#noncom mention

[danieyells]

I asked bc some people are touchy with baby trap! Hshs either way I was thinking. VERY likely it's ooc but it's a thot

The mc manages to be freed by the curse but for some reason the matches don't work so darkwick is already like 'sure, finish studying here but you have to go on missions' I'm imagining that something like the Jiro dubcon fic happens but with some changes

like rather than just touching over their clothes he gets bold enough to slide inside them, and that the anesthesia is strong enough for the reader to barely remember it as a wet dream if at all. He ends up cumming inside thinking it would be alright bc he can give you some anomalous b plan pill, but during the while it takes the reader to wake up he warms up to the idea lightly, he wouldn't mind having to take care of your prenatal care. Maybe you could teach him how families work and feel

A few weeks later the reader is in a check up because of general sickness and soreness and Yuri notices something weird in their blood work like hCG so he questions them like "are you sexually active and you didn't think it was important to disclose?" "Mh? Nope since I came to the academy I didn't do anything" but Yuri doubts them bc that only means pregnancy!! So he tells them away and bitches to it with Jiro

"i'm the closest thing they have to a doctor, can you believe they lie about things like that?"

"I can take them next time"

"why do you care? " He starts leaving when Yuri figures something "jiro... Were you two alone two months ago???"

Either way next check up the mc is given a bs explanation about a wild mosquito anomaly that causes pregnancy when biting two people back to back and Jiro being bitten too. Nobody could believe it other than the mc hshshha

re: dubcon jiro fic

That's fair! Like I said, I have no squicks or triggers worth noting, so i just 'p' at just about any thought hahaha

DAMN ANON I DIG THAT the reason Jiro didn't go further in the fic was ultimately because that was part of anon's idea haha and i wanted it to have more of a dubcon and dubious feeling where it was kind of ambiguous if he actually did anything or not, but I feel like I definitely failed to give it the proper feeling of blurred reality lol. . .I think i was in too much of a rush to get the ideas in my head out and in the end I didn't entirely make what i wanted lolol

I think the matches not working could plausibly be explained away by the ring. Just a side effect of its defenses--it tried to protect them earlier after all! It wouldn't want the champion's memories altered further!

But yeah I. I like that a lot lol. . .it's a lot softer and less cruel than I usually like my babytrapping, but it kind of fits Jiro I think(or the Jiro in this fic anyway--)

(sort of kind of in and out writing and musing under the cut. It's like 1am as i write this, don't expect much--also doesn't entirely meet the idea but. /shrug) no written smut in this one.)

The curse is something mundane and silly that they already have the cure for. But they need to be put to sleep for it to work--maybe it's a simple curse where their body won't be able to sleep without outside interference, at which point the curse ends after a good night's rest once something puts them to sleep. Something utterly simple. But they're completely unconscious, at most a faint awareness of being touched that may not even be real. So unconscious that they couldn't wake up from the feeling of their cunt being broken into if they thought it was real. If they were even aware of more than pleasurable pressure at most. It's just a dream like many others. If they had a dream at all. By the time they wake up again it's just fuzzy, blurry, bubble-like thoughts, floating up and popping out before they can really be analyzed. They feel an ache in their abdomen, but they're aching all over and haven't eaten in a day due to the treatment. They can stand, they can walk, they can return to the Cathédrale Terminale. And they can sleep properly and don't feel anything but the ache of a particularly difficult mission, meaning the minor curse they experienced was gone. The days go by as usual, training with anomalous tools to be more useful on missions and studying various fields to help each house.

Jiro almost forgot about it when they come in one day feeling nauseous. It'd been weeks. Yuri had scolded him after reading the detailed medical log. But he, too, was too curious about the results to suggest they cancel his little "experiment" before he was caught.

They both agreed that sometimes ethics weren't worth considering when it came to experiments--or one's own strongest desires.

The anomalous emergency contraceptive he had considered administering after his rather untoward act of unprofessionalism had been placed back in its cabinet.

Injected along with medication to discourage side effects of the curse's healing, was an experiment of Yuri's that had been tested on several anomalies, increasing fertility and successfully allowing for some otherwise unnatural breeding patterns.

He'd drugged them and raped them and cleaned them. And after that, he'd all but guaranteed their pregnancy.

He couldn't imagine being like Yuri and being granted the privilege of acting like a spoiled child.

Perhaps the best way for him to experience 'family' would be to have his own.

That was the real reason the inspector had arrived, nauseous, to Mortkranken. But they weren't going to tell them that. Yuri scolded them for unsafe sexual practices, which they insisted with tears in their eyes they hadn't done despite the presence of hCG in their blood and urine. They had no idea how they could have become pregnant--surely there was an explanation? Yuri clicked his tongue in irritation, as though he suspected they were truly lying. Perhaps still somewhat annoyed by Jiro's misdeed, he said that they couldn't have simply been assaulted in the night by some scoundrel.

Jiro resisted the urge to snort.

In the end an explanation had been concluded--one rooted in some myth but hard to prove or disprove.

There supposedly existed a type of demon called a concubus. These demons feed on sexual energies and fluids. While they might typically seduce humans into feeding them, others were more 'shy' and would do so in the night while one slept. However many were infertile and these were able to impregnate humans using borrowed human sperm, as doing so provided them greater sexual pleasure and thus a more satisfying meal.

A female concubus(typically called a succubus) would have sex with a male human, take the semen, and have sex with a male concubus(typically called an incubus) who would absorb the semen from within the succubus, before impregnating another human with it. While the resulting child would still be human, as they were made only using the genetic material of human parents, the humans need not engage in intercourse to reproduce as a result.

Aside from the circumstances through which the conception occurred, it was an otherwise normal pregnancy with little to be studied.

Although such a horrifying conclusion shook them, they vaguely remembered wincing as Ritsu recited Japan's laws relating to abortion to a sobbing student some time before--surely this counted as rape and the pregnancy could be terminated? But with the way the ghouls were treated and restricted, something told them they wouldn't be allowed to leave campus for such a thing without reporting whoever had harmed them as proof.

And they'd been in Mortkraken long enough to know that no medical procedure would be normal here.

"You have some time to think about it." Is what everyone told them. Ritsu in particular gave them the exact amount of weeks.

Two things convinced them to carry the child to term.

The first was the realization that perhaps these demons would return to the scene of their crime--if they could be captured, the knowledge gained could help a great deal of people, especially the ghouls. Especially Luca, searching for his brother, and ghouls like Kaito, Haku, and Rui, who wanted to return to being human.

The second was the way Jiro placed a strong and heavy hand on their tummy, stoic expression somewhat curious. The way he looked at them and offered to help them. He didn't know much about babies or families or family planning, and he was a little scared to do more harm than good with his freakish strength and tendency to break fragile things--but it would be helpful to have a doctor nearby, right? And to not go at this alone?

"Even if it's not anomalous, a baby is sort of like an infectious disease." Was his comment that made them laugh for the first time the whole day.

(Yuri protested that Jiro handle this, as Yuri insisted he was the only real doctor present. Jiro managed to reassure him that surely an ordinary pregnancy would be uninteresting and unremarkable, and that the inspector wouldn't be willing to have their fetus subject to Yuri's experiments. If anything of interest or concern were to happen, Yuri would be the first to know besides Jiro. But surely he had more interesting subjects to examine?)

A matter of weeks later and the real shock came(for the scholarship student, although Jiro had forgotten, himself) when they ran a paternity test--Jiro had been 'struck by the demons' as well, and his sperm had been used to father the child.

". . .Huh." He was far worse of an actor than Yuri. Fortunately he wasn't one for big reactions to begin with. ". . .I guess that explains how I woke up a while back."

"Do you. . .still wanna help with it?" They asked in an uncertain whisper. "I understand if not. If you'd rather I not keep it. . . ."

"I kind of want it more." Jiro shrugged, continuing to mill about their checkup. "Is that weird? It's mine, so I don't think that's weird. Especially since it's with you."

They gripped their patient gown in their fists, feeling their face heat up from embarrassment. It was a bit of a stretch, and perhaps it was the sensitivity from the pregnancy talking, but that felt as close to a confession as they'd ever gotten from Jiro.

