#and id like to write about something like that

[lacy-oh-lacy]

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

[silviaflowers]

Hi chat I'm back back again with more epic sketches!

All writing is in the alt text! I'm trying my best to provide image ids but I often forget 😭

ok so short thoughts and then we'll get into some longer ones under the cut!!

I subscribe to both "Athena lived actually" theory and "Ares assisted Odysseus" theory,, I just think they're the silliest siblings fr Argos' design is purely on vibes and i did NOT have a reference for the boar. this is why both of them look slightly weird. The last two drawings are heavily based on the cut song Your Light! I am so normal about it. (More on this below the cut)

The penelope design was heavily inspired by @gigizetz's, and Aeolus was directly lifted from gigi's design as well <3 Telemachus was inspired by Duvetbox's Telemachus but much less heavily lol (Athena was also inspired by Duvetbox)

OK. LONG THOUGHT TIME. STRAP IN

I have some personal siren headcanons that i actually really wanna share SO. I like to think that Sirenelope did not actually look accurate to Penelope. I have two reasons for this, one of which is that one of my big siren headcanons is that they rely mostly on visual memory to disguise themselves. They can tap into words and such usually but what they most rely on is the visuals. Its much less important to act like the wife than to look like her, after all, the siren song usually does the heavy lifting.

But in the same way that Sirenelope makes the mistake of saying "daughter," the visual memories can be corrupted through the beeswax in the crew's ears. So she can't pin down Penelope's appearance as easily as she might with someone with clear ears. Ergo, she makes mistakes (neglecting her beauty mark/mole, making her look younger, etc etc.)

The OTHER reason is that I like to think that sirens try to make their forms more beautiful to appeal to the sailors. For example, Sirenelope tries to smooth out Penelope's wrinkles and make her more conventionally attractive. A little like a snapchat filter.

ok Siren rant over NOW TO TALK ABOUT YOUR LIGHT. So if any of you guys don't know, Your Light was essentially beta Open Arms, Polites cheering up Odysseus right before something awful happens, etc etc. However, it goes more into detail about the interaction between Odysseus and Athena's boar. Polites mentions that they took the boar on together, he was frozen in terror when the boar lunged for him. Odysseus takes the blow, forcing the boar down, and that's when he beats it.

Now im insane about this for other reasons but the MAIN part in relation to the art is like. What if Your Light and Warrior of the Mind coexisted? (this isn't necessarily canon DIVERGENT its just kind of a stretch) So the timeline here is basically that Polites and Odysseus go to face off against the boar, Ody beats it but takes on heavy damage, ("I only took the blow so you could live.") so Polites goes to find something to get him to Not Die Hopefully. and that's when something strange happens and he realizes Athena is there yadda yadda Warrior of the Mind stuff. Then Polites comes back with bandages and they make it back home where Eurylochus is waiting and is like. WHAT??? HELLO??? The "What happened to you!?" is a reference to Puppeteer btw i think thats silly and i like references.

[ofmermaidstories]

the australian government is trying to legislate kids under sixteen off of social media. so, if you are aussie and under sixteen, you won’t be allowed to have a sm account on sites like twitter, tiktok, facebook, youtube—and more.

i know our relationship with minors, as fic writers who write for other adults, is rocky at best. the rise in self-censoring and shame-based attitudes among readers in general is helping to kill any and all artistic curiosity in the next generation, which in turn makes it actively hard to be in shared, online fan spaces. it’s easy to blame the kids, but at its heart i think this is an active adult failure. our younger generations have gotten the raw end of the deal, in many ways; one of them being allowed to grow up alongside of material that they should’ve never had free access to, not without guided parenting.

And that’s the thing. the answer isn’t banning them. the legislation involved means that social media companies will be the ones to face the penalties (the fines) if minors break the new laws. which means—what? censorship gets even worse, in an effort to be even more kid friendly? Government-interest friendly? this talk started happening in the thick of the pro-palestine marches, as the movement was trickling into universities and highschools. And okay, let’s say it’s not that—what else could this be about? could it maybe have something to do with the fact that the australian government wants to implement a Digital ID nation wide?

