#ground shipping steins

[conchcronch]

Sword Swallower - Part 1

LA!BuggyxYou

You and Buggy have been close friends for years, never crossing an unspoken boundary, that is, until the alcohol is flowing and Buggy is feeling sorry for himself.

NSFW under cut

Spotify Playlist for the Vibes

The cool sea air guides the Big Top across the waves as the party rages on. A raid as successful as today’s deserves a real celebration. Everyone is clinking steins, merrily singing sea shanties as they drunkenly attempt to dance and not tip over. You carefully let the silver sword slide down your throat, hearing your fellow crew mates rally until the hilt is on either side of your mouth, the cold metal feeling refreshing against your chapped lips. You turn so your back is facing the audience before slowly bending backwards as you had done a thousand times. Expecting a certain Captain to be standing there waiting to pull the sword from your gullet, but to your surprise he isn’t there. Someone quickly takes the opportunity, pulling the sword from your mouth and showing it off drunkenly. You spot him, standing at the back of the ship, staring into the dark water, paying your performance no mind.

“You didn’t even see my performance,” You bound over, hopping off the makeshift stage and through the crowd of your crew mates until he looks up at you for half a second, “I was going to let you pull the sword out, you love that.” He’s very uncharacteristically staring off into the dark waters, away from everyone. He takes a long gulp of his beer, barely acknowledging you.

“Sorry Doll,” He swirls his drink, staring into the dark ale as if it had the answers to every one of his questions.

“You okay, you never miss out on our performances.” You nudge him with your hip before standing next to him, looking out at the water with him. Standing so close your shoulders are touching the brocade fabric of his worn coat.

“Still no map.”

“We’ll find it Bugs, but other than that it was a pretty successful raid.” You spin around to face him, arching your back over the railing of the ship, enjoying the breeze against your alcohol warmed cheeks.

“I don’t care about all this,” he vaguely waves his hand in the direction of the party, “I just want my fuckin’ map.” He angrily tosses his stein into the black waters before crossing his arms and huffing out a sigh.

You lean forward, pressing a hand to his forehead, then bringing your other to his cheek, feigning concern, only muttering a ‘hm’ every so often to upkeep the ruse.

“What are you doing,” he finally asks.

“Checking to see if you have a fever, because the great captain Buggy would never say he didn’t care about treasure unless he was knocking on death’s door.” You smile at him when he rolls his eyes. Your hand slips from his forehead to rest on his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against your hand. “We’ll find it, I know it.” He can’t take his eyes off you. Enamored by the way your bouncy curls frame your face perfectly. The curls you had worked on for an hour while sitting on the ground in front of the full length mirror in his quarters.

His eyes slip down your form, taking in your black baby doll dress, your black and white striped thigh highs that he had suggested and the clunky boots that had seen better days. “Wanna’ know how I know?” He huffs a laugh before dryly saying,

“Sure.”

“Because you’re the genius jester, Buggy the Clown!” You lean in close, the alcohol causing you to forget where you are as you press a kiss to his nose. Something you had done many times in private when he needed extra reassurance. As you pull back you can see his eyes are hooded, clearly not caring about the crew celebrating behind you.

Before your alcohol fogged brain can process it, he pulls you into a kiss. He balls the back of your dress in his hands as you’re flush against him. Your hands are trapped between your chests, grabbing onto his vest. His mouth tastes like ale and you know your’s probably tastes the same.

As quickly as it started he’s pushing you back, the sound of the crew whistling and yelling at the two of you feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over you. “Just fuck already!” Was the only quip you caught as he wipes his mouth on the arm of his coat and plasters on his practiced grin, makeup smudged.

“Thanks for the practice, Sweets! You’ll get there, keep at it!” He walks backwards towards the door leading to his private quarters. He turns on his heel and you can feel the twisting burn of rejection hot in your gut.

Everyone goes back to their conversations and partying and you feel as though someone flipped the spotlight off at the end of the show and you’re left alone center stage. Heavy footsteps pull you out of your thoughts just long enough to see Cabaji, arm outstretched with a pint. You grab it, knocking it back in one go, sucking air in through your teeth. You never liked beer, but it feels like the searing feel of rejection is temporarily cooled by the amber liquid.

“Another,” You say, following Cabaji through the freaks towards the keg that had been brought aboard.

Part 2

[cannibal-nightmares]

Seven

"Sounds like you were having a day. That's what my mom used to call it when she got her wires crossed."

Spirit hosts his home for a weekly weekend dinner between just he and Stein.

Wrote this to process some things over a couple of months, and, much to my surprise, it helped a lot. I didn't originally intend for it to see the light of day, but I ended up enjoying the ending. please dont whack me lol aaaaa

Soul Eater - Stein x Spirit (ship is up to interpretation, SFW) // OOC Stein, domestic fluff, caregiver-esque Spirit but not really, non-verbal stein, agereg!stein?, hurt/comfort, this piece goes nowhere Word count - 2,018 -- [AO3 link]

Sometimes he got like this, uncharacteristically unresponsive, even when it was in his character to be unresponsive. There was a heaviness to his slow breath and a glaze in his eye that left more to be remarked, unfocused on settling dust particles in a dimming sunbeam.

That afternoon, he was slow to pack up his things from the infirmary and the lecture hall. Spirit had waited outside on the massive steps, as he so often did, noting how much time had passed with the slight inclination for a second cigarette, the first one lit after he realized the misstep in timing as it was.

A hup, standing up and turning to step back inside to check on his meister, and, finally, the professor met the evening sun with a distant gaze.

"What took you so long?" Albarn jested.

Stein almost didn't answer. "'Just lost track of time. You could have gone home without me, you know."

Spirit chuffed, but his light-hearted expression tugged to shift as Stein's tone painted the air.

"Nonsense, silly. When else would I get to yammer to you about work?"

Franken exhaled shortly with a forced polite twinge to his brow and waved them both along down the stairs. It was fast-obvious each and every step felt like a free-fall.

They carried on in silence.

The two took turns hosting their homes on Friday nights for shared dinners, recuperation, and wherever else the evenings would take them. Over the year they had been doing this, they found their belongings spread out between each other’s apartments: It was disorganized, but Stein was good at keeping track of things like insects in a web by snippets of pictures and content within his memory.

“Hey, Stein?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s your turn this week.”

The professor looked up from his thoughts, realizing he took them paces in the other direction towards Spirit’s place.

“Oh, I guess that’s right.” He took pause, unsure of how to apply grace in correcting the mistake, attempting to casually redirect their path when Spirit brushed his sleeve.

“Franken,” he caught his gaze, eye contact visibly shattering his meister’s focus, searching for a more tangible tell. “Let me cook tonight.”

Something somewhere in Stein wanted to argue for the sake of consistent routine, but something else was at the forefront of his decision-making. A beat, and he nodded with an unchanged expression but a softness like that of gratitude in his eyes. He very clearly wanted to express something more verbal, though too long of a pause discredited him from an intended gesture; he closed his gape and readjusted his glasses, thereafter rubbing tired knuckles to his temple, soothing something lost.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spirit had his heels off the ground to tilt his head to his partner, a firm hand to Stein’s bicep; Albarn knew how delicate touches often did more harm than good for grounding techniques.

Acknowledgment flickered in Franken’s reflection, and he was able to re-track, rubbing the back of his neck now and meeting his weapon’s face before quickly splitting away.

“Yeah, I think I’m just… Having a day.”

Spirit squeezed his shoulder. “We don’t have to do dinner if you’re not feeling up to it—”

“No, it’s fine.” Stein cut him off insistently. “I want to.”

The whole truth of the matter was he felt safe with Spirit. He imagined he’d probably sit at his desk or go to bed if he had gone home, but a force within him did not want to be left alone. He wanted Spirit’s company as though his life depended on it.

The death scythe smiled gently. “Off we go, then.”

Paces to the east side of town painted approaching walls in golden-orange sun. The quiet neighborhood looked like a dollhouse come to life at this part of the evening, the streets about to brim with dinner plans and weekend celebrations. In their delay, they had just missed the usual ebb of rush by the time school got out. A silent cyclist passed by.

“Stein…” Spirit was hesitant to cut through the quiet. “I know you don’t like me asking, but…” He brought both of his flat and open hands out in front of himself, paralleling each other, starting apart wide and ending nearer together in the middle of his abdomen, a furrowing questioning stark to his countenance.

There was a sharp shard of annoyance in Stein’s quiet sigh that resulted, but a reasoned defensiveness in his eyes shone years worth of experience he desperately wanted to rewrite.

“You don’t have to answer. You know I only ask because I want to care for you. And I know it needs some practice from both of us.”

Stein half-glanced over to his side, and then back to Spirit. He waved his hand for his focus then nodded his fist at the wrist.

Albarn chuffed but then corrected himself. Do you know why?

The professor wanted to sigh again. Do you know why?

Spirit was only half-confident in the response. Too, he wasn’t sure what would be stepping on his partner’s toes.

I think so.

Winter has… Stein exhibited an uncertainty in his hands, signing the gesture for MIXED, then corrected himself to CONFUSION. He shook it out. “Dissonance.” His voice trailed by the third syllable, already having started small.

Spirit rubbed his meister’s back. I know.

"I'm going to lie down for a while… If you don’t mind.”

The death scythe helped the coat off his partner’s shoulders at the doorway, his limbs heavy and tired.

“Not at all. Should I start dinner and wake you when it’s done?”

He knew he wasn't going to be able to taste anything, and that eating might end up being a chore to the point of nausea, but Spirit knew--they both knew--that a meal and some rest was definitely going to help him think straight. It was obvious Stein thought to deny it, but eventually managed a lost nod.

Spirit exhaled in resolution, taking a moment to squeeze his hand.

“When did you last eat?”

Stein opened his mouth to begin speaking, but nothing came out. He blinked away a tightness in his chest and touched his thumb first to the side of his chin, then his ear.

Yesterday.

Typical he'd skip breakfast. Spirit nodded.

“Is there anything you’d prefer?” He had to admit to himself he knew the questions were making his guest tired.

The professor paused, then slipped his hand from Albarn’s grip to click at his screw, eye contact gone distant beyond them both. Spirit half-mindlessly petted the back of his knuckles to Stein’s forearm to return gentle focus. From nothing, he was clearly becoming overstimulated.

No worries. “I’ll figure something out for us, dear.”

Stein forced a readjustment to meet the side of Spirit’s neck. “Thank you, Spirit.” He flickered sincere eye contact from emerald to aquamarine, held the moment for just a beat, then slunk off to the hallway, too fuzzy and scrambled to worry if the message was received.

Spirit was no stranger to these spells, twicefold: One in seeing Stein in these states before, and another in his own first-hand experience. Well, Spirit corrected his own thoughts, he didn’t exactly understand the non-verbality and shrinking ego from a first-person perspective, but that pit of unprecedented and unanticipated emptiness was certainly no stranger. They had profound moments together that led each of them towards new coping mechanisms, unexpected craftiness in both defense and in aid like that of brugmansia bloom. Sometimes the weekend meals were bargaining, reminders to themselves that they both were human through the reflection of the other.

He knew exactly what to make for dinner.

Spirit tapped the guest bedroom door with soft knuckles, and gently peeled it away from the frame. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, he realized no one was in the neatly made bed.

“Stein?”

He stepped back out to the hall and nudged his own bedroom door that was slightly ajar, eyeing blankets mussed but still no professor to be found. The room took moonglow and the air tasted sweet with chilliness, inviting Albarn to push the door further to see the parallel sliding glass cracked open. On the balcony, his meister sat criss-cross, looking out through the wrought iron railing down to the street.

“Hey,” he made his presence known before stepping out to the cement, an immediate shiver overtaking him. He sat comfortably next to him and followed his trajectory. “What are you looking at, Franken?”

Stein had his arms folded in on themselves awkwardly, but pried one from the knot to out point to the sidewalk of the bistro adjacently below. He made loose hands that seemed to grab at themselves in the center of his body, but Spirit wasn’t able to follow.

“I’m… Sorry, Stein, I don’t know that word.” Albarn said aloud while signing along.

