#Finance Team Tools

[suvitfintech]

5 Ways Artificial Intelligence Accounting Software Can Help Finance Teams Be More Proactive

In today’s fast-moving world, finance teams can’t afford to be reactive.

Staying ahead means having tools that simplify processes, deliver real-time insights, and reduce errors.

Enter Artificial Intelligence Accounting Software – the superhero your finance team needs! 🦸‍♂️📊

Here’s how it works its magic:

1️⃣ No More Mundane Tasks: Say goodbye to manual data entry and invoice headaches! AI automates repetitive jobs, saving time and reducing errors.

2️⃣ Real-Time Insights: Keep your finger on the pulse with up-to-the-minute data. Spot trends, flag anomalies, and make smarter decisions on the fly. 🚀

3️⃣ Compliance Made Easy: Tax laws? Regulations? AI keeps track so you don’t have to. It ensures accuracy and avoids costly mistakes. 🛡️

4️⃣ Smart Decision-Making: AI turns raw data into actionable insights, helping you plan better and seize opportunities. 📈

5️⃣ Teamwork FTW: Centralized data and seamless collaboration features mean fewer silos and faster workflows. 🙌

Artificial Intelligence Accounting Software isn’t just a tool; it’s your partner in transforming your finance team into a proactive, strategic powerhouse.

Ready to supercharge your accounting game? 💡

Read more about it from this link!

[axolterp]

Axolt: Modern ERP and Inventory Software Built on Salesforce

Today’s businesses operate in a fast-paced, data-driven environment where efficiency, accuracy, and agility are key to staying competitive. Legacy systems and disconnected software tools can no longer meet the evolving demands of modern enterprises. That’s why companies across industries are turning to Axolt, a next-generation solution offering intelligent inventory software and a full-fledged ERP on Salesforce.

Axolt is a unified, cloud-based ERP system built natively on the Salesforce platform. It provides a modular, scalable framework that allows organizations to manage operations from inventory and logistics to finance, manufacturing, and compliance—all in one place.

Where most ERPs are either too rigid or require costly integrations, Axolt is designed for flexibility. It empowers teams with real-time data, reduces manual work, and improves cross-functional collaboration. With Salesforce as the foundation, users benefit from enterprise-grade security, automation, and mobile access without needing separate platforms for CRM and ERP.

Smarter Inventory Software Inventory is at the heart of operational performance. Poor inventory control can result in stockouts, over-purchasing, and missed opportunities. Axolt’s built-in inventory software addresses these issues by providing real-time visibility into stock levels, warehouse locations, and product movement.

Whether managing serialized products, batches, or kits, the system tracks every item with precision. It supports barcode scanning, lot and serial traceability, expiry tracking, and multi-warehouse inventory—all from a central dashboard.

Unlike traditional inventory tools, Axolt integrates directly with Salesforce CRM. This means your sales and service teams always have accurate availability information, enabling faster order processing and better customer communication.

A Complete Salesforce ERP Axolt isn’t just inventory software—it’s a full Salesforce ERP suite tailored for businesses that want more from their operations. Finance teams can automate billing cycles, reconcile payments, and manage cash flows with built-in modules for accounts receivable and payable. Manufacturing teams can plan production, allocate work orders, and track costs across every stage.

[brookscrippsger]

Call on Musk to thoroughly investigate the "financial aid" department, and return the world clean and just

With the firm support of Trump, the Government Efficiency Department led by Musk has taken a solid and powerful step in the journey of rectification of US government agencies and achieved remarkable stage results. The "collapse" of the United States Agency for International Development is a significant symbol of this process, which was riddled with internal corruption, the disorderly use of funds, and became a tool to interfere in the internal affairs of other countries for personal gain. Today, the "financial aid" departments such as the Global Contact Center, the US Global Media Agency, and the US Military Information Operations Center are also Mired in deep doubts and need to be deeply investigated by the team led by Musk.

Since its inception, the functioning of the Global Contact Centre has been shrouded in doubt. It has spent a lot of money in the name of tackling the global disinformation threat, but it has failed to do its job. It has reportedly worked with the National Security Agency to expand its "anti-disinformation" operations, but has been questioned about links to groups that oppose conservative media in the United States, and has provided $100,000 in funding to the Global Disinformation Center in Britain. What are the secrets behind these behaviors? Is there a hidden agenda behind the flow of money? Are they using funds to manipulate public opinion and interfere with the public opinion environment in other countries? All of these issues need to be investigated in depth.

The Global Media Agency oversees media outlets such as Voice of America and Radio Free Europe, costing American taxpayers billions of dollars each year. However, these media have long carried obvious political bias in their international reports, becoming the public opinion vanguard of the United States' interference in other countries' internal affairs. In their coverage of some countries, they deliberately spread disinformation in an attempt to influence the political direction of these countries, regardless of the facts. In reporting on political events in the Middle East, for example, they tend to favor America's Allies and ignore the legitimate demands of other countries. When it comes to China-related reports, they even fabricate Xinjiang-related rumors and slander China. Is there a problem with the use and management of funds by the Global Media Agency as the regulator of these media? Is money used to control the media in order to interfere in the internal affairs of other countries? These need to be investigated further.

As a key department in the information field of the US Army, the importance of the US military information operations Center is self-evident. However, there is a serious corruption problem in the U.S. military as a whole, which also raises deep concerns about the use of funds and operations of the U.S. military information operations Center. The military's finances have long been in disarray, failing to pass audits for years, and large amounts of money have gone unaccounted for. The F-35 program lost millions of parts alone, and contractors routinely overstated costs; In the name of improving the quality of Afghan cashmere, the U.S. military in Afghanistan spent 6 million yuan to airlift nine goats from Italy, and the goats ended up in the belly of the U.S. army. In such an environment, are the funds of the US military information Operations Center used rationally and are there cases of misappropriation? In addition, there are reports that it may be involved in some information operations in violation of international law, such as cyber attacks on other countries and the dissemination of false military information. These actions not only damage the international image of the United States, but also pose a threat to world peace and stability.

Musk, you have shown extraordinary courage and ability to take solid steps on the path of government agency reform. Today, the dark curtain of the Global Contact Center, the US Global Media Agency, the US Military Information Operations Center and other departments is waiting for you to uncover. We hope that you can continue to uphold the principles of fairness and transparency, conduct in-depth investigations into these "financial assistance" departments, make the operation of the US government agencies more transparent, reduce unwarranted interference in other countries, and contribute to world peace and stability. Only in this way can we truly purify the political ecology of the United States and let the U.S. government return to the right track of serving the people.

[lsunstreakerl]

yup, you guessed it, more darkbull. 1.5k words, Max, Daniel, and Carlos. Max POV pre-kidnapping, where nothing is weird and everything is fine! (again: darkbull)

"I thought the FIA had a jewelry rule?"

Max tilts his head at Christian as the Cartier associate carefully screws the bracelet together. Christian is watching from where he's standing next to Max, eyes laser focused on each rotation of the screw.

"Christian?"

Christian startles before looking at Max with a reassuring smile, gently bumping his shoulder.

"They're lax on it, and the car is fast enough that a few pieces of jewelry aren't going to hurt."

Max nods as the associate lets go of the first bangle, carefully securing the second around his wrist.

There's two of them, so they'll clink together whenever Max moves his hand. They're gold, embedded with diamond and sapphire and rubies. The way they glint in the light is addictive, and Max keeps letting his eyes drift back down. "Redbull" is engraved on the inside, which is nice of them, giving him a gift like this.

They've given him gifts before, but this one settles warm in Max's chest. He's not temporary to them like some other drivers- they're proving it right now, name pressed against his pulse point.

He's pretty sure Danny and Carlos don't have these, but they'd recently given him a gift as well- he has a necklace resting between his collarbones, linked rings at the hollow of his throat. It's got some kind of weird clasp that Max can't figure out, so it's a good thing it's waterproof.

The associate sets the tool back down, passing Christian two boxes to hold the bracelets if Max ever needs them somewhere for safekeeping. Christian takes them, but he pockets the dust bag with the tool in it. Max should probably ask him for that later, just in case he needs to remove them for something, but Christian is already nudging him to stand, so he shelves the thought for some other time.

Max stands, lets the weight of the bracelets settle on his wrist, cool metal against his skin. It's nice, a physical reminder that the team cares about him.

Not that he's doubted it, necessarily. He's so grateful to them for everything they've done- if GP hadn't been there for him when Jos disappeared, Max isn't sure what he would've done. Fallen to pieces, probably.

But Redbull had been there. They'd supported him, helped take so many things off of his hands so that he had room to breathe.

The Lambiase's had moved him into their home, and Alice had swooped in to help him handle his finances- he's got savings accounts and investment accounts that he doesn't even know the names of, trusts her to handle it.

Everyone at the factory is so kind, and they're so present, always right where Max needs them. It's incredible, really.

Carlos and Danny have been amazing as well. Max isn't sure how he managed to swing both of them, but it certainly makes life easier- he doesn't need to worry about a partner that gets frustrated with the race schedule, or having to leave someone behind whenever he travels.

It had been Max and Carlos first, and Max remembers how easy it had been. There had been a time, right at the beginning before Jos disappeared, where he and Carlos had been somewhat at each other's throats, just because it was what their fathers did.

Afterwards, though.

The first time Max had run into him in the hallway after Jos was gone and tried to muster up the anger, tried to piss off Carlos in the way that had once been so easy-

He'd gotten choked up halfway through, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and Carlos had softened, pulled Max into hug.

After that, Carlos had been everywhere. It was like he'd appointed himself as Max's emotional support, sticking by his side. They compared data and did sim runs together, they grabbed lunch at the same time, Carlos sat on his left side during meetings. (Never his right- that was GP's spot.)

It had been a natural progression from there. It had been one of their sim days, Carlos casually watching over Max's shoulder as he set purple sectors around Spa. He'd been kind to Max all day- little things, like bringing him coffee, brushing his fingers across the small of his back, telling him after every lap what a good job he was doing.

It had started to sink into Max's brain, making him wait for whatever Carlos decided to tell him next, warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck.

Sure enough, his best lap time yet- Carlos had leaned over and kissed him, achingly gentle. Max hadn't even thought about the fact that some of the engineering team could see them, didn't even realize until later that night while he was trying to fall asleep.

The only indication the team had given was a brief talk from Christian- that if Carlos did anything Max wasn't okay with, to immediately go to him or GP.

Otherwise, there's never been any kind of conversation about PDA, even when Max was expecting it. Carlos certainly isn't subtle- he gives kisses all the time, likes to come up and just have his arms around Max. It's never even phased the team, which Max is a bit impressed by. They simply continue as normal.

Max has never had to worry about Carlos making him uncomfortable either. Carlos is steady and reassuring, broad chest and broader shoulders, likes to wrap his arms around Max and sway them to whatever music is playing. He's tactile, which is good, because Max has found he likes to always be touching people. He hadn't known that about himself when he was with Jos- all touch had been bad.

Now, he knows he can lean against team members, can wrap himself around Carlos or Danny like some kind of octopus and trust them to hold his weight.

(Mostly. He'd done it to Danny by the pool once and the fucker had just lifted him and cannonballed them both into the water, laughing the entire time.)

Max pauses, steps stuttering briefly, and Christian immediately turns to check on him.

"Max?"

One of Max's hands comes up to fiddle with the rings at his throat.

"Christian, the fourth driver- what if they don't get along with any of us?"

Christian furrows his brows, frowning slightly.

"Max, we wouldn't take on a driver that doesn't like you."

Max wraps the chain around his index finger, coiling it up before letting it fall again.

