) which i belong to is much more than me. And i am just a human. Who can do mistakes, who can have opinions which you like next to some you disagree. I am sorry for being too poetic (i just went off from writing poem session) but i love line from Aurora song "you can give up on me, [but] never give up on Love", yeah, this line describes that i am trying to say perfectly. I hope you got the idea.

To the point!

So, of course i want to say that, "logical" fat character is an outdated thing of mindset, of course i am all in and routing for you in this desire to draw and cosplay character you like as fat. I mean? For people passing by not knowing context - i am the guy who draws fat only characters for near a decade. In any scenario and plot, in my drawings they are all fat (well in 0.00000000001% character on my art is skinny. and it's usually someone near fat character). It's like i am a little reversed tv - any type of shows but all characters are fat. Why? - because in big tv (mass media) there is * no * fat characters. Ok, they are sometimes are but it's 0.00000000001% chance and you all know how creators treat them. And i choosed it as my art goal to shift the balance and bring people art where they recognize themselves, drawn in a gorgeous way, and feel happy.

But here is the thing: experience and surroundings of each is different. I can't just shout "yeah, go go show your pride don't be scared and shy!" to someone who surrounded by things which take this someone caged, and someone who still breaking cages in their mind. So it is a little complicated. I am all in, i think your drawings of this character is gorgeous and your cosplay is gorgeous and you are gorgeous (i didn't see you or your art, but i don't need it to say this). But i can't guarantee that others reaction will be positive-only (considering someone already being rude about cosplay) But i have thought on this too

If to look on my experience, as something that can be. Shared, I can share a bit of my "secrets" of being so free. at least by mind and art.

First - i have very specific mindset which i worked very hard very long time. I have my main values and everything in my life i judge by this. The core of this is thought, ( VERY simplified version. i am rotating this since my idk, 16, i am 27, it * is * more complicated than that) - "does it hurt anyone? no? good. other things are bad".

That guy wears dress. Anyone hurt? No. Good then

That guy is gay. Anyone would be hurt by their wedding? No. Good.

Painting of a flower which drawn """ugly""" or """ unskillfull""" by a person who hold pen first time? Give it to me it will be on my wall, it's cool drawing

millions money wasted on expedition to take away real iceberg getting it on town square only for it to melt to say "hey it was performance about climate change. did you know icebergs are melting?" - bad bad bad i would slap that dude in the face. i mean melting iceberg to say about problem of melting icebergs? could you just make an ice sculpture from dirty water in a shape of a globe or smth, pretentious fuсker-

So yes. I have strong moral core in mindset. I went through big journey of self body acception and now i am in full love of my body. I deep dived into disability side of insta blogers, and never honestly been on conservative beauty blogers side of internet. i see so much different people now, it completely vanished my if existed, fear, in terms of looks (i mean some experiences can be struggling and painfull which a bit of hard to deal with in my life context, but, we are about appearance here) - burns, amputations, whatever, all people beautifull for me no matter how they look. Including me.

Also i was very soon went into friendly (queer mostly) places, and my friends are kind people. I was growing in era of bodypositive getting popularity and people got on two sides - i went into bodypositive one and mostly i was around people who would never used "fat" as assoult.

But there was negative. Comments, someone even could write me in DM. Sometimes, at first i think i even cried, but then i remember some comments and one dm which i just laugh at. My friends were supporting me, and, the artist which was sort of first in my place in my location, who got even more hate, was on same side so i just. I don't know why i kept going. But i know why i still do - i wrote above

So it leads me to the point where i am: I am super confident in that i do. I know it is right thing - for me one smile, one "omg i never seen myself in art and this is literally me" is bigger than all hate i can get. I know that representative art do not harm but spread Love and comfort, and hateful comments hurt, so i know who is right here. I am confident about my body - i know that i can't cause harm by the way i look, rude comments - can, so i am again know exactly who is right. I don't pay attention for haters - people who lives driven by hate are so behind, that i just don't notice their echoes. Because i am too busy living in the world of Love, being with people who i like, complimenting each other and creating beautifull things of Care with people who do the same.

Also i have last secret: my skill. I don't believe in skill in art as quality concept, i love everything and honestly i love """ unskilled"""" art more with special warmth Love. But i am drawing my entire life and i have my techniques, which somehow lead me to that situation that my drawings could be seen in some concept art artbooks. But i refuse to give my power for industries and choose to give it to representative art and i Love it. But here comes the funny situation with this:

that awfull drama hater blogers, who takes """ unskillfull""" art of people without asking and laugh on it, who laughs on artist who make character headcanons like, disabled, or fat, or that respectfull redisign thing. That haters specifically take """"""""" bad""""""" art for their videos. Because in their values if art is skillfully drawn - it is cool art, and they judge only by that often. It is values which are in their core, conservative and not reflected, so with that it's also slapping with them not understanding importance of joy of experiment and being open to new in art. They don't see other parts of thing, they don't see context, they see only visuals and how good it at working with rules they were taught.

For these haters, a drawing of fat fav character made by man with affected motoric skills is a cause for big laughs. And a character number 1000076864578 made on base of one slim model with same female face, rendered in semi realism on promo of new (same and old) sucking money game is a masterpiece. For me it's totally opposite.

I even have a theory on why i am still not in one of these drama video. (well, part of) is that i have "pro" skill. What can they laugh on in my art? How they will say it? How they will laugh on art which is, by pro standard, better than theirs (i describing their believes, i don't judge art by visual, only by my moral system described above) "Their characters are fat!!!!" . So? "They change characters!!!" - and? I lied, i have another secret - characters for me are instrument. "I love to play with jpegs" - my common phrase.

I don't care about "lore reasons". "but this character did-", no he didn't do anything. he doesn't exist as being capable of thinking. all of his " did " are written actions by creators, and guess who i am (also creator) and guess that i can do (also write actions for jpegs). " but this character is slim-". yeah. in that image. i did another image and he is fat in it. Headcanons and au like playing dolls to me, it's super fun, and people who thinks that d***@#*""sney one model face designs are sacred, are, again, too far behind for hearing their echoes

So, that's my freedom in art and mind: i love my art, my body, i love that i opened in myself power to see beauty in every people appearance, my power to see beauty in others art and joy of playing with art. But it's me, with my context.

