#and made to feel like shit about it my whole life

[icecreamley]

visited family this weekend just for us to end up talking about how we all have the same ocd and anxiety symptoms but i’ve just been made to feel like a piece of shit outcast my whole life because???

I see those "every family has that one cousin who's severely mentally ill", but considering how my mom once made me promise not to tell the extended family that I had attempted suicide a week before my cousin's confirmation party (like they literally picked me up from psych ward to attend it, I changed from hospital clothes to party clothes in a truck stop bathroom on our way there) because "it would just upset people for no reason", I'm starting to suspect that some families are 100% mentally ill but everyone's pressuring their kids to not show any symptoms in front of the big family in order to save face.

[pricklyjim]

I genuinely can't get past the idea that when Orion gets the Matrix it's got to be incredibly disorienting.

Imagine nearly doubling in height all at once, being given that much more strength, power in every fiber, and potentially not knowing how to use all of it appropriately. Good gods.

Anywhoo :] I want to know if your Orion would go though some kind of brief transition period where he has to like, figure that shit out. Stumbling and bumbling around like a new mech.

Haha- yeah, the idea of Orion gaining the Matrix and nearly doubling in size all at once is something I absolutely agree would be incredibly disorienting.

like- imagine being told you’re tiny and small your whole life and then waking up to a completely different body:

one that’s way larger, snd stronger, and far more powerful than anything you’ve ever known! It’s definitely bound to come with a very steep learning curve.

For my take, yes, I think Orion would go through a transition period where he’d have to learn how to function in his new frame. I picture him stumbling and fumbling like a newly-forged mech trying to find his balance, since it’s now off kilter-

He’d probably underestimate his strength too, accidentally break things, and feel utterly awkward and embarrassed.

And although cybertronian doorways are quite large anyway, since Optimus becomes an above average Mech, his attempts to walk through an average doorway, tend to leave him hitting his helm on the frame.

The loud clang startling nearby mechs, as Optimus mutters an emotionless, “Apologies,” as he ducks awkwardly, trying very much to not seem in pain.

While picking up things, he applies too much pressure and crushes anything with a sharp crack. His optics widening as he stares at the remains in horror, and mechs, watching from nearby, burst into uncontrollable laughter, and although they don’t mean harm. It makes Optimus feel quite incompetent in his new form.

Training sessions are also a total mess now, Optimus is unable to find a proper sparring partner, the only one able to do so being Magnus- but Magnus has never really been one to spar with his commander.

The physical adjustments wouldn’t be the only challenge, there’s also the psychological toll. Suddenly, everyone is looking up at him, not just in height but in status.

His face plate, previously shadowed by his helms cap, is now exposed and on full display for all to see. Where mechs once looked down on him, they now study him with closely, awed, at now being able to see Optimus’s face with such HD 4K 1080 detail, now able to see the tiny details and little dents that scatter his face like freckles.

and I think this is where the battle mask comes in.

For Optimus, it becomes more than just armor—it’s a shield from the weight of peoples stares. Even if others see him as regal or commanding, he struggles to see himself that way.

The mask lets him hide the insecurities he feels about his worn helm and dented face plate, protecting him from the crushing expectations from those he leads.

So, yes, I absolutely think there’s a period of stumbling… both physically and emotionally—before he becomes the Prime we all love. but It’s definitely a journey, one full of mistakes, reflection, and eventually, acceptance of one’s self ❤️.

But, I also believe, his transition with his height is far easier for him, then it was for Megatron. Since the only original part of Megatron’s body that remains is quite literally his memory drive, the body he currently has not being made from any of his original form.

[shybluebirdninja]

Bite-Sized Betrayal

Summary: When Logan realizes your blowjob is too good to be a “first-timer” move, he launches a full-blown “detective mission,” trying to uncover the truth of your “so-called innocence.”

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Human-reader

Note                : Fluff, suggestive themes

Logan’s jealousy is always kinda… cute. For a guy who’s survived literal wars, he’s got no clue how to handle feelings that aren’t anger or fighting. And now? Oh, you had him in a real mood.

It all started when you decided to surprise him with a little something extra. Y’know, testing out that thing you read about online. A blowjob. Logan being your first—and let’s be real, only—boyfriend, you thought you were doing okay. More than okay, apparently, because halfway through, he completely froze.

“Whoa, whoa, babe,” Logan said, pulling back with a hand on your shoulder, eyes narrowed. “That was a little too good.”

You sat there, blinking up at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. “Uh… thanks?”

But he wasn’t letting it go. The Wolverine squinted at you like he was analyzing every moment of your past life. “No way you’re that good at this without practice.”

Now, let’s be real here—you know Logan. He’s got this whole rough-and-tough exterior, but the second something doesn’t fit into his perfectly controlled world, he turns into a paranoid mess. And today? That paranoia was locked and loaded.

“Logan…” You started to say, but the man was already up, pacing like he was solving some kinda murder mystery. He ran his hands through his wild hair, muttering something under his breath.

“Who was it?” he suddenly growled, turning to face you like you had just admitted to world domination.

“Who was what?” You blinked, trying so hard not to laugh.

“The guy,” he said, jabbing a finger in your direction. “Who taught ya? Some douchebag in college? Or maybe that asshole at the bar last month—you did talk to him for a bit.”

Now, it’s one thing to have your tough boyfriend jealous, but this? This was next-level ridiculous. You sat back, biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting into laughter. “Logan, babe, what are you talking about? You’re literally my first.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Don’t gimme that, darlin’. No one’s that good the first time.” He crossed his arms like he was about to grill you with hard evidence. “I’ve been around the block, ya know.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laughter came out before you could stop it, making Logan scowl even harder.

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped, pacing again. “I’m serious. I’m startin’ to think you’re hidin’ somethin’.”

“Logan, for the love of—” You wiped away the tears of laughter, finally getting up to stand in front of him. “I’m not hiding anything! You’re my first boyfriend. You know that.”

“Yeah, but that move—” He pointed vaguely toward the couch, still frowning. “That was some professional-level shit.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, and it only made him more irritated. He ran his hand down his face and groaned. “Alright, tell me the truth. You’ve been Googlin’ this stuff, haven’t ya?”

You almost doubled over. “You think I Googled how to give you a blowjob?!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Logan growled, frustration dripping from his voice. “Maybe you did. I’m just sayin’… that was too good to be natural.”

“Logan,” you said through fits of giggles, “I’m not some secret blowjob expert, okay? Maybe I’m just, I don’t know, naturally talented?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly still unconvinced. “Nah. Somethin’ doesn’t add up here.”