The professor refocused on his partner with a tiny curious twinge to his brow and gestured movements with his hands that looked similar to the last. A pause, and he clarified.

“Stories.”

He looked back out to the street and Spirit followed the trajectory. Gesturing to a man in a blue suit chatting to a woman on the curb, Stein nodded upward.

“What do you think he does?” His voice remained ever-quiet. He then signed the word for “WORK?”

“By the looks of it, maybe… A business man. He has a briefcase.”

Stein shook out his hand to hold a misplaced sigh, but consoled the impulsion by meeting his bolt. He didn’t crank it, though, fingers left in temptation. He unfolded his legs to bring knees to his chest, his raised elbow to rest propped up against them, the other arm squeezing his legs tight.

“I think he’s living a double-life. Maybe that’s his wife, maybe it’s not. Maybe he is a businessman—probably a paper-pusher--but he does something else on the side that she doesn’t know about. They’ve planned a date, but, last second, it has crossed the plans of his second employer. He has to figure out how to cut the dinner early before she realizes that’s not his normal weekday briefcase.”

Spirit went speechless and searched Stein in a received child-like wonder, the game falling into place.

“Oh, look, he did it!” Albarn chimed as the two characters parted ways from each other. Stein grinned, but felt inclined to hide it.

“What about her?” Spirit pointed to a woman at a table on the sidewalk with a relaxed hand to her jaw, looking out to the road in absent thought.

“What about her?” Stein passed the baton.

“She’s…” He hesitated, thinking. “She’s a usual at this cafe. She has the menu memorized like the back of her hand, but pretends she doesn’t think it leaves more to be desired. She fantasizes of having a restaurant of her own where everything is cat-themed and… And involves calamari somehow...”

Stein glanced to Spirit and once he finally caught a returned look, he laughed a single amused chuff, their expressions matching pink in the dark. They both shivered.

“What do you think they think we do?”

“I guess that depends how much you’re out on this balcony.”

Almost as if on cue, they made eye contact with the lady at the table who happened to look up at them.

They waved.

Dinner is ready.

Stein freed his hands from their anchors. What did you make?

Spirit’s smile was warm. Breakfast.

Something of surprise lit up in the meister’s eyes.

Do you want to eat out here or inside?

Franken wasn’t sure what to do with his hands until he decided on tugging to Spirit’s sleeve, then taking his left hand in both of his own, bringing folded knuckles to his temple, shielding his eyes momentarily with a sweet grin. Albarn confessed the regression was in a way alarming, but he felt the genuine comfort start to radiate off of Stein in their shared company. He let his hand out of his meister’s grasp to sweep through his hair and pull him into a hug.

“Let’s go inside.”

[resurrectionist3]

June 6th, 1755 - Happy Birthday Nathan Hale!!!

We are gonna pretend like this isn’t several days late.

And this post is about to be super long…

Disclaimer: for the entirety of the post, I’m recalling information that was told to me by the tour guide from the Nathan Hale Homestead. If anything I wrote here is incorrect or not complete information, feel free to KINDLY correct me in a comment or repost, I would appreciate that☺️

-

Back in May (05/18/24), I visited the Nathan Hale Homestead in Coventry, Connecticut with my sister!!

I always drive by it when I go home from school and I finally got to visit for a tour! They also have a farmers market on grounds in the summertime as well as a couple other events throughout the year. I do hope i get to attend their Halloween ghost stories.

One thing i learned that i guess i didn’t ever realise was that Nathan never actually lived in this house. After his mother passed, Nathan’s father, Deacon Richard Hale and all 9(?) of his children lived together in a very, very small house. It wasnt until after Richard was remarried, that this newer and larger house was built. By this point, i believe Nathan had already moved away to be a teacher in New London.

Here are photos of their medicine cabinet and their fireplace✨

Photos of their piano forte in the sitting room and a drawn family tree.

And this was Deacon Richard Hale’s writing desk. If I remember correctly, he was a deacon in the church and a magistrate. He dealt with small court disputes in their house which I found very silly (and the wax stamp had an H on it idk why that made me die😭)

And here, in one of the upstairs rooms, they displayed artist renditions of what we think Nathan Hale and his brothers looked like. I think Nathan had 9 (?) biological siblings that survived to adulthood, one of which being his sister Johanna. And then i believe he had 3 step siblings after his father remarried (im trying to recall everything the tour guide said).

Johanna isnt depictied in these drawings, its only the brothers, but her room was on display for the tour and it had a lot of windows. The tour guide said it was because she apparently loved to read, so they made sure her room had the most windows for the most light??😭😭🥹🥹

Anyways, all of Nathan’s brothers went to war except for the youngest one. Also, if you look at the years of their deaths, Samuel Hale (the oldest sibling) actually outlived them all?? Which makes me want to scream???? Samuel also didn’t inherit the family farm, it actually went to his brother John.

Joseph Hale- (damn he can get it lowkey..🥵) while in the war was captured by the British and was on a prison ship until he was exchanged and honestly I’ve been thinking about it too much. So glad he didn’t die of dysentery or something. But he did pass of consumption at only 34 which I can’t even handle.

Enoch, went to Yale along with Nathan and they were in the same graduating class which i think is so cutesy. The tour guide also said that one of the pewter steins in one of the sitting rooms (i don’t actually have a photo unfortunately) belonged to Enoch and I wanted to scream, like was it ACTUALLY his???

They had a display of several items they found on the property like coins, buttons, ect. but I didn’t take a photo of that either. It was in the same room as these images of the brothers.

I think we all know Nathan, and quite honestly i didn’t even realise he had so many siblings until this tour. I suppose one could assume given the time period - everyone had like 5+ children. But of all the times i was taught about Nathan Hale (and that was kind of a lot, being a Connecticut resident for my entire life) no one ever mentioned his family or his siblings. There was a portrait of Deacon Richard Hale in the downstairs area- I didn’t realise this in the moment, my sister mentioned it later, but (based on the artist’s rendition) Nathan looked just like his father. I found it really funny when i realised it.

This was Nathan’s hunting rifle as well, another thing that apparently belonged to one of the members of the Hale family that made me want to scream (more on that in my final thoughts).

And last photo (the Turn: Washington’s Spies baddies are gonna LOVE this one)

This is a list of the Yale University (back then, it was just Yale College) honours graduating class of 1773. On it, is Nathan and Enoch Hale of course. But also, Nathan’s friend and “roommate” 👀 (and our favourite spymaster) Benjamin Tallmadge!!!!! I had to keep my mouth shut when the tour guide mentioned that he was on this list, but I was screaming internally and my sister and i made goofy ahh eye contact.

Their names are towards the top, Enoch and Nathan are listed in the third small column while Benjamin is in the sixth one all the way to the right.

Things that i saw/were talked about that i didn’t take a photo of was a shadow drawing of Nathan’s side profile. At some point, Nathan stood in front of a door in the house while someone traced the outline of his shadow onto it. I don’t quite know why that was done..? Perhaps it was for a genuine reason or maybe the Hale siblings were just messing around. But it’s a pretty big deal considering there are actually no true portraits of Nathan or his siblings. Just statues and drawings that are artist renditions based on historical accounts. There was a historian who wrote about Nathan Hale and came in contact with a member of the Hale family (Rebecca Hale, I believe). She told him about the shadow drawing and it was a long and interesting story that I unfortunately don’t remember all the parts to. A piece about the portrait is typed on a paper in the photo of Nathan’s rifle, if you can zoom in, you can read a little more on it.

Their gift shop was also small and cutesy and I spent a lot of money there on books. On display there, they had an old piece of wood from the original house. I got a published copy of Reverend John Hale’s, A Modest Inquiry into the Nature of Witchcraft.

If anyone wasn’t aware, Reverend John Hale (Nathan Hale’s great grandfather) was called to Salem, Massachusetts from Beverly to assist in the Salem Witch Trials in 1692. He was partially responsible for the persecution of several innocent people however, nearing the end of the trials, he began to disagree with the accusations. He published this firsthand account to condemn the actions of those involved with the trials and I’ve always thought it was so interesting. I’ve wanted to read this since I read The Crucible back in high school and i was very excited to see it at the gift shop.

You can also visit the Hale Farm in Beverly, MA where Rev. John Hale used to live and I want to someday. I’ve only ever been outside of it, I’ve never properly visited for a tour. (Cutesy fact as well: Rev. John’s Hale’s birthday is June 3rd, which is only 3 days before Nathan’s).

Final Thoughts:

The Hale Family was absolutely MASSIVE. Our tour guide mentioned being a descendant of the Hale Family and im sure a number of “born and raised” New England residents are as well somewhere in their ancestry. Based on the drawn family tree, most of the members had probably 4 kids minimum and then those kids all had a ton of kids. It’s also very funny to me how there are probably several Hale’s who are decently significant figures in history and it’s just wild that it’s all one family. I know it’s the same for royal families and such but it feels different somehow.

According to our tour guide, one theory about how Nathan Hale was captured was by Robert Rogers. That Rogers invited him to dinner and convinced Nathan that he was also part of the Continental Army. Nathan then confided his mission in Rogers and was lured into a false sense of security that lead to him being captured. Which is another one for the Turn baddies that almost made me die when I heard it. Especially since I don’t believe I’ve heard that theory before.

Something I did really enjoy about this tour was how it didn’t completely focus on Nathan. Of course that would have been fine and equally as interesting, but it was mainly a lesson on his family and some of his descendants. After being taught about Nathan Hale so many times, I had no idea about his entire family and his siblings.

It also never TRULY occurred to me that there aren’t any real portraits of Nathan Hale. They’ve all been artist renditions as paintings or statues based on historical descriptions of him and something about that is extremely wild to me. It makes me somewhat grateful for our easy access to camera and video in our modern world. There are so many faces and stories that have been completely lost to time - even some very significant historical figures have little to no surviving images. Like, we know who they are and that they were here at some point - we have their belongings and things that they used. Thats why seeing Nathan’s rifle in the bedroom or Enoch’s stein in the sitting room cause me to have such visceral reactions. This was theirs once. This was used by someone probably everyday. And now its almost like a ghost or memory of them. The land around the property is heavily wooded as well, lots of trees and stones. My sister and I took a short walk around the property before leaving and it really made me think: how many of these stones did they touch? How many of these large trees did they lean on? It drives me so insane honestly.

