#a lot of them just look idk ''sticky'' for lack of a better word?

[the-maddened-hatter]

Just for funsies:

Bonus: Tell me in the tags what YOUR autism traitor trait is if you have one! :D

[dorimena]

Ugh... been thinking about Aizawa crying during sex. Sucking on your fingers? Tears. Cockwarming? A river has been cried. Pegging him? Fucking waterfalls. Idk, man. Got any headcanons or add-ons about this? Maybe a short little blurb? — 🐬

Oh my-

I actually have this draft somewhere in my files about Aizawa crying during sex and cockwarming him (and I’ve been tempting myself to release sometime soon). But him crying a river because he’s cockwarming you? That sounds incredibly sexy, even better, dear 🐬 anon (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; aizawa shota

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.2k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; implied female reader, cockwarming, pegging, overstimulation (?), crying, cursing, mostly shameless smut, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; crying Aizawa, sobbing Aizawa, slut Aizawa, mating press, couch sex, loud sex, lots of cum

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; yes, horrible title, terrible joke, but it’s kind of funny, right? I got carried away, as you see... will I ever be able to write a blurb? Probably not. It’s not proofread!

𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 (𝖘𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖐.)

He thought it was going to be a romantic date night at your place.

You promised some delicious food, some strong liquor, some nice massages, maybe throw in some soft cuddles as you lull him to sleep.

You did mention before that you had a little surprise for him to reward him for his good work this week, for saving more lives, contributing to keeping the city safe, teaching the kids at UA everything they need to know to excel in the hero world.

And what a surprise it was when you took out his favorite strap on he gifted you. But maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so excited at the idea of you fucking him until he forgets past pains and sufferings, maybe even today’s disappointment with how Kaminari seemed to forget how electricity could very much be well conducted in water…

Because for the past hour or two, maybe three, you’ve had him sitting on your lap with your silicon dick in him, slapping his thighs even if he were to shift, making him leak more tears each and every time the stinging becomes more intense.

You’re tempted in gagging him to see if with the lack of words he’d cry more.

“Stop moving so much, babe. We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Your mocking purr makes him shudder as he flinched at another slap. Looking down, he can somehow make out, through his tear-covered vision, how his skin is turning red, a blurred handprint noticeable at the edge of the growing redness. He can also see how sticky his thighs are with how badly his dick is weeping in thick blobs of precum. God, has he always been such a slut?

Well, his shameless moan at the appearance below him and the lasting sting on his skin is enough to answer his own question.

“C-can’t he-elp it.” He groans out, trying his best to ignore how much hotter his body keeps getting the more he’s forced to sit still, the more you keep ‘accidentally’ teasing his nipples and play around with his precum covered thighs. Don’t you feel disgusted? Aren’t you?

Because if you are, that’s too bad. He hasn’t felt so proud of himself since-

“Auugh! M-mistress!” Aizawa sobs, feet trying to plant themselves onto the ground to keep himself stable as you slam up into him again, and again, and again.

No signs of mercy ever-present as you drag out of him so, so painfully slow before you go ahead and hit his sweet spot straight on.

Even with his feet on the ground and his back pressed onto your chest to keep him still, his hips still pitifully chase your thrusts, desperation present in every way he twitches and sobs.

He’s not even moaning, or even if he is, it’s just a garbled strain of your name fucked out of him as you coo praises and compliments into his ear, your hands grabbing onto his thighs to keep them spread so that he doesn’t shy away from your cock.

Turning your head a bit to see his face, you grin at how red he is, just like his wet, slick covered dick, his cheeks decorated with trails of hot tears coming from his closed eyes. And once he opens them, he looks into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed upwards as he wonders why you’re smiling like that, as if he were something so magical, so beautiful.

But this isn’t a time for something so romantic, not with how much he’s burning from deep inside his core up to his skin, flushing everywhere that’s possible as he manages to whimper out.

“H-hard, hard! N-need- nngh, ri-ide you!” And a please is whispered so, so sweetly, so softly, so unlike how society sees him as.

“Go ahead.”

And he rides you like there’s no tomorrow, even if you’re still slamming into him at an even faster pace. He can ride you, but you’re still in control of how fast everything goes.

He doesn’t complain, and not like he can even give his usual sarcastic remark with how his mouth's currently occupied letting out a waterfall of cries, moans and sobs, getting louder and bolder with every fast change of speed.

He’s gripping onto the couch cushion below you with such strength, you swore you heard a rip- but that’s alright, it was old anyways. Right now, feeling the way he can’t even control himself to at least act anything but a porn star is rewarding and forgiving enough.

His tears from earlier? You’re sure there’s enough water to bathe in, feeling how it touches your shoulders, seeing how it trails down to his chest, some lucky ones even going to his neglected dick. Poor thing, weeping just as much as the man who’s feared by so many criminals and past students.

This delicious fucking is going animalistic with how he’s bouncing on you, skin slapping polluting the air as much as the smell of sex. You hope neither filter outside into the neighboring apartments, although you’re positive you’ll be receiving some unhappy calls from the landlord.

Aizawa feels so, so hot and so, so close. It’s so painful, too painful, he’s never felt this way before. Maybe it’s how deprived he was for weeks, how starved he was for you, how desperate he was to be able to cum after so many failed attempts.

But he’s becoming so, so, so loud, with his sobs echoing around the apartment, his cries of your name and ‘mistress, mistress, mistress!’ ringing in your ears that maybe you should’ve gagged him. Your fingers will do-

And they did, with how greedily he’s sucking them, as if they offer the finest water to help quench his growing thirst to cum, cum-

“Cu-umming!”

And you let him, not retorting anything, not depriving him anymore as you send the most powerful thrusts you could muster into him to hear him wheeze so, so pathetically, reminding you how old he is, even if just 31.

And his eyes? His beautiful onyx eyes are glowing red, his sweaty, tangled mess of black hair floating in the air giving you the view of how he didn’t only lose control of his quirk, but also how he lost control of his thighs, his quivering, trembling, now cum covered thighs.

He’s babbling anything that comes to mind, it’s difficult to know if he’s praying for mercy or praying in gratitude, his hips still sliding up and down your cock as every hit to his prostate milks out more and more cum, the hot substance spurting onto the floor, onto the coffee table, onto his thighs, legs, feet, everywhere.

It’s so pornographic, so unbelievably out of this fucking world that you just need to see him do it again, even if you’ll have to stay inside of him to keep him horny and hot and bothered.

“Ag- augh- gain?”

Aizawa doesn’t wait for you to answer, and to damn your answer, not with how he still feels his dick burn with more need, still so hard because you wouldn't give it our attention.

But you do this time, switching your position to fuck him deep into the couch, mate pressing him as you flick your wrist furiously as wet sounds join in the symphony of his wails, his pleas of mercy which you’ll never, ever give to him unless he says the safe word or you’re feeling romantic.

[loneworldgazer]

omg you said that you don't enjoy (?) write haikyuu anymore bc you are in another fandoms........ but if you can pls pls pls i want to request haikyuu!!!!

gender neutral headcannon — shiratorizawa/nekoma/inarizaki with emotionless manager (face expression), but caring (acts of service and words of affirmation love language)

i am really sorry if my request bothering you........ it would be fine if you say no, i understand!!!!

thank you for your hard work i really appreciate it!!!! take care of yourself, ily!!!!

(sorry for my bad grammar, english is not my native language)

Emotionless!Manager

nekoma and shiratorizawa x gen!reader

a/n: nono i'm okay with haikyuu requests but i just don't write it that often, eitherway enjoy!

(sorry for late response and thank you for all the sweet messages💕💕 also i think i'll do inarizaki in the future if i can.. or not??)

