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batbabydamian · 1 month

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so, Batman #147… rambling about the difference in how Zdarsky portrays the two current Robins

this is a fantastic run for Tim, and very much written like a return to form of what plenty consider the best dynamic duo, but even more so "the best Robin". once Damian's introduced in this run, Zdarsky really makes sure you still know that lol

1. "We don't need anyone else" VS "I need my family"

#147 clearly exemplifies the contrast, so i'll go through it first. Damian, having fallen for Zurr's lie and accepted him as the real Bruce, goes so far as to say in the very first page "We don't need anyone else." it's cold colors, machinery, and hollow declarations of "father and son" for these two.

towards the ending, Tim has deduced where the real Bruce is hiding and brings him food expecting Bruce's knack for self-neglect. it's all warmth, sunshine, and mutual understanding - also a cute back and forth of "Batman and Robin" between them. on top of this, where Damian isolates Batman & Robin from family, Tim is the one to remind Bruce about "helping each other." Bruce heartily agrees with "I need my family" for a weighty end.

along with this parallel, from #138 Tim makes it clear that even in opposition, he's only ever trying to help Bruce. Damian was still on the wrong side with Zurr-induced-Bruce here at the time too 😭

2. Tim's independence as both a hero and partner

Tim is written as the ideal Robin to Bruce's Batman, and has made Robin its own independent hero on equal footing rather than a sidekick - it's made in statements by both Tim and Bruce, and through the entire narrative. he takes initiative and tries to foresee what would ultimately help Bruce. beyond being great partners, there's many bits showing their emotional connection ("i'm scared of being lost, but i'm more scared of losing you, Bruce" hit me like a bag of bricks). tbh this almost could be a Batman and Robin run lol

added the first panel from #126 of Tim declaring he's his own hero outside of Bruce, proven plenty especially in his backups in #131-134!! the other panels are a few highlights from #128, #130, and #135 of the partnership between Tim and Bruce

granted it's Zurr, but Damian is mostly seen following orders and given pensive looking panels when there's something concerning. While Tim continued to represent Batman's ideals during his own solo quest to find Bruce, Damian doesn't question or take action against "Bruce's" sudden shift in ethics

Batman #134 Backup - Tim showing support toward Toyman VS Batman #146 - Zurr and Damian confront Harley as she pleads about her change of heart

another kiinda parallel in #147 is Bruce acknowledging Tim's hard work to become Robin compared to Damian who's out here going Batman and Robin/Father and Son. i don't think it's an intended parallel but just the state of continuing to show Tim in a better light - Tim put in the effort "to become the second-best Robin" while Damian is Robin because..."son." supposedly less effort on his part too, because LOA.

second pic is from Batman/Catwoman The Gotham War: Scorched Earth, felt fitting to add since Tim mentions needing to "know everything" in both. and the humble brag. which ofc Tim believes Dick is the best!! but also. jic we didn't know Tim is the best current Robin sdfgh

3. Damian's blind loyalty as "Bruce's son"

there's a weight to the Robin title when regarding Tim, whereas Damian's "Robin" role is excess and counterintuitive. he's delegated to desperate sidekick to Bruce, as well as becoming an obstacle to the family. being Robin only seems significant to Damian in how it ties himself to his father, and his single Robin quality is a loyalty that's been written to an extreme fault. the only positive angle i could see this in is Zdarsky aiming to put Damian in a sympathetic light in how far Damian was willing to fall to stay by his father's side, hence, fooled by that nightmare story/confession. the problem with this is that we have not seen a single emotional connection between the two in this run, so why should we care about that relationship.

also, Damian constantly bringing up his position as Bruce's son just makes him look entitled? since Bruce rightfully expressed his claim of having the others as his sons too (with the unfortunate exclusion of his daughter)! so it's like a "lol you're not that special" vibe when looking at it from the outside?? ykw concerning #138, Damian saying "You're the one trying to destroy my father" also could have been in contrast to Tim saying "We'll help our dad" at the end.

Zdarsky seems to believe the only meaningful part of Damian being Robin is he's the son of Bruce, and not a single nod to any noble aspect Damian's achieved beyond that. we're constantly reminded of Tim's greatest hits as Robin, from taking on the mantle to pull Bruce out of darkness (#135, #138), mastermind a whole takedown (Gotham War: Scorched Earth), and always being on the same wavelength with Bruce etc. the entire run sings Tim's praise, and it's deserved!! my problem is how it's in stark contrast to Damian's portrayal of being the other Robin who's only special because he believes he's the greatest son and wants to be at Bruce's side.

so all this to say, if your fav is Tim YOU'RE EATING WELL!! personally as a chronic enjoyer of things, this has been an entertaining run! as a chronic enjoyer of Damian, it's definitely not for many of his fans at this point in time.

i did like this part!! his grin!!

#rambling #i'm not v good explaining things besides yelling about how cute Damian is but hopefully the observations are clear enough #instead of an essay i think i should pull up a conspiracy board of all the panels/lines and post it notes of my points #bc writing this has made me go cross eyed trying to verbalize parallels and differences 😭#like. Tim's Robin moments are stunners!! kickass or emotional scenes with or without Bruce!!#then Damian acts like everyone is beneath him and Bruce...when they've barely had any meaningful dialogue with eo #gave Zdarsky the benefit of doubt that Damian was pulling something similar to Morgan Ducard #but ofc that would mean he actually cared about any of Damian’s comics outside of his intro with Morrison 😭#i don't think Zdarsky hates Damian exactly just that he's a convenient character to use as a parallel since there's two Robins ALTHOUGH #thinking of the Batman sketch by Jorge or Zdarsky?? ITS A BLUR at NYCC and Zdarsky added a word bubble with 'Tim is the Best Robin' or smth #he wants to remind ppl of that every so often. like in the batman run. i wouldn't mind it if he wasn't putting my fav against that #especially when they're sharing the title but alas!#this run could be a great sendoff to Tim's Robin era and gaining a new title... or this is all Zdarsky fanboy lol which is fair #ANYWAY BACK TO WHIMSY!! TO DILLY DALLYING AND SHILLY SHALLYING!!

