#but in the way you play with them as a kid where you just put them in unhinged dramatic situations

[mallymun]

i also wanted to give a proper response to this because, those 4 Failures mentioned in the original post? they are often (but not always) tied into each other

there are religions that existed that believed that slavery was a good thing and you should put your enemies into slavery, your enemies, that you were more than likely racist towards if your leader had found a way to Other them

you may recall some story about a carpenter's son and how his little family moved around a lot in his youth to avoid the ire of their government leader? this child and his family were NOT the majority in that land, they honored a different god and practiced different rituals, this was well established in his written story, they were different but they still paid the taxes their government leader demanded

in the modern day, there's at least one melting pot city per country, they all have different degrees of melting pot but they are still epicenters of diversity. yes, in places like that, people do tend to congregate into smaller sections of the cities that they'll call Little This or Little That, but even within those mini-cities there is diversity of religion, of culture, of racism

i think back to my time at university, i was friends with some mouse of a girl, between classes we would steal away to a secret place, a ballet classroom with mirrors up and down the walls... and being used as storage. we'd spend hours looking up japanese culture and trying out vocaloid dances until our lungs hurt, i was hispanic, she was black, i was a recovering atheist, she truly believed in Jesus and the lessons he taught, that is more than FIVE different points of culture in one room

because a single person is not just ONE point of culture, even if they think they are

a person is every bit of lessons they were taught as they grew up

a person is their religion or lack-thereof, their ethnicity regardless of if they were raised in it directly, their schooling and their cliques as they learned, the location they grew up, the location they lived most of their lives outside of the main story, the location they are during the main story, the location they spend their time when getting away from daily life, the people they spend their time with willingly, the people they must spend time with during their daily life

there are SO MANY points in a person's life where a Difference comes into play

so when i write my characters? even if they're in a world completely different from our own, i go into their notes and i decide what cultures they are about

i have this character named Justin, he was raised Catholic (Jesus doesn't exist in his world), he's still a monotheist (but there are FIVE major gods that exist there), his family is Hispanic (Spain doesn't exist), but he was raised American (his parents wanted him to be White), he found out when he was a kid that his parents were not really his parents (they hid it from him), he found out he's only half-human, he ran away as a kid and he's gone to other countries he can get to on foot, he's bisexual, he's genderqueer, he's polyamorous, his best friends are the very people he had been taught to treat like dirt as well as other half-humans like himself

these are all aspects of him i keep in mind when i write his story, and this is how i personally solve the issue presented in the og post, because i do a list like that for every character

TL;DR i define my characters by terms i KNOW, and i keep them in mind, and then when i tell the reader about a scene

about a group of human people selling their wares at some seasonal market in a town without a single visible non-human

then i know that Justin would cover his ears and keep his smile small as he goes about the market, that he would code switch and be on end because he can't tell if this is a safe place to be but he needs supplies so he'll linger just long enough and he'll make sure to verbally thank the local god instead of the one he knows

and then when he gets home to his melting pot of a town hidden in old temple ruins dedicated to the god he now follows, he'll throw back his hood and laugh loudly as another half-human swears to all the gods to get revenge on whoever stole her sweetroll, without a hint of fear or uncertainty

Some of the biggest fantasy worldbuilding fails that I see, in no particular order

Gods without religion. The Gods are real and a known historical fact, but virtually nobody is religious.

Cultural racism/discrimination without structural racism/discrimination. Discrimination that exists only in microagressions or mean comments, without existing in any sort of structural way.

Secret history with no clear reason for it to be secret and no clear method for maintaining that secrecy. Major parts of the world's history are kept entirely secret, even though there's not an obvious reason to do so and even when history has shown this is virtually impossible to enforce (especially in a world with any movement or communication across borders).

Large, homogeneous countries. Even without immigration, virtually no country larger than the Vatican will be fully homogeneous in terms of culture, dialect, beliefs, traditions, etc., much less a large one with limited communication technology as is often seen in fantasy. The Planet of Hats problem.

[luvbabydoll]

heaven beside him, hell inside him — chapter one

a series made by © luvbabydoll

warnings — reader is described to be more on the “chubbier” side.

a/n — may not be accurate when it comes to the cod universe (i don’t play cod fyi)

the fairground stretched wide under the texas sunset, bathed in that golden glow that made everything look warm and easy. it had all the fixings of a proper county fair—kids running around with sticky fingers from candy apples, country music twanging from overhead speakers, the distant whirr of the ferris wheel spinning against the horizon.

tf 141 was scattered across the crowd, watching, observing, but for once, relaxed. they’d spent too many months in the dirt, in the dark, with blood under their fingernails. this? this was civilization. a rare bit of normal.

soap was the first to comment, eyes flicking over to a large barbecue stand near the center of the fairgrounds.

“christ,” he muttered, nudging ghost. “would ye look at that? proper texas-sized barbecue goin’ on over there.”

ghost didn’t bother responding, just lifted his chin in acknowledgment, eyes scanning the massive booth. there were banners strung overhead, long tables piled high with smoked meats, and a man at the front, sleeves rolled up, tending to the grill like he was born to do it.

didn’t matter. they weren’t here for that.

but then—

a blur of movement.

three small figures darted through the crowd, little cowboy boots kicking up dust, weaving between fairgoers until they stopped right in front of them, wide-eyed and staring.

the kids.

they were young—no older than six or seven—all blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with sun-kissed skin from too many summers spent outside.

and they were staring at them like they’d just seen superheroes.

one of the boys grabbed onto his mother’s dress, tugging insistently. “mama, look!” he pointed, his little voice ringing with excitement. “they’re soldiers! just like daddy!”

that’s when they saw you.

you turned at the sound of her son’s voice, smoothing down the fabric of her sundress before finally glancing up—

and fucking hell.

soft curves, delicate features, and that unmistakable southern charm that knocked the wind out of them. your sundress, a light floral thing, swayed gently as you moved, cinched at the waist in a way that made every single one of them take a second look.

you were as pretty as a damn picture.

the kind of woman men fought wars over.

“oh, sweetheart,” you sighed, crouching to their level, brushing a gentle hand over one of the boy’s hair. “you gotta stop runnin’ off like that, sugar. you’re gonna give your mama a heart attack.”

your voice was as sweet as honey—thick, dripping with warmth, every syllable slow and southern.

soap—forever the first to flirt—grinned, squatting slightly to meet the boys' height. “aye, lads, yer daddy’s a soldier, is he?” his scottish brogue was thick, but the kids didn’t seem to mind, looking up at him like he was the coolest thing they’d ever seen.

you laughed, standing up straight again. “oh, he sure is. and these little rascals think that means they gotta tell everybody about it.” you gave them an apologetic look, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “i’m so sorry if they’re botherin’ y’all.”

“not at all,” price said, voice deep and distinctly british. he nodded at the boys, giving them one of his rare, softer smiles. “they’ve got the right idea. takes a lot of guts to serve.”

you beamed at that.

“my husband always says the same thing.”

something about that sentence sat wrong with them, but none of them could put a finger on why.

they kept talking—easy, too easy. you were polite, warm, completely unguarded in the way you spoke to them. you asked them where they were from, how long they were in town, and if they’d gotten a chance to try some real texas barbecue yet.

and the way you talked—so effortlessly sweet, slipping in casual darlins and sugars—made soap want to drop down to one knee then and there.

the smallest boy tugged on your dress again, bouncing slightly. “mama, can we get funnel cake now?”

you let out a soft little sigh, shaking her head with a smile. “lord, you boys are worse than your daddy, i swear.”

soap raised an eyebrow. “he got a sweet tooth, does he?”

you laughed, head tilting just slightly, your cheeks glowing warm under the sunset.

“oh, you have no idea,” you teased, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. “i always tell him i married a man, not a kid.”

they all chuckled at that.

you were charming as hell.

if you weren’t married, soap probably would’ve been on his knees already, offering her his last name right then and there.

but then—

“sugar!”

the voice was loud, familiar—a slow, easy drawl that made every single one of them freeze.

they turned, eyes scanning the crowd.

you turned too, her expression instantly softening, fond in a way that sent something cold trickling down their spines.

“comin’!” you called back, giving them a sweet little smile before turning to leave. “it was real nice meetin’ y’all. if you need anything while you’re in town, don’t be shy, alright?”

and then—you walked away.

they watched you go.

watched the way your hips swayed under that light sundress, the deliberate way you moved, the way your sons tugged at your hands as they neared the barbecue booth.

they should have looked away.

but they didn’t.

instead, they watched as you stepped right up to a man—your husband—who greeted you with a bright, boyish grin.

he scooped up one of the boys effortlessly, settling him on his hip, while the others clung to his legs. and then—right there, in front of everyone—he kissed you.

not just a peck.

a real kiss. hands on your waist, pulling you close, like you were something precious.

the same hands that had once ordered them dead.

the same fucking man they thought they’d killed.

ghost exhaled sharply.

soap stared.

price ran a hand down his face, eyes narrowing.

and when graves finally pulled away, murmuring something against his wife’s lips that made her laugh—that was when it hit them.

soap was the first to speak, voice low and gutted.

“no fucking way.”

ghost didn’t say a word—just clenched his jaw, adjusting his gloves.

and price, ever the calm one, took a slow sip of his beer before muttering—

“son of a bitch.”

[a2006love]

if you think of giving up: told in a short story.

"park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" but it's not about your loved ones in your dr. it's not about shifting. it's not even about an alternate version of life. it's about you. yes, you. the one here and now. the one with the awareness.

it's about the dreams you've left behind, the quiet betrayals, the tiny funerals you didn't even realize you were attending. you tell yourself you don’t need them. you tell yourself you've grown up. that was then, and now it's different. you think about the way you once held them so close, entertaining them all day till you succumb to sleep, and you pretend the memory doesn’t make something inside you coil with longing—but then, just as you're lost in those thoughts, you're pulled back into reality. where you're standing at a fair, and a child comes up to you and tugs at your sleeve.

"do you know where my mom is?"

you turn, and there’s a little kid, red-eyed, breath hitching in their chest. their face is messy with tears, and their tiny hands are trembling. you kneel, instinctively, lowering to their level, and you soften your voice, in an attempt to make them feel safe.

"you're okay, i'll help you, we'll find her, i promise."

but they only cry harder. their words come out in a way that's impossible to untangle. they're just a kid after all, panic swallows them whole and they can't explain what's going on, where they lost her, what exactly happened that made them lose her, and to top it all off they don't even have the words for it, they only know what it feels like, the way fear spreads itself in their chest, the way the world suddenly seems too big and too loud and too much.

and you—you have no idea what to do. you don't know how to fix this. you don't know the kid, at least, not really. the situation seems bigger than either of you, but you do know that you won't leave them here, that you will take their hand and hold it tight, that you will put them on your shoulders and search through every inch of this place until you find their mom.

except—they stop crying. and they lift their head to look at you, really look at you, with something in their expression, something you can't quite understand, like they know something, and that makes your stomach drop before they even open their mouth.

"you left me here."

the words don't make sense. they confuse you and ring in your head like a thousand church bells, and then the sound disappears. everything else is still moving, the ferris wheel is still spinning, the rainbow lights are still flashing, the music is still playing—but you don't hear any of it anymore.

"what?" you whisper, but you already know the answer.

they squeeze your hand tighter, like they're afraid once they repeat themselves you'll let go and leave again. their lips are shaking, and their voice is much more quieter now, but it cuts through you like a sharp and sudden scream.

"you left me here."

and suddenly, you remember. you remember the way you used to dream. the way you swore you'd never let go of the things that made your heart feel so big, the way you promised yourself you wouldn't become this—this version of you that makes these sensible choices, that trades joy for survival and tells themselves it's just what 'growing up' means, and it's just 'the way life is.'

the kid is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. and in that moment, you realize—it's not just any kid standing in front of you. it's you. the part of you that you've buried, the part that's still waiting for answers, for someone to care enough. that kid is the version of you you left behind, the one you've been avoiding all this time.

go help them. don't look at me or anyone else. go help them. they asked you. not me, not anybody around. they saw you in this suffocating crowd and felt the safest with you, so they approached you, they wouldn't choose anyone else in this world.

either you take them by the hand, or they're going to keep following you around, pulling at your sleeve, each time harder than the last, sobbing so loudly it bangs in your eardrums, waking you up in the middle of the night with questions you're too tired to answer.

and i want you to think of your choice to ignore them as saying "i promise we'll find her" and then leading them into the fair, distracting them by pointing out other kids playing and shouting "hey! this looks fun!", buying them cotton candy, hoping it'll make them forget about the ache in their chest.

and maybe, for a while, it works. maybe they smile, maybe they even laugh, maybe you convince yourself that they've forgotten what they were crying about.

but the knot is still in their throat. the tears haven't dried. the softness of their mother's hands still lingers on their cheeks. and it won't ever leave.

they'll pretend to forget, but you won't. they'll let go of your hand, but you'll still feel the tightness of their grip, years later, in your happiest moments, in every mirror, in dreams where you catch a glimpse of them just before you wake up to face reality.

and you'll always come back to them. so choose, now, to do something about it, and that choice better be to help them find their mom. (home.)

