#i normally am not as big on setting in original stories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piratefalls · 3 months

Text

i have no real opening remarks, so have some fic, mind the tags, and have a good day!

masterlist

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine

Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it. “No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.” Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

Only Fools by OrchidScript

Henry rolled his eyes. “No. You tell me — that sounds better — why I should bring my ex-hook up to my brother’s wedding?” Pez hummed and half-shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? He’s the perfect thing to light your gran’s helmet of hair on fire.” Pez set his cup down and leaned forward onto the table. “That’s what Pip encouraged you to do, didn’t he?” “Martha more than Pip, but yes. He did.” Henry sighed. “Then ask Alex.” -- With his brother's wedding a few weeks away, Henry Fox is determined to not show up alone. Not wanting to ask a stranger, he instead turns to Alex, hoping to manufacture something believable from something familiar. Try as he might to keep a level head, Henry can't help falling in love with the man. Will it come around to bite him or will it turn into something more than he had hoped?

kitchen confidential by stutteringpeach

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” ~ Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by affectionatelyrs

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” - Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

getting good now by Standinginmoonlight

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

A Sin Better Than Heaven by AnchoredArchangel

“Show me,” the king says, a demand. He sets the vial back down, careless to where it lands compared to where it originated. He leans back against the table, crosses his arms over his chest; chin raised, jaw set- a picture of regality. Henry’s heart is pounding in his chest, the unstable beat of too many horse hooves overlapping, like the canter through the woods that very afternoon before he was shoved from his saddle. For the first time, he considers the possibility that perhaps he had hit his head harder than he realized- against the ground or against the tree, because certainly his hope is misplaced; certainly he is not following this conversation as well as he presumed. “Show you what, Your Majesty?” The king only deigns to move a hand, untucking it from his elbow in order to wave it vaguely. “How your body responds to men.” Or: A criminally loose reimagining of the tent scene from Mary & George, only Alex is a sexually confused king, and Henry's the one who has been sent to seduce him.

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by anincompletelist

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

Silence & Sound by @nocoastposts

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

all so human with our guards down by maxbegone

“Constant fear is debilitating,” Alex tells him later on. The sun has risen, though it’s barely prominent through the dark clouds in the sky. “Even in the world we live in now, you need to find the things that make it feel…normal.�� Of course, Alex isn’t even sure that makes much sense, and he thinks about doubling back on what he just said with something stupid and word-vomitty, whatever pops into his head first, but Henry beats him to it. Much more suitable, and it puts Alex’s mind at ease: “I’m starting to think you’re right.” The world ended three years ago. No more all-night study sessions, no more drag brunch and mimosas, no more societal expectations. But out of everything Alex was expecting from an apocalypse, Henry sure as hell wasn't it.

Dallas, Texas by annesbonny

i thought I knew hopelessness. i thought I'd learned its specific dread years ago There's an assassination attempt on Ellen, Henry is caught up in the damage. Alex is... coping about as well as you would expect.

Best Practice in Sexual Favours by everwitch

They meet at a bar. Alex is young; fresh out of law school, sharp and charismatic and oh-so attractive. The sex is absolutely incredible, and Henry has no regrets. At least not until the morning after when he finds himself opposite Alex in a meeting — equipped with the painful knowledge that Alex’s boss thinks Alex’s only function in said meeting is to sit there and look all pretty. Somebody ought to call HR right about now. Or: when sexual relationships mix with professional ones, Alex and Henry make the most of it.

this is the first time I've felt the need to confess by theprinceandagcd

Alex frantically unlocks his phone and stares at their text thread, at the heart reaction that Henry had left on his most recent message. His thumbs hover uselessly over his screen, trembling as moisture burns his vision. The entire room is thick with uneasiness, heavy enough that it’s hard to breathe, and Alex wants to tell Henry something, wants to reach out and find the solace that Henry so often offers him without even realizing it. But mostly, as his brain finally catches up to what’s actually happening, all Alex can think is that he doesn’t want to die. He tries to come up with a list of reasons why in his head, a comprehensive one that probably should include family and career goals and a million other things, but in the end, in the moment, all he can fucking think about is Henry.

out of the kitchen by rizcriz

Alex looks to his right where Henry’s standing at his own door. Any moment now, Gordon Ramsay is going to tell them to turn the handle and one of them is going to cascade into a new life. He doesn't care if his door doesn’t open; in fact, he’d rather it didn’t. He’s come all this way, he’s proven himself as a chef, but there’s no denying that the man beside him was made for this role. For the last five weeks, he’s watched as Henry’s given his all to every challenge and dinner service. -- or, the Hell's Kitchen au literally nobody asked for.

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by coffeecatsme

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Fragile Things by SatinBirds

Alex does not scare easily. But the moment he sees Henry fall, all breath leaves his body at once.

Trim my Christmas tree by clottedcreamfudge

Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway. Ho ho ho.

All Kinds of Wounds by allmylovesatonce

It throws Alex off when it takes longer for the door to close, when he hears Henry’s footsteps but doesn’t hear him approaching. As he listens closer, there are steps on the stairs and eventually the sound of feet on the second floor. Henry avoided him. Henry gets hurt at the shelter and tries to hide it from Alex.

blurred lines by seafloor

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

keep me up all night/ i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges. Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything. Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb. “Get on the couch.”

Voted most likely to run away with you by dreamsinthewitchouse

Alex drifts into consciousness in a bed full of tangled limbs and warm, sleep-rumpled skin. He’s lying half on his stomach and half on his side, the shoulder smushed against the bed protesting in a way that tells him he’s going to have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day. But fuck if he cares, with Henry stirring next to him, one of his long legs draped over the back of Alex’s thigh. Alex doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the room is hazy with filtered sunlight, spilling pale yellow through the carelessly drawn curtains.

everything just stops by HypnosTheory

Alex hums, pushing his nose into the side of Henry’s cock. “Let me give you your gift, Hen.” “You’ve already given me my gift,” Henry says, fingers tightening on the edge of the countertop. “Twice.” Alex laughs and takes Henry’s cock back into his mouth. Henry keens, knees shaking. He’s oversensitive already; Alex woke him up with a hand on his cock, and then in the shower surprised him with three fingers against his prostate. Each orgasm was greeted with a happy birthday, baby, which is a phrase that’s starting to have a Pavlovian response on Henry. --- Alex gives Henry all the birthday orgasms - Henry believes turnabout is fair play.

the wrong place by congee4lunch

“I don’t want you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Alexander,” Henry breathes out, his breath ghosting over Alex’s lips. “I just want to feel good.” “Perfect,” Alex grins. “I want the exact same thing, Fox.” henry and alex hate each other. when they're forced to share a hotel room and a bed for a night, they fuck about it.

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here. “And if you only hold me tight…” A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Late Bloomer by @sparklepocalypse

Alex Claremont-Diaz is sixteen years old, and he hasn’t presented. His dad seems to think it’s fine and offers Alex regular reassurance that his cousin Angel hadn’t presented until nearly 20. His mom, though, gets a little crease between her eyebrows whenever she thinks Alex isn’t looking. Presenting is a Big Deal in the Claremont family, and Alex just... hasn’t. So Alex is sixteen, and he’s… a boy. That’s it. Just a boy. Not a boy and an alpha like his friend Marco, or a boy and an omega like his friend Noah. Just a boy.

living in a new normal by @forever-fixating

Henry Fox could write an entire dissertation based on how much information his twin nieces Penelope and Grace have told him about their favorite band, Austin Heat. The girls peppered him with neverending facts since he surprised them with tickets and meet-and-greet passes to their concert at Madison Square Garden last Christmas. -- Henry Fox takes his nieces to a concert of their favorite band, Austin Heat. He gets a bit more than he bargained for when he meets singer and guitarist Alex Claremont-Diaz.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #alexhenry #firstprince fanfiction

115 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 3 months

Text

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.”

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.”

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?”

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.”

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?”

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict.

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?”

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake?

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat.

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet.

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?”

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?”

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.”

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him.

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it.

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?”

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer.

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.”

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back.

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.”

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked.

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close.

“Tell me more, sugar!”

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?”

She nodded.

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!”

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.”

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show.

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,”

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?”

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.”

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.”

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?”

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons.

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.

“Luca?”

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her.

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #luca changretta fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

64 notes · View notes

fishing-lesbian-catgirl · 1 year

Note

kinda fucked up for you to see a gender non conforming woman (samsus) and automatically make them trans. you get what i mean about how thats just reinforcing gender stereotypes (that cis women are feminine and would never commit genocide even a little while transwomen would do masculine evil things like shoot gun (because they’ve kept their man vibes) or whatever

yeah

I can’t tell if this is like a shitpost or a really poorly worded commentary because I have no idea who you are. Frankly I would normally assume the worst block you, buuuuut since I like talking about it I’d love to explain why Samus Aran is extremely transgender.

Tbh I am still tempted to block you but the terrible grammar, spelling error, and nonsensical nature of the ask almost make it seem like a shitpost

First of all Samus being trans-coded was very core to her character from the very beginning. Regardless of the reasons they did it, the original Metroid was intentionally made and marketed to have people assume she was a man. This isn’t even just because people would see a person in a power suit and assume they were a man, the games manual explicitly refers to Samus with he/him pronouns. The immediate assumption that she’s a man because she’s tall, broad shouldered, badass, and wears a power suit that obscures her feminine features until the big reveal is inherently a trans theme. Taking that away makes her a less compelling character. It’s also continued in that Metroid media has continually joked that a lot of the Galaxy assumes that Samus Aran, the greatest bounty hunter in the Galaxy, is a man.

Secondly there was that one Metroid dev who said in an interview that Samus was transgender. The terminology used was outdated and it was explicitly a transphobic joke, but it’s too late she’s ours now.

Thirdly she is (was) built like one of us. That is, prior to the later zero suit designs trying way too hard to be sexy. Like seriously when I first found this image a few years ago I was the same height and weight as her. I miss the big buff broad shouldered Samus design so much and her later redesigns are honestly kinda pathetic by comparison

Fourth, Samus was raised by the Chozo and trained to become a powerful warrior. Part of what they did to make her strong was body modification via Chozo DNA splicing to make her stronger and more agile than a normal human. This is a sci-fi setting where she was raised by an extremely advanced alien race who could change her very DNA, acting like she couldn’t look like she does and be a trans woman is simply not even an argument.

Now, of course, you could refute all this by saying “but Cordelia, we know what Samus looked like as a kid from Metroid Zero Mission and the manga and she was clearly a little girl not a boy.” Now even without addressing the fact that it’s very possible for people to realize they are transgender as children and that children don’t even really have secondary sex characteristics to make it easy to tell what their gender is, this what Samus actually looked as a child:

The combination of all of this gives us trans women a lot of good reasons to believe she is transgender. But also, literally none of this is necessary for me to headcanon a character as trans. Trans women come in all shapes and sizes with all different stories and not a single thing in Metroid canon even remotely suggests that Samus Aran has to be cisgender. And if you try to say “but Samus has no bulge in canonical zero suit Samus depictions!” you’d have to be intentionally dense. Samus Aran is a chimera with a cocktail of human, Chozo, and Metroid DNA and, again, was raised by a race of super advanced aliens. Not only could they have easily given her bottom surgery, but they could’ve even changed her fucking sex chromosomes if she wanted them to. There is literally nothing in Metroid canon that even remotely gives me a reason not to insist that she’s transgender. To be honest, there is more evidence for her being trans than against.

