#/who else would understand?

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[ladystoneboobs]

so, one aspect of catelyn which i think is underrated (certainly the biggest adaptation loss which nobody talks about) is her, let's say superstitiousness, or better yet, let's call it genre-savviness, being one of the few adult characters open to magic and the supernatural in this fantasy world. we first meet her in the godswood, home of gods which are not truly hers, yet she is still very aware of their power. when she and ned talk of the deserter he killed, he hopes he won't have to go with the nw to deal with mance rayder, but she has even more fear of that idea bc there are worse things beyond the wall than just wildlings. ned scoffs and says she's been listening to old nan too much, but she's right. we already know from the prologue that she's right! and here she is, understanding the genre of their world better than her husband, who was actually born and spent his earliest years in this northern land of deep magic, listening to old nan's stories. same with the direwolves, where she was uncomfortable with them at first, but later believed in them as guardians from the old gods even after robb had lost his own faith. and once again, we know she's right even if she doesn't know the evidence to back up her instincts, bc summer and shaggydog did not fail bran and rickon and robb was almost certainly a warg like his brothers. (perhaps making it more fitting that she's the one brought back as a fantasy vengeance monster, not ned and robb, the most unbelieving dead starks.) and in her 2nd agot chapter, everyone focuses on her ambition in wanting ned to agree to the hand job (pun intended) and sansa's betrothal, and while she does recognize the value of their daughter being a future queen more than ned does, that's only her stated argument bc she thinks it's rational enough for ned to listen to. (if ambitious matchmaking were as important to her as to her father she never would have made those frey betrothals fandom loves to blame her for.) in her own head there's a deeper urge driving her. she keeps thinking of the dead direwolf with antlers in its throat, an omen which filled her with dread from the first she heard of it, before robert's arrival, and thinking of it again is what makes her desperate to convince ned not to refuse robert. she had to make him see. and really, she's not wrong, as jon snow would say. the dead direwolf was an omen of ned and robert getting each other killed. it's just one of those misread portents, with no way of knowing the danger to ned was in his loyalty to robert, not conflict with him. BUT the next time she's dealing with baratheons, she knows exactly what she's talking about. it's catelyn, not brienne, who sees the shadow slaying renly, and explains that it was stannis who did that through some dark magic. with no way of knowing how it was achieved and no prior expectation that such a thing were ever possible, she realizes with no hestitation that stannis was guilty and that his red witch was capable of pulling this off somehow. really, the only instinct of the supernatural she's wholly wrong about is her insistence that varys gathered his knowledge through some dark enchantment. however, though that might offend varys, given his own personal experience with a sorcerer, i'd say it's a reasonable assumption without knowing the dude had children moving through walls everywhere like oversized rodents. and imo it just shows she had a healthy respect and awe for varys's power which most other characters lack.

oh, oh, and let's not forget that she also believed in the curse of harrenhal, from her own childhood and the stories old nan told her kids. "and every house that held Harrenhal since had come to misfortune. Strong it might be, but it was a dark place, and cursed. 'I would not have Robb fight a battle in the shadow of that keep,' Catelyn admitted." sure, that wasn't enough to save robb, but he did not die from the curse of harrenhal. that doom was meant for his enemies from tywin lannister to roose bolton.

[lazylittledragon]

i refuse to believe that boycotting is hard. my favourite thing in the world is ordering maccies after a late night at work/a concert/getting drunk. yes i do miss it sometimes. but the other night i ordered from a small place near my house instead and it was the most orgasmic burger i've ever had in my life. i very rarely say this but fucking suck it up people are DEAD

[countess-of-edessa]

the world is so fucked up and i can't help but think the damage is irreparable when i see people talking about how unusual and prudish it is to wait six to ten dates before having sex with someone. ten dates??? roughly like twenty five hours of interaction????? ten old timer burgers and mango iced teas from chilis equals sex?????? the possibility of pregnancy, STDs, emotional devastation, lifelong consequences, not to mention just straight up the possibility of getting murdered, with a STRANGER you have hung out with for maybe like two months???? and that's a LONG TIME???? and if you feel weird about that and don't want to do that that makes you NOT HETEROSEXUAL????? THATS AN ORIENTATION???? BECAUSE ITS SO OUTSIDE OF THE NORM OF HUMAN BEHAVIOR ????? i hate all of you i hate you i hate you i hate you every day i hate and I hate and I hate you

[feelo-fick]

chilaios telepathy compilation. btw.

also these ones arent telepathy i just think its fun that they defend eachother + are on the same page about alchohol :

[jamesbranwen]

this is not me trying to defend nintendo's business practices or say that either of these games don't have flaws, but I think a lot of the comparisons people are making between breath of the wild and tears of the kingdom are a little unfair and don't really take into account that they are different games with different purposes.