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alynnl · 8 months

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Recognizing all the separate plot threads coming together in TGAAC 2-3 like:

#Lynn's memes #The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles #TGAAC 2-3 #This game was made for the conspiracy board meme #I don't know how it all ties together YET #But I will find out #Herlock Sholmes #Yujin Mikotoba #Barok Van Zieks #Iris Wilson #Kazuma Asogi

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vagueshape · 10 months

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Why does making stuff have to be so expensive hhhhhhh

#my sewing machine was made in a way that it is almost impossible to service on my own #i cant afford a new machine #but hand sewing through denim is actual hell on earth #also i have so many ideas for jewelry but getting all the supplies beads chain etc is so fucking expensive #unless i get it from amazon or smth which... no.#my weird art isnt cutting it rn because it is a physical manifestation of my current manic episode which is very very bad and awful #its all paintings of meat and religious trauma and my hallucinations #and that is not fun #its a great way of getting it all out but #im not showing that to anyone #i need something i can wear and show everyone because i love saying i made stuff to others #also i hate all of my clothes i hate the way i look in all of them and making my own is like the best way to get around that #uhhhh if youve read this far i am so so sorry #if you could see the inside of my brain it would look like one of those boards you see conspiracy theorists in shows have #yk with all the red yarn and shit #yeah #thats it thats my brain rn #all the time #these tags are a post in and of itself i am so sorry #long tags

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thegeniusidiotnstickmerchant3728 · 9 months

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I'm trying to figure out some fact I just made up top the Russenoorlog, but I literally can't.

It all sounds made up.

#Fair warning the notes are really long #For starters the name is just plain wrong #it translate to Russians war #while it was between Georgians (the country) and the Nazis.#Then there's the fact that they sent a rowboat over to Great Brittan to ask for help #and got denied.#There's also the fucking lighthouse #in which roughly 100 Georgians got trapped #for multiple days.#The fact that when the Canadians came 12 days after Germany surrendered #the Georgians managed to take over nearly the entire fucking Island of Texel #except for the harbour.#I MADE NONE OF THIS SHIT UP #like how is someone supposed to top this shit?#People are out there making conspiracy theories about 9/11 and stuff #so why aren't there any about this??????#If you want to know what the next WWII movie should be about #this is it.#The Sovjets made one though.#My first posts on this Tumblr were about how someone should make a board game about this subject.

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medusas-graveyard · 1 year

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Youngest adoptee!Danny (Alt ver)

Same concept of finding out ur adopted family isn't normal but different approach:

"Uh... Jason, can you get my screwdriver...?" Danny hesitantly asked the older male as he tinkered about on his new invention. "I— uh... Sorry, I'm a bit preoccupied right now."

Jason looked up from the couch (which was conveniently placed in a second workshop Bruce had specifically for his new ward, since, you know, the kid's by all means just a normal teenager. He doesn't even know their double life.) And shrugged, "sure, kid. Where's it?"

"My room, just on the desk, I think. I used it last night."

"You tinkered with your stuff in your room? At night?"

"...please don't snitch on Mr.Wayne"

"Stop doing that, then."

"*sigh* dully noted.."

Jason languidly made his way to Danny's room, clicking the door lock open. He flicked the lights on to see his brother's room; filled and decorated with stars and all things space. The younger male was definitely better at keeping things clean and tidy, that's for sure. Despite the various small inventions, books, and papers on the desk, his room was definitely tidy in a way.

He peered his eyes to the desk beside Danny's bed to see the very object he was looking for....and knocking it off the moment he wanted to grab it, great.

The thing rolled down the bed, causing Jason to inwardly groan on the fact that now he had to crouch down to reach for the screw driver.

He huffed and looked down to the bed, fully expecting to see the screw driver down there... Only to have his sight blocked by a news article.

He blinked, before squinting his eyes at the piece of paper, trying to read what's inside of it.

'Jason Todd pronounced dead by billionaire play boy Bruce Wayne.'

His eyes snap open as he immediately sat up. "What the hell..." He muttered as he eyed the bed suspiciously.

Jason hauled himself up, before prying the bed out of the frame and flipping it so that it leaned into the wall beside it and—

—"What the fuck?"

Danny thanked Alfred happily as the butler handed him his share of Dinner; it's a full table today, something quite rare within their hectic schedule.

He eats the dinner comfortably as his siblings chatter away... except for Jason who has been staring at him for the past 15 minutes.

"Todd, it's rude to stare." Damian chastised, to his rescue as always.

Jason seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in, before leaning back to his chair.

"You know, don't you?"

As if a pin dropped, the room became suffocatingly silent; everyone's tense from that one sentence alone, while Danny merely blinked in surprise.

"Damn, you saw my conspiracy board, huh?"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #I'm not continuing another post from this I'm too tired #Danny on his way to be the second Tim lmao wyd

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fanaticsnail · 5 days

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i have to pick one? i have to pick one?!?!?!?!? -papers fly into the air and scatter down around me as i scramble to make a decision- asdlkjglkjgklfdsjgl oh. oh man. oh boy. oh boy howdy. oh man boy howdy. -begins pacing-

-comes back ten minutes later, a visible conspiracy-board-meme level of writing and string behind me- okay! a decision! has! probably! been made!! asldkjglkfdjg it totally didn't end up with carefully flipping a coin nine times between luffy, law, and kid. totally didn't involve. I 100% guarantee that no coins were not flipped in process >w> anyway

may i request. a luffy keese pls uwu (ALSO! CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE!!! You well and truely deserve it; you bring such joy to the community with your presence and your writing just!!!!! Congrats!!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) ) - @remisloves

The Kissing Booth: Luffy for Remisloves

Word Count: 700+

Notes: Hi @remisloves It's so hard picking one blorbo to come and kiss us. He's so fun to kiss, and I'm glad he's kissing you! Thank you so much for your beautiful compliments. I've adored getting to know you. Without further adieu, your kisses from the Straw-Hat man himself.

Back stiffening firmly and upright, you grip onto the base of the barstool for support in response to the immediacy of the events occurring in front of you. All you have are your four other senses, the shroud covering your eyes prohibiting your ability to see the situation occurring on the vacant barstool.

Straining to hear the circumstances sealing your fate, a fistful of berry flung itself deep into the glass jar beside you as the individual laughed enthusiastically. A high pitched voice called out in front of you, behind the individual who sat themselves down at your booth.

