#i guess im not completely done with him yet

[eurydicees]

Also, I just saw you’re 23, I am too! It’s rough out here. Another idea: any characters, what’s it like being 23? Where are they at this point? I feel like hq shows that as being sooo grown up but like I’m just a big teenager right?? Idk just rambling

being 23 is so rough sometimes lmfao. i've got friends from high school getting married and friends from college having early life crises. i'm working full time and living alone but tbh mostly feel like i'm playing at house rn more than i am living on my own. whatever. it's fine. early 20s is just a silly time of life. anyways i don't have a fic for u but i Do have a headcanon list.

in no particular order, haikyuu characters as stupid things i've done in my early twenties:

atsumu: having a brother who is a chef does not prevent him from forgetting to take the cheese packet out of the mac and cheese box and dumping that into boiling water with the pasta.

udai: does not remember the last time he ate a vegetable.

oikawa: friends all went to a party without him and his coping method was getting so so so wasted on white rum and falling asleep on the living room carpet immediately after giving another friend a tarot card reading saying their breakup is imminent (to be fair, it was. but it was still kinda rude).

iwaizumi: after class, was led to a private stairwell by a friend, jokes "haha are you taking me to a hidden location to kill me." and then received a love confession. proceeded to say "uh. i'll think about it." then did finger guns. and said "im just gonna. go" and then fucking. ran. like not exaggerating, ran.

kageyama: went on a date. did Not At All Know it was a date, despite the very very obvious flirting. yes this was the same person as in the previous bullet point. don't look at me like that.

akaashi: took a 100 level class senior year and did not pay attention to a single lecture. instead wrote thousands of words of fanfiction in the classroom every day.

atsumu (again): another cooking one. i just think he'd be a terrible cook. sorry. anyways. "it's been 20 min, why isn't this scallion pancake im pan frying cooking yet?" (<- did not turn on the stove burner.)

yachi: hm the light in this room doesn't work. guess i'll just learn to see in the dark instead of inconveniencing anyone by asking to fix it.

akaashi (again): completely fell in love at first sight, but fast forward five months and it actually somehow worked out? however the five months were filled with the most insufferable pining possible, which could have been resolved so so so easily. also started talking about marriage, like, six months in.

bokuto: got sad. went out into a raging snowstorm in socks and no jacket. laid down in the snow for a long time. somehow, miraculously, didn't get a cold afterwards?

akaashi and/or yachi: changed majors and career paths because a pretty upperclassman asked them to. (i am very happy in my chosen path but jesus christ THAT was why i did it?)

hinata: flew from coast to coast of the country, then drove halfway back to the midwest in the span of three days. started a new job on the fourth day. didn't sign a lease on an apartment until the fifth day.

semi: skipped a day of work to drive four hours there and four hours back for a fall out boy concert. totally worth it but driving at 4am after a concert wasn’t the smartest thing ever to be done.

kuroo: started reading homestuck in the year of our lord 2024. this is an attempt to remain in contact with long distance friendships (by doing a bookclub) but jesus fucking christ dude.

ok this is getting too long and i needed to be ready for work, like 15 min ago lol. maybe i'll write more of these later, but i hope you enjoy these and my silly disasters are a little comforting :)

[xxcxelum]

MOURN NOT FOR ICARUS~

ABOUT: very long, 8562 words

STORY: retelling of the greek myth with an addition to the end

WARNINGS: i mean i guess he dies lol

A/N: i wrote this almost a year ago but i've mentioned it a few times and people said i should post it so im posting it on my writing blog instead of my main.

There was a bird out the window. Icarus could not identify it, for he had never received formal education. However it was small. Each feather on its wings varied in different shades of brown, and it had a black face. Icarus watched as it flapped its beautiful wings, so gracefully flying across the view outside, and delicately landed atop a tall mountainside tree. The small bird did not have a nest in the tree. It only landed on a shaky branch and looked out at the scene below.

Icarus understood why the gentle creature simply perched itself there. He himself was perched at the windowsill, staring out at the ocean below. He found the rhythm of the waves mesmerizing. But more interesting than the movements of the water was what laid below. The tower in which Icarus and his father were trapped in was, though an unfortunate circumstance, built at the edge of a mountain. He could see the sea lapping onto the bottom of the cliff. It was hard not to appreciate the natural beauty of the sight. 

Ahead, at the horizon, were more rocks and mountains, more islands. King Minos has imprisoned both Icarus and Daedalus on the island of Crete. After what his father had done, Icarus didn’t see the punishment fit, especially as he had nothing to do with it. Yet there he was, sitting in the tower, admiring the cities from behind a window that would mean certain death if he leaned only a little closer.

“Icarus,” his father’s voice spoke from behind him. The young boy turned around quickly at the call of his name. He was met with the sight of Daedalus working with a collection of feathers and wax, an already agreed upon method to get themselves out of there. “Help me with these wings.”

He was quick to do as he was told, glancing back at the view and the bird only once more before retreating from the windowsill. “Yes, father.” Icarus took those few steps closer to the center of the room, though it wasn’t far since the room was small. 

The surrounding walls were old and adorned with nothing but dust and the slight growing of moss between the stones. Even the floor was empty, for there was no reason for King Minos to provide the prisoners with anything other than what was needed to fulfill basic needs, which he classified as food and water. Even those were given sparingly. 

Daedalus sat on the ground leaning over the incomplete wings. The frame was already completed, made of materials that Icarus couldn’t quite recognize. He had never been much of an inventor like his father, but although he never took interest in it, he always found it fascinating to watch. His eyes followed his Daedalus’ weathered hands as they bent the wire frame, preparing the wax and feathers. There were leather straps on either side, presumably for their arms when they wore the wings. 

Icarus stepped closer and kneeled next to his father. Daedalus said nothing at first, holding the frame out in front of him and assessing his work. Then, with a nod of self-confirmation, he turned to Icarus. “No,” he told the boy when he tried to touch the wire. “Stand up, son. And put your arms out. I must add the feathers, but I cannot do so with the wings on the floor.” 

That statement made Icarus’ eyes brighten. He was already excited to fly; he’d been looking forward to it since his father first introduced the idea of it to him months ago. He knew that was the day that it was finally going to happen, the day they were finally going to free themselves from their prison, but now it was becoming more real. Once he had his wings on, all Daedalus had to do was put on his own and they would be able to jump from the window without falling to their deaths. 

So, doing as he was told, Icarus stood up and opened his arms. He watched in awe as Daedalus carefully slid the straps of the wings over his arms, the leather cool and smooth against his skin. Icarus hadn’t noticed another strap that was placed upon his torso, attaching the frame to his back. 

He could not tell Daedalus’ emotions as he did this, for his face was expressionless, focused solely on not breaking the wings. However once he finished, Daedalus stepped a few steps back as if to admire his creation. 

Icarus turned his neck to look at either arm, which were weighed down only slightly by the metal frame attached to them. Though the feathers weren’t done being added, he still smiled. He was only getting closer to the moment of inevitable freedom. 

The boy smiled at the thought, and at the wings themselves. Even if they were not finished, and even if he was not one to build such things, he did admire them almost as much as his father did. They were carefully constructed, delicate but strong so that it would be able to support his weight. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, one of genuine joy and excitement. 

“I look like a bird, father,” Icarus laughed. It was a small observation, a comparison that made him smile wider. Daedalus’ face had been more critical as he had been examining the wings and how they looked on his son, trying to figure out the best way to attach the feathers, but his gaze softened at the childlike curiosity that came from Icarus. Daedalus’ eyes moved from the frame on the boy’s small body and met Icarus’ eyes, a small smile of his own growing on his face. 

“Yes, I suppose you do.” With a nod of approval, Daedalus then decided to begin with the feathers. Icarus continued to admire the wings on his back, waving his arms up and down until his father told him to stop before they broke. Then, Daedalus started working. 

He had planned this for a while, but had to be careful as he worked to make sure that everything was done exactly and precisely as it should. He developed a technique of dipping the feathers into wax and carefully placing them on the wired frame of the wings. It took much patience and standing still, which was not easy for a young Icarus. Icarus had been standing there with his arms out for too long, and he was getting restless. Daedalus noticed this and decided to talk to his son in order to distract him from moving too much. 

“Do you remember what I’ve told you about flying?” Daedalus asked softly as he worked. He was standing behind him, so Icarus stared out the window as he answered. Icarus noticed the bird was still there. 

“Yes, you said that we must be careful,” Icarus replied. “You said that the wings are strong, but not perfect.” Daedalus nodded as he placed another feather on the wings. He was getting closer to finishing. 

“And what must we do to be careful?” He pushed, wanting to ensure that Icarus knew what was needed to be safe while flying. Icarus sighed, as he had been warned many times of what to do, even before that day. Daedalus had the idea for so long that he had been explaining the dangers to Icarus far before the wings were close to being constructed. 

“Do not fly too high or too low,” the boy spoke, echoing what he’d heard time and time before.

“That’s right. Because too high and the sun will melt the wax, and too low and the water from the sea will dampen the feathers. We do not wish for the wings to break.” 

Icarus knew this. He’d been told this plenty of times. Daedalus also understood that the repetition of these rules were most likely an annoyance to Icarus, but he still felt the need to reiterate them. Icarus had always had a sense of curiosity, a look of awe at everything his eyes perceived. He was inquisitive. Sure, Daedalus admired that; he was glad that his son had at least inherited something from him, if not his interest in inventing. But he knew how Icarus could be, and knew that no matter how many times he reminded him, a small part of Icarus would still want to explore the sky. Daedalus had to do his best to emphasize the danger to his son. 

However the boy only found it irritating. Icarus knew what to do and knew that if he went too high or too low then the wings would break. It was obvious to him that he wouldn’t be so reckless as to put himself in danger like that, so he didn’t appreciate Daedalus saying the same thing over and over. Yet deep down, Icarus knew that his father only cared for him and wanted him to be safe. So he tried not to let it bother him too much, and to appreciate the love from his father. 

Daedalus continued for what was a little under half an hour until he finally finished the wings. When he told him that he was completed, Icarus practically jumped up, though he was already standing. Icarus’ smile only grew wider as he spread his arms out and looked at the wings. 

He didn’t know where Daedalus had gotten the feathers, he only knew that he had been collecting them for a while. So Icarus didn’t know which bird they belonged to, however they were a light tan color, almost an off white. Though they weren’t the right shade of brown, he couldn’t help but compare the wings to those of the bird out the window. It was a bird that he had been seeing a lot, though he wasn’t sure if it was the same one each time or simply the same species. Either way, his mind kept returning to the bird as he thought himself to be similar. 

Icarus’ excitement was palpable. He laughed as he lifted his arms up and down, mimicking a flapping motion. They were a bit heavier now, though not by much. The feathers were beautiful when they were all pressed together by wax, and he couldn’t even see the frame anymore. 

Daedalus looked pleased, not only to see the wings completed, but also to see his son so eager to fly. But of course before they could fly, he had to get his wings on and make them. Daedalus had started a bit on his own before, just to see if it was possible to do while someone wasn’t wearing them, but decided it might be best if someone else were to do it. However he couldn’t let Icarus put them on as he attached the feathers because Icarus was already wearing his pair. So Daedalus had to ever so carefully use the wax, like before, to put the feathers on his own wings. 

But that wouldn’t work forever. Eventually, he got to a point where the wings wouldn’t balance somewhere on their own, so he had to put them on and asked Icarus to help him with the last few feathers. 

Of course Icarus was more than willing to help. He wanted to be able to feel important, to feel like he was actually doing something useful and aiding their escape rather than just standing there and waiting impatiently for his father to have his wings ready to fly. 

Icarus quickly went to stand behind his father, who had already put the almost-done wings on his back, and did as he was directed to finish them. He tried to imitate the movements of Daedalus in the way that he had been using wax to attach the feathers to the wings’ frame. As he spoke he worked, rambling mostly out of anticipation. 

“You know, father, when we escape, the first thing I want to do is eat a proper meal. It’s been far too long since we’ve had that opportunity. Actually, maybe I will drink cleaner water first. That is a smarter decision.” Daedalus only listened with an amused smile on his face as his son spoke. “Perhaps the first thing I will eat is an olive.” 