I have friendly surroundings, i have support, i have friends and audience, i am (kind of? in the niche, i guess) popular, i am confident in myself, i am confident in my art and my core values. I am near decade doing such art - it's contradicting mass media, but i found my support boubble, and this is my everyday life and norm to me now. And i am I totally understand that it can be scary to do something contradicting such thing as opinion on fat characters in mass media at first, then you don't have this long path behind shoulders or support, or rude people around. Negative comments can happen and it can be sad

But! I just want you to know that you have so much paths. If you feel shy and not confident - try to show this art with that fat character to friends who you are sure will support you. Or some friendly chat. Chats dedicated to fandoms who treat fat characters well are good choice. Surround yourself with support if you are not confident - someone need to be with you in case some rude people will be against. Cosplay, too - if you shy or not confident i would reccomend to try first with friends - making, photoes or going to convention. Then you feel comfortable in your confidence, you can post. Or you can not post. Or you can draw it in your sketchbook only. Or post in private little blog. Or, by the way - you can post and not tag him to main tittle tag. Even i did like this at first with my fat astarion. Before i understood people love my art of him. It's for your choice. And, it seems like now we have to post everything online on main, we actually don't have to. We can decide what to post or not, and what to keep to ourselves, and then we ready to post if we want. Open your own privacy room inside your chest. Don't feel pressured and post then you feel comfy.

Important thing to the end which i want to say is, that, this is why i make art in this way: for change, for showing that alternative on mass media image of this theme can be and exist. For people see themselves, for people thinking they are beautiful, realistic features are beautifull, to bring that beauty of people and world of Love into art.

For me some artists were first too, before me, in this. And sometimes even i afraid. I have opinions which i see people, who both on my side, are arguing on and i am afraid to bring my word. Because i don't see examples of that my takes in art. I am afraid to do something which will cause more drama than Love. I am too, sometimes afraid to be first or do something new.

So, i can't say to you what to do with your life and that decisions to make. But i can say your art and cosplay will be gorgeous and i don't need to see it to say it, and i will continue to fight my art fight for people like you to feel more comfortable about their bodies and art

❤

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - Ch. 7 (Part 2)

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: None Characters: Billy Bones, Hal Gates, James Flint, Jean DuBois, Mr. Logan, Mr. Muldoon, Dooley, Max, Idelle, Charlotte, protagonist OC, supporting OCs Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Max/OC (friends) Jean duBois/OC (bffs) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 7/13 Summary: Disease spreads around like wildfire among the camps and the Walrus crew doesn't escape. Constance soon finds out that in the tropics, even the sniffles can mean a lot of trouble.

Author's note: Who doesn't enjoy getting spoiled when they're sick, right? Also, a bit of background exposure for Constance. Enjoy!

Chapter vii. Part ii.

While I was in Nassau, I discovered that, for all its initial wonders... there wasn't much to entertain.

Most men and women who lived there occupied themselves with their trades and crafts, which ended up as a source of entertainment of its own. I permitted myself to observe, as I had never been allowed to stroll through the working class districts back in England, and soon, my own ignorance toward the making of things I took for granted - my clothes, my shoes, my jewelry and perfumes – became very apparent.

While I purchased a simple brown linen frock, I took the time to watch the tailor and his apprentices put together a dress they were working on. When I was getting my feet and legs sized up for boots, I paid attention to how the shoemaker tied the sole to the body. And when I went to the smitty to finally find myself a proper combat knife, I stretched my neck to see his colleagues hammer the scarlet hot steel of a cutlass before dipping the blade into a barrel of cold water.

All these processes were so much more complex than I had anticipated and a small part of me wanted to learn them all. If only I had ten more life times to dedicate to each craft... Alas, it was not meant to be. I had chosen my trade and I would stick to it.

Apart from that, there was the tavern, which occasionally hosted pantomimes or musicians and nothing more beyond that... There were parties on the beach almost ever night, with no real reason to celebrate beyond revelry for its own sake... And there was the brothel, though I hadn't set foot in it since that fateful day.

I had crossed paths with Max on the street occasionally, while we were going about our daily routines. We exchanged a chat once in a while: she asked me if I had "dealt with my problem" without further complications, to which I had said yes. I asked her how business was going, to which she replied "as sinful and filthy and profitable as ever." I honestly don't know what else I had expected from those interactions.

And then, several days after our arrival, someone in the crew got sick with a cold and since the men usually found themselves packed together in close quarters, it spread rather fast. Jean advised me to avoid whoever was ill as much as possible because those who were new in town tended to react poorly to disease.

"I rarely get sick," I had told him with a shrug. "And when I do, I'm fine after a couple of days. Don't worry about it."

He insisted that I take care and keep my distance from sick members. Back then, I had brushed him off as paranoid. Later, I wished I had listened to him, even if, in a way, it was unavoidable. One day, I would catch some illness the rest of the Nassau inhabitants were immune to and suffer for it. Still, I wished it hadn't been so soon, because when I got infected...

It started off as a sore throat and body aches. The first day, I felt the same way I had the day after we careened the Walrus for clean up: stiff, in pain, barely able to move. Still, I made an effort to get up and go on as if it were nothing. My voice was cracked and my head felt like it was full of water and seaweed, but I dressed, descended from my rented room for breakfast and met up with Jean and Thierry to go purchase wood and tools to replenish the ship's carpentry. When he saw my face, Jean winced.

"Mon Dieu, Constance... Ton visage."

"Quoi?" I coughed and switched to English, as my brain was too sluggish for French. "What's wrong with my face?"

"It's all pale and pasty," Thierry answered, concerned. "You look like you're about to topple. Are you sure you're feeling well enough to come out of bed?"

"Aye." I started to nod but immediately stopped when that made the headache worse. "It's just the cold doing the rounds. Once I get walking, I'll be fine."

They traded a look full of doubt but didn't insist, so we went on our way.

Turns out, the minute we started walking, things only got worse. The hour neared noon, which meant the sun was almost at its zenith and temperatures soared fast. Worse yet, it was very humid; my clothes clung to my skin while I sweated from the exercise and what was no doubt the start of a fever. Soon enough, my nose clogged up and began to run. This made breathing more difficult, which tired me out faster.

