#this is the first one i've made in a LOOOOONG time actually

[wistrea]

i’ll do the startling thing.    i’ll have the knife in my teeth.     i’ll be the star.    you can be the horrified one.

#WISTREA. a private writing blog for SHIROGANE KIRA, "THE CHAOS WITCH", an original character based primarily in original lore. summoned by aria [ they / them, 24, filipino ]

[many-but-one]

So, our system spent a looooong fucking time trying to reblog a post by someone that goes by @system-junk-spam but after typing it out it became unrebloggable, and then upon restarting the app we found that either they spontaneously deleted their blog or they somehow blocked us while we were typing something up, despite us having never interacted with them before. That, or tumblr mobile just straight up sucks. Highly probable.

Anyway, we worked really hard on the post and still want to share our thoughts, so we’re gonna put them here. We may get eaten alive for this take, but we’ve learned to not care what others think of us. We are allowed to believe things differently than our followers do and that’s okay. Hate will not be tolerated on this post. If I see it, you are blocked.

This is our theories on how endogenic plurality can possibly exist. We’ve talked about this before but not in great detail. We are literally just gonna copy-paste our response because oh my god it took so long to type out and then transfer to our notes app because the tumblr app was messing up. To TLDR the OP’s post, they were asking for genuine examples of endogenic plurality that wasn’t just someone actually having a CDD and thinking they are endo.

—

So, for starters, I used to be anti-endo. Kind of a dick about it to be honest, but not overly hateful towards endos. I have a post explaining that situation, where I also came forward with explaining that when I was a teen I thought I was an endo because I didn't have trauma—except I did, I just didn't know it yet. I also used to do roleplay—though not as a system, for the record. I just had characters I made that I later realized were heavily based on real alters in my brain and it was that alter's way of expressing themselves before they could be known by the host part at the time. So to say I understand where you are coming from, I understand where you are coming from. I have been that person. I went hard anti-endo at first, but slowly as I've begun healing and deciding "I don't really care what people do in their lives and it's not up to me to police that" I have become what I consider "syscourse neutral" but "fine with endos, I just don't interact with the community much because I'm not endo." Mainly with the feeling of "live and let live" and "they're people deserving of respect too" driving that stance.

I start with all of that preamble because at the end of the day, whether endos "really exist" or not just…doesn't matter. They're not actually taking our resources, they're not seeking out DID specialists because most of them know they don't have DID, and the whole narrative of them "making a mockery of the disorder" is pandering to fake claimers, who are the ones who point and laugh at the disorder whether you are endo or not. Endos are not the enemies of DID systems here, fake claimers are. And whether endos exist or not, fake claimers will still fake claim people with DID no matter what.

If you make this post with the concern that people who say they are endo may actually have a CDD and that can be damaging to their healing long term (it was for me personally) or they may take longer to realize they have a CDD (happened to me), the thing is, they will eventually discover that they have a CDD if that's what they really have. You have all of these examples of people realizing they actually had a CDD because those people eventually realized that's what they had. No matter what, at some point in someone's life, if they have a CDD and the right support, they will eventually realize they have a CDD—even if they initially think they are endogenic.

To go on a personal tangent, it was actually a very good thing that I thought I was endo for so long and got completely alienated from the entire CDD community because if I had discovered I had a CDD at the time, that could have had catastrophic consequences to my safety. When I finally started questioning the system thing again my first year of college, I not only nearly ended my life multiple times (other parts attempting), but I also ended up returning to my abusers and getting hurt again (callback programming, l'm a RAMCOA system). If I had discovered that as a teen? It could have been much worse than it was when I was an adult. I could have been retrafficked if I went back, rather than just reprogrammed and sent on my way, because I was still young enough to be “good product” as a teen, but as an adult they weren’t interested in my “service” anymore, they were more interested in making sure I remained programmed so I wouldn’t report them and they wouldn’t get in trouble. (Joke’s on them, I’m reporting them to the FBI. Suckers.)

My system finally allowed itself to be discovered in my final year of college because I was a mere month away from moving out with my then-fiancée at the time, who we believed could keep us safe should we display harmful behaviors. And we were right, even if she did end up being an abusive POS later. However, I still found out I was a CDD system and did get the help I needed. And even if the situation is not quite as dire for others, if someone who has a CDD believes they are endo, chances are, the system wants that for the time being. And who are we to try to disprove that endos exist just so people will be more accepting of themselves having a CDD? You said it yourself, that people knowing before they are ready can be damaging, so it's really not such a big deal whether or not endos are "real" if that's a way for a system to exist without having to hide while also still kind of "hiding" in a way.

HOWEVER! Now that I have become more open to the concept of endogenic plurality, I have put a lot of thought into "what if it really does exist? How would that happen??" Because gosh, how brains work is exceptionally cool, and if there is a way for endos to be real, that's pretty fucking neat.

So, for the record, I am not endo and I am not fully in their circles nor do I know much about origins whatsoever, so if anyone wants to chime in their thoughts or correct me on something, please do! For this next part, I'm calling endo alters/headmates "parts" just to keep the vocab streamlined and succinct.

Some common themes I notice in endos (for the most part):

They have basically no amnesia between parts

Some can create parts at-will, while others feel like they can't just create parts at will, but their parts just kind of exist

They usually can switch at-will or control switching to some degree or even completely

Some folks usually have some kind of trauma, but that's not saying much because all humans have trauma to some degree or another. Something I've noticed, though, is that this trauma is usually not in early childhood, but in later childhood, teen years, or adult years. (Please know this is not indicative of everyone, just what l've noticed in endos l've spoken to, don't come at me if your situation looks different please!)

All of these aspects come into play for my “theories” on how endogenic plurality can exist. For the record, my “theories” are more like…my own ponderings on the subject rather than something that should be taken as fact. Only endos can decide how they exist, not me.

So initially, my main theory with endos (which l've spoken about once, a while ago) is that it is "IFS on steroids."

IFS functions with the belief that all people have parts, and that to create cohesion in everyday life means finding ways to communicate between these parts and reach healing conclusions between them. Kinda like DID treatment except these parts don't have the "becoming autonomous and elaborating" part of DID. This is often seen in therapy related to addressing your "inner child" or "inner teen" but this can also apply to "the part of me that hates my dad" and "the part of me that wants him to love me." Remember, this is a singlet we are talking about, here! Singlets can also have conflicting and contradictory feelings about their family members. Having a "conversation" between these two parts might look like one of them stating all the reasons why it's better to cut him off because he always causes harm, while the other side may explain all the reasons why they want to keep him around. Weighing these "pros and cons" in this sort of scripted conversation between these two "parts" can help singlets come to an agreement between these two contradictory feelings and find a solution that is best for that singlet "as a whole."

However, what if someone who has parts of self like any singlet does finds a different way to converse with their parts? Or maybe not just converse, but imagine them? Consider that their "responsible self who is good at keeping on track" is the self that they kind of "dial into" at school or work, so that they stay on task—so then later, the part of themselves that prefers to goof off and have fun can have more time to do that. (These may be labeled as a “school/work self” and “home self” by singlets)

Maybe that responsible side of themselves feels like a guy whose name is probably like, Richard. And he's a boring, middle aged, office worker looking dude. And that fun and goofy version of themselves that would rather ignore homework feels like a teen named something funky like Rainbow. Well, the side of themselves that's responsible (Richard) is probably gonna get into a lot of arguments with the fun-loving side of themselves (Rainbow), which can look and feel like an internal debate or struggle of "well I can totally skip this assignment because I have a good grade and my show's season just dropped and I don't wanna fall behind while my friends are caught up" being answered with "um, no, if I don't stay on top of things, I'm gonna fall behind on my schoolwork, which is WAY more important than my show"

See how that can feel a bit like CDD but not actually be a CDD?

These endogenic IFS parts of self might even become slightly more autonomous (or seem slightly more autonomous) than a normal singlet's IFS parts over time, especially if having these internal conversations are a major coping skill during stressful times. These "stressful times" can literally just be "being a teenager" because holy shit being a teenager is stressful!! Does this mean every teen who is an endo in this sort of “IFS way” will grow out of it? No! If this is a positive coping mechanism that doesn't cause harm, they may still have these parts of self well into adulthood or even their whole life. Because guess what? Being an adult is also stressful as hell. It would make sense that these parts would follow them into adulthood.

They may even have traumas they have to address in therapy that these parts of self can help them address. This doesn't mean that trauma is held within a singular part to keep the others safe from the knowledge of said trauma like a CDD system, (even if that trauma is repressed—because even people who are traumatized as adults and non-systems can have repressed trauma) because most likely, all parts of self in this IFS situation are probably either totally aware (if it is not repressed) or totally unaware (if the trauma is repressed) and when it comes time to address said traumas, the parts (while maybe not quite as fully autonomous with completely separate experiences and memories like a CDD system) can still likely be quite elaborate and be very helpful when processing these traumas or negative experiences. Brains are cool! Brains are weird! They do weird stuff to cope with shit! I totally think it's plausible for someone's IFS parts to elaborate to some degree if it helps that person cope with life, even if they don't realize it's IFS or a singlet's version of plurality at all.

Does this mean they would technically be a singlet since they don't have a “genuinely” fragmented consciousness? Maybe?? Who are we to say, you know? If they feel like they are plural even if their consciousness is not fragmented in the same way a CDD system's would be, why not let them say they are plural? They are experiencing some kind of plurality, just completely differently than someone with a CDD-related fragmented consciousness would. Which is kinda neat, if you ask me.

I recently saw a tiktoker who explained they were misdiagnosed with DID, that they'd been re-evaluated by MULTIPLE CDD specialists and been told they do not have DID, but they have some kind of parts influenced by them being schizoaffective. They genuinely have parts of self that feel like they kind of "step in" to handle certain things, with names and appearances to boot, AND this person is very dissociative based on their scores on dissociative scales— which is why they were misdiagnosed by a trauma specialist (not a CDD specialist) in the first place. Their parts are coping skills based on their delusions. Does that make their parts any less real to that person? No, they still exist and they have for a long time, but they are not dissociative parts like in DID. They have some kind of parts that get them through daily life even though they do not have a dissociative disorder. How cool is that!!! They don't cause harm, so they're not something that has to be done away with or anything. This person can just BE schizoaffective with parts. And the therapists are cool with it. Go figure.

I haven’t even gotten to the part where someone with BPD can have schema modes that are kinda like parts. Not to mention that just because people with CPTSD and PTSD may not have fully autonomous ANPs and EPs like people with CDDs do doesn't mean that the person with BPD/CPTSD/PTSD may not try to “purposely” (or accidentally) semi-elaborate those parts by assigning names or identities to help them cope.

For example, if someone has an explosion of anger due to a trigger and that non-autonomous EP is responsible for it, they may associate that non-autonomous EP's anger with someone like, I dunno, Bakugo from MHA. (I know nothing about this anime I just know this is an angry guy don't come for me please lol) So every time this person gets triggered into an anger spiral, they may assign that behavior to a version of themselves that gets really angry like Bakugo, even though it's really just the ANP being influenced by the emotions of the non-autonomous EP. “Bakugo" may never “truly” be autonomous like an EP in a CDD system would be, but that person who has CPTSD or PTSD may feel like they "become Bakugo" every time they get triggered and angry because of that non-autonomous EP's influence. Eventually, the ANP may learn how to communicate with that non-autonomous EP Bakugo and learn coping strategies for “his” anger and process the traumas that caused that emotional response, which can actually help that person heal in the long run. I think non-CDD parts can totally be a helpful coping mechanism for trauma healing. Consider how much easier it is to be kind to someone else rather than yourself. A lot of trauma survivors are incredibly hard on themselves, but may do a 180 for their friends and uplift them when they are struggling with the same thing. If someone with C/PTSD finds it easier to communicate and encourage healing to “Bakugo” rather than themselves and it ends in them healing in the long run, I’d call that a net win.

Like sure, you can say "but they're not actually endo, they just have CPTSD" but like…if they don't have a fragmented consciousness but they feel like they "become Bakugo" every time that angry non-autonomous EP is triggered, wouldn't that kinda mean that they don't have CDD alters but still experience SOME form of plurality? They may have an extremely anxious non-autonomous EP that is like a different blorbo from their shows, or they might name a non-autonomous super depressed EP after Sadness from Inside Out. While they aren't experiencing CDD plurality, one cannot really argue that they aren't experiencing some kind of plurality, right?

And gosh, what about the folks who genuinely don't have serious enough trauma to have PTSD or CPTSD and aren't really needing the IFS parts to cope, but created their parts just because? Why not? Especially if they aren't trying to demedicalize DID a la Astrea's Web or purposely trying to throw vitriol into the community, what is the harm in it? I already mentioned that they really aren't making a mockery of the disorder, fake claimers are. So what’s the big deal, really?

Why can't we as traumagenic systems just let endos exist without concrete proof? From what l've gathered, there have been studies on non-traumagenic plurality (I believe @sysmedsaresexist has shared these studies before but I may be mistaken...sorry for the tag, SAS) so clearly scientists have noticed this is a thing that happens.

Aren't you, as a traumagenic system, fucking sick of fake claimers CONSTANTLY questioning your existence, your reality? Don't you think endos probably feel the same way towards us? Like yeah, we have a lot of scientific proof we exist, but fake claimers will straight up ignore that shit and say the scientists are wrong. Why are we doing literally the same shit? Like come on, put yourself in their shoes! Let them exist whether there's a bazillion studies on them or not! As long as they aren't trying to cause active harm to others or the community (most endos just wanna exist in peace without being constantly fake claimed and harassed, for the record—just like us traumagenic systems!), just let them be! Live and let live. We cannot dictate how they experience their life, whether it's real or not. (I personally think it is, it's just not the same as a CDD—our experiences with plurality are inherently different as a traumatized system of parts.)

I hope my very long ramble was of help to you and others?

Since opening up to the possibility of endos being real and not being so stressed about whether it is or not, l've just been a much happier person overall—not to mention have a much greater appreciation for how cool the brain is and what we as people do to cope with shit. Plurality as a whole is really fucking cool from a scientific perspective. I think being more open-minded and accepting in general will also just make you feel better as a person. We don't need to be asking all these questions, we can just let it be! It's way less stressful, tbh.

[melancholy-marionette]

Lovestarved (otome/josei jam) penultimate week progress

Sooo, it's getting to that part of a game jam where I start to panic cos I realise it's the penultimate week and there's still heaps of stuff to do x3 Thankfully, I have the majority of things working in the previewer at least! I was away from home last Thursday - this Monday, but was back to running tests on the main game as soon as I got home. Everything seems to work as it should when testing the full demo without changing MC's name & selecting she/her pronouns, but I still need to run a full test with a name change & they/them pronouns to make sure I didn't mess something up there x3 I didn't want to go right into that though after finishing my first demo playthrough test, so I started working on some video backgrounds for alternate title screens + some stuff to go in the extras section :3 It took me most of the day, but I finally managed to make a working version of a music player that has unlockable tracks, haha. I know it's not exactly the most exciting feature in the world, but it's something I've wanted to implement in my projects for a looooong time, and just haven't been able to either due to a lack of time to work on it, or lack of knowledge to know how! In all my past projects that feature music players, as a compromise, I've just locked the entire player behind a condition such as reaching a specific ending or completing the whole game. Then, once the player is unlocked, the entire soundtrack can be played regardless of whether or not you've actually encountered all the tracks while playing. It's one of those small things that's always really bothered me, haha. But in Lovetarved, you will be able to access the music player after reaching any ending or the end of the demo + individual tracks will become unlocked as you hear them while progressing through the game :3 The only thing that sucks is that I'm relatively content with the layout of the buttons for the demo, but I know it won't be able to stay like that for the full game because there are more tracks to add xD The demo will feature 18 (possibly 19, depending on whether I decide to include a certain track or not) tracks from the OST I made, but there are at least another 6 tracks that need to be added to the player in the full version >.<

Anyways, I'm gonna shut up because it's probably not particularly interesting to read me rambling about this sorta thing xD and also, there's still so much testing left to do T_T

[mushiemellows]

Regarding your thoughts on Franky being the Strawhat to die, do you think that could potentially lead to the "bad ending"? The one where Franky becomes a full robot before being made into a ship? Maybe someone (potentially Robin) finds what's left of him and tries to bring him back that way? Maybe he comes back wrong as a result? I figure in that state all that would be left is a brain, which was more than Franky ever wanted to lose.

oh my god my friend this is one of those like ideal messages that cracks my brain open and looks right at my inside thoughts. Yes. Yes. This line of thinking is what inspired me to even start obsessively writing franky fic in the first place. I'm so fascinated by The Line with him-- simulacra, ship of theseus type shit. It's the core of what makes him so interesting to me, and it's what makes Kuma such a cool thematic foil for him, too. I've like, fallen DEEP into the Bad Ship Timeline recently, even more so than where I started.

When I say I think he's going to be the Strawhat that dies, I guess I should add the caveat that I DO think they'll take the sort of cop out direction of like, dying and getting rebuilt. Especially with all the other robotics scientists on the field now. But a robot/pascifista type simulacra of Franky would be a hollow revival; he would still be v much dead unless they kept at least a part of him like his brain. The huge horror of Boat Timeline to me would be the process of him doing it to himself (which is the horror of Franky to even BEGIN WITH, right?).

