#I've just been thinking about those three

[obaewankenope]

I got caught in the middle of a field once, while horses were chasing each other around being horses trying to establish where the newest one ranked. I was... 10? 11? Somewhere there. If I was alone, I'd have been a lot more panicked and calm in measure because I'd have been able to time it and dive for the fence in the biggest gap among the herd of... I think it was 8 or 9 horses, new one included. The field itself wasn't super huge, probably... 50-75 metres across, maybe a bit smaller (it has been almost 20 years, I'm going off vague Google Maps reference here) and I was in the middle so I could have made that distance quick back then (the pros of being young and also the fastest kid in your primary school at the time).

But.

But I had two other kids with me. They were... I think a year or two younger than me, one of them might have been 7ish, I can't remember exactly, only that they were younger and I was the oldest among us. I wasn't related to these kids, barely knew them or their parents, and we only went together because it was a "hey we've all earned the right to bring our horses in today!! As a treat!" kinda deal.

And, honestly, any other day, it'd have probably been fine. But the matriarch of the herd in the field seemed to have it out for the new horse that day (mine, incidentally, which turned out to be a Good Thing btw).

So the three of us get to the field, we go in because none of the neigh neighs will come to the gate and none of us are Trained Horse Specialists at this point to read that there was a Reason™ for that fact. We get to the middle of the field and we call our respective neigh neighs (mine and theirs, just one other, thankfully), and that's when things Go Wrong.

Matriarch will not accept these lower ranked neighs coming in before her. She will not accept the New Neigh going in before her.

Matriarch must now Teach A Lesson.

Cue a mini stampede of almost ten horses running full speed in this kinda tiny ass field (tbf, they alternated the paddock with the one behind it every fortnight for field management purposes blah blah), and three kids slap-bang in the middle of the field, now trapped.

I am the oldest of us. I am also the youngest of three siblings. I am not the one used to being In Charge of those younger than me. But oh boy did I step into the role like it was made for me.

I keep these kids from howling and running off, grab them with the strongest grip known to man, and make sure they stay with me okay! Stay right next to me! Do NOT run away!

And I watch these horses galloping around, chasing my horse who is so, so smart and so trusting and trustworthy for having only met and bonded with me a few days prior (literally it hadn't even been a week since we got her and she was two and had never been handled before she chose me as Her Human).

I see how she's keeping ahead of the others after her.

I see how she turns on a dime to avoid getting bit and kicked and cornered.

I see how, even though it's harder for her, she doesn't come close to us in the middle, even though it would have been an effective escape route for her several times over.

I see this and I know. I know my girl will not get us hurt if she can help it.

I also know we don't have a lot of time for us to get out and we have to go soon and move fast.

So I keep my iron grip on these two kids whose name I don't even remember (and probably didn't then, I've always been bad with names of people ngl), and I tell them, "when there's a gap, we run for that bit of fence right there okay," and it's directly in front of us, as close as we can safely get without these other 8 or 9 horses trampling us in their herd-mentality race mode.

I watch my girl and I wait for it.

I wait for her to turn when I know she's gonna.

I see the moment she's about to, unable to not turn without getting cut off and caught by the herd.

And when I do, I yell "GO" and I haul these two kids like they're the most precious, durable cargo I've ever held in my eleven years of life over to that bit of fence and I make them drop and role under.

Only the herd is faster than three kids with their inefficient two legs and differences in height and stride.

I get those kids under that fence and I have to drop and roll too because the fence is electric so I can't just grab and yeet over it (fuck but I probably could have but I was eleven and didn't know much about electricity and voltage then, or adrenaline) but I'm out of time.

My girl is all of... Christ, she was probably about five or six feet from me when I turned and saw her. The herd right on her tail.

She was terrified and being chased and running on pure instinct. The whites of her eyes were probably as big as my own were in that moment.

But my girl.

My girl with her amazing paces and even more amazing ability to turn on a single hock and pivot near 270° in a single pace saved me.

She was barely five feet from me when she up and turned and the herd, only a few more feet behind her, had to turn just as sharply to keep following her, only they couldn't because they didn't have her skill apparently.

But those few seconds her turning away from me, very likely risking injuring herself or getting caught if she failed to turn fast enough, was enough for me.

I dropped and rolled under that fence and literal seconds after I cleared it, a stampede of hooves and half-tonne powerhouses galloped past even as they tried to turn in an arc to catch my girl.

I could have left those kids in that field. I was scared, new to horses, and had a whole new responsibility shoved on me in that moment. No one would have blamed me.

My girl could have not turned on a dime, risking herself, to give me a chance. No one would have blamed her.

But I didn't. She didn't.

The things we do to protect the young, even when we're afraid or young ourselves, are the things that make us worth saving. My girl was a hero herself that day, and she saved me whilst I was saving those two kids.

It's not "human nature" to protect others, younger, weaker, needier, or just who we think we can protect in the moment.

It's just "nature".

It's the mark of empathy and by gods am I glad my girl loved me enough already to act the way she did even when terrified herself and wanting someone to protect her too.

I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.

[etherfraisie]

Sunset

Sylus x fem!reader

A bet for dinner turned into something more precious

word count: 1.148 words

note: this was written with fem!reader in mind but no Y/N is used and can also be used for OCs. leaving a comment is greatly appreciated! happy reading<3

--***--

“I know you love a bet.”

“And I know you hate when I go easy on you.”

They had been halfway through an auction when they decided to just ditch it for a walk at the beach. Sylus even left his motorcycle at the auction’s parking lot because she insisted that she wanted to walk to the beach, but then again, even if his motorcycle were to be stolen, he will get it back one way or another. 

They reached the beach a few minutes ago, now walking towards the shore. She kicks her heels off and just leaves it there as she walks faster towards the water, Sylus picks up her heels before following behind her not too far. As her feet touch the water, she looks back to her beloved. “Take off your shoes, will you? Feel the water, it’s refreshing!”

“I’m sure the drinks at the auction are more refreshing than sea water, Sweetie.” But even then, he stops to do as she told him to before joining at her side to admire the ocean. There’s a comfortable silence between them, one they are used to. Sylus, as much as he enjoys listening to his beloved talk about her day, enjoys the silence they share together the same amount. In truth, Sylus wouldn’t mind doing anything as long as his beloved is there. He would drop everything in a heartbeat if her beloved ever just says she wants to live a simple life in the countryside. 

“Last one to reach those big rocks has to pay for dinner tonight!” she suddenly says. Sylus looks at the direction she’s pointing. He can see a couple of big rocks not too far from them but still far enough to be quite a run from where they’re standing.

“You’re on,” he says as he smirks, amused at her competitiveness.

“On the count of three!”

“One… two–” but before Sylus could finish counting down, she’s already started to run. Sylus just shakes his head and laughs at the display of childishness and then joins her to run towards the appointed rocks as the finish line. Although, he’s not much on trying to win and just wants to catch up with her. But that doesn’t mean he wants to let her win just like that. He picks up his speed, easily catching up to her until he runs in front of her. He only meant to tease, because in his mind, a few feet before reaching the rocks, he plans to slow down. Making sure she thinks he’s running out of stamina and she’s able to win over him. He’s already set to pay for the dinner the moment she placed that bet anyways. But he never gets the chance to do his grand scheme of slowing down, because not long after he’s running in front of her, he hears a loud thud and her groan following quickly.

Perhaps there’s a sharp clam or rocks that she accidentally steps on. It pierces through her foot, causing her to lose balance and trips on her own leg. To put salt on her wounds, she scrapes her knees as she falls and sprains her ankle. Sylus didn’t waste a single second to be at her side, helping her into a comfortable position and then checking on her wounds. She lets out a strain laugh to light up the panic in Sylus’s eyes but it doesn’t seem to help.

“Can you walk?” he asks her as he wipes off some sand that sticks to her legs.

“Well, technically I can, just a bit slower,” she answers him sheepishly.

Sylus then quickly shifts to offer his back to her, “I’ll carry you. I won’t take no.”

Reluctantly, although deep down she enjoys being pampered by him, she circles her arms around his neck and raises her legs a bit so that he can hold onto the underside of her thighs to carry her. He then stands up and starts walking to the rocks again, his beloved safely being carried on his back, and both of their shoes he carries on both his hands.

“I guess I’ll pay for dinner tonight,” she says, filling up the silence.

“Who says I've won already?” Sylus responds to her in a teasing tone. Before she can ask what he meant, Sylus already turns his back. He’s walking backwards. It took her a few seconds to realize what he’s trying to do. She laughs when it finally dawns at her.

“Is this your pity excuse so that you can pay for dinner?” She pinches his cheek.

“Whatever you mean by that?” Sylus smiles, not really putting much effort in avoiding her question. “Look, it’s sunset already.”

She looks to the side. The sun has just touched the sea and is slowly sinking down as he keeps walking backwards. The orange hues surround them, making everything seem warm, which it is. She loves soft moments like this with him. Where they’re both aren’t tied with the responsibility of their jobs for a short time. Where no one is around to see how calm he is right now. No one shall see this side of him. No one but her.

She tightens her arms to hug his neck tighter and nuzzles her cheek to his hair, smelling her shampoo that he used earlier today cause he had just ran out on his own and he hadn’t had the time to buy another. She would’ve scolds him for using her shampoo, but truth be told, she likes to share her own stuff with her beloved. She would never admit that though, so she flicks her finger to the side of his temple. “You used my shampoo didn’t you?”

“I did. I like the smell.”

“I don’t remember allowing you to use it.”

“I asked before I use it, Sweetie. You were busy with Mephisto but you said yes anyway.”

“Guess I didn’t really pay attention.” She slumps to his shoulder, lips pouting.

“If you’re worried about your shampoo running out, I don’t mind buying it for you. We’re running out of necessities at home anyway, so we’re due for grocery shopping.” He leans his head to hers, a small attempt at reassuring her. “We’ll go after dinner.”

“You’re so kind to me,” she says barely above whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.

“It’s nothing, Sweetheart. It’s the least I can do.”

Sylus then stops as they’re reaching the rocks. She turns her body slightly so she’s able to touch the rock. She then hugs him again. “Dinner time!”

He laughs at her enthusiasm. “I see it is less about who pays for dinner and more about eating that dinner itself.”

“Come on, let’s go. Are you not starving?”

“Hold on, Sweetie, we still have to patch up those wounds you have.”

“Fine, but after that, we go straight to dinner!”

“Ofcourse, Sweetheart.”

