#life aboard ship

[ltwilliammowett]

Daily routine aboard an American warship

Here is a wonderful overview of everyday life on an American warship- written by the USS Constitution Museum

[lethesbeastie]

is wraith freshwater or saltwater? would it be bad if wraith was stranded out of water?

Wraith was born in a saltwater environment, so that's definitely the kind they prefer. Their own natural adaptability would let them survive in freshwater I think, but it wouldn't be the best for their longterm health. As for getting stranded away from water, I think it certainly wouldn't be pleasant for them to get dropped in like, the desert, but if they're in an overall temperate or tropical environment they'd be fine for a decent chunk of time.

Luckily(?) for Wraith, the ocean is very fond* of them, so they probably won't end up anywhere too far from it anytime soon akfhskfh

*Umberlee, the goddess of the sea, has some sorta nebulous claim/feelings of entitlement towards their entire existence for reasons they've yet to learn, and they recently gained the title of her champion because she's forced them to

[insteading]

Inspired by blakbonnet gifset from s2e2.

I've been thinking about how the showrunners decided Breakdown-Era Ed would be so hot. OFMD has things it is Looney Tunes about-- physics, abdominal anatomy, the historical record, the value of gaydar as a navigational device across large spans of ocean. But as many people have pointed out, it's pretty emotionally realistic, to the point where the fights Ed and Stede have are recognizable to many of us.

I don't know about you, but I find that crying all night on the floor results in blotchy skin, red eyes, a generally puffy face, a wicked dehydration headache, and a hoarse and adenoidal voice. The magic of fiction rescues Ed from some of that. But also: "I want my corpse to look fantastic" is absolutely a thought Ed would have at this point in his trajectory (and I think is one signal of how ambivalent he feels about dying). His depression hasn't blunted his emotions and convinced him that nothing matters: feeling abandoned still matters a great deal, even as he's starting to abandon the hope that he'll feel better some day. And he still cares about how other people perceive him-- which is frankly essential if he's going to goad crewmates into mutiny against him.

I've seen some great metas about how Ed wants someone to care enough about him to kill him-- or how he really wants to be talked out of wanting to die. Both those takes are even more plausible to me having watched season 2 in its entirety! In s2e6 Ed tells Ned Lowe "I don't respect you enough to kill you: you're not worth the poison." Ed thinks of killing as something that inextricably and intimately links two people. And at the beginning of s2e7 Ed credits the vision of mer!Stede with saving his life-- though I fully endorse the idea that Ed conjured mer!Stede up because of the persistent hope Ed so admires in Stede. Just as Ed's internal Hornigold pushes him off a cliff, Ed's internal Stede reminds him that he is capable of feeling something other than pain, and that there is reason to hope his life will not always look as bleak as it has been recently.

In this moment, though, before Ed comes up for air and life begins again, Ed goes to Izzy with a loaded gun. Why Izzy and not Fang or Archie? I think Ed sees Izzy as the QAR crew member with both the most reason to kill him and the most reason to talk him out of wanting to die, due to a combination of toxic masculinity and what I see as frustrated romantic obsession. In the "Izzy probably cares enough to kill me" column:

s1e10: Izzy threatens mutiny: "I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward had better watch his fucking step."

s2e1: Izzy blames the "fucked" atmosphere aboard the QAR on Ed's "feelings for Stede Bonnet." Ed hasn't talked about those feelings because that's not the relationship he has with this crew. From Ed's perspective, Izzy is publicly calling him out for not having rid himself of those feelings. Which means somehow Ed hasn't watched his fucking step enough, despite throwing himself into raiding. Izzy's threat from the end of s1 still echoes.

s2e2: Izzy's gunshot wound has gone septic. Even if he survives having had his leg removed? Izzy lashed out at Ed at the end of s1 for being soft. He's got a very calvinist understanding of where human worth comes from, not just incompatible with a disability rights framework but also incompatible with accommodation and support from the crew. All Izzy's emotions convert to anger.

In the "Izzy might try to convince me not to die" column:

s1e10: The torture scene in s2e6 established in canon something that many viewers intuited at the end of season 1, when Ed lashed out and choked Izzy, and then again when he fed Izzy a toe: Izzy finds pain arousing. Izzy manifestly gets some satisfaction out of Blackbeard's attention even-- and maybe especially-- when the terms of that attention are painful for him. (It doesn't seem to matter to Izzy whether Ed enjoys causing him pain or whether the dynamic between them compounds Ed's suffering.)

s2e1: Izzy told Ed-- in a voice that made it absolutely clear how much he resented saying it-- "I have had ... love for you."