To anyway anyone who actually read this far, I hope you understand the truth. Nintendo’s redesigns are too afraid to show us, but you and I both know that her cock is huge

#Samus aran #Samus #Metroid #trans samus

370 notes · View notes

keikotwins · 5 months

Text

Mokumokuren

Birds of different feathers flock together

Noticed online by head-hunting publishers, Mokumokuren hasn’t waited very long before polarising the attention of Japanese readers. With strange The Summer Hikaru Died, horrific bromance dealing with body dispossession, the mangaka signs a series of sophisticated oddity, that sets itself apart from the predictability of current fantasy productions.

Interview by Fausto Fasulo. Original translation: Aurélien Estager. English translation: “Keikotwins”. Bibliography: Marius Chapuis. Thanks: Camille Hospital & Clarisse Langlet (Pika), Yuta Nabatame, Mayuko Yamamoto & Mana Kukimoto (Kadokawa), Chiho Muramatsu (Tohan)

(T/N: Interview given to ATOM in winter 2023; 2 volumes were out in French.)

In an interview given to the CREA website in November 2022, you confided inventing stories since very young. Did your first fictions resemble the ones you draw nowadays?

It’s true that there are quite a lot of common points between the stories I imagined when I was a child and the ones I tell nowadays in my mangas. Especially a specific motif, that has been haunting me since the time when I wasn’t really aware of the world surrounding me: the presence amongst us of “non-human” beings, that nonetheless have a perfectly normal, ordinary appearance…

And how was this “obsession” born?

Precisely identifying the origins is complicated, my memories are too blurry, I think… What I can tell you is that I’ve always been fascinated by “creatures”. For example, I remember being very impressed by Peter Jackson’s bestiary in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. By the way, still in a fantasy register, I am also a big fan of Harry Potter adaptations… (She thinks.) And I’ve always liked yōkai stories, you know. I think that what I like in all these mythologies is the idea of species classification: each has its own characteristics – physical, biological – its own way to apprehend its environment.

In Japan, yōkai are integral part of regional folklore. Did the place you grew up in have some specific beliefs?

I was born and grew up in Tokyo, and, as you must know, yōkai are mostly associated with rural areas. I was thus never really bathed in this type of regional fantasy folklore. There are all kinds of yōkai and we can perhaps see in some more contemporary urban legends the echo of certain past beliefs? (She thinks.) I am a bit frustrated, because I believe that I could remember a legend that would have impacted me, but nothing comes to mind immediately, sorry!

You have already said so in an interview and it’s quite obvious when reading your work: you are a big amateur of horrific fiction. What has been your first contact with the genre, all medium included?

It was television that introduced me to horror: special shows, television films, series, I was watching these programs with a mix of fear and enthusiasm, a confused sensation that particularly delighted me! (She thinks.) And amongst all the aired shows, I will remember two titles: Hontō ni atta kowai hanashi and Kaidan shin mimibukuro*.

* Inspired by the homonymous manga magazine published by Asahi Shimbun, Hontō ni atta kowai hanashi (lit. “Scary stories that really happened”) is a series produced by Fuji Television that has been airing more or less weekly since 2004. Derived from literary material (a series of compilations of hundreds of short stories by Hirokatsu Kihara and Ichirō Nakayama, published from 1990 to 2005) Kaidan shin mimibukuro is a series made of several short movies depicting ghost stories based on real testimony.

Did you read horror mangas when you were young?

Let’s say that I was more interested in live-action productions. Nowadays, I obviously appreciate some horror manga authors, without pretending to be any expert in the subject. For example, I like Junji Itō’s work, but I am far from knowing it for a long time… (She thinks.) I could also talk about Shigeru Mizuki, who I also appreciate a lot.

The mechanics of fear aren’t the same in occidental and oriental fictions. You like American horrific productions – like Ari Aster movies – as much as ones from Japanese origin – you notably quote Ichi Sawamura novels and Kōji Shiraishi feature films. Can we say that you are tying these two perspectives with The Summer Hikaru Died?

My relationship with horror is more imbued with oriental sensitivity. But what I find remarkable in occidental horrific productions is work on image. In The Shining like in Ari Aster movies, for example, there is real research made on frame composition and choice of colours. I also try to follow this aesthetic reflection in my work as a mangaka.

In Ari Aster’s work, beyond the very precise staging, there is this permanent desire of ambiguity. Do you try to dig this same equivocal trench?

Absolutely. I try to tell complex feelings as well in The Summer Hikaru Died, like fear dyed with nostalgia or attachment, repulsion mixed with fascination, with attraction…

How do you “sort out” the shots that inspire you in cinema?

I don’t draw while freeze-framing during specific scenes. I would always rather watch a movie as a “focussed” spectator. However, I pay a lot of attention to the way the director composes their frame. I sometimes take some notes, but I most often simply keep it in a corner of my mind.

Could you tell us when and how the story and characters of The Summer Hikaru Died appeared to you? Have they matured a long time within you?

I’ve started thinking about this story when I was preparing university entrance exams. I was aspiring to join an art uni, and I was drawing every day. I can’t really say I made my characters “mature”: back then, I wasn’t thinking that the drawings I was making would one day end up being published, way less being serialised! I innocently created characters close to me, without guessing that one day they’d become manga protagonists.

One of your foundational reads was Sui Ishida’s Tokyo Ghoul manga. Can you tell us how you discovered it and what effect it had on you?

I don’t really remember how I discovered this series, but what I know is that I became crazy about it at first read. What I liked – and what I still like – is this idea of telling a story that confronts humans to these “different” beings while following the point of view of a character that represents alterity. Beyond this strictly dramatic aspect, Sui Ishida’s storyboarding and character design have had a strong impact on my work. However, I want to add that Tokyo Ghoul isn’t the only title I took inspiration from, I obviously have other references…

Do you do a lot of researches to define the design of your characters? You seem to draw them easily, in a very natural gesture…

I haven’t spent a long time defining my protagonists. First, there are few in the manga, then, they evolve in a rather realistic universe. My goal was rather simple: they had to look believable in the reader’s eyes. I wanted people to be able to imagine crossing them in the street, you see?

It’s after seeing illustrations posted on social media that depicted the future characters of The Summer Hikaru Died that the publishing department of the Young Ace Up magazine noticed you. How have you reacted when approached?

I was very surprised, because I absolutely wasn’t trying to become a mangaka. I would have never projected in such a future, you see. And, very honestly, if they hadn’t suggested working on this series, I don’t think I would ever had pushed the doors of a publishing house… I am then very thankful towards the persons who have allowed me to enter.

And what would you have done if you hadn’t been solicited?

Back when I’ve been contacted, I was considering – still vaguely – working in the video games field. But I wasn’t really proactive, I wasn’t contacting anyone, wasn’t sending resumes…

Did you want to do chara-design?

Why not, yes. What I like in video games is the range of possibilities they offer. You can then create an entire universe and this is rather exhilarating.

So you’re a gamer…

I have dropped my controller since I’ve started drawing manga. But yes, when I had more time, I played rather regularly, especially Nintendo productions…

Even if you play rather little nowadays, do video games influence your work?

I can’t say whether it really is an influence, but the Undertale game has left a big mark on me. I felt its creator’s strong will to surprise players, to make them feel unprecedented sensations…

Horror manga only relies on art and storyboard to provoke fear, whereas cinema and video games can also rely on sound. Is it from this observation that you have decided to particularly work on your sound effects?

Absolutely. I have thought a lot about the way to introduce and stage sound in The Summer Hikaru Died. The sound effects that you can find in the manga are indeed the result of this approach.

In an interview given to the Realsound website, you mention the use of the シャワシャワ (“shawa shawa”) sound effect. Knowing that occidental readers are way less sensitive to these graphicoustic details, can you explain its meaning?

“Shawa shawa” expresses the song cicadas make in western Japan. It’s a very special noise because in the different regions live different species that make specific sounds. So when I choose this specific sound effect, I convey a geographic and temporal piece of information to the reader, who can then guess the location and season the action takes place in. (She thinks.) When using this sound – that we especially find in the beginning of the manga – my goal was to play with silence, particularly when the song stops. I thus had the idea of representing this sound effect with an easily readable font, so the reader would make no effort to decipher it, as if the sound was asserting itself naturally, you see? I hoped to suggest a saturation they couldn’t avoid and that, when it’d stop, would immerse them in absolute silence.

The Summer Hikaru Died transcribes very well this particular atmosphere of Japanese summers…

Yes, I really wanted to signify this languor in my manga. And the cicadas’ song we discussed earlier contributes to creating this atmosphere: it’s an overwhelming sound, sometimes irritating, you cannot escape from in summer – Japanese readers obviously know what I’m talking about. (She thinks.) I also gave special attention to shadows: summer light being very bright, shadows are very sharp, very deep.

Do digital tools allow you to get this result more efficiently than traditional?

I work on Clip Studio Paint, and it’s true that it sometimes allow me to save time. Consider the work on shadows: I never apply solid black because I like saturating space with hatches and, with digital tools, I can obtain the desired result faster because I can duplicate each of my lines.

Your use of hatches is sometimes reminiscent of Shūzō Oshimi’s…

I don’t know his mangas very well, but it’s funny that you mention him because I recently read his latest series, Okaeri Alice. In any case, I really like his style and I perfectly understand how you can bring his universe and mine together.

The Summer Hikaru Died relies on the concept of body dispossession, that obviously takes back to the Body Snatcher novel by Jack Finney and its movie adaptations. Did you think about it?

I don’t know this book very well, but I know its theme has been approached often, especially in movies. As I was saying at the beginning of this interview, my idea was to adopt the point of view of a non-human and tell his indecision, his moral questions…

We also find this idea in Hitoshi Iwaaki’s Parasite…

I haven’t read the manga fully, but I’ve watched the anime adaptation that was released a few years ago (R/N: in 2014). I remember rather liking it, even if I think I offer something different with The Summer Hikaru Died. What interests me is sounding the inwardness of my non-human character out and expose all his dilemmas. What is his place amongst men? Is he legitimate in our world? Here is the type of questions that pushed me.

One of the impacting scenes of volume 1 of The Summer Hikaru Died is the one when Yoshiki penetrated Hikaru’s body by shoving his arm into his torso. It’s a sequence that is both very sensuaI – to not say sexuaI – and also very horrific. How did you get this idea?

I wanted to put the readers in an uncomfortable position. A stressful situation that could take several forms because, according to your sensitivity, you can feel very different emotions in front of this scene: sexuaI arousaI, fear or disgust. For me, it was supposed to put the reader in some kind of catatonia, you see?

Do you chat a lot with your tantō, especially around these slightly “complicated” scenes?

