#keith has adhd

[autisticlancemcclain]

“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

[klanced]

you Must speak on what makes keith a barbie. for the people

1. comically large skill set

barbie MUST be highly skilled at an EXPANSIVE number of things. i am of course alluding to the sheer number of careers barbie has had (over 200!!!!). a barbie must be able to somehow solve every problem she encounters by drawing on her staggeringly large toolbox of Things and Stuff. and keith, to me, fits this bill better than lance.

the other day i was joking about how keith is the most guy of all time, and i stand by that. i think keith has worked a surprising number of jobs considering how young he is. i firmly believe keith has a weird amount of skills and trades under his belt, and with them, he can at least brute force his way through any problem he encounters.

i just think keith can do way more things than lance. BUT, and this is important, most of the things he can do are not life-savingly important. keith is not smarter than lance, he just knows things like how to do the heimlich maneuver on dogs, the best way to select a watermelon (organized by variety and season), how to ground an electric fence, etc.

2. simple zest for life

another defining characteristic of barbie is her simple zest for life. this is not to be confused with like........ idk, constant optimism and being an extrovert (although barbie is pretty optimistic). i just think barbie goes through life pretty confident in herself, and it helps her move through the world feeling very unbothered. it's about being satisfied and content.

i think keith operates in a similar way. like he does the things he does because he thinks it's the best way forward, and then he just does it. lance, meanwhile, is bogged down by a lot of anxiety about himself and his place in the world. keith also has a lot of anxiety about his identity, because of how much is completely unknown to him, but he's not afraid of the not knowing. (well, until the galra thing becomes a possibility, then he has a lot of feels about that.) but besides that, keith in the face of a self-crisis is just like "yeah ok whatever. can i go now? i have to go change the oil in my speeder." like he has shit to do, y'know? like who cares. his dog likes to go on walks at specific times in the day, he doesn't have time for this.

also can we be real for a second. if lance went as barbie for halloween he'd prepare like a million different reasons/justifications for why he's wearing this neon pink cowboy vest and bell bottoms. meanwhile keith would roll into the party dressed as cowgirl barbie purely because he saw the movie and liked the outfit enough to remember and wear it. no further thought.

3. serving cunt

look. i'm just going to be frank with you all: i think keith can, has, and will outserve lance any day of the week. like i'm sorry, but unless we all start getting real desperate with our fanon, that's just the plain truth.

you can put lance in a crop top all you want, but keith's p*ssy p*ps s*verely!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[fanvoidkeith]

i want to study reigen arataka in a lab

[klanceogies]

hc that growing up many different educators in keith'd life believed he was neurodivergent cause his learning curve growing up was different from other kids and how he socialized and shit but he never got a proper diagnosis of anything. fast forward he finds out he is a fucking alien and he is like "i don't think there is anything more divergent than being HALF ALIEN. pretty sure that diverges from your typical human brain like of fucking course everyone says i'm neurodivergent. pretty much everything about me is divergent"

[finnglas]

Boy do I vibe with all this. My medication regimen includes a mood regulator and that...helps. a lot, actually. But MAN do I still vibe with the "I do SO much to control my responses and swallow my emotions to keep you from being uncomfortable and you don't even notice or appreciate it and you sure as hell don't return the favor" thing. Mostly from the before-meds days but occasionally still.

(also lol at breaking your ability to work to a deadline.) (It's one of many reasons I went self pub. I can no longer stress motivate and accommodate someone else's publishing schedule. I have to be able to rearrange my own schedule at will.)

I've talked about this before, but emotional dysregulation is such a mother fucker aspect of ADHD.

Like, sure, not being able to regulate my attention sucks, but it's genuinely fucking nothing compared to the absolute rollercoaster of emotions I just went on because someone said something in a shitty tone, and now I'm having to actively walk myself through DBT methods lest my idiot shit for brains 'shiny-can't-sit-still-disorder' drop the match on that particular bridge because the rejection sensitive dysphoria feels like my chest is burning and not being able to act on the hurt feels like I'm suffocating under the weight of emotions pushing down on me and lashing out in anger is quicker than taking the time to self soothe.

And the annoying fucking thing is I know it's me.

I've done enough therapy to know my emotional response to their shittiness is overblown and dysregulated. I know I'm taking it to heart more than they could ever imagine.

And I've got to fucking sit with that and process it because if I don't, I'll be the inconsiderate cunt in this interaction and hhnnggg--wailing, gnashing, biting my thumb at you in the marketplace, etc, etc.

[bagerfluff]

Keith's A What?

Keith Kogane x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - "Your hair is so soft"

“Keith got turned into a what?” You asked Shiro. Tilting your head has if that would help you hear better. The team left for a mission a few hours ago and just got back.

You were excited to see your boyfriend, but when he didn’t come up out of his hanger, you were worried. But the Shiro told you something that made you realize that space is weirder than you thought.

Shiro had explained to you that the Galra had some new magic and used that magic to turn Keith into a cat? At first, you didn’t believe, but when Pidge walked out of the red lion’s hanger with a black cat with extra hair on their head, you thought you had seen it all.

“A cat” Shiro answered your question as you walked closer to Pidge. The cat in their arms looked up at you. The cat was fluffy and somehow had Keith’s same signature glare. 

They had the same purple eyes that Keith did. “I think with the help of Allura, I should be able to turn him back” Pidge said with a tilt of their glasses as they placed Keith on the ground.

“But I don’t know how long that will take,” Pigde noted “I’m not even sure if Keith is Keith”. “What?” Hunk said as he looked over at Pidge. “Well I’m not sure if Keith got turned into a cat with the mind of a cat or with the mind of Keith” 

Pidge said as they looked over at Hunk and then back at Keith. “Well someone needs to take care of him,” Shiro said as he looked around. “Well I’m not. I have stuff to do”

Lance said before walking off to his room. “Maybe Y/n should do it,” Hunk pointed down to your legs “I mean, look at Keith”. Everyone looked down as did you to see that Keith was rubbing against your legs.

Like a real cat. “Maybe he does have the mind of Keith” Pidge noted with furrowed brows as they moved their glasses. “That’s fine with me if it’s okay with Y/n”. You looked down at Keith before looking up at everyone else with a smile.

“Yeah I’d love to” You reached down and picked Keith up, Keith immediately resting in your arms. You then walked back to your room. This week might be weirder than you thought.

It had been a couple of days since Keith got turned into a cat, and it was differently weird. Pidge had decided that Keith still had the mind of Keith but just a cat body. Though, Lance did not appreciate that since when he tried to pick Keith up, he scratched him.

Pidge said that it should only take a couple more days, but you like cat Keith. He was still Keith, but cuter. You didn’t think Keith could look cuter.

Though he was a cat, he was still Keith. Moody, hot-headed, and only really tolerated you.

Since Keith couldn’t go on missions or train and you didn’t do any of that to begin with, Keith hung out with you. You spent most of your time fixing stuff around the castle. You were an engineer, like Hunk.

But you liked Keith’s company. He just slept and watched you work, but you liked it. You normally did all of this alone, so you liked it. Sometimes, Keith also did the cutest things, in your opinion.

Like he would cuddle up with you. When you were working, sleeping, or just resting. But you kinda wanted your boyfriend back. You wanted to cuddle him.

You wanted to talk to him. You slumped in your chair at your desk as you thought about this. You wanted your boyfriend back. You let out a sigh as he leaned forward on your desk with your arm.

Keith walked over from your bed and jumped on the table when he heard you sigh. “Hey love” you said and reached up to pet Keith’s hair.

Keith mewled as he walked into your hand and sat in front of you. You continued to run your hand through Keith’s fur. That was something you and Keith liked.

You because it gave you something to do with your hands. As an engineer, you were kinda handsy, needing to do something, or maybe you had ADHD. Keith liked it because he liked the comfort he felt when someone did it. 