When we finally reached the wood seller, I had nearly finished all the water in my canteen and panted like a dog. Still, I toughed it out when my friends expressed concern over me and helped them load the supplies into a wagon we would borrow from the wood seller. I felt a little better when I got to sit on the back with Thierry; even so, the merciless sun beating down on us continued to worsen my condition. I was all out of water and used my new frock to protect my head, thinking maybe purchasing a hat would be a good idea.

I must have nodded off on the way to the jetty, because one minute we were on the road, the next we were at the beach. Thierry shook me awake to announce we had arrived.

"Jesus, just go back to the inn," he insisted when a cavernous cough took hold of me. "We can load these onto the ship without you. You need to rest."

"I'll go once the wagon is empty," I told him after the cough passed. "It's the dust from the wood, nothing more."

However, when I rose up and got off the wagon, my knees buckled and I dropped square on the sand.

Cries of alarm went off all around me. I was utterly confused. This had never happened before. I had been pretty sick a few times in the past, but never to the point I couldn't stand. I tried to push up on my elbows in order to get back on my feet, yet found it difficult just to hold my face off of the ground. I struggled to breathe and was racked by another bout of cough.

At my side, Jean knelt and placed a hand on my back.

"That's it," he said. "You're done. You're going back to bed and we're getting Dr. Howell to come and see you. Thierry, will you get him?"

"Aye, I'll come back with him after the first loading," the other nodded. "Can you carry her by yourself?"

"I'll manage." Jean hooked his hands under my shoulders, pulled me to my feet and wrapped one of my arms around his neck.

This time, I didn't resist nor argue. I no longer had the strength. I let my friend drag me to the inn, up the stairs and help me into bed. He pulled out my boots, covered me with the sheets, then brought me a glass of water, which I drank desperately.

"Look at you, you stubborn fool," he grumbled. "You're as dehydrated as herring drying in the sun."

Another cough before I practically fell on my pillows.

"I really thought it wasn't that bad," I croaked. My voice was barely audible, so feeble and raw it became. The sound of it frightened me a little. I couldn't even swallow my own saliva, my throat burned that intensely.

"I did warn you, didn't I?"

I shot him a glare. "Really? You're giving me the "I told you so" line?"

"If it helps you listen to me the next time, yes I am." Jean gave me some more water and sat by my side. His brow was tense with concern, mouth pressed into a harsh line, but... as annoyed as he seemed, I could see how helpless he felt, how he wished there was something he could do to make me feel better.

I laid a hand on his forearm.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," I whispered with sincerity. "I should have listened to you."

Jean sighed, took my hand in his and smoothed his thumb over my knuckles. "I just hope you get better fast."

He sat with me while we waited for Dr. Howell to arrive, an hour later. And he wasn't alone: Billy came into the room behind him. As soon as he laid his eyes on me, his expression darkened with frustration and concern, making me feel like a child who was about to get scolded. I sunk into my covers and focused on Howell instead.

"Not looking good, are we, Miss?" He jested while taking a seat next to me on the other side of the bed. He set his surgeon's case in front of him and opened it.

"We both know I've looked worse, Doctor," I played along, right before I coughed so violently into my fist that I half sat up before collapsing again.

The surgeon leaned in and laid the backs of his fingers on my forehead, then my cheek. "You're burning with a fever."

From the brown leather case, worn from the years, he produced a flat stick. "Open your mouth, please."

I obeyed like a good patient. He pressed down on my tongue to examine my throat, clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"All red and swollen." He removed the stick. "When did your symptoms start?"

I gave Jean a wary look, anticipating his reaction. "My throat began to feel sore last night," I confessed, voice rough as sandpaper.

Just as I had predicted, Jean scowled and narrowed his eyes at me, though he said nothing. I continued:

"This morning, it was worse. As soon as I got up, my whole body felt like it had been run over by a horse. I thought I could tough it out, but..."

I shrugged weakly, then dropped my gaze to my lap. Dr. Howell searched in his case and took out a glass vial with a clear liquid inside, which he stirred around before popping the cork and offering it to me.

"Drink this. It doesn't taste too bad."

"That's what all physicians say," I muttered. Still, I wanted to get well soon, so I took the medicine. I produced a surprised sound; it had a strong flavor, but it was sweet and not at all hard to swallow. "Actually, for once it's not that foul."

"I don't make it a habit to lie to my patients, Miss." Howell smiled with kindness and put away the empty vial. "This will help soothe your throat. If the body aches become too much, I can bring you some pipe grass."

"I still have some of it with me," Jean quipped. "I'm happy to share."

"Very well, then. In that case, all I can say is drink plenty of water and bed rest for a couple of days. Have you eaten, yet?"

"Not since breakfast." I sighed, despondent. Two days in bed? What a nightmare.

"Have some red meat and vegetables for lunch. Carrots, spinach and broccoli. I will return tonight to give you more medicine." He snapped the case closed and stood up. Before leaving, he looked down at me and his smile gave way to a frown.

"I must warn you, with you being new to town and having never been exposed to its illnesses... It's highly likely you will get worse before you get better. You will sleep a lot, get violent fevers, maybe delusions. If this treatment doesn't improve your condition, I might have to consider more drastic measures."

God in heaven, he almost made it sound like I was going to die. "What kind of measures...?"

Howell made a grimace. "Blood letting, for example."

My eyes bulged with sudden fear. I personally had never been subjected to the procedure, but I had seen one of my sisters go through it, when we were small. My hands tightened into fists on the sheets.

Jean touched my shoulder to give me courage. "Hopefully it won't come to that," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Dr. Howell bent down to pat my ankle.

"Drink water and rest. I will see you tonight. Billy--" He turned to our boatswain, who stood at the foot of the bed with crossed arms. "I recommend rounding up two or three volunteers to monitor her until she gets better. Just in case things take a turn for the worse."

Billy looked over to Jean. "I assume you want to volunteer?"

"I do," Jean nodded, which earned him a grateful smile from my part.

"Then I'll find a few more. Is that all, Howell?"

