#but also I live in a city where to drive really well. which. I drive passably well so I'm still far from that

[servuscallidus]

I drive like shit I hate this

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

[playingonedchess]

[redacted] most stupid city why even bother

[trollprincess]

So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

[anyroads]

What's interesting to me about this discourse is whether or not it holds any place for how many series have been cancelled without an opportunity for a satisfying conclusion because of the very producers the WGA is striking against? If you think writers don't want to finish telling their stories, then wow are you confused about why they do what they do. As opposed to the networks and the AMPTP who don't care about story for a second, they only care about the bottom line. If their threshold for a show is 3 million viewers and it's only got 2.8 million, then that show gets cancelled, and don't think for a second they think twice about the 2.8 million people who don't get to hear the rest of the story they've committed to. They don't.

The writers not only don't owe you their labor, but most of them WANT to finish telling you the story. It's just that if they don't get reasonable pay and healthcare, then they aren't able to. And the guy who could be telling you a story in five years won't even get a chance to start it. That's what they're fighting for.

The big discourse on twitter right now is that writers going on strike or cancelling their own series are breaking an invisible “contract” they made with their fans and all creators owe their fans a satisfying conclusion to their stories. Actually if a creator says “I don’t want to perform this labor anymore,” then regardless of the cliffhanger that leaves you with, your only response should be “take care! Thank you for all your hard work!!!” :)

[ms-demeanor]

The driving times you've given are so interesting to me because for the same distance in the uk, using all motorways so 70 mph speed limit, is 5 hours for 300 miles and 9 hours for 500 miles without traffic which is absolutely impossible.

I regularly drive 70 miles (1 way) and that still takes me around 2 hours even being 95% dual carriageway (70 limit) and 5% country roads (60 limit) with decent traffic I am exhausted by the end. I couldn't imagine ever doing that as a commute!

But I'd love to do a long drive on american roads at least once to see how it differs

Sometimes I drive like an absolute asshole so the drive from LA to Vegas (about 250 miles from my departure/arrival points) takes under 3 hours when I'm driving in the middle of the night and there's no traffic. That kind of thing is pretty easy when you leave at 1am and show up around 4am and you can do 80-90 easy for most of the drive when there's no one around on a tuesday night. 90 also doesn't feel all that fast on a wide, straight, well-maintained highway. I don't think I'd ever do 90 on, like, the 10 through Pomona where there's always traffic and lots of construction and the road is full of potholes, but on the 15 between Barstow and Vegas? For sure.

But also my 30 mile one way commute to the office takes a minimum of 45 minutes in good traffic and took 2 hours the last time I drove in. It averages about an hour on an eight lane freeway with a speed limit of 65mph. THAT is exhausting. But that's traffic, which is different than just driving, which is relaxing.

When I was taking my trip from LA to Texas, I ended up driving through large parts of Arizona and all of New Mexico; it was mid-week and we were on one of the main interstate highways (40) and there were stretches where I wouldn't see another car on my side of the highway for a good ten minutes at a time. I just looked it up and the population density of New Mexico is 17 people per square mile. The population density of the UK is 740 people per square mile. The population density of LA county is 2467 people per square mile (though California as a whole is about 250 people per square mile - the drive from LA to San Francisco takes me around 5.5 hours and is about 400 miles because a lot of the area between those two huge metro areas is extremely sparsely populated! But also I once drove from Sacramento to LA and it took me around 4.5 hours to get from Sacramento to Canyon Country (330 miles), then another 3 hours to get from Canyon Country to Culver City to the area I live in (60 miles) because I hit morning rush hour traffic).

One of the things about the US is that it's HUGE. But another thing about the US is that there are many parts of it that are very, very empty. I live in an area that is VERY very crowded, but it's relatively easy for me to get to someplace that is very empty, and really I think that's the thing that makes it different in terms of driving.

[kjupchurch-xx]

Intoxicated

March 16th, 2009

Today was my 21st birthday. My friend had set me up on a blind date with an actor, but didn't tell me who. She figured this would be the perfect scenario considering the hell I'd went through last Summer with a guy that was probably the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I haven't dated or been intimate with anyone since then, nor did I really have any interest in being. 

I looked over at her, "What is this guy even like?" I asked, finishing up curling my hair. 

She smiled, "He's tall, he's nice, he's super sexy and he's not American, if that gives you any hints." 

I shrugged as I sat my curling iron down, starting to put my eyeliner on, "It doesn't. But I mean, is this even someone I'd be remotely interested in?" I asked her, giving her a questioning look. 

She chuckled, "I'm positive you'll be thanking me by the end of the night." 

I rolled my eyes, "So he's an actor?" 

She nodded, bringing me a pair of ripped bell bottom jeans, "Yes. A very talented actor." 

I quickly changed into the jeans, "Is he anyone I know?" 

She walked to my living room, grabbing my keys to bring me, "Ummm... He's in that movie we watched when we were teenagers. I think it's called Swordfish or something like that." 

I gave her a questioning look, "Did you set me up with John Travolta?" 

She covered her mouth laughing, "You'll just have to wait and see. I'm not telling you anything!" 

She probably set me up with one of the extras, someone I most likely wouldn't even remember ever being in the movie. She knows I hate surprises, but I appreciate her for trying, even though the last blind date she set me up on was a complete and total dud. 

She clapped her hands at me, "Go! You were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago! He's going to meet you at RH Rooftop." She yelled. 

I grabbed my phone, made sure I had my keys and looked at her before heading out the door to our apartment, "I swear, if this is another dud, I'm going to kill you." 

She rolled her eyes, "I promise, it's not a dud. Just go." 

I rolled my eyes, closing the door behind me as I made my way down the hall, towards the elevator, then to my car in the parking garage. While making the drive to the restaurant, I'll tell you a bit about myself... I'm a Southern Belle, originally from South Carolina. I moved to NYC after obtaining a degree in journalism. I didn't have many opportunities in my small town, so I decided to move to a bigger city in hopes of pursuing a career as a reporter. I've been serving as an intern for a local publishing company, which has gone well for the most part. 

Callie and I are roommates. She also moved here for journalism, but moved here from Arizona. We met while working part-time at a coffee cafe and became roommates since the cost of living in NYC is astronomically high. She took a different career path, as a model which caused her to meet many different celebrities.She'd tried getting me into modeling with her, but it wasn't my thing. We shared a dog, Harley, who was a beautiful French Bulldog, that was treated as if he were our love child. 

As I arrived and finally found parking for RH Rooftop, I realized I was 10 minutes late. I quickly turned my car off and sprinted towards the entrance. I don't even know who I'm looking for or how to spot this dude. I approached the hostess stand, looking nervous as I skimmed the crowd of dinners wondering who Callie had set me up with. 

The hostess noticed me, "May I help you with something?" She asked kindly. 

I nodded, "Ummm... I"m here with a guy, but I'm unsure of where he's sitting. He's not American and is very tall. He's also an actor." I stammered, knowing I must sound insane. 

She giggled, "Can you tell me his name?" 

I pursed my lips, "Not really. I'm on a blind date, so I have no idea what his name is...or who he is." I chuckled nervously, scratching the back of my neck. 

She smiled, "Okay, I think I know who you're referring to. He told us he was expecting a blind date. Follow me." She said, grabbing a menu and leading me to the rooftop entrance. 

I followed behind, still curious as to who this would be. I'd probably shit a brick if it were John Travolta, but I'm pretty sure he's off the market. There was that computer hacker dude that was pretty hot too. As we reached the rooftop tables, she led me to a dark haired man that had his back towards the entrance. I couldn't make out who he was just yet and considering that was an older movie, I doubt I'd recognize him from the movie from the back. 

He stood as he heard us approach and pulled my chair out, turning to face me, "You must be my date." He said with a smile, extending his hand to shake mine, "I'm Hugh." He said casually. 

It was the computer hacker dude, and shit, did he look good. Even 8 years later, he still looked good. 

I smiled, shaking his hand, "I am, I'm Kaitlyn." I said as I took my seat. He gave me another smile before going back to his seat across from me. 

"How're you doing, love?" He asks, smiling at me, keeping his elbows off the table. Hm, a real gentleman. 

I chuckled at his flattery, already calling me a pet name. "I'm doing good, everything's going great for me at the moment. How's things going for you?" 

He shifted, "I just wrapped up filming an origin movie for a character I've played for the last 9 years, I'm finally on a much needed break and no longer on a strict regime for my character, which I'm fully intending on breaking tonight with a milkshake." 

I giggled, "I see." I said as the waiter approached us. He was a young man who was obviously infatuated with my date. 

"Holy s-, I mean, I'm so sorry-" He stammered as Hugh began cracking up, "It's quite alright, mate." He said to the young man. 

The man smiled, "Mr. Jackman, I'm sorry. Wolverine is my all-time favorite X-Men character." Hugh smiled, "Can I please get a picture with you? I swear I'll keep it professional after." He asked.

Hugh laughed, "Sure thing, mate. I'm sorry, love, but do you mind helping our waiter out with a picture?" He asked, almost embarrassingly. 

I chuckled, "I don't mind." The waiter smiled, handing me his cell phone as Hugh got up to stand beside him, making a Wolverine pose as if he had retractable claws. 

He pat the man on the back and sat back across from me, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jackman. And thank you for taking the picture. My name is William. What can I start you guys off with to drink?" He asked. 

Hugh and I looked at each other, "I think I'll take a martini." I said, flipping through the bar menu. "No problem, William. I'll take a martini, and also, a chocolate milkshake. Large, William." 

I giggled at his serious tone making sure William understood Hugh wanted a large. "Coming right up, are there any appetizers you guys want to start with?" William asked before walking off as we both shook our heads. 

Hugh looked up at me, damn was he sexy, "So, tell me about you." He said, smirking. 

I pursed my lips wondering what to tell, "Hmm, let's see... I have a Frenchie, his name is Harley. I'm an intern for a local business. I have a degree in journalism. I moved here from South Carolina after graduating college for a better chance of a career in journalism." 

He nodded, taking my words in, "I've always wanted a French Bulldog. I also have a degree in journalism. I moved here from Australia many years ago, but I moved for X-Men." He said, forcing his accent deeper as he mentioned being from Australia. 

I chuckled, "You do have a very sexy accent. I actually didn't know you weren't American because your American accent is so convincing." 

He smirked, "I happen to think your accent is sexy too." He said flirtatiously, making me blush.

I laughed, "I literally sound like cornbread, stop." 

He laughed, "You do not. Even if you did, cornbread tastes good." 

Our waiter returned with our drinks and Hugh's large milkshake, and proceeded to take our order. I reached for the menus, but Hugh swiped them from me, handing them to our server. 

He winked at me, "Gotta be quicker than that, beautiful." 

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Tell me more about you." I said, resting my chin on my hands, giving him my undivided attention. 

He smiled, "What do you wanna know?" He asked flirtatiously. 

I shrugged, "Everything." 

He chuckled, "For starters, I have two children, Ava and Oscar. They are 4 and 9. I play cricket. I enjoy singing. Every year, I go back to Australia and do the polar plunge. I'm recently divorced. Anything else you want to know?" 

I smirked, "Have you been with anyone since the divorce?" 

He looked at, surprised at my question, but smiled, "No, no I haven't. I haven't been with anyone besides her since 1995." 

I bit my lip, raising my brow with a giggle, "So you're not a douche bag then, noted."

He smiled sweetly, "No, I'm not a douche bag." He said softly. 

I shifted in my seat, taking a sip from my martini, "What are you hoping to come from this?"  

He shrugged, "I really don't know, love. I have no expectations, whatever happens, happens. What about you?" He asks, his eyes burning through me, almost with a lust. 

I smirked, "I kind of go with the flow. Whatever happens, happens." 

He bit his lip, "I like that." 

As the night went on, we ate our food and drank a few martinis. Both of us, feeling a little tipsy and beginning to ask risque questions as he moved his chair to my side of the table, now beside me. 

"So tell me, what are some of your turn-ons?" I asked with a smirk, sipping my 3rd martini.

His one hand moved to my thigh under the table, "Does it count if I say you?" He smirked, looking me in the eyes. 

I bit my lip, "Do you want to um...get out of here?" I asked him quietly. 

He grabbed my hand, "C'mon, love." and began leading me towards the entrance of the rooftop bar to head back downstairs and to the sidewalk. "Let's go to my car." He said, leading me to an SUV.

As we got to the car, he rushed towards the backseat, opening the door, motioning for me to climb in. I climbed in, sliding to the other end as he quickly slid in beside me, shutting the door and pulling me onto his lap, slamming his lips against mine as he roughly gripped my hips.  I felt him begin pushing his hips upwards, grinding into me as I reached behind us, positioning myself upwards, tugging at his belt. 

