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napakmahal · 3 months

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Anon because I feel like I’m about to say smth cringe lol but how about a fic with a (possibly Psych major) reader that’s got a holistic view of the world with Tadashi? Would be interesting to see what that information brings concerning Baymax’s plan of care and how a relationship would form with Tadashi like dat ya dig

Idk mostly inspired by Natalia Lafourcade’s song María La Curandera (it’s in Spanish, you’ll have to search up the translation if you’re curious!) also growing up in an immigrant household with care alternatives to things maybe a doctor would not take seriously/ not being able to connect with a patient due to beliefs and or language barriers.

Can I just you’re actually so real for this. This is NOT cringe pookie okay. First of all, love my psych classes but also second of all my family is so holistic. We’re from the Philippines and the hospital is reserved special for if you’re dying. (Btw that’s bad, go to the doctors please)

You don’t fight with your boyfriend…like ever. You don’t like fighting and he thinks fighting i childish. But that’s not to say you two agree on everything. Exhibit A:

“At least with my remedies I know I won’t be overdosing on cough syrup.”

“Baby, with all due respect I’m not using herbs to get rid of a respiratory infection.”

Another thing, you love Baymax. You really do. You were there to help build him, he knows you personally but he has nothing to do with your health. And that irritated Tadashi to no end. Flu season had come around and it seemed like everyone was getting sick. Including you. The basic fever, cough, headaches, and disgusting amounts of phlegm hacking out of your throat. Yet, you denied any help from your boyfriend’s healthcare robot.

It made him upset because you could get better so much faster if you let him use his extensive medical knowledge on you, and yet you still said no. But nothing about your ideologies had created such tension until recently. When he caught you doing something he deemed unfathomable.

Almost a week into you being sick, he’d seen you chopping onions late into the night after making his lemon tea.

“What are you doing?” Tadashi looked over at you after coughing up a chunk of bloody phlegm from his own throat.

You sniffed, clearly congested. “Cutting onions.”

“For what?”

“My socks.”

“I’m sorry?”

Surely he must have misheard you. You and him had been together for years and he knew all about your home remedies. There was a stained food processor in your house from when he had joint pain in his wrist and you had him eat turmeric paste. When Hiro had unknowingly given him stomach flu you went out and bought efficascent oil and rubbed it on his stomach. He’s seen you gargle salt water, chew on peppermint, put baking soda on bee stings, eat raw garlic, and drink cranberry juice for your menstrual problems but that one took the cake.

“Do you want some?” You’d asked it so innocently but your tone could have changed if you’d seen the look of utter disbelief on his face.

The both of you had been sick for a week in an endless cycle of eating strawberries, and oranges, taking magnesium, and eating spoonfuls of grainy raw honey. All of that to him seemed fine. Even he understood to a certain extent you couldn’t just take medicine all the time. But when he offered to buy cough syrup, ibuprofen for throat pain, Tylenol for cough headaches, and other flu medications you shut it down. He was free to take all of those things to make himself feel better and he swore it did.

But you were in so much pain and it seemed like whatever you were doing wasn’t helping. Just that morning, Tadashi rubbed your back while you had a 10-minute coughing fit that was so bad there were streaks of blood in your spit. You’d cried when a pounding headache hadn’t left and he felt so helpless knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

Tadashi stuttered. “W-Why are we cutting onions for our socks?”

“You put them in your socks and then you sleep with them on, my mom swears by it. But if you have like sensory problems that’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“Baby don’t you think- maybe you should just take something for it?”

You scoffed because you already knew where this was going. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. It’s just you’re so sick.” His voice dripped with concern.

Just as he’d said it you dug your face into your elbow and started coughing. The loud, raspy, crunchy kind of cough. Almost like the universe was on his side. Then came the cough headaches. The one thing you had allowed Baymax to scan you for and nothing else. A build-up of pressure from consistent coughing and sneezing in your head could cause pounding headaches.

The second he saw the grimace on your face, Tadashi jumped up from his study table and ran over to you. Pulling you in for a hug and gently pushing his fingers through your head. But that was also the time he decided he couldn’t take this anymore. His girl was in pain and crying over a sickness he could use his brain and his bot to figure out how to cure.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He confessed still holding you. “Please, will you let me give you a Tylenol?”

“T, no.”

“Why not? It’s so obvious you’re hurting. I know you don’t like taking medicine. I get that, but you just aren’t getting any better.”

You gently lifted your head off Tadashi’s chest and looked up at him. “So are you and you’ve been taking medicine.”

“But I feel like I’m getting better.”

“Hunny, you threw up an hour ago.” You deadpanned.

He racked his brain for a positive way to spin the horrible retching experience. “O-okay but that’s-um, that’s the body’s way of making itself feel better.”

You two were going in circles. But Tadashi was not backing down. He was adamant that you get better if it was the last thing he did and you knew it. Last year Hiro got sick with a particularly horrible kidney infection. So bad that when he’d tried to walk to the restroom he collapsed on the floor physically unable to move. After that none of your friends ever really saw Tadashi for almost two weeks. Right after school, he’d sprint home just to take care of him. That was his thing. Your boyfriend lived to take care of people.

Some people in the world don’t care about anything you’ve ever done and something you will do. Like doctors. Doctors don’t need to know how good or bad of a person your friends think you are in order to take care of you. Finding people like that is rare. Tadashi is one of those people.

And you, one of the people he loved and cared for most in the entire world wouldn’t let his extensive knowledge on healthcare help you feel better. And no matter how many times you reassured him, he couldn’t help but feel like you being sick was his fault.

“How about this,” He suggested, moving his hand from your head to your face. “I will do your onion-sock thing if you let me give you cough syrup. Just one spoonful and then we’ll drop it. Sound fair?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you slowly nodded your head. Out of relief, you were going to let him do something about how you felt, Tadashi leaned down and kissed you right then and there. It was extremely counterproductive and he couldn’t have cared less.

That night, you let your boyfriend spoon artificial cherry-flavored Robitussin into your mouth. And he let you put loosely chopped pieces of white onion in his socks while he slept. For the record, neither of your immune systems ever really recovered in that one night. And yet-somehow, you woke up feeling the best you had in over a week.

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #tadashi hamada #bh6 x reader #disney #fanfic #tadashi hamada x reader #writing #napakmahal

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octuscle · 11 months

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I've heard you got lost luggages and I'm missing mine. Might have them here though, can I check?

... Oh here you are, well thanks I'm off to SYD airport, thanks man! Meeting my personal trainer to start my new routine.

You slavishly followed your trainer's instructions for packing the bag. But it seems very silly to you to travel to Australia for two months with only a small piece of hand luggage. Allowed were a pair of boarders, a pair of daisy dukes and a pair of workout shorts, two tank tops, two jockstraps, two pairs of white socks, a pair of flip flops. One pair of boxer shorts to sleep in. Razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste. And for the flight, shorts no longer than a hand's width above the knee, tank top and desert boots. And that silly bandana. But you put it back in your pocket. You look a little silly.

After the flight, you feel surprisingly fit. Somehow it's as if you've had a few really challenging workouts. Good thing you decided to wear the really short shorts. Your legs need air. And the muscles are coming out really well.

The bloody immigration fawrmalities drag on. But since ya only av a little 'and luggage, it goes relatively fast. 'n luckily ya speak the language of the customs staff. Root, the bloody 'air is annoyin'. Weah is the fuckin' bandana? The bloke at the bloody customs control can't believe that ya ahah not from heah. Ya take that as a compliment.

'n behind the bloody baggage claim, wich ya can just walk past, yah personal trayynah is waitin'. The bloody pictures didn't porkie. A mixtah of natah boy 'n surfah cobber. Ya shake 'ands liyyke fahkin' old buddies. But yah trayynah awrders ya ta take off yah tank top 'n gives ya a chayyn instead. Now ya could be brothers.

off ta the bloody gym, the bloody next trayynin' session awaits. 'n then off into the bloody surf! Fair dinkum cobber.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #surfer tf

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daincrediblegg · 2 months

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THE LONG AWAITED LADY TERROR BIO

Full name: Genevieve Sinclair

DOB: February 12th, 1816 Baptism: April 16th, 1816 Birthplace: London, England Eyes: Brown Hair: Dark Brown Sexual Orientation: Queer Disposition: Enigmatic. In some circumstances quiet, thoughtful, introverted, in others, charming, charismatic and even boisterous Build: Full-figured, somewhat corpulent.

Genevieve “Lady Terror” Sinclair was born to Captain Charles Sinclair, a 2nd generation French/Italian immigrant who rose to captaincy during the napoleonic wars, and his lawful wife Ms. Marie Sinclair (nee. Bennet) after his return to London. Though he would never receive medals or great honor for the commencement of battle during the wars, he was recognized by the Royal Navy for his rescue efforts in recovering several stranded crews from the wrecks of many naval battles that commenced in French-controlled waters. Several years after his daughter was born, Charles found his funds running short to support his wife and child, and elected to take up the merchant’s trade to deliver and receive goods from the Americas and Russia, forming good relationships with the Hudson Bay Company and other exporters to be recognized as a business partner in full.

Sinclair’s childhood was mostly spent just outside of London in the family’s country manor. She spent much of her childhood happily as the only child that the couple would come to bear. Under both her parent’s tutelage she would learn much not just on the ways of being a proper lady, but also she was extremely well read in literature from around the world, philosophy, and studied in sciences as well. But her passions were especially prominent in her own writing, and the illustrations that would accompany them- a talent that she would pursue for the rest of her life and a constant comfort especially in her years leading up to her womanhood.

As she began to enter womanhood, her parent’s relationship, and her relations to them in turn, became strained. With her father often away, and left at home with only her mother to care for her as consequence, resentment brewed between them for Charles, but also in turn did Marie’s resentments implode upon the young woman, as her mother took to drinking and contradicting public endless praise for a talented daughter with endless private slander of the burden of raising her alone and increasing difficulties that she would face as a woman too intelligent for her lot in life, and how important it was also that she secure herself through marriage as she did. The unsavory dynamic between mother and daughter escalated until in her early twenties, Charles, on a return trip to England, found his daughter so deep in distress that she was to afeared to leave her room, prone to fits of being unable to sleep, distress from her mother’s private demeanor and admonishments and being given laudanum for these anxieties. Charles, knowing this to be unlike his daughter and heartbroken by her deep distress, discovered in turn that on top of her increased drinking and horrific spending habits while he was away, uncovered that she had also been unfaithful during his absence. He attempted a divorce from her in 1834 but nothing much ever came of it. Instead, Charles retained the custody of his daughter and brought her with him as he purchased a separate townhouse in London for themselves and summarily brought the young woman with him on all subsequent ventures, as she had once done in her youth for a time, but her mother had put an end to.

Over the course of the next eight years, Sinclair would span half the globe with her father while he conducted trade in its many corners. In that time, she learned much in the art of navigation, and was considered the most competent among the crew of her father’s ship-aptly named The Demeter- in this regard. Learning much and her skill also for reading charts and also re-drawing them for better navigational accuracy would have earned her any competent place on any given naval ship as a ship’s master- if not captain herself. The crew of the Demeter had been far warmer to her presence than might have been any other kind of crew one could encounter, but nonetheless took some time to warm up to the bright young woman they now had aboard. Nevertheless, Sinclair’s sharp thinking and suggestions managed to curtail many near misses, with no men lost during her tenure on the Demeter. But along with her skills in navigation also came a keen sense of business by proxy of her father’s business, and therefore became savvy in such dealings. It was always well regarded that much of her multiple talents served her well, and the culmination of these talents rose to great promise when word began to spread upon their arrival back in London after a long winter strait in Russian waters that another expedition to find the elusive Northwest Passage was underway. To secure a name for herself, with greater promise for her own self security (as her father, now in his 70’s, began to make preparations for her to inherit his entire estate and affairs upon his death, and she, wanting to be a part of such an adventure undertaken alone, put her name forward in the lots of ice masters that were to be considered for the expedition. Whilst her entry was highly unusual on account of her being a woman, she was considered highly for a secondary position as a junior in which she would assist her more tenured counterparts on Erebus and Terror with charting the unmapped territory and in navigation through the icy waters of the Arctic. It was not so much for her clear and unrivaled skill that she was eventually chosen, but moreso for her connections with merchants in the area for whom trade would be promising, and a navigator experienced in taking the route would be of great use to them once the passage had been charted. Though this fact continued to aggrieve her greatly throughout the expedition, her ability to take part in such a venture at all and as she was greatly overshadowed it, and accepted the position with gusto. However, as she would come to grapple with the incomprehensible horrors that awaited her in the arctic, she would come to regret what excitement she had once had to be a part of an exploratory mission such as this, and at the same time, consider it to be one of the best decisions she had ever made.

In her personal life, Sinclair by all was considered an odd sort of girl. Her outspoken nature earned her disdain amongst good society men and women that she encountered, but amongst the oddest lots in life she always seemed to find friends. One person in particular- author of ill repute Edgar Allan Poe had been a singularly constant companion to her and had been since their childhoods, as he attended a boarding school very near to the family home where they lived as his adoptive parents-Frances and John Allan- conducted their affairs in London. It was rumored once that there were wishes on behalf of each party to marry, but nothing came of it as time and miles parted them in their teenaged years, though up until her disappearance they remained very close friends. It is through this friend that Sinclair became acquainted with some of the other literati of the day (though Poe had burned many bridges with his scathing reviews of his peers works, a point of which Sinclair herself admired, Sinclair did not garner such a reputation herself), including the likes of Charles Dickens and Walt Whitman. In any and all such circles, she was always warmly regarded, if not well liked.