I think Ed's presentation in most of s2e2 sets up the scene where Ed hands Izzy the gun and plays on both his anger and his love. The Ed of "Red Flags" is simultaneously Peak Outrageous and Peak Hot, and that's why many of us reacted to the stills the studio released from this episode with variations on "s/he's so gender," long before we knew the context in which those stills would appear. Ed's wearing the leather that's his longtime crew's shared signature, calling to mind the history he shares with Izzy. But he's also wearing the pearls and the dangly sword earring, and he's got soft strands of hair framing his face that an early 2000s sorority girl would envy. And, well, we know that a silk gown to Izzy is like a Red Flag to a bull: he seems to find femme touches in menswear infuriating.

Seriously bbg, wild to say to someone who's romantically obsessed with you that *anything* they did in your dream last night was good for you, even if it was murder.

Ultimately, Izzy refuses both to kill Ed and to talk him out of dying. He acts neither on his femmephobia nor on his need for Blackbeard to stay around and satisfy some fraction of his obsession. "Clean up your own mess," from the person on the QAR who both loves and hates Ed the most, must sound to him like "You're not worth the poison." And coming from someone whose tolerance for poison is astonishingly high? Ouch.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

So... uh...yeah...

I made a Stiles sandwich with Derek last night in Slumberland 😏

How did everyone else sleep?

[braisedhoney]

CAPTAIN!! THERE'S A HUGE WORM THING OVER IN STORAGE PLEASE HELP

~#225

OKAY UH there's a fifty-fifty shot on that thing either being something that breached containment or the good doctor pulling a stupid prank again. if it's goopy and looks vaguely like sentient spilled oil it's probably the doctor, but either way try not to engage with it until that's less of a random guess. i'll lock down the doors and have the area scanned. hopefully whatever it is it doesn't damage the cargo in the meantime, bc dammit we just GOT those shipments!

[maxkirin]

remember how i said i had 9 days left to finish this roleplaying game? well my dumbass decided to do nanowrimo this year so i now have even LESS time

whoa am i being promoted to captain of the S.S. Crunchtime? such an honor ✨⚓✨

[paeinovis]

IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL COX INTERNET

[captainseamech]

@biggest-ultra-mags​​ || cont. from x

Ultra Magnus didn’t change much from what the sea fairing mech could remember, but a noticeable difference in his overall actions. What could’ve led him to do such? This wasn’t something for High Tide to worry right now, as he shoved said thought at the back of his mind to shake the other’s servo in a firm grip! Whoops... At least he was quick enough to notice and quite quickly released it! Hopefully Ultra Magnus didn’t notice or felt pain though...

“Hah! Ain’t no ‘Cons gettin’ close to Griffin Rock on my watch, Mag! I mean, Ultra Magnus.” He had to control his accidental nicknaming out of time too. “It has been fairly quiet recently, so we’re all okay aside from the normal island madness of course. But that’s a normal daily shenanigans I might say.”

When the enforcer mentioned staying over shortly made the sea mech a bit more content! He also never expected one to be interested in his stories, so of course he’d lightly fold both servos into small excited fists for a moment before setting them to his back.

“Well sure I’d love to share some of my tales! But I must ask... If y’are staying on Earth, where ya goin’ to stay durin’ this time? Because... Well... I can offer a stay on my ship if ya want to.”

[pirate-scum1741]

"No man will be a sailor, who has contrivance

enough to get himself into a jail; for being in

a ship is being in a jail, with the chance

of being drowned.."

Samuel Johnson, The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides.

[medievalthymes]

miss the days you could show up on the docks without a penny to your name, wringing your hat in your hands and the captain of the ship would squint down at you and begrudgingly yell, “eh well, get on lad we need an extra set of hands” and you’d go aboard and set off to god knows where, but you wouldn’t care as long as it was away from here. it would be hard work — harder than anything you’d ever done in your life — your hands would turn raw and callused from the long days of labour at sea. but slowly you would earn the respect of not only the crew but the first mate and one day when the rest of the crew goes ashore to spend their pay, you and the first mate stay back to watch the ship and suddenly he’s looking at you like the sea isn’t the only thing he worships anymore.

[fashionsfromhistory]

Sailor's Slops

1600s-1700s

Extremely rare survival of a shirt and breeches, called slops, as worn by sailors from the late 16th through to the 18th centuries. This unique set of loose, practical sailor’s clothing reveals life aboard ship. They are made of very strong linen to endure the hard, rough work. There is tar across the front from hauling ropes. The breeches are heavily mended and patched, which the sailor would have done himself.