One last thing that hadn’t occurred to me before this trip was how the Hale family learned of Nathan’s hanging. According to the tour guide, Enoch and a couple his brothers had heard of a Hale being found guilty of espionage and being hanged. And after looking into it more, Enoch did confirm that it was Nathan and sent word to the rest of the family. It’s said that before being hanged, Nathan only asked for a few things: A priest (which he did not get), parchment, quill and ink for writing. He wrote a letter to his commanding officer and one to his family. According to the guide, i believe neither one was sent. Perhaps the one to the officer was sent, however he never received it because he was killed in battle before he had the chance. And allegedly, the one written to the Hale family was seized by the British and was likely used as a written confession rather than being sent home to Nathan’s family. I honestly can’t imagine how upsetting that must’ve been for all of them. Especially with each of the Hale brothers being in the war and likely all in different places, there wasn’t really any other way for them to find out that their own brother was hanged aside from the way everyone else learned of it - through the newspaper or by word of mouth. No other Hale brother died in the war either, they all survived and had relatively high rankings by the time the war was over.

~~~

So that was my trip, it was fun and informative and I would really love to visit again sometime. I highly recommend anyone who is a fan of history, or Turn: Washington’s Spies to visit if you can! They are only open seasonally though, and only on weekends. They do a tour every hour, so plan accordingly if you want to visit!

[bcbdrums]

Ok give me your feelings on SidStein and Sid/Naigus

First, to others waiting for ask answers - I answer out of order, sorry. I gotta go with what I'm in the mood to reply to and/or have time to reply to. So yeah.

Second, I'm DUMB I did not realize this ask was for the Bingo-card thing until you sent the ask a second time. So I'll answer to that second one with the Bingo card because...... I typed up this LOOOOOOONG reply that you see here, and realized right as I was about to drop it into queue that I'd totally misunderstood the ask. But. I wanted to ramble about this, so, the internet gets my opinions regardless.

I have SO many thoughts about Stein and Sid and things I plan to write (some very soon, which are mentioned herein but not in a fic context). Headcanons incoming!

Okay so I don't ship Stein/Sid but they are definitely very good friends. I think it probably started in the academy when Sid joined their class super-young just like Stein did. Younger than the average student, but not quite as young as Stein was. Very talented. I think he'd have caught Stein's attention for his skill at a young age, and also for his no-nonsense way of looking at things. Stein struggles with morality, and Sid is very black and white about everything. He never has those debates with himself, he's just got the answer ready to go. So I think that would have intrigued Stein.

Another thing is, Sid wouldn't have looked at Stein as a freak nor been afraid of him. In Sid's typical manner of taking things at face value, that's how he'd have taken Stein. Another talented meister who happens to enjoy vivisection as a hobby and thus he'd know to watch his back in that regard, but no differently than he watches his back generally. He truly wouldn't treat Stein differently than anyone else. This too would catch Stein's notice.

They'd become friends in a different way than Stein and Spirit are friends. No living together, only seeing each other in class, on assignments, and socially when Stein gets dragged out by Spirit to do things. And Sid would just...treat him like he treats everyone else. So, this and Sid's unique black and white take on everything would intrigue Stein.

He'd soon learn of and rely on Sid's absolute loyalty and trustworthiness in battle. He would possibly gradually make Sid a confidant and/or distraction as the world slowly begins to fall out from under Stein, as he sees a future coming where he may lose his weapon and then ultimately...it happens.

I think Sid stayed by Stein's side after that... After Spirit was gone, and with him, Stein's thready hold on sanity... (Or was Spirit also a hold on madness, hmm~) I think Sid was a rock for Stein in that time, because that's the kind of man Sid is. He's not the type to leave a friend in need. Even if he doesn't know how to help. And I think they'd remain good friends through the following years and Sid would be one of the reasons Stein didn't just...vanish off into the ether after losing Spirit.

I think Sid was a strong grounding force for Stein through those remaining years of Stein's adolescence and young adulthood even though Sid is younger. His unique grasp of morality would have continued to fascinate and confuse Stein, and be something he could use in his own confused rationalizations as he suddenly finds himself forced to navigate life without his weapon, using other weapons, and...then what, after he graduates? Sid would still be there.

So... I think when Sid died, Stein couldn't take it. He couldn't take the loss of another friend. But this time...he just might be able to do something about it. So he did. (I looked it up but couldn't find it anywhere, but some people imply?? That Lord Death ordered Stein to bring Sid back. If that's canon someone please direct me to the reference; maybe it's in SE NOT? I think Stein did it all on his own....)

So anyway....yeah. And I think after bringing Sid back to life, they remained good friends. Plenty of canon evidence (in both canons) to suggest as much. :)

Moving on now... Sid/Naigus. I've less to say here, I don't think about them too much. First off, yes, I like the ship. I think they were a couple while still in the academy together. I also think Naigus is slightly older than Sid. I think she was always there, an extension of Sid even through his friendship with Stein. Another calm and steady presence that perplexed and also helped steady our madman.

I also think Naigus reels Sid in from extremes. Because he's so black and white about everything, there may be areas that warrant some thought spent in the gray area that he is oblivious to, and she offers him that balance. Her thoughtfulness complements his iron will. Likewise, he brings out the best in her. A little knife who never makes death scythe, but is the choice weapon of someone who ultimately becomes a renowned three-star meister, highly-regarded teacher, and one in Lord Death's inner circle? And he chooses her. His fortitude would help her increase her confidence in herself, to be more sure and forthright with her opinions, even if they clash with his; after all, he's never shy of sharing, so why should she be? I think she has a deep empathy, but she's also as no-nonsense as Sid. She'll take the time to read people and a situation that Sid may not, but she won't pander to anyone.

I'm terrible at jokes and puns, but I keep wanting to say something here about... quick stabs of wisdom? They both cut to the chase? Someone more clever than me can say something about this later.

Are they a couple? Oh yes, yes they are. Sid likes women, and Mira likes Sid. I don't really know what else to say on that except they like everything about each other. Looks, personality, attitude, fighting styles... And they respect each other. They don't balk if the other tells them they need to rein something in; they'll listen. They know the other knows them that well. They're meister and weapon, after all. Who knows another's soul better than their partner?

Now, manga!Sid..... And I know you've not read it, so I won't spoil... But we're gonna ignore certain aspects of manga!Sid's personality because I think anyone reading this who has read the manga can agree with me that those aspects of Sid are just the author projecting his own...tendencies...onto the character. That's as far as I'll go with that. Sometimes things are just blatantly...not truly part of the story. So yeah.

THANK YOU again for this ask, I've actually had Stein and Sid on my mind quite a lot in these last few weeks. A fic is being mentally written, haha, and I looooove it.

[thoraeth]

words: 3600

Summary: Welcome aboard the Challenger, a ship from Egghead with a crazy logpose! While Ava and Buggy find a way to coexist peacefully, Romi and her crew are pressured by Labophase.

Chapter 3 - Ceasefire

<CH2 CH4(PT1)> | Read on Ao3

Ava is compressed against spiky metal bits, stinging like a million needles on her skin.

She’s been enveloped in the clown’s coat the whole time, but now that the debris doesn't move anymore, she can get that ripped fabric out of her face.

They’re in a big empty room, whose likeness she’s never seen before: the floor is completely hidden by metal scraps while the walls, light colored, are covered in weird panels and glowing buttons. That horrible claw crane is still dangling from the ceiling as an orange light flashes through the room.

“Jester?”

Something’s still weighing on Ava's body. Looking down at her lap, she notices a shadow entangled in the coat. It's an arm, a single arm with a gloved hand.

The woman screams. Crawling back on her elbows, she scans the room again: many other pieces of the pirate are peeking out among the debris, scattered around. Her stomach is in knots.

“It…it shredded him…”

Ava manages to get up when two panels in the wall behind her slide open. The flashing light stops and three people enter the room chatting loudly. They're all wearing a gray coverall and heavy combat boots.

“Allen, Torres, check the crane report. We should have got everything back.”

“Who died and made you queen, Meg?”

A muscular woman jumps in the debris while a brown skinned guy makes faces at her. A fellow big man, bald and middle aged, is tapping with both hands on a glitching panel.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” the woman's voice echoes in the distance.

“Meg? Is everything okay?”

“Guys, we’ve got a stowaway!”

Running through the scraps, the trio is upon Ava, surrounding her.

“How did you sneak in, uh?”

“This can't be for real…” Ava’s staring at the arm on the ground, shocked.

“Ugh, gross! If I see blood, I'm out of here.” the brown skinned man backs off with a disgusted expression.

“Torres!” The other growls “Sorry for your loss, sweetheart.” He brings his face closer to the frightened clandestine, speaking with a gentle voice. “I'm doctor Allen Stein. How about we clean your cuts and talk about what happened?”

With the corner of her eye, Ava is watching Meg: a big burn crosses her face, half hidden behind white curls. The woman picks up Buggy's arm and observes it from different angles.

“Doc.” she calls out “Isn't it a little too clean in here?”

As Meg speaks, the lifeless arm begins to levitate. Suddenly legs, hands, arms, ears fly across the room and swirl rapidly around her body. The pieces fit together in a blue haired man who grabs her from the back, pointing a sharp rod at her throat.

“ ‘Evening ladies and gentlemen. Get me the fuck outta here and no one gets hurt.”

Torres can't believe his eyes. “Where’d that dirty clown come from?!”

“It must be Devil Fruit powers, watch out!”

The two men block Ava and take a step back, pulling out their guns.

“Put all weapons down, please!” the woman yells. “It’s just a misunderstanding!”

“Relax, lads. You can keep her all you want.” the pirate smirks bitterly.

“Buggy, no!”

“Shut up! It's all your fault, shark girl!”

“What? You broke the cannon!”

As the quarrel goes on, one word ignites a sudden exchange of glances among the crew members. Meg looks up, resisting the rod sinking in her neck.

“Oh” she says stiffly “you're the Emperor.”

“Flash and bones, baby: the star clown, the genius jester, Warlord, president of Cross Gild! You’d better drop me off before my men hunt you down!”

“I hope you're a good swimmer, then.” Allen frowns. “We entered the calm belt half an hour ago.”

Buggy rolls his eyes, chuckling “Pathetic bluff, doc. How could you losers navigate the belts?”

“Deck 4, open airlock.”

Torres’ voice echoes through the room and the orange light on the ceiling flashes again.

The wall next to them splits and opens up with a loud hiss, revealing the open sea. Even if a light rain is rippling the sea surface, no wind comes in, the air outside is dense and stifling.

Buggy pushes Meg away, his heart plunging in his chest while observing the gigantic silhouettes of Sea Kings roaming underwater.

“I think you should meet our Captain, jester.” the woman suggests, massaging her neck.

The crew proceeds to escort Buggy and Ava out of the warehouse, through narrow corridors and steep stairs. The clown is quietly observing the place as they go: “That’s crazy! You can talk to the ship and it does things on its own. These shitheads do have something on their hands… I wonder if there's any gizmo I could steal.” He swallows nervously “At least I wouldn't return to Perona empty handed.”

The group stops in front of a wall with a glowing disk where Meg places her hand. Again, two panels activate, splitting and sliding open.

“Romi, we have guests.”

The woman leads the way through an extremely messy workroom, where the stowaways are fascinated by unknown machinery lying on a large counter. All around, glowing texts and shapes are glitching on the walls.

“What is that!” Ava gasps under her breath. A sleek device is cabled to a platform; it has a beat-up hollow wheel in the front and its lucid shell is heavily scratched. With a raspy voice, a dark skinned woman stands up behind the vehicle.

“If it's another hologram from Labophase, I swear…” She adjusts a pair of round eyeglasses in her wavy hair, still focused on her reparations.

Meg clears her throat: “He’s Buggy the clown, one of the Four Emperors. Him and the girl got caught in the crane.” The scarred woman walks up to the platform and whispers “Remember that talk we had before leaving Egghead? All those pictures and bounties?”

“What would you suggest?” the captain asks in a low voice.

“Diplomacy.”

Romi grabs a greasy towel, eying the intruders: Buggy the Emperor doesn't look that threatening in his messed up face paint and striped shirt; same goes for his blonde companion who wouldn't even sustain eye contact. The captain gets closer with a dim smile on her face. “What a privilege for us, Yonko. Welcome aboard the Challenger.”

“How kind.” Buggy replies, his voice flat “As much as I’d love to play tea party, Ma’am, I need you to take me back where you dug me up.”

“On 0348? No prob, it'll take a couple weeks.”

“Come again?”

“It’s our best outcome, so far: fifteen days to complete a lap of the Grand Line.”