[wlwsoccerfics]

Overwhelmed (MackenzieArnoldXArnoldReader)

Warnings: mentions of Traumatic brain injury, stutter

summary: you had a Traumatic brain injury because of being hit by a car two years ago. Since the accident you have a stutter & working on getting back to your old self. Your Mom is trying her best to support your journey as you try to get back onto the pitch with the Matildas, having already returned to Pitch for your Club the Portland Thorns FC.

You were 21 years old now. It was your time to return to the Matildas . Having seen your name on the call up Sheet had surprised alot of Fans. But alot of them were super supportive.

First one to greet you when you arrived at Camp with your Mom was Kyra. She hugged you and you hugged her back.

"y/n, so happy to have you back, rumor has it you are joining Arsenal this summer." She said, you were quite surprised that she knew you had an offer. Your contract with the Portland Thorns FC was ending this Summer and even though you fought your way back onto the pitch your quality of Play was still so impressive that you got offers from Fc Bayern Munich, Arsenal, Real Madrid among others. Right now you had no idea how you would decide on where to go, but you had a secret favorite at the moment. Altough there was a team that had a really tempting Argument to go there. Because your girlfriend was playing there. It wasn't the same one as the one you were currently eyeing with.

"w-we w-w-will s-see." You replied with a smile. Hugging her back.

"Arsenal has so many tempting features. I mean i am Here! So are Steph and Caitlin!" Kyra stated. You smiled at that.

"i-i k-k-ke-keep that in mind."you let her know.

"little pest, maybe let little Arnold breathe!" Steph said and she walked over to you giving both you and your Mom a hug.

"hey Steffy!"you stammer out, offering her a smile.

"hey kiddo!" She said and smiled back.

"nice to have you back!" Steph told you.

"n-n-nice t-to be b-back!" You admitted.

"i am proud of you, Kid. We all are!" Mini stated as she walked over with Harper. The little Girl raced over and into your Arms. You picked her up.

"t-thanks Mini!" You stuttered out. Smiling at her. "Hi h-harps!" You told the little Girl in your Arms.

"hi y/n! good that you are back, i missed you lots. Camp is way more fun with you!" She informed you. You let out a soft giggle.

"m-missed you t-too." You let her know. Kissing her head.

"i saw a picture of you and your girlfriend. She is very pretty!" Harper let you know.

"i th-think s-so too!" You said and blushed softly.

"she plays football as well. Right? What's her Name?" The little girl asked.

"y-yes a-and h-her n-na-name is Lea. Sh-she pl-lays for b-bayern m-munich." You explained.

"that's in Germany." She said and you nodded your head softly in agreement. You started to get a little overwhelmed with all the talking. And Mini could tell so could your Mom.

"okay harps let's give y/n a little break. We need to put our stuff into our room." Your Mom said softly. You sat Harper down.

"See you later!" She said and waved at you and your Mom. You two waved back before walking to your room with your Mom.

When you reached it you walked inside. Placing your Suitecase and bag aside, taking your shoes of and lying down on your bed. Breathing in and out slowly.

Your Mom sat down on the bed and gently stroked your back. She frowned when she noticed the tears on your face.

"y/n, hey please look at me." Your Mom said and you turned to fully look at her.

"m-maybe i shouldn't return just yet. It's overwhelming." You stammered out.

"Love you went through so much. And Had to Fight for things. You have come so far, If you really don't feel ready then that's okay. What you accomplished is already impressive!" She let you know. Seeing everyone was so nice and you want to get back on the pitch but things sure were intense for you. So you felt overwhelmed. You were about to say something in return when your Phone rang. You quickly pulled it out of the Pocket of your jeans.

"it it is l-lea." You told your Mom.

"i will give you some space and Go find Caitlin!" Your Mom answered and walked out of the room. You answered the face time call.

"hi love, are you okay? You look like you have been crying." Your girlfriend stated.

"h-hi b-babe, j-just g-got overwhelmed." You stammered out. Sniffling softly.

"that i understand. Sometimes even i get overwhelmed without what you fight every day. And i am proud of you for everything you have accomplished. You already play for your Club again and If this Camp is too overwhelming you can try another time to Play for your country. Or not play for the Tillies at all. Altough i know you talk about it alot. And have passion for it. It's always okay to Change your mind!" Lea told you. You and Lea met five months ago, during vacation in italy. You knew who she was and she knew who you were before. But she has met you with your stutter and never cared about that. She fell in love with you anyways.

"i th-think it m-might be m-more all t-the t-talking i have to do." You admitted.

"oh, babe are you insecure about your speech?" Your girlfriend asked.

"y-yes!" You said softly.

"y/n, my love. people who judge you are stupid and don't deserve to be in your Life! Same goes for people making fun of you! I mean you are amazing in every way." She let you know and offered you a soft smile. You smiled back slightly. Your girlfriends voice was very calming right now. It helped you feel less overwhelmed. You talked for a few more minutes before ending the call. You put on a Training Kit cause you would start practice tonight.

Your Mom returned to the room a little while later.

"how was the Talk with Lea?" She wanted to know.

"g-good. sh-she helped me with my feelings." You explained.

"glad to hear that." She answered and pulled you into a hug. You hugged your mom back.

"t-teammeeting soon." You replied.

"yes you are right. Let's go " your Mom said.

In the meeting room with your teammates and the staff, you sat in between your Mom and Steph. Steph was one of many people that stood by you while you got injured and helped you through it. She was like an aunt to you.

"you okay, kiddo?" She asked.

"j-just a b-b-it stressed." You admitted.

"about what? Playing again?" Steph wanted to know. Gently squeezing your shoulder.

"t-talking to p-people. in-interviews and st-stuff l-like th-that. W-worried th-they make f-fun o-off me." You explained. You did give a few Interviews after your Injury and for your Club. But those were mostly sit down Interviews and you had time to prepare a bit. Interviews for The national Team were a totally different Story. The audiance and Media interest was so much bigger.

"we will always be there to Support you! You got this! You accomplished so much." She let you know. During the team meeting everyone was telling you they would always support you and showed how proud and loved you were.

You practiced together that day and all day the next day before you made your debut after the accident. Playing your first 45 minutes for the Tillies. The Fans supported you and the Interview after the Game was great as well. Steph was next to you as the Team captain and you two worked well Together. Of course they would always be people on the Internet with Bad comments but everyone you Loved and that loved you made sure you focused on the good comments. And not on the few mean ones.

[cosmiclily]

hihihiii - i love ur well and looking after urself btw i love your stories smmmm. i have no idea if ur taking requests but if u are i was wondering if u could do a domestic vi x fem reader one. im not entirely sure if a plot line but i was think they have 3 kids (twins a boy and girl and a newborn daughter). but could u add some like cute moments with vi and the twins and then vi with her newborn daughter :))

eeee - tyy ily stay happy 🧡🧡

❝ in the quiet moments ❞

• vi x f!reader

wc: 1118

notes: this is so so so cute !! 😭😭😭 thank you anon for requesting it, feel free to request more family stuff i loved it! ily too 😚 mwah

Juggling three kids, a dog, and a demanding job while keeping you happy had been a mission for Vi lately. Since the birth of your newborn daughter, it felt like the two of you had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone spend quality time together. You were constantly tending to the baby, while Vi spent her days acting as referee for the twins and trying to prevent the family dog, Rex, from destroying the house.

It wasn’t easy, but she never complained — not when she had to sit for two hours pretending to drink tea with a bunch of stuffed animals, not when Rex tracked mud through the kitchen again, not even when she had to lie about how Connol had broken three vases in a week (He definitely wasn’t playing soccer inside the house!). She just kept pushing through, like the human embodiment of stubbornness, because she loved you, the kids and the life you’d built together, no matter how chaotic it got.

“Baby, do you know where ‘Licia put her pink sock? She said Connol hid them somewhere, and I hate to bother you, but I can’t find them,” Vi whispered from the doorway, her voice laced with exhaustion but still careful not to wake Lavender, who had finally fallen asleep in your arms. “I looked everywhere. I swear, Rex probably ate it.”

You gently laid the baby in her crib, brushing your fingers across her cheek as she clutched her tiny blanket with an iron grip. Despite your exhaustion, watching her sleep brought you a quiet kind of peace — the kind that made the chaos of the day feel almost worth it.

“Come here” you whispered, beckoning Vi over with a tilt of your head. She hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the hallway as if the twins might burn the house down in her absence, but eventually, she stepped closer.

“Look at her face,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into your side. “Breathe for a second. I’ll go handle the little animals outside while you soak in the baby peace.”

Vi let out a soft laugh, leaning into you and pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “You’re too good to me” she murmured, her voice low and grateful.

You kissed her cheek in return, giving her hip a playful squeeze before slipping out of the room to hunt for the missing sock — and, more than likely, break up whatever disaster was currently unfolding in the living room.

As you made your way down the hall, you could already hear the twins arguing, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of accusations.

“I didn’t hide the sock!” Connol yelled.

“Did too!” Felicia shot back. “You said she couldn’t be a princess if she only had one sock!”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you prepared to mediate yet another sibling showdown.

After the crisis was finally averted — apparently, the missing sock had somehow ended up in the grown-ups' laundry basket, buried beneath the endless mountain of clothes neither you nor Vi had time to fold — the house finally settled. The twins were fed, the dog had finally calmed down, and miraculously, everyone was sound asleep.

For the first time all day, you and Vi had a quiet moment to yourselves.

“God, I don’t remember Powder being that loud when she was their age” Vi groaned, collapsing onto the couch beside you like her entire body had turned to lead.

You chuckled, shifting closer until your bodies were pressed together, your head resting against her shoulder. “That’s probably because you were a kid too,” you teased, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw. “Your memory is clouded by childhood innocence.”

Vi snorted, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you even closer. “Or maybe I just blocked it out for self-preservation.”

“Today was something, huh?” you murmured, absentmindedly tracing patterns on her thigh.

“Yeah,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. The dark circles beneath them told the story of a woman who hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months, maybe even years, but as she spoke, her expression softened. “And to think we get to do it all again tomorrow.”

She tilted her head back against the couch, exhaling slowly, her fingers pressing on your shoulders, a makeshift massage. But then she looked down at you, voice quieter now, lower, like she was confessing something secret.

“But I don’t regret a single second of it.”

You lifted your head to meet her gaze, your chest tightening at the warmth in her eyes. Despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos, despite the sleepless nights and never-ending to-do lists, she still looked at you like you were the best decision she ever made.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. “Neither do I.”

For a while, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, letting the quiet stretch between you, soaking in the rare stillness of the house. The only sound was the occasional rustling of blankets as one of the kids shifted in their sleep down the hall.

Vi let out a soft groan, shifting beneath you. “We should probably go to bed while we have the chance” she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

You hummed, running a lazy hand up her arm. “Or…” you trailed off, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Vi arched a brow, smirking. “Or?”

“Or we take advantage of this very rare moment of alone time…” you murmured, tilting your face up to press a slow, lingering kiss to her neck.

Vi chuckled, her fingers tightening around your waist. “Tempting” she admitted, “but if one of the kids wakes up and walks in on us, we’ll both regret it.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping against her. “Why did we decide to have so many children?”

Vi laughed, her chest vibrating beneath you. “Because we’re idiots.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah. But we’re idiots together.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Damn right we are.”

With a sigh, you finally forced yourselves up from the couch, hands lingering on each other as you made your way to the bedroom. Vi let you walk ahead, only to wrap her arms around your waist from behind and squeeze you tightly, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Love you” she mumbled, voice drowsy but sincere.

You placed your hand over hers, fingers intertwining as you leaned back into her embrace.

“Love you more.”

The chaos would start all over again tomorrow — the arguments, the messes, the exhaustion. But right now, in this fleeting moment of quiet, with her arms around you and your family finally at rest, everything felt perfect.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[izzygoesdark]

THE YOUNG GENIUS \\ The first meeting

summary: Spencer introduces his girlfriend to someone special. But will little Missy agree to live with them? \\ pairing: Spencer Reid x reader \\ warnings: fem!reader, non-bau!reader \\ wc: 2.5k \\ series masterlist

Rule #3: No workplace visits.

This is literally written down on a sticky note that’s stuck on the fridge, something that ended up there along with several other rules on the day you moved into his apartment. It made life together a lot easier, and you could successfully avoid unnecessary fights that way.

Despite this, Spencer had no choice but to ask you to drive to Quantico after work, because there was a time-sensitive matter that had to be discussed right away.

Now, as he’s pacing in front of the elevator like a caged animal, he begins to have doubts. There’s this feeling somewhere deep in the back of mind that tells him you will never agree to what he came up with, that you’re not yet ready, especially since you have never talked about these things.

But he can’t let the worst happen, he feels like he’s the only person in this world who can truly understand her, yet he also knows that he needs you as his partner to help.