The first fic I ever posted has been looooong deleted, but I wrote it essentially to have a conversation between his genetic clone and his pacifista, trying to square their relationship to each other and to the original person. I wasn't happy with the fic for a number of reasons, which is part of why I deleted it and reworked it. But then that was retooled into What Makes a Man which you are severely tempting me to return to (tho I will warn, this fic reeks of Early Writing. I've learned a LOT since i initially started it). I never finished the second and third acts, which were the whole crux of why I wanted to write the fic to begin with. It would be fun to keep going down this fic line. I LOVE a reanimation story, and I especially love a Came Back Wrong story (uhhhh spoiler for the direction I was planning on taking the fic in, i guess). And ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY when its a lovers come back wrong story OUGHHHH. idk, its strange that the Frankenstein angle isn't explored more in Franky stories?

At the same time, I'd love to figure out how to push the Boat Timeline angle. The other path I wish Oda had the balls to pursue would be a Dark Franky/mechanical possession/reprogramming sub plot, but idk if we have the time for that in Final Saga. But esp given recent teased twist, I'd love to see this happen. and i was hoping it would happen in egghead Like I LOVE the idea of him taking and taking and taking away from himself until he is like literally a brain in a jar left (and the way I write him, 37 isn't actually far from that state. I'm glad I got to touch on that even more in Handle With Care and Showoff). ALSO re: boat timeline, I think it would be very sweet if someone helped to build him that wasn't Robin? Obv I love the lovers angle. But there's so many direction it could go??? Usopp building him back, MADS building him back, Vegapunk building him, Iceburg building him back?? All of Galley-La and his family and Zambai helping turn him into a warship as a final act of love after "death"?? There's SO many ways it could go, it would be so fun to explore wow.

I love love love talking about this, thank you so much and please please feel free to talk more about your thoughts too on robot+ship+brain horror/beauty in the grotesque aaaaahhhh.

[ilyfynn]

mmu nation i enlist your help in giving me something to do instead of listening in biology. yes i am a halex stan and these are all secretly an excuse to write more halex. 19k is not enough. behold: my first ever poll

more info about each below (proper infodump) (I know I say that I dislike all of them but just choose)

the below all contain halex

modern murder - so I took one look at an extracurricular GCSE class (mine) and went HOW FUN WOULD IT BE IF I MADE THEM MURDER EACH OTHER because they are So Mean and I don't like it. so i jiggled the dynamics around a bit and ended up changing all the characters so now I'm left with a murder au. I planned it across a while but did most of it at 1am, and especially considering I only really write shipping fanfic idk how it is for a murder. however I plan to write all of these someday so as I actually Came Up with an idea I will persevere if needs be

flower shop au - now this was entirely an excuse to write a flower shop au because it would be so freaking cute if alex sent hazel flowers like. LIKE. can you see my 2am vision here. but ofc it's mmu so I had to mysterify it and ngl the mystery I made is kinda trash but. CAN YOU SEE MY "i-planned-this-all-in-one-go-at-12am" VISION????? overall I don't mind this au but I think there isn't much purpose to it so that's why I dislike it somewhat

5+1 - alex-centric halex au. honestly an excuse to make him fall in love again because oblivious alex for the WIN. I probably will write this one first if this poll ends up being of no use because it's plain Pining and I love that

time loop x hanahaki - now this one is one to have an excuse to make myself cry. I really like making characters die, and I really like halex, so I try to make it work whilst being realistic. unfortunately the plan for this one only exists vaguely in my head and my mind and I have disagreements about how well it would work when executed, especially since the scene I've chosen requires a lot of thinking behind the scenes (I suck at that)

do a songfic: I am notoriously good at coming up with songfics that seem really good to me but are really just awfully executed. I'm thinking message in a bottle by Taylor

come up with another one - fake dating au????? I'm thinking that because probably the most impressive and glorious fanfic I've ever read was a fake dating. love love LOVE it. though it would have to be a very long and well thought out one because I'd want to make it Perfect. additionally it would take aaaaaaaaaages to plan but when I do write it I want it to be the peak of my experience in the hyperfixation (it won't because I'll probably have thought of a better au by then)

in conclusion I dislike most of these but will write them anyways. please excuse how I hate my writing too, ARGH I need to work on that. thank you for reading I infodumped very heavily here (I pin the blame on a looooong day)

[dirty-bosmer]

I've been meaning to ask this ever since The Illusionist was completed, but have you ever thought of an AU or alternate ending for the story? Iirc you mentioned pantsing it, so was there ever a different trajectory you considered when writing the final arc? If Nim could have taken another path, what would it have been (and are there any that are happy for either her or Lucien 🥺 LMAO big ask, I know)?

Hopefully that made sense <3<3<3

OOOhooOHOOoo, what a good question! Yes it made sense and really made me think. There are two alternative endings that I think fit the logic of the story and the characters. Actually, I kind of feel bad for Nim now, because of course I chose the angstiest end for the fic lol. Under the cut because looooong and also spoilers.

The first: Mathieu convinces Nim to join him in taking down the Dark Brotherhood. He confesses everything to her that morning after he finds her drunk on the waterfront, and even though he’s responsible for the Purification, he appeals to Nim’s desire for freedom from Lucien and the clutches of the Black Hand just enough that she agrees to his plan. Nim continues to kill off the Black Hand, thereby setting Lucien up further. After she kills Ungolim, Nim is the one who tells Mathieu that Lucien went to hide out in Applewatch. She arrives with the rest of the Black Hand and actually takes part in his torture/death, and even though she does feel conflicted and guilty over betraying him, it’s also very cathartic after everything he put her through. She’s SO angry at him, blames him for not working harder to prevent the Purification, for taking her as his Silencer, for ruining her chance at a normal life, and I think it would be a turning point for her to say, “fuck it, I’m living the way I want to now and NO ONE will take it from me.”

Once in the Night Mother’s crypt, she and Mathieu turn on the rest of the Black Hand. Meanwhile Lorise is going wtf??? and the Night Mother/Mephala is like “lol y’all think you’re slick. I’ll be back tho, and btw Lorise, Mathieu was the traitor and he’s the reason why Vicente is dead. Lucien told Nim all this like a month ago :)” Lorise turns on Mathieu in her rage, and Nim is forced to kill him to keep Lorise alive. Lorise is understandably pissed that Nim never told her and had fully planned to let Mathieu go free, but Nim pulls some gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss and is like “I would never! This was the only way I could keep you safe!” They agree to torch the crypt, then go on holiday to Daggerfall where they let themselves properly grieve everything they lost in the Dark Brotherhood.

In this version of events, Nim doesn’t have a complete mental break. The mantling proceeds a lot more slowly, and she actually has a happy mortal life. She moves back to Anvil to continue her apprenticeship like nothing ever happened lol but she’s lonely. She misses Raminus and is disturbed by how haunted she is by Lucien’s absence. Because she can’t stand being alone and living simply, she’s like “what if I open up old wounds and write to Raminus and tell him I need him c:” knowing full well how much influence she still has over him. She visits the University, and because Raminus is still in love with her and has been plagued by dreams of her weird Daedric visions, he doesn’t throw her out immediately. Having never received proper closure, he tells himself he just one more conversation with her is going to set his head straight, but Nim is fully committed to gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss at this point, so she confesses to the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, saying that was her plan all along and she had to do it to save Lorise, that she couldn’t tell him the last time they spoke because she’d be placing him in even more danger. Obviously, he’s horrified and disgusted, but Nim is like, baby we brought out the best in each other and I’m changed woman now uwu. I’m such a good little mage, see *points to calendar that says ’68 days since last murder’* and Raminus is like “well that’s qualitative proof.” He’s so shocked by it all that there is simply no other choice than to be horny for her. Sorry I don’t make the rules.

They live comfortably even though Raminus remains a little terrified of Nim and repulsed by his own willingness to let her back into his life (Compartmentalizing King 👑). He sees hints of the Madgod in her, and it infects him too but in what I’d like to think is a rather wholesome way? She convinces him to retire from his role as Arch-mage and he becomes the eccentric geologist he always wanted to be as a wee lad. They spend the rest of their life travelling Tamriel together and the adventure keeps Nim more or less stable until Raminus inevitably passes from old-age and she makes her way to the Shivering Isles.

The second ending would be far more chaotic lol. In this timeline, she meets with Mephala in the Night Mother’s crypt and accepts the role of Listener, knowing Mephala’s grasp on her soul will keep her on Nirn a while longer before the mantling overtakes her. Also she’s like well I’ve already fucked up my life to the best of my ability, so why not make it worse :D? In this timeline, she still arrives at Applewatch in time to save Lucien and because she doesn’t have her break, she’s there to kill Mathieu. So Lucien and Lorise are both alive, and the three of them + Arquen embark on their little business holiday to Hammerfell and Skyrim to establish new sanctuaries and rebuild the DB. Nim’s relationship with Lucien sours in ✨New and Improved✨ ways, because now he has absolutely no control over her. Now, the power has been completely reversed, and as unhinged as he is, Lucien does honor the Night Mother’s choice to name her Listener. Nim taunts him with this constantly. Also in this timeline, Nim and Arquen have a full blown affair because Arquen recognizes the chance to seize power and Nim recognizes the chance to rub it in Lucien’s face. They are nothing if if not Toxic <3

So yeah, Nim’s accession to Listener leaves Lucien rattled, hollow, uncharacteristically doubtful and maudlin. By now, he’s lost his sanctuary, the rest of the Black Hand, and his Silencer. He has to rebuild completely by himself, and maybe he thinks this is some sort of punishment or test from Sithis? It sends him into a bit of spiral/crisis of faith, because while he’d always respected Ungolim’s leadership and was never covetous of the position of Listener, the fact that the Night Mother chose Nimileth as Listener is quite frankly an insane move that he simply can’t wrap his head around. As an individual, Lucien never truly respected Nim. He was obsessed with her, yes, but he saw her as little more than his knife to wield, and always thought she was a whiny, ungrateful little brat because she was but more importantly because she didn’t worship at his feet like the others in the sanctuary did :’(

And true to his observations, as competent an assassin as she was, Nim was an awful Silencer lol. She was disloyal, unfaithful, distracted, quarrelsome. Not to mention she held and still holds nothing but disdain for their order and has no leadership skills whatsoever. As Listener, she’s so unserious, basically Arquen’s puppet out of sheer indifference, and it disgusts Lucien, further fueling the violent impulses he’s always felt when they’re together, only now he can’t act upon them so he goes on a similar psycho killing spree as he does in the original fic lol. Also Lucien does recognize that there is something awry about the whole thing, because the Night Mother would not have named her Listener if the Dark Brotherhoods best interest were in mind (and he’s not wrong. It was all Mephala’s personal schemes in the end anyway). So yeah, he’s constantly having to quell what he considers the blasphemous, heretical urge to question the Night Mother’s commands and it eats at him constantly.

I imagine after they return to Cyrodiil, Nim settles down in Bravil and is actually quite content there. She makes Lorise her Silencer and spends her days gardening, helping out at the Mages Guild and the chapel of Mara, going on trips with Arquen and Lorise, and Lucien just has to seethe and watch her find happiness without him. He festers a bit in Fort Farragut, playing sad songs on the lyre and drinking Argonian bloodwine, writing on the walls “I will not blaspheme. I will not question the Night Mother’s will. I will not kill disobey the Listener,” all the while thinking why her why her why her. And because they are the most divorced couple on Nirn, Nim can’t let him grow tired of her, so they’re always playing stupid games to make each other jealous, starting fights and fucking about it, and Arquen is just tapping her watch thinking “when are you two going to kill each other so I can become Listener.” It goes on that way until Nim is finally like “okay, I’m bored fr now” and fucks off to the Shivering Isles for good.

As you’ll notice, Lucien does not get a happy ending in any version lol but I loved thinking about them this way. This was such an incredible question and one I had not really thought about before! Thank you so much for asking <3

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - Ch. 5

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Graphic violence, displays of misogyny, gendered slurs Characters: Billy Bones, Hal Gates, James Flint, Jean DuBois, Mr. Logan, Mr. Muldoon, Dr. Howell, Mr. Singleton, protagonist OC, supporting OCs Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Jean duBois/OC (bffs) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 5/13 Summary: As she continues to learn the ropes, Constance begins her fighting lessons with the gunner Bjorn. And just as well, as very soon afterwards, her new brawling skills are put to a harrowing test.

Author's note: WOW, this one is LOOOOONG. I actually considered dividing into parts, it's such a monster of a chapter. Hopefully not a boring one, tho! Another sort of filler, I promise we go back to the romance on the next one! Btw, I love writing fight scenes, they're so much fun. Oh yeah, there will be blood.

Chapter v.

The very next day, some time before sundown, Bjorn pulled me aside as I was preparing for my grueling tasks, such as scrubbing the decks or sharpening the kitchen blades with Randall (almost cut my own finger off the previous night). He said I wouldn't be working that evening; instead, he was going to teach me something else, something that was equally crucial in the life of any pirate, but far worse on the body.

He was going to teach me how to fight.

"I... beg your pardon?" I said with a tiny note of hysteria in my voice.

"You're going to learn how to punch, kick and stay standing when someone attacks you." He numbered each by raising a thick finger, grinning beneath his ginger beard. "Thierry and I talked last night and figured what happened with Folsom wouldn't be the last instance you would go looking for trouble. So, since it seems highly likely that soon you're gonna pick more fights you can't possibly hope to finish, we decided to initiate you on the art of brawling."

"Um..." I felt a cold chill in the pit of my stomach, for I was painfully aware I had never thrown a punch in my life, much less gotten into a fight. "A-alright? I mean... You do know that this will be the first time I will find myself in such a position, yes?"

Bjorn produced a boom of a laugh that shook the wooden floorboards. "Stick around us a while more--" he motioned for me to follow him into the hold. "And you will find yourself in all sorts of positions, if you know what I mean. Just wait until we get to Nassau and you meet Noonan's girls."

He winked at me from over his shoulder, but the fact was that, no, I did not know what he meant. And frankly? I didn't think I wanted to know.

He brought us to the stern of the ship, near the door to the armory, then cracked his knuckles (the sound made me gulp). "We won't be disturbing anyone here. Now, show me how you make a fist."

I stared at my left hand like I was seeing it for the first time. My fingers were long and delicate, but the days of hard work had destroyed my nails and put dirt into every crease and fold of my skin. I curled it into a feeble fist. Bjorn approached, took a quick look and nodded.

"That's good. You didn't make the mistake of tucking your thumb into it. That's a good way to break these fingers." He tapped a pointer twice the thickness of mine on my first and second knuckles. "Now squeeze tight, as much as you can, and try to hit right here." He raised his meaty tattooed hand, palm to me.

I stared at it wide eyed, then up. "What if I hurt you?" I whispered.

"Psh. You won't. Trust me, I've had much worse. Come on. Put your weight into it, like you're stretching out your arm. Go on!"

I bit my lip and got ready. I pulled back my fist, took a couple of anticipatory breaths, then held in and shot my arm forward. However, at the last minute, I hesitated out of fear of making some sort of damage, so my fist barely made noise when it touched his palm.

Bjorn shot me an unimpressed look. "I can feel you holding back."

"Sorry, I... I got scared. I really don't want to hurt you."

He shoved my hand away. "Let's get something straight. One day, you're going to be ordered to go over the side and join an attack. It might be in a year, it might be next week. But it is going to happen. Hell, you might end up having your first real disagreement right here on this ship, and let me tell you, those boys up there?" He pointed at the ceiling. "They won't give two shits that you're a girl. They will strike with the aim to fuck you up.”

Smile gone, he leaned over me and looked straight into my eyes with his pale, icy ones until I shrunk, fighting every instinct to run away screaming. “When were on the hunt, whoever we happen to board will have one thing in their minds and one thing only: survive to see another sunrise, even if they have to kill every single pirate in front of them. So you better learn to defend yourself, or else you're going to die out there. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

This was a harsh reality for me, one I knew I would have to accept sooner rather than later. Even so, the thought of violence of any kind chilled me to my core. With only a few select occasions, I had hardly ever wished it upon someone. Even so, this was a part of my choice and I needed to embrace it, whatever the cost. Bjorn was right, it was for my own good that he was teaching me.

Don't be a burden, or worse: a liability. I repeated Flint's words like a chant in my brain to encourage myself, then set my jaw tight and brought both my fists up. I gave Bjorn a nod to indicate I was ready. He lifted his palms.

"Left fist, right here." He clenched his right hand fingers.

This time, I put everything into it. My knuckles produced a dry smack against his hand, which hardly moved an inch. "Better. Right fist, now."

I punched his left palm. He grunted in thought. "Left handed, you?"

"For almost everything, yes."

"Lucky for you, that might be an advantage. Most men expect attacks from the right. I suggest you always start on the left, to throw them off.”

I nodded and got into position again, but Bjorn dropped his hands and came closer while examining my shoes with a furrowed brow.

"What?" I asked.