I have free rein, you know, I can draw everything I want. My editorial supervisor has never asked me to temper some sexuaIIy connotated parts. My discussions with him don’t revolve around this kind of things, but rather around the structure of the scenario itself: where to place this scene in the narration? Is it better to put this sequence before this other one? Nowadays, I am more at ease with all the scripting layout but, at the beginning, I needed support.

What allows you to get, from a dramatic point of view, the mix between bromance and horror?

I wanted to show the differences in sensitivities and values between a human being and an “other than human”, and tell the misunderstandings this can cause when both meet. When Yoshiki “scratches” under the appearance of the one who is supposed to be his best friend, it creates a first point of conflict in the story. I then hoped to make his relationship with Hikaru – or rather with the “entity” that pretends to embody him – a kind of undefinable bond, that wouldn’t be friendship, nor love.

Do you know today where this strange relationship between your two heroes will lead you?

I know more or less how all of this will evolve, yes. I have decided on my story’s general plot since the beginning. I can only tell you that The Summer Hikaru Died won’t be a long series.

How do you explain the almost instant public plebiscite of your series in Japan? You perhaps cannot have perspective on it but, in a saturated publishing landscape, you have managed to stand out…

Hm… Indeed, I don’t really have precise explanations to give you about this success. Maybe the covers’ design has been in favour of the manga? I asked the person in charge of graphics to make sure that the visuals would be noticeable in bookstores. That’s why the books have this monochrome aspect, with the title discreetly placed. I didn’t want obvious advertisement banners, but something simple, like this blue background for the first volume, on which the character stands out. I also wished to create contrast between the jacket’s and the inner cover’s drawings. I thus had requirements that didn’t quite go alongside what we can nowadays see on the shelves of Japanese bookstores.

#the summer hikaru died #hikaru ga shinda natsu #/long post #I'm not a native eng speaker so excuse mistakes!#the fr version has fancy words that I simplified for the eng translation #Feel free to ask any question!#The og article had manga illustrations with funny comments as legends + a short analysis of the manga's narration that I didn't include #The og title was 'Qui se dissemble s'assemble'#which is a play of words saying the opposite of idiom 'Qui se ressemble s'assemble' lit 'who look alike go together'#so I went for a silly equivalent lmao

52 notes · View notes

innsyn · 11 months

Text

Writers and Dreamers needed.

Have you ever heard the term parallel collaboration?

It’s where teams, or individuals, working towards a larger goal, tackle tasks independently.

How could that work in creative writing?

Think of writers telling different stories set in the same world with overlapping characters.

Each writer has independent control of their own story, but needs to collaborate on consistency and continuity between stories.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I would love some of tumblrs many wonderful writers to join me in a parallel collaboration project of epic proportions!

I knew this was a trap! You never wanted to be my friend, you’re just trying to recruit me. Go on then, tell me more.

Okay - so it’s a totally non-profit, Creative Commons Share-A-Like endeavour. Anything anyone contributes can be taken, reworked, reimagined and recombined by everyone - as long as it’s all properly attributed, and distributed under the same licence.

It’s a sandbox which is open to everyone - the idea is to operate like fan fiction in reverse. Anyone can come and write a story using any of the characters that have been developed, and the best will be adopted into canon.

I would love to have stories of all types exist within one original story world - action, romance, horror, smut, slice of life, coming of age, hero’s quest - I want them all and more!

Why should I contribute towards your project instead of working on my own?

I would never ask anyone to bench their WIPs. I promise, I understand how personal that connection is. If you are feeling good and working well on your WIP then I am super proud of you and will cheer you on. But working on your own WIP can be hard precisely because it’s so personal, because it’s your baby.

I don’t subscribe to the archetype of the solo writer, tapping away in isolation. It helps to have people to bounce ideas off, it helps to know that other people are working towards the same goal as you, and it helps to know that you’re not shouldering all the responsibility.

I want this to be your favourite side project. Somewhere you can go and share a big dumb idea and write without pressure, whenever your WIP is kicking your ass.

But what’s it actually about?

I’ve tried to design an overarching scenario with inherent conflict, but scope to be interpreted in many directions…

Here's the idea:

An alien with godlike technology finds an Earthlike planet and its human people.

It designs a game to select a human to be given access to its technology and decide the fate of the planet.

The alien enlists its friends to select 5 human ‘team captains’, spread around the world. They each receive access to a different technology, giving them a unique superpower.

These captains then recruit a further twenty four ‘players’ each, taking it to 125 contestants, each with their own different power.

Once the teams are fully recruited - the humans still unaware where these powers are coming from, or what their purpose is - the alien talks to them. It explains they are part of a game, and what the prize is.

The game is a deathmatch. Any player who kills another player will gain their tech access/superpowers. They cannot kill their own teammates until only one team remains.

A global superpowered battle royale. 5 teams. 125 candidates. 124 of them must die.

And you want, what? Different writers to adopt the different players and tell their stories?

Exactly! I want someone to adopt the teleporter, and someone else to adopt the earthbender, or the emotion manipulator, or the one who can bring nightmares to life. I’ve outlined 125 possible characters, each with a different superpower, but I have no idea what’s going to happen or who is going to win.

Battle Royale. Hunger Games. Squid Games. Haven’t we had enough deathmatch games?

Quick answer: no!

The important differences for this idea are twofold. Normally deathmatch stories happen inside a fixed ‘arena’ - but our stories are loose in the world.

This means most of our players have to travel around the world, trying to hunt or escape from each other - giving them much more opportunity to engage in other adventures aside from trying to kill each other - or to hide from the game and try and live a normal life.

Secondly, by making the project open ended and collaborative we make the writers part of the game. Don’t want your character to get killed off? Write stories better than the ones where they get killed. The deathmatch is part of the project process just as much as it’s part of the plot.

You’re insane. This will never work.

The only way it will definitely never happen is if we never try.

Damn. You got me. Sign me up.

Alright… let’s figure out which character you want to start with…

I've still got a loads of questions though.

Come at me, let's do this!

So what are you calling this big dumb project?

Powerclash

Nice.

So... who can I tag in who might get a kick out of this?

@advashaviv @prokopetz @huttslut @whats-on-your-mind-then @fearofthefourthdimension @caxycreations @time-to-write-and-suffer @wip-nook @blind-the-winds @autism-georg @ryns-ramblings @writeblrfantasy @writeblrsupport @harleywriteshit @unmellowyellowfellow @leebrontide @melonsap @jgmartin @tananaphone @pluttskutt @careful-fear @scribbling-stardust @irlactualwizard @cryptid-s-wips @squarebracket-trick @at-thezenith @slowboz @writinglittlebeasts @lividdreamz @all-write @sergeantnarwhalwrites @tabswrites @authoralexharvey @quantumlandbooks @stanrendipity @manuscriptsatmidnight @memento-morri-writes @magic-is-something-we-create @lukascritical @liv-is @garthcelyn @fearofahumanplanet @antique-symbolism@poetinprose @thedeerwight @inflarescent @viva-la-topknot @theblackbookofarkera @nikoschrissis @sfhoe @soiledcat

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #fantasy writing #worldbuilding #world building #fantasy world #powerclash

104 notes · View notes

grand-theft-carbohydrates · 11 months

Text

first day as the envoy of Yan, and i have a brilliant, amazing, fool-proof plan to assassinate the warmongering tyrant of Qin. I've got the head of a famous general inside a box, a poison dagger hidden inside a map and my backup is ruthless murderer who killed a man at age 13. mark my words, this day will go down in history!

update: my backup got cold feet and became catatonic with fear the moment we set foot in the palace. i quickly spun a story about him being a country bumpkin who was suffering culture shock but now the guards are suspicious and i have to approach the throne room alone--well, mostly alone. Oh, General-Inside-A-Box, we're really in it now.

update: the Warmonger laughed at my joke! i am going to get a good evaluation for regicide, which is normal to want and possible to achieve.

update: it's time to present the map. my palms are sweaty, knees weak and this scroll feels so heavy. i regret eating so much of my niang's dalu mian beforehand because someone didn't put enough salt inside this box and the general (heaven rest his brave soul) is starting to smell and to be honest it's making me a little nauseous. the fear rises in my gullet, strong and acrid, threatening to choke me, but i force it down and put on a brave front, like a swan on a tranquil lake, kicking like mad underneath. this is my one opportunity and i cannot let it slip away. Yan is too small to meet the might of this tyrant in open battle. for the sake of my people and all that i love, i must prevail.

update: i missed.

update: i am now chasing the Warmonger around the throne room. he cant unsheathe his Hugely Impractical Ceremonial Sword and none of his ministers are permitted to carry weapons so they just stand on the sidelines yelling advice. eventually the court physician comes to his senses and throws his medicine bag at me, giving the Warmonger an opening to finally get his sword out and cut me down. i throw my knife at him (also missed) as a final act of defiance but frankly speaking, there's not much face left to salvage here. when i enter the afterlife, the general is laughing so hard his head almost falls off again. i am never going to live this down.

update: I go down in history as a hero and one of the Five Great Assassins. really makes you wonder about the other four.

update: oh my god! my best friend is here too! what a sight for sore eyes, i can't wait to catch up and play some tunes with him!

notes under the cut:

The story takes place in 228 BC, the King of Qin is in the middle of a brutal war of conquest. In the span of just ten years (In 230--221 BC) he will unify china and become the first Emperor (the terracotta warriors belong to him). He will go down in history as both a cruel tyrant and brilliant statesman, to call him influential is to say the Yangtze river is "just a big puddle."

Jing ke -- (the assassin) originally hails from the state of Wei, which was conquered by Qin, afterwards he became a retainer of Yan and joined the plot to seek revenge. I simplified the story a lot for the sake of narrative clarity.

General Huan Yi -- former general of Qin who lost favour with the King. In an absolute bro move, he agreed to commit suicide and let his head be used as a "gift" for the assassination attempt. I couldn't find any sources on how severed heads were preserved during this time, but drying + curing with salt seemed pretty reasonable so i went with that.

yes, i did just combine the Second Century Warlord with Eminem to create an unholy abomination that is the deepest of deep cuts. 娘 Niáng -- [Mum] considered archaic 打卤面 Dǎ lǔ miàn--braised noodles

Jing Ke's buddy Gao Jianli (who is a famous musician) ALSO tries to kill King Qin to avenge his friend's death. He was recognised and blinded before his first attempt, but was allowed to stay. During this time, he ingratiated himself with the king and hid weights inside his instrument, biding his time until he could get close enough to take a swing (spoiler: he also missed).