The pirate laughs, confused. “You know you can literally turn the ship around, right?”

“No you can't, if the ship's the Challenger. Once we enter the belts, the Algopose decides where and when we stop next. It has to work its magic or we get lost for good.”

Buggy strokes his forehead, inhaling deeply. “A ship from the future that doesn't steer…” He can't decide whether to scream or cry his eyes out. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” he says in a low voice.

“It has its flaws, I give you that.”

“How about Karai Bari, then? How many decades to get there?”

“Let me check with JoyJoey. In the meanwhile, I think you should get some rest.”

Romi heads for the workroom’s exit, signaling everyone to follow her.

As she leads her crew and guests down a metal staircase, the clanging of their steps resounds all around, along with her voice. “You’ll like it in here. Some details aren't top-tier yet, but my ship has nothing to envy to that pretentious junk from Labophase.”

They turn into a wide corridor, evenly lit by tall lighted arches. Left and right, numbered panels tower over them.

“What’s Labophase?” Ava timidly asks.

Romi’s voice gets snarly. “Vegapunk’s lab, the cradle of the future…actually a bunch of old farts with gov money.”

“And weapons.” Buggy adds. “You guys do weapons too?”

The Captain picks up the pace.

“I refuse. Everybody wants to be the next professor V. and what’s come of it? Wooden ships still sink at Reverse Mountain but, oi, we’ve got the Pacifistas!”

Romi stops in front of a door and slaps the digital circle to reveal a bedroom.

“Stay as long as you need. It’s JoyJoey’s room but he never lefts the cockpit.”

Buggy stomps in first, taking a good look at the space. “Wow…gray, grates and weird stuff. Again.” he thinks, raising his eyebrows “What's with this dullness?”

He stops in front of a hexagonal niche and throws himself on the mattress placed inside.

Buggy is quite surprised: a cheerful crowd of shapes fills the hidden space around the bed. Small paper drawings are glued on the walls, in a chaotic whirlwind of colors. A smile lights up the clown's face.

“Ugh, he still hasn't cleaned this mess.” Romi leans inside the bed niche, reaching for a squared button.

A portion of the wall rolls up and natural light fills the room.

“JoyJoey’s our navigator” the woman says “The only one who gets to have a window here. You’re two lucky bastards!” she bursts out laughing.

Buggy sits up “Two? Oh no, Ma’am, I don’t share.”

“This is a small ship. It's either here or top deck, if you fancy the Belts at night.”

“Am I going to sleep on the floor?” Ava presses Romi.

“Hey, chill out! We've got bed modules.”

“Well then, take that module and shove it in one of your rooms.” Buggy growls "Ladies should go with ladies.”

“And strangers with strangers! You're not going anywhere until I trust you two.” Romi quickly reaches her crew, half hidden outside the room. She stretches a fake smile and presses her hand on the wall. The panels close, followed by a steamy noise.

Ava runs to the door, randomly hitting its surface with her palms.

“This is all your fault.” the pirate hisses behind her. “You’re always in my way and it's complete chaos, one bullshit after the other! You got me into this mess and I don’t know how to get out of it!”

As the words come out of Buggy's mouth, his voice gets shrill.

“Do you even understand how fucked I am? If those two find out I’m not at the camp they’ll think I’ve run off!”

“So what?” Ava snaps “You’ve run off! Call your pirate army and…I don't know, kill them. What can they do to you?”

“They own me.”

The two remain still, frowning at each other.

“I owe Sir Fucking Crocodile millions of Berry and the only reason I’m alive is that I’ll have to take a bullet for him if things go south!” the pirate’s face is altered by a desperate grin “I just wanted to forget about my shitty life for a day or two. Now I'm a dead man walking.”

“I’m truly sorry, Buggy. But again, this is not my fault.” Ava’s voice is shaky. “You made things worse by damaging that cannon.”

“Why am I even talking to you?! Get out of my sight!”

“Sure, you only want to talk when I'm useful… Like an hour ago, on that beach.”

Buggy raises his blue eyes towards Ava. “It was a polite chat to kill time.”

“And it was nice, can we stick to that?”

“No. They made us marry, but I can choose not to like you.”

“Ok, so what did I do to you? I was forced into that ring like you, I’m miserable as you are miserable and yet I’ve been nothing but kind.”

“Oh, the hypocrisy! You didn't want to be killed, that's all.”

“That too, yes!” Ava yells, her green eyes open wide. “For the first time I was my own person and I thought it would be great, however I'm still sleeping on the floor and constantly being yelled at…No matter how far I go, I'm still stuck.”

The atmosphere within the room turns sad. Ava tries to hold back tears, her eyes reddened.

“Still stuck.” Buggy echoes, sitting on the bed again. He rests his head on his palms and lets go of a long puff: “Even if I wiped you all out, it would be me and the Sea Kings anyway. I guess I'd better not waste my energy and find a way to handle this mess.”

One of his hands flies towards Ava. The woman’s eyes light up as his dirty fingers take her hand and firmly shake it.

“Now. The only way I can survive Croc and Mihawk is with information; a lot of information. A slave with information is worth more than a Yonko, I'll tell you that much.”

“So you're a slave now?” Ava sighs, sitting on the floor next to the pirate.

“Do you think slaves only come with a skin mark? Buckle up for the real world, babe.” Buggy smirks. “Anyway. During these two weeks I have to squeeze out the science gang and I expect your full collaboration, Ava.”

The woman looks up to the clown’s crazed glance, worried.

“…within my heart

Daisy, Daisy

planted one day by a glancing dart…”

The bright sky of the Belts reflects on a large hexagonal mirror, a translucent surface hiding a tidy bed. Ava is zipping up her gray coverall and leans forward to check a pimple on her forehead. “Enough with the singing, jester, it's time to go!” she chuckles.

Her roommate’s image appears in the mirror: Buggy is untangling his wet hair, shaking the dripping brush towards Ava with a childish grin. She pushes him away and jumps on the messy bed next to the window.

“I’ll miss this a little.” she thinks, tying up her boot's laces.

Over those days, she has grown fond of the clown’s weird songs. She'd often slow down in the morning, listening to him humming with his hair slit back and his face still clean.

“Room, Mirror off.” Buggy exclaims. The reflections fade away and the hexagon goes back to a bed module. Throwing a piece of charcoal on the floor, the pirate exits the room, his face covered in intricate black shapes.

“So, how are we feeling?” Ava asks, walking with him under the light arches.

“I don’t know. I hope our little present will please my colleagues enough to keep my head close to the rest.”

“It’s more than enough; that nose of yours will still be attached to your face tomorrow.” the woman winks at him.

“No shit.” Buggy fakes a grunt “Luckily, you're good at science ‘cause you'd make a horrible comedian.”

“You mean I can't apply for your circus?”

“Of course you can. CEO of Den Dens’ maintenance, right away!”

They enter the lunchroom smirking as the challenger’s crew is eating breakfast around a long metal table, arms chaotically mingling over full plates.

“You two!” Romi shouts “Thank god the jester’s getting off this ship today, I’m fed up with your nightly chats! What’s with sharing your whole life’s stories at 4am? People need to sleep!”

“Sorry Romi.” Ava says quietly, pouring herself the last drop of tea.

“Oh, c’mon Buggy.” the Captain continues. “Stop it.”

The pirate mutters through his full cheeks “I told you a million times, mind your business.” He’s eating with his hands, seated on the table with his legs spread. As usual, Ava sits behind him, hidden from the rest of the crew. After some time, though, Buggy feels a light touch on his arm: Ava's whispering to him to let go. The blue haired man sits properly and drags his chair. “I did what I could, she's on her own now.” he thinks, cracking a smile.

“So…what do I do with Labophase? They called again.” Meg is urging Romi who’s aggressively munching on her breakfast.

“Those Assholes!” the Captain shouts “Five years of research: no questions, no money. We sink half a cannon and it's three calls a day!”

“It might get into the wrong hands; they do have a point.” Allen objects.

“Tsk. They’re just scared they’ll no longer be the ones running the game.”

Torres waves his spoon, spitting cornflakes as he speaks: “I think we kinda leveled the field. If pirates and marines have the same tech, they’re…even?”

“Commoners will appreciate the fair play, no doubt.” Meg snaps, scathing.

“Guys, really, I can’t do this.” Romi’s voice gets weak, her face pale and drawn.

“Tell Labophase we won’t go search for it. Our funds are running out and the drifter is still unusable. I…I can’t sacrifice all of this on a fucking weapon.”

The Captain stands up abruptly. “Yonko, ready to disembark in four hours.” She cuts the conversation short and storms out of the lunchroom.

The atmosphere among the crew has gotten heavy, so Ava leads Buggy out. The two are walking through Deck 2, chatting and joking, when orange flashing lights go off throughout the ship.

A low rumble rises, growing and growing below the hull and the Challenger begins to roll: slowly tilting left and right, the floors become unsteady and random objects come tumbling down from the rooms.

“Shit!” Buggy holds Ava up. “Out of the Belts already?!” he mouths in the middle of the deafening noise. Clinging to his floating hand, the woman cries out: “It's the Algopose! We're early!”

Amidst that chaos, a familiar voice croaks from above: “Initiate safety protocol, remote commands are not responding.” All of Romi’s distress is coming out of the speakers. “Lab 2 is top priority. Ava, take Buggy to Lab 3 immediately.”

Ava visibly gaps. She moves quickly, sliding and falling. The jester presses his hand against her back, guiding her away from slamming into the walls when a new wave hits.

They run past Romi’s lab, where Meg and Torres are securing all the gimmicks, then Ava stops in front of a second door. As its panels slide open, Buggy cannot believe his eyes.

It’s a chemistry lab. Powders, burners, beakers, flasks everywhere. “It’s… beautiful.” the pirate thinks, gawping.

Ava’s cries for help harshly bring him back to reality: all those shiny objects are rolling and flying off their shelves, shattering on the floor in thousands of pieces.

“Lab 3, lock in place!” Ava orders, tinkering with a touch panel and hitting it with the palm of her hand. A number of boxes go back to their position, retained by an invisible force, while others are grasped by Buggy, his limbs moving frantically around the room.

As hours go by, the ominous rumble of the sea seems to quiet and the floor tilting gets gentler. Exhausted, Ava and Buggy slide down a wall, surrounded by glass splinters.

“These people are out of their fucking mind!” the pirate shouts “We could explode!”

“On normal days…it’s all locked up…” Ava wheezes

“Why did they send you? You need someone who knows how to handle this stuff!”

“No one here knows.” Ava replies. “I mean, from what I saw, Romi knows a little, but not nearly enough to help with the Drifter.”

“Is that why Captain Four Eyes was crying into her breakfast?”

“Yup. Last tests didn't go well…It keeps shutting down. Didn't make it past the lab’s doors.”

“I could have helped! There must be something useful here.”

“You could? It’s a pity you did nothing but sleep and eat the whole time, then.”

“Like this and this, or that” Buggy’s finger is pointing at colored liquids and powders around the lab. “Mix together and…boom! Whatever that thing is, they're gonna fish it out of the East Blue!” he sneers.

“That's not the point, Doctor Vegaclown!

Where did you learn all this, though?”

“I loved to do experiments as a kid, back on the Oro Jackson… A lifetime ago.” Buggy smiles while twirling some glass tubes around his fingers. “How do you think I make my Muggy bombs, uh? You don’t need books to make those beauties!”

Ava laughs heartily, as the pirate turns into a rambling child, jabbering on and on about his favorite topic. As Buggy lets himself go, a warm feeling makes its way through Ava's chest. What a shame he had to go back to his Yonko life.

“Hey, Bug, since you're good with chemistry.” Ava looks down “You should find a way to read someone's blood, to check where they’re from.”

“What does it even mean?”

“If you’d test Meara…you'd be a slave with a hell of a leverage. Crocodile won't touch you again.”

“I see.” The pirate frowns.

During their nightly chats, Ava told him about her relatives and Meara’s cruelty to all of them. “But this? What's with Read’s blood now?” he thinks.

“Also, if you keep your head…make something again.” the woman flushes. “It must be nice to be around you when you’re that happy.”

Buggy stares at Ava, looking for a funny, witty remark, but nothing comes to mind. He definitely is unhappy, through and through. Still, he has to admit her words have given him some sort of hopeful, nostalgic feelings; as if there were a small shard of himself, buried deep inside, that isn't completely dead.

Romi’s voice echoes from the speakers: “Attention, crew. We entered the Grand Line in the middle of a storm. Again. But no losses this round, so…good job. Buggy, come to the cockpit, we're one hour away from Karai Bari.”

“It's time.” The pirate gets up, his hands in his pockets. “All in all, it was fun. I'm sorry you got such a shitty husband but I'm sure you'll do great with the science gang.”

As he walks out, a deep uneasiness jolts through Ava's chest. Words escape her lips, louder that she'd like them to be: “I’ll miss our chats at night. Take care, Buggy.”

[miragecounseling]

*twirls hair and kicks feet* so tell us about the dragon oc.

I had started making this norn that was an old pirate captain that joined forces with Iona and team to fight scarlet. He's loud, loves to drink, and tell long-winded stories that always end in "but what do I know, I wasn't actually there!" Wears an eye patch he doesn't need solely because it makes women ask him questions. Says things like "You can always count on me to have my beer stein in one hand and a wrench in my pocket- not a euphemism, ladies.... or is it?"

But underneath the jokes and gorgeous norn locks lies a creature that has yet to (publicly????) walk the grounds of Tyria. [I'm not sure what I want his race to be?? I'm drawn to some sort of dragonspawn, maybe not necessarily Jormag though. But some sort of mist-creature that's a mix of kryptis and skyscales could be cool too??]