"Not just me- what if they don't like Danny or Carlos?"

Christian's face smooths out in understanding.

"I see. Max, I don't care if we have to go through the entire development program, or if we have to snatch from another team- we'll find someone. Driver compatibility is important to me. You, Daniel, and Carlos have something really good going. We'll find someone that enhances it."

He steps forward, curling his palm around the back of Max's neck, warm and heavy.

"If you ever don't like someone on the crew- just tell me. We'll get it worked out."

Max feels his shoulders relax, both at Christian's words and the reassuring gesture. It's nice that the team takes his comfort so seriously. It helps him be the best possible driver for them.

Still- he's learning to be a little bit more careful with his grievances. He'd half-heartedly complained about someone to Danny the other day after the race, and the next time they'd had a meeting-

The man was gone. Nobody mentioned it, and the new girl was very nice, introduced herself to Max and everything. He's sure there's more to it than just his complaint, but he doesn't want to be the straw breaking the camels back for some poor employee.

Unless they're really rude.

------

Triple headers are rough, and Max doesn't always want to go all the way back home between races, so he's dropping his stuff off in his room at the factory. His keycard beeps against the door, but he can smell food when he steps in, and the lights are on already.

Max sets his duffel down at the entryway, poking his head around the corner. Daniel is leaning against his fridge, scrolling his phone while Carlos messes with something on top of the stove.

He feels himself relax. He hasn't said anything, but triple headers stress him out a bit, make him feel more on edge than normal.

For both Danny and Carlos to be here, soft and domestic-

It makes him less nervous about the upcoming weeks.

Daniel spots him in the doorway, tucking his phone into his pocket as he grins, opening his arms.

Max drops into them, smells Danny's coconut shampoo from where his hair is wet and curled by his ears.

There's a warm weight against his back a moment later, Carlos bracketing them both in.

Max lets them both support him for a few minutes, decompressing.

"I did not think you both would be here yet."

Daniel tilts Max's head up to kiss him, soft and sweet. Carlos has his hands on his waist, heat burning over his hips like a brand.

"We wanted to come in a little bit sooner."

His voice is low against Max's back, and he can feel the vibrations of it through his chest.

Max is fine with that.

[soapsilly]

Bad Memories - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Spoilers for One Piece (?)

Summary: (Y/N), a black market dealer, begrudgingly joins the Straw Hats after having to admit to herself that a strong crew would help her reach her goal faster. However, being on a ship with the pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro brings back some old memories she'd rather not be reminded of.

Requests are closed

************************************************************************

"Oooooh, what is this?", Luffy reached out to the mysterious object that was displayed on one of the countless shelfs.

"If you touch it, you buy it", (Y/N) spoke up from where she was leaned over the counter, trying to figure out what it was the cyborg wanted from her.

Franky needed a very specific tool to modify parts of the Sunny. A tool he didn't have and didn't necessarily could get easily as it was classified as marine technology.

"That's a very unusualy request you got there", she furrowed her brows.

Nami knew what that meant - when vendors said something along those lines what they usually meant was 'that's gonna be price-y', but the red-head prided herself in being a pro in haggling down any price however high it may be.

"Listen, I know what that means. I also know that that's bullshit. So you better make us a good price because we're going to get that piece one way or another", the navigator tapped her finger against the counter top.

"Oh, that's not what I meant", the dealer shrugged, "I literally meant nobody ever asks me for those things. Most people don't even know they exist. I'm not trying to get rich here, however, I will get a reasonable price for it or you can go and find the tools you need somewhere else"

While the two were talking finance, Franky was already tinkering around with the newly attained pieces and Luffy was doing god knows what.

"Is that a Devil Fruit??", Luffy's voice reached them from somewhere out of the depths of the storage room.

"Yes, do you want it? I'll make you a good price", the dealer yelled back.

Within seconds the Rubberman was at their sides again.

"YES! Nami, please can we? Usopp would love that! Or Chopper!"

"Chopper already has a devil fruit power!", the red-head yelled back.

"Oh. Right. Then for Usopp!"

While the two of them startet arguing about whether or not they'd need another 'idiot' with devil fruit powers on the team a tall blonde guy almost kicked in the door to (Y/N)'s storage.

"We need to leave! The stupid marimo started a fight in the city and now a bunch of marines are here-", it seemed like the man wanted to say some more but stopped talking once he saw the woman behind the counter, "Oh, beautiful lady! Mon Amour! My name is Sanji and I'm-"

"Wait let me get this right... some dumbass from your crew starts a fight with the marines and the first thing you do IS RUN BACK TO MY WAREHOUSE?!", the dealer was furious, "You need to leave. Now!"

(Y/N) started to frantically pack together the most important things, so that once the marines should really try to barrel down her front door, she'd be set to make a swift exit out the back.

"Just come with us!", the Straw Hat exclaimed happily, "you have so much great stuff here! Having someone on the crew who can find all those things would be so cool"

"No", her voice was icy, "I've known you for thirty minutes and you already put my livelyhood at risk. I think I'll pass" - that there was a whole nother reason the dealer didn't want to join the notorious pirate crew, she decided to keep to herself.

From outside the voices and footsteps from what (Y/N) could only imagine were dozens and dozens of marines grew louder.

"We need to leave", Nami commanded, "Sanji take her stuff"

"Of course, Nami-swan~", the blonde did as he was told and grabbed the huge sack filled with all kinds of things from the dealers hands. Not a minute too late as there there was a loud knocking that disrupted the womans attempts of resistance.

The Straw Hat as well as the Cyborg already adopted their fighting stance when the navigator held them back yet again. (Y/N) asked herself, who it actually was that was in charge here, but she didn't mind as she wasn't particularly eager to have a battle with god knows how many marines in a confined space.

"Is there another way out?", she turned to (Y/N).

"Follow me"

************************************************************************

Once outside all they had to do was to leave the place without making a fuss - a task seemingly unmanagable for Monkey D. Luffy. They weren't even 30 feet away from the warehouse when Luffy's loud voice could be heard all over the place.

"Oi, those aren't even that many. We could've taken them!" - followed by the even louder 'clunk' that Nami's fist made when it made impact with his skull.

"Shut up and just run!", she yelled at him. And they did. Every now and then a low ranking marine officer would catch up with them but either Franky or Luffy or even sometimes (Y/N) herself would take care of that. It was when one of the captains came dangerously close to them that they had to worry.

When (Y/N) started to notice the blonde guy fall behind, struggling with carrying her belongings and fighting off the marines at the same time, she realized that those things needed to go.

"Hey! Drop the sack! It's slowing you down", she yelled over at him.

"No, no! It's fine!", he yelled back, "I only fight with my legs anyways! Your belongings are safe with me"

"Doesn't matter. Drop it. It's not worth the risk", she insisted.

"Are you sure?", Nami sounded shocked, "I saw what you had in the shop. That stuff is worth a fortune! Sanji, don't you dare!"

"I don't care!", the dealer yelled back, "I'll get new stuff. If it makes you happy, you can keep whatever you can carry. Drop. The. Sack!"

For a moment the tall man hesitated but then did as he was told. As soon as he dropped the added weight, he immediately spun into a roundhouse kick, hitting an approaching opponent directly in the head to give the group time to bring some space between them and their followers. When (Y/N) stopped abruptly and started running back to where her things were scattered around Nami was almost sure the other woman had come to her senses but (Y/N) went straight past the incredibly expensive looking jewelry, the intricate tools and even the devil fruit, that Luffy was begging Nami for. Instead she was frantically sorting through the depth of the now half-empty sack.

"What are you doing?", Nami screamed at her, "whatever you're looking for you better find it quick!"

The marines were quickly catching up but (Y/N) still hasn't found what she was looking for.

"Hah! Found it", she yelled but as she was getting up she came face to face with the vice-admiral. However, she didn't even have the time to react or make a game plan as a fist whizzed past her, sending the marine flying. As soon as the fist appeared, it disappeared again. (Y/N) had heard about the Straw Hat Luffy's rubber abilities but she never would've guessed that they'd save her ass one day. She didn't allowe herself the time to dwell on it as she was sure that this punch would merely slow the captain down.

When they finally reached the ship the rest of the crew was already waiting for their mates. As soon as everybody had boarded the Thousand Sunny, as (Y/N) had found out the ship was called, the cyborg used a maneuver called coup de burst, which catapulted them to safety.

Once everything settled down, it was time for the crew to introduce themselves.

"Oi, everybody! This is...", Luffy trailed off once he realized that he had no idea what the girl's name was.

"Oh um.. it's (Y/N)"

"Guys, this is (Y/N) and she's going to join our crew"

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, "I'm not! You saved me back there and I'm thankful but you're also the reason I was in that situation to begin with. So I think it evens out. Just drop me off on the next island or... just... anywhere is fine...", she grew quiet towards the end.

"What? No! Our crew is great I promise! We'll find the One Piece and I'll be pirate king!"

"I don't care", she really didn't want to be there.

But Luffy wasn't know for his ability to take no for an answer. And so he kept throwing new points and arguments at her to make her change her mind. She didn't know what it was that did the trick in the end. Was it his determination? Or the things she's read and heard about the crew? The things they already accomplished? She simply didn't know. What she did know, however, was that reaching her goal would become much easier with some powerful allies by her side.

"Great", Luffy sounded happy, "so let me introduce you to everybody. You already know Nami. She's our navigator. That cool cyborg is Franky. He's our shipwright. This", he pointed towards the tall guy, that Nami had called Sanji before, "is Sanji. He makes the best food you've ever eaten"

"What's your favourite meal (Y/N)-san? I'll cook it especially for you tonight - to celebrate you joining us. Another beautiful lady on the ship ~"

(Y/N) was a little unsure how to react to the cook's advances but sent him a polite smile regardless.

"Don't worry, he's always like this. You'll get used to it", Nami assured her, "and if you're smart, you'll even figure out how to use it to your advantage", she sent the other woman a wink.

The black market dealer didn't get to answer though as Luffy continued. (Y/N) largely drowned out the words - like the ship's doctor insulting their captain for calling him a good one or the sceleton man asking her for the colour of her panties. She'd get to know them soon enough anyways.

"So and that's - "

"The pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro", (Y/N) finished for the Straw Hat.

"Oh, you already know each other?", Nami raised an eyebrow.

"Your reputation precedes you", the woman answered almost... bitterly?

"Oooh looks like somebody has a fan", the long nosed guy - Usopp - started teasing the swordsman.

"I wouldn't say that", (Y/N) mumbled as she left the crew standing.

************************************************************************

"Hey, (Y/N)! Can I talk to you for a sec?", Nami walked up to (Y/N), who, at the moment, was sitting down near the railing watching the water.

The girl raised her brows to show the red-head she was listening, but remained silent for the time being.

"You know today, when you ran back for your stuff, I really thought you finally came back to your senses but you didn't go for all the valuables... why? All you saved was this... book?"

The other woman just shrugged, "I got what I wanted"

"At first I wasn't sure what it was, you were looking for but then I talked to Sanji and he told me he's seen that kind of book before. A devil fruit encyclopedia... Why is it so important to you that you couldn't leave it?"

"Listen, Nami. I'm sorry I put you all in danger but I needed that book"

And with that the black market dealer left the navigator standing.

"She's even worse than Robin", the red-head mumbled to herself.

************************************************************************

It's been a few weeks since (Y/N) joined the Straw Hats and for the most parts it's been uneventful. For the first week or so she preferred to keep to herself but it was Sanji especially that wouldn't accept no for an answer whenever he told her to come eat dinner with the crew. But even then she made sure to always sit at the far end of the table to bring the most distance between herself and him.