[oya-oya-okay]

It's so hard to see 17-year-olds worrying that they're going to turn 18 and they're not going to be able to do yumeship anymore, or it's going to be weird that you're going to like a character younger than you, a teenager. No. IT WON'T BE WEIRD, IT WON'T BE A PROBLEM. Tbh I do not know why this anxiety started at all. I was 17 last year and I didn't think about it??? Ofc, on the eve of my 18th birthday, I was worried that I had officially become an adult, that, omg, I would no longer be 17 like Azul nooo😭😭😭 but in any case, understand that it would not be a problem to make any age restriction, for example, as I did with Shuu, that she is 16-18. I first started drawing ShuZul at the age of 17, but then I turned 18 and now I draw ShuZul almost constantly LMAO

And omg, I've actually been shipping myself with Azul since I was 14 yo🤭🤭🤭🤭😲

Or If you are under 17 and you think it is strange that "an adult has a yumeship with a teenager" (I condemn those who literally show that their yumeship is an ADULT with a teenager, they can be made into a teenager too, pls, I don't see a problem with that), then remember that you will also become an adult ONE DAY. If you put pressure on 18-year-olds (I also got this pressure btw🤓) or 19, 20 just adults, then remember that you will feel this pressure ON YOURSELF after a year, two, three. Let's just be understanding with each other, if you don't like someone, block and ignore them. Have fun and live for yourself, please

I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT PROBLEMATIC FORBIDDEN CONTENT RIGHT NOW, please

Also remember that characters are fiction that was invented by another person to bring joy to others

[meltnein]

Blitzbee Headcanon

I've been thinking about several ideas regarding these two characters. From how their first interactions might be, the quirks or habits they would share, to moments when they both fell in love. For now, I've decided to develop three of them (let's say they are the softest ideas I have...);

1. Blitzwing, in his early interactions with Bumblebee, always stood tall. What do I mean by 'tall'? I mean he always tried to intimidate Bumblebee with his height, keeping his posture straight, trying to look as imposing as possible (even though it wasn't necessary, considering Bumblebee's height). Blitzwing felt the need to prove that he was threatening enough, that he wasn't weak, that he could crush Bumblebee with just a simple move of his foot.

It was nothing more than a defense mechanism. As I mentioned earlier, Blitzwing, having a high rank among the 'cons, constantly had to show that he deserved to be there, that he was strong enough to challenge anyone who dared to take his position. This mindset created a mechanism where he constantly used his height to appear formidable, refusing to lower his 'level' to Bumblebee's height. This creates a domino effect between them, with Blitzwing using his height to seem superior, and Bumblebee using hostility and sarcasm to counteract those feelings of inferiority.

It isn't until the third encounter that Bumblebee manages to break that mechanism through a mocking insult directed at Blitzwing. Random quickly becomes the first to take control, laughing heartily at such a vague insult and getting close enough to Bumblebee to counterattack. With each interaction, every comment, every conversation, Blitzwing begins to give in. Sitting across from Bumblebee, always trying to keep him in front, he couldn't allow himself to drop his guard. By their ninth encounter, Blitzwing is now sitting beside Bumblebee, too relaxed for his mechanisms to function. By their fifteenth encounter, Blitzwing lets Bumblebee rest in his lap to face the winter in Detroit.

2. Blitzwing was the first to teach Bumblebee how to ice skate. I feel like Blitzwing would prepare everything a day in advance, freezing the lake with his cannons, constantly making sure it could support both his weight and Bee's. At first, Bumblebee would be confused-why did Blitzwing lead him out to the middle of nowhere to a frozen lake? Was he trying to get revenge? That was a year ago! Did Blitzwing plan to kill him there? Bumblebee would be trying to figure out why Blitzwing brought him there, spinning around chaotic and crazy ideas, when in reality, Blitzwing just wanted to skate.

Blitzwing would be the first to take Bee's servos to push him onto the ice. And Bumblebee would be the first to fall, slipping on his tires, unable to maintain stable balance. I love to think that Blitzwing would hold him up to keep Bumblebee from falling to the ground, always keeping a servo on Bumblebee, guiding the Autobot with little tips. Blitzwing would undoubtedly be a great instructor, pointing out each mistake with a note of amusement. It would take a moment for Bumblebee to learn the basics, gliding on the ice, looking for more and more speed.

(2.1) Bumblebee would be the first to propose a race, and Blitzwing would clearly accept the challenge with amusement. Spoiler alert: it went wrong. Near the end of the race, Bumblebee would surely slip due to the high speed, sliding right to Blitzwing's feet, who would fall alongside Bumblebee. Both would awkwardly slide until they came to a sudden stop. And like any romantic holiday cliché, they would end up in a compromising position. Blitzwing, in an effort to avoid hurting Bumblebee in the fall, would likely cover him with his body, rolling on the ice with Bumblebee pressed against his chassis. Maybe it was also the first time their sparks were close enough to spark together.

3. I've been reading various headcanons about Blitzbee, and I've noticed that most of them agree on one thing: Bumblebee's horns are extremely sensitive to touch. (I didn't understand this idea until I saw Bee's horns as antennas. Receiving constant frequencies of signals makes them a sensitive spot to touch. It's literally like moving an antenna; the signal changes frequency.) (P.S. I need to find meaning in things.) Getting back to the point, Blitzwing wouldn't hesitate to caress the horns between his servos, even going so far as to examine them with his monocle. I feel like Blitzwing couldn't help himself, touching the horns with his servos, vaguely recalling what it felt like to have them in the past.

Oh, did you never think that Blitzwing, before becoming a triple changer, also had horns? Looking at Blitzwing's design, the two holes in his helmet have left me with a lot of questions. Were they part of the design, or did they serve a function within Blitzwing's body? This is my idea, where I believe Blitzwing had horns, but when he was turned into a triple changer, they were cut off.

Oh, hoppla. I think I went overboard with the text, hehe.

[illuminatedferret]

"At this point, I might as well just tell it to you straight. I've got a whole bunch of opinions about you." "Uh... well... I knew that already. For ages now," Xie Lian said. "Oh really?" Mu Qing said coldly. "Then do you know that I often thought you relied on your status too much- that even though you were His Highness the Crown Prince, even though you had good fortune, your skills weren't that much better than mine?" "..." "I also thought that you probably only liked doing all those good deeds for show, because you wanted all the praise and flattery. And that you only helped me because of that- I was the perfect subject for you to demonstrate your sympathy and kindness on. To be honest, some of my opinions haven't changed, even now." (Vol. 8, pg. 54-55)

This does not sound like a guy who has/had a good opinion of Xie Lian.

This sounds like a guy who thinks Xie Lian is an arrogant nepo baby who does good deeds for the optics. And while he mentions Xie Lian's circumstances, it's all couched in what Xie Lian is doing with them. If there is a place in the novel where I'm meant to take away that Mu Qing's issues with Xie Lian were actually with his circumstances, please point it out to me. Because from where I stand, it looks like Mu Qing spends most of the novel with a pretty poor opinion of Xie Lian. He definitely feels resentment over the (original) differences in their stations, but that resentment very clearly rolls over into his resentment regarding Xie Lian and what he sees Xie Lian doing with his station.

Not only that, we see him react positively more than once to Xie Lian suffering/doing bad things. He's a little "cheered" to learn Xie Lian's living in a shack (1.219). He's in an "excellent mood" when Xie Lian is put under house arrest, and he's "uncontrollably excited" to think Xie Lian is responsible for the Gilded Banquet Massacre (2.183). He's smug and passive-aggressive when they're talking about Xie Lian's past as General Hua (1.323) He also accuses Xie Lian of only offering to help 'his general' re: the fetus spirit in hopes of sabotaging his case (5.55). All this is to say, we see throughout canon that this guy does not think highly of Xie Lian. They parted ways on bad terms, and Mu Qing spent 800 years convinced Xie Lian hated him. It took him seeing Xie Lian again after 800 years and being hit in the face again and again with how good he is to finally start admitting both his negative opinions and that despite them, he still admires Xie Lian "more often than not." (8.55)

You also mention how Xie Lian and Mu Qing might have been different if they'd swapped places. But they do swap places!. Xie Lian spends 800 years scavenging for scraps with the worst luck possible. Mu Qing spends 800 years in the heavens, one of Thee most powerful men in the Three Realms. One stays kind and generous, the other stays skeptical and paranoid. Childhoods can be formative, yes, but there comes a limit on when we can attribute everything to a difficult childhood rather than a person's character, and the feasibility gets really stretched when we're talking about characters who have been alive for over 800+ years. TGCF definitely focuses more on nature rather than nurture, for good reason. It's a central theme of the novel.

TGCF makes it clear: to change or to stay the same are both choices. Staying the same is not a default action- often, (especially under pressure) it is an active choice someone makes. Mu Qing had 800 years to unpack his issues and grow as a person. He didn't. I find it both lazy and boring to throw everything about Mu Qing under the label of 'virtually sealed' because he had a difficult childhood, especially when we see none of said childhood. On top of that, you're assuming Mu Qing likely would have been a better person had he been in Xie Lian's position, but the opposite is just as possible- who's to say being a prince wouldn't have made him worse? Look at Qi Rong. Xie Lian's parents are permissive as hell. That Xie Lian turned out how he did speaks to his character, not the people around him. And in canon Mu Qing may dislike being compared to the Crown Prince he once served, but I imagine that if their positions were swapped, he would have hated even more being outshone by a mere servant.

Also, forgive me if this is unwelcome, but I feel like your argument would be much stronger if you relied on textual evidence from the book from phases of Mu Qing's life that we actually see- for example, I do believe that watching Xie Lian crash and burn in Book 2/4 definitely discouraged him from ever sticking his neck out for someone else. It would discourage me! But talking about Mu Qing's childhood as crucial for understanding him when we get maybe a few sentences about it isn't very compelling. Mu Qing is an interesting character with a lot of depth and complexity, but reducing him down to 'he couldn't help it, and it was always about their stations anyway' does him a disservice.

There's something to be said about how Mu Qing and Jun Wu both held these ideas about Xie Lian and who he really is as a person- specifically, that his kind and forgiving nature is a lie, and deep down he's actually just like them. These are ideas Mu Qing and Jun Wu spent centuries believing, refusing to be convinced otherwise until they had no other choice.

But that's where their similarities end. Because while Mu Qing resents Xie Lian for his good character, he also honestly admires him for it. Jun Wu, on the other hand, 'loves' Xie Lian, but grows angrier each time he's reminded of how different they really are. And so I think it's very fitting that when Mu Qing finally swallows his pride and admits his preconceptions and faults to Xie Lian, it's on the Heavens-Crossing Bridge, the literal wreckage of Jun Wu's hopes and dreams.

[heich0e]

the suna where he asks if you'd have a baby with him

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: wouldn't it be nice?

you've never been particularly good at giving people presents.

not for lack of trying, or lack of care—you want to be good at gift giving, but somehow you've just never quite mastered the skill. you're too indecisive to pick just one thing, so you always end up with a strange mismatched array of little gifts when the time comes, none of which have any particular connection to the other.

and that's to say nothing of your absolutely horrendous gift wrapping abilities.

before you started dating rintarou, christmas was always a real point of stress in your life. from picking out the gift, to tracking the item down, to trying (and ultimately failing) to wrap it in a way that didn't give the impression that a child had done it one-handedly. the stress that built up around the holiday often overshadowed any of the actual enjoyment you were meant to derive from it. and though none of your exes had ever explicitly called you out on being a god-awful gift giver, you knew that it was true.

thankfully, in that way that only rintarou seems to be able to do, that problem just... disappeared when the two of you started dating.

maybe disappeared is the wrong word, but that anxiety that you always used to feel cresting as the holidays drew near just never seemed to swell to the same point of misery as it used to. you never felt the same pressure to pick the perfect thing. to wrap it beautifully. to get it right.

because rintarou has this way of... reassuring you. of sensing when you're struggling and making things... easier. all without ever having to ask.