He disguises himself with engi tech. A cloaking device affixed to his armor, disguised in the buckle on his belt. It persists constantly until he chooses to turn it off.

Prior to joining Iona, he would flit from continent to continent. Partially in search of riches and new bar brawl opponents, but also because he ages so much slower than humans and norn. Moving ports was easier than constantly updating his disguise and his behaviors to match his "age."

Despite his efforts to move around constantly, he developed a bit of notoriety with fellow pirates. Despite being a primarily solo traveler, others reveled in his ability to bring down ships four times his size.

Every time he'd leave a rowdy bar, the sound of the cheers and laughter slowly vanishing behind him would squeeze his heart. He longed for others; sometimes his own kind, sometimes anyone that fancied a drink and a laugh. He'd argue with himself over why he couldn't just bring on a small crew.

'It wouldn't hurt if a few people knew the truth.' 'Of course it would. You've seen how the world is right now, everyone on edge from Zhaitan. They see glowing horns, scales, anything remotely "dragon" or even "lizard", they attack.'

In the end his logic would win out, but it didn't lessen his longing for companionship. No one could know...

until??????

also bonus: "is that.... how they see me?"

[elibean]

Hi....If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

no need to apologize! this is a great question, thank you for asking! i think i'll go with anime just 'cause it's easiest (i have a MAL and rank every series i watch from 1-10). i originally had movies in here but i think i'm gonna cut them out and just keep it to series and ovas. and "why do you love them" is an AWESOME question I never get! i don't know if i'll be able to explain myself well, but I'll try!

fullmetal alchemist ('03). why? this was pretty much my gateway anime. it's been over 10 years I believe since I've last seen any of it, so it's entirely possible that my opinion has since changed. but i definitely have nostalgia goggles on for it, and i know it is actually good, too haha

2. natsume yuujinchou (specifically seasons 6, 5, 4, and 3). why? some seasons of natsume i have rated higher than others, apparently. natsume is a special show. due to the nature of how long it is, there is the drawback that sometimes it feels like it repeats itself and tells similar stories. but even then it is just such a good story of found family and finding love after a life of strife, and it's just. very good. (i do think it should end soon though before it feels like it's just recycling old stories)

3. made in abyss. why? season 1 still stands out to me above the movie and 2. it was such a special experience. the art, the animation, the background art, the music, it all comes together to create such a fascinating world. the weak point would definitely be its characters, but even then everything else comes together so well that it doesn't really matter. it has one of the best first episodes of any anime (when the sun came up over orth and the music cued in I knew I was hooked) and I also adore season 1's ending; if the show never got a continuation, it could have ended right there and I would have been content (not a lot of other anime can say the same about their endings!).

4. steins; gate. why? it's also been a very long time since i've seen this one, so possible my opinion has changed. still, I remember being super interested after the first episode, and the following 12 that people tend to critique as being "slow" or a "slog" never really felt that way for me. there was always something fun and interesting going on. i compare this one with link click a lot, just because people tend to go the magica route and i firmly believe steins;gate is the better time travel show (though lc isn't over yet so maybe an unfair comparison. still it'd take a LOT for lc to reach anywhere near the heights of steins;gate to me). when okabe goes back over and over to try and save mayuri, i just remember being absolutely floored. really good stuff.

5. vinald saga. why? it's just such a well constructed story. and the author's comments about not wanting a world with war is so interesting, given how violent the first season is. it's really interesting to watch thorfinn grow and change (and i never understood the hate that he was too violent or annoying or a brat? he's just a kid who's lost everything, cut him some slack jeez). i love the last shot of season 1, corny as it is-- all the memories reflected on the dropping knife was great. and askeladd was one of the best villains i've ever seen. he's not even ~morally grey~ or anything; he's pretty strongly in the wrong, but his thinking and motivations and everything are so interesting and compelling. i don't think it's perfect; there are flaws for sure (i wasn't the biggest fan of how in s2 canute just. decides to turn his ships back after a small conversation with thorfinn lol) but it is very good.

6. this boy cuaght a merman. why? ok this one objectively does not deserve a 10. it's a 30minute ova about a boy falling in love with a merman. that's it. it's not incredible or amazing or ground breaking. buuuuuut it's my favorite soubi yamamoto ova and i adore soubi yamamoto and so she's getting a place on this list. she is responsible for animating, storyboarding, backgrounds, directing, etc etc everything in here, it's incredible (and she was only like 25, or something when she did it. fucking bananas). i love her please go check out her works (besides crystallization)

7. noragami. why? ok again probably not objectively THAT good, but this is one of the first anime that got me to read the manga, and here I am some 10 years later (ok a little less than 10 years because I didn't start reading the manga the year it started publishing, I think). noragami's MANGA is incredible and amazing and wonderful. but I do believe (much against the popular opinion amongst noragami manga readers) that the anime is also amazing, and YES that includes season 1. the crew behind it really loved the manga I feel (at least the director did, and there's proof for that) and adapted it faithfully and well. noragami is a story of found family and of turning your life and fate around, and it's very good.

8. she and her cat: everything flows. why? this one is only 4 episodes, 8 minutes each. it tells a story of a 20-something (actually she's still in college iirc) who lives on her own with her cat, and is trying to be an adult. but it's told from the cat's perspective. it's so sweet; the cat comments on how she "grooms herself" (brushes her hair, puts on her interview clothes) and "looks pretty" and things and it is just so great. i love the line (not a direct quote) "she opens that heavy door again today and heads out. on the other side of that door is a somewhat unforgiving, somewhat cruel world. but she's doing her best to learn to love that world. and i love her for that." just....so good (also the show made me cry)

9. yuru camp. why? second iyashikei on this list! SOL/iyashikei is actually my favorite genre of anime, generally speaking, but it can be hard to do it well. yuru camp ABSOLUTELY does it well. i read a commentary once ages ago, about how one of the great things about yuru camp is that the girls are allowed to just... be girls, and it always stuck with me. there's no fanservice, and these girls really feel like real characters who exist. there was another commentary (maybe same one?) about how rin is this introverted, more lonesome character, but she enjoys the solitude. but what's cool about yuru camp is she is never forced to change or become more extroverted; her friends accept her for who she is, nadeshiko will invite her out but not push her, and then sometimes she does go out! and she changes and becomes a bit more social, but never gives up solo camping. AND the more extroverted, outgoing character INSTEAD comes to embrace solo camping! what a cool idea, executed amazingly! so the characters are a strong point here, but the banter and camping is a lot of fun too. i still haven't watched the movie, but i'll get there eventually!

10. odd taxi. why? this one is 100% on the writing. it is so clever and quick-witted, it's a ton of fun to watch. i've never watched any other anime like it. the mystery/thriller aspects are a lot of fun too, and i remember reading reddit threads and theories on this one as it was airing. what was so cool is that they plant subtle hints that you can ABSOLUTELY catch if you have sharp eyes (i likely wouldn't have if it weren't for reading others' theories) and you can know things before characters do. lot of fun.

--

wow this was so much fun to write up! thank you so much for the question!

[soul-dwelling]

Do you think the anime ending scene of Spirit lifting his cigarete from Stein's was only supposed to be a shiptease scene for the fans/some of the creators showing their preference or was it some symbolism that got lost in translation and cultural differences, like the Frodo and Sam relationship in Lotr which gets read as Homosexual by many modern readers even if at the time it may have intended to show a different kind of relationship?

I have no clue what the anime staff had in mind. I think it is shiptease, if not confirmation of an actual ship between the two. 

If there is another meaning to it, it’s not as if there isn’t a lot of content that is heteronormative or maybe homosocial that shows one man lighting another man’s cigarette that, based on the context to the story, comes across as not intending to be erotic. Heck, I just watched Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte light up each other in 48 Hours, and I didn’t get a queer reading from their characters’ interactions.

That being said, it would be naive of me to ignore that queer readings of such buddy cop movies and hence also of the Spirit and Stein dynamic. 

So, just because I think, “Oh, there are plenty of examples of one man getting up close to light up another man’s cigarette, this is not sexualized,” I also think, “Yeah, there’s a queer reading here, there is probably something hinted at being erotic between these two.” 

It’s the fraught ground of doing queer readings. You’ll always get some malcontent saying, “That kind of a relationship was closeted back then!”  or “Queerness as we understand it is a modern invention--read more Foucault!” And, yeah, I get those points--but I’m reading this now in 2023, and the entire spectrum of sexuality existed long before Foucault categorized it, so, if I see Frodo and Sam as a queer relationship, that’s great, and if I don’t, that’s great, too, but I don’t ignore the potential queer relationship because queerness is pretty much potential energy in any moment in a story.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Blowback by Cameron Curtis

A Breed Thriller #10

Action-packed chase that leads Breed and Stein on a multi-country chase as they seek to find a stolen nuclear missile and make sure it is not used maliciously ~ Couldn’t put it down

What I liked: * Breed: intriguing, strong, lethal, intelligent, ex-military, sniper, excellent and varied skills, independent contractor, battle-scarred, survivor, attractive to women, someone I would like to have as a friend and definitely would want in my corner if in trouble

* Anya Stein: assistant CIA Director, intelligent, experience in field work, strategic thinker, capable, dedicated, intriguing, wealthy, good communicator, diplomatic

* Ellie: teenager, on her own, survivor, lives in underground New York, helpful, intelligent, independent, capable, protective, someone I would like to see again

* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing

* That the story is current politically and worth contemplating – brings enough fact into fiction to give me pause

* That though focused on an invasion in the country I live in and there were triggers in this story that made it difficult to read, I found that once I got past my situation, I couldn’t put it down

* The slow-burn of what may or may not eventually happen between Breed and Stein

* Wondering what will happen in the next book

* All of it except…

What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about wars and how much damage they do with lives lost, land damaged, mental & physical trauma, and the fact that both sides in a war are usually fighting for what they believe is right…

Did I like this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Yes

Thank you to the author, Inkubator, Booksprout, and NetGalley for this ARC ~ This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

One man can destroy a city. One man can save it. Antonovka-15 is a Russian nuclear weapons storage facility 15 miles from the Ukraine border. When an Alt-Right Ukrainian Special Forces unit – the Vampir Brigade - breaks in and steals an H-Bomb, Breed is tasked with finding it before it can be detonated. Breed and the CIA’s Anya Stein follow the bomb on a journey through war-torn Ukraine and on to Brussels. Are the Vampirs planning to destroy NATO HQ and the European Commission? Negative on that – their real plan is even more horrifying. After surviving multiple attacks by the Vampirs, Breed and Stein find the bomb has been shipped to New York. The Vampirs threaten to incinerate the city if the United States does not commit ground troops to fight Russia. With the help of Ellie, a young homeless girl, Breed and Stein fight the Vampirs through black 19th century tunnels 30 stories below the streets of modern Manhattan. Ellie leads Breed to the bomb - and a terrifying climax with the lives of eight million innocents hanging in the balance. Blowback — Book Ten in the stunning Breed action thriller series. Perfect for fans of Jason Kasper, Jack Carr, and Lee Child.

[vilevexedvixen]

Fowler's Flower Pt. 1 - Uprooted Abijah Fowler x servant! Reader

Summary: Fueled by anger at what the English / Tudors did to him, Fowler keeps a handful of English Roses to take out sadistic tendencies on as a form of passive retribution. The reader is a commoner caught stealing during a feast and is offered an indentured servitude contract as Fowler's servant by the town Sheriff as an alternative punishment to execution (the punishment in England for theft at the time). Takes place before he stopped using the dungeon, so before 1647.

Banners and dividers by @roseschoices