In affairs of the heart, however, Sinclair would never find herself so rich in either opportunity or prospect. Even though as a sole heiress she had been viewed as a desirable match for many gentlemen and many certainly took a chance at pursuing her in her youth, Sinclair never failed to turn them all down eventually. By her twentieth year it seemed the offers of marriage fell to the wayside both in light of her reputation and her sheer absence from such scenes where opportunity to meet potential suitors was presented, and she never took as much interest in finding a husband before spinsterhood approached her as many other ladies she had known were. Instead, she focused her efforts on making her life her own, and surpassing great obstacles in order to achieve her own independence whilst also not compromising her emotional well being.

#lady terror #egg's oc's #oc bio #here just take it JUST TAKE IT #MIGHT EDIT THIS LATER #also I started a body base last night to do an outfit breakdown... so keep an eye out for that #no accompanying photos rn but i know there's that sim I made in the tags somewhere #the terror oc

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rainbow-femme · 5 months

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So obviously I love just how much LGBTQ+ media exists now, and how much media has LGBTQ+ characters in it, but something Gen Z and later generations will never experience is being so desperate for anything that you end up finding the weirdest gay indie movies imaginable, watching them once at 2 am and then never seeing them again, and being haunted by the half remembered plots because you cannot for the life of you track them down again

So I would like to give you that experience vicariously through two of the ones I watched over a decade ago. If you recognize these please let me know I would love to track them down

The first was about this French gay dude in America who was marrying a lesbian friend to get a green card, and his boyfriend is like

“Hey babe my sibling is coming to town and going to stay with us.”

And the French guy goes “That seems like a bad idea, on account of you telling me that every time they come into town they become super toxic and make you the worst version of yourself and ruin your life.”

And the boyfriend is like “Ok but what are the odds that would happen again.”

The sibling I’m going to use they/them for because in an example of wonderful handling of trans characters, this person continually changes their mind about their gender, which is fine, except they keep managing to get full sex change surgeries every time it happens which is absolutely wild to me because it’s implied they have fully transitioned multiple times. They come into town having had a full MTF transition to the point of both top and bottom surgery and hormones but they’ve decided they’re a man again so they want a place to crash while they have a full FTM transition and I feel like I vividly remember them saying something about finding a doctor who can make them a pair of testicles. Like, specifically testicles was what they brought up, no other bits, this doctor apparently only made and attached artificial testicles and this character decided to start there

So naturally they start isolating the boyfriend from everyone by convincing him that everyone is out to get him and his French boyfriend sucks and is holding him back to the point that the boyfriend I’m pretty sure starts physically abusing the French guy along with other emotional abuse

And the story culminates in the two of them tipping off immigration about the green card marriage and literally get this dude deported, like he is handcuffed and put into a car and taken away, and also probably screwing over the lesbian friend who had agreed to marry him after the boyfriend had asked her to do it to help them

And as the car is driving away the boyfriend looks at the sibling and gives a “Nuh uh, I’m done with you” head shake and starts chasing after the car the French dude is in only to be hit by a different car and presumably killed

And that’s it, that’s the movie

The second is probably my favorite half remembered middle of the night gay movie

It’s about two lesbian friends who seem to be trying out dating each other to see if the relationship would work, and they end up meeting a group of BDSM lesbians who go “Uh, didn’t anyone tell you that lesbians don’t do monogamy anymore? We’re all polyamorous and have BDSM subculture personalities that we live in 24/7, that’s the only way to be a lesbian”

(Side note I don’t think this movie is actually bad about BDSM or polyamory stuff, it’s more about how people just coming out can easily get sucked into doing what they think they should and end up unhappy and over their heads in order to fit what a “real [X] person” looks or acts like. The characters who legitimately enjoy the lifestyle seem to be written in a good way based off my 10+ year old memory of my single viewing)

So the two lesbians decide that one is going to full time be a Daddy personality and the other will be a Little Girl personality, and they can sleep with whoever they want except the Daddy one can’t sleep with a different Little Girl or vice versa because that’s cheating

And this movie was so good because these two had 100% no knowledge of what they were actually supposed to do in BDSM situations and just kept acting like they did and the people in the scenes were like “… Ok, I guess I’ll trust you’re going somewhere with this?” and they never were, they were always just stalling for time

The best example is when the Little Girl one met a butch sub who was a Little Boy, I guess, and she wanted to do a three way with the Little Boy and the Daddy, and again they take things pretty literally so in the scene they’re like “ok you’re my dad and this is my son so that means you’re his grandpa.” And the Daddy one again has no idea what to do when genuinely faced with an experienced sub so she goes “Um, let’s make him sit in a box?” so they get a comically small box and make the sub squat down in it but again they have no idea what to do next and it culminates in the Little Girl saying she’s being drawn between the Daddy one she had been into before all of this and the Little Boy one she just met which pisses off the Daddy one so she leaves, fully confusing the Little Boy sub who thought that was all part of the scene

And then the Daddy one decides if the other is gonna have a new person she will too and she finds a super experienced femme domme and tries to flirt by pretending to be a dog and bringing her something in her mouth and the femme domme is just like “Ok A. I know you’re not actually into this so I’m not going to do anything to you because you wouldn’t like it, but also B. Even if you were I am so far above your experience level you would not be able to take it. So WTF is your problem cut it out.”

And there’s like a BDSM spin the bottle where you kiss or smack or lick the boot of whoever you land on and the Daddy one kisses a different Little Girl which pisses of the original Little Girl so she storms off so the Daddy One fully sleeps with the second one, and then gets in a fight with the original one over how one cheated because she got with the same archetype as the other but the other also cheated because she actually got feelings for someone else

And somehow they resolve everything and the story ends with them turning this into a performance art piece. You don’t see the actual performance art, probably because the writers wanted them to get wild applause but couldn’t think of a performance art piece based on this that would actually earn wild applause so you just see them being applauded while wearing a bunch of ties and jackets and scarves and stuff to I guess symbolize them trying to be things they weren’t

And then you see the butch sub getting whipped or spanked or something by the femme domme to show that everyone got their happily ever after

Heartstopper is great and all but they just don’t make ‘em like that anymore

#again if anyone recognizes these please let me know I want to see how much of what I remember is correct #gay movies #gay media #queer movies #queer media

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drapopia · 9 months

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la squadra headcanons

authors note: hello everyone! i've been dead for a while, but my la squadra fixation has once again returned, perhaps even stronger than ever. honestly, i'm not phased. but my brain has stronger, more coherent thoughts about this bushel of babes. enjoy, and my inbox is always open to thoughts!!

risotto

joined la squadra at age 21 shortly after his cousin's accident/incident.

he is egyptian and sicilian.

he is the leader of la squadra, and appointed gelato as his second in command due to his intelligence in the area of arranged killing and his general ability to command a room/read his teammates (with the help of his stand, of course)

risotto may be slightly standoffish, but he truly does care for his team. he is also a natural worrier, and tends to check in with them often. whether it be strict business, or just in general keeping up.

his sclera are tattooed because of his stand's general changing of his appearance and his eyesight. after the gradual change of his whites, he decided to jump the hurdle and get it professionally blacked out.

considers himself to be on good terms with everyone on the team, but gets along best with formaggio. he appreciates that formaggio is spunky, and makes him chuckle to himself.

loves to draw, and has a notebook in his room of nonsensical drawings. one of ghiaccio's greatest treasures is a drawing risotto did for him after an especially bad morning (he accidentally left his car windows open during an entire night of rain without his knowledge) it's of a cat on a park bench! it is framed and on his dresser

his favorite ice cream flavor is either double chocolate, or raspberry.

he wants to learn how to ride a motorcycle so badly, but is scared of being too big and crashing. he knows how to ride a bicycle, it's just hard to find something that adequately fits his body.

his favorite genres of music are goth (duh), metal, and shoegaze. he wants to feel the bass in his feet. has gotten into several (mostly) lighthearted arguments over the punk rock scene with formaggio and gelato

he sleeps in a tanktop and extremely large sweatpants. he wears socks while he sleeps, an abysmal sight. he does have some trouble sleeping at night, but once he's out, he lays stiff as a plank. his thoughts before he goes to bed are of the general day, and random thoughts. often times he will remember something random, like he forgot to switch clothes from the washer to the dryer, and will bolt up and ruin his sleepy groove. (we're all guilty risotto, it's okay)

his favorite movies are the exorcist, carrie, and trainspotting. he likes most movies, but he HATES jaws. it makes him viscerally upset to think of the way sharks are treated because of these movies

prosciutto

he joined la squadra shortly after illuso, did, still one of the first to be initiated. he joined because he it was just the family business, it was why his father had moved his entire family to the country. while he doesn't consider it to be in his blood by any means, he finds it is remarkably easy for him to take on the role of a mafioso.

originally born in prague, his family immigrated to italy when he was around 4 years old. so while he grew up in florence, he had strong czech influence in his childhood

he feels like he should be the one in the team that people should feel inclined to go to for advice. he also thinks he's mysterious and seductive, and while he has an air of confidence and and elegant stride, the others have all seen him standing in his bathrobe screaming at the espresso machine for not working (it's not plugged in prosciutto.)

despite seeing him at his goofiest, the others on the team know that they can go to him for a lot of stuff that needs help. after all, he's the best marksman on the team and taught melone how to shoot. he's also the best to go to for advice on high end stuff.

his favorite genres of music are big band music, jazz, and psychedelic rock. he also loves blues and some occasional soul.

he used to have his bellybutton pierced for an entire year, but he almost had it ripped out on a job, so he had it retired.

he is a surprisingly good cook, and makes a mean roast pork, and knows exactly how long to bake a good sourdough bread to get a pleasantly crispy exterior. also, he somehow learned how to make an absolutely delectable hummus, and will not tell anyone how he knows. (prosciutto, spill your secrets, you devilish man!)

his favorite flavor of ice cream is either plain vanilla bean or coffee. would much rather have a pastry of some sort, but he gives in too quickly for anyone to believe that he hates sweets.

he sleeps in silk jammies, with no socks on. he is serious about his bedtime, and hates whenever people interrupt his sleep time. his thoughts before bed are similar to risottos, going through the day meticulously. he also thinks about his errands for the next day, often stopping to think of his grocery list for the coming day or so.

he does not exercise often, only opting to do some light walking, and uses the small personal gym that la squadra owns occasionally. has a freaky fast metabolism

his favorite movies include overboard, the man who fell to earth, and what ever happened to baby jane?

gets along best with sorbet. regularly lament over old man things, even though sorbet is substantially older than him. the stingy old bastards are fond of sitting on the veranda outside and mocking each other

pesci

pesci was the last to join la squadra, and joined because of pressure from his family, and low income from his family back in prague.

he is prosciutto's cousin, and immigated to italy with prosciutto's family when he was around 2. his family was in dire straits, and could not afford to provide for themselves, let alone pesci. he is still in contact with them, and regularly sends most his income to them. he hopes that they're doing better.

he is very unsure of his abilities as an assassin, and of his abilities in general. he has so many good traits though! illuso would never admit it, but he finds himself spending a good chunk of his socializing talking to pesci because he's so personable. he has good advice outside of work, and prosciutto is proud of him for being a good source of wisdom. (even if it's just for pesci knowing where the best place to fish is.)

pesci has tattoos! (and he also gets bitches!) he has the third most tattoos out of anyone on the team. his most special one is an intricate vine piece on his thigh representing his journey from prague to italy. only prosciutto and ghiaccio know that though. his second most fond piece is a petite tattoo of a turtle on a skateboard that he got on a night out with formaggio and melone. does not regret it whatsoever.

pesci's favorite genres of music are surf rock, pop, and a bit of hip- hop! he loves a good surf guitar.

his favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip, proud defender until he passes

pesci is BUFF, let's get that out of the way. he, formaggio, ghiaccio, and risotto often work out together. he thinks it's genuinely so fun, and loves that good content feeling after a rewarding session. he spots for ghiaccio, and risotto spots for him. (formaggio HATES lifting weights)

gets along best with everyone, but he does have a soft spot for gelato. gelato was worried about pesci's adjustment to mafia life, and checks in with him personally. whether this is lunch at a local thai restaurant, or just a chat while brushing their teeth at the sink in the base. pesci often feels incompetent next to prosciutto, so he appreciates gelato's encouragement.

makes a mean baklava, like is such a good baker

he sleeps in comfy jammies, and no socks. such a deep sleeper, will not wake up even for the apocalypse at his door. does not remember falling asleep at all, so no coherent thoughts are really going through his head while he drifts off for the night.

his favorite movies are steel magnolias and uncle buck, loves john candy almost reverently

illuso

was the next to join after sorbet and gelato were assigned to risotto's team. is a former mercenary for hire from argentina. he emigrated from argentina to multiple different countries, but stuck in italy because he got into some trouble with passione. nothing too serious, he paid his debt, but he vibes with mafia life.

south american and italian!

illuso wouldn't admit that he gets along with anyone in la squadra, he enjoys teasing them a little too much to ever admit that out loud. he is an avid gossiper, and tends to bond with everyone in the group because of this. he's an information fiend, and this reflects in his work.

illuso's room is a calculated mess, and it is BEAUTIFUL. a comfy bed draped in luxurious blankets and throw pillows, extravagant rugs and lush carpeting, and ambient lighting that makes you instantly relax. he loves shoplifting, and uses his stand to his advantage. he used to steal jewelry from his grandmother when he was a child, and you can find it draped over a lamp or two.

for workouts, he loves pilates. (pilates princess all the way). he will occasionally join melone to work out, but that's just code for jogging on the treadmill and talking shit lol. melone tries to cajole him into yoga, but illuso ate shit stretching once and his ego was bruised

his favorite genres of music include psychedelic rock, pop, disco, and hip-hop. he occasionally enjoys metal, but he has to be in a very specific mood or else it just gives him a migraine. he just loves some sensual music that makes you wanna lounge on a love seat dramatically

has a smattering of ear piercings, his favorite is his conch piercing. formaggio is trying to convince him to get his nipples pierced, but illuso hates needles. he especially doesn't want needles near his sensitive bits.

his favorite ice cream flavor is either blueberry cheesecake, or bubblegum. not bubblegum with huge chunks, but just the flavoring.