"breath of the wild feels so empty compared to tears of the kingdom" ... yeah? with breath of the wild, one of the game's main themes was isolation. you wake up in the future far after the apocalypse you were trying to prevent has already settled. you have no memories, very little strength. just like hyrule, just like zelda, all you have is your will to continue. breath of the wild is the quiet moments, the secret spaces, the weight of the world that has continued to turn without you still resting on your shoulders.

tears of the kingdom is not like that. hyrule is no longer the wild. it is no longer quiet and lonely. there's community. every sidequest is intertwined. your friends fight alongside you. this isn't "fixing" breath of the wild, this is it's natural continuation. as time goes on the world continues to heal and rebuild. if breath of the wild was clawing hope, tears of the kingdom is direct action.

like yeah there are things tears is doing better and (imo) things breath of the wild did better. but i don't think either one is a replacement for the other.

[dailymanners]

When entering any place of business, such as a store or restaurant, if a staff member greets you, then acknowledge them and greet them back.

Although for many jobs it's a required part of their job to greet you, especially retail workers, receptionists, and restaurant workers to name a few, that doesn't make it feel any less dehumanizing to say "Hello!" to another human being only for them to ignore you. Acknowledging staff members and greeting them back is important for acknowledging their humanity, they are, after all, a human being, and not an automated machine.

This is also important when going to check out at a store. If you approach the cash register, and the cashier greets you, you should acknowledge them and greet them back. Cashiers already have to deal with being dehumanized enough. The least you can do is help humanize them by acknowledging them when they greet you and speak to you.

[demigods-posts]

imagine a world where the heroes of olympus series was one big crossover. a world where we meet an eleven year old boy named jason, no last name because it reminds him of his mother — a drunk who literally threw him to the wolves as a toddler. jason, who's earliest memory is chewing on a stapler and his older sister tending to the wound on his bottom lip — but he hasn't seen or heard from her since they were separated years ago. jason, who grew up reaching for the sky like a purpose, desperate for a chance to prove himself. jason, who fought to save the world at fifteen years old. and jason, who finds himself in the grand canyon four months later with no memory of who he is or where he came from, feet away from some frantic sixteen year old girl in search of some dude named percy jackson. imagine what this could have been.

[zaynontour]

no but I'm genuinely so thankful for the people here, the community here. people who understand the grief, the anger, the devastation. even when I've been unable to find the words to say, just seeing someone say exactly what I'm feeling and others sharing it, like yeah they understand. they know it too. they're feeling it too. i really don't know how I would've coped without you people here.

[technically-human]

Hi i'm absolutely in love with the reverse au!!

I want to know, in this verse does edwin still confesses to charles? if so how is it different? i feel if he did he would end it by apologizing, you know, religious guilt and all

There’s a train that goes through Hell.

Its journey starts in Wrath, and it departs already full of souls. It took Charles far too many years to realize that there were separate, more spacious wagons that demons could board. Not that he could understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t.

Actually, Charles couldn’t recall ever boarding the train. As far as he could tell, he just appeared there one day, and had spent the next tortuous decades trying to get out. It was part of the torture. Getting out was entirely possible. More than that, it was necessary.

The train had no regular schedule that he could discern (not at first, though he had always been good at finding patterns, and was eventually able to crack it) but it would make quite a few stops before finally returning to the Wrath ring. Souls inside the train were already angry and far too close to each other (close, so close not even air could squeeze in) but when they got really violent was when the train made a stop.

Getting out didn’t mean you were free, no matter where you managed it, be it Sloth or Gluttony, Pride or Lust. No, as soon as the train finished its journey, you would appear back inside, in Wrath where you belonged, suffocating once again, getting ready to claw your way out for the millionth time.

