Steady Boys, Steady.

RP blog for (18!) Sealand. Links for app users: account info / about / carrd / tags

[sea-enjoyer]

Big day tomorrow:

England v Scotland

Ireland v Wales

Tottenham v Ipswich

Sealand Seahawks Nationals v Masters

I haven't the slightest clue how I'm going to survive this.

[prussianbluevirtues]

open starter, modern era.

His hands are pushed into his pockets as he passes through the various hallways of the designated meeting location. Usually he doesn't come to these summits and he remembers why. Too many nations, many of whom he had less than stellar history with, and none of them taking him seriously. Not that he wasn't used to it nor that he expected differently. The dissolution of his country hadn't exactly helped his image, and even before, the main attention he received had been negative. He'd learned to deal with it, accepting it and, hell, even relishing in it. Anything was better than nothing after all. But these types of meetings always left him to face the grim reality of things and he hated dealing with his own feelings. He rounded a corner, hoping to find his way to the cafeteria in this maze of a building and unceremoniously bumped into someone, falling onto the floor in a manner that must've looked less than graceful.

[sea-enjoyer]

Another meeting. Peter hadn't seen one in a while, as he was too abashed by the memory of galavanting around and demanding attention from anyone who'd listen. Stomping, tugging at sleeves, lashing out with clever-but-increasingly-desperate remarks in a bid for someone, anyone to acknowledge his existence. . . He was troubled, sure, but perhaps he shouldn't have made that everyone else's problem. Nowadays, Peter winced just thinking about it. But the risk of showing his face after all this time was worth it, for two reasons. One was the location. Finally, an opportunity for Peter to practice his waning German — and, moreover, it was a convenient middleground to meet his brother, who was his more pertinent reason for attending. Not the blond-haired, green eyed-bastard who threw Peter into war as a toddler, then abandoned him for dead (though, the blood relation couldn't be denied, as he grew into his stupid face more with each passing day). No, Peter was here to meet his actual brother. The diminutive, anxious teen who raised Peter after he was already broken, when others deemed his existence too inconvenient. And it was in search of Raivis that Peter turned a blind corner and ran into someone, knocking them to the ground.

"Bloody hell, I am so sorry—" Peter's instinct was to apologise in English, especially since his steel frame was nearly unaffected by the collision. He stood firm and extended a hand downward to help the person up, hoping to whatever higher power might exist that it wasn't a nation. But he soon realised with a growing horror just whom he was dealing with. Gilbert. An entire decade of memories were flashing before him — all things which had nothing to do with Gilbert as a person, but which had everything to do with his people. And, before the former Kingdom, Peter could feel his heartbeat double in pace.

"I-Isch tue mir so unendlich leid." he corrected himself not in hochdeutsch, but in sächsisch, the pronunciation ever so slightly stilted from years of misuse. "Geht's dir gut?"

[sea-enjoyer]

. . . Orrigh', so. Perhaps havin' the bigges' even' in American footbole 'appen on yor birthday issun' the wors' thing in the worl, righ'? I'd wager ih's pretty high up thare, for all the bare thare is to be had. Hic— h-have a pin'. 🍻

[cryingyetcourageous]

[oh god, he can barely understand him. As much as he would like to support him using his natural accent rather than dumbing himself down to something more standardized, he also can't parse out much of what he's saying. There's a bigger concern, though-]

I-I think you've had enough...

[sea-enjoyer]

[The suggestion bewilders him. He shakes his head and cracks open another Carling, extending it in offering.]

The match hassun e'en star'ed, yet! Sit you doon an' have a pin', orrigh'? Ih's gonna be a bloo'y good fuckin' game, innit.

[sea-enjoyer]

. . . Orrigh', so. Perhaps havin' the bigges' even' in American footbole 'appen on yor birthday issun' the wors' thing in the worl, righ'? I'd wager ih's pretty high up thare, for all the bare thare is to be had. Hic— h-have a pin'. 🍻

[paperworkanddogs]

"it's essentially a replay of the North African campaign, however finding 10 people to play for so many days is difficult, as you can imagine. So I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with others."