Keith’s hair was also soft and fluffy. You loved it. “Your hair is so soft” you said with a small smile. “Or should I say fur” you said with a laugh, and your smile grew. Somehow, Keith looked annoyed as a cat.

You laughed at that as Keith looked away from you. “Come on” you laughed as he moved closer to Keith. “You know you love me” Keith looked back at you and placed his nose on yours.

Your nose wrinkled at the feeling but you loved it.

You held Keith in your arms as you walked into the bridge. Pidge had finally finished the cure with the help of Allura. And it was time to give it to Keith. It was in a needle, and you were also tasked with holding Keith still.

“Ready Y/n. Ready Keith” Pidge said as they walked closer. “Ready” you said, and Keith meowed. Pidge looked around, and everyone else nodded as Pidge walked closer and shot Keith with that needle. 

For a while nothing happened and everyone thought it wouldn’t work. “It didn’t work Pidge” Lance said but was quickly proven wrong as Keith started to shake.

Everyone looked at Keith, who is still in your arms. A couple ticks later a human Keith laid in your arms. He quickly wrapped his arms around your neck. You laughed as you placed a kiss on Keith’s forehead.

“You looked cute as a cat,” you said as Keith blushed from your statement. 

[nerdy-nook]

Some Pre-Kerberos Holt Family Headcanons!

Colleen is the family's breadwinner. Yes, I know Samuel is a Commander, but I feel like people forget that Colleen is also a scientist!

Both Pidge and Matt have ADHD, they got it from their father.

Matt never learned how to drive.

Pidge has some troubles at school—no, not academic troubles, but troubles with bullies. Her parents wanted to transfer her, but she insisted she could tough it out.

The family often invites both Shiro and Adam over to dinner. This is how Keith met the Holts!

Samuel can't cook to save his life.

Matt (accidentally) set a fire in his high school chem lab and got away with it.

Pidge isn't allowed to have energy drinks, yes there is a story behind that.

They invent things to give to each other as gifts! This family is the definition of extra.

Matt tried pot once, and he immediately greened out.

Shiro taught Pidge self-defense because of the bullies.

Matt and Pidge are both heavily invested in FNAF lore; they've made their dad watch countless hours of content about it. He does it because he loves them.

Their back garden is phenomenal, thanks to Colleen.

They have family movie nights, sci-fi is their favorite genre.

Shiro used to lowkey babysit Pidge.

[theghoulgirl]

Keith Kogane/Reader Headcannons- Section I

For these headcanons, this is specifically for Keith after the war. Therefore, I am going to make this an 18+ post because it would be super fucking weird if someone under that age read this. This is also the first part to an (currently) endless headcannons that I have.

Otherwise, enjoy! And please feel free to comment about any challenges against them or to apply your own for others to read! 

In a friendship…

Would befriend someone who is either affiliated to the group or would be in ‘forced’ proximity with, such as work

He would connect well with someone who is a little bit of a goober, like Hunk or Lance.

Keith would also most definitely befriend a stoner and connect to them through trauma bonding

Home dude lost a lot throughout his life, he would absolutely use drugs and alcohol recreationally. 

He also connects really well with individuals who are intelligent in ways that contrast his own. 

Keith does not befriend someone based on physicality, but whether it’s on how much of an asshole you are. The less judgemental you are, the closer he will want to befriend you 

It takes a looong time to break down his walls. Before you are able to, he’s generally awkward and aloof. But once you either prove or he can see you are trustworthy, he’ll start to occasionally drop a hot piece of trauma to see your reaction to it. If you react well and don’t judge him, he’ll open up more. But if you become uncomfortable with it, he will probably keep you an arms distance away. 

Once you two are closer, most likely through quality time together (ex. Studying while he trains), he would get more and more playful with you. 

Specifically also slowly reveal more and more of his silly side. 

Poking you when he wants your attention and then pretending he didn’t poke you. Blames it on the air. 

Keith would absolutely spar with you in the kitchen using utensils 

He would occasionally crack a joke here and there as well

I also fully believe that Keith has ADHD, and if you have ADHD too, then it would just ricochet between the two of you. This would drive everyone absolutely insane. 

One moment Keith could be discussing battle plans and then you walk into the room and make a random noise, and he would repeat it back thus losing all sense of authority and seriousness. 

Eventually, as you two grow closer, Keith might also develop some feelings…

In a relationship…

He would not be the first person to confess. 

Unless someone were to give him confirmation, then he’d contemplate it. Otherwise, the other party would have to approach him 

Once y’all talk it out and are officially an item, he is going to be a little awkward and aloof again.

This man did not engage in courting behavior when he was in highschool. Sure, I’ll entertain the idea that some of his peers were infatuated with him, but he never actually pursued those relationships since he was focused on his own life problems and emotions. 

Therefore, he does not know how to flirt or how to date someone. 

But that does not mean he is not willing to try, especially for you. 

But in other news, Keith has matured with time and is an amazing communicator. 

He will let you know when he is uncomfortable with something, such as PDA. 

Speaking of PDA, he would prefer to keep most physical touches in private. 

Especially kissing.

But he does not mind holding your hand or resting his on your back

He would also let you know when he is getting nervous over not messing up the relationship. But all he needs is a little assurance that he is doing amazing and all he needs to do is be himself. 

Once he relaxes more into the relationship and gets more comfortable, he would be unabashedly affectionate towards you. In private though. Outside of seclusion ? He would mostly stick to teasing you or light touches. 

Section II coming soon!

Please also feel free to comment on more head cannons that you have! Or to give a contradicting thought!

[livingunderaclassicrock]

congratulations to john entwistle for having mega autism.

and shoutout to pete townshend for also having mega autism.

got this idea from @dunderbread

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Neither of you are getting it.”

Twin sighs come from his laptop speakers. Lance lifts his head up from where he’s smushed it into his pillow to glare at his two best friends who apparently hate him, for some reason.

“I mean, there’s not much to get,” Pidge says. “You’re a big dumb gay loser and this predicament effects you emotionally.” She looks at Hunk as if to ask, right?, and Hunk, who is a traitor of the worst kind, shrugs in agreement.

“I don’t even get what you’re worried about, man. You have consistently been the one to get him the best gifts for years. None of us even try to beat you.”

“That’s the point!” Lance shrieks. “You’re not listening! I had ideas every other year, Hunk! This year I have nothing!” He taps his head aggressively. “There is not one thing in here! Nada!”

Pidge snickers. “Well, that’s not new.”

“Can it, Pidgeon.”

Hunk holds his hands up placatingly before the two of them can really start to go at it. “Alright, alright. Pidge, have mercy on him. He’s suffering. Lance —” he falters. “Dude, you walked into that one. Sorry.”

Lance will concede to that point. He kind of set his own trap. But still, he’s having a crisis, Pidge as his best friend should be going easy on him, so he sticks his tongue out at her.

“I just — ugh.” He takes a moment to fluff his pillows back up before falling backwards on them and throwing a hand over his face. This is a ridiculous thing to be so bothered by, and he knows it, but he is. Bothered by it, that is. He hasn’t been this lost since the first year they were in space.

“Lance,” Hunk says gently, startling him. “It’s August, dude. Keith’s birthday is two months away. You really, truly, do not need to be stressing about it.”

Lance’s eyes trace the long-faded glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. His gazes unfocuses on the red-orange star that represents Pollux, which has always been his favourite.

“This will be the first time I’ve seen him in months,” Lance says quietly. “I want him —” he swallows. The dryness of his throat makes his voice scratchy. “I want to be perfect.”

It. He had meant to say, I want it to be perfect. Because that’s what he wants — he wants Keith to get here safely and actually be able to stay this time and nothing to go wrong and him to celebrate his birthday surrounded by his loved ones, his friends and family. And — Lance. Wants to be there. Also.