And when the door finally opens, revealing you as you walk out of the elevator to close the gap between the two of you, the words suddenly disappear from his brain. That speech he planned is long gone by the time you stop in front of him and stand on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

“You seem to be in one piece, so what’s so important that you’re willing to break the rule by calling me here?” you wonder with a sweet smile that assures him you’re not at all mad at him.

Fighting the urge to pepper your face with kisses, he reaches out to take your hand, this being the only kind of contact he allows himself. “Come with me, I’ll explain when we get there.” You tilt your head to the side in question, but take his hand nonetheless.

He begins to walk towards the bullpen, already bracing himself for the series of questions the others will shoot at him the moment he returns from the conference room. But before that, you head to Hotch’s office, where a social worker is already waiting for you.

You look more confused than before when you see an unknown woman in the office, especially when she tells you who she is, but then you take a deep breath, nod, and sit on one of the chairs, while Spencer decides to sit on the desk in front of it. The social worker takes the seat next to you, and he uses this moment to open the folder he put together.

“There’s a six year old little girl in the conference room, playing with Jack while Hotch watches them. Her parents were killed by the serial killer we caught during this most recent case,” he begins as he shows you her photo, and he can see that mixture of worry and sadness in your eyes as you listen.

He stops, turning to the social worker who knows the rest of the story. It’s her area, it would be better if she took the lead, and luckily, she gets the hint. “We did a thorough research, but Missy has no one left,” she explains. “Her mother was disowned by her family after she got pregnant, and they don’t want to hear about taking her in. Her father’s family has always been small, and his parents died in a car accident when he was in high school.”

Your eyes turn to Spencer in search for validation, and when he nods, you turn back to the woman. “Her parents had no siblings?” you ask, but the answer is just a small shake of her head. “Poor kid. So what now? Foster care?”

He exchanges a look with the social worker, then gently bumps his foot into your leg to get your attention. When you turn to him, he flashes a nervous smile at you.

“That’s an option. But… Look, Missy is a gifted kid, reminds me a lot of myself at her age. I’ve seen way too many cases with kids in foster families, and… Well, there are usually way too many kids for the parents to have enough energy left to feed her intellectual appetite,” he tells you.

That’s all he has to say. There’s that split second when the gleam of recognition shows in your eyes, and he knows you know what he wants. “Are we even ready for this? You travel a lot, and… I love you, you know that, but your big brain can be a teensy bit exhausting sometimes, because I can’t always keep up with you. If she’s like you–”

Shaking his head, Spencer extends his hand to get you to take it. Once you do, he squeezes lightly, then goes, “She’s different, she’s good with people. With my brain and your social skills, this could work perfectly.”

You think, and he can’t help but count the seconds, each of them passing slower than the one before. The silence truly is deafening; he can hear his heartbeat in his ear, he can hear the noise outside, he can hear the way you draw in even, but shallow breaths as you try to decide what to say.

And then, when he’s just about to give up waiting, the corners of your lips turn into a shy smile. “Alright, let me meet her first. You said he’s playing with Jack?”

He nods, then jumps off the desk to help you up. “Come on, I’ll introduce her to you,” he says with a smile.

Spencer’s fingers are laced tightly with yours, more to fight his own anxiety than to help you calm down. Because you seem calmer than him despite the shyness, which is probably the result of the fact you don’t have that much experience with kids.

The social worker is the first to enter the conference room to prepare Missy, and Hotch uses this chance to come out with Jack on his side. The young boy doesn’t seem happy to leave his new friend behind, making sure all of the adults are well-informed about his thoughts, and Spencer doesn’t miss that adorable smile as you listen to his complaints.

“She’s a great kid,” Hotch notes when he has a moment of silence to speak up. Jack gives him a disapproving look, most likely because he wanted to go on. “Okay, buddy, what else?”

“I won’t say it now,” he says stubbornly, then marches off into his father’s office.

Shaking his head with a laugh, Hotch points at Spencer. “A lot like Reid. The girl, I mean. I’m sure she could learn a lot from him, and she seems really social, so she could use your guidance too,” he adds, giving you a soft look of reassurance.

“Jack grew to like her pretty fast,” you point out casually, but Spencer can hear it in your voice that you’re just trying to get something else out of his boss.

Nodding, he glances in his office’s direction. “He even invited her to his next soccer match. If you ask me, he might have a little crush on her,” he adds with a pained laugh. “Anyway, I think you would be excellent parents.”

He instinctively glances at you out of the corner of his eye, only to see that stunned look on your face he hasn't seen since he asked you to move in with him. The two of you have never talked about having kids, the relationship wasn’t at that stage yet, so he has no idea what your stance is when it comes to this topic.

Not like he has thought about this before meeting Missy.

Before you could say anything, the social worker comes out to tell you the little girl is ready to meet you, although she makes a side note to Hotch that she would like to know if she could play with Jack another time too.

His boss pats him on the back with a short laugh, then turns to the social worker to tell her it would be great if she could attend that soccer match his son invited her to. And, with that, he wishes you two good luck and heads to his office.

Spencer inhales and exhales slowly before looking at you. “Ready?”

Good question. Are you ready? 

You don’t have much experience with kids, especially with ones who went through something this traumatic. What if she doesn’t like you, what if she doesn’t even want to stay with you? You can’t force her, you can’t tell her to suck it up and do as you say. 

But this whole plan deserves a chance, because Spencer is right, being in foster care can be tough if the kid is unlucky, you’ve read some horror stories about it. You both have good jobs with a great salary, you could give her anything she needs, and if she really is as intelligent as your boyfriend says, she could use his help to learn.

Gulping, you finally turn to him and nod.

The social worker leads you to the conference room, where the young girl is sitting by the table in the middle and reads a book in silence. It’s a thick book, something you normally wouldn’t expect from a kid her age, but knowing the stories from Spencer’s childhood, you’re not surprised to see that.

She looks up, a small, friendly smile showing on her face as she waits. For what? For you to say something? Maybe you should be the one to break the silence, after all the other two adults are watching you with supportive smiles on their faces. 

“Hello, Missy,” you begin as you step closer, then you introduce yourself as you sit on the chair next to her. “What are you reading?” 

“Les Misérables,” she responds as she shows you the cover, then puts a bookmark where she was before closing the book and pushing it away from herself. “It was Mom’s book, I picked it up when they took me back to our house to pack a few things. Are you working with Spencer?” she wonders.

A short laugh leaves you as you shake your head. “No, not even close. I’m his girlfriend.” 

She looks up at Spencer, then back at you. “Then why are you here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you look back at the other two adults, silently asking for their help. You expected this conversation to go in a different direction, but she’s already showing her no-bullshit personality. She’s smart. She knows when the adults are beating around the bush. 

It’s your boyfriend who pulls a chair next to yours before sitting down. “You know your parents aren’t coming back, right?” he asks hesitantly, his voice kind and gentle, not sounding like he was testing her.

“They died,” Missy responds as she gulps and nods at the same time.

It’s kind of scary how well this six year old understands what death means, and how casually she can talk about this despite suddenly losing both her parents. You know it’s not normal, you have a feeling this will come back and manifest in panic attacks or nightmares in the near future, maybe in something worse.

But Spencer is right, all she needs is stability and adults who unconditionally love her. 

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Remember when I told you we have a lot in common? Well, we were thinking, and we would be happy if you decided to move into our home.”

Missy’s eyes widen before she moves her gaze to you, then the social worker who nods in confirmation. “Now?” she asks incredulously.

“Yes, now,” you tell her with a smile.

Spencer reaches out for your hand, squeezing it twice in reassurance. He knows you’re nervous, and he can probably tell she is also a little uncertain. Spending a few nights in a group home after the murder must have been tough, but you can see the intelligence in her eyes, the same thing you see in your boyfriend’s every single day. She will know what’s for the best.

Suddenly, the girl jumps up and rushes to the social worker who instinctively leans down to hear what she has to say. They exchange a few hushed words, while you and Spencer only watch them in stunned silence. What if she says no? Now that you met her, you just know she belongs to your home. 

No, you can’t replace her biological parents, but you can do your damn best to give her all the love she deserves. 

“Okay,” you hear her small voice from across the room. 

Before you know it, she picks up her book and runs out, heading to Hotch’s office where the lights are still on, probably hiding the Hotchners behind the door. Maybe that crush isn’t just a one-sided thing, you think with a smile. You both turn to the social worker, who walks over to occupy the chair Missy was sitting on. 

“Some children are quite resilient. She’s intelligent, she can find the logic in this mess of a situation,” she explains with a warm smile. “Dr. Reid and I prepared the paperwork, all I need is your signature, then you can go home. But what is important to point out is that this is an emergency placement. There are a lot of things to do until you can adopt her, but I think you have good chances.”

As your eyes are scanning the pages of the small stack of documents in front of you, you can’t help but think about her genuinely surprised reaction when she found out she can come home with you. She doesn’t hate you, which is good, and hopefully this means the three of you will get along well. 

On the way out Spencer is pulling the pink suitcase that hides Missy’s belongings, while you have the honor of telling her it’s time to go home. The two of you are standing in the door of the office, watching as the two kids are sitting on the leather couch, with the girl going through the pages of her book to find a paragraph that she wants to show him. 

Hotch flashes a knowing smile at you when he notices the suitcase, and he tells the kids playtime is over for now, playing the bad cop this time. When they bring up the soccer match, all of you agree to meet there on Saturday, and Spencer throws in the idea of having lunch together too, so they would have time to play.

Well, this is your life now as parents.

But this kid deserves it.

note: There's no taglist, but I reblog my new pieces on @izzygoesdarkreblogs.

[ghostgirl-22]

how do you feel about writing dom/sub stuff 👀?

i feel like i could see art and tashi having a dynamic like that or art and patrick. it would be interesting if he had a relationship like that with each of them, one past and one present.

I feel like it’s not my strong suit but I shall try it for you <3

CW: 18+ NSFW D/s, feminization, Art being the switch he was born to be probably, not proofread

—-

Patrick talks a big game. Really loud and brash. sometimes reckless and messy, just like a spoiled rich kid.  If Art didn’t know any better he’d probably be intimidated. But Patrick’s not intimidating,  actually he’s kinda easy to control. 

It’s not like Art did it on purpose. He didn’t set out to learn how to make boys do what he wanted them to. But he was kinda young when he realized how easy it was. All he had to do is act a little bit needy and boys would do whatever he asked. Even Patrick. Especially Patrick. 

Art barely has to do anything. Even when Patrick’s being a brat. Art pouts for just a minute and all Patrick’s bravado just goes out the window.

“Fine you can have my M&Ms you loser.” 

“Okay you can borrow my hoodie for practice, just don’t mess it up. It’s my favorite.”

“I can show you how to touch yourself so it feels even better… if you want.” Like it’s nothing.  

Art treats him nice enough. Patrick wants the thing that most boys want from him. He wants a kiss. He wants to sleep in the same bed. 

“If I let you pick the movie… will choke me a little?” Is all Patrick really wants.

Wants Art to push him down on the bed. Tie him up with one of his soft silky expensive dress ties. So he’s face down on the bed, ass up. Wants Art to slip his knee between Patrick’s thighs and tease him till he’s gagging for it. Art can do that for him. Sometimes Art will literally gag him too… if he’s talking too much shit.

Sometimes he’ll play with Patrick for hours. Teasing his entrance. Cupping his balls. Taking the toy dildo he thought Art didn’t know he had and sliding it inside him. turning it on to vibrate. All of it before fucking him slow. Taking his sweet time. Until he can’t.

Patrick always teases him because he’s fast… too fast (“you’re like a fucking bunny rabbit”)…and woopsie… Art loses it all before Patrick can finish once. “I’m sorry.” Art whines. 

“You’re not fucking sorry,” Patrick moans, helplessly. But Art is so sorry he does it all over again, just to make it up to him.

When he finally lets Patrick cum he’ll untie him. Patrick’s wrists are all achy after, his body sore. Art presses soft kisses where the red markings from the tie still linger. He never leaves marks. Not physically. Patrick just wants to cuddle with him after. Hold him close. They crawl into bed all tangled up in each other.    

*

Being with a girl is a lot different. Art gets tongue tied so easily. Says things that make him sound like a robot or like he was born in the 1950s. Especially when it comes to Tashi.  “I just think you’re swell.” It’s not what he means to say but it just comes out when Tashi takes his hand over dinner. 

“Loser,” she gazes at him, amusement dancing in her pretty brown eyes. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Pretty like an angel. Perfect like a god. 

The way Art would do literally anything for her and he can’t stop saying it.

”Like anything?” She asks him one night, they’ve been together for a while now. He’s gonna ask her to be his wife soon.

“Yeah,” Art says, shy. 

She grins, twirling a lock of shiny brown hair around her finger idly. “You’re so pretty. You wanna be my pretty little girl?” 