“You’re gonna spend your allowance here?” the angry, feminine voice called, “I thought you’d spend it on meat, Luffy!” Your guest laughed a playful snickered hiss through their teeth in response before gently reaching forward and clasping their hand around your wrist.

"Robin said she's payin' for dinner tonight," the voice called out over their shoulder, "And I wanna have a kiss! How cool is this? It's like they're here just for me!" You were taken aback by their enthusiasm, but attempted to collect yourself to remain as professional as one can be sitting on a booth made for kissing.

Your brows sprung up to the middle of your forehead as your eyes attempted to widen behind the mask to no avail. Expecting your lips to be immediately ravished and tainted by the mouth belonging to your guest, their actions seemed to halt as they gently rub a circle on your wrist with their thumb.

“Can I kiss you now?” his voice gently coaxed you in closer, “I just wanna make sure before I do. Don’t wanna do somethin’ you’re not comfy with or nothin’.” You cocked your head inquisitively to the side, a slow smile drawing up your features in response to his inquisition of your consent.

“You paid your Berry?” you asked him, prompting him to hum a huffed "mhmm" in affirmation. You grinned wider, adding a soft humming, “Then, I’m all yours.” He chuckled again in response, scooting the stool in closer towards you.

“Oh, that’s great!” you felt his hand travel up to cup your neck and draw you in closer, “Right, I’m goin’ in!”

That was all the warning you had before his lips eagerly sought out your own. He hummed in glee, his smile physically plastered against each skillful oscillation he drew against your mouth. He angled his chin in a soft circle, parting his lips and tasting your mouth with his tongue. Brushing against your own, he swirled the morsel within your mouth and retracted it to deepen his sultry and hungry kisses.

You were shocked at the intensity of his lips, but you kept up with every inch of his passion and matched his energy with ease. Gently reaching out your hands, he caught your wrist and drew it up to place against his shoulder while slipping closer towards you. His eagerness and enthusiasm never ceased with each passing moment.

His lips were partially chapped, his mouth tasting a combination of sweet and savory from the last assuming barbequed meat he consumed. He snickered into the kiss, slowly hooking his arms around your neck and coaxing you to leave the stool and join him on his feet.

“Luffy!” the voice again called behind him, “You can’t take them with you. They have to stay here!”

The individual pouted against your lips before growling in agitation, eagerly consuming your lips with a hungrier desperation than moments prior. The voice behind him again called out to you both.

“Luffy,” she sounded irritated, her sigh falling from her lips the longer yours were attached to this so called ‘Luffy’, “Zoro is still missing. Can we go get him? You can come back if they’re still here?” The person growled into your mouth, prompting you to laugh into his lips.

Finally breaking away, his hand gently caressed your cheek before his thumb caressed your bottom lip. Your lips parted in response, and you heard his breath exhale another soft snicker.

“I’m Monkey D Luffy,” he uttered in a soft, husky voice, “I’m gonna be king of the pirates some day.” You nod in response, your grin again growing and revealing your teeth at him. He huffed out a soft growl in response.

“Come find us at the end of the pier when your shift is done,” he ordered softly at you, gently caressing your hand and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, “I’m the one in the straw hat, red vest, and likely eating a piece of meat.”

“I’ll find you, Monkey D Luffy,” you nod do him in confirmation, scrunching your nose playfully, and wave him off as he goes to find whoever ‘Zoro’ must be. He snickers at you in response, waving at you before looking between his hand and your eye covering: noticing you'd likely not see him do it.

#one piece #x reader #luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #kissing booth event #follower milestone #one piece x reader #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #ask snail #snail answers #follower appreciation #kissing

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tardismyrp · 2 months

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Conspiracy Board:

In the trailer we see this image:

Now our boy Oisin is a blue Dragonborn. There are one of two theories that could be true.

1. This is his whatever number great grandmother who he said was an actual dragon. OR

2. This is Oisin and he has been affected by the rage crystals. We know the rage crystals turn people into larger more dangerous versions of themselves (as seen by the wizards in the mall)

I am leaning towards 2 and I’m very interested in how he got there. What made him so mad that he raged? I mean if watching Kipperfuck kill your cleric didn’t do it, I don’t know what would.

This was brought to my attention by my friend @sorority-boy so credit to them

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2kmps · 2 months

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BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

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morganbritton132 · 10 months

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I feel like Steve's non-Upside Down friends definitely have a group chat for all their Steve-based conspiracy theories that's just filled with really off the wall excuses and tidbits that Steve's said - how panicked is the government agent-babysitter about it?

The first-year teachers definitely do, for sure!

The chat was originally called ‘The Steve Harrington Experience’ because every conversation with the man is something else, but they ended up changing it after Kathy pointed out that it made it seem like they all experienced Steve Harrington, ‘Sexually, u know?’

“Yes, Kathy…” Marissa said in an exasperated voice note. She must be driving. “You didn’t need to spell it out. We’re changing it.”

‘Not saying I’d be opposed 2 the experience,’ Kathy added helpfully in the group chat. ‘U see those trousers he wore yesterday. Not much left to the imagination there.’

‘Thank you, Kathy.’

The group chat was changed to the ‘Support Group for David’s Obsession’ which is just, haha. Funny. David is not obsessed with Steve Harrington. He just isn’t.

Sure, nothing about the man makes any sense.

And yeah, maybe David talks about that fact a little too much. Maybe he has asked the group chat probing questions about Christmas lights. Maybe he even made a dentist appointment with Edward Harrington, DDS just to make sure he wasn’t the Eddie Harrington they knew.

He wasn’t obsessed. He was just due for a cleaning.

The other day in the parking lot after work, Steve asked if David could see the license plate number on the white 2015 Mazda CX-3 that was circling the block. David read the number off for him and Steve wrote it down. He didn’t explain anything.

David texted the group chat about it, ‘Maybe he’s a spy?’

‘Do you think spy organizations sent out a lot of epileptic agents with service animals?’

‘Maybe the epilepsy is a cover.’

Kathy replied, ‘It’s not.’

