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kosmicdream · 8 months ago

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Please don’t think of me as a male artist.

..is what i used to feel, for many years, even when I finally came out as trans. In a way, its one of the factors that kept me from pursuing HRT (which im so glad i finally did.) After only one year, my feeling on this hasn’t evaporated completely but i suppose I kind of don’t care anymore about how I am interpreted, as a person/artist, ect.. It isn’t something i can be in control of anyway, which upsets me less than it used to.

Sometimes in the past, the way i write characters has often been analyzed by the gender I am, or appear to be - that my male characters were written like how a woman writes men (too emotional/vulnerable, ect) , or how my female characters are written thoughtlessly- like how a man would. (too horny, stupid, violent, ect.) Its not a new way to analyze a story but I can’t say that it doesn’t annoy me. It could still be true that my characters/writing could fall into sexist/problematic archetypes, but gendering my work based on the way my characters act always reminds me of the “you draw like a girl/boy” comments, which used to be more frequent when i was a teen.. But the idea that boys = angular, good at cars! Or something and girls are, i dunno, gonna draw sexy anime men or something. Even as a teenager, i hated this idea that my art was “girl art.” Truthfully, i always viewed my art and myself as an artist as genderfluid, maybe even a type of drag performance, where i can explore any gender and not be limited by my body, it was my escape from that. Which naturally, it became my place to explore gender presentation and eventually helped me “crack my egg” of realizing i was a trans man.

I do think its important to reflect or regard my work as the art made by a trans man, or transmasculine person. I feel more and more just like “just a dude” these days. I am also a gay man. I think those things are important to my work. I think that the analysis of my work in regards to my identity as a person is important to reflect on. I also think the steps I took to get there were important, that transformation and my continued exploration of my older selves and more “label-less” self in the art i make. That’s a private space for me, that I happen to share with the world too. I feel the audience is part of my work too, I welcome it even. I have become part of the audience too and I look at my work as if I’m also a stranger. The older my work gets, the more of it I can study, the more I can see plainly how I got here and also it feels so confusing how it did. I try to study my art to help me find where I want to go to next, a map to guide me.

In some ways, I feel more lost than I did before, where all my instinct was pushing me was just to grow and explore as much as possible. Now, I don’t have that same type of energy that I used to. Its not a bad thing, its just different. There’s a sense of duty and commitment and a sense of dread of the time it takes to do what I feel compelled to do on this step of my journey. I am trying to focus more on the things I used to think I was incapable of before and I’m trying to remember the things I used to think were so effortless. I can tell my art is sharper but it feels almost like a mimicry of my older selves - at least when I revisit old work to continue its journey past where its been frozen in time. Comics take a long time, after all, it's normal that after a few years - a story might be yours, but it feels like it belongs to the past of you too, maybe more than it does in the present. I like the commitment I have to my comics though, its not a burden to me. The feeling is strange anyway.

I tend to think that 1-3 years of a project being made, those are the honeymoon years of the relationship. But you hit a wall in 4-5 years and sometimes you’re in denial about it, you try to keep the dreams and feeling alive as you drag it forward, and sometimes the project really reaches its end around 8-10 years and it becomes a type of empty promise to return to it. Not that this is true for every artist, every project, ect. But I think its a natural lifespan for comics that I’ve observed, and it's because it is uncomfortable to face morality and the morality of our own art. Art is this escape, and when it becomes a job - or an uncomfortable mirror into these things about ourselves, about our failures and promises we couldn’t manage to make, the pressures of the audience, the boredom of the task if you have already told yourself the story a thousand times and you have no longer a desire to continue it, ect - its a normal and natural feeling to want to drop it off a cliff. Blow it up, start over fresh - I know the feeling! Its happened many times. But its kind of temporary? Then, it cycles back to nostalgia - and the desire to create and recreate and reform the past to something tangible again.. uh

Sorry, sorry.. I am getting far from the point I started with. Not that any of this makes too much sense, I feel like writing it anyway. It bothers me that the fantasy of art to me, is the ability to dissolve yourself and stop existing, you are the creator creating. You don’t need to be confined by, really anything. It is in “your control” now, and you surrender your own control by falling into the art and letting it “lead you” places. This is a very seductive process and while it might temporarily be fulfilling (even when done for a lifetime) cannot really.. What.. completely fill the void of whatever you’re chasing down there? Its nice though. At least, when I think about when i first started drawing comics, it was to draw Vash the Stampede (from the original 98 anime series, i hate the new one. We’re not talking about there here) coming out of my television after a thunderstorm and he had to just live in my house now. It was the closest thing I could do to actually manifesting that as reality, of making this amazing anime husband come to life to just like live with me now and be my boyfriend. In a lot of ways I don’t see my pursuit of writing ocs, specifically male ones, really much different from this same desire of like “i can just make my perfect boyfriend!” born out of the loneliness I felt in my heart, and the fear that there is no boyfriend out there for me so i need to frankenstein my own - and this boyfriend will be poifect in every way. Or like, crafting the perfect “relationship” in replace the lack of one, or just the fantasy of watching very abstract extremes come to life in various puppets i crafted, beating the shit out of each other for entertainment. But to subject all these.. Abstract Internal conflicts as simply like a “boy author thing” or “girl author thing” is like.. Tiring. Are we really not past that? (Of course not.)

Like there’s some hidden truth to the way someone might write/draw, the way that “makes sense” in retrospect once the identity of the author is analyzed and discovered.. How can you make sense of the self, let alone the other .. and In a way that’s permanent? And gendered? Does art now have an inherent sex characteristic? But I cannot deny that I do want my art to look and feel like part of who I am, what I have chosen to sexually identify as - a transgender, a man, a faggot. I DO identify as a sexual deviant, but that is hilarious because I have been single for so long at this point I can’t even remember in a tangible way what that felt like and I question if I ever felt it or experienced it “for realsies” because of the experiences I have had or havent didn’t feel very fulfilling or romantic, despite that being something I desire so much - and so I feel like a failure. And to create art just based on the fantasy of desire rather than the lived reality, can it even really display what that would actually be like. So its embarrassing, right?

I have worked on my art a lot and I have often thought, or come to the conclusion (true or not) that my singleness is the result of my pursuit and dedication to art - which is the pursuit of self isolation and protection from harm. From influence, from acknowledging that life can exist and someday end. And when you work on projects for years and years, the pride/shame dichotomy only gets more.. Weird. It gets weird, guys! It always was weird, but.. I just think about so many my heroes, my art inspirations, working decades on their art.. I follow in their footsteps too and it feels scarier and lonelier than I expected it to be. And the more and more I realized that as a reality, as my 20s faded away, the more I kept walking. I wasn’t gonna stop now, even if I could, I don’t want to and its not hard to do other things too. I have a slower pace than I used to (thank god) and gets slower but I’m still moving.

I don’t post or write my little art journals as much as I used to. Mostly cause I don’t really have anything good to say and it kinda feels embarrassing to post them too LOL. But.. whatever!! Its been a weird four months of me being off work and I’m about to go back to being a normal working person again.. But its like, its weird to tell people about your art when they ask about what you do. Its like “oh yeah, i draw webcomics” and they wont get it, you’ll say - “yeah its 8,000 pages long” and they’ll say, “thats a lot!” and it is. They’re very nice about it, but there’s a lack of satisfaction there with what that means. I don’t expect it, that’d be dumb as hell. Its nice to take a break from it too, to discover other sides of myself I never let shine because i stayed indoors for a decade, but its a weird feeling too. Like, what will it mean in the end? I don’t really know.

I don’t think I need “success” to feel like this was worth it, its not like a trophy is gonna come in the mail for the good workTM I’ve done - there is no closure to the work I make even when a story finishes. I have to keep going regardless of that, and its strange to know it won’t ever feel done. But I am so thirsty for that temporary itch to be scratched, it keeps me working every day for the “maybe” of what that might feel like. Kinda silly, really. Is it my “male” pride that demands recognition? Would respect be given more freely if I had “remained” to be perceived as a woman, for subverting the expectations for what a woman can/can’t write? (lol) Is my value as a person determined by that sort of thing in my art? I don’t think of my pride as gendered, but I know its there and I know because of who I say I am, my pride will be gendered by others. I think when I was a woman, that pissed me off more than now because.. Well.. I wasn’t even living as the way i wanted to. I still don’t really live as the way I want to, the way I want to be perceived, but even being on HRT for a little more than 1 year, without much else lifestyle changes, I feel a little more at peace not mattering what others will take away from me or what i write about. I have a lot of my own expectations for myself and what i write about and that concerns me far more.

I don’t really know how else to end this, I’m going to eat chocolate now. Oh, to answer your question (?) if you might have this one: can I think of you as a male artist, kosmic? sure. I am one after all.

#whoops! long post #its very rambly sorry #webcomics

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ameliaenya404 · 16 days ago

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Morning Brew

There was something about spending the early hours of the morning with Dabi. It didn’t happen often. It was a rare occurrence when he woke up before 10. He liked to sleep in late and most times you had to shake him awake. You tried to let him sleep as long as he wanted to though within reason; you knew he was tired.

The effect his quirk had on him. The constant lingering pain he was in. You tried to make it easier for him, grab things for him, and replace his staples to avoid infection.

He was strong, and firm. But you still knew you had to handle him gently. His mind wasn’t fragile, but his body was only mortal. So when you had the rare chance of no missions and the opportunity to leisure around, you took mornings slow.

He had woken up early today, around five. Before the sun rose. Dabi was incapable of existing in the early hours of the morning without something to do so he got up, leaving the bed, kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen and setting up the coffee machine. He grabbed his half-full box of cigs off the kitchen table.

As the gentle stream of coffee dripped into his cup he didn’t hear you sneak up behind him. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheek pressed against his back.

“Why’d you leave?” You mumble, your voice is still heavy with sleep and a bit slurred. You woke up right after him, releasing his side of the bed was empty, and shuffling around the base to find him. Finally having spotted him in front of the coffee machine, leaning against the kitchen counter with one hand on the counter and another holding a cigarette to his lips as he took lazy drags.

