#he actually looks like a father in that fit

[seasprincess]

cowboy!rafe and mayors!daughter

he’s here😋

Warnings:suggestive talk but no actually s3x, author doesn’t know cowboys that well

Being the daughter of mayor meant two things. One everyone knew you. And two, you were off limits unless your father had approved of the guy. And he’s a tough man to please.

Many men have tried. And many men have failed. Your father saying they aren’t rich enough, or smart enough or classy enough. But it wasn’t all down to him. All the bachelors that have come your way have not been what you see fit. Because you may or may not have your eye on a certain scruffy cowboy.

Rafe knows you’re off limits, he knows that there isn’t a world that he could be with you. You’re like a diamond and he’s a measly piece of copper. You’re clean, tidy and proper and he’s a muddy, loud mouthed cowboy who gets in trouble as easy as it is to breathe. You are out of his league in so many ways.

But there was one positive of being a cowboy in this situation. He knows his way around horses. And your family just so happened to be looking for a stable boy as you begged your daddy for a pony. Even though you know nothing about them or how to care for them. Or ride them.

And he was keen to help you out.

Rafe has been working for your father long enough to secure that job working at the stable. He’s perfect for the roll. So of course there was no hesitation when he asked. He got it straight away. Your father was beaming to get you and that damn horse off his hands and onto a trusted person.

This is definitely an upgrade from his usual jobs.

Your cute new ‘cowboy’ boots lead you down to the stables. Wind blowing your white dress a bit The suns out and it’s perfect for a day of riding. Apparently.

As your heels reach the wooden floor of your new stable, the sound makes a certain muscular cowboys head turn around from the hay.

“Howdy.” The word drawls from his lips and you just can’t help immediately getting flustered. God dammit. All he said was hello. Well ‘howdy’. This boy is trouble and you know it. But you just can’t stay away.

A moth to a flame.

“Daddy said you’d help me ride.” Your fingers make their way to your plaits, fiddling with the bands as you look at the cowboy. His hat the very one you bought him for his birthday. He lives in that hat because you brought it for him. Eats, breathes and probably sleeps in it too.

“That’s right darlin’.”

God even his voice just makes you feel a certain way you shouldn’t be feeling. Dad said not to get involved with this type of crowd. But here you are. Getting involved.

“She’s all set up for you. Just need to get on.” Rafe says as he twiddles a toothpick inbetween his teeth, eyes locked onto you and the way that dress is just the right length for him. Perfect for his thoughts later when his hand is wrapped around his shaft, touching himself to the idea of you.

He couldn’t help notice the cut off the top of your dress. The way your perky breasts were on show. God did you want to kill him?

“What if it chucks me off? What if it-”

Rafe cuts off your rambles with his hand as he looks at you. You begged for this horse and now you refused to get on it.

Classic.

“How about you ride with me? She likes me.” Softly Rafe brushed the horse, eyes never leaving yours as he tilts his cattleman hat back. He takes the toothpick out and chucks it on the floor. Rafes been riding horses since he was a young boy, so he could teach her a thing or two about riding.

In more ways than one.

“You sure?” You ask sweetly, actually praying he means his words. That he will ride with you. Because you need him on that horse with you for reassurance. For help. To teach you how to do it properly without dying, or hurting yourself. Which you know would happen. Your clumsy ass would fall off with in a minute of being on her. Her being maple the very horse that’s huffing in front of you.

You called her maple due to the fact earlier in that day that you got her you had spilt maple syrup down your new dress. The marks still there today. It’s a bit of a stupid reason but to you it’s cute. And Rafe just thinks you’re the cutest thing ever so of course he thinks it’s cute too.

“Yeah course doll. Let me help you up.” Rafe hops onto the horse with ease. It’s sort of mesmerising, hypnotic even, that someone can be so effortless at something that takes you a lot of effort.