As they spoke, ludwig popped open his cigarette case and pulled one out. "Ah, you don't mind?" he asked, holding the cigarette between his fingers.

[sea-enjoyer]

"Not at all. Go ahead." Peter answered, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand. His interest was piqued by the game, and he was having difficulty in his attempts to hide it. A smile struggled over his lips, blooming like a weed through cracks in cement. "You know," he began, biting back his own self-doubt for such an audacious proposal, "If you need more players, I'm always interested. Not necessarily just for a North African campaign, either."

[paperworkanddogs]

"Hmm. I have a few games of my own, but there's one I would really want to play. Unfortunately it requires over two months to play through"

[sea-enjoyer]

"Two months?" he repeated, thick brow quirked with interest. ". . . Must be somethin' bloody good, then." Ludwig didn't strike Peter as the type to waste much time on any enterprise that wasn't worth the effort. But when he really thought about it, maybe he was off-base. After all, meticulous time management could afford surprising benefits. Nonetheless, he tried to suppress his curiosity into a cool, unaffected façade — and failed miserably. His averted gaze was a hint too forced, and the corner of his lips quivered into the faintest smile, adolescent eagerness at his mere acknowledgement trickling through the cracks. "Orrigh', what's this game about?"

[paperworkanddogs]

@sea-enjoyer

"I need to find more men who enjoy board games, my old group slowly scattered to the wind and I haven't managed to get a new one"

[sea-enjoyer]

Eyes go wide, as if he's surprised a 'proper' nation is addressing him at all, much less one so. . . Well, Ludwig! But the pleasant shock quickly melts into curiosity. "Oh?" he questions, settling his full and unwavering attention on him, "What kind of board games? I take it somethin' with strategy, yeh?"

[sea-enjoyer]

How do you think your version of the character would react to meeting their canon-self?

Depends on which version of canon you mean. The butchered english dub version, he'd probably wince at, but would tolerate. He would mostly wonder if he was that much of a terror as a child. He'd try to be understanding and gentle but it's a very jarring experience and he needs a minute to b r e a t h e . He has not truly processed his own trauma, so having a hyperactive, selfish little kid around whose loud, maladjusted behavior is a reflection of similar trauma, is just a lot to handle. And he probably couldn't do it for very long.

For the manga/japanese dubbed version? It's a lot easier to handle. Maybe there's some bittersweetness there, knowing that this alternate version of him get adopted and has some kind of family despite the pirate bay situation never being more than a notion. Like damn, this kid managed to snag more nationfolk found family. Good for him! (What did I do wrong?) Plus shame, and trying to hide his issues with substance abuse. He's fine! He's gotta pretend to be more put-together since he was the one gifted with age, so. . . He's fine, honestly! But most of it is just memes, joking around, and trying to make the kid version of himself happy.

[latvianpoet-deactivated20240721]

A book on how to deal with rejection..

[sea-enjoyer]

[Oh. Oh no.]

H-Hey. . . !

[Peter wraps an arm entirely around his shoulders, and pulls him closer as they walk.]

Don't worry about the rabbit, I'm sure she still fancies you! Animals are just bit odd sometimes, aren't they?

[latvianpoet-deactivated20240721]

...To go read...

*Raivis voice sounded like he just lost the love of his life.*

[sea-enjoyer]

[Reading! That, Peter could handle. He shook it off and answered with a grin and clap to his shoulder.]

Right, then! Let's go read! Have you got anything in mind?

[He's walking as he talks, eager to get to their destination.]

[latvianpoet-deactivated20240721]

Can we perhaps go to the library? It's not so far from here..

[sea-enjoyer]

The library sounds gra—

[He hesitates upon seeing his expression, a chill running down his spine.]

. . . What're we planning to do at the library, exactly?

[paralianprince]

Peter is utterly flabbergasted for a moment, before the obvious truth lands, and he begins hurriedly slapping all the pockets of his windbreaker. How in the hell had someone managed to pickpocket him?? When had he let his guard down? Or maybe he'd dozed off in public again?