“Wanted to make some breakfast,” He said, exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

“Coffee and cigarettes are not breakfast,” You grumble, kissing the bare skin of his back before taking a step away.

“Eggs? Pancakes?” He asks and you open the fridge and look in at the bare selves. You need to go shopping soon. The shopping list you made more than a week ago sitting neglected on the kitchen table.

“The best I can do is one egg…a leaf of lettuce…and…lemon juice.” You grumble before shutting the fridge with a sigh.

“That doesn’t sound…great…food is food though,” He shrugs and you smack his bicep.

“No I’m not gonna make you trash food, we aren't that poor…I’ll figure something out.”

You looked out the window in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to crack it open. Letting cool air into the stuffy room. With the curtains now drawn back you could both see the sun rising. The sky was a blurred gradient of soft-hued pinks and oranges. It looked a little surreal as you stood with him. The fridge and cabinets are empty. Dust collecting in corners not filled with furniture. The sunrise was a prettier sight than the popcorn ceiling or the peeling paint on the walls.

Dabi wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to mumble in your ear. “I wish I could take you out of here,” He sighs. You turn your head a little to glance back at him, meeting his gaze. His cigarette is left abandoned in the makeshift ashtray that sits on the corner of the kitchen counter.

“What?” You whisper. A confused smile on your face as he blinks back at you.

“You deserve more than this…” Dabi grumbles, kissing you on the cheek before stepping away reluctantly when the coffee machine lets out a beep to indicate it’s finished.

“No, no…We both deserve more. But don’t worry, we can…we’ll make it work, okay? I love you.” You finish. Pacing a bit back and forth in the kitchen. Trying to reassure him it’d be fine. You could pick up an extra job, and the league was picking up traction. Tomura was even talking about the PLF. You had a feeling things would be fine; It was just a matter of standing in wait.

“I wanna treat you to somethin’ nice doll,” He takes a sip of his coffee. There’s no doubt it’s probably scalding hot but he didn’t let it show in any way. His quirk maybe? There were still things you didn’t know about him. It didn’t bother you. Well, maybe a little. He’s yet to tell you his real name, although you have a feeling you’re pretty close to finding out eventually anyway.

“I’ll just be happy with a kiss, no need for anything fancy.” You peck his cheek, and he wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you closer and leaning down to kiss you properly. He tastes like nicotine and black coffee, all in all bitter. But the kiss is sweet. His warm palms molded against your hips feel nice; your own hands find purchase in his hair. Not yet styled and still fluffy and tousled.

“Want me to fix you a cup, baby?” He says against your lips before pulling back a little to let you catch your breath.

“No, I’m good for now. Thank you though…It’s too early to go out, yeah?”

“We can go for a short drive if you want,” He says, letting go of his hold on you and taking a long sip of his coffee, draining the mug until it’s almost empty.

“Yeah, I just want a little fresh air.” You smile softly. Taking the empty mug from him and putting it in the sink, next to a pile of bowls that’s yet to be washed from when you made dinner for him and the rest of the LOV.

“Good thing the windows don’t roll up on that pile of junk we call a car,”

He was right, it was a cheap car. You’d had it for years and even before then you had bought it used. So god knows how old it was. Ancient like the house you were standing in. You remembered with the slightest hint of fondness the one time you tried to drive the league to the beach in it one hot summer night.

Tensions were high between them and you figured after being stuffed in the base together for such a long week they needed to get out for a while. Halfway there the car stalled and, Dabi and Tomura had to get out to give it a push to get it started up again. You got to the water though and it worked a little.

They just needed some fresh air sometimes. Cabin fever between a bunch of questionable individuals wasn’t exactly the most ideal.

“Yeah yeah, just try not to get pulled over this time. We barely got out of that car chase last time and I don’t have the energy to be so stressed this early in the morning.” You said, referencing the last time he got pulled over for failing to use any turn signal and having to speed off when the cop asked for ID and he incidentally didn’t have one.

The worst part was because he ended up having to speed off, he got car sick after. You had to deal with him pulling over once the cops were gone and throwing up on the side of the road.

You ended up carrying medicine on you the entire time since because of how easily car sick he gets.

“Yeah whatever,” He grumbles, “Go get dressed.”

“Says the shirtless one,” You giggle.

There was something about spending the early hours of the morning with Dabi.

They were sweet.

#bnha #mha #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n

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hadesoftheladies · 5 months ago

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"you are killing a baby"

i am killing a fetus, not an infant. an egg is not a chicken. potential is not actuality.

"you are murdering an innocent."

it doesn't matter who is innocent. a hungry lion may be innocent in wanting to eat me only because it is hungry and may not have the cognitive capacities to exercise something like restraint or conscience. that does not mean i should not defend myself from harm. it is still self-defense. all animals are expected to protect themselves first and foremost. you are just so used to the idea that women (especially mothers) are supposed to sacrifice their lives for their children in order to be good people--like they aren't human beings with self-preservation instincts.

harm equals anything that threatens the life or health of a person and pregnancy does both.

"your body was meant/designed to do this"

miscarriages are as natural as pregnancies. why do you think the placenta exists? pregnancy sickness? the female body can grow a person, yet also has resistance mechanisms for a pregnancy.

also, just because i have genes that make me a good runner doesn't mean i have to become a marathoner. like think for a second.

"what will the father think?"

women don't owe men or society themselves. i know that's very hard for you to grasp but there's no time like the present to start. there is no ethical way to make a woman a commodity or government assigned asset for reproduction or sex.

"the baby is conscious"

so is the lion in the hypothetical. also, that's debatable. also, what are your thoughts on veganism? since you care so much about the suffering of conscious beings (that is beings with selves)

"but animals aren't humans. they don't deserve the same rights as humans because of their lower cognitive capacities"

great. now apply this ethic to babies and mentally disabled people and then try to explain to me why that has to be different without mentioning how you feel or your religion. :)

"a baby has more potential than an animal."

okay, and why does that potential automatically mean better or more valuable? higher cognitive capacities haven't stopped wars and mass murders have they? (and i would argue that bringing a child into a violent world increases their chance of becoming unhealthy or complicit persons, so you can almost know what the character of your child will be like for certain based on where you're raising them).

"a baby has a soul"

there are two kinds of dualisms within christianity: thomistic and cartesian. cartesian dualism has gone out of fashion even amongst christian theologians and philosophers.

Substance dualism, or Cartesian dualism, most famously defended by René Descartes, argues that there are two kinds of foundation: mental and physical. Descartes states that the mental can exist outside of the body, and the body cannot think.

'Thomistic substance dualism' (TSD) centers around two beliefs: 1) the rational soul is an immaterial substance, and 2) this immaterial substance is the human person.

aside from the fact that both of these philosophies are rife with problems, I think thomistic dualism is the stronger of the two. the rational soul is, in a way, a word for the self.

regardless, both of these describe a self as a soul. so i'm just going to define a self.

The psychology of self is the study of either the cognitive and affective representation of one's identity or the subject of experience. The earliest formulation of the self in modern psychology forms the distinction between two elements I and me. The self as I, is the subjective knower. While, the self as Me, is the subject that is known.

a self is a centralized consciousness with their own memories, introspection and reflections. we know through neuroscience, psychology, behavioural science and sociology that a person or self is formed via experiences (where memories and impressions are gathered, how people learn), language and socialization (economy, history, family, culture) and possibly some genetic expressions (although i think this is more about capacity than actualization).

this is why things like dementia or alzheimer's are so scary and difficult. when a person loses memories, they lose aspects of themselves. when a person changes their environment, they also become different people (even while maintaining some similarities with their past selves).

this is mirrored in popular media, characters that lose their memories lose versions of themselves. this is also why, when you look at stories that feature a multiverse, the same character becomes a different person in different lives. in short, you are not born a person. you become one, and although your self remains singular and centralized (even with age), that self still changes. both the self and the people around the self create the self.

this is also why socially isolated individuals devolve and become mindless or sick (and even have reduced lifespan). certain higher human capacities like "conscience" or "empathy" can be socialized out of a human being, as well. i'd even go so far as to say that children begin conceptualizing themselves as individuals only when they begin to sense the presence of other human beings. they cannot conceptualize their own identity without the presence of other people. they probably don't know they are a self until they recognize other people and then realize they themselves are also people, and people are individuals.

legally a person is:

. . . an entity that the law recognises as having its own distinct personality. This usually means one that is able to act in its own right, and capable of possessing legal rights and liabilities, including individuals (or "natural persons") and corporate organisations.

my point is, how can a fetus with virtually no experiences (which born animals have), no language or skill (learned) to introspect or reflect (or abstract), possibly have a self? when they are not exposed to the outside world? certainly they have the capacity to develop a self, but as established earlier on, potential is not actuality. so legally and psychologically, a fetus is very likely not a person.

but we do not need this to be true to justify abortion regardless, because an innocent person is still causing harm, whether directly or indirectly. so the woman/girl has every right to resist.

#radblr #abortion #pro abortion #pro choice #veganism

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always-outlander · 1 year ago

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Outlander 7x04 Spoilers & Easter Eggs “A Most Uncomfortable Woman”

Lallybroch

Jemmy is older! New actors and actresses have arrived and two years have passed. They are fixing up Lallybroch and restoring the inside. My question is how are they affording all this?

The preview at the end of the opening credits shows a desk which is very important for the Bree and Roger storyline.

Jamie and Claire on the road

Why are these two SO CUTE?! These two have done a wonderful job conveying elements of their younger selves. Ian is worried about Arch Bug following him around and it is beginning to haunt him.

William!

William and his cousin are in Wilmington discussing the excitement of the looming war and their eagerness to partake. William has been assigned to a post in New York. We get a horrific fire ship scene from the books which in all honesty made me cry in the books. It’s just as horrific in the show but thankfully they made it less gruesome visually than described. This is the first scene where Williams honor is in display and he does the right thing.

Captain Richardson assigns William as a messenger through to great Dismal Swamp/Town. The names he’s instructed to deliver the notes to are Samuel Cartwright, Henry Carver, Joshua Harrington. In the books, he’s also given the name Washington (!!!). After that assignment he is to travel to New York to meet with the rest of the men. Book readers know that he has a bit of an adventure and detour before that happens, however.