Perhaps these demons weren't all bad. Perhaps they were simply trying to help what they saw as a pair of lovers who needed a little push.

Maybe being a parent with Jiro wouldn't be so hard.

[kitty-safe-space]

Friendly reminder you're still valid and you're not "weird" if you:

dont have/dont want a cg

wear/want to wear diapers in a sfw way

wear/want to wear a collar or tail/ears in a sfw way

dont have/want any little gear

dont use any community labels

are still figuring out your regression

you have a fully adult life outside of agere (e.g if you are sexually active, drink, work, etc)

dont fit the stereotype of the "agere aesthetic"

aren't white, skinny, neurotypical, etc.

are a boy, nonbinary, trans, etc

are lgbt+ in general

are disabled and/or mentally ill

get sad/struggle with your mental health while regressing

regress because of/to deal with trauma

your regression is yours, you know yourself, and as long as you're staying safe and not hurting anyone, no one can tell you otherwise.

Dni: lgbt+ exclusionists, r/adfems, ns/fw, e/d, s/h or discourse blogs, pr0ship, anti-agere/petre/sfw cglre or if you call people cringe because of their interests.

[agedre-kitty]

does anyone have any advice on how to bring up my regression to someone whom i trust a lot, but who probably hasn't ever heard abt regression? more specifically, about being an age dreamer?

ive been thinking abt telling my bf about it for a while and i think im gonna tell him tomorrow, but im not sure how to go abt it, specially cuz i cant just send him videos/articles about it bc he doesnt speak english and i havent found many in our native language, and also im not quite a regressor, but more of an age dreamer, so i pretty much just have to explain it myself. i trust him a lot and i know hes probably not gonna judge me or anything, but im afraid if i dont explain myself properly he might think its a bit weird (?? so yea any advice or just encouraging words would be apreciated loll

(tw for very brief k1nk mention in the tags)

[babiedragons]

aaaaghh i got ringworm.,.,

i wanna js stay in bed and not go 2 school but m mama wont let me :(

[cosmic-c-kiddo]

I wanna regress soooooo badly but I feel like I cants.

I'm sick with a cold (again) and me no like-ies I wanna watch a kids movie I can fall asleep to but I dunno whats!

Any suggestions? :3

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 65)

It was Uzi's birthday today.

Today she turned 19, her and N were now officially the same age… at least until his own birthday in a couple months, where they would once again be a year apart.

She was… also beginning to show, not a lot, but what used to be uniform, flat rubber was now slightly distended, curving outwards ever so slightly, though still able to be hidden under her hoodie.

Though, she needed to make that announcement, though she was dreading it, how her father might react to her pregnancy. Or how… anyone would react, Thad probably wouldn't care, he'd be as chill about is as ever, but V also worried her slightly.

She was upset when they'd adopted Tera, bringing a child into their complicated lives and solver bullshit, something that had indeed brought the child into danger several times. She'd probably flip her lid to find out that another was well on it's way.

It would soon be impossible to hide however, and announcing it now was better then letting it ride any longer.

At this very moment though, she was looking into the mirror present in the bedroom, running a hand down her bare midsection and slightly stretched rubber. Getting ready to go to her Dad's, who'd set up a small party for her and invited everyone.

N was on the bed, his coat over his shoulders but completely open at the front, exposing his white chassis and glowing golden core. He gazed at her, a small exhale leaving his lips.

“If you're worried about how you look, don't, you're beautiful.” He hummed, watching as she looked conflicted into the mirror, eyebrows furrowing and frown etched on her face.

He stood up, crossing the distance between them before wrapping his arms around her from behind, purring like a motorboat while he rested his hand over the one resting on her midsection, letting both hers and and his own run over it.

“We're telling them today. Would it matter if they could?” He asked, right up against her audio input, his tail wrapping around her leg as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

“Yes? No? Ugh, I don't know.” She leaned her head back into him before closing her eyes.

In all honesty, she felt lousy. While not as persistent or intense as it was during the first week or two, she still often got sick in the morning, if not outright, then the persistent dizziness often made her wish she did. Not to mention she was constantly forgetting where she put things, or even if she already did a task that day or not.

It was infuriating! Which instead of making her bitter like it normally did, made her cry instead. Like an emotional time-bomb ready to be set off by the slightest inconvenience.

At least she wasn't hungry anymore, that was being by handled by N stopping by the market and picking up what was essentially construction materials and tech components for her to chew on whenever her body needed more material. The best thing so far had been a microprocessor that had bits of silver and gold inside…

“Mmmh” She mumbled as she crossed her arms and looked away from the mirror, but then N's hands were rubbing into her shoulders and she felt herself relax, “tense” would probably be an understatement with how she'd been feeling lately.

“I think you'll feel better after you tell everyone, then you'll have your whole family to support you, instead of just me.” He kissed the side of her head before backing off slightly to button up his coat and try to tame his unruly hair. She turned, pulling on her hoodie as she looked to the ground.

“I'm not sure Dad's going to be stoked to find out a murder drone knocked up his eighteen year old daughter.” She raised a sarcastic eyebrow in his direction and he smiled in return.

“Not just him, Thad, V and Lizzy… to an extent. Will all be there to help you.”

She made another noncommittal noise before putting her beanie on and looking back in the mirror, she… couldn't tell that anything was amiss even when she knew there was, so she sighed in relief.

“I don’t know how much help they're going to be.”

“Trust me?” He replied, standing beside her and cupping her cheek, near forcing her to look at him and away from the mirror. He kissed her visor lovingly, and while this wasn't a new action, a very common one in fact, she blushed and nodded.

When they came out of the bedroom Tera was waiting for them on the couch, chewing into the rubber of her teether while making her little stuffed bat fly around above her with her arm.

“You ready to go?” N hummed picking her up in a single scoop, she squealed and giggled, whole face breaking into a smile as soon as he lifted her up. He was glad that after everything she'd been through she still seemed as happy as ever.

…

At Khan’s house, he was putting the last finishing touches on the decorations and the food for Uzi's birthday party, his little girl was 19 today and boy had a lot happened this year, Uzi had snuck out… led a disassembly drone into the bunker. He'd made the greatest mistake of his life. Then his daughter found a partner with said disassembly drone. Adopted a baby, moved in together.

Crap, Uzi was growing up so fast, it felt like just yesterday he was teaching her the difference between a wrench and an auger, and tucking her in at night.

He shook those thoughts away, today was Uzi's day. Not his, and he wouldn't ruin it by thinking about all the ways he'd messed up.

The decorations were simple, a purple banner along the ceiling that said Happy Birthday, and little plastic bats and spiders were placed everywhere that made sense, and underneath the food on the countertop was a black tablecloth.

Thad was already here, he'd been instrumental in helping Khan set up from the very beginning, as soon as the word party left his lips it was like Thad was an activated sleeper agent, immediately offering to help and set up.

He'd invited both V and Lizzy, but he wasn't sure either of them were coming, he knew Lizzy had a rather strained relationship with his daughter, and that V was much the same, though was essentially all the family N had.

Still, somehow he figured the smaller crowd would be something Uzi preferred anyway instead of throwing something huge or flashy with a bunch of people she didn't know.

There was a knock on the door, and both he and Thad looked at each other before Thad threw himself over the couch to act natural and Khan went to open the door.

“Uzi! N! You're here! Come in, Come in!” Khan smiled brightly, moving out of the way do that the couple and their toddler could move past him. Thad grinned and waved at both of them, getting up off the couch to greet them.

Thad an N did a fist bump, both grinning wildly at the sight of thier buddy. And he gave a tiny wave to Tera, who was already vibrating in excitement at the sight of the green boy in the backwards hat.

When he got to Uzi, they were both surprised when Thad wrapped her in a tight hug, one that made it seem that he'd been worried about her. N was only half-surprised when he didn't feel possessive in response to it, instead he only smiled.

“I've been kinda worried about you, you looked in rough shape last time I saw you, and we've only talked through text.”

He pulled away, leaving Uzi to do the same before rubbing the back of her head and smiling warily. “Sorry, it took a little bit to recover. Then we got busy…”

“No worries! So long as you and N are okay I get it, being parents can't be easy I imagine.”