Nekoma

they don't mean any offense but they look at you weird sometimes

when you joined the team, being fresh and all they couldn't pinpoint your personality

you were emotionless that you scare them when you had no reaction to certain things they do

kenma understood you and saw the bliss of things you've done like lending a hand for help or giving snacks to your classmates

this one time, he felt nervous and embarassingly he finds the action of him shaking, hands clasped together to stop his anxiety (it's not bb, don't worry)

your hands reached out for him and warmly squeezed it, softly asking him if he needs some time of his mind and a conversation to distract whatever he's experiencing

his heart leaped, startled by your sudden actions and he accidently squeezed you too hard making you wince

an akward apology he mustered to you but you whispered to him that it's alright, you sat him down and asked him to do breathing exercises

that moment he felt that you were purely understood by the rest of the team because you just have a hard time with emotions and explain it better by actions

so he quickly corrects his team mates' muttering with how nice you actually are

his team mates were taken aback by how well he seemed to know you but kenma just responded nonchalantly that there were obvious moments you helped the team with care

from that time on, they examined you

it was obnoxious.. but you let it slide it was irritating, it was endearing.. but still irritating

but they catch on so they also give you things in return

one would give you small trinkets and plushies and say most of it reminds him of you (he gives a lot so you wonder how many times they would remind him of you)

if anyone would ask what's with the amount of stuffies on your desk, you would say a dear person gave it to you (though it looks like multiple confessions lead to the junk littering the table)

one would give you snacks like how you gave the whole team time to time

from little sweets to freshly baked bread, he would give them to you or share

he likes the small moments of you enjoying what he gave you while you slowly chewed on whatever's in your hands

one would lend a helping hand eventhough you reject his help nicely, he would still worm himself over to you

like carrying chairs, setting the net with you, readjusting the positions they were on your little clipboard you used to brainstorm wuth them and etc

noticing all of them doing this in return for what you did for them makes you crack out a small crooked smile

their hearts combusted if you would ever personally direct it to them

it warms you when they choose to do sugary actions, like rewarding you for your hard work

(you deserve it.)

Shiratorizawa

"you're just like our captain!" (guess who said that)

ushijima tries his best to warmly welcome you in the team and he feels grateful to have you on it when you immediately rush over to do your tasks immediately

the team notices your lack of reaction and they guessed everything in the book of why you would do it

their main thought was difficulty in emotions and they kinda struggled to approach you when they want to ask for help

goshiki was the main thing in which they could see that you were infact a big softie finding trouble to communicate as you help the poor boy with his homework and studies

that's why study groups are a thing now, to help you back (which you had to admit, there were some things you couldn't really understand in class) and you sighed gratefully that you had the boys to help you

one would leave sticky notes everywhere, telling you that you're doing a great work and doodling in every note he gives you

trying to show appreciation to what he does, you would put a board up, putting up his sticky notes on it that if he sees it, he would add more (stop him, he's a menace)

if guitar playing isn't a reward then what is it???

tendou would annoy semi to bring out his guitar at end of studying to play off his new songs

you would speak up and say that his voice was pretty that you nearly knock the boy off his feet (not because of tendou punching him the stomach for being a show off but because of him being a showoff)

it was like a captivating lullaby you would listen to every night if you want to flatter him more and make the whole group go crazy and go "oOoOOo" at him

one was a tough cookie to crack but tell him that he's a hella good player and this man is on his knees

he lives off your compliments and praises that he just has a nasty feeling in his heart he can't settle that you were just raising his ego so he blurt it out one day

asking if what you say is true

"huh??" if that isn't an honest response to his heart then idk what is

he just pats your shoulder and nods, saying his thank you, countinuing with practise

the whole team needed validation with how they're playing with the constant barks from the coach (it did helped them but hearing a more softer "good job" calms them down more than an old strict dog on a leash on their butts to haunt them if they fail)

they would sometimes look back at you and you would give a tiny thumbs up they would smile at and get back into the game to get more of your words by the end of the game

"you're just like our captain, a big softie with a bigger heart!" (guess who said that again)

a small eyeroll from you made the whole team laugh even earning a tiny nod from the captain from his best friend's words

a big softie.. you smile at random times remembering the words said by one of your dear friends on the team you manage

[yellowocaballero]

oh no you're right about all of it i'm not jewish either i'm on the other spectrum of the scale that is abrahamic religions (unnecessarily convoluted way to say i'm muslim idk why i phrased it like that lol anyway) so as someone who's pretty used to seeing characters with the same religion as me onscreen either having that aspect of their identity pretty heavily stereotyped or just trivialised i was hoping the show would handle it sensitively considering that (i haven't read the comics) marc's jewish identity does play a huge part in his characterization even if he wasn't conceived as jewish from the get go

and you're right we get like a handful of scenes that establish he's jewish (even less so for steven someone else pointed out the mezuzah in a fic but i'm not really good at finding stuff like that so yeah) and like yeah there's a lot going on in that scene but it's just subtext yk? it's written as something that's meant to be inferred and idk i do feel like there should've been more explicit text (tbf a lot of my problems with mk is that they rely way too much on like the audience piecing things together i mean i'm not asking for an exposition dump but it would've been nice to have like more flashbacks for characters and some more exposition and stuff)

the mcu is definitely heavily pro military there's this yt video by skipintro i watched a while ago which talked about the support the military funding of the mcu movies and how the avengers can be very easily equated to the united states' tendency to be the global police and how cap and tony represent american exceptionalism vs imperialism in their civil war conflict (great video btw you should check it out if you have time)

and yess i agree like yeah the story was very scaled up and didn't have as much time devoted to the characters that i feel an initial outing should've had especially considering that these are characters having their first appearance in this franchise + the way everyone keeps talking about it being a contained story like i have such mixed feelings about this show because there's a shit load of potential and i feel like they missed out on an important chunk of it but i do really like the characters so that explains why i'm always looking up for fics with them i guess

please don't apologise about the question i started the ramble and ngl i was kind of anxious for some reason after sending that ask lol so your very cohesive reply was great i had to reread it a couple times to be sure to formulate my response to everything (might've still missed one or two points wouldn't be surprised if i did)

anyway as an actual answer to your answer to the question i asked i really love that idea of jake being really philosophical and same idt i'd ever feel comfortable writing about marc's relationship with his religion because it's pretty different from my own (we both have a complicated relationship with though lol) and yeah thank you for answering my ask so eloquently hope you're having a good day/night

You are absolutely fine I love rambling and talking.

I love comic books and I hate the MCU as a whole so I am perpetually stuck in a sticky situation where I still glean joy from MS MARVEL on SCREEN doing her TEEN HIJINK but also it's all tepid and insipid. Which is...that is so fine, things are allowed to be tepid. But if you do nothing but read comics then you become a redditor and it's the same way with any sort of, for lack of a better word, 'trashy' stuff. I watch an insane amount of the trashiest genres one may imagine that I don't talk too much here about, and it's great, but if it was the only thing I watched my brain would leak out of my ears.

And yes, totally, MK brings up some insanely interesting stuff that you can just go way deep into, and I did enjoy how it did not assume the audience was stupid. With only 6 hours of content I am guessing that they just simply did not have time to stretch things and lay them out more explicitly. My brain is a rabid hyena and media analysis is crack cocaine to me, so I was really satisfied with the amount that it left me to figure out, but you are right - criticism should be laid out. You should be upfront. And while it's cool to leave some stuff (themes, imagery, metatextual relationship with the MCU, commentary on DID in media) implied, stuff like Marc's Jewishness has been implied enough. Again, like, look at how many Jewish characters we have. When writing, especially for TV, you have to make a lot of sacrifices to choose what to cut and what to keep, but I believe it's important to prioritize stuff like that. Wish things were different, wish it wasn't MCU, wish it had more than 6 episodes, wish it could have a harder bite. Verdict Of Would Be Better If More Episodes And Not Disney.

The MCU, and you could make a very strong argument that the entire concept of superheroes, is rabidly pro-military and it's disturbing. At the very least it's propaganda for the American hero narratives of the Exceptional Man and propagating exceptionalism, at the most it is just funded by the military. I could go REALLY fucking into comparing how the military is portrayed with Steve Rogers vs Carol Danvers vs [mostly implied but very much there] Marc Spector and it's fucking fascinating. The show has a subtle relationship with the rest of the MCU. But, like, military propaganda, so. It can't just not be that. So [mostly implied but very much there].

Unfortunately "really enjoyable, had a lot of potential, charming characters, didn't quite live up to the potential" is. The ripest, most fertile ground for fanfic.