"i'm not big on gifts," he'd said to you, a full three weeks before your first christmas together. "wanna just go somewhere for the holiday, instead of buying presents? i've got some time off and have been thinking about going to kyoto."

and that settled it.

each christmas since then has passed similarly. either rintarou makes a plan, or very explicitly tells you what he'd like to get as a gift, and when the time comes, any of that stress that used to build up around the day just never even has the chance to take root.

but this year, there's a different sort of nervousness you feel about the holiday.

"my mom sent us a card," rintarou says, coming around the corner of your living room with a little red envelope in his hands. "she invited us to visit for the new year, too."

you shift in your seat under the kotatsu, looking up as he stands over you. "do you want to go?"

he sighs, slumping down onto the sofa behind you. "not really."

"we don't have to, then, if you really don't want to," you assure him, leaning back against the sofa so you're a little nearer to him. he inches forward on the couch cushions to close the gap even further. "but it might be nice to see your family."

rintarou isn't particularly close to his parents, who divorced when he was young. of his family members, the nearest to him is his little sister—and their relationship had largely been built once they both reached adulthood.

"last time we went to see my family my grandma tried to take you to a shaman to get you pregnant," rintarou replies dryly. "you sure you wanna go through that again?"

"i don't think the shaman was the one who was supposed to knock me up," you point out, and rintarou huffs out a laugh. you turn away from him a little. rintarou's grandmother was tired of waiting for great grand children and had tried to use shamanism to speed the process along—it had ended in an argument over a family dinner. "you two really are related, huh?"

"what was that?"

you peek at him over your shoulder.

"i think we should go to see them."

rintarou's brow quirks slightly at your words, and you lean forward so your elbows are resting on the edge of the couch cushion.

his eyes are always so green when you're this close to him, lined with those dark wispy lashes. so pretty. delicate and effortless in a way that would upset you if he wasn't already yours.

"you really wanna go?" he asks you quietly, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips when he speaks. you nod a little, and your lips brush because of the proximity—not quite a kiss, but enough to make him lean forward in search of one.

you pull away before he gets what he's looking for.

"and you can tell grandma that we won't need the shaman this year."

because she's already gotten what she wanted.

he blinks at you, and then his eyes widen, and before you know it he's sitting bolt upright on the sofa with a look of utter disbelief on his pretty face.

just like always, rintarou made gift giving easy this year.

only this time, the present is something you'll both cherish equally, because it's something you've been wanting, too.

[sorceressofthesky]

Something that really strikes me about the Zauntrio flashback is the fact that Silco only has two lines in the entire 3-minute scene. First, he says, "Oh, you're sadly mistaken. I'm bozo 1." Then, "To Zaun, then; blisters and bedrock." That's all he contributes. He does shut his notebook and move closer to the group after Felicia shares the news, but that's it. He has no comments to make about his seemingly close friend's pregnancy. No questions, no reassurance, hardly even a reaction beyond the knee-jerk surprise and a few vague smiles.

I've seen people say that Silco's villain arc makes no sense with the context of this "happy family" scene, but the way I read it is the complete opposite. He doesn't seem particularly thrilled about kids being in the picture. He seems like he's suppressing something. Faintly smiling and throwing out vague uplifting statements but tactfully dodging the actual elephant in the room. Whatever he's thinking is something he wants to keep to himself.

By the time we've met up with them in Season 1, Silco wanted a revolution and control, while Vander wanted peace between Piltover and Zaun. It wasn't always like that, though, and the implication is that Vander's perspective changed once he became responsible for the kids. So I think what we're witnessing in the flashback scene is the very first cracks in the trio. It's Silco realising that it isn't always going to be just the three of them. It's him questioning what this all means for the bloody revolution and hard-earned independence he always envisioned.

It's only a few small fractures at this stage, but those cracks would've only grown once Vi and Powder were actually in the picture. If Vander's flashbacks as Warwick are anything to go by, Silco didn't have much of a role in raising the kids even when he was still friends with Vander and Felicia. A pseudo-family wasn't what he wanted, so he drifted apart from the trio, a force in the background trying to keep Vander's head in the game when there were so many distractions to pull him off track.

All this building tension culminates on the bridge, where Silco started the fight that got Felicia and Connol killed. That's where their paths diverge entirely; where Vander realises that family and community is his priority now, not blind violence and carnage, while Silco doubles down on his idea of revolution at all costs. Without Felicia there to hold them together, the two remaining halves split apart, and Vander attempts to drown him.

This would explain why Silco is so nonchalant about potentially killing Vi as early as Episode 3, despite her being Felicia's child. We know he believes that power "comes to those who will do anything to achieve it". I find it hard to imagine that mentality started only after Vander tried to kill him. It might have only been seeds of dormant ruthlessness back then, but it's enough to believe that this is the same Silco who threatens Marcus using his daughter and shows no regard for the death of Renni's son. Silco does not care about children or the sanctity of a new generation. He does not believe in family.

But despite all of this, I do think he recognised Powder. He saw himself in her when he witnessed Vi's abandonment and betrayal. It was easy to rationalise the decision to take her in; he recognised her potential to become an asset to their revolution. But whether there were deeper emotions there from the beginning or if those only formed with time, he definitely did not expect to love her like a parent. That was not his nature, as far as he knew. It was only after he was given the ultimatum by Jayce that he truly understood Vander's perspective, and by then, he was already undone.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Worth More than Gold (Reader x Laios Touden)

@alex126486 Reader first meeting laios in gold scraping , reader listens laios fascination on monsters and what they tasted like then asking he could cook one for him one day

"Do you remember? Back when we first started out with gold scraping?" You chuckle over at the tallman.

Laios doesn't look up from where he sits preparing the rest of the vegetables from Senshi's garden for you to fry up with the last of the basilisk meat and egg you're making. "Remember what?"

it's always been exciting being around Laios.

You were one of the Touden Party's three mages. Marcille with her explosive fire specialty, Falin with her cleric powers, and you with a specialty in protection and gnomish magic.

You once worked together with him as part of a gold-scraping band.

And it was then that he began talking to you all about his fascination towards monsters.

Little facts about the creatures you would face.

And when you gave no indication of disgust, Laios took the opportunity and ran with it, happily expounding upon monster features for hours upon end.

And when it became clear that you enjoyed his sessions of information -

he began to speculate with you about how monsters tasted.

Would a cockatrice taste more like chicken or more like reptile?

Do strangling plants have sweeter fruits than man-eating plants?

"Who knows? Maybe one day I'll cook you one."

Laios' jaw dropped, and he looked almost about to cry before he nodded seriously.

"That sounds great! What are you thinking of cooking?"

And years later, after traveling with Senshi deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you remember your offhand little promise.

"I once said I'd cook a monster for you. Way back when we were gold scraping."

Laios beams, and you know he never forgot. "I did! I didn't think you had."

"I hadn't, til just now. It must be so much fun for you to discover all the answers to the questions you've had."

Laios nods. "It's a dream come true!"

He glances over at a glum Marcille. "Though of course, saving Falin's the top priority."

"Of course." You nod. "Though if I can be honest, I've really enjoyed the stuff you and Senshi have made."

"That's great!"

"I know Marcille and Chilchuck tend to be squeamish about it-"

("Hey!" Marcille whines)

"-but I dunno. So-called 'normal' animals are pretty weird and gross too, but we eat them. Farming can be nasty too, what with fertilizer, but we don't consider crops gross. It's all just... part of a cycle. If you can make it taste good and it's safe to eat, then why not?"

Laios looks at you with something akin to awe. Chilchuck and Marcille look as though they have lost an ally to madness.

"Anyway, try this. I wanna know if I seasoned it enough." You hurriedly say, seeing Laios still looking at you with that strange expression.

He opens his mouth, seemingly expecting you to... feed him?

So you do, resting the chunk of cooked egg and meat on his tongue, feeling his mouth close around your fingers.

So innocuous, but so intimate, your fingertips compressed as his mouth moves from them, slipping out from the corners.

Part of you is going crazy, thinking one thought - that you've just put your fingers in a teammate's mouth and he just... ate from them. His lips touched your fingers.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Mmmmmm! That's perfectly seasoned."

"Oh! Uh... good." you feel your face heating. Chilchuck smirks over at you. "Good. Those vegetables, then?"

He happily hands them to you.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For keeping your promise. For cooking. For feeding me."

It's an odd way of phrasing it, but you enjoy the sentiment. "You are welcome, Laios... anytime."

He grins, and leans in close. "You might even be better at cooking than Senshi. It might just be that tallmen have different palates and spices they like, but I love it when you cook."

"I, uh... thanks. That means a lot."

You all but flee to prepare the stir-fry, lowering your gaze, smiling to yourself.

Maybe nothing happened yet, and he's just being nice.

But the friend you've had a crush on since those days of gold-scraping has just practically kissed your hand and complimented your cooking.

And that is worth far more than any gold.

[sequinsmile-x]

would like to suggest a hotchniss christmas fic that's basically the song "i saw mommy kissing santa claus"

omg YES. YES.

Here you go bestie xo

-x-

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Evie Hotchner sees something on Christmas Eve that she doesn't think she should have seen.

AKA - the one in which I've written exactly what you think I've written.

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You excited for tomorrow, Mommy?” 

Emily smiles and puts the book she’d been holding down on her lap as she turns to her daughter, “I am, baby. I love Christmas.” 

Evie’s smile gets wider, the three year old no closer to sleep than she was when she’d brought her up to bed 40 minutes ago, “Me too!! Lots of presents.” 

“Lots of presents,” Emily chuckles and kisses her forehead, thinking of all the gifts hidden in the attic that she’d promised to help her husband with once the kids were in bed. 

“And it’s Zaccy’s first Christmas,” she says, her eyebrows furrowing, the serious look that she’d inherited from Aaron spreading across her face, “Will Santa know about him?” 

Emily runs her fingers through her hair, an old trick that had helped to send her to sleep since she was a baby, and she tugs Evie closer, the love she had for her little brother enough to make Emily want to cry.

When she was first pregnant with Issac, she’d worried about Evie’s reaction to becoming a big sister. Since she was a tiny newborn, she’d always been all about Emily, desperate for her mother’s affection and attention at any given moment. It had made those early days long, when she’d refuse to settle for Aaron - something that Emily knew upset him - and she’d sit up in bed with Evie asleep on her chest because it was the only place she’d sleep for longer than 10 minutes. When they brought Issac home, the final missing piece to their family, and Evie was complacent about him at best,  Aaron assured Emily that their little girl would be fine, that there would be an adjustment period for all of them, but that she loved her little brother even if she didn’t know it yet. 

He was right, just like he was more often than Emily would care to admit, and Evie was obsessed with her little brother now. Sometimes they’d find her asleep on his bedroom floor, curled under her bedding that she’d pulled in after her with her favourite stuffed animal in her arms. 

“Yes,” she says, kissing her forehead again, “Santa knows about Zaccy, don’t worry,” she smiles as she thinks of the 6-month-old sleeping in the next room, “And remember what we said - he’s small so he doesn’t understand it all yet.” 

“It okay, I open his presents.” 

She chuckles, “Okay, sweet girl, you need to go to sleep.”

Evie sighs like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, “I’m too excited to sleep.” 