"That's all for now." The surgeon gave me one last glance. "I pray to God you won't get much worse than this."

"Thank you, Dr. Howell."

Billy turned to my friend. "Jean, would you give me a moment alone with her?" He requested, calm and collected, perfectly reasonable.

Uh oh, I thought. I'm in trouble.

Jean and I traded a knowing look, then he gave my arm a squeeze and hopped off the bed to leave with Dr. Howell. They closed the door and left me alone with Billy in a stifling silence.

Yet another cough shook me up and had to roll on my side to keep my body from convulsing on the mattress. It went on for a painfully long minute, until my lungs burned and my hands were covered in green muck. Gross.

I searched my pockets for my handkerchief and wiped them clean, glancing at Billy from the corner of my eye while at it. He was kind enough to fill me a glass of water and bring it over. I reached with a feeble hand to take it, but he brought it to my mouth and helped me drink, instead. Even though I knew he was about to pull my ear, his hands were as gentle and careful as ever. I took in the whole content without complaint.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"I wish you had said something sooner," he scolded. His tone wasn't harsh, quite the contrary, but just hearing the disappointment underlining his words was enough to make me feel terrible. "I would have told you to stay in and rest, you know this."

As boatswain, Billy was demanding, controlling, some times even disciplinarian. He had never used corporal punishment, not in my presence at least, but he didn't have to - because apart from all those things, he was also kind, helpful and caring, a fierce defender of our interests. We loved him and respected him, so whenever we did something to displease him, it corroded us from within. With me, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn't want him to be upset with me.

"I never got this sick before," I explained without looking him in the eye. "I thought if I pushed through it..."

Billy sighed as he crouched on the floor and rested his elbows on the bedding. "You don't need to push through anything just to show you're strong. I know you are. We all know. So if you're sick, or injured, or otherwise compromised, you're allowed to step aside to recover. It is your right, consummated by our Articles."

I thought back to my conversation with Jean weeks ago, after I got the shit beaten out of me by Cutthroat Fred. This time, it had nothing to do with posturing. I had truly believed I was fine. My body just didn't seem to be in agreement. Now I knew better.

"I won't do it again. I swear."

Billy nodded, then reached out to brush his fingers through my hair. The gesture made me silently gasp, but it was so soothing that I let my heavy eyelids close with a hum. "That feels good..."

"My Mother used to do this when I got sick," he told me in a soft tone that made my whole body relax. "You looked like you were needing it."

Admittedly, I was curious about his parents, his life before piracy and what kind of person he had been before the Walrus. But, weak as I was, and due to the personal nature of those kinds of questions, I decided not to ask. Another time, perhaps.

"Do you do this with everyone who gets sick in the crew?" I inquired instead with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. "Sure I do, with every single one of them. In fact, they come to me and beg for it whenever they so much as get a sniffle. What the fuck do you think?"

"Aww, I feel so special." I shuffled until I was lying fully flat and cracked my eyelids just enough to see him. "Careful, Mr. Bosun. Favoritism is a dangerous thing."

He half-smiled and continued to slowly drag his fingers through my hair, from the roots to the bottom of my skull. "I won't tell if you won't."

I chuckled. "It will be our little secret."

I took in a lungful of air and let it out in a slow breath, relieved as the aches all over me faded away and sleep began to take hold. Then, too soon, he pulled away his hand and stood.

"I should get going. See if I can find someone else to relieve Jean tonight and go back to work."

I couldn't help to pout. Wouldn't have minded if he stayed to take care of me, though I understood. He had far more pressing responsibilities to occupy his mind than any one of us, apart from Gates and Flint, of course.

He snorted at my face. "I can come by later to visit, if it makes you feel better."

I should have said something like "no, of course not, you're a busy man, you don't need to concern yourself over me." Yet, I found I couldn't bring myself to do it. Likewise, I didn't have the guts to say I would love it if he could spare a minute to at least check on me, so all I did was bite the inside of my cheek, held back a smile and nodded.

Billy shook his head and turned to leave. "I'll see you later, then."

He opened the door but stepped aside to let Jean come in, who brought a steaming plate with lunch and a glass of orange juice on a wooden tray. It smelled divine and gave me the strength I needed to sit up and lean back on the bed frame.

Billy traded one last smile with me, then shut the door after himself.

"I already cut it all to pieces for you," Jean said while setting the tray on my lap. "Think you can eat by yourself or will I have to feed you--?"

"Psh, I'm not that sick, yet." I took the fork, stabbed a piece of beef and brought it to my mouth. The meat was tender, perfectly seasoned and it melted in my tongue. Only then did I realize how famished I was. I cleared out the whole plate in minutes, even with my scratchy throat.

"At least your appetite didn't suffer," he chuckled. "Don't forget to drink."

Half the juice was gone in one go. I paused only to breathe before taking the rest. An entire canteen, at least three glasses of water and one of orange juice. And still, I was parched. I was overtaken by another coughing fit, then lied down once more. Fucking hell, I felt terrible.

Jean went to find a hand towel, dipped it in cool water and brought it over to set it on my forehead. It wasn't as soothing as Billy's fingers, but it was a relief all the same.

"Is there anything else I can bring you?" Jean asked gently. "Do you want some weed for the pain?"

I shook my head very slightly. "Not yet... This is good for now. I think I will just lie here for a bit..."

"Alright," he conceded as he dabbed my temple, cheek an forehead. I was too exhausted to make conversation; then, to my shame, something occurred to me.

"Jean...? How did you join the Walrus?"

He smiled and flipped the towel around to lay the cool side on my skin. "You mean I never told you?"

"No... I never thought to ask, either. My apologies. I would like to hear about it."

He shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. I was a poor orphan boy in Toulose who was kicked out of the orphanage at 15 years to make way for more orphan boys..."

He continued the story and told me he had done various kinds of work while moving around, never staying in one place for long. He had no home nor a family, so he belonged nowhere, yet everywhere, at the same time. When he reached Nantes, he found a job aboard a merchant ship and decided to leave France behind in search of fortune, unsure whether he would return or settle in the French West Indies.

One day, his ship was attacked somewhere off the coast of New Orleans and rather than risk his life defending someone else's property, he decided to join the pirates, under the banner of captain Flint. One year later, here he was.