He swallows again. It’s harder this time.

“He’s going to love anything you give him,” Pidge says, uncharacteristically soft. “You know he’s just going to be glad to see you upright and in one piece.”

Lance winces and the strained quality of her voice, the sudden darkness in Hunk’s expression. He knows he’s the cause of it.

It was hard on the team, his death.

He knows it was. That’s why he never talks about it. (They were never supposed to even know about it. When Lance’s soul was yanked back into his body and Allura gasped in relief and hugged him to her chest and sobbed out, I thought I was too late, Lance clamped his mouth shut and kept it that way. When he had rare moments on their long trip home where the adrenaline began to fade and he felt his heart begin to slow, he picked fights. He ran sims. He made stupid decisions. He kept his body distracted and his mind wound so tightly around Red’s that there was no chance for it to slip, to remember what had happened to him, to fade back into that dark and silent place. He kept his mouth shut and kept his quintessence dragged up to the highest level he could bring it.

And when they defeated Sendak, and they had to sacrifice their lions or sacrifice their friend, Lance’s hands shook and he made the obvious choice. And he doesn’t know what happened, when the adrenaline finally faded and the one thing keeping him tethered to their plane disappeared, but he knows when his soul was yanked back into his body, permanently this time, his friends wouldn’t answer his questions or let him out of their sight and all of them had the same haunted look to their eyes. He has never had the strength to ask. But he has been careful with himself, since. He covers his Altean marks — a testament of how much Allura gave of herself to keep him alive — and keeps his feet planted on Earth and out of danger and knows that he owes it to them to keep himself safe.)

“Well, anything I could give him would be better than what you got him last year,” Lance says loudly, beating back the oppressive silence that has fallen over them. It works — Pidge scowls at him, remembering the plant she had got him that had turned out to be highly toxic to any Galra. Hunk snickers at the memory of the bright blue hives that had covered Keith’s skin for weeks.

“How was I to know?” Pidge cries. Hunk and Lance’s increasing laughter only seems to make her angrier “He — ugh! It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you handmade him a leather sheath for his knife so he wasn’t looking at what I was giving him anyway! Shut up! Ugh!”

“It’s true,” Hunk agrees, chuckling. “We should make you gift stuff last. It’s not fair and makes everyone else look bad. He couldn’t take his eyes off that sheath, last year. He still wears it every day.”

Pidge mutters something in her hand that sounds suspiciously like “he couldn’t take his eyes off of someone,” so Lance ignores her in favour of whining again.

“Yeah, well, there’s no point this year because I’ve got nothing. I started making that sheath in June. I started making his jacket from two years ago in March. But this year I didn’t have any ideas and now I don’t have the time, even if I do come up with something. ” He sighs, defeated. “It sucks. I’ve hardly seen him outside of a computer screen and I’m only going to see him less, and I can’t even give him something to remember me by.”

“You’re talking like you’re never going to see him again,” Pidge points out. “There would be way less pressure if you just — saw him more, dude.”

Lance scoffs. “Yeah, right. Lemme just pack up and run off to space with him. Boom, all problems solved.”

He blinks.

He sits up so fast he very nearly brains himself on his bed frame.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. He looks over at his friends, who are smiling widely. His heart pounds.

Holy shit.

“I gotta go,” he shouts, scrambling to grab his laptop.

“Goodbye, Lance,” Hunk says, rolling his eyes fondly.

Pidge makes a crude gesture at him because she’s the worst. “Bye, gay pining loser!”

He slams the laptop lid shut and holds it tightly to his chest. Everything, finally, starts to click into place — Lance smiles; small at first, but quickly his mouth spreads so wide his cheeks ache, and his eyes practically squish shut.

He knows what to do.

———

On the morning of October 23rd, he is stressing.

“You’re embarrassing,” calls Allura, from where she‘s been lazing on the couch and eating pineapples for the last three days.

“I regret asking for your help,” Lance grunts, struggling to lift a sack of flour. He side eyes her. “Especially because you’re supposed to be helping, Miss Superstrength.”

Allura snorts, shoving another chunk of pineapple in her mouth. “I am helping. If I wasn’t here you would have talked yourself out of this several times over. You’re welcome!”

“Ugh,” Lance says, because she’s right and he knows it. “I’m not letting you lick the spoon.”

“What? Hey!”

He does let her lick the spoon. Because he has no discipline. But to her eternal credit she does actually help, too, and in more ways than just picking him up and physically shaking him out of his many freak outs, and he has a lot of them.

He’s been planning this for weeks. There are so many aspects, so many moving parts, that it’s just — stressful. Trying to put together a party that balances all the people who want to come together and celebrate Keith’s 25th with every single time constraint and restoration effort and even Keith’s own discomfort with too much fanfare is…a lot. Plus all the actual stuff that goes into hosting people at a party — Lance absolutely would not be able to do any of this without Allura’s help. She is, after all, his best friend, even though she drives him crazy and always has, in more ways than one.

At eleven thirty, when all the (tasteful, despite what his siblings had insisted was too boring) decorations have been set up and most of the food has been prepared, Allura clasps her palms to his cheeks and says, “Lance, breathe.”

Lance looks at her with wide eyes and says, “I’m cancelling everything.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I can’t do this. What was I thinking? This is — cringe. Ridiculous.” His chest shakes on an inhale. “What was I thinking, ‘Llura?”

She hums thoughtfully. Her thumbs trace his cheekbones, wiping away the makeup that covers his Altean marks, making Lance twitch but not move.

“You were thinking,” she says quietly, “about how long it has been since everyone has been on the same planet.”

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“And how much we have all missed each other.

His shaking hands come up to grip her wrists, breath shuddering as he exhales.

“Yes.”

“And. Maybe. How much you miss Keith.” She pulls her hands away from his face and wraps them around his hands. “How much you miss the stars, even.”

“I’m scared,” he admits.

She squeezes his hands. “When has that stopped you?”

———

It’s three thirty and there’s still no sign of Keith.

Shiro and the rest of the Atlas crew, including Hunk and Veronica, arrived arrived sometime around one. The Holts came in right on their heels. Kolivan, Krolia, and a few other Blades Keith has kept up with over the years showed up a few hours ago. Lance’s family has been here the whole time, and Coran and Romelle came with Allura. Everyone that Lance had invited to come is here.

Except the one person Lance actually wants to come.

“Lance,” Shiro greets, somehow sensing his anxiety like the guru goody goody he is and popping up next to him.

Lance smiles anyway. He’s missed him too much to do anything else — he hasn’t seen anyone on the Atlas since their last restock, ten weeks ago.

“Hey, Shiro.”

“You freaking out?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’d be shocked if you weren’t, you walking Xanax advertisement.”

That startles a laugh out of Lance, and he shoves him, grateful for the distraction. Shiro grins wide and throws an arm around him, guiding him away from the front door — where he’s been biting his nails and staring at the sky in anxious hope for the last twenty minutes — and back to the rest of the party, ducking under flailing limbs and the random football that someone has brought out for some reason (Marco, probably).

“He’s gonna come, you know. He’s been excited about it since you invited him. I have received no less than nine hundred and twenty-two texts about it. It’s all very sweet and embarrassing. He’s coming, Lance.”

Lance huffs. “Unless he’s dead or maimed somewhere. I did some quick stat evals and there’s at 37% chance he was attacked on the flight to Earth and is bleeding out as we speak.”

Shiro stops them. He blinks at Lance several times. He sighs.

“You actually need to see a psychiatrist. Genuinely.”

“Nah.”

Shiro flicks him on the forehead, but the fond smile stays affixed to his face. Soon Lance finds himself relaxing, tucked under Shiro’s arm. He’s probably right — he usually is. Keith is chronically late, just as a person. Lance even told him the party started at ten just to make it more likely that he’d show up before everyone left. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be places — he just struggles with the concept of time passing, and also gets distracted a lot. (There are a lot of people who need Keith’s help, after all, and he’s a bleeding heart if Lance has ever known one. All humans are wired to respond to calls for help, but Keith seems almost attuned to them. If Lance thinks about his crooked smile and kind eyes for too long he gets physically nauseous.)