Art isn’t sure what that means but he says yes right away. He finds out the next day when she brings home a little maids outfit. Looks like the kind of girls costume you’d find at Spirit Halloween all year round. “It’s my friend’s, she was a sexy maid for Halloween last year,” Tashi smirks. ”Can you put it on? I really need you to be in uniform to clean the house.” 

Of course he doesn’t hesitate. It’s a little too small, too tight, too short. The fabric is all itchy and barely covers the swell of his ass. “Take those off,” she says about his briefs and he does. He feels so obscene walking around with no underwear. It doesn’t help that it’s turning him on, his cock half hard pressing at the frills in the little dress.

She makes him do the dishes, sweep and mop the floor. Makes him get on his knees and scrub because… he “missed a spot”. All while she stands around, with her glass of wine, poking and prodding at him like a sloppy husband who wants to fuck the nanny. Pinching at his waist, smacking his bottom, teasing his dress up while he’s bent over, with her pretty little manicured toes. Making dirty comments like. “You’re just the prettiest little girl aren’t you?” “I love watching you work.” “Makes my dick hard.”   

Art didn’t expect this to do anything for him but right now he’s so hard his stomach hurts. So hard he can’t think properly. He can’t stay still when she gets him back on his feet. He’s so antsy. She touches his cheek, her eyes all shiny from the wine as she stares at him. “Jesus,” she whispers. “You’re all done, aren’t you baby?”   

“Mm” Art swallows. “I just…I just wanna…can you touch me?” He stammers out.

She grins and guides him to the sofa. Makes him straddle her and lets him give her a kiss. She’s barely touching him over the fabric of the maid costume when he loses it all over. 

“Mm no fuck…” he whines, embarassed. “No ‘m sorry. ‘m so sorry.”

She giggles. ”Silly girl. It’s okay. Come on, lick it up.” She presses her fingers to his lips and he opens up. 

“That’s right. Good girl.” She whispers, coaxing more fingers inside. And just like that he’s getting hard again.   

[ncity-agere]

seventeen ot13 cg headcanons? ❤️

Alright this one’s a big one! Here’s things Seventeen does as your caregivers! (I got carried away with some of them and wrote more than I expected to, oopsies!)

S.Coups: “Hey, y/n?” He asks sweetly, calling for you. You approach him, waddling from wherever you came from to see Seungcheol in the living room, lifting dumbbells and watching a weightlifting tutorial on the TV. Nothing out of the usual and you’re glad he’s sitting down so he doesn’t hurt his leg, but you’re still confused?

“Hm?” You ask, tilting your head. “What’s up, Daddy?”

Without saying much, he gets up from where he’s sitting, puts down his weights, and scoops you up into his arms, carrying you like a weight! You squeal in shock as he holds you over his shoulder, bragging about how you “fell for it again, silly cherry-pie”. You really should have known better, your muscle bunny does this all the time. You fell for it, again.

Jeonghan: He’s mean! But in a sweet way. He likes to play practical jokes on you and watch you get mad. Gaslight, gatekeep, Jeonghan.

It makes him laugh, but he promises that if you really don’t like his jokes, he won’t play them on you again, okay? Appa doesn’t want to be too much of a pain in the butt.

Joshua: He loves to do whatever you like to do. He’s always up for a princess tea party or wrestling in the living room, it’s whatever you’d like. Just make sure to let him know so that he can take off all that designer before you roughhouse and wrestle, please!

Jun: Takes you to the pet stores and pet shelters to pet the kitties and the puppies. Even if you don’t or can’t adopt them, it’s always nice to give our furry friends a visit!

He giggles when you ask to hold the animals and takes lots and lots of cute photos of you. You both ask the vets lots of questions and say goodbye to your fuzzy little buddies. Honestly, this is as much for him as it is for you, little one.

Hoshi: Snatch your pacifier or teether and suckles it himself. No, I’m serious. Unless you’re crying and in dire need of it, I think he’d just start suckling your pacifiers to soothe himself.

He’d also sit you in front of an iPad and call it stellar parenting (it’s absolutely NOT lmao) but then get distracted by the iPad himself and start watching slime videos with you… so now there’s two sticky, iPad babies and neither of you want to turn YouTube off. Oh boy.

Wonwoo: Okay, Wonwoo doesn’t understand it at first. He comes around to the idea and agrees to babysit you, not quite be your caregiver. And his go-to babysitting tactic? The Nintendo Wii.

You think I’m joking? He’s dusting that old thing off and playing whatever game you want with you. It’s interactive and it’s (mostly) PG, the Wii is perfect for a little kiddo like you. You both spend hours playing the console until you’re worn out or frustrated at each other (because Mario Kart can and will bring out the worst in people)

Woozi: Brings you the studio and lets you play with the keyboard. Might record a song purely made out of your babbles and giggles, which would go absolutely triple platinum in his earbuds. He loves hearing his little one having fun and being creative.

If he’s working, he’ll ask you to wait and preoccupy yourself as best as you can. But if he’s not working on anything new, he’ll let you mess around all you want on the spare computer (because he’s not letting you anywhere near the Universe Factory archives, nice try little one!)

DK: Reads your storybooks to go to sleep, but puts on dramatic shows and funny voices for every single one of the characters. I’m talking, FULL performances. He’s getting up to dance at some parts, he’s turning certain dialogue into little songs for you. He’s a theater kid, dude. What can I say?

Mingyu: Cooks dinner with you. Gives you very important tasks, like measurements and stirring certain ingredients (and when he’s not looking, you can’t help but to lick the spoon!)

Of course, he does all the chopping and handles all of the hot dishes, but you handle lots of other other daring tasks! And when dinner’s all done, Mingyu’s just so proud of you, little one! Now go wash up to eat!

Minghao: Takes you to the park on cloudy days, when not many people are there. He likes to watch you play on the swing sets and crawl up and down the swirly slide and run around and chase squirrels with you. He likes to meditate with you when it’s early in the day and cloud gaze when it’s late. Whenever you both are outside getting fresh air, it’s always a good day.

Seungkwan: Builds elaborate pillow forts with you! Sometimes, pillow forts are just needed. They’re good for the soul and fortunately, you love making them! Unfortunately, Seungkwan kind of sucks at making them so what you both end up with is a weird blob of blankets and pillows stacked on chairs, a funny little tent shape with crooked fairy lights inside, and many, many laughs.

Vernon: Outfit of the day! Some days, Vernon lets you dress him up head to toe exactly how you like. Usually, he’s left with odd accessories, untied shoes, backwards hats, and oversized tees with various comic book characters on them, but hey! It’s not like he does much better dressing himself!

Dino: Asks you nonsense questions and leads useless conversations just to hear you yap. Your little yapping is so cute to him, he’s infinitely amused by it. Plus, it gives you an outlet to feel heard, to feel listened to.

“Oh, yeah? Then what happened?” Chan asks with a fake gasp, smirking knowingly as you begin a rant of babbles to retell your tale. He’s listening intently, really trying to piece together the story you have to tell.

Yeah, Chan could listen for hours.

[the-physicality]

can i give a suggestion to the new york sirens marketing department? i know the topic of attendance has been beaten into the ground [and there are a lot of factors outside of the FO control], but have you considered, now that you are playing in an nhl arena, the premise of comp tickets/cross promotion?

start by giving all the local kids teams bogo tickets, specifically to weekend games

then start handing out comp tickets to *your demographics* at the nhl games or put a coupon on the back of the nhl ticket

go to the gotham games and cross promote there

go to the liberty games and cross promote there

go to exile games [the rugby team] and cross promote there

go to the USL Super league games and cross promote there

pull up to the wnba draft

when i say cross promote what i mean is give soccer/bball/rugby ticket holders a 15 or 20% discount on your tickets

not all of the seasons overlap all the way but there's a window for sure

get people who regularly travel to watch ny sports in jersey/ women's sports invested in the team

ads on the PATH?/busses/NJT?

tiktok microinfluencer ads? [is tiktok still a thing? i haven't used it since before the ban]

get on a touch more/ do a live event, maybe at build? [does build still exist? and everyone goes home with a free ticket]

do a sponsorship at a queer bar.... signature cocktail, let's say the ambulance [for siren, get it?] or hat trick [for hockey] or siren song [a little on the nose imo but still valid i'm sure] Do this specifically in preparation for the pride game??? do a coupon for a stamp? or a discount code?

ambulance would be probably a dirty shirley temple or some kind of sangria [come to think of it ambulance might not work bc it's kind of like shouting fire in a movie theater] [also it is red which is not a ny color]

hat trick - a triple long island iced tea [this is a lot but so is a hat trick] or maybe a flight of 3 shots? [tough in a club setting for sure]

siren song would be a frozen marg with triple sec [blue] and green liqueur swirled in [this might be called an earth marg but that's what it was called when i was in college] OR it would be a trash can [you know where they just mix a bunch of alcohol in and it's blue also they put a little mermaid charm in it to customize] [or the trash can could be the hat trick]

main point: get your target audience in the door by meeting them where they're at and then keep them with the product and experience [which will be better with more people]

i am convinced that people would go if they knew about it, they just don't know! and it's your job to let the people know!

[sparklystarrrr]

Random Headcannons of my favs!

Synopsis: literally what the title said, it's completely random and I love my baby boys, more Hcs will be added on as I think of them

Contains: Riddle Rosehearts, Idia Shroud, Sebek Zigvolt

Riddle Rosehearts~

out of everyone (Ace, Deuce, Trey) from the Queendom of Hearts he's the only one with a British accent

he listens to either classical music or, if he's feeling a bit cheeky and rambunctious, I feel like he'd listen to Laufey or some of Frank Ocean's slower songs like "White Ferrari" in his free time

he had to ask Vil about where to get a good quality red eyeliner for his dorm uniform

he's always getting snipped in Cater's magicam pics and ends up in photo dumps where he looks kinda disformed (my man ain't always photogenic, unfortunately)

he knows how to play mainly string instruments but did fancy himself a trumpet in middle school

incredibly gullible to modern humor and doesn't understand it, then gets mad when ppl laugh at him for not understanding (almost exploded at a "ur mom" joke that Ace made "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY MOTHER??!!")

treats the hedgehogs like his children

has his own way of being snarky and making jokes, and when he insults you he makes it BURN.

loses too many brain cells listening to Ace and Deuce trying to formulate an explanation on why they broke a rule

gets really bad headaches

hates playing Uno with a burning passion because someone always has a card up their ass and says they have Uno; the only card game he will never ever play but can't ban it from the dorm because there's probably a rule saying "all kinds of card games are to be played"

definitely bumped into one of his book shelves before and got burried under books

has a strawberry garden in the Heartslabyul garden somewhere

polishing his lil crown is part of his nightly routine

Idia Shroud~

has a GIANT family and they're all super affectionate w him (his yiayia gives him thousands of kisses on his cheeks and calls him her most handsome grandson and he just stands there not knowing what to do)

HE HAS A SLIGHT GREEK ACCENT BCS I SAID SO.(can you tell I love this man being Greek it makes my heart flutter)

him and Ortho have gaming nights and he likes to let Ortho win most of the time like they're still kids

when he takes a shower his fire extinguishes and his hair is kinda like Silver's except blue and has a slight wave in it, probably a lot messier too

if he loses to a game too many times he hacks the game to make it easier for him to win

uses AI for most of his assignments because Ortho won't help him, says it's better for him to do the work himself instead of relying on AI(obvi he does it anyways and Ortho finds out like a disappointed parent)

he has a sleeper build DON'T QUESTION ME ON THAT this man works with machinery like on the daily and ya'll say he's scrawny like NO I DISAGREE

he either ties his hair or clips it back a lot because he gets too annoyed at his hair when it's in his face

he bites his lips a lot whether out of anxiety or on accident, biting his tongue hurts like HELL

if the wifi or power cuts out he will go full blown panic mumbling mode

a fantastic flashlight

keeps painkillers, eye drops and chapstick in a drawer in his night stand but never goes in it

his hands and feet are so cold

he hides his hands in his hair to warm them up in winter

Sebek Zigvolt~

he rly does love his dad a lot, but his pride is much too big for him to say that

gets yelled at a LOT in class or in the library for being wayyy over the volume level

i feel like he can do really cool tricks while doing push-ups like clapping his hands behind his back or doing push-ups one handed

Malleus is over his devotedness and just prays every day that he can have some peace and quiet(he's one more Sebbie speech from striking him with a lightning bolt)

puts a pic of Malleus above his bed

has a plethora of dragon plushies in carrying sizes, shapes, colors and patterns

probably tries to commission someone to recreate the armor that peepaw Baur gave him in the dream

a lot of the students are scared of him because he's so loud, especially students with animal ears or something that gives them increased hearing(they hear him from more than a mile away... not fun for sensitive ears)

gets embarrassed really easily

had baby hands for the longest time

can't choose between pampering himself to look good as Malleus's knight or to pamper Malleus more than he already does and look gruff and beat up to be intimidating and manly

he does like Silver, he just cares about him in his own way(I saw something similar to this but I don't remember who drew it, but it was Sebek holding Silver up while he was sleeping again and I actually cried my baby boys are so cute)

he had to find a new horse for Equestrian club because the one he had when starting out in the club was too short and his legs touched the ground while sitting atop the horse

knows how to cook stuff but only things high in protein and made for strengthening

eats Lilia's cooking because he honors him too much and then has a stomach ache that feels worse than getting dragged on the burning floors of Hell

speaking of being sick, it's the only time he's remotely quiet. I don't mean he's not loud but he just can't talk at his normal decibel of speaking (everyone is praising the Lord)

i love my silly boys

[merethessc]

OP your headcanon about Edgeworth intentionally growing his front bangs out to hide his ears when they blush is EXTREMELY adorable. immaculate. Do you have any other headcanons you’d like to share?