That made his father chuckle. “An olive? Is that so?” 

Icarus nodded, placing another wax-dipped feather on the wings. “Yes, an olive. I like olives. I haven’t had one since we’ve been imprisoned.”

“Yes, well, the olive tree is the sacred plant of goddess Athena,” he explained, wording things carefully so as to not upset the deity. “And I will tell you, humbly of course, that my genius for inventing and such was a blessing from the goddess of wisdom herself.” That made Icarus’ eyes widen. He hadn’t known that. “So, as my son, perhaps she will favor you and give you the best olive.” 

The young boy grinned. It was new information to him that his father was blessed by a goddess, let alone one as powerful as Athena. And the idea that she would favor him as well was exhilarating, even if it only resulted in a single, well-tasting olive. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the impatient Icarus, but couldn’t have been more than an hour, they were finished. Icarus placed the last feather on his father’s wings, and Daedalus checked his own and his son’s to make sure they were intact and in the right condition to fly. Icarus, though not saying anything about it, was proud of himself for managing to finish Daedalus’ wings for him, even if the job had been relatively small. Just as he wanted, he felt important, he felt useful.

And now the time had finally come for the wings themselves to be useful.

The moment he decided they were finished, Daedalus got straight to the point. “We must be quick, Icarus,” he told his son. “I do not know how much time we have.” They both knew that he didn’t mean time left in the day; the sun, shining in all its glory, was still directly above them in the sky. However it was King Minos, their captor, who they feared. He did not enter their prison often, almost no one did, but those who were meant to feed them or check on them would come at arbitrary intervals. At any second could someone enter and discover their plan for escape. If that happened, there would certainly be punishments- punishments that Daedalus did not want Icarus to have to live through.

Icarus only nodded, understanding what his father was thinking. He waited for further instruction, but already knew that their next move was going to be: fly.

Daedalus stepped closer to the window starting by simply looking out and assessing the view, noting the height at which they were at and how if the wings were to break or malfunction, they would not be able to survive the fall. Especially not if they landed in the water. He took a deep breath and turned back to Icarus, who had also been looking out the window eagerly. 

“I know I have told you countless times before,” Daedalus began once more, wanting to stress as much as possible the dangers to his son. “But you will stay by me. When we jump out this window, give yourself a couple of seconds for the wings to begin gliding; do not panic if you feel you are to fall because you will not fall.” Icarus let out a sigh of irritation, but Daedalus continued. “And you will stay behind me as we fly. As I’ve said, do not go too high, as the sun will melt the wax, and do not go too low, as the water will dampen the feathers. Do you understand?” 

Daedalus knew that Icarus understood. He knew how much the boy cared about himself. He knew that he would never do something so reckless as to risk his life, he knew that. Icarus had so much to look forward to in his life; he was young and had much potential. Even if he wasn’t aware of it himself, Daedalus knew that the young boy had so much of his life ahead of him. He would never do something to lose that. 

“Yes, father.” 

For a few moments, their eyes were met. They both were aware of the risk they were about to take, of how much danger they were putting themselves in. Even if Icarus did as he was told, and even if Daedalus was so sure of his wings, there was always a chance that things would go wrong. Not just the possibility of a flaw in the making of the wings, but also the looming possibility that the gods themselves would interfere. 

Zeus was the god of the sky. If he wasn’t happy with them in his domain, he could easily strike them down before they even made it to the next island. Daedalus knew this. That was a risk he was willing to take. 

He nodded, and then broke eye contact with his son. 

One last time, Icarus looked around the small room that had been their unwelcome home for too long. The cold stone walls and floor. The furnishings, or lack thereof. The damp scent. He was relieved to be leaving, to have the smell of moss overgrowth replaced by that of the ocean. Not only relieved but, of course, excited. He took a deep breath and turned back to the window. The bird was still there, sitting out on the tree. But when it suddenly got up and flew away, Icarus no longer watched it in jealousy, for he knew that at last he would get to do the same. 

 Daedalus took the final moment before their escape to say a prayer. He prayed to Zeus, wishing for the king of the gods to grant them safe passing over his skies. They were not out of Zeus’ favor, the father and son, but not necessarily within it, either. And since the gods didn’t simply reply to favors like that so quickly, there was nothing more they could do in that moment than pray and hope he was in a good mood that day. 

Then, that was it. There was nothing else. No more wings to finish, no more rules to reiterate, no more prayers to be said. They had done everything part of their plan but one. There was only one thing for them to do, and it was jump out that window and finally, finally, be free. 

No words were exchanged between the two of them, only another small nod of acknowledgment, as Daedalus took the initiative to step up to the windowsill first. If the wings wouldn’t work, he told himself, he wanted to be the one to find out. Not Icarus. 

Icarus watched, his impatience only growing, as his father carefully climbed into the small window. He had to be careful in how he fit himself in it, so that the wings would fit as well and not be squished in the cramped space. Icarus let himself take a few steps closer, too. Because the moment Daedalus took off, it was only a matter of seconds until he would have to follow. 

The man did not look back to see Icarus’ reaction. He didn’t want the boy to realize the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want him to notice the shaking in his hands as he got so close to the edge, closer than he ever would, because normally that close would mean death. But this was not normal. They had wings, and they would fly.

“Go.”

That was the only warning Icarus had that his father had jumped. It took him longer than it should have for him to actually process what he’d just watched: his father jumping out of a window. Yes, there were wings, but for a few seconds, it simply appeared that he had fallen. He was now alone in the tower. There really was no turning back.

When he snapped back to the present, Icarus rushed over to the window and tried not to focus on how high up he was, how he couldn’t find Daedalus in the sky at first glance, how small everything was below. He forced himself to take a deep breath, climbed into the windowsill, and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he jumped.

Icarus was falling. 

That was the first and only thing he could register. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t grant himself the horror of seeing how fast he was falling towards the ground. He knew the wings would work, Daedalus had warned him that it would take a few seconds before they actually began to glide. But those few seconds were terrifying. 

Icarus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowned out by the wind rushing past him. He could also feel that wind, through his hair, through his entire body. He felt the disorientation of tumbling, his stomach turning, heart pounding, breath taken from the shock of the moment. Panic settled in- why wasn’t he flying? He was supposed to fly. The wings clung to him, feeling more like dead weight than anything else. They weren’t working, he thought. They weren’t working, they weren’t working, they weren’t-

As he fell, Icarus suddenly felt a change. A subtle resistance to the pull of gravity. The wind slowly stopped rushing past him, and as it slowed down he reminded himself to spread his arms out even more. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he forced himself to open them once the falling had slowed.

Icarus was flying.

He was flying like the bird he’d been watching enviously for far too long. He could no longer feel the wind rushing past him, but as the breeze picked up, he felt he was part of the wind. With his eyes open now, Icarus allowed himself to look down with no fear. He was not scared anymore. He was thrilled.

The view below was even better from the sky itself than from the window. He could actually see the rest of the town to his right, which he hadn’t been able to see from the tower. There were homes, buildings, the little ants below he realized were people, and trees- olive trees. He smiled at that. Not only at that but the fact that he was flying. He was doing it, he was finally doing it! This was the most amazing moment of his life. 

Directly below him was the sea. It was a beautiful combination of green and blue and even white with the foam from the waves. Above him was the sky, the clear sky. There were no clouds, only the bright, brilliant sun against the blue above. 

But, of course, he could never get too close to either of them.

Icarus shifted his focus. He had to find his father and follow him, as he’d been instructed. He lifted his head from admiring the sights to looking about the sky around him, letting out a breathless sigh of relief when he saw Daedalus several feet ahead of him. The man was facing him, too, as if they’d been searching for each other.

It was a strange sight, seeing Daedalus flying. The wings on his back looked so gentle, and he knew how delicate they were. They were strong, however, clearly enough to carry the large man. They looked like they didn’t quite belong on Daedalus. In a way, they almost made him look like an angel.

Icarus chuckled to himself at that thought, though it was probably a bit more animated than usual since he was already experiencing so much joy. He wondered if he, too, looked like an angel.

The father and son were far apart, but the moment their eyes met there was an unspoken understanding. Even if they couldn’t quite make out the other’s expression, even if there was no way they’d be able to hear the other if they actually spoke, they could tell how the other felt. Daedalus let himself smile at the complete, genuine joy his son was exuding. Then, making sure that Icarus was still going the right direction with him, he turned away and focused himself on flying towards the nearest island that was not the one they’d just escaped from. He could see it in the distance, not much further. They’d just have to keep going on the straight path, and they’d be there soon enough.

Icarus knew that this was the goal, to get to another island and be free. Drink fresh water, eat an olive, whatever they wanted to do. And seeing the island, so close yet so far, was only making it more exciting. 

For a long while, they simply flew. It only took Icarus a couple minutes to get the reins of the wings and figure them out. He quickly taught himself how to turn either direction, how to angle himself upwards or downwards. But he didn’t use that, of course, other than where he had to in order to direct himself in the right direction after Daedalus. He stayed close behind his father as they flew together, feeling the wind beneath his arms and breathing in the air, salty from the ocean below. 

It was then, in experimenting with the mechanics and controls of the wings, that Icarus made his mistake.

He began carefully, still heeding the warnings that Daedalus had given him. Icarus let himself glide lower, closer and closer to the water’s surface. It was gradual and considerate, not to put himself in danger. He knew the risks of getting too close, he knew that he should just stay directly behind his father. But he could still see Daedalus from where he was, a little below him now, and Daedalus was not looking back anymore. So as long as he continued to be careful, he could test the limits of the wings without them breaking. Or so he thought. 

Icarus slowly descended lower. It was almost that same feeling of free falling before, but this time much more controlled. There was not a single ounce of panic in him as he got closer to the water. The wind was rushing past him again, making it all the more exhilarating. Icarus was careful to spread the wings out as much as he could and use them the right way as to not lose control. 

When he got close enough, he could feel the water on himself. He was just low enough so that he wasn’t touching the ocean, but he could see it right there, right in front of him. The greens, the blues, the whites, the shining reflection of the sun. He could feel the cool droplets of water against his bare arms, too caught up in the pure delight of the moment to realize that the wings were being wet by the water, too.

Icarus was laughing. He was smiling. He was happier in that moment than he had ever been in his whole life. After so long being imprisoned, he felt free. This moment, being by the water, was more freedom than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t want it to end; he wanted that moment to last forever. He wished he could be suspended in time, always feeling such liberation and elation. 

Since that wish was impossible, he decided to take it a step further. 

He was already taking a major risk by allowing himself to get so close to the sea. He’d been told exactly not to do that. Icarus respected his father, loved his father, and would never intentionally go against him. But the lure of it all was too big. The feeling he got from it all was indescribable. He felt invincible. So far, Zeus had accepted their prayer for mercy in his realm and was allowing them safe passage. Maybe, Icarus dared to hope, Zeus was allowing him this moment. Maybe he was letting him risk the dangers because he understood. 

The king of Olympus was not an understanding god. But Icarus didn’t know that.

Icarus allowed himself another deep breath, breathing in the salt from the ocean, taking in the reality of the moment, before swooping back up to meet the same level as his father in the sky. Daedalus seemed not to have noticed that Icarus had done such an unsafe thing, and was continuing to fly. 

Once he was back where he was supposed to have been all along, Icarus only flew straight ahead for a minute or so until he just couldn’t resist the temptation of something different this time- not the sea, but the sun. 

Icarus looked up. If he had already gone too low without the wings being ruined, he could go a bit higher, right? Perhaps Daedalus had just been underestimating the strength of his wings. If he really had been blessed by Athena, surely they would be able to withstand a little heat from the sun. They’d survived the water, so he was certain that they’d survive the sun, too. 

So he took that risk and flew up. By this point, he had so much control over the wings, had figured out the small details with such perfection in such little time, that he knew how to raise himself higher and higher, steadily moving himself up into the sky. 