As Lance’s watch ticks its way to four o’clock, a light streaks across the sky, and before Lance knows what he’s doing he ducks under Shiro’s arm and starts running. He flings open the back gate and slides down the sandy hills, barely managing not to trip on rocks and pits in the sand where children have dug little pools. He doesn’t bother to slow as the aircraft makes its fiery descent, confident the pilot will not hit him, and by the time he makes it across the beach his bare feet burn and he’s stepped on a sharp shell and lost his jacket somewhere near the house. But it doesn’t matter, because the craft lands and seconds later the door flings open and Keith comes sprinting out, still clad in armour, hair long and thick and braided back, and he runs at Lance at full speed and they collide at the top of a sand dune and Lance leaps into his arms and Keith loses his balance and they go tumbling down, laughing, Keith’s hand on his waist and Lance’s fingers clutching tightly at his shoulders.

“You made it!” Lance shouts, smile wider than he ever thought capable.

Keith laughs again, full-bodied and relieved, crooked incisors on full display and long neck pulled back as his head rests on the ground.

“I know! I’m late, I’m sorry, I lost track of time and —”

“You always lose track of time,” Lance says warmly. He traces a strand of hair that has loosened from Keith’s braid, brushing it off his forehead and tucking it behind his ear. He stays where he is, half-pinning Keith into the sand, knees on either side of him, re-memorizing the curve of his grin and the indigo of his eyes and the scars on his face and the softness of his gaze. Suddenly his chest aches, painful in the best possible way, and his stomach pits and swirls and butterflies flutter wildly in his abdomen. Heat zaps up his veins and sparks through his arteries. The slowly setting mid-autumn sun casts golden light on Keith’s face and Lance is reminded, again, how breathtaking things are outside of Earth.

“Happy birthday,” he breathes, choking on the words.

Keith’s eyes crinkle. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb pressing gently on the gold Altean marks. They curve perfectly around the shape of his fingerprint.

“I missed you, Bluebell.”

Someone huffs. “Yeah, and he nearly killed us trying to get here. Some kind of leader you are, Captain.”

Keith flushes, gently pushing Lance up so he can get up and glare at Ezor properly. “We were fine!”

“We crossed nine hundred million lightyears in two days!”

“I took a shortcut!”

“Through weblum mating grounds!”

Lance punches his friend in the shoulder. Keith pouts at him, wounded.

“You flew through weblum mating grounds?!”

“It was fine!” Keith defends. “It wasn’t even an issue!”

Acxa scoffs incredulously. “We were chased by fourteen weblums at once, Kogane.”

“But did you die?”

All three of Keith’s crew roll their eyes. Keith crosses his arms smugly. Lance loves him so fiercely that it hurts.

“Keith!”

With what Lance can only call divine instinct, he has enough forethought to throw himself out of the way before a five foot nothing blur throws herself at Keith’s person and sends them both crashing to the ground, significantly more painfully that Keith and Lance’s whole thing. Keith groans loudly, but Pidge doesn’t even give him half a second to complain, dragging him back upright and hugging him properly. Keith, softie that he is, hugs her back immediately, smiling into her hair.

“Hey, Pidge.”

“Happy birthday, loser! Birthday beats!”

She, immediately, starts to let him have it, impervious to Keith’s yelps. He attempts to squirm away, but Zethrid, lover of violence and also loud supporter of Pidge in general, firmly clamps onto his shoulder to allow Pidge to assault him in peace.

“That was twenty-six!” he says in outrage when she finishes.

She smiles pleasantly. “You were late.”

Hunk, thankfully, chooses that moment to jog over, carrying an ice pack because he’s an angel and also a genius.

“Figured Pidge would come in fists swinging,” he jokes, leaning down to hug Keith tightly. “Happy birthday, man. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Keith protests, but he looks like he agrees.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the party to flock over, despite the fact that it would be much easier for everyone to just wait for Keith to walk over to them. Lance isn’t surprised — it’s not like he could wait, after all. When Keith is around, people gather. Such is the way of the world.

He smiles at the crowd of Keith’s loved ones, and especially at the bewilderment on his face. It’s been years, but Lance knows that he still gets surprised when he’s reminded how big his family has gotten. It’s nice to see that reminder written all over his face. He edges out of the smattering of people and starts to head back to the house, figuring he might as well start setting up the table to get dinner started now that Keith’s here. Most of it is already cooked and keeping warm in the oven, but he figured it would be best to wait until everyone was ready to —

“Hey, Lance, wait up.”

He startles when a hand wraps its way around his wrist, relaxing when he recognises the calloused fingers and leather-covered palm. Keith jogs over the rest of the way now that he has Lance stopped, falling into step next to him.

“What’re you doing?” Lance asks, looking at him urgently. “Go say hi to everyone!”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll get there.” He flashes another smile at Lance and it’s crooked and familiar and Lance is weak in the knees. “I started an argument about human versus Altean time measuring systems. Everyone is now picking sides. They won’t notice I’m gone for the next ten minutes at least. I’m all yours, Sharpshooter.”

Lance resists the urge to bury himself in the sand and die of mortification. There’s actually no physical reason for Keith to look the way that he does. It’s — too much. The smouldering eyes and sturdy shoulders are one thing, but with the whole — grin and hair and wide hands and fucking — everything else; it’s too much. It’s a lot. Keith should maybe — wear a mask, or something. Or a hood. Or be more of a klutz, just so he’s humbled slightly.

“Oh,” Lance croaks, trying desperately not to focus on the way Keith’s hand is still holding onto Lance. “That’s — cool.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Blue, Red, if your spirits are still kicking around somewhere, send help, he prays at the heavens.

Apparently they are, because the heavens do indeed provide.

The air in front of the sparks and warps, flashing blue so bright Lance had to squeeze his eyes shut. He hears a loud bark, and opens his eyes again just in time to catch the ball of fur and floof that throws himself into his arms.

“Kosmo!” he cries, pulling away from Keith in his haste to hug the space-wolf tightly. Kosmo yips in delight, covering Lance’s face in dog slobber as he wiggles around in excitement. “Oh, buddy, I was wondering where you were! Mwah! Mwah mwah mwah!”

“He saw the crowd on the descent and got nervous,” Keith explains, scratching Kosmo’s fur fondly. “He was hiding in the back, huh, buddy?”

“Like father like son,” Lance teases. He adjusts the big dog into his arms so he’s half on his shoulders, panting right next to his ear and giving him gross slobbery kisses every three seconds.

“I do not hide from crowds,” Keith huffs. “And he can walk, Lance. Don’t baby him. He’s always spoiled after he hangs out with you.”

“You do so. And of course I spoil the little baby!” Lance coos, scratching under his chin. Kosmo howls in excitement, tail thumping hard against Lance’s hip. “Who’s the bestest boy? Who is my favourite in the whole big universe? It’s you! Yes, Kosmo-baby, it’s you! Good boy!”

“He’s not your favourite,” Keith grumps.

“Yes he is! Oh, yes he is!”

He coos over Kosmo for the whole walk back to the house, only setting him down when they make their way to the kitchen. Keith grabs the dog gently under the ear when he finally stands on his own, bending down to look him straight in the eyes.

“Kosmo,” he says quietly, angling himself slightly away from Lance, “remember what we Talked About.” He stares at the wolf for several moments. “You know. About the — thing.”

Amazingly, the dog seems to bark in understand. Keith nods in satisfaction, patting him on the head. “Good. Go do.” With a poof Kosmo disappears again, leaving just the two of them in the kitchen.