Very quickly re: writing identities that are not your own - I have a pretty basic formula, which is that as a basic foundation I look for similarities and shared experiences between myself and that identity, and how I can relate and halfway-understand. I normally get this through talking with friends and exchanging viewpoints and also keeping in mind that not all experiences of discrimination are equivalent. In the story, the stuff that I will just never understand I downplay and the parts that resound with me the most I spend more time on. I fill up the gaps and add detail through research, speaking to friends again and reading testimonials, and doing more straightforward Wikipedia stuff for terminology and etc.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

trust fall

prompt: “do you trust me?”

whumpee: max evans, also slightly kyle valenti

fandom: roswell new mexico

hi hi hi! this fic is set at some point this season after everybody finds out about max’s heart. i haven’t seen the last three eps (curse rnm and 911 for being on at the same time...) so idk where exactly this Can fit in but it don’t matter too much... i hope you like this!

Max wakes up shaking - or, no, that’s not quite right, to someone shaking him. He opens his eyes with a soft groan. Everything is blurry and dimly lit and his head really hurts.

“Wh’ happened?” he asks, not entirely sure of the identity of the person he’s talking to. 

“The ground just...collapsed under us. It looks like we’re maybe 15 feet down,” says Kyle’s voice, and the blurry figure in front of him resolves itself into Kyle’s shape. Max gets a flash of memory - being with him, exploring in the desert, a cracking noise, waking up just now. “It looks like you hit your head. You’re bleeding a little bit.”

Max nods, because this makes sense. His head hurts and he’s pretty sure there’s something sticky running down his forehead, which he assumes is blood. 

Some combination of the headache and the nodding and the feeling of blood on his face creates a sudden spike of nausea and before he can even process or react to the feeling he’s throwing up and god, that makes his headache so much worse, and then Kyle’s hand is on his shoulder and Max is apologizing and Kyle is saying not to worry, it’s okay, just take a deep breath, you’re fine. It takes a second, and then the pain in Max’s head dies down a bit and he feels like he can breathe properly again. He opens his eyes, which he doesn’t remember closing. 

Kyle is looking at him with a sort of professional concern on his face that tells Max he is probably not okay. Which is something he most likely could have figured out for himself, admittedly.

He watches as Kyle rearranges himself, digging into his right pocket with his left hand and pulling out his phone. He turns on its flashlight, and suddenly their small enclosure is a lot brighter. It hurts Max’s eyes, which he promptly closes.

“Max. Hey. Open your eyes and let me get a look at you really quickly and then I’ll turn it off, okay?”

Max opens his eyes - yet again - and squints into the bright light. Kyle’s hands are gentle and sure as he touches Max’s face, turning his head gently, looking into his eyes, examining him for...something, Max is sure. What that something is, he has no idea. He just sits there and tries to keep his eyes open. Everything is blurry and bright and he can’t really see Kyle that well, but at one point he adjusts his right hand and Max thinks he sees a pained look on Kyle’s face. He isn’t sure, but then Kyle moves his hand again and audibly winces. 

“What’s wrong?” Max asks, at the same time that Kyle asks, “are you dizzy?”

Neither of them answers the other’s question. Kyle repeats his before Max has the chance. “Max. Are you dizzy?”

He is. Not overwhelmingly so, but it’s there. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Are you okay?”

Kyle ignores his question, turning off the flashlight. “Do you have a headache?”

“Yes.”

“How’s your vision?”

“Kinda...blurry.”

“Are you nauseous?”

Max would’ve thought that one would be obvious. “Yeah.”

“Okay, you’ve almost definitely got a concussion. I’m gonna see if there’s any service down here - do you know if Michael’s around? I think we might be needing his telekinetic powers to get out of here.”

“Sure, yeah, he’s in town.”

“Great,” Kyle replies, and he turns his phone back on (sans flashlight). Max watches him as carefully as he can, watches him type slowly and carefully with the fingers of his left hand. The phone rings - it’s on speaker - and Kyle breathes a sigh of relief. 

“What’s up, Valenti?”

“Michael, hey,” says Kyle. “Uhh…so Max and I are sort of…stuck underground. We’re in the desert, not super far from the pod cave - you’ll see my car, and not too far from that, you’ll see a hole. If you can come rescue us, that is.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Michael replies, and hangs up.

Kyle takes a breath like he’s about to say something else, and Max has had enough of that. It’s his turn to talk. 

“Kyle…” It’s his turn to talk if he can remember the words he wants to say. It takes him a few seconds, during which Kyle is charitably silent. “You’re hurt.” He means it to come out as a question, but it doesn’t. 

Kyle sighs, and shifts a bit, throwing his face into the light. The pained look Max thought he’d seen is back. 

“It’s nothing.”

Max promptly reaches out a hand and grabs Kyle’s right wrist, having fairly easily determined this to be the location of his injury. 

Kyle hisses in pain and yanks his hand away. “Leave it, Evans,” he says sharply.  

“Let me see,” Max insists. 

“No,” Kyle insists right back. 

“Why not?”

“Because I know you, Max.” Kyle sounds exasperated. “You can’t heal me.”

Max repeats himself. “Why not?”

“What should I start with? The fact that you’re concussed, or the fact that your heart -”

“Kyle, it’ll be -”

“Don’t you say it’ll be fine, Max. It’s not fine. None of this is fine.” 

“I’m sorry I -”

“Don’t. Just...look, Evans. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” Max says, without a second of hesitation. Of course he trusts Kyle.

“Then listen to me. I have a sprained wrist. You have a heart condition and a concussion. I will be fine without immediate medical attention - without immediate alien healing powers. You don’t need to be exerting yourself right now. Michael will be here soon and he’ll get us out of here and I’ll go get appropriate medical treatment and then I’ll give you appropriate medical treatment and we’ll both be fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” Max gives in because he trusts Kyle and Kyle’s professional opinion of his own injury, and also because he’s getting tired and really doesn't feel like having an argument. He closes his eyes for a second and Kyle is immediately tapping him on the cheek.

“You can’t sleep right now,” he says.

“Why not?” Max asks, for the third time.

“Because you have a concussion,” Kyle says, like this should be explanation enough. It is, technically, Max knows, but he’s tired and in pain and just sort of foggy and he’d really like to sleep. But Kyle is intent on not letting him, and he insists that Max should talk to him to keep himself awake.

“Tell me about something you love,” Kyle says, and for a second all Max can think of is Liz, and then Kyle taps his shoulder to get him to focus and Max starts talking about writing, about his lifelong ambition to become an author and the poems he used to write in the margins of his notes and the way that it feels to finally figure out how to convey the thing you want to say and about a million other things that under any other circumstance he would never reveal. Now, though, the words spill from his mouth as easy as anything, which Max figures is probably the result of his concussion. He doesn’t actually mind it, though - in fact, he kind of likes it, this soft, easy honesty. It reminds him of Liz, a dull ache in his chest, but more than that, it makes him feel safe, comfortable. Like everything is going to be okay, even with the blood drying tacky on his face and the aching in his head and the persistent nausea and all the other discomforts that come along with having a concussion. 

“Thanks,” Max says, suddenly, during a lull in their mostly one-sided conversation. The second he says the word he wishes he had something better, something more, to say, but his brainpower is a little lacking at the moment. He repeats himself, putting as much feeling as he can behind the word this time, and hopes that Kyle gets the message.

“Of course.” Kyle reaches out and puts his good hand on Max’s knee, and just like that, Max knows that he understands. 

thanks for reading this! i love how the title theme perfectly fits this fic lmao. i hope you liked it!!!

[jaskiersvalley]

So idk if you'd be interested but I had the idea of like the witchers when they were still lil maybe before the mutations or maybe right after and lil lambert having a nightmare and lil geralt and lil eskel giving him a cuddle and making him feel better

I’ve not been able to get the idea of little witchers out of my head since you sent this in, Nonnie! And finally, I have an idea that I feel is good enough for this prompt - might lack a little on a literal nightmare but...hopefully the rest of it makes up for it. :D

The winter at Kaer Morhen was more lively than it had been in decades. It wasn’t just the usual four witchers there, this time Jaskier was there and Yennefer too. It was noisy, for want of a better word. With Jaskier around, there was always laughter and music. Even if he wasn’t the one making racket, he had a wonderful knack for inspiring the others to revert to something more lighthearted.