While in the forest Williams horse is spooked by a snake and he falls and is injured by a stick through his arm. In the books this poor guy is constantly lost, constantly being heckled, constantly complaining. He wanders through the woods for days before he is uncovered by Ian and Rollo. The scene between Ian and William was one of my favorites of this episode, and Young Ian is easily one of my favorite characters.

While they switched up some minor details, the shows version of this encounter is still very insightful into Ian’s time with the Mohawk, and William asks him questions about the Mohawk’s thoughts on showing fear or distress. He himself is trying to be brave while injured and Ian tells him of the death song. when thinking about what he would sing, William calls himself by his full name, then at one point says ‘William James’ and you can tell Ian is having very complicated feelings about it. William James was the name Jamie had given to him as a child in Helwater, his secret papist name. I loved this detail in both the show and books. Jamie is still having an impact on him, even without him realizing it.

Book on Time Travel

Roger is writing a book on time travel for Jemmy and Mandy, documenting all they know about it. He discovers that the musket ball is gold and mull over asking Jemmy about it. Jemmy claims pixies took a clock apart and Roger and Bree know he’s lying.

Bree is interviewing for her new job at the Hydro plant with a very frustrating man who completely underestimates her abilities. This was actually a great scene for her to show off her brains. I think most people have forgotten just how smart Bree is. She gets the job but comes home to a distraught Roger who feels like he’s failing to support their family in the traditional ways. Their experience going back in time has shaken his beliefs of God, and he has felt like he is breaking his promise to Jamie and Claire to provide for her and their kids.

Jemmy continues to behave strangely and tells Roger and Bree there’s a nuckelavee in their yard. They have a discussion about his powers and his believe in magic and how to foster that while still keeping it a secret.

Wilmington

Cornelius Harnet reappears and is tied back into the war by a blackmail. He conscripts Jamie to go to Fort Ticonderoga in New York. I love the scene we get from the season preview where Jamie states that he wants to fight for his family and because he couldn’t ask for anyone else to fight in his place. Claire can provide him with the confidence that this is a war they will win.

I think Sam has been outstanding this season. He has done a great job of subtlety in his acting. Ian wants to fight for the land too, and be a part of the change for the Indians. Claire promises she will go with Jamie and provide her medical expertise.

When in Wilmington Tom plants a mighty kiss on Claire which shocks her to near silence. Tom acknowledges the fire and that her and Jamie are not dead as he believed. He admits to placing the obituary in the papers as he could not leave flowers on her grave. He calls Claire A Most Uncomfortable Woman and admits he has only loved two woman, his wife and Claire. The loving of her has led him to his salvation, but the loving of her will bring him no peace while she lives. He absolutely knocked this scene out of the park.

Tom asks if Jamie knows about his feelings towards Claire, and Claire has a very awkward conversation about his love towards her. Tom tells her how he escaped with his mind and literacy, and was employed as a secretary thanks to his ability to write. Tom also heard that Allan had left the Ridge but Claire omits to tell him the truth of that matter.

Jamie & Claire

I have to crack up over Jamie and Claire discussing the kiss and Tom’s love for her. This scene was great at providing a moment for them to reconnect, while also adding some humor. The moment between them in the window was adorable. They also touch upon her hair turning white, coming into her full power one day, and have so many call backs to previous seasons. I loved them bantering over her sticking her with needles and the two of them having jealousy over others. There’s also a mention of Laoghaire, whom we know we will see again later this season when Jamie and Claire make it to Scotland.

The Hunters

We finally set eyes on Denzel and Rachel Hunter, who Ian delivers William to and they attempt to save Williams arm. William stating he’d rather die than amputate his arm was a parallel to Jamie wanting to die rather than remove his leg. They do not have to amputate but William ends up passing out at the idea of it.

Ian and Rachel have their first scene together and I can immediately see how she’s interested in learning more about Ian. They have chemistry which was very important. He asks Rachel to give William some money and keep the rosary beads.

Likewise you can immediately tell that William has a crush on Rachel. He attempts very much to flirt with her and Rachel for her part does entertain it. William has healed and Rachel tells William that Denny is choosing the side of Independence. They have essentially lost their place in their family and will now ride to Fort Ticonderoga on suggestion of a Samuel Cartwright whom William Carrie’s a letter for. William intends to go with them and we end the episode with Jamie and Claire’s arrival to Fort Ticonderoga. In the books this took them months to get to, so once again the storyline is being condensed greatly. In one episode they went from Wilmington to New York.

Preview of Episode 5

Jamie becomes more involved in the fight (very reminiscent of him at the table informing Charles Stuart before Colloden). A preview of the fort when it comes under attack. We got a snippet of Ian when he returns and sees Rachel again, and in the future, Bree begins her job at the plant.

Final Thoughts

The beginning of this episode I’m finding that the editing is at times clunky, and once again the speed in which we go through these scenes feels like they are just checking them off for the sake of it. For jamie and Claire to begin this episode in Wilmington and end it in New York is incredibly fast. Bree and Roger have aged up children, so that’s a large expanse of time the viewer has to adjust to. It’s a necessary evil of course (the books truly go on forever), but definitely something I notice each new episode that passes.

I love Charles’s take on William thus far, he’s far more likable than book William, and once again… JOHN BELL! He’s the stand out for me.

#outlander #outlanderedit #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #sam heughan #claire x jamie #jammf #caitriona balfe #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #outlander spoilers #outlander parallels #outlander season 7 #outlander 7x04 #outlander ep: a most uncomfortable woman

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temporalhiccup · 2 years ago

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As creators, we cannot help but plant the seeds of our inner truth, even if we're unable to see it in the moment.

I say this because, many times, I wrote about being trans masc before I realized that's who I was.

I think the clearest example of this is The Doll, one of the characters you can play in Our Haunt. I wrote the first version of the game in 2019.

Our Haunt is a creepy-cozy game of a found family of ghosts, and the haunted rooms they have claimed for themselves. You decide if you want to attempt to reconnect to the painful memories of when you were alive, or create new ones with your new family.

Here's the description of The Doll playbook:

The Doll

You wake up feeling constricted, suffocated. The world around you is suddenly so large, wide, overwhelming. But your body is not your own, and your small voice is strange and terrifying. You’ve woken up in the body of a doll, and don’t remember how you got here.

Did you come into this body willingly? Or did someone force you into this strange vessel? Your best chance at leaving this prison is by working with the other ghosts of your Haunt.

I wrote the doll to be any kind of haunted toy really, not necessarily a femme doll. But looking at some of the character creation options, it's crystal clear to me in hindsight. The Doll speaks to my experiences as being conditioned by society to perform femme. I was assigned female at birth, and so female I must perform by exacting standards, and fail miserably all my life.

I add additional themes, narrative and emotional layers to explore, for each playbook. For The Doll, I didn't question at the time why I thought lies, infantilization, and bodily transformation were the right themes to go with. I mostly write from a place of intuition, that looks like stream of consciousness writing to the casual observer.

There are many telling things: such as a look option of porcelain falling from my face, a memory of a mirror showing a dark reflection behind me, the yearning to make my body more pleasing to me.

Of course, as the Doll, you have access to moves like tell a lie someone else wants to believe and change your body in a spooky manner. There's a lot more in the playbook, oh boy.

In one of those "Rae should have realized something was going on" moments, a similar incident would occur almost every time I playtested Our Haunt with folks. Different folks! Different groups! And almost every single time, a trans person would pick up the Doll and say, "It's amazing how well you captured the trans experience in this playbook."

And I, utterly clueless, would respond along the lines of, "Wow, that's so strange, I'm not trans!"

One time I said that, and the discord call got very quiet. There were a few seconds of an incredibly distinctive pause. At the time, I wondered if I had said something offensive, by misspeaking in a trans space (hah!). But now I realize that at least one person (if not all of them) were thinking, "Ah, an egg. Well, who are we to crack it before it's ready?"

The thing is, I played the Doll a lot. I even remember thinking, "It's funny how this is the easiest playbook for me to play, I'm not drawn to this archetype at all" (HAH!!)

The Doll is just one example of my heart and soul finding its way to express itself before I could stumble unto the truth. I think it's one of the many amazing gifts that art, and the act of its creation, can give us:

The gift of the truth, even before we're ready for it. A moment in the past, surrounded by layers of clarity, waiting to be unearthed by our future selves.

I'm very proud of Our Haunt, and it's the first of my games to actually get published and printed! It came out earlier this year, and is one of the brightest lights in what has been a dark time. I can't believe you can find my game alongside other wonderful titles by Possum Creek Games!

If you do pick it up, I give you full permission to flip through The Doll and have a little chuckle, at my expense. I promise I'm a very good sport at being such a tough egg to crack.

P.S. The Doll, and all the art of Our Haunt, was created by Habil Firdaus.

#sword queen games #design breakdown #ttrpg design #our haunt #indie ttrpg #transgender

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missycolorful · 9 months ago

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hallo there o/

I wanted to piggyback off your last post on the 'birdbrain/abandonment' post:

I feel this particular situation was bound to happen sooner or later. It's not the first time of late(within the last month) the children have felt abandoned/left behind by qphil. During Prison Event you could see the eggs thoughts on being left behind due to possible escape or interactions with other residents and lore.

Day 3 after the interview tallulah said, "I dont like it here.." and chayanne said, "Let's stick together today..". Qphil then turned it into a joke, "...STICK together.. cause he's holding a stick.." but I do not believe these words were said for nothing. Day 3 had dark themes surrounding the residents(inmate crucifixion) and as a child paying attention I would be scared and want my parent in sight much as possible.

Now of course we give grace to the ccs because streaming and events can take a toll. Phil had stated several times during the event he felt overwhelmed/stimulated, along with others agreeing with him.

At one point the eggs eventually burried them selves in hole, in which wasn't addressed until after a guard Tubbo and Charlie noticed. On the walls chayanne signs say: we are a ghost - we will die here and bit later tallulah states: we were wondering how lo g it took u to find us, we were thinking you were leaving us here.