Lance pouts. “Aw. I wanted to spend more time with him. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Keith looks affronted. “You haven’t seen me in months!”

Lance turns away to hide his smile, busying himself with the food. “Eh.” He waves an oven-mitt-clad hand dismissively. “I text you all the time.

“You’re a bully,” Keith pouts. “You’re being mean to me on my birthday.”

“At the party I put together for you, dweeb. Don’t you pout at me.”

In response, Keith inserts himself into Lance with the guise of helping him plate and pouts harder.

“Bully,” he emphasizes.

Lance flicks him on the nose. Keith catches his hand and holds it hostage between two of his, rubbing his thumb along the bump of Lance’s wrist. Lance considers screaming.

“Help or get out of my kitchen,” he manages instead.

Smirking, Keith does, loading garlic knots onto a plate and stealing several, thinking he’s slick. He’s not — Lance notices, but it’s Keith’s birthday and Lance also ate like six already, so he lets it slide.

They have everything ready to go in under five minutes, loading up as much as they can carry and heading outside to set it all out. Everyone else is back by the time they get there, and Hunk and Shiro scramble to come help set up. Very quickly the party is in full swing, people eating and laughing and wishing Keith a thousand happy birthdays. Keith has always claimed to hate attention and crowds, but he’s — glowing, really. His smile doesn’t leave his face. Maybe it’s that he’s older and maybe it’s that he knows everyone. But more likely it’s the easy confidence that’s grown in him over the years, sprouting from the knowledge that he is good and he is kind and he is loved, and trusting everyone who assures him this is true. Lance remembers when he hunched his shoulders and scowled at anyone who looked at him too long. Now he smiles when someone calls his name.

There’s no rhyme or reason to the party. Lance had attempted to plan it, but given up quickly — he knows his people. They’ll flutter around something until inspiration hits and they’ll flutter around something else. The only constant has been food and loading Kosmo up with affection.

As the sun begins its journey below the horizon, someone — Adam — forces Keith into a random lawnchair and says, “Open your gifts, gremlin.”

Immediately, everyone else clambers to grab their gifts and gather around, ignoring Keith’s protests of “I’m twenty-five goddamn years old, I don’t need gifts, you people waste your time and money —” and arguing over who goes first.

Adam goes first. Obviously.

Despite Keith’s grumbling, he’s very obviously touched. He gets a range of things, from a fancy knife from his mother (again) to a framed photo from Shiro, with he and Adam grinning widely at a camera as a young Keith snores in Shiro’s lap. Keith starts bawling some time around gift number three and never really stops. Lance tries to hand him tissues, but after he uses up an entire box decides to let him be a big emotional dork in piece.

“Is this a crystal from the first Balmera we ever visited,” Keith sobs.

Hunk smiles, amused. “It is.”

He makes his way over to Keith’s lawn chair and hugs him tightly for several minutes, muttering something and pressing dozens of kisses into his hair. Keith holds him tightly. Lance himself cries on several occasions, but he’s not alone.

“I just love everyone so much,” Keith blubbers.

“Here we go,” teases Allura, but she’s the one to shoo everyone out of his space to give him a break. “Take a few minutes, darling. Gather yourself. Let me know when you’re up for company again.”

Keith nods at her gratefully. Kosmo makes his way onto Keith’s lap and plants himself there, curling up and laying his head on Keith’s knees. Lance sits on the lawn chair next to Keith, offering him a glass of water that he accepts gratefully.

“I do this every year,” Keith laments, attempting to dry his eyes.

Lance pats him delicately on the hand. “Don’t worry. It’s charming.”

Keith sniffles. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.”

Lance is the only one who hasn’t given Keith his present. Well, and Allura, technically, since she’s part of it. Part of him wants to do it now, get it over with. He even finds the words for it, but then Pidge hollers something about cake, and Keith, who has the biggest sweet tooth in the entire universe, brightens, looking at Lance hopefully, and Lance swallows it down.

“Go sit at the table,” Lance orders. “I’m doing candles and you’re blowing them out.”

“That’s babyish,” Keith protests stubbornly.

“No candles, no cake.”

“Ugh.”

Keith gets up and goes to sit at the table, Kosmo pattering after him.

Smiling to himself, cheeks redder than he would like, Lance ducks back into the kitchen, digging around the cupboards for the candles he bought the other day and carefully pulling the cake out of the fridge.

It’s chocolate-chocolate-chocolate-chocolate. Quadruple chocolate. It’s chocolate cake with chocolate custard and chocolate frosting covered in chocolate decorations. What it is is sugar on a platter, and Keith will devour it. Lance spent more hours than he’s willing to admit on making it. If anyone questions him even a little he is going to die on the spot.

He carefully sticks twenty six candles — one for wishing — on the top of the cake, lighting twenty-five of them. Everyone is already sat down by the time he walks back outside, and the second Coran sees them he starts singing loudly, and everyone else is quick to join in. As much as Keith tries to roll his eyes about the truly startling amount of flame on his cake, nothing he can do can hide the obvious excitement that lights up his face upon sight of the chocolate monstrosity. He takes a deep breath and blows out the candles when the song ends, extinguishing all but one. Immediatey, a ripple of teasing snickers and ooooooou’s fill the air.

“One candle left! You’re gonna get a boyfriend this year!” Pidge shouts, looking directly at Lance.

Both Keith and Lance flush up to their foreheads.

“Cut the cake!” Allura shouts, because she is a true ally and Lance loves her.

Grateful for the distraction, Lance does, nudging Keith out of the way when he tries.

“If you cut the cake then you can’t get the first slice, dorkbrain. Sit down. Let me.”

He does let Lance cut the cake, which makes Lance feel touched for some reason. God, Shiro is right. He needs a psychiatrist. He hates it when Shiro is right.

He’s very smug to receive dozens of compliments on his cake, highest of all from Keith, who scarfs down his first piece in literal seconds (thirty seven, to be exact). He has several more. There will be no leftovers.

But Lance knew that.

It doesn’t take long for people to start milling about again; finishing their dessert and picking at the various fruit trays and chatting and watching the last rays of sun disappear. Lance twitches nervously, stealing glances at Keith, until Allura walks up to him, pinches him on the shoulder, and says, “Get your quiznak together.”

And Lance grumbles, “Yeesh, woman. Alright,” and forces himself to walk over to Keith, who is spinning some hugely exaggerated story to Nadia and Sylvio.

“Children,” Lance says when Keith finally takes a breath, “Tío Lance has to talk to Keith about boring adult things. Go harass your Tío Marco, it will be fun.”

“Quieres tiempo a solas con tu nooooooovioooooo,” the twins singsong in unison, and then run away cackling. Lance flushes bright red and considers pelting strawberries at them like the little shits deserve.

“What was that?” Keith asks, bewildered.

“Probable cause,” Lance mutters darkly.

Keith snorts. “Please don’t murder your niblings.”

“That’ll be my gift to you. Not committing homicide on your birthday.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, not really.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “You mean…” He gestures vaguely at everything. “This isn’t already my gift?”

Lance shrugs.

“Lance, come on! This is more than enough. It must have taken you weeks to prepare.” He shakes his head, looking at Lance with soft, kind eyes. “You always do so much for me.”

Lance shudders, weak under Keith’s gaze.

“I like to.” He pauses. “I miss you. Always. It — fills the time, to do things for you.”

Keith reaches up and brushes some sand from Lance’s hair. He lingers, after, tracing his fingers along the shell of his ear, resting his hand against Lance’s neck. Lance closes his eyes, leaning into it, letting himself have this affection he’s craved like nothing else for months.

“I miss you, too. Constantly. Sometimes you’re all I think about, up there.” He sighs, and Lance can hear the tired, enticing smile on his face. “Wish you were watching my back again, Sharpshooter. No one else does it quite like you.”