“Put your left foot in there darlin’.” Rafe points to the stirrups. At least you know one thing. His other hand is out towards you so that your little hand can just slip so perfectly into it. The impure thoughts that flood his head about them are something that would send him to hell. Good thing he doesn’t go to church.

Your boot slips into the stirrups as you pull yourself up. Pulling on his hand as you hoist yourself up. Your legs swing over the horse as you slot in perfectly behind him, gripping in to him like a koala bear.

And Rafe just thinks you’re so cute.

“You ready?” He says as his hands find the reigns, the horse moving slightly as you grip to him tighter. Still worried about this whole situation. But something in you is excited. And enjoying being close to the cowboy.

Those little butterflies that appear in your stomach when you see him chopping wood or when he’s been out all day and is sweaty. The little white shirt highlighting his muscles. Making your panties wet.

Well those butterflies have grown bigger. Finally touching those muscles you’ve been thinking about. Of course you’ve had a few small touches here and there. Doing those things where you pretend to be feeling how strong he is.

You know he’s strong, he knows he’s strong. He’s proud of it. He’s always flexing his biceps in unnecessary times. Just to show off to you.

Cause unknown to you, he sees the way you cross your legs and advert your eyes from him embarrassed. The way you stare at him when you don’t think he’s watching. But he knows. He sees.

Your soft clean hands are wrapped around his waist. Your nails painted a nice pink colour. The difference between yours and Rafes hands is incredible. His are rough, dirt under the nail and cut hands. All that labour he does for your father. Wearing them down over time. And you’ve never worked a single day in your life. Your hands are soft, clean and cared for.

Your chest is pressed against his back, chin on his neck as the horse trots along in the field. The warm beeeze of the afternoon air kissing your face. You’d be lying if you’d say you weren’t scared. You’ve never properly been on a horse before. Thank god for Rafe.

“Calm down darlin’. You’re fine.” He says like he can read your mind. Tilting that god damn hat back again. He can’t leave it alone for five minutes.

“I’m just a bit scared.” You admit. Rafe makes you feel safe, with that southern drawl and sweet words. God is he so sweet. You just can’t help thinking about him late at night when your frilly nightdress is pulled up and finger rubbing that lovely spot in-between your legs. If only you knew what he did too.

“Well bless your heart.” He smiles as he keeps a hold of the reins, guiding the horse on this journey that he is loving. A pretty girls tits pressed against his back as he trots on a horse? He’s in heaven. “‘M gonna give you lessons in riding.”

If only you knew just what that means…

a/n: okay girly pops i’m going to write a part 2 to this maybe. this was a tad bit based of of Hannah Montana icl.

divider- @anitalenia

tags- @littlelamy

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[al0velyuniverse]

thoughts thoughts college student!reader finally gets to meet the 141. turns out she's price's daughter. they're shocked. price is like 'when you said you didn't need money from me anymore you meant you were dating someone?? you're dating my LIEUTENANT???'

it's just very funny to me idkk. like he wasn't attracted towards reader when simon was yapping about her but he did have a sneaking suspicion that she sounded very similar to a certain daughter of his

Okay so this was not the original direct i was gonna take the ‘series’ in and it’s probably not gonna be how it goes down in the official pt.2 but ohmygod im dying thinking about it actually. Seeing as Ghost and Price are relatively close in age it’s probably surreal for them😭😭

- Price never actually looked at the photos that Gaz and Soap begged Ghost to see. Just listened to the three of them be horny toads over some sweet young thing. Of course not all of the things Ghost talked about were vulgar, he clearly cared for whoever this sweet little bird was.

- He ignored the similarities, or rather tried not to think about them. Any hint or implication he brushed off as sheer coincidence, the alternative not a pleasant one to consider.