Truthfully, it was a little tiring. Lambert, Eskel and even Geralt had a habit of becoming so much more animated. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means but Vesemir did miss the quiet of the keep, the warm nights where they were all settled by a fire and reading or playing gwent in relative silence. Now, there was an almost constant jesting, scuffling and running around that was worse than when they were children. So, really, Vesemir couldn’t be blamed when he announced he was going to go hunting for a few days. He wasn’t running away. Simply, he was taking a breather and enjoying the silent solitude of the mountain. It wasn’t like he was leaving behind literal children, they could keep everything ticking over while he was gone. As planned, he left.

Breakfast without Vesemir was unusual. Lambert sat opposite Geralt and Yennefer who was trying her best to ignore the bickering and the fact that Jaskier’s swinging legs were kicking her ankle every few seconds. They were noisy, ribbing each other, Lambert was trying to cram a whole egg in his mouth while Jaskier was trying to make him laugh so he couldn’t do it.

“You’d look more graceful gargling a ballsack,” Eskel barked on a laugh and nudged Yennefer who was next to him. “Trust me on this one, I know.”

Obviously his comment hit its mark because Lambert threw a half eaten slice of toast coated in jam at him. Only a quick aard stopped it from splattering on Eskel. However, it instead ended up, jam side down, on Yennefer’s shoulder and hair. Silence engulfed the room as everyone watched her reaction. Without a word, she stood up and stalked out.

“Yennefer! Wait!” Jaskier was up and after her, knowing that of the lot, he would have the greatest chance of appeasing her (and probably most capable of getting jam out of hair with minimal pain).

Just outside the hall, Yennefer spun on her heel and glared at him. Not that it made much of a difference, Jaskier had grown immune to most glares and threats over the years.

“They were just having fun,” Jaskier tried to appease. “They’re home, relaxed and without the pressing worries of the Path. Childhood home and all that.”

There was a glint in Yennefer’s eyes and her smile held nothing nice. “Exactly like children,” she nodded. “They can be as they behave.”

Stepping around Jaskier, she carelessly flung a bright purple spell into the hall and turned to Jaskier. “Have fun with the kids.” Before he had a chance to ask, she opened up at portal and walked away without a backward glance.

“Shit.” Jaskier tried to listen through the door before he returned, wondering whether he’ll find three witchers knocked out or turned into goats. In the end, it was so much worse than that. Because when Jaskier returned to the hall, he wasn’t greeted by goats. Not even three idiots asleep, face first in their food. Instead, three sets of large, terrified eyes peered up at him from shirts that were too large.

Eskel and Geralt couldn’t have been more than five while Lambert was probably about three. They watched Jaskier walk in and backed away, distrust and fear clear in their little faces. It broke Jaskier’s heart.

“It’s okay,” Jaskier dropped his voice to something soft and gentle and he crouched down. “I’m a friend.”

They were obviously children but some of their memories must have remained because Geralt suddenly made a run for him, arms out stretched and a cry of “Jaskier!” as he barrelled into the bard. It was only because he was so small and light that they didn’t go toppling over.

“You’re alright, Geralt,” Jaskier soothed as he wrapped arms around the tiny witcher who was utterly swamped in his old shirt. “You two okay?” he asked Lambert and Eskel, standing up. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was for Lambert’s lips to wobble precariously as he backed away, tripping on his own shirt. The wail of distress was only made worse when Eskel pulled himself up to his full height and bravely stood between Jaskier and Lambert without a word. He was quivering and shaking, turning a little from Jaskier but standing his ground all the same.

“Oh sweethearts,” Jaskier breathed. He crouched down and extended an arm for Eskel too. “I’ll look after you all.”

Turning away, Eskel reached a hand for Lambert and pushed him up. While keeping a tight grip on him, he edged closer to Jaskier. Close enough, Eskel made a quick dash and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s neck while Lambert tentatively took hold of the outstretched hand.

Three baby witchers wrapped around him, Jaskier looked around and sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy and he silently cursed Yennefer’s vindictive ways. There was no telling how long the spell would last or when she or Vesemir would be back. For a change, Jaskier had to be the adult and the one to look after everyone else. The first challenge was standing up with three child witchers in his arms. With a groan and a heave, he managed and staggered over to the table.

“Right, we need to make sure you’re all fed.” He knew next to nothing about children and diets but he suspected that the mead on the table was a no go. Adult witchers might be idiots to drink at breakfast but Jaskier wasn’t. He pushed that out of reach and looked at the rest of the table. “Jam toast, who’d like some?”

Three small hands shot up immediately. Which was a good sign, surely. Pulling the bread close, Jaskier cut three slices and made sure the witchers stayed in their seats while he toasted the bread. Once it was lightly brown and crispy, Jaskier returned and was surprised to find Eskel had already managed to grab the jam jar and was wielding a knife.

As alarming as it was to see a small child with a knife, Jaskier let him put jam on his own toast while he sorted the ones for Lambert and Geralt. Only, Eskel seemed to have beaten him to it, the toast now sticky with lumps of jam was pushed towards Lambert who picked it up, uncaring of getting his hands messy.

“That was very kind, Eskel,” Jaskier said and passed him another slice of toast while giving Geralt one too. He watched them eat, smiled at Geralt’s polite “thank you”. So far, he’d heard Lambert cry and Geralt speak yet Eskel remained oddly silent.

Washing three sticky and squirming witchers was a task and a half. Jaskier was reluctant to let them out of his sight, not trusting them around the crumbling old keep. But they seemed determined to run around like children were wont to do. Tidying away the breakfast table, Jaskier watched them and realised something that made him sit down for a moment. For all their play, there wasn’t a single bit of laughter. There was a wariness to all three, they were protective of each other. While they remembered Jaskier to a certain extent, they seemed stuck in a limbo between being true children and people who have experienced a century of horror. It didn’t bear thinking about, what they could remember and how their current state allowed for the processing of it.

Not that Jaskier had to wonder for long. All too soon the three little terrors had quieted down, looking sleepy. Which meant it was probably time for a nap.

“Come on, you lot,” Jaskier herded them towards their bedrooms. “Afternoon nap.”

It would mean he got to at least prepare dinner without having to worry. Geralt’s bedroom was the first and Jaskier tucked him in, unable to miss out on a kiss to his forehead. Next was Lambert who kicked up at little fuss but Jaskier twisted the corner of a throw into a makeshift cuddly toy and he watched as Lambert shoved the tip in his mouth, eyes drooping. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Lambert sucking his thumb when he fell asleep. Last was Eskel who was still as silent as before. He clutched at Jaskier’s hand, obviously reluctant to be left alone to sleep but it had to happen. Jaskier had other things to do.

First things first, Jaskier returned to his room. He cast his lute a longing glance but knew it wasn’t right. Looking after three child witchers was exhausting, he sat down on his bed heavily and tried to figure out what to do next. Dinner preparations. Maybe find a storybook in the library. It was easier to think with his eyes closed. And if he lay down for just a minute, to rest while he plotted out a course of action. The bed was soft and warm, he could safely think there.

Jaskier jolted awake to the sound of wailing. It was an utterly terrified child crying tears of distress. Stumbling out, Jaskier rushed towards the noise coming from Lambert’s room. The door was already open and he blinked to see Lambert, tear streaked face red and mouth curved down into the unhappiest of frowns. However, Eskel was hugging him from one side while Geralt was clambering up onto the bed too.

“Bad dream?” Jaskier asked and he perched on the edge of the bed. He didn’t expect Lambert to nod.

“Big monster.” His voice wobbled and fresh tears sprung up. “It bit me. Wanted to eat me.”

It was all too easy to reach for the bundle of witchers and pull them in for a cuddle. Lambert sniffled and described the monster while Geralt looked at him and nodded along.

“Kikimora.” Geralt suddenly said. “That’s what tried to eat you. It bit me once too.”

Jaskier could see the confusion on Geralt as he said it, the war of memory versus his current state made him frown. Especially when he peered at his shoulder where Jaskier knew he had a scar which wasn’t there in his current form.