Have a good day.

Yesss OMG hIIIII! im so glad you asked anon!!!! I’VE WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THEM FOR SOOO LONG

HC list because I’m crazy (i apologise that they’re pretty much all about the same topic)

(Healthy and working) Wrightworth is only possible during and after SOJ just because both are at the place in their life and mental journey where they'd be able to form an actual working romantic relationship. 

Wright didn't realize that his feelings for Edgeworth were romantic for a pretty long time (I'd say for about aa2-aa3 time). He knew he loved him, sure, but he loves and cares for Maya and Pearls too, Larry to an extent too. He both didn't bother and didn't care hard enough to look deeper into that feeling, he knew he cared about him and that was basically it. Phoenix is “I'm probably bi, but I have a job so idrc about it rn” in my book. And his feelings did start to fade after awhile. ((before of course getting reignited again)) 

Hot take: I dooon't think Miles is ace/autistic. I just think he is THAT dense. Or maybe has some form of personality disorder. His favorite pastime is yearning. (Please Investigations and him mentioning Wright any chance he gets… “everything reminds me of him”)

Missile is alive and well, retired and lives with Gumshoe during SOJ and beyond. Otherwise I'm hurting everyone and myself. 

Maya wrote steel samurai fanfiction during aa trilogy, and since she has a limited circle of male friends a lot of mannerisms for Steel Samurai she took from Nick. Miles, not knowing the author deeply enjoyed those fics and would genuinely start tweaking out anytime Phoenix did something that alined with Steel Samurai’s quirks, thinking that SOMEHOW Phoenix knew abt those fics and purposely tried to tease him about it. Nick, in fact, did not know anything.

Iris was just as crazy and incredibly supportive of Phoenix’s idea to study law, hoping he would be able to save his friend from going down the wrong path, like she could never stop her sister.

Trucy has crippling separation anxiety. She was so afraid when the whole office decided to go to Khura'in thinking she would be left behind again, this time for good. She was DEVASTATED.  

^ To add to this, Edgeworth knew she came along and agreed to basically play along, thinking that trial shouldn't be THAT bad. The second guards entered and held Apollo and Phoenix at gunpoint, he held her close and covered her eyes. 

Existential crisis for Edgeworth since he's now the age at which his father died. His nightmares resurface again but now in a different form, where he's not too comfortable spending time in elevators with a certain defence attorney and his kid. 

During his lowest disbarment moments, after trials that Miles invited him to assist on, Wright would throw out “I don't have any enemies on the prosecution side and I take stairs” anytime Edgeworth would ask him NOT to bring Trucy to court. 

Similar thing with  Maya realising she’s outgrown her big sister.

Pearl actually picks up a job at Shipshape Aquarium as a trainer. I really like the idea of her being pretty good, although she almost never does shows because she's uncomfortable with theatrical and performing in that way, but she's great as a side trainer.

Athena and Trucy taught Pearl how to put makeup on, since Maya doesn't use it much. Sahsa taught all three some performance makeup (Which Trucy was SO thankful for, since she had to learn everything by herself.. mostly. )

Maggey and Gumshoe are surprisingly good with kids and at first two months they would babysit Trucy while Wright recuperated, they're the best audience, assistants, participants and hecklers Trucy could ask for. 

 Initially Phoenix wanted to ghost mostly everyone, but could never do it. (he did jokingly ask Edgeworth for “a little advice” on how to, Miles did not take it kindly.) 

 Edgeworth has stupid habit of lightly tapping on his lips with a pen or a pencil whenever he’s thinking. Realised how weird it is when Phoenix lent him his magatama. 

After getting shot and getting visited by Wright, Franziska couldn’t stop crying after she was all alone. To think that a person she thought was her rival and basically an enemy that wouldn’t show her mercy and any pity thrown her way would be an insult - came in with genuine worry and empathy kinda destroyed her. She even felt bad making fun of his visit, not that she’d ever admit it. 

She's also eighteen. Of course she cried when everyone left. 

Wright had to step aside when they discovered the contents of Inga’s safe besides the notepad. Held his locket extra tight.  

Apollo counts EVERY of his honorary siblings as part of the family (that includes Rayfa and Tobaye). Which makes Wright a proud father of a goddamn football team (Trucy, Pearls, Athena, Apollo, Rayfa, Nahyuta, Ema, Tobaye… and that’s not counting Kay and Eustace)

Edgeworth still struggles with turbulence, after SOJ cutscene Phoenix resitted himself next to Miles, closing the window blinds, as to not to spook himself out. It was done both for moral support of Edgeworth and in case he passed out, Phoenix would catch Trucy. 

There was a moment in time where Wright REALLY wanted to blame Trucy for what happend, but he couldn’t. ((maybe like the first few days, just to make things more convoluted)) 

Phoenix doesn’t trust people with his medicine or drinks. He can only take bottled drinks  or the ones that were prepared right in front of him.

Pearl looks a lot like her mother. If not for the hair. 

Trucy and Pearl got their ears pierced together. Maya gifted Pearl Mia's earrings and helped Phoenix pick a pair for Trucy.

NEVER put Datz and Butz at the same place at the same time. And never dare to even THINK of leaving them alone together. 

No amount of convincing will make me believe that either Wright or Edgeworth work out. These bitches have the most average build possible. 

Kay works as a private investigator on the side, letting the wind take her wherever the truth needs to be found and stolen.

The “honorary” children of Edgeworth and Wright + Maya have a groupchat, where they mostly just make fun of those two and share the latest wrightworth news (when those two FINALLY started making moves). They often kick Trucy out of the chat though, because she tends to react to messages out loud. Loud enough to compete with the cords of steel. Especially often the season of kicking and reinviting starts when they're spying on these two. 

Phoenix wears his beanie over eyebrows because they're one of his telltale signs. 

If Klavier annoys Apollo enough and stands close enough, he gets poked in the stomach. 

Apollo gets a small dragon pendant in memory of Dhurke. Tries picking up guitar lessons (Klavier likes to tease him about it, but at the same time is really supportive when needed). Klavier enjoys joking about how he's already met future mother in law (they're not even dating 😭)

Eustace is a pretty successful prosecutor with a clean record (similar to Payne, who I genuinely like, so it's a compliment). Witnesses genuinely adore him and working with him. Pretty ruthless when it comes to finding the truth though. Still aloof, especially outside of the courtroom, he leaves all of his brain cells there. 

During Khura'in investigations Phoenix was deliberately more touchy and clingy with Edgeworth, exclusively to annoy him after that whole "don't tell me you missed me, Edgeworth" and Miles claiming he mellowed down through the years. He doesn't seem too bothered by this however.

Self indulgent, but since neither of them button up their suits anymore, hands go right under them :p

The idiot trio aka Larry, Miles and Phoenix share some mannerisms, they probably don't even notice the similarities, until Gumshoe or Maya point it out.

Bobby's family misses him.

not a headcanon, but i cry everytime i think about Feys. So imagine aa 3-5 with “come” by  Adrianne Lenker and class of 2013 with the Fey daughters  in general and just cry with me

I'm also filled by PixelPartners playthrough specifically, so the dynamics mostly inspired by their takes.

And here's an excuse to post bad doodles from random times  about these hcs. Have a nice day!!!

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch17: P1 The Village

There will be at least two parts to the kids' adventures in the village, but I need to do a paragraph break and a time lapse here, so here's Part 1. Rayla gets some emotional support, and then we get to see the kids all just play for a little while. And Ram remembers how to lighten up.

“So . . . what was all that with Runaan this morning?” Ram asked carefully as he and Rayla followed the human boys down the mountainside towards where they could see smoke from the nearby village. 

Rayla shrugged without looking at him. “He just . . . needed t’tell me somethin’.” She said, but her tone was too rough and defensive.  

“Ah.” Ram furrowed his brows at her and tilted his head. “Do you . . . want to talk about it?”

Rayla did a double take and gave him a skeptical look. “With you?” She demanded. 

Ram showed her his palms with a chuckle. “Look, I know I’m not always the best listener, but Rayla, if you need help with Runaan, Moon knows I’m the Silvergrove’s current reigning champion of father issues.”

She snorted. “You have no idea how high that bar is.”

Ram blinked at her and couldn't suppress a helpless chuckle. “I keep forgetting you've never actually met my father.  Believe me, Rayla, neither do you.”

“It’s okay to talk about things.” Ezran said sincerely with a look back over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah.  We’re friends now, right?  We’re here for you.” Callum agreed, smiling too.

Rayla looked between the three of them and her shoulders dropped. “Okay.  Thanks, guys.  It’s just . . . Runaan said he was wrong about me.  That I’m not ready for this, and he never should have brought me here.  An’ I just feel so betrayed.  I mean, he said he wasn’t lyin’, that he was just mistaken, but it still hurts, you know?  I trusted him and now he’s sayin’ I’m not ready for this after all because I made a mistake.”

Ah.  So Runaan had made his decision.  Ram winced a bit internally, realizing how difficult the decision must have been for her to hear. “Do you feel ready?” He asked her carefully. “Not for this, what we’re doing now, but to do what we came here to do?”

Rayla’s brows were furrowed when she looked back up at him and frowned. “I . . . I dunno.  It’s our duty, isn’t it?”

Ram bit his lip thoughtfully and sighed. “Let me put that to you a little differently.  You said you didn’t kill that guard in Katolis because he was afraid, and because he hadn’t done anything to you.  What has King Harrow ever done to you?”

Rayla and Ezran both flinched, and Callum stiffened, and he felt a bit bad for hurting the boys that way, but Rayla really needed to understand this point.  He reached out to put a hand on Callum’s shoulder and gave it an apologetic squeeze when the older prince looked at him.  Callum nodded a little after meeting his gaze.

After a moment of visibly battling with the situation, looking down at Ezran, Rayla squared her shoulders. “He killed the Dragon King.”

“That’s what he did to the dragons,” Ram said patiently. “What did he ever do to you?” She looked at him in confusion. “What makes him any different than that - as far as we know - innocent guard?”

Rayla frowned. “The guard wasn’t our target.  He didn’t do anythin’ to us.”

“Neither did the king.” Ram said bluntly. “Rayla, you’re insisting on being ready for some sort of duty, but duty to whom?” He asked. “To our people?  To the dragons?  What happened to the Dragon King isn’t a shared wound, Rayla.  This is something that’s happened to the dragons, and a vengeance they called for.  Runaan always says we don’t judge, we just take.  We kill, but we don’t make the decisions.  That’s because the moment we start making our own judgments it becomes clear that this isn’t vengeance for us - we’re just being used.  We are nothing but tools for the dragons and the Sunfire royalty, and they don’t give a shit about us.” His frustration spilled out with the words and he grimaced as he cut himself off, glancing away to avoid the judgment in the humans’ eyes.

Snow crunched under their feet in the pause before Rayla challenged him, voice shaking ever so slightly. “You were the one who said there was no justice as long as the king lived.” She pointed out. “What changed your mind?”

Thinking over how to say it, mindful that Ezran and Callum were right there but unsure how to address it honestly, Ram sighed. “Nothing.” He admitted. “A life for a life is a form of justice.  That’s how I live with what I’ve done.  Everyone makes these choices, to cope with the damage we do and the lives we take.  But . . . maybe justice isn’t always what the world truly needs.  Sometimes it does more harm than good.  Justice isn’t our duty any more than freedom, or honor, or truth, or the abstract of Xadia, Rayla.  Our ‘duty’ as assassins is to serve the dragons and Sunfire Empire, to keep them happy, and right now, saving this egg may be the most important thing anyone has ever done for that.  If you are driven by duty, Rayla, you need to understand who it is that you’re serving - and why.”

“Maybe your dad was just trying to protect you.” Ezran said, and Ram looked over at him, startled, and saw the boy’s eyes fixed on the snow in front of his feet, his little shoulders hunched. “From having to grow up too fast.”

Callum nodded with a sympathetic look back at Rayla. “Sounds like he’s just trying to keep you safe.”

When Ram looked back at her, Rayla’s eyes had dropped to the snow again, but her tight shoulders were a little looser. “Givin’ me the time and space to . . . figure that out.” She gestured vaguely to Ram, and he assumed she meant who she was serving, who her duty was for. “Thanks, guys.  That . . . that does make me feel a bit better about it all.” She smiled tiredly when she looked up at each of them.