Daedalus still did not notice. He had made the mistake of trusting that his son would never be so reckless, would never be so ignorant to his own warnings. He did not look back and see that Icarus was no longer behind him. He did not know that Icarus was in fact getting so distracted and off-path that he could not even see Daedalus in the sky anymore. He did not realize that Icarus had been blinded in the most literal sense by his desires. If he had noticed, maybe he would have been able to do something to save him from himself.

Icarus, on the other hand, was relieved that his father did not realize. He knew that it would only anger him. So he could not say why he was doing it, why he was getting higher, why he was allowing himself the pleasure of attempting to reach the sun itself. It was not that he wanted to disobey his father. He did not want to go against his orders. He only wanted to have fun, and fun did he have. 

He was carried away by the moment, not realizing what he was really doing. Icarus just kept getting higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun, farther and farther from Daedalus, who remained oblivious. Icarus’ laughing had restarted again, the smiling on his face growing impossibly wider. He thought he had felt good close to the water; this was even better. The bigger the clouds and sun looked above him, the smaller everything else looked below him. He was soon able to actually feel the heat of the sun on his skin, more than one did on the ground. He could feel it on his face, like that of the flame of a candle. Warm and inviting, friendly, egging him on to get closer, convincing him that no harm could be done. He was having too much fun, being too foolish that he actually believed it. 

It stayed that way, all fun and entertaining. The pull of the sun was so incicing. The thrill of the flying itself was too great. The feeling of it all was the best thing he had ever experienced, the best high--to the most exact meaning--that he knew could ever be achieved. Icarus was, in that moment, the closest any mortal had ever been to the sun, the highest anyone had ever been in the sky. 

Icarus was the closest any mortal had been to the gods.

And he felt like a god. He felt invincible, infallible, strong, powerful, he felt unstoppable. He felt like he had become that bird that he had admired. He felt like he could fly anywhere, do anything, touch the sky. That was exactly what his mind was set on doing. 

Things didn’t change when Icarus began to smell something off. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean- no, that was long gone. He’d gone far too high for that. It was a smell that was accompanied by the sensation of something hot against his skin. Something other than the heat of the sun itself. He was so intoxicated by the pure feeling of euphoria that it took him longer than it should have for him to realize that the feeling of heat and the scent that he couldn’t put his finger on was actually coming from the wings. 

The sun was melting the wax, just as Daedalus had warned. 

Icarus didn’t stop when he felt this. He was still consumed by that sense of power and god-likeness. He didn’t want to stop, regardless of the wings melting.

Perhaps he realized that it was too late for him by then. Perhaps he realized that he was too far from the island to make it, he was flying over the middle of the ocean, not close enough to any to manage to glide himself to safety. Perhaps he realized that once the wings had begun to melt, there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he realized that he was going to die. 

So there Icarus was, flying like a bird for the first and last time. He didn’t let himself come to terms with the fact that he was not going to get that one olive, the fact that he was not going to have any of the hopeful future that had been promised to him. He did not want to be overwhelmed by the reality that he was not going to get to apologize to Daedalus for disobeying. He only wanted to continue feeling the hot sun, not the hot wax. To feel that freedom one last time. 

In what he realized to be his final moments, he let himself close his eyes. He once again did not want to see how quick he may have been falling to the ground once the wax completely melted from the wings. 

Icarus imagined himself to be the stick of a candle, the wings to be the wick, and the sun to be the flame. For a small time, the wick would burn. The candle would be alight, shining brilliantly, lighting up the space for as long as the wick could last. Until inevitably, the wick reached its end, the candle burning out. Until the wick finally died, reaching the stick of the candle and engulfing that, too, in flames. 

His laughter was the only sound echoing through the skies as he fell, the only thing alerting Daedalus that his son had flown too close to the sun and paid the price. 

***

His mind was still swimming. He could barely remember what happened, and didn't know where he was. He sat up but kept his eyes closed. But wait, he thought, that was wrong. He shouldn’t have been able to sit up. He was supposed to be dead. He shouldn’t even have a body anymore, he shouldn’t be anywhere other than the Underworld. But light was seeping through his closed eyelids, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was not in the dark depths of the Underworld. 

But then again, he’d also been certain that the wings would not melt under the sun.

Icarus reached a hand up to his forehead to try to stop it from pounding, almost losing his balance in the process. He took a deep breath, surprised that he had the capability to breathe. This was all wrong;  he had died. He remembered the wings breaking entirely and sending him crashing into the ocean below. He remembered death; he remembered the moments before it, too, when he’d accepted his fate. Where was he now, and why did he feel alive again? “Icarus.” The voice that spoke his name was one of power. It was deep, serious, demanding respect. It made his name no longer just a name, but a command. He forced himself to look up and open his eyes, squinting them at the figure before him.

It was a man, a man who somehow carried youthful features yet an expression weighed down by years upon years. A man who was completely ageless, both extremely old and extremely young. The man had blonde hair and wore a perfectly white toga that managed to still look bright white against his pale skin. He was muscular and had a strong jawline. Everything about the man was… perfect. It took Icarus a few moments to realize that the man was watching him emotionlessly with glowing golden eyes. Then he realized that all of him was glowing, he was shining like the sun.

Icarus realized that the man before him was no man at all. He was a god.

When the realization set in, Icarus forced himself to stand up, ignoring the dizziness. Maybe it was a bad decision of him to try to stand up in front of someone so powerful, he should probably have kneeled, but being sprawled across the ground half sat up was probably not very respectful, either. When Icarus stood, he let himself look around and noticed that their surroundings were essentially all white. They must have been in the sky somewhere, in the clouds. 

Icarus was so overwhelmed by the situation, not comprehending it all. He didn’t really think when he pointed his finger at the god--something he immediately regretted--and blurted the obvious:

“You’re Apollo.”

Then he quickly realized his error and tried to correct it with a sloppy bow. No one had ever taught the young Icarus how to act in front of a god. Thankfully, Apollo was not upset or insulted by the boy’s actions, though his expression remained blank. Icarus could not tell what he was thinking, and for some reason it made him anxious.

Apollo only nodded. “Indeed I am.” He watched as Icarus straightened up from his bow. Icarus felt like he was being scrutinized under the god’s divine eyes, and didn’t know whether to meet them or to look away. He was completely unprepared for this moment. “Take off those wings.”

Icarus hadn’t realized that the wings were still attached to him. They’d somehow stayed to his form into the afterlife- or at least he assumed this was the afterlife. He had no idea what was happening. Though now, the wings were mutilated. The wax had melted not entirely, but enough so they could not fly any longer. An entire part of the back was waxless, and everywhere else was either half-melted or had feathers missing. The sad remnants were clinging desperately to the now weakened frame. He obeyed Apollo’s order immediately and began fumbling to slide the leather straps off of him.

The wings fell soundlessly to the floor, which Icarus still didn’t know what that floor was. He then looked back up at Apollo, who still only stared at him. Icarus stood there uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then took the silent stare as his cue to step away. Once he did, Apollo stepped forward, leaned down, and picked up the wings, examining them with a certain detached interest. 

“Fine craftsmanship,” the god noted, looking at the slightly-terrified Icarus again. “I assume your father made them?” The boy nodded quickly. 

“Yes, he did. And I helped. Well, not with this pair but with his.” He then decided he should have left the answer at yes and not given unnecessary explanation. 

He really was a mess. 

Apollo nodded. He seemed to still not have been offended by Icarus’ unrehearsed nature. He simply spoke to him as if he were any other man, rather than a child who was both in awe and fear of the powerful being before him. Apollo turned his attention back to the wings, plucking a single feather off of them before dropping them back to the ground. Icarus cringed as he dropped them so carelessly but was afraid to say anything about it. 

“Do you know why you are here, Icarus?” The speaking of his name once again made him nervous, as Icarus felt so minor and insignificant in the presence of a god. His name didn’t deserve to be said by Apollo’s mouth; he didn’t deserve to be speaking with him. 

Icarus hesitated before answering. “Because… I died. But, forgive me if I am wrong, but this is not the Underworld.” Apollo waved his hand dismissively. 

“No, no, of course not. I would never go down there. It’s quite the opposite of my realm.”

His realm. It took Icarus a few moments to think about that. Apollo was the god of many things, he knew that. Medicine, prophecy, music, archery, the sun-

Oh. 

Icarus suddenly knew why he was there. His heart dropped to his stomach. He had been trying to do the impossible, to touch the sun. Daedalus had only been considering the god of the sky when deciding to pray for safe passage while flying. They hadn’t thought about the other gods who ruled the above, too. Had he upset Apollo with his recklessness?

“No, Icarus, you are not in the Underworld,” Apollo continued. “I stopped you on your path to Hades; I wanted to speak with you. Mortals die every minute, you see, but it’s not everyday I find one like you.” 

Icarus swallowed hard. The way Apollo spoke, he still couldn’t tell what he was thinking about this whole situation. He couldn’t tell if he really had offended him or not, and it was nerve-wracking. 

“I- I apologize if I insulted you, Lord Apollo,” he began carefully, the title sounding too formal for his young mouth. “I had no intention to.” Apollo shook his head. 

“Do not apologize. To me, at least. I am not insulted. If anything I am flattered, really. Most mortals fear the sun; they fear me. You, however, seem to have no such opinion. It was quite entertaining to watch, I will admit. Such courage you have for such a young boy. I must ask, Icarus, why do you not fear me?”

Icarus was taken aback by that statement. He had flattered the god? By being an idiot. It didn’t make any sense. Apollo should have been offended, he should have wanted to torture or hurt Icarus in his afterlife after he attempted to go beyond the mortal realm. But… he didn’t. Icarus didn’t know how to react. 

And the mention of his father, the reminder that he had gone directly against what Daedalus had instructed, hit Icarus like a punch to the gut. A reminder that he had disobeyed and gotten himself killed for it. He didn’t want to think about Daedalus just then; he wanted to figure out why and how he’d managed to flatter the god of the sun. Icarus took a deep breath. 

“I do fear you,” he admitted plainly. He didn’t know what more to say. 

Apollo was responding so casually that it made Icarus uncomfortable. He chuckled at his response, which didn’t make him feel any better- though Icarus had to admit that the sound of godly laughter was beautiful. “As you should, I suppose. But if you fear me, and I assume you must also fear death, why would you make such a rash decision and attempt to reach my sun?”

Icarus still was struggling to find the right words. He didn’t know how to explain his curiosity, it really had been an indescribable experience. The joy he’d felt in that moment was too much to ignore, he’d simply wanted to continue to go higher and higher. The skies had felt so limitless, the sun had felt so close. The consequences were unimportant as he flew, but now he was faced directly with them. 

“Because I wished to feel free.” That was the only explanation that Icarus could manage. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Free? You would have had more freedom if you hadn’t died, would you not? You gave up the rest of your life for a small taste of freedom?” 

Icarus only nodded. He was still at a loss for words, still trying to comprehend the entire interaction with someone so powerful. Apollo sighed, looking down at the small feather in his hand that he had taken from the wings. 

“Mortals are interesting creatures,” he explained. “They are born, live for so little, then die. But they find so much more to their lives. They’re born nobody, yet believe that they can become something great. It’s almost saddening to watch this endless cycle of life and death. To see the excitement in their eyes as they embark on a journey that will inevitably lead to their end. I don’t understand how you do it, how you keep yourselves so optimistic when you know that in half a century, more or less, you will be nothing more than a memory to the rest of the world.

“Mortals value their lives, no matter how insignificant. So that is why you interest me. You want to live long, you want to be important, yet you let yourself come to an early end for the sake of something as small and temporary as a fleeting feeling.” 

The god took a deep breath, running a finger down the soft feather, and looked back up at Icarus. The boy was only watching him, listening to an immortal’s perspective of mortality. If Icarus hadn’t been able to find the right words before, he was completely lost then. 

Icarus met Apollo’s gaze. The immortal was looking at him with something in his golden eyes that was noticeable now: a look of sympathy. Compassion. Perhaps even pity. 

He didn’t think a god to be capable of such human emotions. 

“I mean… I just…” Icarus tried to provide the god some explanation to his unexplainable actions. Apollo was watching him with interest as he spoke, the emotion in his expression barely there yet still noticeable. Icarus spoke slowly, his mind still turning as he explained. “I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t thinking. I had been trapped for so long… I got carried away by it all. I- I felt free, like I wanted, and I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make that feeling last forever.” 