"This one is for the mums and dads,” Albo, Anthony Albanese, our prime minister and prime dickhead, says in the announcement. “They, like me, are worried sick about the safety of our kids online. I want Australian families to know that the government has your back.”

But this isn’t about protecting kids. At the very best, they’re selling it as a scapegoat—like, oh! Haha, now you can just tell the kids it’s illegal!! It completely ignores the reality that people have to parent these humans. Like, it’s giving people, at best, an excuse to continue being lazy. They don’t have to sit down with their kids and the things they’re engaging with, anymore—because they’re banned from it! Instead having conversations about the media they encounter, it’s okay! You don’t need to worry about that anymore! The australian government wants to pretend this is about protecting kids from predators or online bullying, instead of parents confronting the fact they’ve created little assholes with unfettered access to tools to harass people with, or let their kids walk into traps because they haven’t taught them basic internet safety.

I have mixed feelings. Like any other (reasonable) adult, I worry about what kind of effects this much freedom to this much knowledge and drivel and personality can do to someone younger, someone who hasn’t like—had to learn how to make their way through a world where people are messy and a little weird and sometimes outright unlikable, but you have to still be professional about it, you know? I worry about things like micro-trends running the fun and excitement of digging in and finding some niche fashion that becomes your personality. I worry about status symbols like the right makeup and fitness pants and waterbottles getting popular too fast, and then cycling out just as quickly and creating a pace that kids without means can’t participate in as fast. I worry about podcasts run by sigma-pus males or whatever, tradwives selling glamour under the pretense of housework, like, so much of it. But these are all things that you as a parent have to negate!!! Like. You can’t just ban kids from the internet and then expect them to be normal about things whenever they’re allowed back—you have to teach them to be, to handle it. You have to teach them!!

I am saying this as an adult. An adult who likes adult things, and likes them in an open, easily-accessible space. An adult who would actively benefit from minor-free social media. There are things as an adult creator that I wanna talk about, or write about, in ways that aren’t always age-appropriate (or at all!!) for a younger audience. And look—my personal view has always been that as a fanfic writer, my responsibility to you guys (adults and sneaky-little-minors alike!!) has always been to warn appropriately on or in the fics themselves. That’s it. You get the warning labels on the tin, and you decide what to do with that afterwards. It’s not always perfect because I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. I might not tag for something specific that ends up being a trigger for you. But the thing with fanfiction and fanfic communities is that we generally have to trust each other. I might miss a warning, but you have to trust that that mistake wasn’t a deliberate effort to hurt you. I have to trust that you guys know your own boundaries and will engage—or not!!—accordingly. I opt to treat my space here, my blog, as an open-one. Because it is! It’s a public blog LOL. If you have a tumblr account, then you have access to it! So, I try to treat this space like a public conversation in a café, or a foodcourt. Maybe I slip a raunchy little book over the table to you, and we make one or two rude jokes, or otherwise a stray rando catches the tail-end of a more serious conversation—but it’s all things I would be comfortable (enough) discussing with someone in a space where maybe I don’t know everyone involved, you know? I benefit from the knowledge that oh well, at least I don’t have to worry about local kids getting on here. 💀 But—I hate that for them!! Do I trust younger readers? Not always!!! I worry that they’ll get caught in the wrong feedback loop, that they don’t like, investigate claims or challenge information for themselves, that they’ve never had to! And hey, to be completely fair, I don’t always trust proper adult readers with that either LMFAOOO, but the point is that kids get more grace and more worry from me because they are still actively learning to be apart of things, of communities. And I think banning them from that is ultimately a mistake. To protect someone you have to teach them what to look out for, how to engage safely, how to trust themselves. And that’s not what’s going to be achieved here. This social media ban is a useless bandaid in the face of bigger problems (housing crisis, inflation, the AUKUS submarine thing i don’t even want to talk about it its stupid) that the government is waving around to distract everyone with. And it’s working. Because people would rather sit there and scroll on facebook, or whatever, instagram, instead of actively parenting.

[aisiedaisie]

Heyo!