#jing ke #qin shi huang #history meme #ancient china #chinese history #fuck ups make it into the annals of history jot that down #jing ke livetweets his botched assassination attempt posthumerously. uh. deathtweets ig.#my writing

92 notes · View notes

horsetailcurlers2 · 2 months

Text

addison montgomery fanfiction recs by pairing

(although i am *relatively* new to the greys fandom, once i finished season three i immediately obsessively scoured the internet for any addison montgomery centric fanfiction i could get my hands on. here are just a few of my favorite ones for each of my addison ships (of which there are many). this is by no means an exhaustive list. my qualifications for this are that i’m cool and have good taste and spend way too much time thinking about fictional people)

ADDEK:

-“The Climbing Way” by winter machine (this is actually probably one of my favorite fanfictions of all time, period. this author is just absolutely brilliant at capturing their dynamic and all of its complexities. the entire thing is actually from derek’s POV which i was surprised how much i enjoyed considering i can sometimes be a derek hater lol but it provides some really good insight into his character without being as forgiving as canon or as bash-y as some fics (if that makes any sort of sense?). it also combines two of my favorite addek tropes: “sad baby backstory” and “traumatic event forces them to actually confront their issues”. it is also a very captivating portrait of derek and mark’s realtionship and has lots and lots of flashbacks. big angst warning especially for the early chapters.)

-“Some Bright Morning” by winter machine (i just can’t get enough of this author. i love any addek fic that heavily features savvy and weiss bc i think they should have made more appearances in canon. or savvy should’ve at least lmao. weiss was kind of a dick. but i like him in this fic! this is a very very interesting AU because it takes place largely outiside of canon settings and features a lot of OCs. it also takes place around early season one so the mark wound is still very fresh. its set entirely on a small island in georgia during savvy’s mother’s funeral so there’s plenty of forced proximity and bed sharing. the original setting and cast of characters are really fleshed out and completely captivating. like, i would read a whole separate story just about this island and its inhabitants. also features lots of background on savvy and addison’s friendship. and plenty of angst of course. you may be sending a pattern with these recommendations)

-“do you think i have forgotten (about you)” by crime_wives (this one legitimately made me sob. like, my body produced actual tears. angsty one shot. not happy-addek. a perfect snapshot of their tragic ending)

- “Unhinged (AddisonandDerekandMark)” by RulerOfAllThatIsEvilChiFlowers (very dark. very twisty. somewhat non linear.)

- “This Hurt Can Teach Us Both” by darlingwrecks (oh my lord this one is so so addek- bittersweet, sexy, nostalgic, painful and delightful all at once. my favorite thing about this writer is the way they write backstory, especially for the Med School Trio. this is also kind of fun because we never got to see how these two dealt with their post divorce logistics. derek was just kind of like “take all the property and fuck off” which is not at all how these things work lol)

MEDDISON:

- “lately she’s undressing for revenge” by emilyprentits (only read this if you want to be driven to tear your own hair out by the emotions this will make you feel. this is one of the fics that fully convinced me to ship meddison. so so so good and it’s like it was written from inside of meredith’s actual brain)

-“i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight” by withpeopleinperson (two words: stripper addison. read it. be forewarned it’s only one chapter and has not been updated in a few years but it’s a GREAT chapter regardless)

-“the seven stages of intoxication” by theprincessdiarist (meredith grey doling out meredith grey levels of emotional dysfunction. featuring loads and loads of delightfully frustrating mutual pining)

-“Sex and Caring in Seattle” by Bluefall (meredith once again having totally normal and regular feeling about her ex boyfriend’s wife. i love this one because they are both just kind of bisexual disasters and derek is just Also There. i love the way this author perfectly captures meredith’s perpetual inability to navigate her own emotions)

*EDIT: i also realized i forgot to add that these last two were recommended to me by @crime-wives !!!

-“open the floodgates up” by SugarsweetRomantic (this has EVERYTHING you could want in a meddison fic: mutual hurt/comfort, bed sharing, friends to lovers, these two being absolute dumbasses about each other. had me crying and also kicking my feet. genuinely)

MADDISON:

-“Make This Go On Forever” by darlingwrecks (i am so in love with this universe. i usually don’t gravitate toward kid/family centric fics but this one is so so much more than that. it’s maddison, if those two had made a real go of things, stayed in new york, and kept the pregnancy. there’s even some background merder eventually (which is not usually my jam but i like in this context). very very fluffy at times, a bit angsty at others, super in character but iirc i think this was written pretty early on in the show so addison and mark’s backgrounds may be a smidge different than in canon. this is the link to the rewritten version (i think?) on ao3. the author had the original up on live journal back in the day and i could have SWORN i read a sequel that i found a link to in the depths of their LJ but i cannot find it anywhere rn)

-“When I Grow Up” by winter machine (another maddison-if-they’d-stayed-in-new-york-and-addison-kept-the-pregnancy, but with a twist that brings them to seattle to see derek, who they haven’t spoken to in seven years. a fantastic plot but also sort of just a brilliant exploration of how mark and addison would be as parents given their own childhoods and how they have pretty much been cut off from the one healthy(ish) family dynamic that either of them have experienced. there’s also background merder in this one and it actually kind of made me like merder which is a major feat)

-“Celery” by winter machine (a fun little one shot featuring Derek Being An Idiot, Drunk Addison, and Mark Crossing Boundaries. a little bit sad and a little bit funny. again, everything by this author is just great)

JADDISON:

- “A Certain Slant of Light” by darlingwrecks (this is for those of us that were weirded out by addison’s convo with amelia in season 18. a more fleshed out exploration of addison’s mental health during the pandemic. it’s a very raw and honest portrayal of depression and anxiety and how someone like addison would navigate it while being a doctor in a global pandemic and raising an 8 year old. it’s not nearly as bleak as it sounds though. lots of fluff, a little smut. also touches on how addison might’ve grieved mark and derek. and archer makes some appearances which i loved (i know he’s an asshole but i really like addison’s brother lol))

-“Diamonds in the Sky” by Ziaaaaa_sdc (there’s so few jaddison fics out there, probably because of how compressed their relationship timeline was as they tried to wrap up the show, but this writer has several and they’re all so good. there definitely aren’t enough fun AUs for them so i was really excited when i first found this. its Ballet School Jaddison and there’s actually only three chapters atm. no idea if it will be updated ever again but it’s still more than worth a read. a smidge angsty so far. also seems to be setting up a little enemies to lovers arc)

CADDISON:

-“Help Me (With The Butterflies)” by BlackRoseMatron (a very sweet one shot. this author is single-handedly keeping the caddison shippers fed and i love it. they also have some really great meddison stuff)

#read these at your own risk lol i tend to gravitate toward angst #most of these are rated T and above #the word counts vary wildly #greys anatomy #private practice #addison montgomery #addison montgomery fanfiction #addek #meddison #merdison #caddison #mark x addison #fanfiction #fanfic rec

24 notes · View notes

aritany · 5 months

Note

what's the origin story for dgdss? if you don't mind 🥺

oho! well. as it happens, i love telling this story.

if you want to know how my childhood best friend writing a short story about me ended up leading to me getting a big 5 book deal, read on.

tw for reference to self harm and some...... unpleasant commentary (not mine) about it later on, folks.

so.

i was homeschooled until my very last year of high school (yes, like mean girls, except my mean girl dominated the first 15 years of my life and that last year was just blissfully chill) and like many homeschooled children, i was a part of a co-op.

cool, right? it's like School Lite™ where you put a group of feral children in a classroom, except you're all varying ages and grade levels, and also, nobody in the room is an accredited teacher, and nobody seems to have an issue with this.

my mom and her mom were best friends, and we were born around the same time, so naturally, we were best friends too from birth, and we were part of the same co-op all through my elementary and junior high school years.

anyway. i won't air all of the dirty laundry regarding our early friendship, because the whole book deal thing doesn't touch it, and i also think there's no need to be pointing out the behaviour of an Actual Child in retrospect. all you need to know is that we were best friends, our relationship was fraught, and by the time we hit 12-13 it was to the degree that people started telling me, hey man, this is Very Strange Behaviour and You Might Be A Victim, and i had to go do some introspection.

the introspection led to the general conclusion oh shit, but we stayed friends, because obviously. when you're 13, breaking up with a best friend is literally The End of the world, and anyway, there was a lot of good in there too, right?

right?

anyway, things took a turn when we were about 14. i struggled heavily with mental illness and self harm as a closeted religious teenager (who'da thunk?) and i confided in her about a small fraction of what was going on, because she was my best friend. i didn't tell her details, because even then i knew what i was experiencing was heavier than was probably appropriate to burden another kid with (and i stand by it!), but she knew the gist.

several Tense moments resulted, one of which was the day she pointed out self harm scarring in front of other people and asked me what happened, ran away, and refused to talk further about it, so i had to talk to her mom, who told me i should apologize to her, considering my mental health struggle had been so difficult... for her.

yeah, you know the type of people we're dealing with, here.

she was determined to undermine me in front of our mutual friends. anything to make me look worse, in one way or another. anything to step just a little higher. if i was interested in something, here's a public dissertation on why it's a dumb thing to be interested in. if i had a crush, forget keeping it a secret, and forget the notion that it's normal, because it's not, it's stupid, and shallow to have a crush in the first place. if we had a similar interest, here's a dressing down about how all i ever do is steal the things she likes (even if i liked them first).

needless to say, by the time the whole deal with the short story is going down a few short years later, we're on the rocks.

let me set the scene. we hadn't seen each other in several months, due to the On The Rocks of it all, and were meeting up for coffee while our moms were also getting coffee. hashtag classic homeschooled behavior, etc.

we're catching up, and she tells me she needs to apologize for something. i am, as you might imagine, agog, considering the rarity of apologies from this girl. she tells me she wrote a short story and submitted it to her university journal to be published, and that in hindsight she thinks she should have asked for my permission first.

i am, obviously, suspicious. to her credit, she gives it to me to read through and then leaves to go do christmas shopping. it's a muddy-ish faux-deep piece about a narrator who has a best friend struggling with mental illness and self harm.

(oh, you might say. to which i say, yeeeeah.)

in the story, the narrator depicts the struggle of trying to care about somebody who is in pain, referring to the best friend as 'cariad' the whole way through, which is just so weird i'm not even going to touch on it. google it if you'd like. the line that i still remember (and will probably remember until the day i die) is the one where she describes her cariad as feeling the need to use a razor as a microphone.

i honestly don't recall what i said when she eventually came back, but i contained all of the aggression of a piece of pocket lint at the time, so i imagine it was along the lines of oh. yeah, okay. [insert image of the saddest wettest cat you've ever seen]

i never saw her again. we went our separate ways, and that was that. we never talked about it.

(the one upside of it was that my mom, with whom i have a Notoriously Contentious relationship, was outraged on my behalf. that was the first (in many years) and last (ever) time we were on the same side of a battle, so, you know. silver linings.)

but the real indignity of it to me was that my friend never really knew. i never really told her about what was happening in my head. she never knew why i was hurting myself, or how bad it got, because i did everything i could to keep that to myself, and at the end of the day, she thought it was all for attention to the degree she wrote a transparently biographical account of it and chose razor as a microphone as a phrase on purpose.

dead girls started as a way to process the complicated feelings i had about that friendship and then obviously ultimately became a whole different creature in the process. i wanted to write about how it felt to go through that never having had another close friendship to compare it to, and how confusing and nauseating it was to have other people point out shitty behaviour.

it became about healing when you can't get closure. how do you move on when you'll never know why somebody hurt you?

nothing that happens in the book is based on real life events between us, partly because i'm not a hypocrite, and partly because if your work can be traced back to your personal experiences, perhaps you should do what you can to be kind.