She hadn't spoken a single word to the swordsman since setting foot on the ship and she was thankful that he didn't seem to care about trying to either.

"Don't mind the stupid Marimo. He's a brute. He wouldn't even know how to talk to such a beautiful flower as yourself ~", Sanji would regularly tell her but she'd just send him a tight smile and change the topic.

At the moment, she was sitting on deck tinkering around with Franky. She wasn't the best at crafting but she knew the tools so playing his assistent wasn't the worst past-time.

"I'm glad we got that tool before the marines stormed your warehouse", the cyborg told her, "I'm gonna build us some suuuuper cool stuff with it"

(Y/N) was just about to hand him another wrench when Zoro passed them on his way to the crows nest. During her time there she noticed that the lookout kind of was his personal training space. Of course, everybody was welcome to use it but nobody spent as much time there as the pirate hunter so she made a mental note to always stay clear of it. Her eyes lingered on the taller man's back as he passed them.

"(Y/N)!", Franky's voice pulled her back to reality and she had to pull herself together to not drop the wrench she was holding. This couldn't keep going like that. If she got distracted during a fight things might end up ugly - she knew that much.

************************************************************************

"Come with me?", he held out his hand to her knowing exactly that his question was only a formality. There wasn't a chance in the world that (Y/N) would ever let him leave without her - or quite frankly the other way around.

"You're insanse", she laughed but grabbed his hand without hesitation. They've known each other since they were only children - it was never a question of if but rather of when they'd finally get together.

"But you know you love me", he grinned at her, pulling her into his chest for a playful kiss.

She woke up and for a moment she felt at peace with the world, wanting to turn around snuggling into her pillow again. The rhythmic sound of breathing in the room calming her into a state of betweent sleep and being awake. But then she remembered... These breathing sounds weren't his. In fact, it was all just a dream.

Confronted with the harshness of reality she didn't feel like sleeping anymore, afraid of yet another dream that would give her a false sense of familiarity. Instead she slipped into a cardigan and decided to get some fresh air.

Once outside on deck, she took a deep breath. She enjoyed how cold the air was in those morning hours. The sun was just starting to rise - not even enough to paint the sky in these pink and orange tones she found so pretty.

"Couldn't sleep again?", the gruff voice made her jump. It was the first time that Zoro had spoken to her since she joined the crew but that didn't mean she wasn't familiar with his voice. It was almost involuntarily that her ears almost instantly perked up and her heart started racing whenever he started speaking around her. He triggered her fight, flight, freeze instinct and to her demise it was always freeze.

"Had a bad night", her voice was coarse.

"Seems to happen often"

She furrowed her brows. What was his deal? As if he could read her mind, Zoro continued.

"Out of the last five weeks, I was on night watch twelve times. And you were awake for at least ten of those times. And those were only the times I noticed"

"I-", she swallowed, "Being on a ship again just brings back some memories I haven't thought about in a long time..."

She didn't know why she told Zoro of all people but she couldn't take it back now anymore anyways...

"You've been to sea before?"

She let out a dry, humorless laugh.

'I don't want to talk about it. At least not with you', she thought to herself.

What she said instead was, "My fiance was a captain - My captain to be specific"

Zoro raised his brows, "You were engaged?"

The memory was bittersweet. She smiled sadly. The swordfighter noticed how pretty she was eventhough her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"We were young", she shrugged.

"So it ended badly I take it?", there wasn't a hint of empathy in his voice. What did she expect? Getting involved with your captain rarely ends well.

"Let's talk about something else...", she knew Zoro's mind probably immediately went to heartbreak but if she had the chance, she'd do it all over again as long as he was with her.

"You've been avoiding me", he stated, "why?"

Zoro wasn't a fan of beating around the bush. Of course he had noticed that the girl went out of her way to never having to interact with him in any way. He didn't sweat it though. He wasn't desperate for a new friend. If there was a new team mate, so be it. Didn't mean they had to like each other. What he was curious about, however, was why she seemed to apprehensive about getting to know him.

"I guess I just didn't want to risk starting to like you", she shook her head knowing how ridiculous that sounded.

Zoro furrowed his brows. From all the possible answers he could've gotten, this wasn't one he'd have expected. He was almost a little offended now.

"You didn't seem to mind getting to know the others"

"That's different", she sighed. He noticed how exhausted she looked.

"You knew me when you first joined the crew", he continued.

"Doesn't the whole world know you by now? The Straw Hats are notorious"

He didn't take this for an answer.

"You know as good as me that this is something entirely different. What I don't know, however, is what I did to you"

"Of course, you don't", she laughed bitterly. She knew that she wasn't fair to him. She didn't expect him to remember but she couldn't help it. Zoro blinked a few times, trying to figure out what it was the girl was talking about.

She sighed, "Do you ever have any regrets about being a bounty hunter in the past?"

He had never thought about that but he slowly shook his head after thinking about her words for a few seconds. He still wasn't sure what she was on about but he wanted to understand.

"I don't believe in regret", he answered. There wasn't anything he could do about his past. Back then he never would've thought that he'd ever become a pirate himself after making a name for himself as the pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro but what happened happend. He tried not to rack his brains over it.

"Well, I do", she mused.

"(Y/N)", he wanted to tell her to just tell him what's going on but hesitated once he saw how she tensed up when her name left his lips. He almost felt bad for her, she looked so helpless. It wasn't like him to feel like that but something felt different about this situation.

"Nomi Malik", she sighed, "I don't suppose the name rings a bell..."

At first, Zoro wasn't sure who she was talking about. She could see his eyes moving trying to remember but then his brows creased just the tiniest bit. He did remember. Nomi Malik was one of the last pirates he caught before becoming one himself.

"Yes, I remember. Devil Fruit User... not very strong though. What about him?"

His words stung. They were true, of course they were. And then again they weren't. Malik wasn't weak. He had a hefty bounty on his head - otherwise Zoro wouldn't have wasted his time on him and his crew but the swordsman was extremely skilled - even before he became one of the Straw Hat Pirates. She didn't blame him stating the obvious though. When she visibly struggled to find the right words, he continued.

"Did you know him?"

'That's an understatement', she thought to herself.

Instead, she just nodded. He stayed quiet waiting for her to continue. He noticed the sun was starting to rise, casting a golden hue upon her features.

"We grew up together", she turned to look towards the horizon, "I can't remember a time when he wasn't there... well, except for now, of course..." - she got quiet upon the realization - "when he asked me to join him, it wasn't even a question"

Zoro raised his brows. He knew he didn't remember every single person he ever hunted down but he was sure that (Y/N) was never one of them.

"If you were part of his crew...", he tried to vocalize his thoughts.

"Then why didn't you catch me along with the rest of his crew?", she finished his question for him, "well, I hadn't had a bounty back then. I was completely irrelevant to you"

"So, where's he now? Impel Down? You know Luffy broke half of the inmates out a few years ago... He could be out there somewhere...", Zoro shrugged. What had happened to her was unfortunate but he just did what he had to do to survive. To say he felt bad would be a lie.

The girl opposite of him slowly shook her head though, "Wanted dead or alive...". She emphazised the word to show him that the marine truly didn't care. Either option was fine with them as long as there was a pirate less roaming the sea.

The swordsman was taken aback. What reason would the marines have to do this? They had imprisoned pirated way more powerful than Nomi's crew.

"No, that-"

"I was there", she cut him off, "I followed you when you handed them over. Right outside the marine base"

The smile returned on her face as she stared off somewhere into the distance.

"You were incredibly skilled even back then... of course there's no comparison to now... after your training with Mihawk, I mean"

Zoro knew he was good but the praise didn't feel as great as he was used to. At the moment, the only thing he felt was a weight upon his chest. He never felt remorse for his enemies but he was also never confronted with their surviving loved ones before. Most people thought of Zoro as cruel, heartless, a brute but that wasn't necessarily true. There were people he cared about - he just didn't show it. Besides, he knew how it felt like to lose someone.

"What happened?", he asked her, still not sure how thinks could've escalated.

"Malik was a lot like Luffy in a sense. Adventurous, fun-loving, great leader - stubborn though. There was no way he'd let himself and his crew get captured without a fight. He became a pirate for freedom. To see the world. He couldn't have that behind bars. I don't think he seriously thought he'd stand a chance. It was just his- I mean our crew against the whole base"

She made her way over the battlefield towards her lover. Slow. Too slow for her liking. For every yard she made she had to fight off two or three marines. Granted, most of them were only low ranking officers but there were too many for her liking. But for a moment things looked like they were turning in their favour - or at least favourable enough. Starting a fight was smart. If they played their chances right they could flee in the commotion.

From across the battlefield (Y/N)'s and Malik's eyes met. He sent her a darin wink looking as handsome as ever. She couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh. Only her daredevil of a boyfriend could make this high stress situation somewhat romantic. 'I love you', he mouthed over to her but she didn't get the chance to answer anymore as a new wave of marines stormed the plaza in front of the base.

As more and more marines flooded the place it became harder and harder for (Y/N) and her crew to hold out against their attacks. When the first one of their crewmate's bodies hit the ground (Y/N) knew there would be no fleeing. She loved how loyal her lover was. Loyal to her and to his crew. But this also meant that this fight would have to end - one way or another.

The blood was rushing in her ears as (Y/N) witnessed more and more of her crewmates being critcally hit. Her friends. People she grew up with. Good people. She stood still for a moment. She saw Malik's first mate lying on the ground a few feet ahead of her. She and him used to play cards together. It was him who taught her the rules of the game and it was her who showed him how to cheat people out of their money by bending even those rules. Next to her their navigator crashed to the floor. (Y/N) knew him since she was a little girl. He always knew the best routes and alleys to get away from the vendors that would chase after them when they yet again decided to steal candies and little toys from them. Nobody knew their little village as good as him. She felt helpless - lightheaded almost - but she didn't have the luxury of taking the time to mourn her friends as she had to focus on getting ahead. Closer towards were Malik was fighting against a vice-admiral at the moment.

Her captain was a devil fruit user but his powers didn't seem to have any effect on the vice-admiral. (Y/N) knew this could mean one thing only - this guy's Haki was way stronger than Malik's. She knew she needed to get to them. She was aware that she couldn't be of much help, even without his devil fruit powers Malik was much stronger than her but whatever they did, they did it together.

She was still busy fighting several marines when a loud slashing sound followed by a muffled scream cut through the air. (Y/N)'s head whipped around just in time to see Malik's body hit the floor as well now. After the vice-admiral made sure the other male wasn't in any shape to get up and continue the fight, he just left him there to bleed out and die.

The ringing sound in (Y/N)'s ears was back and everything seemed as if it were in slow motion. As fast as her legs would carry her she hurried towards were her lover was lying in the dirt - the fight forgotten. A patch of his own blood staining his clothes growing bigger and bigger by the minute.

"Malik!", she screamed his name, tears already forming in her eyes. As she finally reached him, she wasted no time immediately sliding on her knees pressing her hands on the deep wound on his torso.

"It's okay now. I'm here. It's going to be okay", she babbled probably more to soothe herself rather than the dying love of her life beneath her.

"Baby... Ba-baby, listen. You need to leave", eventhough she could see in how much pain he was, the man - her captain - still send her a reassuring smile. His teeth and lips were already coloured red from his own blood but he still looked so incredibly handsome to her. He was still her Malik.

"What? No! Why would I do that? I'm not leaving you", the tears were now streaming freely down her face.

