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"Even within the unconventional world of the circus, Sandwina was not your typical circus performer. For one thing, she was well paid, up to $1,500 a week. Careers for other female performers might not be as lucrative, but there were other women who made a name for themselves—and often a fierce name, at that. There was Athleta, who could waltz with three men on her shoulders. One of her signature tricks was getting in a crab position with a seesaw on her abs of steel, a horse balanced on each end.
Then there was Vulcana, the beautiful daughter of an Irish minister, who as a teenager once stopped a runaway horse in the middle of a street in England and freed a wagon whose wheels had locked up. Articles about her accomplishments illustrate how she, too, defied gender norms while simultaneously reinforcing them. “When you hear or read of a woman of this description, you naturally conjure up visions of a large, heavy, mannish-looking person, devoid of the soft feminine graces which must ever enfold the type of true womanhood,” an article in Sandow’s Magazine of Physical Culture said. “But you have only to see Vulcana to realise that there is nothing masculine about her, in spite of her strength.”
There was also Minerva, who could lift 700 pounds from the floor, one-hand press 100 pounds overhead, and, standing in a ten-quart bucket, hoist a 300-pound barrel of lime to her shoulders without disturbing the bucket at all, demonstrating tremendous balance to accompany the strength. She once lifted eighteen men at a resort near Washington, D.C., and she had a surefire system for fueling herself for that kind of stunt.
"Eating is about the principal part of my existence, and I always have the best I can possibly procure,” she told a reporter. “For breakfast I generally have beef, cooked rare; oatmeal, French-fry potatoes, sliced tomatoes with onions and two cups of coffee. At dinner I have French soup, plenty of vegetables, squabs and game. When supper comes, I am always ready for it, and I then have soup, porterhouse steak, three fried eggs, two different kinds of salads and tea. For every meal I have a bottle of the best wine I can procure."
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Usokaya to me is the idealized version of highschool sweethearts where one of them moves away to go to a big fancy school with great opportunities after graduation and then they meet again 6 years later
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Basic Fandom Etiquette Everyone Needs to Remember:
Creators do not owe anyone content. Do not ask writers when they will update.
If an author did not ask for [negative] criticism , do not give criticism.
Read the tags carefully before reading a fanfic.
If you ignored the tags and were upset, that is your responsibility, not the creator’s.
Disliking a ship does NOT give you the right to attack people who enjoy it.
Do not tell authors or shippers that their ship is “disgusting,” “wrong,” or “shouldn’t exist.” Shipping fictional characters is not a moral failing.
No one is obligated to justify why they ship two fictional characters.
Headcanons are PERSONAL interpretations, not universal truth.
Dark themes in fiction do not equal real life beliefs or intentions.
Leaving kudos or short positive comments genuinely matters.
Not every fanwork is made for you, and that is okay.
Scrolling past content you dislike is better than engaging negatively
Enjoying a fandom later than others does not make someone less of a fan.
Disliking a fanfic does not entitle you to announce that to its creator. Sending hate comments to authors is NEVER justified, even if you disliked the work.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I actually recommend everyone write for a rarepair once because it completely changes your relationship with fandom. Engagement stops being numbers and starts being names. You know who's going to show up. You recognize usernames. Someone disappears for a while and then comes back and you're like “OH MY GOD WELCOME HOME.” It's incredibly wholesome. It is also deeply inconvenient when all six of you simultaneously get writer's block-
Img: Silver mechanical bird with blue crystals By Coolarts223
Summary: Kid likes you. And he's been wanting to give you a gift for a while now. The problem is, for all his mechanical know-how, he's got zero emotional intelligence.
Word count: 1000
“Really? They can fly backwards?” Heat propped his elbows on the dining table, hanging on your every word.
“Yes, they’re the only ones who can,” there was a note of pride in your voice as you shared your knowledge with your crewmates. “When they’re done feeding, they fly backwards to get their long beak out of the flower.”
“Pff, a dumb thing that sucks on flowers,” Kid’s voice came with a scoff from his spot, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Yeah... it’s not a dumb thing, Kid. It’s a bird.”
You locked eyes with your captain for a moment, your frown lingering as you tried to suppress a smile. It was impossible for you to stay mad at him for long, especially when he crinkled his nose like that, giving him a look you’d describe as a disgruntled eagle.
“And that’s your favorite animal?” Killer was holding his glass with both hands, peering at you through the small holes in his mask.