She hums and continues to run her fingers through her hair, smiling to herself as she tells her daughter the only white lie she’d ever tell her, “But Santa won’t come if you don’t sleep.”

Evie’s eyes go wide before she squeezes them shut, her grip on Emily’s shirt getting tighter, “I go to sleep now.” 

Emily kisses the top of her head and picks the book back up, holding it with one hand whilst the other still plays with her little girl’s hair as she reads to her. She slowly feels Evie get heavier as she falls asleep, her grip on her shirt loosening just as Emily finishes the book. She sneaks out from under Evie and tucks the covers around her, dropping a kiss against her temple before she slips out of the room, making sure she’s quiet as she pulls the door closed behind her. She checks on Issac and Jack, relieved to find them both asleep, and heads downstairs. 

She smiles when she walks into the living room to find the presents all gathered around the tree already, toys and books she’d spent weeks agonising over all wrapped up and ready for her three kids to tear into them all in seconds. She sometimes had to pinch herself when she thought about the fact that this was her life. She had a family of her own, one she’d built together with the love of her life, and she was able to give her children the Christmases she’d always wanted when she was a kid herself. 

Aaron would always gently make fun of her and her love of the holidays, his smile wide and full of love as he patiently stood next to her as she picked out decorations and sparkling lights. It never went further than a playful comment or a raised eyebrow because he knew how important it was to her. 

She hears his footsteps behind her, and she turns, “Sorry, honey, I would have helped but Evie…” she trails off when she sees him, her words turning into a laugh as she’s met with the sight of him in the Santa Claus outfit they’d bought and hidden with all the gifts. He’d insisted on it, his eyes full of excitement as he said he’d surprise the kids with it, something she knew was his own attempt to give them what he’d never had, “Why are you wearing that?” 

He shrugs and pulls the fake beard down, “I wanted to check that it fits,” he asks, and she watches as he turns as if he’s trying out a new suit for work, “What do you think?” 

She hums, love for him thrumming under her skin, “It looks good.” 

He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at her, “Santa? Really?” 

She rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder lightly, smiling when he captures her hand and kisses her knuckles, “No,” she exclaims, her nose scrunched up with disgust, “Not like that.” 

Aaron leans in to kiss her, “I know that look, Issac exists because of that look.”

She shakes her head at him and wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers curled around the bobble on the end of his Santa hat, “It’s not the Santa suit,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “It’s you being such a good Dad.” 

He hums against her lips, “Love you.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips skimming his as her breath skips across his face, “I love you too.”

She kisses him again, and they get lost in each other, both of them too distracted to hear a quiet gasp from the doorway followed by their little girl's footsteps on the hardwood floor as she runs back upstairs to her bedroom.

__

Emily wakes up at the sound of a bedroom door opening down the hall, closely followed by thundering footsteps. 

“Incoming,” Aaron says from behind her, his voice rough from sleep and misuse as he encourages her closer with the arm thrown over her waist. She has just enough to turn and kiss him before the door opens, Evie and Jack speaking in unison from the doorway, Issac smiling widely in Jack’s arms, his tiny hands already reaching out for his mom.

“Merry Christmas!” 

Emily and Aaron both sit up as they smile at their children, beckoning them over to the bed as Aaron switches on the lamp on his nightstand.

“Merry Christmas,” Emily says as she opens her arms up to take Issac from Jack. She kisses the baby’s cheek several times in a row, “It’s your first Christmas, sweet boy,” she kisses his cheek again, “Are you excited?”

“He was already awake when we went into his room,” Jack says as he settles on the bed in between his parents, “He was just sitting there like he was waiting.” 

“Were you waiting for your brother and sister?” She smiles as she settles Issac into her lap, “My patient little guy.”  Issac was Aaron all the way through, his quietness in comparison to his older sister already pronounced at only 6-months-old. Emily had lost sleep in the early weeks of his life for an entirely different reason to Evie’s, so used to how her little girl had cried for hours at a time that she was convinced something was wrong with her newborn son. She turns to look at Evie who was sitting in Aaron’s lap, her attention focused on a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt, “Are you okay, sweet girl?” 

Evie shrugs and doesn’t look up at her, and Emily and Aaron exchange a concerned look. He adjusts his hold on the toddler so she’s looking at him. 

“Do you want to go give Mommy a Christmas cuddle?” He asks, trying to pull a smile out of her by tickling her, and she shakes her head fiercely, holding on to him tightly. 

“No,” she says, the tone in her voice cutting deeper than Emily thought possible as she looks up at her, “Mommy was naughty.” 

Emily furrows her brow, the serious look on her little girl’s face a vice around her heart as she tries to figure out what she’d done wrong to upset her, “What do you mean, baby?” 

Evie shakes her head again, “Can’t say.” 

Aaron looks at Emily and doesn’t miss the hurt flashing across her face, and he knows he needs to fix whatever is going on before it ruins their first Christmas morning as a family of five, “Princess, you can tell us anything, you know that.” 

The little girl sighs and looks up at her father, her lower lip sticking out as it wobbles ever so slightly, “Mommy kissed someone else,” she says, turning to look at Emily again, “I saw you kissing Santa.” 

Any concern she’d had that she’d somehow upset her daughter without knowing how disappears in a second, replaced with amusement she has to swallow down. She keeps her eyes fixed on her daughter, knowing if she made eye contact with her husband she’d laugh, and that would only upset Evie more right now. 

“Baby-”

“I saw you,” Evie says, her arms crossed over her chest, “Last night.” 

Aaron tries this time, desperately trying to think of how he could explain this to his little girl without running Christmas for her, without shattering the illusion of Santa years before he’d hoped it would happen. 

“That wasn’t the real Santa,” Jack cuts in, missing the look of panic in his parent's eyes as he tries to help. 

“Jack-” Aaron warns, but Jack carries on undeterred. He’d mentioned this year that he knew Santa wasn’t real, which Emily knew Aaron found harder to accept than he’d anticipated. They’d sat him down and explained that it was important for his brother and sister to still believe it, and he’d nodded along, pleased to be in on the secret, his smile wide at Evie’s excitement when they’d gone to meet Santa in the mall a week ago. 

“The real Santa is busy, right?” Jack says, cutting over Aaron. Evie nods in response and Jack carries on, “So he has Mommy’s and Daddy’s help out with putting out the presents - that was Daddy you saw Mommy kissing last night.” 

Evie’s frown loosens a little, her eyes flicking back and forth between her parents, “Really?” 

Emily looks at Aaron and he shrugs, both of them grateful that their eldest had come up with an answer when they hadn’t been able to, “Yeah,” she says, reaching out and tucking some of Evie’s hair behind her ear, “Really,” she looks up at her husband and winks, “Daddy’s the only person I want to kiss.” 

Evie sighs in relief and finally slips into Emily’s lap, “Merry Christmas Mommy.” 

She smiles and holds her close, one arm around her and the other around Issac and she drops kisses on top of both of their heads. She looks over at Aaron and Jack, both of them beaming at her, and she sighs contentedly, “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, throwing the covers off of his lap and standing up, “How about some Christmas pancakes?” Jack and Evie exclaim and scramble off the bed, both of them already in the hallway before he can call after them, “Jack, make sure your sister is careful on the stairs.” 

“Yes, Dad!” 

He turns and looks at Emily, his smile turning into a smirk as she stands up, Issac on her hip, “So-”

“Don’t even say anything,” she replies, raising her eyebrow at him, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I can’t believe she saw that,” she blows out a breath, “Thank fuck Jack can think on his feet. We’re going to have to be more careful next year.”

He hums and wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her close to kiss her temple, her cheek and then the corner of her lips, “We’ll keep the Santa kissing strictly to the bedroom.” 

She rolls her eyes as she pulls away from him, “How many times do I have to say it was not the Santa costume I found attractive, but you being a good dad?”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulders, taking a moment to run his knuckles down Issac’s cheek before he starts to lead them out of the bedroom. 

“I believe you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Thousands wouldn’t.”

[burkhxrts]

'SWEET CAROLINA' | A. Judge

"if you're ever stressed out, just dance in the night if you get those baby blues." -lana del rey

summary: comforting your husband after a rough game was one thing. comforting him after his first career ejection? that's a whole other whirlwind.

warning(s): none, but now I want a baby.

To say that Aaron was pissed, was the biggest understatement of the year. To get his first career ejection when they were up 5-3, in the seventh inning, was just plain stupid. Ryan Blakney was an asshole, and a very horrible eye behind the plate. 

Aaron was paced back and forth in the locker room, unable to stop grumbling to himself.  The whole experience was still replaying in his head, and he couldn't help but feel a little shaken. But then, his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

He picked up the phone with a sigh, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. “Hello?” 

“You got ejected?” You blurt, pacing the living room, cradling your baby girl in your arms safely.

Aaron’s shoulders slump at the sound of your voice, leaning against one of the lockers. 

"Yeah." He says, his voice weary. He can practically sense your reaction to his admission—the disbelief, the worry.

“God, what did you even say?” You mutter, voice coated in disbelief. This was Aaron Judge for god’s sake. The man was practically Snuffleupagus in human form.

"I didn't even say anything!" Aaron scoffs. "I got in his face for a second and got tossed from the game." He shakes his head, still in disbelief that he was booted from the field so abruptly.

You sigh, shaking your head as you continue to pace around the living room. “That’s bullshit.” You murmur, fixing your gaze to your daughter.

Aaron lets out a low, frustrated exhale. "Tell me about it." He grumbles through the phone. "It's the most ridiculous call I've ever seen."

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your chest. Shaking your head, you glance down at Lyra, her small frame curled tightly into itself. In her sleep, she stirs uneasily, her body trembling as though caught in the grip of some distant dream. Soft, plaintive whines escape her parted lips, the sound fragile and haunting. 

Aaron hears the faint sounds of your sleepy daughter and the soft shuffle of your footsteps. A small sigh escapes his lips. "What's she fussin' about?" he mutters, his voice tinged with worry.

“Guess she thinks it’s bullshit too.” You joke softly, rocking the three month old gently.

Aaron grunts a laugh. "Sounds like her." He mutters. He hesitates, then says, his voice more serious, "You okay, babe? You're not...upset about me getting ejected, are you?"

You shake your head quickly, wanting to get the point across even though he can’t see you. “Absolutely not.” You mumble, rocking the now sleeping Lyra. “I was watching the whole thing, the guy had a bad zone the whole game. Still does apparently.”

Aaron lets out a low snort of laughter. "So you were watching the game." he mutters into the receiver. "Did you watch the part where I gave him a piece of my mind?"

“Yeah.” You sigh, moving towards the couch. You start to move Lyra’s everyday necessities, diapers, wipes, etc. “Is it bad I thought you looked really hot?” You grimace, cradling Lyra to your chest.

Aaron's eyebrows shoot up, a hint of surprise in his gravelly voice. "You... thought I was hot?" he asks, his tone tinged with genuine surprise. He leans against the wall, a smirk playing at his lips. "Just watching me getting ejected?"

“You never get angry!” You defend, shuffling into the cushions. “You’re like…big bird. You just hit home runs.”

Aaron can’t help but reel his head back slightly, a confused look on his face. "Big bird?" he scoffs, a hint of amused disbelief in his voice. He can't help but let out a snort of laughter. "Is that really the best description you have for me?"