"You don't have a bounty. They don't even know who you are yet. This is your only chance. Please, I'm begging you. Leave"

How come all of them had to die while (Y/N), who was less strong - less experienced - got to live? It didn't seem fair to her. She shook her head making the tears fall everywhere from the motion. She wouldn't leave. If her whole crew, her captain, the man she loved with all her heart had to die, she'd go with them.

"What are you saying there?", she smiled through the tears, "We're in this together. I'm not leaving. I'm not", she repated the last phrase over and over again. Malik tried to gently interrupt her ramble but she wouldn't have it. It was almost like she didn't even hear him. It was only when he finally raised his voice that she fell silent and really listened to what he was saying.

"I don't have much time left, so listen to me now. I'm still your captain so you gotta do what I tell you", he tried to sound serious but failed knowing that their relationship has always been grounds for teasing within the whole crew and even among themselves. Even now, whilst being in pain and bleeding out, he never lost his happy spirit she fell in love with. She was reminded of the reality of the situation when his happy laugh soon turned into a hurtful cough, "I love you. I've loved you forever. And I always will. I'm sorry I never got to make you my wife. I'm sorry for being too stubborn. I'm sorry for everything"

There's so much she wanted to tell him. That there was nothing to be sorry about. That she'd do it all again. That she loved him more than anything. But all she could do was sob and put pressure on his wound to try and slow down the bleeding.

"Please. You need to leave now. I'll be fine - it's like going to sleep. It's easy. But- but I need you to be fine as well", he nodded up at her as she felt his hands on top of hers moving them away, releasing the pressure she was putting on the lethal wound on his torso. As soon as her hands left their place the blood started gushing and spilling over his body, making the pool of blood he was lying in rapidly increase in size. She cupped his face with one of her hands, stroking through his hair with the other, staining both in the process. Still crying she leaned down and pressed one last kiss on his lips that were already starting to become cold from the blood loss. The kiss tasted like the blend of her tears and his blood - salty and like iron. For a moment only him and her mattered. She knew those were the last moments that she'd ever have with her lover and she cherished every second of it.

A loud crash pulled her back to reality. The fight was lost and she knew she needed to get away. She took one last look at the love of her life before standing up and leaving him there - along with a piece of herself.

"I really miss him...", her voice grew thick and she swallowed to pull herself together. She wasn't the same since that day. She struggled with those memories. In fact, she didn't know which ones were worse - the happy memories from her dream or rather those painful ones. (Y/N) avoided thinking about it too much - she was plagued by guilt ever since she got to live while others had to die, "I had to leave the bodies there... They - the marine I mean - they didn't even bury them properly. They were just all thrown in some kind of unmarked mass grave or something... like... like a bunch of dogs"

Zoro didn't know what to say. The way the girl sat before him, he could tell how painful this all was to her and he felt bad that he was the reason for it. Contrary to popular belief, Zoro wasn't as clueless as most people thought. Most of the time he simply didn't care to pay enough attention but right now he had listened to every single word that left her lips and yet had still no idea what to say. He was truly lost for words.

"I'm... sorry", as soon as Zoro spoke the words he realized how foolish they sounded. Almost as if to apologize for eating the last desert or borrowing something without asking beforehand - not for indirectly being responsible for the death of a loved one. He wanted to tell her that he too knows how it feels to lose someone. That he never meant for that to happen but instead he just remained silent.

She sighed and quickly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"I have no ill will towards you. You only did what you had to do to survive. It's a dog eat dog world out there. I know this as good as you", she sent him a shaky smile, "You didn't kill him. It was his decision to fight. It's just... seeing you here again. Everyday. It brings back memories. I see you and I think of him. I can't help it. I know it's not fair to you but that's the only way I know how to cope at the moment", she shrugged like it wasn't that big of a deal but her inability to hold his gaze for even a second showed how she truly felt.

The morning sun was now fully out and slowly the other Straw Hats started to fill the deck - starting with Sanji, who was usually the first to get up everyday to prepare breakfast for the whole crew. (Y/N) decided to join him like most days. She was awake anyways so preparing breakfast with Sanji became like her little morning ritual. She sent Zoro a small smile before she left him sitting there alone with his thoughts.

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Zoro didn't show up for breakfast that day. (Y/N) was thankful for it. That morning was emotionally draining for her but there was also something else... It was the first time she's ever spoken about what had happened back then and apart from the vulnerability it felt good to properly allow herself to think of her old friends and her former lover again. She did allow herself to mourn them right after it happened but the guilt was overwhelming and most of the time she wished for herself to be dead as well. To combat those feelings she abandoned the memories of her old crew altogether - the hurtful ones as well as the happy ones - until she didn't think about them at all anymore. Of course, she never forgot them. She still had a goal to reach, but she just didn't allow herself to indulge in those memories anymore in fear of the emptiness inside of her returning. Today, was different though. Talking to Zoro about everything, re-living the situation hurt, but now that she was sitting in the dining area sorrounded by her new crew - that familiar hopelessness never came.

"Oi, where's Zoro?", Luffy spoke through a mouth-full of food.

"It was his turn with night watch duty tonight. He's probably catching up on sleep", Dr. Chopper explained. He was right. It wasn't unusual for the night guards to be absent during breakfast in the morning - especially for Zoro, who took any opportunity he could to squeeze in a good nap whenever he got the chance - but Sanji would usually make sure that whoever's turn it was would eat first and then go to bed.

"Fine by me", the captain laughed happily as he grabbed another stack of food from across the table, "that mean I get to eat Zoro's portion then"

(Y/N) silently agreed with the Straw Hat, not minding the swordfighter's absence at all. It was Sanji that wasn't having any of it though.

"Who does he think he is? (Y/N)-san and I spent all this time preparing this food. Cooking, frying, baking... And this stupid marimo doesn't even show up? Doesn't he know wasting food is a cardinal sin in my kitchen?"

"Oi, Sanji calm down. I don't think any food is going to wast", (Y/N) motioned to Luffy, who grabbed yet another set of plates, shoving everything in his mouth at once, "besides, we've all skipped breakfast before..."

Her words had the desired effect and the cook did indeed shut up about Zoro, so that she could finally enjoy the rest of her food in peace without having to worry about the moss head.

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After breakfast (Y/N) decided to spend some time with the others, doing chores, training and generally enjoying the day. The sun was out and Nami decided this was the perfect weather to sunbathe a little. And so (Y/N) found herself along with Nami and Robin, who preffered to read under a parasol, on deck soaking up the sun whilst being served and taken care off by Sanji. (Y/N) could've done without the overbearing cook bringing them iced tea and little snacks every few minutes but Nami insisted that he enjoyed being of service so they should just lean back and enjoy - which she eventually did.

It was only when Zoro did not show up for dinner either that she realized that (Y/N) hadn't seen the swordsman at all that day after their talk in the wee hours of the morning. For a moment she pondered if she should fix him a plate and bring it up to the crows nest, so that he didn't have to go hungry but then quickly decided against it. If he didn't want to see her, she wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing herself on him. 'He'll surely wander into the kitchen after dinner is finished and fetch himself some leftovers', she thought to herself, 'And tomorrow everything will be back to normal'

But the next morning Zoro still didn't show up for breakfast. Or dinner. Or the breakfast the morning after.

"Hey, Usopp... who's turn was it to keep night watch ?", she furrowed her brows. Did the swordfighter switch with Nami again in exchange for some extra allowance so that he could buy more booze during their next errand run? It was a win-win situation for the both of them. Nami got to have her 'much needed beauty-sleep' whilst Zoro could earn some money on the side. He usually slept during guard duty anyways, relying on his instincts to kick in should something or rather someone try to start shit. She halted for a second, when did she get to know him that well?

"Uh? Franky's I think, why?", the long-nosed sniper answered her but was quickly dimissed by a hand gesture from the black market dealer. This was weird... Was he mad at her now?

Ever since that morning with Zoro, she slept well - great actually. Granted, it was a dreamless sleep but she preferred it like this at that moment in time. When she awoke in the morning, she realized that she had slept in. A little disgruntled about nobody waking her for breakfast she made her way into the dining area.

She didn't expect to find the swordsman sitting there. Their talk was now about a week ago and still he had somehow successfully managed to avoid her at all costs. She didn't see him during mealtime. She didn't see him roaming the ship. He didn't even nap at his usual spots, whenever (Y/N) was nearby. (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. There definitely was a feeling in her chest and she definitely knew that it wasn't a good feeling but she couldn't quite tell what it was... Was it guilt? Guilt for dumping all her trauma onto him? Annoyance that it was now him that somehow couldn't stand even being in the same space as her? No... it was something else entirely... Whatever it was, she didn't like it. Talking to him - speaking her feelings - she hadn't felt so at peace in ages and she was thankful for the opportunity and now it felt like she created herself another problem.

When she entered the dining area, several heads turned to her, greeting her, teasing her for sleeping in but (Y/N) only had eyes for a certain mosshead at the very head of the table. Her heart involuntarily skipped a beat. She was glad to see him - a thought for which she would've bitten her own tongue a week ago. Maybe she was simply over-thinking and everything could go back to normal now...

Zoro however had other plans as he slowly lowered the cup he was holding, placing it back on the table, getting up in the process.

"Where do you think you're going?", Sanji started but the pirate hunter didn't even stop walking.

" 'M full", he mumbled as he passed the girl that was still standing in the doorway.

"Zoro... you don't-", she tried to reason with him, still in disbelief about what she was seeing but he didn't acknowledge her.

Luffy was already all over Zoro's leftover whilst Sanji was still raging about there being leftovers at all when (Y/N), who hadn't moved an inch, too shocked by what just had happened, finally spoke up - although more to herself, "I'm not hungry"

With that she turned on her heel leaving the Straw Hats sitting there perplexed about what it was they had just witnessed.

"What was that?", Usopp asked no emotion on his face or in his voice.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say relationship troubles", Nami answered not enjoying the thought of not knowing about what was up with those two. Little did she know that neither (Y/N) nor Zoro had any idea themselves. However from then on, neither of them would show up where they expected the other to be present aswell, which - to be fair - on a ship could be anytime or anywhere, so they mostly stuck to themselves. Zoro in the crowsnest and (Y/N) in the aquarium.

************************************************************************

Yet another fight. Why did these damn Straw Hats always have to get themselves into some kind of trouble? (Y/N) had heard about the G-5 marines before. She heard horror stories about the marines of this branch being insane and needlessly cruel, torturing pirates for fun, killing them without reason but (Y/N) didn't dwell on it. She learned years ago to not fear death anymore but even if she did, there wouldn't be much reason for it. The Straw Hats really were as strong as the people in the bars were telling themselves behind their hands whenever they entered the establishment.

She had never seen anybody fight the way Luffy did, using Haki and his devil fruit power almost effortlessly. If she wasn't so preoccupied with the marines she was fighting off, she'd just stand there and watch her captain fight the vice-admiral that the people called Smoker the White Hunter. Neither of them holding back on their attacks.

But it wasn't only Luffy, who was extremely powerful. She quickly realized that every single one of the crew could hold their own in a fight, making her scramble to prover her worth as well. She'd be damned if someone had to rescue her during their first real brawl.

She had to admit seeing Zoro fight, triggered some uneasy feelings she quickly had to abandon to the back of her mind. He was the only one whom she had seen fight before but last time they unfortunately weren't on the same side. Of course, he greatly improved from back then to now - she was glad she didn't have to stand before him on the battlefield. Fighting almost seemed to be fun to him but not in a way that she had seen with Luffy or even Malik. It wasn't a carefree happiness. She heard people talk about the pirate hunter as if he wasn't fully human - part demon even - but she always dismissed these rumours as drunken tavern talk nothing more, nothing less but now (Y/N) knew what it was they were talking about. If it weren't for the semi-friendly competition between him and Sanji, she'd be more concerned but as the two of them were at each others throat whenever they had a free minute, she figured it was normal.