- You were nervous about meeting your boyfriend’s team, how could you not? You barely knew anything about them “it’s Garrick and Jonny, and the cap’n” was all he told you (well he also told you the first two found you awfully pretty) So you put on your nicest dress for the dinner and joined Simon at the restaurant dutifully

- the other boys got there first, clearly eager to meet the little bird. Your nervous jitters slowly dissipate clinging to your boyfriends buff arm as you walked through the restaurant

- however, any sense of serenity and casualty go out the window when you finally walk up to the table. Before Simon can get anything introductions in Captain John Price is saying your name and your calling the man sat across from you “dad”

- it was in this moment Price regretted keeping his personal life this much of a secret, maybe if he hadn’t…well even if he hadn’t you still probably would have fallen right into the arms of his Lieutenant

- the rest of the dinner goes surprisingly smooth. Though you have to complain that Simon isn’t nearly as handsy as he usually is when you go out to dinner, and any flirting you expected from Gaz and Soap doesn’t happen. Probably for the best though, with your own father sitting there watching the four of you

- Gaz and Soap are constantly about five seconds from bursting into the most atrocious fit of laugher for the entire dinner. Neither of them can really believe what they’re witnessing

- Simon probably brings you home after and you two playfully get into it, accusing both of you of being blind to the glaringly obvious truth that day in front of you, and of course as soon as you’re dropped off and Simon drives home you’re getting a phone call and an earful from your dad about dating an older man like Simon

- even though he gives you shit for it, Price is secretly glad Simon is the older man you’re dating. He’s someone on his team, someone he trusts, if anyone is gonna take proper care of you it’s Simon



[sokkastyles]

Actually, yeah, there is such thing as trespassing, and you sure do seem to complain a lot about me "misconstruing" your arguments when you came here to argue with me and then claimed about four times in this reblog that I said Mai was an abuser when I said nothing of the sort. I thought you wanted to agree to disagree. I think "nasty" is a word that fits you better, since that's how you started acting because I didn't agree with your opinions on a fictional character.

"Aside from her just existing as a fire nation character on the wrong side of the border"

Lol, THIS is the kind of stuff Azula stans say, actually. Mai helped Azula capture Zuko and infiltrate Ba Sing Se, and fought the gaang numerous times. The first time we meet her, she shows disdain for the city her father helped colonize. We are told that Mai and Azula bond over their "dark sense of humor," which is also what we see a lot of from Mai. She makes a joke about the Dai Li "peeing their pants." She makes a joke about ordering around servants. She's a villain. She's not the worst villain, but she is a villain. We are supposed to think she's a villain. It's not speculative. Otherwise, why did she need to learn to be better in the first place? I know the show is making an attempt at showing her growth, I just don't think they do a very good job of it, and I find your arguments of "but actually she did nothing wrong" alternating with "but actually she got better" to be inherently contradictory and not helping you here. The difference between the Azula stan arguments you are citing is that while we are supposed to feel sorry for Azula to a degree, we are also still supposed to recognize she is a villain. I think you know this, but you're using a strawman argument. Just like I think you know that we're supposed to not think Mai is not being particularly kind when she dismisses Zuko's worries about going home. Something she does in part because of her own trauma, but also because she helped put him there and that is not something she is willing to admit. Saying that she "doesn't have to be his therapist" is not only callous, but an inherently bad reading of the show. And no, the scene is not portrayed as it being "just a joke." Zuko looks upset when she says that. He accepts being kissed, but the tone of the scene is still meant to make us understand that Zuko is right and Mai is wrong.

I don't have time to go through every scene with you and explain where you're being willfully obtuse about this because you don't like that I don't think these two characters would be besties. But I do think it's interesting that you jumped real quick to the "but Zuko." I think you also know that the difference with Zuko is that he was actually shown unlearning most of the things that Mai kinda sorta unlearns on a personal level, actually understood why his country was wrong and worked to correct those wrongs. Mai ends the show with "actually, I kind of like you" but also feels entitled enough to tell the person she's with to never break up with her. That's not good enough for me. I get what the show was trying to do here, but I don't have to like it, sorry. That's not the same as me saying Mai is an abuser. Get out of here with that nonsense, or stop acting like you're better than Azula stans who blatantly make shit up.