The Museum of London (ID: 53.101/1b)

[ltwilliammowett]

The wardroom on board the HMS Trincomalee (1817), by 70023venus2009

Here set with the usual china tableware for officers

[cybertron-after-dark]

what the FUCK happens in cyberverse

Here's a list just off the top of my head, in no particular order. MASSIVE spoilers ahead.

-Wheeljack keeps making party drugs. This is not only accepted but wholly encouraged by the Autobots. He's made the bot equivalent to cocaine so strong it made grimlock physically unable to stop himself from running around the ship at mach 5. This was the basis for an entire episode. He's also made patches that give you a direct link to the Allspark that he passed out at a party specifically to get everyone as fucked up as physically possible. I cannot overemphasize that Optimus make no effort to stop this until things turn destructive on both occasions.

-Soundwave and Shockwave completely fucking hate each other and have a whole rivalry trying to be a better and more useful follower for Megatron than each other.

-Soundwave is a fucking memelord who will play clown music or dramatic riffs to dunk on people from the soundboard he has built into his hardware.

-theres a sort of liminal dimension referred to as Unspace that you can get stuck in and if you are there for too long you will straight up disintegrate. We see this happen to the entire crew aboard the arc from different timelines several times while the main timeline crew we follow tries to escape this fate, thus dooming dozens of other timelines.

-Cheetor is basically Allspark Jesus, and he's tired of all the fighting, so he tries to have Optimus and Megatron settle their differences once and for all. The chosen method for this was making them both play the Newlywed Game. They were both terrible at it, the MegOp Divorce agenda is alive and well.

-the Quintessons invade Cybertron and stick the entire population into a simulation a la The Matrix, which slowly drains their life force until they die. This kills countless unnamed Cybertronians, both Autobot and Decepticon, as well as Hound, who does not get to appear on screen.

-the Quintessons also catch Starscream, rip his face off, and modify him into an Eldritch tentacle beast with his brain attached to two other aliens, and then appoint that amalgamation as the judge that decides the fate of the universe in regards to whether they exterminate all life within it.

-Shockwave commits suicide for Megatron's approval. He launches his spark straight into the Allspark to taint it specifically as a last desperate fuck you to the autobots.

-Soundwave acquired laserbeak by just kind of grabbing a random bird out of the sky.

-Soundblaster is an ex-decepticon that left out of shame. That shame being Soundwave beating his ass in a beatboxing competition so fuckin hard he couldn't show his face around his faction anymore.

-The autobots keep starscream captive and try to get him to take a therapy session with the Arc's AI, and he starts out willing to actually give it a shot but said AI is kind of Stupid and screamer ends up tricking him into letting him escape through an air vent to go wreak havoc instead.

-Starscream also starts a suicide cult with the other Seekers, gains control of Vector Sigma and the Allspark, has the seekers forfeit their sparks to him, thus resulting in a cosmically powered Starscream. He uses that power to "remake" his followers into scraplets that he refers to as, with nothing but love in his tone, his "children."

-Shockwave and Wheeljack are shown to be ex lab partners. Shockwave has an army of drones that look exactly like his altmode that Wheeljack helped program. They are programmed to be able to break out into a coordinated dance number at any given time. Originally this was just to make Wheeljack laugh. Shockwave kept that function in throughout the entire war and initiates it the second there's a truce and Wheeljack asks to see it again.

-Shockwave kidnaps Wheeljack at one point for Science Under Duress purposes and Wheeljack is too invested in all the sweet fuckin tech Shockwave's been making while they were apart to really care that he's being held against his will, and then proceeds to escape without too much issue because he knows Shockwave well enough to know exactly how to disable everything.

-Bumblebee distracts the Decepticons by running in front of their surveillance cameras and shaking his ass in the most underwhelming way imaginable.

-Grimlock is only stupid when he's in his altmode because it takes a lot of power to sustain and he has to sacrifice some of his higher brain functions to keep it manageable. In robot mode he talks like he went to an Ivy League college and knows what champagne tastes like. He throws upscale parties every chance he gets.

-Grimlock also helped start an anticapitalist revolution with Bumblebee when he found an underground society of insect transformers that had a rigid caste system. This was within moments of finding out that the ultra wealthy were hoarding the limited energon reserves for themselves. Grimlock is a comrade and he does not fuck around.

-Skybyte is here and he sounds like Skeletor.

-Windblade and Slipstream are nemeses and somehow it's even more toxic yuri coded than Arcee and airachnid in tfp.