“Good,” Ram said, eyes flicking towards their path. “Because the town is literally right there, and we should probably stop talking about assassins before we go in.”

His attempt at humor successfully made both teenagers and the little boy snicker or giggle, respectively, and he smiled as kindly as he could manage at them all.  He slung an arm around Rayla’s shoulders in a brief hug.  She bopped him in the shoulder with the sides of her horns, affectionately, and they both straightened up.  

Callum and Ezran had been exchanging glances and Ram heard a vague whisper he couldn’t make out, hidden behind the boys’ hands to each other, and narrowed his eyes.

“So, do you guys have snowball fights in Xadia?” Callum asked innocently.

“Snowball fights?” Rayla echoed in conclusion.

“Sometimes,” Ram said warily. “We don’t really get enough snow in the forest often, only a few times a year, but up north -” a ball of snow hit him squarely in the shoulder and blew into powder, and he sputtered, looking over at where Ezran had edged off to when his brother started talking.

Rayla blinked. “What?”

Another snowball hit her in the chest from Callum’s direction, both human princes grinning wildly at them, and Rayla sputtered too in shock. “You little-” She broke off and quickly bent down to pack snow into her own ball to throw back.

The responsible part of Ram wanted to head this off before it got too far.  Ezran hit him again in the side of his hood with a snowball and that part was quickly overtaken by a desire to win.  He spat the powder out of his mouth and rolled a snowball of his own, whirling around to throw it at the young boy.

Ezran successfully dodged it and stuck his tongue out, and Ram’s jaw dropped at the audacity as he lunged to make another snowball.  Nearby, Callum yelped and then cackled as Rayla managed to hit him with one.  The two isolated snowball fights quickly devolved into a melee of all four of them trying to strike each other with hastily packed balls of snow.

“How are you not hittin’ anyone?” Rayla taunted Ram. “You literally use throwing knives!”

“My knives are balanced!” Ram protested defensively, rolling a much larger than usual snowball with full intent of dropping it on her head. 

“My knives are balanced,” She mocked, throwing another snowball that he narrowly managed to duck. “Sounds like you’re just a bad shot.”

He took great satisfaction in the snowball that Callum quickly planted directly between her shoulder blades, making her yelp. “Am I?” He challenged smugly, and winked at Ezran.  The boy grinned back with as much evil as he’d ever seen on that young face, and also pelted Rayla with a snowball that had her dodging under a nearby tree.

Ram threw his massive snowball and she ducked and cackled at him when it missed. “Missed me again!”

“Wait for it,” He replied, grinning broadly, and her eyes widened comically just before the snow fell from the branches above her and completely covered her in snow.

“Ack!” She squealed and darted out from under the tree, completely covered in white powder, as Ram doubled over laughing.

He too yelped only a moment later as Callum nailed him directly in the neck with a snowball, the snow hitting his skin.  His bouncing away from the impact brought him directly into Rayla and they both fell down into the soft snow, wheezing.  The two human boys soon flopped down next to him as they all stopped to catch their breath.

He wasn’t sure when he’d last had that much pure, childish fun.

Rayla perked up next to him when she sat up. “Look!  There’s a snow elf!” She chirped, pointing out the hornless snow statue of a person near where their snowball fight had finally ended.

“It’s a snowman,” Callum corrected with a laugh. “You’re going to have to stop talking like that or you’re going to get us caught.”

“No problem.” Rayla said brightly, standing up and sweeping her cloak around herself theatrically. “I’ve got it all covered.  Get ready for Human Rayla!  Once I pair this disguise with my perfect human impression, the illusion’ll be complete!”

Stifling his own laughter, Ram sat up too and put his chin on his hand, grinning, to watch her. “Oh, I can’t wait.  This will be hilarious.” He drawled.

“You’ve never even seen my human impression, don’t be ridiculous,” Rayla sniffed.

“No, but I’ve seen Runaan’s, and I know where you learned it,” Ram grinned. “Do go on, show us human Rayla then.”

“Oh boy.” Callum sighed skeptically, but Ezran was practically vibrating, and he clapped from his seat as they waited for the performance.

Rayla took a moment to compose herself and then turned to face them with a neutral, friendly expression. “Greetin’s, fella humans!  Human fellas!  I sure do like hangin’ out with other humans, and talkin’ about things like money!” She slung an arm over Callum’s shoulders. “And startin’ wars.”

Ezran shrugged. “That’s pretty good, actually.”

Ram buried his face in his hands to hide his resigned laughter.  Moon above, she was truly her father’s daughter. “You might want to leave the word ‘human’ out more,” He suggested. “Otherwise, eh, yeah, that’s about how Runaan does it.”

She beamed. “Told ye I had it!  High four!” She clapped Ezran’s hand. 

“Just remember, no touching anyone else with that false finger,” Ram reminded her, snickering as he finally stood up and dusted himself off. “Let’s go.”

Rayla paused before leaving the snowman, and took the carrot out of its face, snapped it in two, and stuck the pieces in their appropriate locations as horns. “Snow elf.” She muttered before she followed them, and Ram kept his snickering internal to avoid the boys noticing her antics behind them.

[harringroveobsessed]

For @harringrovewinterbingo prompt: A1 -Accidental Kiss.

“Mmm, thanks baby”, Steve hums leaning into Billy’s space to press a soft kiss against his lips as he gratefully accepts the glass of water he’s handed.

Steve pulls back an inch, confused when his usual warm, perpetual cuddlebug during a movie Billy morphs before his eyes into a stiff, eyes wide open with terror Billy. He twists to follow Billy’s horrified gaze which is landing somewhere over Steve’s shoulder and… oh fuck.

Steve has been told he’s an idiot more times than he can count at this point, but he’s really gone and earned the title this time. Shit, Billy is going to kill him. Steve’s dead, deader than dead, there isn’t a word in the English language for how dead he’s going to be.

“Oh my god, you call him baby?” Max groans in disgust, her cheeks glowing as red as her hair, “You guys are so fucking gross.”

Steve can barely hear her over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. It was an accident; Jesus Christ he forgot the kids were even here. In his defence, Steve was barely awake, the kids put freaking Star Wars on for the hundredth time this month and he’s yet to make it through one of those movies awake. And the little shits were so quiet for once, all draped out of sight on the floor and Steve was comfy and sleepy and just… shit it was an accident, Billy can’t kill him over an accident!

Swallowing nervously Steve hazards a glance in Billy’s direction hating what he finds there, Billy looks more terrified now than he ever looked facing down the Mindflayer. Steve feels a little sick at the look on his boyfriend’s face and a lot sick that he’s the one that put it there. A year, a whole damn year of being so careful and he’s blown it with one stupid accidental kiss.

Nobody knows about them besides Robin – who is also wide eyed on Billy’s left and gripping his arm so tight that Steve can see the white marks blooming around her fingertips – and that’s only because she was the one who finally got tired of their “gay yearning bullshit” and told them to make a move before she dies of old age. It’s not that Steve doesn’t trust the kids, he knows they can keep a secret but they both thought it wise to keep a lid on it until they finally got out of Hawkins at least. But now. Well the lids blown right off.

It's coming on to just over two minutes of silence (Steve’s secretly impressed the shitheads lasted this long) when he realises he’s not said anything, Billy hasn’t said anything, nobody has said anything.

His hand has all but seized up around the glass he’s still holding and the silence is stifling, Steve isn’t quite sure how to play this off. Could he get away with hauling Billy off the sofa, into his car and fleeing the country? Maybe…he and Billy are faster than the kids after all. Or perhaps he could convince all six of them they had some kind of shared hallucination, tell them he’s heard whispers there is some psycho going around Melvald’s putting psychedelics into the soda. It wouldn’t be terribly out of left field but… shit no. Joyce works there doesn’t she, Will would know if that was true.

Steve is forcibly drawn out of his increasingly wild thoughts by an odd, spluttering sound from down on the carpet. Are one of the kids choking? Shit, he’s killed one of his kids, kids who faced down monsters from another dimension, killed by the image of Steve kissing his boyfriend. How is he going to explain this to Hopper or fuck, in court?!

Suddenly the sound filters its way into his brain and Steve realises someone isn’t choking, El is giggling.

The sound has Steve finally lifting his gaze from where it’s been burning a hole into his mom’s pristine carpet. El has set off a chain reaction it seems, now all six of the little shits are laughing, Dustin is crying as he cackles like a loon.

“The fuck is so fuckin’ funny?”, Billy grunts.

Dustin has to catch his breath, wheezing through another howling laugh, “You guys are sooo bad at this, oh my god!”

Lucas snorts so loudly that Steve’s neighbours probably heard which dissolves the group into another bout of hysterical laughter. Steve turns to Billy and Robin for help and while Billy’s glare has only turned more murderous, Robin is laughing right along with them, only laughs louder when she catches Steve’s frown.

“They know Steve.” Robin chuckles.

“W- wait, what. You guys... you guys know about me and Billy. How?”

“Don’t you mean your baby?” Max chokes out setting off another ripple of hysterical giggles, “We’ve known for like forever, the heart eyes when you’re around each other are less than subtle.”

Steve feels himself flushing with embarrassment and when Billy leans in to get a closer look at the kids his cheeks are also painted a pretty pink.

While Billy still looks cautious, he’s smirking now as he reaches to clasp Steve’s hand in his own. Steve slumps against him dazed and still confused but he can’t help but smile back at Billy in relief. People found out and it’s fine, the world is still turning, and the kids are just making fun of them as usual.

Will, always the peacemaker grins at them both in turn, “We were waiting for you to tell us, we’re all fine with it obviously, but we didn’t want to make you guys uncomfortable. You hadn’t told us for a reason I guess.”

“I mean you could have just said something instead of starting to basically make out in front of us,” Mike shudders pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction.

Scowling down at the kid in faux outrage Steve whines, “It was an ACCIDENT!”

He feels a tug at his side and all of a sudden Steve is hauled onto Billy’s lap. Billy is grinning wolfishly now; all teeth and tongue, Steve is so beyond relieved to see the familiar expression replace the mask of terror it was before.

“You haven’t seen making out yet Wheeler, try and stop me now I know I don’t gotta hold back.” Billy teases. “C’mere Bambi.”

Steve ducks down to meet Billy’s lips and to the sound of the party screaming in horror as the background, Steve kisses his boyfriend.

And this time, it was on purpose.

[snowflakes-and-cupcakes]

— this is what forever feels like x mathew barzal

chapter 3: blue and orange skies

♡ word count: 3.3k ♡ contains: you guessed it—more Barzy flirting main ♡ prev ♡ next

You’ve been seeing Mat off and on. His schedule is a wreck, he tells you with seriousness that makes you laugh, but you’re surprisingly fine with that. Being in each other’s orbit and squeezing in late nights and early mornings when he isn’t laser-focused on hockey is different for you, but different is good.

Things being way, way more casual than you’re used to makes it easier to agree to them, and you find yourself saying yes to pretty much anything Mat suggests.

Over pad see ew and green curry in a dimly lit den in Queens, he says, “Come to a game.”

You peer at him over the rim of your Thai tea glass. “Sure.”

The game is buzzing with life. The Islanders are on fire all night long. As you sit in between Hope and Katy, you laugh freely, talking about everything and nothing.

“Seriously,” Katy says, “we should find a way to sneak our own snacks in. Staff privilege. Hope, you’ve got to have a way—”

“Nope,” Hope pops the p.

“You just paid $15 for that sandwich!”

“With,” you insist, “the staff discount.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, “it’s just because I didn’t have time to eat before the game. Next time—”

She gives you both a look.

“—we’re doing tacos at Uptown.”

You wistfully sigh and glance down at your sad arena pretzel and White Claw. What you would give for a good carne asada right now is criminal.

Katy nudges you once all three of you are huddled together, standing up to stretch during intermission. “So, settling in? Loving the island?”

“Well…” You trail off, trying to play off your inner turmoil as a joke.

“It’s okay,” she laughs. “You can say you hate us all and can’t wait to run back to Manhattan.”

Yeah, and where would you run? You huff and try to make it sound like a laugh. “I don’t hate anyone.”

Her brow playfully raises. “But?”

“But,” you give Hope a sympathetic look, “I’m so over roommates. I’ve got to get my own place.”

Hope taps her drink against yours. “I wouldn’t want to live with me if I were you, either. Way too uptight.”

“It’s really more like I need another bedroom just for my books.” You frown, wrinkling your whole face. “Oh, no. Am I lame?”

Katy plops down beside you, finally. “No, just approaching thirty.”

All three of you bring your drinks together for that one.

One thing you notice at your first in-person hockey game since you were a kid, spending alternate weekends with your dad, is that it’s so fast. Maybe a part of it is Mat himself, since he’s the one your eyes are always on when blue streaks back and forth beyond the glass. Maybe, just maybe, you’re watching him on purpose.

It’s hard to focus on anything but the number thirteen when it sails by.