I noticed you take asks, but after lurking for a bit, I saw you haven’t done any yet. No worries if you’re not ready! But do you write _ x reader? Because I was thinking it’d be a super cute idea if the reader has a crush on their TA, who happens to be one of the Marauders, in the most boring class ever.

Oh, and if you haven’t had any designated anons yet, can I be ☁️?

Hello hello~ !

I do take asks!!! This is actually the first ask I’ve received and I am so happy. Thank you for sending it in and of course you can be my ☁️ anon! As for _ x reader fics… I’ve actually never written a reader fic before but I’ve tried my best! I think it leaned more gender neutral more than female reader, but I hope its okay.

Also, as someone who normally writes in third person, second person is difficult!!!

TA! Sirius Black x GN! Reader WC: 1.1k

You can’t remember why you signed up for this class. Maybe you thought it would be easy? Or even interesting…

But no.

The only thing remotely worth your time is the observation lab every Friday. The rest? Well, that’s just a blur of uncomfortable lectures, ticking clocks, and the distant hum of other students’ barely contained frustration.

No one would expect you to have perfect attendance. Most of the class doesn't even bother showing up, since attendance isn’t mandatory. They only show for tests, and even then, some skip those. You can’t help but wonder if they dropped the class, or if they just don’t care anymore.

Unfortunately— or, depending on your perspective, fortunately— something other than the lecture has caught your attention. You can’t help but quietly admire the TA at the front of the room, his presence oddly magnetic amidst the dull hum of the class.

Sirius Black is as punctual as you—if not more. He’s always there before anyone else, scanning IDs with a detached efficiency as students shuffle past. Then he settles into the front row, laptop open, his fingers dancing over the keys. He posts notes on Canvas for the absentees, though you suspect it’s more out of routine than necessity, since the lectures are always recorded and uploaded that evening.

He doesn’t seem like the type who’d voluntarily spend his free time sitting through intro-level astronomy lectures. With his shoulder-length, wavy dark hair—often loosely pulled into a half-bun—and his signature worn black leather jacket, he looks more like someone who should be out of a 50s film than a lecture hall. His casual blue jeans and plain white T-shirt complete the look, giving him a James Dean vibe that seems a little too effortless, a little too cool for this room.

You try to refocus, your eyes drifting back to the lecture. Professor Fancourt’s voice drones on in a monotonous lull, and he scribbles another formula on the whiteboard. “With this equation, please find the orbital velocity of Neptune,” he instructs, his back turned as he walks toward the desk by the door where Sirius is absorbed in his typing.

You glance back at the formula, but it might as well be a foreign language.

You’ve never been good at math, and when you signed up for Basic Astronomy, you didn’t think it would be an all-out battle of numbers. You thought you’d be learning about planets, maybe some stars, a little science history. But math? Why did they have to throw that in?

A knot tightens in your stomach as Professor Fancourt starts pacing. You know what’s coming. It’s only a matter of time before he picks someone—randomly, of course—to come up to the whiteboard and answer the question. You have no idea what’s going on with that equation, but you’re pretty sure it’s going to be you.

You don’t want to be called on. Not today.

With a resigned sigh, you gather your things, leaving your notebook open on the desk. A quick break—just enough to clear your head.

You make your way to the TA’s desk. Sirius looks up as you approach, his brow quirking in mild surprise.

“Look at that—someone’s actually moving from their desk,” he teases, and you manage a tired, half-hearted smile, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Just need a break,” you mutter, pulling your ID from your pocket and handing it to him.

He scans it without a word, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the scanner. “If you’re grabbing something, make it quick,” he says, his voice laced with a playful chuckle. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?” He adds a wink for good measure, making the suggestion feel almost like a dare.

You step out into the hallway, the noise of the lecture hall fading behind you. For a moment, the weight of the class lifts from your shoulders, and you allow yourself to relax. You focus on the vending machine in front of you, half-stalling, half-actually needing something to take your mind off the dull lecture and the growing pressure of the equation you still can’t wrap your head around.

You scan the rows of snacks—chips, candy bars, granola. You grab the chocolate bar you always go for when you need something quick. You buy it, but as you clutch the candy and step away from the machine, you remember Sirius’ words, his playful tone still echoing in your mind. “And don’t forget—bring me something back, yeah?”