Because if you didn’t get out, The Conductor would get you.

If he thought about it calmly, Charles could probably say that he got out of the train more times than not. Still, being caught by The Conductor once was bad enough, as there was no coal in Hell, and something had to serve as combustible. Souls could not burn to death, and the whole journey always felt longer than eternity when he was caught. Once it was over, he would be inside again, and fight with more desperation than before, not caring who stayed inside so long as it wasn’t him.

He couldn’t understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t. But as the souls pushed and bit and clawed and punched their way out, Edwin boarded the train. And that wasn’t even the most groundbreaking revelation Charles had that day.

ko-fi

[loganhowlettshousewife]

imagine logan falling for you, the one person who doesn't want him to be anything else than who he is, who has no expectations. you're the only person he feels comfortable showing vulnerability to, because he knows you'll never judge him, will never mock the fierce wolverine for having emotions just like everyone else. you give him peace. and for decades he knows what it's like to live, fully and completely, not just fight and kill like he has for so long. he gets the domestic moments, going to the farmers market with you and picking you up when you get drunk with your friends and letting you paint his nails and giggling over homecooked meals. but you're mortal, and you age. he does too, but so painfully slow. he can't follow you when you leave him. and he goes back to living like he did before, fighting and killing and surviving, but not living. you gave him life, taught him what it meant to be happy, and without you he doesn't think he'll ever be whole again.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[leviraaaaaa]

Takes place in s2 after the scouts rescue Eren.

Blood had dried over your face. It dried over your lashes, making it hard to blink. The pain had numbed long ago, the cuts and slashes didn't hurt as much. At least, not as bad as how your heart ached.

You should have been in the med-bay. In your dorm perhaps. In the bathroom showering up, you think. But instead you found yourself slumped against Levi's door. You weren't even sure why. But out of all the places, this was what the first place you could think of. You needed to run. To hide. But there were people everywhere. And everyone was covered in blood and everyone was crying and everyone was staring. And everyone kept asking you questions and they all looked half-dead and goddamnit, you couldn't take it anymore.

You ended up here, for some reason. Instinctively, you had seeked him out. Well-aware he wouldn't be here but nevertheless.

It was the only side of the building that wasn't swarming with people anyways.

But you think you needed something to ground yourself. Needed his familiar gray eyes to glare at you. Some sense of sanity, clarity, safety.

You wished he was here, you thought.

So that he could scold you. Yell at you to get your ass up and get cleaned because you're filthy and you're bleeding all over his carpet.

Maybe that's what you need.

Maybe his sharp tongue would finally snap you out of this nightmare.

"What..are you doing here?"

You jolted. Your stiff, blood-crusted lashes barely fluttered as you blinked up.

He was there, standing in front of you, eyes widened just a fraction, confused and surprised.

You sighed.

You take it back, you don't really want to see him right now.

"..Levi." You muttered, not bothering to get up. Or even move. Your body give itself up a little more, leaning the rest of it's weight on the door. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Where am I supposed to be?" He asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"I don't know?" You shrugged. "By Erwin's sick bed?"

"I hate hospitals."

Your mouth twiched. Of course he did. "Will Erwin be okay?"

"He'll live,” He sighs. "His arm won't though.”

You looked away.

���Was it bad?” He asked, carefully watching you with narrowed eyes. You knew exactly what he meant.

“What do you think, genius?”

Levi stared, unease in his posture. He looked uncertain. He'd known the answer, the moment the first horse came in. There were too much blood, too many injured. He knew the answer when he'd saw Erwin, his uniform bloodied and mangled. Hange looked terribly exhausted and the brats looked banged up as well. It doesn't take much for one to add two and two and understand what it'd been like.

Then he'd looked for you. Wildly. He was looking at every horse that passed through, observing every hooded face. Then he paused by the medical room, glancing over every person, but no, no you. There was no you. So he could successfully rule out that you were heavily injured as well.

So when he'd went out to search for you, this was not the place he'd thought he'd find you.

This was, also, definitely not the state he'd thought he'd find you in.