“We’ve been watching a lot of Sesame Street, okay? It’s the first thing that popped up.”

"Of course it is." he teases, a warm smile on his face. "You're lucky, you know. Most guys don't have their wives watch them strike out and get ejected...and think they look kind of hot for it."

“You're not most guys.” You hum, tilting your head. Lyra wiggles slightly, a sleepy grin stretched across her face. 

"And you're not like most wives," he chuckles, his voice a low rumble. He can picture your expression perfectly, the slight tilt of your head, the way your hair frames your face. It's a comforting image in his mind.

Aaron lets out a soft sigh, his thoughts drifting to you and the little family you've built. He doesn't want to think about the game anymore—the ejection, the umpire, the way he'd been humiliated in front of the crowd. Right now, the only thing that matters is hearing your voice, seeing your smile.

"I wish you were here," he mutters quietly.

“Me too.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss to Lyra’s cheek. “Come home soon, okay? Don’t worry about all the stupid interviews and stuff.”

"You know I'll do them all." Aaron sighs, a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. He'll do the media appearances if they ask—he knows it's part of the job, but he can't help but wish he could just come home and relax instead. "You sure you're gonna be okay on your own?"

“I’ll be fine. I have my sleepy girl with me.”

Aaron chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You just keep telling yourself that." he teases, his voice laced with a mixture of fondness and worry. "Promise me you won't watch highlights of that damn ejection."

You smile to yourself, eyes focused on the game that continues in the background, it seems less interesting now that Aaron’s not playing. “I can’t promise anything.” You tease, smiling lightly.

"I hate you," Aaron mutters, his tone dry but fond. Even through the phone, he can picture the smirk on your face. He knows you're teasing him, and he loves it.

“You looked good, what can I say? I’m sure half of Twitter agrees with me.”

Aaron can't help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Half of Twitter, huh?" he mutters, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You better hope you aren't getting death threats from my fangirls."

“Your fangirls are nice. They think just like me.” You sigh wistfully, flicking your eyes towards the ceiling. It’s true, every fangirl, no matter what age, seems to share one thought with you; your husband’s hot. 

Aaron grunts a laugh, leaning against the wall. "Oh, really now?" he muses, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "And what exactly do you and my fangirls think, then?"

“That you look hot when you’re pissed off.”

"Damn." Aaron mutters, a low, gravelly chuckle escaping his lips. "Is that all?" He pauses for a moment, then teases, "What else are you and the fangirls talking about?"

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” You reassure, running a hand soothingly across Lyra’s back. She doesn’t move, only sighing softly into your chest. 

Aaron huffs out a laugh. "Hey now, you know I love my pretty little head." he mutters playfully. He can practically picture your expression, the slight smile that lights up your face, the way you brush back his hair, run your fingers through the dark curls. It makes his heart ache.

“I love your pretty little head too.” You murmur.

"Damn right." Aaron grins, a hint of cockiness in his tone. He leans his head back against the wall, sighing softly. There's a pause, and then he mutters quietly, "I miss you."

“I miss you too.” Your voice is soft, and you clutch Lyra tighter against your chest.

Aaron's heart clenches, the simple words making his chest feel tight with longing. "How's Lyra doing?" he murmurs, a hint of worry in his voice. He knows you're a natural at the parenting thing, but he still can't help worrying about you both, all alone at home.

“Sleeping the day away as always. Could’ve sworn she was paying attention to some of the game.”

"That's my girl." Aaron muses, a small hint of pride in his voice. He can picture her little head nestled against your chest, fast asleep, the soft rise and fall of her breathing. Despite it all, he manages a faint smile. "What about you, how are you holding up?"

“I’m doing okay.” You mumble, closing your eyes sleepily.

"Good," He responds, a hint of relief in his voice. He can hear the tiredness in your voice, the way it slurs together just a little. He knows you're exhausted. Even though he feels his own exhaustion weighing on him after the game, he still wants to stay on the phone and talk to you for a little longer. Anything that keeps you both in each other's orbit. "You should rest, too."

“I’ll rest once you come home. I just…I need to see you.”

"I know," Aaron mutters, his voice quiet and earnest. He loves being able to come home to both of you, to walk in the door and know that you're both waiting for him. "Just...try and get some sleep." He pauses, then hesitates before adding, "And I love you. You know that, right?"

“I love you too, Bean.” You whisper. You can’t help the nickname that slips from your lips, and it makes you smile softly. 

"You're a dork." He mutters in response, but there's no malice behind the words. Only affection, and a hint of amusement. He remembers the first time he saw that damn nickname, the way he'd rolled his eyes, how you never once relented with using it. "I hate that nickname." he huffs.

“Really?” You press a soft kiss to Lyra’s cheek. “I love it.”

"You're impossible." Aaron mutters fondly. He can practically hear the sound of you kissing Lyra's cheek, the soft sigh you let out afterwards. It makes his heart ache with longing. "I can't win with you, can I?"

“Nope.”

"Unbelievable." He scoffs, a hint of amused frustration in his voice. "Remind me why I married you again?"

“I was the only one who put up with your crazy ass schedule.” You teased, shuffling slightly when you heard Lyra whine in her sleep.

"Oh yeah, that's right." Aaron mutters, a slight huff of breath escaping his lips. Being a professional athlete took up a lot of his time, and it definitely tested his patience and stamina. But even he has to admit you were the one person who always stayed by his side, and for that, he was incredibly grateful. "You're still a dork" he teases back.

“Oh, I know.” Lyra wriggles even more now, her whines forming into soft cries.

Aaron can hear Lyra's whiny cries over the phone, the sound tugging at his heartstrings. "Is she awake?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry. He's not sure he's quite ready to end the conversation just yet, but the thought of his daughter being upset makes him want to be by your side immediately.

“Think she’s just hungry.” You mutter, patting her back softly. “What’s wrong? Hmm?” Lyra whimpers, gazing up at you and pouting her lips softly.

His heart clenches, the image of Lyra pouting her lips at you while holding up her little arms, demanding to be fed tugging at something deep in his soul. He can't help but think how perfect you are as a mother. "Is she gonna want me when I get home?" he asks quietly, a little hint of insecurity in his voice.

“More than likely.” You murmur, pulling the phone away and pressing the speaker button. You set it down beside you, shifting Lyra in your arms and starting to pull down your shirt. “Is that right, bug? You miss daddy?”

Aaron can't see everything that's going on from his point of view, but even so, the thought of you starting to feed Lyra makes his heart ache. There's something about that moment, the way you cradle her in your arms, the way she latches onto your breast and sucks instinctively...it's one of those moments that make him love you even more. 

He swallows hard, his voice thick with a mixture of emotions. "Is she drinking?" he asks, a hint of longing in his voice.

“Yup.” You murmur, admiring your daughter lovingly as she lets out small grunts, hand grabbing your chest gently.

He can't help but picture the scene, you holding Lyra, feeding her, cradling her against your chest. He loves that image, it makes his chest feel warm with affection. "When I get home," he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper. "Can you promise me something?"

“Yeah?”

"Promise you won't fall asleep before I get home?" He mutters quietly, a hint of earnestness in his voice. The last thing he wants is to get home only to find you asleep, tired and exhausted. He wants to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. "I want to kiss you, hold you. I want to feel your body against mine. So, promise me, okay?"

“I promise.” You whisper, flickering your gaze over Lyra’s small face.

"You better keep that promise." He mutters in reply, a hint of gruffness in his voice. He lets out a soft sigh, his mind wandering to the thought of coming home to you, the feel of your body against his own. "I swear, if I get home and you're asleep, I'll be pissed."

“Hurry home, dork.”

"I'm getting there, dork." Aaron mutters in response, a soft snort of laughter escaping his lips. He knows he should be annoyed at the pet name, but at this point, it's just become a part of who you are. And besides, the way you say it never fails to make his heart flutter. "Just you wait. I'll be home within the hour."

“Okay.” You murmur, brushing your thumb against the soft skin of Lyra’s cheek.

Aaron can practically feel the gentle caress of your hand, the way you brush your thumb against Lyra's soft skin. And damn, how he wishes it was his skin you were caressing. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to lean against the wall and think of nothing but the image of your fingers tracing invisible designs over his back, your body pressed against his. "I miss you." He mutters.

“I miss you, too.”

You can hear him sucking in a sharp breath, the sound heavy, almost ragged in his throat. He's fighting, and failing miserably, to keep his emotions in check. He wants -needs- to feel your body against his own, the heat of your skin. "I need to kiss you," he mutters, his voice low and laced with need. "I need to hold you, touch you. I need you."

“Come home.” Your voice is nothing but a whisper, and you clutch Lyra tighter against you

"Yes, Ma'am." Aaron's tone is low and gruff, as he straightens up from the wall. He has two more things to do before calling it a night - he's gotta shower and make sure he's got everything ready to head home to you - but he's not going to let any work come between him and you and Lyra tonight.

 "I'm on my way."

————

Aaron finally trudged his way to the front door, unlocking it and slipping inside. He quickly strips off his jacket and hat, tossing them onto a nearby couch. His body feels heavy as all hell, the exhaustion he usually tried to fight finally catching up with him. For a moment, he lets himself just linger, letting everything sink in. He can hear sounds of you and Lyra in the next room and it's then, he steps further inside. “I'm home," he calls out, his voice gruff and rough.

“In the living room.”

He sighs, feeling the tension in his body ease a little at your words. His boots thump against the hardwood floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. He pads his way through the living room into the spacious common area, and that's when his eyes lock onto you. 

You're both sitting there on the couch, you with an arm around Lyra, the baby's tiny head resting against your chest. The sight alone makes his heart ache. "You still awake?" Aaron rasps quietly, stepping further into the room.

“I kept my promise.” You murmur, smiling at him sleepily.

Aaron's eyes flick from you to the small form of Lyra nestled against your chest, and then back to you. His heart clenches as he sees how tired you are, the weight of holding their daughter all night must've drained you. 

He steps over to the couch, taking a seat right next to you. It's a tight fit with the little baby still in your arms, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he wants to be as close as possible to you right now.

You gaze at him lovingly, still cradling Lyra in your arms. As cute as she is, it’s unfortunate that she's awake this late.

Aaron's gaze remains fixated on you and Lyra, the sight of the two of you causing an odd sort of warmth to bloom in his chest. Even after all this time, he still can't help but be amazed at the idea that you were once the woman he fell in love with and the mother of their daughter.

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your shoulder gently, before resting it on Lyra's back softly. "Did she keep you up all this time?"

“She woke up fully an hour ago.” You mumble, lifting her up and sitting her on your stomach.

"An hour?" Aaron mutters, his voice thick with disbelief. He leans back against the couch, the familiar sense of fatigue washing over him now that he's no longer standing.  "You sure did keep your promise, didn't you?" He teases quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk.

“I don’t like breaking them.” You tug Lyra close to you, brushing your lips against her cheek softly.

Aaron huffs a small sigh of amusement as he sees you lean down, pressing soft kisses against Lyra's cheek. There's a warmth in his eyes as he watches you with a daughter, something deep and primal inside of him aching to be a part of that as well. 

He remains quiet for a moment, his hand idly resting on the couch next to you, before he finally speaks up again. "Is she still hungry?" he asks lowly, his voice softer.