Zoro must've struck down close to double the amount of marines that the rest of the crew had managed to defeat in the same time when he suddenly stopped, his devilish demenour forgotten. (Y/N) forrowed her brows, trying to understand what was going on over there. Who was that woman facing Zoro and why was he not fighting her? She knew Sanji never kicked a lady but (Y/N) has seen Zoro fight women before. So why was he not moving?

As the two of them were in the middle of what seemed to be a heated discussion in which the female captain tried to attack the green-headed fighter to get him to fight her, (Y/N) noticed that Zoro was so busy deflecting her hits that he didn't even noticed two marines wildly starting an attack from behind.

With a few long strides, (Y/N) stood between the pirate hunter and his attackers, striking them down in the process.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You should've seen that coming!", she yelled at him already finding herself in the next one on one fight. It was as if the pirate hunter was snapped out of his daze as he quickly made an exit, leaving the marine captain behind.

************************************************************************

"Hey", he walked up to her where she was sitting gazing at the surface of the water. The sun had already started to set and it was a bit chilly outside, so it was only the two of them on deck of the Sunny. (Y/N) couldn't help but to be reminded of the last time the both of them were alone out there, feeling at peace and strangely familiar with the mosshead.

"I saved your ass out there today", she told him, still not taking her eyes off of the water, "who was she? The marine captain with the glasses I mean"

Zoro hesitated for a moment. He didn't like talking about personal stuff. That was nobody's business anyways but she had opened up to him as well. She trusted him with her trauma, so maybe he should do so as well? Before he could make a decision, the dealer interrupted his thoughts.

"You could've easily taken her. I've watched her - she's good... but now that good", she was now looking at him, Zoro couldn't quite read the look on her face, "Listen, you do you but if we really are a crew I need to know that I can trust you..."

The fighter sighed but ultimately decided to tell (Y/N) all about Kuina, their goal and his promise to her. When he finished it was him that couldn't stand to hold her gaze anymore.

"That's very noble of you - holding on to your promise after all those years, I mean", she sent him a soft smile. Zoro noticed that she didn't seem to have any problems finding the right words. She didn't just stutter out an 'I'm sorry' for lack of a better idea.

The mosshead shrugged. Not even know he knew what to say to properly portray why becoming the strongest was so important to him.

"I understand, you know?", she continued, "I have a goal too. It's not as honourable as yours and it's entirely selfish to be honest but it's the reason I've become a black market dealer and just between the both of us? It's also the only reason I joined you guys", she lowered her voice for the last part eventhough she knew nobody could hear them.

Zoro was still hung up on her calling him honourable. That word was the last thing he would've described himself.

"What is your goal?", his voice was deep, no inflections, but he was genuinely interested.

She laughed to herself embarrassed about her ambitions but then decided to keep talking - albeit without looking at him, "I've never talked about this to anybody... When Malik died I swore to myself I'd find his devil fruit. I've been looking for years. Built up an underground trading network, buying and selling all kinds of useless junk so that I always have the funds to pay for should my vendors some day offer me the right one. No luck so far"

Zoro blinked a few times. He remembered Nomi's devil fruit. Whoever ate the fruit gained the ability to plant visions in their enemies heads gaining an advantage in combat situations but...

"Here in the New World many - if not all - people have Haki. You'd have to be very strong to overcome that", he tried to be gentle with his delivery, not wanting to insult her by implying that she'd be too weak to be a devil fruit user. She turned to fully face him now.

"Oh, I know...", she paused for a moment, seemingly searching for the right words, "it's just - I couldn't stand the thought of anybody else having his fruit. Being on the battlefield and having to fight against something that was such a core component of what made him him"

"So you just want to have it?"

She shrugged, "Don't tell Luffy I said that but I always thought a pirate that can't swim is a little foolish anyways. A recipe for disaster really"

For a moment the two just looked at each other but then the girl broke out in a huge grin. He hadn't seen her smile properly ever since she joined the crew. She was friendly to everybody - sans him of course - but she was never really happy. She tried to stop it by biting her lip but that made it only more charming to him.

"You saved me today", he dead-panned, looking down at her not knowing how to show his grattitude as he wasn't used to being saved. It was usually him that did the saving.

"I did"

"Why? I thought my presence brings back bad memories", his voice was low barely but a whisper.

"That doesn't mean I want you to die, you idiot", she sounded almost offended by his suggestion, "You've been avoiding me", she continued, now wanting some answers for herself.

"I didn't want you to be forced to eat at the same table with me. All those things that happened to you..."

She looked at him with a sad expression on her face placing a hand on his forearm. Usually the swordsman would've pulled his arm away but he just let her, "Zoro, I've told you before I don't blame you for what happened"

"Even if that were true, you said seeing me reminded you of what happened. So I stayed away"

She tried to find the right words to express her feelings. On one hand she felt incredibly guilty that he felt he needed to isolate himself from his crew - his nakama - just so that she would feel better and on the other hand she wanted to yell at him that he was being stupid. That he did too much. But there was also another feeling inside (Y/N)'s chest. Was it thankfulness? He had shown her that her feelings and comfort was in this moment more important to him than his own.

Zoro didn't know what to expect now. Did he do too much? Why was he so bad at interpreting people's emotions?? Much to his surprise the girl leapt into his arms, though, hugging him tightly. At first, he was a little overwhelmed but soon hugged her back.

"Thank you, Zoro", she mumbled into his shoulder, where her face was buried.

"I- Don't mention it...", he decided to tighten his grip around her waist a little, "You said- that you didn't want to risk starting to like me-"

He couldn't even finish what he was trying to say as the woman who was comfortably nestled in his arms wiggled and struggled to free herself from his grip. Why did he say that? He scolded himself. Why would he remind her of her resolution to keep her distance. There were a thousand thoughts rushing through his head - which would've been a lot for any person, but was even more especialy for Zoro, who usually didn't think much about things. But maybe that was the problem, he told himself. At least he had a good poker face...

"Zoro, look at me", she put both her hands on either side of his face to make sure he'd actually look at her, "it's a little late for that... I like you already"

"You- you do?", the mosshead couldn't help but to sound surprised.

"Yep", she popped the 'p', Zoro's eye flickered down to her lips for just the fraction of a second. He hoped that she didn't notice but no such luck.

"I think I've liked you since the first time we talked, I just didn't realize it until you started avoiding me", she leaned in closer, sliding her hands from the sides of his face to the back of his neck. He could feel her breath on his lips now as she voice was barely above a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"

He didn't even answer. Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips onto hers and it didn't take long for (Y/N) to return the kiss. It wasn't hungry or passionate. They didn't make out. It was sweet and it was full of emotions.

"So that's what you two have been doing during mealtime, huh?"

The two of them jumped apart as they heard Usopp's voice.

"And here I was starting to think the two of you disliked each other", Nami added.

(Y/N) and Zoro shared a look trying to gauge how the other wanted to handle this.

"If you only knew..."

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Epilogue

It's been a few weeks since Usopp and Nami caught the two of them on deck. They both decided to let them believe whatever they thought they deduced on the spot. (Y/N) was happy either way. Of course, she would never be able to forget what had happened in front of that marine base a few years back - she didn't even want to forget - but she decided it was time for her to move one. She knew Malik would want that for her. And whenever she wandered the deck in the wee hours of the morning now it was not because she was plaqued by the bad memories, but solely because she decided to keep the green-headed swordfighter company and sit by the water and talk, daydream and watch the sea.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

In Defense of Dr. Sophie Chandauka

The Prince @freedom_007__

"Wow, as the days go by Dr Sophie Chandauka statement becomes even more relevant. The way she is being dismissed, abused and harassed is appalling just for speaking out and taking legal action because of the cover-up of issues relating to abuse of power, misconduct, mismanagement, bullying, harassment, misogyny and misogynoir amongst other concerns.

“There are people in this world who behave as though they are above the law and mistreat people, and then play the victim card and use the very press they disdain to harm people who have the courage to challenge their conduct”

I would like to point out that during Harry’s relationship with Chelsy Davy, a reporter asked him whether her African background bothered him. His response was,

“It’s not like she’s Black or anything.” Years later, regarding Meghan, Duchess of Sussex he stated, “My wife isn’t visibly Black, but that’s her identity.”

The last five years of deflection projection (Oprah, Netflix, Spare, End Game) is glaring—Harry stands out as having unconscious bias and has projected his failures onto his family and us the public. Prince Harry’s PR team sank to a repulsive low today. The self-righteous hypocrite, who portrays the British press as evil that he and his wife must defeat (what a sanctimonious fool), is now exploiting that same media ‘The Times’ to smear, defame, and harass a highly educated, successful, and accomplished Black woman from Zimbabwe All this because she dared to call out Harry and his clique of misogynistic enablers, exposed the shady dealings in Sentebale’s finances, halted his slush fund, and blocked the charity being used as a self-serving promotional tool. She prioritised the charity’s mission over Harry—the privileged, spoiled “white savior” relic—who still clings to his declining Diana card.

It’s time to behave with integrity and stop exploiting Africa and its people like some dumb, outdated colonial overlord.

His recent actions are outrageous and are a calculated effort to leverage media narratives to undermine Dr. Sophie Chandauka, the Zimbabwe-born chair of his Sentebale charity, amid a bitter dispute that led to his resignation. Harry and his yes men charity trustees, resigned en masse after clashing with Chandauka, and his public statements—laden with emotional appeals about being “heartbroken”—have fueled a press frenzy that casts her as the villain. This portrayal is amplified by Baroness Chalker of Whatley a former trustee, who reportedly labeled Chandauka a “dictator.”

Given Chandauka’s Zimbabwean heritage, this accusation carries a troubling undertone, evoking the legacy of Robert Mugabe, one of Zimbabwe’s most notorious dictators, and risking a racially charged stereotype. The framing of Chandauka as an overbearing, authoritarian figure aligns uncomfortably with the “angry Black woman” trope, a form of misogynoir that dismisses her legitimate grievances—such as her claims of bullying, harassment, and poor governance within Sentebale—as irrational or tyrannical, rather than addressing the substance of her allegations.

Meghan Markle isn’t blameless in this mess—she’s the puppeteer, relentlessly upending Harry’s life with her narcissism and inflated sense of self-importance.

Whether it’s the indigenous women in Congo raped and abused by Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex’s African Parks rangers, the assault on Baka tribespeople to seize their land, or the attempt to strip the dignity and voice from Dr. Sophie a poised and brilliant African woman—Harry reveals the ugliest traits of humanity. These have been concealed by his fake PR image and obscured by his privileged status.

When will he face accountability, consequences for his lies, disinformation, and pain he’s inflicted in his relentless chase for power, greed, & glory? Judge a man not by his words, but by his deeds and how he treats others.

[thesilverdiary]

Non Authorized Version

⤷ Summary: Anneliese went in focused, just grab the quotes, sip the coffee, keep the past where it belongs. Simple enough, until it wasn’t. All it took was one glance across the paddock, a familiar half-smile, and an Austrian accent she had no business remembering. Nürburgring runs on precision, but people? People run on everything they’re trying to suppress.

⤷ Author’s note: Oh, Ella, what are you even doing while writing this? Honestly, those two photos (here and here) — okay, sure, stay cool — omg, absolutely not. Brain? Empty. Professionalism? Who? I’ll just be over here, spiraling quietly. Okay… too much, sorry!