Right in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, he digs in and flips the puck like it’s the simplest thing in the world. It’s more like play, less like a competition—

The puck lands right in front of Bo.

You blink—quickly learning your lesson that you should never do that during live hockey—and the puck flicks into the back of the net. The three of you are on your feet with the team and the rest of the crowd, arm-in-arm, joining in on the celly like you belong here.

You do. You do belong here.

One of the Terrace bars mysteriously clears out after the game, and you discover that it’s so the team can join the staff and share a drink before everyone scatters to their separate parties for the night. You don’t realize that you’re included in that until Katy puts a drink in your hand and you notice several more familiar faces around you.

“Tell me you got that backhand goal,” one of the social media managers gushes at one of the videographers. Catching your eye, she waves you over.

The videographer has his phone out, and soon enough a small group of your coworkers gathers to watch Mat as he cuts through a cluster of the other team’s players coming out of a faceoff. He sees the chaos in front of him and manipulates it like he owns it, with untouchable, breathtaking speed.

He’s totally focused, and the only thing more beautiful to watch than the replay was being there to see it live.

You’re so glad you came.

The energy swells as the players trickle in. It’s Mat’s night, so you’re content to steal glances at him while you settle in with your own coworkers, the nameless owners of the thankless jobs lucky to be in this orbit. He smiles as he bounces throughout the room, tossing his head back to laugh or squeezing someone in a one-armed hug. 

You’re not the only one watching the other person, though. When whatever conversation he’s having falls into a lull, his eyes wander looking for the next. Again and again, they come to you.

He finally cuts through the crowd. Pink-cheeked, drink in hand, smile plastered on his face, he drags you into a two-armed hug. You nestle against him, laughing. “Hi, Mat.”

There’s your star of the game.

Your?

He pulls away and leans against your table to bask in the congratulations your coworkers throw at him. When he looks back down at you, there’s a conspiratorial tilt to his smile. “Gonna congratulate me?”

You make a noncommittal noise and hide your own smile. “I don’t know; I thought Bo did a better job.”

They’d each scored spectacular goals in the 6-2 win.

He laughs, and competitiveness flashes across his features as he bends to lean closer to you. “I can’t believe you just said that to my face.”

“I think you like it.” And if you know anything, you know you like this—the way Mat’s presence draws something out of you, makes you feel flirty and fun. This feels right, like the version of you from before was a shadow of yourself, and the real you is finally free.

His gaze sweeps over you, but his eyes catch on what you’re wearing and his smile dims a little. “What, no one thought you needed a jersey?”

There’s a hint of churlishness there. You look down at your outfit—generic Islanders hoodie, jeans—and then back up at him. “I thought this was fine.”

“It is,” he says so quickly you know it’s a lie. “Totally fine. For, you know, a fan.”

“I am a fan.”

He shakes his head, looking anywhere except at you. “You work here.”

And? Pretty much all of your coworkers are wearing the same thing.

“Mat,” you say slowly, lowly, like a playground secret. “Why do I need a jersey?”

He looks back at you. Whatever hesitance had gotten into him fades, and that easy smile comes back as he rests both elbows on the metal high-top. He leans over it, his whole body hovering above, and now he’s just a few inches from your face.

Your gaze darts down to his mouth.

He smiles wider, letting the seconds stretch like he’s basking in them. 

“Because if you’re gonna chirp me, you should at least be wearing my number when you do it.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen. He pulls back, snapping the tension to remind you that he’s the one in control of it. “Else I might think you like Horvat better, and then I’ll be sad. Do you want to make me sad?”

You regain yourself just in time to mutter, “Someone has to keep you humble, no?”

He’s back to his usual crooked grin. “That’s a full-time job, writer.”

“I mean,” you tut, “if you’re paying…”

He sidles closer, rounding the high-top with just a pointed shift of his hips. Hand on your waist, he drags you closer, and that smile is turned on you alone. “Let me buy you a drink at Delilah’s after this?”

You laugh, an easy, bubbly sound. “That’s a start.”

Delilah gives everyone her signature, wordless “no hockey” look as soon as your smaller group filters into Speakeasy, but she just sighs and gets a round of glasses out for the regular drinks. You know by now that she’s used to this; the “no hockey” thing is a draw for a certain type of player who needs real separation, who needs to cool off so he can maybe have a chance of getting some sleep the night after a game.

Some people wind up. Others wind down. You’re the latter, and it always surprises you when—not every night you’re here, but a lot of them—Mat is here too. This is the first night you show up on his arm, though.

You cling to a fold of his sweatshirt near his elbow, not wanting to be separated from him when people cram into the narrow space. He looks over his shoulder at you, smiling as if to promise he’d never let that happen.

Soon enough, the bar is full of Islanders and the people who love them. The atmosphere is bright and buzzy, and not just because of the cocktail in your hand or the man’s chest you’re pressed up against.

Has Speakeasy always been this small?

Mat’s hand starts tracing shapes against your back. “Oh, yeah. Right here.”

You look over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“You can’t feel that?” He laughs, and his other hand settles on your shoulder, stilling you. “Here. Pay attention.”

You shiver. Why does it feel so good when he teases you?

Instead of letting your mind wander in search of answers, you look forward again, resting your elbows on the bar. He traces over your back with two fingers, and the drag is slow, pointed. He pauses before changing directions, letting you feel when one shape ends and the other begins.

Oh, god.

“Are you serious?” you laugh. “Get over the jersey thing.”

“Nah.” Now, he’s walking his fingers up your spine just because he can, just because you finally figured out he was tracing his number on your back. “I need a thirteen, right here.”

Someone calls Mat’s name before you have a chance to answer, but the tension is there. It lingers and settles, warm and soft yet full of anticipation. Wear my jersey. Wear my number. Put my name on your back so everyone can see it.

What’s the difference between you and the thousands of fans who already do that, except for the fact that he looks at you like he can’t stand the thought of sharing you?

His hand glides over your spine and settles on your waist. “Come on,” he says. “You good?”

You haven’t talked about what happened at the cafe since your walk, but something still lingers in between you. The way Mat’s been looking at you lately, it’s like the curtain separating who you are from who you want others to see you as is sheer, not opaque. 

His eyes don’t hold pity, though. When he looks at you, it’s like a secret conversation passes from his eyes to yours, asking if you’re okay.

You smile at him and tip your head toward the row of booths.

Slid in between Noah Dobson with Alexa halfway on his lap and Mat on your other side, you smile at Emily and Scott Mayfield across from you. The booth is tight with six people packed in, but there’s a glass and a pitcher of margaritas in front of you, so you can’t bring yourself to care.

“First game, right?” Emily asks, leaning so she can hear you better over the din. “You should sit with us next time. You and your friends, I mean.”

“She won’t want to,” Mat chirps. “Won’t even wear a number.”

Shrugging, you sip your drink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t wear any number.”

You also didn’t say you wouldn’t wear thirteen, but you let that remain implied, ribbing him right back.

“Number eight!” Alexa suggests, grinning. “We can twin!”

“Everyone wears number eight at the next game,” Emily laughs. “For fun.”

Scott holds up a hand, but he’s laughing too, even though the chirping has suddenly, somehow, grown to include him instead of just Mat. “I don’t know about that—”

“But I wear twenty-four all the time!”

He gives his wife an incredulous look. “You’re supposed to!”

Noah rolls his head back, physically leaning out of the conversation to look at Mat from behind you. “You’re quiet. Got nothing?”

Just like that, the whole table’s attention is on Mat. In the time you’ve known him, he’s never been one to shy from that, so he doesn’t—not really. He smiles his crooked smile and it even reaches his eyes, but there’s a slight tension in his throat that makes you tilt your head.

He shrugs. “You’re all full of shit.”

“Wow,” Noah says dryly. “Burn.”

Everyone laughs—even you, even Mat—and the conversation floats on. Alexa’s been traveling for work, and Noah looks at her with overwhelming fondness when she regales the people she’s talked to and the stories she’s told as a sports journalist. Scott mentions their dog, and Emily lights up when you ask her to tell you about him.

With so little room in the booth, you end up resting against Mat. He tenses when you do, and you instantly recognize how strange that is. Isn’t this the same man who just had his hands all over your back? You’ve been in his lap before, held his hand—so what’s this?

The way he rubs his pinky over his glass, fidgeting, is a tell that he’s in his own head.

“Hey.” You nudge his hand with your three-quarters-empty glass. “One more cocktail before the carb cravings hit.”

You want him to laugh. You really want him to laugh because of an inside joke that’s just yours.

All you get is a smile, but at least it’s affectionate. “Rain check.”

Before you can question that, his smile widens into something sheepish that begs you to understand. “I can’t have fries after every win. Game in a day and a half, yeah?”

Finally, he touches you, but it’s just to squeeze your thigh as he gets up. “I’ll be right back.”

He takes his empty glass and walks it back to the bar, murmuring something to Delilah as she takes it from him. His smile is polite, but when she turns away, he rests his elbows on the bar and leans his weight onto them, stretching out.

His face falls, and that’s when you get up.

“Mat.” You move to angle yourself in front of him. You don’t recognize this feeling in yourself. It’s a desire to fight, not to argue—protectiveness, you realize, is the emotion setting you aflame right now. “What’s up?”

He wets his lips, staring aimlessly over your head. When he looks down at you, it’s intense, with the same fiery feeling you recognize in yourself. 

“I just…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m hung up on stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

You frown at him. “Of course I’m going to worry about you.”

This is the moment when you learn Mat is a lot better at expressing how he feels with actions rather than words.

It starts when his brow furrows and his jaw sets. When he looks down at you again, the tension in his expression makes you stand stock-still, looking back. He’s focused the way he is in games, making quick and decisive decisions to get his goal.

His hands come up to cradle your face, tilting your chin up with a gentle press of his thumbs. This is a little possessive, you think; it’s heady and all-encompassing, a move that makes the world shrink down to pools of hazel and aquatic cologne. 

Something inside you opens up—vulnerable, bare, exposed to him. You don’t hate that feeling. Showing him your softness like a precious secret feels good. Right.

One of his thumbs drifts up and swipes over your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You can’t help it. “So are you.”

He watches your mouth, licking his own lips. “Wear my jersey next time.”

It’s not a question, but a promise and a demand wrapped up in one. There’s going to be a next time, and he wants you marked as his. He wants what his teammates have, you realize; he wants his own number in the cluster of wives and girlfriends in the stands. It’s something tied to his self-worth in a way you can’t quite grasp. What you do grasp, though, it’s that it’s something meaningful, if not permanent.

Can you do that? Can you be that?

You hesitate. Something changes in his eyes, a storm of passion flicking through bolts of nerves and determination.

And then he kisses you. He kisses you like he’s serious, like he’s committed to learning every inch of your mouth inside and out. Both of his hands start on your jaw, but one slowly slides down. It memorizes the curve of your neck, the slope of your shoulder, and the arch of your back. It plants itself on your hip, dangerously close to your ass, and his fingers flex like he wants a handful.

He leans back and draws you up, into him. He’s not quite sitting on the bar behind him, but he leans in a way that forces you to brace your hands against his chest and cling for balance.

He teases you with his tongue, not wanting to explore too deep but just grazing, just tasting; it’s a flick against your lower lip and a quick brush against your tongue, nothing more, but there’s something so expert about it that your head spins.

But it’s not just the skill; the way he kisses you is less about the act itself and more about the who. You shift, hiking one of your thighs up to press against his crotch, and his hips buck right into you.

He bites your lower lip when he pulls away. His face is just as flushed as you feel. “Don’t do that to me, gorgeous. It makes me hard.”

A deep breath and a shared look later, you shake your head. It feels so good to make a man like this lose himself just a little. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be.”

He smirks. “Wear my jersey.”

It dawns on you. “You’re jealous.”

He makes a noncommittal grunt.

“Mat.” Your gaze darts down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, and you trail your knee up his inner thigh again. “Noah, Scott, everyone else—”

He starts to shake his head, eyes hazy and watching your mouth. “Don’t—”

“You want what they have.”

Instead of answering, he takes you by the jaw and tugs you into another kiss. This one is a little rougher, a little hotter, and much more questioning. He dives in like he wants to drown in you.

When he pulls away, you’re both panting. 

“I’m going to buy one and have it dropped off at your office on Monday,” he says, and it’s somehow the hottest thing ever. 

You can’t think straight. For a moment, you surface. Something whispers that this is maybe not a good idea, but everything else in you swears that it is. Maybe you want what Alexa and Emily have. You want to sit in Mat’s lap after a game. You want to get a dog with him. You want to wear his jersey, or at least blue and orange, at every home game. You want him to look for you, to hold you, to touch you—

So you nod, feeling just a little dizzy, and press your mouth against his to dive right back in. 

@barzygirl13 @47chickens @sporadicpizzainternet ♡ comment below or on the main post to be tagged please!