David kinda hates how he only tunes in to the staff meeting about Career Day when Steve mentions that Erica can’t come. Something about pissing off her constituents by favoring a community in a state she doesn’t represent. Yada, yada, yada, “Dustin’s still coming though.”

“Dustin,” David repeats, feeling the amused way that Marissa is looking at him. He can’t even be bothered by Jordan hiding a smile in her hand. “Your brother is coming to Career Day?”

Steve beams, “Yeah, man. He comes every year.”

Kathy was a second-year teacher that was definitely here during last year’s Career Day. She could have mentioned it. David can’t even fully digest this information when Steve knocks his knuckles against the table and snaps his fingers, “Oh! My ex works for the paper. I’ll see if they can come.”

David somehow gets roped into finalizing the rest of the list of speakers for Career Day (i.e. they need to confirm if Steve’s people are going to be there and Cindy didn’t want to do it). When he stops by Steve’s classroom at the end of the day, he is surprised to find that Steve is not alone.

There’s low music playing from the corner of the room now that the students have gone home and Steve is at his desk grading papers. Eddie is standing at the board, drawing a dragon-like creature with dry-erase markers.

Eddie is humming along to the song on the radio, occasionally brushing his fingers along Steve’s shoulders when he reaches for a new color. It’s a cozy moment and he almost hates to interrupt, but David has leftovers in his fridge that he wants to get home to.

He knocks against the doorframe, “Steve, you have a minute?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asks, leaning back in his chairs far enough that his head brushes against Eddie’s back. “Babe, you remember David from the cookout?”

“The history teacher,” Eddie hums, distracted by his drawing. He erases a line of red from the fangs with his finger. “Stevie’s saying great things about you, kid.”

“I – wow, that’s – thanks! It means a lot! I, uh. I’m finishing up some things for Cindy and she just needs a confirmation on your people for Career….” David trails off when Steve makes a sound between his teeth like a hiss and gives him a big wide-eyed look. “…Day?”

Steve’s wide-eyed expression forms quickly into an innocent smile when Eddie turns to look at him, “Babe-“

“Career Day?” Eddie asked scandalized, hand to chest. “Career Day is coming up, Steven? I had no idea.”

Steve’s eyes flicker away from Eddie’s over to David’s and he says, “Yes. Yep, they’ll be here with bells on. Henderson and Wheeler. Just them.”

“Wheeler?” Eddie manages to sound even more scandalized. “Stevie, you – you invited Wheeler to Career Day and not your own husband? I have a career!”

“Yes, you do,” Steve says in a voice that’s a little too ‘second grade teacher’ to not be a little bit insulting. “And you’re amazing, and I love you, but they wanted people with career paths that didn’t start so…infamous?”

David starts inching out of the room because as much as he wants to know more about Steve, he doesn’t want to witness an argument he started. He’s almost to the door when Eddie says, “I worked for my success.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighs like he’s remembering something awful. “If only there wasn’t a mob.”

David is out the door when he hears that and he pauses for only a second before pulling out his phone like, ‘what the fuck, guys????’

#Steve unknowing distressing everybody in one way or another #David’s just like ‘mob????’ and also like ‘I might have just caused an argument between a mobster and his spouse’#and Marissa is just like ‘no hun’#I don’t think the cia babysitter is aware of the gc because Steve isn’t watched too closely and also the gc doesn’t even know Eddie’s name #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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amelie-isnt-french · 4 months

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I'll bite.

I need to know about the red string conspiracy doc.

Sounds very fun

I have been WAITING for this. Get ready for the combined brainrot of @alice-apparently and I, you poor soul. Now, listen up, 'cause we’ve got a labrynthine twisted task of a tale to tell, and if you don’t keep up, you might get lost :)

And obviously: spoilers for tmagp. don't keep reading if you're behind 🫵🏼

First things first: anyone currently descending into paranoia? we're already there, poster children of paranoia-land, that's us. May I present the title of the wonderful conspiracy doc -

There's also a TMA conspiracy doc Ali made, fully colour- episode- and entity-coordinated. It's like 24k words and not even fully done. don't worry about it.

Which is why we're going to be super normal and low-key about the Protocol red string doc right?

of course.

As you can see above, our collaboration relies on Ali's colour coding and her making nice, structured observations of possibly important things, while I provide the Latin and cheer her on. Balance is important in a marriage.

Also included in this all-round package: character info, quotes, etc.

I've since moved on from my "Gwen is evil" theory because I simply love socially awkward, abrasive characters who are good at their job a little too much (nervously shuffles Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, further behind my back). Still the hottest bitch at the OIAR, don't @ me.

Also also, in this house we love Alice Dyer and don't trust her any further than we can throw her. what is UP with all your comments Alice? What do you know???

Anyway.

But Ames, you say, didn't you promise quotes? I did, and I'll do you one better: tmagp quotes with additional obnoxious commentary from yours truly and Ali

If you'd like to see Ali lose her shit over the red canary implications (which I fully support), hop over to her tumblr @alice-apparently and give it a read. It's delightful.

Right. Moving on from the random screenshots. Basic outline of part one of the paranoia board is a section for every episode. Ali is listening to ep7 as I write this and having a great time (not), so there's not much in the ep7 section, except for this:

Thoughts and prayers, love, thoughts and prayers.

And FINALLY, my favourite section.

This is the speculation part, time line puzzle and colour coding reference, but my current favourite is this:

She's trying to reverse-engineer the case coding in tmagp, a noble cause. Godspeed, Ali, bc that is too many numbers for my silly little brain. I only excel at criticising stupid horror protagonists aka Personal Screening:

That's all for now.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, and to send you all off, one last silly comment from me to you and the universe:

Bye!

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #red string conspiracy doc #attention ali #first shift #personal screening #alice dyer #sam khalid #gwendolyn bouchard #colin becher #tma jmart #jonmartin #spoilers #tmagp spoilers

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hogoflight · 7 months

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on the topic of people wondering What The Fuck Is Up with This Guy my friend knows (TOA Apollo), Asclepius having to explain his father to anyone is. Oh boy.

You could say Asclepius lives on Earth / visits Earth much more than he does Olympus because his domain is completely and wholly centred around serving people and helping medical research come through. Additionally because he still finds Olympus and all of its posturing jarring, and maybe finds comfort in helping people like he used to and has done since ancient times.