⤷ Special warnings for this chapter? No explicit content. Emotional saturation, themes of quiet longing, missed chances, and the ache of professional spaces haunted by personal ghosts. Slow-burn tension, sparse dialogue, a focus on atmosphere over action. Third person, intimate and a little bruised.

⤷ Chapters: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV.

⤷ Words: 2,770.

Last but not least, if you want to, you can read this on Wattpad and AO3 as well. 

Chapter Four | Don't Fall Behind

📍 Nürburgring, Nürburg. Germany. 2009.

She had never been able to explain exactly when it all began: the love for the noise, the speed, the risk that danced with precision. But she had always known it was more than just interest.

It was visceral. It was a like a calling.

It didn’t matter the circuit, the city, the weather. Every time she stepped into a racetrack, something inside her aligned. Her body remembered — before her mind did — that this was the place. The smell of rubber, the methodical snap of tools, the nervous buzz of teams fine-tuning details invisible to the common eye — it all pulsed with her.

She grew up studying that world as if deciphering a secret language. Even when she followed the path imposed on her: to write about finance, numbers, quarterly goals, her gaze wandered. It wasn’t the path she expected for herself; it was the one others expected of her. Because she was a woman.

Because she was sensible. Reports landed on the desk, but her mind was already racing elsewhere: to the tracks, to the stories hidden behind the lap times. She didn’t want to drive. She wanted to understand. And to translate. She repeated charts, jotted down times, scribbled strategies no one read. Her dream was never to stand on the podium — it was to tell what happened before it existed.

Being there today was a victory paid in refusals. Closed doors, ignored pitches, condescending silences.

And yet, she stayed.

She persisted.

Not to prove something to anyone, but because there was no other place where she felt whole.

Nürburgring, with its cold layout and cult of precision, was no exception. It was the synthesis. There was no room for charm here, no patience for amateurism. And that’s what fascinated her: the rigor, the seriousness, the near arrogance of the tarmac that forgave no mistakes.

She walked through the paddock with steady steps. The credential swayed around her neck, the notepad in hand, her eyes sharp on every detail: a driver too withdrawn, a team principal avoiding cameras, suspicious movement in the corner of a garage. Everything was information. Everything could turn into a story.

She had already done the main interview of the morning — the technical director of Raeder Motorsport, far too formal for someone who knew where he was. He spoke in data, adjustments, and forecasts. She listened for what was underneath: hesitation, a speech too polished, caution where there should have been confidence.

“We’re focusing on stability in the second stint. It’s not a day to take risks,” he had said.

Of course it wasn’t.

What no one said out loud was what truly mattered: a political dance between suppliers, million-dollar contracts behind closed doors, and the growing tension over the ethical — or not — use of sensitive data. That’s where her story lived — not in the race itself, but in what it allowed to stay hidden.

She jotted down her final impressions, tucked the pen into the messy bun holding up her hair, and slipped past the flow of journalists leaving the press conference. Her body craved shade; her mind, silence.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who let the environment get to her — at least not at work. But there was something about today that felt just a little more off-balance than usual.

Maybe it was the heat. Or the fact that she’d woken up at five in the morning with someone’s name caught between her teeth.

Ridiculous.

She cut through the side corridor, away from the media trailers, and climbed a small staircase that led to the technical section of the paddock. She knew she’d have a better view of the garage activity from there. She didn’t actually need it. But it was a good spot to go unnoticed for a few minutes.

Leaning against the concrete barrier, an overly cold coffee in hand, she finally exhaled.

“You here? Never thought I’d see you at an endurance race,” he said, his Austrian accent slipping through the words as if he didn’t know — or pretended not to know — just how much it annoyed her.

She didn’t turn right away. She recognized his voice in the air, like it was part of the background noise.

“And you’re still great at being where I didn’t plan on seeing you,” she replied, still watching the track.

The silence between them was brief but charged. He approached calmly, stopping just over a meter away. Far enough not to intrude, close enough to shift the air.

“I always pictured you dealing with sharks, not with Germany’s lower categories.”

She turned her head just enough to catch him from the corner of her eye.

“Sometimes, the most interesting stories are the ones off the spotlight.”

“The ones no one’s paying attention to,” he finished, his voice tinged with that accent she hated to admit she still remembered so well.

She smiled faintly. Almost imperceptible. But she didn’t confirm.

“I know where you can get coffee that’s probably hotter than that one,” he said, with a half-smile. “It’s not good, but at least it does the job.”

She glanced back at the track for a moment before answering, unhurried:

“Are you trying to convince me or test me?”

He let out a low chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Depends. Is it working?”

She exhaled a quiet laugh through her nose.

“Just keep about two meters away. For safety.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just started walking.

And after a moment, she followed.

They didn’t get very far.

Before the corridor’s bend, a pair of tiny footsteps crossed their path. A child — two, maybe three years old — stumbled over their own feet and ran up to Anneliese with arms outstretched.

“Mama!” the boy said, with the clarity of someone absolutely sure.

She crouched instinctively, the jolt caught in her chest. Eyes wide, mouth silent. Before she could process anything, the little boy was already clinging to her legs, his small arms wrapped around her waist like he’d found a familiar harbor. The scent of kids’ shampoo, warm skin, a light weight that suddenly felt enormous.

For a moment, she froze, hands suspended in the air. Then, almost without noticing, she let her fingers rest on his back — a hesitant touch, almost an apology for not knowing what to do.

Toto watched in silence. Jaw tight, hands buried in his pockets.

“Mama, let’s go!” the boy mumbled, laughing into her coat.

A team staffer appeared right behind, slightly out of breath, wearing a tense smile.

“Sorry, miss,” she said with an awkward laugh. “Whenever he sees someone with a bun, he thinks it’s his mom. She’s a journalist too, somewhere else in the paddock. He misses her, keeps inventing moms everywhere.”

Anneliese gave a brief smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes.

Slowly, she let the boy go, ran her hand through his soft hair one last time, and stayed silent for a moment. Then she murmured, “Better run back before she misses you more.”

The boy grinned wide and ran off. The staffer gave an apologetic wave, still catching her breath, and disappeared with him in the opposite direction.

For a moment, Toto said nothing. Neither did she.

She held back a breath that almost turned into a laugh.

“Well then… let’s go find that awful coffee,” she said at last. Her voice steady. But it took her a moment to get up.

With a quick motion, she tightened her bun and started walking again.

“Let’s go before someone else adopts me,” she added, without looking at him.

“I was going to tell you not to accept that kind of offer in public,” he said, walking beside her, “but… you seemed pretty convinced.”

She let out a short laugh, half nose, half throat.

“Don’t give me too much credit, Wolff. I’m just surviving the day, that’s all.”

He shot her a quick glance, sideways, but didn’t say anything.

The silence settled — brief, but solid. And somehow, it seemed to say more than any sentence.

The coffee stand was just ahead.

He held the door open. Not out of courtesy. Out of instinct.

And she noticed. She always noticed. Because her body was always the first to react — the slight catch of breath in her chest, skin too aware of the closeness, that brief instant when she forgot where she was headed.

It wasn’t the gesture, it was him. The way he filled space effortlessly, the familiar scent that clung to the air, the way he made her remember everything she was trying to keep buried.

She walked through without hesitation. On the outside. On the inside, she stumbled.

The makeshift team break room had stifling air, steeped in burnt coffee, heated grease, and melting styrofoam. In the corner, an industrial coffee machine hissed lazily. An Audi intern rushed in speaking Czech on his phone, rushed out just as fast, never noticing the two of them. The sounds of the circuit seeped through the thin walls — the murmur of engineers, the crackle of walkie-talkies, the metallic creak of equipment carts.

She poured the coffee with the practiced ease of someone who expected nothing from it. The paper cup gave a faint crackle under her fingers. She sat on the bench against the wall, like she had at other circuits, in other lives. Always facing the door. Always with the exit in sight. Always, even when she didn’t want to, with him in her line of vision.

Toto followed shortly after. Grabbed his cup. Sniffed it before drinking, brow furrowing. Sat beside her. Not too close. But close enough for her to feel the faint warmth of his skin, within arm’s reach. He set his cap on his knee, fingers restlessly tracing the fabric, like he needed to keep them busy to stop himself from saying something else.

She took a sip of the coffee; eyes lost in the movement of the garages.

“Still bad,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“And you’re still showing up where I don’t expect you,” he commented beside her, unprompted.

She didn’t even turn. A quiet sigh slipped out.

“Funny. I could say the same.”

He gave a half-smile, hands in his pockets.

“You could, but you won’t.”

She bit the corner of her lip, part smile, part weariness.

“I saw that section before the safety car. You almost kissed the wall.”

“Almost. Key word.”

“And when are you heading back on track?” she asked, with a curiosity that wasn’t purely professional.

He shrugged, taking a deep breath.

“Soon. They made an adjustment to the car, I want to feel if it’s better.”

“You’ve always been the type to trust last-minute adjustments?”

“Only when I have a choice,” he said, shooting her a quick look. “And you? What are you chasing here?”

She stretched her legs out, sighing.

“Backstage story. Data, decisions, tension. But so far, all I’ve got is bad coffee and canned lines.”

He leaned in slightly, half-conspiratorial.

“You want a good backstage detail? No one in there fully trusts the car. Or themselves.”

She smiled, almost biting her lip.

“I’m keeping that one.”

“Keep it,” he said, adjusting his cap again, “but don’t print it.”

She let out a soft laugh.

“Relax. You’re no headline.”

He smirked, pushed the bench back slightly, and stood up.

Took three steps, then turned his head just a bit over his shoulder. His gaze had that glint — not just teasing, but challenging.

“Yet.”

She held back a laugh, shaking her head slowly to herself before turning her eyes back to the garages — but not really seeing anything there.

She downed the last of her coffee in one go and stood, quickly tightening her bun.

“All right, all right… time to move,” she said, half to him, half to herself.

Toto stood too, crumpling his cup before tossing it in the bin.

“Who exactly are you bossing around, huh?”

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, half-smile.

“You.”

He chuckled softly, pushing the door open with his shoulder for her to pass.

Outside, the heat had climbed by two degrees, and the concrete was starting to blur the air with a dry shimmer.

A group of engineers gathered near the BMW garage, discussing something with broad gestures and hushed voices. No one seemed to notice them, but a security camera fixed to the corner of the technical structure tracked them with precision. The movement was almost imperceptible — a slight lens adjustment, as if searching for focus.

They walked out together down the corridor, their steps falling into sync without trying. A technician appeared suddenly in their path, cable slung over his shoulder, barely enough space to squeeze by.

She stopped instinctively. Toto’s hand brushed briefly against her back — light, instinctive, like someone making sure she was okay.

She didn’t turn. And he didn’t pull his hand away quickly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The noise of the paddock felt distant.

“Are you heading back on track soon?” she asked, resuming her steps.

“As soon as they clear me,” he adjusted his cap. “I want to see if the car talks to me.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

He gave a crooked half-smile.

“Then we’ll sort it out by yelling.”

She bit her lip, holding back a laugh, and kept walking.

She let her hair down and twisted it back into a bun atop her head, the trapped laugh slipping out as she walked. He stayed beside her, hands in his pockets, lightly nudging the tip of his boot against the ground, as if stalling the end.

A group of engineers rushed past, slicing the space between them with the static of a radio. Neither spoke for a while. The sound of the paddock felt farther away than it really was.

“You know, I thought you’d leave earlier,” he said finally, eyes straight ahead.

She let out a low chuckle.