'my julia,' as i like to call her (she is not named julia, because, oh my god) is nothing like julia hoskins in appearance or general personality. but the way she made me feel? oh, that's all there. nora feels it the way i felt it.

i wrote dead girls back in 2020, and got agented with it in 3 weeks of sending my first query. we got a book deal for it with a penguin random house imprint 1 year later to the day, and next week it's going to be out in the world, and i'm not going to lie, it feels really damn good.

also, her short story got rejected by her university, because it was bad. so you might lose some, but you win some, too.

#alex talks #storytime with alex #dead girls don't say sorry #dgdss #toxic friendships amiright

28 notes · View notes

shellingtons-failed-driving-test · 16 days

Text

Chapter One

4,311 Words

Authoru's Note:

Sorry, this doesn't have a title yet, but I'm trying to think up one. I just wanted to go ahead and post it to see what people think. If you have any suggestions pls put them in the comments.

Oh, my word this got way longer than I'd originally intended. I hope I was okay with the characterisation. I was worrying so much as I was writing it. I hope the interactions feel in character and you enjoy it.

Also, I have changed the ages slightly, which I think is fine because they're unspecified. However, it is canon that Peso has finished Medical school, but in the story, he has not. He's 19 and a half because he went to nursing school right after high school and plans to get a medical degree later.

And, in this universe, all humans are animal hybrids so they have actual hands and feet but still ears and tails. I'm not exactly sure how to explain it, but they're referred to by what type of hybrid they are as well as their race. Certain areas have more common hybrids that correspond to what "regular/normal" animals live there. EX: skunk hybrids are only in the Americas because skunks don't live anywhere else.

Anyway, sorry about my ramblings, and happy reading!

Peso's Perspective:

The big car stops with a squeal, throwing me forward with its sudden breaking. As soon as the door opens the sound of waves crashing and seagulls crying fills my ears. The sea breeze is refreshing after being cooped up in a vehicle for so long.

“Here we are.” The driver says curtly. He’s a state government employee with a scruffy beard that makes him look older than he probably is. He didn’t say a single word the entire drive, leaving me in silence broken only by the occasional crackling of the radio. In a way, it was good because it gave me a chance to do some last-minute studying of the Octonauts handbook pdf I printed out at home. Still, I felt like he was kind of glaring at me in the mirror. Maybe it’s just the anxiety. Maybe he’s just a grumpy person. He had photographs of his children clipped to his visor, but I didn’t see a wedding ring. Divorced, maybe?

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just my job. Say, you’re with that team of astro- er, aqua- whatever, scientist, right?”

“The Octonauts, yes.”

“Right, that’s what it was.” He nods as he helps me unload my bags. I gulp a bit at their size. I’m really going to be living at sea for months. I hope my family will be okay.

As soon as he sets the bags down, he closes the hatch and drives off, leaving me once again alone. The other Octonauts, the original Octonauts, have been at sea for a year already. They got a send-off with fanfare at their port in England, all I got was a crumpled map to try and find my way around this place. I’m not jealous but . . . it only reminds me that I’m the newbie, not one of them.

I’m only here as a filler for Dr. Deere, who had to leave due to a research development for one of his projects on land. They’re going to have a proper replacement, someone qualified, in six months at the latest, that’s what they said. It takes a lot to qualify for this programme, the best of the best with years of study in their fields and here I am, just some lucky guy. I’m not even an actual doctor, just a nurse, and even then I still have a few final training courses to complete. All week I’ve wondered, why on earth would they pick me? Am I even good enough?

I blink at the blare of a ship’s horn. Crap, I can’t zone out like that! I need to be prepared for anything, ANYTHING. I will be . . . as soon as I find the ship.

I was sent the training videos, all 600-something of them, on a hard drive the size of my hand, but obviously, I haven’t had time to watch them all and downloading them would’ve taken nearly all of my storage space, so I just packed the whole hard drive instead. The schematics are on the hard drive too, so I have no idea what this thing looks like. They said they’d go over plans and safety once I was settled, but I wish I could at least have a photo. It’s got to be some kind of submarine, right?

The port on the Isle of Skye is a small, but bustling place. The signage is old, and blocked by containers coming in. A crew pulls a fishing net of turtles out onto the dock, and I wince. Then, I see they’re all for studying. Several scientists surround them, scanning red tags on the fins and retrieving cameras from their shells. I smile as I pass them, waving at the turtles, who wave back. I notice one of the scientists, a brown-haired man hurrying around. When he looks at his tablet he jumps in surprise.

“Jumping jellyfish! We were totally wrong about the feeding grounds. This is amazing! I thought . . .”

I don’t catch the rest as I walk on. I’ve never heard someone so excited about being proven wrong before.

As I round the corner, I see it.

Dios mío . . .

It looks like an octopus. Of course, it does. I’m so stupid. It’s the Octopod. A state-of-the-art international research station with laboratories capable of housing a crew of 10 for extended periods. Can I just go in?

I stop when I get to the ramp, hesitating at the bottom, I survey the large oddly shaped submarine once more. My temporary home. As I look up something flickers in the window, like a lamp, or a streak of orange, but it’s gone before I’m sure.

I remember what my 4th grade science teacher, Mr. Perez always said: Take a deep breath. I do, and even after all this time, it helps.

The ramp echoes under my feet in a comforting way, assuring me of the ship’s solidity. A small yellow creature greets me, and I gasp. It frowns.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me. You’re very cute looking, you just scared me.”

It makes a chirping sound, which sounds affirmative. Laughing, I follow it into the elevator, as it closes I hear footsteps, someone running.

“Tunip!” A male voice pants, he has a heavy Scottish accent. “Don’t . . . leave me.”

Huffing and a little winded the scientist from before appears. The yellow creature makes a sound that sounds like a scold.

“Ah, well, sorry. I got distracted with the turtles.” the man says sheepishly. He’s the same scientist I saw with the turtles. Now that I can see him better it’s clear that he’s not too much older than me. His chestnut brown hair is messy and his eyes have bags underneath them but are still concerningly bright, He bears the appearance of an overworked uni student, and yet somehow still cute.

The creature blows a raspberry at him and starts to close the lift doors.

“Hey, now that’s not very kind! I was just trying to– Ah, hey! Don’t close the lift on me!”

The creature huffs, sounding almost affectionate, but allows the man into the lift.

Once inside he takes a deep breath, pulling a handful of Polaroids from his shoulder bag, looking at them as if to make sure they don’t disappear. They’re of the turtles, and a few have him in them, but he doesn’t spend as much time looking at them. Finally, he turns to me, as if he’s just noticed me.

“Oh, hello there. Forgive me, I didn’t see you. I’m Shellington.” He doesn’t extend his hand, only nodding, but the greeting is still just as friendly.

“I’m Peso. I’m the temporary medic.”

He nods, more to himself than to me, I think, muttering “Oh, good. It’s dangerous for us not to have one on board, especially with Kwazii.”

As the lift rises, it makes a loud mechanical whirring, as if no one had bothered to dampen it as they do in most lifts. In fact, the whole thing looks industrial and feels about five degrees colder than before the door was closed. I wonder why, I also wonder who Kwazii is. Finally, it dings and the doors open and he steps out into a small dark room. I trip after him, barely able to see a centimetre in front of me.

“Uhhh?”

My foot collides with something and I go sprawling over (except not really because there’s barely space in this room for my body length).

“Owwie! You’ve stood on my foot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. But, where are we?”

“Oh, whoops, I must’ve forgotten to mention. This lift is only here because some equipment would be unsafe to carry any other way, either because it contains potentially hazardous materials or it’s simply too large.”

“Oh . . . I suppose that makes sense.”

It would be hard to carry an entire x-ray machine up and down stairs, even a portable one.

“Welcome to my closet!” He says it with his arms wide to indicate the space around us with affected excitement, but the space is small so he can’t extend his arms very much. I can’t help but laugh.

The idea of being in a closet makes me laugh a bit, but I still don’t like dark spaces.

“Can we, um, maybe get out?”

“Oh, right, yes.”

He presses a switch I can’t see and light streams in. With a sigh of relief, I follow him into the larger room. It’s a laboratory. It’s very green, with light green walls, floors and posters. Now that I pay attention, even his shirt is olive green. He must really love green.

I turn to ask him about where I’m supposed to be, only to see he’s already gone back to work. Right, they don’t have time for a bumbling rookie. After a moment of debate with myself, I tap him lightly on the shoulder. It takes a few times before he notices, and when he does he jumps again.

“Excuse me, do you know where it is I’m supposed to go?”

He furrows his brow thoughtfully, “Hmm, I don’t have much to do with the recruitment process, that’s Professor Inkling and the Captain’s job, but I believe you’re supposed to meet with the Captain, he should be in HQ. I have to finish processing this data, but Tunip can take you.”

“Okay.”

The creature, Turnip, seems to smile. He chirps excitedly leading me back to the lift. When he gets in he jumps high enough to press the button that reads HQ. The ride is short and the doors open out to a large circular room. Glass makes up the top half of the room, a large skylight. I can only imagine what it must look like underwater. It must be incredible.

In the centre stands a tall man, not quite old enough to be my father, but a little older than Pogo, with neatly combed white hair, he wears a blue uniform with a tool belt. This must be the captain. He smiles, extending his hand. He towers over me.

“Good morning, you must be Peso. I’m Captain Barnacles, it’s lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Deere told me all about you.” His voice is loud, but kind.

“Oh, h-he did?” It comes out as a question, and I stutter under everyone’s sudden gaze. Even Tunip looks expectantly at me. “I mean, I’m glad he did. And I’m very glad to meet all of you and be working with you.”

“Us as well, we hope you can learn a lot during your time here. Let’s meet everyone.”

He waves for me to follow and takes me to a station full of buttons and computers. A woman gets up when she sees us. She has warm brown skin and hair cut in a fluffy chin-length bob, sunbleached with blond highlights. She’s a bit taller than me

“Dashi, meet Peso, our new medic.”

“Rad! Nice to meet you Peso. I’m Dashi, head of system and operation here in the Octopod. I run all the computer systems and track the weather patterns, but on my days off, I’m a surfer.”

With her Australian accent, it definitely makes sense.

“Ooh, fun.”

“It is, have you met anyone else yet?”

“The Captain, but that was obvious, sorry, and Shellington. He introduced himself as just Shellington, but does he have credentials I should call him by?”

“Not yet, but finished uni and he’s doing his PhD research on this mission, so he will. Have you met the vegimals yet?”

“The what?”

“They’re what he’s doing his research on. Oh, I’m sure you’ll just love them. I think Barrot is with Tweak right now actually.”

At this, Captain Barnacles nods, “Yes, I’m taking him to meet Tweak next.”

“Great, see you around, Peso!”

“You too.” I take a breath as we get back in the lift.

“This must be a lot for you.”

“Oh, no, sir. It’s really fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle it, but if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask any of us. I know they can be a bit intense at first, but they’re all good people and they all want the same thing, to help creatures in the ocean. We’re happy to have you and they’ll be happy to help you adjust.”