Qphil reassured them but I got to thinking: every where he went residents had their eggs with them. When escaping with Charlie fit and tubbo, ramon was with fit and sunny was with either parent...qphil was alone. When talking to the guard for the hat, pomme was with aypierr - rishas and pepito were with their guardians and em/dapper was with bagi and bad...qphil was alone.

Giving benifit of doubt he was trying to protect them.(the guard was a butt)

That being said: the separation was scary, anything could have happened. Yesterday situation could have went very differently as well. The eggs could have been mortal. Something more dangerous than the scorpion could have caught them along their travel back home.

And this ALL is off the talks/agreement of them sticking together as a family. Having each others back. The situation is so interesting because after concerns are said qphil does comply with not taking his sight off them rest of stream. I really enjoy this family dynamic for some reason

Sorry for long post

oh gosh don't apologize, I'm eating this whole post up. And it's given me more to say, so... sorry in turn, lol!!

honestly, a lot of the prison event felt like a blur to me (a lot happened lol), so I completely forgot about those small moments. Like a lot of other similar moments, they're jokes, yes, but there's a certain weight to them. And these jokes they've been making have had a certain weight for a while now. And.... looking back, I feel dumb for not even mentioning the one thing that's really brought this whole issue, and these "jokes" and concerns the kids have, into existence.

It's the Ender King.

q!Phil has made it clear that if the Ender King finds him and seeks to capture him and take him away from the kids, there's nothing he can do. He's not sure if he can come back, if he does get taken, even though he swears he'll do everything he can to return to his kids. But that reveal of the Ender King and Phil's concerns about his fate by his hands has affected Chayanne and Tallulah greatly. It's good that he's been honest with them, I'd rather he be. But there's no good way to handle this, in truth.

Chayanne, after Purgatory, has been more clingy with his father, but I think it's more noticeable as of recent. Tallulah has tried to distance herself a little like sleeping at her and Wilbur's house, most likely out of a need to feel independent and such, but within the last month or so, she's also been fairly clingy. I think her attempts at being independent fell to the wayside once the idea of her father just... disappearing, and possibly never coming back, came to mind. She sleeps at the sanctuary (and now their new house as of the reset) more often than not. They're both afraid of waking up and seeing that the most consistent parental figure in their lives is gone.

Like, we all know that q!Phil isn't actually abandoning them or even leaving them behind with any malicious or neglecting purpose, and I think the kids know he wouldn't do so with intention (which is why him being defensive yesterday was sort of a moot point, but anyway). Plenty of the parents will let their kids mind their business and do things without them around. This isn't new, and this has happened with Phil's kids plenty of times! For example, Phil didn't want his kids around during a lot of the prison stuff, because a lot of what he was doing was risky, and he didn't want them to get hurt. And we know that yesterday was a pure accident, and he wants to try to be more careful.

But technicalities and logic aren't really important here. What upsets the kids is simply the idea of him being gone, and the fear of him never coming back. It doesn't matter how many times he tells them that he will, because these fears are huge and real. You accidentally left the kids behind at Etoiles' house? It doesn't matter, you still left. You got kidnapped by the Ender King? It doesn't matter you're still gone.

#qsmp #q!philza #tallulah #chayanne #missy rambles #honestly it just makes me a bit sadder that the rescue mission streams never came to fruition #imagine the angst of phil leaving them behind for a day to save his close friends #after he promised tallulah he wouldn't leave OOOUGH DANG IT NOW I'M SAD ABOUT IT AGAIN IGNORE ME

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acorpsecalledcorva · 10 months ago

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Definitely something that struck home for me about Sar and Ozturk s Theory of the Functional Dissociation of the Self is the idea of how a 'Sociological Self' develops in absence of it's connection to the 'Psychological Self'. In fact, my final year uni project was on this very subject (I just didn't realise it at the time) on how it relates to gender, i.e. I know what my gender identity is, but where did my definition of what that identity means come from? Why do some aspects of gender feel right to me and others feel wrong?

And this extends from a much more holistic sense of who the fuck is us? Who am I? Really? At my core, what is really there that is me? What of me is truly mine? Because I've never even felt like a real person, let alone a whole person. I'm a facsimile of a person. A simulacrum in the simulation that is the world I experience.

And discovering that I was a system didn't really help with that either, am I the sum of my parts? Am I a teenage girl and a child and a vampire and a wolf and a cat boy and a 16th century Norwegian witch and a dead girl from Belgium and a crow monster and my father and my mother and my ex fiancee and so many other unique and incompatible identities? I can't be. Because they're very much not me. In fact on a very fundamental level they must not be me, that's the whole purpose of their existence, to be not me.

The way that Sar and Ozturk phrase it is that, under the pressure of an environment filled with insurmountable stresses that can't be overcome, the 'psychological self' is buried and hidden away to protect it. The 'Sociological Self' must therefore not only develop without it, but make up for it's absence. By avoiding the internal, it must rely on the external to inform it. If the immediate external environment is too harsh, which, of course it is, then it must expand it's scope beyond to wider culture and failing that, the fictional (not that culture is anything more than the fictions we collectively tell ourselves but you know what I mean). Rejected by the host, the 'Psychological Self' attempts to reach out to the world by creating new 'Sociological Selves', using the vision of the world internalised by the host as templates on how and who to be.

And this is what "less than one personality" means to me. Not a broken plate that can be put back together, or a broken mirror where all the individual pieces are still mirrors, but the result of multiple attempts to create a cohesive sense of self without full access to the entirety of human experience. Some attempts are based on lies, others on guesses, and some may be partially correct but lack context or a place to be understood and fully realised.

I'm like those old medieval drawings of animals based on descriptions of animals but having never seen them before.

This. This is me. This is what I really am. I'm like if a person didn't know what a person was and tried to make more people.

Especially bottom right, that may as well be a fucking selfie of my subconscious.

And of course I know there's a me, somewhere inside, there's a me that is me, but I can't find it, it's hidden from me. I look and I feel where it must be, but I just cannot grasp what it is. Like I kinda understand now what my IFS therapist was talking about in reference to a "core self", I now know what is meant by that, and I also know why I feel so strongly that I don't have one. Like dark matter, I can theorise about the properties of the glue that holds my galaxy together, but I cannot for the life of me detect it, I cannot interact with it, it's completely invisible, totally outside of my reach, but it's there. But it's not a whole personality either, it's not even a part of my personality, I cannot just add it to my other parts because it's isolation has left it undeveloped. Imagine asking for a dozen cupcakes and getting 11 cupcakes and a pile of flour, sugar, and egg. It's not just a missing piece, it's not even a piece yet.

And it's this, this separation and underdevelopment of the 'Psychological Self' upheld by Dissociative barriers and absolute phobia of the internal that separates my experience as a DID system from other members of the wider plural including endogenic community. I'm not going to say that this is the defining DID experience, because it's not, but it's definitely why I fail to relate to a metric fuck ton of y'alls experiences and description of yourselves, just as so many of you may tell me that you don't relate to what I'm saying right now.

And it's of course worth mentioning that this is only one way of rationalising things. It's like the oceans, we draw lines and say "this is the Pacific and this is the Atlantic" and there's value in some contexts to divide them this way and compare the differences between them, or the different layers of the atmosphere saying "this is the stratosphere and this is the flanglesphere" but it's all water and it's all air. Which way we divide it and where we draw the lines is only as important as what we're trying to achieve by doing so and the purpose that it serves.

This framework helps me to conceptualise myself the best so far, if it helps you conceptualise yourself too then you can incorporate it, if it doesn't and you have a better one then you can use that. We're all just smudges in a left handed person's handwriting at the end of the day.

#syscourse #system community #sysblr #plural community #actually did #did system #dissociative identity disorder

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nat-1-whump · 1 year ago

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🌈 Pride fantasy prompts

Pride writing ideas no. 1

(Little to no angst or whump here, I wanted to focus on happier stories this time around.)

Mages use transformation spells as a magical method of gender-affirming surgery. One mage who specializes in such magic travels across the land, helping anyone from tiny fairies to gigantic dragons be their true selves. Nothing brings them more joy than giving their client a mirror after the spell is done and watching their face light up. And when someone needs that spell, the mage will find a way to do it, no matter who or what they have to challenge in order to do so.

Asexual succubi and incubi find non-sexual ways to seduce their targets. A character hears a noise in the middle of the night and goes to the kitchen to find a demon-like creature baking them a cake that reads, "Come to the darkest pits of the underworld, please? 🥺" With the layers upon layers of chocolate fudge, how could anyone resist?

A gay mage learns a teleportation spell to bring their crush on a date without anyone else seeing, because they are worried about what people will think. However, the spell backfires and ends up teleporting them to the wrong place. As they work together to find their way home, the two overcome challenges for each other and realize that their love really does conquer all.

A trans character finds out that they're trans by accessing some sort of magic that only another gender is supposed to be able to access. For example, a transfem sailor thinks she's a cis guy until she is the only one on the ship who can see an island that is magically hidden from everyone except women. She had always felt a bit "off" but kind of pushed it to the side, attributing it to literally anything except being trans. The island beckons to her and confirms the feelings she had ignored for years. (I thought there was an island like that in the Odyssey but I can't find anything about it so I may be wrong.)

When a gay couple adopts a child, they weren't expecting to bring home a dragon egg. But, that won't stop them from being the best adoptive parents anyone could have. They spend nights deep in the library, set on learning everything they need to raise their dragon child. (Or, alternatively, a dragon couple ends up adopting a human or otherwise non-dragon child.)

Due to their association with rainbows, magic, and self-expression, unicorn derbies become widely celebrated events during pride festivals. A particularly clever unicorn escapes right before the derby, and magical shenanigans ensue.

While others their age are asking their crushes to dances and peeking at raunchy magazines, an aroace teen is busy training swordfighting with a dragon that they keep hidden a little bit away from their house. Their parents find some evidence of their teen sneaking out and assume it's with some romantic partner. When their teen reluctantly agrees to introduce them, they weren't expecting to come face to face with a gigantic reptile. They said they wanted their teen to be with whoever makes them happy... But this is awkward.