THIS COULD ALSO MEAN that he has. Mortal friends. Which also means he’s had to have told them about his dad at some point.

Asclepius’s friend: How come we haven’t met your dad yet? Is he a prick? Asclepius: NO, no, my father was and is very kind and gentle to me, the problem is more that he can be rather… a bit much. He sometimes tends to be very… protective (VERY protective) of me (As in, the police get called). The problem is more that he can get a bit. Uppity? sometimes? He’s certainly been… cruel. More than his, or anyone’s, fair share of cruelty. But he’s improving? Asclepius’s friend: Oh wow. That sounds really complicated. Well what about your mother? Asclepius: WELL. YOU SEE. AH. OH GODS UHHHHHH-

They would make a conspiracy board for him being a gang leader (or something)! Because:

Had Asclepius’ mother killed (?!?! THAT’S HORRIBLE WHAT!)

Expressed deep, deep regrets and remorse about having Asclepius’ mother killed in a very “I was young, foolish and failed to think of anyone other than myself… I have worked with violence for a long, long time and have made many horrible, cruel decisions… I fear I am too long gone… but I wish to work with myself to be a better person, for my son whom I love dearly…” kind of way (in a mafia movie way).

Asclepius says he is in exile from his supposedly-infamously murderous family because they tried to kill him (and succeeded but SHHHHHH). And the one to order his death being his grandfather. Because he (vague conclusion through Asclepius being vague about his life) didn’t want someone to die -> didn’t want to kill someone? (“The pipeline is there!!” They say.)

Apollo going “ah yes I too share a great interest in medicine, like my dear son! Although my son is (proudly!) better at so than I am. Well, admittedly, I can sometimes tend to be, less focused on - y’know, helping someone injuries hurt less, you could say.” LIKE THAT’S VERY SUSPICIOUS.

(Ok but don’t worry Asclepius’ friends aren’t actually concerned about his dad being a mafia member at all because that would be actually Awful and Terrifying. This is an inside joke after Asclepius awkwardly explained his complicated relationship w his dad his friend was jokingly like “woah… that sounds like the backstory of a main character from a mafia movie…” and Apollo heard about his from the grapevine and immediately summoned like 20 identical cats for him to intimidatingly stroke.

The tone of the last section is making a fake BuzzFeed Unsolved / general conspiracy theory video w your friends about one of your friends. No one ever feels like they are in any danger and I imagine most probably know who and what Asclepius and Apollo actually are but tease them with this. BASICALLY THE JOKE IS THAT THEY’RE MAKING FUN OF MAFIA MOVIE STEREOTYPES AND THE WAY THE MAFIA IS DEPICTED IN MOVIES. WHICH IS VERY ROMANTICISED, OVERDRAMATIC AND SILLY.)

#apollo #toa #asclepius #coronis #gang mention

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

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Not a Bad Holiday Season

Hey! I hope you had a great holiday season! I was wondering if you could write something sweet about Virgil and Logan after the secret Santa episode. No pressure ofc, Thank you you’re the best <3 – lapassemirrior

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1225

“No, but that doesn’t work within the context of the other clues…”

Virgil smiles as he ambles down the hallway, listening to the soft mutterings on the other side of Logan’s door. From the sounds of it, Logan’s hardly stopped to breathe since he figured out that the newspaper wasn’t just a newspaper. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before knocking on the door.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he says as he steps through, “wanted to check if you—whoa.”

He thinks he can be forgiven for truly coming to a dead stop when he sees the fucking conspiracy board Logan’s got where his whiteboard usually is. The original newspaper is still on his desk, the eye in the hurricane of notebooks, pens, and paper strewn about, but he’s made copies of certain parts and pinned them to a corkboard. Fucking hell, he’s even got bits of red string connecting picture to picture—if he didn’t know any better, he’d ask if Logan were working with Roman or Remus on some film noir idea.

“Virgil?”

He snaps himself out of it. “Sorry, I, uh, I guess I’m glad you’re having fun?”

Logan’s face splits into an almost manic grin—shit, maybe he really has been spending too much time with Remus. “This is incredible, Virgil, I can’t properly express my gratitude until I’ve completed your puzzle. I have to ask: did you do all of this truly by yourself?”

Virgil scratches the back of his head. “Eh. I may have gotten Princey to help with some of it.”

Logan frowns. “Roman?”

“Well, yeah, he is Creativity too. And he’s—okay, I’m not gonna spoil it ‘cause it’s his idea, but he has this thing he’s doing right now that’s gonna be really, really cool when he gets around to showing it off, so—“

He trails off when he sees Logan still frowning at his desk. He takes a step closer, nudging him with an elbow.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It really is nothing,” he says, “I suppose I’m surprised that Roman would be willing to…help you with such a thing.”

Virgil frowns. The irritation that Logan had expressed when he’d first looked at the newspaper, the almost resignation he’d had when he’d immediately moved on, it’s starting to show in his face right now.

“L,” he says, trying to get his attention, “why is it surprising?”

“Well,” Logan huffs, adjusting his tie, “you know.”

”I don’t. Can you tell me?”

“It’s Roman.”

“Yeah. Creativity. Making things. Doing stuff for us.”

“For you,” Logan corrects, still not meeting his gaze, “not necessarily for me.”

That’s funny. As Virgil remembers it, Roman had been hesitant to help him at all until he’d told him it was for Logan. Then he was practically climbing all over him to help out.

“But perhaps in the spirit of the holiday, then—“

“Logan.”

Logan stops. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Virgil lets him, waiting until he’s put his glasses back on and sat down. He leans against the edge of the desk and waits.

”That was unfair of me to say,” he mumbles, “wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“I…didn’t mean it to be spiteful.”

“You sure?”

“…maybe slightly.”

Virgil chuckles, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you and Princey have your moments.”

“But I have those with everyone,” Logan continues, staring off into space, “even—even with you. When I didn’t realize what your gift was at first, I…”

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs when Logan’s breath hitches just a bit too much for his liking, “you’re okay. It’s—look, the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, it’s not fair of me to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.”

“And, uh, I think any ARG that loudly screams hey, look at me, I’m a big fucking puzzle kinda fails at being an entertaining ARG—“ Logan snorts— “so I don’t blame you for taking a second to get it either.”