"Your feet are all wrong." He stood behind me, which made me nervous given I didn't know him that well to feel comfortable opening myself up to an attack, but all he did was use the tip of his boot to push my left foot forward. Next, he came around on my right and pushed my other foot backwards. "You want to have them firm on the ground so you can support your own weight. This will lend strength to your punch and make you more difficult to knock down if you're hit in turn. Flex your knees a little. No, not that much. Like that. Now watch."

He gave my shoulders a shove that made me stagger backwards, but thanks to my new pose, I managed to stay upright.

"See? Always return to this position whenever you have a break. Let's practice those punches some more."

For the following fifteen minutes, Bjorn had me repeating the same moves until I got used to them and gained confidence. He had me change the direction from which my punches came, first from above, then from below. And afterwards, with a set of established commands, we mixed up the combinations. At the beginning, the instructions came at regular intervals that I could keep up with, but as the minutes passed, he started picking up the pace. Between my poor reflexes and the building exhaustion from the exercise, I messed up more times than I liked. Whenever I missed, Bjorn would hiss or shout a mockery, which prompted me to focus harder and pause a few seconds before obeying the command correctly.

"Don't hesitate," he warned me. "You're thinking too much. Let your instinct take over. Trust yourself to get it right."

I could feel my punches growing weaker as my arms tensed up, muscles burning under my sweat soaked skin. Still, I didn't slow down. I was huffing and puffing, my hair sticking to my neck and forehead, yet I didn't stop. Not until Bjorn told me to, or until my arms gave out. Whichever came first.

Never once did he complain or even wince. It was as if he wasn't registering the abuse his palms were enduring.

At some point, when the last of the sunlight peeked through the hatches on the ceiling and the hold grew dark, Thierry and two more men came down to join us. I didn't look to see who they were, since Bjorn was still dishing out commands, one after the other.

"Man, you're working her out good, aren't you?" Thierry chuckled. "We can hear her panting all the way upstairs."

"Halt!" Lars pulled back his hands and held them up in surrender. "That's enough for today."

As soon as he called it, I leaned over my knees and let my head hang for a moment, the French braid I'd tied my hair into slipping over one shoulder until it hovered inches from the floor. My entire upper body was in agony, yet... I felt strong and satisfied. I had hardly missed a beat for the last two minutes as my reflexes developed.

With my breath mostly recovered, I finally looked up to see who accompanied Thierry. I recognized them: the bald man with tattoos on his neck and his friend with a full beard. I remembered them from standing behind me at the line for dinner.

"We haven't been introduced yet," said the first as he extended his hand forward. "Muldoon. This is Logan."

I smoothed my hand down my pant leg before shaking theirs. "Constance."

"We saw you with Folsom, yesterday." Logan grinned and wagged his eyebrows. "I don't think anyone has ever gotten so angry so soon after meeting him. I mean, the man is an asshole alright, but novices are usually too afraid of him to do anything about it."

"If I was afraid of pirates, I never would have set foot in this ship." I put a healthy dose of defiance into that statement. Might as well leave the warning now so they couldn't say I didn't prepare them, later. "I'm not letting anyone treat me like a second rate citizen. Especially now that I can punch."

"And can she punch, Bjorn?" Muldoon inquired. "I mean, if you're gonna stir up shit then you better follow up your sharp words with a strong wallop."

Bjorn crossed his meaty arms and shrugged. "She has the technique. Time and hard labor will take care of the rest."

Muldoon smirked. "Sounds like you're packing a pretty feeble wallop. Guess little women don't have much reason to know how to hit, don't they?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he just teasing me, or was there a challenge behind those words? I glanced at the others to assess their reaction. Thierry was smiling, like always, but his eyes shot between Muldoon and me in a manner that struck me as nervous, especially when coupled with the beads of sweat on his forehead. Bjorn stared at Muldoon with a scary intensity, as if trying to get him to stop with his mind alone. And Logan, he observed me like a very interesting looking painting. Or like he was waiting for something to happen. Something vicious and bloody. Eager. Excited.

I pinned my eyes back on Muldoon and let a moment pass. His smirk faltered a notch.

"I don't know, Muldoon.” I shrugged as I took a calculated step forward. “Ladies may not throw punches on a regular basis, but we do have a pretty biting slap."

"Oh yeah?" He snorted, traded a jocular look with Logan, turned back to me. "With those delicate, manicured hands? How bad can it be--?"

My open palm flew through the air like a bull whip, hitting him square in the face with a smack so loud, it echoed throughout the hold. Muldoon stumbled to the side, hand to his cheek as the others shouted "ohhhhh!" in unison, then laughed. Thank goodness for that; I thought I would get into trouble.

As I waved out the tension from my hand, Muldoon stared at me in shock. When he removed his hand, I saw a bright red mark shaped like my palm blooming on his face.

"Bloody hell, girl!!" He complained. "What was that for?"

I faltered, felt my skin prickle with anxiety. Oh my God, was he actually offended? Had I misinterpreted the whole thing and acted too hastily? I felt sick to my stomach. Stupid, dumb , idiot! My hands flew to my mouth as I got closer, worried I'd seriously hurt him. "Shit, Muldoon. I'm so sorry. I--"

"He was asking for it!" It was Logan who intervened by laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't say you're sorry. In this ship, you talk shit, you get hit. That's how it goes around here. He just wasn't expecting YOU to catch on so quick."

"Damn right I didn't. Fuck, that hurt." Muldoon massaged his cheek, yet soon enough he was laughing as well. "Guess next time I'll know better."

I let out a discreet sigh of relief. One thing was to defend yourself; another was to react disproportionately to a verbal jab. I offered my hand as a gesture of reconciliation, same as I had done with Folsom. "I still apologize. I got a little too excited from Bjorn's lessons and didn't think it through. Forgive me?"

Muldoon accepted my apology and shook. "All's well. But..."

He squeezed my fingers so hard that my knuckles popped, shooting arrows of agony up my arm. My body jerked from the pain as I pulled my hand out of his vicious grip with a hiss. "Fuck!!"

"Ohhh, what a dirty mouth we've got!" he chortled, and so did the others. Then he passed an arm around my shoulders and gave them a friendly shake. "Now we're even."

Through gritted teeth, my hand cradled to my chest, I glared at him for an instant before I too broke into laughter. "Alright, if you say so."

I was so going to kick that clown's ass one day. One day...

*** Over the course of the following weeks, my lessons continued. I improved faster than even I had anticipated. Folsom took me up the shrouds and showed me how the sails worked. De Groot continued to mentor me in the ways of navigation and taught me how to use the different instruments. Bjorn advanced the fighting to all out brawl, teaching me grips and how to knock down an opponent by using his strength against him. Jean, Muldoon, Logan and Thierry would often participate and spar with me so I could get a feel for different body types and combat styles. Despite my initial fear, these lessons became a source of fun for me. Not only that, my confidence grew practically overnight thanks to them. I walked a little straighter, felt more relaxed while moving about, looked people in the eyes more often. I was still being hazed, but at least I never sat alone during meals anymore.

I was introduced to Mr. Beauclerc, whom I was told was the best marksman aboard and knew everything about guns. Obviously, he was put into charge of teaching me how to properly hold, load and clean a flintlock. He was a man of few words, but knew how to transmit information succinctly and effectively. Quite clearly, too: once, I saw him shoot a seagull out of the air at fifteen yards on a bright sunny day. That was enough to make me feel glad we were on the same crew. He promised to teach me target practice when we arrived in Nassau, a month from then.

For swordplay, I was paired up with Billy Bones. Before we began our first lesson, he confessed that he wasn't much of a swordsman, but everyone else told me that the only crewman he couldn't best in combat was Joji.

He was a silent man from the far east with long black hair, who strutted around the Walrus like a ghost, enigmatic and so quiet I had almost run into him an embarrassing amount of times. He had a strange looking sword, unlike any I had seen: it was long and sublimely curved, with the tip squared off instead of ending in a point. I had seen him practice with it on deck, footsteps light and precise, each fluid movement carefully measured. I also noticed the others kept a wide berth from him whenever he practiced.

"I saw him cut a man in half with a single stroke once," Thierry told me with this haunted look on his face. "I ain't getting nowhere near Joji or his blade unless it's sheathed."

Billy might not be better than Joji, but he was good enough for me, thank you very much. He taught me how to use the cutlass, how to keep it close to the body and jab, or slash, or use it to block an attack. We sparred a few times a week, though I soon realized I wasn't very good at it. Or maybe Billy was too talented for me. Or maybe if I stopped staring at his big arms and paid attention I might actually learn. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed the reasons for my ineptitude. Yet.

And then, one night, the crew gathered up during off duty hours for a friendly batch of hand-to-hand combat. The hatches on the weather deck had been removed, exposing the upper deck to the starry sky so that more seating and viewing points were made available. Rum was being passed around in mugs, as well as money, while the men made their wagers on their favored fighters. Meanwhile, a group composed mostly of the biggest, burliest sailors towered over poor Mr. Dufresne whilst he noted down their names on a piece of paper and set up the first combats. Bjorn was among them, of course. He had insisted I come watch to learn more, so I found a spot somewhere against the wall and sat with Jean on one side, Muldoon on the other.

“So, this is a sort of tradition?” I asked, straining to make myself heard amidst all the noise filling the gundeck.

“More or less,” Jean replied. “We do this at least once every voyage; mostly for entertainment, but it's also a way to settle grievances among members and establish a pecking order. If a novice is looking for recognition or respect, he might try participating and see how far he can get.”

It seemed so barbaric and disorderly. And yet, no one was making an effort to conceal it.They were as blatant about it as they were with their drinking or their gambling. “And the captain allows this?”

“Why wouldn't he allow it? Think it through: you have a large assemblage of hardy men who sail for months at a time in a confined space and little to entertain. What would be better in the long term: restricting their fun, not to mention a very effective way for them to work out the long hours of labor and frustration of high sea life, or letting them run rampant with it under his supervision, with established rules so no one is seriously hurt or accidentally killed?”

He pointed up at the open hatch. There, among the men settling down in the best spots for viewing the spectacle, Flint stood stoic, a judge over a tribune, a parson over his parish.

Or a ringleader, I thought.

“How violent does it normally get?” I pondered, unable to keep the weariness from my tone. Though I had been ready to shoot anyone who dared come too close back at the Delilah, or stab any wily attackers on my first night, the idea of seeing blood made me queasy. Jesus, what if I fainted in front of everyone? I would never hear the end of it.

Jean's side eye and dark grin did nothing to put me at ease. He neglected to offer me an answer. Instead, he grabbed one of the many tankards of rum doing the rounds, took a swig, and offered it to me. I accepted it, but hesitated to drink. I gave the liquid a sniff. The smell was acrid and strong, but not unpleasant. Still, I scrunched my nose at the thought of how many scurvy-ailed mouths might have been there and passed it to Muldoon.

Moments later, Billy Bones stepped into the makeshift arena and cleared it of any wobbly-legged stragglers. With a blush, I saw he wasn't wearing his shirt again. Once the men who wouldn't be participating in the fights were sitting out of the way, he stood at full height, every mound of muscle carved out in the lantern light, his skin glowing like it was coated in gold. He did one final sweep to make certain we were ready and said:

“Alright, settle down! Settle down. We have new faces aboard, so here are the rules of combat on the Walrus: bare hands only. No shirts, no shoes, no metal of any kind. Only two men get to fight at the time. Anyone can participate and anyone can be challenged. No exceptions. Whoever is challenged cannot refuse the fight unless he is gravelly injured. Victory is achieved when one opponent gets their lights knocked out or taps three times to quit. Does everybody understand these rules?”

A round of "aye!" shook the hull of the Walrus, so loud I felt it in my bones.

"Tonight, we have ten fights for your entertainment. That's ten slots open for one night only, so if you want to participate or have scores to settle, this is your chance. Otherwise, you will have to wait for the next time we set sail. Agreed?"

Another round of cheers, louder than the last, no doubt fueled in part by the free flowing of alcohol. Billy allowed himself a mischievous smile as he took in his audience, then nodded. I wondered if he would fight and surprised myself when I realized the idea made my insides simmer with warmth. I bet he's a magnificent fighter.

A slow, rhythmic thumping rattled the boards, like drums. In mere seconds it grew louder, stronger, faster. I realized it was the stomping of many feet, and it rose in intensity as more and more boots joined. Soon, the entire crew was stomping, then chanting together. The whole deck was filled with that deafening sound. Billy prowled around the ring, waving his arms to encourage them to go louder as he too lent his voice to that tribal call. Even I couldn't help getting caught in their sway, chanting along as I clapped my hands on my thighs, a cheek-splitting grin on my face. As the chants reached their peak, they turned into an all out roar, given strength by hundreds of voices, a deep static that I was sure would render me irreparably deaf. Had another ship passed us by that night, her crew might have thought it was the Walrus herself producing that ungodly howl, not mere men.

After settling down into an applause, Billy took back the center stage, hands spread out in a silent command to quiet down. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, mingling with the dirt from the day's labor, making my mouth go dry. I had to look away, fearing that the unhinged behavior from the others was starting to affect me a little too much.

"First match. Let's hear it for Little Pablo, if you please!"

Somewhere at my right, a short man with light brown skin and a blue scarf over his thicket of curls stood. He walked over to Billy's side, pulling out his vest, shirt and shoes along the way. All he kept on his person were his trousers, the blue bandana and a few leather adornments. The crew clapped, hooted and whistled their encouragement.

Billy smacked a hand on his shoulder. "And who will you be challenging tonight, Pablo?"

The man pointed somewhere by the wall opposite to me."Dick McAllistair."

The men stomped and shouted as if calling on the challenged to rise up.

"Dick! Get the fuck over here," Billy demanded.

This man was much taller than Bobby, though not as much as Billy, and he had intense blue eyes that bore into his opponent from beneath sun-bleached brows. He removed all that was required removing and entered the ring.

"Gentlemen, shake hands," our boatswain said. They obeyed without ever taking their eyes off of each other. There was no outright hate between them, but definitely some tension that desperately needed to be resolved. "Three steps back, now."

The two men did so and raised their fists, getting into position.

"Ready? Fight!"

I watched as Pablo and Dick circled 'round each other under the immense noise of constant shouting, trying to ignore the ball of anxiety knotted in my stomach. Dick threw the first punch; Pablo blocked and parried right away, hitting him on the ribs with a 'thwack!', but Dick barely reacted. Instead, he launched a barrage of quick jabs, most of them hitting Pablo on the shoulders and arms, which he used to protect his head. He held on like that without trying to counter, letting Dick tire himself out, but lost some ground during the relentless assault. He back away with Dick constantly on top of him, until the fight was occurring practically on my lap.

They were so close, in fact, that when Dick finally slowed down enough for Pablo to take the opportunity to return the favor with a well-placed punch to the face, I could see the torrent of blood that flew out of Dick's nose. Thank God it was too loud in the deck for anyone to hear me yelp my shock. Even so, my hands came up to my mouth both to muffle it and hopefully stop myself from throwing up.

Dick staggered back and pressed his palm to his bleeding nose. The red gushed out uncontrollably through his fingers, dripping down his chin and onto his chest, yet all he did was swat it out of his hand and continue the fight. There was an added intensity on his face, anger and resentment, but also a hint of hurt. That threw me off a bit. Both Billy and Jean had said these matches were an opportunity to settle scores and resolve grudges. In this instance, as I studied the expressions on both men's faces, there was no doubt they had beef with each other. Neither of them fought out of pleasure. There was something going on between them that they hadn't been able to resolve with words, so this was the only solution left. As the fight progressed into a grapple, I turned to Jean and spoke into his ear:

"What's the reasoning behind their match? They seem so angry with each other."

Jean leaned into me so I could hear his reply. "A few days before we boarded your ship, Pablo and Dick were up on the foremast sails doing some repairs when Pablo slipped and got caught in the rigging. Dick helped him climb back onto the yard, but the sail got torn while they were at it. Dick berated Pablo for being such a klutz, said he'd added onto the pile of work they already had. Pablo took it to heart, there was an argument, but they never resolved it. Pirates and sailors, as a general rule, aren't very good at talking about their feelings. I think Dick was hoping Pablo had forgotten about it, but when he challenged him..."

I returned my attention to the fight. Dick's nose had stopped bleeding, but the lower half of his face was dark as they went back and forth. Pablo had a small gash on his cheek and all over his arms, black and purple bruises were splaying up from Dick's punching. I thought the fight might go on a while, since they were evenly matched in both strength and speed, but just then, Pablo punched Dick on the throat and followed it by kicking a leg behind the other's knee to make him fall.

As soon as he was on his back, hands clutched around his neck with a panicked look, Pablo was on him. He used Dick's disorientation to flip him on his stomach and lifted his arm behind him, holding it at an unnatural angle. Dick choked out a breathless protest, his face contorted in agony, and still he tried to somehow gain the upper hand. Pablo's grip allowed for no escape, however. Every time Dick moved, he would wrench his arm a little more, until Dick was bellowing from the pain. At last, he could take it no more and smacked his hand on the floor three times to signal he was quitting.

Before Billy could step up to break the fight, Pablo let go and got off of Dick, staggering back to give him space.

"Fight's done!" Billy announced. He took Pablo's wrist into his hand and raised his arm. "The winner is Little Pablo!"