“Thank you, Captain.” I can tell from his voice just how much he believes in the crew and in me, the only question is whether the crew feels the same, and if I even deserve that belief.

“I do hope you’ll settle in easily.”

“I’ll try my best. The crew all seem really nice.”

The lift dings then, relaising us to what looks like a garage with a large pool in the centre.

I see more of the creatures like Tunip standing next to a machine I can only describe as looking like a big orange shark, holding wrenches. What was it Dashi called them? Vegi-mals? The vegi-mal is as orange as the gup.

“47, please.” a female voice calls. Whoever she is, she has a southern United States accent like I’ve never heard before. I look around for the woman but I only see a pair of fluffy, light green ears sticking out from underneath the metal shark. They contrast oddly with the orange.

The vegi-mal hands her the large wrench he was holding.

“Thanks, screwdriver.”

She reaches up and he puts a small screwdriver in her hand.

“Thanks.” she hands the wrench back, “carrot.”

Huh?

The vegi-mal hands her a carrot straight out of the toolbox.

“Tweak, are you almost finished?” the Captain asks.

“You bet, I’ll be done faster n’ you can say buncha munchy crunchy carrots.”

Just as she pronounces the “t” she slides out from under the machine, half-eaten carrot in hand.

“What’s up?” Her hazel eyes sparkle in a nice way.

“Tweak, I’d like you to meet the new member of our team, Peso. He’ll be our medic for the next few months.”

She jumps up, striding over to shake my hand, “Nice to meet ya, Peso. Welcome abroad, and welcome to the Launch Bay.”

She takes a big bite of carrot, smiling, her green braid swinging as she walks over to the control panel. She’s more muscular than I am, wearing a jumpsuit not zipped all the way so it shows her tank top revealing her build. Her belt is full of tools I can’t even name, she looks like she belongs here.

“Thank you, it’s such a nice space,” I tell her honestly, looking around at all the gadgets. Finally, I spot something familiar. Ring of Fire, it's my younger brother, Pinto’s favourite video game. Seeing it makes me miss him more.

She follows my gaze, “You play? I’m always up for a tournament!”

“Oh, ah, no. My younger brother. I’ve joined him a few times but I always die before the first round.”

“Shame, maybe I can teach you. Perhaps I can even teach you so well you’ll beat Kwazii. Ah, speakin’ of Kwaz, I should probably put Bea way before he comes lookin’ for her.”

Two people now have mentioned Kwazii. I wonder what his deal is? Is he the Octonauts mischievous pet or something? Whoever he is, I really want to meet him now. Meanwhile, there's a bubbling and the orange metal contraption disappears into the water.

The Captain laughs, “Yes, you should. Thank you for taking the time for Peso, I’m sure we’ll be back soon to see which Gup he’ll be riding in.”

“Well I was working’ on a little project . . . but yeah, s’probably best if he just rides with one of us for now. Gup A’s probably safest. You’re going to see the professor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well tell him thanks for the book, it’s helped a lot with my design.”

“I will. He’ll be glad to hear it.” The Captain smiles as he takes us back to the lift.

“The Equipment elevator, really, Cap?”

“Well, I thought that—”

Suddenly there’s a whooshing, and somebody lands right next to me.

“Ahoy Tweak!” A male voice shouts.

Tweak looks unimpressed, but I can see hidden affection when she rolls her eyes. “She’s not here.”

“Not anywhere?”

“Nope, ya just missed here.”

He whines, “Tweeeak! When am I gonna get my Gup back?”

“Come on, it’s just repairs, we do this every quarter, you know this.”

“I know, but . . .” he turns, starting to stalk off, then calls over his shoulder, “Fine, but I’ll be back!”

“I’m sure you will.”

While he’s looking at Tweak he stalks right into me. I fall very gracefully onto my butt. He snaps his head back in my direction with surprise, looking down.

“Oh, hey there little fella. I’m sorry about that.” he bends down offering his hand, and after a second I decide to embrace the humiliation and take it. He smiles, “So what brings you here?”

“I-”

“Are you lost?”

“What? No, I-”

“Kwazii.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, Captain.”

“I know but-”

“Are you here for a tour? I didn’t think they let people do that.”

“Kwazii.” Captain taps him hard on the shoulder.

“Ouch! What is it, Captain?”

“He works here now.”

The man, Kwazzi, steps back, eye wide, then narrowing into basically a slit. I shiver. “Oh.” he lifts his eyes patch, squinting to look at me . . . and then he bursts out laughing.

I feel my entire body heating up with humiliation. Tweak winces.

“Oh, matey, I’m so sorry!” he manages between laughs, “I thought you were a kid. My bad, my bad.” At last, he recovers himself, extending his hand. “You must be Peso. I’m Kwazii, First Lieutenant.”

I don’t shake his hand. He frowns, retracting it and crossing his arms in disappointment. He seems kind, like someone who cares but that only makes it more patronising, only he isn’t wrong. Of course, he thought I was a kid. I am a kid. I don’t belong here with these smart talented adults.

It must show on my face because he softens, he steps forward, then back as if unsure of what to do. I don’t want to be babied. I’m not some creature he has to help. I want to be here to help, and here I am obviously a penguin out of water.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you, I was laughing at meself, for being so knot-headed”

It’s fine really. I’m used to it, to being underestimated (even though I’m not sure I even have the skills) I don’t let it touch me anymore. (at least that's what I’m trying to tell myself. It’s not working.) I shake my head, not able to help the sign that escapes me. I am so in over my head. I don’t think he meant to be rude (surely not, but maybe insulting rookies is acceptable in scientific communities. Even if he sounds like some sort of pirate, he’s probably waaay smarter than me). “Oh. No, it's perfectly fine, you’re not the first and won’t be the last.”

He stands even farther back, not saying a thing, arms still crossed. His eyes scan over me, as if picking me apart, definitely judging me. He almost looks still, almost, but I can tell he’s not, not on the inside anyway. He can’t seem to truly stand still, his tail and ears twitching impatiently. He rocks on his feet ready to go do whatever it is he does at a moment's notice. Now that he’s as close to still as I suspect he gets I take the chance to really look at him.

The last member of my new team is tall (well, tall to me, and most people are tall to me, so probably medium height), and ginger. Unlike most gingers I’ve seen he’s not actually strawberry blond or a carrot top, but a light shade of orange that changes colour as the light shifts. It’s pretty.

His eye does the same. I can only see the right one and it's hard to tell because he keeps twitching but I think he has heterochromia, the rarer kind where one eye has two colours. The eye that I can see is brown with an amber in a ring around the middle.

But that’s not the strangest thing about him, one of his ears has a piece missing from it. I shiver at the thought of what could’ve done that. Did he get it while on a mission? Luckily they said I won’t have to go on missions . . . probably.

The Captain coughs awkwardly to break the silence. “Kwazii is field personnel, so he spends most of his time outside of the Octopod. You most likely won’t be seeing each other too often.” he looks at me as if trying to assure me. I know it’s unkind, but it makes me feel a bit better that I won’t have to spend much time around Kwazii. He's loud, seems unpredictable and looks dangerous (though I’m sure he’s not).

“That must be very exciting. I’m sure we can get to know each other some other time, then.”

He smiles but like all cats he has fangs, so it’s all teeth. I try my best not to gulp. Thankfully Captain leads me toward the lift. As we walk away I hear Kwazii whisper to Tweak “Huh? Where are they going?” I don’t even know why I turn around, but I do.

“Why aren’t you using the octochute?”

“The what?”

“The octochutes, haven’t you been using them?” I can tell he’s not trying to be mean. He looks so genuinely confused that it’s almost comical. His face is like the "???” expression in real life. It makes me laugh a little, releasing the tension.

“No.”

“Well then how’ve you been getting around, then?”

“I just took the lift.”

“But . . . it’s for equipment?”

“Yes, Shellington told me.”

He still looks incredulous. “The equipment lift? Why in the seven seas would ya do that, matey?”

“I don’t know, I just . . . did.”

“Matey, we ONLY use it for equipment, plus it’s sooo slow, and cold.”

Oh, that would explain why it isn’t nearly as fancy as the rest of the ship and opens into closets. I feel dumb for not realising it before. I guess I just thought they were cramped for space, but of course not. How stupid of me.

“Kwazii. Be polite, I told him too. It is his first day, after all. The octochutes can be a bit shocking at first, and he’s already come a long way to get here. I wanted to ease him into it.”

Kwazii droops, face losing the confusion and entering to a neutral state with no expression at all, after seeing him so energised it looks wrong like excitement is the natural state of his particles.

The Captain leads me away, back into a second equipment lift (I didn’t know there were two), I exhale when it closes and Kwazii and Tweak disappear.

After escaping another closet, we step into a bright blue and white room. It’s filled with medical equipment. This must be the Medical Bay. Through the door’s small window, I can see through the window across the hall. In his laboratory, Shellington is typing away on a desktop. Probably finishing the data he was talking about earlier.

“Here we are.”

I turn back to where the Captain stands.

“This is the Medical Bay, where you’ll be working for the next few months. You share a sleeping pod with Dashi and there’s an Octochute that will take you there.”

“Sh-hare?” I mean, sure, I’m gay, I’ve known that since I was young, but still, wouldn’t Dashi like her privacy? I’d like my privacy. We barely know each other!

“Oh, not like that, this isn't a sleepaway camp. We’re all professional adults, she gets one half and you get the other, there’s a wall in the middle with an Octochute. If you want Dashi to show you how to use it she’ll be happy to, I’m sure.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Captain.”

“I hate to leave you all by yourself, but I have a meeting with Tweak to discuss her latest project. If you need anything just find one of us.”

“Oh, okay.”

He leaves, and then I’m alone. The Octopod must be soundproofed to outside sounds because I can hear nothing but the air system cycling. I pull my phone from my pocket for music, but the battery is dead. Great! And then, I’m not even sure exactly why but I start to cry. I’m an idiot, trapped on a ship with people I don’t know who probably think I’m incompetent and unqualified for a job I didn’t even sign up for. The meeting with Kwazii showed me exactly how much I don’t know. Now here I am, pathetically crying. I miss my family.

There was a cat in my class in primary school, an orange tabby just like First Lieutenant Kwazii. He’d been held back a year so he was taller and bigger than all of us and he was loud too and would always bully the smaller kids and get away with it. I don’t even know why I’m remembering him all of a sudden. I know he and Kwazii aren’t the same, but I’ve never liked loud unpredictable people. They scare me. Maybe that’s why.

And something tells me I’ll be seeing Kwazii in the Medical Bay somewhat often. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t dislike him, of course not, but I feel . . . wary.

Oh well. I won’t allow him or anyone else to interfere with my job. I will prove to myself and them that I can handle myself for a few months. And then it’ll all be over and I’ll get to go home again.

Taking a deep breath, I keep busy by familiarising myself with the workings of the Medical Bay and everything in it. It’s fully stocked with any supplies and equipment I could need so all I brought were clothes. There isn’t much to do, so I resort to cleaning the space that’s probably already sterile, just because it calms me down.