"Take this off..." I muttered against his lips as he bit my bottom lip, I pulled away and slid my top off as he helped me, tossing it into the seat beside us, leaving me in my bra and jeans. I slid off of him to remove my jeans and underwear as he undid his belt and jeans, his hard dick exposed. 

"Come here." He said, almost demanding, as he grabbed my arm, bringing my lips back to his as I straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I lowered myself down onto him, taking every inch. 

He moaned against my lips, "Fuck, you're tight." He said lowly as he sucked on my bottom lip, nibbling at it. 

I began bouncing up and down, roughly, my moans filling the car. I felt him reach up and grab my breasts, that were covered by my bra, squeezing them. "Shit, your cock feels so good inside me." I cried out. 

He pushed my bra down, exposing my breasts as he popped one of my nipples into my mouth, nibbling at it and sucking as he started thrusting his hips up to meet mine. "Oh fuck!" I yelled as he moved his hands to my hips and started thrusting hard into me. 

"We gotta be quick, we're in a parking lot." He chuckled as he began moaning again. 

I could feel my orgasm coming, I grabbed his chin, forcing his face back to mine, crashing my lips onto his. "Cum for me, baby." He said huskily, moving his lips down to my neck, sucking and biting softly. 

I felt my eyes practically roll back into my head as I let myself go, my juices flowing down his throbbing cock as he spilled his load inside me. 

"Second date?" He asked, out of breath, laughing. 

I nodded, catching my breath, "Definitely."  

[hikari-kaitou]

This is Phoenix and Edgeworth's profiles as imagined by character designer Ms. Suekane. We got quite different answers from her compared to Takumi and the others!!

Phoenix's profile

Birthday: Maybe a Virgo? I kinda get the feeling he was born in September.

Blood type: O type. His attitude towards Maya and his fairly easygoing nature give me that impression.

Birthplace: Saitama, maybe? It's close to Tokyo but not on the same level because it's more rural. Maybe Saitama or Chiba or Ibaraki? But Takumi-san is from Saitama? Well, let's go with Saitama, then.

Non-work clothes: A hoodie. I want Phoenix to like wearing hoodies (lol). I can't think of anything else that would suit him. On the bottom, he'd wear cargo pants.

Living situation: He lives at his office. He's got a locker there where he keeps blankets and stuff to sleep on.

On his days off: He does nothing. He kinda just spaces out in the morning, then when noon comes he eats lunch and watches TV. When evening comes, he eats dinner, watches more TV, bathes, and sleeps. But if someone invites him out then he'll go.

Hobbies: Video games and stuff. Like fighting games (lol). I can see him with his controller going "tap tap tap tap" and smashing out combos. He might also play Dragon Quest or Final Fantasy or those types of games.

Favorite food: He's omnivorous. He'll eat whatever but he's kinda happy when there's meat in it. He loves meat.

Luxury foods: Diet cola. Beef jerky would be fine too (lol). He drinks alcohol but it doesn't show on his face much. Not beer, but like Japanese hot sake (lol)

Sports: Swimming. In general he's useless at sports but he'd be like "swimming is the only thing I'm good at." He seems like he'd get a little excited while talking about swimming.

Music: He doesn't listen to music. He'll go to karaoke if someone brings him, though.

Cellphone: He updates it fairly regularly, but because he always waits for the price to go down, he always ends up with one that's two models behind (lol).

His part time job in college: Something loose, because he doesn't commit himself to things… Like maybe he worked at a convenience store.

His type: I feel like he dreams about someone with abstract qualities like being "kind" or "domestic". Just thinking about those words gets him all starry-eyed and sighing (lol).

Edgeworth's profile

Birthday: He's an Aries, which means he was born on April 2nd or later. Let's go with April 2nd (lol).

Blood type: Type AB, because I feel like his emotions kinda have peaks and valleys.

Birthplace: Chiba. At first I thought Ace Attorney took place in Soga (a city in Chiba Prefecture).

Non-work clothes: A jacket, but not like a suit jacket, more like a casual one. Like from Paul Smith or something.

Living situation: A normal apartment. A lot of his furniture is Japanese handicraft stuff, and I feel like he'd put a lot of money into making his place feel Japanese.

On his days off: He goes shopping or on walks and has an elegant lunch. If he drives a car, it would be a silver one (lol).

Hobbies: Collecting western antiques and Japanese handicrafts.

Favorite food: Taro and meat soup (imoni). He has a favorite deli in his neighborhood that makes it.

Luxury foods: Whiskey. He enjoys it on the rocks.

Sports: He used to play soccer, but now he does weight training. He's got a defined six-pack.

Music: jazz. He listens to it while drinking his whiskey. Eminem fills him with rage.

Cellphone: A normal one. He uses his computer to send emails so he really only uses it to talk.

His part time job in college: Administrative assistant. He'd help with paperwork only when the office was really busy.

His type: Someone who doesn't lie to him. I have nothing in particular to add to that.

[ray-winters]

we just wanna hear any hcs you have for our boy misch

Alright, y’all asked for it, buckle up:

Mischa makes most of his money from an apprenticeship he has at the only tattoo parlor in Uranium City. He gets paid a bit, and on top of that he gets free tattoos (which is where he got all of his from). Plus it keeps him out of the house and also pisses his very traditionally valued adoptive parents off. Win win.

My Mischa only has tattoos on his right arm bc I am left handed so HE is left handed- he does his own tattoos mostly. He was going to start a sleeve on his left arm after he got home from the fall fair.

Speaking of his tattoos; the first tattoo he gave himself was one that says “Bad Egg” w/devil horns and a devil tail. “Bad Egg” was something his adoptive dad would frequently call him, so it was his way of reclaiming the name for himself, and pissing off his adoptive parents bc they were viciously anti-tattoo

He has another tattoo of a crescent moon with a ��� - T” next to it bc he asked Talia to draw him something to put on his body. She drew the moon because of the time difference between Kyiv & Uranium, any time she sees the moon she knows she’s going to hear from Mischa soon. So she began to associate Mischa with the moon.

My personal fav tattoo I gave Mischa is that stereotypical “S” where you draw 6 lines and connect them. This is brand fucking new to Mischa, he had never seen it before, and he thought it was dope af, so he tattooed it on himself immediately.

He has a tattoo of a pot leaf, but it’s not very good so everyone always thinks it’s a Canadian maple leaf. Which drives him up the wall.

Mischa has taken in a small black cat that would hang around the tattoo parlor and would occasionally follow him home. It lives with him in the basement, it comes and goes, and it is a well kept hidden secret.

Mischa hangs at Noel’s house…a lot. Noel’s mom lets him stay the night often bc she knows about his home life and thinks it’s disgraceful, so she takes care of him.

Mischa was class clown and relatively popular at his high school in Ukraine- which is the polar opposite of how he’s received at St. Cassian’s. People either are afraid of him, or they try to make fun of him, so either way he has found himself alone most of the time.

He’d never admit it, but Mischa does actually enjoy hanging with the kids in the choir. He gets to hang with his bestie, Noel. He admires Constance’s patience and kindness, he thinks she’s probably the best person in Uranium. While he and Ocean get on each other’s nerves, there’s a small part of him that secretly looks forward to their fights. But only a little bit. He doesn’t notice Ricky is there until after the accident, and then spends a large chunk of his time trying to rectify that by getting to know/encourage Ricky.

He and Noel became friends bc some of the boys who were trying to bully Mischa were also bullying Noel. When Mischa was about to start defending Noel, Noel ended up proving he can defend himself with his quick wit rather than fists. This is a trait that Mischa admires a lot, so they pretty much joined forces that day and they’ve been the dynamic duo of Uranium City ever since.

Mischa has pretty severe abandonment issues and it prone to panic attacks because of it. He’s more of a “suffer in silence” kind of guy, so it takes someone with patience and kindness like Constance to give him some tips on how to calm himself down. I.E. remembering a calming situation like “climbing back into your bed in the morning and feeling the heat left over from your body.”

Mischa had been kicked out of a few schools in Uranium, and his adoptive figures (they’re not really parents, barely guardians) gave him one last chance at St. Cassian’s. When he was caught stealing the communion wine, Father Marcus told him he HAD to join the choir and that he HAD to at the very least sing at the competition. Which is why he doesn’t do any choreo during the opening number.

Addendum- he does ONE move during the opening number. The finger wag on “oh no no” because Noel came up with that move, and after Ocean tried to cut it, Mischa said it was the only move he’d do even if it was cut. So he forced her to keep the move in via malicious compliance.

Over the course of the musical, there isn’t really a moment where he thinks he’s gonna win. His life wasn’t fair, why should his death be any different.

He thinks Jane is THE coolest and THE most metal thing he’s ever seen. After she finishes her number, his heart is effectively broken for her.

When Constance punches Ocean, Mischa doesn’t have the “FUCK YEAH” reaction that you’d expect. It’s actually met with some sadness. He’s always encouraging Constance to stick up for herself, and to not take Ocean’s shit. But, he respects that she has patience and kindness. When Constance punches Ocean, he almost sees it as a failure on his part.

The reason in my head why Mischa and Ocean feud so much is because they remind each other of one another’s parents. Ocean is the poster child of excellence in Uranium, Mischa’s adoptive parents have said more than once that they wish he could “be like that Ocean girl” - on the contrary, Ocean has caught Mischa smoking weed before. His incredibly radically liberal world view reminds her of her hippy parents. They get that anger out at them on each other. But at the end of the show, they both have a deeper respect for one another. Ocean for Mischa because she sees the real him, who is gentle & compassionate. Mischa for Ocean because she does the most selfless thing she could possibly do, which he respects infinitely.

I’m sure I have more but these are the HC’s that immediately came to mind. This is what makes Majestic Rep’s Mischa, Mischa.

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 7

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara accompanies you to a family party

warnings: homophobia/biphobia

word count: 4100+

author's note: longest thing i've ever posted. also, had to look up so many specific quotes for this one...

previous part | next part

"So, how many people did you say will be at this party?” Tara asked, looking out the window as you drove down another dirt road. Ever since the two of you had passed the city and made it off the highway, it had been all cornfields, farms, and forests. Tara knew one thing for sure: she would never live in the countryside of New York, even if you wanted to.

You shrugged behind the wheel, reaching out to lower the music a bit. One of Tara’s more ‘pop-y’ songs was on, and the bass was loud. “I’m not really sure,” you said, sparing her a glance before refocusing on the road ahead of you. “My parents know a lot of people, but I’m sure it won’t be more than…two hundred?”

Two hundred people?! Tara thought, her eyes widening. I have to meet two. hundred. people?!

“Don’t worry, though,” you continued quickly. “Only about fifty of that is family; the rest are family friends or work acquaintances, so you won’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

Thank fucking god. “And can you give me a run down on the more immediate family again?”

“Well, there’s mom and dad, obviously.” You took a left, not bothering with your blinker because there was no one else around. However, rather than more dirt road, your tires were finally rolling against pavement. “Nathaniel and Edmund--but, you can’t call him ‘Edmund’; you have to say ‘Eddie’, or he’ll get upset.”

“And they’re identical, right?”

Trees were lining the pavement, perfectly spaced apart and shaped, and Tara readied herself to be met with your house. Except…it never came. You just kept driving and driving, and it seemed like there was no end in sight.

You nodded. “Yup--identical. You’ll be able to tell them apart, though. It’s easy.” You hummed as you thought. “Oh, baby Cordelia, of course, but only my father calls her by her full name.”

Your baby sister, Cordelia, or Lia, as she was called by most, was turning a year old that day, which was why you and Tara had made the drive up to your parents’ house. They were throwing a party for her, and an extravagant one at that.

“And then my father’s parents: Grandma Jane and Grandpa Thomas. They live in the house with everyone, but odds are you won’t meet them today. They like to spend their time in the wine cellar when we have guests.” You leaned toward her just slightly, like you were about to tell her a secret. “Grandpa Thomas has never been the biggest fan of…people. He’s a book guy, you know?”

Mom, dad, Nate, Eddie, Lia, Jane, Thomas. Tara nodded to herself as she made the mental note, determined not to get anyone’s name wrong. “Okay, and--”

Finally, your house started to show in the distance, and Tara’s jaw literally dropped. Even from where the two of you were, it was huge, and not just rich-person-huge but old-money-huge.

It was a large, shapely building made of blue brick; two large, white pillars stood near the front entrance and extended all the way up to the roof; windows upon windows were lined in white to match the rest of the house; vines flowed down from the roof, though they were neat and calculated, giving the house an old-vibe rather than a messy one.