You threw your hands up, finally losing your patience. “Okay, so what are you gonna do, Sherlock? You gonna interrogate every guy I’ve ever spoken to? ‘Hey, did she happen to give you a blowjob once upon a time?’”

Logan actually looked like he was considering it for a second, and you lost it all over again. This man, this absolute idiot, was serious.

He huffed, crossing his arms again like he’d already decided on his next move. “Look, babe, I just don’t like not knowin’ things, alright?”

“Oh my God, you’re jealous because I’m good at blowjobs. That’s what this is about.”

Logan’s cheeks actually flushed. He muttered something about it “not being like that,” but you knew better. This was the same guy who once picked a fight with someone for glancing at you in a diner. Of course, he was jealous.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Logan sighed. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m a little jealous. I just�� don’t want anyone else takin’ credit for somethin’ we’re supposed to figure out together.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You mean you don’t want anyone else getting the benefits of my natural talent?”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate this weird conversation. Finally, he huffed again. “Alright, fine. But for the record… there’s a right way to do it, and I could show ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back more laughter. “Oh, you’re gonna give me a lesson now?”

He nodded, dead serious. “Damn straight. Been around long enough to know what works and what don’t. Consider it… proper education.”

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG ★ teaser

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: references to pregnancy/trying for a baby, MC being an anxious mess, yoongi being a smartass, the slightest beginnings of dirty talk bc i can't give everything up NOW, nothing super explicit but definitely leading up to more, MINORS DNI

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hahahahahaha surprise... aqua glossdebut is once again resurrecting her comfort couple, despite the looming POF4 deadline and long list of non-yoongi requests waiting to be finished. OOPS. anyway, this is going to be a collection of 5 drabbles centering around TAB!couple's journey into parenthood. this is from drabble 2. i'm hoping to get the whole work posted by wednesday so stay tuned and drop your feedback in my comments/inbox!!!

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 610 words

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

✧ TAGLIST: @sugar-snap @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @yourfavoritedeluluspot @angellekookie

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @jajabro @pitchblack0309 

@ot72025 @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb

[waynes-multiverse]

Ooof, finally back! 😮‍💨 I've been thinking about this series way too much in the last couple of weeks. I'm so excited to dive back in 😍

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm so in love with their little bonding sessions. Being stuck inside a cabin and playing games? I want that 😍

And lol it's gotta be so awkward for true mates when they're still strangers. I absolutely adored her thought process throughout 😆

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Yes please 🫠🫠🫠

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards. “That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?” “My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

Love how Dean doesn't realize he's oversharing and that his whole childhood might not have been normal 😂

And oh God, all those journal entries 😭😭😭 I know they're from the OG journal, but it just rips my heart right out again rereading it 😢 Those portray John's despair and heartbreak way better than the show did...

In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

Ooooh, let's think about it, shall we? 😏 Her dad might have totally been snatched by something supernatural. Considering their location and how it happened in her memories, it might have been a Wendigo?? 🤔

WENDIGO Cree: Evil that devours. Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests. Perfect hunter.

YEEEESSSSSS

Dude! Goosebumps! Wendigos scare the shit outta me 🙈 It's still why The Descent is the scariest movie for me. I die from a heart attack every time 😂 🫣

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking

No, no, no, stop it! That description made me shudder 😶😶

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?” You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house.

No! Alex!!!! YOU KNOW THIS IS WHY I HATE SNOOPING

Girl, you're killing me here... 😆😆

“I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

Love her explanation for reading his stuff. Reminds me of Smoke Eater 😄

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Oh no... Please tell me you didn't bring the Wenidgo back 😳

Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm guessing this one ain't gonna be cute tho 😆

It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray.

Do not attack a Grizzly with bear spray! Just lie down, girl, and stop moving lol

Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar.

She never heard of the three bears rule, has she? 😅 Well, hopefully Dean feels her distress and comes running soon 🙏

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

N'aw, I know it was necessary but poor bear – wrong place, wrong time for the fella 🥺💔

But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

My heart is full 😭❤️❤️❤️ (Also, I doubt he can ever stand to let her go her own way after this lmao)

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow.

Holy... That came out of the blue and completely whipped me across the face! 🫠🔥

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

Huh. Never eaten bear before... Never even thought about it before lol Also seems like something the Shaws would've done 😂

Omg I love that ending! Dean's finally coming around, and she's putting the puzzle pieces about her dad together. I wonder what Dean will do when he hears the full story? Would he go hunt the thing? Is it even still out there??? Questions upon questions... 🤔

So excited for the next part!! I'm loving this story and everything you've put in it, and the dynamic between them is amazing. So well done, friend 😍🩵🩵

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[chxrrysangel]

Deer in Headlights

Pairing | Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings | friends to lovers?/secret third thing, handjobs, Steve is kind of a sub here, cum swallowing, technically voyeurism,college baseball player! Steve, dub con in some ways

A/N | we return to writing while zooted (rip TikTok). Not proofread for obvious reasons. What’s on the page is on the page

You checked your watch as you paced along the sidewalk, a firm crease in your forehead as you panicked.

6:17

Steve should’ve been out of practice nearly an hour ago. After your long day of classes, all you wanted to do was go home and relax. But you couldn’t when a certain friend held your keys hostage.

You made the mistake of letting Steve borrow your car over the weekend while Eddie fixed his. He was supposed to pick it up today, so you agreed to drive him to the mechanic after baseball practice.

You eyed the door to the men’s locker room, debating your chances. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t there alone, unable to show your face again at any of his future games. You sighed begrudgingly, putting on a brave face and pushing through your fear.

You listened carefully for a few seconds, not hearing any footsteps or chatter. It was eerily…silent?

“Steve?”

As quietly as you could, you made careful steps across the large tiles as you began your search. There wasn’t a single sign of life until you reached the last row, stumbling upon a duffle bag in front of an open locker #17 - Steve’s.

“Harrington?,” you whisper-yelled, too nervous to scream in case someone came across you. You continued walking through the area, until you reached the showers. You blood ran cold, stopping abruptly as your breath hitched.

Just a mere 15 feet in front of you was Steve, completely unaware of your presence as he showered. His back was turned to you, the broad expanse of shoulders making your cheeks feel warm. Considering his status as a baseball player, his ass was certainly stellar. You were staring, but you were too entranced to look away even if every part of your body screamed not to.