“I dunno.” You hum, pulling her back so she can look at the two of you. “Are you hungry again, bug? Or are you just up to spite Mommy?”

Aaron raises an eyebrow, watching the interaction closely. He's always found it endearing how you talk to Lyra, the way you treat her like a little person, the way you gently tease. 

He leans closer now, his face just inches from you and Lyra. "I think she's just hungry to spite you." he murmurs, the corner of his mouth turning up into a small smirk.

You hum, raising your brow at the baby. “Yeah? Is Daddy right? My hungry girl.”

Aaron stifles a small chuckle, watching the interaction now intently. He likes this, seeing you and Lyra together, seeing the bond that forms. It's cute, heartwarming, and a little bit sexy. 

He leans his head against your shoulder lazily, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder now. "Looks like I'm right, huh?" he murmurs, his voice gruff.

“Y’know, I may be biased.” You start, pulling Lyra closer to the two of you. “But I think we made the cutest baby ever.”

Aaron laughs softly, his breath warm against your neck. "We did, yeah." He agrees, his hand moving slowly to rest on Lyra's back. 

He shifts his attention from Lyra and turns his gaze toward you instead, his eyes lingering a little longer on your face. "We definitely did." he repeats with a soft smirk, his thumb idly tracing circles against your shoulder.

You pull your gaze away from your daughter, making eye contact with Aaron. “I missed you today.”

Aaron's eyes soften slightly, a warm and tender expression forming on his face as he looks at you. It's such a simple phrase, but somehow it makes him feel all warm inside. He swallows thickly, his hand still tracing lazy circles against your shoulder. 

"I missed you too," he murmurs in reply, his voice gruff yet soft. "So much."

You hum, leaning forward to press your lips against his gently.

Aaron tilts his head a small fraction, leaning into the kiss and letting his eyes flutter shut. He lets out a soft sigh, his hand shifting to rest against the side of your face. God, he needed this so bad. 

He holds the kiss for a few long moments, enjoying the simple intimacy. When he finally pulls back - though reluctantly - he stares at you with a slight edge of desire in his gaze.

You pull away, giving him one more soft kiss. As you move to say something, Lyra’s babbles interrupt you.

Aaron lets out a soft grunt of annoyance as the sound of Lyra's babbling cut through your moment, though it's all a bit tongue in cheek. He can't even pretend to be mad, especially at the tiny baby in your arms. 

He leans back onto the couch now, shaking his head in amusement. "Damn kid has terrible timing..." he mutters.

You laugh softly, shifting so you’re pressed against one of Aaron’s shoulders. You lift her up, swaying her gently. “What do you want, huh? What’re you saying, my beautiful bug?”

Aaron lets his head rest against your shoulder, his gaze fixed on Lyra now. There's an endearment in the way you call her "my beautiful bug", watching her little babbles with an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

He moves his gaze to you again, his expression soft now. "She's being a little demanding, isn't she?" he mutters, a hint of warmth in his voice.

“Kinda like you, in a way.”

He huffs softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're not wrong, there." 

He's about to say something else when he's interrupted by Lyra's baby babbles, the soft sound drawing his attention back to the baby in your arms.

You watch as she stretches out her arms, gaze fixated on Aaron. “What’s up, bug? You want Daddy?”

Aaron's expression softens as he sees Lyra reaching her arms out toward him. He lets out a soft sigh, his heart already weak at your words. He can't say no to either of you.

He moves closer now, reaching out for Lyra gently. "Hey, bug." he murmurs, shifting her into his arms carefully.

Aaron holds her, settling her on his lap. He supports her with one arm, running the other over her hair, stroking her cheek. 

He glances up now, raising an eyebrow at you. "You're not jealous already, are you?" he teases lightly, a hint of a smirk on his face. 

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur, watching the two of them and smiling softly.

Aaron lets out a soft hum, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he stares down at Lyra. He adjusts her position slightly on his lap, his hand now resting against her back. 

"Oh really?" he muses quietly, his voice low and soft. "You sure you're not even the least bit jealous? I mean, she's getting all my attention over here."

You shake your head softly. “You look good with her. It looks…right.”

Aaron lets out a soft breath, a warm feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. It's not often that you say things like this, and he adores the rare times you do. 

He glances at you one more time, his gaze softening even further. "Yeah? I'm good, huh?" he mutters almost to himself. He keeps one arm holding Lyra, but reaches out with the other and rests it on your thigh.

You hum, shuffling further into the cushions, running a finger over Lyra’s soft belly.

Aaron watches intently as you reach out and stroke Lyra's soft belly, his gaze tracing the gentle movement of your fingers as they caress her skin. He's watching you both with a soft expression, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. 

He shifts a small bit on the couch, his hand resting still on your thigh, his fingers occasionally rubbing against your skin in small, mindless motions.

“Y’know, I thought I was gonna be a horrible mom?” You murmur, keeping your gaze on your daughter as your trace soft circles on her tummy, smiling softly when she babbles.

Aaron's expression softens considerably as you speak, shifting a small bit on the couch again. He gazes down at Lyra, watching her small babbles and soft smiles with a hint of fondness. 

He glances up at you as you continue, raising an eyebrow. "Really? What made you think you would be terrible?" he mutters, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Thought I would be like my own mom.” You whisper quietly, eyes locked in on Lyra. “Some…spineless person who let her husband walk all over her daughter. Let him ridicule her for every little thing she did. 

But then, when I looked at her for the first time, it all went away. I had no doubt in my mind that I would be a great mother.”

Aaron listens intently, his expression changing as he absorbs your words. He's silent for a moment, a wave of emotions swirling through him as he imagines what it must've been like watching your own mother act in such a way. 

He moves his hand up from your thigh, shifting it now to rest on your cheek. His thumb softly brushes over your skin as he speaks. "You are a great mother," he mutters, his voice soft and sincere. "A fantastic mother."

“You’re a great father.” You counter back, turning your head to face him.

Aaron's heart nearly skips a beat at your words, a warm feeling of affection flooding through him like an avalanche. He swallows thickly, trying to fight back the emotions that threaten to overcome him. 

He stares into your eyes, letting his gaze hold yours intently. He can't recall the last time someone had said something like that to him, and it leaves him feeling all soft and mushy inside. 

"You think so?" he murmurs, voice quiet.

“Yeah.”

Aaron can't help but smile softly at your simple response. His gaze remains locked with yours, a mixture of warmth and affection evident in his eyes. 

He lets his hand rest on your face for a moment longer, his thumb still tracing against your skin. Then, almost imperceptibly, he leans in, his face just inches away from yours. 

"I love you," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "So damn much."

You smile, leaning in and brushing your lips against his. “I love you too.”

Aaron closes his eyes as you lean in, savoring the feeling of your lips against his. It's just a soft, brief press of your mouths together, but it sends a wave of warmth through his body. 

He lets out a small sigh as he pulls back, his gaze lingering on your face. "We should do this more often," he murmurs quietly, his voice still thick with emotion.

“What? Be sappy?” Your voice is light, your thumb still brushing Lyra’s tummy soothingly.

"Mmhmm" Aaron confirms, his own smile mirroring your light tone. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hand now resting on your knee instead. 

"Yeah, that," he teases, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Cuddles, kisses. All of it, really." He lets his hand run lazily across your thigh, not moving any higher just yet.

You’re silent for a moment, flicking your gaze over Lyra’s face. “I um…I know we’ve been…busy.”

Aaron frowns slightly at your words, letting his gaze also linger on Lyra for a moment before shifting it back to you. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing he's been distant recently after everything. 

He lets his hand still for a few moments, his fingers now tracing small circles against your skin. "Yeah?" he mutters, his voice quiet. "I've been a bit…absent recently, haven't I?"

“It’s not just you.” You reassure, focusing on Lyra’s small babbles and grunts. “I’ve been busy with this little bug, you’ve been busy games and stuff. We’ve never really…gotten a moment to ourselves.”

Aaron hums softly, letting your words sink in. He's aware he's been somewhat neglectful lately, and the fact that you've been preoccupied as well makes him feel a bit better. 

"Guess we haven't," he murmurs, a hint of regret in his voice. He lets his hand slide further up your thigh, his fingers now gently rubbing against your skin. "We should change that."

He lets out a small sigh, shifting again on the couch so he's facing you a little more. His hand remains on your thigh, his fingers rubbing small circles against your skin. "Can we make it happen now?" he mutters, his voice a bit huskier now.

You sigh, giving him an apologetic smile. “As much as I would love to. We can’t do anything with this little heathen awake.”

Aaron groans in disappointment at your words, but he knows you're right. That baby's always got terrible timing. 

He lets his hand fall away from your leg, instead resting it on the couch next to him. "Yeah, yeah, you're right," he murmurs with a huff. "She really knows how to kill the mood, I swear."

You huff, leaning forward and scooping Lyra up into your arms. Lyra doesn’t object, only babbling louder. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

Aaron watches as you scoop Lyra up, a slight smile forming on his face at your words. He doesn't bother to deny it, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

"She's got us both wrapped around her little finger," he mutters, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and affectionate resignation.

Lyra’s babbles grow louder, and you press your face into the crook of her neck, pressing quick kisses to the soft skin. “My spoiled bug.”

Aaron's heart warms as he watches you shower Lyra with affection, his gaze softening even further. It's rare to see you this soft, and he loves it. 

He lets out a small hum, a smile tugging at his lips. "You spoil her way too much," he teases, his voice affectionate.

“It’s only gonna get worse when we have another.” You mumble, holding Lyra close to your chest, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

Aaron lets out a soft huff at your words, a small smirk playing across his face. He's known that for a while, and he's just as whipped as you. There's no fighting the overwhelming instincts to spoil the crap out of our kids. 

"Oh, yeah?" he murmurs, raising an eyebrow. "You're planning the second kid already?"

“…Maybe.”

Aaron blinks at your words, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his face. "Maybe? Is that so?" he teases, his voice thick with skepticism. 

He raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a playful smirk, as if daring you to admit it and make it more than a maybe.

“Not so soon, though.” You murmur, cradling Lyra close to your chest. “Maybe when bug is three or something.”

Aaron can't help but chuckle at your words, his smile widening. Of course you'd wait, you *do have some sense after all. 

He lets out a small huff, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Three? You're making me wait that long?"

“We can always practice.” You tease, raising a brow.

The implication of your words causes Aaron's cheeks to turn slightly pink, a small shiver running through him. 

His gaze is now locked intently on your face, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks at you. "Practice, huh?" he muses, his voice low and filled with an underlying hint of desire.

“Yeah.” You hum, Lyra’s babbling filling the comforting silence. “We had a lot of fun the first time.”

Aaron lets out another soft shiver as your words register in his mind, memories of that night replaying in his mind. The way you had looked, the sounds you had made…everything about it was just perfect. 

His eyes dart over your facial expression, his own gaze darkening ever so slightly. "You're killing me, y'know that?"

“Sorry.” You mumble, though your voice has no apologetic tone. You lift Lyra up, looking into her wide eyes. “Got a good time and a cute baby out of it.”

Aaron gives a small huff of mock frustration, pretending to glare at you, though it's laced with affection and amusement. "Cheeky," he mutters, his tone light and playful. 