The men roared into applause. Coins (or pieces of eight, as they called them) were passed from hand to hand as wagers received or conceded the amount agreed upon. On the ring, I watched with fascination as Pablo approached Dick, still crumpled on the floor, tapped him on the arm and offered his hand. Despite the defeat and their argument, Dick accepted it and let the other help him up. The two stood close, exchanged a few words I couldn't understand, then laughed and embraced as brothers. Just like that, the tension between them was gone. They walked out of the arena together and sat side-by-side to watch the next match.

I turned to Jean. "I see what you meant earlier. About this being an effective method to settle grievances. They're back to being friends already."

"Told you. Nothing like a good fist fight to work out pent-up frustration." He smirked at me. "So? Was it too violent for you?"

I scrunched up my nose in distaste. "It wasn't too bad, I suppose... I still think words are a less painful way to work through spats. And there are other forms of entertainment besides this barbarism."

"All true, all true," he nodded. "But none as satisfying."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, Jean."

The next match was far more intense than the first. One of the men apparently had insulted the other's wife, who waited for him to return in Nassau, and received a broken rib as a reward for it. The sound of his bones snapping before he tapped out would haunt my nightmares later. He was sent to the sick bay after Dr. Howell examined him on the spot.

The ones that followed weren't so bad. A lot of punching and slapping, many bruises but little blood. During Bjorn's match, his opponent accidentally slipped when the ship tipped over the waves and twisted his ankle, so Billy called it a draw and ended the fight early, much to my mentor's disappointment. On the ninth fight, a man was brought down by a punch and hit his head on the deck floor, knocking him out. He had to be dragged out of the ring by a couple of friends to also be examined by Howell. After he declared he was in no mortal peril, we finally got to the last match.

"Final match, people! Last chance to air out your grievances. Who wants the opportunity to conclude the night in style?"

"I do."

The voice, rough as gravel, sounded directly from across me. I recognized its owner: the pirate with yellow teeth, a scraggly beard over a chin too small and oily black hair, who had granted me the opportunity to sneak aboard by picking a fight with one of the Delilah's sailors. The one who'd said he liked it when women fought back. I felt a chill running down my spine at the sight of him.

A long, ominous hum accompanied his entrance, rather than cheers. For some reason, I had the impression that this sailor didn't fight often, but when he did, he made sure to make a violent spectacle of it.

"Cutthroat Fred," Billy announced. This time, however, there was something off about his tone. He was no longer smiling; instead, he stared disapprovingly at the man whilst he pulled his dark grey shirt over his head, revealing a lattice work of tattoos that covered his whole torso and arms, down to the knuckles. He walked up to Billy and returned his glare with one of his own, silently daring him to say something about him wanting to fight. But if Billy was in discord, he kept it to himself.

"Who will you challenge?" he practically growled, like he already knew the answer.

Cutthroat Fred's cold stare roamed the crowd amidst a tense silence. Everyone was holding their breath in anticipation. He held us all in suspense as he searched... searched... Until his eyes found mine and stopped.

My heart plunged into my bowels.

He grinned like a wolf who had found its way into the sheep pen. "Constance Tilly."

The gundeck exploded into protests.

Several of the crew got up and yelled profanities at him. Others argued it was fair and applauded him for daring to challenge me. Whatever the case, his eyes didn't leave mine. As for me, I was paralyzed with terror. I searched for Jean, hoping he would tell me it's alright, that he couldn't actually challenge me because I had just joined the crew, because I couldn't fight, for literally any other reason, but all he did was stare at me, eyes wide and jaw slack.

No. No, this couldn't be happening. Ohhhhh, shit.

"All of you, shut the fuck up!" Billy bellowed.

The men went quiet and sat back down, though a few continued to grumble their displeasure. Mr. Gates materialized at Billy's side and they conversed in hushed whispers, trying to decide what to do. Once in a while, our gazes would meet. I saw deep concern in his eyes. Still, for a brief moment I was relieved to see him there, thinking he would get me out of this mess. I felt my entire body shake as I tried to somehow get my thoughts through to him telepathically. Please get me out of this, please don't make me fight, please.

At last, Gates stepped into the ring and addressed Cutthroat Fred. "Constance is too new to the crew to fight. She doesn't have enough experience. Choose someone else."

More than half of the crowd pronounced their agreement, but a large enough group countered by boo'ing. Cutthroat Fred took a step forward, teeth bared in anger.

"Rules say anyone can be challenged, no exceptions,” he argued. “And whoever's challenged can't say no. We've had novices with barely a week of admission get challenged and told to fight. She has been here at least three weeks. Or does she get special privileges for being a lady?"

Gates' mouth clamped shut as the men resumed shouting at each other. I was relieved to see so many of them thought I shouldn't fight, like Bjorn, Logan and even Muldoon. But what my would-be opponent said was true: if they didn't permit the fight, it would set up a precedent, and not only would the integrity of the crew become severely chaffed, I would be put into danger as well. It would breed resentment toward me and the animosity would escalate.

My shoulders slumped as the inevitable became clear: I had no choice but to fight.

"Captain!" Billy looked up to where Flint presided over the events. "The final word is yours. What is your judgement?"

Perhaps as a last ditch attempt to spare me, he thought he could appeal to Flint's authority to put a stop to this. I appreciated the gesture, though I knew it to be hopeless. As he looked over the men, he studied the situation in his head with a stony expression, weakly illuminated by the lanterns below. His eyes met mine and held firm. I swallowed a lump in my throat and remembered his warning once again: if I found myself in trouble, not Gates, nor Billy, not even he could help me. This was one of those instances.

"Cutthroat Fred makes a compelling argument. The rules are the rules, and they must be honored. She has to fight."

Now, the men murmured among themselves. Billy and Gates turned to me with a mix of pity and trepidation on their faces, utterly defeated. Jean gave my arm a squeeze to get me out of my daze, but mentally, I was already preparing myself. I glanced over my shoulder to Bjorn; he had his eyes trained on me, brows furrowed over them, yet there wasn't a hint of fear for me in that stare. He gave me a swift nod that said, you can do this. Remember what I taught you.

My body jerked awake as I sucked in a deep breath and balled my hands into fists on my lap. Swiftly, determined to be brave, I pulled out my shoes, stood up to my feet and emptied out my pockets, leaving my trusty kitchen life behind for the first time since I had arrived on the Walrus. My cross, I passed over my head and gave it to Jean.

“Will you keep this safe for me?” I pleaded in a quiet voice. I only allowed myself this small measure of vulnerability because it was such an important object to me, for it's spiritual value, but chiefly for being a memento from my sister. I don't know what I would do if I lost it.

Jean accepted it and held it in his palm like it was the most fragile thing he had ever been entrusted with. He nodded firmly to let me know he understood what that little cross meant to me, then put it away in the breast pocket of his vest.

With shoulders squared and my jaw set tight, I pushed my way forward through the crowd, doing my best to conceal how scared I truly was. In the ring, I pulled back my hair and tied it into a braid, locking eyes with Cutthroat Fred. I tried not to think about how he had received that nickname. Instead, I stood in front of him and willed my expression into a scowl, one I had been trying to perfect during my training.

Cutthroat Fred smirked and licked his ugly teeth like he could taste victory already. I knew I didn't stand a chance in real combat. I didn't have the strength, the reflexes or the experience to win. But there was one thing I did have on my side that I could inflict if I was smart: pain. He might defeat me and leave me a bloody pulp on the ground, but he wouldn't come out of this match without hurting, too.

Billy came up to us, his hands figuratively tied. He glared at Cutthroat Fred one last time, then offered me a more sympathetic grimace. His eyes fell to my shirt, but before I could speak up against ditching it, he snapped back to my opponent. "Can we at least allow her to keep her shirt on?"

Cutthroat Fred bristled. "Doesn't make a lick of difference to me."

"Very well, then. Shake hands."

I grasped his hand and shook. I felt him squeeze his fingers a little too tight, like Muldoon had done, but I didn't let a single sound escape my lips no matter how much it hurt. I gripped his own hand as much as I could, but all that got me was a gruff of a laugh.

"Take three steps," Billy commanded, particularly at Fred, as a warning.

We each took our three steps backwards and got into position. I tried to recall all my lessons and formed a strategy in my mind. It was the only thing I had going for me. Smarts and a little luck. God, my legs felt so numb. My heart pumped so hard and loud I almost didn't hear Billy telling us to go.

"Ready? Fight!"

Again, the deck was filled with the uproar of men shouting encouragement, some of it at me, some of it at Fred. I stood my ground and let him circle me, turning on my heels to keep him within my sights at all times. He mock-attacked with his right fist, probing for weaknesses, and I reacted by hopping back and swatting his hand. My legs might have been numb, but they kept me standing, and as soon as I was aware of that, the numbness washed away, my body going rigid in anticipation. I huffed, then shuffled to the right to gain more space.

Cutthroat Fred didn't make any other attemps for a while. His focus was squarely on my person, just waiting for my concentration to break. I began to wonder if maybe I should try a jab, yet all my instincts screamed against it. That was just what he wanted; to pressure me into attacking without thinking, to rush into it. As much as it rattled my nerves, I had to hold back and wait.

Another mock-attack, but this time I didn't push away. I swatted his hand once more - that's when the real attack came. With the speed of a kicking horse, his punch landed on my mouth and knocked me backwards with a grunt.

The crowd roared to life. I tasted blood on my tongue. Thank goodness, my position was firm enough that I didn't fall. Just as Bjorn had showed me.

Stunned, struggling to clear my vision, I straightened up just in time for the second punch. I have no idea how, but I managed to block it with my arm. Unfortunately, with his superior strength, he was still able to throw me off balance and stumble, a lapse he used to his advantage to kick me on the back of the knee. I hit the ground with a bang, a small scream of surprise escaping my lips, but I didn't stay down for long. The fall hadn't hurt much, so I rolled back on my feet and resumed my position, fists up, feet apart.

Across from me, Cutthroat Fred began to advance, but before he could get too close, I rushed him and threw my first punch, which he dodged and returned with a swift blow to my stomach. I fell once more, knees hitting the floorboards, fighting for breath that wouldn't come. My lungs convulsed, desperate to work, as if my whole front had been glued to my back. Panicked, I hunched over and shut my eyes, feeling them water as my throat constricted. I had to get a hold of myself. It would pass, it would pass. I just had to remain awake and it would pass.

Slowly, my lungs opened again. I gasped for precious air. My stomach throbbed where he had hit me, but now a new emotion erupted in my gut, overpowering the panic, the fear, even the pain: rage.

That, I allowed to possess me. I looked up from my lap to see Fred standing there with his arms wide open to the crowd. He was gloating to his friends. This was all just a joke to him. Making me hurt, making me suffer, humiliating me - it was all a game. The rage got me to stand. The rage made me to forget I was hurting, that I was a woman and this was my first real fight. I spat the blood from my mouth and marched up to Cutthroat fucking Fred.

"Oy!!" I roared from deep within me, momentarily willing the whole world into silence.

Cutthroat Fred turned around just in time to greet my knuckles. Right in the goddamn teeth. It felt like my hand had shattered into a million pieces, but at least I had the satisfaction of seeing him stumble on all fours. Didn't quite fall, but close enough.

Again, our audience erupted into howls as Cutthroat Fred stood up straight, one hand to his mouth. He stared at it, his palm a bright red color, before pinning me with a glare of pure hatred. Suddenly, there was no amusement in his eyes. Now, he was completely serious in his intent to fuck me up.

I prepared for the abuse that would come, with no intention to surrender.

He ran forward with a snarl, too fast for me to react. I raised a knee to at least try to hit his face, but missed. He grabbed me around the waist and pushed me, as well as himself, onto the floor.

In came a barrage of punches, one after the other. My nose burst with agony. I choked in my own blood. I was certain my right eye had gone. Fading in and out of consciousness, I tried to cover my face with my arms, to little avail.

In a desperate attempt to get him to stop, I planted my feet on the planks and shoved my hips up, as hard as I could. Cutthroat Fred lost his balance and was forced to halt his savage assault to steady himself, which gave me the opportunity to wrap my arms around him and wrestle. I couldn't see anything; all I felt was my face pulsing, the blood filling my mouth, getting into my lungs, and Fred squirming around me. By some miracle, I got us to roll around so I was on top. I didn't pause to think. Instead of fists, I clawed my hands and thrashed them around, hoping to hit something, anything at all. I felt flesh under my nails, felt blood on my fingers, heard Cutthroat Fred hiss and yelp from the sharp pain I was inflicting. I was out of control, enveloped in a wild frenzy that urged me to claw, to bite, to fight. I screamed my lungs out, only dimly aware of the hysteria in my voice.

My left hand reached back, hand tensed into an oar shape, and shot it down at high speed, hitting Fred across his cheek with that same smacking noise I'd gotten out of Muldoon weeks ago. The crowd was ravenous around us, punching the air, slamming the floor, bellowing for more.

But my arms were getting tired. I could barely feel my face. Though only one of my eyes was working, it drank up the image of my opponent on the ground under me, soaked with blood, arms and hands covered in gashes from my fingernails, eyes rolling back in his skull. There was no denying I was slowing, however.

With a hell of a kick, Fred pushed me off, breaking my mind out of the frenzy. Adrenaline ran vicious in my veins, yet I was too weak to fight much longer. I couldn't breathe through my nose; every time I tried, more blood rushed into my throat, making me cough and wheeze. I twisted onto my belly and started to crawl away, to at least get some distance, just enough to recover and get back on my feet. I didn't get very far. In a flash, Cutthroat Fred was on me, his body a crushing weight on my back. He slid one arm around my neck and began to squeeze. Panic took full hold of me as I began to thrash in vain, fingers clawing at his arms, but no matter what I did, he wouldn't let go.

"Yield, little missy," he hissed into my ear. "Yield now, and it's all over. But after that? After that, I'm really going to have fun with you."

Some leftover rage blessed me with enough clarity to think, no. No way, asshole. Not in this lifetime.

I gritted my teeth and sank my nails deeper into his arm. Black spots swam in my vision. My body began to wither, exhausted and ready to give in. Still, I fought. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. I couldn't breathe. I was beginning to float away, far away from this horror. Still, I fought. I fought until I couldn't anymore, until my vitality faded away, until my consciousness dove into the unknown, into the dark waters of death.

Then, there were angry voices shouting over each other. Even through the haze I was sinking into, I could still make out some of what they were saying.

"Fred, back off! Let her go!"

"Billy, he's gonna kill her!"

"Let her go!!"

Far way, I heard a faint thump by my ear, and suddenly the pressure on my neck relented. I gagged, wheezed, brought my hands to my throat, feeling like a fish out of water. Many hands touched me, but they were gentle as they lifted me into a sitting position. I reached out blindingly and grasped someone's hand while coughing blood onto the floor, fighting to remain awake. I had no idea what was going on; all I knew was that it was over.

"Constance!" A blurry face appeared in front of me. "Constance, can you hear me?"

I recognized the mop of straw colored hair and the thick French accent. My somewhat good eye resisted, but I forced it to open and to focus so I could see his features. I couldn't find my words, but even if I did, my mouth was too swollen to speak. Even so, I tried my best.

"Jean..." I babbled. The soft J didn't come out right, more like a spitting noise than an actual letter, and more blood sputtered out of my nose. I'd never been in so much pain in my life.

"Dr. Howell is here to take a look at you, alright?" He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze and shuffled aside to make way for our surgeon. He was a somewhat young man, though the deep expression lines around his nose and eyes added years to his face. With careful, experienced hands, he held my jaw and tilted my head up to assess the damage. Despite my best efforts to breathe normally, I kept coughing up the blood that poured into my mouth from my nose, spattering a large part of it on poor Dr. Howell.

"I'm sorry," I choked.

"Don't worry about it, Miss. I'm used to it." And he really meant it. Red droplets smudged his forehead and cheeks, rolled down the bridge of his nose, yet he didn't even flinch.

Whilst he examined me, I heard scuffling somewhere nearby, the sound of many feet stomping the floor, of men screaming and skin clashing with skin. As the struggle moved away from my position, so did the ruckus, then all I heard was Mr. Gates' bellow: "Lock him up in the brig! Billy, go with them and bring me back the key when you're done."

With two fingers, Howell touched my nose. The second he applied the slightest pressure, pain shot up into my forehead and I kick my head back with a groan.

"Aye, that's a broken nose," he muttered. Next, he pried my lips open. My heart stopped for a moment, then kicked back into action, my hand involuntarily tightening on Jean's. Oh God, my teeth. What if I had lost teeth? Jesus Christ alive, I didn't want to end up looking like Folsom, no offense to him. I was too vain for that.

Dr. Howell must have divinated my thoughts from the way I began to shake. "Still have all your teeth, however. Your pretty smile is fine," he jested.

I ran my tongue over them even so, just to make sure. Thank the heavens. Only one more detail worried me, in that case: the fact I couldn't see out of my right eye. "What about my eye? Is it still there...?"

If I lost my eye, my vanity could survive it. But if life aboard a pirate ship was difficult, it would become even more so with one eye less. And then I would only have a spare. If by some stroke of rotten luck I lost that one too, I would be blind. What would become of me, then...? I dared not imagine it.

