(couldn't Resist)

 ❣ (couldn't resist)

Nor should one ever. 🩷

Ah, fuck. Anne wants to be irritated by having to yet another uninvited twat in her presence, but finds herself dissolving into a fit of giggles instead when he sits down. She hadn’t realized he had a bloody hoof until he’d sat down, and now all she can think past the fit of giggles is how he resembles a wee little goat man.

Still tittering—and meaning no offense by it but unmistakably tickled that of all the dumbshites here, it’s the second-angriest that looks most like Satan—Anne turns towards him.

“Ye’re missin—ye’re yer wee little horns, Billy Goat Gruff!”

Hiya!, I’m Ren. Below are some general guidelines to help with interactions both IC and OOC. Feel free to ask for clarification if any of these are confusing to you!

NOTA BENE: I am forever mobile! That means I will always have to ask you to trim our threads. It’s literally nothing personal. The best I can offer otherwise is just to keep deleting responses from the original! If this super bothers you, I get it. Feel free to move along, and thank you for stopping by! Otherwise:

The Blog

21+ only

please tag visual depictions of reptiles (snakes especially)

don’t be a dick

s/low activity

constantly changing/under construction

semi-selective but not mutuals-only

memes are probably the best way to start interaction

mobile only

prefers third person present tense, 1x small font

The Blogger

Ren

she/her

30

CST (GMT-6)

Discord available upon request

do no harm, take no shit

Yes/No

NO mpreg

NO adult content with minors (muses included)

NO teacher-student stuff (mentors & peers okay)

NO pedophilia

YES violence

YES gore

YES SHIPPING

YES EXPLICIT/SUGGESTIVE CONTENT

Concern not listed? Feel free to ask me about it!

The Trigger Corner the blog contains the following themes; while they are tagged, i sometimes miss them. prior to engaging, please be aware that this blog contains material implying or explicitly engaging with:

period-appropriate sexism/misogyny - depicted

identity struggles (self, sexuality) - depicted

trauma & trauma responses - depicted

self-worth/-esteem issues, negative self-talk - depicted

scars/scarring - depicted

stillbirth - discussed

domestic violence - depicted, discussed

domestic assault - discussed

sexual assault - discussed

rape - discussed

Anne sits at her usual table near the tavern's back: it's hardly her favorite place to be, but it's a place to be all the same. And unlike the room currently shared with six fucking morons she doesn't know from Adam, there's at least space enough here to get comfortable. She's spread out at her table, nursing a black cup of coffee that went cold half an hour ago, and yes--she's talking to herself. Mostly because thinking to herself isn't an option at this hour, not with the noise almost as thick as the cigar smoke haunting the room. Giving quiet voice to her own thoughts make them easier to catch in the chaos, and if she doesn't come up with something soon, she's going to end up frustrated and stab someone. Again.

She takes no note of the new sailor doing his part to keep the wall from leaning and probably never would have if he hadn't immediately tried to break-in on her thinking.

"The fuck kind of conversation you havin' with yourself? There's only one of you here next to me, 'case you weren't aware."

In no mood for anyone else's shit, Anne gives him a shut-the-fuck-up-and-leave-me-alone kind of answer: "It's called a soliloquy, bitch."

That should have been the end of it, but somehow, it's not. Anne rolls her eyes when she's accused of having nerves to strike, as if the last of them hadn't fucked off the second this dumbshite opened his idiot gob and interrupted the fragile, thoughtful peace she had built for herself here. And then it gets worse: he keeps fucking going, like she hadn't given him a clear sign to piss off.

"Who's winnin'?"

"Not how a fuckin soliloquy works, shit-for-brains," she replies. She isn't about to give him the remedial lesson in literature that would probably go over his head anyway, but she thinks about doing it. Certainly one way to get an ignorant fuck to fuck off, start yammering about something that would bore them, but it's an effort Anne can't be arsed to go through today.

"If ye've just got to stick that honker a' yers in the business of others," the insult is well within Anne's habit, although the information to follow is hardly something she'd usually share, "I'm debatin work. Need t'get t'Cuba, settle some business there, but...." Anne trails off and gestures vaguely at herself, up and down, then a half-disgusted, half-defeated sigh. "En't met a sailor yet who didn' shit his hat over havin a woman aboard." Even if said woman was a cutthroat legend in her own right.