“Yes! They’re amazing, only 5 cm long and they flap their wings between 50 and 80 times a second—”
“I wish I could move my hands that fast,” Heat said, lost in thought.
"So you could flap your 5 cm little bird?" Wire chimed in as he strolled into the mess hall.
There was a moment of silence before the men erupted into explosive, raucous roar.
Wire cracked up, nearly doubling over at his own joke; Kid slammed his hand on the doorframe, laughing so hard he almost fell over, and Killer wiped tears from his mask as he raised his beer to toast with Heat, who was trying to keep up with the chaotic cheer.
“You guys are hopeless,” you let out a frustrated sigh, and gave Wire a playful nudge on the forearm. “I’m off to bed.”
As you made your way through the door, you had to maneuver around Kid, who stayed put, watching you leave with a peculiar glint in his eye.
“Good night, Cap’.”
******
The next morning, you had barely stepped into the galley for breakfast when the captain welcomed you by angrily tossing a small metal object in your direction.
"Take it," he snapped, his face twisted in a sulky pout.
“Wha–”, the object landed on your chest, and you quickly brought your hands up to catch it before it fell. As you looked at it, your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of one of the most finely crafted and beautiful mechanical pieces you’d ever seen.
It was a tiny hummingbird made from pieces of iron and steel, with some parts joined by tiny screws and others carefully melted and welded together. It was incredibly light, standing on its own in the palm of your hand on two exquisitely thin legs with detailed toes and claws. The beak was perfectly polished, and a tail made of fine metal sheets, shaped like feathers, served to balance the weight backward.
Totally awestruck by the extraordinary craftsmanship, you glanced at Kid, who was intently watching your reaction from across the room with a scowl under his protective goggles.
“Kid… this—”
“It’s just some fucking crap I found the other day while cleaning up the workshop,” he cut you off bluntly, turning his back to you to pour himself a black coffee. “Ain’t got room to keep shit like that.”
You observed the beautiful mechanical bird, and run your thumb over the delicate engravings on its metal surface.
“Whoa! No way!” Heat’s voice rang out as he walked into the room. He rushed over to see what you were holding, and with a look that silently asked for permission took the object from your hands and lifted it to eye level to scrutinize it. “Is this... a hummingbird?!”
You nodded, unable to take your eyes off the small metal figure, and how Heat turned it around to get a better look.
“Does it flap its wings?”
“Of course it flaps its wings,” Kid snapped, immediately crossing the distance between you in just three strides. He snatched the hummingbird from Heat's hand and with an unexpected gentleness, carefully placed it back in the palm of your hand. After he pressed a few tiny buttons, you heard the soft click of gears syncing perfectly as the little bird gracefully unfurled its wings. Slowly, it began to flap, its speed increasing until the metal feathers blurred before your eyes.
"It beats its wings exactly 75 times per second," his painted lips stretched into a wide grin of pride when he heard you gasp in awe.
"Can you make it fly?"
The bird gracefully lifted off from the palm of your hand, hovering effortlessly in the air above before moving a short distance forward. After a few seconds, its tiny wings rotated symmetrically to adjust to the perfect angle, catching the air from front to back, and the bird flew backward.
"I can make anything out of metal fly," he chuckled at you, full of himself.
“Kid…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you shifted your gaze from the hummingbird to the captain’s honey-colored eyes, “it’s perfect.”
“Yeah... whatever.” His heart swelled with an unexpected warmth as he watched your face light up with that adorable smile, but unsure of what to do with the feeling, his expression settled back into a sour pout.
“A-anyway," he scratched his neck awkwardly, "I ain’t got time for this shit. It was just taking up space in the workshop, so I was gonna toss it. Keep it if you want... or throw it away, I don’t fucking care.”
At that moment Killer walked in, his inscrutable gaze sweeping over the scene before landing on the extremely strong coffee the captain had poured for himself.
“Kid, how many hours of sleep did you get? It was 5 AM, and the workshop lights were still on.”
Kid shot him a murderous glance, his cheeks radiating warmth as they flushed a light pink.
“Huh? No, they weren’t–”
“Yes, they were. And I was starting to get worried with all those curses and banging and—”
“KIL," Kid gritted his teeth in warning, "shut th—” .
“—hammering at that hour.”
Heat and you exchanged glances before turning your attention to the captain, who was now burning as red as his tousled hair.
“Fuck, Kil!” he barked, trying not to meet your gaze. “WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”