You pause, eyeing your snack. An impulse hits you, and you decide to grab a pack of sour gummies from the row below. It’s different from what you’d normally get, but you figure it’s a safe bet. Plus, you’d hate to go back empty-handed after he asked, even if he was joking.

With both snacks in hand, you head back into the lecture hall. The familiar hum of the room greets you, but this time it feels different. The pressure in your chest has lifted, replaced with an unexpected calm. You’re grateful to find the professor already discussing the next topic when you return.

You make your way to your seat, but before you sit down, you glance toward the front of the room. Sirius is still hunched over his laptop, typing with the same detached concentration as always. His attention is on the screen, but when he hears you approach, he looks up just in time to catch your eye.

You raise the pack of sour gummies slightly, as if to confirm you heard him. “Brought you something.”

His eyebrow quirks in surprise, but the smirk that follows is unmistakable. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a quiet chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned. You actually came through.” His gaze flickers between the gummies and your face, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious under his attention.

“They’re for you,” you say, offering him the pack. “Hope you like them.”

Sirius grins, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment as he takes the gummies. “Thanks. This’ll make the rest of this lecture bearable,” he says with a wink. “Thanks, love.”

You smile, a little shy, your cheeks flushing at the nickname. You return to your seat as he rips open the pack, popping a gummy in his mouth. The subtle exchange is enough to keep your mind from wandering back to the looming equation on the board.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur.

Professor Fancourt drones on as usual, but you don’t mind so much now. For once, you actually feel... lighter. Sirius hasn’t left his post at the front of the room, but every so often, you catch him glancing back at you with a quiet grin, as if he knows exactly how much of an effect he’s having on you. It turns your cheeks even darker, and your eyes quickly dart away when you make eye contact.

By the time the class ends, you’re no longer dreading the idea of coming back next week. In fact, you might even look forward to it a little, and not just because of the observation lab on Friday.

[xhxhxhx]

As I write this, it's Tuesday, November 5, 2024.

Today is Election Day.

I.

By federal law, Election Day is the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. 3 U.S.C. §§ 1, 21.

Under the Constitution, the President is elected by presidential electors. Electors are appointed in each State, as directed by the State legislature. Art. II, § 1, cl. 2.

Unlike in elections to the House and Senate, where Congress may preempt State election law, art. I, § 4, cl. 1, Congress has only one power in presidential elections: The Election Day power.

Under the Constitution, "Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their votes." Art. II, § 1, cl. 4.

At first, Congress was lax. In its law of 1792, Congress only required States to appoint presidential electors "within thirty-four days preceding the first Wednesday in December," when the electors would vote. 1 Stat. 239.

Congress ultimately set a national Election Day in 1845. 5 Stat. 721. Their Election Day is our Election Day:

the electors of President and Vice President shall be appointed in each State on the Tuesday next after the first Monday in the month of November of the year in which they are to be appointed.

And by the same law, Congress gave the States a fallback option:

when any State shall have held an election for the purpose of choosing electors, and shall fail to make a choice on the day aforesaid, then the electors may be appointed on a subsequent day in such manner as the State shall by law provide.

That language, "fail to make a choice," remained in federal law at the last election. Act of June 25, 1948, ch. 644, § 2, 62 Stat. 672, 672 (previously codified at 3 U.S.C. § 2 (2020)).

The language invited mischief.

II.

At the last election, the sitting President suggested that perhaps the People had "fail[ed] to make a choice" on election day, and the States should appoint electors "on a subsequent day."

"The state legislature can take over the electoral process," the White House Chief of Staff suggested to a State Senator a few days after election day. H.R. Rep. 117-663 at 267.

The former Energy Secretary, noting that State legislatures could "just send their own electors," mused to the Chief of Staff, "I wonder if POTUS knows this." Id.

The former Speaker, meeting with the President a week after election day, sent a message to the President, suggesting that friendly "legislatures elect not to send in electors." Id. at 268.