of all the people on the team, he is closest to either melone or formaggio. being partners with formaggio is comfortable, and puts him at ease whenever they're on the job. formaggio can reciprocate his crude and teasing humour, so they mesh well. they watch trashy soap operas together. he can't explain why he and melone get along so well together, only that they're both smarmy bitches.

wears silk jammies to bed, and sleeps with a silk eye mask as well. has his hair in a bonnet, and has a complicated bed setup. he is a light sleeper, and sleeps in the mirror world to reduce the risk of being woken up super easy. his thoughts before going to bed are of things he wants to buy, and an uneven flow of things that happened that day.

has skin care nights with ghiaccio and melone, or anyone else that wants to join. risotto and formaggio join occasionally

his favorite movies are black christmas and girl, interrupted.

formaggio

formaggio joined after ghiaccio, so right in the middle! he fell into the mafia, and was originally a part of polpo's squad after gelato was reassigned to risotto's squad. after polpo discovering how useful and destructive formaggio's stand ability was, he was reassigned to risotto's squad.

if you want fun and some healthy emotional balancing out, formaggio is your guy! he is the one on the team who the others go to for some fun and laughs. while he is a calculated and malicious killer, he is also very lazy and loves a good nap.

spanish and italian, his mother is from spain and his father is from genoa, italy.

he has the second most tattoos of anyone on the squad. while some are emotionally rooted, like the heart tattoo of his mom's name, some are for goofs, like an american traditional pinup of a woman with a cat tail. (formaggio what are you telling us)

his cat is named amoreena, and he is exceedingly fond of her. he used to have two cats, amoreena and cecilia, but cecilia passed away from a urinary tract infection. at the time of his death, he was actively looking for a kitten for amoreena to bond with. that is why she seems so agitated, she's just a sad girl at the moment (and formaggio shoved her into a damn bottle LMAO)

his favorite genres of music are soft rock, blues rock, and punk! he loves himself some music that reminds him that he's a tough guy and that he is rough and tumble! is a sucker for some celine dion and cher though

formaggio makes his own clothes from punk diys, and is very proud of his fashion. sticks very true to punk ideals and tries not to consume what fashion he could just make himself. definitely owns crust pants lol

as stated before, he regularly works out with pesci, ghiaccio, and risotto. he's mainly a cardio guy, and some light agility based stuff. i don't believe he likes weight lifting mainly because he hates how his arms ache a little the next day. he finds it irritating, and just generally agitating. my mans also loves jump roping

his favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate and cookies and cream! will genuinely eat any flavor though, he is not picky by any means, he loves food

is such a good cook, i am being so serious right now. his food has that home cooked and feel good taste, one bite will have you pleasantly smiling. he will casually say "let me make something super quick" and make the most mouthwatering, delectable meal known to man. he used to get put on timeout often when he was a kid, and spent that time watching his momma make food from his seat at the table.

formaggio considers himself a fan of everyone on the team! sure, ghiaccio may be prickly, and illuso can be a little too catty sometimes, but he vibes well with everyone. if you forced him to choose, it would be either gelato or pesci. he thinks they're both fun and down to earth, and he admires that they know who they are pretty well!

he sleeps shirtless with some boxers or lounge pants. his bed, to put politely, is kind of a mess. he snores, and he is also a deep sleeper. his thoughts before he goes to bed are goofy, like "i wonder if prosciutto has ever pissed himself" or "is ghiaccio's hair naturally that color?" also thinks about things he said that day, or he could have done differently.

his favorite movies are jurassic park and interview with the vampire (don't ask him why, he'll just talk about how sexy antonio banderas is)

melone

melone joined after formaggio, and before pesci. he joined the mafia as a means to pay for his university tuition, but got in way too deep and lost much more than he ever imagined he could,

melone knows the nature of his stand is offputting, a reflection of his mind that he tends not to reflect upon. however, he does find that despite that, his relationship with the others is well off. they come to him with strange questions that they know melone would have the best answer for. he is the only one on the team with a higher education. (highest being melone, lowest being sorbet).

korean and italian! his mother is korean, while his father was born in florence. he was raised in florence, but he visited korea with his mother every year or so for the summer. he feels very in touch with his roots on both sides.

melone has his nipples pierced! he has one tattoo, a small gene sequence of his grandmother on the inside of elbow. besides this, i don't believe he has any more body mods. he likes to make his fashion more flashy instead.

he is most fond of ghiaccio on the team, they mesh well. ghiaccio and he spend so much time talking about such strange topics, and he doesn't get offended by ghiaccio's frustrated and impassioned outbursts. he finds them endearing, actually. melone is a naturally levelheaded person, so ghiaccio appreciates him for that. they can be caught playing games on their nintendo 64 at 3 am

i don't believe that melone is a sexually oriented person, if that makes sense. i think he's someone who believes very strongly in sexuality being an inherent part of the human experience, whether you feel it or not. he thinks nudity is natural, and being a person is naked! we are all born naked, and we leave the world just as naked when we decay. (in the manga, he isn't as much of a pervert as the anime portrays him). he is a very logical person, but his spiritual beliefs are wide and varied. he shares them with ghiaccio and have conversations frequently with him about culture and their views on things similar to sexuality, natural expression, etc.

don't get me started on how his stand is a small reflection on trans parenthood

he does workout, and he does mainly yoga and pilates. he likes to stay toned and fit, not overly muscly. he workouts mainly with illuso and ghiaccio. ghiaccio tries to make him lift weights and he gets fussy.

his favorite genres of music are r&b, bedroom pop, and anything sensual! he loves him some britney spears. he also dabbles in techno and perv digital. (he likes the sound)

his favorite flavors of ice cream are strawberry and lemon! he prefers a nice melty sherbet.

he has only purple lights in his room, and he wants to own a ferret.

owns extremely expensive hygiene products, just like illuso

sleeps naked lol, likes to let his body breathe. (again, firm believer in casual, non-sexual nudity) he likes to meditate before he goes to bed, and has a nice linen bedspread and fluffy pillows. has similar thoughts to formaggio before he goes to bed, like "hmm, should i buy a fish tank?... probably not." drools SO MUCH

favorite movies are suspiria and phantom of the paradise

ghiaccio

joined la squadra after illuso, was officially inducted into the squad after a disastrous turn of events after dropping polpo's lighter and killing multiple people. with the destructive ability of his stand, it made sense to assign him to risotto

ghiaccio finds it hard to control his temper and be a welcoming person. he resents that he can be so anal-retentive about stuff. thankfully, most of the team just accepts it as part of ghiaccio. they know that he's just.... very passionate about stuff. however, ghiaccio is very knowledgeable about most topics along with melone, so anyone can go to him about the most random thing and he will probably know. he also has good workout tips!

he is italian and he is very, very proud, don't get that mixed up.

has no tattoos, but he has his ears pierced. he just doesn't think he would look that appealing with tattoos. and no, he doesn't mean appealing to others, he could care less about what others think about his appearance. he just doesn't believe he could be truly comfortable with something on his body for the rest of his life.

ghiaccio gets along the easiest with risotto and sorbet! risotto took him under his wing whenever he entered the criminal underworld, and he internally thanks him every day. sorbet is also very caring towards him, doing for him what gelato is doing for pesci. sorbet is levelheaded and solemn, and can keep ghiaccio's temper where it needs to be, and assessing where that feeling is coming from. risotto and ghiaccio also love metal, so it's a funny pairing (tiniest on the team and the tallest on the team)

ghiaccio's favorite ice cream flavors are green tea and lemon. he prefers sorbet, but those two flavors together are heaven to him. he once tried a limoncello cake ice cream and he went bonkers. (this actually exists in america guys, it's in most chain stores, PLEASE TRY IT, it's limited edition)

workouts so much, with literally everyone! loves cardio, and is extremely in shape. he uses it as an outlet for pent up energy. he's like a cup of water with energy, it keeps filling up so he has to drain it using excess means.

collects books about his favorite topics, and regularly watches lectures online about culture and linguistics.

LOVES LINGUISTICS, he knows three languages fluently !

his favorite genres of music are glam rock, some bedroom pop, and METAL. he loves metal because risotto introduced it to him when he was formative, and now we have this amalgam of music.

ghiaccio sleeps with a band shirt too big for him and some lounge pants. his thoughts before sleep range from "oh my god that is the most embarrassing thing I have ever done, please stop brain" or "wow ghiaccio you are so smart and funny and everybody on earth wants to give you a smooch to show that you are the coolest boy ever!!" and sorbet and risotto give him an award. he sleeps the earliest and wakes up the latest out of the team.

his favorite movies are the dark crystal, what's eating gilbert grape, and poltergeist.

sorbet and gelato

first guys to join the team! they were both first on polpo's team as reconnaissance and information, but gelato switched over to risotto's team. at polpo's reluctance, he allowed sorbet to go with as well. both joined the mafia to find something. sorbet joined because he thought it was the last thing he would do, gelato joined after the military. they found one another, and the rest is history. both were late teenagers.

gelato is belarusian, and sorbet has no clue of his ancestry because of lost adoption records. he suspects he is italian and some asian descent.

as second in command, gelato is sought after for advice and direction commonly. his job is to keep the risotto's schedule and jobs for everyone bundled together, and to keep everyone else's shit together. as a bubbly guy, leadership comes naturally to him, although he doubts that often. sorbet may not have a leadership position, but he does have seniority over all in the squad, seeing as how he has been in passione longer than a lot of them have been alive even.

as of being fond of anyone in the team, they are biased towards one another. they are a package deal, and everyone is aware. if you see sorbet, gelato is lurking close by, and vice versa for sorbet. otherwise, gelato is closest to formaggio because they're both lighthearted guys with superstitious hearts! as for sorbet, he is closest to prosciutto or risotto. gelato and sorbet both have a fondness for ghiaccio, he's so pumped up!

sorbet will only eat plain vanilla ice cream, and gelato loves strawberry!

gelato loves cooking! sorbet is so bad at it <3

sorbet collects knives, and gelato collects old vintage vinyls, especially the ones with vintage sexy music lol.

sorbet and gelato take dual self defense lessons in lieu of working out. they also do martial arts lessons, and regularly teach everyone as best they can, or if the other members ask. sorbet also sticks to weight lifting, and gelato does cardio mostly.

for music, these two like different things. gelato is a pop fan! he's fond of 80's pop mainly, but he also rolls with psychedelic rock if he's feeling nostalgic for his younger days. sorbet prefers jazz and blues. the best way to describe it is lower class songs that remind you that everyone is just a normal common person. (examples: tom waits, johnny cash, warren zevon, the talking heads, dolly parton)

sorbet sleepwalks, and gelato splays out on the bed like a ragdoll. neither of them are the type to remember what they thought about before they slept.

their favorite movies include the rocky horror picture show, the labyrinth, possession (1981) and 9 to 5.

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usaigi · 6 months

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Ashen Wolves + Jeritza Modern AU HCs

Ashen Wolves in my fic (read it, it's funny) I couldn't fit everything in putting it all here

Yuri

Works at the bar Abyss (which has a secret BDSM dungeon in the basement)

Lives in a punk house with the others and unfortunately (but unsurprisingly) the only one responsible enough to pay rent

Everything else is a gamble. Will they have electricity this month? Water? Eh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Hey wanna go out? I know a place” (takes them to the health food dumpster that tosses out perfectly good packaged food)

“Am I scared of twink death? Please.”

SWer out of necessity, sends most of the money he makes back to his disabled mom

(TW human trafficking mention) Yuri's father met his mother, a young poor vietnamese women. He promise he'd take care of her give her a better life in UK. Yeah right. Due to everything, she's extremely traumatized and unable to work.

Because of his and his mother's trauma, extremely protective of the most vulnerable in his community(women, children, immigrants, pwMI)

Balthus

New Jersey represent 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Italian-American. Always correcting everyone on how to actually pronounce Italian words

Got into a tinyyyy minor disagreement with the mob and, in short, he owes them like gazillion dollars

Half-ass faked his death (so much party city fake blood) and is hiding out in Europe

He wears a fake mustache and puts on a fake Italian accent whenever he's in public

Sells drugs to the Garreg Mach kids.

“Balthus get a job.” “I have a business” “Isn’t that why you had to leave the States?”

The only one not to have a room. He sleeps on the couch (he had an air mattress. Had.)

Constance

In the late 1800s/early 1900s, her ancestor founded Nuvelle Inc., a pharmaceutical and biotechnology corporation

Her great-grandfather publically sided with the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War since he was in support of Basque Independence. Later assassinated by the fascist government in retaliation

Later, Constance's grandfather got backstabbed by his board and fired from the company

Her family was in denial about the whole thing and desperate to keep up with the appearance of wealth and continue to spend a lot of money. By the time Constance was born, they was in loads of debt

(tw suicide mention) Lost her mother in an accident. Then her father committed suicide, leaving Constance an orphan by 13.

Used the little inheritance she had to go to Garreg Mach and pretend everything was ok. Would lie anytime someone asked about her home life. Was forced to drop out at 16 because she ran out of money. To embarrassed to ask for help, she lied to everyone and told them she was going to study in the states

Yuri found her sleeping on a bench and took her in. Offered to buy her a ticket home until she finally admitted she lost everything and has no home to go back to

Dumpster drives at Garreg Mach for designer clothes. Ridiculous how much these rich kids (Hilda) toss out

Hapi

Romani :)

Ran away from home when she was a teenager to “see the world.” Unfortunately, got taken in by some questionable people

Cordelia found her and just felt so bad for her :( “oh no, a poor brown girl in need of help.” Offered to take her in and promised to help her get back home

Bullshit.

Finally able to run away and flee the country. She meets Balthus and Yuri because they were dumpster diving at the same spot.

She and Constance have this thing of getting naked and howling at the full moon each month

Emile Jeritza

Born into a religious cult in good old USA 🇺🇸 His father was the cult leader and had multiple wives.