It's ironic that such a man as Fowler, starved of stimulation and novelty, would become dull to both. To the point that he began to crave the mundane and familiar, a taste of home. For these rare occasions were mistresses shipped over from the English Isles along with the two beeves he brought for milking. As good as cattle, and just as hardy. For they had to last as long as he needed them, indefinitely. At least in principle. Night after night spent shackled and beaten in the dungeon, but eventually their bodies would cave even as their eyes bled with life and spoke every curse their throat could no longer even whimper. Their attire stained progressively deeper shades of red before rendered entirely black and blue by the end of it. Perhaps fortunately, then, it wasn't often that Fowler found himself craving the touch of an English maiden. He'd only need a handful, and could bare to wait a while between shipments if he exhausted them sooner than intended. Sparing however many from his ever expansive "imagination" which so often craved exoticism instead, an ever rarer commodity when grounded at one station for decades at a time. His spring pilgrimage alongside a ready supply of local flesh at his associate's behest somewhat sated his frustration and brought some respite from his cabin fever, but this supply was always quickly burnt through and the delights of the pilgrimage soon stale and forgotten. The girls brought in being too fragile and easily broken to enjoy for long. And while the heady high of seeing his dissatisfaction being met with swift replacements and adjustments instead of outward (though still very apparent) disgust and horror at what he costed the brothels in blood did amuse him, he still needed toys not trinkets. To feel the slight more effort it should take to make them break. Still like porcelain, but not as precious as bone china. And all the sweeter to hear crack at the hands of someone the English so often spat at in all his years over there. Ideally someone he could even tangentially say was directly culpable for manufacturing the suffering he endured, but good graces with people like that was what kept his pockets lined fatter than the breadth of the Atlantic... so commoners would have to do.

"You boy, bring us another round!", another sloshed patron blurted, barely holding onto his pint which dangled loose from his fingers with his arms snug around his mates' shoulders, keeping him afloat from practically drowning in ale. His clearly costly cloak now soaked damp in the stuff both by his own inebriated hand and that of his well-to-do peers. They had all gathered to generously shower their decadence like a fountain of obnoxious charity upon the Woodward Farmhouse, as the town's representatives had done every Easter since its construction. A tithing of sorts, to be sure the wood about St. Ann's well stayed pleasantly pristine for all to enjoy its miracle water.

Inside the farmhouse the air sat thick with tobacco smoke, stale breath and abuzz with disorderly glee as folks stumbled to and from the bar back to their tables. Barely holding together the clusters of steins they brought. Every round overflowing with beer. Each haphazard step tipping more of the precious brew onto the floor which lay already slick with the spillages of other patrons. Ironically making those who'd mustered the audacity to clamber onto the tables and dance of steadier stance than anyone else there. Even as the more lively maidens among them began to gladly chant,

"My granny is sick, and now is dead, And we’ll go mould some cockle bread. Up with my heels and down with my head, And this is the way to mould cockle bread!"

-before either being curtailed mid-chant by a stumble off the table's edge or being hastily ushered down by their attending kin before they could so much as bend to reach their skirt's hem, let alone perform the dance that accompanied the chant. Faces flushed red with embarrassment rather than intoxication.

As appreciative as the Woodward and nearby townsfolk were for the funding, that didn't make their rowdy display any less exhausting to accommodate. What it DID make was a perfect distraction for opportunists like _______ to swipe every loose coin and discarded luxury the nobles might lose track of amidst their merriment. Not that they'd miss any of it, mind. They came here to walk out bellies full and their purses spent, and that's exactly what they'll be by day's end.

Having waited until the festivities were well underway, the greatest challenge (besides remaining unseen, a fairly easy feat given how blind drunk all but the staff seemed to be) became dodging wayward hands flying or being crushed if any brawls broke out or someone proved too unsteady even when idle. As the thought passed _______'s mind, some poor sod began to tip backwards from his chair and nearly onto her had she not skirted so quickly past them. An amused cheer resounded across his table at the sound of him crashing onto the stone floor, much like was customary to do when any crockery shattered in a tavern such as this. "Lightweights...", she muttered so herself, smug with the fat payout the day's already granted her. Enough that there was barely any space left to covertly tuck anything away. Might be worth heading home and stowing away what she had to free up space again. Maybe just another handful...

Taking a moment to pause and see who had anything by their side or on the floor that she could swipe on her way out, she started thinking of all the food she could afford and store for winter with what she's already accumulated. Even if prices inevitably rose again because of yet another crop failure. Or because of more people flooding the town and driving up demand after being enclosed on by the damned Willoughbies like hers had been in Sutton Passeys. Or whatever war the powers that be demand the food should be diverted to instead. She won't go hungry, not this time!

Just as she felt drool begin to well up in her mouth, she spotted a particularly well dressed gentleman just past the open door laying down a round for his table. The two men sat beside him were oddly dressed, in much plainer clothes than the puffy, blouses and jackets expected by the feast's usual attendees. Come to think of it, she didn't recognise any of them from previous years. The man who brought the drinks didn't look rich per-say, but was certainly smartly dressed. Hair dark brown cut to shoulder-length and a feathered cap atop his head. Perhaps a merchant? The other two had a strangely cool tinge to their skin and such dark eyes it was as if their pupils were as wide as a rabbit's and hair dark to match, styled much higher and tighter than their fellow's loose tie-back. Their robes more like a shawl with sleeves and less gathered. Unrecognisable patterns resembling a grid of angular flowers dotted the fabric, but beyond that little decoration darned their outfits. Remarkably modest given their company and the occasion.

As she sauntered closer, she attempts to fain disinterest by periodically gazing about the place and hums along with the raucous singing blasting from within the farmhouse. Every so often darting a glance at the table both to scan for goods and to take in more and more odd details they noticed about the people sat there. In spite of how shoddy her attempt at "acting natural" was, it shouldn't matter as they surely should be too drunk to notice her pinch his coin pu- "There it is!", a hand had grabbed her wrist before she could register what happened. She froze as the Englishman tightened his grip on her wrist before plucking his coin purse back from her aching hand, "Thought someone might have nabbed it there for a second, thank you kindly for returning it to me..." No manner of tugging freed her from his grip, which kept her uncomfortably close, her frantic squirming further broadcasting her guilt as the thief in front of his associates, who simply stared unbothered. As the man turned in his seat to face her, she could see the ornate badge pinned to his breast pocket and his less ornate but still remarkably well-kept attire... a uniform?

"This isn't the usual way I'd spend Easter, but word is this feast has been swarmed with thieves these past few years," he snaked a hand under her chin and held it there, forcing her to keep eye contact, "I'd be careful if I were you. You wouldn't want to lose something valuable tonight... would you?"

With that he let go, and her wrist practically flew free of his grasp. Rubbing it gently to sooth the sore mark he'd left, she hastily scampered off to hide her stash somewhere safe. Who was that? Who were they? Those people? Was that their first round? Of all the tables she picked a sober one last, fantastic!

In the mad dash back home, she hadn't noticed the trail of coins she was leaving behind like breadcrumbs leading back to Lenton village. Some coins dropped on the heads of sleeping vagrants and children playing nearby snatched up what they could once they realise what had littered the ground, scrubbing off the mud that now caked each coin. Unknowingly covering _______'s tracks, at least through the main street, but still too preoccupied in their frantic gathering to notice which alley she'd darted through next. Pushing through her backdoor and clambering for somewhere to hide the goods (or herself) her hands spread wide, feeling the floor for any loose boards. In her panic the floorboard she lifted to stuff the goods under got jammed slightly out of place, and no manner of prying could correct it while in such a state. She'd force it back into place once she'd calmed down. Before she could, though, a daunting knock at the door could be heard. Timidly she peered through through the window. The unnerving man from earlier. How did he know where she went? Doesn't matter. Just keep quiet and unseen and he will leave. Hopefully. The man knocked more forcefully after a minute or two of silence. Then again... and again, before finally sighing and demanding, "If you don't open the door you WILL be arrested. You know the charge for theft. Open. The. Door." Keep quiet.

Luckily the feast had most people out and about for the day, but a worrying patter of footsteps upstairs tore _______ between trying to sway the man to let her go, hand herself in, or let him loudly break down the door and potentially rope in her kin with her punishment since the stash she added to could be implicated as everyone's under the roof. She'd weaseled herself out of tighter situations before, but that was when she was alone. It's all different now! What- Her indecision was cut short by the abrupt kicking open of the door which slammed hard onto the cold stone floor, small fragments of wood breaking off at point of impact with the hinge swinging loose like a doomed man's head. Her decision was already made. She held in her yelp, mustering a whimper, but the sound of the break in already alerted her kin upstairs who clattered downstairs, only to stop at the top step, the eldest of them immediately recognising who was at the door.

"Sheriff! What a lovely surprise, what brings you to our humble abode?" Playing dumb was never her grandma's strong suit, as senile as she was she wasn't ignorant by any means, the darting of her eyes hinting as much. The awkward silence lay like an unmoving layer of fat over water, hardening as the room grew cool with the Sheriff's imposing demeanor freezing everyone in place. His eyes scanned the room, flitting between faces before landing at the jammed floorboards by the stairwell. His attention drawn by the faint glint of sparkling gold. Raising a finger to the gap, he asked, seemingly to no one but clearly directed at _______, "Is this yours?" Shifting in place, _______ was about to say "N-" but her aunt interjected, "It's mine. My dowry. My husband, his family wouldn't let him marry a vagrant but he brought what he could and married me despite their wishes." Her stunned confusion blatantly on display, _______ caught herself and nodded along with the best slack they had. God bless you Auntie, I owe you one. "That looks like far more than eleven pence right there. Rather risky to keep such a valuable asset on display right by the back door, don't you think?" Saving face her aunt doubled down, "Well... that's why it's exactly where a thief wouldn't think to look! You see?" attempting to look chuffed with herself, forcing a confident grin as best she could.

"I DO see, so you're saying you can think like a thief, eh?", a smirk crept up on the Sheriff's face, something he'd clearly been holding back the whole time he'd been standing in the doorway, blocking our nearest exist. "And uh, Ma'am you do realise vagrancy isn't exactly... appreciated, well, anywhere in God's land? You look able-bodied, I assume you've made yourself useful since your marriage?" The questions stewed in their minds, bringing their patience to a boil. Days spent toiling at the spinning wheel, knitting until the skin on their fingers thickened into boot leather. 'Made yourself useful?' as if the Sheriff himself wasn't a bloated mouthpiece for the inept aristocracy that didn't so much as blink before they shoved people like them off of land they'd subsisted on for centuries, for what... aesthetics? So they didn't pollute their lovely view? _______'s fists clenched, tighter and tighter with her family glancing over and back like if they looked away too long she'd set ablaze. "YES. They have..." _______ said firmly through gritted teeth. Closer and closer, the Sheriff stepped, circling _______ as her kin hugged the banister like a lifeline. Wanting to hide back upstairs, but not wanting to abandon their child to the whims of the law. After tracing her curves with his gaze up and down, he crouched to pry open the "dowry". As he did the metal caught the light, brilliantly gleaming in the spring daylight. Certainly not rusted. Not in the slightest. The kind of money no one has touched in years. Could be a dowry, then. Could be new, counterfeit (more likely, he thought). Could be the pretty pennies of the drunken nobles who needn't worry about directly paying with money but once in a blue moon.

"I'll ask again... is this yours?" A trap. She wasn't sure how, but the way he phrased it made it seem like any answer she'd think to give would lead to a trap. Yes, and that could be an admission that she'd stolen it. No, and that could be admitting it's not hers and she stole it. Please Auntie, please, you or grandma. She wished they'd speak for her, like they always did, now was the time but they stayed quiet. This time it was her gaze flitting to them, back and forth as they evaded hers. The Sheriff reached down and pinched a coin from under the floorboards, rotating it to catch the light, eyeing it closely. Not counterfeit. The real deal... He chuckled, bemused by their awful attempt at saving face. "I know it's not yours. I just needed to see if it was all of you who needed executing, and not just this-" he grabbed _______ by the forearm, raising it like an unwilling volunteer, "-skank here I caught in the act!" Despite being but one man, running from the house didn't seem wise, where would they go? Hide? He could just nail the door shut and burn it down with everyone still inside. He didn't need to shackle anyone to keep them right where he needed them.