I was almost asleep by the time he finished his story but found enough energy to ask: "And you never felt the urge to leave...? After all this time?"

Jean took a deep breath and stared at the wall for a moment in thought. He had taken his shoes off and sat cross legged on the bed by my feet. His hands played around with one of his many rings. At last, with a soft, mysterious smile, he said:

"Why would I want to leave? I have a roof over my head whenever I need it, money to spare, food at my disposal, companions and friends I can rely on to look out for me... This is the closest thing to a home and a family I ever had. It's everything I have ever wished for before I even knew I wanted it. What more could I ask for?"

Another cough, then I croaked: "Can you... can you imagine yourself doing this all your life? Wouldn't you one day wish to have a house or a family of your own?"

"There was a time I thought I did. Now? Now... I'm not so sure. I don't want to be sixty and still plundering ships at high sea, that much is true, but I haven't yet figured out where to go from here." He grinned at me. "So, I guess I'll let you know when I do. And you? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?"

I changed positions so I was curled up on my side with an arm under my pillow and hummed.

"I had a house and a family for most of it and... It's not everything it's cut out to be. My parents were distant, my sisters cared little about adventure or traveling. I love them, don't get me wrong. We used to play together all the time as children, but I was definitely the black sheep of the family. We don't have much in common. I suppose, then, that I will indeed be doing this until my body gives out. It's not such a bad perspective, from my point of view. But I might buy myself a small house with a garden in Nassau one day, for when I retire."

Jean chuckled. "Maybe I will find one for me, too, in that case. We can be neighbors and bother everyone else's children with stories about the good old days."

I started to laugh, before it triggered yet another cough. After it passed, I had to take a minute to recover my breath. I hated how worried Jean looked and reached out a hand to tap his knee. "I think I would like that..."

"And I think you should get some sleep," he told me while tucking the covers around me, like a brother would do with his baby sister. He reminded me so much of my cousin Bernie, my favorite playmate and partner in crime, as children. "Sleep, recover and dream about that house inland."

"No..." I closed my eyes and got comfortable. "Not inland. I have to stay by the sea. So I can come outside, hear the waves, smell the brine... and remember I'm still free. I never want to part from her again."

"Very well, then." Jean removed the wet towel from my forehead and stood up to close the blind on the window, merging the room into darkness. Then, he took back his spot on the bed to watch over me. "A house by the sea it shall be."

Despite how much I ached, how difficult it was to breathe and how clammy I felt, I fell into a deep sleep with a smile on my lips.

When I awoke, late into the night, someone was shaking my shoulder. With dread, I verified my state had gotten much worse: my throat was on fire, my nose so clogged even my eyes felt swollen and runny. I was sweating like a sinner in church, yet at the same time felt chills all over me. I could barely move. Candles had been lit by the bedside, so I could see Dr. Howell's electric blue eyes peering at me in the dark.

"Sorry to wake you, but it's time to take your medicine again, Miss."

He brought the vial to my mouth and held up my head with one hand. This time, it didn't go down as smoothly. My throat had gone dry in my sleep, so when I tried to drink the medicine, I ended up choking, which led to more coughing, which made my body convulse with shivers and scream in agony.

"Someone bring me a glass of water," Howell urged to whoever was behind him. "Jean, go down to the kitchen and ask them if they have honey. Bring it up if they do."

I heard the door open and close as I fell back on my pillow with a complaining moan. When I opened my eyes, crusty and humid, the room was swimming about in nauseating turns. I shut them tight again and sucked in one breath after the other. I didn't like the whistling sound my lungs were making.

Something cold and wet was pressed to my lips - water. Precious water. I took in as much as I could without coughing, and even that made my throat flare up, like I was swallowing shards of glass.

"There we go," Howell crooned. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

Once more, he brought the vial to my mouth and I tried to be as careful as possible taking the sweet tasting medicine. As soon as I had finished it, I hacked violently, even had to lean over the edge of the mattress because all of a sudden, my stomach heaved dangerously. For a horrifying second, I thought I was going to hurl. Fortunately, after the coughing gave truce, my gut also calmed down, allowing me to lie back in bed.

"I have the honey you requested, Doctor," said Jean.

"Ah, excellent." A moment of silence. "Constance? Open your mouth, dear. I'm going to give you a spoonful of honey to smooth down your throat."

Completely drained of my strength, I obeyed and gladly sucked the warm honey from a spoon. The feeling of it going down was like silk, relieving the burning, swollen sensation in seconds.

I tried to rasp: "More." And couldn't hear myself speaking. I made a new attempt, louder this time, but no sound came out.

My voice had gone. Great.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Billy ask with urgency. "Why can't she speak?"

"It can happen when the cold becomes severe," Howell explained. "When it passes, she'll have her voice back. Here." He gave me one more spoon of honey. "Better?"

I nodded once or twice and tried to look around me. My eyes could distinguish Howell from Billy and Jean, but there were a few others in there I couldn't recognize, not with my swimming, blurry vision. I just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up when I was better, not a moment sooner.

"Let's see how she is in the morning," the surgeon suggested while getting off the mattress. "If she wakes, we give her food and more medicine, and hope for the best. If not..."

There was a heavy, ominous pause. Jean spoke up, his tone audibly frail with fright: "Dr. Howell...? Do you think there's a chance that... I mean..."

"Let's not assume the worst yet." A voice I recognized as Mr. Gates' said. "She's a strong and healthy lass. She has a good chance of pulling through. Right, Howell?"

"I've seen men in these types of conditions survive and thrive afterwards, yes." Another pause. "Like I said, let's wait until morning. For now, let her sleep. Who will stay with her for the night?"

"I will," Billy announced.

"I can stay with her, I don't mind," Jean tried to argue.

"Jean, you won't do her any good if you yourself are too worn out to take care of her," Howell pointed out. "You need to eat and sleep as well. Billy will look after her fine."

"You have my word." I saw Billy lay a solemn hand on Jean's shoulder. "If her condition worsens, I'll send for Howell and then you will be the first person I fetch right afterwards. Go rest."