His mother had a child from a previous relationship. Despite having numerous half-siblings, Emile was only close to Mercedes. She was the only one who didn’t scold him for crying and having “feminine” feelings after all

One day, his mother and beloved sister disappear. He never even got to say goodbye..

unbeknownst to him, when his mother and sister left they were fleeing for their lives. His mother immediately started to fight for custody of him but she was not an American citizen (while Emile and dad were) and she was trying to take him back to Europe

When Emile found out about what his father did, he…

On the run from the FBI :)

The wolves know about his history but fuck his dad, mofo had it coming.

Yuri was standing behind Jeritza at the store when he saw Jeritza didn’t have enough money for food and cat food. He told the cash register to put the sandwich back. Yuri bought him the sandwich.

#fe3h #fe3houses #ashen wolves #three hopes #three houses #fe16 #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #yuri leclerc #constance von nuvelle #balthus von albrecht #hapi fire emblem #hapi fe3h #usaigi speaks #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem headcanons

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stillwintering · 5 months

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All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

CW for this chapter: discussions of parental death

Chapter 6

"Balthazar Alvarez, ma'am," A fresh-faced young man introduced himself to Nesta. He was tall and lanky, with tanned skin and dark hair. His eyes were wide as he shook Nesta's hand. "Thank you for coming."

Cassian clasped the young man by his shoulders, smiling at him fondly. "Baz here has been recruiting volunteers for us in Iowa."

"Ms. Archeron," Baz said, looking at her nervously. "Would you like to go over the information packets that we'll be sending out to the local activists?"

"Please," she said. "Call me Nesta." She accepted the open laptop he handed her.

Baz nodded automatically. "Yes, ma'am."

"The voters in Iowa don't really know anything about the Congressman except that he's a Starborn," Nesta said, her eyes scanning through the screen. "We need to lead with the basic -- his biography, his values. The Democratic base needs to connect with his story first. What do you know about Rhysand, Baz?"

The young man shifted on his feet. "The Congressman is a decorated military veteran," Baz started. "He believes in immigration reform, pro-choice, universal healthcare, more stringent gun laws -- "

Nesta held up a hand. "Anyone can read about where Rhys stands on the issues by looking up his Wikipedia page," she stopped him. "But what do you know about him as a person?"

"Well, I've never met him in person, ma'am," Baz replied sheepishly.

Nesta looked the young man up and down. He wore an ill-fitting blue dress shirt, like something he bought in a department store without trying on different sizes. "Did you just graduate college, Baz?" she asked.

"This spring, ma'am," Baz confirmed. "I majored in political science at the University of Chicago."

"You could have worked for any number of political campaigns this cycle. There are many more established candidates," Nesta continued. "So why did you choose Rhysand Starborn?"

Baz considered and then replied, "Because the Congressman seems like he wants to do something new. He seems like someone who will lead with integrity. I think he's in politics for the right reasons, like he actually has principles."

"Good," Nesta approved. "That's what we need to communicate. When you're meeting with the local activists, start with that." She hands back the laptop.

Cassian grinned. "This is why we need you out here," he said. "Let's get started."

---

Over the afternoon, Nesta met with more volunteers and staffers. They discussed field strategy and planned campaign events through the summer and fall. Nesta asked for a litany of changes to canvassing materials and campaign literature. After the initial nervousness wore off, Baz demonstrated himself to be a capable and sharp operative.

Cassian took a late meeting with the leadership of the Iowa Democratic Party and left Nesta in charge of the field office. She held a volunteer training session over takeout. After she sent everyone home after dinner and Cassian was nowhere to be seen, Nesta called a taxi to take her back to the hotel.

It was dark when Nesta opened the door to her hotel room. The room's stillness enveloped her as she kicked off her heels and laid down in bed. She was tired from talking all day and meeting new people. She wanted to go to sleep early but found that she was restless. Finally, Nesta decided that she needed to move her body after, essentially, sitting all day. She fished her running gear out of her bag, smiling to herself that at least her best friends would be happy that she was training.

There was a paved trail along the Des Moines River, just a few blocks down the road from the hotel. The city had settled down for the evening. Storefronts were closed, and the roads were vacant. It was peaceful as she headed down towards the lit path along the riverfront, launching her body into movement.

Nesta had only run a mile when she started to feel out of breath. She frowned as she slowed to a walk, panting heavily and feeling out of shape. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a tall man running on an adjacent trail. The long black hair was unmistakable.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Cassian called to her. His pace was brisque as he made the turn to meet her.

Nesta felt her face flush, even though she was already red from the exercise. "Do you always run at night?" she asked him instead.

Cassian's voice was steady, betraying no hint of fatigue. "I try to make time for as many workouts as I can," he answered.

"Of course you do," Nesta muttered.

Cassian slowed to jog in place near her. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, his muscles subtly flexed with each movement. He cocked his head towards the path leading to a bridge in the distance. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"I'll only slow you down," she said quickly.

Cassian smiled. "It's not a problem."

"Really," Nesta's heart was pounding. "You should go ahead."

"Come on, Nes," he was still smiling, but his eyes were issuing a challenge. "I won't show you up."

Nesta looked down the trail towards the lights from the bridge sparkling in the river water. It must only be a mile away. She knew continuing the run would be grueling, but she also couldn't resist the tacit challenge.

"Don't call me that," Nesta said as she propelled herself forward.

Cassian fell in step beside her, a soft chuckle escaping him as they ran side by side. Nesta willed herself to put one foot ahead of the other, even though every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She tried to remember the last time she had a real cardio workout -- it must have been months ago. The half-marathon she had committed to suddenly felt daunting.

Cassian didn't try to overtake her, allowing her to set the pace for both of them. Nesta did not falter. She couldn't let him know how utterly unprepared she was for this run. When they finally reached the bridge, Nesta felt like she was about to collapse.

"We can walk back to the hotel," Cassian offered.

Nesta's heart pounded in her ears, her body aching and roaring with exertion. Nesta shook her head. She didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing her weak and defeated from a measly two-mile run. She turned back the way they'd come.

Cassian followed wordlessly and matched her pace again. She could see a smirk on the edges of her vision. It irritated her, but it was also the push she needed to return to the trailhead. Only then did Nesta allow herself to bend over, bracing her hands over her knees, panting heavily. She felt like she was going to pass out, having pushed her body to its limits.

"Good run," Cassian commented, stopping beside her. He didn't even break a sweat -- the bastard.

Nesta flipped him off in reply.

Cassian chuckled and pushed a water bottle into her hand. "Drink up, sweetheart," he said.

She gave him a scathing glare that would have cut down a lesser man. But she was too out of breath to form words. She took his water bottle, tipped it back, and drained the whole thing.

He watched her throat work as she drank. "You're crossing your arms too much when you run," Cassian said, glancing away. "It tires you out faster."

"And you're some kind of running expert?" Nesta choked out, still breathless.

"I am actually," he looked back at her with a cocky grin. "We could train together, if you want."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the empty bottle. "No thanks," she replied, almost reflexively.

Nesta started back towards the hotel.

---

Cassian had the undeniable sense that he had been dismissed. But the trouble was that they were staying at the same hotel, so he trailed behind her across the street. He could tell Nesta had pushed herself to finish that run -- that unyielding determination, it was captivating.

"How did the volunteer meeting go?" Cassian asked as he fell back into step beside Nesta.

"Fine," she replied, her breathing still ragged.

Cassian forced himself to keep his eyes ahead, not daring his gaze to linger over Nesta's body. She was clad in form-fitting leggings and a sleek racerback top, her skin glowing with a warm flush and her chest rising and falling rapidly from the run. The sight almost threatened to overwhelm him.

They walked in silence for a whole city block.

"I came back after my meeting," Cassian finally said, clearing his throat. "But the office was shut."

"Was there something you needed?"

"Not really," Cassian replied, trying to explain. "I wanted to check whether you had a ride. Since I took the truck."

"I called a taxi."

They reached the entrance of the hotel, where Nesta's breathing had become more even, though her cheeks still bore a rosy glow. Her hair shimmered like burnished gold under the artificial lights. A single drop of sweat traced a path from her neck down to her chest, disappearing beneath the neckline of her tank top. Cassian swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth despite the cool night air.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Cassian, momentarily lost for words, suggested, "You should stretch now or else you'll be extra sore tomorrow." He instinctively moved into his post-workout routine.

Nesta seemed to hesitate, her eyes darting towards the hotel lobby before settling back on him. She then gracefully sunk into a deep lunge, mirroring his movements. Cassian silently led her through a sequence of stretches.

"Happy?" she asked as they wrapped up.

Cassian only grinned. "You'll thank me tomorrow."

"I doubt that," Nesta said, turning on her heels and walking into the lobby.

Cassian trailed behind her again. They reached the elevator bay, where Nesta stepped into an already waiting elevator. She looked back at him, a question in her eyes, "Which floor?"

Cassian stood frozen at the threshold. The confined space of the elevator suddenly struck him as dangerously intimate. He felt an urge to close the gap between the two of them.

"I'll take the stairs," he quickly declared.

"Show off," Nesta retorted as the elevator doors closed, separating them.

Cassian turned towards the stairwell with his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

---

The following day, Nesta felt aching throughout her body. She groaned as she climbed into the truck for their trip to Cedar Rapids. Cassian smirked at her knowingly but held his tongue.

They quickly settled into a driving routine: Cassian got them drinks and snacks, and then Nesta worked on her laptop while he drove. Cassian let Nesta pick the music. She liked that Cassian never seemed to mind the silence between them -- he mostly left her to her work, keeping the truck steady.

It wasn't until halfway through the drive, when Nesta shut her laptop, that Cassian spoke up, "Have you ever been to this part of Iowa before?"

Nesta stowed her laptop away. "Only once, as a child," she said, a tad wistful. Nesta watched the endless fields of young corn stretched out around them.

"Really?" Cassian reached to turn down the music.

"I must have just finished the fifth grade. Feyre was barely starting school," Nesta replied, letting the memory flood through her.

"What brought you all out here?" Cassian asked, his eyes sparked with curiosity.

Nesta leaned towards the passenger side window, taking in the monotonous green landscape under the vast, indifferent sky. Cassian's presence beside her was warm and comforting. "That summer, our father, in a rare moment of whimsy, decided to take us all on a cross-country road trip from Virginia to California," Nesta began, voice soft and contemplative. "It was a few years before our mother's passing. She despised road trips; I've never understood why she came. And the three of us -- Feyre, Elain, and I -- were crammed in the backseat, squabbling and bickering nonstop for ten days. These cornfields... they haven't changed a bit."

Cassian nodded, his voice tender, "Must've been quite a trip, with three kids in tow."

Turning towards him, Nesta's eyes held something like a flicker of old pain. "Did Feyre ever speak to you about how our mother died?"

"Feyre mentioned it was cancer," Cassian replied quietly. "And that she was too young to remember much."

The truck continued its steady course, carving through the expanse of the blue sky and green fields. Nesta fell silent for a moment. She didn't know why she had revealed so much to him. Except, Nesta knew it wasn't cancer that took their mother, not really.

"Feyre was..." Nesta stopped herself, not sure how to continue.

Cassian gave her an encouraging smile. "Your mother, what was she like?" he asked, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of the road's hum.

Nesta sighed, a sound filled with memory and loss. "She was... complicated. Strong in her own way, yet fragile towards the end," Nesta said. She hadn't talked about her mother in so long that the words were tumbling out of her.

"Our parents did not have a happy marriage, you see, so our mother, she had poured all her energy into us. She was very demanding..." Nesta continued. "Expected nothing less than perfection. We went to the best schools, had the best tutors. But it was never enough. Especially after the financial crisis, our father lost everything, and all his businesses folded. We were -- we lost our house, I think that was the last straw. She died shortly after."

"I'm sorry, Nesta," Cassian glanced at her with empathy etched on his face. "Losing a parent when you were so young, that's a lot for anyone to handle."

Nesta scanned the horizon in the distance. She suddenly felt like that little girl in the backseat of her family's car, looking out at a world too big and too confusing to understand.

Nesta had often found herself thinking about that year when her mother died. It was as if their mother's illness, her passing, it was a fulcrum on which the sisters' lives were balanced. After she was gone, everything tilted, and Nesta felt like she had been scattered, trying to find her footing in a world that was off-kilter ever since.

"And what was your family like?" Nesta looked away from the empty landscape outside.

"I never knew my parents," Cassian replied, frowning. "My mother gave me up when I was a baby. I grew up being passed from one foster home to another. In a way, I had many families, or maybe none at all."

Nesta's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I had no idea," she said. "Did you ever want to find your birth mother?"

"I tried when I was old enough," Cassian said, his voice detached. "But she had died shortly after giving birth to me -- in a car accident. From what I could piece together... my birth father was an alcoholic. I think maybe that's why she had given me up. He was driving drunk when they crashed into a highway barrier at night."

"I'm so sorry," Nesta repeated, not sure what else she could say. "It must have been a difficult childhood."

"I turned out okay," Cassian shrugged, turning slightly to give her a reassuring smirk. "The Starborns sort of took me in during college."

Nesta took a moment to process the information. She watched Cassian's right hand drop to sit on top of the gear shift. "Do you ever think about what life would've been like if things had been different? If your mother hadn't..." Her voice trailed off, not needing to complete the question.

Cassian turned to her, his eyes a storm of gold and green. "All the time," he replied. "I wonder who we would have been, and the choices we would have made. Don't you?"

Nesta nodded, finding her throat dry. Unable to speak, she only reached over and rested her hand on top of his. Her hands looked so small and delicate against his. Cassian went wholly still. His other hand clutched the steering wheel, and his eyes remained straight ahead as if afraid to look down at their joined hands.

"Thank you," Nesta finally said, taking her hand back and letting the soft silence envelop them once again for the remainder of the trip.