Logan hums, leaning against Virgil’s side. His glasses squish slightly into his ribs and he turns to fix it. “You’re right.”

“And hey, you really look like you’re enjoying it.” He gestures to the board. “You got your red string out and everything.”

“Well, I realized that I could take notes on my computer or in the notebook, but…” He can hear the moment the smile curls up his face. “I decided I might as well have fun with it.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Thank you,” he says, softer now, turning to look up at him, “I really do like the present.”

Virgil chuckles. “I got that. Glad you’re having fun. What part are you at?”

“Part?”

“How much of it have you solved already?”

“I’ve just gotten to the QR code you managed to hide inside the picture—how did you do that, by the way? No, no—“ Logan holds up a hand as Virgil starts to explain— “don’t tell me just yet, I’ll make a list to ask you once I’ve finished everything.”

Virgil just grins and holds up his hands, stepping back as he watches Logan get up and start working on something again. He wanders over to the board after a moment, looking at all the pieces. Shit, he knew Logan would be good at this, but Janus would pop up if he said he’s a little disappointed that some of the puzzles didn’t take him longer.

Though, he notices with a grin, it doesn’t look like Logan’s cracked the big one yet. That’ll be something to look forward too.

“But enough about that,” Logan says, “did you come here for anything specific?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Pat and Princey are making a fucking feast for dinner and they’ve asked the rest of us to put together a movie marathon. If you, uh, if you’re willing to step away for a sec?”

“Certainly. Give me one moment…” Logan scribbles something else down on the piece of paper and pins it to the board—damnit, he got that one too, he really is good at this, maybe he should’ve made it harder— “there. Alright, what is everyone thinking? There are a few generic thrillers that have come out recently, Remus was talking about a disaster movie—“

“Wait, they made another one?”

Logan rolls his eyes as they head out to the hall. “It’s quite a profitable genre, despite the rampant suspension of disbelief that’s necessary for full immersion, so yes, I’m sure they did.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think not having to think too much sounds like a good thing.”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, well, you’ve been kind enough to give me quite the puzzle to keep me entertained for a while.”

“I really am glad you like it, L.”

“May I be honest?” Virgil nods and Logan glances around, leaning a bit closer. “Even if it had just been a newspaper, I still would have appreciated it as it came from you.”

Well. Shit. Now he’s blushing. And Logan’s looking at him like that and yep, they’re going to find the others right now.

All in all, not such a bad holiday season.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic

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bidisastersanji · 6 months

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The Old Guard x One piece AU got my brain going brrr and i'm gonna make it your problem now. Center of the matter is I want Zoro and Sanji to meet kind of like Nicki and Joe did (discovering their immortality by fighting on opposite sides and killing each other over and over and then becoming eternal lovers) so I went and did some research for the entire Straw hat crew. Main thing is I wanted to link them to historical events that will give them the right motivations and backgrounds! so here we GOOO

Sanji and Zoro: Because Japan has an isolationist past, the only battle I could find that would work is the Cagayan battles of 1582 in Jakarta between Spanish-Philippine forces vs Japanese pirates (a.k.a Wokou, which are basically pirate ronin) Sanji would thus be a reluctant "Rodelero" sent to South East Asia by his noble family (jokes on them he loves being in the middle of the spice trade and he hates being part of a noble family funding the conquistadores) who one day finds himself fighting a mysterious Wokou samurai Zoro. They're partly isolated from their respective camps when they first kill each other, and again, and again, until they realise they should by all means be dead but they keep healing. After a couple decades of -against all odds- running into each other everywhere, they reluctantly decide to try and figure out what the heck's happened to them together- struggling to communicate at first, then learning each others' language over the following decade, then falling in love and becoming inseparable. This makes Zoro and Sanji both over 400 years old, and they are the same age. Zoro learns about so many sword techniques and Sanji about different cuisines/ leg-centric fighting styles during this time.

all the other straw hats and their historical periods under the cut!

Robin as an Egyptian scholar who died during the burning of the Library of Alexandria in 48 BC/ was killed for researching something forbidden during the declining years of the Roman Period (early 200s) and found out she was immortal this way, making her around 2 millennia old. She spends her time recording history and traveling the world and encountering new cultures. Her long time enemy is religious obscurantism, and the Catholic church spends a lot of resources trying to kill her. (they have conspiracy boards about this immortal witch in the Vatican)

Brook: so ancient he doesn't remember much, other that he came from Kerma culture (2500 BC), loved music, and that his entire village had died from an illness, but he came back. His memory isn't great but if there's one thing he's loved in his Millennia of existence is discovering and learning how to play all the instruments that he could find. He mostly hangs in Vienna nowadays as a music teacher.

Jinbei is a Samoan chieftain from around 1000 BC who one day died during a battle with a Fijian chieftain. When he came back from death he assumed Tagaloa chose him. He loves navigating, sailing, exploring and going on voyages with his people. In more recent times (post european contact) he was forced to ally with the US Navy to protect his people.

Nami: Irish lass from around 800 who's coastal, tiny village was about to be raided by Vikings from Sweden. She made a deal with their chieftain Arlong to go with them and map out the British isles for them to help their raids be more effective and targeted, in exchange for not killing people in her village, and that she would make back the plunder they did not get from this town for them. She started to join their raids to try and make this money, but she died in battle. She came back and they believed her to be some kind of Valkyrie or Einherjer brought back to midgard. She took over the raider's leadership- also Norsemen always had women handle money, which works great here. During her time as an immortal she travels, seeks treasure, double crosses people etc.

Usopp a young double agent/CIA spy from the Cold War who died on a mission. He tragically could not return to his love Kaya because he was afraid of putting her in danger by revealing he was alive to the spies that killed him. He relocates and starts anew constantly, his entire life a web of lies. He's a great marksman/sniper.

Chopper died young of the Bubonic plague in medieval Europe. He resuscitated, tragically his father is infected as well and he's unable to save him- motivating him to get to the bottom of this disease, he decides to become a doctor. Looking like a 15 year old for centuries doesn't make this task easy and he has to hide a lot.