He's about to say something else but is interrupted by Lyra's sudden babble, the soft sounds drawing his attention. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening considerably.

“What?” You coo, lifting her up further. “Why are you still awake, huh? You’re supposed to be my sleepy bug.”

Aaron huffs softly as he watches the interaction, quietly observing. Despite his earlier frustration, he can't help but admire how effortlessly you transition from teasing him to being just adorable with Lyra. That's one of the many reasons why he's enamored with you. 

He can't help but chuckle at your baby talk with Lyra, amused by the way you're trying to get your little bug to sleep.

“C’mon bug, you’re interrupting some quality grown up time.” You grumble, blowing a soft raspberry into her cheek.

Aaron can't help but snicker softly at the sight of you blowing raspberries into Lyra's cheek, her little babbles and giggles filling the room.

You gasp, pulling her away and looking at her intensely. “Oh my god. Did you just- Did you just laugh?”

Aaron grins, his heart skipping a beat at the expression on your face. He can see the excitement in your eyes, and it's like you suddenly discovered gold. 

He raises an eyebrow, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. "You caught that, huh?"

“She’s never laughed with me before.” You murmur, eyes flickering over her face.

Aaron listens intently, his own eyes now fixed on Lyra's face. He watches as you examine her expression, looking for any hint of a laugh or even just a smile. 

His own expression softens, a sense of awe and joy filling him at the idea of your little bug's first laugh. "It's a milestone, isn't it?" He muses quietly, his voice just above a whisper.

You nod, shifting the three month old in your arms and bringing her closer to your face. “Can you laugh for me again, my beautiful bug?”

Lyra gazes at you with wide, dark brown eyes, her little face scrunching up in concentration. 

For several moments, there's nothing but absolute silence, her babbles the only sound breaking the quiet. 

Then, with a hint of a start, she lets out another laugh, a soft, high-pitched sound that fills the room.

You practically melt. Cradling her in your arms like she was the last thing on earth. “Oh, my beautiful bug.” You lean her closer, pressing soft kisses all over her face.

Aaron's heart practically melts at how you're practically enamored with her, showering her little face with kisses. He can't help but smile softly at the sight. 

He shifts a bit to get a better look, watching how your expression turns so tender and absolutely smitten as you hold her close.

“She laughed.” You whisper, turning to face him, and you can’t help the tears that well in your eyes.

Aaron blinks at your teary eyes, his own expression softening considerably. He can see the joyous tears shining in your eyes, and his heart melts just a little more at the sight.

He moves closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "She did," he murmurs, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "She did laugh. You caught it."

You close your eyes, pressing your face into her head and sighing softly.

Aaron keeps his arms around you, rubbing your shoulder softly. He's utterly endeared by how much you care for her, watching as you press your face against your darling baby's head. 

After a few moments, he tilts his head, a small smirk playing across his lips. "You gonna hog her all night, or-"

“Shhhhhhh just let me.” You whisper, leaning your shoulder and shifting her in your arms so you both can look at her.

Aaron huffs softly, the amused smirk still present on his face. He can't argue with your words - how could he argue with how utterly in love you seemed? 

He shifts, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both look down at her.

“Can you laugh for me again, buggy?” You murmur, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting her against them, almost as if she’s on display for the two of you.

As you pull Lyra against your raised legs, cradling her in your arms, she gazes up at you with those wide eyes, her face scrunching in concentration once more. 

For several long moments, there's nothing but the soft babbling from Lyra, her babbles the only thing breaking the now-comfortable silence. 

Then, almost as if on cue, she lets out another laugh, a soft high-pitched sound that fills your ears.

“Oh my god.” You slump against Aaron’s shoulder dramatically, looking at your daughter as if she hung the moon. “She’s the cutest baby in the world. Like- there has to be a record for cutest laugh.”

Aaron holds you closer, supporting you against his shoulder as you practically slump next to him. He keeps his chin lifted to look down at your beautiful daughter, watching you practically dote over her. 

He can't help but chuckle at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I can't argue with that." He murmurs quietly, the warm tone in his voice evident.

You sigh, pressing Lyra against your chest. “Thank you.”

Aaron gives a small hum, his arms wrapping around you as you press both of you against your chest. 

"For what?" He asks softly, peering down at you.

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Your voice is low, barely audible above Lyra’s soft babbles.

Aaron's heart practically soars at your words, an intense wave of emotions crashing over him. He can't help but pull you closer into his arms, wanting you as close as possibly. 

His voice is low and quiet when he speaks, his voice carrying a hint of a vulnerability you don't hear too often from him. 

"I'd give you the world if I could."

“You already did.” You sigh, holding Lyra closely in front of you two, gazing at her lovingly.

Aaron lets out a soft huff, his heart *swelling* at your words. He can feel your love for her, your tenderness and dedication. 

He follows your gaze, his eyes landing on her small form cuddled against your chest. She gazes at the two of you with those big, curious eyes that seem to hold the world within them.

Aaron leans closer, pressing his lips against your forehead. "She's perfect." He mutters quietly.

“So perfect.” You whisper, brushing a finger over the soft surface of her cheek.

Aaron watches your interaction with Lyra intently, his heart practically melting at the sight. He's never been the most openly sentimental person, but even he can't help but notice the devotion you had for your little bug.

He remains close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he continues to watch. "We made her, you know." He murmurs softly.

“Guess we were destined to have cute babies.”

Aaron lets out a soft hum, an amused smile forming on his lips at your words. 

He's not one to believe in 'destiny' or 'fate,' but hearing you say that sparks a warm feeling within him. 

"Guess so." He responds quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You pull your gaze away from Lyra, looking up and flickering your eyes across Aaron’s face. Gently, you lean in and press your lips against his.

Aaron's expression softens as you pull your gaze away, his full attention now on you. He watches your eyes flit over his features, the intensity of your attention not lost on him. 

When your soft lips press against his, Aaron lets out the softest of huffs, his heart throbbing in his chest. He responds to your kiss, his own lips moving against yours in a slow, gentle rhythm.

The kiss between you two continues, a gentle, slow and sweet exchange of affection between you.

Aaron's mind is blissfully quiet, his focus now completely on you and you alone. He shifts, shifting a bit closer to you and drawing you closer against his chest, as if he could somehow merge you both together into some sort of hybrid. 

When you finally pull away, he keeps you against him, not quite ready to let go yet.

You don’t say anything, still pressing slow kisses to his lips, almost as if you’re trying to convince your lips to pull away.

Aaron can't help but chuckle softly, the sound muffled by your continued kisses. His own arms tighten slightly around you, keeping you as close as he can. 

As much as he wants to prolong the moment, he can feel his own need for air getting a bit desperate. He hums lowly, reluctantly pulling away.

"Hey, breathe." He mutters between soft huffs, a small smirk on his lips.

“Sorry.” You breathe sheepishly, pursing your now swollen lips.

"You should be." Aaron quips, still holding you close against him. He reaches a hand up, gently tracing over your now swollen and rosy lips. 

"Can't have you suffocating." He teases.

“I’d die a happy death.” You joke, pausing when Lyra wriggles in your arms.

Aaron huffs at your words, his expression shifting to one of faux irritation. He rolls his eyes, his tone still playful. "Don't be stupid."

Then, he looks down as you adjust Lyra, a hint of amusement appearing on his face. 

"She looks uncomfortable." He notes quietly, his eyes observing as Lyra wriggles in your arms.

“She’s getting sleepy, I think.”

He studies her for a moment, a small hum on his lips. "You should put her to bed." He suggests quietly, his eyes flicking back to your form.

You hum, nodding softly to yourself and slowly making your way off the couch. “C’mon, my sleepy bug.”

Aaron watches you carefully as you stand up, cradling Lyra in your arms. He stays close, quietly observing as you walk away.

He can't help but smile at the way you address her - "my sleepy bug" - how utterly adorable. He follows after you, silently walking beside you.

Lyra babbles sleepily in your arms, wriggling with every step you take to her room. You hum a soft tune as you open her bedroom door, opting to turn on the lamp rather than the big bright light.

Aaron follows behind you into the bedroom, taking in the soft, almost peaceful atmosphere. He leans against the wall a few feet away, quietly watching as you gently walk to her crib, humming a soft tune.

He stays there, leaning against the wall, simply observing as you gently lay her down.

“Are you sleepy, buggy? Huh? You tired after doing nothing all day?” You whisper softly, rubbing at her tummy softly.

Aaron grins quietly, watching you coo at her so affectionately. His heart gives a throb of emotion as you continue to gently play with her. 

Lyra lets out a series of high-pitched sounds, her babbling filling the quiet room alongside your soft whispers.

“C’mon honey, go to sleep. Go to sleep for Mommy, please.” You brush one of her curls away from her face

Aaron watches silently as you continue to coax her into sleep. 

He can't help but think how utterly beautiful you look in this moment, how absolutely perfect you are as you tend to your little bug with such love and tenderness. 

He lets out a soft huff, quietly moving away from the wall and moving closer to the crib.

Aaron stops just beside you, peering down at Lyra with an almost amused expression. Lyra's eyes are still wide open, fixated on your face. 

Aaron huffs softly, a hint of a smirk forming on his lips as he glances up at you. "She's not going to sleep anytime soon."

“Nope.” You sigh, smiling when she shoots you a gummy smile.

Aaron chuckles quietly, shaking his head as he turns his focus to Lyra. He can't help but smile at the tiny smile she shoots you, and he finds himself wondering just what exactly she's trying to convey. 

"You never want to sleep, do you?" He remarks to the little bug, his tone affectionate.

Aaron watches silently as you continue to try and coax Lyra into sleep, his smile still present on his face. He can see the determination in your eyes, how you're willing to try almost anything to get her to go to sleep. 

He can't help but find your dedication endearing.

"Any ideas?" He asks finally, referring to your little efforts to get her to sleep.

“Lemme try the bassinet by the bed.” You sigh, scooping the baby back into your arms and making your way to your bedroom.

Aaron follows quietly after you, his hands buried in his pockets. He listens as you start to talk to Lyra again, wondering to himself if this different location will do the trick. 

Once you reach your bedroom, Aaron stands in the doorway, watching as you set her down in the bassinet beside the bed.

“Alright, miss thing.” You whisper, setting her down gently. “How about now?”

There's a moment's pause before Lyra gives another tired little giggle in response to your words. 

Aaron huffs, a small smile on his face as he watches the exchange. "Still awake, huh?" He muses quietly.

You sigh, giving him a tired smile. “I think I’m just gonna let her ride it out.”

Aaron gives a soft nod, smiling back at you. He takes a few steps further into the room, coming to a stop right beside the bassinet.

Lyra's eyes, still wide, are fixated on the two of you. Another soft giggle erupts from her tiny mouth.

You smile at the sound, sitting down on the bed.

Aaron moves to sit beside you on the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He keeps his eyes on Lyra, watching the little bug's every move. 

He turns to look at you, studying your tired expression and trying to gauge your thoughts. "You look tired."

“Just a little bit.” You murmur, tilting your head as you look at him.

Aaron hums, watching as your gaze drifts away from Lyra and lands on him. He reaches a hand out, gently brushing it across your cheek.

He studies your tired expression, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You look worn out."