Holy. Fucking. Shit, Tara thought as your house--if it could even be called a house--drew closer and closer. She stared in awe as you drove the two of you around the circular driveway, centered around a gorgeous fountain, and to the parking area, which was already overflowing with cars.

Once you parked, you turned to her, glancing down sheepishly. “I know it’s a lot,” you said, your voice soft. “The house, the party, the meeting everyone.” You inhaled deeply. “If you feel uncomfortable about anything at any time, just let me know and we can hide in my bedroom, okay? Or, if you need a moment alone, it’s up the stairs, to the right, fourth door on your left.”

She’s just too perfect. Tara grinned, that type of grin she only ever had when she was with you, and leaned across the center console, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m sure it’ll be great, baby.”

You flushed, the way you always did whenever she kissed you, even though she had kissed you a million times at that point; she never tired of the way the red painted your cheeks, or how you’d smile subconsciously.

“Okay.” You nodded and kissed her again for good measure. “Then let’s do this.”

You climbed out of the car, rounded the hood, and opened the door for Tara to step out. Always so chivalrous, she thought, grabbing the present that she had brought for your sister from the floor of your car. It was just a small toy, and she suddenly started to second-guess it as you led her toward the entrance.

As soon as she stepped into the house, marble flooring beneath her feet, she gulped. There were at least a hundred people there already, all having traveled to celebrate your baby sister, and they were scattered around, talking and laughing and drinking champagne. She was glad she had worn her nicest dress for the occasion, but even that didn’t seem nice enough.

I do not belong here, her mind whispered.

Before she could even utter a single word to you, all eyes turned, smiles and grins and furrowed eyebrows and tilted heads watching your every move. This is like a creepy cult movie. She glanced at you, somewhat surprised that you were relaxed as you waved.

“Hi, everybody!” you said, and there was a chorus of greetings in response.

Then, suddenly, there was pounding coming from upstairs, and two heads peeked over the banister, gleaming grins on each of their faces and identical in every way--except for their hair, Tara noticed quickly; one had his hair sticking out every which way while the other’s was combed down neatly.

“Y/N’s home!” the messy-haired one shouted. All eyes turned to them, fond smiles on everyone’s face as they stared up at the boys.

“‘A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers!’” the other yelled. Okay, well, that one’s Nate, Tara thought, and she watched as they bounded down opposite stairs, their legs carrying them quickly so they could be the first to truly greet you.

They rammed into your waist, making you stumble back as you held them close. “Hi, boys,” you giggled, and everyone--everyone--laughed at the joy that was radiated from the three of you before going back to their conversations.

You hugged your brothers tightly before pushing them away slightly. You took Tara’s hand in your own, and her heart fluttered at the feeling of your warmth against her skin. “Nate, Eddie, this is Tar--”

“The girlfriend!” Eddie cheered.

Nate followed up with, “She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed!”

Does this kid only speak in Shakespeare? Tara wondered. Is that even possible?

“Hi, guys,” Tara said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

“To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods,” Nate replied.

“What this dork means,” Eddie started, elbowing his brother, “is that we can’t wait for you to become our sister-in-law!”

Sister-in-law?! She glanced at you, and you cleared your throat, unraveling your hand from hers and placing it on the small of her back. “Eddie, Nate, go find Nana and Pops.” You leaned down and whispered something to them, and both boys nodded fervently before rushing away.

“So, you talk about me to your brothers?” Tara teased, grinning at you.

You rolled your eyes lightly, carefully guiding her further into the house. “Don’t listen to a word they say. They’re--well, you met them.” A handful? she thought. Yes.

You passed by people, sparing short greetings or simple waves, until you stood with Tara in the kitchen. “And don’t mind Nate’s speech,” you said, chuckling. “He’s been in Shakespeare-mode ever since he got that part in the play. He only talks in quotes now, no matter what play they’re from.”

She hummed. “Reminds me of someone I know,” she said, leaning up to kiss you.

Just as you began to lean down, there was an excited squeal, and you pulled back quickly, eyes wide and landing on whoever had interrupted you.

“Mom!” you rushed out, blushing. Tara spun around, a nervous smile on her lips as she stared at your mother, who grinned right back.

“You must be Tara, sweetheart!” your mom said, pulling Tara into a hug. Okay! I guess this is a hugging family! She placed her hands on Tara’s shoulders, looking at her. “You’re even prettier than Y/N said!”

“Hi, ma’am--”

Your mother waved her off. “Oh, please. Just call me ‘mom’.” She grinned, and Tara realized that you had her smile. “I’m sure you’ll be in this family soon enough.” Tara felt herself pink at the words. I sure hope so.

“Mom!” you groaned from behind.

Your mom hummed. “Yes, well, I was just coming to grab another apple for your father. You know him,” she said. “Eats like he’s a horse,” she whispered to Tara.

You perked up at the mention of your dad. “Oh, Tara! Let’s go see him. I’m sure he has Lia, right, mom?”

“Yes, yes.” She was digging around the fridge. “I was so sure I bought more,” she muttered to herself.

You sidled up beside Tara and took her hand, leading her toward a different area of the house. There were even more people there, standing around one object and cooing. You squeezed past them all, offering ‘hello’s’ and ‘nice to see you’s’ as you did.

“Dad!” you exclaimed when your father came into view, Lia in his arms.

“Ah, the prodigal daughter returns,” your dad hummed. He wrapped an arm around you in a hug before handing you your sister. “Watch your hair,” he warned. “She’s in her pulling phase.”

As if on cue, Lia reached up and tugged at your ear, giggling when you groaned. “Lia! No pulling,” you mumbled. Tara grinned, butterflies stirring in her stomach at the sight. Talk about baby fever.

“And you’re Tara,” your father said, looking at her. He wasn’t an intimidating man at all, but Tara had heard how highly you spoke of him, and, needless to say, she was nervous.

Oh boy, she thought. Here we go.

“Hello, sir,” she said, sticking her hand out. I hope I’m not sweating. Please don’t be sweating.

He inspected her outstretched arm for a moment before laughing loudly and clapping a hand on her shoulder. “No handshakes for family, Tara!” He pulled her into a hug, just like your mother had. I have to become a part of this family. It’s a must. “And, gosh, don’t call me ‘sir’! That’s so formal! Just call me ‘dad’.” His voice was joyous, excited, and Tara understood immediately where you got your personality from.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “...Dad…” It was weird, feeling the word slip from between her lips, but the man lit up upon hearing it.

“Tar, come here,” you called gently. She took a few steps until she was at your side, and grinned down at the baby in your arms. “Wanna hold her?”

“Oh!” Baby. Can’t drop it. That thing’s alive. “Sure.” It was a careful handoff as Lia settled into Tara’s arms, smiling up at her. She had the same eyes as you, who had the same eyes as your father, and Tara was immediately smitten. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

And then, Lia was pulling at the ends of her hair, and Tara thought, Yeah. Maybe I don’t want a kid just yet.

“I’ll take her off your hands,” your father said, holding his arms out. Tara handed Lia back to him, watching as he stuck his tongue out, to which Lia laughed. “My little Cordelia,” your father sighed.

“She’s the favorite child now,” you whispered to Tara. “Come, let’s get something to drink.”

You took her not to the kitchen but to the bar, and Tara marveled the whole way as she caught sight of old paintings, framed poems, antiques that littered the walls. It wasn’t crowded in any way; it was all beautiful and exactly how she expected your house to look.

You ordered the two of you champagne, and the bartender didn’t say a word as he poured your drinks, handing them to you with a soft smile.

“So, that’s everyone. Like I said, my grandparents are probably hiding away in the wine cellar,” you said, taking a sip from your glass. “What’d you think?”

You’re the perfect mixture of your parents, she thought. Everything makes sense now. “They’re all lovely.”

You grinned. “I’m glad you like them. I can already tell they love you. Well, I could tell that from the moment I told them about you, but--”

Someone interrupted you.

“Y/N.” The voice was masculine, strong, stern, and Tara could sense a bit of pretentious asshole in his tone.

She spun around when you did and watched as your eyes landed on the man; you immediately straightened up, your shoulders tensing and your smiling fading into a tight-lipped greeting. She straightened up, too. I bet he’s a dick, she thought, eyeing him and internally scoffing at his stupid face.

“Connor,” you gritted out like it pained you.

Tara reached to take your hand, knowing that you sought touch in moments of stress, but, just barely, you moved away from her grasp. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. Who is this douche and why is he making her so…rigid?

You held your head a little higher and clenched your jaw. “Why are you here?”

He smiled, though Tara thought it looked more like a snarl. “Well, our parents are friends, so why wouldn’t we have been invited to Lia’s birthday party?”

That’s it, Tara promptly decided. I’m going to punch him by the end of the night.

“Right, of course.” You held your champagne glass a little tighter. “And how are you finding everything?”

“Oh, your parents throw lovely parties. Although, it’s not like I’m any stranger to them.” He took a sip of his wine and smacked his lips together. “I was surprised to find you here, actually.”

“It’s my baby sister’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I be here?” you asked.

He waved you off. “Your mother mentioned something about you having been busy--working a minimum wage job and whatnot.” The condescending nature of his words made Tara ball her hands into fists. If he doesn’t walk away in five seconds, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to his perfectly-straight, stupidly-white teeth. He turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “And this is…?”

Your worst fucking nightmare, douchebag, Tara thought, but she offered him the smallest of smiles instead, not yet knowing if she was allowed to make an enemy of him.

You startled, like you had just remembered that she was standing beside you, and slid your arm around her waist. Tara watched as Connor clenched his jaw at the action. Yeah, fuck you!

“Connor, this is Tara. My girlfriend.” He scoffed, loudly, and your hold on her tightened, your fingers digging into her hip. “Tara, this is Connor. He’s…a family friend.”

He hummed. “If that’s what you’d like to call us, then sure, Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue too comfortably for Tara’s liking, especially for how stand-offish you became around him. “So, still in your little…exploratory phase, then?” he asked in such a way that made your grip turn almost bruising and caused Tara’s stomach to turn unpleasantly.

“No, Connor,” you said. “I’m bisexual. There is no exploring.”

“Sure.” He chuckled like he didn’t believe you. “Perhaps the men at Blackmore are just less than satisfactory.”

“Okay, why don’t you--” Tara began, only to be cut off by you pulling her into you.

“Or perhaps Tara can just satisfy me more than you ever did,” you snapped.

Tara froze. What? Is he…did they date?

Connor furrowed his eyebrows in anger, his eyes turning dark as they set themselves on her. “Does she even come from money?” There was venom in his voice, the disgust in his expression not bothering to hide itself.

A shiver ran down Tara’s back, and she glanced at the floor, her skin suddenly feeling too small for her, the air seeming too thick to breathe in. From the moment she had stepped into your home, she had felt a little out of place, and now Connor was simply confirming that thought.

“Does that matter?” you seethed.

“Of course it does. When you come from families like ours, everything matters. I mean, if you’re serious about this whole…bisexual…thing, how could you know she’s not just using you?” His words were coming out fast, spit flying as he spoke, his cheeks flushing with rage. “At least with me, you knew there were no ill intentions.”

Using her? Tara thought, feeling herself shrink slightly. Ill intentions?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Connor.” Your voice was sharp and threatening, holding a warning behind it.

“I take it, then, that she doesn’t come from a family of the arts.” His eyes flickered down before glancing back up again. “Or any family that matters.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause in which Tara could feel anger radiating from you and shame filling her every vein, and it was strange. She pulled herself from your grasp, mumbled out, “I have to use the bathroom,” and rushed away with teary eyes. Away from him, away from the party, away from you.

Faintly, she could hear you calling her name, and then a few angry shouts, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was focused on squeezing past people and slipping upstairs to your bedroom, her hand fumbling around in her purse for her inhaler.

Fuck, where is my inhaler? she thought as she tripped up the last step and stumbled down the hall, counting one, two, three, doors on her left until she found the fourth—your bedroom. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, rummaging through her purse in a panic as she tried to blink back her tears.

When she finally caught hold of her inhaler, she took two puffs and threw her head back, groaning. Stupid. Thinking I could fit in here. Thinking this was all normal. Stupid.

There was a knock on the other side of the door; then, a voice, soft and careful. “Tara?” She could hear some shuffling out in the hall. “Tara, dear?”

Tara straightened. Is that her mom? she wondered. What is her mom doing here right now?

“Could you let me in, Tara?”

Tara wiped beneath her eyes and, with a heaving sigh, turned around and opened the door, her shoulders slumping slightly at the sight of your mother’s worried face.