She smiled, nodding her head.

No, it hadn't been easy, Tera was a good kid, rarely cried or threw tantrums, but that didn't mean it still wasn't difficult. Sometimes she wouldn't be able to sleep and she'd wake them up every hour or two, upset and tired, keeping them up all night. Sometimes Uzi would overfeed her slightly and she'd get sick, or just have a tummyache and fuss and cry in response. Sometimes Tera would demand attention at an inconvenient hour, either when Uzi was working on something… or at 2am.

Even still, it was incredibly rewarding, especially when Tera seemed to be the most loving kid in the world. She wondered if watching her and N be all sappy around her influenced that at all.

“It's not but… I wouldn't change anything.”

“’ad! ‘ad!” Speaking of kids, there was Tera completely butchering Thad's name from N's arms, holding her hands put so that he would carry her around.

“Hey you little football! You want Uncle Thad to carry you?” Tera nodded rapidly, and Thad looked up at N for permission, which he granted immediately by opening his arms and letting Tera pounce into Thad's arms, which took him aback.

“Woah! Someones got springs in thier limbs!” He laughed, and Tera purred as she immediately tried climbing up him, unsuccessfully due to her remaining clumsiness, but she did make a good effort.

“Hey Dad.” She turned to Khan, who had been standing back and letting the two have their time with a friend before he butted in.

“Hey dronelette.” He wrapped her in a hug of which she returned. She was expecting all the physical contact would be grating, but both Thad and her Dad had felt warm and soothing. Not as much as N, but still welcome.

“How have things been? I heard about Doll, glad you're okay.” He pulled back, looking his daughter up and down as he smiled.

“Happy Birthday Uzi, I'm… so proud of you. Your mother would be too, if she were here.” He looked a little sad, but Uzi punched him lightly in the shoulder to snap him put of it.

“Hey this is a party, not a funeral. You should be enjoying yourself.” She commented dryly, a sarcastic lilt to her voice as Khan laughed, shaking the emotions off again.

“You're right. Sorry -uh?”

There was another knock on the door, and Khan excused himself to go answer it. There at the doorway, was V, hand on her hip while the other was a massive claw picking at her fangs, at her side was Lizzy, one hand placed on V's arm, who looked disinterested in everything… aside from V.

“Were here to crash this looser party.”

[mothwingwritings]

Hi hi~ hope you are doing great today xD

Sooo First of all I love how you write and I have been binge reading yujiro stepfather serie(?) And absolutely love it; but stepdad yujirou + Baki and jack the yandere/siscon stepbrothers could you imagine like:

*Katsumi became her eternal friend but feels like he can't be with y/n, so ends up as her loyal/platonic companion or ends up as a teacher and friend and go on with life because yujirou is hell of strong and Sadie to pummel him again

*yujirou marries s/o and impregnate her, but y/n gives love to the child because she doesn't want him/her to suffer like her brothers

*yujirou wanted to rill up his son's and knowing their dark yandere side put the scenario on so the two end up taking her as well

*Baki and jack won't left her until she at least have s baby of each because hanma bloodline and a sense of twisted family

*and what would happen if pickle also gets interested? How would he reacts with y/n pregnant or with kids and with the scent of the hanma's? Would he tried to kill the kids like the lion in a new pride? Or just add them to the family and put his seed too? And the hanma's what would they do?

*oh and what happened with the ash tray

Sorry for the long feel free to ignore

I love your brain, darling~

Warnings: Stepcest, breeding kink, mentions of child rearing/being a mother, mentions of noncom, 18+ only please.

If the two Hanma brothers didn’t have any kind of breeding kink before, seeing their sweet little sister heavy with child is about to change that REAL quick.

Don’t get them wrong, it makes their blood boil to witness you carrying some other man’s child, let alone Yujiro’s spawn. Seeing you grow each day, swelling with the ogre’s unborn infant, is enough to make them go damn near feral. The whole situation unleashes a torrent of emotions -rage, disgust, pity, vexation, and sympathy, all swirling together within the two of them, vying for dominance. They don’t know whether they wanted to give this kid the world (it was your child after all, and it wasn’t that they weren’t sympathetic to its situation, they probably knew the tribulations and hardships that baby was to face more so than anyone else) or completely disregard it (they just couldn’t shake where it came from, what brutality was committed against you to conceive it).

On one hand, how dare Yujiro force himself inside of you, planting a seed that will bind you to him irrevocably? It was maddening knowing you were trapped by Yujiro’s side, saddled down caring for his offspring. The ogre had you right where he wanted you now, stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped just beyond the brothers reach.

But on the other hand, two can play at that game.

It was easy enough to convince you to come to them. You loved Baki and Jack. You respected them and you trusted them, you had no reason not to come to them willingly.  You were always so eager to see them, so grateful for their companionship. The day they entrapped you, you approached the brothers with arms spread, heart bared, and eyes sparkling as you walked blindly into their trap.

The last thing they wanted was to hurt you, that was never their intention. But you just looked so beautiful when you were pregnant, full and round and glowing, like an angel had landed on earth. They were craving seeing you that way again, adamant that they would be the ones who would fill you with their seed, and you would be the one who would help them create a new life.

And you were such a good mother, doting on your baby with love and affection despite the circumstances of how they were conceived. Didn’t Jack and Baki deserve that too? Why did their monster of a father get the only honor? They certainly treated you better than he did, loved you far more than he ever could or would. And they would never treat their children the way the ogre had treated them growing up, disregarded, abused, or as petty amusements their whole lives. Yujiro was such a terror that the brothers tried to keep themselves from growing overly attached to the baby he had created with you, not only due to the mixed emotions they felt about the situation, but because they knew the likelihood of having an infant survive growing up around the Ogre was optimistic at best.

However Baki and Jack were not their father. Maybe they had to resort to underhanded methods to get to you, sinking down to Yujiro’s level to get you pregnant with their children, but the difference between themselves and that monster would always be the overwhelming affection they held for you. Even if you had trouble understanding what was going on, or couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that everything they did for you was for your own benefit and safety, they knew that the lives they were forging for you was what would ultimately make you the happiest and bring you the most joy, you just needed time to get used to it first to realize that. Seeing you waddle around fat with their baby’s is both brothers ultimate dream, and they will destroy anyone who tries to steal that from them, whether that be their father or otherwise. And unlike their father, any life they bring into this world with you will be cherished-the baby will essentially be half you, after all, how could they not adore it?

They know you will cry and feel betrayed and possibly even get a bit hurt should you try to deny them. But no matter what happens, they know you will forgive them because when it comes down to it, you love them just as much as they love you. They are ready and willing to give you all the time in the world to adjust, you are worth any amount of effort to keep happy.

(Also poor Katsumi, but I am glad he gets to be a homie at least lol. The eternal suffering that poor man receives through our prose…)

Now for our caveman situation…

Pickle knows there is something different about you, something that draws a family as strong as the Hanma’s to you. There’s a reason why they are all vying for your attention, eager to procreate with you, and your beguiling presence is not lost on him either. Should his interest become strong enough he’ll definitely snatch you away to create a brood of his own with you. He would become EXTREMELY overprotective of you while you were pregnant, monitoring you like a hawk to make sure you are comfortable and that there are no predators a foot to cause you any harm. When you are full of his children, he treats you more gently than you thought a beast like him possibly could. Were this a situation you were actually compliant in, you would almost call it charming how gently he handles you, or how quietly he tries to lumber his large body around you so as not to disturb you.

As for the other children you had previously… I feel like that is very dependent on the situation. He would not outright kill them by any means. Right now they are small, helpless, they don’t pose a threat to him and you care for them, he has no reason to take them from you nor does he really want to. Also, they have Hanma blood running through their veins and that intrigues him. What manner of person will they grow up to be, he wonders? The thought of watching such people grow, even have a hand in raising them or training them, was too interesting of a prospect to throw out the door.

THAT BEING SAID, his children with you will always take precedence over them. Should you find yourselves in a situation that requires him to choose who he needs to protect, you will always come first, followed by the children he sired with you, anyone else is nonconsequential. Though he has no true ill will towards the children, he certainly doesn’t harbor the love for them that he does his own offspring. He cares for the Hanma kids well enough, but base interest is about as far as it goes. If they starve, get hurt, or have to get sacrificed, so be it.