#fanfic #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #cassian #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #all's fair in love and politics #acotar fanfiction #rhysand #feyre archeron #acomaf #acowar #modern au #political au

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stevenbasic · 1 year

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GITJ Post 317: Friends with Benefits, p3

“I, um…don’t think that peg goes in that hole,” I said, looking again at the instructions and furrowing my brow, still struggling with this headache. I was never very good at this sort of thing, and I don’t think Lakshmi was either. I handed her a short wooden piece. “Here, try this one.”

“Haha at home daddy always used to build my furniture,” she laughed, taking the peg from me. We sat on the ground in the kitchen area of my one-room apartment over the office, pieces of what would at some point be my new “Jokkmokk” kitchen table strewed between us. After busting my old table in a fit of passion (with my back), Melissa had felt bad and apparently had the girls order me a new one on the company card. It had just been delivered in a group of large boxes, and it was the door buzzer that had finally allowed me to escape from where I’d woken on Lakshmi’s lap on the couch. She and I had then set to the task of assembling it and four matching new chairs. So here we were, the project a good distraction as Lakshmi had orders to stay with me for a bit, making sure I was okay after my health scare in clinic. So yeah…we were building a kitchen table. How hard could it be? “We are not doing too bad, right?” Lakshmi giggled.

“I beg to differ,” I chuckled, seeing as we’d - twice - had to remove legs that we’d put on backwards, and couldn’t find one piece we figured was pretty important. Plus, I didn’t have a real hammer. It was about 5pm and, wow. “We may be here all night,” I quipped.

“That is okay,” Lakshmi smiled, looking across the mess of table parts between us on the floor, her dark eyes sparkling from behind a mane of soft black hair, “I am having a lot of fun.”

I gulped, and set back to looking for that screw. Though she’d removed the shirt of her work uniform, Lakshmi had still been wearing her black scrub pants and now a brief tank which left little of her surprisingly full chest and shapely torso to the imagination. She had been a medical assistant of mine for more than two years now, and in the past I’d never thought of her as anything but a quiet, hardworking, reserved girl from a conservative immigrant family. That, of course, changed quickly since Melissa’s arrival. Like many of my previous employees, Lakshmi had seemed to blossom - in spades. She’d become very social with the girls, more focused on her appearance, and more confidently outgoing in general - though still proper and a little old fashioned, in her own way. She had also recently taken to the gym very seriously and it showed in her figure, with a nicely-muscled upper body but an absolutely devastating, lush rear end and set of legs. Her ass, I noticed, as she turned onto her side to reach some sort of table piece behind her, was likely as large as Melissa’s though the girl was a foot or so shorter. Perfectly round, shapely, enormous. Plush, something one could just sink into and gahhh…

I recalled, quickly, the moments of accidental intimacy Lakshmi and I had shared over the past few weeks. There’d been her sitting on my lap as we drove to the party downtown, or me sleeping alongside her and her friend Josie the night afterwards, and - double gahhh - the thing under the blanket in the backseat. Our relationship had obviously warmed well beyond that of employer/employee, and I was not putting up much of a fight to maintain professionalism. I was dating Melissa now, though, and felt conflicted being here alone with her, a girl who obviously fancied me and seemed to get more attractive by the week. Though that was true of just about all the girls these days…

As she turned back she handed me a washer, which I think matched the screw with which I was struggling, and smiled again, shyly. Had she caught me staring? We, uh, I had to admit, were having fun together, in our little project, but I know she’d been more-or-less assigned by the girls to watch over me. They were worried. I’d apparently passed out while examining a patient, a young one, and truth be told I didn’t remember much. I’d woken with a headache and, ugh ugh, a boner that for some reason just wouldn’t go away. I’d been doing my best to hide it and pray that it would eventually fade, but in my thin scrub pants that was easier said than done and it didn’t help that Lakshmi had been pretty obviously flirty with me this whole time. Admittedly, though, I could feel a stronger connection building between the two of us this early evening. About that I definitely felt conflicted. Again, I was dating Melissa, and shouldn’t be enjoying Lakshmi’s attention as much as I was. But she had been sent here indirectly on Melissa’s orders though, and everyone as far as I knew was aware of the, uh, accident I’d had under the blanket with Lakshmi in Josie’s car. So…nothing to worry about, right? Melissa was okay with this?

“How does your head feel?” Lakshmi asked, after a few moments of silence as we worked, each on our separate ends of the overturned tabletop.

“It’s, umm…” I began, deciding on some honesty, “still pretty crummy. That ibuprofen hasn’t done much.” It was true; my temples still gently pounded. I’m normally not one for headaches but this one was annoying and stubborn. I silently cursed it as I began to struggle with a new little blister-pack of screws that needed opening, my hands shaking. Bah why do they make these things so…hard…to…open?!

“Awww you poor thing, I am sorry,” Lakshmi lamented, watching me in my futile efforts for a long moment before reaching her hand out to me. “Here, let me do it,” she offered.

Without a thought I handed her the little package of screws and watched as she deftly peeled the thing apart. I sighed, a little, to myself, feeling once again emasculated by the women around me. Even she, ‘little Lakshmi’ (though she was probably six inches taller than me by now), had hands that were stronger than mine. “There we go,” she said, presenting the opened package back to me, blithely satisfied.

“Yeah, it´s… maybe it´s turning into a migraine, I don´t know,” I bemoaned, removing a screw and reaching for the Philips head.

“Oh, ok, I will talk to you low, nice and easy, okay?” she almost whispered, meeting my eyes with her huge, brown pools of understanding. God she was, Jesus fuck, really gorgeous tonight, in her own warm way.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling my throat going dry. I set the screw to hole, working on the table leg.

“It is okay,” Lakshmi answered, attending herself once more to the opposite leg. She was in thought, I could feel, and I couldn’t help but watch the jiggles of her upper chest as she sat up on her knees and set to knocking in a wooden peg with a screwdriver butt that we were using as a makeshift hammer. “That girl from Minnesota really affected you huh?” she asked, when she spoke up again.

“Yeah I dunno what happened it’s….”

“You have to be careful, wear your mask in those clinics, at all times,” Lakshmi continued, taking a new tone with me, scootching a bit nearer, “Maybe you are getting allergic to the perfumes of some of the outside girls.”

Allergy doesn’t make sense, of course, I thought to myself, immediately…but then reconsidered. I did have some sort of bad reaction, and could still almost smell that ultra-voluptuous girl from more than six hours ago now. What do I know? Maybe it is an allergy to certain perfumes. “Yeah they do wear a lot, some of the girls we see,” I offered, readjusting my hips to appease the twitching swell I’d just felt in the erection pressed down my thigh. I tried to concentrate on getting this screw tightened.

“Strong perfume is definitely in style,” she said, “Here, how does mine smell?” I looked up to see Lakshmi offering her wrist across our little workspace, bringing it and her bare forearm to me. She scooted, on her knees, a bit closer to me, where I sat on my butt on the floor. I leaned in, across a bit, and she inched even closer. I took a smell of the warm skin of her wrist, breathing in the lovely perfume. Mmmmmm…yes. Now that was nice. The perfume that all these girls in the office seemed to be gravitating to was definitely a winner. It brought back memories, warm feelings, nostalgia and simpler times. It smelled like Melissa, and it made my boner surge.

I leaned in, across a bit, and she inched even closer. I took a smell of the warm skin of her wrist, breathing in the lovely perfume. Mmmmmm…yes. Now that was nice. The perfume that all these girls in the office seemed to be gravitating to was definitely a winner. It brought back memories, warm feelings, nostalgia and simpler times. It smelled like Melissa, and it made my boner surge.

Lakshmi smiled at me, seeing my reaction. “You like?” she asked.

“I, um…” I began, stammering now as my eyes were locked on hers. My heart fluttered and I felt the air crackle between us.

“Outside girls can be so aggressive with their perfume,” Lakshmi continued, “and, like, really aggressive in general. Don’t you think?”

“I, uh…”

“Do they make you nervous, sometimes?” she followed.

I paused, casting my eyes down and fumbling a bit with my screwdriver. I thought back on some other experiences I’d had with these Evolution patients - the sister of that Anderson guy, the several bodybuilders and corporate executives, a number of other young women - that had made me a little anxious. Many of them did seem pretty, uh, strong of personality, and at my diminished size they were by and large now bigger than me. So, yeah, I had to admit to myself in that moment that there had been times in the past couple weeks, in these clinics, that I felt-

“Frightened?” Lakshmi pressed, watching me impotently struggle with the Philips head.

“Well, th-that might be too strong a word,” I answered, finally finding some purchase with my task, twisting the screw in to the table leg, “they are, uh, my patients, remember, and even if I haven’t been feeling, like, a hundred percent myself these days, I still-“

“Of course,” Lakshmi stopped me, her voice unusually firm. She put down the Allen wrench she’d recently been using, and pushed her hair behind her ears. “The girls and I have been talking, though, and they wanted me to speak to you,” she began again, her mein a bit more serious, “we do not think it is a good idea that we allow you into the room alone with these patients, anymore.”

Allow? “Well, Lakshmi, I think-“

“We think one of us should be with you at all times, at least when you are in the Evolution clinic, working with their study patients,” she insisted, “It is important. It is important to us that you stay safe. Do you agree?”

Our eyes had met, again, over the strewn pieces and parts of my soon-to-be kitchen table. Into hers I looked, fighting back the impulse to just lash out, as petulant as I would probably sound, and bristled at this suggestion. ‘Stay safe’?! Not be allowed alone?! The ignominy of the idea, that the girls had been discussing me like this, making decisions about my safety - among women - made me immediately defensive. But, looking into Lakshmi’s big, liquid eyes of chestnut brown, reading the warmth of the slight smile with which she regarded me, I didn’t see any ill will or even mischief, only the benevolence that I knew was strong in her character.

As I was wrestling with my feelings, Lakshmi continued to explain. “After the election wins, now,” she began, reminding me of the onslaught of victories the New Women’s party had garnered, yesterday, “women, like the ones we see in clinic but everywhere else too, are only going to get more assertive, and aggressive. We care about you, we all do. We do not my want to see you get…hurt.”

That hit me, I felt it. An instinctual pang of…what was it? Male pride? Some survival instinct? Whatever it was, it made my cock throb again, a submissive little shiver crackling through my skin. I spoke, I think, before I even considered what I was saying. “Yeah, I, uh…well, seeing the way all you girls reacted, watching everything on the news…it was a little bit of a shock,” I admitted, watching Lakshmi nod in understanding, urging me to continue, “There’s a lot of…hormones running around, a lot of female…whatever it is. Pride?”

“Female Empowerment?” Lakshmi offered, “Women taking control, winning? Yes. Go on.” She had put her tools down, sat back on her bulging haunches, hands on her knees.

I paused, my pulse quickening a bit as I watched her dark eyes sparkle. “Y-yeah I guess does make me a little nervous…” I continued, “Like, confused? Like, what’s going to happen next?”

“It is okay that you are confused, I understand, that is natural,” she obliged, “But now that it is after the election, men like you do not have to bother themselves thinking about politics any more. Isn’t that, maybe, nice?”

What was she saying? Why was it making me shiver? Shouldn’t I argue? “S-sure,” I agreed anyway, “I never really followed politics…”

“Men have become less interested in them, it is true,” she said, “But girls are very excited, now, now that we have our chance. And we will do a good job, I promise, doing it all. All of us, we want what is best for you.”

I blinked, and fought to keep my eyes from roaming down Lakshmi’s hourglass figure. Hands still on her knees, she had her shoulders back, chest presented up. Wait. Were we talking about the girls at the office? “Yeah, n-no…I guess you’re right. they…they all want what’s, uh, best for me?”

Lakshmi’s smile bloomed, big and brilliant and warm, “Yes, of course we do!” she beamed, biting her lower lip and leaning towards me again, tempting my mettle with her cleavage.“You are lucky you have responsible women in your life that care about you,” she said, cocking her head, and considering me, “You are just going through a rough patch, with your divorce, with the practice failing, with your health. You need somebody…or a bunch of bodies…to help you.” She watched as I played with the screwdriver in my hands, fumbling again distractedly with the table leg. I looked around; I actually needed an allen wrench, now. “Here,” she said, seeing my clumsy attempts to stay focused, “let me get you what you need.”

At that, Lakshmi turned a bit and - still on her knees - stretched out to reach for a tool she’d discarded on the floor, off to the side, one hand on the ground for support and lifting her big earth of an ass into the air. Arching the small of her back, her enormous and shapely bottom drew my unblinking stare with its inescapable gravity. She paused for a moment, presenting the undeniable spectacle of her figure in profile - the tiny waist, the swell of her planetoid rear stretching at the thin cotton blend of her scrub bottoms. No words were spoken and I’m not sure she understood how exceptional her proportions were and how powerful the effect of them could be, but she must have felt my leer. I gulped, despite myself.

My cock, now, was absolutely rock-solid, throbbing down my thigh and threatening to tear through my own thin scrub pants. Blood had begun leaving my brain, feeding my loins, making my head start to swim. I think I stammered something as I watched Lakshmi sit back up.

“What is wrong Dr J?” she asked, innocently, “You are stuttering. Am I making you nervous?” The tone of her voice made me think that maybe she did understand what that huge ass of hers could do.

“n-n-no, I jUST, uh…” I heard my voice crack, like a teenager’s. Oh no.

Lakshmi giggled. “You know all us girls are just here to protect you, right? Make your life easier, nicer?” she asked, her eyes watching my face as she turned back, moved forward around the overturned tabletop, coming closer, “Including me?”

“Y-yES but…” I began, voice cracking again, not knowing what to say. From where I sat, on the ground and a bit slumped, Lakshmi rose above me, kneeling.

Lakshmi cocked her head again, to the opposite shoulder. “Lay your head on my lap,” she said to me.

“Wh-what?” I balked, once more remembering - more acutely now - what had happened last time I laid head and shoulders across her full thighs. There was a blanket, her shirt over my head, and her hand between my legs.

“Melissa said to do anything I say, right?” she beamed, expanding now, sitting up straighter. Her confidence, it seemed, had begun to swell.