“You’re very brave for not letting it eat you,” Jaskier added, stroking through Lambert’s hair. “How about we go down to the hall again? I could tell you a story.”

Keeping Lambert in his arm, Jaskier led the way, one hand holding Eskel’s while Geralt kept his fisted in his breeches. The fire had died down and the room was cooling. Jaskier would need to rekindle it but before he had a chance, Eskel raised a hand in a familiar sign and a powerful burst of flames shot out. It was a little too much, flames raced up the walls for a moment before dying down.

“Good job!” Jaskier said all the same. He knew witchers could cast signs but he’d never seen one so powerful.

They settled on the throws and Jaskier tried to think of old tales that would be suitable for children. Preferably none with monsters or anything that could upset them. His pickings were slim but he finally found one, a noble night and his horse on a quest to retrieve the crown for the king. It was easy enough to change a few details, come up with pit filled with spikes to swing over using vines rather than hyrda’s thousand heads hissing in a pit. All three witchers listened raptly, eyes large, gasping at all the tense bits and Lambert let out a little cheer when the knight got to the crown.

Dinner was a simple affair. Jaskier found some cured meats and fruits. While the three ate, he went to get his lute. They could have a quiet evening together. Really, the witchers were already drooping into their plates. It was kind of adorable.

Settling them on the rugs, Jaskier piled blankets and pillows around them, fussing to get them comfortable. Once they were settled into a cuddle pile, he picked up his lute and began to play. Slowly, the songs morphed from nursery rhymes to lullabies and the witchers fell asleep one by one. Placing his lute to the side, Jaskier tucked them in securely and smiled. They looked so peaceful and cute when asleep. Plus, he had been right, Lambert did suck his thumb. Grabbing a fur, Jaskier settled down and fell asleep, knowing that he would wake if anything happened over night.

Nothing did happen and Jaskier woke to the sound of the door slamming shut in the morning.

“What the hell?” Vesemir’s voice was full of disbelief, a deer slung over his shoulders and a handful of quails and rabbits hanging from his hands.

“I can explain!” Jaskier mumbled as he sat up. The witchers were quicker though and they were all backing away from Vesemir as he approached. Geralt pulled Lambert behind Jaskier while Eskel charged. With all the determination and bravery of a child, he stomped up to Vesemir and kicked him in the ankle before turning and running to hide behind Jaskier, clutching at Lambert.

Obviously, on some level they remembered the Vesemir had trained them. Jaskier didn’t know the full level of his involvement in creating witchers but the three cowering behind him told him enough.

“Yennefer got pissed off yesterday morning,” Jaskier offered with a hopeful look. “Maybe the spell will wear off.”

“I’ll get the potion to break the spell ready. You get them each a mug of warm milk.” With that, Vesemir walked to the pantry, dumped his collection on the ground and left.

Orders given, Jaskier set about getting things ready. He settled the three witchers at the table, put some fruits in front of them to snack on so he could warm up milk and pour it into mugs. By the time he was tipping the saucepan over the mugs, Vesemir had reappeared with a vial in hand.

“How have they been?”

“Fine. Minus the nightmares. Eskel hasn’t said anything though. But he has one hell of an igni.”

A world weary sigh left Vesemir. “That’s them for you. Geralt was always polite and well behaved. Eskel was all but mute until long after the trials. We knew he could speak but he only did that with Geralt, Lambert and a few others. Being more magically inclined, he had a knack for all the signs. Meanwhile, Lambert was, well, nobody expected him to survive the trials.”

“I hope you never told him that.” The look Vesemir gave Jaskier told him everything. “Well then, let’s get them back to how they should be, right?”

Three mugs, each with two drops of the potion. It turned the milk a vibrant yellow. Vesemir’s “at least it will taste sweet” was only mildly reassuring. None of the witchers let Vesemir approach so Jaskier set down two mugs then turned to take the third from him.

“You need to drink it to be big, strong witchers,” he said. There was a reluctance from the three until Geralt piped up.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” Vesemir was cast suspicious looks and nobody touched their mugs.

“It shouldn’t,” Jaskier said and that seemed to ease things a little. “If it does, I’ll be here to help.”

Hesitantly, Geralt reached for his mug, too trusting. He took a sip and his eyes widened in delight before starting to chug it with childish delight. Taking his lead the other two picked up their mugs and drank too.

At first nothing happened and Jaskier looked nervously to Vesemir. Then he saw Geralt’s face fall into a frown, a hand going to his stomach. There was a soft poof of smoke and the next moment Geralt was sat there in his scarred, adult form. Two more puffs and Lambert and Eskel were back. They all blinked owlishly, looked at each other then at Jaskier and Vesemir.

“Oh fuck,” Eskel gasped, a hand flying to his mouth. “I kicked Vesemir in the ankle.”

“Just don’t do it now and I’ll forgive you,” Vesemir smiled. “Everyone alright?”

Three mute nods were his reply and everyone tried to make sense of what had happened over the course of the last day. While there was a silent agreement that they would never mention it again, Vesemir wasn’t surprised to find the four of them in a pile in front of the fire come evening. He didn’t even roll his eye when he saw Lambert hadn’t yet managed to shake his old habit of sucking his thumb.

[flirting-with-psychology]

REFLECTIONS Answer the following questions:

What is the single best thing that happened in the past year?

2015:  The beginning of the fall semester when I grew a lot more confidence

2016: Studied abroad

2017: Graduated

2018: Moved into the B Flat

2019: Got a boyfriend

2020: Got a car

2. What is the most challenging thing that happened to you in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Getting over Marble maybe

2016: Getting over Hawaii

2017: Making my 4500 film

2018: The music videos I did

2019: Deciding whether to date my now boyfriend

2020: The entire pandemic

3. What thing did you learn the most from this year?

2015: Hawaii and Marble

2016: My film class

2017: Also my film class

2018: My film jobs and internships

2019: Starting a relationship

2020: I guess the pandemic

4. What is the kindest thing you did this year?

2015:  I don’t think I’m the one to ask, you’d have to ask people who perceived kindness

2016: Same

2017: Same

2018: Same

2019: Same

2020: Wore a mask

5. Did you lose any close family member this year?

2015: Nope

2016: No

2017: No

2018: My great aunt died

2019: No close ones, but my grandma’s dementia is getting so bad she doesn’t remember who I am

2020: No

6. Pick three words to describe 2015/16/17/18/19/20.

2015: A learning experience

2016: Single, senior, band

2017: Senior to graduate

2018: Almost an adult

2019: Another year older

2020: Covid, long, stagnant

7. What did you do in 2015/16/17/18/19/20 that you never did before?

2015: Got further than I ever had in my love life

2016: Studied abroad

2017: Moved into a house with roommates

2018: Moved in with male roommates, did an internship

2019: Got a boyfriend

2020: Bought a car

8. Did you keep last year’s resolutions? What were they?

2015: Here we go. Put one happy moment from each day into a jar: YES. Go to the gym regularly: Doing better but still could use improvement. Get a summer job: Yes. Make an effort to eat breakfast: Haha nope. Make an effort to look pretty: About the same as last year. Talk to people more and appear more confident: Yes. Find things to be excited about: Not as much as I want. Find a boyfriend: NOPE. Write more: Not really. Read more: Maybe a little. Have adventures: Some, but not as much as I would like. Initiate things: Yes. Use “I” more: Yes. Be less mean to myself: Yes. Overthink less: No, still working on that. Be proud of myself for trying my best but accept not being perfect: I guess. Take responsibility: More. Be positive and enthusiastic: Still working on it. Carpe diem: Not enough.

2016: I can’t remember lol

2017: I can’t remember what I wrote. Here’s what I’ll do: write my 2018 resolutions so that when I reblog this next year I will know:

2018: Be more adventurous: Maybe? Overthink and strategize less: HA not really. Get a film job: Yes. Eat more vegetables: Maybe a little but still not enough. Go to the gym, like, ever: Yes. Read more: Kinda. Finish my Harry Potter spellbook: Not yet.