Slouched down in a pool of blood and filth, you were curled up so close, as if trying to make yourself smaller, to make you disappear. He felt a sense of relief when he noticed you weren't too injured. At least, not physically.

There was something wrong though. The more he looked at you, the more frail you appeared. There was something in the way you looked, so tired, so terribly exhausted. The eyes of someone lost. Someone who had just survived hell. Someone who didn't know where else to go. From all the years he'd known you, he'd never seen you this fazed.

He felt a sudden feeling of helplessness. He didn't know how to help you. But he swallowed it down and spoke anyway.

"Are you.. alright?"

You glanced up. He was looking at you, actually looking at you, with worry.

You thought about it for a second

"...no." You swallowed.

He inhaled, nodding, like he wasn't expecting any different answer. His eyes glanced over you.

"You're covered in blood."

"Don't worry, most of it isn't mine."

"I can see you're bleeding." He said. "Why are you not in the med wing?"

"...I needed space." You mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest. But he was giving you that look, that look that made you feel as though he could see right through your soul. It always made you feel so exposed. So small. You wish you didn't look so vulnerable as you must do. "..that's why I came here. Didn't think you'd be around."

"You're bleeding out on my office carpet.”

That made you grin, "I know. " You said. "I'm sorry. I'll move in a bit.”

"Are you hiding?" He asked, his voice low. God, he knew you too well. Always the escapist, always running away when it got too much. And he’d always dragged you right back.

"Maybe." You admitted.

There was a pause, thick and heavy. You couldn't hold his gaze anymore. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes, you wished he’d leave, wished he couldn’t see how close you were to breaking.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You couldn't.

"Stop."

You blinked at him, it came out breathless. "What?"

"Don't.” He repeated. “I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything—"

"No. You're shutting yourself out."

"What's that even supposed to–"

"And you're angry at me. You're looking at me like you're angry at me. I can tell. " He said, frowning as the realization came across him. Confused. "Why are you angry at me?"

You didn't know what to say. You stared at him as his gray eyes searched your face for an answer. An answer you didn't know yourself. The more he looked at you and the more you looked at him, the more you felt the strange lack of air in your chest rise.

What do you tell him? You could always lie. Tell him it's nothing. He's seeing things. You couldn't think. But no matter what you made up, he'd see through you anyways.

You did feel angry.

Were you angry at him? You thought. Not really. Anger was the last emotion you felt. Not towards him.

Did a part of you blame Levi for this whole shit? Yes, you did. As unreasonable as it was, you did. You hated that Levi wasn't there. You hated that you had to face this alone, how vulnerable you'd felt without him. And you hated that, maybe if he was there, so many less people might've died. It might've been so much easier.

You might cry.

You weren't angry.

But you were scared. You were terrified. You were traumatized. You couldn't breathe. And you wished he'd stop looking at you like that for fucks sake.

"I'm not angry at you. Why would I be angry at you?" You mumbled, the bitterness in your voice so obvious.

"That's what I'm asking."

"Well, I'm not. Your people reading skills are questionable."

"People reading skills? Yes, perhaps." He agreed quietly, looking down at you. "You though? I've known you way too long. So why the fuck are you angry?"

"Because you weren't there, you dumbfuck!" You yelled, the words rushing out before you could even have a chance to stop them. There were angry tears running down your cheek and you pressed your blood covered hands to your mouth to stop yourself from letting the choked sob come out. He was right. You were angry. Not angry at him, but you felt rage, and you had to let it out.

"Couldn't have found a better time to get your stupid injury, could you?" Your voice cracked. "You just had to not be there the only time I needed you!" He looked so hurt, you realized. His brows furrowed together as he watches you, listening quietly as you threw words at him you didn't even mean. Cruel, cruel, cruel. He looked so hurt. And confused. He didn't deserve this. You needed to stop.

Everything you went through today, every bit of fear you'd experienced, everytime you'd felt helpless, everytime you'd wished he was there only to find he wasn't, every gruesome, bloody memory was tangling up in your chest, demanding to get out. It burned you down. If you didn't let it out, you'd turn into ashes here.

"What's the point," You bit the words out, "What's the point of being so fucking strong? Of being humanity's fucking strongest or whatever? Tell me what the bloody point if you can't even be there when we need you?"