Immortal characters who've been around for centuries don't necessarily understand the newer labels and identities, but they're excited that their children are able to express themselves in ways they weren't able to a few hundred years ago. They do their best to support their kid's identity... Possibly to the point of embarrassing their kid with their enthusiasm. They mean well though.

A genderfluid character who can shapeshift uses their ability to transition on the spot whenever and however they feel like it. They kind of take this ability for granted, until their non-shapeshifter friend wants to transition and can't just do so by snapping their fingers. This shapeshifter does their best to help their friend find clothes and hairstyles that might have the same effect. They end up having to be a bit creative with what they have, but it's a lot more fun than either expected.

To represent the strength of their relationship, a gay swordsmith forges a sword as a surprise present (or proposal, like a ring but cooler) for their beloved. They decide to gather gemstones from the place they first met (or some other place that is significant to them), but getting the gemstone proves to be a difficult quest. They end up asking for their partner's help, all while keeping it a secret why they need it. When they finally get the gemstone and forge the sword, the colorful pieces in the hilt tell a story of their journey together.

Elves and other androgynous creatures completely demolish outdated standards of what each gender is "supposed to" look like. Some people are frustrated with how hard it is to assume an elf's gender, but lots of trans and nonbinary people are inspired by the magical genderfuckery. (I know I am, lol. Legolas was my first gender envy.)

(Feel free to add on!)

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house-bound · 1 year ago

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Trickster mode and things on people's heads

Y'know, I have seen an interpretation saying that Caliborn replacing his broken tooth with a candy corn as representative of the control he has over the trolls, while he "is" Doctor Scratch at least. The trolls having horns shaped like his teeth would be representative of him sinking his teeth into their minds, controlling their culture and shaping what their internal struggles are.

And I love this type of "In your head" symbolism bc I can see that happen in two other places

1-Roxy has a spiral on her hair, Calliope is hidden on a spiral for the months between the start of the alpha session to it's end. That is fairly minimal but it does add a neat little thing for Callieroxy

2-The Tricksters all remarkably have thematic foods stuck to their heads, specifically Roxy's Cotton Candy and Jake's pumpkin, those are ship names that get referenced through Caliborn's art commissions.

And for the trickster in general I have some thoughts about what the foods represent, we have three types:

The Small ones

Jane is associated with cakes, her trickster form has a cupcake, it's a smaller version of a food already associated with her

Dirk has an orange soda can when he has like 5 orange soda bottles on his inventory

Dave, despite being associated with apples, has a strawberry on trickster. You can argue strawberries look enough like smaller apples if you are weird about fruits, which I am.

I guess the symbolism in that is that their trickster forms keep some sense of their sober selves at least subconsciously, they still have their old selves on their minds, Dirk is the most noticeable example, but Jane also has her TM self express her frustration and unresolved feelings for Jake. (We only see TM Dave once so uh)

The Shipping ones

Like I said, Roxy who mocks the idea of being into Jane while also calling her hot has Cotton Candy on her head, Jake who has too many feelings about Dirk for me to mention succinctly, has a Pumpkin on his head

June

We only see her trickster twice, for the first time on an easter egg way before we even see the meaning in the trickstermode, she has a pink sucker, the sucker is a symbol of TM so I think it's just that she is the basic-starter-level one and not much else? And for the "Mind" interpretation I guess it means instead of thinking of an unresolved relationship or a reminder of her sober self, she is just thinking about being on TM while being on TM? A meta/self-referential/feedback loop about TM itself? Sure, she shows up for two pages, that might as well be the case.

So yeah. Things on ppl's heads. Wonder if there are other examples

#callieroxy #homestuck analysis #homestuck #trickster mode

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euniexenoblade · 6 months ago

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Instead of a prime directive not to tell eggs that they are trans there should be a prime directive to be supportive for the eggs while helping them hatch, to warm them rather than crack them.

The one point that the egg prime directive crowd understand is that finding out you're trans under the wrong circumstances can be damaging, though they have the entirely wrong way of addressing that problem.

I know that pain firsthand, as it was a comment from some redditor I'd never hear from again that cracked my egg before I was ready, followed by highly essentialist "am i trans" tests from like 2001. Neither of these were able to frame being transfem as anything positive, and because there were no other transfems in my school or in my life at the time, I had no reason to enjoy being trans. I hated my transfemininity for many years because of this, and hated the fact that I could not deny it. It felt like an inherently isolating and fatalistic thing. "You are cursed to be something your parents and society demonize, any attempts to suppress it will be torturous, and you are in it alone" was how it felt for years, because I had no one else to show me the beauty of being a trans girl until years later.

I honestly feel envious of the transfems who can see suggesting a transfem egg is trans as if its impossible to cause her harm under any circumstances. I feel like I'd be in the wrong to say that yes it can harm us like it harmed me if it is done wrong.

I dont want anyone to read this and take away that I'm against telling eggs they may be trans. I am all for that, but I want the takeaway to be that the eggs youre telling are trans are in need of a reason to love their true selves. Without the sisterly love of other transfems they could end up like me - hate themselves for it, internalize a shit ton of transmisogyny, and develop maladaptive paraphilias for being validated as femboys that will permanently fuck up their ability to truly love their transness even after they one day discover that being transfem doesn't have to be cold and isolating.

I genuinely mean no hostility by this, but your issue was far more complex than just egg jokes. Like, yeah, you're right, we should be surrounding people with this positivity and understanding that it's ok to be trans. But, I feel like your situation is influenced by loneliness and internalization of transphobia - plz dont take that as "you're transphobic!" we all internalize that kind of shit when we're younger, and it manifests a bunch of ways. In comparison, egg jokes are generally from trans people you would actually know who want to help people transition and help people down that path. Maybe some people are bad at it, but I genuinely think the situation is entirely different.

Genuinely think you should show yourself some more love. I know saying that is like, weird cuz it can come off rude and if it doesn't it's like, how do you do that, but genuinely I don't really want the egg convo with you I more want the convo about why you feel these ways and what have you done to help yourself? Like "develop maladaptive paraphilias for being validated as femboys that will permanently fuck up their ability to truly love their transness" before the word "femboy" was getting thrown around the net I self ID'd as a trap and was posting myself on imageboards and forums and shit for attention and validation. And, before that I was finding myself through weird kink communities around crossdressing, forcefem, and sissy shit. And, yeah, looking back may not be the greatest thing but sometimes that's how shit goes. This isn't to like, reduce your experience or anything, but it is to say we have a more similar experience than you may be aware and I do think you can find more love for yourself. idk. Your point is good, I just disagree on the exact comparison. Your ask kinda just made me more concerned for you though.

#asks

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tigergirltail · 7 months ago

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I've been thinking lately about identity and sense of self as it relates to being transgender. In particular, when is it that trans people become our true selves? Is it when we admit to ourselves that we are trans? Is it when we come out as trans, socially transition, change our names? For those who undergo medical or surgical transition, is it when the hormones kick in, or when we get surgery done?

When I refer to my past self, I typically refer to that part of my life as "the boy I pretended to be", or think of it as the mask I was forced to wear. A fake, a husk, something not real. As I distance myself more and more from him, it feels more like he was an entirely separate person, in as much as he even was a person at all, rather than just an arbitrary set of rules to follow, like programming code. The 'egg' terminology feels really appropriate here. An eggshell isn't a life, it's just a container. The life within is real, but it's not yet conscious. The boy I pretended to be and the name he was given were just a container, but the girl inside wasn't ready to be alive yet.

One day in my mid twenties, I was visiting the friend who was my partner at the time, and we had a conversation about genderqueerness. The idea came up that I might be nonbinary, and I figured I hadn't ever really had a sense of masculinity, so maybe that was it. Problem solved I guess, but identifying as enby didn't really do anything for me, and it always felt like I wasn't trans enough to call myself trans. I didn't want to culturally appropriate, for lack of a better term, from people who seemed to be having a much more intense experience.

Later this month, it will be two years since I had my awakening. It's a moment that will be burned into my psyche until the day I die, the moment I finally understood what had been wrong for my entire life. Even at the time though, I was still hesitant. I remember telling my queer friend group that I wanted to try HRT, just to see what would happen, just to lean into a more fem presentation of being enby. I had awakened, but I was still in denial, still not my true self. For some reason, even though I had finally admitted internally how badly, how painfully I wanted to be a girl, I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.

I remember going to a local trans support group, and introducing myself by my true name to a room full of people who had never known the false me. I remember googling local therapists, and finding a nonbinary social worker who specialized in transgender clientele. I remember going out to a trans-friendly clothing store and getting an incredible rush of euphoria from a very nice blue dress (which, sadly, was too small for me). None of this felt like it made it real, though.

Ultimately, the thing that made it feel real, that made it feel final and true, was when I told my friends that while they/them pronouns were helpful while I was figuring things out, they weren't meant for me, and I was going to use she/her pronouns exclusively from that moment forward.

I am Alexis, I am a woman, I am she/her, and that was always meant to be my true self.

(nuance disclaimer: This is merely a chronicle of my own personal journey, and is not meant to be a statement of fact regarding any trans people other than myself. There are as many ways to be trans as there are trans people.)

#transgender #trans #transition #trans joy #trans thoughts

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thewillofdeez · 1 year ago

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50/50: A Shanks/OC (and Beckman/OC) Romance - Chapter 5: Strength and Love

Summary: A twenty year journey of friendship, love, and heartache between Shanks and the woman he loves.

Chapter 5 word count: 6746 (another long one, sorry!)

Notes: Enter: baby Luffy! And some romance (finally).

The last part of this chapter required me to learn the names of different parts of a sailing ship. So in order to make it easier for you to visualize, I made a diagram which you can find here.

Enjoy! The story will be in Foosha Village for 1-2 more chapters.

I also finally got a job after 9 months of unemployment, and so am going to do my damndest to get this and my other WIPs done or close to it before I start!

The celebration of Shanks and Riley’s reconciliation went on well into the night, but Riley excused herself from the party around eleven o’clock - she had to be up early tomorrow, after all. She was grateful when Shanks snuck into her room less than an hour later and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on her shoulder and falling asleep behind her in a matter of minutes.