2019: Get a boyfriend: Finally did! Be more spontaneous and adventurous: Kinda? Sometimes? Lose weight and eat better: Nope. Read more books: Nope. Finish my Harry Potter spellbook: Not yet. Learn how to work hard: Not really. Spend more time with my friends: Kinda. Love myself, and be someone I love: Not really. Carpe diem: Sometimes. Keep doing the moment calendar and journal: Yes. Earn more money than I spend: Nope. Travel: Yes. Discover new music: Yes. Try new creative things: Yes. Believe in myself: Not really. Learn to be a leader: Nope. Watch more movies: Some. Think about other people: Tried to. Learn how to make mistakes: Kinda.

2020: Get a new job: No. Lose weight and fit into my dresses again: Noope, the opposite. Read more books: A couple. Spend more time with friends: Haha, nope, although I did zoom with them some. Go on dates: Not really. Keep doing the moment calendar and journal: Yes. Try new creative things: Yes, I tried dice making. Take risks even if they cost money: Yes, again the dice making. Make more money than I spend: Actually yes with the stimulus. Make jewelry: Some, and opened and etsy page. Get back to people in a timely manner: So-so. Be more punctual: Nope. Finish my harry potter spellbook and keep up with my character book: Nope. Learn new things: Not enough. Be the kind of person I wish I could be: No. Be more open to ideas: No. Post more pictures online: No. Don’t be such a control freak: Not even a little bit. Worry less about what people think: Kinda. Laugh more: No.

2021 resolutions: Get an interesting job. Get my own apartment. Get a covid vaccine. Lose weight. Keep doing my sticky notes and moment calendar. Be less hard on myself. Survive. 

9. Did you travel to any interesting places in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Went to Las Vegas for my birthday and California with the band and Kentucky to see Paul McCartney.

2016: Went to Italy, went on band trips to California and Texas

2017: Went to London with my mom, went to New Orleans for my cousin’s wedding and hooked up with my 6th grade crush, went to Wyoming for the solar eclipse

2018: Went to Las Vegas for a film shoot

2019: Went to Israel

2020: Went to Harry Potter World in Orlando with my boyfriend

10. What would you like to have in 2016/17/18/19/20/21 that you lacked in 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: A BOYFRIEND HAHAHA

2016: Still a boyfriend lmao fml

2017: Still a boyfriend but one that I feel satisfied with. I’m not sure if I’m there with Guacamole. Also he’s not even my boyfriend yet

2018: Still a boyfriend lmao

2019: An interesting job (finally got the boyfriend!)

2020: A job, an apartment, and a vaccine

11. Do you even believe in new year’s resolutions? Why or why not?

2015: I think they are a good idea, for reflection as much as goals.

2016: Maybe. Idk

2017: Yeah it’s a good idea

2018: It’s always good to try to better yourself and it gives you motivation to do it

2019: It’s a good idea for goals

2020: It’s good to make goals and remind yourself what to work on

12. Do you believe that 2015/16/17/18/19/20 had an reoccurring theme for you? If so, which theme and why?

2015: No more than any other year really

2016: More like my entire life has a recurring theme of being single af

2017: Not really

2018: Boys I like having girlfriends

2019: Macy’s

2020: Covid

13. Do you feel like 2015/16/17/18/19/20 went by too fast?

2015: No

2016: It went a little fast, especially now that I’m about to graduate

2017: Not really

2018: Not really, but maybe my youth went too fast

2019: It went by too fast for how much I accomplished

2020: It went by way too slow

14. Did you fall in love with any new artists during the year 2015/16/17/18/19/20? List them.

2015: I fell back in love with Taylor Swift

2016: Collabro

2017: Anastasia the Musical cast, and Hamilton is growing on me

2018: A bunch of musicals

2019: My musicals playlist on spotify has Rent, Dear Evan Hansen, Legally Blonde, Galavant, Hamilton, A Star Is Born, Frozen 2

2020: Fell more in love with taylor Swift, and Come From Away

15. Brag about two of your accomplishments in 2015/16/17/18/19/20.

2015: I made a couple cool music videos, and I lost some weight after increasing my gym attendance.

2016: I made a short film, Pancakes, with a full crew. I got straight A’s in the spring.

2017: I graduated and I made another short film

2018: I worked on two film shoots and I got promoted at work

2019: I stayed in touch with friends I made on a film shoot, and I got a boyfriend

2020: Bought a car and was the costume designer for a TV pilot

16. What was your favorite movie that came out this year?

2015: The Martian

2016: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

2017: Coco

2018: A Star Is Born

2019: Rocketman

2020: None of them were really memorable

17. Fill in the blank: In 2016/17/18/19/20/21 I will ____________.

2015: Get the confidence back that I had in the fall

2016: Graduate college

2017: Start looking for film jobs

2018: Find myself

2019: Find a new job

2020: Survive, please

18. If you could fly anywhere in the world in 2016/17/18/19/2021, where would you go?

2015: Italy, and I plan to!

2016: London, and I plan to

2017: Scotland or Ireland, and I don’t have any plans to

2018: Maybe that Israel birthright thing

2019: Maybe Ireland or Amsterdam

2020: Wherever has the least amount of covid. Of course that probably means they wouldn’t let me in

19. What was your biggest regret of 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: Worrying about the future when I had something good rather than just enjoying it

2016: Not trying enough in making friends and making the most out of it

2017: Maybe not getting quite enough out of college

2018: Forgetting or never quite learning how to work hard. That and not asking a cute guy out in time

2019: Not buying that moonstone necklace

2020: Gaining weight

20. Do you think you’ll be having a better 2016/17/18/19/20/21 than 2015/16/17/18/19/20?

2015: I hope so

2016: I hope so

2017: I hope so

2018: I hope so and I think so

2019: I sure hope so

2020: I fucking hope so

21. Did you make any new friends this year? Lose any friends?

2015: I got closer with some friends :)

2016: I made some new band and film friends. One of my friends from freshman year died.

2017: I almost lost a friend but now we seem to be friends again. I also made some new ones

2018: I made some new ones, and kinda stopped being friends with some of my old roommates

2019: I think I got closer to some friends

2020: I met a few online playing among us, and I probably lost my roommates

22. What was the biggest adventure of the last year?

2015: Hawaii, I think

2016: Studying abroad

2017: Moving out and starting to adult

2018: The film shoots

2019: Dating my boyfriend

2020: Harry Potter World

23. Did you get cake on your birthday? Presents? What you wanted?

2015: Yeah I went to Vegas which was cool! Got cake and alcohol and presents

2016: I did not get cake but I got IHOP. I got presents, and the football team won the game that day sending us to the PAC 12 Championship

2017: I got pancakes, presents, and maybe I’m starting to get what I wanted?

2018: I got chocolate mousse and presents and I didn’t even know what I wanted

2019: I got cake and presents including one thing I wanted

2020: I got bundt cake and a few things from my wish list

24. How much did you change this year? What’s different about you?

2015: Not too much has changed but I think I’m prettier, more confident, braver, and value bravery more.

2016: I’m lazier, gained back the weight that I lost last year, and lost some of the confidence from last year. Wow…

2017: I’m not a student anymore

2018: I maybe lost some of my hope in my love life and felt more set in my ways

2019: I don’t have as much FOMO but I’m also getting more frustrated with my life

2020: Gained weight, got more anxiety

CONFESSIONS

Bold the statements that are true (2015) and cross out (2016) and italicize (2017) and I’m running out of formats so CAPS (2018) and *star (2019) and ~tilde (2020)

In the year 2015/2016/2017/2018/2019/2020 I confess that I….