Lance forces his eyes open again, although he can’t bring himself to meet Keith’s eyes. He traces the crooked line of his nose, instead, the tilt of his thick brows.

“You going back tonight?”

“Nah, I’ll stay a couple days. I’ve got nothing pressing for another week.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him, chants the Allura that lives in his head.

Give me a goddamn second, he snaps back at it.

“Uh, Allura and I have been. Working. On a project.”

Keith tilts his head. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s here a lot. Obviously.” He gestures to his Altean marks, which he has just remembered are uncovered. He’s fine — all systems are running and he is a-okay. But his situation was a little different than Shiro’s. A little more Frankenstein. Lance depends on quintessence heavier than anyone else — he’s probably fine to make his own and live his life, but…he’s always struggled with depression. And Allura worries. So she wormholes to Earth regularly to hang out and make sure he’s not too low.

They have a lot of time to scheme, the Blue Paladins of Voltron.

“Obviously,” Keith agrees. Unlike everyone else, he doesn’t avoid looking at his marks; doesn’t wince when he’s reminded of them. The only change in his eyes is a look of determination, a renewed intensity in which he watches Lance. It’s a little bit intoxicating.

“I love Earth,” Lance says quietly. “It will always be my home. I will always want to come back here. I want to die here.” He finally meets Keith’s eyes. “But.”

Keith’s eyes are wide. The hand still resting on the curve of Lance’s neck twitches, slightly.

“But?” he asks, breathless.

“I’ve been helping her organize plans for a castleship. A little smaller than the old one, but — you know. Similar. It’s something to do. I’ll feel better knowing you guys are together, up there, fighting as a team together. There’s the Atlas, but it’s not the same. It’s not Voltron.”

“Oh.” Some of the excitement dims from Keith’s expression, although he takes great care to keep the smile firmly on his face. “That’s great, Lance. I miss the castle too. It’ll be a little more stable, and missions will —”

“And I’m coming with you,” Lance blurts.

Keith freezes.

“To space. Permanently. Um, mostly. I still want to come back to Earth and see my mom and everybody but you know. I miss everybody. I’m lonely. And being a farmer is actually super duper boring. No offense to farmers, but I want to shoot shit again. I even miss training, which is crazy, because I hate training —”

“Lance,” Keith says, and Lance says “Yeah?” and then he’s being pulled forward and Keith’s other hand comes to rest on his hip and he is being kissed.

“Oh,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut and words fading from his brain. His hands slide into Keith’s hair without his conscious thought, and he tilts his head and lets Keith devour him as the butterflies storm in his stomach and kisses Keith back like he will get all the breath he needs from Keith’s lungs. His head spins and his knees go weak and Keith smells like pine and sandalwood and his lips are chapped and his hands are calloused and it’s the most wonderfully strange mix of foreign and familiar, bexause Lance knows all these things, but he has never known them in this way.

“Finally!” someone shouts, and soon there are wolf whistles and catcalls and Keith’s smile is pressed against his and Lance can feel the press of his crooked incisors against his bottom lip and he could live off the sensation.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, half-drowned out by the noise of their teasing friends.

“Exactly as I wished it to be,” Keith whispers back, and then kisses him again and again and again.

[littlewitty]

Weird Ikepri HCs I have

Yves has an acne problem and that’s why he spends so much money on his skin care routine, but anytime he does get a pimple, Clavis, Jin and Nokto tease the shit out of him. Nokto has small breakouts but is never that bad.

When Gilbert enters a room and he’s the only one there, he 100% sighs, leans against the wall and breathes deeply (sick boy and all)

Clavis has a surprising amount of paper cuts on his fingers from studying, working and reading in his room

Licht is literally pristine. No acne. Always smells gorgeous. Never dirty. Always presentable. No matter what just happened. Like he just woke up? He looks gorgeous, ethereal and snuggly. He’s just finished training? He’s macho, sweaty but in a hot way man

Jin smokes. He was really bad back in his early twenties, but Sariel found out and punished him by (sorry an NDA was signed and no one’s allowed to tell) but anyways, he smokes in the office now and then when he knows he’ll not be found out by the devil himself.

Keith once accidentally got high when mixing the wrong quantities of herbs together….. So now Wicked!Keith purposely gets him high and switches out just because he thinks it’s fun to torment him!

Walter and Gilbert spent one year of Gilbert’s childhood together in the safe house in Rhodolite, and they are a lot closer than people realise. Little Gilbert would constantly ask Walter to cuddle him, and to sleep in bed with him because he was homesick and missed his mother and brother. Walter would read Gilbert bedtime stories to keep him happy when he was too sick to leave bed. He would give him all the love and affection in the world and stroke his forehead to sleep…. But when Gilbert returned home and found his mother and brother dead, he ran to Walter and scream-cried in his arms.

Gilbert treated Luke the same way that Walter treated him as a child.

Clavis regularly walks by just moving his hips and not actively avoiding things meaning he walks into a lot of desk corners, door frames, breaks vases (you know the ADHD walk?? Yeah that’s him.)

Clavis also used to own a pet rabbit as a child.

Ive written a 3 part fic about child Gilbert and Walter haha 😂 didn’t post it but might do

[rileyh20]

Bonjour.

Pls, if you so kindly will, share some of your HCs?

Hello! Since ya didn't specify I will add all the HCs I have at the moment.

(I have not worked on them in a bit cuz of stuff, and I don't have that many yet)

Ponyboy Curtis:

A pyromantic, he loves fire (Until the church shit)

Has a fucking terrifying glare, but only actually glares at people when they wake him up (His poor brothers)

Should not be left alone around a stack of books (He’ll read them all in like two hours)

A really fast reader, but he reads the book over and over again to the point he basically memorizes it

Major third wheel, doesn’t matter if the ship is Jally, or Stevepop, or something else, he’s just a third wheel at heart

Definitely reads the book before he watches the movie 

Sometimes when he wants to write he just can’t, so he does other things instead, but once he’s in the zone, he’ll write for hours without hearing anything around him (He’s just like me fr)

Sarcastic and sassy af sometimes (Because I want him to be, no other reason)

He likes grandma hobbies (You know what I’m talking about, the knitting, sewing kinds of stuff, crafting thingies)

He would be the kind of person who helps you get your locker unstuck when you are either too scared to ask a strong person, or you don’t want your locker beaten into scraps when you could just ask Ponyboy

Cooks sometimes, he ain’t the best, but he isn’t terrible at it (He especially does it if Darry looks like he had a long day)

Sometimes he’s the only person able to stop Sodapop from putting food dye into the food (Especially if Darry is the one cooking)

Sorry y’all, but autistic Ponyboy is what I got for you guys 

Sodapop Curtis:

Gets lots of tips from women (Shares it with Steve sometimes)

Tries to understand why Ponyboy likes books so much, but honestly does not get him crying over them (He’s trying his best guys)

He was a MAJOR biter as a kid, like for no reason, just CHOMP

Has ADHD and absolutely NO ONE can tell me otherwise (Don’t even try)

Genuinely loved Sandy, and was so heartbroken when she broke up with him (Kinda canon?)