I know what Zuko says about protecting Mai. That doesn't erase the context of him not trusting her. Why would he? Their relationship is not built on trust. That's not entirely Mai's fault, but there is a fault when we try to ignore the context which does include Mai being an agent of fascism, does include him being in a context where he is not safe on a personal level and is being abused. Ignoring that context is not great. And if you have to ignore it to make maiko work, well, then, that's why it doesn't.

Anyway, I don't actually think Katara should punch Mai (mostly), but like. Come on. The comics are bad but they didn't pull Mai supporting imperialism out of thin air, and "he wasn't a real threat" is a ridiculous thing to say in her defense. Zuko's characterization in the comics feels regressive because we actually do see him working to end the war. We don't see Mai care about anything except Zuko. And that's me being generous about it. It's not unreasonable to critique her character based on that alone.

You're also still making a false equivalence based on Sokka and Suki's relationship. What would be a real comparison is if Sokka and Suki broke up because Suki tried to kill him and then when they met again Sokka wasn't sure whether she was still his enemy. The difference is that Suki is never written as a villain and Mai is. Like, it's okay to admit this. And again, if you can't, then that's why her character arc and her relationship with Zuko don't work.

"I think Katara would get along with Azula/Mai because female solidarity!"

Cool. I think Katara would punch fascists in the throat.

[toobusybeingdelulu]

The thing I love most about Billy Hargrove is his unpredictability, in a show where we can see every other character’s moves from MILES away. Even those who had the potential to be the most interesting are either side-lined, ignored or return to old patterns (see Johnatan, Will or Steve). Also, they all have one thing in common, even El: they all want to be good. To do good. To be heroes. And I would not find anything wrong with that, if it only weren’t for the predictability of it all.

We see Steve Harrington with the kids in a dangerous situation. What do we assume? That he is gonna throw himself in danger for them, because it’s what he has always done.

We see Nancy Wheeler on the battle field? Then there is a 100% chance she is gonna shoot at something.

Will Byers? He is gonna protect his friends, just like the rest of the party.

Jim hopper? Joyce Byers? Yeah. Same thing.

Billy Hargrove, tho? Jesus. He is introduced to this metal badass song, then the next minute he is taunting Steve Harrington, but not really because here he is, actually giving him good advice and- yeah no, he pushed him onto the ground again. But wait, wait! He actually told him not to worry about the break up because he could basically have anyone he wanted with a face like that… aaaand yeah, he is back to being an ass.

We see him not giving a crap about his sister, yet later he is asking her if a boy has been bothering her. Then he grabs her wrist and tells her very hurtful things, yet he still tries to make it sound like a lesson. Like he had been that road before himself, many times.

We see him being stone cold, with an absent look in his eyes when he is with other people. Then we watch him dancing in his room and smiling as he gets ready for a date, and later we see him crying for the first time ever after being hit by his father. While watching the first minutes of that scene, I did not expect that to happen in the slightest.

We see him fake his concern for max to mrs. wheeler in order to get information, only to watch him refer to her as his sister when he realizes that Steve Harrington might have done something to her.

We have literally seen him trying to scare Max by driving at an ungodly speed, almost running her friends over, and almost killing Steve in a fit of rage, and then in the next season he is using every inch of his strength to protect a girl he didn’t even know from the Mind Flayer. I don’t know y’all, but I did NOT see all of that coming.

And do you know who, after his death, becomes the most interesting ST character among the protagonists? Max. We see a crack in her armour of perfection, thanks to her rocky relationship with Billy: because she had wished him to die, sometimes. I loved that twist, because FOR ONCE I had a feeling that a character among the mains was deeply flawed and human. This is why billy was needed for longer in this story.