“Uhhh…”

“Did you read her texts..?”

“Yes but…”

“No buts, Dr. J,” she giggled, reaching her arms out towards me, “come here, lay that head down. You know my thighs make a good pillow.”

With hands now about my shoulders, she eased me back, down. If I struggled I don’t remember, and voiced only maybe the meagerest of protests. As the distance between us, between the back of my head and the softness of her big thighs grew smaller, so did my resistance. She’d taken me onto her lap, her plush girl’s lap, and I gazed up at her from it.

She smiled down at me.

“Oh, Dr. J, I am so glad we are alone here,” she said after a moment, brushing my cheek with the gentle fingers of her right hand, “I have wanted to…protect you, have time with you…so much.”

“I’m…I’m glad you’re here too,” I found myself saying despite the swarm of misgivings buzzing through my head, “I kn-know you’re looking out for me, and I’m glad I have you to talk to.”

As Lakshmi held me there in her lap like a tender young mother, I could feel her affection redouble upon itself. I was saying everything she wanted to hear. “You know you can always talk to me…” she said, her voice soft but latent with excitement and a building ardor, adding “…or Melissa, or any of the other girls.” She paused, and gathered something, courage. “But it is me that is here now,” she finished, “so tell me how you are feeling.”

I laid there, in the lap of this warm, beautiful girl that smelled really good and meditated for a moment. I thought about the last few days, weeks, months, all as Lakshmi peered down at me, holding my head with one hand, caressing my cheek with the other. I struggled with the feelings of insecurity and guilt inside of me, but also with anger and a bit of fear feeling that so much about this place - this office, this world in which I used to feel so safe - was coming apart. I began to tell her, I began to say it all, opening up in ways I’d never really done to anyone except you, dear reader. Lakshmi seemed kind enough to give me a shoulder - or a lap, as it were - on which to cry. And I think I did, a little. Cry. There was something about her manner, and her perfume, that just let me open up to her so freely.

Lakshmi was now cooing down to me, cuckling and coddling my emotions and letting me vent. Tenderly she caressed my hair, rubbed my knee, stroked my thigh. I spoke to her of my mistakes, my weaknesses, my failed marriage and failing health. My boner was, yes, readily apparent straining up against the right leg of my scrubs, but neither of us seemed to pay it any mind, for the moment. I was almost beyond the embarrassment of it. It was more the fact that I was now so vulnerable that upset me. Was this the image I gave to everyone? Women seemed so attentive and indulgent around me. Was it pity? Were they showing sympathy for me because I seemed so misfortunate?

“No, oh no no no,” Lakshmi assured me, having taken with me now the tone of a mother to an upset young child, “You are not pathetic. You are still a man. If you are strong enough to open up to me, you are strong enough to handle all of this. I am here, Melissa is here, we are all here.” I looked up at her, she down at me over her maidenly bosom. “All of us, together, we are on a journey. We can handle this. This…and more. Whatever comes, we will all be together,” she continued, “You will not be beaten by life, if you embrace it, let us help you.”

“b-b-but…” I answered, trying to keep from blubbering but taking her words in and feeling how - yes, like her lap - they felt like a big, soft nest. I could…I could just sink into it, like I had into Lakshmi. But still! “…but I feel so s-small.”

Lakshmi cocked her head and looked at me, tut-tutting. “You know, you should stop thinking people are looking down at you because of it,” she spoke, “They love it, actually. It makes them feel like they can help. And that’s all we are trying to do. We are just trying to help.”

I was still upset. “B-but…but that’s easy for you to say - look at you, look at all of you,” I began again, “You’ve all gotten stronger, taller…”

“...We’ve gotten bigger these,” she giggled, pushing back on her shoulders and out on her chest, emphasizing the new dimensions of her boobs.

“oh my god…” I groaned, despite myself, feeling my erection surge and more blood leave my brain. I couldn’t even joke about it, the effect big breasts like hers now had on me.

She giggled, but then she hushed me. “Shhhhh….shhshhshhh,” she said, “Just settle your mind and think about the good things that are happening to you. Think about Melissa. You two are falling in love, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I admitted, “I think so…”

“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” she said patiently.

“Oh my god, yes,” I replied, as eager images of Melissa filled my head. Her height, her body, her beauty and strength. There was…a lot to love. But was there, in fact…too much? Could I handle her?

“Have you told her all this?” she asked, “What you have been telling me?”

“W-well…no, I guess not.”

“Dr. J,” Lakshmi began again, “You should. You should open up to her like you are doing with me.”

That made me think. Why…why hadn’t I been as candid or forthright with Melissa? Were we…just not there yet, in our relationship? Or was it…well…

“Does she scare you, a little?”

That gave me pause. Some of the things she said to me, when we were together? “Well I dunno. Maybe? She is…so strong. And can be very, uh…aggressive, when she gets, uh…excited.” Jesus…remember why we were sitting here, building this thing? She broke my kitchen table. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that she made me feel small and weak and so fucking fragile, whenever she held me. In fact, I’m loathe to admit, part of me actually liked that. “And it’s also like…why does she like me, why does she want me? Why does she need me? Look at me. I’m old, I’m boring, I have, like, no money. And I’m a…I’m a twerp.”

“Oh tsktsk listen to you!” Lakshmi scolded, slapping my thigh playfully, “You are just being insecure. Nobody likes that!” She hugged my face, suddenly, to her trim belly. “And, Dr. J, everyone likes you.”

Did that make me feel any better? I don’t know. “No, really, Lakshmi,” I said as she released me from her playful hug. I was being more open and honest with her than I’d been with myself when I continued. “She told me she was moving, earlier this week. I offered to help. She said she didn’t need it.” It’s true; it was just a casual thing, an offer for help but her refusing? “That had hurt a bit, made me feel a little…useless.”

As I lay there in her lap, treading in a pool of my own self-pity, Lakshmi nodded. Her voice had taken on a strange, tentative concern. “Did she tell you why she was moving?”

“Um, not really,” I admitted, “Some sort of trouble with her landlord she said?”

Lakshmi paused again, thinking to herself. “I guess that is sort of true,” she said, sounding satisfied. She bit her lower lip and looked down at me. “You know, Dr. J, we have known each other a long time. I have been working with you for more than two years. I have really enjoyed it, I really look up to you. I love being your medical assistant. But I feel that, now, I am not only your assistant, I am also a friend. Is that okay? Am I being too…assumptive? Because I would hate t-”

“N-no,” I stopped her, “I…I do feel, recently, that we’ve become, like…friends.”

That made her smile. “I would like it if you could come to me if, I don’t know, you need advice, help, or you just need someone to listen, okay? I know you have Melissa but…she cannot be with you all the time.”

“n-n-no…that’s true…” I agreed, my heart - goddamn me and this thing between my legs - starting to quicken with the promise in her voice.

“And you need someone all the time, don’t you?” she asked, rhetorical, “That is why you have us. That is why you have me, here, tonight.”

I watched as her left hand left my thigh and took hold of the drawstring of my scrubs. On instinct, my own hand went to grab her wrist. “Lakshmi, w-wait…’

“Shhh…Dr. J,” she whispered, undeterred and now pulling on the string, releasing the knot of my waistband. As the tension from my pants lessened around it, my nine-inch erection rose to tent my thin pants, and Lakshmi cooed. “Melissa wants me to do this,” she explained, as she pulled now at the waist of my scrubs, loosening them further, “She told me. I need to help you get rid of your…headache.”

“L-Lakshmi, please…” I begged as I tried to rise, a bit, bringing my shoulders up off her big left thigh.

Her wrist breaking free from my weakened grip, she suddenly grasped my shaft through the thin cotton blend of my scrubs, taking it into her soft but strong hand.

I groaned - “nnnnngh..!” - my whole body immediately tensing as pleasure shot through my bones in a shockwave and bringing me to curl forward even further. “n-no…” I somehow managed, “y-y-you don’t need t-”

“Oh, but Dr J…I want to…” she implored, squeezing me through my pants, bringing another spasm to wrack through my body.

I didn’t, now, have the strength to resist. “oh god, oh god…Lakshmi…okay…” I moaned, now collapsing back, back onto her lap, my body going limp.

Lakshmi purred. “Good boy…” she lauded, and though my eyes were now closed I could feel her smile wash over me and my giant, obstinate boner. “I would like you to know that you are not alone,” she began, as she squeezed me gently, then began to gently massage me through my scrub pants, “You can always count on me. Or come to me if you need something.”

“y-y-yes, okay…” I acceded, lost already in the indulgent comfort of her hand. God, I’d forgotten how bad this erection was, how much I needed relief. And this was all from that girl, from Minnesota…Thalia?

“Let me take it out,” she offered, and released me for the moment to further, carefully loosen my drawstring, and then pull the waistband of my pants and boxers down.

“Oh my,” she softly exclaimed, as I opened my eyes and saw it myself: my enormous penis, coming into view, revealing itself in all its swollen, vein-pulsing glory. It had a certain nobility about it, I guess, a horrific majesty that seemed to dwarf me and my thin waist and legs. “I have never really seen it for real, like this, your erection,” Lakshmi marveled, as she moved my clothes a bit further down my frail hips, “only through your pants…”

“I’m…I’m sorry…” I began, aghast at the monstrosity of it. To take and appease this thing was a task, good god, not for the faint of heart.

“No I love it,” she answered, and I saw - in glancing up at her - that she was laser-focused now, rapt on my throbbing organ. “It is okay. I am here to take care of you. Melissa says so,” she repeated, as she opened her expectant hand wide to take hold of me again, “We are friends. She wants us to do this…”

At that, I groaned again anew and arched my back, thrusting up into her hand as she gripped me full around the shaft. I moaned her name and fell back, and allowed her to begin her ministrations. Oh. My. God. Oh my god.

“There you go, there you go….good boy,” she purred, delighted with the ease with which she had me cowed, paralyzed, acquiescent on her lap under the command of her equanimous hand. She took to stroking me, slowly at first, cooing at me as she watched the waves of pleasure that she was bringing me run over my bones, through my body, transporting me. “That’s right, Dr. J, just lay back, let me do this for you. Let me bring you back…”

At the moment I had no thoughts, no perspective, no presumptions complicating my mind aside from what I was being gifted, this young girl’s warm hand on my cock. But now, as I write and read this to you, I know exactly what was happening. This was Lakshmi, worker bee, performing her instinctual duty to bring me back to the thrall of the home, of Melissa’s hive. I had been exposed to an outside influence, the pheromones of another, and I was suffering for it. Nothing, at this point, that couldn’t be remedied, but something that had been causing me discomfort. I groaned. Not in pain, now, but in the pleasure of being brought back to the yoke.

I groaned again, bringing Lakshmi to tut and coo. “Awww…!” she clucked, seeing the consternation on my face, as my mien tensed and scrunched. I looked as if I was struggling. “Would it be easier if I showed you a picture? I might have some, of Melissa, on my phone…”

I could only grunt, shake my head, clamp my eyes shut, concentrate. Her hand, still rhythmically stroking my cock, demanded all my attention.

“No? Okay, how about a picture of my butt then?” she <giggled!>.

“Ohhh g- g- g-... Lakshmiiiii…”

“No? Oh gosh you are so close, aren’t you? Here, you can just look into my eyes, open up,” she enjoined, bringing me to open my eyes once again, look up at her over the swell of her bosom, “You need this to clear your head…”

With that, her wrist, of her right hand, was in front of my nose again. “Breathe…” she instructed me, and I took a deep breath of her sweetly flowerful perfume. Immediately I felt a wave of even greater pleasure wash through me, and I sighed. My climax, now, began to really build. “There you go, that’s nice, right?” she implored, “Breathe deep, smell that. That is us. That is Melissa and your girls. We take care of you, now.”

“oh, christ, oh god….” I groaned, breathing in again and letting myself be drawn away on another wave of pleasure, out into their warm ocean, where her hand and their hands and their soft hair and skins and smiles welcomed me into the depths, the dark dark depths where I could be safe and…nnngh…safe and….nnngh…safe and…

“Safe, Dr. J, you are safe with us,” Lakshmi cooed, her hand now inexorably guiding me through to my final release, jumping, pumping, pumping. I felt it, she felt it, it was right…there, so close. Her wrist - she drew it back from under my nose, and moved her right hand now up, under her top, under her bra, “Safe and protected, safe and warm, safe and sound…” Her hand was between her breasts, rubbing her skin, gathering her scent stronger from her dark humid warmth. She slid it back out and when she removed her hand she clasped it, now, fingers and palm over my mouth and nose. My eyes shot open and I breathed in and it was all her and-

“NNNNNNnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHOHHHM-m--m-m---my goddddd…..” I finally groaned, and felt myself explode, my hips lurching upwards, my legs spasming and shaking, my whole head swimming and diving down drawn down until I gasped, filling my lungs with the perfume from her breasts from her hand and drawing it in drowning drowning. Come shot from my cock, I felt it first splatter hot and wet on my chest and neck, and I heard her start to coo.

“Oh, Dr. J, yes, yes, yes…” she extolled, with exalted excitement, hand still clasped around my face, “come for me, yes, get it all out. Get it all out for me….good, good, good boy…yes…”

“Lhkshmuh oh mh gdd…” I gasped, muffled into her palm, my breath rattling, body spasming, coming in rope after rope of hot jism through the air and onto my torso, “oh my god Lakshmi…”

“Shhhhh sweet boy, shhhhhh…” she purred, gentle left hand still pumping me through my climax, urging as much pleasure for me as she could make while her right hand held my face immobile, clasped over my breath. “Breathe me in, breathe us in…there you go, good boy…”

I grunted, I groaned and moaned, headache forgotten but climax still rolling over me. Lakshmi urged and guided me fully through my pleasure and though she would bring me to final aftercare I would pass out quickly there, several minutes later, asleep in the lap of luxury, once again in the hands of the hive.