Something in you refused to let you close your eyes or turn around, stuck ogling like a pervert. Suddenly he turned around, letting the water rinse the soap from his hair. Your eyes cascaded down to his cock, as if it were instinct.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He was long and girthy, hardly even erect and yet still impressive. It looked heavy, which did nothing to impede your racing mind. The thought of his blush pink head sitting heavy on your tongue made your thighs clench with need.

This is so inappropriate.

You were too busy staring that you were oblivious to Steve’s eyes opening across from you. He yelped in surprise, pulling you out of your trance with a screech. Your face grew warm with embarrassment, now wishing the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You glanced down at his dick again, swinging as he expressed his surprise.

You averted your eyes towards a sign on the far right wall, not wanting to further embarrass yourself.

“I -um, I was looking for you so I could get my car keys. It’s getting late, Harrington, and some of us wanna get home.

You heard his curse under his breath, sighing as he turned off the water.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry. I’ll be out in a few.”

You scurried out of the locker room into the crisp fall air, willing yourself to calm down before he got out. But all you could think about was how desperate you felt to have your close friend’s dick down your throat.

~~

The car ride to Steve’s place was awkwardly silent. Eddie needed another day, which wasn’t what you hoped for. You could hardly look him in the eye at a stop light, and your voice wavered every time he tried to make conversation. If Steve didn’t know better, he’d believe you were upset with him. But the truth is, you were upset with yourself.

“Wanna come upstairs with me? Maybe have a drink to celebrate getting through the week?” You started to decline, but his eyes looked too hopeful and suddenly you found yourself turning off the ignition.

Steve moved out as soon as he was able to. His parents were always busy, so having his own space was always his normal. Only now, he has his own space in a way he prefers.

The routine was instinctual at this point: drop the keys in the bowl, jacket on the hook, shoes by the door. You never thought about it much anymore, the instructions becoming muscle memory from how frequently you spent time there.

You followed Steve down the hallway towards his bedroom, something you’ve done probably a thousand times. Only this time it felt different, intimate even. It was an odd feeling.

“Be right back.”

Steve leaves you alone with your thoughts, eating you alive as you sit on his bed. Everything was the same to your recollection, even if you’d only been here as recently as two weeks ago. But upon the events of the last hour or so, you felt different.

His arrival with two glasses of mixed drinks pulls you out of the trance, putting on a fake smile that seemed convincing enough. You took a sip, the concoction familiarly strong. It could hardly be considered “mixed”, on par with Steve’s usual ratio. Normally, you might whine that he’s trying to get you plastered before the weekend arrives. But today proved to need some reprieve.

“I saw you staring”

You mildly choke on your drink before feigning innocence. It was extremely wishful thinking, but you hoped that pulling the goldfish brain card might make him go easy on you.

But your best friend's face only showed signs of mischief, a smug grin stretched across his lips. It was frustrating to be this close to a guy with his dick on your mind. You were friends, you had to keep reminding yourself.

He set his drink on the table, wrestling with his thoughts before speaking.

”If you wanted to touch it, you could’ve just said so. No need to fantasize.”

What?

You whip your head towards him, seeing no vitriol or cunning in his eyes. He was serious. He began to unbuckle his belt, feeling a complete lack of anxiety as you stared in shock.

“Steve what are you—”

Your throat felt dry as you stared at his crotch, a growing bulge in his jeans making you throb.

Before he unzipped his fly, he looked at you for confirmation.

“Do you want me to stop? We can forget this ever happened.” Instinct took over as you gaped, shaking your head. The slow reveal of his cock as he pulled down his boxers felt like an eternity. You watched with need as his length slapped against his lower stomach, making you whine desperately.

“Do whatever you want.”

Your warm hands gripped his base,trying to judge the best amount of pressure before making slow hesitant strokes. You heard him let out a shaky gasp for air, whispering a curse under his breath.

”That’s agh that’s good,” he stuttered.

You watched his features with a curiosity that made his dick jump.

“Fuck, keep looking at me like that and I’ll cum.”

You tighten your grip and increase the pace, earning a whimper that sounded like he was on the verge of crying. Steve whimpered out almost intelligible pleas, crying about how good your pussy will feel wrapped around him and how long he’s been wanting this.

“Shit—fuck, doing so good.” You gathered a slob of spit, watching it slowly dribble onto his tip.

The pearls of pre cum that seeped from his tip made your mouth water, prompting you to change your tactics. Feeling less shy than before, you kneeled down between his legs and Steve thought he might die. Watching you sit there, staring at his dick with pure want did something to him.

Without any warning or indication, you wrapped your lips around his tip and began to suck. You focused on suckling the tip, using one hand to guide his head along your tongue and the other to play with his balls.

“Agh, so warm so fucking wet,” he stammered. He was in a daze, unsure and uncaring of how much sense he was making. The base of his spine tingled as he watched you lick the underside of his shaft. Steve was a mess, grinding his hips upward into your hand for more friction and drooling like a bitch in heat.

“Fucking fuck! I’m gonna cum, please let me cum,”he begged.

His high pitched wines were music to your ears, encouraging you to keep him feeling good. He was hysterical.

“Wanna bust in that pretty fucking mouth. Can I do that, please?”

He was practically gasping for air, unable to steady himself with the constant stimulation. You made no move to remove yourself, instead sucking harder and using even a little bit of teeth. That sent him over the edge, his hips stilling as he came along your tongue.

Despite the simplicity of it all, Steve looked throughly fucked out. He watched with pride as you swallowed his cum, almost working himself up again with the mental imagery of what he’d do to you.

[dyli-dadi3]

Knotting

Chris thought you two were the bestest of buds, two peas in a pod... Well, he isn't technically wrong... there is a p in a pod...

Tags: smut (p in v), knotting, mating, riding, hybrid animals (both puppies), mounting, getting caught.

Ever since that shit with Wesker and Jill back in Africa, Chris hasn’t been able to relax. He tosses and turns at night, plagued with the face of Jill, of all the citizens he had to kill just because they were robbed of their humanity. The whole debacle had left him feeling incredibly lonely and filled with the overwhelming sensation that he was never fully alone. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a second, it was like he was in Africa all over again. It got to the point where his coworkers had noticed.

—

“Hey, Chris, you’ve been acting off, lately. " One late night, a guy in HR spoke up when he decided to stay and mess with the thick stack of paperwork that was growing on his desk. 

“Really?” Chris mumbled the words, more interested in the hissing of the coffee machine that was currently spewing out the liquid gold he needed. The sound was familiar to him, something that wasn’t the screams of pain and despair that he also got familiar with.

“Yeah, it’s like you’ve been distancing yourself. It’s making your paperwork late.” The little shit huffed, crossing his arms. 