He forced the other characters to face their darkest side, their egotistical desires. Steve Harrington enjoyed violence, deep down. He was the one to start the fight, after all. And Billy had forced him to meet that side of himself again.

Max was so fed up with him that she had dreamed about his death sometimes, even tho we all know now that she didn’t mean it.

Karen Wheeler lusted after a boy her daughter’s age, only to be met with shame when she saw her husband and daughter asleep on the couch.

Honestly, all of this to say that Stranger Things can keep its perfect ‘didn’t-do-anything-wrong-aver’ characters, because honestly? I watch tv series to be entertained and surprised, and since Billy died he also took the dynamism of the series with him.

[pinolitas]

there's a new necromanced toji figure and I think he looks so silly in gym shoes. imagine ur resurrected from the dead and they put you in the lamest fit ever

[canisalbus]

✦ Freshly ordained ✦

[discordiansamba]

he's back at the caldera.

it's a strange feeling. zuko hasn't been here since he was thirteen. before the agni kai. before his father locked him away at the boiling rock. the halls of the royal palace haven't changed any since he left, but they feel different. some of it's just because he's gotten taller since he was last here.

the rest of it...

...it's not the halls of the royal palace that are different. it's him.

"we'll have to see about getting you a new wardrobe, nephew," his uncle smiles at him, "-i can't imagine any of your old clothes will fit."

(he says, as if they don't know his father threw out all of his things after he'd sent him away. he'd been declared dead, apparently. infection took him in the night.)

his old room is empty. uncle hesitantly pats his shoulder, like he doesn't quite know what to do with him. no need to worry, he says. there is some new furniture on the way. in the meantime, you can sleep in one of the guest quarters, nephew.

zuko's not even sure he wants to be here.

he learned a lot while in the boiling rock. some of it was personal- he'd learned that fathers who burn their sons don't actually love them. don't deserve their devotion or loyalty. but the rest? he'd learned the truth about the fire nation. about the war. strip away the gilded paint of the palace, and the whole place is covered with blood and grime.

he feels dirtier just being here.

"nephew?"

zuko jerks out of his thoughts, and looks down at his uncle. he doesn't remember him being so short. he looks older. more worn. there is a deep guilt in the corner of his eyes as he looks at him- like he blames himself for zuko's own disfigurement and ensuing imprisonment. he doesn't know how to tell uncle it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

he doesn't know how much he trusts this man.

his father had stolen his throne from him. if cooperating with the avatar and ending the war got it back, who was to say he wouldn't play along? his uncle had once been a great and fearsome general- his firebending was strong, but it was his cleverness that made him such a threat. the avatar was apparently just a child. easy to fool.

(he knew, because he'd been like that once too.)

"sorry," zuko mumbles, "-i'm just tired."

his uncle frowns, but then nods. he gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before apologizing. he should have known it would be a lot to take in. he'll have someone show you to the guest quarters for now, and we can figure things out in the morning. zuko just nods, and lets himself be guided to a room that's too large for him.

no one locks the door. he's free to go wherever he wants.

(...is he, though? uncle needs an heir. zuko's all he's got.)

another boiling rock au idea is an au where instead of being banished, ozai sends zuko to the boiling rock after his agni kai and claims the prince died in the night due to an infection. by the time zuko's aware of what's going on around him, he's already confined to a cell at the boiling rock. his father doesn't want him. he's a shame to his nation. he doesn't think he can get any lower.

or: zuko grows up at the boiling rock.

very few people there even know that he's the former crown prince, but what they do see is a thirteen year old kid with half his head swathed in bandages, his hair freshly shorn, who has been thrown into the highest security prison in the fire nation. which is pretty fucked up!! zuko goes from pampered prince fed only propaganda all his life, to being surrounded by war prisoners and other assorted political prisoners- as well as just your run of the mill convicts.

it's an eye-opening experience, to say the least!