Apollo studied the boy before him. He took note of his imperfections, his mortality. Even in death, Icarus’ hair had been ruffled from flight. His arms were red, presumably as a result of the wax melting off the wings and onto his skin. His clothes were tattered. The look on his face was one of fear and vulnerability. Apollo was used to mortals looking at him with that sense of terror, but this was somehow different. Something about Icarus’ youth and innocence. Apollo still didn’t understand how humans worked, how they managed to make such careless decisions, how they grappled with their inescapable death. But watching this young man try to explain himself, he thought that maybe once he could at least understand. 

“You are a fascinating mortal, Icarus. That is a compliment coming from me.”

Icarus swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

This entire conversation was unnerving, but he sensed a slight change in the god’s demeanor, perhaps a tinge of compassion. And he’d just been complimented by Apollo himself. He never thought that flying too close to the sun and doing exactly the opposite of what his father told him to do would lead to a compliment from one of the most powerful beings in the universe. But of the many things he was still unsure of in that moment, there was one question that came to mind:

“What will happen to me now?” He was almost afraid to ask. 

“Well,” Apollo began. “You will go to the Underworld and be judged, as all mortals are. That will determine where you spend the rest of eternity. You are not receiving any special treatment in your afterlife; I simply wanted to speak with you. And spoken with you I have.” Icarus was silent for a few moments, but then nodded slowly. But before he could give a verbal response, Apollo spoke. “Your father will mourn you greatly.”

Icarus was once again taken aback by that. He couldn’t quite tell if that was simply the god stating the obvious, or if it was some sort of order or curse, and he was too afraid to ask. “Yes, I am aware.” But Apollo’s next words surprised him yet again.

“Do you wish for him to?” 

Icarus froze. He didn’t want Daedalus to be saddened by his death, but of course he would be. His son had died, after all. It only made sense for him to mourn the loss of his own blood, the boy he had so carefully raised and loved. The child who’d become his closest partner in life. He didn’t want his father to be in grief. 

“I wish for my father to be happy.” 

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “Happiness. That is what you felt when you fell, correct? Daedalus will know that. He will know that you were happy.”

 Icarus’ eyes lit up. “You can do that?” He didn’t know if he would end up happy in the afterlife, or if he would receive punishment for being reckless. But at least in that moment, that small moment with Apollo, he was happy again. And Icarus knew that if Daedalus knew that, it would make him happy, too. Happiness was something neither of them had felt in so long. It was another feeling that had made the flight so intoxicating for Icarus.

“Yes,” Apollo said. “I can do many things.”

Then, before Icarus could express his gratitude, before he could say or do anything more, the entire moment shattered. Apollo disappeared, everything around them was gone. 

His conversation with the god was done. He was no longer in the in-between of life and death. Icarus was dead and would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would have to be judged, his eternal fate decided once and for all. 

But he would do all this with the knowledge that his father would know how he felt in those final moments. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he was happy then and now. He would enter the beginning of his afterlife knowing that eventually, Daedalus would get over the loss of his son. 

Icarus didn’t know what Apollo gained from that conversation. He didn’t understand why the god had taken such interest in him. But he did know one thing for certain:

He had died, yes, but he had felt freedom. He had found that feeling of happiness that had been missing for so long. Perhaps he had a small sense of remorse for his actions. If he hadn’t died, he would have been free with Daedalus, and they could have lived long lives together out of the tower that had confined them for so long. But in the end, he accepted his fate. He really was happy.

Because even if it killed him, he had touched the sun.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 xxcxelum

[perilegs]

i know it wasnt a serious comment but every time i look at a datv character and start thinking about their designs my blood starts boiling from the giving cosplayers a challenge comment

"The previous art director had the mindset we should make things easier for [cosplayers], which I think is a misunderstanding of cosplayers," he says. "We've seen the kind of challenges they're willing to take on, and so we've gone for, in some cases, a level of complexity and detail that I hope a lot of them are excited to rise to the challenge for."  x

unrelated to my point but why are you dragging the previous games down. have you seen any of the designs you speak of mr art director. do you think merrill in da2 wasnt peak. or morrigan in origins? do you know how hard it is to make cosplay armor.

you could have just been like "hey the characters have a lot more detail than before! look at neve's hat and everyone's clothes every single inch being embroidered or otherwise patterned"

which also makes me think. was any thought put into the designs or did they just want to detailmaxx so they can brag. idk if they could have said anything that would turn me personally off more from cosplaying anyone or analyzing their outfits

[purpurussy]

.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

among the boundless billions zaniness like laugh track as it definitely has that moment of expressing "rolling my eyes as The Left makes a kerfuffle of Acting like they have a stance as a veneer over the true belief that [xyz] is cool & chill actually" like what, approximate 0.000% chance wendy isn't, as usual, given the Objective Stance of "yeah yeah ohh we are cancelling involved parties talking about how we Don't watch this But. we all love this damn epic movie & already have it memorized so shut the fuck up, kids today" like. don't wanna really delve into how much billions thinks taylor or anyone is "really" trans / nonbinary like not too much benefit of the doubt in this material including what does provide info abt that specifically

& the general like [head in hands. what do you think any of this could possibly be about (you're the one that made your show at all about Power)] of "yes, it's bad/wrong to be someone that someone has done something to / victim of something" like that to be anti misogyny All Women Must Be Epic Winners b/c there's something to be proved: that they don't Deserve to be victims (of misogyny), not taken as a Given. while when we see some epic winner men stepping on other men (who need not all be guaranteed Winners so as to say misogyny is wrong), that's often Good, well beyond any assumption that various forms of basic disrespect / violation / patterns of emergent/entrenched power difference as Bad (for being things done to people, not for there being people they're being done to), & generally billions has to take an extra step when ppl get shitted on & tell us the Specific Cases when it was undeserved actually & someone was being mean to a specific person who didn't deserve that. & the specific cases when hey guess it wasn't that bad(tm) or when hey It's Okay that you're someone something was done to, in this case. & tell us what we were supposed to know all along like when someone who something was being done to (wrong Of Them, whether b/c they inherently deserve it no matter what, &/or b/c they failed to be someone who could make it Impossible to do anything to them, which, how do you do that besides being The Authority / Superior yourself, exactly? nonrhetorically? what if the in group vs out group / fascism / authoritarianism protected Me?) was actually being treated Too Well b/c ah well the abuse meant you were getting any attention, maybe it meant you were claimed as any superior's property, maybe it meant you weren't Already disposed of, as all Losers were in the end, You're Welcome.

obviously referring to winston where it's spelled out all the abuse towards him was deserved, & More than he deserved in the case of rian having more access & taking advantage of that, all for billions' enjoying its own sendoff there of, again, maximizing violation & violence short of [real violence is physical & leaves bruises / draws blood / Literally kills] which would be distasteful in general But doesn't it make wags look like the winner & winston the loser is that the former's completely unrelated completely impersonal ego blow gets way amplified taken out on winston, the most vulnerable recurring character when spyros as [first & ultimate Everyone Hates Him role] is more entrenched in there & billions still magnanimously pities tuk, as it does winston too, just not quite as much. again that like completely surface level realized power fantasy of forcing the mirror up to the Inferior so they're like nooo my inferiorityyyy & in doing so like, the projection in that lmao, we get it re: the valuing of & need(tm) for such Power Tripping & Reaffirming My Superiority & My Ego Restored; Everyone Claps like good god. & then for all ben & tuk are the slightly softer Two Too Nice Boys duo to the rian & winston quant duo, also like too nice i guess but not as much, ben is in charge of tuk but Any instance of rian being in charge of winston outstrips them in that "yay interpersonal abuse" dynamic, like then in the end billions may be like "yeah it's possible to be mean to them unlike how being mean to winston is actually Nice b/c he deserves everything he gets, we only vicariously enjoy it vs Feeling Bad for tuk & ben sometimes (still magnanimously & it's Not That Bad / just goofin)" like ben & tuk still Fail by not being people it's impossible to do anything to. & not Exceptions who anyone is really being Too Mean to. like if they were women, in which case, no problem surely with a "positive" kind of victim blaming where there is something Inherent that Will be victimized so hey how about to cancel that out there's this special Paternal Protection you Need always, Or Else? :) but instead they are men who are asian & is ben gay & w/tuk & winston nobody mentions glasses or fatness but billions doesn't really do much or very in depth textual mentioning of Anything, even w/nonzero mention that there may be gender & race in this world. a gay man, once. no disability. we just Know who are the inferiors who deserve it when they're treated inferiorly, or if they don't, they start deserving it when they fail to stop/avoid it, but if you start mentioning the factors behind who we all totally agree is inferior like whoa nobody was Saying any of that? being the real agent of oppression on the basis of the factors only You spelled out, much? nonbinary? i never say anything about the Gender Binary when i'm subscribing to it, sounds like You've created & enforced it. obfuscation & deflection onto [so Just Normal nobody has to label, explain, or argue it] couldn't serve a purpose & protect the existing power differences as they are. maybe You're the problem? perhaps you brought it upon yourself & now you're causing too much trouble standing up for yourself while everyone else's criticism is laser focused on you as the prior & continuing negative actions done to you are taken as a given / unquestioned / covertly protected to overtly encouraged?

anyway so wild if the Completely Normal(tm) Victim Blaming is uncritically recreated & oft embraced for "if you're watching this & don't wish you were axe / find him appealing" [billions as a sequence of vicarious power trips] purposes in this series....but a bit wild considering like this is your multiseason show that wasn't just purporting to be those power trips for [enough demographic & apparently specific personal tastes overlap w/creators] & was at all purporting to question the matters of power at play in the material, or yknow, at least to not be completely superficial material while said material is textually & thematically all about power difference being leveraged, how, the consequences, & so on. thus i will have to intermittently talk about it forever like this like lord unbelievable. & the funny little & sometimes less funny less little characters it has trapped in there so that those of us who were never meant to be in the audience can be cursed with this knowledge. like i have some feedback. "imagine not victim blaming" & "imagine adjusting your perspective can go beyond superficial layers added to politely defer to some other ppl while they're present but really like cmon do they deserve that. am i not just saying what we're allll thinking"

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I keep thinking about Baldwin's wife cheating... At chess

It's that meme of "the smart kid, not understanding how he's losing to me/me, who's been hiding his pieces when he's not looking"

He's 100% aware, but how can he deny his wife a little bit of mischief?

♡ Checkmate! - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the cute request! I hope it turned out like you wanted it to. Sorry that it's so short, I figured it would work better as a oneshot. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

P.S: IM BACK EVERYONE!! School is FINALLY calming down so I can write again!!

“Checkmate! I won again, that's five times in a row!” the young queen shouted with excitement.

“I guess you did. Well done!” Baldwin chuckled, a smile of amusement forming behind the silver mask as his wife wrote down another tally mark on her side of the parchment, signaling yet another win.

“I don't know how you keep beating me at this,” the king said grinning.

“I'm just better than you!” y/n teased in reply.

Baldwin smiled in adoration at his beloved. Every night since their wedding, the young couple sat down and played five rounds of chess before retiring to bed.

And every night, y/n had won best out of five.

It wasn't that the king that was letting her win, it was that it was impossible.

Technically.

Since the young queen had taken to hiding chess pieces underneath her skirt whilst she thought he wasn't looking.

Baldwin had noticed the first time she did it and did not mention it, just to see what would happen. He had chuckled with delight when his wife had shouted “checkmate!” in excitement, knowing full well she had more than half of his pieces underneath her dress.

Ever since then, he had watched her hold back laughter while cheating confidently.

She was completely unaware that he knew about it. Even taunting at how he just couldn't beat her! He thought it was the most adorable thing in the world.

Baldwin never thought once about telling her he knew the secret.

He simply couldn't go without seeing her so happy, and how could he deny her a little fun.

He felt lucky that she even played with him, since she claimed “how boring it was” on the first night he had asked her to a game.

Perhaps this was her way of making it fun for herself.

“I'll clean up! You get ready for bed” y/n stated without getting up.