Of course, he didn’t care about him, he was just there to ensure his performance was running at full speed. Not like he expected anything else, that’s why he never really talked to the guy. He just partook in the mandatory check-ins to say what is going good and bad in management, only for nothing to be changed because it isn’t “important.” He learned pretty quickly that the BSAA was good for one thing and one thing only, fighting bioterrorism. As long as there was some new monstrosity to humans running amok, their agent’s mental health could wait. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Chris muttered, grabbing the steaming pot of instant coffee and poring it into his mug that was printed with the BSAA logo. 

“You know, I think you’re due for some company,” The guy said thoughtfully. What was his actual name again? Todd? Tom? I think it was Tom…

“How I spend my very limited free time isn’t your problem,” Chris said flatly, finally looking up at Tom. “And besides, I don’t have time to foster a new relationship.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” Tim said, smiling at him like it was some kind of joke. 

I don’t have the time or patience for this.

“I’m thinking like a pet or something. Animals have been used for therapy forever. I think you need something to soften up that rough exterior of yours.” Ted chuckled, bringing his hand up to shove Chris’ shoulder. He just took a step back.

“…”

“If I can’t deal with a relationship, what makes you think that I can take care of a whole other life?” Chris huffed to save the man some embarrassment. Man, this guy was denser than that loaf of banana bread he tried to make for Jill when she joined S.T.A.R.S. with him.

“Geez, man, are you dense? I swear you live under a rock…” Timmy sighed.

Are you serious…?

“Haven’t you heard? Those new ‘hybrid’ things are all the craze right now.” If they’re being described as things, it can’t be good. “They’re humans, but animals.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at this. “First of all, how is that even possible? And second, why hasn’t the BSAA or government in general shut that down?”

“Well, the guy who was originally splicing all that DNA was arrested, but they couldn’t just kill the little fellows he made, so they put them up for sale. Not everyone could care for their new pet slash human baby, so some got loose and bred like rabbits. They’re everywhere now. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t seen one yet? News? Alley? Other friends?” Billy said.

Chris paused. “You’re telling me that there’s half animal, half-human creatures walking around the city?” The image in his mind was horrific.

“Yeah, they’re kind of cute, cute like a kid and a puppy at the same time,” Ben said with a smile. “But anyways,  brought it up ‘cause I think you’d do good with one. They’re easier to train than animals and can do all the same things we can, so you won’t feel bad for leaving them when you’re out doing that bioterrorism stuff. Brady has one.” 

“Who?” He knew a Brad once.

“...Brady? He sits right across from you.” Oh right, toupe. “Right, it’s just late,” Chris said, taking a sip of his coffee so he could at least try to properly wrap his mind around the bombshell Bill just dropped on him.

“Yeah, he says she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. But don’t tell his wife he said that.” 

Chris let out a dry chuckle, his mind moving on from the papers he had to do. Maybe he could look up these ‘hybrids’ once he got off of work.

“I’ll think about it.” He said before leaving Ben at the coffee machine.

—

It took way less effort than he expected, the papers quickly being filled out since he was getting more and more eager to find out what these hybrids looked like. If Toupe and Bennie thought they were good, as well as everyone else, they couldn’t be that ugly.

Before he knew it, Chris was sitting at his desk, the word ‘Hybrid’ typed up on his monitor. His finger governs over the enter button. Despite all the admittedly cute descriptions, he still couldn’t shake off the fear that they were just the same as all the bioengineered organisms he fought against. He’s killed his fair share of zombie dogs.

Forgetting the zombie dogs, he had always wanted a regular dog. So he amended his search, changing it to ‘Dog Hybrid’ and hit enter. 

The results were instantaneous, and he had to admit, they were pretty cute. The ones on the top of Google had round faces, chubby cheeks, bright eyes, floppy ears, and bushy tails. He then looked at maintenance. There was already an abundance of forums describing how to take care of them, what to expect depending on the type of species they derived from, and just some silly stories people wanted to share.

He was sold, and before he knew it, he had made an appointment to a shelter that houses hybrids to see if he could find one.

Of course, he always thought of having a tough-looking dog, big and fluffy. What he didn’t expect was to walk up to the front door and be greeted with two pups playfighting in the small enclosure just past the glass display. When he walked in, they both turned to look at him, yipping with pure energy.

He turned his back to them to greet the front lady who had been looking at him. “I’m here for a consultation? Last name Redfield.” 

The lady smiled, walking to the little gate on the side of her to let him in. “Just go down the hall and to the left, there’s a lady there that will help you from there.”

The lady she talked about was very sweet. She didn’t stare at him too long, or ask about his dark eyebags, or even the fact that he didn’t have unstained clothes to wear. She just asked him how much maintenance he was willing to expend for caretaking, as well as some personality inquiries. She said it was to “match him to the perfect pup,” since they only housed dogs.

With that, he was led through so many isles of dog-human things that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Despite the tempting allure of a companion to have when he came back home, it was all a spur-of-the-moment thing. He had yet to accommodate another living being in his house, and the thought of leaving a senior hybrid or puppy alone for long periods was beginning to weigh on his heart all over again.

—

“He was cute!” You said happily, flopping onto Leon’s side. “Imagine what it would be like to be adopted by him.”

It was a pastime for the two of you to look at the people who walked past and theorize about their lives, about what it would be like to be chosen by them. 

“I don’t know, he looks like he could crush my head with his bicep.” Leon grimaced, holding his head.

“Oh, but that’s the fun part!” You giggled, pressing your face to his side as your tail wags behind you. 

“I guess he looked interested.” Leon smiled, pouncing on you to nip at your neck. You squealed, trying to kick him off of you as he tried to pin you down. “Leon, that tickles!” You tried to catch your breath when he finally pulled away to sit down on the padded floor of the display case. “But that’s the fun part!” He said with a mockingly high-pitched tone as he smirked.

You huffed, jumping on top of him as you tried to repay the favor.

—

“I’m sorry, none of them called out to me,” Chris said, walking back to the front as he tried to ignore the pitiful looks of the hybrids he left behind him. Man, this was a bad idea.

“No worries, I’m glad you don’t feel the need to force yourself, we get a lot of people who fold, only to return them weeks later saying that they couldn’t deal with it.” The lady smiled, waving goodbye as Chris entered the front of the shelter again. 

He tried to ignore the way the two of you immediately stopped playing to lean up against the barrier of your enclosure. Both of your tails wagged, and he tried to push out the sound of “He didn’t get anyone! Do you think he came back for us?” coming from your sweet mouth. 