(zuko's escape attempts are like, a once every two month occurrence. none of them ever work, but he's gotten father than anyone else ever has. this is because no one else is as insane as the kid who was basically raised for part of his life here.)

years later, when the war is over and iroh is sitting on the fire lord's throne, he begins the long process of freeing the countless prisoners of war that the fire nation has imprisoned- as well as the political prisoners. it's a long process- and he decides to begin with the boiling rock, where he knows the chief of the southern water tribe was sent after the failed invasion.

there's no records of zuko at the boiling rock, of course.

or: iroh finds out that his nephew isn't dead. he's been at the boiling rock this entire time. suddenly the fire nation has an heir apparent.

(zuko returns to the caldera for the first time in years, very much not the same person he was when he left- and is unsure how much he can actually trust his uncle.)

[aetsiv]

desperately praying that henry cavill is playing zarkon in the live action and NOT shiro

[dennisboobs]

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

↳ moments that make me cry

[spacestation-l7]

Work doodle (3)

Paul Hill in Night in the Woods :)

[dramashutup]

I'm sure the cdrama version has more episodes as they always do but ofc when it's translated into kdrama they gotta fit it into 16eps 🙃, like, that woman had been such a thorn in San Ha's life, he even said he was walking on eggshells for 10yrs,

and what, so she's just gonna back down now that they had one (1) honest talk? One phonecall with his dad??

It was pretty cathartic to have Sanha finally say things he wanted to say all those years, (Hwang In Yeop, sir 🫡 that scene infront of the door) but...... that's it?

Idk if this is just me painting her as a permanently damaged character who won't change, or just me having had met a person like this irl that I'm looking thru my glasses instead of being chill abt it lol

Like, it feels pretty unbalanced how the drama paid sm attention to Hae Jun (i don't hate him!) which if, you could write a summary of his problems it'd be 'mum left because she murdered someone,and didn't want him in the same trouble, but she actually loves him a lot'

..... while Sanha's problems in perspective is more complicated than that!

(it's like the drama babied Hae Jun so much that it focuses less on the other boy whose life is also in tatters)

In contrast yes, Hae Jun's situation is sadder because he didn't have either of his parents, which is why in comparison, Mr. Yoon is more attached to him than Sanha since Sanha's father is present

BUT!

It doesn't really feel that way tho? Because even tho he's present, they don't really talk, they're the kind of dad and son that don't really communicate in That Way like Hae Jun and Mr. Yoon, so it feels like even tho Sanha has Both his parents,......he had almost neither of them to really help him deal with things in life; grieving, his anxieties, his mum being a bitch

His dad is not even actively trying to protect him from the mother.

If my ex has basically become a spout for abusing my child verbally, I would not simply stand by and let her. She's a menace to that child's mental and emotional wellbeing

Sanha is just trudging alone, especially because he's viewed as more privileged than Hae Jun because his father is around

(this actually makes me think that Hae Jun is more privileged than Sanha in terms of familial love; a loving mother, a not emotionally absent father?)

Talk about being lonely while not being alone

I think Family by Choice failed on the San-ha plot, which is too bad because it was otherwise a good drama.

We have the confrontation with San-ha's mom, where he basically says he was wrong for not showing how much pain he was in when he lived with her. Okay. Not my favourite but I'll accept cultural differences because, dude it's not your fault you got parentified and became weirdly mature, that's your parents' fault (both of them, where is Police Dad when he needs to defend his son?) And you shouldn't blame yourself for your sister's death, if you still do maybe go to therapy.

Just go to therapy in general, because He Has a Sunshine Girlfriend does not in fact solve all problems, especially since he never really talked to Ju-won about what happened to him which includes his mom hitting/scratching him and a massive burn scar on his back. Like why even show us that if we don't get to see what the girlfriend thinks about it. She's going to notice.

They also never made it clear what the mom was doing when she left them for 2 days (in the Cdrama she was gambling I believe), which I think is important

Far too much Love Solves Mental Illness and not enough San-ha being honest with this solving love.