This was how it would go. She would insist for her to be the one to pack up the chess pieces into position, then take them out from under her dress while thinking he would never know.

Baldwin simply chuckled and stood to get changed while his wife disposed of the evidence.

He removed his mask, placing it on the side table before changing out of his robes to comfortable sleepwear. As the young king settled under the covers, y/n came in grinning at his defeat once again.

“Undefeated once again my love” Baldwin cooed.

Y/n giggled as she too changed out of her robes, crawling into bed beside him.

“I'm so much better than all of those others you have played. Even your sister says she can't beat you!” the queen said through laughter at her own taunts.

“Oh yess soo much better” Baldwin replied, wrapping his arms around his wife and burying his bandaged face into the softness of her hair.

Y/n rubbed her husbands back soothingly before speaking again, “you will beat me one day, don't worry!”.

The king looked down at his wife's smiling face, “I’m sure I will”.

[ravenromanova]

I fucking hate you

Parings: Bucky x Female avenger reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Mean Bucky (only for a little). SMUTTTTT DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18+! Daddy kink, Metal arm kink, Praise kink, Hate fucking, Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, Oral (m and f), Fingering. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE

Summary: When you and Bucky are forced to have a therapy session after a mission gone wrong you two find another way to let the anger out.

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!!

~

The sound of the clock ticking mixed with a pen tapping against a notebook drives you insane as you stare at the wall. It’s been thirty minutes of silence with neither you or Bucky daring to speak first. In your eyes this session was pointless. He was the one who fucked up the mission and yet youre paying for it by having a therapy session with him.

The mission was a simple intel mission… or it should’ve been until Bucky went off the rails and got the both of you captured. Luckily you were able to get yourselves freed before anything bad happened. But nevertheless you were told by Fury and Maria that you two needed to fix the issues between you. Honestly you didn’t hate Bucky as much as you led on but he could be such an insufferable asshole sometimes.

He would constantly pick on you like a small child, belittle your powers and abilities, and not to mention he would constantly ditch you during missions. So since he wanted to be an asshole you decided that being a petty bitch would get him to stop… You were very wrong and that just seemed to make it worse for you.

All in all you were completely infatuated with the super soldier but it was clear he had no interest in you. So you kept up the petty bitch act and that just meant the two of you were constantly at war with one another.

“This is a waste of time, It wasnt even my fault the mission got fucked up so im not even sure why im here.” You state crossing your arms looking at Dr.Raynor.

“The reason youre here y/n is so you and James can work through whatever it is going on in hopes that you two start getting along” The older woman says with a slight shake to her head.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with him if he wasnt such a dick” Your words made Bucky whip his head to look at you with a scowl on his face.

“Oh im the asshole? What about you huh? You’re a fucking pest and not to mention the weakest one on the team” He scoffed looking back at raynor.

“THE WEAKEST ONE? The only thing special about you came from a fucking test tube” You retort feeling yourself about to explode from rage.

“Oh so that’s how we are gonna play this?” He asked cocking his head to the side with a smug smile.

“You act like youre tough shit when in all reality take off the arm and take away the serum then what are you? A amputee with a military background.. You aren’t that special” Your words hit a part of him he didn’t know existed anymore.

“Okay enough you two!” Dr.Raynor said before Bucky had the chance to respond. “This is ridiculous! Throwing insults back and forth wont help whatever is going on between you two” She continued and you and Bucky huffed.

“It definitely makes me feel better knowing miss priss over here gets knocked down a few pegs” He mumbles under his breath.

“Okay that’s it! I’m fucking done. I cant do this shit anymore. You wanna hate me? fine. Guess what? I fucking hate you too” You said standing up abruptly and slamming the door as you exit the room.

Bucky and Dr.Raynor both looked at each other and sighed. “Why cant you just be honest with her?” She asked him making him roll his eyes.

“I dont know what youre talking about” He shakes his head making the older woman groan.

“Dont play dumb James. We both know how you feel about y/n you are just to chicken shit to tell her” She retorts raising her eyebrows at the solider.

“You’re a terrible therapist” He retorts shaking his head at her comment. Yes Bucky was madly in love with you but he didn’t think you’d feel the same after his past and how he’s treated you.

Ever since Bucky had come back from being blipped he found it difficult to readjust to life yet again. So he did what he always did he threw himself into his work. Avenging became the only thing he did day in and day out. He had met you during a meeting when you were introduced as the newest Avenger. You were all bright and bubbly towards everyone even him.

Naturally he avoided you not wanting to taint the sunshine that shined from within. But despite him being a dick to you, you still smiled at him during training, said good morning whenever you saw him in the mornings. You were just always sweet to him for some reason even though he had never shown you kindness. Well that was until six months ago when one day you were just as bitchy to him as he was you.

For some reason that hurt Bucky more than he thought possible. He didn’t think he would miss your sunshiny attitude until it was gone. The two of you started fighting amend arguing over everything for the past six months. The entire team was annoyed by the sudden escalation in you and Bucky’s relationship. Normally he would just be cold to you and that was it. But now you’ve started fighting back which was a surprise to everyone since you were normally so quiet. Bucky missed the ray of sunshine you used to be but he also didn’t want to taint you with his presence.

But nevertheless Bucky kept up his whole thing of messing with you and you started being bitchy right back, which was why the two of you were forced into therapy together.

“Go tell her how you feel James, That’s youre homework for the week” Dr.Raynor said breaking Bucky out of his thoughts.

“And if i dont?” He pushed tilting his head. The woman looked at him then sighed.

“If you dont ill make sure you and Peter are assigned on the same missions for six months” She threatened and Bucky’s eyes widened at the thought of being stuck with parker on missions.

“Okay okay no need to do all that” He said standing up and putting his hands up in defeat. The older woman laughed to herself as she watched Bucky walk out her office.

Bucky had left the office to go and find you but had no luck. He had looked for you in all of your normal spots kitchen, living room, game room, your room but you weren’t there. It wasnt until he decided to check the training room that he had found you. You were at the punching bags hitting them as hard as you could to get out your anger.

“Y/n?” He said softly as he approached you carefully not wanting to startle you. You had turned around to face him with your chest heaving and your face sweaty.

“What Bucky?” Your voice dripped with venom as you spoke. Bucky had ran his hand through his hair sighing a little.

“Look i just wanted to say im sorry” He said and you looked for any hints of sarcasm or anything in his eyes but found none.

“I’m sorry im gonna need you to repeat that” You brought a hand to your ear acting like you didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I never meant to hurt youre feelings doll” Bucky repeated but this time adding in a nickname that made your heart race.

“i-its okay” You stutter out not really fathoming the fact that Bucky is apologizing or that fact that he used a nickname to address you instead of an insult.

“No its not- i-i just dont know how to handle my emotions properly and i took it out on you when i shouldn’t have” His hands didn’t their way to your hips as he speaks. Your eyes go to his wands on your waist and then back up to him.

“It’s okay Bucky i get it” You say as your hands find their way to his shoulders. Bucky’s flesh hand moved to cup your face as he looked into your eyes making you melt. He slowly rubs his thumb against your cheek making you smile and lean into his touch.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?” The question comes out shaky when you speak.

“Because it wasnt until you said that you hated me that i realized i fucked up and treated the one person who has never looked at me like a monster like shit. And i couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me.” He said honestly and for the first time you could see genuine emotion in his eyes.

“And whys that?” You ask stepping a little closer to him with a small smile.

“Because im in love with you” Bucky admits bringing you into a passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss earning a small groan from him. The two of you get so wrapped up in each other you forget to come up for air.

“I-I love you too” You admit after you catch your breath making him smile. Bucky then picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He then carries you out of the training room and takes you to his.

When he brings you back to his room he lays you down on the bed before getting on top of you. He slots himself between your legs as he brings you in for another heated kiss. You moan into the kiss as you feel his hands roam all over your body. Bucky’s hands find the hem of your shorts and pull them down your thighs not breaking the kiss.

“Please” You whisper against his lips feeling his metal hand graze your dripping core. He sits on his knees and takes off you shirt then bra before sucking on your nipple. You throw your head back in pleasure letting out a moan.

“Oh fuck” Bucky takes his metal hand and finds his way in your panties and starts playing with your clit. “Yes daddy” You whimper breathlessly feeling the cool metal come into contact with your heat.

“Oh you like that kotenok?’ He asks after he releases your nipple with a pop. You nod your head and whisper a ‘Yes’ and start bucking your hips against his hand.

“Please please fuck me” You beg moving your hand down to his clothed crotch.

“So needy” He mocks unbuckling his belt and drops his pants on the floor before taking off his boxers and shirt. Once he’s fully naked in front of you, you cant help but stare at his reddened cock standing at attention for you.

You sit up so you come face to face with the red tip and wrap your hand around the base of his cock. His eyes go wide and his breath catches in his throat when you lick the pre cum off his slit.

“So good” You whisper before you hollow out your cheeks and take him into your mouth. His hands instantly find their way into your hair trying to resist fucking your throat. You tap his thigh letting him know he can use you as he pleases.

Bucky then grips onto your hair tighter and starts to thrust into your throat. “Fuck kotenok” He whines feeling your tongue graze the vein of his cock. You open your throat as much as you can so you can fully take him and sink down to the base of his cock.

“Fuck- i-im gonna cum if you keep doing that” He grunts feeling your throat open and close around him. His thrusts gets sloppy as he feels himself about to finish. He abruptly stops thrusting and pulls himself out of your throat making you whine.

“As much as id love to make you swallow id much rather breed that pretty pussy” Bucky says wiping the drool off your chin making you nod your head. You quickly get on all fours in front of him and wiggle your ass making him smack it.

“Yes daddy” You moan in delight feeling his metal hand come into contact with your soft skin. Bucky smirks and smacks the other cheek making you moan happily.

“You like that baby?” He coos rubbing the red marks he’s left making you shiver.

“Mhm” You nod backing your ass up against his cock. He takes the sign and slowly eases himself into you before bottoming out.

“So tight” He groans pulling out then thrusting back in. You scream in delight feeling his thick cock stretch you out. You weren’t a virgin in the slightest but Bucky had definitely been the biggest you’d ever taken.

“S-So big daddy” The words come out broken as you feel his tip kiss your g-spot.

“You can take it baby. Take daddy’s cock be a good girl and take it so i can fill you up. Would you like that? Do you want me to breed you and make you a mommy?” He asks wrapping his metal arm around your neck bringing you up to get a new angle.

“OH FUCK YES” You scream at the new angle feeling him in a new way. The thought of Bucky breeding you makes your eyes roll back and your brain go fuzzy. “Please-please fill me up daddy” You bed as his thrusts get harder.

“Oh i will kotenok dont worry” He says squeezing his hand a little around your neck. You never thought in a million years you’d have all your fantasies come true but fuck were you loving it.

“G-Gonna cum daddy… can i cum?” The question is choked out making Bucky smile.

“Yes baby cum for me im right behind you” He said and that’s when the coil in your stomach snapped and you came all over him. Feeling your warm walls clench down on him sent him over the edge, and he wrapped his flesh at around your stomach holding you close as he came. Bucky’s thrusts slowed down as he fucked his cum into you ensuring none would leak out.

“Fuck baby” He groaned in your ear giving you kisses up and down your neck and collarbone. “You did so good kotenok” Bucky praised slowly pulling out but still holding you close. Once he pulled out he laid you against the pillows and settled in between your legs again.

“T-Thank you daddy” You said in a fucked out haze trying to catch your breath. Bucky kisses from your chest down to your thighs and then settles his face in front of your pussy. He spreads your wet folds with his flesh hand before leaving a kiss on your clit.

‘Too sensitive daddy-cant-please-“ You protest trying to close your thighs but failing as he holds them apart.

“Just wanna taste you baby” He whispers giving your thigh a kiss. Not trusting your voice you opt your nodding and letting him do what he wants.

He slowly licks a stipe from your hole to clit making you whimper and cry out. Bucky groans at the way you taste and starts eating you like a man starved. His lips wrap around you clit and starts sucking lightly making you claw at his back.