And Yujiro def still has that ashtray. For WHATEVER reason, even though it’s a shitty little trinket that was crudely made by the hands of your child self, he can’t seem to part from it. He even travels with it and uses it regularly. Weird, huh? I wonder why…

[linked-maze]

Heyyo! Right off the bat I wanna say I love ur comic and I'm really excited to see where it goes, but that being said I have a small favor to ask. As a sex repulsed asexual there's been a few non comic asks and posts of yours here and there that I'd prefer not to see, I am certainly not asking you to stop making those kinds of posts as this is your account and comic and I respect that you will do what you want with it, but I was wondering if you could possibly tag anything sex related (drawings and asks mentioning sex scenes and acts, things like that) so I could filter it and still enjoy the rest of the content? You don't have to obviously as it is your account and you shouldn't have to tailor it to some random stranger on the internet, but I figured I'd ask anyways. I do love your links and definitely want to continue to follow you so I can see the other noncomic shenanigans, but a few of the posts have made me uncomfortable (to no fault of your own, this is all on me and my goofy little brain) and I would like to have the option to not see them, so if you don't mind adding a tag I can filter I'd really appreciate it :)

AH!! thank you so very much for telling me!! means a lot to me that people express their boundaries to me! so I can try my best to fix it! I'm gonna use this tag from now on! tw; Suggestive if I have to use any other tags that could work better plz do tell me!

[pbgtheblog]

How I Find New Music

Don't get me wrong, I love to replay my favorite songs over and over just like anyone else, but I like to pride myself on seeking out music I haven't heard before. I used to look for new music quite rarely, mostly letting it just come to me. As I've grown older, I've found some tried and true methods of music exploration, as well as some methods that don't work as well. Here's everything I've found.

Spotify Algorithm

Now I must preface this by saying, there is nothing inherently wrong with the music you find through algorithmic Spotify playlists. Music is music, it either speaks to you or it doesn't. However, this is certainly not the most exploratory way to find new music. The algorithm works exactly as that, an algorithm. It will give you what is up and coming and popular for the genre, or just whatever it has decided. To the people it matters to, you will not win the musical niche off with music you found on a Spotify algorithm. I haven't even had much consistency with good music on algorithmic playlists. In my personal opinion, it's a just fine way to find new music, but not my personal favorite.

Editorial Spotify Playlists

You probably already know what to expect from these. My exact problems with the algorithmic playlists being biased by popularity works in ten fold. Once again a perfectly fine way to find new music.

Spotify User Playlists

This is better. Much more room to interpret personal taste, especially if you find a good one. However, take any playlist claiming to be "THE REAL MUSIC OF INSERT GENRE" with a large grain of salt. Especially if you are trying to get a grasp on an unfamiliar genre, these playlists are often not of help, as often they are entirely in the users favorite subgenre of the genre they are claiming to have playlisted the real music of. This is not a good way to get a balanced and complete view of any given genre, but it can be a start, just do not take it as the end of discussion.

Okay enough about Spotify.

Non Commercial and College Radio Stations

Tuning into a noncom or college radio station feels a lot like gambling. There are so many random things that could be playing. Whatever song is playing at the exact moment you decide to tune in feels like it was put in front of you for you to listen and decide on for a purpose. From some divine intervention, this song, for this moment, is yours. Not to mention these DJ's are certified music nerds and tastemakers. They're gonna weed out the bad stuff without taking out everything that doesn't have the numbers to get on a typical Spotify playlist. If you listen to a local station you'll have the opportunity to listen to current local bands that you can actively support! This is by far my favorite way to discover new music. Nothing but praise for this method.

Friendly Recommendations

When you want to find new music, you can always just ask your friends! If you trust their taste of course, that's the main issue with this method. For me, this is good to do every once in a while, even if it's just a bonding opportunity. I don't typically go for this method, but it does work!

Associated Musicians

If you love listening to interviews of your favorite bands, take notice of the bands they mention. Who are they inspired by? Who are they friends with? Who did they go on tour with? This is a pretty consistent way to find new music, unless your favorite band just doesn't seem to mention anyone, apologies if so.

Go to a Random Concert

This move is expensive and risky. Unless it's a small local show under $20, don't bother.

Last.fm

The last.fm recommendation algorithm is a mystery to me, but it is seemingly different from Spotify's. What I've done before is find a band I like, go to similar artists, and just keep going down the rabbit hole of similar artists until I find one with an interesting enough name that I'll give a shot. It's not a super common or time saving way to find new music but it works, sometimes.

Take a Chance on a Social Media Ad

I've only ever found just okay music from this method to be honest. I understand the appeal of fulfilling somebodies wishes by giving their music a shot because they looked really excited about it, but I wouldn't exactly rely on this method to find quality music. As an indie musician myself, writing this feels like hypocritical treason, but it is my honest experience with this method.

I'm sure there's more methods I'm missing, but I feel like this is all my brain can muster up at the moment. See you next Thursday!

[jimintomystery]

DS9: "Starship Down"

The Defiant takes heavy damage after flying into the turbulent atmosphere of a gas giant planet, to rescue a Karemma vessel from two Jem'Hadar fighters.

This is always an easy one to watch, because it's just a Starfleet crew doing starship stuff and solving space problems. I particularly like the use of a Jupiter-esque gas giant; it's fun to find out that what the Defiant can and cannot do in those conditions, and how our heroes work around that. Doctor Bashir and Lt. Commander Dax narrowly avoid being on the wrong side of a hull breach, but this time the danger isn't the vacuum of space so much as a lungful of fluorine. It's a nice change of pace.

It's subtle here, because the show hasn't bothered to explore this point, but Lt. Commander Worf is clearly in charge of the Defiant when Captain Sisko is indisposed. I always liked this angle, where Major Kira is still first officer on the Bajoran space station, but Worf is the XO on the Federation starship. It seems like there'd be friction between these characters about it, but it's kinda cool that they're pros and don't let it bug them much.

Worf learns an important lesson about command when Chief O'Brien explains how engineers are different from bridge officers. Throughout the series, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine operates under the premise that all engineers are either blue-collar noncoms who never went to Starfleet Academy, or snot-nosed ensigns that need to learn the ropes from O'Brien. It's not a bad idea, but it is totally at odds with all the other Star Trek shows, where the engine room is full of lieutenants, and the chief engineer is often third-in-command of the entire ship. It's just one of those things you shouldn't think too much about, which is admittedly hard to do when two guys who used to be on one of the other shows are talking about it.

Apropos of nothing, Kira looks cute as hell when Sisko gives her the baseball cap. I just thought I'd mention that.

[sweet-little-goblin]

things i want as a little:

to smell like strawberries and vanilla

to buy cute undies without s*xualization 

big, big sweaters

pretty bandaids

the baby cutlery from ikea

teddy bear bigger than me :)

[softbabybree]

i wanna be there to feed you, cuddle you, hold you, help you potty, make sure you aren’t sicky, take care of you..

give you your bottle, make sure your stuffies don’t get lost, help clean baby’s paci, make sure my little one gets to bed on time..

play fun games with you, wipe your tears, make you smile, help you with tasks that are just too big for a little thing like you..

and, most important little one,

i want to love you

[sonocomics]

The next throwback story WIP is one that was going to be called “Recipes for Adventure”! It was going to be a collection of short stories that focused on different characters each time. Shown above are the twins: Hazelnut and Walnut! ...Everyone was named after food :p

PATRONS!! If you’d like to see more of this old story, please message me on Patreon! I’ll see what I can do to upload this if enough people are interested!

[mothwingwritings]

Kiss The Pain Away

F!readerXMotobe Izou

It’s October, which is one of the most choice months to exist, and I have been mia for weeks and didn’t wish you guys a hello and happy holidays to the start of Halloween so I apologize and please forgive me for that.  ꃋᴖꃋ That being said HAPPY 17 DAYS INTO HALLOWEEN EVERYONE WAHOO YIPPEE!