It was at this point that I closed my eyes and turned my face to the side, already feeling sleep creeping up on me.

"Everybody out," Mr. Gates commanded. "You heard Howell, let Constance sleep. You can come back to visit her tomorrow. Git."

I heard many feet shuffle out the door before it was closed. Then, all I remember is the feeling of the mattress sinking beside me and fingers on my hair. I pried my eyes open one last time to see Billy lying on his side, front to me, with one hand hovering over my temple.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

A long sigh escaped my lips. I wanted to express how much I appreciated that he had come like he had promised, how kind he was to stay with me, how glad his presence made me feel. But even if I had my voice, I was too weak to talk. So, I drifted back to sleep and prayed I was better by morning.

***

I wasn't. I woke up sporadically to take my medicine, relieve myself (Jean had to help me and couldn't even offer me privacy by turning his back on me, since I needed support even to stay sitting upright. We silently swore never to speak of it again) and to nibble on some food. The rest of the day, I slept. At night, Billy would surrender Jean, sit by my side and brush my hair, or rub my back in circles in between patting my face with a towel drenched in cold water.

The day after that was the same. I remembered coming awake a few times, but I couldn't make sense of anything that was going on around me. I had no clue if it was day or night, nor who was with me.

I remember I dreamed a lot. Had nightmares about sea monsters coming to swallow the Walrus whole, with all of us on her. Other times I dreamed Nassau was on fire and when I ran into the tavern to search for my friends, to save them, I would burst through the door to find it empty except for a tall throne made of rotten animal and human limbs that crawled with maggots. Sitting upon it was the Devil himself, seven horns growing out of his head like a crown and a pitchfork making as a scepter in his fist. Impaled on it was a head.

My head.

I would wake up screaming, then collapse right back into sleep. My entire body was a cage of suffering, as if it was burning from the inside out. My skin crawled like insects were burrowing under it. And still, I dreamed. I saw my home, in England, my family's manor. At the door, my five sisters were waiting, but there were no smiles on their faces, no happiness to see me. I could feel their anger, their hurt, for leaving them behind. My two youngest sisters wept endlessly.

"Why did you abandon us?" They would sob. "Come home, Constance! We miss you!" "I'm sorry," I would choke as a reply. Would that I could explain I had no choice, but that wasn't entirely true, was it? I was a free woman, now. I could go back, just to see them, just so they would know I was alright and I missed them, too. But I didn't.

"But you didn't." My eldest sister, Marianne, pointed an accusing finger at me. "You decided to stay where you are instead of returning. You don't care a thing about us, just as Mother and Father don't care." "That's not true!" I yelled back. If I returned to England, our parents would have the legal right to take me back and force me once more into the stifling role of dutiful wife, ship me off to marry. As much as it hurt, I couldn't go back, not even for my sisters. It would be my end. "I'm sorry..." I cried with a shattered heart. "I'm so sorry for leaving, please forgive me..." My youngest sisters, Liliana and Maggie, ran to me. I crouched, arms wide open to receive them. I missed them so much - my two little squirrels, always chasing after me, begging for one more piggyback ride, one more story, one more song.

But just as they were about to reach my grasp, the dream would turn into another nightmare.

Some times, I would dream of my military cousin, Bernie. He too would beg me to come home, tell me how much I had worried him, that he had been looking everywhere for me. I would apologize endlessly to him as well.

Other times, I would dream I was a child again, sitting by the fireplace with my Grandfather and Grandmother. She would be knitting and he would be telling me a story about the Pirate Queen Grace O'Malley, and how fiercely he had fought against her when he was in the navy. Never mind that this had happened in the 1570's, more than a century before he was born.

"A fearsome woman, she was," he would say. "A true devil of the seas. Who knows, maybe one day... So will you, my pearl."

And he would wink at me while my Grandmother chided him for putting absurd fantasies in my head, but I could see her smiling secretly.

"Life will always seek to throw you down, child." She would tell me. "Never let it. And if they succeed in doing so, always stand back up, smooth down your skirts, look them in the eye and ask: is that all you've got?" I dreamed I was fighting Cutthroat Fred again, only this time we were in that deserted island where we had left him to die. He was as ruthless as I remembered. Time and time again, he would punch and kick me to the sand, bleeding. And every time, I would rise up, spit my blood on the beach and ask: "Is that all you got?"

I dreamed I was fighting Cutthroat Fred again, only this time we were in that deserted island where we had left him to die. He was as ruthless as I remembered. Time and time again, he would punch and kick me to the sand, bleeding. And every time, I would rise up, spit my blood on the beach and ask: "Is that all you got?" And then, at long last, things calmed down. I still felt too hot in my own skin, though slightly better. My head ached and weighted a ton, so I didn't try to move it. I could see light through my closed eyelids. I pried them open.

I was still in my room. The window was open, letting in a soft, fresh breeze. It was early morning or late in the evening, I couldn't say. Either way, the sun was low on the horizon, so the light in the room was tenuous. I felt really stiff, so I tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position and groaned when all my joints popped and flared with pain. "Constance?" Billy's concerned face appeared in my vision field. From the way the mattress moved under his weight, I would guess he had been laying at my side on it.

"Can you hear me? Can you recognize me?"

Of course I could recognize him, why wouldn't I? With a choked hum, I squeezed my eyes shut and blinked them open again. "Billy..." A smile of relief replaced his heavily knit brow. "There she is. Looks like the worst is over. Do you want some water?"

"Please," I mumbled. My voice was still scratchy, but at least it had returned. That was something. My throat and mouth were dry as parchment, like I hadn't drank anything in a while. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth; it tasted foul in there. Billy moved away momentarily and returned with a tall glass of clear water. With one hand, he held up my head, with the other, he touched the glass to my lips. As soon as the water touched my tongue, it was like I suddenly jolted back to life. I moaned with satisfaction as my mouth awakened and took everything in. I was so thirsty that the water tasted sweet.

After I finished, Billy didn't bother to ask if I wanted a refill, he just poured and gave it to me again. I downed the second glass equally as desperately.

"Jesus," I huffed while he laid me down on the pillows and adjusted them. "How long have I been out? It feels like forever." "Close," he chuckled. "Two days." "Two days??" I stared at him, wide eyed and jaw hanging. How the hell was I still alive, if I had spent two days as a vegetable?