Oh. Wait.

… Huh.

From the perspective of an audience who actually understands what's going on here, we must all now contend with the finer details of quantum boat keys, wherein two different copies of the same world can by freak accident meld together in such a way that there exists two separate instances of item A, but only one instance of item B.

Peter holds up his own version of the very same key; there is an adorable sparkly blue heart keychain dangling from the end of it, which he hastily folds into his palm to hide.

"Now what, genius? You shut that off, and try mine next!"

For God's sake. These people are coordinated. And Peter is beginning to feel more and more like a fool, for having been utterly oblivious to the existence of some new group who evidently has it in for him. He's meant to be smarter than this! Had they gotten a keysmith in on this as well??

"Can the whole lot of you all just get a bloody hobby already and leave me alone!"

[sea-enjoyer]

So the kid was intent on trying his own key? . . . Admittedly, that was incredibly strange. Any normal person would have apologised for their mistake and moved on. So why not this guy? But Peter didn't have the presence of mind to think about how utterly bizarre that was. Rather, he was giggling and pulling his key from the ignition, waving one arm in an exaggerated motion for the other to come aboard.

"Well come on, then!" he called, shrugging his coat on over his bare chest to preserve some sense of modesty (now, where had his shirt gone?), and shoving his keys into one pocket. He moved further into the wheelhouse, clearing enough room in front of the doorway for the kid to enter the enclosed space.

Peter leaned against one wall, but perhaps a bit too much. The fiberglass groaned against his weight, eliciting a quiet, "Oop—" from the blond before spurring him to straighten up. He gestured to the console with a big, stupid grin on his face.

"G- hic- Go ahead, be my fuckin' gues'. Bu' wot's all this abou' leavin' you alone?" He rested one hand on his hip. "Yo're the one ou' here, accusin' mae o' stealin' my oon ship. Go' ih a lil backwards there, mate."

[latvianpoet-deactivated20240721]

No, I'm just heartbroken.. *Latvia showed his finger that had a bite mark on it*

[sea-enjoyer]

[He clasps Raivis's hand in both of his, inspecting the bite mark. His brows are creased with worry, which lessons upon seeing that the wound is not very deep.]

Yeah, the bugger got you good, all right. . .

[Peter releases his hand.]

Sorry about that, bruv. Is there anything I can do to get your mind off it?

[latvianpoet-deactivated20240721]

Little My the Rabbit doesn't love me anymore..

Guys, my pet rabbit Little My bit me. Did I do something wrong?!

[sea-enjoyer]

. . . I don't know much about rabbits, but I seriously doubt that you were doing anything wrong, mate.

Were you, uh, hurt too badly? I have some first aid supplies, if you need.

[sea-enjoyer]

What's a media trope that you can't stand, be it overplayed or downright stupid?

Enemies to lovers. That's just weakness. Big fan of enemies to victor. Good stuff, right there.

. . . And I don't like it when American movies depict only the poshest of Brits. Why is it that we're only allowed in American films if we went to Eton and Cambridge, and say mmyes unironically? Just once, I'd like to see a Norfolk geezer interact with a redneck. Take that yank out to Greggs. They'd love it.

Also not a fan of movies about sea monsters. Plenty of things about the ocean are dangerous and horrifying in real life — you needn't resurrect fucking megalodon.

[sea-enjoyer]

any music-related hot takes?

Plenty.

Ringo Starr was extraordinarily talented, and anyone who implies otherwise is ignorant of how difficult it is to play a repetitive beat at a consistent tempo. Human metronome, he was. And he had the best voice of the entire lot, provided he's able to work around his stage fright.

Bass players are not inherently cool, mysterious, or fuckable.

Vapourwave is punk rock.

Clean versions of songs made for radio play should not exist at all. It bastardises the original piece — and for what? Pearl clutching?

Ed Sheeran is a national treasure. This one should NOT be a hot take, but people are dense. 💢

[sea-enjoyer]

bruh just get an air fryer

Wh— No, that's not necessary. I'm not spending money on something I don't need.