If Izzy had paid an ear to her earlier mumblings, there would have been no missing the alternatives she had been brainstorming: prostitution (en't a whore but as a last resort...), stowing away (just get shot, fuckin stupid), lying (shite liar, next), and finally pretending to be a man--the point at which he had interrupted her.

@neverhangd liked for an incorrect quote starter.

Fuck, did he hate pubs sometimes. Always filled with drunk, reckless dumbfucks that didn't know how to shut up or when to call it quits. Never a dull moment he had to admit and sometimes the fights were amusing, but most of the time? They were annoying as fuck. And tonight was no different.

Not even ten minutes in to his first drink did a fight break out near his table, almost knocking his drink over and they were fuckin' lucky that didn't happen otherwise they'd both be laying on the floor unconscious. Though for the most part, Izzy tried to avoid getting involved, and thankfully he was known enough not to fuck with him because whenever someone tried? Well, let's just say some - though rarely - made it out alive and no one ever came out unscathed. You were a fucking idiot if you challenged Izzy to a fight and even if it came as a result of drunken stupidity, Israel wasn't one to hold back. Sure he'd grown somewhat calmer over the years, less aggressive even, but irritate him enough and you may just earn yourself a blade through your body, or a bullet. He preferred a blade though.

And that this precise moment, his anger was on the rise so he grabbed his drink and slid out of the booth he made himself comfortable in and put some distance between himself at the two drunken idiots causing chaos within the tavern. May as well watch the fuckin' show, he thinks as he takes a drink from his glass, leaning against the wall towards the back of the pub. And that's when he heard it...

Talking. A woman's voice next to him, but he was surprised to find her alone - talking to herself. Sounded like quite the riveting conversation. These places were always full of strange fuckin' people weren't they?

Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she was high. Maybe she was just crazy. But Izzy was curious now, wanted to know what the fuck made her talk to herself like she was. So, he outright asks her. "The fuck kind of conversation you havin' with yourself? There's only one of you standin' here next to me, 'case you weren't aware." After all, she could've been drunk or high and seein' someone. He wasn't a stranger to the effects of alcohol and drugs, though he rarely did the ladder. Only with Ed. Yet not so much anymore.

"It’s called a soliloquy, bitch." Her words bite back and Izzy can't help but laugh, really fuckin' amused now.

"Stuck a fuckin' nerve, did I?" He takes another drink. "Who's winnin'?" He isn't asking in regards to the ongoing fight in the tavern, but rather talking shit about the woman who'd been talking to herself like she was having her own argument.

ESSENTIALS

name: Anne Bonny, née Cormac age: 24 pronouns: she/her sex: ciswoman orientation: bisexual, polyamorous occupation: pirate height: 6'2 (187.9cm) build: tall, thin; boxy hair: red eyes: light/“sea glass” green, sometimes looks oddly colorless other: left-handed, pretends to be right; irish brogue faceclaim: clara paget

nota bene: despite the rampant use of clara paget and other black sails performers, it is important to know that THIS IS NOT A BLACK SAILS ANNE BONNY. anne comes out of a combination of history and my own creative decisions/lore. i am unfamiliar with the show and am just a huge nerd for history and piracy.

PERSONALITY

prone to violence, anger, sometimes melancholy

secretive

distrustful

abrasive

uncouth

impolite

quiet/reserved

determined, ambitious, loyal

passionate

duplicitous

enneagram:

temperament: Melancholic

People with a melancholic temperament are intense, serious, and deep. They are sensitive and capable of deep emotion. They have a well-developed eye for the tragic or sad side of things, and may easily be disappointed by the coarseness of the outer world. As a result, they tend to keep to themselves, or only really open up around a select few individuals with whom they can exchange feelings and ideas. Sensitive, Pensive, Introspective, Unsociable, Reserved, Anxious

mbti: ESTJ-T || The Executive

People with the ESTJ personality type (Executives) are representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong, and socially acceptable to bring families and communities together. Embracing the values of honesty and dedication, ESTJs are valued for their mentorship mindset and their ability to create and follow through on plans in a diligent and efficient manner. They will happily lead the way on difficult paths, and they won’t give up when things become stressful.