After a while, an announcement comes over the speakers that we’ll be departing for the Mediterranean Sea to aid in the preservation of coral at sunrise tomorrow.

Before I know it I find myself falling asleep at the work table. Too tired by the day’s events I let myself drift off.

(A/N: Poor Kwazii, he can be kinda scary without meaning to be. He’s just so confused as to why someone wouldn’t want to use the super duper fun octochutes. LOL)

#octonauts #kwazii #kwazii cat #peso #octonauts peso #octonauts kwazii #kwazii x peso #peso x kwazii #kwaso #pazii #octonauts fanfic #octonauts fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #octonauts fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

cringecompanionapologist · 7 months

Text

Some Interesting Stuff About the Development of Turlough

I was seriously tempted to call this post "Vis-lore Turlough". I am so fucking normal.

Anyway, I found a website via the TARDIS wiki that goes into detail about the concepts behind and making of Doctor Who episodes. For Mawdryn Undead, this means a discussion of how the character of Turlough was developed.

It started with JNT and Adric not going according to his vision. He was supposed to be a companion you couldn't quite trust, but that didn't really work with him, so it was decided that they'd try the idea again.

Honestly, the "untrustworthy" thing didn't work with Adric because of his age. He had an innocent vibe to him and tended to work best when the fact that he was just a kid trying his best was emphasized.

He'd often sort of go rogue, trying to save the day in his own way, often with some lying and stealing involved, but this seemed to confuse people. Adric became infamous for taking the villain's side, something he only did once. He pretended to take the villain's side in two other stories, but it was a fake-out. In Kinda, since the villain he pretends to side with is obviously insane, the fake-out is also quite obvious. I've seen reviews of State of Decay that don't seem to understand that Adric was supposed to be faking, however. There was also Castrovalva, where Adric was forced to work with the Master, and there's a scene or two where he pretends to cooperate willingly, but it doesn't last very long and it's always clearly a fake-out. Honestly, Adric is actually a pretty bad liar. I'm not sure if he was supposed to come across that way, but it's what we got.

Turlough was an attempt to start over and try the idea again, but with a clear story arc behind it that would make the writers keep that element consistent. Notably, for a character meant as a replacement for Adric, and a character who'd later be introduced as a schoolboy, the original plan for Turlough doesn't seem to specify his age. He's an alien working for the Black Guardian.

Unlike Adric, Turlough wasn't really meant to be a teenager. He originally wasn't going to be introduced as a schoolboy at all. The planned third story of season 20, where he'd be introduced, was The Song of the Space Whale, but the story fell through, eventually ending up as a Lost Story audio with 6 and Peri.

Since this was a last minute change, Turlough wasn't actually aged down. According to Mark Strickson, Turlough is supposed to look like he doesn't belong in the setting, and one of the ways he doesn't belong is by being obviously too old. It's never directly explained to the audience that Turlough is older than he was pretending to be, though it is implied. When given Adric's old room, he complains about it looking like a child's room, because he's had enough of children. So, the clearest answer we get to Turlough's age is "older than Adric".

Having Turlough be a bit older makes the more morally ambiguous part of his character seem more convincing. He's also given a more clear motivation for it. Adric had kinda sorta been an outsider on his homeworld who learned to steal things, but he stole because his big brother did. Adric sort of latched on to any role model he found, so simply traveling with the Doctor would change his moral attitudes to better match him. He's still young enough that his worldview is shaped by adults. Turlough is old enough that, even if he respects and admires someone, he's developed his own view of the universe through his own experiences with it.

Another reoccurring point in Mark Strickson interviews is that he wanted Turlough to be more independent than most companions. He's from an advanced civilization, so he knows how all the tech works. He's familiar with alien species. He doesn't need the Doctor to explain everything to him. But, the show kind of forced the companions into a simplistic role. JNT believed that at the end of the day, the companions were there to ask "what's happening, Doctor?" even in situations where they should definitely already know. They had to stand in for not only an audience of ordinary humans, but an audience primarily of children, so even things that a regular human adult could figure out would sometimes have to be spelled out to them.

Janet Fielding also had a problem with this for feminist reasons. Tegan wasn't supposed to be stupid. This led to a period of time where everyone was going rogue. You had two actors playing their companions as intelligent, independent adults when the script needed the opposite.

I'm calling attention to this because I think it's interesting that this was happening with Five's companions specifically. Five's main fandom characterization is as a dad with all these adopted queer youths. Five does often act like that, but it would be interesting to really look at that in the context of companions that probably wouldn't want to be treated that way. Adric and Nyssa were both introduced as teenagers, though Nyssa seemed to grow up over time. They sort of were his adopted children.

But, Tegan and Turlough enter the TARDIS as adults. The actors' frustrations could actually fit in-character. Tegan feels like she's being talked down to because she's a woman and Turlough had to pass himself off as a schoolboy but is sick of it. Why he doesn't change out of his damn uniform makes no sense with this in-universe. Out of universe, 80s Doctor Who characters were often given limited selections of outfits so they'd be more recognizable. In Turlough's case, he was dressed in black to contrast with the Doctor's white and beige and Tegan's more bold colors. It represented the personality of each character: The Doctor is mild-mannered, Tegan is bold and tends to stand out, Turlough is somber and cynical.

So, over time, Five's companions grow up. Nyssa is with him long enough that she literally comes of age while traveling with him. With Adric and Nyssa gone, we're left with Tegan and Turlough as two adult companions. Five spent years alone with Nyssa, basically acting as her adoptive father, raising her to adulthood, when she decides to leave home. He's not sure how to relate to his companions as adults. They haven't been in quite a while.

In comparing 5's companions to older companions, Adric and Nyssa are more like Susan or Zoe, very smart, but still kids. Tegan is more like Sarah Jane, limited in scientific knowledge by being a 20th century woman, but still clever and not fond of being talked down to. Turlough is more like Romana, another intelligent alien that the Doctor could communicate with as an equal. At least, that's how I would've thought of it if I'd been given these characters

This has devolved into rambling now. I just wanted to analyze 5's companions and "dad" status. I've run out of things to say.

#fifth doctor #vislor turlough #tegan jovanka #five and his kids and his grown ups

36 notes · View notes

bambinotattoo · 11 months

Text

Welp, I figured I would take some time to formally introduce myself and tell the story about me and diapers!

My name is Eric, and I am originally from Virginia. I have been in Indiana for the last several. While diapers have been a very huge part of my story, I have only been 24\7 for about 18 months. It’s easier to start at the beginning….

Once upon a time, well, pretty much since forever I have been a bedwetter. The earliest memories of getting ready for bedtime and being woke up have been as a diapered cutie. I can very strongly remember being maybe 7 or 8 and my mother walking me into my bedroom to get ready for bed and being told to get on the changing table (yes, I had a changing table even at that age). My mom had tried pull-ups and etc but I was a heavy wetter and our family doctor told my mom that boys sometimes do better in diapers because of their boy parts. Lol. So diapers I was kept in at night, and my mother or father always did their best to make being diapered normal. I was usually put in some Jammie’s and I always wanted a pacifier while being diapered or having my wet morning diaper taken off.

My mom could notice I enjoyed being babied and didn’t mind the extra attention. I am an only child and it wasn’t a big deal. There were a few times when I would ask to be diapered earlier than bedtime and I was to,d. or to use it, and I was aloud. Same thing would go if I asked to be changed into a new diaper in the morning. While my parents didn’t understand, as long as I was still using the potty, they didn’t see any harm.

On the evenings where my parents were out or away, they would have a babysitter take care of my diapering and it wasn’t a big deal. I would always wait for my parents to leave and IMMEDIATELY beg to be diapered and babied. Lol. I must have been maybe 9 or so and the babysitter I had had for several years had gone off to college and the new sitter really didn’t care about my needs. Matter of fact, she would tell me that “if your going to be a diaper boy, you have to use your diaper.” That was my first times using my diaper without need.

Here is when things got elevated or what have you. At around 12-13 I was still wearing diapers at night, but was made to diaper myself, and because of my size I was wearing small adult diapers. At this point I could be on the internet and discovered ABDL diapers and was aloud to pick them out for myself. At the time I was wearing Bambino Babies. I still had my changing table but it was strewn with clothes and etc. My parents wanted to get rid of it, but I always threw a fit. I didn’t want it going anywhere.

Either way, during the fall of that year I started having wetting accidents during the day. Something I had never done. And it wasn’t once or twice and at non embarrassing times. I was having several accidents a week and even had a few at school. Being in middle school and wetting your pants is NOT what you wanted. Especially since one of my babysitters from a few years back had siblings my age and told them about my bed wetting and baby stuff. I was already ruthlessly made fun of and had been for a few years…now I’m wetting my pants.

My mother took me to the family doctor who ran some tests, and sent us to a urologist and therapist. All of them had no real answers. My doctors recommendation was to just keep me diapered and hopefully I’ll grow out of it. Now, despite the fact that I was okay with diapers and baby stuff at night, I was concerned and frightened about being diapered all day. Even at school.

Welp, since we already had diapers, we were all set. But my mother could see I was obviously frustrated and embarrassed. When we arrived home she told me to take a shower and to come to my room afterwards. So I did, and to my surprise my changing table was cleared off and several new packs of diapers were strung about. Since I was a heavy wetter my mom wanted to make sure I was secure and decided to keep me in thick ABDL diapers and also asked me if I wanted her to diaper me. Embarrassed, beat red blushing, and in tears I started to tell her no but instinctively crawled up on the table and felt her slide a paci in my mouth. I couldn’t believe it, an almost teenager was laying on a changing table being heavily powdered and diapered while sucking on a paci. I remember her saying “I’m sure this is just a phase…but it it isn’t, there will be some changes”. I didn’t have a clue what that meant, but I was trying to stay calm and not just all out cry.

About a week later, I was still very diapered 24/7 and was being changed exclusively by my parents. I was still pretty embarrassed but thankfully they were letting me wear pull ups to school and at this point no one knew. Until one fateful day. I was put into my pull up as normal and the day started normal. Breakfast and off to school. During the end of the day I was sitting and working on some type of busy work I felt something warm and familiar…my pull up was VERY wet. Nothing to abnormal but still concerning, the teacher called me to the front to do something and while up front and in front of everyone my worst fears came true. I started peeing, and I was already wet. I hadn’t had any problems thus far, but I knew it was something that could happen. Before I knew what happened I heard some giggles and pointing from the students. I ignored them and went about what I was doing, that is until the teacher looks down and said “oh no Mr Eric, I think you should go to the nurse”. I looked at her confused and then looked down where I could then see and feel that I had leaked. And not just a little leak, I leaked bad. I immediately broke into tears and ran out of the class.

My mother picked me up that day and did her best to make me not think about what had happened. However, at this point, my mom was getting annoyed at my recent wetting and had read an article that recommended that she should embrace the embarrassment and maybe that will make me stop having accidents. So she explained that wearing diapers at my age wasn’t normal. That wanting a pacifier and toddle toys, wasn’t normal. So she was going to treat me like a toddler, if I was going to pee my pants like one. I didn’t know what to think and was silent. There was a part of me that was excited, but I also had just been vigorously humiliated and was very on edge.