At the party, she and Shanks had been back to their old selves, affectionate, laughing, and once again comfortable in each other’s presence. Shanks and Snake had let her know that they’d be looking for a nearby island to settle down in while she trained, somewhere quiet and out of the way where they could dock for about a year. He felt she’d have better resources at her disposal on land, and it would allow the crew to focus on training her with less interference from Marines or other pirates. Here in the East Blue, the calmest of the seas, they’d find something in no time. Riley had expressed concern about how the rest of the crew would feel about being on land for so long. “Don’t worry about it,” Shanks had said with a sly grin “I’ll tell them to think of it as an extended vacation for everyone except you.”

The next morning, Riley rose from her bed, careful not to disturb Shanks who grunted and rolled over when she removed herself from his grasp. Energy was coursing through her body. She was finally going to get what she wanted. She was finally going to be stronger, a fighter. Maybe not on the same level as some of the guys who had been doing it for years, but that’s not something she cared about. She cared that she was getting to do it at all.

Riley dressed and readied herself for the morning, donning comfortable, workout-friendly clothes, then made her way to the mess hall. Beckman was already there, as were Lucky and some of the kitchen crew. Beckman placed a plate overflowing with bacon, eggs, and sausage in front of her, the single piece of toast on the side almost looking out of place. Riley’s eyes widened - he wanted her to eat all of this? What?

“If you wanna get stronger, you need more fuel for your body. You eat like a bird.”

“Actually, birds eat quite a lot. Ya know, so they can fly,” she responded with a smirk.

“Then you eat like something that doesn’t eat a lot. Chow down, get some protein in you.”

Over breakfast, Beckman filled Riley in on what his plan for her would be over the next four months. When she was full to bursting with meat and eggs, Beckman took pity and helped her finish the last few slices of bacon. They then made their way to the upper deck to begin Riley’s training.

They began with stretching, then moved onto conditioning exercises. Beckman would tell her what they were going to do, demonstrate good form, and give her a number of reps to work on, noting where her body strength was good and where it needed work as he got an idea of what her baseline capabilities were. Her legs were decently strong, and her core wasn’t bad. Improving her upper body strength was going to take a hell of a lot of work, though, he mused as he watched her struggle to get a quarter of the way into a pull-up.

By the time most of the crew was making their way onto the deck to begin their duties for the day, the two had finished up their workout.

“So,” Beckman asked, “How do you feel?”

“I feel great, actually!” Riley responded, the endorphin rush making her feel light and energized.

Beckman chuckled and lit up a cigarette. “Give it time. You’re gonna be in the most pain you’ve ever felt in your life tomorrow morning. I’ll give you the day off to let your body rest, then we’ll resume the day after.”

“What?!” Riley objected, “But we just got started! I don’t want to take a day off already.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna need it.”

And Beckman was right. The next morning, Riley awoke and tried to make her way out of bed - key word being tried. Every muscle in her body was sore and stiff and required incredible effort to move. Just getting dressed was an ordeal.

Riley slowly made her way to the mess hall, where Shanks, Beckman, and the senior officers were gathered around their usual table. She braced her hands against the edge of the table and slowly lowered herself into a seat next to Shanks, her face grimacing at the burn in her thighs. The surrounding men couldn’t help but laugh.

“So glad you guys find my anguish amusing,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Awww Rye, we’re not laughing at your pain!” said Yasopp.

“I am!” said Shanks. Riley swatted him swiftly, then winced at the movement.

“It’ll get better, Riley. Promise,” Beckman said, pushing a plate in her direction. More meat and eggs, and that lonely piece of toast, the sole carb amidst a mountain of protein.

“By the way, we think we’ve found a good place to dock for a while,” said Snake, unfurling a map before Riley. “We’re approaching Dawn Island, home of the Goa Kingdom. There’s a small village on the outskirts of the city. It’s quiet and out of the way, and hopefully the people there won’t give us any trouble. We should be there by this evening.”

Riley examined the map, noting the small windmill drawings surrounding Foosha Village on the southeast side of the island.

“Sounds perfect,” she said. After breakfast, she slowly lifted herself from her seat, wincing in pain. “I’m going to go take a very long, very hot bath.”

That evening, just as predicted, the crew arrived on Dawn Island. Standing on the deck as the crew worked around her to furl the sails, Riley noticed the townspeople stopping to stare at their imposing ship, by far the largest at the docks. Some people ushered their children into their houses, while others closed and locked their shutters. She figured they probably didn’t get a ton of pirates around here, and couldn’t blame them for being scared.

The crew stepped off the ship and walked through the town, led by Shanks, Beckman, and Riley, seeking out a place for dinner and drinks. Riley was still in pain, and desperately craved a beer.

As it always was with the Red Hair Pirates, landing on a new island was cause for celebration. So was leaving the island, and just about any day in between where they could find an excuse to do so. Shanks, at Riley’s insistence, had instituted a rule several years before after she’d had one too many instances of being unable to sleep off her own hangover because everyone else was also hungover and wanted her to help them: no partying without a cause for celebration. Unfortunately for Riley, Shanks accepted just about anything as a cause for celebration, and he exploited this loophole constantly. He’d made it up to her by instructing the crew to get their own water and painkillers from the med bay if Riley was also too hungover to assist.

Finding a small pub called Party’s Bar, the crew filed in. The green-haired woman behind the bar had a shocked look on her face - whether it was because there were now 60 people crowding into the small building or because they were pirates, she wasn’t sure.

Riley approached the bar with a smile. “Don’t worry,” she said, “We’re not here to cause trouble, just have some food and a few drinks, and I promise we’re paying customers. Are you able to accommodate so many?”

The barkeeper was taken aback for a second, then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course! Please, make yourselves comfortable.” If what the female pirate said was true, she was set to make more money in a single night than she had in ages. She ran to the kitchen and ordered the whole crew to come out, distribute menus, and begin pouring drinks. She was grateful for the timing of the shipment of rum and beer they’d just received that day, and made a note to put in another order tomorrow.

The barkeeper introduced herself as Makino. Riley, Shanks, and Beckman introduced themselves and the rest of the officers as the drinks began to flow and the smell of cooking food permeated the bar. Makino was surprised that these pirates, as opposed to others who had visited her bar, or, more commonly, some of the fouler bands of mountain bandits, were actually quite kind and fun, if a bit rowdy. She found their red-haired captain to be particularly charming, and blushed as he flirted with her.

As dinner died down and the drinking began in earnest, Riley found herself deep in conversation with Makino. She always pounced on any opportunity to talk to another woman.

“So it’s just you and 59 men?” Makino had asked, amazed.

“Yup,” Riley replied, taking a sip of her beer. “We’ve yet to find any other women who want to join, but I’m still holding out hope.”

“She tolerates us,” Beckman said with a smile.

“Honestly, they’re not a bad group of guys,” Riley said, wrapping an arm affectionately around Beckman’s waist. His arm rested around her shoulders in return. “I’ve met much worse men who aren’t pirates. I mean, sure, they’re loud and gross and –”

“Devastatingly handsome,” Shanks cut in, bringing his face close to Riley’s with a smolder. “Sexy. Muscular. Well-end–” Riley placed her hand on his face and pushed him away.

“Most of them aren’t bad,” she continued. “This guy, however, needs to be kept on a leash. And perhaps a muzzle.”

Makino giggled and poured them another round.

“Stop it, old man, let me GO!” The crew turned towards the commotion as a small child burst into the bar, an older man in tow. “I wanna see the pirates!”

The small boy with a mop of thick, black hair ran towards the bar.

“Luffy, get out of here!” Makino admonished. “You can’t be in here so much past your bedtime!”

Shanks laughed and lowered himself to his knees, closer to the boy’s level.

“Hey there, kiddo. What’s your name?”

“Luffy,” the child responded, a finger up his nose.

“Nice to meet ya, Luffy. I’m Shanks, and this is my crew, the Red Hair Pirates. Say hi to the kid, boys!”

“Hi, Luffy!” the crew responded in unison, raising their mugs.

Luffy burst into a fit of giggles. The older man who had been pursuing the boy stormed in and grabbed him by the arm. “Luffy, if your grandfather knew you were in a bar with pirates at six years old he’d have my head! Come on, let’s go!” He then turned to Shanks. “And as for you, I don’t take too kindly to pirates in my village, but I also won’t turn you away as long as you don’t cause any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir," Shanks responded in his most diplomatic voice, "We’re not here to cause trouble, just to take a nice long rest. I promise, you’ll barely notice we’re here.”

The older man, who they later learned was Woop Slap, the village’s mayor, narrowed his eyes at Shanks but accepted his response. He turned and dragged Luffy from the bar.

“Bye Shanks! Bye Red Hair Pirates!” the boy cried. “See ya tomorrow!”

The crew laughed and waved as they left.

“He’s a sweet kid,” Makino said.

“No parents, I take it?” asked Beckman.

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied. “He does have a grandfather who’s a Vice Admiral with the Navy. He’s not around a lot so we all sort of take care of Luffy as a community. If he bothers you, just let me know.”

Shanks only laughed in response.

Over the next months, the crew grew quite comfortable in the small village. Riley was approaching the end of her four months of training with Beckman, Luffy became a common presence among the crew (much to the mayor’s dismay), and the Red Hair Pirates were a normal sight at the bar and around town. True to Shanks’s word, they didn’t cause any trouble, and the townspeople began growing used to their presence. They did have a way of endearing themselves to others, Riley found herself musing one day as she watched a few crew members help a family in town fix a broken window. Luffy swore he had nothing to do with it.

At Party’s Bar one evening, Riley sat at a table with Bonk, Snake, and Limejuice, but found her eyes wandering towards the bar. Shanks was flirting with Makino, who was loving his attention and returning it in kind. She knew they’d become something of an item over the last few weeks - how could she not, her bedroom was right next to Shanks’s and the man had never been known for being a quiet lover. They did appear to be keeping the relationship somewhat quiet, however, and she wasn’t sure if it was for Makino’s sake or Shanks’s. He’d never been one to hide his lovers or help them sneak quietly off the ship, so either he was trying to protect the barkeeper’s reputation or there was something different about this relationship. Riley wasn’t sure which, but she was grateful for the nights he stayed at Makino’s, for no other reason than she enjoyed her sleep, and it made keeping her own secret a little easier.