Strong believers in the rule of law and authority that must be earned, ESTJ personalities lead by example, demonstrating dedication and purposeful honesty and an utter rejection of laziness and cheating. If anyone declares hard, manual work to be an excellent way to build character, it’s ESTJs.

This personality type is aware of their surroundings and lives in a world of clear, verifiable facts. Their surety of their knowledge means that, even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable. And their opinions aren’t just empty talk either, as ESTJs are more than willing to dive into the most challenging projects, improving action plans and sorting details along the way, making even the most complicated tasks seem easy and approachable.

However, ESTJs don’t work alone, and they expect their reliability and work ethic to be reciprocated – people with this personality type meet their promises, and if their partner or coworkers jeopardize them through incompetence, laziness, or, worse still, dishonesty, they do not hesitate to show their disappointment. This can earn them a reputation for inflexibility, but it’s not because ESTJs are arbitrarily stubborn but rather because they truly believe that these values are what make society work.

alignment:

[This is still a work in progress with updates to come!]

DIVERGENCE

While I primarily use history as my throughline for events in Anne’s life and where it’s eventually headed, writing’s all about the fun of exploration, so this blog diverges happily from history, fanon, and canon to plumb the depths.

cw: implied domestic abuse, implied (?) kidnapping, stillbirth & insensitive language around such, trauma

Anne’s story has almost always been a story of the men around her instead; so Anne’s story here really begins just after the Cuba Incident, or perhaps a little before, when she came to realize a number of things. One, Jack Rackham was an abusive shithead who couldn’t keep a promise if it sewed itself to him; two, she was a captive involuntarily houseguest of Jack’s “friends” in Cuba and had no idea what would come next; three, that she was sick of living in Jack’s or any man’s shadow and would get out of it come hell or high water. Anne would later say she gave birth to a corpse and that that was the sign that she wasn’t really living, anyway. Nothing living can be birthed out of something dead. Anne’s baby was silently delivered mid-afternoon, whereon she would never see the child. Some. time that night between when she was put to bed and four in the morning, when a concerned “friend” of Jack’s came to check on her, Anne had disappeared from the villa.

This is where Anne Bonny’s new story starts.

NOTEABLE MARKERS

pierced ears

brown leather ring inset with turquoise, left thumb

hat

coat

sizable J-shaped brand on left shoulder (adolescent injury, traumatic)

secret porcelain-handled jack-knife, kept in hidden trouser pocket inside waistline (secret/not well known)

two gold wedding bands and a heavy signet ring on a leather cord, worn as a necklace

various other scars and burns

frequently chapped/split lips

BIOGRAPHICAL

born: 8 March, 1697 raised: Kinsale (near County Cork), Ireland; London, England; Charleston, South Carolina parents: Lord William Cormac, Esq. (attorney) & Mary Brennan (maid, unmarried) siblings: none aliases: Anne McCormac, Anne Cormac, Andy Cormac, Ann Bonn education: full education plus law clerking; literature, philosophy, Latin, math, law spouse/s: James Bonny (age 16-19), Jack Rackham (age 19-24), none & done (age 24-onward)* children: none* residences: Charleston, South Carolina; the Caribbean Seas disappearance: 22 April, 1721* presumed death: 25 April, 1782*

* SUBJECT TO CHANGE/VERSE MUTABLE 

@unicornondeck fed the beast

Anne lunges at the makeshift dummy with a snarl, coat and hat forgone for movement’s sake. It’s rare to see Anne without her accoutrements, a secret armor she seldom goes without. It speaks either to a degree of comfort in her new berth or a lapse in judgement on her part that she’s voluntarily gone without. Her movements are fluid, practiced, but her attack is stiff, the angle all wrong. She drops the pose and rubs the twinge in her wrist away, eyeing the dummy. Fucking stupid, what she’s doing, but…it seemed so natural when she did it in her usual way. Right-handed it just…doesn’t click.

Neither does his presence, until she glances up and actually catches sight of him. She flinches involuntarily, but does manage to keep her feet planted firm under her.

“…Fang said no one comes here ‘til lunch’s done. The fuck are ye doin here?”

send ❣ for my muse to give yours a cute nickname!!!