Franky is an American veteran of WWI who was heavily disfigured first, and died later (which is why he's not fully healed and needs prosthetics). He's heavily anti-government from having been sent to fight in such a meaningless war that sacrificed young men like cannon fodder. He learned to fix himself up and make prosthetics and masks for veterans, got into making tech stuff

Luffy is a modern, 21st century 20 something year old from Brazil's favelas. He dies in a gun violence incident (maybe linked to a drug war/gang war where he's been trying to protect his neighbourhood) and comes back, experiencing visions of others like him. He's resolute to find them and make a crew, thinking that with all of them together, maybe they can help liberate the world from opressors and inequality

#it's one am #but i couldnt stop #did all the research i could to match each straw hat with a nice historic period #one piece au #zosan au #zosan fic idea #one piece fic idea #zoro x sanji #i just want the star crossed immortal lovers with lots of lore and cool adventures as #new immortal luffy just goes around collecting these people who have no idea there's others like them #and them going around liberating people #like the scariest undying ten people army that they are #the old guard one piece au #the old guard au #immortal straw hats #straw hat crew #zosan

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 11 months

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not really enjoying tumblrs trend of comparing Thomas Andrews to Stockton Rush 😒Could you share how the two differ despite the fact they died by their own creations?

ive been trying to figure out how to tackle this ask for a few days now because theres so much to disentangle, but disentangle i will.

see, this comparison relies on common misinformation and misconceptions about titanic. its a ship thats been romanticised and mythologised for decades, and every portrayal of it from william randolph hearts yellow newspaper coverage to robin gardiners conspiracy theory to jim camerons film.

what im gonna list to disentangle this whole thing is by no means an exhaustive list of titanic misconceptions, only those relevant to this topic

-titanic was a cruise ship - titanic was an ocean liner not a cruise ship (ive detailed the differences in a different ask here)

-titanic was a brand new unique ship never seen before - not true, ocean liners had existed for decades. theres debate about which was the first, but many agree that its the ss great western which launched in 1843. titanic wasnt even the first launched in her class; that honour goes to the rms olympic.

-it was built with substandard materials and cut corners - this is one of those where theres potentially some truth, but its been misrepresented. theres some evidence that the rivets werent the best made, but the board of trade cleared the ship and she was built with the same materials and basically the same design as her sister ship, rms olympic which sailed for 24 years under the nickname "old reliable" and literally rammed a u-boat during ww1 when she was requisitioned as a troop ship. ultimately, the builders were not blamed in the wreck inquiry and the materials used were not substandard.

-it was built as said above due to the choices of j bruce ismay - yeah so this one obviously ties into the above. theres a lot of unreliable sources who seem to believe ismay oversaw the entire design and every cut corner was due to money. this simply isnt true and isnt how this sort of thing worked. white star had a contract with harland and wolff wherein they would build the ship agreed upon and when it was finished, it would be presented to white star and undergo sea trials, and during that time, white star could reject the ship if they considered it substandard. this is what happened to the ss city of rome. unles. the design itself was to be changed a la britannic after titanic sank (improving safety measures), white star could not interfere. ismay could not force them to use different materials.

-it was all ismays fault - okay, i could go on about this for a long time, but this ask isnt about ismay. the gist of it is that history has blamed ismay due to the influence of william randolph hearst (yeah, the guy from newsies and supported hitler) who hated ismay and blamed him entirely. actual evidence shows ismay helped a lot of people during the sinking itself.

-titanic was badly designed - ive kinda gone over this a little already, but again, titanic was not badly built. she was practically identical to olympic which was a fantastic ship. in the design, no risks were taken. most of the designs were enlarged versions of parts of previous successful ships. she was considered the safest ship on the sea. four of her water-tight compartments could be breached without her sinking which was a big fucking deal.

-thomas andrews was the sole designer - there was actually a team of designers that included andrews. he didnt even draw up the original plans; that was alexander carlisle.

-titanic sinking was a unique situation - yeah nah, boats sank a lot around that time. literally two years after, there was a similar disaster with the rms empress of ireland which goes entirely forgotten nowadays. in the same decade, you also had the sinking of lusitania in 1915, principe de asturias in 1916, volturno in 1913 and even thrown in princess sophia in 1918.

-the sinking was actually caused by a coal bunker fire - this is simply horseshit and im sure im gonna end up having to explain and debunk that one too

-the crew were taking unnecessary risks to win the blue riband - this myth is widespread because of the movie, but titanic was not trying to beat the record of the fastest ship from southampton to new york (thats what the blue riband) is; she physically couldnt. it was held by mauretania at that point with a record of 26.06 knots/48.26 km/hr. titanics top speed was 23 knots. white star as a line never focussed on speed and ismay never told the captain to speed up.

-she was "unsinkable" - this is a little harder to disentangle. the claim itself was "practically unsinkable", but the context of that was to do with how safe titanic was as mentioned above. also, the idea of an unsinkable ship was not quite to white star or harland and wolff; most of the shipping industry believed it.

-almost everything youve heard about the life boats - okay so here you need to throw out your preconceptions of what a life boat is because our modern conception does not match that from the early 1900s. to not get into all the details of life boat philosophy at the time (if you do wanna know, just send me an ask lmao), the main purpose of life boats at this time was ferrying passengers to a rescue ship. that was it. this attitude was informed by both the wrecks of the ss valencia and ss clallam, as well as the miraculous rescue of the rms republic. titanic did not have enough life boats for everyone because it was never expected for the passengers to be alone in the life boats for hours; it was not a design flaw, it was a feature.