==========================================

#growing into the job

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lovelyladylavie · 2 days

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Background character sketches for "My Brother’s Child", a fic I've been writing for about a year. It is E-rated for s*x and graphic vio lence, but it's also full of Rise-style fluff, family moments, and humor. But I'm adding a T-rated version soon, and when I do, I'll drop the link.

The fic is generally about the different stages of love and loss the adult turtles go through during the apocalyptic future in the Rise Movie, and how things change over the course of the years until Time Travel Day. The fic is canon compliant, so all the losses suffered in the movie are, in fact, in the fic, or will be soon.

So i needed some background characters that can create situations for the turtles to navigate. Expendables, if you will.

This is the Mad Dogs Hockey Team (and a few others). They're Raph and Cass' scavenger squad full of ultra-strong weirdos. All their weapons and armor were made by Donnie during a fit of unbridled inspiration.

But anyway, in case you can't read my chicken scratch (from left to right) under the cut:

Denzlo:

-Stinky Boy

-Doesn't shower much to conserve water

-Fiercely Loyal to Raph and Cass

-Incredibly kind, but has a short fuse

Evans:

-Out of the Box Thinker

-Tall and Buff (gotta stay fit in the apocalypse)

-Smartass

-loves his wife, Spice

(Not on here, but recent lore drop in the fic, Evans was training to be a radiologist, so he's the group's de facto medic. He also loves stealing dried herbs/spices during scavenges to spice up he and his wife's rations)

Spice:

-Soft spoken and stealthy

-uses Donnie-Tech camo cloak

-high kraang kill-count

-loves her husband (they dance together at bad times)

-was a law student

Pietro:

-Angry at everything, was scared of mutants (still kinda is.)

-has two kids (Trish and Tai)

-unpleasant person in general

Quinn:

-Short Queen, sweetheart

-Used to be a mortician

-Goth, from Jersey

-Took care of Raphael’s body

Maya:

-A bit self-centered, brutal, sadistic

-likes cute things

-likes Mikey

-uh oh

The honorable Rabbi Venkman (Not a member of the Hockey Team, but one of Mikey’s 'Light-Steppers', the mystic warrior squad he teaches):

-handles all religious crises in the rebellion base

-Thinks the world of Mikey, learned mystic arts from him

-very tall and soft spoken

-very moral and fair, if a lil sassy

Delia Vardanyan (civilian):

-In charge of the war's orphans, takes care of all children on base when their parents are busy, in charge of their general education.

-HATES Donnie (likes his brothers, though?)

- Armenian immigrant. survivor of the original kraang attack. Very loud/outspoken. They found her eating MREs in a turned over battleship in the harbor.

-Trusts. NO. One. (Sleeps a lot)

Yuri:

-Was a tourist/exchange student in NYU from Sweden

-Struggles with English and has a very heavy accent

-Maya is his bestie by default bc she speaks fluent Swedish and was the only one who could understand him when the world flipped upside down. His English has gotten better over the years, but he still needs her.

-Speedy in battles. Will share his rations. Bit of an appreciator of the finer things in life, like wine.

-Maya and Yuri have both slept with Mikey. Mikey is quite a Casanova in the resistance due to his mystic mystique. (That... might change once he starts aging more rapidly, however...)

There's another page of characters, but it contains spoilers, so im gonna have to correct that before i show it.

#lavie draws #my brother's child

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putnamcapital · 7 months

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Deep dive wondering about Sara's backstory (CW: drug / alcohol abuse) (Part 1)

CW Drug & Alcohol abuse by a parent

I want to write about Sara and Simon as children who grew in a home damaged by drug and alcohol abuse. I’m going to focus on Sara, because I’m thinking about this in order to get a better insight into why she behaves as she does (for a WIP). People are really hard on her - and sometimes harder on her than on Simon or Wille, even when they do similar things. It makes my heart break for her, because I think she is misunderstood in a number of ways. Full disclosure, though, that I am not looking at this question from the perspective of neuro divergence / autism / ADHD, because I know less about than, um, I think I do about her family dynamic. I’ve split it into two parts because it’s long. I’d love feedback / thoughts, since I’m trying to work out her motivations.

Lying: Sara lies. The worst lie she tells is an omission: she doesn’t tell Simon she knows August filmed the video. But she also lies to Felice about her relationship with August. She lies to August at first about why she doesn’t want to go the ball with him. These are all lies about keeping up appearances; about her being afraid of people finding out what is true. It’s the kind of lie told to a child - often a lie by omission - “your father’s not feeling well today, he’s staying home from work” / “your father must have food poisoning” etc. when really he is passed out drunk or high. The thing about these lies is that both parties end up knowing they’re being told. Kids are smarter than it’s assumed, but they soon learn their role is to play along with the lie, so that they can maintain their role in the family dynamic, which is for everyone to collectively deny what is happening so that the wished-for world can be kept alive (as opposed to the actually-happening-world). A lot of what Sara does fits into this pattern of “i just wont say anything and provided I keep it up, the approved fact pattern will remain in place.” It’s why it took Wille threatening August with a gun for Sara to finally, brutally, have to step out of the lie.

Pretending: Sara isn’t happy at home. She wants to get out. But unlike Simon, who gets out ‘internally’ - by becoming more and more true to himself, and defending his boundaries - Sara tries to get out by changing her family (rather than changing herself). She tries to become one of the Manor House girls - right down to dressing like them, dancing like them, learning to laugh at the right jokes, etc. She’s trying to pass - i.e. she’s doing the same thing she learned at home, and learned as an immigrant - we can pretend everything is okay; she can pretend she really can be one of these rich girls. It’s why one of the most moving scenes to me is when she peeks her eyes open when all the girls are saying grace at the dinner table during her first sleep over, and she just can’t believe what she sees - that she is there, and she sees them, but they don’t see her watching them. It’s a way to heal that moment you can imagine between her, Simon, and her mother, where everyone knows the lies being told about Micke, but no one is going to say it aloud. At the Manor House dining table, though, Sara is briefly the only one who can see that she doesn’t quite fit in her new family. But only briefly - later, they all giggle at her when she makes too much of a fuss about wanting to know how to hypothetically address the Queen.

[part 2 = Watching / Attachment / August relationship]

#young royals #sara eriksson #young royals analysis #simon eriksson #micke eriksson #substance abuse #alcohol abuse

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fratboystrider · 1 month

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16/20

Heartstrings fact for this post: Boyfriends edition

Ira: Boyfriend no. 2 was born to a japanese first gen immigrant father and a black-american mother. His parents were business people and were often times working during his childhood. Latchkey kid. 90s kid (he’s older than dude by a decent amount). His parents divorced when he was ten or so. He wasnt necessarily spoiled, more so over indulged. If he threw a fit theyd do anything to get him to stop. He was in a band starting age 15 up until he went to college. he was a guitarist.

He knew from a young age he wasn’t really attracted to women. He couldn’t accept that, though. He had the expectation of upholding an image of masculinity (which being queer didnt really align with in his opinion) and producing grandchildren from both sides. He met a guy in college, his roommate, they grew close. They rushed a frat together and were roommates all through out. They shared a bed on some nights and kissed a few times. His roommate got a girlfriend eventually though and he was crushed. He figured he too had to move on and do what was expected of him. He leads women on and sleeps with men.

#my art #doodles #oc art #school work #ira #zine #ira akiyama #oc talk

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myon-94 · 2 months

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Hmm, back at you! I knew you liked Ray with Dimitri and I now know you don't like Niko with Packie (awesome, hehe), but are they actually the best and least?

Omg an ask what am I to do? Answer it of course this my one chance to talk abt gta ships without wanting to kms

Well if we're talking about non rarepairs and ships that actually have SOME ground in game then I must say Brucie and Roman might just be the best, their dynamic just works so well! In the sweet bellic (I think that's what it's called but it's the one where niko goes to kill that French Tom guy) the preferences written by Roman in niko's bio just seem to reflect Brucie a little too much and also Brucie did mention that "if he were queer" Roman would be in danger eheheh.

As for the least favorite, and I'm sorry everyone and especially to my 2019 baby gta stan self..it's gotta be dimitri and mikhail.

I know I know doomed old man yaoi is too good to pass but. I liked it a little when I first started getting into gta but as time passed I just found myself disliking it more and more.. Aside from the fact that mikhail is a married man with a grown daughter and cheating is a big no in my book, I just find their dynamic more and more toxic. Though that's normally not a big problem for me (I love misery) I think this time not only were they aggressive towards each other but I can't see a hint of romance in their interactions.

I see mikhail and dimitri as two people who were once friends- brothers even, who went through highs and lows together, who witnessed the death of their nation and tried to live in what was once their glorious union while still looking out for one another, and who immigrated to a far, foreign hostile country (most likely) without a penny to their name, and who were slowly and inevitably drifting apart..because nothing lasts forever.

It could've been the money and power, it could've been the painkillers and the coke, it could've been the fact that they were thousands of miles away from home and are still, even after a decade, in a foreign land they can't quite get used to.

Neither of them wanted to let go of the other. They could only trust each other. They were the only hint left of their old lives that neither wanted to forget. But everything was just..too much I guess? This couldn't keep on, and I believe it was dimitri who let go first.

I believe that by the time niko meets mikhail and dimitri the latter has already made up his mind about mikhail. What started as just boredom and annoyance of mikhail and his antics slowly manifesting into hate as his behavior started putting everyone in danger. I even think dimtri lied about the whole petrovic situation just to get an excuse to get rid of mikhail. And mikhail, well he didn't appreciate his friends distance in the slightest. But instead of thinking "maybe this is my fault" he just started to blame everyone and everything but himself, refusing to belive that he and only he was the reason his friend no longer liked him as much..and to cope he just undermines and makes fun of and blames dimitri any chance he can get; calling him paranoid, he blames him for the Lenny situation (though as I said I believe the whole fiasco was a lie) and in a deleted phone call he even accuses dimitri of sleeping with ilyena- the wife he cheats on every day. And to whom he complains? To the Serbian mercenary that knows nothing about any of them of course!

I especially find the moment where he says to niko "Dimitri would've been some prison meat if not for me" incredibly low because..you don't just say such a thing. It's cruel and it's disgusting and serves no purpose other than make dimitri look small in the eyes of others. I find his end quite fitting, rare niko W.

I do think they fucked once or twice tho :3 but they most certainly aren't in love.

BUT if we ARE talking about rarepairs then ohh boy...nothing beats dimitri and boccino. They're like. the ship ever. Still my proudest moment when I thought of these two together one Monday night 😮‍💨✨️ I rambled WAY too much abt mikhail and dimitri I know no one will read this if I talk abt ray and dimitri.

And least favorite rarepair..well there aren't many cuz yk they're rare. But I think Niko and Derrick for no other reason than because they always kill off my babygirls francis and boccino and talk shit about them for the rest of the fic. #Fuck Derrick I hate this lying drug addict rat.

#holy shit #im sure character/ OC dont count and i still hadn't figured a consistent story yet so here you go #sorry if this is too long and pretentious vik #just couldn't stop myself #gta iv #dimitri rascalov #mikhail faustin #ray boccino #dimitri/boccino #s

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ahc-au · 2 months

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Heyyy! Love this au and I've gotta know something.

As far as we've seen Bishop's personal guards are all aliens and mutants and an oddly expressive Kraang. Personally I find it hard to believe that even as the beloved and totally-not-evil president, Bishop would ever trust aliens with his personal safety. Especially since in "The Day of Awakening" we see Bishop's personalised task force and it's 99% humans and one Triceraton (and the turtles ig). And I believe that one triceraton is just there for the sake of "Hey, why is there only one alien?"

In short, why do you think Bishop would trust aliens/mutants enough to make them his bodyguards? Or is there more to it?

Hello!! Fellow Bishop stannie 🫵 Very glad to hear you're enjoying the AU!

I'll say that I do believe the majority of Bishop's force is human, moreso because he operates out of earth and humans are still the overwhelming majority there. Any unnamed guards (or maybe they'll get names too eventually?) can be assumed to be human. The four named guards are, in a meta sense, pre-existing OCs repurposed to fill out the background and make the world feel a bit more lived-in.

It's worth mentioning that Bishop does not feel the same about aliens that he did in his EPF days. That's the major reason EPF is gone, after all! He still won't trust any of them, but that's about on par with how he treats anyone: distant and distrustful, hidden under a veneer of politeness. The way I've always parsed it, Agent Bishop didn't see aliens as people, more demons, and then being rescued threw that entire belief out of wack. So now humans/Terrans and aliens are a bit closer to the same level, for him. He'll prioritize Earth's citizens, but that seems to include some extraterrestrial immigrants, too, nowadays.

So! Having said that, there's a few other elements that go into it. For one, frankly, it just looks good for Bishop to employ aliens from among PGA's allies. It's a show of trust-- not that he entirely does; vets them very thoroughly. For another, non-humans just have really handy abilities. This gives him more versatility in how he can choose to approach a problem, if one ever arises (he is, after all, a military commander at heart.) For example (since I doubt it'll ever come up,) Hambone has an elasticity that means she can absorb blunt force and fit through small spaces. Lyssis (who has not made an appearance yet I'm p sure, woops,) can absorb fire and elecricity. Stuff like that, yknow?

Anyway that's about the jist of it, I hope that's a satisfactory conclusion! Some of these characters also have more involved reasons for getting recruited, but since that gets into OC lore I'll leave it below the cut 👍

--Adelram

I think it should be fine to divulge a little lore since, again, background characters, probably won't come up too centrally. Hambone and Lyssis were mutated incidentally in an attack on PGA HQ back in 2080. Bishop publicly took it upon himself to rehabilitate the mutants involved, (who had been driven mad and violent by the strange mutagen,) handing them off to his personal scientists. He kept closely involved, hoping to find a lead to the source of the attack, and for this reason both mutants partly credit him for their recoveries and even being able to meet each other. They're loyal for this reason, and he knows it. They are also undoubtedly citizens of Earth.