“I saw you run off, dear,” your mom started, taking a hesitant step forward, “and Y/N was nowhere in sight, so I thought I’d come check on you.”

This whole family is just too good. “I’m alright,” she lied through her teeth.

Your mother hummed and ventured further into the room, sitting on the edge of your bed with her legs crossed over one another. “I saw you and Y/N speaking to Connor Harris.” Her face soured as she spoke his name, and Tara smiled softly at that. “I’ve never liked that boy, but Y/N’s father and his father have been friends since childhood.”

Tara swallowed. I need to know. I need to ask. “Were Y/N and Connor…were they together at some point?” she asked.

Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulled at her lips. “Dear, they were engaged. Has she not told you?”

It was like the world stopped for a moment. Engaged? Tara wanted to throw up. Her vision blurred immediately; a pit in her stomach formed; she could feel herself shaking. Engaged?! She was engaged?! To him?!

Your mother stood and, before Tara could say a word, wrapped her arms around her, holding her trembling body close. “Tara, honey. It is just a part of Y/N’s past, but she’s with you now, and that’s what matters.”

Oh my god, I’m being comforted by her mom right now, Tara thought. This is so embarrassing. She pulled away and sniffled, holding her head up. “Thank you, truly. I’m just…shocked that she never mentioned an engagement before.” How did she never tell me?

“Yes, well--”

“Tar?” your voice called from near the door. “You in here, bab--” You appeared in the doorway, stopping short at the sight of your mother and Tara in your bedroom together, with clear signs of Tara having cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” your mom said, squeezing your shoulder briefly as she exited.

You walked into the room, shut the door behind you, and stepped up to Tara, taking her cheeks in your hand. Your thumb rubbed beneath her eyes, wiping away any remnants of her tears. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” you asked, your voice gentle.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flitting to the floor. “Your mom told me about…about you and Connor.”

You paled, your hands dropping slightly and your eyes widening. “Oh,” you muttered.

“You didn’t tell me you were engaged before,” she whispered. She took a step away, and you swallowed as your arms fell to your sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not a big deal,” you said, biting your lip.

“Not a big deal?!” Her eyebrows furrowed. How could she think this isn’t a big deal? “You were engaged--set to spend the rest of your life with someone.” She waved her hand. “Set to spend the rest of your life with him! And you think that’s not a big deal, or something that you shouldn’t tell your girlfriend?”

“Tar, let me explain,” you pleaded. “Just, let me explain, please.”

She inhaled sharply. “Fine.”

You sighed in relief, blinked hard, and began. “He proposed to me at our high school graduation, up on the stage, in front of everyone. I--I didn’t want to embarrass him, or our families, so I said yes, and, technically, yes, we were engaged.” You shook your head, slumping onto your bed and holding your face in your hands. “I should’ve never said yes. We went home that night, and I told him I didn’t actually want to get married. Obviously, he didn’t like that, so he broke up with me.”

Tara’s face softened, her anger simmering. “You were engaged for…what…only a few hours?”

You nodded, glancing at her. “Yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell you, because it really isn’t a big deal. I mean, honestly? I hardly liked Connor anyway. I was with him because I thought my parents wanted that, but they don’t care.” You shrugged. “They just want me to be happy.” You stood, crossed the room, and took Tara’s hands in your own. “And you make me happy.”

Tara grinned, then glanced away sheepishly. “I’m sorry I kind of overreacted.”

You shook your head and pulled her into you, your arms wrapping around her shoulders. “No, I should’ve told you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled into your chest, sliding her own arms around your waist and hugging you tightly. You kissed the top of her head, and she hummed before another thought popped into her head. “Do you think you should be with someone who…has a family like this?” She pulled back and gestured to your room. “Who could afford all of this?”

“Tara,” you said softly, frowning. “I don’t care that your family isn’t in the high arts, or that your parents aren’t business magnates, or that you didn’t grow up the way I did. I love you.” You leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t let what Connor said get to you, okay? He’s a pompous dirtbag.”

Tara chuckled. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Yes. The biggest pompous dirtbag I know.”

She grinned. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you--is not that strange?” you quoted, smiling.

She rolled her eyes. Always such a dork, she thought. My dork, though. “Are you sure you don’t love Shakespeare more than me?”

You hummed, tilting your head like you were weighing your options, and she scoffed lightly. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’ll always love you more than I love Shakespeare, baby.”

“Good.” Tara bit back her smile. “Does that mean you’ll get a statue bust of me?”

“...I’ll think about it.”

bonus: “so, when you and our sister get married, will you take her last name?” eddie asked, swinging his feet from where he sat at the table in the ballroom.

“eddie--” tara began, only to be interrupted by nate, who sat on the other side of her.

“get thee a wife, get thee a wife!” he exclaimed.

“we’re only 19, guys,” she tried.

“okay, and?” eddie asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“do you not love my sister?” nate asked, and tara was thankful that, for once, his shakespeare quote sounded normal.

she glanced around, looking for you, but you were talking to one of your aunts on the other side of the room. she leaned down and gestured for both boys to come closer. “i’ll tell you guys a little secret. when we do get married, i plan to take her last name.”

they grinned at each other across tara.

“knew it!” eddie cheered.

[belovedmusings]

It’s just nerves.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Part one of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, car sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: You Right (Doja Cat, The Weeknd), nasty (Ariana Grande), West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: okay, hear me out. these two are an alt boy duo that i would not mind being tag-teamed by so…here tf we go. This was gonna be a one shot but I live for drama so there’ll be multiple parts.

Read below the cut:

Choso’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as you drive towards the location of his audition.

He’s been looking for his place in a new band ever since his previous one broke up a few months ago, and he’d seen that the city’s most popular up-and-coming band Curse Manipulation posted an ad in need of a guitarist on their Instagram. The two of you like some of their music though you aren’t overly familiar with the band, so he figured it would be a no-brainer to audition.

You know he’s going to be accepted. Choso is an amazing guitarist, and he writes beautiful lyrics, too. Not to mention the haunting voice he can sing with.

You have complete faith in your boyfriend, and he is very aware of your support, and yet he’s still an endearing ball of nerves beside you.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on his thigh as you reach a red stoplight, easing onto the brake. You give him a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great, babe. I know it.”

He smiles half-convincingly at you, which in him is really just a twitch of the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but reach up and lovingly cup his chin between your thumb and index.

“I’ll be right there with you. So you don’t need to worry.”

He sighs, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the light turns green, allowing you to continue on your drive.

“Thanks,” his voice is quiet. “I just…really do like their sound. The more I think of it, the more I can see myself playing with them. I just hope they agree.”

“They will,” you say surely. “After it’s over, wanna get some McDonald’s? I think there’s a McFlurry with your name on it.”

He chuckles softly and nods. “Sure. That sounds good.”

You flash a grin as you turn onto the next street, entering a residential area with houses nicer than you were expecting. They aren’t mansions, but as you drive through, they’re definitely nicer than yours and Choso’s humble apartment.

“Huh. Didn’t know they made this much money already,” You think aloud, and he shifts beside you, also looking out of the window.

“I read about them a little,” Choso tells you, “Their bassist is a songwriter that’s pretty well-known in alternative music, apparently.”

“Yeah?” You ask, impressed. “So this guy’s a big shot?”

“Kinda,” Choso laughs breathily. “Honestly, I think that’s why I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous that he’s a professional? A little intimidated?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Could be,” he admits. “I mean, I know that I’m a good player, so that’s not it entirely. It’s just that if I do get put in the band, things’ll change. They’re gaining popularity, and with the experience he has, the band’s definitely going to get somewhere.”

You hum. “That sounds great. You’ve always wanted to do this as a career—and your stuff deserves to be heard, baby. Maybe you’re more excited than nervous.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “It’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable,” you reply, “It’s okay to be nervous. Auditions are scary as hell. But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get in there, you’re gonna play and blow them away, then we’ll get ourselves some delicious fast food and relax at home.”

He smiles softly at you, and you return it before looking back out of the windshield, seeing your destination approaching. You slow to a stop on the curb at the side of the house, shifting the car into park.

“All right,” You say. “We’re here. Ready?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

—-

A tall, pale man in a white muscle tank-top and baggy sweats greets the two of you at the door with a smile.

“Hi, you must be Choso,” He shakes hands with your boyfriend, “Suguru said you’d be coming. I’m Larue, the band’s drummer.”

“Hey,” greets Choso with his trademark small-smile, “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s this beauty you brought with you?” Larue asks, directing his attention to you.

You shake hands with Larue as you introduce yourself as Choso's significant other.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him your name. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Oh, of course,” Larue insists. “Come on in. The studio’s down the hall. Just leave your shoes by the door.”

He lets you two into the house, allowing you a chance to look around while you remove your shoes. It looks rather modern and minimal as a structure but the furniture has an eclectic, almost gothic feel to it, green plants livening up the space. It smells pleasant as well—like fresh juniper.

“This way,” Larue gestures to follow him, so you and your boyfriend do, your hand slipping into Choso’s to offer him comfort. He gives your hand a little pulse and you do one in reply as Larue leads you down the hallway, stopping at the door at the end. “Here we are.”

He pushes it open and enters, calling out to the occupants in the room. “Choso’s here for his audition!”

Choso enters first and you follow, entering the cozy studio, lit warmly with lamps, the floor covered in patchwork rugs, a sofa on one end across from a mixing board, and behind that, glass panes that lead to the sound booth, a room that houses the band’s instruments and equipment. Honestly, you’re impressed—you had no clue this band was so serious about their music. It makes your chest swirl with pride. This is the perfect chance for Choso’s talent to finally be recognized.

“Hey there, it’s nice to meet you in person,” a voice pulls you out of your appraisal and back towards the mixing board, where a man sits in a chair, smiling at your boyfriend. As soon as you look at him, his eyes meet yours, and you swear a little shock of electricity runs through you at that exact moment. His eyes flash with something indistinguishable. “I’m Suguru Geto. Bassist and frontman.”

Oh. He’s the singer, too? The bassist? That’s a little unusual, but it’s cool. He’s cool. He has gauges that are framed by long, dark hair, placid and gentle dark eyes, a pretty nose, smooth-looking lips with strong cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. You can’t ignore the piercings he has on his face, one over his left eyebrow, thin silver hoops adorning his bottom lip in snake bites. Tattoos peak up from his collarbone under his black crew neck, and you trace your gaze down to his hands, fingers free of tattoos but the back of his hands themselves inked up, chunky silver rings making up for the empty room on his dexterous digits instead.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous.

His eyes don’t leave you as he says, “who is this angel you brought with you?”

Choso’s hand on yours tightens, bringing you back to yourself. You manage a smile, trying to ignore your racing heart. You stutter as you answer him, cementing yourself as Choso's.

When you tell Suguru your name, and he repeats it, a smile stretches across his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ah, and this is Miguel, our keyboards.”

He gestures to the man leaning against the wall in sunglasses, gold hoops handing from his ears. He smiles and waves. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replies Choso, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Choso, you wanna set up with the amp over there?” Suguru points to the wall near the couch, and your boyfriend nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smile at him again, rubbing his arm gently before moving over to the sofa to sit beside Larue on the opposite end. Miguel takes a seat in the chair beside him as Choso sets about getting his guitar from its case, your eyes gravitating back towards the black hole in the room sitting at the mixing board.

You find his calculating eyes already on you, and instead of looking away at being caught, the corner of his mouth turns up. It makes you feel warm all over.

“So,” Larue speaks, cutting through the silence. “How long have you been playing, Choso?”

“I taught myself when I was thirteen,” He answers, taking the chord plugged into the amp and pushing the other end into his guitar. “I joined my band when I was fifteen, but it split because the others wanted to do their own things.”

“Ah,” Miguel chimes in, “That sucks. Everybody’s gotta be on the same page.”

“Yeah, but I really liked being in a band, so hopefully this goes well,” Choso smiles softly, standing up to sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. He checks to make sure the volume on the amp is down before switching it on, experimentally strumming at a few strings until the volume is at a good level.

“All set?” Asks Suguru, and Choso nods.

“Yeah. I really like ‘Love to the Strong’ so I’ll do that one.”

That was one of your favorites of Curse Manipulator. You and Choso listen to it a lot, and you’ve heard him play it before. He was able to figure it out just by listening, once again putting you in awe of him. You know he has this in the bag.