"Please, I asked her to do it - we needed the money!", Grandma blurted, hoping to help. Honest to a fault. Auntie shot a death-glare at her, not in anger but fear. Now they absolutely would be implicated in the theft, not just _______! Desperate, she kept going, "She was only doing what she was told. If you should prosecute anyone, it should be me, I'm culpable." Her frail, old form gently slinked down the stairs, leaning on the banister for balance. Before she even reached the last step, the Sheriff -raising a palm to halt her- refused. "How noble, but you're already on death's door you old Crone. It wouldn't be much of a punishment at this point." Offended wasn't quite the word. Disheartened? Shocked? It didn't really matter. An embarrassing withdrawal; Grandma held herself by the bottom of the stairs not sure what to do with herself anymore. The Sherrif's smugness grew, seeing them all so flustered and disheartened. While he couldn't change the law (legally speaking, they deserved death), anything he offered would seem better at this point, and that's exactly what he needed. Or rather, what his associate needed...

Unfortunately, only one here would be suitable for his associate's tastes. The other two were clearly too worn and delicate to withstand a long-term tenure with his associate. No, only the skank will do.

"Tell you what! Unless you'd rather let the gentlemen back at the farmhouse sober up, realise they've been robbed blind and let them hunt you down... I have the means to make it look like you're as good as dead and they'll be none the wiser!", he paused, as if waiting for someone to question his proposal, but all that rose was curious silence amidst a flurry of glances between the three women as if performing furious wordless debate amongst themselves. He continued, "I can redistribute the evidence accordingly, and you'll be long gone from the reach of any gallows rope." "Banishment, then? To where?", _______ demanded, exhausted with his drawn out charade. "Oh, nowhere you'd know. A land in the far East, but don't worry! If anything, where you'll be is far grander than this... dusty hovel.", he said, gesturing about the place. _______ could feel their brow twitch, if he was so disgusted by their humble lodgings he shouldn't care what they stole, they clearly need it and couldn't afford anywhere "better". "Since you stole a hefty sum, you can pay it back by working under contract as my associate's servant. With how much is here, I'd say it should last roughly...", squinting, he sucked in a breath for dramatic effect, "fifteen years".

"WHAT?" _______ yelped, "You've got that wrong, surely?" "It's adorable how you think you grasp the severity of your situation, when you clearly don't.", he scoffed before letting out a small chuckle. Reaching in a hand under his cloak, he pulled out what was presumably the contract and unfolded it to show only _______. "Do you intend to only spare her?", tentatively asked her Auntie, voice hushed like her words might kill her if she spoke them any louder. Again, he scoffed, "The old Crone there isn't worth the trouble of an execution, and she", he pointed right at _______'s face, barely a centimeter from slapping her as he did so, "Is young and clearly fit enough to work this contract as written. YOU are neither. I'll give you a chance to live by still confiscating the evidence but any suspicions that lead back to you shall leave your fate thrown to the wolves. Tag along if you wish but I doubt you'll be of much use to my associate." A chance to stay and live, especially while Grandma (sturdy as she was) would still be here in need of care, even if it was but a chance and not a certainty seemed too vital to cast aside. No, better she be here for Grandma rather than risk both herself and _______ dying and leaving her to fend for herself. "I'll... stay, thank you." _______ shot her a desperate glare, pained and conflicted. She can't really be serious? The contract was still held there, the Sheriff growing impatient, so she took it from him to glance it over. "...", she looked back up, "You do realise I can't read this?" Snatching it back briskly, he began to read aloud the contract in full, she assumed. The terms seemed fair. Room, board, food, pay contributing back to her debt she owed the nobles, doing general duties expected of a servant / maid, even tending a garden of sorts? It seemed strangely described and involved caring for some animals? Her family did pasture sheep they made the wool yarn from that they weave for a while so, that shouldn't be too hard. "Now, normally you'd sign your name, but since you're illiterate I'll just sign your name on your behalf. What was it again?" "_______" "No, your full, legal name." Confused, she repeated, "_______" "Right..."

[redrorums]

Jeramead, King of Nowhere

Lol so here’s what I plotted out.

Big boom happens. Shockwave hits your house and you think you’ve died, but then you wake up and initially everything’s fine. Then you and Leann go outside and the chunk of land your house was on is floating a few hundred feet above ground level. In the direction of town (the obvious epicenter of the blast), there’s a gigantic, floating skull with one massive and empty eye socket looking downward. It has several vertebral stalks with some rottin flesh on ‘‘em and dead, vacant eyes at the ends. I guess you would recognize it’s a plus+ size dead Beholder…depends how meta I feel like writing it. Then a bunch of daemons start swarming about the place and attack you guys, you get yur punchies on, Leann’s latent Witch genes activate and she gains absolute power over them BOOM BAM ya got yurself a mini-daemon army! Congrats. You bleed out and die from yur wounds, which is less cool. You’re in pitch blackness and then a massive eye opens with a triangular pupil and an iris like a red, dyin, sun. It talks through your mouth to say some shit you don’t understand. Then you wake up in bed again. You go to get a drink and Leann, covered in blood, has a freak attack cuz she just saw you turn into a bunch of golden bubbles and fly away. Also Vincent is possessed by some Germanic motherfucker who wants to teach Leann witchcraft. Then some Alterran adventurers rock up in a flying ship and just start lobbin fireballs and lightnobolts at ya house. All three of you die a bunch and wake up in bed a bunch aaaand go a bit crazy. So you try to clobber on with lead dude (just imagine a stereotypical jrpg protag…that’s most alterran adventurers and they’re all psychopaths) you try to fight the lead dude who’s got a badass golden axe. He’s clearly trippin balls or somethin so he misses a lot, but he’s indestructible and every time he hits something, it detonates like a grenade. Leann, Vincent and yo daemon compadres kill most of the other psycho adventurers accept for a kid who says she just wants to go home, an old dude and a sleeping beast chick who doesn’t wake up the whole time. You die a couple times and come back, which cause cardboard cutout man to lose his shit and chug from a glowin stein. He gets blue skin and grows like 20 feet, then laughs and chucks the axe at you, taking off yo right arm. When you come back this time, your arm is still missing where the blade specifically severed it. 20ft man goes after Leann. You dash over there in slow mo. Then 20ftcardboman’s muscles start ripping out of his skin and growing infinitely, until he’s just a spaghetti pile of muscle. Only the Axe and the Stein remain. Then the axe lifts up, flies towards you, grows a golden gauntlet that attaches itself in place of yo right arm, introduces itself as Charlie and says “yowr ma new dah.” That’s where the reeeeal shitshow starts.

(size of a city with smaller beholders at the ends of its eyestalks…Xenapho has the Eye of Bahamut denoted by its central eye’s triangular pupil and thus, wields an “enlightened”/absolute level of Aether control. Perhaps this evolution is due to Xenåphøliskïs no longer fearing or loathing others, genuinely believing that everything it perceives is it’s property. Besides this boosted ego quite literally giving it a fat head, this means it’s dream-born progeny are no longer born from hateful paranoia, but all-consuming narcissism instead. Yes, this means it is surrounded by an army of its loving children, The Beholden. The Beholden are just as powerful and intelligent as regular Beholders, but live to constantly defend and give their lives for Xenapho. Their reward for a job well done is being able to one day be selected to fuse into Xenapho’s newly grown eye stocks and share in the one true vision of all things. Xenåphøliskïs is the Supreme Eye Tyrant. It has defeated gods, titans, dragons and hundreds of its own kind. Side note: though it remains mostly lawful evil, Xenapho is much closer to chaotic neutral than most of it kind. It might help you if it thinks of you as a useful citizen in its Sim’s like view of mortals. It might even bless you with the mind and BODY of a Beholder…)

Xenåphøliskïs, The Monolithic Beholder, noticed that it could suddenly travel directly to a new world and that worlds core was dead (Gaia has no soul). So they were like “ time to test out that theory that I can fuse with the planet’s core and perfectly transmute into a world’s soul.” He enters real space above the town you live outside of and begins the terraformic spell, only to be rudely interrupted by a top hat wearing time traveler/Eldritch horror calling himself Mr. English(he’s battled English before). Xenapho has instantaneous reaction speed and split second spell casting ability, so they fire off 9th^999 level Soul Disintegration from three eyes while constantly disenchanting Mr. English with the others, preventing him from spell casting. It’s many progeny quickly form a triangulated antimagic field and focus on constantly charming/paralyzing the time traveler. Guaranteed victory. It’s temporally sensitive eyes could see the impossible happened, additional seconds were added to the past as Mr. English sneered down at him smugly with those glowing, golden eyes. In those impossible additional seconds, English raised his cane, aiming it at Xenapho’s central eye. They felt their eye imploding in on itself. Knew the bastard had turned their eye into a black hole with Eldritch Arcana that should’ve took years for a mortal to cast. In -3 seconds. Xenapho devoted all it’s unnaturally vast intelligence to finding the escape route. It COULD NOT DIE. IT WAS THE ULTIMATE BEING. It was then it sensed the vulnerable minds of teeming mortals below. No gods defended them. No Consortium warded their minds. It’s last grin could’ve swallowed the whole town as it disseminated it’s massive mind, trickling down into the many brains below. It would not allow any of them to die until it was revived. This was the will of Xenåphøliskïs.

The bro roster so far includes Buckethead, Alterran crusader who lost her crusader helm…so she just wears a bucket with eyeholes punched in it. 7ft tall, iron skin, dumb as a box o rocks, but she’s got a good heart.

A troll that you fight for five days straight and then axe in the head. As you’re one lining, they get up, grow a new brain, and thank you for waking them up. Become quite a sophisticated, gender-fluid individual. Vegetarian.

Yeeeeeeessssss. You also meet a band of Goblins who are all named Ked. They all wear different onesies.

Turns out, Goblins love guns and explosives. Who’d a thunk, huh. Once you taught them the ways of firearms and gave them all their first sawn-off shawties, they started crafting their own, improvised guns and explosives at an alarming rate. Amazing what you can with a Walmart’s worth of duct tape, gasoline and whole lotta random shit for “flavor”.

You have a tiny crab companion who’s actually a dragon. His back-shell opens ladybug style and lil wings pop out. He can also bench press cars and his pincers can cut through steel. Shoots the classic pressurized water beam of death, but I wanted him to have an alternate breath type that looks like a long range water sprinkler. It’s actually acid, but it magically tricks yur body into just thinking it’s wet instead of melting.

[ausetkmt]

Enslaved Benefited from slavery? Critics say some of the state's examples were never even slaves.

The Florida Department of Education faced angry reaction this week to new African American history standards suggesting some slaves benefited from skills they learned while enslaved.

Responding to the criticism, the department issued a statement Thursday offering 16 examples of historic figures it said fit that description. That they developed highly specialized abilities that helped them later in life is “factual and well documented,” the department stated.

Asked for more information Friday, it cited as references “The Colored Patriots of the American Revolution,” an 1895 book by William Cooper Nell, and “Encyclopedia of African American History 1619-1895,″ a 2006 book edited by Paul Finkelman.

Alex Lanfranconi, a spokesperson for the department, said the experts stand behind their examples. Frances Presley Rice, a co-founder of the Yocum African American History Association and chairperson of the National Black Republican Association, provided the information to the department.

But other sources offer conflicting descriptions of the 16 historic figures, and critics came forward quickly to attack the department’s claims. Several argued that nearly half the figures highlighted by the state were never enslaved. Others, who did spend time in slavery, did not gain their skills from their servitude.

“They just threw out a bunch of names to make it seem like something good came of (slavery),” said Andrew Spar, president of the Florida Education Association teachers union. “The reality of it is, the facts don’t back up what they are saying.”

He mentioned Booker T. Washington, included on the state list as an educator. Washington was enslaved but did not gain his skills until after being freed at age 9. He worked in mines and as a houseboy before entering school, according to Tuskegee University, which he founded in 1881.

Georgetown University postdoctoral fellow Joshua Stein took issue with the state’s use of James Forten and Lewis Latimer as examples. The department said Latimer was a blacksmith born into slavery in 1848 and freed in 1852, and Forten was a shoemaker born into slavery in 1766 who escaped in 1784.

A museum dedicated to Latimer states he was born to two self-liberated formerly enslaved parents. Self educated, he worked as an inventor, participating in the development of the telephone and incandescent lighting, among other inventions.