I come humbly offering a little Motobe fic that I have been working on for an embarrassingly long amount of time some time now, and though it isn’t necessarily explicitly Halloween themed its yandere and messed up so it fits the bill well enough I hope. :D

I really want to maybe (big emphasis on the maybe) put out some kind of spooky/monster thing (even if it’s just a small blurb in the void) for Halloween but I think you all know me well enough by now to know that that may not happen, despite my best intentions. ^^; I will try my darndest though, so here’s to hoping. 八(＾□＾*)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I love and appreciate you all very much thank you for reading!!! ~<3

WARNINGS: Gore and a lot of blood, this whole fic is basically centered around reader hurting themselves (accidentally) so there is just so much blood. If blood is not your thing please be mindful. Also: kidnapping, forced affection, Motobe being a delusional creep, the tiniest mentions of noncom/dubcon and maybe cannibalism, language, violence, and just general dark/yandere vibes.

Blood surrounded you.

Pooling in your hand, dripping steadily to the floor, an intense pain was pulsating from the open wound it originated from. The weapon you had cut yourself with laid discarded at your feet on the floor, tossed aside the moment you grabbed it incorrectly and caused the gory scene you now stood the center of.

The cut left behind was deep and agonizing, extending over the entire length of your palm and down your wrist, tearing into the soft skin of your upper arm. The initial slice was so excruciating that for a horrifying moment you thought the whole hand had been sliced in two, your body trembling from the shock as you tried to assess the damage through the gore. A sharp gasp of pain hissed from your lips whenever you moved your arm, the searing sting causing tears to dribble down your cheeks as easily as the blood trickled down your arm.

“(Name), I’m back!”

Shit.

Your eyes darted toward the entrance of the house, panic quickly consuming you at the sound of Motobe’s cheery voice. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another hour at least, he told you as much before he left this morning. You cursed under your breath as you took in the mess around you, frowning at the realization that it would take far more than a hasty wipe up job to clear it all away. A deep frown settled on your face, you wouldn’t have attempted this had you of known what little time you truly had.

Motobe was not apt to follow a strict schedule, so trying to figure out when you would be left alone for an extended period of time was no easy task. The man had no concept of personal space, and from the moment he snatched you up moments of peace had become few and far between. He was always breathing down your neck, butting into your business, keeping constant tabs on each and every thing you did while you were trapped under his roof. He tried to play it off as if he was merely just spending quality time with you, taking an interest in your hobbies and life because he truly cared about getting to know you. All he wanted was to be in your presence, to understand you, to show you that he loved you.

The incessant hounding made you sick, his mockery of actual attentiveness rage inducing. That pleased little curl of his lip when you acknowledged him, or the sparkle in his eye when you gave in and conversed with him, did nothing but stir your disdain. It didn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that Motobe must be crazy if he saw his actions as that of a cherishing lover, as if everything he had done to you was anything besides fuel to stroke his ego, feeding his misguided obsession.

If a lasting relationship was his end game, he had already screwed up royally by knocking you out and locking you in his home against your will. It felt like ages since you had seen your friends, centuries since talking to your family. Your coworkers probably thought you were dead, and your landlord had definitely long since cleared out your apartment, someone else was most likely living out their day to day life peacefully inside it’s walls as you suffered. No amount of forced affection and smothering attention would help his case, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

For months you had been plotting your escape. Motobe wasn’t keen on leaving you alone, and while he did all he could to spend as much time with you as physically possible, that didn’t mean he never left the house. Some time apart was unavoidable if he wanted to keep you fed and ‘cared’ for without risking you getting sick, hurt, or (god forbid) having you step out into the big, scary world on your own for an errand run.

Though he never seemed to stay out long, he definitely had some kind of life outside of you (a luxury you feared would never be awarded to you again, Motobe seemed quite content to have you rely on him entirely), but he kept you ignorant to the details of his sporadic comings and goings. It wasn’t that you were overly interested in what he did when he stepped away from the building that encapsulated you, but having no real clue as to his hobbies, relations, and profession made calculating what days and time frames he would be away for long periods of time difficult to decipher.

Nevertheless you persevered, and through a careful analysis of his activity you managed to narrow down several dates when he was sure to be gone for longer than just a few minutes, giving you a fair chance to make a move.

 And from there, your plan truly took off.

With a tentative date and time, the next hurdle you focused on was taking note of his secret weapon stashes. You made the most of the moments he’d briefly unveil them, keeping to the shadows so that he wouldn’t spot you peeping, doing your best to commit their location to memory. While stealing peeks at his vast array of artillery, you couldn’t help but wonder who would need THAT many weapons, and what exactly he did out in the world that required him to be so armed? Was he in the military, or maybe a terrorist (the latter wouldn’t be all that shocking, considering how you arrived here)? Was this all just a really intense hobby? It unnerved you, but you pushed past your concerns. After all, he had never threatened you with his arsenal, why fret over it now?

Fueled by the taste of freedom on your tongue, you had started sucking up to Motobe, acting demure and agreeable to get his guard down and (hopefully) grant you more freedom.  Each unwanted kiss was reciprocated, every advance responded to with a coy smile. You never considered yourself much of an actor, but seeing how easily he seemed to fall for it, maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit.

After weeks of gritting your teeth and putting up with his heavy handed affection, all your hard work had finally paid off. Your proverbial chains were lifted, and Motobe no longer suctioned himself to you all hours of the day, granting you some much needed leeway. You took that ounce of freedom and ran with it, walking around the house untethered, narrowing down which doors and windows would make the best escape routes.

Motobe opened up more to you in turn, sharing stories and tidbits from his life that he previously kept closely guarded. While thankful for any insight that may assist your plight, his ramblings left you more confused than anything. From his perspective, he made himself out to be some manner of hero, making cryptic comments that the livelihoods of so many people were weighing heavily on his already overburdened shoulders. He’d always make sure to add that you were never part of that burden, ‘saving’ you was his destiny and an honor, being your guardian was a privilege he didn’t take lightly.

Never mind the fact that you were never once in danger as you lived out your mundane, Motobe free life. If anything, you were probably much safer back then then you were now, but trying to explain that to Motobe was counterproductive, so you kept your mouth shut.

The best you could gather was that he saw himself as some manner of vigilante who did martial arts work on the side to fund his less lucrative job of being everyone’s great protector. His idealistic view on his existence would be endearing if you didn’t know the truth of it. Stomaching his rose tinted view of this life you lived with him was hard enough as is, but actively watching Motobe hide behind his savior complexto justify all his wrong doings added to your revulsion. If nothing else could be said for him, he certainly would make a fascinating case study for any psychiatrist who could stomach his self-righteous bullshit.

But regardless of how much you believed or understood him, you pretended to take an interest in Motobe’s life, using the pieces of info you gathered about his future plans and where he frequently traveled to finally hammer down the ideal timeslot of escape.

For once in a very long time, luck was on your side. And things only continued to get easier for you from there.

Motobe’s new lax outlook on your relationship carried over to his weapons as well, making it much easier for you to take stock of them. Being so close to so many deadly things frightened you, and the fact that they were never far from Motobe’s reach did little to ease your already shot nerves. You had seen him in action as he practiced in his private dojo, wielding each one with the skilled hands of an expert as he decimated training dummy after training dummy. Watching him had acquainted you well with the brutality he was able to inflict with said weapons at his disposal-the flayed dummies a brutal reminder that his gloating was not entirely bullshit. And it wasn’t just weapons either, the man had a knack for turning anything he laid hands on into a deadly device, be it a toothpick or a teddy bear. The damage he could do with an actual arsenal was more than enough to keep you from attempting anything haphazardly, forcing you into subservience to avoid upsetting him, fearful that he may eventually cast his ire your way.

However, even with his new found penchant for opening up, he seldom wielded his weaponry in your presence, mainly only taking them out for routine maintenance. This is how you gained most of your knowledge, by spying on him while he tended to and arranged his varying munitions. Though you did your best to be covert while you did so, you were pretty sure he was always aware you were near. He had asked you several times on cleaning days if you were interested in watching, but each time you bashfully declined, feigning ignorance to your own snooping. Truthfully, it upset you that he was able to read you so plainly, but you were thankful that he seemed to chock your research up to mild interest and not an assault plan.