God, this was a bad idea.

“Are the ones in the front available?” He found himself asking the first lady. “Those two?” He awkwardly pointed at the two pups that were climbing over each other now that he specifically pointed them out. 

“I knew it!”

“We’re free!”

“Of course! They sure are the energetic type… Are you sure you’ll be able to handle them?” The lady said softly. He couldn’t blame her, he had answered her caregiving question with low maintenance.

“Don’t listen to her! We’re well-behaved!”

“Yeah! We’re so good!”

“I’m positive that we’ll be fine.” Chris smiled. No, I’m not, but I can’t say no to those cute faces…

“Well then, just sign these papers right right here for adoption, and then they’re all yours.” The lady smiled, reaching underneath her desk to produce two packets of papers. On the top of each of them were your names. The handwriting was messy, but the glitter pen used on yours made him realize that the two of you signed your names yourselves. The realization was heartwarming, and with the revelation, he could see the personality woven into the childish signatures. This was going to end up great.

—

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

God, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The two of you were endless bounds of energy, like two Tasmanian devils living in his flat. He had thought that the two of you were more human than dog, able to have self-control and discipline like Benjamin had said, but he quickly realized that he adopted two puppies that took a liking to chewing up all the shit in his house no matter how many times he said no. 

But he was a man, a stubborn one at that, and he was determined to give the two of you a forever home.

He’s had to put child-proofing on almost all of his furniture and cabinets so that you two didn’t get into his stuff or shred the legs of all his furniture to shit. Eventually, he had to go back to work, where he’d look the two of you in the eye and say “Be good” like a disapproving father before leaving. No matter what was happening at work, his mind was preoccupied with all the things the two of you could be getting up to. He was starting to think of getting a sitter.

When he came home, his blood ran cold. Pained whimpering. Did somebody get hurt? Was someone in danger? 

He rushed into his house, finding the source of his sudden anxiety spark. You. His jaw grew slack as he saw you straddling Leon’s thigh, the poor pup fast asleep as you rutted against him. “Hey!” He gasped, grabbing your arm and pulling you off of him. “No! That’s bad!” He admonished you, his ears aflame as he watched you whine and squirm in his grasp. He didn’t know what to do, and he would rather go back to Africa than see that again.

“N-No, feels good! I feel funny, and it helps.” You huffed, kicking your legs. 

All the ruckus woke up Leon, his eyes fluttering open as his pupils focused on your whining form. “Huh?” He said softly, sniffing the air and leaning in closer. “Dad… She smells sweet, what’s wrong?” he said thoughtfully, bringing his nose to her crotch and sniffing. 

Oh god. “First of all, I told you, I’m not your Dad. Secondly, you need to back up. She’s…sick.” He said tentatively, not wanting to even think about what she’s feeling right now. “Sick?” You said softly, looking up at him with big eyes and a tail between your legs. 

“You’ll be fine; you just need to stay in your room for a bit to cool off; it’ll feel better.” Maybe if she stays alone for a bit, she won’t go into a full-blown heat… 

—

That didn’t work. 

You were fine for a bit, cooling down and reporting that the feeling in your tummy went away, but as soon as he brought you to the same room as Leon, you’d complain all over again. He didn’t know what to do, he read about this, but he supposed that it was his fault for not asking more questions about the… condition the two of you were in. Well, he guessed that he should have asked way more questions.

But these were the cards he was dealt, and he couldn’t keep an eye on you forever, so he left work today with a very serious talk to Leon. “Don’t let her touch you, no matter how much she begs. And if you want to nap, please sleep in your room. Alone.” 

Simple, precise, and direct. Of course, he had already told you about what was happening. That it was completely normal, but that it needed to be controlled. He just hoped that you wouldn’t have to suffer for so long. He was already looking up vets to have you spayed.

—

“Dad said we can’t!” Leon sighed, trying to keep his distance as your sickeningly sweet scent saturated the air around him. He could practically see the way it colored the atmosphere. All pink and flowery and like candy. It made his head spin and cock twitch. Wait, that was new. “But it hurts, Leon! I’m all hot and achey and it’s the only thing that makes me feel better. Don’t you wanna make me feel good?” You pouted, walking closer to him again. Only this time, he didn’t take a step back.

“We’ll be quick, he won’t even know! Dad said it’s normal!” You argued your case, coming in closer and closer. 

“I suppose… You do feel sick.” Leon sighed, sitting down on the couch. You immediately crawled into his lap, whimpering as you pressed your slicked-up pussy against his thigh, the wetness permeating through the pair of soft shorts you wore. Leon groaned, the smell of your arousal making him feel dizzy but good at the same time. “Maybe this isn’t so bad…” He said as you rutted against his thigh. “D-Do you need anything?” He asked, hands hovering over your hips. “You. Oh my god, you smell so good, Leon.” You groaned, burying your nose into his neck and inhaling. 

Leon had no idea what was going on, only that you were sick and maybe he was getting sick, too. His skin felt feverish, and now there was a throbbing in his pants that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. He was drawn to the scent, not like he needed to be pulled, you were drowning him in it. Choking him with your intoxicating scent that made his hips buck and his mouth water. He knew he should be stopping this before it got too far, but the voice in his head was screaming more, more, more! He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug, pulling you in closer to rut against his erection. 

“Oh god, yes, Leon!” You sobbed, unsure whether to continue indulging in the pleasure of the now or try and soothe the ache deep inside of you. But you had to, the throbbing was borderline painful.

You slipped out of your shorts, tugging his cock out of his sweats. You didn’t know how, but it was like you knew that this was what you needed, the voice in your head yipping in glee. You paused when Leon whimpered, his hips jerking, jolting you up with him. “That feels good, too?” You asked. 

“Yeah, feels good…” He whined, gripping the fat of your hips. Never in his life has he felt this good, like putting ice on a burn, eating watermelon in the hot summer heat, or eating a sandwich after getting out of the pool. All the static in his brain cleared, and all that was left was the overwhelming urge to do something with you. He didn’t know what, but he felt like this was as close as it was going to get.

God, was he wrong. There was something better, and it was called ‘being deep inside your best friend as she bounced on your lap like a professional pogo stick rider.’

He was cussing like a sailor as you engulfed him, everything coming full circle as he realized that this was what he was meant to do for the rest of his life. Nothing else he would ever do would compare. He was sure of it. Your pussy was like a godsend and he couldn’t get enough. He tightened his grip, snapping his hips up into your sopping heat as he pulled you down, trying to get as deep as possible. It wasn’t enough, there was a missing piece. 