Shanks had always been a flirt and was constantly the center of female attention. She’d seen him leave bars with dozens of women in their time together, but this one seemed different somehow. Perhaps it was the increasingly long-term nature of their situation, or it could be something else.

Of course, Riley had had a number of situationships of her own over the years. The life of a pirate wasn’t built to be relationship-friendly, and so they all needed to enjoy what they could when they got it, and there was no judgment amongst the crew over whatever that was. Riley allowed her mind to wander, remembering some of those men from over the years.

First, there had been the swordsman friend of Shanks’s, Mihawk, back in the early days of the crew. She had found the golden-eyed man to be irresistibly charming, despite his otherwise cold exterior, and he’d found himself quite taken with her in turn. It became the closest thing to a loving, serious relationship Riley had ever had - Mihawk had only intended to hitch a ride with the Red Hair Pirates until they reached his destination, but what should have been a few weeks wound up being the better part of a year, with much of the man’s time being spent either clashing steel with Shanks or in Riley’s bed. Eventually, though, they’d had to part ways. Mihawk wasn’t interested in joining Shanks’s crew (though Shanks had tried to convince him more than once), and Riley wasn’t interested in leaving the crew to travel with Mihawk. The split was painful for the both of them, but it was amicable, and when their paths occasionally crossed over the years, they’d still have some fun together.

Then there was Marco, the captain of Whitebeard’s first division and the crew’s doctor. Whenever the Red Hair Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates met, Riley never knew what she was going to get. Whitebeard and Gold Roger had been bitter rivals, but also held immense respect for each other. Shanks’s relationship with the enormous man was much the same - though they often steered clear of each other’s path, occasionally situations would bring them together. Sometimes it was tense, and Shanks received his now-signature three scars over his left eye from Marshall Teach on one particularly rough occasion. (Incidentally, Yasopp had thought his captain’s new scars were so cool that he had immediately re-designed the crew’s jolly roger.) But sometimes it wasn’t and the two crews were able to intermingle peacefully.

Riley had always enjoyed her occasional interactions with Marco - she didn’t get to meet other doctors very often, and so jumped at the opportunity to trade stories and knowledge with one whenever she could, even if they were technically an enemy. Marco was intelligent and funny, and she could talk to him for hours when given the chance. One night aboard the Moby Dick as the two crews mingled, Riley and Marco had sat together talking animatedly over their shared interest in medicine and exchanging stories of their crews. As the night grew later and their bodies inched closer together, Marco eventually captured her lips in a kiss, which Riley returned with enthusiasm.

“My room?” he’d said, to which Riley nodded, a sly grin on her face. As Marco grabbed her by the hand and led her into the ship, she could hear Whitebeard’s thunderous laugh.

Then there was Beckman. She had never intended to start anything with Beckman, it had just sort of happened. The two had always been close, and the time they spent training together every day brought them even closer. Perhaps there was something about the way he’d touch her gently, correcting her form, or how proud he looked of her when she pushed herself to her limits. When she’d successfully completed her first pull-up, he’d brought her a beer to chug in celebration, then promptly made her do nine more.

Riley knew Beckman had been thrilled with her progress so far, and could see it in the way he looked at her. But it wasn’t just pride, there was something else there, too. And one day on the beach as he held her feet down and coached her through a set of sit-ups, he couldn’t help but kiss her as she brought her body up towards her knees. Riley had been quite shocked at first, but quickly returned the kiss, looping her arms behind his neck and dragging him back down with her, his body over top of hers.

And that was how it began. With Makino keeping Shanks occupied and their location seemingly safe, he hadn’t been joining her to sleep as much. Instead, Beckman had taken his place in her room, or her in his as the case sometimes was. It was just sex, at least at this point, and the two didn’t feel the need to announce it to the crew, so they kept it quiet. But they also felt a little guilty about their secret, especially when it came to Shanks.

On the other side of the bar, as his crewmates chatted boisterously, Beckman found himself musing over much the same kind of thing Riley was. He watched her with a smile on his face as she laughed at a stupid joke Bonk had made. He really, really liked seeing her laugh. Beckman was sort of terrified of the way he was beginning to feel about her. He’d been with a lot of women, but never like this.

The issue was Shanks. Not that he thought the captain would have a problem with his second in command and doctor being in a relationship on principle, but there was an unspoken question. Or, more accurately, a question Beckman had tried to broach with Shanks before but had been shot down: he still wasn’t sure where Shanks stood on having feelings for Riley. He knew his captain well enough to know that it was probably more than platonic, but all Shanks had ever done was avoid or deny it. And now that Beckman found himself developing feelings for Riley, he wasn’t sure what to do with that. And Shanks was spending quite a lot of time with Makino, so did he even still harbor feelings for Riley at all, or had he moved on? It was getting complicated, and he desperately wanted to figure it out, if only Shanks would just be fucking honest with him.

Deciding to step outside for a cigarette, Beckman caught Riley’s eye and nodded in the direction of the door. She understood and excused herself from the table, grabbing her drink and following him onto the porch. The night was warm and still, and the lights in the houses along the street began slowly switching off as the residents of Foosha Village turned in for the night.

Riley leaned over the railing, drink in her hand, and Beckman settled in next to her, his lighter illuminating his face for just a moment.

“You think we should tell Shanks about us, don’t you?” Riley said.

Beckman nodded. “I do. I don’t like keeping secrets, even if they’re harmless. He’s our best friend, and our captain, and he should know if two of his senior officers are…doing what we’re doing. But I also think we need to figure out what us is first.”

Riley knew he was right. They knew they were friends. They knew the sex was amazing. But they also knew that there was something much, much more there. “What do you want us to be?”

Beckman exhaled smoke into the air, then turned to look at her. “Long-term, I don’t know. But I do know you’re more to me than a friend at this point. A lot more.”

Riley couldn’t stop the grin that split her face. “I feel the same, Beck.”

Beckman smiled and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to plant a gentle kiss on it. “Don’t think this means I’m gonna go easy on you in training” he said with a mischievous grin. “If anything, I’m just gonna push you harder.”

Riley laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. Let me close out our tabs and we’ll get out of here?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. And hey, do you mind if I’m the one to talk to Shanks? I got a few other things to bring up to him as well.”

“Not at all. Tomorrow?”

Beckman nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Riley disappeared into the bar and returned a few minutes later. She grabbed Beckman’s hand, and the two walked back to the ship, together.

The next morning Beckman found Shanks drinking his coffee on the upper deck and went to join him. Much of the crew wasn’t up yet, and he’d decided to give Riley the day off from training as he’d kept her up awfully late the night before. “‘Morning, cap.”

“Beck,” Shanks acknowledged with a smile.

For a moment the two stood in silence, the sun creeping over the horizon. “Shanks, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it about you and Riley?” Shanks replied with a knowing grin. Beckman was taken aback. Shanks laughed. “Come on, man, your rooms are right next to mine. You really think I didn’t know?”

Beckman blushed a little. “We’ve…been trying to keep quiet. I’ve got the bite marks on my shoulder as proof.”

“Nahh, it’s not about noise,” Shanks assured him. “I can hear sometimes, sure, but mostly I’ve just seen you sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms.”

“I’m sorry, Shanks. We didn’t want to keep it from you any more. We both felt bad about it honestly, and thought you needed to know, especially now that it’s becoming….something else.”

“You’re in love with her,” Shanks said softly.

Beckman sighed, a smile crossing his features. “Yeah, I am. And I think she loves me too.”

Shanks patted his friend affectionately on the back. “I’m happy for you, man. And for Riley. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“So you’re okay with it? I mean, from a captain’s perspective?”

“Of course!” Shanks said, almost offended at the implication. “Beck, I trust you both more than anyone else in the world. I know you’d never do anything to jeopardize your positions on this crew and your relationship with each other as friends and crewmates. And yeah, you technically have authority over her, which has the potential to get dicey, but I’m here to help with that if it ever becomes an issue. And look, if it works out, great. If it doesn’t, I know you’ll both handle it appropriately and things would eventually go back to normal. That’s not a concern for me at all.”

Beckman remained silent as relief washed over him. Shanks knew. He was okay with it. Hell, he was downright supportive. Now for the hard part.

“Shanks, I’m gonna ask you something and I need you to answer me honestly this time. Not just as your second in command but as your friend. Okay?” Shanks nodded. He knew what was coming. “Do you have feelings for Riley?”

Shanks let out a sigh. The time for denying and avoiding was over. “It’s complicated, Beck. The simple answer is yes. To some extent, at least. I won’t deny that the feelings I have for her are more than just friendship.”

“Then I’m gonna call it off with her,” Beckman said decisively. “I love her, but if you have feelings for her too I’m not gonna do anything that will cause problems between us.”

“Beck, no, just….just listen,” Shanks replied quickly. “The complex answer is that I would never act on those feelings. I know she doesn’t feel the same, and even if she did I’m her captain. We couldn’t be anything, and I have no intention of ever pursuing her. At least, not unless I knew she wanted me to. Which she doesn’t and probably never will.”

“And Makino?”

Shanks huffed out a laugh. “I like her. A lot, actually. I wouldn’t say it’s love for either of us, but it’s been…really, really nice. She and I both agree that this is a temporary thing, and we’re enjoying our time together while it lasts. Honestly, I think having her around has really helped with the whole ‘unrequited feelings’ thing. She knows that too.”

“And what about after? When we leave here for good? Do you think it’ll be a problem?”

“Nah. I’ve been silently pining over Riley for like a year now. It’s just a state of being at this point, and I’ll get over it in time. I want her to be happy and I want you to be happy. If you’re happy together, then I’m happy for you.” Shanks looked a little sad, but Beckman knew he was being honest.

Beckman sighed. That was about the answer he expected. He couldn’t deny he felt a little weird, being with the woman his best friend also harbored feelings for, even if Shanks claimed to be okay with it. But Beckman trusted Shanks at his word, and knew Shanks would never jeopardize their friendship.

“Got it. Thank you, Shanks.” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder, then turned and walked away.