-that fucking stupid ship swap myth and the idea that the crew were trying to sink the ship - i dont even want to get into why this is bullshit, plus ive also debunked it in another ask

i highlight all of the above to emphasise the fact that titanic was not a badly built ship. she was designed well, built well and sailed well. many experts agree that the way that she hit the iceberg was the only way she could have sank.

this is not the case with titan and stockton rush. in a previous post, ive gone over the design of the titan, the flaws in it and what experts in the field believe, so im not gonna go over it again, but rest assured, the titan imploded because of rush's actions and decisions.

titanic did not sink because of thomas andrews. its due to his design that anyone survived the titanic because she stayed afloat for over two hours which allowed the crew to launch all the life boats. thomas andrews himself helped many survivors during the sinking and evacuation.

he also was not a rich man using a gravesite as tourism; nepotism was certainly involved in his career but he spent ten years working his way up in the company, helping with the design of countless ships. he was mostly regarded as a good man who worked hard and recognised the hard work of others.

its honestly ludicrous to compare them because the disasters themselves are simply not comparable. the titanic did not sink because of the folly of rich men cutting corners; titan did.

thomas andrews, for any faults he had, knew what he was doing and built a good ship that was unlucky. almost every other ship he helped design didnt sink or if they did, most of them were due to ww1.

its just such a ridiculous comparison, and thats all it is. without the misconceptions and misinformation about titanic, the comparison simply falls apart. its built on a foundation that fundamentally misunderstands the titanic disaster.

if you want to talk about shipwrecks caused by stupid decisions made by rich men, go look up the last incarnation of hms captain or the gunilda or the fucking vasa if you want, you can literally go see that one. but dont besmirch the memory of a guy who, by all acounts, died a hero helping other survive.

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 5 months

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tuesday again 1/2/2024

it’s quite satisfying how the year started on a monday

listening

first song of the year: how could it be anything other than Sabata. this is the theme from the titular Sabata, i meant to pick the theme from Return of Sabata but im not mad about it.

reading

i read Tim Marchman’s Popping Tins newsletter (a newsletter about fish and seafood) less bc i enjoy locking Mack in the bathroom every time i want a tuna melt and more for the droll authorial voice. i have bought a tin of mackerel after reading some entries, and it was very good but much much richer than tuna.

What should I do with this can of krill meat?

after consulting the importer’s website:

This is accompanied by a photograph of the can featuring easily-discerned black eyes, which are nothing to be concerned about, according to the company that produces this can. The first question on its FAQ page is “What are the little black speckles in my can?” “No need to be concerned here!” the answer reads. “Your meat is not dirty, and you did not get a defected can. Our Antarctic Krill meat contains the most nutritious parts of the krill, which happen to include their eyes.

…

The risks here are clear: I could vomit when I open the can and see the nutritious black eyes staring at me; I could destroy the peace in my home by making it smell like sautéed and simmered krill; and/or I could ruin a perfectly delicious lunch by introducing nutritious eyes and hard bits of chitin.

i have no memory of how i found this newsletter.

i keep forgetting i have ten hoopla credits a month through my old library and i want to read more comics this year bc reading comics is fun. in the past in practice this means ive binged all ten credits over a weekend. this weekend i had time for exactly one.

The Riddler: Year One is an extremely direct tie-in to the movie and i think it’s neat they let the riddler’s actor paul dano go wild with his backstory and then turn it into a comic. it’s fun when actors get to do weird tie-in shit.

(non-sequential pages)

watching this forensic accountant’s brain crack and scramble like an egg as he struggles to really grasp the enormity of gotham corruption and why the city is such a dogshit miserable place to live in made me go “oh huh that was a pretty good writing decision in the movie”. not that the riddler was terribly stable to begin with but the despair and the unraveling were very effectively conveyed. this comic has a lot of fun with funky layouts (left) and an entire issue (right) is conspiracy board shit on top of accounting forms which is a neat artistic choice.

deeply depressing but an interesting new little window into the rpatz batman (god i hope we get more rpatz batman films) and fun to look at.

how i found this: trawling the popular comics page on hoopla

watching

this is the seventh year of starting a new-to-me classic black and white movie around 1030/11 PM New Year’s Eve and i am annoyed i didn’t like the movie that started this year but, according to the data, it’s been fifty-fifty so far.

previous years have featured: sunset boulevard, yojimbo, the thin man, it happened one night, bringing up baby, the big sleep, and now roman holiday (1953, dir. Wyler).

this is the platonic ideal of a classic movie. it’s not sterile but it’s so… unobjectionable. wholesome (derogatory) even. not particularly what i was looking for in a movie but, much like the gelato and champagne that pop up, it was kind of a sweet nothing. i don’t think anyone eats any real food this whole movie?

this is never a movie that feels rushed. it is two hours of watching beautiful people traipse around a beautiful city in beautiful edith head costumes. i would not say there is a lot of tension for the first hour and a half. however, imo, it does land its ending and for that i can forgive it a great deal. this is another beautiful movie that is simply not for me.

playing

have you ever wanted an open world rpg where you play as a shark? congrats, this was apparently free on epic a while back

youtube

Maneater has a tremendously fun prologue where you play as the soon-to-be-dead mother shark who is absolutely going to town on a crowded beach and destroying multiple spear-gun-wielding divers and multiple boats full of citizens exercising their second amendment rights. this prologue is an excellent choice by the game bc it locks the fun part (eating people) behind several hours of really grindy shit. i am not entertained by the grind of eating progressively larger muskellunge, avoiding alligators, and collecting license plates. the grind is EXCEPTIONALLY grindy, i put about three hours into it and have only gotten to level 5 (teen) and have only two mutations i can sink loot into (four types of loot gained from eating other fish. this is too many types imo). i am not anywhere near a recommended level to start fucking humans up. im also not super impressed with the open world aspects of it— there are not a lot of things to do, discover, or interact with in the first two areas.

this seems like a really fun game that clotheslined itself with a cripplingly slow upgrade cycle. im sure the mid and late game are hysterically fun, especially on stream. however i am not willing to put in the hours to get to the fun part when i could immediately be having fun in some other game.

making

a lot of profoundly uninteresting cleaning. after not being able to figure out why my office (where Phil [no longer in heat. for now] lives) still reeks of piss even after stealing a blacklight from a friend and cleaning with a blacklight, it is of course bc she has been pissing in secret places i didn’t think she could get to. upside down smile emoji. both the girls got their monthly flea goop yesterday and were deeply unhappy about it.

most of my plants died in the move and i am finally tackling the survivors. fan favorite giant snake plant (not pictured, tidied up and inside) did make it and pull through but is not happy about it. now that i have baby basil and baby dill sprouting in the kitchen i do need to do something with the balcony so they have somewhere to grow up study and strong.

also slammed that silly little blondeyes NFT thing up on the archive

#i do not know how to tag that fic snippet but eh #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Youtube

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