Howell prodded my brow up with one thumb and my lower lid with the other. It hurt, but it was bearable, especially compared to the pain of my broken nose. Light poured into my eye, filling me with relief. "It's intact," the surgeon confirmed. "Just swollen and bloodshot. It won't compromise your vision long term."

I sagged with a long breath. All things considered, I was lucky. I was still alive and somewhat in one piece. And I didn't surrender. It might have killed me, but that was not an option for me. Not after what Fred had whispered in my ear. Lastly, Howell examined my arms, torso and legs for broken bones, and found them all intact. My skin was no doubt peppered with bruises, but those I could live with. Again, he focused on my face. "How is your head?" I closed my eyes for a minute. "Swimming. Hurts a little." "Do you feel faint?" "Not anymore... Just tired." "That's good. Still, let's wait one more hour before letting you go to sleep, yes?"

I nodded slowly. From the corner of my good eye, I saw Gates leaning over his knees to take a better look at me. I must have looked gorgeous, judging by the wince he made. "Jesus... He did a number on you, didn't he?" I made an attempt at a smile and hissed when it pulled at a cut on my lip. "What? Don't I look gorgeous?"

Laughter rolled around the deck. The sound of it helped soothe my frayed nerves. I had survived my first fight and had drawn blood. I'd say I was successful, whether I won or not. I searched the men surrounding me until I found Bjorn. He smirked and nodded his approval, letting me know I had done good. My heart swelled with pride and my smile widened, even if it made the cut on my lip tear further open and gush more blood.

"Alright, let's see what we can do about that nose," Howell said. He glanced up somewhere behind me. "Billy, mind holding her down?" My smile vanished. Holding me down? Why? I swerved my head around from the anxiety that came back full force. My breath became shallow and I held onto Jean's hand with a vice-like grip.

"It's alright, don't worry," he hushed me, while Billy's imposing presence loomed over my much smaller frame. I looked at him over my shoulder, hardly able to make out his features. However, he didn't touch me. Rather, he knelt and gave me a reassuring look, eyebrows arching as if asking for my permission before laying a hand on my mistreated body.

"I'm going to hold you down so you won't jerk while Dr. Howell sets your nose straight," he explained, voice low, soothing, like the purr of a cat. I stared at him with fright, processing his words at a snail's pace thanks to the panic grasping my heart. "You can hurt yourself and make it worse if you move, do you understand? It's gonna be quick. And Jean will be right here at your side the whole time. We all will."

My eyes traveled through the men standing over our ensemble: Thierry, Bjorn, Mr. Gates, Folsom, Muldoon, Logan... Shit, even Flint was there, somewhere at the back. They were all there to offer moral support, so I would know I wouldn't go through this alone. Jean's thumb rubbed the skin on the back of my hand, offering me comfort.

My guts turned to steel. I hadn't backed away from a brawl with a man named Cutthroat Fred and I wasn't going to back away from this. Not with all of them watching. I wouldn't cry like a child after all that. No chance in hell.

I nodded once and gritted my teeth one last time. Jean released my hand while Billy snaked his arms around me, making me cross mine to my chest so he could hold my wrists. He pressed me firmly to his front, enough that I couldn't get away even if I wanted to, but not so much that I couldn't breathe. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the chance to be so close to a handsome man like him. As it were, all I could think about was how much the next few minutes were going to suck.

Dr. Howell held my jaw in one hand and pinched the bridge of my nose with the other. I shut my eyes tight and held my breath, trying to focus on Billy's grip and the sound of his breath on my ear.

"On three," Howell said. "One, two--"

SNAP. Son of a bitch never made it to three.

"Fuck!!" I shrieked. My body convulsed violently, but Billy's hold was relentless. I kicked my feet, only half aware enough to avoid hitting our surgeon. My arms and torso struggled against the trap that was Billy's body, until the pain began to subside and settle into an uncomfortable pulsing. Taking slow, heavy breaths, I went lax and let myself slouch, eyes brimming with tears that rolled down my cheeks from the crawling sensation inside my nose. Blood dripped copiously from the tip, staining Billy's arms as he released me, though he put his hands on my shoulders to keep me upright, in case I fainted.

It was over. It was finally over.

I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, then another pat my back, and one more pressing the crown of my head.

"Good girl," I heard Mr. Gates say. "You did great, Constance."

"Aye, hell of a fight." Bjorn's added. "Better than I expected."

"Thank you," I huffed. Something was pressed into my hand and I glanced at it to see what it was. Jean's pipe. I grinned at him and he winked right back. It was already lit up and billowing, but the smell was different. Not sweet, but grassy, almost bitter.

"This is something a little stronger than tobacco, so you only get one puff," he warned me. "It will help with the pain."

I brought it to my lips and pulled the smoke in. Almost instantly, my body relaxed. My brain fogged up to the point my vision blurred. As soon as I removed the pipe from my mouth, Jean took it back. The hurt was no more than a distant memory. I felt as if I was floating on a cloud, hovering over the floor, weightless.

"Wow..." I giggled. Around me the men cackled at my reaction, but I didn't matter. I was feeling so good, nothing could bother me.

"Let's get you on your feet, then." Dr. Howell stood up and Jean followed his example. They both offered me a hand and pulled me up until I was upright, if somewhat wobbly. They held me steady for a moment, to let me find my footing, then let go.

“Take her to the sick bay with the others and clean her up,” Howell ordered. “I'll be there shortly. Keep her awake until I arrive. I mean it. Don't let her fall asleep under any circumstances.”

“Oui, monsieur.” Jean took me by the arm and guided me to the bow, always keeping a hand on me as we walked. Just as well, because I was so out of it from whatever he had given me, every tilt the ship made in the waves made me side step out of control, and I was in enough suffering already. He kept me from knocking on literally everything and everyone we passed on the way, even though once in a while I almost knocked the both of us down. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing?

In the sick bay, there other three sailors who'd gotten hurt fighting occupied the few cots and hammocks available. Jean set me on the last spot, but wouldn't allow me to lie on my back. Instead, he propped me on a few stiff pillows against the back wall. It was very uncomfortable. There was no danger of me falling asleep in that position. Next, he went to fetch a clean cloth and a bowl of water, which he set up by my cot before taking a seat and rolling up his sleeves. Under candle light, he did his best to wash the blood out of my face, neck and hands, slowly unveiling the full extent of my injuries. He tried not to show it, but I could tell by how his eye twitched and the corners of his mouth pulled further and further down that they didn't look good.

“I suppose it's best I avoid any mirrors for a couple of days, hmm?” I quipped, hoping to put a smile back on his face and smooth over my own anxiety over my looks. I was successful in the first, at least.

“Oui. Only for a couple of days. So you don't scare yourself into an early grave.”

“It would be too ironic, wouldn't it? To survive Cutthroat Fred only to die from shattered pride.”

“Indeed.” He dabbed under my nose, soaking up the blood that had dried there. It was still tender, but he was very, very careful, and the cold water was a relief against my boiling skin. “It's all superficial. Give it a week or so and all that will remain is bruising. Maybe a slightly crooked nose.”

“No scars? Damn. And here I was hoping to get a memento to serve as preempt to a great story.”

Jean chuckled as he rinsed the blood off the cloth, staining the water a sickly pink color. “It's too early to tell.” There was a pause when he stood up from the cot to throw away the water and find me a clean shirt to borrow. When he returned, a shadow had settled over his features, which made his brow furrow and hazed his eyes with some deep thought. He handed me the shirt and used a blanket to serve as a dressing screen, keeping his back to me so I could have some privacy to change.

I knew there was something he wanted to say and I was very curious to hear what it was, but I didn't ask. He would tell me when he was ready, or not at all. Instead, I traded my bloodied shirt for a muted light gray blouse, whose sleeves covered up my hands and the hem fell to my knees. It also left my cleavage uncomfortably exposed, so I had to cross my arms over it to keep it closed. It would do for the night, but I would have to find a better replacement in the morning, while my original shirt wasn't washed.

“I'm decent,” I announced. Jean turned, covered my legs with the blanket he used as a screen and sat by my side once more, face still tense in deliberation. I held out my hand, palm up. “My cross, if you please?”

“Oh, that's right.” He fished into his pocket and gently pulled out the thin chain, beaded with jasper stones. He let it rest on my open palm and watched as I pulled it back on and held the silver icon in my fingers.

“My eldest sister gave this to me when I turned sixteen,” I told him with a smile. “She said it was so I would be protected, given that I had a worrying tendency to get into trouble.”

“Your sister sounds like a very wise lady,” he snorted. I shoved his arm in retaliation, but that only got him to laugh louder. Not long after, however, he went back to frowning. After a short while, he met my gaze.

“Why did you let it go on for so long?” He inquired. “You could have tapped out and given up. He would be forced to stop the fight and you wouldn't have gotten this hurt. So why didn't you?”

My fingers tightened their hold on the crucifix as my gaze dropped onto my lap. Yield now, and I let go. But after that? After that, I'm really going to have fun with you. It was like I could still hear that whisper, right in my ear. It sank into my flesh, infecting me with that man's depravity. A violent shudder ran up and down my body, reminiscent of my first night on the Walrus - the abject fear of the unexpected attack that coiled in my center, ready to bite down on my heart once more. Like it had never left, only lied dormant.

After I got a hold of it, I forced my undamaged eye to meet Jean's and tried to grin with a confidence I didn't feel. “And give him the satisfaction of beating me into submission? Of letting him humiliate me? That's why he challenged me in the first place. Had I tapped out, it would have been worse in the long run, trust me. This way, he knows I can put up a fight and can give as good as I can take. I may never win, but neither will he be laughing by the end of it. Nor anyone else, for that matter.”

“So it was all for show?” Anger colored his cheeks red, and his teeth ground so hard the muscles of his jaw started twitching. “You risked getting yourself killed or permanently injured to make a point? Are you actually mad?”

“I thought we had already established that I am,” I snapped back, unable to keep my own irritation from seeping into my tone. “Or else I wouldn't be here in the first place. What would you have done, if it was you?”

“I would have tapped out as soon as I realized that all I was going to gain from that fight was a lot of pain. I would have been humiliated, but at least my face wouldn't be swollen like a sponge.”

“Right. It's so easy to say that when you're a man, isn't it?”

Jean grunted and rolled his eyes. “This has nothing to do with the fact you're a woman.”

“It has everything to do with the fact I'm a woman,” I countered. However, before I let my emotions have the run of the conversation and made me say something I would later regret, I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I needed him to understand, and he would refuse if he felt he was being attacked.

“Fred didn't target me for being new. He targeted me for being a woman. The only woman in the crew. Remember what he said when Gates tried to impede me from fighting? He said, “does she get special privileges for being a lady?” That's why I had to fight. When I first came aboard, captain Flint told me there would be situations where I would have to defend myself without help, because if he or Gates intervened for my benefit, it would be seen as preferential treatment and it would breed resentment, maybe even mutiny. The day I snapped at Folsom was one of those situations. This fight was another. And there will be others in the future, mark my words. And they will always arise because I'm a woman and my presence threatens them.”

I made a pause to let my words sink in before continuing. “In their minds, a ship is no place for my gender. That's what they have been taught all their lives, and my being here as an equal member of this crew completely throws those beliefs upside down. It scares them. To them, it's the same as being told God doesn't exist. It puts everything they thought they knew into question. I understand that fear, but I cannot allow it to be turned on me. I can't afford it. If I do, they will eat me alive.”

Again I paused, an hesitation during which I bit my lip and considered not revealing this next part, but how else would I make him understand how dangerous my situation was? So, filling myself with courage, I spoke up. “Do you know what Fred told me as he choked the life out of me? He incited me to tap out so he would let go, but made it explicitly clear he... planned to have his way with me, later. What was I supposed to do, then? Shadow Gates or Billy for the rest of my life so he wouldn't come close? Avoid going into storage or the gunroom or anywhere else where no one would be able to hear my screams? I didn't tap out because as much as I was hurting at that moment, as scared as I was to die or become disabled, it would be a better outcome than to live constantly looking over my shoulder. I need them to know I can fuck them up just as good because then, it will become my armor. And... I needed to know I had it in me, as well. That I was strong enough to hold my own.”

Jean listened without interruption, his expression going from frustrated, to incredulous, to enraged, and, finally, to something close to understanding. He nodded lightly as he turned my words over, no longer looking at me but rather at the floor, hands wringing together.

“As a male novice,” I added. “You were likely scared of being beaten down or made into a joke by the veterans, and those fears are valid. I had them as well - plus the terror of being abused in ways only a woman knows to fear. That threat will haunt me every day I spend in this world. It will bear weight into every decision I make. Please, don't judge me too harshly without at least taking that into consideration.”

“I had no idea,” he admitted in this somber tone. I smiled despite the heavy tone of our conversation and reached out to touch his arm.

“I know you didn't. You are a good man, as well as a smart one. You know the world isn't kind on women, but because you yourself could never conceive to apply that kind of violence on someone else, you never considered that was a genuine preoccupation of mine. It's alright.”

When he finally looked back at me, there was something different about him. A new weight to his shoulders. I realized it was maturity. He looked older, wiser even, for having listened to me, for making the effort to try to see my side of things. God bless him, he really was a good friend. I'd never had a truer one in my life.

He sat up straight and took my hand in both of his. “I will try my best to always take your perspective into consideration, going forward,” he swore. Then, a small, sad smile pulled at his mouth. “And I hope you know I would never let them hurt you like that if I could avoid it.”

“You won't always be around to stop them,” I pointed out. “Just as Gates won't always be there. You're not my body-guard, Jean. Nor would I insult the both of us by asking you to be. But I do appreciate the knowledge that at least one member of this crew has my back.”

“Not just one,” he retorted, but left it at that. Oh, I knew there were others who I might count on to help me stay safe if needed, but the way he put it, it sounded like there were many more than those I was thinking of.

Which reminded me...

“Who got Fred to let me go?” I asked. All I remembered was hearing someone shout at him to release me, but my vision was blacking out by then. I hadn't seen the face of my savior.

Jean blushed and shrunk into himself, scratching nervously at his hair.

My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “It was you?”

“Well, don't sound so surprised!” He laughed. When I continued to stare at him, mouth agape, his grin fell to give way to a frown. “Billy was already rushing to separate you, but I was closer. I couldn't stand the sight of his arm around your neck, the way you thrashed helplessly against him. The rotten smile on his fucking face. Before I knew it, my boot was in his mouth.”

A smile twitched at my cheeks and grew, grew, grew, until the wound on my bottom lip split open yet again with a sharp prick. I sucked on the blood oozing from it and leaned forward so I could press them to his face, leaving a red smudge behind. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, at least not on my part, but he had stood up to defend me and that demanded a reward. The way Jean snorted and squirmed away made me think of a brother trying not to show how glad he was to be praised by his sister after a good deed. There was no shame from either of us in that little display of affection. I think we were well past that, either way.

“That was very sweet and heroic of you. Thank you, Jean duBois.”

He shrugged it off with a meek smile. “It's what friends are for, right?”

I nodded and swore to myself in that moment that, should the need arise, I too would defend him with my life. Whatever the situation was, regardless of the consequences. He deserved no less from me.

I didn't get much sleep that night. Every other hour, either Jean or Howell would wake me up to give me water, ask me some banal questions and overall to make sure I hadn't suffered any brain injuries. Then they would let me go back under to repeat it all over again, far too soon. When the sun rose at the final time I was roused, I decided to just stay up, as I couldn't take getting interrupted from my much needed rest anymore. Plus, I was hurting too much, anyway. Jean let me have another puff of his special smoke, which helped, then brought me breakfast. While we ate, I asked for news. Cutthroat Fred had been locked up in the brig and there was an intense argument going on between his friends, Flint and Gates, about what punishment to apply to this sort of offense. Everyone knew how Fred despised having me aboard, so there was no doubt that what had happened the previous night had been a cruel attempt to subjugate me, perhaps even incapacitate me enough that I would be useless to the crew. There was nothing friendly about our spar; he had meant me real harm and they all saw I had fought for my life, figuratively but also quite literally. He should have let me go the minute it was clear I was passing out and he didn't, so he broke the rules. Some among the crew were accusing him of attempted murder.

However, Fred's supporters argued that the fight had been fair and since I was still alive, there was no foul, therefore punishment for Fred would be unfair. Jean assured me they were a minority, no more than half a dozen of them, but one among them, Mr. Singleton, was particularly outspoken and called for a council to decide Fred's fate. I was enraged to think even a single member of the crew believed that rat of a man had the right to do what he did. It made me want to pick up something heavy and bash him in the head with it.

I had seen my reflection in a mirror - half of my face was an angry purple, blue and black mask, and my right eye was swollen shut. My nose had been reset, but I noted it was slightly crooked. The underside of my good eye was also bruised red and tender. My lip was split open and the faintest movement caused a sharp jolt of pain that made it bleed all over again. The only man who was worse off than me was the one with the broken rib and had to stay in bed for a week. None of the others who had fought looked half as bad as I did. Besides, he had threatened me with further violence if I yielded, effectively trapping me between possible death during that match or further suffering in the future. He had to pay for that. He had to.