Although the President spoke to a number of State legislators, id., and his campaign reached out to about two hundred of them, id. at 271, no State took him up on it.

Perhaps the President simply lacked the energy for a campaign that, as one of his copartisans suggested, would involve "hundreds of briefings for State lawmakers." Id. at 269.

Perhaps the President was simply too late. The President was only holding private briefings with three hundred State legislators on dates as late as January 2. Id. at 271.

That was weeks after the electors had met, on December 14, "the first Monday after the second Wednesday," § 7, 62 Stat. 673, and federal law had made their choice "conclusive." § 5, id.

Maybe the President just wanted to do something easier.

Like a speech.

III.

In 2022, Congress revised the fallback option.

The old section, 3 U.S.C. § 2, was repealed. Today is governed by 3 U.S.C. § 1, "election day," unqualified by any reservations about States that "fail to make a choice":

The electors of President and Vice President shall be appointed, in each State, on election day, in accordance with the laws of the State enacted prior to election day.

But the fallback option remains, embedded in the words "election day," 3 U.S.C. § 21:

As used in this chapter the term- (1) "election day" means the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November, in every fourth year succeeding every election of a President and Vice President held in each State, except,

And then the exception:

except, in the case of a State that appoints electors by popular vote, if the State modifies the period of voting, as necessitated by force majeure events that are extraordinary and catastrophic, as provided under laws of the State enacted prior to such day, "election day" shall include the modified period of voting.

Today is Election Day, and so long as nothing extraordinary and catastrophic happens, only today is Election Day.

Don't fail to make your choice.

[bomberqueen17]

aight poll results

Huh I haven't really done a poll before, I kind of thought there'd be somewhere you could like, see the results. But no. I just have to scroll back and find the post. And since I made it not rebloggable I can't reblog it either, LOL.

So anyway. It's not quite-quite closed but there's more votes in it than I thought there would be, and I'm going to discuss it behind this lil cut here.

[Image ID: a screenshot of poll results showing 14.5% for the sweet summer children era, 85.5% for the older sea-dogs, 55 votes cast, almost four hours left in the poll.]

After making this poll I went back to my Just Write Some Scenes approach and noodled around some more. My first attempt had been to come up with this whole elaborate Save The World plot, and then try to introduce the crew to each other right at the start of it, and after tripping over that and falling flat on my face, that's when I reconsidered and made the poll. Mostly I just. Need other people to remind me that I'm not alone in the wilderness here, LOL. And you know the quite-contrary "I need advice but mostly so I can identify that when someone tells me to do the thing I don't wanna, that means there's a thing I didn't want to do, which means there is a thing I DO want to do, and now I can narrow down what it is" impulse, yes?

But it's gratifying to find that I've voted with the majority here.

So my main consideration here is that while I cannot really reuse any of the scenes I wrote as fanfic, I can absolutely carry over every bit of the character dynamics. The canon events, I can't translate. The fanfic character work, yes. (What that means to you, dear readers, is that I thus can totally just publish the fanfic at some point LOL, so I'll... try to do that if I can ever manage to become sane about it.)

I don't know that I've fully explained, here-- I fully have a 125,000-word fanfic already complete for this fandom. Like, it is 125,000 words long, and goes from before Master and Commander to... I'm at about the middle of Ionian Mission. That's book nine. And it's all the gapfills and everything from Tom's POV. And I have a few more scenes I'm still writing, but what I have is quite a novel already.

If I took the characters from their Master & Commander Book 1 era and file the serial numbers off and try to instead give them this plot, then I have to cram in every bit of the getting-to-know-you shit, and also worldbuild the whole setting, and then also have them save the world. It's not that I can't do this, but I have this huge shortcut where I've already been working with these guys (and you know how fanfic works, I've subtly warped them from canon because these are side characters the canon author did not devote all that much time to. There are several times when Mowett did something in the first book and by the eleventh or twelfth, Stephen firmly remembers it as something Pullings did, and the narrative treats him as correct, and I genuinely think that O'Brian forgot, unless he was trying to make a point about Stephen's memory issues that he then didn't entirely follow through on. It happens more than once. Also there are a number of occasions when the narrative asserts that Mowett was present for books when he was not; he does not appear in book 3 for example, but is afterward treated as though he'd been there. "They've been together since their youth!" they haven't been in the same hemisphere in six years. Anyway.)