His black-painted nails form the first chord and he starts strumming, effortlessly switching to the next one and the next, starting to sing along like it’s second nature. You watch him with shimmering eyes. Whenever he plays, you can’t help but see him for the star he truly is. Everything about him is just so unique, so special. What had drawn you to him was his appearance, how unapologetically he expresses himself in what he wears, the spiky style he wears his hair up in, the tattoo across the bridge of his nose, the heavy eyeliner around his eyes…you even think about the tattoo of your name he’d gotten over his heart for your birthday in beautiful black lettering, one of many presents to you that day, and your heart flutters.

Wanting to read the room to see how the others are reacting, you look at Miguel first. He’s nodding his head along, brow furrowed with a smile on his lips. Good. He’s enjoying it. You look at Larue next, who is tapping along to the beat with his hand on his thigh quietly, dividing it even further with his foot.

Last, your eyes move to Suguru, who is moving in time with Choso’s playing, nodding with his chin in his hand. He seems to feel your eyes on his, because he meets your gaze in the next moment. That smirk finds its way on his face again, playful, and you feel your heart hammer hard against your rib cage involuntarily. Without looking away from you, he lets his index finger rest between his lips, tongue pushing against it just so you see the black ball of jewelry at the center of it.

Fuck. A tongue piercing.

A deluge of very lewd, very intrusive thoughts slam into you without your permission. What would his snake bites and tongue piercing feel like if you kissed him? Or if he tried sucking a hickey into your neck? How would his mouth feel around one of your nipples? Or, shit, how would it feel eating you out? Does he know how to use that little bead to his advantage? Would he use it to make you fall apart?

The song finishes and Larue’s enthusiastic cheers yank you from your wanton musings, dragging your eyes from Suguru’s poetic face back to your boyfriend.

Choso smiles at you, eyes searching for approval, for assurance that he did well, and you nod without thinking, a smile spreading over your face as you push the thoughts of Suguru down. You can compartmentalize them later—right now, you need to be a supportive partner. Relief washes over his face.

“That was great,” Suguru says, all business again, “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you be interested in doing toplines and backing vocals also?"

Choso nods. “Yeah, that sounds great. I uh, I write too. If you ever wanted to collaborate.”

“He’s really good,” you add, hoping the blush you feel when Suguru’s gaze finds yours again isn’t noticeable. He smiles at you and it makes you so warm, so nervous.

“That’s great,” He says, glancing back at your boyfriend. “Choso, I know it was a short audition, but I think we can all agree that you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

You see Choso’s face light up, nuanced to most but so obvious to you, and you grin brightly. You knew it.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Miguel voices his agreement. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome!” is Larue’s input.

Suguru flits his eyes to you again. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Choso doesn’t see where he’s looking though, because he’s smiling at you, but you do see it, and you feel all sorts of emotions.

Suguru wants you. He’s made it obvious enough already, and that fact plays with your sanity levels a disturbing amount. You have Choso. You love Choso. You see yourself staying with him forever, because he makes you happy, and he makes you feel safe and taken care of. You trust him with your life and he’s never done anything to even waver that trust. You have never looked at another man like this the entire time you’ve been with Choso, either.

So why now all of a sudden is a simple glance from Suguru threatening to put you on your knees? What is going on with you?

“Thank you guys,” Choso speaks, oblivious to the turmoil inside of your head, “I’ll do my best.”

Suguru stands up and pats his shoulder. Oh fuck. He’s tall, shoulders wide—he’s intimidating. He looks like he could toss you around like a pillow. Choso’s build is nothing to sneeze at, but Suguru is just…huge. You silently beg for any god listening to take pity on you and force you to calm down.

“Come on, let’s all relax in the living room with some tea and get to know everyone better,” Suguru suggests, looking at you, “How does that sound?”

You have half a mind to run out of the house right now to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like jumping Suguru’s bones on the spot. Instead, you force a smile on your face.

“Sounds good.”

It’s an hour of soft torture on Suguru’s couch. You’re sandwiched between Choso and the arm of the blue velvet sofa, Larue on his other side. Miguel sits in a matching chair off to the right, and in the other one, directly to your left sits Suguru.

It’s obscene the way his legs are spread out, open like he has a third one in the middle and he needs room for it, and that thought keeps repeating in your head, contributing to the worst hurricane that’s ever ravished the shores of your mind.

His arms are no better, elbows perched on either of the chair’s arms, pelvis forward as he slinks lazily. He’d made tea for everyone when you went into the living room and when he handed you your mug, his fingertips brushed yours and it made you feel like a shy teenager with a crush.

You try really hard not to stare at him but your eyes keep gravitating. He’s leading the conversation, and a fair amount of questions have to do with you. You have no choice but to look at him. And fuck, you don’t mind, he’s sentient art. It should be punishable by law how sinfully his pierced lips wrap around the mug to sip at the tea. At one point while you’re talking about what you do for a living, Choso’s watching you as you talk. Since his eyes aren’t on Suguru, it gives the man a free-pass to test your patience. A drop of tea accidentally slides down the side of his mouth and he flicks his tongue out to lick it, stud glinting at you, and you fucking feel yourself start to get wet.

You tear your eyes away from him after stuttering, finishing your sentence and lifting the cup to your lips to give yourself something else to focus on.

Whenever he looks at you, you can just feel it. You feel it like when you stand too close to fire, heat just threatening to burn your skin, and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to get fucked.

Wow, you think, real nice. You’re disappointed in yourself. You just met this man and he has this much control over your body? He hasn’t even really touched you.

Choso didn’t even have this effect on you. It was a pair assignment in a class you two had together that started it. He was quiet and frankly looked bored most of the time. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, or to ask you something about your assignments. When you were told you had to work with each other for the final, you two grew closer over meetings at cafes while you worked. You remember the first time you made him laugh. It was music to your ears, and it made your heart flutter. That’s when you started having feelings for him.

Everything he did after that was endearing. You started noticing that he would ask you more questions than necessary just to talk with you, you noticed he’d find reasons to prolong your meetings when you worked together, and he’d even pay for the food or drinks you’d order while working. He liked you, and you liked him back, and he was just so pure in his intentions, you fell even harder.

The night before the final was due, you were over at his place to practice. You’d been there a few times, as he’d been at yours too, and after polishing the project, you decided you two needed a break. You saw his guitar sitting against the wall and asked him to play something. He was hesitant, but ultimately couldn’t deny you, so he sat across from you and started strumming and singing a song you’d never heard before.

It was beautiful. The lyrics would put Hozier to shame. You suspected it was an original, too. You were probably biased, but hell, at that moment you knew he was someone you couldn’t let go of.

When he finished, he confirmed that he’d written it himself. You told him whoever he wrote it about was really lucky, and that if it was you, you’d fall in love with him immediately.

That was you opening the door, and he walked through it with earnest eyes and a hopeful smile.

He’s been your boyfriend since, and he’s made you so happy.

Remembering how you met Choso helps a lot to mitigate the damage Suguru is doing to your psyche, and to keep yourself strong, you don’t look at Suguru again. You fix your eyes on the mug, and a little after the tea is finished, you and Choso decide to go home.

Suguru sees you out after Larue takes care of your mugs, Miguel bidding you a farewell before he makes his way back to the studio. You get your shoes back on, hearing Choso express his gratitude again and agree to return tomorrow so that they can start rehearsing for their next gig.

“It was really nice to meet you.”

Suguru’s eyes are suddenly on yours again and it’s as if that flame that had been reduced to a steady, barely noticeable simmer roars back to life on high. He really is so fucking, damningly pretty.

“You too,” you manage with what you hope is a convincingly easy smile. He holds his palm out to shake hands, and your heart jumps in your ribcage. You fear touching him might rouse a beast within you that you previously had no knowledge of.

Out of courtesy and the obligation to uphold social cues, you lay your hand in his. His palm is warm. His fingers feel rough and firm, no doubt hardened due to his years playing bass. His skin looks nice against yours, you think intelligently, and before he lets go, he gives your hand a strong squeeze. Had you been any less of a person you would have buckled with your newly weakened knees. He has a strong grip.

What on you would he grab like that? Your thigh? Your ass? Your hips? Fuck, your neck?

Your smile tapers at the sheer indecency of your thoughts as he lets go, and you absentmindedly smile at him to try and save face, turning to follow your boyfriend out of the house and down the driveway.

“Get home safely!” Suguru calls behind you, and you hear Choso reply in kind. You can’t muster a response. Your whole body is buzzing. It feels like there are two wolves literally fighting for dominance inside of you. One of them is urging you to go home, to calm the hell down and maybe take out all of your newfound frustration on Choso.

The other one, however, is clawing at your back, trying to drag you back towards Suguru so that you can jump him and fuck him right in the front room of his house.

Obscene. Filthy. You need to get out of here. Who are you?

You make it to the car, but after Choso puts his guitar in the backseat, you hesitate before the driver’s seat.

“Babe?” You ask, and he looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, moving around to meet you at the driver’s side of the car. You hand him the keys, but refuse to move. He tilts his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, unsure of who you’re trying to convince. You’re so torn right now. You feel so guilty for looking at another man the way you did tonight, but you’re also still so fucking horny and your angel of a boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

You decide to make a very lust-induced decision.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?” He puts his hand on your shoulder in concern. “What is it?”

He’s so fucking sweet. It warms your heart but you need something more, something crazy.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes widen, and you can practically hear his heart stutter. He blinks, face reddening. “Well…when we get home, we can—”

“Right here, Choso.”

Another blink. He has no idea where this is coming from—you’ve never acted like this. Sex stays at home, in private.

“…right here? Right now?” He asks, looking around. It’s dark out now, the neighborhood lit up dimly by streetlights staggered up and down the sidewalks. “Outside?”

“In the car,” you say. That’s private enough, right? It should be. He swallows thickly.

“Are…are you sure? What if we get caught?”

You just want it so badly right now. You stretch the truth to get what you desire.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you say, heart feeling heavy. “You did so well today—you deserve it, baby.”

He smiles bashfully at the praise, scratching behind his neck. “I only did because you were here…I can wait until we get back. Don’t worry.”

It’s not working. God damn it.

You make a last-ditch effort.

“I know you can,” you say, getting in his space and touching his chest. Lowly, you add, “But I don’t think I can.”

His dark eyes widen again, an unsure smile twitching at his lips. “You want me that bad?”

It’s starting to work. “Yeah. Please, babe? Unless it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” he quickly shakes his head, “Let’s do it. Where do we…?”

You spring into action.

Your hand goes for the lever on the side of the driver’s seat, pulling it and reclining it all the way back.

“Sit, baby. I’ll ride you.”

He sucks in a breath and does as told, getting in the car and watching as you follow, shutting and locking the door behind yourself.

You straddle his legs and kiss him without a moment to waste, threading your hands in his hair. He reciprocates easily, sighing when he feels you pull the hair ties out to let his dark brown locks fall free. His hands find your waist as you start grinding on him to get him hard, relishing in the soft noises it starts to pull from him within minutes.

You think for a moment that this is crazy. You’re actually going to fuck Choso in a car. It is a little dangerous, but that excites you. You’re just so fucking turned on because of that infuriatingly gorgeous bassist…

Choso moans when you grind harder, his hand slipping up the leg of the denim shorts you’re wearing and past your underwear, finding you to be drenched.

“You really did want this,” he laughs breathily, and you feel another pang of guilt. He’s feeling the result of miniscule attention from Suguru. Sick. It’s sick.

You can’t do this to Choso. You need to focus on him. This is happening between the two of you and no one else.

“I did,” you choose to smile back. “Let me have it now, baby?”

He sucks in a slow breath and nods, pupils blown, reaching down to unzip his jeans. You help, popping the button and reaching down to free him from his boxers.

He’s hot and firm in your grasp and you can’t help but stroke him a few times, enjoying the groans it pulls from his throat.

Painfully aware of your own arousal, you decide not to tease him anymore and shift, lining him up with your entrance. Just like that, with all of your clothes still on, you slip him inside, moaning at the relief the pressure of his girth provides your needy walls.

His hands stay on your hips as you start bouncing on him, his brows furrowing, eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breathing ragged and erratic. You hear the wet noises obscenely in the small space, covering his shaft with your essence, and you roll your hips, teasing his tip against the sensitive spot inside of you.

“Choso,” you hiss, aiming there. Recognizing you found it, he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, heightening your pleasure. You throw your head back, mouth falling open. “Oh god baby, yes…”

His eyes flutter shut and you start riding him faster, his jaw clenching as he bites down. A strained grunt escapes with his voice, neck veins protruding, and you move your hands before thinking, wrapping them around his neck.

He groans louder as you apply a tiny amount of pressure, voice switching and going higher. You’re thoroughly wrecking your boyfriend now and it’s making your mound practically weep over his cock, uncaring that the car is rocking with your movements.