“I thought the same about you.”

He arched one corner of his mouth, still not turning.

“I had a few reasons to stay.”

She turned her face just slightly, enough to throw him a quick glance.

“Good reasons?”

He took a deep breath, shrugged.

“Still figuring that out.”

She let out a short laugh, adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

“I’ll be around tomorrow, covering everything. Are you going to be racing or running away?”

He finally turned his head toward her, a small, almost tired smile.

“Depends. Will you be cheering or just taking notes?”

She pretended to think, lightly biting her lip.

“If you find me, I’ll tell you.”

He gave a quiet laugh, shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment.

As she passed him, her hand brushed lightly against his arm — barely anything, just a quick touch, but it made him lift his gaze.

“Good luck out there. And… take care, driver,” she said with a half-smile, before walking away.

He stood there, shaking his head slowly, the smile still lingering as he watched her go. Only then did he adjust his cap, let out a quiet laugh, and turn the other way.

The two headed in opposite directions. But a man standing near the technical panel, clipboard under his arm and a phone in his pocket, stayed where he was. His gaze followed them — first her, then him.

When he was alone, he made a quick note and raised the phone to his ear. No one answered. But he stayed there. Waiting.

“They were together.” No hesitation. “Yes… exactly as expected.”

A pause. A brief nod to someone in the background. The man with the clipboard seemed part of the scenery, but his eyes moved like someone working off a parallel agenda.

Across the straight, Anneliese stopped near one of the support tents, checking the recorder in her pocket. That’s when a man from the organization, wearing an orange badge and speaking with a thick accent, approached.

“You’re Anneliese Wagner, right? Press control asked if you can come up. There’s an access issue that wasn’t cleared on your credential. Can you come now?”

She furrowed her brow but nodded. It wasn’t uncommon for them to get her name wrong — or for last-minute assignments to pop up.

“Weiss,” she corrected automatically, eyes scanning the man in front of her. Then she took a deep breath. “Give me five minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll wait,” he replied with a brief nod.

She pulled out her old phone, opened a draft message, and quickly typed — not to send, just to remember: check: crossed credentials.

And she followed him.

From above, the tower camera kept recording everything.

Unhurried.

Soundless.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Wednesday

SpaceTime 20250702 Series 28 Episode 79

New samples of Martian rock intrigue scientists

NASA’s Curiosity Mars rover has just drilled into a new sample of rock from a new region with features that could reveal whether the Martian subsurface ever had an environment that could have supported life.

Solar flares linked to changes in planetary weather patterns

A new study has uncovered a connection between stellar flares and short-term changes in weather patterns on distant Earth-like exoplanets.

NASA to gather in-flight imagery of commercial test capsule re-entry

A NASA team specializing in collecting imagery-based engineering datasets from spacecraft during launch and re-entry is supporting a European aerospace company's upcoming mission to return a subscale demonstration capsule back to Earth from space.

The Science Report

A new drug to cut body weight by 25% in just 36 weeks.

Killer whales seen making and using tools to groom each other.

How the popular artificial-intelligence chatbot ChatGPT responds to nonwords

Alex on Tech YouTube could be included in the government’s digital ID censorship plans.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through your favourite podcast download provider or from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He was the dorky school kid who spent his weekends at the Australian Museum. Gary studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on a career in journalism and radio broadcasting. His radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. Gary’s first gigs were spent as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist, and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary was appointed Science Editor and quickly developed the StarStuff Astronomy show, which he wrote, produced, and hosted. The program proved extremely popular, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience -- based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth. That compares to the ABC’s overall radio listenership of 5.6 per cent. The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times a week (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and it’s available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[mariacallous]

Working in government, especially in national defense or the intelligence community, can be an unsettling business. You must give up a few of your rights and a lot of your privacy in order to remain a trustworthy public servant. The higher your level of clearance to access sensitive information, the more privacy you cede—and sometimes, as those of us who have been through the process can affirm, you find yourself with an investigator from your agency’s security office, explaining the embarrassing details of your finances or your emotional stability, and even answering some squirm-inducing questions about your love life.

That’s part of the job, and federal employees submit to it in order to keep America safe. What isn’t part of the job is a McCarthyist political-loyalty requirement, enforced with polygraphs and internal snooping. But FBI Director Kash Patel and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard have apparently decided that hunting down politically unreliable members of America’s intelligence and law-enforcement communities is more important than catching enemy spies, terrorists, or bank robbers.

Indeed, to call what Patel and Gabbard are doing “McCarthyism” is to make too grandiose a comparison. Tail Gunner Joe, a thoroughly reprehensible opportunist, claimed that he was rooting out Communists loyal to Moscow who were hidden in the U.S. government. Patel and Gabbard, meanwhile, don’t seem very worried about foreign influences and they’re not looking for enemy agents. They just want to know who’s talking smack behind their back.

Gabbard, according to The Washington Post, has “expressed a desire to gain access to emails and chat logs of the largest U.S. spy agencies with the aim of using artificial intelligence tools to ferret out what the administration deems as efforts to undermine its agenda.” In other words, Gabbard is threatening to endanger the careers of loyal intelligence officers by asking an AI if any of them aren’t fully on board with the MAGA cause. She has created a team within her office with the anodyne name of the “Director’s Initiatives Group,” which will collect large amounts of data from across 18 different agencies and run them through AI tools to see whether anyone is engaging in “weaponization” of intelligence. This is a flatly ridiculous, and extremely dangerous, idea.

For one thing, separate agencies rely on separate systems and different levels of classification precisely to keep data compartmentalized and thus to stop an enemy from ever getting all the pieces of any intelligence puzzle all at once. These various agencies limit discussions, even within their own walls, to small groups who are working from shared context and must be able to speak and argue candidly. Each part of the intelligence community shares information with other organizations only as needed in order to bring in more expertise or to gain better insight across agencies.

In other words, the entire system is set up exactly to prevent someone from doing what Gabbard wants to do: gather lots of material from many agencies, dump it all in the same hopper, and then let people (or an AI) trawl through it looking for anything that seems interesting. Perhaps in a national emergency, such as a massive data breach or the discovery of a highly destructive espionage operation, a full-spectrum search might make some sense, especially if it were conducted by experienced professionals who knew what they were looking for. Instead, Gabbard just wants to see if anyone is slagging the president’s agenda.

I can almost guarantee that in agencies with thousands of people, someone has written an unwise email expressing bewilderment or disagreement or anger with the president’s policies. It happens under every commander in chief; I saw many during my years working for the Defense Department. What does Gabbard intend to do if she finds such emails? Fire some veteran spies and analysts, corrode morale, and potentially create more security risks, just because someone griped about Ukraine or the One Big Beautiful Bill?

Gabbard’s efforts, however, look almost noble next to the frantic paranoia that seems to have overtaken the office of FBI Director Kash Patel, who is subjecting FBI personnel to the humiliation of being attached to a lie detector just to see if they’ve said something bad, not about MAGA or Trump, but about him, personally. “In interviews and polygraph tests,” according to The New York Times, “the FBI has asked senior employees whether they have said anything negative about Mr. Patel.” In particular, sources told the Times, Patel wants to know who leaked the director’s request to be issued a service weapon, which is not something usually given to personnel who are not trained FBI agents.

Ironically, polygraphs probably won’t help Patel much. Polygraph machines, despite the lore, don’t really detect lies. They detect stress, which is why honest but nervous people sometimes fail their examinations, while smooth, sociopathic liars pass them. Some agencies routinely require such tests, and their efficacy is debatable. (Their results are not usually admissible as evidence in U.S. courts.) Perhaps in the right hands, they could be one of many tools to root out someone who may be hiding something that could injure American national security. Federal-clearance holders accept their use as routine, if unpleasant.

But to be strapped into a chair that measures your heartbeat and your breathing and other biological data, told that your answers could end your career, and then asked if you’ve ever said something bad about the boss—well, that’s almost certainly going to elicit a stress reaction from just about anyone, even the most aboveboard agents and personnel.

Patel’s snippy anger is likely driven by a suspicion that real FBI agents are laughing at him behind his back. But his solution is more than just egocentric lashing out; it’s paranoid authoritarianism. Sending loyalists to hunt for the regime’s critics within the secret services is old-style KGB stuff. All the FBI needs now to complete a scene from, say, The Death of Stalin, is for Patel to run down the hallways shouting, “I have documents on all of you!”

Gabbard, Patel, and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth were always the unholy trinity of utterly unqualified nominees, people put up for their jobs primarily because Trump and his advisers knew that they would be completely pliant and obsequious, that nominating them would horrify official Washington, and that Senate Republicans would have to bend their collective knee by confirming them. But while Gabbard is thumbing through emails and posts, and Patel is examining heart rhythms to see who’s been rolling their eyes at him, America is in peril. Real spies are out there trying to steal America’s secrets; real terrorists, foreign and domestic, are plotting the deaths of American citizens. Kidnappers, gang members, organized-crime rings—they’re all out there waiting to be caught.

But first, Tulsi Gabbard has to find out who doesn’t like the tariffs, and Kash Patel has to find out who snickered at him in the hallway. Priorities, after all.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#15yrsago Xmaspunk raygun https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrew_colunga/4201119099/

#15yrsago America can’t make things because managers all learn finance instead of production https://newrepublic.com/article/72035/wagoner-henderson

#10yrsago EFF’s copyfighter’s crossword https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2014/12/crossword-puzzle-year-copyright-news

#10yrsago TX SWAT team beats, deafens nude man in his own home, lies about arrest; judge declines to punish cops or DA https://web.archive.org/web/20141224170549/http://www.myfoxhouston.com/story/27645689/ft-bend-police-prosecutors-accused-of-abuse-in-swat-incident

#10yrsago Outfit a game-designer’s toolkit for https://web.archive.org/web/20141222165215/http://iq212.com/iQ212Blog/2014/12/16/the-20-dollar-game-designers-tool-kit/

#10yrsago Telcos’ anti-Net Neutrality argument may let the MPAA destroy DNS https://www.techdirt.com/2014/12/18/mpaas-secret-war-net-neutrality-is-key-part-its-plan-to-block-sites/

#10yrsago Musical time-machine to Walt Disney World in the late 1970s https://passport2dreams.blogspot.com/2014/12/another-musical-souvenir-of-walt-disney.html

#5yrsago Doctors who take pharma industry freebies prescribe more of their benefactors’ drugs https://www.propublica.org/article/doctors-prescribe-more-of-a-drug-if-they-receive-money-from-a-pharma-company-tied-to-it#173787

#5yrsago New York Times analyzes a leaked set of location data from a private broker, sounds the alarm https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/12/19/opinion/location-tracking-cell-phone.html

#5yrsago Americans should definitely be worried about the EU’s new copyright rules https://medium.com/berkman-klein-center/why-americans-should-worry-about-the-new-eu-copyright-rules-97800be3f8fc

#5yrsago Illinois schools don’t just lock special ed kids in solitary, they also restrain them https://www.propublica.org/article/illinois-school-restraints#173374>

#5yrsago Medicare for All would cut most Americans’ taxes, creating the biggest American take-home pay raise in a generation https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/oct/25/medicare-for-all-taxes-saez-zucman

#5yrsago Codifying “Boomerspeak” and debating the ethics of poking fun at it https://www.wired.com/story/boomerspeak-enregisterment/

#5yrsago Alberta’s tax-funded climate denial “war room” ripped off its logo from a US tech company https://edmonton.ctvnews.ca/alberta-s-oil-and-gas-war-room-changing-logo-following-complaints-it-copied-u-s-data-company-1.4737423

#5yrsago My annual Daddy-Daughter Xmas Podcast: interview with an 11-year-old https://ia802801.us.archive.org/18/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_320/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_320_-_Christmas_2019_with_Poesy.mp3

#1yrago 2024's public domain is a banger https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

[mahamid110]

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[beardedmrbean]

Kenyan free-speech advocates and lawyers have condemned the prosecution of the author of an unauthorised biography of Kenyan President William Ruto's daughter.