So later that morning, when the crew assembled on deck for the council, I insisted on being there. I let Jean help me out of bed, put on my bloodied trousers and we made our way up. When we were halfway up the stairs, I let go of Jean's arm to climb the rest of the way on my own. When I emerged, I wanted to show that I might be beaten up, but remained strong and unbroken. I held my head high, straightened my back and stepped onto the upper deck. Again, the hatches had been removed to make room so everyone could have a clear view of what was going on. The bright sunlight shone down into the gundeck, which looked even more like an amphitheater than before. The whole crew was there. Those closest to me turned when they heard my shoes on the floorboards. Some of them winced at the sight of me, others remained impassive. They parted to let me through and I calmly marched forward, looking straight ahead, with Jean covering my rear. As I passed, I felt a few hands tapping my arm and murmuring words of support. I let their admiration warm my heart and steel my nerves. Whatever happened next, I would endure it with dignity.

On the other side of the crowd, I saw Flint, Gates, De Groot and Billy at the exact midpoint of the ship. They looked up as I arrived, like they were waiting for me. Cutthroat Fred was there too, hands clapped in irons and face covered in red, ugly gashes from my fingernails. With satisfaction, I saw he also had a bruise of his the corner of his mouth from Jean's kick. I smirked at him and he snarled in response. Serves you right, asswipe.

I went to stand with Bjorn at the front row and smiled when I felt his giant hand on my shoulder. Jean remained at my side, glaring at Fred. "Right, then." Mr. Gates stepped forth to address the crew. "Mr. Singleton called for this council to decide what should be done about Cutthroat Fred after the... exciting events from last night. As we were all there to witness and gossip tends to spread fast on this ship, I trust no one needs a reminder?" No one spoke up.

A tall, bald man covered in gnarly scars broke off from the crowd to join him in the circle. I remembered him, too. The bastard mocking my curtsy, that first day. I'd never spoken to him. He was one of those men who gave me the creeps whenever I happened to catch him looking at me.

Singleton took in the crew with a wide look and, with a deep, raspy voice, said: "The fights we hold on this ship are meant mainly for entertainment, as we know, but also to settle scores and clear up the air among angry mates. What we saw last night was no different from any other instance. There was no bad blood between Fred and Constance Tilly. In fact, they hardly ever interacted until yesterday. He challenged her into a fight as nothing more than a joke, simply hazing a new recruit like so many of us have previously done. Was he a little too rough with her? Perhaps, I will concede that--" "He beat her into a pulp when she was already on the ground!" Someone shouted down from the weather deck. "Look at her face!"

"Aye, and he almost choked her to death!" I heard Folsom roar across from me, behind Singleton. He had taken a step forward and shook an angry fist at him. "He had her fucking pinned down and just kept going even after she was clearly done! He wanted her dead!" A choir of protests agreed with him. They stomped their feet, threw insults at Singleton and Fred, accused them of falsehood, disloyalty and even betrayal. It was endearing, seeing them all in an uproar over me when weeks ago I had been their number one target for jokes, pranks and all kinds of hazing. I certainly hadn't expected them to defend me like this.

Singleton searched the sea of faces until he found mine, and shot me a nasty glare, with narrowed eyes and a sneer that exposed his teeth in a growl, made all the more sinister by the scars that twisted his features. I tilted down my chin and stared right back from under tensed eyebrows, feeling the hairs at the back of my neck stand on alert. Want a piece of me too, motherfucker? I thought. Come and get it, if you dare.

"Settle down, settle down!" Gates interrupted, hands thrown out in a placating gesture. Slowly, the men went quiet, until there was silence once more. Then, he turned to Singleton. "Go on." He tore his eyes away from mine and began to walk around the deck with slow steps. "I would like to ask you all something. Are your knickers all in a twist truly because of Fred going overboard? Or are you all so revolted because it was done on a female crew member?" Just as those words came out of his mouth, he stopped right in front of me and loomed over me. "If it had been Jean duBois, or Will Robbins, or Mr. Dufresne, would you be so against it? We have all seen some grueling matches before. Hell, Duffy is in the sick bay right now with a broken rib. Why does she get to have special treatment?"

I wanted to yell at him that I had never wanted special treatment. Didn't ask for it and didn't need it. I wanted to scream that even if I did, Fred had no right to brutalize me the way he had. We stared at each other in silence for nearly a minute, and I fought between the urge to defend myself and my instinct telling me to be quiet. Why? Why should I be quiet? To avoid further animosity? To spare myself from embarrassment, should their minds be changed after being swayed by Singleton's words? Because he wasn't worth it? Just as I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, he turned and continued walking. "This life is hard and violent, always has been for all of us. It's not for the faint of heart or the weak minded. And if this girl cannot stand and take a beating in a friendly match, then what the fuck is she doing here? What's it going to be like during a plunder? Or when we have to defend ourselves from the navy? Will she fight like one of us, or cower and whimper at the first slap? We're all equal here, supposedly. Which means she has to be a capable fighter and endure the same violence the rest of us are subjected to, or get out. In which case, Fred did nothing wrong and he should be freed. That's all I have to say."

With that, he returned to his original spot and merged with the crowd. There were no further protests. In fact, there was not a peep from anyone - because as much as I despised both Cutthroat Fred and Singleton, and as pissed as the others might be at the former's behavior or at the latter for defending him, there was truth to that speech and that put the crew in a very uncomfortable position. I looked around with dread weighting my chest and saw doubt spreading across the very same men who were clamoring against him minutes ago. Were they so easily convinced? Did they now believe Singleton had a point and Fred should go free to torment me some more?

My eyes wandered to the chained man and my guts froze when I realized he was looking right at me, his yellowed teeth bared in a wide grin. If he was freed and cleared of the accusations against him, what was going to happen next? Mr. Gates spoke up once more. "Anyone else have anything to add? Anyone at all?" "I do."

I turned around to stare at Bjorn as he moved past me. He took the center of the ring, gave Cutthroat Fred a glare, then made his address. "What Mr. Singleton said is true. We are all equal here. We share in everything on this ship: food, drink, profit, violence. None of us get special treatment, no exceptions. You won't hear me say we should cut Constance some slack for being a woman, or new, or any other reason. I think last night she made it clear she can, in fact, take a beating, and not only that, she can put up a hell of a fight and she won't hesitate to stand up for herself." A few stomps of agreement.

"However. When was the last time anyone got out of a friendly match looking like that?" He pointed at me. "Does that look like someone who got out of a friendly match?" "More like she got in a brawl with a fucking bear," someone said, and others agreed.

"Exactly," Bjorn nodded. "Now, yes, Duffy is in sick bay with a broken rib and bedridden for a week. But he insulted Trelawney's wife, so he kind of had it coming anyway." He paused to let the men have a quick laugh. "To anyone's knowledge, Constance did nothing to incur Fred's wrath. Like Mr. Singleton himself said, they barely interacted. So why the fuck did he feel the need to leave her in that sorry state? I'll tell you why. Those of us who have known him longer know that Cutthroat Fred is a cruel, petty, woman-hating mongrel who takes pleasure in causing pain, no matter the reasons. He enjoys making recruits go through hell, the younger the better. He was banned indefinitely from Noonan's brothel because he likes to torture his girls. And of course, we all know about how he was expelled from his last crew because he murdered the cook over a badly boiled egg.” He spoke to Fred directly, then. “That's how you got the nickname, didn't you? You sliced that man's gullet open with the bread knife." We all stared at Fred, whose nostrils flared up in rage, hands balled into tight fists. He looked about ready to wrap his fingers around Bjorn's' neck.

Just like that, all the doubt descending over the crew was dispelled by resentment and distrust. I had no idea if what Bjorn had said was true, but from their reaction, I was inclined to believe so. It washed me with a wave of equal parts terror and pride: I had fought with a man as dangerous and evil as that, and survived. I had survived a sadistic murderer. Jesus fucking Christ, how close had I been to actually dying?

"So I say, yes. Yes, Cutthroat Fred deserves judgement and he most definitely deserves punishment. He challenged Constance Tilly to a friendly match and went deliberately overboard in an attempt to end her life. He was unnecessarily cruel toward her for no reason, other than because he couldn't stand the thought of having a woman on the crew. The only reason she still draws breath is because she is a tough fighter and Jean intervened in time. She did not deserve to have her face battered like dough. She works as hard as any one of us, she is dedicated to her tasks, and lets not forget she wanted this bad enough to sneak aboard the ship in a pink frilly dress, so."

Another round of laughs, which I joined. Bjorn raised his hands in a shrug. "You know what I think. Now it's your turn. Mr. Gates? I'm done for today." "Thank you, Bjorn." Gates took back the center stage while my friend came toward me to stand at my left side. I gave him a big smile and mouthed a 'thank you'. In response, he winked with a grin of his own and gave my shoulder a gentle shove.

"Anyone else? No? Very well. All those in favor of condemning Cutthroat Fred for attempted murder of a crew member?"

I raised my hand. So did Jean and Bjorn. So did many in the crowd, almost all of them. Then Billy raised his arm, and De Groot, and Gates. At last, even Flint voted in favor. At his side, Cutthroat Fred nearly foamed at the mouth, panting like a rabid dog. "All those in favor of clearing him of all charges?" As Jean had told me, at least half a dozen hands went up, including Singleton's, yet they looked pitiful compared to the sea of arms calling for condemnation. They never stood a chance. My heart felt light as a feather and I was finally able to breathe easy. I would never have to deal with Cutthroat Fred ever again. I was safe. For now. "The ayes have it," Mr. Gates declared. He turned to the convict. "Cutthroat Fred, you are hereby found guilty of trying to kill one of your own brothers – a sister in this case - and on behalf of the crew and captain Flint, I pass judgement: to be left in a deserted island with no food, no water, only a pistol and a single bullet. You have disgraced us all and it seems fitting that you should die alone and abandoned, without a single friend in the world to aid you."

There were no cheers to accompany the sentence. Instead, the men began their stomping again, while Billy, De Groot, Bjorn and one other big sailor I didn't know grabbed Fred by the arms and took him away. Before they disappeared below decks, Fred locked eyes with me and something in him snapped: he struggled against his guards and fought to free himself, cuffed hands reaching out for me as he roared a blind rage, teeth bared and a mad glint in his eyes. "I'll kill you, you cunt!!" He shrieked while he was dragged down with Billy's arm around his neck. "You better pray I die, you hear me?! You better pray I die on that island because if I live, I'll fucking kill you!"

My breath came out in shallow puffs. Jean had moved to stand in front of me with his pistol drawn out and as I came out of the initial shock, I noticed the wall of men that had formed around me. They had all assembled to shield me the moment Fred had moved to attack, and they didn't stand down until we couldn't hear his howls anymore. Even so... I was terrified. Knowing there was someone out in the world who had it in for you was scary. The scariest thing I had ever had to face. And what was worse... Fred wasn't the only one. I peeked from between the many heads surrounding me to look at Mr. Singleton and the others who had voted to free Fred. They were staring right back at me and they didn't seem pleased. I would have to watch my back, from now on. The impression was that my problems were only beginning. *** Days later, we arrived at a conglomerate of islands that were little more than sandbars with scruffy vegetation on top. Mr. De Groot had told me they were far enough away from the usual trading routes that it would be near impossible for Fred to escape or be rescued. He had one of two choices: either let dehydration and starvation take him, or end his own misery. From the Walrus, I watched as Flint, Gates and Billy boarded a launch with a tied up and gagged Cutthroat Fred in tow. They rowed him toward a patch of land made out of rock and sand, denying him even the luxury of shade, and through a spyglass, I saw them drag him onto the beach and cut his ropes at gunpoint. Flint then presented him with his one loaded pistol. Fred spat at his feet, so he threw the pistol onto the sand and turned his back on him to return to the launch.

Gates and Billy followed, always keeping their own barrels trained on Fred. They too boarded the launch and started to row away. Perhaps finally realizing how dire his situation was, Fred made a run to the water and began to swim to the launch. He managed to hook one hand on the ledge before Flint promptly smashed his fingers with the handle of his pistol. I could hear Fred's cry all the way from the ship. Around me, the crew cackled with amusement and cheered as Fred swam back to the beach, holding his broken hand to his chest. I didn't. Despite everything... I couldn't help to feel some pity for him. Not enough to make me want to plead mercy, but still.

The launch was almost upon us when I felt a familiar sinister presence creep behind me. Cautiously, I lowered the spyglass and glanced over my shoulder at Singleton. "The fuck do you want?" I asked. My words might have been snappy and my tone firm, but on the inside I felt as powerless and scared as a rabbit did when the eagle descended upon her. We were surrounded by our crew mates and it was broad day light, yet none of that comforted me or made my heart stop pounding painfully in my rib cage.

"You might have gotten away this time," he growled low enough so only I could hear. "But your luck will run out, eventually. You don't belong here and I will make sure everyone knows it. You will be begging to leave by the time I'm through with you." In a flash, I spun around, pulled out my knife and held the tip to his stomach, deep enough to make him wince, though he didn't move. I stared into his eyes and got in his face, so close our noses almost touched.

"Go ahead," I spat back. "Make your move. Do your worst. I'll be waiting. But know this: when you finally have the balls to face me, I won't hesitate. That is a promise." Singleton smirked, then snatched my wrist, twisted it in a sharp angle that made me cry out and drop the knife.

"Pitiful creature," he laughed. "Pretending to be a pirate, thinking you can stand up to me. I could bash your skull into the railing right now and I wouldn't even break a sweat--"

His breath hitched in his throat when I shoved my entire fist into his dick. Immediately, he let go of my arm and bent over, face bright red, both hands on his crotch. I could have left it at that, but I wanted to make a statement. I reared up my leg, kicked him on the shoulder and watched as he dropped on his back like a sack of potatoes. Lastly, I picked my knife from the floor and pressed a knee to his neck.

"I told you, I won't hesitate. And just so we're clear on exactly what will happen if you ever come near me again, Mr. Singleton..." I removed my knee and brought my knife to his throat, pressing the blade to his skin hard enough to draw blood. "This is to remind you I am a pirate and you would do well to never forget it. Don't ever speak to me again. I don't want to see your face anymore than I'm already forced to. Are we clear?"

His glare was almost sharp enough to kill. He wanted me gone. He might want me dead, even. Still, when you had a blade to your jugular, no argument could save your life. He nodded slowly. I removed my knife from his neck and stood up, wiping the blood on my pant leg. He rushed to his feet as well, breathing heavily, then noted the audience our little spat had garnered. No one intervened, no one said anything. They just stared at him as if daring him to attack me. Singleton compressed his jaw tight, realizing he was outnumbered and outmatched. The silent threat was clear: touch a single hair on her head, and you're done for.

Having no choice but to accept defeat, he grunted in frustration and left. As for the rest of the crew, they didn't address me or even acknowledge me, either; one by one, they returned to their posts and pretended nothing happened while the captain, quartermaster and boatswain were out.

With a frail sigh, I tucked my trusty kitchen knife into my pocket and grabbed onto the railing to stop my hands from shaking. My teeth chattered as my skin broke into a cold sweat. Hopefully, my show of force and the crew's backup would be enough to deter Singleton and anyone with half a mind to harm me from doing anything. I watched Flint and the others climb aboard, then give the order to get us underway, toward Nassau. It was time to go home.

I took one long breath through the nose, filling my belly and chest with air, then let it out through my mouth. Little by little, my nerves calmed and the anxiety exited my body, returning feeling to my numb limbs. I should join the others and get to work. "Hey." I looked to my right. Mr. Gates was at my side and peered into my eyes with concern. "Heard there was an altercation with Singleton. Everything alright?" I nodded with closed eyes and hung my head. "We reached an understanding. All's well." "Did he hurt you?" I snorted. "You should ask him that." Gates' eyebrows shot up as he stood straight. "All right, then. In that case, why are you standing about here? Those sails won't man themselves, missy."

"Yes, Mr. Gates." I pushed away of the rail to run toward the fifes and join my mates. As we tugged on the rigging and tied it off, I got a glimpse of the islet where Cutthroat Fred would likely meet his maker and realized whatever pity I had felt for him was gone. My struggle with Singleton had served as a reminder that for as long as men like that existed, my safety was never a sure thing. They didn't deserve my pity. Nor my mercy, for that matter. After all, they had none reserved for me.

I wasn't entirely used to violence quite yet. It was still a very recent notion for me, and it made me uncomfortable, but at least I wasn't scared of it anymore. My face would heal and it was clear now I was more than capable of defending myself. And as I remembered the wounds I had inflicted on Fred, and Singleton's face when I got him on the ground, under my blade... A half smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. Maybe some justified, well directed violence wasn't so bad. I could learn to like it.

[colorful-white-ideas]

Bill did promote BKW and we didn't notice it?

I know I've been very critical of Bill lately because of the last marketing fiasco of the Boy Kills world promotion. But one anon brought to my attention something that made me think in some coincidentical events of last year that now make sense. Have time? This is looooong

Anon said "Now that I know that he initially did the voice over as shown at TIFF and he got replaced, maybe that played a part into his lack of promotion, especially as the lead "

2023

- July 22 : Bill is spotted attending a UFC match in London.