[haunted-xander]

Why does Heavensward Thancred look like a mix between papa Nier and young bro Nier

Like I'm not just insane right.

I'm not making this shit up right. He looks like a weird mix of rugged old warrior man and somewhat refined young man but like. specifically in the Nier way. Does that make sense

[eggwishing]

the

[starpros-sunshine]

You know. I'm part of the fraction "to each their own and let people handle their lives however they see best fit". But I do feel the need to say that I have seldom seen such an idiotic assumption as that breaking up with someone four days before someone's birthday when you also want that someone to do something for their birthday even though you know you and your soon-to-be-ex will both have to be there won't end with that person just not doing anything with anyone for their birthday. Partially because nobody wants that kind of awkwardness after a fresh breakup and also because the soon-to-be-ex has the lovely habit of wallowing in self pity and making everything about how they have it so bad. You know I just think in such cases you should've waited a week with the breakup. I don't care how much you want to fuck that other guy but I really think you should've waited a week.

[vargaslovinghours]

Y’all are being subjected to my Sims 2 tests, so there

The other set of Vargases came over for a visit and Scriabin picked up Shmee and started talking to Scriabin through him. Very normal, very usual

I downloaded some circle-glasses recolours and hghghh they look so good! Closer every day to his final details! Getting ever closer!

Edgar too! I made him a custom hair with a lighter undercut - I’m mostly happy with it, probably could’ve shifted it a shade closer to his skintone but the texturing was weird no matter what :P And his stripey shirt! I wish Body Shop didn’t have that hands-on-hips pose lol, it looks so much better in-game, but that’s all the better :)

I got some new clothes for Todd as well! As soon as I saw this ‘fit I was like “Oh that’s 100% Todd there he is.” Scriadad hug ♥ So cute

Foot-dancing together stopp it’s so cute!!

The way he looks at them stoppp <3 <3 They kept doing this right up til they left for home haha, Todd’s giggles are the cutest

Used SimPE to save him to the Body Shop, I now have infinite copies of The Boyyyy ♪

Moved him in with his “parents” as just shadow people basically, they’re not gonna matter in a bit as long as I remember how to get the Social Worker/Adoption process to work properly. Get her Todd!!

Wanna play? :D

Menacing :(

Look, Todd, your new dads are here! Initially I wasn’t sure who I wanted to adopt him, got lots of options; the first passes, the married couple with their own Todd, Johnny?? He definitely doesn’t have the facilities for a child lol But these are the ones that showed up on their own, so the married Vargases are the winners!

Scriabin cares more about him than his actual parents ;; A stranger off the street shows him more care! Not that it’s a high watermark

Look at him being a good dad!

Weh, he just wants friends ;; Poor baby

Best timeline, thank you

While we wait for CPS, let’s get some other interactions in! Nny is mean so he tended to prank the other two with a nose flick - mostly Edgar lol ♪ Now kiss

“Oh please don’t break all my bones~ :3” I love Todd looking up at them haha <3

Pffft, I think he was talking about the other Scriabin and just how attractive he is. Classic Scriabin. Alternatively, also funny to imagine him bragging himself up about how he’s just so handsome that Edgar can’t help but love him hahaha ♪

Allow me to tickle you with my KNIFE! >:D

Get a load of this guy lol

He ended up passing out at one point - I forgot which motives make CPS show up >.> - and completely 0%’d his comfort, but for some reason stargazing increased it?? It’s the same ground wh

Is two not enough to satisfy your butterfly bloodlust child?? He ended up with three, I had him release them before he was picked up by the Social Worker - success!

He rolled a new Want as soon as Todd was taken away - “Wants to see Ghost of Todd” Woah, dark! :0

And here he is on the married Vargases’ lot!! Success!! I did it right!! Heck yeah! :D Unfortunately they were uh, indisposed at the time. Good job guys pft

Goes right for Shmee, he really is Todd <3