The Museum of the American Revolution describes Forten as a Black entrepreneur born to free parents. He served on privateer ships during the Revolutionary War, and became a wealthy sail maker.

Not only were they not slaves, Stein wrote on Twitter; their provided professions also were incorrect. “So … you’re wrong on both halves.”

Other examples:

• The department listed Henry Blair as a slave who became a blacksmith and an inventor. Biography.com and several other sites state there is no information indicating that Blair was enslaved. He invented a corn planter and a cotton planter, becoming the second Black person to earn a U.S. patent.

• The department referred to Paul Cuffe as a shoemaker and ship owner born into slavery and escaped to freedom in 1781. According to PaulCuffe.org, operated by the Westport Historical Society, Cuffe was born in 1759 to an emancipated slave. Having worked on whaling boats starting at age 14, he established a shipping business in Massachusetts.

• The statement mentioned John Chavis as a fisherman born into slavery, who later was known for his work in teaching. The North Carolina Museum of History states that Chavis was born into a free Black family in North Carolina, fought in the Revolutionary War and became an educator.

Genesis Robinson, political director for Equal Ground Florida, said he was disappointed but not surprised at the information. He said members of the public have been trying to point out problems with the standards since the state first introduced them for input and comment.

“They don’t care about an accurate accounting of Black history,” Robinson said.

State Sen. Shevrin Jones, D-Miami Gardens, expressed dismay that the Department of Education would put forth questionable examples to advance what he considered a “disgusting” lesson that anyone might benefit from being enslaved.

“I want them to do that in other moments in history where people were oppressed and try to explain why this was to their benefit,” said Jones, who is Black. “It is so disingenuous.”

[cannibal-nightmares]

What are your top ships in Soul Eater?

As much SpiritStein art as I make, I actually love SteinMarie beyond words. Do I ship one pair above and beyond the other? Eh, I'm not sure. I don't really do much character shipping because that kind of deeper romantic theme doesn't necessarily interest me on a significant level. I deeply cherish depictions of intimate platonic relationships (or, even better, unspecified platonic-not-platonic ships!) above all, I will say, hence why my art and fiction lives within a sort of neutral ground of "are they more?" (It up to you to decide!) I'd like to think my being aro/ace plays a role in this. I also often struggle to understand some emotional elements that make up romantic relationships, in general.

Got a bit side-tracked there. There's handfuls of characters I pair and put together based around general canon, but SteinMarie, SpiritStein, and even Stein + Marie + Spirit (+Azusa) are my most-ventured. I don't really think about ships on a more thorough level because I cherish and admire acts of intimate care between people in general. That's what "love," is, right? Anything more is admittingly out of my understanding.

[fatelys]

Sometimes I think about the Norwegian language and here are some of my thoughts about translation.

If you're not thinking, you can read the word forsiktig as fornuftig. The difference between the two is that forsiktig means careful or carefully, where fornuftig means sensible or sensibly. Heat-up dinners will tell you to carefully cut up something and you might find yourself thinking you're supposed to sensibly cut up something.

Weird is rar in Norwegian but the Swedish word rar is søt in Norwegian which means cute or sweet.

Games is spill in Norwegian and gaming is spilling, to game is å spille. But the English words spill and spilling (like spilling the tea) is søle and søling, like å søle te (to spill tea) or søling av te (spilling of tea). Søle is also the word for mud/puddle like the one you find on the ground. It's not actually for mud but many of us use it for that, so I'm counting it.

People will pick random names and write them backwards for their fictional characters or, even worse, their kids and I'm here to explain to you why that's a bad idea. example: emma backwards is amme, in Norwegian the word amme exists and it means breastfeed. Now you know.

To be tired is å være sliten, where tired is sliten. Å slite is to struggle. There are several kinds of tired and in Norwegian we make the distinction through trøtt and sliten. Trøtt is the sleepy kind of tired, sliten is the exhausted kind of tired. Sometimes we might say we are trøtt og sliten, the og meaning and. It is to emphasize our exhaustion, even though we can just say we are utslitt, which is exhausted.

Mirror in Norwegian is Speil which sorta rhymes with Stein which mean Stone except its also spelled Sten and both Stein and Sten are actual "male" names in Norway. You can stone someone with a person.

Kosthold. It means diet. But kost is also broom and hold is like holding. So a diet is broom holding.

Christmas is jul which is pronounced the same as hjul, but hjul means wheel and juling means being beaten or beating someone. Wheel can also be dekk while a deck like on a ship is dekk too. And mas is nagging.

[cmdr-h-of-the-woods]

Hopping around the edges of the Bubble

Haven’t written in this logbook for a while. I’ve been busy doing short excursions to explore systems on the edge of the Bubble. Did I mention I visited a black hole for the first time? This was a little while ago. I had noticed this bright B-type star in a system called p Puppis, and I wanted to go and take a closer look. What I did not expect was that I would also stumble upon a black hole. The embodiment of entropy, and I couldn’t resist its pull either. I had to go and see from up close. The rational part of my brain was screaming at me to turn away before being torn to shreds, but I kept going.

A while later, I went back to the heart of the Bubble, in Epsilon Indi, where I landed on Mitterand’s Hollow. That was very unique. I had meant to join other people there, but I arrived too late and everyone had already left, so I stayed there for a moment, watching an uncountable number of eclipses, waving at the people living on New Africa. There was a crash site, and I thought I’d go investigate. Unfortunately, skimmers popped out of nowhere, and after I got rid of them, I was notified that I was now a criminal for property destruction. Oops. 

Got that taken care of, and I left for Stein 2051, where I spent a while looking for bio samples on a dark planet, under the cold, distant glow of a white dwarf. Shortly after that, I found myself in Thunderbird, which had a magnificent Earth-like planet surrounded by rings! I’ve been strangely drawn to rings lately. They offer such interesting sights.

35 Vulpeculae was another highlight. I landed on another ringed planet from which I could see two stars, so close together in the sky. It was very hot, and I couldn’t stay out for long because my suit was about to melt, but landing on that soft, green ground, watching the geysers and the rings and that pair of stars... I loved it.

Later, as I was looking for Tubus on a moon somewhere in the same system, my attention was caught by something I had not seen before on my onboard computer... A “non-human signature”. Intrigued, and a little worried, I decided to get closer. There was something on the ground, glowing blue and green. Pretty. Definitely of Thargoid origin. Some probe, maybe? This couldn’t possibly be good. I usually like to make sure I don’t damage anything when I am exploring around, but given the current context, I decided I couldn’t take any risks. I destroyed the probe, and kept some fragments, in case it might come in handy later.

Every jump is an adventure, and I can never be quite sure what I’m going to find next. Is it going to be a single, lonely star? Is it going to be a huge system where I’ll be spending weeks mapping and cataloguing my findings? Am I going to find a moon orbiting its planet so close I can recognise the mountains where I went to look for fungoida? A number of discoveries are now attached to my name – while I did not discover any new systems, very few Commanders have ever visited some of the places I stopped at, and no one had apparently mapped or landed on some of those planets and moons. It’s hard to pick pictures to attach to this entry, because I’ve been taking so many. (Which is why I try to post screenshots regularly on this blog so I can still share them.)

Towards the end of February, I made my way back towards inhabited systems. This is part of Alliance territory, and the data I sold at stations owned by Alioth Independents quickly made me an ally of theirs. I have yet to go and visit their home system, but since I have been issued a permit, I will certainly be doing that at some point.

They’ve also been sending me offers for delivery missions, out of the blue. This last one didn’t go as expected. Shortly after I reached Ryijin, my client messaged me with a warning that enemy ships had been sent after me. My Cobra doesn’t even have any weapons on her, because I don’t expect to be doing any fighting in the mostly empty systems I spend most of my time in. I throttled down to take a quick look at my map so I could decide on the best course of action. 

The HUD turned itself off before my eyes as Verity notified me that we were under attack. And my shields were off, because I really only activate them when I am about to land or dock somewhere. Quick, jump, anywhere, knowing that Simon “Frogs” Frost was probably going to be following me. I docked at the first station I could find, so I could at least sell my precious exploration and biological data, and have some weapons installed on my ship, just in case.

Fortunately, Frogs wasn’t able to interdict me, and I eventually managed to reach Bryant Gateway, deliver the data I had been given, and take a long moment to breathe. I am currently landed on a small moon with an ammonia atmosphere. The sky is full of reddish and brownish hues. I’m spending the night next to a patch of fungoida, hidden deep in the mountains. I’ve noticed there’s a bunch of visitor beacons around this system, so I’m going to go and learn more about BD+74 526 pretty soon.

[walks-the-ages]

Listen, I'm not reading the long rants about "We're only going to care about the genocide of Palestinians when trump is doing it because when the guy in the blue hat who is currently committing genocide is doing it, it because he nebulously'has to' go above congresses head to send billions of more dollars in bombs for israel to kill civilians with and constantly spread disinformation that his own aides have to desperately correct as soon as he speaks them and his own staff and party have been abandoning ship for months now" --

You want your "third" option?

Here's a third option:

And you know what? There's another 6+ candidates running for President.

Do some actual research and actually listen to the actual fucking minorities and victims of the ongoing genocide you claim to want to protect.

You either shut the fuck up and stop trying to brow beat people into voting for a man committing genocide, or you sit the fuck down and internalize the fact that committing genocide is something you are now supporting and complicit in if you choose to vote for Biden.

You literally only care about your own self, and you either have to admit that and shut up or be left for e everyone to point to your posts in the future and wonder how fucking far a person has to fall to defend the shitstain that is Joe Biden, man committing genocide for 9 fucking months straight, who instead of using his power as President and cutting all military aid to Israel and enshrining abortion and queer rights, is instead sending billions and billions of dollars in weapons to israel, has US troops on the ground in Gaza taking part in massacres, spreading racist disinformation, has his aides and staff quitting in droves, and is such a bad, losing fucking canidate his party is begging him to step out of the race a

nd if you just go outside and ask the average fucing American what they think of Biden 9/10 are gping to tell you they hate that this man is running again with no fucking chance to win becuaze tge majority of the US population is not on fucking Tumblr being browbeat by genocidal, hitler-voting Liberals, theyre living their lives day to day and seeing what this man is like on national fuck8ng tv.

And no one is going to vote for a man who looks like hes going to fucking keel over on stage to the point most people are genuinely wondering if either of the candidates are even going to survive another term.

Nobody fucking wants Biden on the ticket except for Biden. When he loses the election he literally only has himself to fucking blame.

If you dont care about the ongoing genocide of Palestinians, thats your own problem. People who give a shit about humanity that exist outside our borders will be over here actually fighting for a better future where Genocide isn't on the ballot.

An anonymous genocidal shithead said, at 2:01PM June 20th 2024:

if Trump wins and gives the go-ahead to flatten Gaza because you people don't understand how the world works, that blood is going to be on the shared hands of everyone who helped him win by refusing to do ANYTHING to keep him out of office. i hope you know that. he will not bend to any sort of pressure, like Biden has been doing (political alliances don't work the way you want them to, nobody can just snap their fingers and force another country to do something). he will permanently mess up the election system. he will enthusiastically support the genocide of every country he doesn't like, as well as every group in the US he doesn't like (which is most of them). and you can bet he will ABSOLUTELY order the cops to kill anyone trying to protest anything he does. and you will have no right to say anything, because you couldn't even be bothered to learn how to spell "fascist" before you started throwing the word around at anyone who would prefer to retain their right to do anything about it.

[ID: A screenshot of an anonymous ask, showing the message transcribed above, with a black border around it to show it's a screenshot. End ID.]

ok fashist

I'm literally just gonna spell it like that even more now just to piss you genocidal fucks off instead of just for the sake of my literal disability.

You can save everyone time by just typing out "I'm okay with genocide as long as I think it'll benefit me" next time.

Another white supremacist who wants to pretend they're helping Palestinians by ignoring them when they tell everyone not to reward the man literally comitting genocide against them as we speak.