I've been working with these guys for the length of a novel already. So what I can do, and what I think I'm going to do, is that I'm going to just pretend that I've already rewritten a serial-numbers-filed-off version of the first volume, and dive in at circa the book 5 section of the fic, and insert this adventure at that point. Which gives me a certain rank for each character-- Pullings and Mowett would be lieutenants with some seniority, Babbington would be a newly-made lieutenant, Aubrey has moderate seniority, his relationship with Maturin is fairly mature and has weathered some storms and come out well, he's rescued Maturin from torture, Maturin is slightly washed-up with the intelligence people and is addicted to drugs but recovering-- and from the fanfic side (spoilers for the as-yet-unedited-and-unpublished fic!), I've established Pullings in his marriage, given him his checkered career (Indiamen and transports), he has two children, and also he and James and Mrs. Pullings have worked through a bunch of their shit and figured out that they should all have a threesome sometime. But, crucially, they have not had this threesome yet.

So it's like-- a ton of deep character work, that I can just plunk us into.

(I haven't figured out a new naming structure yet so I haven't find-replaced and I'm just writing with the old names, which is hilarious the more I diverge from canon.)

It's not that I don't want to tell that first story, of them all meeting up initially, but I think it would be easier to go back and write a prequel after having done the Big World-Saving Plot.

Anyway-- some serial-number-filing notes here:

Aubrey is going to be a woman because then if I write her exactly the same it comes across wildly differently and I am absolutely dying to see what effect it has. Translating Jack's particular confused helplessness around women makes this new Aubrey into an extremely awkward lesbian and I love it. (Still fat, crucially. Still six feet tall. She might not be blonde, though, depending what I do with racial dynamics in this 'verse. Doesn't matter, as calling a woman Goldilocks is less hilarious than a man.)

Maturin is still a dude. They still have absolutely zero sexual chemistry, but profound deep interpersonal love. (This is bookverse, guys. Sorry the gay movie version is great but that's just not where I'm going here.)

Instead of having a lower-class accent and antecedents, I'm translating Tom into being somehow visibly biracial, which can give the same impediment to his being taken seriously for promotion as in canon, but also lets me tie this into the other books I've started in the land-based part of this verse. His mother is descended from mainland mammoth-herders, and I haven't decided what visual characteristics that gives him but it's enough that he gets called racial slurs occasionally. As in canon, Aubrey doesn't particularly notice these things, and cares only that he is competent.

Babbington is a trans dude so I have to figure out how that works in the worldbuilding but this is an extremely useful thing to have and will illuminate all kinds of awesome things for me. As a bonus, it can just be background established fact in the first book I write, and can be a plot point in the prequel if I do come up with anything cool in the worldbuilding, but if not it can just be a like low-key background thing in the prequel too. Who knows! It gives me a ton of material either way. Has potential to establish vivid character dynamics in a minimum of words, I think.

I was trying to solarpunk-ize solid-shot cast-iron cannons and seem to have independently mentally invented electromagnetic rail guns, so I have to research that somewhat but I think I have some good worldbuilding foundations based off that. !!! Exciting. I especially love the idea that the ships can collect and store potential energy that they can use either for propelling the ship without wind, or for firing guns, and so manoevering with sails still carries enormous tactical value because if you can get in position to fire your shots without having expended your generated power, you'll have much more success in battle; conversely, if you realize you're in a poor tactical position, instead of throwing your guns over the side as in the napoleonic era so you can flee faster, you simply empty your power generation banks into your propulsion to get the fuck out of there. And it makes it more solarpunk post-collapse-friendly by having tactics that can prioritize things other than massive loss of life, which doesn't hold with the dynamics of precarious population levels in the other books in this 'verse. Life was cheap in Europe in the 1800s but that doesn't work here. I love the idea of the "battles" being almost entirely manoevering, and it being plain impossible to have just yardarm-to-yardarm prolonged hammering except by rare circumstance.