-speaking of Arcee, she's besties with Grimlock. They at one point have a physical fight over who gets to die to protect the other.

-hot rod and soundwave are forced to share leadership over the team of bots and cons that escaped the quintessons' simulation and it's packed with so much homoerotic tension its unreal.

-Maccadam is some kind of lovecraftian war machine that can unfold himself into a whole armory whenever he feels like it. We have no idea what his whole altmode looks like, all we see are the ominous shadows of the weapons on the walls. He uses this specifically as a threat to keep anyone from fighting in his bar bc he's insistent it remain neutral ground. He also can kinda just. See into the future. And casually drops prophecies that get written off as spoonerisms until they turn out to be relevant.

-Optimus Prime has horrific social anxiety that he can kind of power through when he's in a crisis, but the second things are chill and he has to give a speech at a party or something he simply does not know how to function.

-the entire planet of Velocitron gets taken over by cosmic rust and everyone inhabiting it that couldn't escape in time was killed horrifically.

-cosmos is a girl and she hangs out with a dude named Meteorfire who is, for all intents and purposes, just robot Steve Irwin.

-Astrotrain keeps closing doors in people's faces for the funny

-Megatron is killed by a version of himself from an alternate universe that went nuts and starting creating a master race of perfect Decepticons to inhabit Cybertron. Said perfect Decepticons were carbon copies of idw Tarn in all but personality.

-Acidstorm is canonically genderfluid and keeps switching between male and female seeker frames whenever they feel like it

-Kup, who had not been in the show at all until this point, decides to show up and narrate an entire episode like hes giving a political speech.

And, the infamous one we all know and love

-Megatron is a twitch streamer and he livestreams Starscream's fucking funeral. The chat has custom Decepticon emotes.

[mnemonicpneumaticknife]

For my money, the best scene showing Pulaski's growth is from Pen Pals. The scene where they're discussing the prime directive and how it's supposed to keep emotions from influencing judgment and this exchange happens:

Pulaski: "My emotions are involved. Data's friend is going to die. That means something."

Worf: "To Data"

Pulaski: "Does that invalidate the emotion?"

And the whole senior staff shuts up, the room is silence and stunned expressions. She's on Team Data 100% for no other reason than Data thinks this is the right thing to do.

This illustrates just how much growth Pulaski has gone through. She goes from "I don't trust the judgment of a machine" to "I implicitly trust Data's judgment in interpreting our highest law, which we all took an oath to uphold". As far as she knows, Data's primary motivation for wanting to intervene is personal attachment.

She wasn't sure Data was even capable of that kind of relationship when she arrived on the ship. Now she's ready to risk her career supporting Data. (If Starfleet Command doesn't agree with their reasoning for intervening to save Sarjenka and Drema IV, the crew could be reprimanded, demoted, or even court martialed)

People who openly like Dr. Katherine Pulaski on fandom spaces are braver than any U.S. Marine truly

[heartfullofleeches]

Android Reader aboard a space station tasked with raising the eggs found by the human crew during exploration.

How delightful- As the assistance assigned with the continous mission of maintaining their human compassion heath and stability, Reader knows all about the importance of life and the sacrifices it takes. Compassionate, free spirited android Reader built with those personality traits in mind. Those aboard the station are not only their crewmates, but their dear friends and family - Even though the feeling isn't mutual with all.

Reader is elated when they are given the new objective to care for the strange organisms brought to them. They aren't vocal with their emotions, but they grow increasingly lonely whenever their teammates are busy. Whereas scientists see the eggs as the next step in unlocking the secrets the universe hides, Reader sees a chance to grown their family.

Reader tends to the eggs as any human caretaker would for their young. The eggs are quite larger than any they've seen before- It took half the crew to carry all five of them separately into the lab. Their size is the last of the androids concerns. They care for them all the same- Regulating their body temperature to a degree suitable for most budding lifeforms on earth, sing to them when no one else is around to hear.

At the same time Reader watches over the eggs, scientists on board diligently preform tests to better understand what they've obtained. Further evaluation of the ship they extract these flesh sacks from reveal that these are no eggs.

They're pods.

Impenetrable walls of tissue developed from mucus secreted by an ancient alien race in order to protect themselves as a final effort. Powerful warriors who in their centuries long hibernations reawaken to the tender melody of Reader's lullabies and crown the android as their new ruler.

Following their rampage, survivors who lived to warn earth of the discovery recount salvation in the form of a distant hum - The pacifier to the beasts' relentless bloodlust.

"Shhh..... Rest now. I know their screams are too loud for your sensitive ears, but it's okay... I'm here for you.. All of you."

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.