"Yeah, you would wake up every once in a while and we would use those short seconds to give you water and medicine, but for the most part, you were unconscious. Well... mostly." I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean, mostly...?" Billy scrunched his nose. "When you were awake, you weren't exactly lucid."

I recalled Dr. Howell's warning that I might suffer from hallucinations and winced. "Oh, God... What did I say?" "In between nightmares, you called to a few people, above all. Marianne, Liliana, Celeste... uh, Judith and Maggie." I let my eyes close with a sigh. "My sisters. I have five of them, if you recall." "I do. You apologized to them a lot." He dropped his gaze to his lap and played around with his bracelets. "Especially to Liliana and Maggie, for leaving them behind."

"They're the youngest. The others knew where I was going and why, when I left England. Those two... it was harder for them. They didn't understand why I was leaving, only that I left. They were very cross with me..."

My heart twisted painfully in my chest from the memory of their angry pouts, how they refused to hug me and kiss me goodbye before I boarded my the Delilah. “We're in July, right...? Maggie's birthday was on the first. She's never going to forgive me for missing it..." "Sure she will." Billy half shrugged. "Once she sees you again, she will have missed you so much she'll forget all about it." I snorted. "Doubtful. She's a spoiled brat, that one." I bit my lip and took a deep breath. "What else...?" "You also called for a man named Bernie. Your brother?" The way he sounded so... hopeful struck me as odd. Even so, I was too tired to read into it. "My cousin. Though he was practically my brother."

"You apologized to him, too. It's funny... You only mentioned him whenever Jean talked to you. Your sisters, you called them when Max, Idelle and Charlotte were here." He shrugged when I shot him a look of surprise, knowing those three had come to see me. "We hired them to come wash you and change your clothes, yesterday." "Oh." It hadn't made much of a difference, as I still felt filthy and sweaty, but I wasn't going to tell him that. Still, it was nice of them to care enough to spend their money to make me a bit more comfortable.

There was a pause when neither of us said anything. I was trying to save what little strength I had recovered, but I could tell he was preparing another question. And from the way he hesitated and looked to the side instead of at me, it was something serious. "You miss them a lot, don't you?" He finally said, turning to focus on me once more. I weighted my words with care and stared at the ceiling, since tilting my chin down was making my neck go stiff. "There were things in my old life I regret leaving behind. People I love. Even so... Had I the chance to go back in time and choose differently, I would still have fled from that ship to become a pirate. There was no life for me in America."

"Is that where you were headed when we attacked you?" Billy inquired.

I hummed as a reply. "On my way to the colonies to marry some rich bastard's son, whom I had never met in my life. It wasn't what I wanted for myself. I wanted the power to decide how my life would turn out and do whatever my heart wished to do. I wasn't going to get that, where I was going. There, I would have comfort, but I would be a prisoner for the rest of my days. Here, at least I got my wish. I regret nothing.” Then I went quiet and let out a weak huff.

"Still... it's hard not to look back and think of everything I had to leave behind. My only consolation is to know I was forced to leave, whether I liked it or not..."

My face twisted into a frown and I fell silent, unable to go on. It was too painful. This was why I rarely thought about my sisters and cousin. Desperate to change the subject, I whispered: "Anything else?"

"Well..." Perhaps sensing how upset I was getting, Billy sat up straight and fought back a grin. "There was a funny little detail concerning Gates. Whenever he was here and he tried to talk to you..."

He stifled a laugh, shoulders trembling. "When he talked to you, you would look at him with a smile on your face and say “Grandpapa, tell me a story.”” "No." I brought a hand to my mouth in horror, though also a little amused. Oh, poor Mr. Gates. "Aye!" Billy chortled and smacked a hand on his knee. "He looked so offended, he thought you were calling him old!"

"Oh, my God..." I hid my face behind both hands and laughed too, despite the embarrassment. "I need to apologize." "Oh, c'mon, it was hardly your fault. You were hallucinating. Besides, he wasn't actually offended. He just made a show of looking like it because he's dramatic." "Even so." I dropped my hands at my sides. "Well, I mean... My Grandfather, and by extension my Grandmother, were more like parents to me than my own parents. I have very fond memories of them. So if anything, he should feel flattered that I thought he was was my Grandpapa. It means I think fondly of him, too."

"I'll be sure to tell him that." Billy shook his head, then observed me with a smile I couldn't interpret. "Anyway, you should probably get something to eat. In fact, I have a surprise for you, courtesy of our rigger, Sayeed." He got off the bed and moved away to the dresser, at the far end of the room.

"Ah, it's still warm." A strong, familiar smell of spices and coconut filled the room, making my nostrils flare up in disbelief. Could it really be...?

"Howell guessed if you were going to live through this sickness you might wake up today. So, he prepared a bowl for you."

He brought over a tray with a white porcelain bowl and a spoon sticking out of it. Before he reached the bed, I was already pushing past all my aches to sit up in bed, ignoring how heavy my head felt. "Is that... curry?" I said in an excited, high pitched tone. Billy's smile faltered. "You've tried it before?" "On rare occasions, when we could find someone who knew how to make it." Praise God, curry in Nassau! Oh, how I loved this town. "Of course a rich girl like you has had curry before," he grumbled while setting the tray on my lap.

“Hey!” I protested. "I'll have you know I take great insult in that, but I will forgive you because you've brought me a gift from the gods. I never thought I would be eating curry in Nassau."

I picked a spoonful of the rice, generously doused in the sauce, and brought it to my mouth. I moaned, scrunched my face and shook my fists, so happy I could burst. It was very spicy, almost to the point of making me tear up, but also so tasty, so robust and absolutely delicious, I immediately plunged the spoon into the bowl for another bite. "Is it good, then?" Billy grinned.

"It's more than good." I huffed from the way my sore throat went numb and my tongue burned, yet always smiling and hardly taking a moment to breathe as I ate. "Sayeed said there's nothing like a strong curry to fight off a fever." Billy fetched me more water, which I poured into my mouth like my stomach had caught fire, then scraped the bowl clean for every single grain of rice and drop of curry I could get. "He made it especially for you."