My mother had already packed a new diaper bad she had picked up and had me lay in the backseat of her car and ch age me into the thickest diapers I had ever worn. They were the same brand, but the smalls fit, but the mediums fit better and were MUCH more noticeable. She also had put a booster pad in there, from what I could feel I didn’t think I could walk without waddling. I told her I wanted my regular ones and she stuck a paci in my mouth and told me we we going shopping for some clothes that were more diaper friendly.

She bought me a few pairs of overalls, and ordered some onesies, rompers, and bodysuit. I was so humiliated and depressed. On top of the more obvious diapers, she told me she was going to have some babysitters be around for when I get home from school. I opposed and threw a fit, to which I got my fist spanking I nearly 7 years. Tears flowing, ass bright red, and my mother diapering m as a 13 yo. Now the babysitters she hired were hired with the goal of making me even more humiliated and embarrassed. They were all girls that were only a few years older than me, and that I would obviously have a crush on. Talk about infantile.

Things went on that way for a while, I would wake up wet in my onesie and Jammie’s…and changed into my daytime diaper always with a booster and helped into a onesie and a pair of over alls. I was sick to my stomach everyday going to school. Since the accident all the kids were ruthless and made sure I knew I was a baby. Not to mention, the day after the leaking I was dressed in overalls and a noticeable diaper. I had my overalls taken down in front of everyone more than a few times. Each time to my horror, I was wet and wearing diapers that looked like a baby would wear them. It was miserable. I was also made to go to the nurse everyday at lunch to get changed. And all the kids knew it. I would have to make the walk of shame to and from the nurse everyday. Uhg

The babysitters my mom hired was actually the highlight of the situation. They were all friends and could tell how hard all this was for me. They all did their best to make me feel good about the situation and even went over and above just for me. My first ever hand jobs were completed during some of those changes. They would giggle at my little erection and instead of powdering me and closing me up fast, would take the extra time and actually made me feel my age…if even only for a few seconds. That feeling came and went fast as I was against fixed in a thick diaper and kept in nothing but a tshirt.

Wanna hear more?

Want me to elaborate or fill in the gaps?

Then follow and request. There is so much much more.

And again, this is a very true story!!

#ab dl lifestyle #24/7 diapers #ab/dl diaper #diaper bulge #diaper dependent #diaper sissy #diapering #abdlmommy #abdllittle #teenbaby #bed wetter #bed wetting

58 notes · View notes

iwritenarrativesandstuff · 11 months

Note

What kind of character development do you think Tanizaki could get?

Oooooo ok so other people have answered this far better than me but - have you seen any of those theories that Naomi is a creation of Light Snow and that the real Naomi has died? That Tanizaki may be selected to join the Port Mafia? That he may have been recruited by the Agency to stop him from showing up on the Mafia's radar?

I recommend looking through @tachiguin's blog for Tanizaki stuff; the analyses are supplemented by information and references to the real life Tanizaki-sensei's works and definitely worth a read if you're curious about him!

But really... Tanizaki has to get some kind of focus at some point. We know so little about him compared to the rest of the Agency. He's still a big question mark despite appearing at the very beginning. And... there's something really off about him.

His narration in the first part of Untold Origins has him basically repeating over and over what a normal guy he is. He does not remember his entrance exam because he blocked it out. He is one of the most comfortable with killing. His eyes go darker and more unstable than anyone in the Agency (even some in the Mafia). He cares little for morality if Naomi is in danger ("world-burn" anyone?) and in Beast, he is supportive of Akutagawa killing the people who took Gin, which shocks even Naomi herself. He puts his ability down as not useful in combat, only for it to repeatedly be shown to be invaluable for assassination. Ayatsuji, in a side story, considered him suspicious enough to capture and tie up (this was more for comedy... but still). Asagiri mentioned that he considers Tanizaki to be the member of the Agency that is "closest to evil". ...yikes.

Anyways, I definitely think we're setting up to reveal something about him. He's been there since the beginning, and even minor characters we thought we probably wouldn't get much elaboration on or would play a major role (Tachihara, for instance) did eventually get some background. The only characters in the Agency we really know nothing about are Tanizaki and Kunikida, though at least with Kunikida we have the Azure Messenger backstory... with Tanizaki we have literally nothing. I'm sure that's not unintentional.

Personally, I am hoping that whatever ends up happening, that we get more Naomi focus too, since she's actually so so cool. There's a post here about how Naomi actually has an inner voice and a definite consciousness, which has some fascinating implications for Light Snow if she really is a created construct. There's also her quick thinking (she's canonically very clever), and the fact that she has picked up little tricks and some strategic thinking from observing Dazai (someone on here brought up the possibility of her learning to do the handcuff snap he does and I have not known peace since. I need to see her do that so bad). She's also apparently something of a trusted figure for Fukuzawa and comfortable going and getting him when the Agency is waffling over whether or not to save Atsushi. She's openly annoyed by Fitzgerald which is really funny. Naomi is also super protective of Tanizaki and Haruno, she's sweet to Kyouka and playfully teasing yet supportive of Atsushi. If we ever get a focus on Tanizaki, I need that focus to split between the both of them. There's foundations to do some fascinating storytelling with each of these characters!

#sorry this got long lol and i'm not sure I even answered the question. oh well. happy reading?#thanks for the ask!#bsd #bsd tanizaki #bsd naomi #storyrambles #picture naomi handcuff snap scene. picture it. picture it please. it'd be so cool.

72 notes · View notes

puppiesandnightlock · 5 months

Text

LINK: A Robin's Song - Epilogue

A/N: i regret nothing >:)

Five Years Later

‘Deadline at 12:00 AM tonight, Kent.’ Jon fumbled with his keys, reading the email his boss had sent out and unlocking the door.

It opened to a small apartment, empty, with some photos spread around, and a framed Bachelor’s degree over the couch.

He dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter, briefly tripping over a child’s toy. He sighed and picked up, setting it next to the briefcase.

The fridge was littered with pictures, a mix of hand drawn and printed ones. Jon stepped out, checking the clock on the wall before settling down on the couch. He had about an hour before he needed to go out again.

A sticky note was on his phone cover as he pulled it out and he played with it, briefly considering calling the number written on it. It was from some pink-haired guy in his chem lecture who’d given it to him a few hours ago.

He pulled it off and set it next to the picture frame holding a picture of his high school years, gaze lingering a bit too long on the figure next to him.

Where would he be now? Surely, if he had made it big, Jon would have heard his name somewhere.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of this train of thought. But, after all, who could forget their first true love?

The phone lit up with a notification, and he swiped up, eyes brightening as he clicked on the banner.

It took him to a Q&A livestream of ROBIN, the only good thing he could remember from his last semester of high school that wasn’t tainted by memories of her, or painfully sweet scenes with the other half of his childhood.

Robin had on an oddly familiar green knit sweater and his usual green domino, and was smiling as he answered a fan’s question, a voice modulator over his normal talking voice.

“The domino mask was originally for anonymity, although now it's more of a trademark. If I do end up going to a concert, I might reveal my real face to you guys. Thanks for the question!”

Jon’s brow was furrowed, something felt oddly out of place in a way none of it had before. Robin chatted about various new songs he’d released, and then gave a sneak peek to his new one, per the chat’s request.

“This one’s sort of a throwback to my first song, which I'm sure most of you know very well. It’s titled If Only You Knew, and it…it’s really close to my heart, for reasons I'm sure you understand.”

A message popped up in the chat, other people latching onto it and repeating it, the chat a chorus of “Tell us about Heather!”

The soft chuckle sounded painful on video, and Jon leaned into his phone curiously, wanting to know himself. This song had come out after he’d let his own unrequited feelings bleed out, covering them up with new feelings for someone who returned them, and he’d listened to it more then he’d like to admit.

The filters came off the video, including the voice modulator.

“If I'm telling this story, I'd like to tell it as myself. Not with Robin’s voice.”

Some unbridled feeling of shock and fear cause Jon to gasp aloud and drop his phone, the familiar voice, deeper now with a note of tiredness, washed over him, jolting him back to high school, back to middle school, back even to elementary and that little town he’d grown up in.

Long forgotten memories dug themselves up and flooded his brain without his consent, tears he hadn't realized he was shedding dripped from his chin as he shakily picked up the phone and stared at who he had thought was long gone from his life.

He zeroed back in as Robin’s, no, Damian’s voice recounted the journey of his music, the way every single song had come from a moment that he’d experienced, or that they’d experienced together.

It was like reliving the whole experience through eyes that weren’t his own, tears pooling on his cheeks.

“After we…After I screwed everything over, he moved. I remember chasing after the stupid moving van and calling and calling and calling until I finally realized he blocked me.”

On-screen, he turned around and removed the domino, wiping his eyes, before plastering it back on and turning to his camera.

“I was a mess, for a little while. I won’t get into details, but it was not a fun time. I got help and stuff, and well, you guys know the rest.”

The chat was overflowing with messages, but the one that caught Jon’s eye was one that said “Do you miss him?”

It was selfish but he turned up the volume, desperate for an answer. He wanted to know as much as the rest of the fans, biting his lip until a metallic taste filled his mouth.

On screen, Damian inhaled deeply, eyes shut and voice wobbling. “In answer to Haylia_1654's question…yes. I miss him very much, and to this day I wish everything had gone much differently.”

“He was one half of my childhood, and I know that he’s doing well, as his little brother stayed close with one of mine. I wish him nothing but happiness, wherever he is and whoever he’s with.”

Jon’s chest was tight, the air being sucked out of his lungs with every little inhale.

His vision blurred, and before he realized what he was doing, he was typing out words onto the screen and sending them into the live chat.

Under the little diamond ‘S’ he’d made when he was in middle school to match Damian's ‘R’, and the username Jon_Kent, were the words “I miss you too”.

Desperation filled him and he repeated the message several dozen times, watching and waiting for Damian to take notice.

On-screen, the boy was drinking from a water bottle, and Jon silently documented the exact moment his eyes landed on the message, water spat out onto the screen as his whited-out eyes moved from side to side, re-reading the messages until the rest of the frantic chat covered them up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, please, please, please-” A flash of green knocked the phone to the floor and the last the world saw of “Robin” that day were the black tennis shoes he was wearing, stream cutting off as the camera hit the floor.

Heart pounding in his chest, Jon clicked on the profile, finger hovering over the message button.

He had long ago unblocked Damian’s old number, only to find that it was no longer in service.

Logically, this was the only way that they could get in contact. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to, wished for best friend back, the now-stranger who knew all his secrets.

He trembled in his seat, clicking the button and watching the words telling him he’d started a new DM with ROBIN_Offical.

Taking a deep breath, he typed out a short message, waiting for the response bubbles to come dancing across his screen.

Jon_Kent

Hey, D

Missed you.

ROBIN_Offical is typing…

#damian wayne #jondami #jon kent #a robin's song #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #supersons #unrequited love #nothing too heavy this time #reverse robins #musician au #no capes au #batkids age reversal #a ROBIN mixtape

25 notes · View notes