Your eyes flit to the side out of the window, and what you see punches heat into your gut so hard you gasp.

Suguru is standing on the balcony of what must be his bedroom, looking right into the window of your car at you, and only you.

He’s holding something between his fingers that looks like a cigarette, smirking down at you as he leans his cheek against his palm. Keep going, his eyes say.

You don’t dare disobey him. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind. You ride Choso even harder, getting the head of his throbbing cock to hammer against the most sensitive part of your insides.

You chance a glance down at Choso, who is still lost in a world of his own, eyes squeezed shut, and you look back up at Suguru, who is taking a drag.

He blows out smoke and it makes you clench hard around Choso.

“Fuck,” moans your boyfriend, “M’close, so close…”

You are too. The cock inside of you is so good, the friction of your shorts on your pearl is starting to overwhelm you, and Suguru watching you with absolutely zero shame is twisting your instincts into knots.

He corrupts you with dirty thoughts just by looking at you.

If it were him, the moment you’d asked to fuck, he probably would have pushed you into the backseat. You’d have been on your hands and knees, or maybe laid out on your back as he railed you so disrespectfully you’d feel him trying to invade your ribs. He’d call you all sorts of names, degrade you for being a slut, for not being able to wait.

You moan louder, feeling so close you’re about to lose your mind. Choso mewls beneath you, voice becoming lost to the whimpers he gets only when he cums.

“Baby, baby,” his voice rings out, “Fuck, I’m cumming…”

You feel it spill inside of you and as soon as Suguru’s smirk deepens, his head tilting as if to say ‘go on’, you orgasm hard.

“Oh fuck!”

Choso grunts as you clamp down on his sensitive member, slowing his thrusts to a stop as you pant heavily. You see Suguru grin and straighten up, lingering his gaze for a moment longer before turning and leaving you alone with Choso once more.

Now without the object of your forbidden desires, you slump forward, laying over Choso’s chest. You kiss his sweaty neck lovingly, embracing him tightly as the post-coital clarity starts seeping back into your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you, Choso.”

You do. You love him. Suguru is just a fantasy and he’s going to stay that way. You’re happy with Choso and that’s the end of the story. You’ll just have to avoid Suguru and everything will be fine.

“I love you too,” He replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Always.”

You close your eyes, biting back a heavy sigh.

I’m so sorry, you want to say, but resolve to make it up to him by just being a better partner to him than you have been, though he’s never complained. You’re not going to let this new infatuation take root.

What you don’t know is that this is only the beginning.

---

Please don't repost or translate! Feel free to reblog/share it you liked it.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie I'm so excited for this, I have so much hot drama planned you're gonna love it. Comment to be added to my taglist for when the next parts come out!

[letteredlettered]

Hi!! Out of curiosity, which MDZS character do u think about the most and why?

The answer is, without a doubt, Wei Wuxian.

Part of what makes WWX special to me is he feels really archetypal and yet the archetype doesn't actually appear in most of the western media with which I'm familiar. The archetype may be super common in eastern media or perhaps, more narrowly, Chinese media, but my point he feels singular to me and therefore interests me, and I'm familiar with mostly western media. The comparisons in this post are all comparisons to western media, since that's what I'm familiar with, and I tried to pick popular examples so that people would understand what I mean.

Wei Wuxian is a protagonist who does bad things. Very bad things. We see that in plenty of western stories, but it's less common in western fantasy. That is, you can read a million stories about professors sleeping with their students and making a very bad muck of their lives; you can watch Breaking Bad and The Sopranos, but more often in western fantasy you're going to have a Good Guy who does good and Bad Guys who do bad.

But, okay. There's certainly a significant portion of western fantasy in which no one is a Good Guy, and everyone is a little corrupt: Song of Ice and Fire, Interview With the Vampire. Wei Wuxian feels very different to me than the protagonists of these media, because Wei Wuxian is trying to be the Good Guy. He's well-intentioned. He is willing to stand against all of society to defy corruption and protect those who are weaker than himself. That kind of protagonist isn't very common in the kinds of "dark" genre fiction that are about the corruption of humanity or the political intrigues of society. If they exist, they're usually martyred and disappear from the narrative because they are too good for this world, too pure.

But the point of WWX is that he is not too good; he is not pure. He is good; he is brave; he is righteous; he stands up for the little guy--but he is also over-confident in his own ability. He overreaches. And people die because of it. Lots of people. And then, after he accidentally murders people due to losing control, he goes mad. The Nightless City massacre occurs not due to an accident but because WWX is careless and angry. He kills a lot more people then.

I will say that western fantasy is full of characters who turn to "the dark side. The threat of "going dark" has become, in fact, an integral part of most portrayals of the hero's journey. But in the media with which I'm familiar, when someone does go dark, they become the villain. They are not allowed to live, or if they live, they must still be vanquished. Star Wars is a quintessential example: Luke Skywalker is tempted by the dark side but resists; he is the hero. Darth Vader is tempted by the dark side and gives in. Even though he turns back at the end, he must still be eliminated.

Of course, there are plenty of villains who reform in such stories and then manage to survive. I think you could say that once resurrected, WWX is reformed in this way. He knows he lost control. He knows he hurt people. He's very sorry about it, and while he still has a drive to put his hand in to help others, I can't imagine him coming to the point where he would lose control again, and I also do not think he has the kind of anger or resentment that would allow him to be so careless and wanton with his cultivation again.

So, in this sense, WWX holds the place of a reformed villain, like Zuko or, say, Angel, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One thing to note about both of these examples--Zuko is shown to be "on the dark side" because of the family and culture in which he was raised, and also, he was a child. Angel was "on the dark side" because he didn't have a soul. That is, the excuses for why these reformed villains were ever villains at all exonerate them to some extent.

Meanwhile, WWX was a villain because he was full of himself. Like, it's still understandable why WWX was a villain: he sacrificed all the power he had for someone he loved; he still needed power to protect his own life when he was being tortured, and this took him down a dark path; he needed even more power to help the world fight corrupt fascists; he was villainized by society even before he became an actual villain because that society feared and desired his power; he was literally ostracized and rejected by his own family for doing the right thing. But in the end, it wasn't like he had no other choice when he caused the death of JZX. He didn't feel like he had another choice to save the Wens, but if he had not been so over-confident in his ability to control himself, JZX would not have died. And while I find the massacre at Qionqi Pass maybe excusable considering the pressures WWX was under, WWX goes mad after that. Also understandable, but there is no way in which the massacre at Nightless City is excusable. There's just no way to say it wasn't his fault.

Okay, but there are some reformed villains in western fantasy who really were villains because they just made some wrong choices. They were arrogant like WWX, or they were petty and small, or they had a sucky childhood but nothing that should've led them into darkness. These characters do exist, but I find them few and far between (and I will fully admit here that maybe I just haven't read enough western fantasy to come up with enough examples). When they do show up, they are not usually the protagonist (Snape); they more often play side roles.

And the point with these guys is that they did bad things because they were not well-intentioned. Their intentions change, and therefore their moral alignment changes. But WWX was always trying to do good. It's only at the very end that he is no longer trying, and he loses his mind partly because all of his efforts to do good have flown up in his face. I just feel like I never get to see someone who was honestly trying to help people so earnestly, and fucks it up because he was trying to do too much. The closest example is Xie Lian, and I think we can all agree Xie Lian never becomes anything close to a villain.

However, now comes the trait that really does make WWX different from any other protagonists I've ever read, and most I've seen on screen: he is all of the above, a reformed villain who was well-intentioned throughout his descent into villainy, who doesn't brood.

Everyone I mentioned above--Zuko, Angel, Snape--are all very serious people who are consumed by their pasts. If they're not dour or bitter, they're still unable to be light-hearted or carefree. Meanwhile, WWX is the definition of light-hearted and carefree. He has a lot of regrets and some guilt, but he really doesn't dwell on it. Like, he fucked up. He died. How else can he atone? He knows he can't make it up to the people he hurt. Might as well move on and not get in their face about it.

In general, WWX's personality is unusual for the kind of hero he is. While it's true that the wise-cracking, smart-talking hero is a staple of western fantasy (Iron Man, Spider Man), these aren't the kind of heroes who can make the serious mistakes that WWX makes--or, though they do make mistakes that lead to the deaths of countless bystanders, they are never really confronted with the enormity of those crimes. I know that some people will say that WWX is not confronted with them either, that his crimes are not dealt with seriously enough in the text. I admit that I was very surprised that WWX blames the death of JZX on JGY during the final showdown in the temple. In the end, however, I think there are enough questions about whether WWX is actually a Good Guy that the story of MDZS seems quite different than, say, many western superhero stories, in which yes, superheroes do bad things and make mistakes, but are still ultimately our heroes.

But the other thing about WWX's personality that is unique for such a protagonist and also further distances him from heroes like Iron Man is this: WWX is pathetic. He's allowed to be pathetic, on quite a few occasions. He pretends to be a child. He pretends to be a damsel in distress. He purposely harasses and teases others in a way that is actively annoying to them. He's laughable. The closest parallel I can think of to how deeply WWX is willing to abase himself and annoy the fuck out of others in Deadpool, but the thing about Deadpool is that he is ultimately comedic. You know you're going to laugh if you're reading a Deadpool comic or watching one of his movies. Also, while Deadpool is a badass, need I remind you that WWX is the most powerful and the most feared person in the entire world, perhaps in all of history. The fact that WWX is as powerful as he is and still throws himself on people he likes and pretends to weep is only matched by Luo Binghe, but LBH is different in that his willingness to be pathetic is a tactic of manipulation. Meanwhile WWX is pathetic for fun; he likes to annoy people; he's ridiculous; he's laughable.

He's also lovable, but imo, like Deadpool and like LBH, I don't think we're always supposed to find him charming. We're supposed to recognize that these characters sometimes go too far for a joke. We're supposed to be annoyed at times, at least imo.

But in the end, we are supposed to like WWX. We're also supposed to feel really sorry for him and sympathize with him for what he did. He's an enormous woobie, while at the same time he massacred thousands and then laughed it off. Who does that? Who does it like the Yiling Lazou? When you add in the fact that he's super gay, but all his gay fantasies consist of farming and eating Lan Wangji's cooking and talking about fishing and keeping house, I'm just left asking, Wei Wuxian, who the fuck are you? Who the fuck can match you?

This is why I spend so much time thinking about this character. I can't actually wrap my head around him, and frankly, the way MDZS is told doesn't help. MXTX actually does not really get into WWX's head very much once he starts his path of demonic cultivation, and while we get some insights as to what is going on with him through flashback and his dialogue at the time, I am still somewhat in the dark about why he made the choices he did.

The only character I've ever encountered who even comes close to WWX is Spike from BtVS, and WWX is still on another level.

Lastly, I'll say that the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is another thing I have never witnessed in western media. It is so complex and interesting to me that I could make a whole post on it, which is why even though the answer to your question is by far Wei Wuxian, if WWX didn't exist, Jiang Cheng would win this question by a landslide.

[gwandas]

Idk where this Nesta vs. Feyre empathy discourse came from but anyway here are my two cents

I think something to remember is that there is a difference between compassion and empathy.

Empathy is specifically a demonstrated understanding of what another is feeling.

Compassion is characterized by the desire to take action to help someone who is suffering. Compassion often involves empathy, yes, but an understanding of why another person is suffering isn't a requirement for compassion.

In my opinion, Nesta has high empathy and low compassion while Feyre has low empathy and high compassion. To be clear, they've both exhibited both empathy and compassion at times, I just think each character favors one over the other.

Feyre at her core is a fixer. She has always seen people's problems and wants to help—it's a core tenet of her character. Successfully being able to identify when people are struggling and wanting to help is compassion. Some examples of this are:

hunting in the cabin

giving jewels to the wraiths in Spring

desperately wanting to train and do more to help Tamlin rebuild Spring

her interference in Mor and Azriel's relationship

her interference in Elain and Lucien's relationship

dealing with Nesta after the war

starting the art studio for the kids, etc.

At the same time, she has trouble putting herself in other people's shoes—even in moments where she really should've been able to—which are examples where she is unempathetic.

not understanding or caring of why her sisters are apprehensive towards letting fae into their home and what that would mean for their lives (she hated the fae too)

pushing Nesta into sharing her cauldron story

jealousy of Nesta’s friendship and confiding in Amren over her

not understanding why Lucien doesn't want to be in Velaris

not understanding why Nesta was angry about the vote (she herself was angry when she learned about her mating bond)

not understanding why the CoN wants out from the Hewn City (UTM, enough said)

in general her relationship with Nesta is lacking in empathy—something that comes to mind is making Nesta’s attitude in ACOWAR all about her and the IC and completely disregarding Nesta’s actual trauma. (and it goes the other way around as well, like Nesta thinking Feyre doesn’t care about her, those girls do nooot understand each other at all)

There are times where she is empathetic too! A lot of her empathy goes towards Rhys, she understands Elain's apprehension towards Lucien, she connects the priestesses experiences to her own with Tamlin, and the jewels she gave to the wraith and the art studio are also both examples of empathy as well as compassion.