“Yes yes yes” You chant feeling another orgasm about to rip through you. He picks up the pace and starts sloppily eating your pussy making you feel like never before.

“Gonna cum!” You scream arching your back off his bed and gripping the sheets as you finish on his tongue. Bucky groans in satisfaction and licks you clean before bringing you into a messy kiss.

“So fucking good” He praised after he broke the kiss. You smiled at him and feel back against the pillows in a haze. You felt the bed dip and you saw Bucky walk into the bathroom and grab a wet cloth. He came back to the bed and cleaned you up while telling you how good you did.

“You’re so perfect” He whispered in your ear laying down next to you. You crawled over to him and laid your head on his chest looking up at his pretty blue eyes.

“Not too bad yourself” Bucky laughed at your comment bringing you in for a loving kiss. “I could get used to that” You said with a cheeky grin on your face making him roll his eyes in faux annoyance.

“You better because now youre stuck with me” He said giving you a wink. The thought if being ‘stuck’ with him gave you butterflies and make you melt even more into hin.

“I think id be okay with that” You said pretending to think about it making Bucky laugh. He ran his hand through your hair and admired your beauty. In all of his 106 years on this earth he never thought he felt this way about someone. That was until you.. And he’ll be damned if he ever lets you get away again.

~The end~

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyyy can i request dottore with a female reader who loves dottores scent? like she sniffs him whenever they hug and loves stealing his sweaty clothes. Btw how do you think dottores body odour smell like?

(tbh i feel like im some crazy freak for thinking abt dottores smell all the time :0)

You're not a crazy freak love, i like the ideas so keep them coming^^

If we're talking about body odor, Dottore would have this very entrancing scent. Like, musky and minty at the same time. Let's say it's like an invictus perfume kind of scent, that would gain the attention of anyone who either isn't afraid of him or doesn't know who he is.

He would always make sure he would at least smell decent whenever he's inside or outside of work. He didn't know it would attract attention from others, in a good way.

But it's hard to be able to smell his scent when he's always in his work clothes.

Whenever Dottore's in the lab, he would have a different scent. A mix of coffee, chemicals and antiseptic.

If you're not used to Dottore in his line of work, this could be a very frightening thing to inhale. It's like walking inside an eerie hospital and you're just about to face your death, the doctor himself.

But, being Dottore's lover, this scent brings you comfort.

Here's a little fun fact that only you know and Dottore doesn't. The only way you can differentiate your Dottore from his older segments is just based on his body odor. Just hug them, sneakily inhale their scent and boom, segment or Dottore.

Now, Dottore and his segments would always wonder why you would greet them by hugging them. They just don't know that you're identifying who is who by inhaling their body scent.

Now, clothes.

Dottore would always catch you sneaking into the laundry basket and sniffing his clothes. He has tried many times to stop you from doing so. Who knows what chemical spills or filthy blood could go right up your olfactory nerves. And no matter how many times he tries to stop you, you always manage to do the opposite and keep doing it.

That's why he decided to have a spare laundry basket in his laboratory, only for his stained clothes and lab gowns. He doesn't want you to inhale more chemicals that got stuck to his clothes.

He'll still put his used and sweaty clothes in the laundry basket in your shared quarters so you have something to entertain yourself with. He just doesn't want to see you suffocate and nauseate again from inhaling formaldehyde from one of his lab gowns from back then.

You were simply sitting against the couch in Dottore's office, reading one of the latest novel that Childe got you from Inazuma while you wait for your lovely scientist of a boyfriend to finish with his work in the lab connected to the office. Too invested in the book, you didn't notice the new presence standing behind you. You hummed in response as you watched a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders and pulling you close to a firm chest.

"Hello, darling."

You smiled, knowing it's Dottore. But is it him or his segment?

You rubbed your cheek against the arm, using that action as a diversion to inhale the scent from his clothes. Antiseptic. Not a trace of his own body odor or sweat. This is definitely a segment.

Meanwhile, the 'Dottore' behind you was simply grinning at your actions, finding it adorable yet oblivious to what you're really doing.

You know there's only one segment that would confidently be affectionate towards you whenever his creator isn't around.

"Hello to you too, Omega. Are you done with your work?"

Omega, slightly surprised at how you easily guessed it was him, affectionately rubbed his cheek against the top of your head and let out a small hum.

"Not at all. I still have to wait for a few minutes until the concoction I'm currently working on is complete. In the meantime, I simply wanted to check up on you and be blessed with your attention."

You shifted in your position so that you were able to lean your head back to look at the masked segment before placing a kiss upon his cheek. This caused Omega to sigh in content as he basked in your affections.

Minutes turned into an hour as you and Omega chatted about the projects he and the others are working on. He was about to tell you about the newest project about creating a god but was immediately stopped by someone clearing their throat. You turned your head to the sound to come eye to eye with Dottore himself, his red irises staring back against your own.

"Omega, I suggest you get back to work instead of lazing around and chatting with my partner. The concoction you left behind has already finished thirty minutes ago."

"Ah, well then, I'll take that as my cue to leave. She's all yours now, Lord Harbinger. I'll see you later, darling."

Just as Omega stated, he quickly got up and went to head back in the laboratory, leaving you and Dottore alone. Leaving the book by the coffee table, you immediately ran over to your partner and hugged him, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his comforting scent. Dottore sighed when you hugged him, trying to push you away from him but failed.

"Dearest, I'd be glad to hug you back but I'm sweaty and I do not wish to contaminate you with my own sweat. Let me take a bath first then I'll cuddle you."

"No need. I like how you smell, doesn't matter if you're all sweaty or bleeding."

"You're odd, you know that. But that's what made me attracted to you, I suppose. Your oddities are very endearing."

Dottore, finally giving in, wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, placing a kiss to your forehead as well.

"Also, don't think I didn't catch you sniffing me everytime you're in my arms. Even if you're being sneaky about it and making excuses, it wouldn't get past my field of vision, darling."

Ah.

Seems like you've been caught in the act.

[pankielovesfan]

ii16 spoilers under cut

MORE talk about fan similar to the other post because there is still a lot to say. This is more about what fan means to mephone

Compared to most of the other contestants, Fan wasn't originally created to BE a contestant, which I find most interesting. Fan was quite literally created to be a fan of the show and randomly appears in season 1 (and he also delivers food I guess). Even if Mephone4 consciously made Fan or not, his appearance and creation obviously meant Mephone wanted appreciation for the things he was making, as is Fan's main purpose and service to Mephone. Fan is technically a manifestation of Mephone's love for the show itself, but he is also expressing vulnerable happiness of which Mephone feels like he could not express properly considering his issues with vulnerability. This might be why he is so outwardly dismissive of Fan's strong emotional enthusiasm for the show!!

So Fan technically is a support Mephone desperately wants, but he can't respond well to- but this definitely means Mephone appreciates Fan's dedication as he quite literally wished for Fan to exist as he is, being such an engaged Fan. He expresses passion for the show in a way Mephone couldn't do himself! Fan gives Mephone support as complete opposite to what Mephone feels Cobs would have! And you know what else Cobs does that Fan has an extreme well known trait of disliking and being scared of? Change. Cobs constantly reinvents, makes new things, discards old things, but Fan latches on. He observes patterns, he begs for predictability, structure and consistency.

Another notable trait of Fan is his defensiveness. Even if he's not good at it, he's incredibly stubborn to protect his passion and love to no end, being incredibly irrational about it. Cobs is well. Yeah. Massive Passion Disliker. He don't gaf about that. Fan might've looked up to cobs and meeple, but god if he's not possibly a parallel that's the opposite. I'm going to walk into the ocean. Im forever gonna think about how fan was created to be a support. like his entire goddam purpose is to love something so much!!!! and give it so much attention! and he is having so much fun doing it!!! IT IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!!

I'm not sure if the characters are partly "extensions" of Mephone or if they're Mephone projecting specific parts of himself, I believe most of all they are created from his desire (like, wanting a specific thing and that thing just appears for him if this is done unintentionally,) but either way I enjoy thinking about what each trait that manifested for Fan's character specifically would resonate with Mephone's experiences and why he would create him with those traits. or something.

My working theory is that Mephone labeled each character in his mind as one thing, such as "the jerk" for Knife and nothing more, letting the contestants take their own shape and personality as they gain more experience on the show, which I feel is validated through Lightbulb saying "I don't think we were all there yet" once seeing the season 1 contestants in alternate reality show! They build more of their personality as it goes along. I think Mephone has minimal control of the contestants personality wise after he's generated them, but i do think he influences their memories or experience with time or something?? I dont know. guess we will all see. Also this somehow isn't about fan anymore wow that's weird actually who am i where am i

relevant drawing. Time to collapse to my knees over this shit again

[dolliels]

third times the charm.

azul x reader

synopsis: azul likes you. and he’s been trying to ask you out for a while.

a/n: okay guys im not dead wtf. posting this fic to prove i didn’t kms 💀💀

azul had only three goals in mind: prove his bullies wrong, become rich and die rich.

his love life was the least of his worries. he’d probably swoon over some wealthy girl and marry her for connections. done deal. nothing much to think about.

azul thought about the huge house he’ll eventually own. he even has the measurements and everything down in his head.

everything would be at the grasp of his hands. no children, absolutely not. everything would be perfectly spread out just for him. he’d die on his deathbed with a huge grin on his face, knowing he’d only get the best even after he has left the world of the living. perfect.

so sometimes, he’d find himself wondering why he would be in a dazed state, daydreaming about a modest, happy future with you.

everything was laid out. his entire future was laid out. then suddenly, you decided to waltz into his life, and all he thinks about is you. waking up, he’s wondering if you’re sleeping in. or when he’s eating, he’d be trying to guess what you’d be buying to see if he actually knows your tastes. or during work, gazing around mostro lounge, seeing if you’d decided to take a visit to his beloved café.

ugh, it infuriated him.

sometimes, it would go as far as thoughts of marriage, which completely ruined him.

see, the thing is, he hasn't even asked you out. you and azul were not at all close intimately in any way. friends? sure. but not close like that.

so why was his mind leaping so far? did he really want to have such a commitment with you? after all these years of obsessing over his future?

he wanted to live such a luxurious life of power and money. so everything he’s done to build all the way up here seems to tumble down when in his head, azul seemed to feel much happier in a modest life with you. he felt his heart warm at the thought of being beside you even in his death.

he hasn’t daydreamed this much since middle school, when he’s had violent thoughts about ruining anyone who’s bullied him.

so, after much contemplation, he decided to confess.

the first time, he decided it was going to be simple. he was gonna hand you a bouquet of flowers afterschool, and ask if he could court you. simple enough, right? he’s look clean and awesome.

but when the time finally arrived, he found himself to have cold feet.

yes, he’d have the comfort of knowing he would have composure, but what if you reject him? then can he keep going on with the calm, collected manner? would you think a simple bouquet of flowers would be too little?

fortunately for you, you ended up having a pretty vase of flowers. unfortunately for azul, you wouldn’t know who it came from.

the second time, azul went on full glam.

it’s be an incredibly romantic setting. It's just you and azul, chatting away after hours of mostro lunge and you’d fall right into his trap of charms, and just when you’re feeling him, he’d confess. so while you have a good impression of him, would you receive a confession from him.

fancy food, calm, quiet setting.

azul was so sure he’d be able to do this that he even let jade and floyd intervene and help out.

yet when you and azul were talking, he found himself stuttering, quite a hot mess.

although you seemed quite confused and calm, azul was in a nervous state.

he’d start overthinking again, his head wandering off to merry land, thinking about the possible results of this confession. perhaps this was too excessive? Maybe the simple bouquet of flowers from before would’ve been better. you seemed to have enjoyed them.

no! azul already got this far, he has to do this!

“so, uhm… prefect…” azul behind, breathing in deeply.

you turned to look, and blinked at him. “yeah?”

…fuck.

it was like you wanted him to fail, batting your eyelashes (you literally just blinked) and looking so cute in front of him (you just inhaled a shit ton of free food)

“a-ah… is there anything else you want? I’m feeling quite generous.”

azul wanted to sprint out. he messed up again! It seems that the words “i like you” weren’t coming out of his mouth anytime soon.

you frowned. “really? you really don’t have it out for me?”

azul shook his head, and smiled. “you can trust me.”

you shrugged. “oh well. whatever debt I have to pay will be something future me can deal with.” you flapped the menu open.