KISSED SOMEONE I HAVE NEVER KISSED BEFORE. ~*DID SOMETHING I REGRET. *Painted a picture. *Dyed my hair. Got a new haircut I thought I’d never get before. Wrote a poem. Graduated from High School. Graduated from College. Applied for Graduate School. RAN A MILE. Ate much healthier. Ended toxic friendships. ~*GAINED A NEW FRIEND. Gained a new best friend. *Visited a foreign country. ~*LIED. ~*HAD A FIGHT WITH MY PARENTS. *HAD A SECRET/KEPT A SECRET. Realized my homosexuality. ~REALIZED MY BISEXUALITY. (OR AT LEAST QUESTIONED IT) Realized my pansexuality. Realized my asexuality. ~*Broke a promise. *Slept under the stars. ~*STAYED UP TILL SUNRISE. ~*PUSHED SOMEONE AWAY. ~*Got in a fight. SLEPT WITH SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER. ~*ATTENDED A PARTY. Got dumped. Got a new piercing/tattoo. Learned that I wasn’t cis gender. Drank underage/used illegal substances. *ATTENDED A CONCERT. *ATTENDED A MUSICAL. ~*TRAVELED TO ANOTHER CITY. *Broke someone’s heart. *Hiding something from someone. ~*MADE SOMEONE’S DAY. Cheated on a test/homework. Physically cheated on my significant other. ~*Emotionally cheated on my significant other. ~Quit a job. GOT A NEW JOB. Learned to hate someone I thought I never would. Learned to be more patient. Saw the supermoon. ~SAW THE METEOR SHOWER.

[njghtwing]

Of Kiss Cams and Spilled Beer

Summary: 

Is that him?

He gives the scene a good look and concludes that yes, that is indeed him, looking dumb as hell with his mouth gaping like that. Dick is still in his seat, an exasperated smile on his face. Jason looks back down at him and it clicks

Oh!

Tags: Fluff, featuring vague anxiety, kiss cams, idk how soccer works

also on ao3

The sound of the buzzer could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. Everyone on their feet, excitement tangible from that last play. Floor sticky with beer and food thrown off of laps as people jumped from their seats, too focused on the players flying across the field, the ball traveling almost too fast between feet to keep up. Another shot, this time missing the goal by mere inches. The crowd is split even between screams of joy and wails of despair, the animosity from both sides displayed in colored banners and painted chests, signs telling coaches what they could do with their stupid Coach of the Year awards.

“So they get to kick now, right” Dick looked up at Jason, who was one of many up and out of his seat, yelling down at the referee. His hands were thrown up, as if the call personally offended him, and knowing how passionate Jason was about this sport, it probably did. He stood frozen for a moment, an aura of frustration pulsing around him. The last few plays haven’t gone exactly how he wanted them too, if the vein growing increasingly more prominent in his forehead was any indication. He sighed, peering down at Dick as if his lack of knowledge of the game was yet another personal attack.

“He’s calling for the other team” he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Gomez was tripped, that’s why his shot was so fucked up.”That’s not what it looked like to Dick, but he’s also not paying as close attention as Jason is.

“Hey,” Dick said, tugging him back into his seat, “It’s just a game.”

Wrong thing to say.

Jason huffs and thumps his head back, now attempting to burn a hole through the stadium’s ceiling. The big bad Red Hood, pouting over a soccer game. Dick would find it cute if he didn’t know exactly how important this was to Jason.

Dick had gotten his boyfriend the tickets as an early birthday present. It was the Gotham Bishop’s last home game, set against their rivals from Metropolis and the whole city had been buzzing about it. Jason himself had been talking about it for weeks, upset that he wouldn't get to see them play, but excited nonetheless.

Around the time they’d starting getting serious, Jason had opened up more to Dick about his childhood, describing a handful of his better memories. As a kid, down the street from their apartment was an old tv store that would play local channels through the front window. Jason would go sit at the storefront and watch Nova, Masterpiece Theater, and as he so eloquently put it, “that one bald kid”, until the old man that ran the place would chase him off with a broom. His favorite program though, were the highlights of the Bishop’s games every friday. He was fascinated by the sport, the roar of the crowd. How everyone would collectively pray for their home team, while simultaneously cursing their opponent. The smile that took over his face when he described it to Dick practically melted his heart, so the next day he’d made it a priority to get tickets somehow (thanks Bruce).

Jason had been ecstatic to say the least.Now, however, slumped over in his seat, he resembles no more than a sulking child. Knees rhythmically pushing into the seat in front of him - probably in hopes of starting a fight.

Dick places his hand on the younger man's thigh, stilling him.

“Look,” he nods, gesturing towards the giant LED screen in the center of the stadium. It’s currently displaying an older couple surrounded by roses and a flowy pink border. The words Kiss Cam flash at the top. They’re smiling, and the man seems to blush a bit before leaning in and placing a quick peck on his wife's lips. She smiles and waves at the camera. They’re both laughing now, and the scene quickly changes to two children towards the bottom of the stands. The older of the two points up, drawing the toddler’s attention to the display. She lifts him into her lap and pecks him on the cheek, then taps on her own to signal for him to do the same.

Dick’s staring adoringly at the screen, cooing along with the rest of the crowd. Jason doesn’t really understand the appeal, but it’s a cute concept, he concedes.“I’m gonna go get another beer” he says, rising from his seat. Dick’s smiling at him now and saying something that Jason misses over the sudden roar of the crowd. He straightens up anyway, throwing a “I’ll be right back” over his shoulder when the crowd erupts again, this time in displeasure. Jason’s at a total loss as to what’s got everyone so hyped up, seeing as they’re still in the middle of half time. He turns back around, asking Dick what he missed, when he catches a glimpse of the projector.

Is that him?

He gives the scene a good look and concludes that yes, that is indeed him, looking dumb as hell with his mouth gaping like that. Dick is still in his seat, an exasperated smile on his face. Jason looks back down at him and it clicks.

Oh!

The crowd is back at it again, chanting for a kiss that Dick looks all too willing to give, if Jason recognizes the slight quirk of his lips (and he certainly does)

He’s not really sure what to do at this point. Kiss his boyfriend, obviously, but the thought of everyone watching on a giant fucking HD screen in the middle of a soccer match does something to him. He’s frozen, hovering slightly above Dick, fists clenched around armrests. Just lean down and kiss him! It’s not like you’ve never done it it before. You did a hell of a lot of it just last night. His thoughts are moving a mile a minute and he knows in some part of his brain that he’s making a total fool of himself, not to mention Dick.

He’s still stuck in his own head, vaguely contemplating how this could genuinely be compared to death when he feels two soft hands frame his face. Eyes refocusing, his thoughts suddenly halt. His mind is cleared and he no longer feels anxious. All there is is Dick.

Dick’s eyes. Dick’s nose. Dick’s lips.

Every breath he takes is a soft exhale into Jason’s slack mouth, and suddenly he can breath again. It feels almost as if the older man is reaching into his chest, easing away the strain on his lungs like plucking petals from a flower. Jason’s eyes flick across his face, taking all the man is willing to give in just a simple look. His lips curve slightly, and his eyes crinkle at the corner. Jason can truly say he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Dick closes the distance between the two, pulling the younger man down so lips can finally meet. It’s soft, and nothing to write home about - but damn if Jason didn’t think it was the most perfect feeling on the planet. He thinks he can hear the crowd cheering past the blood still rushing through his ears, but it’s all muted to the sound of Dick’s content hum. The vibration travels where their lips are still locked, gently pressed together and he laughs. A puff of air is passed between two sets of lips and now Dick is laughing too.

They pull away, smooth palms still caressing cheeks, while larger hands now linger above a slight waist. They share a smile and Jason draws himself away, taking his seat. He looks back up to the monitor to see yet another couple on display, Kiss Cam flashing above them while they share a kiss. He turns back to the other man, intent on saying...something, but the look he’s graced with is more than enough to satisfy him.

A blush dusts itself across Dick’s bronzed skin, and his bright eyes are clear and looking straight at Jason. How he survives those looks is beyond him, but he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

“You okay?” Dick asks. “You kind of froze up there for a second.”He grasps the younger man’s hand between the two, squeezing.

Jason glances at their intertwined hands, and then back at Dick. He’s still smiling, eyes crinkling yet again. The look they share could be described as nothing but complete and utter love and devotion.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, turning back to the field as the players reemerged, running to their respective positions.

A small smile graces his lips

“I’m good.”

[camsthisky]

The Control Freak, the Narcissist, and the Liar - Part 4

Summary: In which there is arguing and Mikey doesn’t know what to do.

Also posted on ao3 and ff.net but I’m too lazy to link it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Tag for this au (is this an au? idk but that’s what I’m calling it)

When Raph wakes up, Mikey’s gone.

Raph lifts his head, sitting up straight in the chair he must have fallen asleep in. He takes a look around the lab, hoping that the kid’s still there. No sign of him. Instead, Raph’s left with a slumbering Donnie, an empty cot, and a missing little brother.