"Remind me to thank him then. Fuck, I could kiss him and I don't even know the man." I sat back against the bed frame, feeling better than I had in days. The hot spices were making me break in a sweat again, but this time for good reasons. I felt almost cleansed, like the illness that had hooked itself to me so ruthlessly was dying out, abandoning my body.

"Why can't Sayeed be our cook?” I inquired. “He's much better than Randall, not offense to him." "Because this is basically all he can make," Billy said. "And I, for one, don't think I can stomach eating nothing but curry for the rest of my life."

Scrunching my nose, I muttered: "Well, I could." "Then you would turn yellow," he pointed out with a smirk. "You would look like a pumpkin." "At least I would be a fearsome pumpkin." "Oh yeah, I'm shaking with fear just thinking about it." "Fuck you!"

"No, seriously, look!" He showed me his hands, which he was quivering exaggeratedly on purpose. "Look at this! I might faint, such a frightening thought that is."

I swatted his hands down and crossed my arms with an eye roll, to which he chuckled before raising the tray from my lap to put it back on the dresser.

Without my noticing, the room had gotten a lot brighter as the sun rose. So it was morning, then. How much longer until I could get out of bed and rejoin the real world, I wondered. At least I wasn't alone. Which reminded me... "How is Jean?" "Hardly left your side." Billy stretched out his arms and twisted his torso one way, then the other. I could hear his bones clacking from the bed. "I almost had to kick him out a few times to make him go eat and sleep. He is really worried."

I smiled to myself. "He's a good friend. A little over protective, but still good." Billy paused and leaned on the bed post, no longer smiling. Though he tried to sound casual, I noted a hint of something different in his voice, but I couldn't put a pin on what it was. "The crew is starting to wonder if there might be something... beyond friendship between you two. Given that you are practically inseparable and how you talk to each other in French all the time..." I frowned at him. "What? Jean and I? No. Holy shit, no."

He arched his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "No? You sure about that? Because with the way he has been these past days..." "That would be like courting my brother. Jesus Christ." It wasn't like Jean wasn't handsome, he was, if a bit effeminate. He simply wasn't my type. I took in Billy's tall, broad silhouette, with his tan skin, his dust blonde hair, the necklaces adorning his neck and his big arms. Not to mention his eyes - serious, yet gentle, and so blue.

My cheeks, already warm from the fever, burned even more intensely. Now he was much closer to my type of man.

A surreptitious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "They're going to be so disappointed, hearing that." "Then tell them to invent some other fantasy to gossip about." I lied down and pulled up the sheets. "I'm going back to sleep. Hopefully when I wake up again, I can leave this fucking room."

"I wouldn't count on it." He pulled out the chair from the desk by the window and sat near me. "Even if he deems you better, Howell will probably want you in bed for at least one more day."

I groaned with closed eyes. "Time to start planning my escape, then. God knows I'm good at those."

"Indeed." He leaned back and crossed his arms while letting out a loud yawn. I peeked from behind my eyelashes to really take him in, and that was when I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the way his lids hung heavy, how his body sagged from exhaustion.

Three days I had been sick. Had he and Jean been up all that time? I knew Jean was being forced to rest, but what about Billy? As boatswain, he had loads of work to keep him occupied and responsibilities to see to. If he was out during the day, then spent all night with me, when did he get to sleep? Why hadn't he found someone else to take care of me, like Thierry or Logan?

"When was the last time you slept?" I asked.

"I've been sleeping," he replied as he rubbed his eyes. "An hour here and there, whenever I can. Don't worry about me."

"If I remember right, the Articles also state that you're entitled to your rest and leisure hours unless we find ourselves in dire straits," I reminded him, which earned me a bit of a scowl that screamed "don't you use my own tricks against me."

I continued: "You're not my night nurse, Billy. I can see how tired you are. I'm fine now, so why don't you get some rest until Jean relieves you from duty?"

"Gates would have my head if he found me sleeping when I'm supposed to be watching your condition."

"Am I to believe he hasn't scolded you for sacrificing yourself for my well-being?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought. Which begs the question: why didn't you find someone else to stay with me? It's silly that you're pushing yourself so hard, unnecessarily so."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and refused to look at me. For a moment, I feared he had taken offense by my question. Did he think I wasn't grateful? Or that perhaps I didn't want him around? Because that sure as hell wasn't true.

Then his expression grew very glum with a tense brow that cast a dark shadow over his eyes. Suddenly, he looked much older. Shit... he really was offended.

"Maybe I just wanted to be sure you would be all right,” he murmured. “Maybe I didn't trust anyone else to put your needs above their own. But if you would rather have someone else to look after you, that can be arranged."

I put as much certainty and assertiveness into my tone as my condition allowed. "That's neither what I said, nor what I meant. I may only have known you for about a month, but I know enough that you're a dutiful, selfless man who will often put himself in danger for the sake of others. And who takes care of you, in return? Who makes sure you are all right? If not for Mr. Gates or I, you would run yourself aground and let everyone else use your corpse as a buoy. I won't be one of those people."

"If I tell you I don't mind--"

"I mind!" I cut. "Because I care about you, you dense twat."

A heartbeat too late, I realized exactly what had come out of my mouth and it left the both of us mute and wide eyed.

Well, it was true, it's just that... I wasn't ready to actually say it nor for his reaction. I bit my lip and adjusted my pillow, bringing my knees up to my chest to make myself as small as possible. If only I had a hole to crawl into...

The chair creaked as he got up and moved around the bed. Then, the mattress sunk beneath his weight and I heard him let out a relaxed sigh.

I turned to look over my shoulder. Billy was lying on his side, facing me, arms wrapped around his torso and eyes closed. I could see just a hint of a smile tug at his lips, like he could sense my gaze on him.

"I care about you, too." He slurred as sleep quickly caught up to him.

I smiled too and turned back around. "You scaled up a careened ship to save me. You think I don't know that, already?"

"Hush, I'm trying to sleep."

A snort. "Ass."

But he had already gone unconscious. I could hear it in his deep breath. I shut my eyes once more, focusing on that sound and how his presence made me feel so comforted, and drifted back to sleep.