Ritter is a bit more of a wacky story, one that won't really effect the plot. But their being an Utrom is not publicly known, as it happens. It's not a secret, per se, but they pass so well that most people assume they're human. They've been around since EPF, having served under Agent Bishop among its ranks. Bishop is aware they're an Utrom, and unfortunately they've proved very loyal and very useful, so he supposes he has to keep them around. It is pretty nice having a guard who doesn't need to sleep and only eats like once a month. This is also kinda the only life Ritter has ever really known, being under Bishop's command. They'd follow him anywhere, would do anything he asked of them.

#ahc asks #thank you for the questions! always great to see you in the inbox heheh #AGENT Bishop certainly wouldn't have allowed anything like this. He'd be pissed and terrified which then just makes him more pissed #President Bishop though has since learned the art of 'being nice makes people trip over themselves to do you favors'#he is more familiar with alien cultures as people instead of viewing them through the lens of war #he doesn't share his Agent counterpart's loathing hatred for them anymore #(at least. not the ones in PGA. the ones actively gunning for earth? yeah he's gonna kill em when the chance arises 👍)#so in general he's pretty assured in his guards' loyalties. if he ever had reason to doubt they'd be fired immediately at best #extra OC lore fun fact! Ritter has been here so long they were also most of the others' trainer!#They trained in Hambone for sure. And ever since they haven't stopped putting on the teacher voice around her #like 'wow Hambone that was a great shot! you're doing a great job!'#and she's like I've been working here for over a DECADE. STOP

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xcestlavie · 3 months

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full name . diego vincent montoya nickname(s) . mr . m , vince ( exclusive . doesn't like it being used ) age/birthday . 48 01/04 ( capricorn ) gender/pronouns . cis man he/him place of birth . san antonio , texas current residence . sun retreat , cape may sexuality . demisexual / romantic occupation . aspiring author/owner of atlantic book company

aesthetics . swallowing down your stubborn pride, newspapers draped across half eaten breakfasts, a clinging scent of whiskey and chocolate chip cookies

physical .

height . 5'11" build . not a dad bod but not super fit , just falls into the category of average with a questionable diet . hair color / style . brunette with signs of it graying with his age . eye color . brown face claim . pedro pascal

mentality .

positive traits . loyal , soft spoken , creative . negative traits . harsh , passive aggressive , prone to worry , critical .

biography .

( tw . brief mentions of parentification & death )

born to immigrant parents in south texas diego never once counted himself as lucky . he's the eldest of four and a victim of parentification , it's not to say he didn't / doesn't love his siblings he just wished he got a little more than he did growing up . david strove to prove he was worth his weight in school always aiming for high grades and being hyper critical when he didn't reach his own standards .

diego found great joy in creating worlds and shaping lives , he started really writing when he was in middle school and submitting things outside of the south texas area when he was in high school . high school was gone in a flash with nothing notable happening and he was off to college in austin before he could really wrap his head around how quickly his youth was flying by him . he kept to himself most of his college career only finding himself forming a relationship with a female classmate his last semester , it was a kind of ' aha ! gotcha ya ! ' moment when she fell pregnant and diego found himself going outside of his degree to take care of his new small family .

he found his relationship with her dissolving at twenty-five and by the time his daughter was three he was out of her life and living in port aransas . at twenty-nine he'd saved enough money to get out of texas and his father passing ( and an inheritance ) secured his ability to open a bookstore and buy a house , cape may was something he'd heard about in college from a classmate and it seemed like a good place to make a home . he's been living in cape may for eighteen years now and doesn't really have any plans on moving .

head canons .

is close to his brother and sisters and calls them every weekend . still holds some resentment with his mom and calls her once a month . always late to everything and will make it known when he wants to leave and tends to leave early . doesn't really like parties . has a book club every other wednesday when the store closes called CAPE READERS , it often dissolves into a gossiping circle with diego sipping away at punch and finding amusement in the whole thing . has a fish named baxter . wants a better relationship with his daughter just never knows how to approach it , so he just goes with ' hope your doing well ' , birthday , and holiday texts . he has a loose friendship with his ex . marriage is an idea he never felt comfortable with , any kind of romantic relationship isn't something he'd ever felt comfortable with . in his head he's adopted his employees and will help them while asking few questions . sometimes forgets to eat or just picks at his food . smokes like a chimney . has notebooks and notebooks of stories he doesn't feel are right . doesn't sleep nearly enough and always has coffee brewing at the bookstore free to the the customers that ask .

extras .

playlist . pinterest . connections .

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schmergo · 5 months

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Time for one of my long, rambling informal reviews! This one is for RAGTIME at Signature Theatre and unlike some of the other reviews I've written, this show is still running for 3 more weeks, but tickets are selling EXTREMELY fast, so I'd recommend you snap some up if you haven't already! I will add that Signature's discounted 'partial view' seats are extremely good value and actually not a bad view at all, so don't sleep on those.

TLDR: This show is absolutely amazing and totally does the material of one of my favorite musicals justice in an intimate, innovative staging.

Ragtime is one of those musicals with a name that belies the complexity and darkness of the subject matter (along with Parade and Carousel), and yet there's no other simple name that could tie together such a dense and varied piece of musical theatre. If you're not familiar with it, this musical set in the early 20th century follows three different groups in New York: a white suburban upper class family, a family of new Jewish immigrants, and a star-crossed young family in the emerging Black middle class of Harlem-- plus a half dozen real historical figures of the period. Their paths intersect and intertwine in many unexpected ways, changing all of their lives forever. Expect some very intense themes like racism, sexism, gun violence, and exploitation of the working class, but also moments of surprising levity and loveliness.

It's one of my favorite musicals of all time, but it's also so complex and such an example of the '80's-'90's megamusical' that it's expensive and tricky to stage. So you might not think of the intimate blackbox venue of Shirlington's Signature Theatre as a prime candidate for this piece. But I can report that director Matthew Gardiner and the whole cast and crew knocked this piece out of the park (teehee, yes, this musical has a song about a baseball game). It was a spellbinding night of theatre and there wasn't a dry eye in the house at the end of the show.

I've seen some other shows at Signature-- including Sweeney Todd earlier this season-- where the goal of 'get creative with the intimate space' actually distracted from the material, but the biggest sign that this staging worked was that I barely noticed it at all or thought 'ooh, what a creative idea'. It just... worked. Fitting 33 performers and a 16-piece orchestra onto a small stage, plus massive set pieces like a WORKING REPLICA MODEL T FORD (absolutely show-stopping when it drove out) without feeling cramped or sacrificing audience sightlines shouldn't have been possible, but it all flowed seamlessly. Actors hung around on the sidelines when not part of the action, observing and serving as a backing chorus. This was the first Signature show I've seen with a turntable stage and it helped the show glide from scene to scene without being overused or feeling gimmicky. The use of the aisle space, staircases, and sharing the upper balcony with the fully visible orchestra also served the piece well.

The arched industrial-chic design of the set feels gritty and elegant at the same time, easily standing in for a factory, seaside pier, tenement, ocean liner, or train station, with gorgeous lighting design by Tyler Micoleau adding to the seamless transitions between scenes. Sumptuous costumes by Erik Teague set the tone from the moment the show started. (Mother's dreamy outfits give her an extra shimmer while also giving the impression of extreme restraint; there are outfits for a person whose job is to be decorative rather than effective.) My only true complaint was the sound balance: at times, the orchestra and the backing vocals drowned out soloists. I'm sure it can be difficult to fine-tune this when you have a fairly large band in a small space where natural acoustics battle with amplification.

The theatre is so intimate that you can see the subtlest expressions in the characters' eyes and that makes Signature stand out among other local theatres as a place where musical theatre truly feels led by actors and not just spectacle. In a mega musical like Ragtime, that human element is desperately needed, and it's why this production and the one Ford's Theatre presented several years ago stand out to me as the best I've seen rather than the Kennedy Center production that transferred to Broadway.

Almost every single member of this cast was a standout, even the hardworking ensemble members. This is where I simply have to ramble on about everyone and how beautifully they acted and sounded. My personal favorite performer of the night, in a show more crowded with stars than a planetarium, was Awa Sal Secka as the desperate young mother Sarah. The challenging score sounded like it was written for her, which is saying something because her role was originated by Audra McDonald. Her powerful but sweet voice pours effortlessly from her mouth as though raw feelings have been distilled into pure music. Sal Secka’s simple, earnest characterization of the young woman is utterly heartbreaking. I won't spoil her character's trajectory, but expect to feel every possible emotion in the spectrum. She's incredible.

As her love interest and the show’s anti-hero, Coalhouse Walker Jr., Nkrumah Gatling is perfectly cast. I’ve rarely seen someone in a stage musical act so effectively with just his eyes, flitting from mischievously charming to stone cold in mere seconds. There’s an edge to his rich baritone that might remind you of Brian Stokes Mitchell, who originated the part, but he puts his own spin on the music and gives it a new texture. I’d have loved to have seen Gatling’s take on Sweeney Todd earlier this season. Still, I didn’t get the ‘main character energy’ from this character that I typically have in past productions. Rather than feeling like the show’s central figure, he blended into the rest of the cast—which may say more about how wonderful his co-stars were than any fault of his.

Teal Wicks did exude star quality as Mother, a disaffected housewife who awakes to the world’s injustices and starts to see her life through new eyes. She conveyed every turning point in her character’s life with clarity. Her mellifluous, creamy voice soars on big ballad numbers and her relationships with the show’s many characters feel fully realized. One of the only things I knew about her before seeing this show was that she had played Elphaba on Broadway in Wicked. But here she uses more of a classical-sounding mix voice that fits right into this antique setting.

Matthew Scott plays her stuffy husband, Father, as more sympathetic than I’ve seen before. He seems younger than most actors who’ve played this role (he and Wicks are both in their early 40’s, while I’ve often seen Father cast as significantly older than Mother), and as we see him try to fulfill his role as ‘patriarch,’ we can tell he’s insecure and uncomfortable there.

We had an understudy for the other major role, Tateh, a Jewish immigrant with big dreams and artistic gifts who wants above all else to give his daughter a better life. I was disappointed to see this because Bobby Smith, who usually plays the role, is one of my favorite local actors, but his understudy Edward L. Simon did an absolutely charming job. He imbues Tateh with an impish lightness at times that only make the dark moments more heartbreaking and nimbly navigates musical numbers with a lovely voice. Like many understudies, you could tell he was giving 110% at all times and his energy sparkled. Still, there were a few dramatic moments that I’d have loved to have seen given more power and the orchestra drowned him out more than any other character. I’m guessing that sound levels may have been calibrated to a performer with a bigger voice.

Simon is also by far the youngest-seeming Tateh I’ve seen. This works, adding to the earnest naivety his character shows when he first arrives in America, but I’d be so curious to see how the dynamic works with the usual actor, Bobby Smith, who seems to be about 30 years older than Simon. I’m so tempted to go see the show again with Smith and compare the two performances, but rest assured that if Simon is the understudy at your performance, the role is in deftly capable hands.

I loved Jake Loewenthal as Mother’s Younger Brother, an awkward young man in search for meaning in life. I previously enjoyed him as the Baker in Signature’s Into the Woods but thought, “This guy was born to play the Baker, but I can’t picture him in any other roles. He’s just TOO specific and TOO good as the Baker to play anyone else well.” I was wrong. He’s perfect here, filled with a tightly coiled intensity that is, in his character’s own words, ‘like a firework, unexploded.’ There’s a quirky piercing nasality to his voice, but it shines out in Younger Brother’s effusive self-discovery. Among other family members, Declan Fennell is adorable and NOT annoying as the family’s weird (and slightly psychic) little son Edgar and Lawrence Redmond is a hoot as the drily snarky Grandfather.

Among the smaller roles, standouts include Dani Stoller’s impassioned firebrand Emma Goldman, Jordyn Taylor as show-stopping soloist “Sarah’s Friend,” and Tobias Young’s Booker T. Washington, more memorable than I’ve ever seen this character portrayed. But more than any of these, Maria Rizzo stole her scenes as vaudeville sensation Evelyn Nesbit. She seemed to be having an absolute blast up there and gave the character both more depth (hints of trauma!) and risqué sultriness than I’ve seen before. If sometimes she verged into showboating, I couldn’t possibly complain. She was just too much fun to watch.

This is a score full of HARD-HITTING ballads and intense big production numbers, with almost every number including dramatic swells of the orchestra and singing to the rafters. Every time you think you've seen the showstopping number of the night, another one comes along to blow you away. Some of the standout songs in this piece include Sal Secka's haunting lament "Your Daddy's Son," Wicks' journey of self-discovery in "Back to Before," Gatling's anthem "Make Them Hear You" and the adrenaline-pumping duet "Wheels of a Dream," but you will find that some of the smaller numbers between them will also send chills down your spine and bring tears to your eyes. One of my personal favorites was the sweet duet "Our Children," which sees the spark of a potential relationship forming as two parents watch their children play together.

What does this show say about America? Basically everything up to and including the kitchen sink. Is it a land where people can triumph against adversity and succeed? Yes! Is it is a place where dreams are broken and crushed by reality? That, too! Is it a place where understanding can win out over hate and people find they’re more alike than different? Yes! But is it a place where hatred and bigotry can tear lives and families apart in the blink of an eye? Yes! Is there a hope of a brighter future for the country? Yes! But do we see the struggles of present day reflected in these characters from over a century ago? A resounding yes. Every audience member will come away with different moments resonating in their minds, but the rich tapestry of humanity in all its strengths and flaws showcased in this production is a marvel to behold.

I’m attaching a few clips from the show in the comments so you can see some of what it was like for yourself! Please consider seeing this show if you can. It’s the most powerfully affecting piece of musical theatre I’ve seen in the DC area since before the pandemic and will no doubt stick with you long after the cast takes its last bow.

#Musicals #musical theatre #theatre #ragtime #signature theatre #dc theatre #informal review

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