- July 23: the BKW trailer comes to light, the famous " Cannes trailer". Someone found it and shared it with the world. Don't ask me who I just remember it was everywhere suddenly I even made a post about it too. Now (2024) is no longer up on that page. In that trailer the boy inner voice was different from the one we have now.

- The bobbysill IG acc caught our attention again after days of speculation if it was Bill's or not . Bob uploaded this :

*Willemandersson is Bill's friend.

-July 24: this same acc had a mental breakdance after someone went to the BKW producers to complain about someone "leaking" pictures of the movie without an official release of the trailer , calling it a hoax and bla bla ( sadly I don't have screenshots of those negatives comments but the pic of Boy is later erased) Bob starts posting a couple of pics that no one has ever seen before and that are absolutely Bill related:

Now let's jump in time.

August 3 The Toronto international film festival announces BKW premiere for sep 9

Sep 2 Bill is seen attending one again a UFC match in Paris .

Sep 9 The day of the premiere in Canada. Bill went to another UFC event , this time in Uppsala.

Coincidence?

Isn't curious that every time something big about BKW was out or about to happen ,Bill , let himself be seen in a UFC match ? It is very well known that he loves those sports, so I don't think these were the first or only times he attended a public UFC event.

Which is more important: the images we saw of him among the public didn't come from fans around him but from the official media present at the event. They were not accidental sightings, he wanted people to see him there. He knows how to hide , he could have gone and refused to be acknowledged in the public but he smiled and played along with the media there.

In 2023 the SAG AFTRA strike paralyzed the industry, no one could really promote upcoming projects without being accused of going against the strike. Maybe this was his way to promote the material, also for what we see now of the BTS shots , he had a really good time filming. I bet he was so excited about this movie he literally couldn't wait to start showing off what he was able to do.

After all HE and his team reached out to the crew asking to audition for the movie. You can look it up. So this movie wasn't just a cash grab for him HE WANTED to be part of it.

But something happened cause that enthusiasm was non-existent this year.

The first critics to the movie at the TIFF were 50/50. Not very impressive.

2024 it is announced that the inner voice now will be done by H. Jon Benjamin. The original voice was replaced just months before the world premiere.

There is a trailer going around with a voice that pretty much sounds like Bill and if it's really his I can hear he put a lot of effort to give the character an identity that went beyond than just the goofy one the director wanted as the final product.

( * personal note I like both results )

Maybe anon is in some way right after all ? Maybe Bill agreed on erasing his voice but as an exchange decided to not use his actual voice to promote it.

A tantrum ? Yes absolutely. But also if you think about it maybe he saw it like they didn't take him seriously, his whole effort was not appreciated so along with the production team decided to "stay in character" and not talk about Boy. Others could do it for him.

****PLEASE do not take this as proof of anything, it's just speculation I did on my way home from my job.

He by all means could be just a diva who just didn't want to be part of the fuss of this premiere and that's it. Only the crew and him know what really happened. ****

[doodlemancy]

Hey there I just have a question about the Patreon stuff - I 100% agree with everything you said, I'm not too knowledgeable about some of the things Patreon has done. I know they want to get rid of first of the month and per creation billing, but WHY? Why do they hate it so much and want to get rid of it so badly??

hmmmm. i can't say i know for sure, but i can make some guesses. a lot of it seems like an unwillingness to problem-solve, honestly. there have been various excuses that i can remember-- one is that processing everything at the beginning of the month leads to all the Payment Processing Problems happening at once which, fair, understandable. hire more people, sorry patreon, you already made your bed on this and now you get to lie in it for the sake of the people that depend on it. another excuse they made during the fiasco in 2021 is that a lot of people sign up in the middle or toward the end of the month and think they've been "double charged" when the 1st of the next month rolls around, and they get charged again less than a month after they signed up. it apparently leads to a lot of customer service tickets. instead of implementing ANY features that would help patrons understand this better at signup, or allow patrons to delay payment until the 1st of the next month, they wanted to do away with 1st-of-the-month billing entirely. and like yes. this is a problem. chargebacks are bad. having to deal with a lot of help tickets at the same time every month is bad. but having worked customer service long enough: clarify your language and again, hire more people, sorry! bed made! lie in it!

with the apple thing... i kind of wonder if that's been an influence in the past and for how long. it feels like they are really insistent on changing their service's behavior to be more predictable to the average Netflix/Doordash/etc. subscriber or whatever. the rolling bill structure is the default for most stuff, and it does make sense to want to be predictable... but in general they really seem to think very little of the intelligence of patrons. which is an understandable consequence of dealing with any kind of customer service-- just statistically speaking you will encounter a lot of horses who cannot be made to drink or even led to any kind of water and it will make you think humanity is doomed. but it's weird that they're willing to trade out entire portions of their userbase for that predictability. i think some of this is also a venture-capital-driven desperate desire for wider appeal, which is the fall of every tech company at some point, i guess. the insistence that the apps no one likes are Extremely Important is what bolsters my belief that this is a misguided growth-chasing thing. like everyone else, they probably are trying to make line go up, and there's no room to be pleased with a sustainable niche in that equation.

i don't know if there are other mysterious under-the-hood reasons, like if it's gonna be better for them re: payment processing fees or something or if their processors or investors are giving them shit about it for some reason or another. it's likely there's something else they are, as usual, not being transparent about.

so yeah. it's not that i think Patreon would be easy to run. it's not that i don't see that there are some legit challenges here. but i do think they are strangely willing to give up and go straight to the most destructive solution rather than try to figure out how to make the thing work. i don't really know exactly what's going on more than anyone else does, i'm just looking for patterns.

also: i know you don't, anon, but if anyone's thinking i've been too harsh or that i'm too suspicious of patreon up-front here and am Probably Just Unpleasable... they do have a history of deceptive shit. it's been their thing for a looooong time to take secret polls only of select groups of users so they can say that their bad decisions are based on "user feedback". i actually got an email invite back in 2021 for a secret behind-the-scenes call that i'm sure they were just gonna use to try to justify some more shit. i declined and told them they should have learned by now to ask the whole community for input on big decisions, and i got a predictably dodgy answer. sigh. i wish they really cared about us.

[tarobii]

I'm like only a bit sure nobody has sent this to you yet if someone has feel free to ignore this but here you go

1. who's your favorite oc?

2. who was your first oc?

3. how many ocs do you have?

4. have you kept all of your

ocs since the beginning?

5. are any of your ocs based

off of a show/book you like?

if so, who?

6. what is the species of the

majority of your ocs?

7. are any of your ocs an

original species? if so,

what's the species and who?

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

9. write a few sentences as

(oc name)!

10. are any of your ocs part

of a story? if so, what is it

about and who's in it?

11. do you have any twin ocs?

12. are any of your ocs

siblings?

13. what is the gender of the

majority of your ocs?

14. make up a new oc right now

based on (concept/show/color/

etc.)!

15. would you ever give up any

of your ocs?

16. who is your oldest oc

(age-wise)?

17. have you ever roleplayed

as your ocs?

18. how many of your ocs were

adopted from someone else?

19. who is your least favorite

oc?

20. which oc do you think has

changed the most since you

made them?

21. who is your newest oc?

22. have you ever cosplayed

your own ocs? if so, who?

23. which oc do you think has

affected you the most as youve

grown with them?

24. have you gotten cosplayers

of your ocs? if so, of whom?

25. do you have any ocs that

you havent drawn/written as/

talked about in a long time?

if so, who?

OH MY STARS THANK YOU WAHAHAHA

OMG OK

ok. ok.o k

it's brainrot time :)

I've answered like 3 of these already so I'll just be copy-pasting the answers for those ones ^^

answers under the cut bc this is gonna be looooong hehe ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

1. who’s your favorite oc?

Haruto: "Well obviously it's me. They haven't stopped thinking about me for like a month now~"

Raiden: "No, it's clearly me. Despite all the changes, I'm their longest lasting OC in terms of interest."

Haru and Den: *arguing* Olivier: "...?"

Olivier: "...What are they doing??"

Olivier's my favorite :)

2. who was your first oc?

uhhhh I think it was either Moonlight or Jasmine(??? I think that was her name)

3. how many ocs do you have?

182 and counting!

edit: more if you count the Undersociation cast, as well as the aus (yes, I've made aus of my ocs lol)

4. have you kept all of your ocs since the beginning?

[copied fr prev ask]

yep :)

every. single. one.

(I dont,,, use them anymore,,, but like they're still here lol)

addition from present me: there's actually a small group of ocs I had in elementary school that I had to let go bc I've pretty much completely forgotten about them, so I can't bring them back 😔

5. are any of your ocs based off of a show/book you like? if so, who?

[copied fr prev ask]

yep! Alice in Wonderland! I have ocs for the queen, the white rabbit, mad hatter, blue caterpillar, cheshire cat, and some in the same universe that aren't directly based on Alice in Wonderland characters.

I've only actually drawn two of them but here!

Haruto (Blue Caterpillar) and Chess (Cheshire Cat)

there's a bit more lore to it than them just. being the same characters from the story (bc,,, they're not,,,,,) (they're the descendants of the og cast) but yk lol

6. what is the species of the majority of your ocs?

Human, according to my spreadsheet. 57/182 are human. The rest are various other species lol.

7. are any of your ocs an original species? if so, what’s the species and who?

yes! a lot of them are original species just because,,, idk what species they are lmao,,,, for example: butterfly thing, fog thing, ghost??? monster????? thing??????

but do have a few original species ocs that I actually know what they are lol

these ones are the aureses ocudau! (these specific ones are named Tie and Zip!)

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

random number generator go!

Florian!

he has my favorite name tbh ~Florian~ so fun

9. write a few sentences as (oc name)!

random number generator go! again!

Vesper! how thematic! Vesper is Florian's best friend, ehe

(I,,, am not a writer,,, oh no,,, here we go,,,,)

"Florian, are you kidding me?" "Ehehe, oops?" Vesper grabs Florian by the shoulders. "Florian. Florian. F L O R I A N. Did you seriously fall into a fountain chasing a cat???" "Haha. Perhaps..." Vesper gives Florian the Look™️. Florian flounders a little. "Listen..." "I'm listening." "In my defense... it was reaaaally cute." Vesper deadpans. "Seriously?"

10. are any of your ocs part of a story? if so, what is it about and who’s in it?

[copied from prev ask]

yesn't

they're all in one connected multiverse, and I like thinking of silly little scenarios, so technically they're all in a slice of life

with one exception!!

Undersocation!

which is a work in progress but the basic plot synopsis is that it starts as a slice of life and shenanigans with the association employees

but then the Catalyst happens and what's basically the apocalypse happens

our main characters are Sans (Spade) and Kyrian, and their main goal is to find their respective brothers, Papyrus (Clover) and Evelin

they don't know if Pap and Eve are okay or even alive, because they were out of town on a mission--but they were due to come back on the day the catalyst happened, so their status is unconfirmed

11. do you have any twin ocs?

yep! two pairs (that I remember lol) Moonlight and Midnight, and Yuuto and Yuki! (don't. question my naming conventions lmao. the first two are from when I was in elementary school and the second two have the Yu- "prefix" so to speak running through the whole family lol)

12. are any of your ocs siblings?

yes! many of them here are a few ^^ in a (slightly outdated) chart

these two (Keiran and Evelin) specifically have a new younger brother (Kyrian):

13. what is the gender of the majority of your ocs?

male, probably

14. make up a new oc right now based on (concept/show/color/etc.)!

her name is sabie :)

15. would you ever give up any of your ocs?

unless I specifically made them for that purpose (ex. adoptable, a gift) no <3

16. who is your oldest oc (age-wise)?

my oldest named oc is Haruto at a whopping 737 years old

but my actual oldest oc is his dad lol

17. have you ever roleplayed as your ocs?

yeah, kind of. I semi-roleplay as Olivier in a minecraft server I'm in

18. how many of your ocs were adopted from someone else?

none that I remember

19. who is your least favorite oc?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I like all of them tho :(

20. which oc do you think has changed the most since you made them?

Raiden, hands down.

My guy got a complete design and backstory overhaul

before and after

(fuckin hell that lighting is trash lmao)

21. who is your newest oc? optional- doodle them to show!

sabie is lol

but besides her, them!

Siren!

they're Felix's older sibling (❁´◡`❁)

22. have you ever cosplayed your own ocs? if so, who?

yep! Nikolai (I only have videos of this cosplay lol, hence the blurry screenshot)

23. which oc do you think has affected you the most as youve grown with them?

[copied fr prev ask]

THIS FUCKING TWINK

his name is Raiden and he's my oldest oc that I still actually use and I am so very attached to him he's my bbg through and through

he's also the oc with one of the most batshit insane backstories lol (hint: all of those funeral pictures in the second one are *all* him)

24. have you gotten cosplayers of your ocs? if so, of whom?

nah, just me

25. do you have any ocs that you havent drawn/written as/talked about in a long time? if so, who?

[copied from prev ask]

yeah, almost everyone on my old deviantart

[ghooostbaby]

was tagged by @muigiel ^^

nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

1. why did you choose your url? i heard "ghost baby" could be a translation of wei ying (from mdzs) and i really loved that vibe

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. @revengegarden which i use to put art inspiration in.

3. how long have you been on tumblr? i think i first joined when it was in beta in like 2009! i didnt really know how to use it though. i used it intermittently over the years to post silly poetry and save stuff from the internet i enjoyed. i never really interacted with anyone or understand how that worked. i made a new account in 2020 when i got interested in fandom stuff during pandemic lockdown times..

4. do you have a queue tag? no

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? well i answered that above kind of ... i've always sort of gotten weird obsessed with whatever i'm watching or reading, no one else i knew really had the same level and that i remember during the first weeks of lockdown searching stuff on what i was watching instead of bothering uninterested people about it and ended up on tumblr looking at fan art of zuko and sokka :P and all these people losing it over fictional characters i was like ... i think i'm home? so i got a tumblr to participate in it more.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? my name is from wei wuxian so i wanted a pic of him! he was sort of my main blorbo at the time making this account, and he truly captured my heart when he was all red-eyed insane with rage playing his demon flute

7. why did you choose your header? i don't know what my header is haha

8. what’s your post with the most notes? i'm not sure exactly, but i think the last 'annual stats' thing tumblr shared was a feverish cumplane head canon i posted. i also get notes every day on a recent post about wu ming fanon vs canon. but actually my looooong ranting meta about wei wuxian and lan wangji is probably the most notes. but reading that meta makes me want to hide under a rock encountering my past self

9. how many mutuals do you have? a couple

10. how many followers do you have? o.o

11. how many people do you follow? a few hundred i think?

12. have you ever made a shitpost? *looks up definition of shitpost* no

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? probably an hour a day just scrolling on my phone when i'm too tired to do anything else... i've had a job this summer that has been brutally long hours and tiring so i'm not in the mood to sit at my computer much

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? sometimes haha. listen, sometimes people have takes that are so bad i have to say SOMEthing. then i get so terrified of being yelled at i delete everything or ignore tumblr for 2 weeks or ask @muigiel if people are being mean in my notes hahaha

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts ummmmm

16. do you like tag games? it's nice to be tagged! atm i usually don't have time when i receive them and then the notification passes and i forget, this one i put in my drafts though

17. do you like ask games? love to be a part of one one day T.T idk maybe more people would send me asks if i turned on anon but a year or so ago i started getting all these terfs harassing me in my asks (must be doing something right?) so i turned off anon. one actually was mad enough to send me a death threat (?!) from their account so i was able to report them

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? haha i don't have many, just all of us small fish swimming together.. but i think a lot of people in danmei fandoms really love what @baiwu-jinji posts :) although i think they're not super active rn or we're not on at the same times

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? no but if you're in love with me let me know! i wouldn't be opposed to a tumblr romance :P

20. what is the last song you listened to? hmmmm i think i was listening to a Grouper album last

21. what are you currently watching? i wanted to find something new to watch that had perfect gorgeous visuals of beautiful outside places and ended up watching Orlando last night

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? all!

23. what is your current relationship status? single

24. what is your current obsession? tgcf, he xuan, yin yu, maurice (film & reading the book)

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

maurice soundtrack !!

80s dancey music bc my taste definitely gears towards lyricless and traditonal/folk music but i've been working with kids who all want to listen to justin bieber all the time so trying to get some fun pop music i can also enjoy (i just hate the sounds of contemp pop music sorry, somehow it feels so... digital? data-driven? written by AI?) - and actually have found madonna is soooo good.

and then relistening to old favourites... yesterday i was enjoying my rock n roll romance playlist which has david bowie, bauhaus, wanda jackson (tunnel of love), suicide (cheree), roy orbison, dead or alive

if you want to take a look inside my brain https://www.nts.live/shows/cantus-orbis

tag 9 people.. uhh. how about just @unfotp @marloviandevil @baiwu-jinji but no obligation!

[treason-and-plot]

I'm finally caught up! It took a few days of non-stop reading but I had to know what those 3 trainwreck idiots (Anita, Roy, Joël) ended up doing.

Anita and Roy are the biggest self sabotaging idiots I've seen in my life. Anita was an absolute trainwreck. I mean the girl had made all the wrong choices in life, one thing she did right is probably never giving up on her and Joël.