Nesta from the very beginning of her POV in ACOSF (and arguably before too) displays a deep understanding of how she is perceived and why, in addition to more general examples of empathy.

calculating the ships + crying at the thought of humans dying in the war with Hybern

her general awareness of the effect her presence has (ACOWAR dinner scene, ACOFAS solstice)

understanding while Rhys and Mor hate her

when Cassian was sad about being bested by Eris (really all the examples of her empathizing with his bastard insecurities, of which there are many—also Cassian acknowledges the dick sucking (ew) as an act of empathy)

understanding instantly why Cassian shut down while talking about his mother

softening her tone towards Gwyn when she remembered why the library was created

Feyre's comment to Cassian about how Nesta feels more deeply than others... literally the definition of empathy

understanding why the Illyrians were afraid of her (the children should be afraid of her comment or whatever it was)

if we're being real, her ability to pinpoint other people's insecurities is twisted example of empathy since it requires an understanding of how the other person feels and what would cause them pain

giving the Mask to Bryce after hearing about the murdered humans on Midgard because she understands that drive to protect humans

Something that's notable as well is that she not only understands the feelings of others, but also that she doesn't blame others for disliking her. She consistently justifies and agrees with the way she is spoken to and treated because she is empathetic towards how her mistakes have impacted other people.

Nesta however, for all her understanding, has a lot of difficultly taking action when seeing others suffering, which comes out as a lack of compassion

We know she's always harbored guilt over Feyre hunting, but never stepped in to take over that burden

She knows humans will be affected by war, as we see when she cries when the human queens say they won't help, but is reluctant to help (both in ACOMAF dinner scene and ACOWAR when Feyre wants her to share her story)

Knows what everyone wants from her after the war—Amren wants her to train, Cassian and Feyre want her to deal with her trauma, but she prioritizes going about it her way instead of the way that would make them happier (showing up to stuff and being happy?)

She knows full well what sitting on that rock means for Cassian but chooses her own discomfort and rebellion over alleviating his embarrassment

Doesn’t want to scry until threatened that Elain would if she wouldn’t, was also fine with Feyre taking on the danger if it meant she didn’t have to

This isn’t pro or anti either of them. Feyre always wants to help, but sometimes can’t see when it isn’t wanted and can’t understand the other person’s perspective in order to help them the way that they need. Nesta feels and understands a lot but has a lot of trouble outwardly expressing that empathy towards others either in the form of words or actions. This causes her to come off as cold and unfeeling when… in her POV we can tell she’s not.

[batboyblog]

Hi, idk if you're a Mdni page or not, but I'm really scared. I'm 15f, I live in a mostly red state, I've grown up here, and everyone I know is voting red. I was previously in the middle, I didn't care either way who won. I'm terrified of the election after reading about everything the Republican candidate did and plans to do. I wanna know if there's anything I could do to help prevent Trump from winning the election? I have a younger sister, and I don't want her to have to live in a country where her rights are being stripped from her. I just wanna know how to help. Thank you for reading and feel free to delete if I broke a boundary.

for the record I don't mind anyone sending me an ask, everyone is welcome to interact respectfully.

that out of the way, I remember working for Hillary in the 2016 election (by my math you would have been 7?) and our intern was your age and he was... he was everything he was so dryly sarcastic, smart, unflappable, could do anything, he kept us sane and he saved our asses with his can do (and tech skills) more times than I can count.

So to any teens out there who are not yet old enough to vote and think "oh there's nothing I can do" in 2016 we won a Senate race by 1,000 votes, which 100% was the doors we knocked and the voters we talked to out of our office, a 16 year old intern working his ass off saved Obamacare in 2017, not a word of a lie, you can make a difference as an intern or volunteer

Now, from the tone of what you're saying it sounds like your parents would into that, idk if you're parents are the kind of people who let you explore your own thing, or the kind of people who just wouldn't notice, or if they're the kind who would seriously object to you volunteering for the Democrats or progressive groups.

A lot of people assume because they live in Red States or Blue states they don't matter, but for example there are key Senate races this year in Texas, Montana, Ohio, and Florida (Red) and Maryland (Blue) Alaska is a traditionally red state but its one and only Congressperson is a Democrat who will run a very close race to get re-elected again this year. So where ever you live there is a key race, even if it's local. And lots of chances to call voters or send them postcards in swing states

Any ways everyone check out ways to Volunteer Run for Something also supports younger local candidates so if you live somewhere very red or very blue it can be helpful to find locals running for school board or city Council

now for you personally young person, and everyone else, have real and serious conversations with people in your life about this stuff, I can not TELL you how often I knock on someone's door and we talk politics and they tell me "oh well I'm a Democrat, but everyone around here is really a Republican" but like I just talked to 4 other people who were Democrats in their neighborhood, they just saw one Trump sign and gassed themselves up about it. People are often much more swingable than you think, feel everyone out, if there's an adult in your life thats convincible, work on them find out what they care about and bring them facts, be claim and reasonable and work on them. Each of us doing one on one work with people who know us is WAY! more impactful than any TV ad a campaign can buy.

finally if your parents won't let you volunteer for Dems, reach out to the League of Woman Voters, they're not partisan, so they're not Dems or Republicans, they believe in voting. When I was in High School I organized a voter registration drive in my school at lunch time, thats a great thing to do, call your county/town clerk's office and talk to your school, get a social studies teacher involved they love that shit, young people are much more likely to be Democrats so just registering them is helpful.

best of luck, in the words of Hitchhiker's Guide, Don't Panic.

[beannary]

OK so I dont really like this but this 2012 tmnt mermaid au has been driving me INSANE so here are some mermaid designs for the boys (which I might change if I draw more stuff for this au) and some lore for the au under the cut!

also Donnie is ftm and Leo is mtf and those are the facts! (Donnie did do top surgery on himself, do NOT ask me how he did that underwater safely)

(just a quick note: I am using some japanese mythos for the mermaid part but I'm also being loosey goosey with it alskjdfh)

ALSO slight tw for cannibalism? or like cannibalism adjacent behavior

There is a yokai described in Japanese literature called the ningyo, a creature that is half human and half fish. Legend says that if you capture a ningyo and eat its flesh, that you will be granted eternal life. Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki were familiar with these legends, though Saki always believed in them more than Yoshi. Saki believed in the legends so much that he became obsessed with finding the legendary ningyo and becoming immortal after consuming its flesh. Yoshi accompanied his brother on these ventures, more out of a sense of familiar duty and a need to watch out for his younger brother than an actual belief in the ningyo.

And of course, it just so happens that the brother who does not at all believe in the existence of yokai would be the one to find one. Yoshi encounters Tang Shen, a ningyo who has been living throughout the local freshwater river system. And suddenly Yoshi realizes that Saki's quest for murder might actually come true since apparently these ningyo are very much real. So now whenever he accompanies Saki on his hunting quests, he does everything in his ability to try to dissuade Saki from his plan, and when he realizes that isn't going to work, he starts to sabotage Saki's efforts. And Yoshi does this because well he kept in contact with Tang Shen, and the two became close friends, and son fell in love, bridging the gap between yokai and human.

They can't get married, obviously, Tang Shen is fully a yokai, but they build their lives together and eventually Tang Shen falls pregnant with their daughter Miwa. The two weren't entirely sure what to expect of their child, but Miwa turns out to be a completely normal human child.

Over the years as Yoshi and Tang Shen's love and family grew, Yoshi started pulling away from his birth family, and more noticeably, from Saki, who was you know pretty angry with Yoshi who seemingly disappeared on him with no explanation. Saki channels his anger into his search for the ningyo, and it takes three years but eventually he does finally find one.

Around three years after Miwa was born, Tang Shen and Yoshi welcome in four new kids! Quadruplets! Three boys and a girl. And these four, unlike Miwa, seem to all be fully ningyo, which very much surprised Yoshi and Tang Shen (both the fact that there were four kids and those four kids are all mermaids) but hey, they knew their genetic situation would be weird and they were fully ready to hop into raising these four.

It's only a few days after the birth of their quadruplets, so soon after that they haven't even given them names, that Saki stumbles upon the home of Yoshi and Tang Shen. And He Is Pissed. Not only did his BROTHER ABANDON him but he abandon him to start a family with this yokai? The yokai that he's been hunting all this time? And Saki, like in canon, kills Tang Shen and Miwa. (Or well you know, he kidnaps Miwa and renames her Karai but Yoshi thinks Miwa is dead)

Yoshi manages to get away with the quadruplets in the chaos, and he tries so hard to establish a new life for himself in Japan, but no matter where he goes, Saki manages to find him. Eventually Yoshi gets desperate enough to flee the country, and he finds himself in New York City!

But meanwhile back in Japan, Saki did in fact end up eating Tang Shen but idk how he realizes it but he figures out that he didnt get immortality, and so he concludes that oh, Tang Shen must have been tainted somehow by her relationship with Yoshi, which sucks because now he has to find a whole other ningyo to get immortality. Luckily he happens to know of four ningyo that he would be more than happy to kill, which is basically Saki's drive to finding and killing the Hamatos.

Anyways that's all I have so far!!!! I'm trying to think about how they would live in NYC, if they can somehow become human (in maybe like an H2O just add water situation) or if they are stuck in the water all the time.

I'm leaning towards them being able to shed their fish tails if even only for a small amount of time, just so they can still be ninjas and train on land, since I think Yoshi would still want to train them to defend themselves. I think that if they can be human for a bit, they still get dried out really easily so they can't stay out of the water for very long, probably not long enough for them to go to school full time, so they still live super isolated lives. Or maybe Yoshi figures out a way to train them to fight in the water? Idk suggestions are appreciated!

They do eventually meet April and Casey, I think April is gonna be on the swim team and so she's a fairly strong swimmer (for a human) and so she spends a lot of time in the water with the hamatos which they appreciate a lot! I think maybe Yoshi isn't a super strong swimmer so as much as he tries to spend time with his kids he can't really.

Casey is still on the hockey team and he can't swim, the hamatos try to teach him but they fully dont know how to swim with legs and so they are Bad tm swimming teachers salkdjfh.

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 36

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: Fluff city, wedding planning, pregnancy announcement, Lottie's growing up.

A/N: I am so excited about this chapter. It's just a bunch of fluff and fun. I also had the idea with Steve in mind for a while now. I'd love to know what you think about it!!

Series Masterlist

“A dance m’lady?” 

“Of couwse.” Lottie takes Henry’s hands and they start to twirl around. She’s giggling as they dance around.

The ballroom you were looking at for a potential venue was huge. A bit too big for the small wedding you wanted to have but it was beautiful. 

“Thoughts?” The wedding planner you’d hired, Olivia, asked. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“But?”

“It’s maybe too big?” Bucky says as he looks around before looking at you.

“Yes, this looks like we could fit 3 or 400 people. Our wedding is going to be so much smaller. And we’d like to have the ceremony outside.” 

“The ceremony space is why I picked this one out. Let me show you what I had in mind.” Olivia waves for you to follow her through long hallways. It’s almost a maze to get from the ballroom to the other side of the venue. 

“What do you think?” Olivia says as she opens the door.

It’s a huge greenhouse and while the flowers and foliage are beautiful, it’s not what you wanted. 

“Mama.” Lottie tugs at your shirt. 

“Yes, sweet Angel?”

“Not this one. I no see it.” 

That reassured you that this in fact was not the place where you would marry Bucky. You hadn’t really liked it to begin with but it was spacious.

“I agree. Buck?” 

“We’d like something different.” 

“Ok.” Olivia says. “I have three more venues we can look at today. What do you say?” 

“Of course.”

****

You drive all around looking at some possible venues but none of them seem to fit what you want for the wedding. This is the last one and if it doesn’t work you’ll have to go into the city which you don’t want to do. Henry and Lottie are also getting a bit restless.

“We’ll look at one more place and then we can do something fun.” You say as you unbuckle Charlotte and help her out of the car. 

She gasps as you set her down. “Oh mama, is so pwetty.” She says as she takes in the mansion in front of you. 

“It is so pretty.”

“This place looks great.” Bucky stands beside you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. “It’s really nice.” He smiles.