Great.

He had to have been really tired not to notice Mikey leave the lab without waking him up. They all got the same ninja training, and Raph is usually pretty good about keeping alert, even while asleep.

Well, that was before. Before he’d started running himself ragged, trying to escape his family and his nightmares and the crushing reality that threatened to encompass him the moment he stopped to take a breath. The only comfort he has now is that at least he’s better at dealing with all of this than Leonardo.

Leo isn’t even accepting that Splinter is dead. To Leo, it’s like their sensei’s just gone on an extended vacation and Leo sits in the dojo, awaiting the day Splinter comes back to instruct him again. Or at least, that’s what Raph figures, the way the guy’s been acting lately.

There’s a soft clang from the kitchen, and Raph knows exactly where Mikey is. He heads towards the sound immediately, leaving Donnie to his slumbering.

“Mike?” Raph calls softly, his voice gentler than it’s ever been in a long time. He walks into the kitchen, but doesn’t see anything resembling a turtle. “Mikey, you in here?”

Mikey’s voice sounds from the other side of the island, out of Raph’s line of vision. “Right here, Raph,” Mikey says, and his voice sounds kind of rough. Exactly like he’d been screaming his lungs out. Huh. He hadn’t believed him last night, but maybe Donnie hadn’t been lying about Mikey getting angry.

Raph leans forward against the island, trying to get a glimpse. Unfortunately, all he sees is a little bit of Mikey’s shell, nothing to give a clue about what’s going on.

“Whatcha doin’ down there?”

“Oh, I spilled some of the milk on the floor,” Mikey tells him, finally popping up with a milk-sodden rag in one hand and a carton in the other. “I was cleaning it up before it dried up and got all sticky. It’s a nightmare to clean once it gets all sticky, and we live in a sewer. Imagine all the rats it would attract.”

Mikey shudders dramatically, and Raph can’t exactly help the upward tilt of his mouth as Mikey rambles. It’s been a long time since the two of them had a something of a civil conversation, and it’s nicer than Raph remembers.

It should probably be concerning that Mikey’s acting so normal after what Raph heard happened last night, but Raph isn’t much better at confronting his demons, so it’s not like he can criticize. If Mikey doesn’t want to talk about it, if he doesn’t want face whatever he’s dealing with, if he wants to be goofy and happy and chatty, then Raph’s not going to stop him.

Mikey puts the milk back on the counter and throws the rag in the sink before he turns to Raph, grinning. “So, you here for breakfast or did you just want to enjoy my company?”

Even as Mikey says it, Raph knows the grin is almost strained, just a bit too tight, like he’s not sure that Raph wants him around.

Which is probably fair considering how much Raph has been avoiding the toxic air of the lair around Leo. Raph’s a lot of things, but he isn’t a liar. It hurts so much to be here, in the sewers, with his family. It hurts so much sometimes it feels like his chest is breaking open and he’s ripping into two. He knows he can get involved in his own feelings, too.

But when his little brother looks at him like he’s not sure whether he’s still welcome, it’s time to put his foot down.

Gently, for once.

So he keeps his expression schooled and shrugs. “Why not both?”

The grin Mikey sends him is blinding. “Cool! Yeah, okay, d’you want pancakes? Bacon? Eggs? No waffles since the waffle iron’s on the fritz, but I can make literally anything else.”

“Eggs an’ bacon are fine, Mikey,” Raph tells him, fighting back the smile that threatens to cross his face as Mikey flits around the kitchen. “Did Donnie take a look at the waffle iron?”

Mikey doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop preparing their breakfast, but his response comes about a beat too late, and that’s the only reason Raph knows he asked the wrong question.

“Oh, uh, Don’s busy with the toaster,” Mikey says, his enthusiastic tone deflated. “I haven’t exactly asked him about the iron yet. ‘Sides, he’s got a lot on his plate.”

But he could probably use the distraction, is what Raph doesn’t say, because it really wouldn’t help. Not right now. He wonders, then, how things got so tense between all of them. Where before Raph wouldn’t even care to say what he said, or how he said, and now he’s fighting himself to keep Mikey happy. Once misstep and it was over.

Or maybe not. Hopefully he could salvage this.

“Yeah, he probably does,” Raph says, humming lightly like he’s thinking about something. Mikey perks up at the devious lilt to his voice. “How ‘bout you an’ me give Donnie a hand, huh?”

Mikey laughs, the previous tension gone. “Sounds good, bro. Let’s ask after Don’s got so coffee in his system, though.”

Raph’s grimace isn’t completely for show. “Oh, yeah. Good call.”

Snickering, Mikey turns back to the eggs, and Raph vows to start spending some more time in the lair, especially if this is going to be the result. A happy Mikey makes the world go ‘round.

“-and then Donnie just fainted. Right then and there.”

Raph snorts as he drops his plate into the sink. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Mikey huffs from atop of the island. “It’s true! I swear it is! You can even ask LH, if you really don’t believe me. He was there, too.”

“Donnie does a lot of things around April, but I don’t think fainting is one of them. He’s a nerd in love, not a wuss.”

“It happened! Oh, you know what also happened?” Raph hums, prompting Mikey to continue. “Me and LH were exploring a few of the tunnels this one time, and then there was this crazy-”

Mikey stops mid word, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click as he stares hard at something over Raph’s shoulder. Raph, alarmed, moves his hands to his weapons and twirls around, only to drop his hands a moment later when he realizes who it was.

“Leo,” Raph says, something like distaste in his voice even before he can stop it.

And it is Leo. Their older brother is standing in the doorway, like he isn’t sure whether he wants come in or not. There’s something in his hunched body language that almost makes Raph feels sorry for him. Almost.

But Raph isn’t stupid. He’s had his suspicions about what happened to Mikey last night since before Donnie even told him what happened. The way Mikey had practically curled in on himself, only one of his brothers could do that Mikey. Raph should know. He’s done it plenty of times before on accident.

But the way Mikey closes himself off the moment Leo walks into the room confirms it. Leo did something, or said something, and he hasn’t tried to make amends, hasn’t tried to reach out to Mikey like he used to, like Raph always tries to do whenever he and Mikey are at odds.

It’s something like an unspoken rule in their family, Raph supposes. Never let things like anger settle between them if you can help it, and you usually always can. Even if you’re upset in the moment, don’t let it last. Always reach halfway, and most of the time, the one you hurt will try to reach back.

It’s a rule mostly for Raph, but it’s meant for all of them. Just because Raph gets angry the most didn’t mean that the others didn’t get upset, too. They all fight, but they’re brothers, and they stick together.

Or well, they did. It doesn’t look like Leo even tried.

So Raph huffs a somewhat calming breath, because fighting right in front of Mikey probably isn’t the best thing to do right now, and pulls Mikey down from the island. Mikey doesn’t fight him, but he doesn’t look happy about it, either.

“Where are you guys going?” Leo asks, and Mikey stiffens. But he doesn’t answer Leo, his lips still shut tight, so it looks like Raph’s going to have to take control of this situation.

“I’m staying in the lair for the day,” Raph states plainly as he throws an arm around Mikey’s shoulder, ignoring Mikey’s start of surprise—he doesn’t know if it’s his words or his actions, so he’ll save that talk for later. “So me an’ Mikey decided to do a round of video games and a movie marathon. Ya know. Some bro time, just the two of us.”

If Leo catches the hidden jibe, he doesn’t show it. Raph’s temper is threatening to flare at the lack of reaction his older brother his showing, but he can’t let it get to him. Instead, he steers Mikey to the kitchen door, around Leo, and toward to the pit in the center of the lair.

Mikey doesn’t say anything still, and Raph’s almost fuming at this point, but they’re away from Leo, so that’s a plus.

“So, how ‘bout we see if Don’s awake, yet,” Raph suggests, his tone gentle.

Mikey nods, and Raph doesn’t let his little brother’s silence get to him. Instead, he tugs Mikey closer to him and they start for the lab.

How Leo can do or say something horrible enough to silence Raph’s chatty little brother, Raph doesn’t know. But if he does it again, then Leonardo’s got another thing coming for him.