You were a trembling mess, clenching around him and making him whine as he tried to go faster, feeling a ball of something wind up in his chest. “O-Oh my god, Leon, I-I feel something.” You gasped as he groaned, shoving the both of you to the ground as he mounted you. He pushed you into the ground as he arched your back, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace as his voice grew higher and whinier. “M-Me, too. Wan’it.” He whimpered, moving faster, until he nearly screamed, your pussy clamping down on him as you came. He didn't stop, couldn't stop, the need to fuck you overwhelming. But he didn't last much longer. In just moments, he was cumming ropes and ropes of thick cum into your pussy. The whole thing was overstimulating and honestly a little terrifying. All of the dizziness went away, there wasn't a trace of static, nor was there a voice begging for more. He suddenly felt complete, and that was alarming, not to mention the fact that his dick was swelling inside of you. “H-Hey, are you okay?” He said in alarm. Despite your moans, the feeling of stretching your pussy like this made him nervous.

“So good… Feel so much better…” You mumbled into the hardwood, eyes droopy and body like putty. “That's good…” Leon murmured, finally relaxing with your confirmation and tugging you with him as he flopped to the side, spooning you. He stayed still, his body automatically knowing the process. It was as if he was on autopilot. The thought made him chuckle. He was made to please you.

—

Chris dropped all his things at the front door when he saw the two of you fast asleep.

“Shit!”

I love puppy Leon so much it's not even funny. Trust that he will be back for more.

[nydescynt]

In elementary school, the first and only time I heard about trans people existing was a rumor about Lady Gaga. The first movie I saw with any kind of trans character was Ace Ventura, which my dad paused and preemptively explained, in serious tones; not because the transmisogyny might be upsetting, but because the existence of trans people was such an adult and taboo topic for us to be introduced to.

But things got better- were getting better, slowly. A guy in the grade below me in high school was the first openly trans person at my school. There were a few openly gay/lesbian couples at every school dance, something kids even a few grades above me said hadn't happened for fear of backlash. TV and movies, even kind of shitty primetime ones, were adding lgbt+ characters to their lineups.

Gay marriage was legalized in June of 2015. I remember walking to get frozen custard with my friends, and feeling an infectious joy: that everything was getting better.

I graduated high school in 2016.

Everything that year felt like a slide backwards into hatred. Increasingly fascistic rhetoric from the Republican candidates had crystallized into a bid for Donald Trump to run for president. The Pulse nightclub shooting happened that June; I remember crying for days, going to a vigil with my sister. We lied and told our parents we were going to the movies. Each car that passed made everyone at the vigil tense and relax - we'd already seen the news about the bomb threats, the foiled copycats.

I had just entered my first year of college, bought my first binder. Offered she/they pronouns in one class. Gotten to vote for the first time.

Trump won. Anti-immigrant and anti-queer and anti-BLM posters were slathered over campus the next day.

I remember feeling broken, the whole week after. Crying in the tiny LGBTQIA+ club room with a bunch of other dead-eyed queer kids. We spent every moment not in class huddled together like penguins, basking in the meager solace of all being equally scared.

We fought. We made social groups and organizations. We protested. We signed classmates up to vote. The microphone set up for national coming out day the following year saw lines of people waiting to tell the world who they were, in spite of it all. We got gender-neutral bathrooms designated in every building. We kept trying.

Social change comes in waves- 2 steps forward, 1.9 steps back. It feels awful and horrifying to see the backpeddle, especially when you're just coming of age after a period when all you can really properly remember is the steps forward. I know; I entered the world at a similar moment.

I don't want to retell my whole life story, so I'll end on this. After I graduated, Fall of 2019 I went down to Tennessee and worked at Cracker Barrel HQ for a while. They have a pride affinity group. One of the company leaders was an openly gay man old enough to be my grandpa. The world after that went to shit in other ways, but sometimes I sit and stare at my tacky CB-logoed rainbow flag and pride glows inside me. Pride that we have made it so far, so fast; that what was unmentionable 40 years ago and mockable 20 years ago is normal enough to be blandly included today. I am asking you to believe that we are still stepping forward. I am asking you to keep being you - as quietly as you want to, as loudly as you can.

[shanblackrx]

ADDING TO THIS:

I've talked briefly about this when analyzing the marriage pillow talk scene, but quote on quote, "those (forehead to forehead scenes) were not that lowkey confessions in my book" is right. And I think these forehead touch scenes basically show the development of Jack's feelings. So to expand the logic about these scenes a bit:

this one - Jack has just realized and accepted his own feelings, and gave hints. Even if he was uncertain about Joke's (or if Joke realized his own feelings, bc by now it'd kind of be pretty clear lol but he still didn't want to pressure him), and didn't outwardly say he's in love, he still made Joke promise to be by his side in the most important moment of his life - when he achieves his dream. It's the easiest way to be by someone's side, when they're at their best, but he did want to share that moment with Joke. Confession 1.

the one at the hospital - it was when everything went to shit, he didn't have a choice but to pause any further development of their potential romantic relationship, or it'd put everyone's life on the line, especially grandma's. He asked, almost pleading, if Joke would still be by his side if the worst would happen, because he wanted him to. He wanted Joke to be by his side even when he'd be at his worst. It's not easy at all to be by someone's side when they hit the bottom of the barrel, and especially Jack who never wants to bring people down with him, he still wanted Joke there with, FOR him. Confession 2.

the kiss - Kind of self-explanatory since he literally confessed, but something important to note: not only did he get free of what was holding him back, I think the whole deal with Rosé made him reach his limit. After staying so long with someone he didn't love and having a bad falling out with Joke because of it, he could no longer starve off his feelings and that's why he told Boss he couldn't do it anymore. He left Rosé and her house with the goal of coming clean. And even then he didn't do anything on impulse - he still 'baited' Joke into asking who he liked. There was literally no other reason for the truth or dare game after saying he turned Rosé down because he liked someone else. He pulled more or less the same move of the first scene, creating a chance for himself to confess, but this time he wasn't just testing the waters. I'm pretty sure he'd confess either way. He did it because he wanted to be with Joke that very moment and no later than that. So, Confession 3.

We don't see Jack's POV too often, and even when we do, the feelings are so subtle, so under so many layers of self-protection, self-sacrifice and self-control it's hard to see them clearly. So that's why I think these scenes say a whole lot about Jack and how his mind works, even if it's hard to see.

Most of you probably already know this but I guess it doesn’t hurt to say it.

We all know how Jack is.

He is methodical. He thinks things through. He doesn’t do things by impulse.

So this? Why would he pick those words, particularly? Love, Confess, Promise??

WELL

I think Jack was already thinking of confessing, cause he already knew his feelings here

and this

was a test run.

So, when all Joke gave him was that cute little “huh?”

it became too much, too real, suddenly

so he of course chickened out, which is understandable.

and backs away from it

I think about this all the time and I haven’t seen anyone mention it so I thought I should, cause like I mentioned, Jack isn’t one to act on impulse.

No, he gave himself a chance to confess his feelings by creating the perfect setting for him to throw a smoke bomb if it didn’t go well so he wouldn’t have to do any damage control.

Jack you’re very smart, but I see right through your thirsty ass, my babes.

[wisteria-tarot]

Since we did open the joe burrow box… Considering how controversial his rumored gf/employee is do you think settling down with her is something he’s considering? Or does he want to settle down with someone else? How does he feel about or how his public image has changed due to the relationship?

Also thank you for the reading they are always entertaining!

Disclaimer: This reading is only for entertainment. Take it with a grain of salt. These are my personal interpretations of the cards with a sprinkle of intuition. Tarot is not set in stone it is not the end all be all of someones life.

Does he care about how people view him since the whole employee situation?

4 of wands (rx), the lovers (rx), the chariot (rx), the empress (rx):

He does. It may have made him a bit insecure, he may feel like the rug was pulled out from under him. I have a feeling that being seen as callous and uncaring may have also bothered him. He feels very misunderstood. People thinking he doesn't have his shit together may bother him.

Why did she say that she was the employee?

justice, 3 of pentacles (rx), wheel of fortune, ace of swords:

She most likely did it as a way to get a fair judgement if that makes sense. She may not have wanted people to know that they were hooking up. The situation was also out of her control so as to shift the narrative she may have just blurted it out. I also think in a way it was her trying to assert herself into the conversation, even if she really didn't want people to know she may have wanted people to know just a little.

Does he want to settle down right now?

knight of swords (rx), the world, the tower (rx), 2 of wands (rx):

He's not ready to take that leap. He wants to be able to roam around for a bit. He may have some personal things that he wants to do before he settles down. He's trying to avoid any major shifts in his life right now.

[kaiderlou]

Taking Back Your Brain: tips from a medical student

I have a confession to make: I am incredibly terrible at looking up from my phone and engaging in real life. Like bad bad. Like I struggle to get through a lecture without getting on tiktok bad. So here are all the things I'm plotting and planning to take back my brain from the greedy fingers of tech billionaires who have commodified my attention span--hopefully some of this will help you too!

1. Recognizing WHY I'm reaching for my phone as much as I am

the hidden truth behind our declining attention spans : This video really helped me reframe the way I think of my reliance on social media. I encourage watching it, but if you don't have the time, here's the breakdown:

We live in a world that is designed to distract us. Media and tech as a whole have gotten continuously better at grabbing our attention. It grows their platform, it makes them money, and they are investing money into research to invent new tactics to distract us.

What cues us to reach for our phones? Leonie shares in her video that she does so whenever she has a negative thought, and I agree. The nature of short form content promises quick distraction without having to commit to a long holiday from whatever task is at hand (though it always ends up happening). I'm working on confronting whatever uncomfortable thing is prompting me to reach for my phone, rather than giving in and creating a cycle of dependence.

2. Utilizing zones

Designate zones for each different "mode" of life. Don't shit where you eat and don't work where you sleep. Have a space for studying, socializing, sleeping/leisure, etc. and don't mix them. This prevents you from mixing cues. When you're in your work zone, it signals to your brain that it's time to go into work mode, making it easier to focus.

This is the idea behind sleep hygiene too! Keeping your room or even just your bed reserved only for sleep means that when you enter that zone, it cues your brain that it's time for sleep.

3. Mindfulness practices

There is very little I resent more than being told as a busy student that the reason I'm burnt out is because I don't practice mindfulness (it's definitely not because the system is rigorous and asks too much of us, right????) but unfortunately, they might be right.

Mindfulness helps pull you out of the muck of what's happening inside your head and into the present moment. It has been so helpful with pulling me out of my anxiety and makes me feel like I'm actually living my life, rather than avoiding it. Instead of diving headfirst into my phone or maladaptive thinking, I'm grounded in the reality of the present moment.

In the same vein, feel your feelings. It can be uncomfortable, but running from them only works for so long. It takes more and more energy to avoid them until something finally gives. Feel the sensation in your body, be aware of it, then let it pass. Getting comfortable with doing this will eventually replace the avoidance tactics you've picked up, like endless scrolling.

4. Fill your free time with productive things

This doesn't mean don't rest. Rest is productive. But you have to actually rest and do things that are regenerative, not doomscroll.

Take the time to grow in ways that interest you. Do things for your body, mind, and soul. For instance, I like lifting weights, reading/watching video essays/seeing movies on topics I'm curious about, topics that make me think (balanced by fluffy books that DON'T make me think), and praying/reading my Bible. Growth is good for you, your brain wasn't made to be stagnant.

5. Be kind to yourself and your brain

Sometimes kindness looks like cutting yourself some slack, but sometimes it's having the discipline to do something now so you aren't kicking yourself down the line. This is the biggest principle that I live by and it helps me reframe doing the hard things. The hard things have to be done regardless, it's just a matter of under what circumstances. Wouldn't you rather do them when they're easier than when you're fueled by panic? Take care of future you

Anyways, these are the things I'm going to be focusing on with my dedicated STEP 1 study period fast approaching <3

[wolvndmouth]

okay so who’s gonna write the fic where logan and wade have been together for forever but shit really hits the fan in their universe (they are still fighting against paradox and other baddies along the way) and the two of them find themselves backed into a corner when it comes to not only saving their universe from being pruned again, but to save logan and cure his adamantium poisoning/slowing healing factor

and just when things couldn’t get worse, cable comes back from the future to save wade from the pruning, but he sees wade with logan and is shocked he’s moved on so he’s feeling a whole lotta “wtf he’s mine i still love you lets try this again”

cue logan reminding nathan that he made a choice to leave wade. things got too serious for nate, and he just can’t show up out of nowhere expecting wade to drop everything just for him now that he’s ready to try for real this time

cue nathan reminding logan that not only did he date his dad, but he has sabotaged almost every good relationship in his life. nate thinks its just a matter of time until logan does it again and that he doesn’t want wade to be “just another name lost in the centuries”

then cue wade feeling like shit because he never forgave nathan for leaving and both him and logan don’t have a lot of time to deal with this plus having to find a cure/save the universe

AND THEN cue complicated feelings for all 3 of them while they try to figure this shit out because logan is starting to understand why wade loved nathan and nathan is starting to understand why wade loves logan and wade is starting to catch feelings for nathan again but doesn’t want to put logan through a throuple situation after knowing how the first time went. wade is also still not over nate abandoning him and there isn’t much nate can do to regain trust again

AND THEN AND THEN there’s a big reveal where you find out that wade’s healing factor has begun to slow down as well, and his cancer has started to come back little by little. logan is convinced that in being together for as long as they have, it’s his adamantium that’s making wade sick and he’s thinking about making wade leave their universe with nate so he’d at least have a fighting chance. he doesn’t want to tell wade the real reason why he wants him to go, because he doesn’t want wade to feel sad/less likely to go/guilty about logan dying without him, so he’s starting to act different and is on the verge of wanting to purposefully push wade away to make it easier for the both of them

nate also thinks that it’s logan’s adamantium that is making wade sick again, but he’s been around enough to know that wade will get worse just being apart from logan and he doesn’t think he can do that to wade, even if it meant saving his life. he feels like he’s hurt wade enough and maybe he needs to figure out why he’s even involving himself in all of this before making moves. maybe it would be best that he leaves so no one else has to get hurt or disappointed. maybe wade being sick isn’t something he’s meant to be around for or fix

BUT THEN you have wade, questioning his decades long relationship with logan for the first time in a long time, trying to hang on to the hope that neither one of them are right; that nate is wrong about logan adding their relationship to the tallies of things he destroys and that logan is wrong about nate getting ready to leave cause wade dying is just too serious of a situation to be around for. you have wade, who has always been capable of loving everyone but himself, and is hoping that this time and at the very least, just one of the people he loves love him enough to stay

at some point in all this, none of them know if they’re gonna fuck or fight. or both. so they fight then fuck then fight some more idk dude these old guys are just slutty af in my head

…

so. who’s gonna write it cause i sure as hell can’t 🙃🙃🙃🙃

[thoraeth]

Properly kissed | Paladin All Might X OC

words: 600

Tags: pure fluff, Toshi's oath includes chastity, Paladin!All Might, fantasy AU, Oracle OC.

Song inspo: Like real people do - Hozier

A/N: I'll yap into the void if I have to, 'cause this man is the ultimate sweetheart.

The paladin scratched his neck as the sparks from the bonfire reflected in his eyes . “Can I ask you a question? You’re the only one I could tell something like this without feeling like a complete idiot.”

Riva turned her head to face him. “Go ahead.”

“Am I overdoing it?” Toshinori hides his face in his hands. “I’ve been protecting people and serving the Goddess for my whole life. I'm beyond grateful for all that she bestowed upon me but… I feel I'm missing out on so much.” He looks up with a deep sigh. “Why can't I hold your hand or get a hug when I need one? Would such trivial things really make the Goddess angry? Or is it all in my head?”

Riva stood up, snuggling tighter in her wooden cloak. “There's no way of telling what could please or displease a God, Toshi. But I firmly believe faith is about bringing good into this world, rather than starving ourselves for divine approval.”

The oracle was rubbing her bad eye, trying to ease the discomfort of the night shadows clouding her sight. “You want to hold my hand? There you go.” She planted herself in front of the man and reached for his big hand.

The two stood face to face for a moment, smiling affectionately. Riva couldn’t help but think that Toshinori was a man of immaculate beauty: it wasn't just about his big blue eyes, and fair hair… The honesty and purity of his soul were out of this world. He was, indeed, worthy of a Goddess.

“Need a hug? No problem.” She leaned closer and slided her arms around his neck.

Shit. Toshinori knew he should have shoved her away. No touching women, it's the rule. And yet, he remained seated on that log. That night he was feeling so lost…he did need a hug. A couple of minutes couldn't outweigh all he's done so far.

His hands clutched around Riva's cloak and he clinged to her, pushing his forehead against her shoulder. May the Goddess forgive him, she was the softest and prettiest thing he's ever had in his arms.

The paladin indulged himself in the light pecks trailing down his temple, his ear, his cheek and he really, really had no idea how it all happened but he was startled by the feeling of her lips brushing against his.

He didn't even know what he was doing but he just let himself go and kissed her desperately. It was like his bones were turned to wax: every slight movement of her lips, their breathing against each others’ cheeks, everything sent powerful shivers down his spine.

It was all fun and games until Riva's hips were slowly moving under his hands and their kisses grew sloppier and more heated.

Toshi’s face twitched with the familiar feeling in his belly, the dreaded tight sensation between his legs. The Goddess would never forgive that. He pulled away, biting his lower lip.

“Is everything ok?” Riva whispered, tilting her head to read his gaze.

“Y-yes. But I… I can't.”

“I get it. Well, at least we’ve made up for some of the missing out.” She smiled softly and sat back on the log, next to the shaking paladin.

Toshinori ran his fingers through his hair, striving to calm his heart and body. Riva was right: now he could say he's been kissed. Properly kissed! He hid his face away from her and he couldn't stop himself from smiling.

[lith-myathar]

.

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[arsenicflame]

Hornigold's Izzy was the worst, of course. A version of himself that never escaped that terrible place, who lived his life as little more than an object. He still has nightmares about all the things Baz told them, about all the things he didn't.

It doesn't really surprise him, after the first ones, not at its root. To be Izzy Hands is to be someone's after all, though seeing his own face on someone so fundamentally different to him never gets less weird. The people who these other Izzys attached themselves too often left him with more questions than answers. Jack's Izzy, he can understand, from a certain view, though the man himself felt like a fever dream. The less said about Stede's Izzy the better, he's never going to forgive him for the ideas he put in his Stede's head.

Then there was Sam's Izzy.

The first thing anyone noticed about him was that he was happy. He smiled and laughed without thought, and went through life with an ease Izzy didn't think he had ever felt. The crew took to him immediately, accepting him in a way they never did the other Izzys, and certainly not their own. They prodded him and asked him endless questions, and he took every touch without a flinch and answered every question without a hint of a grumble. This Izzy was free. He was open, unburdened, trusting. He was happy.

Sam's Izzy was the one that hurt the most to see. He could accept the worst that Hornigold could've offered, that he would have suffered and been broken. It was infinitely harder to see that he had a chance to be this happy. That it slipped through his fingers.

He's never looked back before, but now? Seeing what might've been? He can't stop himself from considering the possibility that maybe he made the wrong choice back then, going with Ed.