You hummed, leaning into his touch sleepily. The sounds of Lyra’s soft babbling is starting to make you even sleepier.

As you lean into his touch, Aaron's other hand comes to rest on your back, his fingers rubbing slow and gentle circles on your back. 

He looks down at you, a hint of amusement visible on his face as he notices how the soft sound of Lyra's babbles are making you sleepy.

You sigh, giving Lyra one more look before shuffling towards your end of the bed.

Aaron watches as you begin to shuffle towards your end of the bed, his hand still holding onto your back and keeping you close. 

He notices how tired you seem, how your movements are starting to slow, and he can see you starting to doze off right in front of him. 

He moves to lay down behind you, pulling you close against him.

Aaron wraps his arms around you, holding you close against his chest. He can feel you beginning to relax against him, your body slowly giving in to how tired you are. 

He buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent, and he smiles at the sound of your soft yawn.

“I’m crazy about you, y’know that?” Your voice is soft, coated in sleep.

"I know." 

Aaron's voice is quiet in response, so as not to wake the baby. 

He holds you a little bit tighter, pulling you a bit closer against his chest. His own eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, but he stays awake long enough to speak.

"I'm crazy about you, too."

[mechanical-sunchild]

On the one hand it is bizarre because you'd think a bunch of creatures who are strange to others because they believe/know they're actually animals wouldn't look down on the fictional - especially with the origin of the community being in fiction as you stated.

But I also believe you touched on basically every point which shows how and why they see it as different and refuse to accept us. As follows;

One) They just do not believe in fictional or mythical identities at all. Fiction isn't real, so you can't be fiction if you exist in the 'real' world. They either do not know or do not believe those who were there at the very start of the otherkin/d community.

Seems strange, but it's understandable if you think about it, as believing in animals which look like humans is one thing - believing that fictional characters could look like real people in different bodies and that therefore those places are in some way real when you know they were made up by real people in your universe is a very large stretch of the mind.

It feels like once your mind is open to new experiences it should be open to all but actually many still have an internal sense of logic they stick to, and fictionkin fall outside of it for many.

Two) Following that - they can't get over the hurdle of being able to directly point to the person who made up the piece of fiction in this world, but for some myths (that have many origins and therefore no clear person to point to as having invented it) fall within the realm of possibility due to their ambiguity or 'it could be real we just don't know' nature.

Three) Following this point of view, some will be able to understand the idea of being a fictional race or species by virture of having a complimentary belief. For example, they might believe in multiple universes, or psychological imprinting (we'll get to this in another point) however it seems improbable to them that you'd be a specific character who has been made up in this universe rather than simply a member of that species. As far as I know, the elves and the dwarf/centaur who brought about 'otherkin/d' through usage and posting of the usage were 'original characters' as in, not specifically characters from the Tolkien novels so it probably feels different to these people and almost perhaps like it's setting up the 'rules' where you can't be a character directly but you can be of their race/species from their world.

Four) Spirtual beliefs are common, more common than any other, and influence others understanding of otherkinism and alterhumanity in general. It's not often the realm of fiction (media that has been invented such as cartoons and anime) meshes well with people's spirituality. Sprituality can lead them to believe in the fey, angels, monsters and creatures of myth in their specific religion but not that your average cartoon character could actually be real enough for someone to be them in an otherkin way. Psychological approaches don't have this barrier as much I feel.

Five) Lack of animality. If you're fictotype is human, most will snub their noses at it. There's similar reactions to other humanoid entities even if they fall into the realm of myth - such as ghosts (it's just a dead human SO YOU CAN'T- is something I've seen a bit).

Six) Some just have this idea that if you identify as a specific character, you're seeing yourself as very self-important. Not only this but if it's a character they particularly like or it's from a work they respect, they can get this sense that you're trying to dictate the canon and control it somhow especially if you're not canon complient. They might go on about 'intellectual property rights' but I think it's just the idea of treating someone as the real version of their blorbos squicks them out.

There might be more but I'm already rambling so I'll stop :)

I find the invalidation of fictionkin in some parts of the otherkin community to be wild.

At least in the otherkin subreddit, I have read comments saying they are skeptical towards fictionkin, fictionkin of certain characters (such as Toothless and not just a night fury) are invalid, and that they are not legit because they are not “earthen animals” like therians or “connected to myths and folklore” (yes, a real comment on the subreddit). And on a poll about whether fictionkin is valid, 112 said they were valid, 73 said they didn’t care too much, 39 said they weren’t big fans, and 59 said that they “ARE FAKERS AND IN NO WAY VALID.”

It’s absolutely wild because some of the first pioneers of the modern otherkin group were elves. Tolkien elves. There were two notable groups: the Elf Queen’s Daughters, and the Silver Elves. And then according to House Of Chimera’s Fictionkin Timeline, in 1979, three members of EQD had realized that they were hobbits, which is a FICTIONAL RACE.

I just find it super bizarre to go on about how fictionkin are invalid, when fictionkin have literally helped pioneer the modern day otherkin community. Heck, the word “otherkin” was coined in 1990 on the Elfinkind Digest.

[jellieland]

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[creamiceandsugar]

something in sctir i'm obsessed with and cannot stop thinking about is when song taewon sees yoohyun break down when he thinks yoojin has gone off to die and taewon, for the first time in his life, thinks about an s class hunter: "oh. this is a child crying"

like when he realizes how serious yoohyun's love for yoojin is and i read it and i go yeah. yeah! that's what happens when you're the only one who loves a monster. it loves you back.

in the same vein i Love it when novel or manhwa go a bit into yoohyun's perspective and it is so clear that he really is something Other. something Not Human. (and that's not a bad thing) my money was on some fire elemental reborn into a human body (because of that whole part where he went 'i'll burn everything and return to my original form') but idk. he's Something for sure and i think about it a Lot

[queervegancryptid]

What's funny to me about this is that I have Medicare and Florida Medicaid, and let me tell you: compared to other countries with socialized medicine, we are getting absolutely shafted. It's been going on for a long time, at least since George W. Bush was in office. That's when Medicare Advantage plans started becoming a thing, and in Florida and at least some other states, there is no public option for Medicaid. You HAVE to pick a private "managed care" plan. (UHC, Humana, Florida Blue, Molina, and Sunshine Health are the companies that come to mind. I think there's one or two more in the mix for Florida Medicaid. YMMV.)

My Medicare and Medicaid benefits are administered in one dual special needs plan (D-SNP), which is the best option for me in a lot of ways... except here's the thing: I get those benefits because I'm disabled. Legally, my disability benefits were approved on the basis of PTSD, eating disorders, and severe anxiety.

It is impossible to find an eating disorder recovery program, online or in-person, that accepts Medicare. So I have a disability, and I wouldn't even have insurance at all if I didn't go through the process of sitting in front of an ALJ after nearly three years of waiting time, for her and the hired assessor and fuck knows who else to determine that my eating disorder is a major factor in why I can't work.

So you might say I only have this insurance because of my eating disorder.

So you might even go so far as to say the reason I have this insurance (any insurance, really) is CATEGORICALLY excluded from the benefits offered by this or ANY OTHER plan available to me that includes Medicare. Almost no Florida Medicaid plans are accepted by any eating disorder specific program or facility, and the way it works is that Medicare is billed first, and it seems like no one really knows what that means for people like me.

I currently have a D-SNP, but I could switch to having separate plans for each of Medicare and Florida Medicaid. It might be worth doing, but I can only switch plans once a quarter, and it seems like switching is the only way to find out. But if it doesn't work, and it might not, I could be without benefits I desperately need for months before I even get an answer. I've heard of the whole being more than the sum of its parts, but somehow, Medicare + Medicaid in one plan may do less than two separate plans.

Oh, and my plan? I won't name it, but it's UHC. Private insurance companies run Medicare Advantage plans and D-SNP plans like mine. I have this plan mostly because it covers my prescriptions. (Well, for now, anyway. Fully expecting to lose coverage for HRT within the next year or two.)

The psych facilities in-network to me are okay... if you don't actually have to do anything above outpatient therapy. I would be goddamn terrified to be sent to one of them for inpatient care. Just based on the Google reviews alone.

But who cares about mentally ill poor people. If I had a drug or alcohol problem, I'd have no problem finding a rehab in-network for that, but I'd still never check into one on an inpatient basis. The only ones of those in-network to my plan have the same problem as the general psych facilities near me. I would survive, but I'd probably come out worse, not better.

Original Medicare (Parts A and B) is more predictable in some ways, but it doesn't cover all of what the Medicare Advantage plans (Part C) cover (no prescription drug coverage at all without enrolling in either Part C for all your Medicare or at least a Part D plan, which deals with prescription drugs). Also, you still have to pay a monthly premium unless you're dirt poor and qualify for Medicaid and "Extra Help." So calling it socialized medicine the way Canada does it or the way the NHS does things in the UK or whatever, for example, is seriously stretching the limits of that idea.

Anyway tl;dr I've been dealing with this for a while and have a lot more to say about it, but the point is, if you think Medicare and Medicaid are examples of "socialized medicine" the way other countries use the term, you have been misled and will end up extremely confused and frustrated if your situation actually demands complex care of any kind. And for certain specific conditions, apparently, you're just fucked. You end up nearly dying of anorexia three or four times because there's literally no help for you that won't cost tens of thousands of dollars out of pocket.

Sorry for the rant. I'm incredibly frustrated about these things and just venting a little, I guess. But I also feel like this kind of shit should be common knowledge, because I'm definitely not the only person dealing with it, except somehow no one ever seems to talk about it.

I can hardly wait to try to get an autism assessment covered.

saw someone say the only people who don't approve of Luigi are old enough that they basically DO have socialized health care (medicare or whatever) and as such literally don't understand what everyone else is going through. made me think.

it definitely matches up with the idea that people's political and cultural positions are largely a superset of their material interests

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

as much as I would like to believe that Frederick and Asuka could be friends again, like, Freddy is building that rocket as fast as he can to kick his ass before the residual FoC and Gear power leaves his body. I'm sorry. I know I'm the Asuka apologist but dude. Nearly 2 centuries of the most unimaginable agony and festering sense of betrayal, compounded by Asuka goading him intentionally on multiple occassions (his reasoning behind all this goading aside) he is not just going to be able to let that go.

Asuka's crimes against humanity are one thing, you can argue til you're blue in the face about that and there's actual ground to cover there, but what he did to Frederick and Aria is like... damn dude. You, without their consent, turned them into gears. You lied about it to their faces too. Aria, someone who is cited as having her identity and who she is as a human being be one of the most important things to her, trusted you to put her into cryosleep because you said you'd find a way to save her so that she could be with Frederick. She didn't want that, she wanted to stay and spend the time she had left with Frederick instead, but she let you convince her cause she trusted you. And you took away her body, identity, and autonomy. You took Sol's humanity from him following that, lied to him about it, and then spent 200 years pissing him off so bad on purpose to make sure he'd always be there to help you fix everything. Oh, and then you made him kill his wife that you mutilated. Twice, essentially.

I love you Asuka, but shit, that's all kinds of levels of fucked my man. Frederick justifiably hates you really REALLY bad. I hope we get something in Dual Rulers settling this, cause Frederick just letting that go even following the events of Strive is just kinda unrealistic.