Suddenly you’re starting to feel really hopeful that this place could be it. Olivia steps out of her car and calls you to follow her. 

“You know, most couples don’t bring their kids to these kinds of things. Are you wanting to make them part of the whole process?” She asks as you head up the front steps. 

“Yes, we would love for them to be involved anyway they can be.” 

“I’m sure we can find some other things they can be a part of, maybe cake tasting?” Olivia turns to watch Henry and Lottie nod eagerly.  

The five of you walk around the large home as Olivia points out areas that she would use and how. 

“Now, I know you want an outdoor ceremony but in case of bad weather we could use this space. What do you think?” 

She says as she leads you to a large living room. It’s free of furniture so Olivia explains the seating arrangement, where the aisle would go. 

“It’s a nice space if we had to do the ceremony inside.” Bucky murmured as he looked around.

 The room, while simple in color, was a great canvas to decorate however you wanted. A huge chandelier was the main feature of the room. Bucky takes your hand and pulls you to the front of the room. 

“This is where we would be standing as we say our vows. What do you think?” He asks with a loving smile.

“I really really like it.” 

“Well this is only the backup space. I’d like to show you the outdoor option.” Olivia chimes in. “It’s being updated but it will be ready way before your wedding date. Follow me.” 

“Mama.” Lottie gasps, wide eyed as she stops in the hallway.

“What is it, sweet Angel?” 

“I see it mama, is this one.”  She says bouncing on the ball of her feet. 

You beam at her and then Bucky who’s also sporting an excited smile. He takes your hand and the four of you walk out to the most beautiful garden you’d ever seen.

Your breath hitches as you step out to the garden. While some maintenance was being done, the garden was in full bloom with a variety of white flowers. The hedges were trimmed to perfection. It looked heavenly.

“I absolutely love this space.” Olivia says excitedly. “They only keep white flowers so we can bring in flowers in the color scheme you gave me to fill in the area. We could have an arch at the end with flowers and fabric draped down. The chairs would obviously go here.” Olivia explains with a smile. “Some rooms are also included in the contract so you could get ready here.”

“That would be great.” You turn to Bucky. “It would be less hassle getting the kids ready here too.” 

“So far this seems like the best option.” 

“Good because I want to show you where you’ll have the reception.” 

“Daddy, what's a reception?” Henry asks as you follow Olivia. 

“It’s like a dinner and a party to celebrate that your mama and I got married.” 

“Oh, can I go to the reception with baby?” 

“Of course bubs. You’re going to have a really important job at the wedding.” 

“Really?” Henry looks up, eyes wide with excitement. 

“Yup. You’re going to be the ring bearer. That means you will hold the ring mama puts on my finger and the one I put on hers.” 

“What about baby? Is she a ring bearer too?” 

“I take wings?” Lottie asks.

“No sweet Angel, you’re going to be the flower girl.”

“Sounds so pwetty. Can be flowe-uh girl.” 

Olivia shows you the huge ballroom. Like the rest of the venue, it’s perfect. 

“Now we have to test it out. Are you ready?” Bucky asks as he walks you back to the French doors that lead to the garden. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just picture it. I’m in my tux, the room is decorated beautifully. You’re standing there as beautiful as ever, especially in your dress. Ladies and gentleman,” Bucky announces. “I’d like to present for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.” 

Olivia has the kids clapping and cheering so that you can get the full effect. Then Bucky leads you back toward the center of the room and pulls you into his chest. Butterflies took flight in your belly listening to Bucky calling you Mrs. Barnes.

“Now this would be our first dance.” He murmurs before he starts humming a slow tune. 

You’re looking at each other lovingly as you sway from side to side. Two sets of arms wrap around you and Bucky. When you look down Lottie and Henry are swaying with you. It couldn’t be more perfect. 

You both agree that this is the place you want. Olivia smiles again and heads out to make a few calls to get a contract for you to sign. 

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You look up at Bucky. 

“Neither can I.” 

In between planning the wedding there was regular family life and work. The shifts at the medbay and Bucky going on missions weren’t slowing down just yet. Lottie's birthday was coming up. This time she requested a tea party which you and Bucky happily agreed too. 

The truth was Charlotte was growing up so fast. Just a year before she was learning how to walk and talk. Now she’s more popular throughout the compound than even the Avengers. And just as a growing child does she changes all the time. From mannerisms to vocabulary, some of the latter really showing how much she’s grown. 

“I’m weady.” Lottie calls out from the top of the stairs. She’d chosen a pretty pink dress for her tea party. “Wook at my dwess daddy.” 

You and Bucky had been talking about the wedding when Lottie had called out and both your heads snapped in her direction. 

“What did you say, doll?” Bucky was in disbelief. 

“I said am weady.” 

“After that.” 

“Oh I says wook at my dwess daddy.” She says as she stops in front of the two of you and does a little twirl. 

When you look at Bucky you see tears in his eyes. 

“You can’t call me that.” He whispers.

“But you is my daddy.” 

“I’m your dada. You always call me dada.” Bucky says. 

“But am a big girl an big girls says daddy. An bubba says daddy too.” She defends herself. 

“I know doll.” Bucky picks her up and presses a few kisses to her temple and cheek. “But you’re my baby, you can’t be a big girl.”

“Daddy, I wanna be a big girl.” 

You chuckle as Lottie wrapped her arms loosely around Bucky’s neck. She gives him a beaming smile and Bucky’s too weak to say no. 

“Alright, I guess you can be a big girl and call me daddy.” He relents. “You look beautiful in your dress, doll.” 

“Tank you daddy.” 

Bucky puts Lottie down so that she can find Henry and show him the dress she has on. You hug Bucky as soon as you can. 

“I hate that so much. She’s growing up way too fast.” He says with a pout. 

“Next thing you know, she’s gonna come home from school talking about a boyfriend.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

You laugh at his scowl. “Let’s go celebrate our not so little girl’s birthday.” 

“This turned out great.” Molly compliments as she sits next to you on the couch. 

“Thanks. Charlotte is very into tea parties now. It just made sense to make her birthday this.” 

“Well you’re turning into a whole party planner, between this and the wedding. How is that going?” 

“It’s going well. We found the venue not long ago. Oh, now that we’re talking about it. How would you feel about being a bridesmaid?” 

“I would love to.” Molly gives you a half smile, half grimace. 

“But?” 

“We haven’t told anyone yet but it’s only fair you know. I’m pregnant.” She says in a whisper. 

“Molly, oh my god.” You exclaim. 

“Sshhh. You can’t tell anyone.” 

“I can’t believe this. I’m so excited. But why can’t you be a bridesmaid?” 

“My doctor wants me to be as stress free as possible.” She frowns a bit. “I would have loved to be up there with you.” 

“And weddings can be very stressful. Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re there and taking care of yourself.” You lean in and give her a quick hug. “Is there anything you need?” 

“No, I'm good right now.”

“Ok, I’m going to check in on the kids.” You smile.

“You’re going to tell Luke that you know?” 

“Maybe.” You giggle. 

“Go, it was his idea for us to tell you first.” 

You’re beaming as you get up and check in on how the others are doing. Eddie is playing a card game with Sam and Henry. Sophie and Josh are hanging out with Nat and Clint. You walked by and saw Charlotte with Olivia and Steve, talking to Duckie. 

“She started calling me daddy today instead of dada and I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” You hear Bucky say. 

“Wait until she starts calling you by your first name. That was a fun stage with Liv.” 

“No way. I couldn’t handle that.” 

Luke chuckles. “Just imagine, ‘Luke, can I have a popsicle?’ Or ‘Luke read me a bedtime story.’” 

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hey you two.” You walk up beside Bucky, letting him pull you into his side. “So…” 

“So?” Luke is looking at you amusedly.

You couldn’t help the excited smile on your face. Luke chuckles. 

“She told you.” 

“Who told what?” Bucky looks between both of you. 

“Molly’s pregnant.” 

“I’m so excited for you guys. Congratulations.” You pull your big brother in for a hug. 

“Thank you. We’re really excited too. Liv is over the moon knowing she’s going to be a big sister.” 

“Congrats man.” Bucky shakes Luke’s hand. 

“Hopefully you’ll be giving us the same news soon.” 

“Maybe after the wedding.” You say. 

**** 

The party continues for a while. You and Bucky both go around and make sure everyone is doing ok and have whatever they need before cutting the cake. 

Everyone gathers around the beautiful birthday cake Henry made for his sister. The room erupts in a loud rendition of happy birthday before Lottie blows out her candles. There’s clapping and cheering and Charlotte giggling at the attention. 

“Have another bite.” Bucky holds up the spoon for Charlotte. 

“Mmm, so yummy.” She murmurs before she walks away to where Olivia is playing. She goes back and forth until the cake is all gone. 

After gifts and some more games the party dies down. It happens just in time since Charlotte was losing her fight to sleep. You take her from Duckie, who Charlotte was sitting with, and start heading back to the house. Olivia comes with you since you had promised the girls a sleepover. 

Bucky had just slipped under the sheets of your shared bed and gotten comfortable. He was flipping through the pages of the book he was currently reading while you were thinking over the bridal party. 

“Did you ask any of the guys to be your groomsmen yet?” You turned to look at him.

“Not yet. I was going to do it tomorrow, why?” 

“Well Molly isn’t going to be a bridesmaid so now I have three bridesmaids to your four groomsmen.” You sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What if I just ask three of the guys instead of the four I had planned?” 

“Maybe.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “We aren’t having this conversation again.” 

“Please let me have Steve on my side.” 

“He’s my best friend.” Bucky replied. “I’ve known him the longest. He’s literally my best man.” 

“But I’m his favorite best friend. It only makes sense if you think about it.” 

Bucky laughs. “It’s not happening. The only way it will work is if we cut him down the middle and share.” 

You huff a laugh before you get an idea. Bucky can see it with the way your eyes light up. 

“What are you thinking?” 

You had invited Steve over for coffee. The day was beautiful so you were out in the backyard watching the kids play. You and Bucky were working on the seating chart when Steve showed up. 

“So how’s the wedding planning going?” He asked as he took a seat. 

“It’s good. We have a lot figured out already.”

“Especially the wedding party.” You say with a smile. “But we need your opinion.” 

“Sure, whatever I can help with.” 

“I decided to pick Nat as my maid of honor with Wanda and Sophia as my two other bridesmaids. It was hard though, I wanted to pick both Nat and Wanda as maids of honor.” 

“I knew it.” Steve chuckles. “I knew you’d have a hard time choosing between them.” 

“Well I picked Clint and Josh as groomsmen but the best man was between you and Sam.” 

“Oh.” Steve’s smile falters a little.

You feel kind of bad for doing this to Steve but in the end it will be better. 

“After talking about it with Y/N I’m going to ask Sam to be my best man.”

“Yeah we kept arguing over who’s side you would stand on.” You start to explain.

“No, I get it.” Steve looks a bit dejected. 

“So we thought that you could stand between us instead.” 

“What?” Steve’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re one of the big reasons we’re together.” You start to explain. 

“Since the moment you realized I was still alive you did everything possible to save me. And because of that I met the love of my life.” Bucky looks at you with a loving gaze.

“You’re our best friend and biggest supporter. We wouldn’t be here without you.” You add. “So we thought that instead of you being the best man, you could officiate the wedding instead. What do you think?” 

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. I think you’re the perfect choice. You know both of us so well and you’ve always been there to support us. We want you to have a special role on our wedding day.” Bucky says with a smile. 

“How would I even do that?” Steve asks. 

“I already looked it up and you can become an officiant online. So what do you say? Please say yes. It would mean so much to us.” 

“I would love to.” 

You jump out of your seat in order to hug Steve. There’s a delighted giggle that bubbles up as the two of you embrace. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. The wedding is going to be so perfect.” 

“I’m just happy to be part of it and help you guys celebrate. After everything you’ve been through, this past year alone.” 

“I don’t think we could get married without you, punk.” Bucky is the next to hug Steve. “Seriously, this means a lot to us. Once Y/N said it, it made so much sense. Having you just as my best man wasn’t enough. You’re an important part of both our lives and having you officiate the wedding feels right.”

“Ok you’ve got to stop.” Steve blushes. 

“Just accept the compliments, Rogers. Now c’mon I’m gonna help you register and then we can go over a few things for the ceremony.” 

You sat back down at the table with Steve by your side. The three of you went over ideas and how the ceremony should go. The more you got done for the wedding the more excited you got. There were still a few things left to do of course but you were so happy at that moment. When you looked over at Bucky you could tell he shared your feelings. 

You were getting ready to marry your best friend and the love of your life. Nothing could be better than that. 

Ch. 37

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