“Hey,” Shanks said, grabbing his attention. Beckman turned. “You take care of her, okay? Make her happy.”

Beckman smiled. “I will.”

Just a few months later, Riley was about ready to finish the first phase of her training, getting stronger with her now-open boyfriend Beckman. The crew had taken the news of their relationship well, and she was thrilled to not be sneaking around anymore.

Of course, Beckman couldn’t consider her training complete without testing her. He took the role of her trainer seriously, and before he could allow her to move onto hand-to-hand combat, he had to make sure she was not only strong enough, but was able to use the skills he had taught her. Their training hadn’t just been about physical strength, though that was certainly a key component. But it also involved balance, agility, and being able to think quickly on her feet. He’d designed her training keeping in mind the numerous unlikely physical dangers he’d found himself in over his years of piracy: being chased by wild animals, dodging arrows, climbing rock cliffs, and so on. In order to make sure she was adequately prepared, he’d tried to factor in a variety of challenges without having to actually shoot at her with arrows.

The best way to do that, he figured, was to make her use her skills in facing one of her biggest fears: heights. Beckman knew Riley had always been terrified of heights, but the fact was that being comfortable in high places would one day come in handy for her, if not be outright necessary for her survival. So he came up with a plan.

On the last morning of this phase of her training, Beckman brought Riley onto the upper deck. She was surprised that not only was the whole crew there, but a number of people from town had gathered on the docks below. Luffy had a place of honor with Shanks on the captain’s chair. Whatever was going on, she was sure it was a big deal.

“You ready?” Beckman asked.

“I think so?” Riley replied, looking around. “What’s going on?”

“It’s your final test.”

Riley grinned. “You didn’t tell me there would be a test. I didn’t even study.”

Beckman leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Not that kind of test. It’s a test of your strength and skill.”

“All right then. What are we doing?”

Beckman looked up, and Riley followed his gaze. “We’re gonna climb it.”

Riley did a double take. “You mean the ship?”

“Yup,” he said with a grin. “First we’ll take the rope net up the main mast. Once we reach the middle crow’s nest you’ll have to climb the rest of the way with just your body strength and a belt for support. Then from the upper crow’s nest, you’re going to jump to the yard of the top mizzen sail. You’ll climb halfway down the ropes, jump onto the lateen, and run up the rig.”

“And then?” she asked, her voice shaky. “How do we get down?”

Beckman only grinned. “You’ll see. Ready?”

“Beck, I don’t–”

“Hey,” he cut her off, placing a comforting hand on her face. “Trust me. I’d never let anything bad happen to you, and I wouldn’t have you do this if I didn’t think you could handle it. I’ll be with you the whole time. Okay?”

Riley smiled and leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“Then let’s get started. You wanna go first, or should I?”

“I’ll start, at least for now.” Riley brought herself to the rope netting leading up the main mast. This part she could do. She’d been on them before. Never all the way up, sure, but this part she could do.

She took a deep breath and began the climb. A series of whoops and cheers broke out from the crowd below, and echoes of “You can do it, Riley!” Riley smiled and took the first step onto the rope net. One hand up and one foot up, then the other side. She kept her eyes on the crow’s nest above her, and before she knew it, she had reached the platform. That wasn’t so bad, she thought. A few minutes later, Beckman joined her.

“Good job, darlin',” he said, bending down to give her a kiss.

“Can I get one of those after every part?” Riley said with a grin.

“If it’ll help,” Beckman replied. “But you gotta earn it. Here,” he handed her a wide leather strap, with the ends wrapped in string for a better grip. “We’ve done this on trees before. Get the strap around the mast, high as you can go. Jump and get your legs around the mast as much as possible, using your legs to put pressure on it. Get yourself steady, move the strap up, and repeat. It’s about twenty-five or thirty feet to the top.”

Twenty-five or thirty feet from where she was, meaning it was about sixty feet from the top of the mast to the deck. She’d possibly survive that fall if she needed to, if she didn’t break her spine on the crow’s nest on the way down. Bracing the strap around the mast, she began the climb. Move the strap up, pull her body up, wrap her legs, and repeat. She found that as long as she kept looking up, she was fine, though she couldn’t deny she was aware of the ever-increasing height. The wind was stronger up here than it was on the deck, and it whipped through her hair, which she really wished she had thought to pull back.

She didn’t know how long it took, but she made it. Riley took the opportunity to look out over the sea before her, as well as at the town below, seeing dozens of people on the ground as well as the pirates on deck cheering. She couldn’t deny their support felt good. Looking out to sea, she saw that it was really quite lovely from up here. She allowed herself to enjoy the view as she waited for Beckman, not wanting to think about the next obstacle.

Beckman’s head poked up through the bottom of the crow’s nest a minute later. She offered him a hand and helped him up, and he took the opportunity to pull her into a kiss. “Two down, three to go,” he said.

“Three? The jump, running up the lateen….then what?”

Beckman only smiled. “Do you want me to go first?”

Riley looked out towards the mizzen mast, then brought her gaze to the deck below. It was a long drop.

"Yeah," she said, her voice small with fear. "Please."

Beckman grabbed one of the ropes for support and stepped up onto the edge of the crow's nest. "Remember when we did this up in the mountains over that crevasse? Bring all of your weight into your feet and bend your knees, then release it into your upper body and jump, stretching your legs wide. Just focus on me, okay?" Beckman then did exactly that, leaping widely and landing in a crouching position on the sail's yard. He moved to the side towards the crow’s nest to allow her room to land. Riley had remembered that crevasse, all right. It was barely three-quarters the length of what Beckman was asking her to do now.

Riley gripped the rope and took a shaky step up, balancing herself on the edge of the crow's nest. In attempting to look at her feet's positioning, she looked down. Below her she saw Shanks with a soft smile on his face, and Luffy perched on his lap, neither of them seeming particularly concerned about her falling on them. "YOU GOT THIS, RILEY!" Luffy called up to her. I got this.

Riley bent her knees and forced all of her energy into her legs. She met Beckman's eyes on the other side. Focus on him, she thought. Springing up from the crow's nest, she leapt, legs spread wide. It couldn't have possibly taken more than a few seconds, but for Riley the time she spent in mid-air with no support to speak of and the deck so far below her felt like forever. But it was getting closer. She saw Beckman. She saw the yard. She was going to make it.

The goal was so close, and her stomach dropped as she realized her feet were dipping below the top of the sail. Reaching out an arm, she managed to grasp the yard with one hand. She felt her body collide with the furled sail as her fingers gripped the rounded wooden support with every ounce of energy she had. It was probably fortunate that she was too scared to notice the crowd's gasp.

Beckman walked towards her, balancing so easily on the narrow purchase it was almost annoying.

"Beck, help me up," she said, trying to extend her other arm towards him.

Beckman, the man who supposedly loved her, crossed his arms. "Nope. You can do it."

Riley's fingers were slowly slipping, the sweat on them causing her to lose friction.

"Beckman, I'm not fucking kidding, please, help me!"

He crouched down to be closer to her. "Riley. Remember what I said. There's nothing I'm asking you to do that I'm not confident you can handle. Trust yourself." He pushed a loose chunk of hair behind her ear, then rose and walked back towards the crow’s nest.

Trust myself. Okay. Step one, get a better grip. The furled sail pressed against her, but she could use its folds and ropes for support. She brought a leg up into the folds of the sail, then boosted her body up, allowing her to grab onto the support and loop her arms and legs around it, like a right side up sloth.

Okay. I did it. Now to stand up. Riley slowly brought herself to all fours, carefully placing her hands and knees on the narrow beam. She slowly rose to a kneeling position, then standing. The wind was strong, and she instinctively bent her knees for stability, bringing her body weight into her legs. The crowd below let out its biggest cheer yet. She looked up to see Beckman beaming at her, his hand extended. She walked towards him and he brought her in for a kiss.

"Great job, baby. I knew you could do it," he said with a smile.

"I'm probably going to be very, very angry at you later," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

Beckman chuckled. "I'll take that risk. Come on, we're almost done."

He guided her around the crow’s nest and together they descended the rope net about two-thirds down the mast until the lateen was a short leap away.

"I'll go first," he said, "Remember, you need to run. Knees bent, feet facing slightly outward. Back straight, don't look at your feet so much that you lean forward." With one more quick kiss, he leapt from the ropes and onto the support, then made his way leisurely up the rig. When he reached the far end, he stopped and turned towards her, waiting.

Compared to what she just did, this would be easy. Riley turned so her back was to the ropes, then made the leap onto the beam. Both feet landed and she swayed back and forth for a moment, catching her balance. The crowd on the ship and in the town was going wild at this point. Looking towards land, it seemed almost the whole town had turned out for the show. She could even see Makino and Woop Slap in the crowd, cheering her on. She allowed the cheers of encouragement to wash over her. This was it. She was going to make it.

Getting her feet and knees into position, Riley began to run up the steep angle of the rig. She reached Beckman in a matter of seconds, and he brought her close, lifting her off the beam and kissing her passionately.

"That wasn't so bad, huh?" he said.

"Compared to jumping onto the mizzen sail and almost dying? Easy."

Beckman chuckled. "We're almost done. Ready?"

She still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be ready for, but at this point it didn’t really matter, did it? "Ready."

Beckman released her from his grip, then turned away and walked to the edge of the rig. When he leapt into the water below, she had to laugh.

Riley brought herself to the edge. It had to be at least seventy-five feet to the water. If she landed wrong, it could easily kill or paralyze her. She watched as Beckman swam out of the way, and she found herself remembering when they first met, his body soaked and with a half-dead Shanks in one arm. What a long way they'd come. Six years ago, she never would have thought this would be where they were, not in her wildest dreams.

She'd come this far. She couldn't back out now. Riley shut her eyes tightly and held her nose shut with two fingers…then she leapt, pointing her toes to break the water's surface pressure. The cold water shocked her as her body submerged deeper and deeper, before releasing its hold and allowing her to swim to the top. Breaking the surface, she pushed her wet hair out of her face with both hands and looked around for Beckman. He swam up to her and brought her in for a long, wet kiss.

"I love you, Riley," he said. "I'm so proud of you."

Riley laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I love you too, Beck."

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