It took quite a bit of convincing for the twins to drag you here, since you were suspicious as to why azul wanted to suddenly meet you, offering free food out of nowhere. azul was wasting all of it.

the twins will never let him see the end of it.

…and never seeing the end of it was he right.

even after such a mess up, predictably, the twins kept teasing azul about it. they’d even use it against him sometimes.

“ah…you’re making us do all of this when you helped you prepare a confession for the prefect and you didn’t even confess… and wasted our time…sigh….”

it was horrible down here with jade and floyd.

if he… possibly tried confessing to you again… would they stop?

although it seemed azul was in the dumps of announcing his love for you, it made him think about it again. freedom… from the twins… is this what heaven is like?

it wasn’t like azul completely stopped thinking of you, in fact, you appeared in his thoughts even more now, which seemed impossible already but who’s to tell?

you slowly consumed his mind, it drove azul insane. what’s even worse is that you’re completely blind to it, so he can’t even go to you for comfort from this madness.

it’s technically your fault, and also not your fault at the same time!

the days went by, and azul couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

yes, he wanted to appear as awesome and composed as he could in front of you, but you were driving him nuts without trying— azul just liked you so much. He couldn’t just hold inside him, of course he would go mad!

and anyways, third times the charm, right?

however, for the unlucky octopus, he just can’t seemed to find the right time. you were constantly surrounded by people, and if you were, for the rare occasion, alone, azul would freeze up at the unexpected chance.

this crush on you got even worse as well, turning more red by the second, compared to his slight discomfort from his early days.

he was already imagining a relationship with you, embarrassingly giggling to himself like a little girl with his eyes closed in bed. it was starting to take a toll on him when his head wandered astray to thoughts of marriage… it was like the world slapped him in the face as if to say hey! your life plans are totally going down the drain because you are pathetically in love!

he's spent many days mumbling to himself like crazy. stuck to be a paranoid businessman, considering every possibility and outcome he might receive if he ever told you his feelings, especially if you were to reject him. his eyes burned from being unable to sleep at night from overthinking and the stacks of papers he had to get through because he lost track of his focus thinking of you.

now you were ruining his life.

and what were you doing? nothing.

it's like whenever you were bored, you decided to prance around the daises of his life; an unstoppable force, preventing azul from functioning normally.

this isn't like him.

"this isn't like you." said jade, leaning towards azul so that he could hear jade's hushed voice over the chatty crowds of the mostro lounge. "you're not still stuck on about the whole prefect thing, are you?"

azul sighed. "admittedly, i am." he took off his glasses and massaged his temple. "i have barely gotten any work done. what is wrong with me?"

jade chuckled. "why are you so worried? honestly, you should just walk up to them and ask. that's what i would do."

"i'm not you, jade" azul groaned. “I can’t just confidently stride to them and ask them out.”

“well of course you can’t!”

“ouch.”

“my apologies. let me reword that. you can’t do that because you’re not me. how about you do it in a way that doesn’t make you look so cool? after all, you’re quite the opposite of that. wouldn’t the truth be more endearing?”

still… ouch. but it wasn’t like jade was wrong. azul is, unfortunately, far from cool. Even though that is what he likes to display.

“and what if the prefect says yes after you ask them out with that mask of yours? are you going to keep pretending until they get sick of you?”

azul couldn’t reply. what could he say?

“just be normal. after all, i couldn’t stand to watch you like this after you made me and floyd do all that work and was still incapable of asking them out. do you know how difficult it was for me to drag the prefect here? uhehehehehe.” jade wiped away a fake tear.

azul just groaned and walked away.

a little frustrated, a little annoyed, his courage seemed to have broken the roof when he saw you walk in with grim, bickering about who knows what.

he thought back to his daydreams. the images of you smiling, holding hands, soft kisses in secret, his heart was not well.

he slowly dug deep into his head to take out a precious daydream of his;

nothing special,

it was you slowly mouthing the words “I. Love. You.” to him.

“prefect,” azul said, tapping your shoulder.

you gave your full attention to him, happily. “what’s up azul?”

“I like you. would you allow me to take you out on a date?”

a/n hi guys.. shoujo bf is coming im serious pls b patient w me 💀💀

[fyodior]

STOP.

✸ pairing: lovecraft x afab ada!reader

✸ cw: VERY DARK CONTENT AHEAD! MINORS DNI. tentacles, noncon, oviposition (eggs), choking, womb fucking.

✸ notes: breedtober fic 5! mentioned but this takes place during season 2 and the guild conflict, reader is in the ADA. easily the nastiest thing ive ever written! proceed with caution and/or have fun :)

✸ wc: 1.3k (im sick)

want more of breedtober?

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone noncon in any way, shape, or form. this is just fiction with no reflection of real life. there are tentacles. please refrain from leaving hate comments, and just unfollow/block. or simply scroll away. thank u!

You should’ve never, ever underestimated him. He might’ve seemed aloof, fatigued, and uninterested in anything but completing a day’s work, but it was all just a façade. How could you be so stupid? To write this eldritch monster, H. P. Lovecraft, off as harmless and unthreatening was the worst mistake you could’ve made. Following closely behind choosing to walk the streets of Yokohama alone at night as an ADA detective while the conflict with The Guild had yet to be resolved, and all the members of said organization were still at large.

“Please- please!” you cried out, tears in your eyes as you were being dragged into a dark alleyway by the man with the ability no one could fathom or understand. The one not even Dazai could nullify and put up a good fight against Chuuya’s corrupted state. “Let me go! Please!”

“Please stop talking,” Lovecraft deadpanned, sounding as bored and indifferent as he would if you had only asked him what time it was. His face was completely expressionless in the most terrifying way. “I just want this done.”

Despite his wishes, you still continued to thrash in his oddly strong arms – you never would’ve guessed based on his general appearance, another mistake – even as he pinned you down facedown against an abandoned dumpster and tugged your pants down. You couldn’t see it but you could hear it – the way his arm that wasn’t holding you down transformed from human skin and bone to… something else. Something green, wet, and slimy. A tentacle. One that was currently slithering down the back of your panties and poking at your hole.

"Why are you doing this?” you wailed, coiling away from the disgusting, horrifying feeling of the appendage attempting to touch your sex.

“It’s mating season,” is all he offers, as if it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. The one hand that he’d been using to hold you down had now morphed into four tentacles, each restricting you so tightly you started wondering if fighting was completely useless.

“Why me?” was your next question.

“I’d really prefer it if you eliminated any and all speech.”

As if to really drive his point home, potentially to even punish you, the tentacles wrapped even tighter around your limbs before the one most precariously located penetrated you hard. As thick as a soda can, the slimy tentacle made you scream at the top of your lungs. You could feel the way your poor, unprepared pussy was stretched so tight around the girth it felt like you were about to tear. Never mind the way it squirmed and wiggled further and further into your cunt, pulsing and writhing until it reached your cervix.

You screamed and cried and wailed desperately until Lovecraft got so sick of it, he formed another tentacle to curl around your throat and mouth, choking and gagging you.

The man, if he could even be called that, maintained his bored, uninterested appearance even as he restrained, choked, and fucked you with his ability. The tentacle wasted no time in further violating your cunt, picking up a painful rhythm as it thrust in and out of you, reaching all the way to your cervix each and every time. Your legs trembled and slime leaked steadily out of your hole onto the concrete ground – at least there was lubrication.

Despite your violent protests and pleading for it all to stop, it would be a lie to say it didn’t feel… good. That the way this monster fucked you didn’t stretch you so deliciously, that the tapered tip of the tentacle didn’t flick against your sweet spot continuously. That was the only reason Lovecraft loosened the grip on your mouth – to let you moan. And moan you did.

“Feel good?” he smirked, the curls of his lips the first sign of emotion he had shown all night.

“Please- ngh- please stop!” you cried out, words forcibly interrupted by a hearty moan as he angled the tentacle slightly differently, having somehow perfectly zeroed in on your sweet spot. “Fuck!”

It was made even worse when yet another tentacle slithered close, curling around your waist and underneath you. You were unsure of its purpose only for a moment, until it began tracing your slit and massaging your clit.

“Stop!” you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut and banging your fist against the rusted metal of the garbage bin. The echoes of the warping metal only slightly drowned out your moans of pleasure. Lovecraft’s smirk only grew – he didn’t need your consent, but a willing partner was always easier to breed.

“Just let it feel good,” he sighed, stretching the tentacle inside you even wider.

“N-never,” you groaned, though it really, really felt good. Now both slime and slick were dripping out of your hole, a nasty mixture that ran down your thighs and pooled in your pants that were still bunched around your knees.

You had gotten so lost in the terribly intoxicating feeling of getting fucked alongside it rubbing your clit that you had completely forgotten about the breeding comment he had made – but Lovecraft didn’t.

“You should be ready soon,” he hummed, eyeing the size of the appendage buried in your pussy and attempting to gauge its size in reference to the egg.

“R-ready? For w-” your question was answered before you were even able to finish asking it. The reason why he wanted to get you to feel good, to loosen up. For the eggs.

A bloodcurdling screech penetrated Lovecraft’s ears, loud and disturbing enough that he actually frowned, once the first egg passed through the appendage and reached your hole.

“What is that?”

He had maybe slightly underestimated the size of the egg, as your body seemed to be resisting it much more than he thought it would – it’d been a bit since he’d done this. He had to form multiple extra tentacles for this part of the process; one to shut you up once again so he could concentrate, two to spread your thighs as wide as possible to allow for easiest entry, and a few more to keep you more still. A moving target was much harder to hit.

The first egg still remained lodged in your pussy, struggling to push past the ring of muscle so it could exit the tentacle and insert itself into your womb. With stimulation coming from every which direction, you hadn’t even noticed the way the very tip of the tentacle had slithered past your cervix and directly inside your uterus.

“Fucking- take it,” Lovecraft groaned frustratedly, spreading your cheeks painfully wider to pry your pussy open, until finally the egg was able to pass through. If able to pass your lips, your screams likely would’ve shattered windows. The worst part was the egg forcing its way through your cervix and nestling happily inside your womb.

But the absolute worst part of it all? This felt good, too.

There was something so horrifically enticing, so disturbingly erotic about a mysterious eldritch being stuffing its eggs deep inside you, depending on you to carry and incubate them. And those were the thoughts that unfortunately filled your head as he fucked eggs into you one by one, your tummy distending with each addition.

It even filled your head as you lay half naked against the dumpster, back against a brick wall once Lovecraft had relieved himself of all his eggs and abandoned you in that alleyway.

You could hear Kunikida calling your name with fear and fervor in the distance, clearly having found out you were attacked, but all you could do was rub your abnormally round belly and giggle almost drunkenly as you replayed those moments over and over in your mind – how could you have gotten so lucky?

[aestheticpebbles]

Saturday October 19th,2024 New York Comic Con

So I took a solo trip to NYCC and attended, let alone dressed up for such an event, for the first time. (I literally assembled my cosplay within a week bc I got my hair dyed the previous Friday, and my best friend pushed me off the ledge out of my comfort zone and encouraged me to dress up!).

Somehow, one of the absolute WORST weeks of my life due to major personal life issues between my car engine exploding in the middle of the woods in north carolina, being forced to stay in georgia until literally 5:30pm THE NIGHT BEFORE (FLEW up I-85N to the closest airport when I could finally leave. delta literally saved my life when I managed to catch a flight leaving at 7pm to go back home where ALL of my cosplay outfit pieces)straight up $🔥🔥🔥 hurt so bad but I was NOT missing this event for anything)) landed at 11:30pm and ended up just pulling an all-nighter to get ready and drive 3 hours back to nyc. my layover was in laguardia and it hurt so bad to know I had to turn around and drive right back past it LOL. however, the week I was PRAYING for to end, still ended off to be an incredible first-time experience thanks to these two, and everyone else I met who attended!