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully and mulder moments from s6

the long kiss between mulder and hallucination/time warp scully in episode 3, which he says is “in case we never meet again”. she responds with a fist to his face- and he remarks that he was expecting a left hook instead of a right. i will think about this forever

scully listening to his rambles after he's been rescued from the ocean and placed in a hospital bed: “i would’ve never seen you again, but you believed in me” “in your dreams”, she laughs

and of course: “hey scully? i love you” “oh, brother” (fade to black as he cradles where she punched him in the face with a smile... haha, yes!!! the surface-level fluff and then the angst beneath it!!!! GOD!!)

episode 4’s area 51 roadtrip dialogue: “outpost 134. two miles to go” (the driest scully voice imaginable) “i’m allllll atingle”

(and then the heart-wrenching monologue of hers that follows: “don’t you ever want to stop? get out the damn car?”, and his frail insistence that they do have normal lives and nothing needs to change..... wow. it hurt splendidly)

they meet up again in episode 5, and scully can't figure out how to get mulder back into his own body. “you don’t look too happy. don’t tell me i’m going to have to put two kids through school” “that is you in there, isn't it, mulder?” <- sobbing. loudly. to recognize someone outside of their own body....

and when he tries so hard to convince scully that she can prove to kersh the nature of the body swap, never doubting her for a moment, she says “i’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly” <- oh!!!! OH!! OH!

him giving her the sunflower seeds to remember him by when they think they are being separated forever... 💔 but don't worry! everything is okay in the end! thank goodness!!

mulder telling her the spooky story of lyda and maurice in episode 6; she tells him it is a great story, and he told it very well, but she has to go spread some holiday cheer!!!

the skeletons they find in the haunted house were wearing their outfits. mulder laughs: “how embarrassing”. and when they realize it's somehow THEM, they FREAK out!!!!!!

lyda teasing them about their feelings for each other, and mulder’s absolute certainly that scully would NOT kill him, no matter what <3

scully coming to his door the morning after the whole debacle instead of opening presents with her family like she said she would- she’s still shaken up, so she asks to come in (her! asking! to come into his apartment!), and he grabs her by the shoulders and guides her in

and he agrees with her claim that all of the ghostly adventures must have all happened in their heads, trying to push the implications out of both their minds

AND the gift exchange that follows, even though they agreed not to buy each other anything… their giant smiles as they tear into the presents on his couch, snow falling out the window <3 when i tell you i could have cried....

they way they look at each other in episode 8 when mr. hardt describes his town as “sexy through the lens of weather”, as if they were going to debrief and laugh about it the INSTANT they got in the car... it was SUCH a besties moment, i lost it

and all of the many times in that episode they were mistaken for a couple... i'm a simple woman, okay? i like simple things

scully responding with absolute silence when mulder says he is helping mr. hardt find a date (“... mulder, when was the last time you went on a date?” “i will talk to you later!” he declares, hanging up)

scully carefully checking mulder for any signs of concussion while he proposes the wild theory that someone purposefully threw a cow at him... really just an average day for them, tbh

the way they worked together to doctor up skinner in episode 9... he turns off all the lights and dangles a desk lamp so she can investigate... oh, that was a GOOD moment among a list of very good moments!!!

scully showing up to the gym where he was playing basketball in episode 11- he shoots a three pointer to impress her, and she says “mulder, it’s my distinct impression that you just cheated” <- get his ass!! (he wanted to WOO HER WITH BASKETBALL🥲)

she shows up again to the gym after they get in trouble and lose their jobs: “scully, you wanna go one-on-one? we’ve got nothing but time now that we’re on administrative leave” “aren’t you curious what i’ve got in the box?” (<- and that's Them, isn't it? he wants to play ball, she wants to play show and tell with the secret documents, they're both getting in trouble, saving the world, ignoring the consequences of their actions... i just love it)

(AND when she shows him sensitive photos of his father with CSM, she waits for him to say that he is ready before moving onto the next picture, trying to give him time to process his world being rocked... so what if i cry?)

being soaking wet and cranky with each other in episode 13: “he’s seen things i’ve only read about” “because sea monsters can only be read about, mulder, because they don’t exist” <- TELL HIM! 🦑

scully’s reaction to learning he has a waterbed in episode 14 AND his puzzled face when he discovers she was not, in fact, the person who gave it to him (WHY DID HE SEEM TO THINK IT WAS HER?? I'M STILL LAUGHING OVER THISSSSS)

their mid-time loop conversation on the nature of fate and free will: “i think that we’re free to be the people that we are- good, bad, or indifferent. i think it’s our character that determines our fate” “all the rest is preordained? i don’t buy that; there’s too many variables”

(but doesn't that show so much of who they are in so few words? isn't that an amazing view into their characters and how they fundamentally differ? AHH, i want to yell about it!!!)

also, there was never a universe where the two of them didn’t charge into the bank to save the day, because that is just who they are ❤️

ALL OF THE FAKE MARRIED MOMENTS IN EPISODE 15!! the angst in the way she shoves him off of her when all the neighbors leave… but how excited they were to search the house for clues… their dramatic commitment to staying in character… “how was your first night?” “oh, it was wonderful; we just spooned up and fell asleep like little baby cats”... cuddled up on the couch in front of the HOA president… scully grabbing his hand when he is told he can’t have a basketball hoop… her awkward laughter at dinner with the neighbors when he makes a joke about eating dolphins... LORD. i was the fan they were servicing

and despite all the silly stuff, they work SO well together to try and get information out of the neighbors.... BUT! scully does not let him kiss her cheek when she gets up to leave and it nearly cracks their facade, lmaoooo

mulder’s gasp when scully emerges from their shared bathroom with a green face mask- and then he immediately tries to play it cool!!!

mulder is digging a hole, and scully asks “do you care to hear what i think?” he answers “always” (screaming a little here)

mulder luring in scully to get involved with the mysterious dog-related deaths in episode 16 by hanging up the photos in their office, because he knows her so well. she's ignoring his ridiculous pun as she focuses on the impossibility of a dog doing these killings: “mulder, i don’t have to tell you how absolutely and completely wrong that seems” <- yeah girl, we know! you want to autopsy right now!!

mulder infodumping on cryptozoology to the cops and scully apologizing on his behalf: “animals that aren’t supposed to exist, like the sasquatch and the ogopogo and the abominable snowman-” “don’t mind him, he’ll go on forever” <- the gentle teasing, the familiarity of it all... to know someone enough to know when they cannot stop... her being so used to his nerdiness... it's all so good

scully knows that karin is tricking mulder the whole time. when she tricks him AGAIN into sitting at the hospital all night, scully snatches the magazine from his hands and turns her body away so that there is visible distance between them DESPITE them sitting on the same couch.... ooooo, that angst is GOOD!

(and later, she falls asleep on the couch, and he uses the magazine to gently tap her awake......)

at the end of the episode, mulder is blaming himself for what went down. scully realizes this, sitting on the edge of the desk, saying that karin analyzed him exactly right, and perhaps in doing so meant to pay him the ultimate compliment. he rubs his eyes like he can barely stay awake, and fidgets with a screwdriver as scully asks him if he will be alright. she's not telling him that it isn’t his fault or rubbing in the fact that she knew he was being manipulated- she's just trying to show him that karin admired him, and she means every word

scully gets so SENSITIVE in episode 17 when she proposes the human combustion theory, which resulted in us getting the incredible line “dear diary, today by heart leapt when agent scully suggested spontaneous human combustion”

flirting in the basement in episode 19: “mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside. have you ever entertained the idea of trying to find life on this planet?” “i have seen the life on this planet, scully, and that is exactly why i am looking elsewhere” (god, that one had me LAUGHING)

then they spend a long time teasing each other, with him stealing her fake ice cream, and oh!!! the way she LAUGHS when she realizes he was looking at archival baseball scores the whole time!!!

and of course, the beloved baseball date- mulder paying some random kid to put the balls in the battling machine. his hands on her hips. their faces are so close together. he talks in a silly voice on behalf of the bat. rearranging their hands over and over again. she’s giggling. “shut up, mulder. i’m playing baseball”

all of the sweet, sweet hurt/comfort in episode 22 as mulder hears wild ringing noises in his head- scully checking him for a fever and trying to get him to go to the doctor. leading him out of the room when he’s in pain. him insisting he’s okay, but being unable to form a sentence and tell skinner about what they found. her trying to cover for him when he accuses skinner of spying on them. and then scully fully believing that she can speak to him without being hurt despite the fact that he is in a padded room, violent, yelling, and inconsolable....... wow 💗

[kiruamon]

Toy AU - Eclipse

I made a design for Eclipse in this au that I like! Yay! Like Sun he is a wooden marionette but his arms are out of wool strings and more similiar to Moon's that way. (I will ramble more about him and parts of the story after the first few sketches.)

So my idea for Eclipse was to make him kind of the antagonist (but not really) in this au. He belongs like Sun to the same puppeteer and is usually part of the children shows. But because one of his wool strings came off, he temporarily lost one of his arms and hands. Which was why when Y/N saw the theater booth he only ever had seen Sun during the shows.

Eclipse was sulking a little bit over his timeout. But he did not held a grudge against Sun for keeping the show going alone. In case of Sun's interest for Y/N, Eclipse was only half aware of it. Mocking Sun a tiny bit when the other had asked him if he had seen the little doll in the store front as well and what he thought of you. Eclipse did not thought too much of it at the time. At least not until Sun cut his strings and just went off. And that just as their owner had finally replaced the wool string of Eclipse's arm. So when Eclipse found himself back alone in the theater booth he was rather confused. At least until he noticed the cut off strings and sisscors and put two and two together. Reasoning that surely some evil toy from the store must have kidnapped Sun! So he takes matters into his own hands to be for once the hero and rescue his helpless, little co-worker so they can be together on the stage again.

So why do I call him an antagonist? Well... let's just say... He has like one and a half brain cell and they often come to the wrong conclusions. That paired with being very self-centered, overly confident and being absolutely unaware of other toys potentially having different points of views then him, he kind of fulfills the role of the antagonist himself without knowing it. So while he is on his 'rescue'-mission he think it's totally fine to threaten those 'evil' toys (mostly Y/N) that 'kidnapped' his partner.

He is so oblivious, you kind of have to hit him over the head with a message for him to receive it. But he still is not fully a bad guy either. He just has a hard time putting himself in other's shoes which can lead to him thinking he is in the right when he absolutely isn't. So sometimes he might sound dismissive while not really meaning to, because he hasn't put enough thought into how his words might sound or come off as. But he will come around. Slowly. With lots of patient and time, he will try to understand Sun and the others toys better and that his view of how things should be isn't the only right one.

Some smaller fun facts about him:

The 'scar' around his one eye is were some wood chipped off and where you can see the lighter color instead of the dark paint. He probably fell down from the booth one day and that's when a piece of it came off. Ever since he is somewhat afraid of heights. Not that he would admit it. But if he is close to an edge his legs and arms get all wobbly while he will deny with his whole heart that he could possibly be scared.

Eclipse is the tallest one out of the main cast.

Eclipse's arms get easily tangled up, which is why he prefers to let the puppeteer handle his arm movements and usually doesn't move them all at the same time by himself if he doesn't need to. So during his chase after Sun, Y/N and Moon he has a pretty hard time with managing his arms and hands all at once and got them tangled up multiple times which made him fall back every now and then and losing sight of the trio.

Eclipse usually plays the role of the villain that gets tricked or defeated by Sun in the theater. But he does not mind that fact and thinking of it as a very honorable role that the kids surely love!

So he sometimes will say stuff to Sun like: "Heh. Don't be too sad that the kids love me more then you, Sunny. It can't be helped that I'm the big star of the show. But I'm sure one day they will love you just as much as me."

Or: "If I ever get tired of performing? Of course not! How could I when all those eyes are on us? You truely are asking the silliest of questions sometimes."

He truely and with his whole heart loves to perform in front of his little audience. To see all the kids captivated by his and Sun's performance and their reactions to it. He never grows tired of it. No matter which play or role he might have, he will give it his all and thinking of the role he has as the best one. You could let him play a tree and he still would find ways to make it seem amazing.

Because of playing so often the villain it affected his speech pattern even when he isn't in front of an audience. Eclipse himself and Sun as well are so used to it that it needed Y/N and Moon to point it out.

He will have a little crisis when he hears about Sun not being sure if he wants to come back to their owner or not. Because never once had it crossed his mind that Sun could not want to be a performer. And Eclipse is not sure what to do if Sun would not come back with him. After all he is his little partner!

But I can see the story go two ways. Either Eclipse coming to terms with Sun wanting to stay with Y/N and Moon and wishing him the best while returning alone to their owner and telling Sun he will make sure to keep the show going while giving 200% for the two of them oooor... That somehow all four find their way into the home of the puppeteer and end up being part of the show all together? After all it's not like Sun disliked his time there. But he really doesn't want to be apart from Y/N or Moon anymore after the time they had spend together.

My first attempts to come up with a design for him looked like this, but then I turned his arms for the final design into wool strings which made navigating his arms and hands more easier and his design less complicated to draw: