#and then she decided to do the same for the person she cared the most

[austenpoppy]

Personally I DO think the way he acted in the Outsiders was completely, 100% OOC, didn't make sense if you look at the way he acted in the Nightwing run and other books from the Batfamily in which he appeared at the same time (the exclusions being a few mentions of Dick being in the Outsiders, and one or two team-ups with the Titans), and has a timeframe that, literally, is impossible to combine with the rest of what was going on. Plus it deconstructs everything Dick's tried so hard not to do and chose not to do over and over again, it takes years of character development and shoves them in the bin.

I don't understand how anyone could read Nightwing (1996), Robin, Gotham Knights or Detective Comics and Outsiders, think they happen in the same continuity and not get wild whiplash, or not think Dick's got some serious personality disorder.

When are we supposed to think that Dick started mourning Donna, exactly ? Considering Helena's presence and the way they implied Dick and her had history, I assume this is supposed to be set after "No Man's land". The problem is, we never see Dick being seriously depressed in the Nightwing run, apart from that time he beat the Joker so hard his heart stopped. And even then, Dick never mentioned Donna at the time, it really was all about how his actions didn't match with his perception of himself and how that made him feel like the worst person on Earth.

The rest of the time, Dick is shown to be pretty happy, or at least rather optimistic and open - pretty much the whole point of Chuck Dixon's run is that Dick builds his own thing in Blüdhaven and starts to find his footing. It culminates in Dick declaring in the beginning of Devin Grayson's run that he's "happy" and that he feels "good about what he's been doing for a while now". And considering how quickly Dick's life unravels in that run, Dick is "supposed" to be with the Outsiders at this point.

And even then, let's say he wasn't at the time he said that - why would he still act generally happy up until he gets fired from the B.P.D. ?

How do we reconcile the idea of a Dick who's optimistic and builds emotional connections with his neighbours and with his coworkers at the B.P.D. (Amy then Gannon Malloy) and brings people into his life (Dave and Kesia Toussaint being the most obvious example of this), while making effort after effort to be there for his friends and family, and has no problem teaming-up with others (Babs, Tim, etc., and that's without the consideration that one of one of Dick's first thoughts after meeting Tarantula is that she might become one of his allies), with a Dick who's so deeply mourning Donna he decides to become distant with everybody (yeah, if you read Outsiders: Secret Files and Origins, Dick is said to hold Raven and Dick at a distance and barely care about them (!!!!!!) and tells Tim they should be working on their own) and to be closed off and apathetic ?

Am I supposed to believe Dick's happy to have his little family in Gotham and his circle of neighbours, friends and coworkers in Blüdhaven, but somehow whenever he goes to New York he suddenly becomes an ice prince who closes himself in his tower ?

Here's a glaring example of how drastic the changes are : Dick is sympathetic toward Helena when they first meet, and he still has affection toward her in "No Man's Land". At the very end of Gotham Knights, Bane has a revelation (he thinks he's Bruce's brother) and the family works with him cautiously. Helena sees that and is understandably furious at the hypocrisy. And yet Dick runs after her to try to justify what's going on. And then we have Dick in the Outsiders, who is very hostile to Helena and hates her guts, while Helena says he secretely wants to sleep with her. And yet when Dick's Renegade in Nightwing (at this point he's already "left" the Outsiders, but I'll come back to that later), the first person he turns to when he doesn't know what to do with Sophia Travis and Rose is Helena, and there is no mention of any hostility between the two.

No matter if you place Dick's interaction with Helena in the Outsiders before or after their discussion in Gotham Knights, you'd have to wonder if Dick's taking crazy pills if you truly believe he'd go from being sympathetic to someone to hating their guts openly without reason, then go back to trusting them without apparent reason either.

The truth ?

Dick was never written as mourning Donna in his own run or any of the Bat-related comics, and it shows. Thus Dick was never mourning Donna in those issues.

Then there's his "departure" from the Outsiders, that should give everyone a headache. If we were to believe "Identity Crisis", Dick was still with the Outsiders during the Crisis. Also he was back on his feet and running everywhere without crutches...while in his solo run Dick will be using crutches for weeks at least.

And that means that everything that went on with Blockbuster and Tarantula happened before he left the Outsiders. Yet in his solo run, after the events of "War Games", Dick decides to "make things right" and turn himself in with Tarantula. So...am I supposed to believe Dick got raped by Tarantula, got shot in the leg, was back on his feet for the battle that led to Indigo's death, decided to leave the Outsiders saying it'd gotten "personal" though in reality he just wanted to turn himself in for murder, then slept with Starfire before confronting Tarantula and spending the next weeks with crutches ?

Reeeeaaally ?

And then you know why Dick's behaviour is OOC ?

Dick spends the first half of New Teen Titans deciding he wants to be different from Batman in the way he acts, leads, deciding he wants to be comfortable with strong emotions after he embraces Starfire's way of seeing things, and being clear on the fact he never wants to be this emotionally closed off person who holds people at a distance not to get hurt, tries to get away from all emotion, and doesn't trust anyone. And he works hard not to do that, all the time.

Are there moments he gets depressed ? Sure. But even when he isolated himself and lashed out at Babs after the Joker's death, he still cared very much about people (his looking for Kesia after reading her letter happened around that time). And after Blockbuster and Tarantula, in War Games and after he was shown to care so much about Tim, and Steph's death. And like, don't you think it's weird that if Dick was depressed since he started being with the Outsiders, Alfred only saw it after Blockbuster and Tarantula ?

The entire point of Dick's character is that he cares, he works on being a better person and strives to have a life on his own, can have setbacks but they don't define him, he wants emotional connections, and his goal is to uphold his idealistic ideal of being a hero and he puts a lot of burden on himself to achieve it - if he doesn't he thinks he's failed and goes right to self-loathing for a while before pushing to get up, and he's a leader who takes his teammates into account.

Precisely zero elements of that are present in Outsiders. Zero. Dick is portrayed as unemotional and uncaring (except in regards to Roy), who's given up on working on himself, who is very much defined by his grief (oh, does it start to ring a bell ?), who pushes everyone away, who treats his teammates like soldiers, who becomes utterly pragmatic and is ready to use any means he deems necessary to achieve his goals. The same guy who was ready to sacrifice the planet to save Vic and who spends his time lecturing people on unecessary violence was written by Winick as someone ready to sacrifice dozens of lives and who justified the use of torture to a teammate, telling her that if she hadn't tried to save the other lives there wouldn't be any need to do this.

?????????

At what point does a character start being OOC ? You can't make a character lose most of his personality, keep his skills, and call it a day.

Thing is, Winick just wanted to write Batman Jr. Dick is not Batman Jr. The entire point of Dick's character is that he's not Batman Jr.

And Winick does not know how to write Dick Grayson. It turns out most panels or issues I hate regarding the man he calls Dick have been written by this guy.

Also don't get me started on how Jade replaces Dick as the leader of the Titans supposedly because he doesn't care enough/is too detached, yet the only remarkable action Jade undertakes after that is bringing Kory, one of her teammates's ex - which will have zero impact on the narrative, by the way, except for Kory and "Dick" sleeping together after "War Games" (still wtf). After that she immediately tells Grace they don't have time to care about the sex trafficking ring Grace was used by as a child because there are more important things they could be doing (!!), they understand there's a mole, Indigo dies and after the destruction of their headquarters Jade decides there should be no headquarters anymore and that they should have their meetings in parks like fifteen-year old squatters, and reminds everyone they're only colleagues.

Attempt at being a better leader : failed spectacularly.

So why does Dick being leader of the Titans 1999 work ? Well, simply because his life in Blüdhaven and Gotham was acknowledged. We see Dick running not to be late to the preccinct, or coming back for an emergency in his police uniform, or being taken up in Gotham and unable to help with the search for baby Lian. Simply put, it's not incompatible, thematically or logistically, with what was shown in his own run.

But I don't like the idea that Dick was an asshole in Titans 1999 ? Like, that's very unfair as far as I'm concerned (though to be fair I'm not faliliar with "Graduation Day", because I know who wrote it and after Outsiders I decided I had enough). First, I agree with OP that Dick was guilt-tripped (in a way that would've made me angry, really; why would you say that Dick's dependent on friends not to become an asshole ? Sure, like everyone else, Dick needs to have supportive people in his life, but that's not the same thing) into joining the Titans, when he'd said he had too much on his plate already. And putting more burden and responsabilities on Dick when they could've just hanged out together wasn't a great idea, either.

It's even more tragic that other teammates/friends (Gar and Kory, who to be fair weren't at the initial reunion) lashed out at Dick that he wasn't present enough. Worse for Kory to say it, though; Kory knows how much guilt Dick can feel all the time, plus she started lashing out at Dick when Dick wasn't the one who started a fight - like, sure, he wasn't happy she killed Adeline (complicated stuff), but he wasn't being mean either. At least in Gar's case, Dick was the one who started the fight.

There are also at least three instances of Dick being considered in the wrong that I thought were very unfair.

1) Dick and Vic's falling-out

The first has to do with Vic, when Dick explained to Vic he couldn't leave Titans Tower after what had happened when Vic'd turned into a toughtless killer machine, because he'd convinced the JLA not to bring Vic into custody and to leave him with the Titans instead.

Like, has everyone forgotten what happened ? Vic was creating earthquakes and floods, the JLA wanted to eliminate Vic, and Dick was the one who kept arguing with Bruce that Vic was a great man and that no sacrifice was ever acceptable (take that, Outsiders). Then he had a plan to bring back Dick and had the original Titans talk to him, and it was found that only the ship could be used to host Vic but that if the team chose to have Lilith do that they would probably not survive, since Lilith had come to get them in the first place. And without any hesitation Dick told Lilith to do it, because if she didn't all they'd done would be in vain.

And then Dick manages to make sure Vic isn't treated like a prisoner by the JLA, but can have time with his friends instead. How was Dick a bad friend at any point ?? He's not even the one who first mentioned Vic's name when they reformed the Titans, or the one who convinced Vic to rejoin.

Now I see people saying he should've talked to Vic about it. But frankly, was there any way Vic would've taken it well ? No, and we know it. He would've felt like a prisoner from day one. I'm not saying not talking about it was necessarily the best choice, but I'm saying it wasn't as easy and clear-cut a choice as some people make it out to be, and that considering everything Dick had done he deserved a lot more grace than he got. Truly throwing in Dick's face that the team he's responsible for was built for Dick so that he "wouldn't become like Batman" but implying he did anyway is one of the lowest blows you could throw at Dick.

And it certainly was not manipulative (the word's too strong). Dick didn't want Vic to react or behave a certain way. He wanted to protect Vic, wanted him to rebuild his life in a loving environment, while making sure everyone would be there if things went south (which...like...again Vic had created earthquakes and natural disasters ??).

It grinds my gears even more that Gar and people said that when you remember that in NTT, at Donna's wedding Gar had asked someone to create a special device to show "the true Victor Stone" without the cyborg part, without telling Vic, after Vic expressed he was afraid people would recognize him as one of the Titans and Gar said he'd found a solution, that it wouldn't be a problem. Personally I would've found that a lot more hurtful than what Dick did, but somehow Vic apologized to Gar ten minutes after lashing out at him, and told him he understood Gar only wanted the best for him and wanted Donna's wedding to run smoothly.

Well Vic was angry/moody at Dick for months. And all this time Dick worked tirelessly instead to provide Vic with a more human body, which is like...everything Vic ever wanted, after expressing multiple times he was very uncomfortable with his new body.

And yeah, okay, after Dick found out it could be done he could've explained the situation beforehand (yeah because mentioning it before he was sure would've been like getting Vic's hopes up and perhaps crushing them after). But it's such a minor detail compared to the effort and care Dick put into helping Vic all this time ??

But Vic lashed out again. And instead of being defensive Dick let it slide to let Vic vent and listen to him and reassure him that it was going to be okay.

I would seriously give half of my liver to get a friend like Dick. And saying Dick's manipulative is so freaking unfair. Dick can dupe criminals alright, but manipulating friends isn't something he's prone to do - the closest thing I can remember in NTT is Dick telling Gar not to go to Russia to help Vic the walking robot (they already had a team going) and telling him he needed him in the US instead, because he thought Gar was too unstable in regard to the situation (see the difference with Vic's situation ? There Dick said something to Gar to make him behave a certain way).

2) Dick not telling Jesse Quick his secret identity

For reasons unknown, this was framed as Dick not being trusting enough. And sure, there's a panel in a team-up between the Titans and the Outsiders in which Dick criticized Batman for not telling his team his secret identity. But the point was that no one in the Outsiders knew who Batman was. In Dick's case, most members of the Titans knew who he was.

When Terra came on the team in NTT, several members of the team including Wally didn't tell her their secret identities. The entire plot revolved around that; and Terra, much like Jesse later on, complained that she wasn't being trusted. It took months for the team/the members of the team who had secret identities to tell her their names. And like, okay, Terra had a bit of a strange story from the start; but she too was known by another hero (Geo-force).

The difference was that back in NTT, this was framed as a team issue; it was about Terra earning the team's trust and the others being comfortable enough to reveal their secrets to her. In titans 1999, it became solely Dick's problem, as if Dick was too secretive. Why was it acceptable for Dick to protect his identity in NTT but not in Titans ?

The point has always been that Dick's more secretive about his identity than others because it's not just his secret he'd be revealing. Back in NTT, he was worried about people knowing Bruce was Batman. In Titans, he was worried about that, and he was also worried about Tim.

3) Dick hiding an investigation he was doing

This was again presented as Dick hiding secrets and the others not liking it. And in some ways, I can get hiw Dick not telling the team about several things might make them feel that way. But you do have to consider the individual circumstances in which Dick did what he did.

In this case, he had suspicions a team member/guest wasn't saying the truth, which proved true later on (he was actually a kid possessing a body, and unfortunately the body belonged to a psychopath), and led an investigation.

But there was no good choice there. Either he raised his suspicions to the team and if he was wrong he'd be considered an asshole, either he waited until he had concrete evidence he was right and told them after (which is what he chose) - problem was he didn't have the opportunity to tell them until the occasion forced his hand

Generally people prefer the second option, but somehow it's only a problem when it's Dick doing it. In the same story arc, Argent had actually noticed "Epsilon" acting weirdly and conducted her own investigation without telling anyone anything (except Lilith because she wanted Lilith to probe "Epsilon"'s mind), yet you had Donna go on Dick's case about keeping secrets, while Dick reassured Argent (Toni) that her head had still been in the game when she blamed herself, and talked about Donna saying he should've said something when Toni said she should've warned him.

And Titans Tower got destroyed. And, right, okay, Dick was the one who started to lash out at Gar when Gar dismissed it as being funny (his joke was, anyway), telling Gar he never took anything seriously, bringing up a past decision he'd made in regard to the kids, and Dick doing that wasn't okay (and as usual, he hated himself afterward for doing that). But did Gar have to say Dick had let a maniac live with the Titans, implying it was his fault the tower was destroyed and he endangered everybody ? Of course, Dick got defensive too, and told him it was easy to judge when Gar was so far away. And then Gar told Dick people talked and he knew Dick wasn't present enough.

People say Dick's prone to self-blame and it's partly Bruce's fault, and they'd be right. But though his friends are great for him, they sometimes put waaaaayyyy too many expectations on Dick, too.

But I truly don't get it. You can't tell me Dick wasn't a great leader after what happened on the planet where everybody was addicted and basically mind controlled. Dick was dealing with Jess hating him, Argent thinking he didn't trust her because she'd taken drugs to enhance her powers (the same drugs fed off to human beings who were taken on the planet) and he'd asked her to do a drug test, Donna hanging up on him because Garth was hurting himself holding open a portal, Wally calling because he was worried, his own guilt in regard to the mission... And yet this man didn't lose his mind (I would've) analyzed Argent's drug test to see what it was about to protect her, managed to feed himself an antidote quickly, and saved everybody from killing Toni. And then he still had time to talk to Roy and check up on him twice while in the middle of a civil war, telling Roy he was still in control, still clean, and when Roy asked him angrily why Dick didn't give Roy the antidote to him (there was only one dose), Dick told him Roy would've killed him (he would've).

Half my liver, I'm telling you.

Hey, do you think everything about Outsiders vol 3 (Dick’s run as the leader) was completely in character? I personally see his asshole behaviour as extremely in character and wouldn’t expect anything else, but...not his leadership.

I think he would not take on any team, regardless of them being strangers, and that if he did he would be MORE careful and not less. (Mostly because he’s been a leader for a long time, great at compartmentalising and has always been stressed about being responsible for others lives and I don’t think those things would just disappear when people he cares for die). Like, he would still be a jerk and isolate himself but also plan ahead more and take the least risks possible (which would make him a worse leader than usual but not a downright bad one).

Idk just wondered how you see it.

Yeah, I actually view BOTH his time with the Outsiders and his time with the 1999 Titans lineup as being a case of like....characters configured into situations the editors and writers want them in, regardless of whether that makes sense for them at that particular point in time.

Tbh, I hate Dick being leader of both those lineups, and don't think he should have been on either team at those times, period. And I agree that his behavior in those periods made sense for all the shit he'd been through and was currently going on in his life, and like most importantly....

HE DIDN'T WANT TO BE THERE.

He repeatedly kept TELLING people he didn't want to be there, and that it wasn't a good time for him at EITHER point, and people who claim to know him best kept GUILTING and flat out manipulating him into being there, insisting they were doing so because it was for his own good, and they knew what he needed to snap him out of his funks, etc, etc....

EXCEPT THEN THEY KEPT GETTING MAD AT HIM FOR BEING MOODY AND AN ASSHOLE AND Y'KNOW.....NOT WANTING TO BE THERE.

Its like....hey guys, HE TOLD YOU. What did you expect? Its the same issue I have with the classic fight with Donna in NTT #19, where even if you leave aside the fact that he was brainwashed at the time, something that's always grinded my gears is how their fight takes place at Dick's apartment and before it escalates, Dick REPEATEDLY asks Donna to leave, and even tries to leave HIMSELF - from his OWN apartment - because he KNEW he wasn't in the right frame of mind to have the conversation or argument she wanted to have at that particular time.

And people NEVER listen to him! They never let him like have the definitive word on what HE needs, WHEN he needs it and what his needs look like.

And that bugs sooooo much, especially when coupled with how much flack he gets for being manipulative like Bruce or doing what he thinks is best without regard for what others are feeling or want.

Its like....if you're going to hold that against him, it needs to be acknowledged that people do this to him too, like ALL THE TIME. Including his closest friends like Donna, Wally and Roy.....with Wally being the one who pressured Dick to join back up with the Titans, after he'd literally been FORCED OUT of the group before the disbanding of the previous version, and like, still very much was not over all the deaths and injuries that had occurred during Titans Hunt, so reminiscent of previous disastrous events like Judas Contract and the Church of Blood......but Wally was CONVINCED that what Dick needed was to be back with the team again, back where he belonged, and he refused to listen when Dick repeatedly said he was under too much stress and pressure as is.

And like, Wally's intentions were good, but they have very different views of their times with the Titans because Wally has NEVER been in a position of leadership there! There's always been someone else to pass the buck off to when things go wrong, but there isn't that possibility with Dick! It stops with him, and he's always owned that.....which means like....joining back up with the Titans isn't a fun stress relief adventure time with old friends like Wally was picturing it as.....its stressful! Its life or death! Its the lives of his friends in DICK'S hands with nobody else to blame when shit goes south, as it always does.

And Dick KNOWS that, AND he knows his limitations, and so he tried to bow out gracefully from all that, but Wally kept pressuring him, made a big deal about only joining the team himself if Dick joined back up and acted like HE needed it for himself, and even though Dick CALLED him on this being bullshit and a blatant manipulation tactic, Dick still eventually joined up.....and just as he knew, Wally quit to focus on his family and the JLA within like ten issues, the second he was confident that Dick was at this point too INVESTED in the team to bail on it once Wally was gone.

And that's really shitty, tbh. And its not on Wally the character in the sense that they played it that way - the writers - because they wanted Dick back in the driver's seat of the Titans, but like.....the end result is still the end result, y'know? The takeaway is still that Dick was basically manipulated into taking up a job he no longer wanted, BECAUSE of how shit had blown up in his face with it before, and BECAUSE of how much else he had going on, and he KNEW it wasn't what he actually needed....but everyone else made it about what THEY decided he needed instead of listening to what he actually was saying and like....working with that instead.

Like, god bless the collective reasoning skills of Dick's friends and family who keep looking at everything the dude habitually keeps on his plate at his LOWEST settings, and thinks okay, what this guy really needs, I feel, is MORE responsibility.

Instead of like, trying to figure out how to help him take on LESS.

And then it all blew up in Dick's face exactly as he knew it would, and when more Titans died - Donna and Lilith this time - of fucking course Dick blamed himself for it, like literally anyone who knew him should have seen coming. But what were his friends and loved ones' reaction this time? What did they decide he needed?

The same thing they always do! More responsibility!

And again Dick tried to tell people this wasn't going to end the way they wanted it to - mostly Roy this time, as now it was Roy trying to get him to join up with the Outsiders using the specific pitch of them NOT being a family, like ENCOURAGING Dick to not get himself emotionally attached to the team so it didn't hurt as much if things went south with them -

Except again, this was blatant manipulation of the very same variety everyone gives Dick shit for, because in Roy's own words, the entire reason he did things this way was because he was convinced based on how well he knows Dick Grayson, that Dick wouldn't be CAPABLE of staying so unattached, and that he'd eventually invest in his new teammates despite his best efforts not to, and thus 'snap out of' his self-imposed isolation and like....form new connections via them.

But like....shockingly, it didn't play out that way? Dick deliberately tried to do exactly what he'd said he was going to do, KEEP himself from getting attached emotionally, with this being a very bad idea and absolutely something that led to teammates getting hurt, and yes that is on him and decisions he made out of an effort to focus on what HE needed rather than what was best for them - but like.....the problem I have here is like....this is precisely WHY Dick should NOT have been in a leadership position at this time, like you said!

And Dick was like the literal first person to make that argument?!??!

fahsklfhalfhalkfha

Roy was the one who pushed past it and said no I get it, and its okay, which HE shouldn't have done EITHER, not because Dick's choices were on Roy - they weren't, to be clear - but because Roy wasn't being straight forward about what his own intentions were. He wasn't ACTUALLY okay with Dick's approach to leadership of the Outsiders, he just didn't think it would ever actually get as far south as it went, because he was convinced it wasn't going to matter, because Dick was going to 'snap out of it' long before it became an actual problem. And THAT'S the part that's on Roy, because like....Dick TOLD him this wasn't a good idea, and WHY. And like, Dick literally just did exactly what he said he was gonna do, and that doesn't make it right, especially as a leader, but like......if people had actually listened to what he was SAYING rather than what they believed they KNEW about him and 'what he needed' then like.....they would have backed off and validated his concerns that he wasn't a good fit for a team right now and found some OTHER way to help him, rather than like...try and force it on their terms.

And so that's the part that bugs. Like, I don't think Dick's behavior during a lot of the team stuff of that period - even if it wasn't pretty - was like, out of character or even unreasonable - he was fucked up! He KNEW he was fucked up! He kept TELLING people, like hey guys, just FYI, I'm kinda fucked up at the moment.

But nobody would just....accept that. He's never allowed to just be HUMAN. Its the same thing with Dick as Batman and everything during Red Robin, like....other characters are so ready to jump on him for not being perfect the second he starts fucking shit up because he's reeling from stuff that hits EVERYONE hard, and him even more than most specifically BECAUSE of how much responsibility he normally shoulders (as well as how much blame others usually heap on him).....we barely ever see other characters being like okay, what do YOU need, how can we HELP.....

Instead of just....impatiently waiting for you to 'get back to normal' and be the Golden Boy we all both resent you for being while simultaneously EXPECTING you to be at all times, no matter what.

So no, I don't view his behavior with the Outsiders as OOC unfortunately, but I just think like....it would have been so different if he'd just been allowed to grieve in his own way at that time instead of being pushed and guilted and manipulated into getting back in the saddle right away or what the fuck ever, lol. Even his leadership fuck-ups at the time weren't out of character so much as they were proof that he SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN LEADING ANYONE at that time....

The trick of it is just like....he was 100% of that same opinion himself! Its just the writers wanted him as a leader anyway, and the characters were shoved into positions more about getting him to lead than getting him support.

[lilybecca1]

What are your fav personal headcanons about BakuDeku? What are your favorite (canon) moments of BakuDeku? Also, do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dynamics remind you of BKDK? Thanks if you want to answer....

Hi! Omg yes I actually do have one ship that reminds me a lot about bkdk now that I think about it. Haven't even realized the connection before but holy shit

And it's HiroZero from Darling in the Franxx

Cause hear me out guys (MAJOR spoilers). They start out as childhood friends, but then fade apart because of the seperation. One of them ends up totally forgetting about that one defining moment in their childhood (Hiro aka Deku) while the other completely hyperfixates on it to the point of pushing everyone away (Zero Two aka Bakugo). Hiro (Deku) is amazed and in awe about everything that Zero Two (Bakugo) is. Zero Two always tried to fight on her own, because she thinks no one else can keep up with her, and thinks that Hiro is just a fodder stuck by her side just like everyone else, but he proves himself that he is capable again and again, completely changing Zero Two's view of him, and turning her from a cold, distant person who doesn't care about anyone else, into a caring, sensitive person who warmed up towards making friends, and who is completely devoted to Hiro.

Throughout the entire anime, Ichigo(kinda parallel to Ochaco) tried to get Hiro to be less reckless and stop throwing himself into fights, but for Hiro, it's always "Zero Two and the others". No matter how hard Ichigo tries to make him settle back into the life that he had with them, in his eyes, he will always see Zero Two. For them, it's always only each other. The love that they have for each other goes much deeper than what anyone else can comprehend.

And the whole symbolism behind Hiro and Zero Two is the symbol of the doves with one wing. Alone, they cannot survive, but when they're together, they can soar higher than anyone else. Two doves that are incomplete without each other. Two sides of the same coin.

And the ending is what I loved the most. In the end, they become each other, they become the one and the same soul. Their feelings completely become one. They end up floating across space for years and years, time insignificant as long as they're together. Just like bkdk's "Even if we only have one lifetime, together we have an unlimited supply". Because it doesn't matter if they die, as long as they'll remain by the other's side even in the afterlife.

"I had nothing, but you gave me a sense of meaning". Just like how Hiro felt his life was meaningless until Zero Two came along. And these are both quotes from the song "Because you're my hero" aka the song about Izuku's feelings towards Katsuki.

"It was like I was put under a spell. Her two alluring horns, and my first ever look at a naked girl’s body, left me transfixed, unable to take my eyes off of her." The same as how Izuku couldn't take his eyes off of Bakugo, because he was transfixed by his amazingness.

"When we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were confident, held your head high, and I found that beautiful." I honestly wouldn't be able to decide if this came from Izuku or Hiro. Izuku always found Bakugo's confidence, the way he always held his head high something that he couldn't take his eyes off of. And he found it beautiful too. You can see it in his eyes, even if he never said it with the same words.

"You and I; alone and lonesome. With the wings that I tore apart with my own hands, it will never be possible again to fly away. The days that I could spend as your wing, the sky that I dreamed we could take to some day. It has all started fading away, far, far away." Which for Bakugo means, "the dream of flying together, of being heroes together that I tore apart with my own hands at the river, it has all started fading far, far away because of what I did"

"If Zero Two can’t smile for me, than I might as well be dead." It's similar to how Deku feels, like when he said he can't imagine a world without Kacchan in it.

"Liar. If that were true, then why is your last page left blank? Don’t fly off on your own. Please, Zero Two, let me stay with you. Together...let’s rewrite that story."" Bakugo knew he would die too when he sacrificed himself, yet he did it anyway, for Izuku, even if deep down all he wanted was to compete with him for the rest of his life. "Nevertheless, my heart is crying with your pain. Can I at least be by your side, even if we cannot understand each other""Together we steal the future and imagine it" quotes from some of the ending songs.

"The distant skies. Beyond time and distance. An overwhelmingly long journey just for the two of us. You're a part of me. I'm a part of you. I'll remember your warmth, along with the memories we've made together. I'll never let you go again!" Never let you go again, just like bkdk's version of I'll never let your hand go ever again. "Won't let that hand slip away anymore. Forever and ever ahead, the two of us together" also a quote from one of the songs.

"I’m always alone, too. Thanks to these horns." And Bakugo used to always be alone because of his anger, which made him seem like a monster.

"Maybe we can't win alone, but the two of us together can!" Just like Bakudeku ✨

Bakudeku IS literally HiroZero, because the love and connection they have is the same, even if their story isn't. Two doves who are meaningless without each other, but they give meaning to eachothers' lives and fly forever together, for the rest of their lives.

All the parallels are FREAKING INSANE

Like them meeting under a cherry blossom tree in their second life

And becoming TWO STARS IN THE SKY, TWIRLING AROUND EACH OTHER LIKE TWIN STARS?

if they were orange and green it would be undeniable

And also the hand holding symbolism between them too, and how first it was Hiro that held out his hand to Zero Two and "saved" her, then in the end, Zero Two held out her hand to him, just like Bakugo in the manga.

Like seriously, the only thing different in their story is that they actually kissed.

And now I actually remember how beautiful I found their story when I watched Darling in the Franxx and I can say the same about Bakudeku. Their story and their connection is just as beautiful too, and it goes way beyond mere human emotions. They are one and they mean more to each other than anything else.

HiroZero is the canon version of BakuDeku

Okay this already turned out pretty long but I'll answer the rest of the questions anyway:

My personal fave headcanons:

Deku being able to tolerate spicy food even better than Bakugo is one of them 😂 like he literally has no pain receptors in his body. He broke his bones over and over again during the tournament and even used his MOUTH. Like you can't tell me he can't tolerate spicy food cause I bet my ahh that he wouldn't even FEEL that

2. My second one is Bakugo being the housewife 😂 like y'all he can cook, he's a clean freak, he orders everyone else around, he'd be so housewife material in the relationship

3. Bakugo always making physical contact with Deku in some way. Like whether it's just a playful shove, or putting his elbow on him, that guy cannot keep his hands off of Deku for even a second

4. Both of them having nightmares and panic attacks after the war about losing each other, and only being comforted by feeling the other's presence

5. Bakugo visiting Izuku every single day at school and sneaking into his classes while the students stare at him like wtf you doing here. Then after a while they're just like Deku-sensei your husband is staring in from outside the window again

6. Katsuki getting jealous over small things even though they're not even dating. Like you went out to eat with Shoto instead of me???! How dare you, this is the worst betrayal of my life

7. Even when they're adults, they know by heart the All Might theme choreography dance they learned when they were kids and Deku always makes Bakugo join him to dance it with him at parties

8. Izuku: How can anyone hate the rain?

Bakugo: Oh God they're tryna drown me in this ho

9. They're crossing the street, car honks:

Bakugo: F*CK YOU D*CKWAD

Midoriya, bowing 20 times: I'm so sorry please forgive his behaviour

10. They don't hang out like their other friends, when they hang out they are just simply quietly doing their own thing, being in the same space but in a comfortable silence, not feeling forced to make conversation. They just quietly enjoy each other's company while they do their own thing

11. Bakugo: is protective and gets easily jealous and makes a big show of it

Deku: is possessive but doesn't get easily jealous (idk if that makes sense lol)

12. Bakugo: gets offended easily and dramatically pouts for some time after but he calms down quickly

Deku: doesn't get hurt or angry easily but once he does actually get into an argument, he avoids Bakugo for days

And favorite canon moments though would probably be:

DvK2, basically the whole fight

Bakugo running to Deku in the hospital

Every single time Deku loses control cause of Bakugo getting hurt

The entire second movie

Deku punching Bakugo (that was kinda satisfying)

River scene (literally the most defining moment)

Swan dive scene (it's literally the base of all the angst that ever existed in every fic, and I love angst so)

Bakugo's apology (not just because of Bakugo apologizing, but Izuku's reaction too. This is one of the biggest scenes where we see just how much he actually means to Izuku)

The entire snowy mountain camping chapter in the novels (it was literally THE turning point in Bakugo's feelings and it wasn't even animated bruh)

Okay if I write any more than that I'll probably end up listing every single bkdk moment in the entire manga so that's enough probably 😂

[studentbyday]

{ 05.11.24 } · { 50 days of routine } · { day 7 }

I was never “popular” at school. Not that I ever cared to be. I don't have the personality for it. And I don't really care to have the personality for it either. I'm not and never will be That Girl™ material, a “high-value woman”, or whatever feminine persona is trendy on TikTok these days (and i'm not even ON TikTok, but ofc the trends spread everywhere like wildfire) because I don't look the part (nor do I want to...i quite like my personal style) or think or speak or act the way she would if it goes against my values and/or it won't actually improve my wellbeing. I say I don't care. And I really truly don't because a lot of it and what it leads to is straight-up problematic for my personal case, running counter to the life I want to live and all my reasons why. But as with anything, being yourself has its pros and cons.

Sometimes I still feel like it's hard to truly belong anywhere...even the places I make for myself like this blog... Sometimes when I feel like this, I feel like the only place I most belong is in my head. It's not good. That's not where I need to be, nor do I need to be much concerned about trends on social media and what drives people to follow them. And I certainly don't need to compare myself to anyone else. I need to be in the real world and focused on my work only because I think it's worth it and because I think I'm worth it as I am.

I'm not sure why I felt like saying this.

~~~Friendly PSA: STOP 🖐🏻 scrolling social media of any kind when feeling low in self-esteem.~~~

got up at 7, continued filling in the CBT workbook then decided to move my answers elsewhere because the annotating feature in the ebook app is getting annoying, started my day at 8 with the usual minimalist morning routine

10/30 mins of the same beginner pilates workout i did a few days ago except i forgot to breathe and ended up so light-headed i couldn't go anymore...

filling in CBT workbook because i can't get the reflection questions out of my head until i answer them... 😣 so far, nothing new has been revealed to me, but in the busy-ness of the day-to-day, i tend to neglect ALL the other dimensions of my life and then forget that that's why i feel so shitty and the problem is the self-prompted reflection i tend to do at this time carries a lot of negativity and pessimism and comparison and judgment and it's not very organized, it's actually not organized at all, it's always just a word vomit. but when i do it now, with the tone of the categorized prompts not being judgy at all, i'm able to look at my problems more objectively and holistically and like "oh okay, i'm not doing as bad in this dimension as i thought and the REAL problem is this other dimension of life and all the specific things you mention are lacking here" and idk, sometimes i think it's weird that my brain works this way, it's like i was looking at the same picture the entire time and all i had to do was turn it a bit to the left for it to make sense. is this how brains normally work? 😅

finished last week's microbio module

researching for global health assignment...will begin writing tmr 😅👍

finished section 1/2 of last week's immunology module and started the loooong second section 🥴👍

🎧 some nights – fun.

@zzzzzestforlife tagged me to do this picrew! it was fun. and it's so coincidental that i've been thinking about ghosts lately! the past versions of us that we follow without question when they tell us what to do, what not to do, and what we should aspire for... ☁️ sometimes those ghosts are right...and sometimes they're just plain toxic.

tagging @whenmemoriesfrost @chemblrish @ecologie-txt @winryrockbellwannabe @obakanosandoitchi if you want to :)

[kikizoshi]

Not to mention the whole Puppet heavily psychologically abusing TEAPS!Sun thing. Because she thought she was right. In her mind, Sun needed to get over his agoraphobia and fear of Moon, so forcing him out of the Daycare by triggering his cleaning issues, then having absolutely no empathy as he's cowering from shadows and crying/screaming on the floor because he's so scared... is just fine, to her. Yes, Sun wasn't being fair, but showing no empathy whatsoever? And then forcing the issue when she just learned from her mistake that she admitted to with TSAMS!Sun, trying to force him to choose.

AND THE "YOU'RE GONNA DIE IF YOU DON'T CHOOSE TO SHARE" THING OH MY GOD. That whole interaction was so, so hard to watch. Literally psychological torture at that point, on an animatronic who might as well have been a child. I'd say it's like she learned nothing from TSAMS!Sun's situation, except that she openly acknowledged and took responsibility for handling that situation poorly and pushing Sun too far, which just shows me that somehow she can perceive her failures but not learn from them. 'Cause the dilemma she insisted on with EAPS!Sun & Moon was so much worse. (I still wish she and Eclipse had experienced real, lasting repercussions for that.)

And seeing Eclipse there, acting in the same way because of course he is, traumatising and brute-forcing people into submission has literally always been him M.O., but he just started learning better habits with Earth, and so to set the tone for the next chapter in his life with the person who wants to help him get better egging him on to horrifically abuse Sun? It was just a stomach-drop moment of, oh, nothing's really changed, has it? Eclipse still doesn't have the opportunity of good role models. He still doesn't have anyone showing him a healthy way to act.

It really feels like Puppet gets into this pattern where she decides that someone needs to change, how they need to change, what they need to do to change... and then gets upset at them when they don't comply and it doesn't work perfectly immediately. And she doesn't learn that people don't work that way, no matter how many times it blows up in her face (which isn't a complaint with the writers, I'm just upset at the character).

There's just... a fundamental disconnect with Puppet. There always has been. She tries, but I think maybe she doesn't fully know how to empathise with people. Something doesn't compute. Which sucks, 'cause then how do you help someone like Eclipse, who struggles with empathy, when you yourself don't know much about it? (Though, I'd say Eclipse struggles more with expressing/acknowledging empathy than feeling it, whereas Puppet seems the opposite.)

On a non-Eclipse note though too, I felt all the way back in the Monty and Puppet Podcast episodes how unempathetic she could be. Like, she's marginally better than Monty (though the bar is in Tartarus there) in that she actually somewhat cares whether the guests have read and agreed to the consent form. But that doesn't stop her from putting up the episodes, and as much as she apologises after the fact, she never starts holding Monty accountable to actually make them read it (I'm aware this is a bit, but that doesn't change the literal interpretation of her actions). Also, I know it's a bit, I get that, but playing Lunar's own death for him, repeatedly, after he asked her to stop, repeatedly, is such a callously cruel thing to do. And she plays it for a bit, like it wasn't one of the most traumatic things to happen to Lunar. And she laughed. Because it's funny to her. That always rubbed me the wrong way; her entire demeanour in the podcast episodes does, really.

OKAY SO IM NOT THE ONLY PUPPET HATER?? THANK THE GODSSS ITS SO RARE TO FIND REASONABLE HATE ON PUPPET

I NEED THAT WOMAN DIVORCED!!!!!!

ALL LOVE / NO HATE

Actor of puppet, you’re wonderful. Love you, love your acting, love your lore, BUT I NEED PUPPET OUT OF ECLIPSE’S LIFE BEFORE HIM OR I CRASH OUT. /SILLY /NSRS

Look…it’s expected for me to hate on everyone because…sigh…I’m an eclipse kinnie…I gotta hate everyone…it’s…it’s my…my OBLIGATION, if you will…

no, I have genuine reasons and actual arguments for every character I love, and every character I hate. I think that Puppet is just very emotionally close minded like 80% of the characters despite trying to be sympathetic to Eclipse. She’s trying, she is, but like…girl please…this ain’t how you do it…

I also genuinely haven’t looked at her previous lore or anything, so I can’t say I’m 🤓☝️ “super educated” or anything as I am with Eclipse. However, based off all that I’ve seen in TEAPS, I simply have not been given a reason to like her for any reason. Sure, she’s /trying/ to help Eclipse which is MORE than ANYONE ELSE IS DOING, but at the same time she’s being slightly harmful to him.

WHICH, YEAH, IT’S FUCKING /ROUGH/ TO DEAL WITH THAT MAN

But the way she problem solves and tries to help is just generally problematic and headache inducing. Like…

puppet…if…you’re trying to get someone to participate in games…DON’T. INVITE. THE PEOPLE. THAT HE HARMED, OR GOT HARMED BY.

I FEEEEEL LIKE THAT’S COMMON SENSE.

IS THAT…NOT…COMMON SENSE????

Of course, out of character, looking at the writers and VA’s, they could’ve just really wanted them to play games together. Fair. Reasonable. But I’m looking at them IN CHARACTER. And in character…Puppet kinda sucks.

Bwomp! :(

[captaintasha]

Don't talk to me I'm busy crying because of wlw teens who found love in their bleak world and almost had it all, yet chose to not quit and enjoy whatever time they had left.

Get someone who looks at you the way Ellie looks at Riley.

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m always so fascinated by people’s bad roommate stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever live with someone I haven’t vetted extensively beforehand ever again

[king-spite]

.

[orcelito]

Ykno what's somehow more annoying than a kpop stan? A kpop SNOB.

One of the employees (who's actually leaving soon, thank god) has been a kpop fan since like 2nd gen. And she makes it KNOWN. Somehow has "stanned" like every popular group in existence. Mentioned that she stanned stray kids until the song Double Knot came out & pissed her off so much she swore off the group entirely (I guess????). Used to like bts, but mentioned that she stopped liking them bc of the fandom (which is valid I guess, but literally just don't interact with the fandom then, that's what I do with stray kids).

She pissed the bts coworker OFF tho bc bts coworker made a list of group recs for 3rd gen (not 4th gen bc she did Not want to risk the bloodbath if any of the groups weren't represented properly). In the bts section (a modest section!!! Same length as the others!!!) she included 'Dynamite' as one of her favorite songs. And the kpop snob literally PUTS A POST IT NOTE pointing to it & saying "Dynamite doesn't belong on this list"

Like WHAT???? Is it YOUR GROUP being talked about here???? No!!!! She included a lot of songs from a lot of groups (with my input for ones like shinee & mamamoo), & then put her favs from her fav group. Like. Why do you have to be so needlessly nitpicky lmao???

[eruhamster]

not to be annoying but i do think a lot of people mischaracterize falin. shes got the most drastic canon v fanon thing going on. which i guess makes sense bc 1. we dont see much of her and 2. lot of the fan stuff are anime-onlies that have seen even less

but i think like a good 90% of the time i see falin-centric art or posts im like hrm hrm hrm thats all wrong no nope no-siree

she's just a cool chick that takes life as it comes, doesn't hold grudges even against a mother that apparently was trying to beat the magic outta her, finds her older brother the coolest person in the world, and has autism about observing life (and death, she loves the ghosts she has a connection to) and nature and taking care of things (including taking care of her brother, which is why she's even in the dungeons; she saw her scrawny mess of a brother and decided she had to fix that).

and i think my favorite part that people don't talk about is... she would have done the same for marcille or laios if it were one of them that was eaten. you could see it in her eyes:

it's what shuro misunderstands about her. it's easy to see her feminine, cute, good girl pieces and forget the rest of her. but she loves things to an ends-of-the-earth extent; the kind of caring that makes you a little insane. and that's how I think she and laios end up on the same page with their weirdness. they have different interests, but they are the same level of committed to those interests.

it's easy to love her, because she probably loves you just as much, if not more.

EDIT: for the love of god stop reblogging this only to add some comment or tag or reply saying 'op you forgot [BLATANTLY FANON INTERPRETATION]'. falin as we know her is not a pushover/people pleaser/infantilized, see this version of my post. also stuff like 'female shuro was in love with laios in the genderbent comic' and 'falin was going to marry shuro because she felt bad' are just things you made up in your head

[beguilingcorpse]

imagine you are palamedes sextus. you spend twelve years exchanging letters with a woman who is seven years your senior. you become the heir to your house just to meet her as an equal. you love her to the point of invention. you both know that her time spent alive has an expiration date sooner than most, and so one day you decide to propose to her - even though you know that she can spend the rest of her life with you but you can’t with her, even though there are imperial rules forbidding interhouse marriages between necromancers, even though you’re here and she’s there and you’ve never even met in person - but you want her to spend her days with someone who cares about her. but you’re so young, only nineteen, and there are still all of those reasons listed above, and so she turns you down. but it isn’t because she doesn’t want to say yes. and then over the next year the letters come fewer and farther apart. and then you’re both invited to the emperor’s house - both of you, together, physically in the same place for the first time - and you show up and she’s here. and it’s like she doesn’t know you. she doesn’t spare you a glance. and you’re still so tender with her - you can’t help it, there’s care baked into you, and you can’t resist helping her, loving her, going so far as to kiss her knuckles in front of company - but still. she doesn’t acknowledge anything that happened between you. she’s moved on. she must have, because she’s spending all this time with the cavalier from the ninth - who is, by the way, two years younger than you, and that doesn’t escape your notice because nothing does - and what can you do? what are you supposed to do?

you tell your cavalier that you’re glad she’s spending time with someone who makes her laugh.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[tame-the-lion-writes]

cat shifter reader x task force 141

(An AU to the AU--based on an ask and the results of this poll.)

No more guns a-blazing or cruel glory. The 141 had their time in the military; now, it was time to slow down.

Of course, when one sticks with the same people for half their life, through thick and thin, there is no going back. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb--and the 141 had spilled enough blood together that it practically ran through each others veins. They were inseparable, bound in both trauma and trust, and to part would dissolve the only stability they'd shared. Snip away red strings wrought both in shared drinks and on the battlefield.

What they didn't expect was the addition of you.

In deciding to retire, the 141 bought an old farm in the backcountry. A weary, rickety place that was practically begging for renovations. The busy work gave them something to do with already-rough hands, so they didn't mind--taking care of the animals, replacing the rotting wood, and updating the plumbing simply meant they could make the place their own. And after the house was fixed up, they got to updating the barn, fixing up a chicken coop, installing new fencing, etc.

It was also during these renovations that they got to know the stray cat who'd been living in the barn attic.

Feral--they first thought. Plenty of farm cats were, and the place had been long unlived-in that they believed no one could have socialized or cared for her. Not to mention that she'd been so riled up with them around; hissing from behind walls, or above while balancing on the beams. Jutting her paws out and trying to scratch them while they worked. They always knew where she was by the jingle of the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon as though she were someone's pet let loose. Left on the roadside maybe, and for that, they didn't blame her.

But for the most part, she only occupied the second floor of the barn, and she kept the place free of rats and mice. They couldn't have those running around, so for the most part, they stayed out of her way. And she learned to stay out of theirs.

Until she got sick.

"Haven't seen the kit in a while," Gaz finally spoke, poking at the leftover stew in his bowl. It was already dinner when everyone was winding down for the night, and their beloved foe had been missing for three days. "I'm getting worried."

"I'm sure she's fine," Soap reassured him, shoveling another spoonful in his mouth. "Maybe ran off to the woods or somethin'."

"But it's been rainin' plenty lately," Gaz pressed. "You'd think she'd hole up in the attic per usual."

"We can check in the morning," Price sighed, adjusting himself in his seat. "'Sides, wouldn't do any good to be missin' a barn cat--"

"Tonight."

Soap lifts his head to squint over at the man by the sink. "Didn't take ya for a cat person, LT."

"Wanna make sure the mangy thing ain't dead." Ghost drops his dishes with an ceremonial clink-clink-clink. "Would stink up the place."

But when they finally made their way up the sketchy ladder to the barn attic, and they finally pushed aside all the dusty boxes and rusty equipment, what they found wasn't a cat but a young woman--face red with fever and tangled deeply, restlessly, in worn blankets and stolen clothes. Unknown and without ID--save for the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

It's quickly determined that you're only suffering from a regular cold, but on the verge of winter, the barn is no place to stay warm. Hence a quiet moment of deliberation between the boys, standing around, not knowing what to do. Also not knowing if their first assumption--that this is their fussy barn cat--is possible. In any case, they can't just leave you here.

Ghost is relegated the duty of carrying you down the very sketchy ladder (as he is with carrying most things). But not before Price wraps you up like a burrito, in case you wake up and decide to try and scratch again.

"'Mangy thing,' huh, LT?"

"Hope you know she's gettin' your bed."

[eufezco]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER༄

the tva erased you from your timeline when logan died, you've been living in the void since then.

angst + fluff. no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

you couldn't take your eyes off them.

you were at the table sitting next to logan, on his other side was laura. he held wade's dog while she played with it and you couldn't take your eyes off them. you couldn't believe it. you had to pinch yourself a few times to confirm that you weren't dreaming.

you thought you'd never see a scene like that ever again. the two of them together. how many times you had looked at the sky and cursed the universe for not giving the three of you more time?

when your logan died, the time variance authority decided that the sacred timeline didn't need you anymore so they erased you and sent you to the void. you preferred it that way, you didn't want to live in a timeline in which he was gone but you were also angry because they didn't have to drag little laura to that place with you.

you didn't remember how much time you spent in the void but seeing how laura had grown into a woman, you guessed that it had been a long time since you left your timeline.

when you got to that place, she was just a child. scared, angry, who had just lost the most important person in her life. and you were just the same, except that you were not a child and you had to take care of both of you. no matter how much you wanted to die, you had to stay alive for laura. but also for logan, for the way you both cried and held his bloody hands while he died and for not letting her be what they made her for.

and no matter how strong your mutations were, you didn't know how long you would have lasted there if it hadn't been for elektra, johnny, blade, and gambit. they found you when you were escaping from alioth and let you into their hideout. they explained to you how things worked there and eventually, they allowed you to stay with them.

until one day you walked into that same hiding place, and there he was, drinking gambit's alcohol and wearing a yellow spandex suit. you felt your heart beating so hard that it seemed to be fighting to get out and reach him. you brought a hand to your chest to feel it. it had gone so long without beating that way that sometimes you thought you left it buried with him in your timeline.

logan also felt his heartbeat accelerate but he quickly took his eyes off of you and drank a long sip from the bottle. he wasn't alone, a deadpool was with him, you recognized the suit, they were quite popular in the void. he shook his hands and gave little jumps of excitement. you looked at him confused, did you know each other?

—of course, you are here! there's no you without logan and there's no logan without you! do you know how hard it's been to find a proper wolverine? there are so many fucking timelines without one because you died! —deadpool exclaimed when he saw you. —and this one is not even a proper wolverine! you know they call him the worst logan? and he won't tell me why they call him that, can you believe it?—deadpool acted offended, you didn't know what to say. —wait... —he turned to look at logan. —was there a she in your timeline? i didn't get to meet her, they're usually nicer than you.

logan ignored the question and simply drank from the bottle again as he stormed out of your hideout.

he avoided you as much as he could. he did not look you in the eyes, he did not address you when he spoke. how could he? the last time logan saw you, your lifeless body was piled up next to scott's. shame consumed him even at the thought of just approaching you. his hands trembled, a knot formed in his stomach, his pulse quickened.

you came over to talk to him that same night.

logan was sitting in front of the campfire, alone, with a bottle of liquor in his hand. how many had he drunk? he saw you approaching and tried to convince you that he wanted to be alone but you still sat next to him.

—what was i like?

logan took a long sip of alcohol when you asked. he said nothing, just stared into the fire, so you decided to take the turn. —you were grumpy, i guess that doesn't change in any of your variants, and you wouldn't have worn that yellow spandex suit in a thousand years.

he looked at you with a frown when you said that. the same way your logan would have looked at you. you continued talking. —you were stubborn, never asked for help, and you were tired all the fucking time because you worked your ass off to get us out of the shitty place we were living in.

he stared at you in silence while you talked. the person you were describing definitely sounded like a version of him.

—you always said that i didn't need to wait up for you but i know you liked it when you came home late at night and i was there and i know you hated the way i folded your shirts but you never said anything because you knew i didn't know how to do it any other way.

you felt a lump forming in your throat. you turned your head, hiding your face from logan so he couldn't see how you used your thumb to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek. —but you were so brave, and caring, and i loved you with all my heart. you always looked after me even when you were fucking dying with each passing day.

by the tone in your voice and how well you remembered every detail, he guessed that your logan was suddenly taken away from you. oh, he knew that feeling so well.

you were about to get up and leave, you didn't want to bother him anymore and you had already overshared enough with him, when all of a sudden, he started talking.

—you were the sweetest. fuck, i never knew why you were with me. i always thought you deserved better, but there was no way to get you off my ass —. he closed his eyes and shook his head. —and i tried, i tried to push you away and get you to find a guy who deserved you, but there was no way. and i didn't really want you to do it because i was so fucking in love with you.

logan drank from the bottle, trying to let the alcohol sliding down his throat drag with it the tears forming in his eyes. —you liked to read in the garden of the mansion on sunny days and when it rained you'd open my bedroom window to listen to the rain and get into my bed while i was sleeping so i could keep you warm.

there was silence as logan took another sip, almost finishing all the alcohol. —and i left you to fucking die.

the worst logan. at that moment you understood why he was called that, you didn't him to explain it. wade said that in all the timelines he had visited, there was no you without logan and there was no logan without you.

however, in his timeline there was logan but there wasn't you.

he was called the worst logan because he was doomed to live in his timeline without you.

you grabbed the bottle from his hands and drank the alcohol left. —yeah, i couldn't save you either.

you kept each other company that night. most of the time in silence, watching the fire consume the wood, other times you commented on the situation, you talked about cassandra nova, the people you had met there in the void, he even asked you about laura. and at the end of the night, you were sitting next to him with your head resting on his shoulder and him watching you sleep peacefully.

the next morning you headed off to fight cassandra nova. you knew that logan would end up joining you, it was in his nature.

you and laura managed to remove the helmet from juggernaut's head and you ran to give it to wade. when cassandra opened the portal using strange's ring you were there, you could've left with wade and logan, but you couldn't leave laura there. cassandra's allies had pulled themselves together and she was struggling to fight back.

before you went to help her and logan jumped into the portal, he wrapped one of his big arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. you rested your hands against his chest and closed your eyes, enjoying those few seconds of your lips pressed together.

—oh, fuck. seriously now? i know how important fan service is for marvel but we literally have a chance to get the fuck out of here—. wade complained.

—i'll get you out. you and the kid, i promise i won't leave you here —. he said as he started walking backward towards the portal. you nodded, if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that no wolverine in the multiverse would break a promise.

and just as you were right about all wolverines being grumpy, you were right about that too. agents from the time variance authority went into the void to get you and laura that same day and now you were having dinner with him, laura, wade, and his family.

you couldn't take your eyes off him.

he had the same look in his eyes. that little sparkle in his deep brown eyes. he was happy, smiling as he played with the dog and laura, calm knowing that you were by his side. you looked away from him when he caught you staring.

—what is it?

you shook your head and pressed your lips together, showing him a little smile. —nothing.

—come on, spit it out.

—it's just... i feel i could fall in love with every version of you.

logan nodded slowly, his eyes were now fixed on yours. —i've had the same feeling.

wade, who was distracted with vanessa but not enough to not be paying attention to your conversation, decided to intervene. —oh honey, wait until you meet the crucified one. you will want to take that back.

you and logan looked at each other confused.

[drunk-person]

Healing Kisses

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After an injury on a normal day of training, Aemond Targaryen has difficulty understanding what it feels like to be cared for by his sweet wife, mainly because he is not used to receiving healing kisses.

WARNING: +18. Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and and a little bit of hot, Aemond trying to understand feelings, a bit of blood, basically a lot of softness, no description for the reader.

Word cont: 2.600 k

Author's note: Ok, I was minding my own business and this story just slipped my mind and ended up on my phone. I hope you guys like our guy trying to understand what love is hahaha 💕💕💕.

It had been about two months since Lady Y/n had gotten married, to Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the first day she saw him, she found him a disturbing man, with his silver hair, the black eye patch over one eye, the marked jaw that looked like it could cut the tips of her fragile fingers. He always seemed to be watching everything going on around him with trained eyes that she swore could see right through her.

Y/n's mother had prepared her her entire life for marriage, but not for a marriage with Aemond. Nothing was as she expected, since her husband seemed to have his own way of doing things, always silent and taciturn, just muttering from time to time, and most of the time she couldn't even decipher what he was saying, she didn't even know if he was speaking the same language as her at times.

The most unexpected thing of all, considering how reserved he normally behaved, was the fact that he liked to touch her when they were together in the martial chambers. Y/n felt her skin boiling every night with every touch he directed at her, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but always firmly squeezing her waist, hips and breasts. Always doing things to her that Lady Y/n had not thought possible until marriage, and that just the mere thought of it made her blush and feel her skin heat up. The way he lay against her back after having poured himself inside her to the last drop and kept squeezing her breasts in a languid and soft way made her shiver.

But Y/n wasn't satisfied. She couldn't accept the fact that her Husband had such passionate touches for her at night, but didn't let her get close to him during the day, either physically or emotionally. Y/n respected him in that regard, aiming for nothing more than to be a good and obedient wife, but she wouldn't give up so easily. And with this in mind, she began to try to include herself in Aemond's daily activities and personal tastes.

Reading about the history of his ancestors, observing his favorite foods, sewing his clothes personally and even reading an old book she found in the library written by a maester who promised to teach Valyrian to even the most obtuse person. Which only made her feel even more foolish since she didn't understand a thing.

One of the best parts of trying to include herself in her husband's daily routine was watching his daily training, she usually did it in the morning after breakfast and even after a whole month watching him fight she still hadn't gotten used to the fact that he was so good, the sword seemed like an extension of his own arm and she had to restrain herself from sighing a few times while admiring him.

Until one particularly boring afternoon she decided to go down to the courtyard, since the library was very stuffy and she heard a maid saying that Aemond was fighting with Sir Criston Cole. As soon as she arrived, she leaned on the windowsill along with some other ladies, smiling as she watched her husband a little below, but the smile died on her lips a few minutes later when Aemond didn't dodge fast enough and Cole's blade wounded him in the left shoulder, drawing blood and staining the knight's sword.

Y/n's eyes widened when she saw her husband's blood and she felt her stomach churn. Aemond put his hand to his wounded shoulder and frowned, then returned to the fight furiously, disarming Cole, who apologized to the prince, but said that it wouldn't have happened if he had kept his guard up and focused.

Aemond just put away his own sword and walked with long strides into the Keep. Y/n could barely see what was in front of her, she just walked towards her husband with her eyes burning with concern.

-Husband! - She tried to reach him, but Aemond was walking too fast towards his own chambers. - Husband, please wait! Your arm is injured, you need to go see a maester!

Aemond entered the chambers, leaving the door open as he passed, as his wife followed closely behind.

-It was just a scratch, wife. - Aemond stated as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. - I'm going to be fine, it doesn't even hurt.

-Husband, if you're not going to let the maester look at this wound, at least let me take care of you! - She begged in a very worried voice, approaching him.

And with a snort, valuing his peace of mind, Aemond removed his doublet and undershirt, which had bloodstains at the site of the wound.

-By the gods, husband! - Y/n's eyes widened when she saw his shoulder. - How can you tell me this is just a scratch?

-Sit down here! - She pushed him down onto the chair with a very stern voice, and Aemond frowned - she had never used such a tone with him, always gentle and submissive to his wishes. - Don't move, I'll get hot water and an herbal ointment.

A little while later she returned with a basin full of water and a tray filled with things that a maid had brought. And Aemond watched with a very serious frown as she leaned over him with a clean, damp cloth, cleaning the coagulated blood with a very concentrated look on her face.

He barely realized that she had spoken to him, completely lost in what was happening.

- Husband? - She called him a little closer, stopping to clean the wound.

- Mmmm? - Aemond looked at her slightly confused when he finally realized that she was talking to him.

-I asked him if by chance it hurts. - She smiled, now using her usual sweet and gentle voice and Aemond didn't know why his belly warmed, but not with the excitement that had become so common in the last two months whenever he was near his wife, but with an unknown feeling.

- No. - He shook his head slowly as he answered. - I don't feel anything.

Nothing but a tingling where her warm and soft hand rested.

- Are you sure, husband? - Her look was doubtful as she frowned, Aemond just nodded and she continued her work. As soon as she finished cleaning the area, she left a few soft kisses on the wound and Aemond felt that a rope had pulled him through his navel at that moment.

-W-What are you doing? - He ended up stuttering unintentionally as he formed the sentence, feeling the skin where his wife was touching him warm as if she had touched him with a hot coal.

-Healing kisses. - She murmured simply against his heated and slightly reddened skin. - To help you heal faster.

Aemond frowned with his eyes slightly pressed together, enjoying that unfamiliar sensation in a strange way.

-And do they work? - He asked as if he suddenly had no control over his own tongue and felt very stupid for it as soon as he spoke.

-I believe so. - She smiled at him, leaving one last kiss at the end of the open wound, and Aemond felt less stupid for some reason after that.

-I'm going to apply the herbal ointment, okay? - She walked to the table, picking up one of the clay pots with a greenish, pasty mixture inside. - The maester said it should burn.

With a delicacy that Aemond had never felt in his entire life, she deposited the ointment on the open wound and gradually spread it with her fingertips, showing a look of implacable concentration on her face as if this were something of extreme importance.

Aemond hated wandering hands on him, hated receiving treatment from the maesters with their rough and hard touches, but with his wife it was different, the touches were so sweet and gentle that they were making him drowsy. And when she left more kisses after finishing applying the green ointment he thought that his mind had left his body and gone to another dimension.

-Mmmm.

-I hurt you? - She sounded very worried as she brought her right hand to the side of his face.

-Not at all. - He practically sighed, laying his head against her hand, and Y/n felt her heart warm when she had that reaction of familiarity from him.

-You need to take a bath, husband. - She stroked his cheek with her thumb, enjoying the moment where she was allowed to, smiling sweetly at him. - And after that I move on to another herb that the maester sent.

Aemond agreed, just nodding positively, feeling his whole body as if it were pleasantly numb as he walked towards the bathtub full of warm water on the other side of the rooms. And making him feel even lighter Y/n untied the front of his pants, blushing slightly as she helped him get completely undressed.

With a sideways smile at seeing his wife's reaction to his nudity, Aemond entered the bathtub, murmuring in satisfaction with the temperature of the water.

Y/n, her face still warm, knelt at the foot of the bathtub and gently massaged his uninjured shoulder, leaving sweet kisses there.

-This shoulder is not hurt. - Aemond spoke to her in a soft voice for the first time, making her smile against his damp skin.

-It must be at least sore from the effort. - She murmured very close to his neck, making him smile even though she couldn't see it.

-Join me, wife. - He turned his head back, watching her with a calm gaze.

And with a shy and very happy smile, Y/n removed her own clothes under the watchful eye of Aemond, who sighed when she was completely naked and embarrassed in front of him. The prince always found it sweet how she had not yet lost her shyness when being naked in front of him in these two months of marriage.

Y/n entered the bathtub and before she could sit on the other end of the bathtub he pulled her to sit on his thighs, leaving his wife very close to him, making her sigh.

-Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all, husband? - She gently ran her fingertips over the injured area.

-Mmmm. - He shook his head. - But I could use more kisses.

And with butterflies in her stomach Y/n did so, leaving sweet and moist kisses around her husband's shoulder who just laid his head back in contentment.

-You know if I had an injury like that I would be in a lot of pain. - She looked at him from under her eyelashes. - You are so strong husband.

Aemond had never felt so imposing in his entire life as when he heard his wife saying in that sweet and soft voice how strong he was, while looking at him from under her eyelashes sitting naked on his cock.

-I haven’t felt so much pain since I lost my eye. - Aemond didn't know where that had come from, he felt so relaxed at that moment that the words just flowed through his tongue with ease in a strange way. - It seems that I have become a little insensitive to slight pain.

Y/n gently ran her hand over his face where the eye patch was still firmly in place even during the bath. And after taking a deep breath fearing rejection after a day with so many advances she asked.

-Can I see husband?

Aemond automatically looked away, staring at his wife's breasts while his hands firmly locked on her waist.

-You don't want to see that, wife. - He muttered through his teeth. - It's not pleasant to look at.

-I think everything about you is pleasing to the eye, husband. - She tried to encourage him by stroking the scarred cheek below the eye patch, but still feeling afraid that he would push her away from him. - I would appreciate it very much if you let me see all of you.

And even fearful of his wife's reaction, taken by that strange and unfamiliar feeling in the midst of that moment of softness, Aemond removed the eye patch and dropped it on the floor next to the bathtub without looking her in the eyes.

Aemond's stomach turned as much as it had flown for the first time on Vhagar when he felt his wife's soft lips placing a gentle kiss against the deformed skin where his eye had once been.

-Gavy. (Gevie -Beautiful) - Her voice sounded like a very poor attempt at High Valyrian and Aemond's eyebrows arched.

-Where did you learn that?

-I read it in a book in the library. - She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. - Was the pronunciation bad?

-It was perfect. - He murmured with his eyes closed, lost in those sensations as he felt her sweet kisses against his face.

And with redoubled affection Y/n washed the herbs from Aemond's body and with a smile noticed that the redness had divided quite a bit, as well as the bleeding.

-After the bath I need to apply another ointment to you according to the maester, husband. - She smiled completely happy with her husband's moment of confidence. - To help it heal, he said.

-Mmm. - Aemond would let her do anything about him, as long as he could feel the softness of his wife's touch and her care and concern directed at him.

And with a sigh he trailed kisses down her soft neck, drawing low sighs and gasps from those gentle lips.

-I want you to be the one to take care of me from now on, wife. - He continued kissing her, and with a smile of pure contentment Y/n nodded positively to her husband.

-It is a pleasure for me to take care of you, husband. - She sighed at him in joy, making Aemond's heart accelerate in a strange way that made him want to vomit. He didn't understand what it was, it wasn't desire, something he was very familiar with as he desired his wife constantly, yes he was hard against her wet intimacy, but there was more.

There was something strange consuming him inside without explanation and he felt that even if he took her at that moment he wouldn't be close enough to her. And as he slid into her warm and receptive intimacy, he could feel his wife's arms hugging him tightly and pulling him closer and closer to her while she left kisses on his shoulders and face, making him lose himself inside her, feeling more and more of that sensation as strong as the pleasure of spilling his own seed inside his wife.

And letting himself be carried away by that moment, Aemond kissed her sweetly on the lips, almost a soft caress, while he felt her entangle her hands in his hair, caressing it in a way so gentle that it didn't seem intended for sex, but rather for something more delicate that the prince couldn't say the name.

-Skoros issi ao naejot issa? (What are you doing to me?) - He muttered between sighs, and Y/n had no idea what he had said, but chose to think it was something good.

All those unknown emotions, feelings and sensations were too much for Aemond, tearing from him an unparalleled pleasure that he had never felt in his entire life, and he poured himself deep inside his wife while hugging her tightly to his chest with a poignant need to feel her as close to him as possible.

And when Y/n came in his arms soon after, looking into his eyes without a hint of repulsion for his missing eye, but rather kissing him again while admiring him with pure devotion, Aemond knew. His wife's healing kisses might not help his wounded skin heal any faster, nor would they even bring back the eye that had been ripped out, but perhaps little by little they could help him heal much deeper wounds.

[manhandlememando]

i’ll beg whatever gods i need to. | cregan stark

cregan stark x f!wife!reader

format: one-shot

tw: MDNI warning (oh boy here we go) in depth descriptions of gore and bodily injury, blood, ANGST, cregan crying and in pain, mentions of religion and praying, hurt/comfort, more angst, angry cregan, insecure!cregan, unprotected piv, oral (both receiving), face riding, cowgirl, breeding kink (duh he’s a stark), uncut cregan. (written in 3rd person POV) (she/ her pronouns)

word count: 5,539

excerpt: Whatever angelic being had blessed this world with his form, she begged of it to leave him with her. However broken or scarred, she didn’t care, she just needed him. With tears streaking her face she looked up to the heavens in anguish, begging anyone who could hear her to please, let him come back to me.

- or -

cregan gets mauled by a direwolf.

song inspirations: youth by Daughter, human by Daughter, i gave you all by Mumford & Sons, heavy in your arms by Florence and The Machine, i found by Amber Run, roslyn by Bon Iver and St. Vincent, work song by Hozier, family tree by Ethel Cain, in the woods somewhere by Hozier, glory by Dermot Kennedy

The hour of the owl came passing over Castle Black, and still Cregan had not returned from his patrol of the Wall. Her worry had grown tenfold, the knot in her stomach was now a heavy stone. She knew something was amiss. Moving from their shared chambers to the corridors of the small castle, she decided a short walk may alleviate some of her anxiety, allowing her to clear her head.

However after only several minutes of beginning to wander, she heard commotion coming from the direction of the courtyard. Yelling and shrieking, men could be heard barking orders at each other, calls for the maester were loud, but the one thing that rose above it all was the most blood curdling roar she’d ever heard. Not wasting any time, she ran through the narrow hallways towards the source of the noise, only to come to a dead stop, the beating of her heart doing the same.

There he lay on a gurney in the middle of the courtyard, thrashing against the hands trying to hold him still. Crying out in agony as the maester tried his best to assess the situation at hand.

“Oh gods…” she gasped when the source of his pain became clear to her. His armor was covered in deep crimson streaks of blood, the leather ripped to shreds revealing the metal beneath. His face, contorted in pain, bore two long gashes from above his right eyebrow and trailing down his temple into his hairline. It seemed as if a deep crimson curtain had been pulled over half of his face as the blood seeped from the deep, jagged cuts. However the worst of his injuries were to his left shoulder, which seemed to be attached only by the grace of the gods. It was so gruesome she began to feel ill. The bone of his upper bicep was exposed, the flesh hanging from it. Blood seeping profusely from the wounds, teeth marks littered his forearm and hands. The fabric of his pants torn and she could see more crescent shaped puncture wounds littered across his legs, and his right ankle was bent at a sickening angle. They were large, belonging to something much bigger than anything she had seen in the North. A direwolf.

A young knight was holding the Stark ancestral sword, Ice, which was now covered tip to hilt in blood. Another man standing next to the knight who bore her husbands sword, stepped towards her.

“My Lady you mustn’t be here, you should not witness this,” he said, trying to block her view of her husband.

“No! No, I must be with him,” she rushed forward, only to be stopped by the strong arms of the guard holding her back.

“Please! He’s my husband, I have to -,” she began to plead with the man keeping her in her place before Cregan’s loud yell stopped her sentence short. The maester and his assistant were beginning to pack his wounds with whatever clean cloth the other men could find, Cregan seemed as if he was trying to pull away. Arching at the contact to his arm and shoulder, neck straining and face red as another scream erupting from deep within him. Tears were streaming down his face as it crumpled into an expression she never thought she’d see from him; fear.

It took two full grown men to hold him still, even in his weakened state, as they began to move him from the damp ground. Although, consequently the motion caused his body to shift and in turn sent him into another fit of agony.

At the sounds of his screams getting even more broken and strangled, her knees fell weak, slumping into the man’s hold as the air left her lungs.

He could die, the thought crossed her mind when she caught a glimpse of the expanse of blood leftover on the muddy ground.

————————————————————————

They had placed him in their bedchamber and the maester had since given Cregan milk of the poppy to calm him. He had been cleaned up and mended as best as the maester and his assistant could manage. They had also taken measures to prevent infection, although they informed her that it wasn’t fail safe and to be prepared for any outcome.

“He will have an incredibly long recovery period… if he survives,” the maester said to her as he wiped his hands of her husbands blood, his voice lowering as he spoke of his Lord’s possible death. She only nodded, eyes wide, feeling as if she was submerged in water. All the words being said to her were muffled and distorted. Some of the men from the Watch had tried to pull her from the bedchambers when they had first begun to work on him, whispering false reassurances and pleading with her to not witness this.

She couldn’t look away from his limp form laying on their shared bed, smothered in white bandages that were slowly blossoming red. However, his torso was somewhat unmarked by the direwolf’s teeth and claws (save for several deep purple bruises beginning to show their full form) due to the steel armored chest piece he had adorned upon her request, just before leaving for his patrol.

This might be his deathbed, she thought to herself. Tears beginning to pool on her lashes.

“I shall leave you. I will return in several hours to replenish the milk of the poppy… if he wakes again,” the maester looked down at the floor in despair. Exiting the room, the maester bid his condolences.

Nearing the bed, she knelt down and lightly took his hand in hers, brushing her lips over his bandaged knuckles and letting out a shaky breath.

“Please, my love you must wake up. Heal well and return to me, do not leave me in this world without you,” she pleaded with the unmoving form in front of her. The tears beginning to fall as she placed her head upon the bed next to their interlocked hands.

She did not pray, she never had found an interest in paying much attention to the new gods or the old. But in this moment she found herself reaching out for guidance as she called upon the gods to help him. Whatever angelic being had blessed this world with his form, she begged of it to leave him with her. However broken or scarred, she didn’t care, she just needed him. With tears streaking her face she looked up to the heavens in anguish, begging any god that could hear her to please, let him come back to me.

————————————————————————

The night dragged on, as if time had been weighed down by the gravity of the situation, and on its continued trek forward it somehow had slowed.

The maester had come and gone twice before, but Cregan had not woken yet. She refused to move from his side the entire time, having wept for hours she now felt empty and void of anything at all.

“My Lady you must eat,” a guard had come in, trying his best to persuade his Lady of the North to eat something or else she would fall ill.

“I am not hungry,” she flatly responded to the young man, whose face fell as he nodded and exited the room.

It was several more hours before Cregan awoke, he was still deep within the fog of the poppy’s milk but he was whispering something. His mouth barely moving, the sound coming out more like a silent prayer than a word.

He spoke her name, breathed it more like. But still, through all the hell he had been through in the last several hours, his mind only fell upon her.

“My love,” she said softly, lifting his hand to her lips once more. “My love, can you hear me?” She asked, but was met with nothing. Cregan drifting back into sleep, leaving her in the silence once again.

He woke like this periodically over the next several days, the maesters visiting every couple of hours to assess his wounds and change his bandages. Still all the while providing him with an ample amount of milk of the poppy to ward off his pain. They were somehow successful in warding off any major infections to the wounds, which was nothing short of a miracle. They had spent hours on different herbal remedies to help the Lord of the North heal without a fever.

As the days passed, she still refused to leave his side. Six days had passed by the time Cregan finally gained enough consciousness to express his pain level.

She had been napping in a chair next to the bed where he lay. Waking suddenly to the sound of a loud, pained groan.

“Cregan!” She gasped, his eyes opened just slightly, and she saw they were bloodshot but open nonetheless. He hissed in pain as she touched his hand.

“What’s happened?” He asks weakly, looking down at the bandages still covering most of his body.

“There was an incident beyond the Wall when you went to patrol the perimeter several days ago. They say you and the men were attacked by a direwolf.” She explains softly. His face drops, his eyes going wide at the memory. With some effort he tried to look down at his left shoulder, and when met with the sight of layers and layers of white bandages, he grimaced.

“I remember,” he whispers. His eyes closing as he inhales deeply, wincing again at the movement. When he opens his eyes again she can see the tears gathered within them.

“I - I cannot feel my hand,” he said, his voice breaking as he looked down at his left hand once again, his dominant hand.

“I will fetch the maester, it must just be a symptom of the damage caused. They will mend it though, as they have everything else,” she reassured him and stood to leave and get the maester, but they both know her reassurance was empty of any fact.

Worry gripped at her stomach again as the maesters words rang within her ears; “he will have an incredibly long recovery period”.

But what if there was no recovering fully from this? What if he would never be able to wield a sword again? Or walk properly? The thoughts swam in her mind, each drowning out the other.

She returned shortly with the maester, who breathed a sign of relief at the sight of Cregan fully awake.

He tried to offer Cregan more milk of the poppy before he began assessing the healing progression of his injuries, but Cregan refused.

“My Lord, I do not wish to see you in pain. But I must remove the bandages -,” the older man tried to explain, but Cregan cut him off curtly.

“Then do it,” he said, his face stern.

“Cregan, please listen to the maester, this is going to be more painful than you think,” she tried to reason with him, but his jaw was set and so was his mind.

“As you wish, my Lord,” the old healer nodded solemnly, moving to remove the first bandage. Upon contact with his arm Cregan did not grimace or contort in pain, his brows furrowed as if confused.

“I cannot feel it,” he said, his voice sounding far away, as if was in shock at the realization finally setting in.

“What, my love?” She inquired, looking at his arm as the maester began to unwrap more of the white fabric. The stitches were surrounded by bruised skin, what couldn’t be stitched back together was healing under a protective salve the maester had prepared. It will scar badly, but it didn’t matter, they were able to save his arm when she was more than certain he would lose it. As the maester lifted his arm Cregan had no reaction, just staring blankly into space. She was sure he must be in pain but he wasn’t reacting to what the maester was doing whatsoever.

“My darling, are you alright?” She asked him quietly, placing a hand under his chin to turn him to face her.

“I cannot feel anything,” he said, still his voice was hollow.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, not fully understanding what he meant by that.

“In my arm, it does not hurt because I cannot feel it,” he explained finally meeting her eyes. That was where she saw the flicker of fear again come across his face, worry painting his features.

“This is my dominant hand, I must be able to use it whenever necessary. It is the hand with which I wield Ice. But now I am not even able to move it. I am no longer a sufficient warrior… or man,” he said, his voice shaking as tears came to his eyes. The maester gave Cregan a pitiful look that just upset the Lord more.

“No, no that is not true my love,” she rushed to comfort him, cradling his face, making sure to avoid the stitches on his brow and temple.

“Do not do this to yourself, my darling. Do you understand what you have survived? You were attacked by a direwolf, Cregan… and you survived. That is next to impossible, but here you are,” she said, her voice soft and dripping in empathy. Brushing a tear from just under his eye as it began to fall. He shifted his gaze away from her, his eyes hardening again.

“But what good is survival if I am no longer able to live how I am meant to?” He said, still not meeting her eyes.

“It will take some adjustment, but we will get through this. You will get through this,” she assured him.

“Cregan… look at me,” she says quietly, trying to get him to connect with her again and not sink deeper into his darkening thoughts.

“Look at me, now,” she commanded in a more firm tone, which caused him to finally look at her once more, a sheepish expression in his eyes.

“Stop this at once,” she said, still holding her firm tone. He nodded and sighed, knowing he would not win this one. But as he cast his eyes downwards and frowned slightly, she knew he couldn’t be swayed in this moment from the doubt that was consuming him.

This will be a long recovery indeed, she thought to herself.

————————————————————————

About thirteen moons after Cregan had been nearly killed by the direworf, the head of which now hung in the council room, he had recovered quite well by what the maesters had told her.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell had since moved back from their residence at Castle Black when Cregan was finally well enough to travel. Although his body was healing well with time, his mind only sunk deeper into the belief he was now not worthy of his station as Warden of The North and the Lord of Winterfell. He had become easily irritated and many days she wished to not spend time with him, however she understood this too shall pass. She had sworn to him in her marriage vows to be by his side through sickness and in health, and she had no intention of breaking those vows in her lifetime.

As the Winter continued on, and as Cregan's strength grew back and the feeling began to make its way back into his limb, he was insistent on beginning his sword work training. She understood his urgency, finally having hope after such a long time of uncertainty was an addicting sort of feeling. It was hard for Cregan to accept that he would have to relearn how to use a sword with this new complication, and not train as he once did, as if nothing had happened.

Once the maester overseeing the Lord's care had cleared him to begin his lessons, she asked him if she would be able to accompany him. He agreed instantaneously, he was going to ask her anyways, feeling much better in her presence than anyone elses.

She busied herself with a book, perching upon several barrels of wine that sat on the edge of the courtyard, waiting to be taken to the cellars. Cregan had begun his lessons, and within minutes was already frustrated at the difficulty he had with even just handling the sword, let alone swinging it. She watched from the distance with a frown painting her face as he continued to struggle and bark at the knight he was sparring when he would try to offer his help. After much protest, Cregan finally gave into the offers to get him a wooden sword to wield instead. It was easier for him to handle, however his skill had rusted over with time and lack of use. His frustration became paramount when the young man bested him again, Cregan threw down his sword and stepped forward, grabbing his opponent by the collar.

"Do you wish to humiliate your Liege Lord?! Get out of my sight at once!" he roared in the mans face, causing him to stumble back and retreat from Cregan as quickly as possible.

She sat watching the scene as her own anger began to surface, standing and coming towards Cregan once he'd let the other man go, still breathing heavily and fuming.

"Come with me, now," she growled as she wrapped a firm hand around his good wrist, pulling him along behind her like a toddler being scolded and hauled off for punishment. She thought it best to bring him to their bedchambers as the conversation they needed to have was private.

Once they had entered their shared chambers Cregan immediately started in on his defense, to which she put up a silent palm in his direction, causing his sentence to halt before it finished.

"I can not do this anymore," she said softly, trying to keep her voice level, but to no avail. Placing a hand over her mouth as she began to silently weep, still refusing to look at him.

He softened immediately at the sight of her tears, hating desperately to make her upset. He took a step forward and brought his hand to her cheek, getting her to turn to him. She did not lift her gaze from the floor, sniffling lightly and trying to keep her tears from cascading and overflowing.

"You cannot do what anymore, love?" Cregan asked gently, moving his right hand to place at the back of her neck, and the other moving under her chin. His fingers intertwined into her hair at the back of her head as he tipped her head back slightly using the finger beneath her chin to raise her face to his. Taking another step closer to her he engulfed her in his size, pressed against her body, in complete control. Cradling her head completely in his hands, he moves the hand below her chin to place on her cheek once more.

"What was it, hmm?" he hummed to her, bringing his lips to brush against hers. She had become putty to mold as he wished, letting out a small sigh as he continued to tease the possibility of a kiss.

But in that moment she remembered her anger and could not let the lust for her husband overpower something that was becoming a serious issue between him and the rest of the world. She pushes away suddenly, putting space between them again. Cregan lets out an exasperated sigh as his hands fall to his sides.

"I can not possibly understand the stress you are under, and the constant unease you must feel within yourself. But I can understand how that affects me, and how that has affected our staff and those on your court. You were not slain, Cregan! You still have so much to live for, even if it means you cannot see battle again. That is what your army is for. Your value lies more in your character and not your physical form. Allowing that of which keeps you on solid ground to be the demise of what lies within your head, when you are so intelligent, and kind, and humorous. That is a sin, and the more treacherous of fates to befall a Warden of the North, even more so than a direwolf." She said, silence filled the room as Cregan realized he had no rebuttal. She was right after all, he could have been killed, and the fact he is allowing his mind to destroy what a direwolf couldn't, well it just seemed downright mad.

"I am so sorry, I never saw it that way," he responded softly, his heart feeling some what heavy in his chest as he felt the onslaught of emotion begin to creep up his throat. He had repressed so much in wanting to keep a certain image, and with his own wife being able to see through his facade so clearly, he realized how much pain he was really holding in. With that thought the dam broke as he let out a choked sob, leaning on the back of a chair closest to him he began to fall weak to his emotions.

At the sound of his whimper she turned around again, seeing him holding the bridge of his nose as he wept uncontrollably. Barely keeping himself upright with the back of the chair next to him.

"Oh, my darling," she went to him, quickly gathering him into her arms and bringing him down to kneel on the ground as she sat in the chair he was using for support. With his head tucked to her breast and his arms tightly wound around her body, hands finding purchase in her hair, he finally began to rack with sobs. She just let him collapse into her, stroking the hair from his face, tracing the scar on his temple and kissing his hairline. All the while cooing sweet reassurances into his ear.

"I have you my love, I have you," she whispered into his hair as he began to regain his breath. Not letting her go in the slightest, but relaxing nonetheless, Cregan began to breathe normally again, silent tears still coming from his eyes every now and then.

But he knew he was safe, and above all, he knew he was loved unconditionally.

————————————————————————

“Cregan, we cannot you aren’t healed properly yet,” she breathed out in a sigh as his lips traced the column of her throat.

“Your shoulder… and your ankle, it is too risky,” she tried to protest but the affect he had over her was undeniable.

“I am fine, my love. I am in need of my wife. It has been many moons and I cannot refrain any longer, injuries be damned,” he said, scoffing at the last part of his statement. Her skin was set alight with his touch as she leaned into him more. Laying in their bed, beneath a mountain of furs, he began to move atop of her, but she stopped him.

“If we are to do this, you will not lift a finger, is that clear?” She said firmly, and Cregan’s eyebrows rose in surprise at his wife’s sudden dominance, his cock twitching within his small clothes. He nodded quickly as he moved to lay back against the many pillows, eyes darkening as she rose from the bed to lean back on her heals. Very slowly she removed her shift, revealing the whole of her body to him.

“It is as if you are a goddess yourself, there is no need for religion when you are the alter I pray at, and the deity I pray to,” he whispered as he took in the sight. His mind putting to memory every curve, every inch of skin he laid his eyes on. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her naked before, but after such restraint it is like they are newlyweds once again. With her help he removed his tunic and small clothes, breath shaky as he looked down upon her naked form crawling up his body.

She was gentle with her touch, ghosting it over the small scars that now cover each of his legs. He shivers at the contact but does not pull away, allowing the sensitivity to wash over him and settle within his groin. He reaches with his good arm to touch her face, but she retracts to his disappointment.

“No touching,” she said with a small smirk forming at the corner of her lips. The mischievous look in her eyes was enough for him to understand it would be better to not protest. Leaning down she places soft kisses across his thighs, moving closer to his stiff member, his hips buck involuntarily as she finally takes his tip into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around the top just before pulling down his foreskin to lick at his sensitive slit.

A groan erupted from deep within his chest, wavering at the end as he gasped and sputtered. She had taken him fully into her mouth at this point, beginning to move up and down his length in a rhythmic motion.

His chest flexed as he threw his head back, his right hand hovering just next to her jaw. Knowing she would stop if he disobeyed her direct instructions, he held himself back from caressing her face. Broken gasps and whimpers were falling unabashedly from the Warden of the North’s lips, his strong, muscled body molding into putty in her hands.

Suddenly she rose and removed her mouth from him, to his disappointment. Breathing hard he kept his eyes on hers as she began to move even further up his body. His brows knitting into one another as he wondered what exactly she was doing, until it clicked, and the biggest smile graced his handsome features. He understood and shifted himself to be fully lying down, moving down the bed slightly to give her room as she moved to take her rightful place on his face. He hummed happily at the sweet taste of her on his tongue once again, having not indulged in his most favorite delicacy in far too long. She let out a sharp gasp as his lips wrapped themselves around her sensitive pearl, sucking lightly before exploring her deeper. She looked down to see his eyes closed and the most blissfully content look upon his face as he continued to ravage her with just tongue. Switching between broad strokes of his tongue along her cunt to small kitten licks upon her clit that had her panting and grinding her hips down onto him. The scruff on his unshaven face added to the sensational feeling against her as he sank his tongue within her finally. Moaning uncontrollably and quite loudly, she found herself leaning against the headboard for support as her body began to give into the pleasure he was bringing her.

“That’s it, my darling. Fall apart for me, I have you,” he coaxed, breath hitting her clit, causing her to groan, which shortly turned into the most obscenely moan. He hooked his left arm around her waist and continued to guide her to completion. With his tongue in her cunt and his nose teasing her clit, she came apart with nothing short of a scream of his name. Throwing her head back as she felt her muscles go limp from the intensity of her orgasm.

“So perfect for me,” he whispers to her, kissing the inside of her thighs softly.

She smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief as she had been just as pent up as he’s been, and finally getting some form of release was euphoric to say the least.

As she moved from his face she could see the way his lips shown with the remnants of her. She looked down to see his cock almost impossibly bigger than when she had first taken him into her mouth. She couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could he. Grabbing ahold of her hips he quickly shifts her down his body back to his waist. The tip catching at her entrance ever so slightly and they both moaned loudly in unison.

With his right hand having an iron grip on her hip, he helped her position her on top of him. As she began to sink down on his length it was as if all the air in the room had suddenly been removed. The sensation punching the air out of her lungs.

Cregan thought he was seeing the gods, his vision almost going completely white as he feels her tight, hot cunt envelope him. Arching his spine while his eyes roll to the back of his head as soon as she is fully seated on him. Staying still for a second to give them both a minute to catch their breath, she regains her strength and begins to shift her hips.

“Touch me,” she commanded softly, he didn’t need to be told twice. He moved to sit up, his forehead resting on her sternum, placing open mouthed kisses between the valley of her breasts before taking one into his mouth. His left arm secures her hips in his hold while the other hand snakes its way into her hair. Grabbing at the roots he tugs her head back to expose more of her neck to him. Laying hot, wet kisses upon any expanse of skin he could reach. As his grip around her waist tightened slightly, he kept guiding her to ride his cock slowly, thrusting up every so often causing her to choke on a moan.

“Cregan…,” she moaned his name, groans continuing to slip from her mouth as he moved to suck on her other breast. Gently lapping at the nipple as she whimpered.

“So gorgeous, my love. So good for me. Taking me so - nnnggh - well,” he grunted out, groaning when she squeezed him as his words sent a shock wave to her core. She threaded her fingers into his chocolate strands, pulling slightly earning another pleased noise from her husband.

“I’ve missed this, I’ve missed us,” she pants, looking down at his face. As he looks up, her breath catches at the sight of her fucked-out husband and his pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips.

“I know, me too,” he responds breathlessly, she cups his face and brings her lips to his. It’s messy, he crushes his mouth to hers and suddenly begins thrusting upwards, hitting that one spot deep within her.

Her gasp causes him to pull away from the kiss, but not from her. Their mouths still close, breathing in each others air as he continues to thrust into her. Tipping his head back as his face scrunches in pleasure and groaning loudly, he then ducks his head into the curve of her neck as his thrusts get more and more sloppy. His right arm still snaked up her back and his hand tangled in her hair to keep her close. She was reaching the precipice of heaven for the second time that evening, and he could tell. The way she began to squeeze him, how she fluttered around him, he knew.

“I know, my love. Give yourself to me,” he begged, whispering the pleas in her ear before kissing the shell of it. With several more thrusts she was coming undone around him, moaning and gasping as she collapses into him. With only several more thrust he too was coming undone in the most beautiful way. Flushed and groaning, he is the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Only moments afterwards, still basking in their post-coital glow, he lays back against the pillows once more. Placing a hand directly over her womb, he mutters something about “seeing her round with child in several moons” and she felt his cock jump within her as he continues to cradle his hands around her lower stomach.

“I can’t wait for you to bare my children, my love,” he states, looking into her eyes with such adoration. Resting her hands atop his she nods.

“I can’t wait to be the mother of your children, I’m sure I will be soon,” she responds, equal adoration radiating off her.

————————————————————————

She missed her moon’s blood the following month, and he was the happiest he had been in a very long time.

Although the feeling never fully returned in his left arm and hand, he had re-learned how to wield Ice with just as much skill as he did before the incident. His ankle and legs did recover after more than a year of rehabilitation, but eventually he no longer walked with a limp.

The gratitude which he felt was immeasurable. Thinking about how many ways his life could have been different if he didn’t have her to keep him sane through the most difficult thing he had ever faced; losing his physical strength and health. Most days feeling as if he couldn’t go on, but then she would be at his side to aid him in whatever he needed. Never wavering in her love or loyalty to him.

He woke every day from then on thanking the old gods and the new for sparing one of their angels to be his wife.