After you felt you had a decent enough grasp on his hoard, including how they were secured and safeguarded, your plot was nearly to fruition. You had memorized the combination lock that let you into the vaulted room (after you had seen him do it once it was easy to remember, he had made the code your birth date after all), kept track of the different places he kept the keys that lead to each individual weapon case, snagging the one he was least likely to notice was missing. A date had been set for when he would be gone nearly the entire day, so all that was left for you to do was put your plan into action.

And that is how things had proceeded thus far, all according to plan. For a moment you thought maybe God or some other sort of powerful entity had thrown you a bone, pitying you enough that they finally decided to offer some divine intervention. Excitement buzzed throughout you, this was it! Everything had fallen into place and this was your moment to put all your hard work and planning into motion. You would be armed, you would hide, you would spring on Motobe as soon as he came through the door, stunning and wounding him, and then when he was downed you would run as fast as your goddamn legs would carry you and keep running until these past few months were just a horrible blur in the past.

It really was a shame that the key you managed to grab ended up unlocking the weapon you were least familiar with, one with a hidden blade concealed near the handle that you happened to learn about the hard way. Funny how after months of planning all your hope was quashed by one tiny misstep, the throbbing wound on your hand mocking you for even considering you had a chance of escape. If the God that assisted you thus far was watching, you wondered if he was laughing at you.

You frowned as you heard his heavy footsteps coming closer your way. “… Sweetie, can you hear me?”

You fumbled, slipping on your own fluids in an attempt to flee the scene and head to the relative safety of the bathroom. A hiss escaped your lips as your knees collided against the cold tile of the dojo floor with a dull thud, the resulting pain insignificant compared to that of your palm.

Apparently picking up on your blunder, the footsteps in the hall hastened until they stopped abruptly at the rooms entrance. You heard a sharp intake a breath, turning to find Motobe staring at the scene with wide eyes, a furrowed brow, and lips slightly parted as he took in the blood bath before him.

“Baby…” He cooed at you sickeningly, looking at you with such sad, pathetic eyes it made you want to vomit right on the spot. He took a few steps inside, making his way towards you. “What happened?”

His eyes flicked to the discarded weapon on the floor, and a brief shadow flitted across his features, “…You got into one of my caches?”

His voice wasn’t accusing so much as it was disappointed. He breathed a heavy sigh, coming upon your crumpled form with slow, calculated steps, as if you were a scared rabbit he was trying to keep from bolting. Instinctively you went to hide your wound, tucking your hand close to your body to shield your embarrassing faux pas from the man who hovered above you. You could practically feel the dissatisfaction radiating off him as you concealed yourself from him, a deep frown sure to be set on his face if you were to deign him the pleasure of eye contact.

“(Name),” his voice was sterner this time, punctuated by the use of your name and not one of his disgusting pet names, “Let me see your hand. This amount of blood loss is nothing to turn your nose at. You’ll need stitches at the very least. Please, let me see.”

He held out his hand patiently, which you stared at in consideration for several seconds before yielding. Shakily, you withdrew your hand from your chest, laying it gently in Motobe’s steady hold.

“Oh sweetheart” he clicked his tongue, gingerly holding your hand palm up, inspecting the gaping, self-inflicted wound, “Look at this! This is why I always tell you to ask me for help if you have an interest in any of the weapons, you’ll end up hurting yourself like this if you don’t know how to handle them properly.”

In every regard, Motobe was always so gentle with you. Speaking to you, touching you, being intimate with you, he always treated you as if you were made of glass ready to shatter at one mishandle. This interaction was no different, as he carefully turned your hand this way and that, a soft, sincere expression settled on his face. He was deeply concerned for you, worried and upset about the pain you were undoubtedly suffering through.

But even with all his apparent sincerity, the only feeling you could muster for him was contempt. If he hadn’t captured you and forced you into this suffocating house against your will, you would never have suffered an agony such as this. It didn’t matter how kindly he outwardly appeared, you would never give in to him, not when you knew what a monster he truly was.

He let out a low hum as he continued his inspection, “You damn near cut to the bone, we need to get you cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected,” He started to lean towards you, arms outstretched as they began to envelope you, “I’ll take you to the bathroom.”

Slapping his hands away, Motobe’s eyes widened as you scuttled back, your knees smearing your blood in a vibrant, gruesome streak.

“I can walk myself,” You hissed through clenched teeth, shooting him a hate filled glare. “Don’t touch me.”

He sighed, his brow furrowing, “Baby, look at how much blood you have lost. If you get up on your own, you are going to be dizzy. You already fell once, didn’t you?”

You continued to glare at him, jaw set in a harsh frown. You knew he was right, but couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. Your vision was already slightly blurred from the blood loss mixed with the anger that was coursing through your system, if you tried to stand on your own, you were sure to topple instantly.

Taking your silence as a go ahead, he slowly proceeded to wrap you in his arms, hoisting you up as one might a child. He made his way to the bathroom, being sure to avoid slipping on his way there.

With a grunt, he seated you on the toilet and proceeded to dig around for something to staunch the bleeding. It didn’t take him long to procure some gauze bandages and a warm, wet cloth to start cleaning the wound. He moved delicately, but you still cringed the moment he came to near to the torn flesh. Shooting you an empathetic look, he moved efficiently to minimize the time you spent in pain.

After he had gotten the wound moderately cleaned, he had you press a towel to it, catching the new blood that was seeping out. Your heart rate quickened as you saw him fish around for suturing supplies. The pain in your hand was already abysmal, and you weren’t looking forward to the new wave of agony a novice stick job was about to bring you.

He chuckled softly as he laid out his tools, preparing for the inevitable, “You know, I’m a little surprised. I always lock my weapons up securely, double checking them before I leave the room. I know I am getting older, but I am not so senile that I left one wide open…” He shot you a quick look, a definite questioning undertone to it that you found hard to face.

“It must have been some work getting to them,” his voice grew quieter as he turned his full attention your way. There was sternness to him that he didn’t typically use on you, making you want to shrink in on yourself. “Something tells me it wasn’t a mere coincidence that you had one in your possession, and judging by your lack of interest any other time I tried to teach you about them, I doubt you merely wanted to take a look.”

He crouched down, elbows resting on his knees as he stared deeply into your eyes, “(Name)… Why were you in my weapons? What were you trying to do?”

His voice was tinged with dismay, but remained disarmingly reserved. It was as if he knew your whole plan already and just wanted you to fess up to it. He was ready and waiting to hear you confess your sins, break down to him in a sobbing voice about how sorry you were, plead for his forgiveness. And he would give it to you, he always did. Because he loved you, because he cared for you more than anyone, because he was the only one on this entire planet who could ever hold such deep and profound affection for you. You felt like a little girl being scolded by her father, he may be let down by you, but his despondence over this moment would never overshadow the ceaseless adoration he has for you.

It made your blood boil.                                                                                                                         

“What was I trying to do?” You seethed, your body starting to slightly quake with your thinly concealed rage, “I was trying to get the fuck out of here! Escape to some place, any place, where I never have to see you again! You’re so deluded you probably conveniently forgot this, but you kidnapped me you asshole!”

You scooted as far back on the toilet as you could, giving yourself as much space as physically possible. You took a shuddering breath before continuing to spit your venom, meeting his gaze with daggers.

“You think I want to be here, trapped in this hell hole with you? You think I like having you paw at me, or that I get off to you forcing yourself on me? Do you think its fun to have every moment of my life under a microscope, all of my autonomy taken from me as you live out your sick little hero fantasy, convincing yourself that you are caring for me, helping me, or that you actually love me?”

You shook your head, fighting back angry tears that threatened to spill, “You’re SICK Itou, you have been for a very long time. I thought it was obvious at this point, but let me spell it out for you. I took the weapon to fucking attack you. I stole its so that I could hurt you bad enough to run away from this shit hole and get away from you forever.”

Your voice dropped as you stared into his tempestuous eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Maybe you would never be strong or cunning enough to physically wound Motobe, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hurt him in other ways.

“I fucking hate you,” your words were quiet, but clear, spoken with clear intent. “And no matter how much you pretend otherwise, I will always, always hate you.”

Silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the sound of your ragged breathing. A noticeable chill permeated the room, causing goose bumps to litter your flesh. You expected an intense reaction, a severe rebuttal to your stinging tirade, possibly even tears over how callously you were treating him. Instead, you received suffocating stillness, the man before you a rigid statue, his emotions impossible to read as you stared into his impassive face.

That scared you much more than his fury ever could.

“Hmmm,” he eventually hummed, eyes glazing over as they bored down on you, his grip slowly tightening around your arm, “I found you on your knees, but you must have fallen and hit your head too, huh sweetheart?”

“What’re you talking about-“

The exasperated words could barely leave your lips before he gave a tight squeeze, sending a wave of fresh pain up your already throbbing arm. You cried out, struggling to pull from his grasp, but it only made his grip stronger. You flopped around uselessly, trapped in his constricting hold, tears flooding your eyes as fresh blood seeped through the towel. Flowing freely from your palm down your wrist, it came in contact with Motobe’s hand and started to snake its way down his own arm, deep red trails cutting harsh lines across his unmarred flesh.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be so cruel, so ungrateful, right? Not after all I’ve done. Not after all I continue to do for you.”

He removed the sopping cloth from your hand, discarding it with a wet slap as he threw it in the sink. He lowered his head to your palm as if he were inspecting your wound, planning how he would proceed in patching you up. His eyes flicked to yours briefly, a dangerous gleam flashing through them that caused a chill to course through you, disturbing you so deeply it froze you to your core.

His lips hovered over your damaged flesh, puffs of his breath causing discomfort when they hit your weeping cut. Gradually he lowered himself until his lips collided with your wound, a searing kiss pressed roughly against your mutilated skin. A pained whine squeaked from your throat, your body jolting in surprise upon contact. You felt violated, more so than you ever had, unimaginable pain driving you to the brink as he planted kiss after kiss upon your hand. Each smack of his lips was a new torture, your hand burning violently under his ministrations, coaxing cries of agony from your gut so vile they sounded nearly inhuman.

Your response did not deter him- instead he fed off of it. Pressing harder, drawing each kiss out as long as he could, letting his lips deliberately linger on your aching flesh, sparking wave after wave of misery the longer and deeper he dug in. You shuddered as you felt his tongue join in your torment, squirming past his fleshy lips to lap at the steady stream of blood gushing against his mouth.

After several endless moments he finally lifted his head, looking up at you with the same lovestruck, doe-eyed expression he reserved solely for you.

“A kiss to make you feel better, darlin’.”

You felt bile rise in your throat as you stared at him in horror, his lopsided grin tinged crimson with your fresh blood.  The bright, violent red that coated his mouth and dribbled down his chin gave him a feral edge. It looked like he had tried to devour you, tear you apart until there was nothing left but your flesh digesting in the pit of his belly-the wolf consuming the lamb.

“But please try and be more mindful in the future,” his tongue swept across his lips, your essence now staining his tongue as his droopy eyes leered at you, “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean, sweetheart.”

[copperbadge]

Pictured above: the Amerigo Vespucci, a three-masted tall ship, encounters two US aircraft carriers: the Independence (black and white image, 1962) and the George H.W. Bush (color image, 2022). 

Built in 1930 for the purpose of sail training, the Italian Training Ship Amerigo Vespucci is designed after 18th century 74-cannon "ships of the line”, naval warships common to the Age of Sail. She carries a standard crew of 16 officers, 70 noncoms, and 190 sailors; she has an overall length of 101m/331ft and a maximum width of 15.5m/51ft with a steel hull and a top speed of 10 knots (19km/h). The masts are steel but carry traditional canvas sails and use only hemp rope; mooring lines are synthetic per port regulations. Currently she carries both diesel and electric engines. More details and specifications at Wikipedia. Her sister ship, the Cristoforo Colombo, was given to the USSR as war reparations after WWII. 

There is a commonly-repeated story that when the Amerigo Vespucci encountered the USS Independence in 1962, the Independence signaled the Amerigo Vespucci to ask, “Who are you?” 

The ship replied, “Training ship Amerigo Vespucci, Italian Navy.” 

The Independence then is reported to have responded:

“You are the most beautiful ship in the world.” 

Well, they weren’t lying about that. 

Wikipedia’s only truly useful citation for this encounter is a YouTube video of the USS George H.W. Bush meeting the Amerigo Vespucci in 2022.  

This encounter was also documented in a US Navy press release from September 2022, which has better information for the initial exchange. The 1962 photo leaves no doubt the Independence and the Amerigo Vespucci did encounter one another, but the exchange of communications does not have strong visible documentation. The press release states that the NHHC website has a record of the encounter, but does not link to it. 

The NHHC website, which is a massive pain in the ass to use, has a records page for the black and white photo above, but that appears to be the extent of its documentation. Presumably there’s a logbook for the Independence or the Amerigo Vespucci or both, but that’s beyond my ability to locate. I have not been able to find a record that isn’t embedded in 21st-century documents which don’t have strong citations. There is no record of who on the Independence felt the need to compliment the Amerigo Vespucci, or how the ship responded. The Italian Navy’s history of the Amerigo Vespucci, now available only through Archive.org, does not mention the encounter.

The earliest record I could find of the Amerigo Vespucci referenced as “The most beautiful ship in the world” comes from a post at VisitVenezia, which Google believes was posted in 2004 (there’s no date on the post itself). The earliest reference to the actual meeting of the two ships is a vague reference in a blog from 2012, which merely states that “another ship once radioed, you are the most beautiful ship in the world.” There is no citation for the story’s origin at that post. If the exchange did happen, the story of it appears to have surfaced to civilians only in the 21st century. Most other records 2012-2022 eventually trace back to Tumblr, actually. 

The USS Independence’s Crew Book for 1962 has been digitized; reading through it there is, as they say, a lot to unpack, but despite numerous pages dedicated to the sights of the Mediterranean, there is no mention or photo of the Amerigo Vespucci that I could find. It does list the two commanders of the Independence, Melvin R. Etheridge and Bob J. Robison, as well as the full 1962 crew. And if you like men in uniform, 60s military technology, or poorly printed photos of Europe in 1962, it’s a fun way to spend an hour or so. 

In any case, the Navy says it happened, and it’s a great story. We do have documentation, both in the video above and in the September 2022 press release, of the 2022 encounter. The USS George H.W. Bush, captained by Capt. David-Tavis Pollard, asks via radio, “Sailing vessel on my starboard side, please identify yourself.” 

The ship responds, “This is Italian Navy ship Amerigo Vespucci.” 

The US ship asks, “Are you the one that sailed by the USS Independence in 1962?” 

To which the Italians reply, “Yes we are. We are the senior national vessel in active duty.” 

The US ship responds, “Amerigo Vespucci, you are still after 60 years the most beautiful ship in the world.” 

To which the Amerigo Vespucci answers, “George Bush, we are flattered and express fair winds and following seas for your deployment.” 

I’d love to know who sent the original messages, and where it might have been recorded; if folks have access to documentation or know sailors who served on the Independence or the Amerigo Vespucci in 1962 who might remember it, please feel free to let me know. After all, I’d like the story to be true. 

And she is, then and now, a beautiful ship.

[softguarnere]

You Need a Little Candor, Need a Little Candor

Bill Guarnere x reader

A/N: Aaaaaand I'm back :) Been a while since I've managed to write anything, because the semester is quickly coming to a close and it's that time of the year where it's just one huge assignment after another. But I'm excited to start sharing some writing again. This was based on a request from @gaby290, who asked for a fic about making up with Bill after a fight. Gracias por sus amables palabras 💖Also, since some people have noticed my fic titles usually come from songs, this title is from Tonight by Phoenix! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) I hope you like this 💕🕊️

Warnings: language, mentions of war, arguing, implied sex

"Oh Jesus Christ, tell me that's not still happening."

Dick would usually laugh at how overdramatic his friend sounds, but when he glances up, something about Nixon's expression stops him. He glances over his shoulder at the rest of the mess hall, trying to find whatever it is that Nixon's dark eyes have zeroed in on. "What?"

"Guarnere and (Y/L/N) being pissed with each other."

