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Run before you walk

@tari-aldarion / tari-aldarion.tumblr.com

Katie. 28. Multi-fandom. SmutBucks manager. Life sucks, write smut instead. header: ssungods. icon: floral-stede

"But how do I get popular on tumblr if there's no algorithm??"

1: Being internet popular is not a good goal to have. Having your skill recognised is. But those two things are not the same.

2: You have to actually interact with the other human beings on this site. There is no shortcut.

Extremely important addition.

Being tumblr famous gets you ONE THING and that is yelled at

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something to distract you? https://maryolive.tumblr.com/post/692240634684293120 thinking of your adventures with the cafe but also joe being stuck in a time loop and using it to try and work up the nerve to be Normal with nicky the cute barista <333 sending you all my love

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what i would quite like here is time-traveller Joe who can jump back say, an hour at a time at most, and even then not consistently. so he jumps back several times to correct fumbled encounters with nicky, starts to vibrate from being so overcaffeinated, and doesn't really notice the next two times that he never jumped at all, he just walked out of the cafe and walked back in to try and get the conversation right

nicky was charmed the entire time

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'Hi Joe, I'm Nicky--fuck!'

The bell above the door jangles cheerfully as Joe turns on his heel and storms back out. This is possibly his most pathetic attempt yet; he didn't even make it over the threshold before he fucked up.

'Hi Joe,' he says to himself, pacing in front of the café door. 'I'm Nicky! What is wrong with me ? Who does that?'

A person passing by with their dog gives him a very strange look. Joe doesn't stick his tongue out at them, but it's a very near thing.

'He is Nicky, you are Joe, and we are not doing this again,' Joe mutters to himself, before he rolls his shoulders back, clicks his fingers three times, and spins on the spot.

dingaling~~

'Hi Nicky, I'm Joe and I coffee please-- fuuuck.'

This time, when Joe snaps his fingers and spins on the spot, he adds in a curse for himself and a prayer for his smooth tongue to return to him.

'Nicky! Un caffe per favore, und eine Schokoladentorte-- that's not Italian, what the fuck is wrong with me?'

dingaling~~

'Hi--!'

'Hi Joe,' Nicky interrupts, smiling sleepily at Joe from where he's bent over the counter, his head propped up on his hand. 'I'm Nicky. I would be happy to make you a coffee, and to give you a chocolate tart. Please stop leaving. You'll miss my whole break this way.'

'I...'

'Do you need to spin again? You can do that in here. What kind of milk do you take in your coffee?'

'Cow, please,' Joe manages, barely. He walks the five steps to the counter he hasn't taken so far in any of his attempts to talk to Nicky, and drops into the bar stool in front of him.

Nicky stands up straight and smiles wider at him.

'One coffee with cow milk coming up.'

So, it never occurred to me until Dracula actually got on the boat that he'd, you know, actually get to England. I just assumed he lived in his Transylvanian castle and as long as you didn't go there, you'd be fine. RIP to my friend Johnathan Harker but I'm different, etc. But now he's loose (and also capable of turning into a dog somehow??) and I have no idea where this is going except Dracula isn't supposed to be a free-roaming monster, uh oh, everyone is maybe probably highly likely going to die, this is very bad, hope someone brought enough rosaries for everyone.

I hope everyone realizes now that Dracula literally cannot steer the ship. The captain tied himself to the helm and a crucifix (he alluded to this earlier in one of his logs) and thus Dracula can't touch it.

Additionally Dracula's powers weaken during the day (iirc he can be in sunlight but his powers don't work) so he has to steer the ship via weather at night.

The man has been buffeting the ship with wind to get to England.

Some additional notes from a sailor. The demeter was a schooner, which means entirely for and aft rig. Our boy Dracula probably only has experience sailing Ottoman ships from the 1400s, if he has any experience at all. That means he expects ships to go downwind, period. Schooners don't do that so well, they are designed as an air foil like the wing of an airplane. Much more efficient and stable if it can pull itself along the wind Rather than running before it.

So he eats all the sailors on board, presuming that he can keep it going with his power over the weather, and then the captain does him dirty by making the helm untouchable to him, and the schooner wouldn't be reacting to the wind In The way he thinks it should be. So he's buffeting this ship about every which way with the wind trying to figure out how to make it go, The demeter in the meantime is pitching and yawning, booms flying every which way, all the while the captain's corpse is flopping at the wheel mocking him. He's lucky The demeter didn't roll right over.

It's one of his most hilariously mismanaged situations. And I like to imagine that after the Captain finally died, he could stop playing it cool taunting him and then just started running around panicking and trying not to get knocked overboard everytime the booms jibbed, going 'oh fuck, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck.' so that when he finally pushes the demeter into an English harbor he makes his speedy disembarkation as a wolf not because he's trying to be spooky and avoid humans, But because he wants to hell off this newfangled death trap That's been trying to brain him with 20 ft long swinging clubs.

Whippies corresponds so nicely with run me through when you think about it. Here you have two instances in which Ed asks another man (notably, someone he is/was sexually interested in) to hurt him, and gets two entirely different responses. Jack is careless, impulsive, and wholly unconcerned about consequences; Stede is hesitant, cautious, and terribly worried about causing harm. And Ed’s responses to them - his real and unfunny pain with Jack vs. the petite mort expression when he‘s in Stede‘s arms - illustrate just how badly he yearns for someone who’ll make love to him instead of just treating him as another dalliance. All those scars on the left side of his body are like grotesque little kisses, the ghosts of all the men who had ‘stabbed’ him before Stede, who had hurt him in that tender bit of flesh where he tells himself there wasn’t anything important anyway. Because when you get down to it, Ed’s entire understanding of love revolves around pain; around plates smashed against the wall and his mother’s slapped face; around becoming a monster so that his father could never hurt her like that again; so that Ed couldn’t ever be hurt like that, either. That’s what the Kraken is, really: the darkness that grows inside us in the absence of love.