"I'm so fucking mad at you," You whispered angrily. "So fucking mad." You were gasping between the words. You needed to stop. You needed to breathe. "I could punch you." You rasped. "I can't even look at you, I can't even—"

You didn't get to finish what you were going to say, because then Levi was down on his knees in an instant, pulling you into him. You struggled, your instincts still jumpy from the last hour, pushing against him and trying to peer away. But he was stronger than he ever was and he held you close, pressing your head to his shoulder.

Your breath hitched, your words coming to a stop as a choke came out. You could feel his heartbeat. It was slow, calming down your own. Breathe.

You weren't angry anymore.

Suddenly, all the rage left your body, the adrenaline rush had died down and you melted right into him. Now all you felt was sadness. Unbearable sadness. There was a void in your heart, empty and cold, and it kept reminding you of everything that had happened today.

"I thought—" you whispered, "I thought we were gonna die.” Your voice cracked as the quiet confession left you. The words were stumbling out of you, a desperate attempt to make him understand. He had to understand. “I was so, so scared, Levi." Your fingers dig into his shirt and you were almost gasping. "And then—and then fucking Erwin almost died and—and everything started going dipshit and I—I thought we were all gonna die and that's the end of it. And I was—I was—"

"Breathe," He whispered in your ear, reminding you. So uncharacteristically gentle. "Breathe. It's over. You're not there anymore.

It was the softness in his voice you think. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly why you were here and how he got you here. There was all the patience in the world when he spoke, all the kindness. It finally broke you. You tried to inhale but there was a tight knot in your throat and it constricted with every tight inhale, as if your lungs were squeezing themselves. Breathe, he said. You had to breathe.

But it was so hard to. Instinctively, you latched onto him, clinging to him desperately as your lungs fought for air. You were drowning and he was the last solid thing. If he let you go now you would fall. You would cease. You would break. You buried your face in his chest. Warmth. He was so warm. Always so warm. And it was so cold there, you thought you might never feel this again.

He felt so very much like home.

"You weren't there." You whispered accusingly. You hated him. "You weren't there, Levi."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You weren't there and I was scared that I was gonna die alone. I hate that you weren't there, I wish you were there because–"

"I know." He repeated. "Hush. You're okay. You're breathing. And you're filthy as fuck but you're alive."

That made you snort. You let out half a sob. "I got blood over you."

He didn't say anything, only pulled you closer in response.

"You're strong." He muttered softly as you let yourself melt into him. There was no more strength left in you. You could only focus on his voice and nothing else. "And brave. And Smart as fuck. I knew you'd be okay. That you'd come back. I always believed in you."

You soaked in his affirmations, the words soothing you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he did the same, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back.

"..I was so scared." You repeated again, closing your eyes. A soft shiver ran through you. "I was scared that I'd never get to see you again. And I never even got to say a proper goodbye."

"Mhm." He hummed softly. "But you're here now. That's what matters. I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I'm here now."

He was holding you so gently. Like you were made of glass. Delicate. Fragile. It's impossible to think that a cold man like him was even capable of such gentleness. You clung to him, wondering how could someone still be so kind after the words you had thrown towards him.

"I wasn't really mad at you," you mumbled after a while, your breathing still uneven.

"I know."

"I didn't mean what I said."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Of course he did. He always did.

[abuzd]

[kiwibirbkat]

Dick: So you ever just want someone to hug you? Like, just because they WANT to. They actually care about you and don't have an ulterior motive. And I know a lot of people have aversions to touch, and that's why they don't hug me very hard or at all, but sometimes I just want to be pulled into a bone crushing hug because they CARE about me and not because they're trying to hurt me, or manipulate me, or stop me from escaping. Is that weird?

The justice league (-Bruce), who get physical affection often:

Bruce, who has not hugged Dick in years to not overstep his boundaries:

All his siblings (barring Tim and Damian), who thought he was the most mentally stable:

Tim, who knew something was wrong already but didn't wanna mention it in case of upsetting him:

Damian: ... *Slowly walks up to him and hugs his leg. (He's short)*

Superman: *Flies behind him and pulls him into a bear hug probably strong enough to suffocate someone without Bat-Training™*

[fun-esta]