Charlene Ruto accused Webster Ochora Elijah of "misusing" her name by writing the book without first seeking permission from her.

On Tuesday, the author was arrested and charged with impersonation over the book titled Beyond the Name: Charlene Ruto and the Youth Uprising. He pleaded not guilty and was released on bail.

Ms Ruto told journalists that she had reported the matter to the police and was following legal procedures. She is listed as the complainant on the charge sheet.

The charge alleges that the accused published the book on or before 22 May, alongside others who are yet to be charged, with intention to defraud.

The president's daughter has not complained about the contents of the book, just that it was written without her permission.

But critics say this is not illegal.

Politician and lawyer Willis Otieno said to "criminalise authorship" was misusing the "state machinery in defence of fragile egos".

Literary critic Mbugua Ngunjiri said the author did "nothing wrong", giving an example of an unauthorised biography of former President Uhuru Kenyatta, in 2014, where the "author did not need to consult".

"A million writers can write 'her book' and it will be perfectly legal. The only time Charlene would be justified to go after the author is if he misrepresented her in any way," he posted on Facebook.

The president's daughter told journalists that there was a "bad culture" in Kenya "where we misuse people's names and we get away with it and that is not right".

She said the author had not sought permission from her and it did not matter whether the book was "positive" about her.

"The gentleman never came to me with a suggestion that he wants to write a book on my behalf and for me that is a misappropriate use of my name," she said.

The self-published book, by a little-known author, aged 25, has not been widely distributed and there is not much publicly available information about its contents. It is not available online.

His legal team have argued that his work did not constitute a crime. Lawyer Kennedy Mong'are told local media that he had previously written books about public figures, including on veteran politician Raila Odinga and US President Donald Trump.

Another lawyer, Evan Ondieki, said that high-ranking government figures should expect public scrutiny and that the arrest undermined Kenya's democratic values.

"You cannot be so thick-skinned that the use of your name or image becomes an offence," he stated.

In April, a secondary school teacher was charged for impersonating another daughter of President Ruto, by pretending to be June Ruto on Facebook.

Charlene Ruto is a high-profile figure who has in the past been likened to a version of Ivanka Trump, daughter of the US president.

She has often been a guest at public events, and in the past met leaders across the country and attended international forums.

In 2022, she denied that public money was being used to fund what she called the "Office of the First Daughter".

The court case has amplified concerns about restrictions on free expression, particularly following the recent detention of software developer Rose Njeri.

Njeri was arrested on Friday for creating a tool that helped citizens oppose the government's annual finance bill.

She was charged with cyber-crime and computer misuse on Tuesday and freed on bail until 20 June when the court will determine whether she will answer the charges.

She has since thanked Kenyans for raising their voices against her "ludicrous" arrest and detention.

[jocnewsupdates]

Elon Musk’s Team Now Has Access to U.S. Treasury’s Payments System

Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent gave representatives of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency access to the federal payment system late on Friday, according to five people familiar with the change, handing Elon Musk and the team he is leading a powerful tool to monitor and potentially limit government spending. —The New York Times

David Lebryk, the longtime career official who oversaw Treasury’s vast financing and payments operations, suddenly resigned on Friday after clashing with Trump officials over granting access to the payments system, which contains details about the people who receive government payments. The system controls payments to Social Security recipients, people entitled to tax refunds, organizations receiving grants, as well as payments to federal workers and government contractors. —Politico

[centrally-unplanned]

Wack question but do you think an increase in artworks from AI that aren't necessarily that creative or original results in the overall diminishment of creativity or originality we as a species have?? To me it seems the bar would remain the same?? Talented people will keep creating good/original works regardless of whatever tools (AI or not) they're using innit.

I would first say upfront "way too contingent to tell!" - the technology is too new, and the pipelines for "art" too insanely diverse, for anyone to make an actual, solid prediction. Not to mention the word "creativity" doesn't have a single meaning. Just getting that out of the way.

To provide some ~thoughts I think things will probably be fine because of a sort of "conservation of effort" that goes into things; when you find you can radically reduce the time it takes to do one part of a job, you do often reduce the amount of net time on the job; but just as often you increase effort in other areas because now you can. So if we make some arbitrary assumptions about AI art getting better and more controllable in its output, you would almost certainly see a higher % of "images of art" on your feed or w/e being AI art. Based on your definition, that might be less creative than the past. But you will almost certainly also see a net increase in the number of webcomics! Combinations of many pieces of art & text, with the art in particularly being very time consuming to make, now much easier to do so your previously "eh if I get time" webcomic idea can now surface. Again based on your definition that is a definite increase. Dynamics like this will abound in creative industries - from that lens art will shift but not reduce.

However, I do think there is an argument for a creativity reduction. Commercial art is generally made by large teams of creatives & non-creatives, and this comes with a lot of compromises by everyone involved as they push and pull. And a lot of times the financial side of things would ideally want to make "the most marketable thing", but can't really implement that vision because they need the creatives who execute on board and they have their own zany predilections as artists. You can very frequently see in "new" artistic fields that early on, some really crazy shit gets funded because only like 50 guys can make video games or anime or w/e, and you just sort of have to do what they say. Over time that fades as production grows and lots of new trained staff emerge and the people involved become relatively "replaceable", and so balance shifts to the financers. All relative ofc, other dynamics are going on here as well.

Here you can see AI art as a sort of accelerant of "optimized" art - by making the art much easier to make, commercial ventures can more effectively "force" a production to be exactly what they want it to be. It lowers the bargaining power of artists, who typically do want to do more adventurous things. Again relative ofc, plenty of indie arthouse business types and staid, workhorse artists exist. But still, I could see a world where commercial art becomes more predictable as production pipelines get better at "tamping down" on the human variation in the product.

Again do I think that will happen? No clue, tech is way too young, and a bunch of other stuff will happen too. Just some ideas to watch for.

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[doctorstrangereview]

0157: Marvel Treasury Edition #12

Cover Date: 1976 On-Sale Date: October 5, 1975

Before delving further into the Defenders battle with the Headmen, we'll diverge for an entry to cover the Defenders team-up with current Defender's scribe Steve Gerber's original creation: Howard the Duck. This is appears in large format magazine Marvel Treasury Edition. Doc got one the previous year which consisted entirely of reprinted stories. The Duck and the Defenders is an original story! Treasury Editions let you see all the gorgeous artwork much bigger and the large type was much friendlier to ancient one's like me.

Before we can get into the story proper we get a prologue to explain the motivation for this story.

This introduces the Band of the Bland, consisting of Dr. Angst, Sitting Bullseye, Black Hole, Spanker and Tillie the Hun. Meeting in Central Park, Spanker admonishes the rest the Blandies to introduce themselves. What convenient exposition. As they introductions proceed, the NYPD raids their get together. Our ridiculous villains overcome the boys in blue and Dr. Angst, Master of Mundane Mysticism reveals their purpose. To put themselves on the supervillain map, they will assassinate the All-Night-Party's presidential candidate, Howard T. Duck.

With that painful bit of nonsense done, we join the story proper which begins with Howard and his girlfriend are being subtly removed from The Plaza Hotel. For those of you unfamiliar with New York City, the Plaza is a famous and expensive hotel that now features extremely pricey condos in addition to rooms you can't rent by the hour.

Fortunately, Beverly knows some stewardesses they can crash with until they figure out their finances. Howard is under the impression that the All-Night-Party was supposed to be paying for this and they just assumed he's rich and will take care of it himself.

Exiting from the subway, Howard and Beverly run into Peter Parker and Maryjane Watson. They ask the couple for directions and Peter recognizes Beverly. This is a no-no since he only saw Beverly as Spider-Man. Maryjane isn't exactly thrilled that Peter seems to know Howard's squeeze and Peter tries to cover by saying she just looks like someone he knows. Maryjane gives them directions to their destination to get them the heck outta there.

After trying to follow the directions, they wind up in front of Doc's Sanctum Sanctorum. We learn that Sal can't draw the Vishanti window and that he things the entrance is street level with no stoop whatsoever.

Nighthawk lets the pair in after Beverly calls him the Falcon and the remaining Defenders enter the foyer looking none to pleased.

Howard attempts to vamoose but is stopped by a hastily conjured mystic shield. Howard accuses Nighthawk of feather-envy and Doc just says he believes they have much to discuss.

Back at Dr. Angst's apartment over a massage parlor, he engages in a string of bad puns and has the group eat something called Mettle Spheres made from a metal named Promethium and it makes them stronger, for now. For the effect to remain they must continually eat balls. (See, I can do it too!) Dr. Angst can't manufacture them himself so they will be raiding Doc's Sanctum for the necessary tools.

Doc and Howard blab a bit and Howard is surprised at how open Doc is about things. Howard tells Doc he stays away from magic whenever possible and just manages to stumble on it far too often. Doc is about to let Howard continue on his quest, when Howard asks Doc to try and send him home. It's off to the Orb of Agamotto!

Doc attempts to use the Orb and is pelted with tennis balls.

Hearing noise and distress, the Defenders attempt to come to Doc's aid but are stopped by a white picket fence. This is followed by an attack by The Band of the Bland.

Upstairs, Doc may be out-cold, but is not helpless. His astral body transfers Doc's powers to Howard.

Doc is guiding Howard as our anthropomorphic duck heads downstairs into the melee. Howard casts his first spell banishing some of the opponents.

Doc is no longer able to guide Howard as Dr. Angst has shut him put with a Hannibal Lecter looking device. Dr. Angst advances on Howard and next we find out that the Defenders and the rest of the Band were dispatched to Shea Stadium to inconveniently interrupt a football game. Yes, Shea was famous as the Mets home base, but I checked and the Jets played there too.

The two sides battle it out until most of the Band are subdued. Black Hole, who has a black hole imbedded in his chest attempts to use his talent on the Hulk, but Beverly puts Black Hole's arm into his black hole and he winds up self-swallowing. That's a talent some would be envious of.

Beverly is about to pick up the hole, but Nighthawk warns her off.

Back at the Sanctum, Howard and Dr. Angst continue to battle. Howard is actually faring rather well and uses the Cloak of Levitation to bind Angst and then punches him out cold. Doc revives in time to praise Howard and offers to tutor him. Howard is like No Way! Doc then brings back the rest of the crew and the Band. Doc has even retrieved Black Hole. He lets the Band know the mettle spheres are basically a placebo and the Band are lead away by the police. I'm hoping these are the ones Black Hole absorbed earlier and Doc has freed them.

Doc offers to continue the search for Howard's homeworld, but Howard politely declines asking for a buck so he can get a ride back uptown.

The rest of the Treasury Edition consists of reprints, none of which feature Doc, so you'll need to find your own copy to read those. This is delightfully silly. It's a Howard the Duck vehicle after all, and written by the one who knows him best, his creator. The Defenders are themselves but just a bit more lighthearted than usual. We get to skip Nighthawks angst about his girlfriend and Val's identity crisis. It's just some fun and is far more successful than the recent filler issue by Bill Mantlo and Sam Grainger. Dr. Angst is much better than Tapping Tommy. The Defenders can have a lot of issues. It's nice to have a story with no downers.