Darrel "Darry" Jr. Curtis:

Cries when needs to sign parent approval forms for Ponyboy, but if someone’s close by he tries to hold it in

Has a favorite book, it’s one his father got him before he died

He doesn’t like to read, but sometimes Ponyboy will read the book to him

Has shit eyesight, but refuses to get glasses

Darry doesn’t take care of himself when he gets sick

Darry is a fucking CLINGY person when he’s emotional (Specifically sad or stressed), like you ARE NOT able to get away from that man when he’s like that (Especially Ponyboy)

Doesn’t smoke at all so it doesn’t ruin his body

Stole a shirt from his dad’s closet before he died, it’s still in his clothes but he never wears it or puts it back 

Sometimes Darry sobs into his dad’s shirt after a hard day (The shirt from above)

Impulsive biter, just like if someone sticks their hand or arm in front of his face, he wont think and just chomps on them (Ponyboy and Sodapop try to warn the others, but they don’t listen)

Nothing for Steve Randle yet

Nothing for Keith "Two-Bit" Mathews yet

Dallas "Dally" Winston:

Scared of spiders

He’s also scared of dogs

Johnny Cade:

Definitely says a few dirty jokes 

I feel like he would be the type of person to have a summer job for some reason? (Ponyboy and Dally visit him at work sometimes and it’s chaos)

[pidges-lost-robot]

My friend has resolved this internal debate amazingly

Klance has a set number of pockets between them, if Keith loses a pocket, Lance gains one

I can't tell if I think Keith is the sort of autistic person that needs so many layers all of the time and bags weighing him down or if he's the sort that will wear as light a clothing with as many pockets as he can manage so he doesn't have to carry much, but tbh I think I'm landing on some sort of cursed mix of the too

[coreofmyfruits]

HEAD CANNONS !

★ Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

Stu Macher ↓

Physical traits

Pigeon toed

6'4

Has to usually duck down through door ways

Slouchy posture

Has immense upper back pain

Prone to head aches

Left handed

Large hands (Billy calls them monkey paws)

Warm hands

Has a bunch of scars on his knuckles

Has a lot of scars in general but they accumulate in the same general areas

Personality

ADHD

ASD (autism spectrum disorder)

NPD (narcissistic personality disorder)

Stu got diagnosed with ADHD at a young age due to always being an interruption in class and especially silent reading, always having to get up and be doing something. Not too long after he got diagnosed with ASD because of his lack of awareness and his parents concerns about him being behind in class work (he just wasn't doing it). Stu never got properly diagnosed with NPD he never even thought of himself being a narcissist.

Likes and interests

Horror movies (mainly psychological thrillers)

His favorite movie is Eraserhead

Favorite color is black (because when he first met Billy he thought Billy's eyes looked black)

Loves to read

likes to read to Billy in silly voices (especially when it gets to a 'serious scary' part of the book)

Likes Edgar Allan Poe and Oscar Wilde

He likes hip hop and rap but really likes ska punk and surfer punk (queercore is also a must)

Likes low riders

Unironicaly loves the show Pimp my Ride

Actively ghost rides the whip

Wants a jacuzzi in his car because of Pimp my Ride

Likes to compare hand sizes with Billy because it pisses Billy off

Uses Billy's head as an arm rest

Steals Billy's clothes specifically his pants because they're baggy enough to fit but he can wear them as low-rise and he loves when Billy tells him to take off HIS pants because Stu looks 'stupid'

Stu just likes it when Billy turns red and tells him to take off his clothes

Always an opportunity to carry Billy anywhere bridal style never an opportunity not to

The scent of Billy's shampoo and how he naturally smells like pinecones and rain

Antique surgical tools

Dislikes

Bitches, cunts, liars oh my!

Sydney, not because he's jealous of her and Billy but because he used to have a crush on her

Betrayal

Abandonment

Being ignored

Talked over

Fish he fucking hates fish

The beach after it rains

Tooth pain

Unneeded laugh tracks

Sitcoms

YA romance novels

White women audacity

Starbucks

Lines

Victim mentality and complexes

Billy's stubborness

Love languages

Acts of service

Words of affirmation

Physical touch

Sexuality

Bisexual

Billy Loomis ↓

Physical traits

Slightly bow legged

5'9

Overly Straight posture

General neck pain

Tense shoulder muscles

Has Hyperacusis

Prone to migraines

Left handed

Shorter fingers wide palms and strong grip strength

Always has cold as fuck hands

Has a lot of scars mainly on his middle to lower back

Half Mexican

Easily tans

Frizzy hair

(slightly) Allergic to red food dye

Personality

ASD (autism spectrum disorder)

ASPD (anti social personality disorder)

Billy has not been diagnosed with either ASD or ASPD he's not even aware of the possibility of him having one especially not both at once. Billy's father was never around enough to notice Billy's acute behaviors or to even think of getting a specialist to diagnose him also Mr.Loomis is a lawyer it wouldn't look good for his job if his son was 'crazy'.

Likes and interests

Horror movies (slashers)

Favorite movie is before sunrise

Favorite color is teal (he would never admit it but it's because Stu looks good in teal)

Mainly listens to the same three bands (pixies, Radiohead, my bloody Valentine)

Loves the song pink triangle by weezer

Has a guilty pleasure for 40s and 50s love songs

Likes to draw

Favorite artist are Keith Haring, Andy Worhal and Francis Bacon

Draws like Franz Kafka (he doesn't know who Franz Kafka is this is just a reference to what I think his drawings would look like)

Really likes playing in the mud and jumping in puddles

Loves worms

Eats the shit out of some Oreos

Plain hotdogs

Likes how large Stu's hands are

How Stu smells like warm wool and fire

When Stu picks him up

Biting Stu (mainly his shoulders)

Stu in HIS pants

Tea

When Stu reads to him

Blood

Phantom skulls

Dislikes

Sydney, he's never even liked Sydney not before he found out about her mom and his dad and especially not after... He just always had this feeling

Tatum Riley (he looks better on Stu)

Cops pigs and donuts

Healthcare system in America

Abandonment

Betrayal

Being cut off

Being hung up on

Noise in general

Phone bills

Lawyers

Ableist(ism)

Ableist infrastructure

Gender pay gap

Misogynists

Hamburgers

Poppyseed buns

Layering clothes (he would rather freeze than put more than over shirt on)

Socks

Shoes in the house

Hot weather

Sweating

Baths

Coffee

Reading

Love languages

Words of affirmation

Acts of service

Gift giving

Sexuality

Asexual (non sex repulsed) and queer

★

Tags !

@ghostfacemp3

[imagoddamnonionmason]

About Goose

Name: Goose Age: 25 D.O.B: (uk date) 01/09 From: England Pronouns: she/her Discord: if you want it, dm me <3

I have been formally diagnosed as ADHD and ASD!

This blog classifies as MDNI - this means that my blog is filled with 18+ content and anyone classing as a minor may not find this appropriate.

It also mean that I will not feel comfortable receiving asks/DMs from blogs that are obvious/known minors.

If I find out you are a minor, I will politely ask you unfollow and no longer interact with my posts.

OC MASTERLIST

Their bios can be found in the links attached to the [X]'s.

Jodie "Bell" Hall - Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War [X]

Nanette MacTavish - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare [X]

Franca "Major" Lorenzetti - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare [X]

Ashley "Smokey" Woods - Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 [X]

Keith Wells - Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War [X]

Stephanie "Seraph" Wilde - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare [X]

Sarah Mason - Call of Duty: Black Ops Franchise [X]

Klaus “Shaker” Newman - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare [X]

Esmeralda Rosa Sanchez - Call of Duty: Ghosts [X]

Theresa “Tessa” Grey - Dead By Daylight [X]

I have a tag list. If you want to opt in then go like this post!

AO3 FANFIC MASTERLIST

Alternate Universe Fics

Call of Booty: Frank Woods x Bell OC [X]

Smooth Operator: Frank Woods x Bell OC [X]

Noble Blood: John "Soap" MacTavish x Female OC [X]

Learning to Live Again Series

Holidays at the Mason Home: Frank Woods x Bell OC [X]

Black Ops Cold War Series

Unknown Soldier: Implied Frank Woods x Bell OC [X]

Upcoming AO3 Fics

Alternate Universe

Terminator AU: Woods x Bell OC

Learning to Live Again Series

Photobooth Shenanigans: Woods x Bell OC

Black Ops Cold War Series

Red Light, Green Light: a retelling.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY ARTWORK. THIS IS A BLANKET STATEMENT FOR ANY ART I POST.