Roy is... he is just as bad at making decisions as Anita but I think their biggest difference is he just doesn't feel guilty or responsible, at all. I think the only time I've seen him actually feel sorry is when that whole pregnancy drug thing had happened.

And Joël, sweet idiot Joël. I don't have words for how stupid this man is. He just let's things happen to him. He let's women in his life manipulate him. I'm not a jealous person but him being such a clueless idiot about his exes' motives, is part of the reason why Anita lost it so many times (his idiocy and Anita's insecurity were bound to breed that problem.)

So far where they are at, I think Roy should've dumped Sonia looooong ago, like at the altar. The man had serious growing up to do before he got married and Sonia definitely wasn't it.

I'm just happy about Anita and Joël. For a while there I was really thinking that they were done but they made it. I'm still worried whenever I see Anita go out drinking because she still haven't fixed any of her problems but being with Joël seemed to have stabilise her. And Joël is in bliss with his daughter and son, even Saffron. I loved how much that little girl was upset when Joël was leaving.

It's a great story and I really advise anyone who had followed you to go back all those posts and read it all. I loved it!

Ps. After reading all of I've come to conclusion that Raj and Mia deserve each other, for sure. xD

I am dying at you christening Anita, Roy and Joël '3 trainwreck idiots!' That's made my year. And the fact that you spent days reading my story non-stop...my gratitude and awe knows no bounds. You are the best.

Poor Anita...dear, sweet, simple Harry was never going to make her happy. And she nearly destroyed her life and Joël's with her insecurities and her self-sabotaging behaviour, that's very true.

I don't think Joël is stupid...although I know many readers will disagree with me! He's a sensitive, intense, moody introvert who loves deeply and passionately and whose heart rules his head, often with disastrous results. But I wouldn't want him to be any other way!

You have hit the nail on the head re Roy...his personal mantra is never apologise, never explain. He never, ever second guesses himself. His sense of self is inviolate. He married Sonia because she presented a fascinating challenge to him and he did love her (and still does!) But yeah, theirs was a marriage destined to fail. I still miss them as a married couple though, as bizarre as that sounds. Their relationship was just so much fun to explore and write about!

One of the high points for me in my story's recent history has been the birth of Joël and Anita's daughter Alice...I still get emotional thinking about it! And thank you for mentioning Saffron's distress when Joël left Anita...that was another part of the story that I felt was particularly poignant for a variety of reasons (not least of which was Anita's selfishness) and has stayed with me for a long time.

As for Mia and Raj...well, we'll just have to wait and see! The two of them intrigue me as much today as they do as when I first started writing about them;)

Thank you again for taking the time to read my story and send me this...it's hard to express just how much it means to me. But one thing's for sure, it's people like you who make this community so wonderful and who make me inspired to keep on writing as long as I possibly can. And for that I will be forever grateful❤️

[xplrvibes]

interesting that colby unliked amber's picture with the red wig...

I saw people on instagram using this to show proof that big bad evil Malia is cosplaying as Amber with Colby's permission and approval cause I guess he hates Amber now? And I'm just like...ok 🤷‍♀️. Lol.

Three days ago, Colby was cheating on Malia - aka the first girlfriend he ever made public to the fans (and the last, I'd reckon, since this is going so smoothly for him lol) - with a redhead. He was doing this in a crowded room full of cell phones cameras and Malia'a best friend standing 5 feet away while Malia, I guess, just sat in his house and painted her nails or something, I don't know.

Then Malia shows up with ‼️spoiler alert‼️ red hair, thereby proving that he was really just out macking on his girlfriend all night while half the internet was throwing a party to celebrate him being a cheater, and the story immediately flipped to, "Well, she's just copying Amber because Amber said she wanted to dye her hair red," which then turned into, "Colby unliked Amber's post about the red hair so he must be encouraging this hateful jealousy fueled copying of Amber."

And look, I am a massive Amber fan - I love her, I support her, hell I was on here back in 2021 catching stray bullets for saying I thought her and Colby would be hot together! So, this is not coming from a place of hate for Amber or anything; far from it.

But, come on. Amber doesn't own the patent on red hair. Malia dyeing her hair does not have to have some weird, sinister meaning or be talked about at length on exposè accounts. Why on earth would Malia dyed her hair red to copy Amber when Amber a) never even actually had her hair red to begin with, and b) was never actually anything more than friends with Colby??

It's easier to believe that Colby told her he thought red hair would be hot and then realized later that he had liked that post of Amber's red hair and went, "uh oh," and unliked it quick to save himself any drama with the FANS than anything else lol.

I just...can't with this one lol.

And the unliking that post thing - I don't know. I didn't see him like it or unlike it, so I have no frame of reference for that one. But it's hard to believe this stuff when it's coming from the same people who think Malia is purposefully copying Amber so again, I'm just like 🤷‍♀️🤣.

I've gotta say...I've been skulking around this fandom for a long time, and I've seen a lot of shit. It has been a long, looooong time since I've seen people unravel to this level when it came to a girl Colby was associated with.

Ironically, I think Amber was the last one.

And look, I get it - Colby broke out of the ivory tower and found love and happiness somewhere that doesn't involve or include the fans and this hurt some feelings, cause he was supposed to be yours (not you, anon). I get it. This is like a breakup or whatever.

But, seriously - some of this shit floating around is starting to give 2020, "Amber and Brennen are conspiring to break Sam and Colby up" energy and that energy is not the energy we want to bring back to the table. That was a horrible, disgusting, hate-filled, humiliating time in the snc fandom. Let's not revisit it.

(This is not against you, anon. Just a general statement after all of the crap I just saw out there in the wild!)

[abitohoney]

Question, is Ran confirmed to be nonbinary by the show creators or is that something us fans came up with? I only ask because you seem to know more about the show and characters than I likely do 😅 because some places I’ve looked, they have them gendered as female.

Very late to answer this, but better late than never, right? 😅

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. A looooong time ago (2 years or so) when I was first starting to write for Arcane, I was trying to find the names, genders, etc of all the Arcane characters to make sure I was properly representing them. There was only one webpage I found that mentioned Ran, who was claimed to be nonbinary, but I'm not so sure that was anything official, just some fan-made page. I tried to find it again, but no luck. I've chosen to stick with nonbinary though because I like the representation and diversity.

Actually, as I was writing this, I recalled one of my moots had made a post about this. Seems it was confirmed! You can see the post here.

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

One day i'll make a character sheets for my PCs but for now lemme just copy paste some shit bc i've saved too much in my drafts and i want to clean it up a bit. So some info about my PCs below more or less organized, probably more on the less side.

THE MENACE

Foxglove (true name [REDACTED]), my actual meowmeow wasn't 100% raised in the orphanage. She was sent there when her mom died at 10. She spent weeks being weird and standoffish and basically just picking fights if anyone tried to get close to her.

One of the few people she never hit was Robin, because Robin was always nice about her personal space. They are friendly and cordial to each other to this day despite everything, but Foxglove doesn't really spend a lot of time with Robin/will not save her ass from Bailey.

Because she was only taken in as an older child, she doesn't respect Bailey half as much as she should.

Her first crush was Winter and her first official girlfriend was Whitney. She was part of Whitney's clique and generally a delinquent and a bully, which made her reputation with teachers quite awful, which pained her a bit since Winter now sees her as a talented troublemaker at best.

Other school LIs like Sydney (when Pure, at least. Corrupt is... a bit different.) and Kylar avoid her like the plague. Kylar has had an embarrassing crush on her that she was mocked relentlessly for and made the poor weeb into Whitney's target for months.

Had a really bad relationship with an unnamed older woman when she was younger that really finished fucking up the fuck up.

Met Avery while dancing at a party, by the way, and not in the usual ways because. Um. Because i wanna. Avery pulled her away from some lecherous partygoers and done fucked up both of their lives forever.

She is legiterally obsessed with Avery and molding herself into a perfect companion for her. This has made her a better student to impress her but estranged her from all of her friends :( She is also way more polite now, though her charisma is natural and she didn't have to work on that as much. This change has pleased Winter! :) She's also a delight to have in parties or in gatherings in general.

She is both a mean sadist and a freaky masochist. As much as she likes bullying the weak, she has this whole thing where she's sure she should be punished and just needs someone to do it for her because she realizes she's too self absorbed to do it herself.

Though she lets Avery push her around and only playfully banters in response, she often has complete meltdowns where she starts telling Avery exactly how much she sucks and how she's never going to be loved and how they will go to hell together hand in unlovable hand. Idk which one of them is crazier for staying together at this point.

She has been a fox since a looooong time. She messes with occult stuff quite oftenly, and as a fun fact has been a suspect in a disappearance case (but police is still useless in this town lol).

Local School Prince

Ronnie (Veronica), my main and most played with PC on the other hand was 100% raised in the orphanage. As a kid she was always protecting the smaller kids from bullies, which included Robin, who is now still her best friend/pseudogirlfriend.

She has an honest to God savior complex. Her life isn't complete if she's not servicing the weak and vulnerable... Especially weak and vulnerable girls. This has somehow made her into a massive player.

Like, it's not like she wants to play with girls' feelings. It's just that she gives them so much love and attention and protection that they fall for her and then what should she do? NOT kiss them? You're being unreasonable :(

She's very oftenly mistaken as a boy. The first time she cut her hair she was made fun of at the orphanage so Robin cut her own hair too. They both have worn it short since and Robin seems to be picking up on way more than just her haircut.

Despite that, for a long time her behavior made Robin think that she should act more ladylike to have Ronnie's attention. This isn't true at all, by the way, and Ronnie thinks Robin never looked hotter when she starts dressing masculine too.

Despite all of that, will likely never admit the romantic nature of her and Robin's relationship. She thinks of Robin as family despite the fact that they're oftenly crossing lines, because she doesn't want to ever lose Robin as a friend since they have both been there for each other's worst moments. Kylar would love to have half as much codependency as they have tbh.

She's dating Kylar officially. It honestly just started with her kissing the poor girl to make her stop getting mocked at a class get-together Kylar was about to run away from in tears, and Kylar remembered this forever but Ronnie forgot about it until she saw Kylar getting bullied again. She has since made it her mission to protect her and maybe raise her reputation a bit if she can convince Kylar to act less like a soaked cat. Maybe brush her hair before coming to school. She desperately wants Kylar to stand on her own legs, but while she can't, Ronnie will gladly support her.

On the point above. She is a bit too proud of Kylar attacking people, honestly. And slowly she's been thinking Kylar is much cooler all of a sudden... It's a strange feeling, and she's not too sure what to make of it. But her drawings and her cringe anime have started to worm their way into Ronnie's heart for real.

Btw she does NOT realize how deranged Kylar is. Has no idea. She doesn't know about the sex doll (which may have had a dick at some point before Kylar realized something very important). She thinks Kylar is just kind of weird but does NOTTT grasp how insane she is.

With Sydney, she had a more distant relationship, but what were jokes to fluster the religious girl became friendly chats and then Ronnie walking her to the temple and helping out with her mom's shop and more and more conversations about sexuality and suddenly Sydney was dying her hair black and showing up to school in pants instead of her long skirt.

(Btw, i think it's be funnier/more in character if i pretend they dyed Syd's hair in a school bathroom after school hours in an event that was a battle between them, the mirror and God.)

Would apologize to Sirris for butchifying her daughter but a. She's not sorry and B. Sirris seems to think it's kinda cool actually

Whitney was probably the hardest relationship to have. They used to beat the shit out of each other, especially when Whitney picked on Robin, Kylar or Syd, but one day Whitney's jokes went a bit too far. Ronnie saved her from the consequences of her own actions but that didn't mean they were friends.

But her and Whitney started to become closer when she found out "Foxglove" (Ronnie thinks that name is cringe. Her real name [Redacted] is much cooler, but Foxglove is a weirdo anyway) had ditched her for Avery. Maybe it was the sympathy of yet another poor soul getting sucked into Avery's bullshit but she started to go softer on Whitney and then suddenly they were fucking because Ronnie is a gay whore‼️

Anyway. Yeah. Avery. Ronnie had dated Avery briefly and it ended horribly. She was just trying to make Avery feel better since she sensed some loneliness in her but she soon learned that misery loves company and that Avery was legitimately too much to deal with. She tried to first make Ronnie into something she wasn't, trying to force her either into a boyfriend role or making her act girlier, and neither pleased Ronnie. Then the fights started because Avery wouldn't accept a "no" and Ronnie wouldn't take shit then Avery started to get physically violent and then they threw hands at a pub and that unfortunately didn't ruin Avery's reputation as much as Ronnie would have hoped.

I think she only really understood what type of evil Avery was when she saw her pick up another orphan girl (not Foxglove, that one she managed to warn).

Her relationship w Foxglove is tense at best. After finding out about some shit however, she keeps her distance and wishes Robin would stop being so nice to her before it bites her in the ass.

Honestly just a puppy fr

Bane is probably the PC i draw/talk about the least because i've only now thought of a name for her LMAO. She's based on one of my first PCs ever who i've made a new save for recently. I have less info on her bc i'm slowly working thru her save.

She used to be a normal, if a little cowardly girl until she got lost in the forest. When Eden found her, she was more wolf than person, but honestly good enough (Eden's standards are low.)

Had honest to God almost forgotten how to speak human words until Eden spoke to her more or less regularly. Eden was surprised she could talk at all after only hearing her bark, growl or yap for a long while.

She has slowly become less of a savage wolf and more of a dog and then somewhat human again.

After spending like, three years or so living with Eden, she has decided to go back to school. Still learning to not solve conflicts through dominance checks and vicious bites, but she's making progress :)

[hanablooms]

Been a while since I posted anything I'm so sorry!! I've just been so busy pursuing my studies irl and the schedule's been so hectic that I didn't have the timeTvT but! I wanted to drop by to say something about the new spy x family chapter that just got released!! So without any more dues let's begin!!

#SpyxFamily chapter 82!!

Manga new chapter, chapter 82! Spoilers ahead!!

THE UNEXPECTED YURI VS YURI DILEMMA!!! Who's chasing who?!!?

Yuri 1?? Yuri 2??? Omg no it's Twilight/loid (Yuri 1) and the actual Yuri (Yuri 2- ahem I mean our yuri) but either way it's a dilemma! Loid faces Yuri!! It's gonna be angsty and a thrilling show down we all waited for!! Not this way tho, endo senseiTvT but as I said, it's still not clear who's chasing who now! For me personally, it is! It's actually so amazing and so funny at the same time how you can easily differentiate between who's who in this panel and the future panels even if loid's disguised as yuri, the facial expressions give them right away! One look at yuri and loid together and you can tell which yuri is yuri and which yuri is twilight! Tho if loid were to start putting yuri like act and yuri got serious too, it would be pretty hard and our brains would explode out of confusion lmao anywayyyy this arc is gonna be real thrilling and fun! Plus we still dunno where wheeler is, whether sss and wise has more moles in each other's organizations or did they totally get rid of them now, whats wise doing atm and whether wise has other plans/tricks up their sleeve cuz endo can do anything to surprise us with skilled writing anytime, twiyor incoming angst/drama/chapter incoming... so much to look forward to!!

Aside from the yuri vs yuri dilemma drama, there's the "loid THE TWILIGHT wavers and hesitates pulling the trigger at yuri" plot/dish on our plate too! One thing I really popped in to say cuz I have not seen ANYONE, even ONE single person saying is this: "twilight/loid hesitated pulling the trigger at yuri cuz yuri is yor's beloved and treasured little brother, her only family and hurting yuri would directly hurt yor and even more if yuri being an sss agent got revealed to her incidentally so loid didn't want to shoot cuz of those feelings, his feelings" Is true indeed and i think so too and agree but what I want to 'add' to this is that "even if loid/twilight would not admit or accept that he cares about yuri because he thinks he doesn't, the fact that he does would not change." Loid is a very kind human (despite being a spy) and he's spent plenty of time with yuri now, he understands how both of them are similar in that they work to protect the people and country/countries they care about, work harsh jobs with their life on the line, lost parents and most importantly HAVE TO LIE ABOUT THEIR TRUE SELVES CONSTANTLY to everyone, EVEN TO THEIR FAMILY/PRETEND FAMILY for their covers and missions. That understanding and the fact that yuri comes over to the forger house often add up and form a 'bond' betwee- "bworf!!! Umm not you bond DHDDD" ahem... Between them. Even if it's a small bond, it's still there. Loid can't just shoot someone he cares about, if even a little. Plus the fact that he KNOWS how it feels to lose a family/family member you really care about FIRST HAND /redacted's past arc/ so all of that adds up to the 'hesitation' we saw in loid!

If I add another 'plus', that'd be. . . .

THIS. Living with his beloved and precious fake/pretend family for the mission has softened him, his inner feelings and his true identity seep amidst his pretension of loid forger, he's become soft, he was already caring about people in general but now he's even more... Himself

That's all I'll say for now!

This arc and plot incoming will be very hot, thrilling and angsty and have me on the edge of my seat! Let's survive this super looooong 2week wait together and have fun! ('fun', I say as I sobTvT)

P. S. I made this post in a rush so i apologise for any typing errors!!

CIAO!!

Stay connected!✍🏻 Peace!!🤞🏻 Uchuuu~✨✨✨