Someone sedate me. How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing the very first words he said were “wow, look at you”, and then “I’ll sign whatever you want” at the table? talk about giving me a free lobotomy on the spot bc I couldn’t formulate a single sentence. Matt was so nice too!! I wish I was able to interact w him more but im so thankful that I was able to get a duo picture.

tom autographed a copy of our solo pic together, and I didn’t even make it out of nyc on saturday night before running to the first target I saw to grab 4 8x10 photo frames.

I circled back around the line after realizing he was willing to sign my crown too and he had his white pen out and ready!! 😭😭 I was so excited and awkwardly laughing bc I was flustered as hell that I walked right by the swau booth. completely forgot that I added the up charge to have them authenticate it, but I guess it doesn’t matter all that much because this crown will only be pried from my cold, dead hands.

Jokingly told my mom to bury the crown with me and a few other trinkets like a pharaoh’s tomb if you will. I got an odd side glance from her. Reminded me of Penguins of Madagascar’s “smile and wave boys… smile and wave….😬😀”

I didn’t even realize Tom wasn’t feeling well and had to leave early because of how bright his smile was, and how responsive he was both when taking pictures and signing autographs.

Dream come true! 💚💚 blushing, giggling, swinging and kicking my feet.

gotta lock it in, im literally yapping right now… not done yet though :)

spay me for saying this— i cant tell what i enjoyed more about meeting him: seeing his toothy smile, or smelling his cologne, or learning what the IRL height difference is? 🤤🫠

okay yall imma shut up now but OMG!!! im obsessed with how good these pictures came out! im so excited to receive more. I hope everyone who attended had an amazing time!!

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ spooky, scary, probably

notes ─── happy halloween i guess. i was hit by a wave of inspiration and wrote this in like an hour.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR | VIL SCHOENHEIT ─ you want to really lean into the "spooky" of spooky season.

warnings ☆ fluff? (or perhaps crack? it's silly and short), read platonic or romantic, gender neutral, lowercase intended, reader may or may not be yuu

"hey, can you help me with something?"

leona would often times tell you to get lost, to leave him alone and let him sleep. but after peeking an eye open to look at you, that wasn't what came out of his mouth ─ "what are you wearing?"

"it's my costume." you answered simply, glancing down at the clothes that look like you took a pair of scissors and tore at it until it looked shredded and unwearable. (and that's exactly what you did, sort of; it was already old and worn, you just made it even more so with a few extra aggressive tears.)

leona sent you a questioning look, lips curled up in a mamner you knew meant he was judging you, but you weren't all that bothered. "what are you supposed to be?" ─ he didn't let you answer as he sat up and examined you from where you stood at his door, following up the question with another ─ "and what is on your face?"

you knew he was talking about the makeup made to look like gauges and blotches in your face to really sell your role in your costume. it was well done too, you had gotten help from someone you deemed an expert beforehand. it took a while before you made a decison on the look, but in the end, you were happy with the results.

you stared at leona for a moment, waiting to see if he'd ask anything more, and then you answered, "i'm like a zombie. and it's makeup. vil helped me. he's pretty good at it, actually."

leona stared at you, more bemused as he eyed your diy costume from head to toe, "you look ridiculous."

"i look great," you corrected him, as if that's really what he meant, "you think it'll scare people? i was hoping to spook the others, or at least some of them."

leona scoffed, but chose not to comment on your decision to scare your peers as he referred to the reason you came to see him, "what do you want?"

"oh, right," you held up a decently sized bottle of red, what looked like, paint. "i need you to help cover me im this fake blood."

"i take it back, you're ridiculous."

"rude. so yes or no?"

"fine. but not in here."

vil has learned that when you set your mind to things ─ ridiculous as they may be ─ you tried hard to fulfill them. sometimes you failed but, then there times you went through with them, completed your self-given mission.

he was used to hearing about these ideas you just had to go through with (your words). ─ like right now.

"so skeletons are scary right?"

vil glanced at you as you took a seat beside him on the bench, looking to be deep in thought. (and he had to stop himself from sighing.)

"what?" he asked, closing the script he was reading (one written by you for his film research club) with his thumb in between the pages.

"skeletons," you repeated, "they're common for halloween because they're scary, right?"

a rhetorical question, he realized ─ but he answered anyway. "yes. that's right."

you nodded thoughtfully and hummed, bringing a hand to your chin and going silent. vil prepared himself for anything you might say ─ and he knew it would likely be ridiculous, because that's what your ideas often were; ridiculous and lacking sense, but nonetheless, in a way, thought through.

"what about, if it was the muscles?"

"the," he paused, "the muscles?" ─ he asked, as if to be sure he heard you right.

"yeah," you nodded, your face showing just how serious you were in your words, and vil wondered just where you were going with this. "like skeletons are pretty scary. but what if, say, you suddenly just see fully intact human muscles coming towards you. wouldn't that freak you out?"

vil asks himself often where you come to think of such things, and yet, he still does not know. ─ "well, i suppose it would."

you nodded again, "i think i could make it work. with a little help from magic and makeup, i'm sure i could pull off a convincing costume."

of course that's where this was going ─ you were going to dress up as the muscles in the human body, just like one would when dressing up as a skeleton.

"you think you could help me?"

vil sighed, "alright."

─ it's never a dull moment with you, he thinks.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through ai.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I headcanon Color with narcolepsy type 2, but he manages it well enough that it's not easy for outside sources to guess he has a sleeping disorder at all. (Obviously Epic, Delta, and Killer can made educated guesses, since they know the bastard)

However, it is the excessive daytime sleepiness that gives him the most trouble. It takes him forever to get out of bed, and even longer to "wake up" completely once he's gotten coffee.

This could serve as another foil between him and Killer, since Killer avoids sleep and perhaps can't stay asleep for long, Color can't seem to get away from it even though his anti-depressants help his functioning substantially.

This becomes more apparent once Killer learns how often Color experiences sleep paralysis.

Oh that’s an interesting headcanon. Read one little article on it, will probably read up more, but according to the article, a way to help daytime sleepiness is having planned 20 minute naps throughout the day, and like, I can see the Chromatic Crew all reminding Color to take naps if he doesn’t have anything planned for the day, which probably actually isn’t very often with how much that old man is out exploring or wants to be out exploring.

Actually I can see it like, Killer often times going out in nature walks and trails with Color (whenever he doesn’t want to be alone and have some time to himself), and like they carry along stuff like a little picnic blanket and stuff so whenever they stop somewhere, they just lay out the blanket and maybe enjoy a picnic and use this as time to see if color needs to take a nap or if he’s okay to keep going or wants to go back home.

And whenever Delta, Epic, and Cross go out on the walks with Color, I like to think they kinda carry or give him a piggyback ride home if he’s so tired or sleepy to walk— which isn’t often, but enough to be noticeable.

And like, because neither Killer or Epic really sleep much, I can picture like—they take turns sitting around and just talking to or reading to or just sitting near color or gently touching him/encourage him to try and move a muscle whenever they notice that he’s dealing with sleep paralysis.

It’s probably most likely to be Killer, since they probably share a room in their home in the Omega Timeline, but im picturing a scene where they aren’t sharing a room yet and Killers out roaming the house and being a little creep—checking up on everyone and entering their rooms and watching people sleep (probably because he hasn’t yet settled in with the crew or in the new environment and wants to find out as much information as possible), and like—all Color sees is Killer stepping out of the shadows out of his bedroom and approaching him and staring at him with those big fucking eyes and creepy ass smile before he starts trying to help him out 💀

(And like maybe color falls asleep again not long after and killers gone when wakes up and he thinks killer was like his sleep paralysis demon or something)

And reading up on this disorder a little gave me a few ideas on how killer might try to ‘help’ but in a way that’s kinda toxic and fucked up despite good intentions due to lack of grasp on clear boundaries and morals (and possibly just doing what was done to him thinking it’d help/need for control) but I’ll not talk about it here

{ @sarcosticsarcomere }

[livin4woso]

Breaking the media

Chapter 6- You're okay now

The days after had been hard yet you had managed to keep yourself under control and almost push the incident in the past. Alexia had advised you took the next few days of however you didn't want to miss training before the first game you weren't promised to play but there was a good chance you were making it to the bench. Like normal training was enjoyable but this time it was different all the girls had to do a weekly check with the physio just to make sure nothing was wrong and everyone was up to standard for the match. You had thought nothing of it as you had made your way into the room and were greeted by the physio "hola y/n" he said as you sat on to the medical bed. You had been here quite a few times so you knew what the protocol was just testing muscle tightness and how well your joints were working.

The first half was going smoothly until he placed his hand on your upper thigh just where the man had a week prior. The memory flashback in your mind as you became panicked and you curled up in ball hiding your face from him hyperventilating. The physio was frozen in what to do he couldn't just leave you but he couldn't console you either so he did the next best thing and went to where the girls were sat waiting for thier appointment "guys i have a slight issue, i was just doing movement checks and when i put my hand on y/ns leg shes gone... i guess panicked im not sure" he said staring at the girls almost blankly. Alexia had heard this and she bolted straight to the room where she found you a curled up ball sobbing. Yet you almost look terrified the air wasn't coming in or out it was stuck making your panic worse than before "hey pequeña, im here its okay can i hold you" she asked walking towards you. Then no response came you were so trapped in your mind it was hard to snap you out of it. Alexia had no clue what to do so she did what she thought best call for ingrid she had her fair share of panic attacks and was sure she knew what to do.

Ingrid had recived the text from alexia and she swiftly moved herself from the arm chair she was sat on to the the physio room. She opened the door and it was exactly what she feared it was the feeling where nothing is going in or out and everything is overstimulating from the feeling of your clothes to just the loose hairs whisping off your neck. She sprung herself into action she knew how to deal with panic attacks but ones caused by something so triggering and from recently she didn't know much about. "Y/n can you look at me" she said while crouching at your level still there was no response it was like you were in your own world one surrounded with thoughts of him and the way his words spat at you the way he stared as though you were an object. She waited a couple seconds and began to repeat her question but still no response came from you only the sound of your laboured breathing. Ingrid was almost lost for anything to do she was completely out of luck and she felt a dash of worry for you as your condition didnt change, therefore it lead to doing the only thing she knew what to do. 'Y/n im going to touch your hand okay" she said reaching her hand out slowly towards you and she placed it on your shaking hands you look down and instead of the expecting reaction of you holding it and breaking out of your thoughts your mind was so clouded with him the thought of someone touching you was almost as bad. "GET AWAY FROM ME....PLEASE" you yelled standing up from the floor and the two girls swiftly followed you to thier feet.

There it was you looked into alexias eyes and the fear in her eyes almost crushed you and you just collapsed into her arms realising what you had done and it wasnt him it was your friend, your teamate who you'd just shouted at. You clung to her as though she was your life line "im sorry im so sorry i wont do it again" you repeated into her shoulder through sobs. Alexia just rubs her hands on your back and through your hair as her and ingrid glance at eachother of almost panic and a sense of relief. You finally calm down and let go of alexia the corner of her jumper drenched in your tears yet she makes no remarks you walk over to ingrid and hig her tightly "im so sorry for shouting at you i didnt mean it i promise" you say burried into her shoulder "its okay love i know you didn't" she says back to you. "However I think you should go home and get some rest" she added pulling out of the hug to see your tear stained face the tear tracks still prominent on your cheeks.

Alexia had excused herself for a minute to compose herself she was so built up with worry over you and the fact you hadn't said anything the past week had really bothered her but you were young and probably trying to put on a brave face for her. "Come on pequeña lets get you some sleep" she said putting her head round the corner of the door. You had made it back home when you had sat on the couch. "Ale can we watch a movie" you asked her "sure whatever you want" she replied joining you on the couch. You played your favourite movie and you didnt mean to but it just sort of happened as the movie progressed, slowly you made your way to alexias side and leant into her "is this okay?" You said in an almost whisper tone "of course pequeña" she said wrapping her arms around you and running her finger nails through your hair. You slowly adjusted into her side and the longer it went you fell asleep on alexias shoulder it felt like home and for alexia it felt like peace knowing you were safe and in arms reach.

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@loxbbg

@its-emma-asinme

@zagreusdaughter

@animealways

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