So anyway that's where I'm at. So far. Stay tuned i guess? Thanks for reading this far, anyone who does. <3

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 309

Adjective: Subdued

Noun: Hideaway

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Subdued: (of a person or their manner) quiet and rather reflective or depressed; (of color or lighting) soft and restrained

Hideaway: a place used as a retreat or a hiding place

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[kori-senpai]

New Leokumi content in the lords year of 2024?? It's more likely than you think! (x)

[taravangians-storming-balls]

Kaladin's final smash in which he lashes mario directly into the atmosphere

[aleki-lives-here]

If I do end up writing murderbot fanfic, it'll probably include some nasty taking over control virus that will not be conveniently stopped before it can actually start acting. The way murderbot was absolutely terrified when faced with that alien shit in Network Effect was absolutely delicious. I need that, but ten times worse and also painfully drawn out.

It would miss the moment it got into its system for "trying to save humans no time to waste" reasons, and by the time it had a chance to get a diagnostic it would have already hidden itself. By the time it noticed something was off, it would already have enough control to stop it from doing something about that. Maybe changing the memory files so that it struggles to keep track of it, and maybe directly stopping its body from cooperating.

A scene that came to me had Murderbot try and tell Mensah about the virus and have the output be cancelled (perhaps before it got to that point it would have noticed a slight delay in the reaction time, which would definitely be hella concerning), just completely being unable to notify others that there is a problem. Except that they have those code words with Mensah and so it does tell her that something is really really fucking wrong, but can't elaborate. Now everyone is worried, and it is struggling to fight off the virus that has had enough time to prepare to really not make it easy.

Anyway, ideally it all escalates despite everyone's attempts to figure out what the fuck -- Murderbot's diagnostic tools are fucked from the inside and humans have better luck at noticing the problem but can't really help much. The perfect culmination would be total control. Murderbot just being completely trapped into its own body, forced to do something it doesn't like or even just stand still (no access to media if you want to turn it into an especially excruciating torture). Tho turning its control completely is a waste of its talents. Maybe the virus could just get the governor module back online, but completely under its control, so Murderbot can enjoy being electrocuted some more.

Gods I just love to torture my favorite characters. If I end up writing a fanfic, it would be this kind of terrible no good scenario

[futuristichedge]

Sonic, the embodiment of freedom switching places with Metal Sonic and being able to realize and experience first hand how isolated and restricted Metal is. Unable to speak, limited body language and fingers unable to articulate anything outside of a clawing motion. Metal coming to and adjusting to experiencing the overstimulating experience of being a living breathing thing. Being called just Sonic and how right it feels... in a way. It feels right the way that looking at yourself through a funhouse mirror is right. It's still you, isn't it?

The tragedy of being created in the form of another. Predestined to never reach the heights of what you are capable of, chained down by the expectations of what you SHOULD be.

An embodiment of freedom made to be obedient. Bottled wind, stagnating in your containment.

You were made to usurp someone, to be superior but held back by your own programming. Held back by comparisons inherent to being a replica, gifted tunnel vision to achieve an unachievable goal.

So wrapped up in comparison that the only way you can see to break free from these expectations is to remove the person you were made in the image of. Become the ONLY 'you' there is.

What if its given to you. You are no longer the copy, you are what you were always meant to be. But the expectation is still there, and you are still falling short. What then.

[vaniloqu3nce]

EVERYONE STOP.

Hades and Persephone Wenclair Au PLEASE. PLEASE SOMEONE ANYONE.

Wednesday as the lord of the underworld is doing things to my brain that are not healthy for someone with my levels of queer

Enid basically having hell on a leash because her wife does just about anything she says.

“What if we give therapy to some of them? They can’t all be terrible.”

“Yes, dear.”

[lansangprincess]

curious question for all my payneland lovers: how do you want Charles' love awakening to go about?

in a way, there isn't anything (ex. homophobia, a current partner, etc) stopping him from falling for Edwin (that we know of) so what would it take for Charles to suddenly realize he has feelings for Edwin that makes more sense than Edwin's confession being the trigger?