Unless it has been gifted to you, don’t repost.

Thank you for taking the time to read, it's much appreciated!

Signing off,

Goose

[Credits: cafekitsune heavenleyt]

[himbos-hotline]

Baby au outline: AKA I have shrunken your favourite wresters! send me asks please

under the cut cuz its BIG

Madelyn "Maddie" Orton

AGE: 5

Adopted by triple H/shawn micheals after Her, Randy and Seth's biological parents die in a car accident

autistic and dyslexic

If she has to have her hair up, she will have it in different colour ribbons

None of her clothes fit her- either cuz theyre a size too big or Randy's handmedowns

Finn Balor:

AGE: 6

Biological child of Leona and Finntan Balor

A child of chaos- its a fight to keep his clothes on most days

constantly covered in bruises from his midadventures

isnt allowed near plastic food or things that smell like food

likes to be labelled as irish

has once stuck lego up his nose

Samuel "Sami" Zayn:

AGE: 5

Edge and Christians child

Offical Generico translater

Doesnt sleep enough for a child

Pokes people when he introduces them to Generico

Believes the young bucks are a collective and cannot tell them apart

Likes apple slices

always has his hands in his mouth

Generico:

AGE: 4

Looked after by Excalibur

Speaks in small vague spanish phrases- only Sami and Danhansen can understad it other babblings

believes that Maddie and moxs coats are magic due to them hiding their hands

sleeps up on top of tables

the quiet kid- nobody sees or hears him enter or leave a room, maddie makes jokes that he flies

never seen without his lucha mask

Likes to sleep in the art room

Kevin Owens:

AGE: 7

parented by Chris Jericho [this was funny to me and sibling]

doesnt really like to share anything he has

That kinda bully who would push you in the mud but then when nobodys looking help you up

Also responds to bear

likes to stand on the slide and scream at people

Malakai Black:

AGE: 6

parents are AJ lee [we needed someone, there no thought behind this]

Speaks very clearly for a child- knows a lot about many things

A bit of a creepy cursed child

Likes to paint and sleeps in the art room under tables

wild child whose missing a tooth

is somehow a calm child around the others, gets upset when things go really wrong

Aleksandra "Aleks" Page

Age: 5

Parents are Micheal and Orla Page

Does not like naps because she has constant energy. The child will not chill tf out and we love her. 

Does bendy shit, gymnastics kid. 

Becomes convinced that she and Adam Page are related because they have the same last name.

Polish-British

tries to drink her weight in juice boxes

Likes outside time and nothing will stop her

Balor:

AGE: 7 1/2

Parented by Brody King

nobody actually knows where he came from

has little devil horn hair that will never flattern down ever

always warm but always wears his little leather jacket

Says concerning things for children

Randall "Randy" Keith Orton:

AGE: 10

adopted by Shawn/Triple H

Hangs out with the "big kids"

Eats bugs and tries to get Maddie to do the same- thinks it makes him look cool

over protective big brother

has anger issues

likes to jump off things

Seth Rollins:

AGE: 4

The youngest orton child

has asthma

doesnt eat bugs but does jump off tall things

Him and Mox were in the same care home-

seth always asks if him and mox are still friends

literally the pickest child

shawn dresses him

has unlimited power, the LOUDEST CHILD EVER!

bites his nails

keeps asking his dads for a dog

Jonathon "Jon" Moxley:

AGE: 5

Fostered and later adopted by William Regal

Allergic to cats but pretends that he isnt

always covered in bandaids

isnt excited about joining a new nursery school

Regal teaches him originami

Calls regal dad

gets nosebleeds and is way to calm about it and thus has a change of clothes with him always

plays in the mud

has ADHD

wears his shirts inside out and mismatched socks

rides his bike fast with stabalizers

totallyg gets braces when hes older

never feels cold

likes frogs

Rhea Ripley:

AGE: 8

daughter of lita

is tall for her age

likes hanging out with the big kids

has her ears peirced

spooky child and likes to talk to malakai

Darby Allin:

AGE: 4

son of sting

paints his face with the poster paints

learns to skateboard

is artsy and crafty

breaks his arm by the first chapter leaping off things

Adam Page:

AGE: 4 [nearly 5]

lives with his "auntie" beth pheonix" on a farm

little farm guy

carries around his horsie plushie

has resting sad face

quiet and anxious and shy

compares kenny to a lamb at least once

wears patterened clothes

Maxwell Jacob Freidman:

AGE: 4

has an asshole personality that streches way past his height

the not nice bully

has hayfever and hates it

likes singing and choir

refuses to play with the other kids

wears his scarf all the time and refuses to take it off

has ADHD

Matthew "Matt" Jackson and Nicholas "Nick" Jackson:

AGES: 7 and 5

sold as set do not seperate- do everything together

Matt needs special food due to glucose and lactose intolerent

Matt wears braces

theyre both autistic

Matt gets the zoomies

Nick likes birds

Matt doesnt mind being called matthew, Nick hates being called nicholas

Nick is a haunted child

Matt likes shoes, nick loves birds

Nick falls over a lot

Kenneth "Kenny" Omega:

AGE: 7

A little older than Matthew

Don Callis kid

abused by don and shows reactions related to that [cries if he thinks hes in trouble, flinches if someone moves too quickly, has issues with wetting himself and bed wetting]

has a tiny ponytail

friends with the baby bucks

little and blond and curly

has a bunny rabbit that he loves more then anything

jealous that the older kids have a gaming system

Edward ‘Eddie’ Kingston:

Age: 9

Parent: Mick Foley

Is friends with Bear because they’re both tiny and filled with rage

Tiny new york accent

Friends with Mox. 

Raccoon blanket.

The kid that wants to see injuries and gross stuff because it’s cool !

Always wears a backwards hat

Plays baseball

Wheeler Yuta:

Age: 2

Parented by William Regal, baby brother of Jon moxley

He is the baby of the entire group. 

Is really left at the daycare because his dad needs to work.

Does Not speak, like at all.

Communicates through noises

Can Laugh and giggle and make sounds like screaming and crying

Maddie teaches him sign language 

Toddlers around and finds the world very very cool

Shares a blanket with his foster brother Mox 

Has his own little blanket to cuddle with.

Daniel "Danhausen" Hausen:

AGE: 6

son of excalibur

plays dolls with mlp with hangman

also friends with little darby

always calls kids by their full names ir makes up their own not quite right names

understands what generico is saying all the time

keeps his baby teeth as well as other kids teeth on him

has once eaten an entire stick

Likes magic

Hook:

AGE: 3

Son of Taz

chip addiction

doesnt know what to do with danhausens avances of friendship

just really fucking loves dinos man!

Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows:

AGES: Luke 8 | Karl 7

two half of a whole idiot

Karl has esxma

Charles "Chuck" Taylor:

AGE: 9

Raised by tony schiavone

yes he knows the shoes share his name, he KNOWS!

breaks his ankle at the bucks birthday party

also tall for his age and hates it

looses his name- comes in every week with a new one

Trenton "Trent" Baretta:

AGE: 8

Sues son

gets convinced once that he also looses his name

mamas boy

chucks next door neighbour

the dunce of the group

Orange Julias "Orange" Cassidy:

AGE: 4

Also raised by excalibur

the chillest toddler ever

wears sunglasses all the time

Adam Cole toddler! Adam cole tot [maybe an evolution of the character]

AGE: 5

Raised by RJ city and Claudio castiagnoli

Pagent queen

IS NOT A BABY

likes the swings

always cold

Jungle boy:

AGE: 3

raised by edge and christian

ALSO really loves dinos- carries around a "wrestling dinosaur" called luchasauras that he SWEARS is alive

likes classical music

climbs trees and just falls out of them and never takes fall damage

Julia Hart:

AGE: 2

Raised by brody king

also a haunted child

does cheerleading

likes wearing her big hat