Across the mess hall, Guarnere has taken a seat with Luz, Toye, and some others. (Y/N), on the other hand, seems to have abandoned her usual group for the company of Tab, Shifty, and Popeye. Not strange, but definitely not expected. Most people have stuck with the same small groups since Toccoa . Especially you and Bill, who have always been thick as thieves. And maybe even more than friends, Dick has often thought when he sees you together, but he looks the other way instead of bringing up the countless rules and policies about fraternization between male and female paratroopers.

"Are they not speaking?" He asks.

"No. Just glaring and sighing loudly."

Dick sips his coffee and waits for him to elaborate.

He doesn't.

Dick stares at him. Nixon stares at the noncoms across the room. It makes Dick smile, the slight furrow of his brows as the intelligence officer watches them. If there's one thing that Lewis Nixon will always be on top of, it's gossip. Probably a result of coming from an upper-class family. Either way, Nixon always seems to know everything about everyone. The one time that Dick asked him about a rumor that he hadn't yet heard of, he'd simply said, "Hang on, let me check", disappeared for ten minutes, and returned with the full story. He's an excellent intelligence officer for a reason.

Nixon blinks, breaking his focus and turning to Dick. "What?"

"Nothing." Dick smiles. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since Guarnere and some of the others decided to mutiny against Sobel."

"Ah, so it's been a while." He throws another glance over his shoulder at them. Guarnere is laughing at something that Luz has said, very decidedly not looking at (Y/N). Across the room, (Y/N)'s shoulders tense at the sound of the Philly boy's cackles. When he turns back to their own table, a smile is tugging at the edge of Nixon's lips, and Dick knows that they're on the same page. "They're two of our best noncoms."

"The best," Nixon agrees.

"Letting our two best sergeants fight like this isn't good. Could be dangerous. We can't just let them go on this way."

"No," Nixon says, eyes twinkling. "We can't."

--

You have your hand up, ready to salute the second you step through the doorway. “You asked to see me, Sir?”

From behind the desk, Winters looks up at you and smiles, beckoning you further into the office. You start to stride forward, but movement from one of the two chairs in front of the desk stops you – Bill has turned around in his seat to face the doorway, expression frozen halfway between something like shock and annoyance.

What is he doing here?

“Come on in, (Y/L/N),” Winters says. You can’t disobey him. But you carefully watch Bill out of the corner of your eye as you take a seat in the chair next to his. He not so subtly watches you the same way. There was once a time when his eyes on you in any capacity would have your face feeling warm and make you glance away to hide your smile. Now all you feel is hurt and exasperated.

Winters looks between the two of you like he’s waiting for something to happen. No one speaks, making one of those silences that causes the slightest sound from anywhere else in the room to become deafening and awkward as it announces I wouldn’t be so loud if there was conversation to drown me out!

The chair behind the desk squawks against the wooden floor as Winters stands. “I’m going to go see what’s keeping Nixon.”

Bill starts to stand. “I can go look for him, Sir.”

“No, no. I’ll go.”  Winters holds up his hand, signaling for the two of you to stay. It would have been better if he had just let one of you go – then maybe some of the tension in the room would dissipate – but arguably, if anyone knows where to find Nixon, it will be Winters.

He offers you both a smile as he heads towards the door. It’s casual enough, the way he steps out into the hall, his hand trailing the door shut behind him as he goes.

Click!

If it weren’t for the vacuum of silence around you, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. But the sound of the lock clicking shut snaps through the room, causing you and Bill both to look up in panic, meeting each other’s eyes for the first time in weeks. You’re both on your feet in a second, racing to the door and trying the handle.

“It’s locked,” Bill sighs. A deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he frowns at you when you try the handle yourself. “What, you didn’t believe me?”

“I just wanted to check.”

“You think I don’t know how to open a door?”

“That’s why it’s locked!” Nixon’s muffled voice announces from the other side of the door. “And it’ll stay that way until you two can make up.”

Bill squints at the door. “Did he say make out?”

“Make up.”

His frown deepens. “Why? We already talked about it.”

You scoff. “If you wanna call it that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anger burns in your stomach. How does he get to walk around acting like there’s nothing more to say, when this whole thing started because he didn’t say anything to you? You’re thankful that the office door is closed, or else everyone in the building would hear you when you spit, “You didn’t tell me a damn thing, Bill! You and some of the others decided to mutiny against Sobel, but you never told me what was going to happen!”

“Because you would have stopped me,” he argues. “You would have told me not to go through with it!”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I guess we’ll never know, because you didn’t give me the chance to react.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Madone. I was trying to protect you!”

“Protect me? You just said that you didn’t tell me because I would have stopped you.”

“It was both, okay?!” He steps away from the door, pacing back and forth, closer and closer to Winter’s desk with his hands on his hips as he thinks. Sinking down on to the arm of the chair, he sighs. “Just . . . give me a minute, okay? I can explain it, I’m just not good with words.”

I’ll say, you think, biting your lip to stop yourself from saying it out loud.

Finally, he sighs again. His brown eyes carry an expression that you’ve never seen before as they search yours from across the room. “When people started talking about a mutiny among the noncoms, we knew that things could get ugly. Either it would work, or we would be . . . you know.” He doesn’t have to say it – you both know what could have happened, and it sends a shiver down your spine even to think about it.

“I knew that I had to be a part of it because it was the right thing to do, no matter the outcome. But I didn’t want you to get hurt, so I didn’t tell you about what was being planned.”

“To protect me,” you say flatly, repeating his words from earlier.

He nods. “Yeah. But I also knew that you’re smart, and that you knew what a risk the mutiny was. If I told you what I was planning to do, you would have tried to stop me from doing it.”

“Of course. I would have wanted to protect you.”

“I know . . . There was probably a better way. But what would you have done, (Y/N)?”

That’s a good question – what would you have done? You blink in surprise when you realize the answer: “I would have done the same thing, because I love you.”

It all seems so stupid, suddenly: him not telling you his plans, you not thinking about how you would have reacted in his situation, him not explaining his thought process, and then the petty fights and silent treatment that went on for weeks. If you had just talked, like you are now, even though you’re both too stubborn for your own good –

Bill snaps to attention. “You what?”

“Huh?”

“What you just said.” His earlier sadness gone, the edges of his lips upturn slightly as he stands, taking a step closer to you. “You just said – “

I would have done the same thing . . . “Because I love you.”

The space between you has disappeared in an instant as you both rush towards each other. You bury your face in his chest, the warmth of his body chasing away all the cold frustration and unhappiness that have been plaguing you for weeks.

“Bill, I – “

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t figure out how and – “

“Well I didn’t listen,” you say. “It’s my fault.”

A chuckle ripples through his chest as he holds you. “We can both take the fault. Too bull-headed, too much alike, always thinking that we’re right.”

When you finally break apart, you cup his cheek and stare into his eyes. You’ve missed looking into them. You’ve missed looking at him. God, what would you have done if you never had Bill Guarnere look at you with complete and utter adoration in his eyes again?

“Next time something like this happens, let’s just sit down and talk,” you suggest. “No matter how long it takes for us to get the words right. Okay?”

  Bill tilts his head down so that your foreheads are pressed together. “Okay.” Then, gently, his hand comes up to your cheek and he pulls you in for a soft kiss. He smiles into it, and you know he feels the same way that you do – relieved and full of love.

--

Nixon’s cheek squishes as he presses his ear up against the door.

“Nothing?” Dick asks.

“Nope. They’re not yelling at each other anymore.”

“Should we . . . ?” A laugh escapes Nixon before he can stop himself. It makes Dick laugh a little as well – Nix’s laughs are infectious – but he’s not sure what the joke is. “What’s so funny?”

The intelligence officer claps him on the shoulder. His hand stays there, and he starts leading Dick away from the office door. “Well, we wouldn’t want to disturb them while they’re making up.” He cocks a dark eyebrow, and for a moment, there’s no guess as to what he looked like as a mischievous college boy.

The meaning behind his words takes a second to compute. Dick stops in his tracks. “Wait. You don’t think – “

“Oh, knowing them? For sure.” Nixon winks. “Let’s just hope that they have the decency not to use your desk.”