#i’m such an asshole but i’m struggling to keep it together because of this kind of shit

[theresattrpgforthat]

Character Friction: On “Asshole Characters”, or Shitty Little Guys.

A while ago I floated a few thoughts I had about “asshole” characters in the Indy TTRPGs community. I floated these questions because I had been listening to this interview between Klaus von Hohenloe of The Dungeon Newb's Guide and The Panic Table. In particular, Klaus mentions that some games don’t allow for player friction, and in games where this is the case (cough D&D cough), it culminates in a horrible experience for all involved.

To illustrate, I’m going to talk about some experience I’ve had with my own play groups.

Art from Last Fleet, by Vicentius Matthew.

It might be shocking to hear, but I’ve played D&D once or twice. I remember being in a campaign with two players who wanted very different things from that game. Player A wanted to bring their character on a deep emotional journey, while Player B wanted to act as strategically as possible in pursuit of their character’s benefit, often to the detriment of other members of the party. My own character wanted to track down leads to a mystery that mattered to her, but not really to anyone else. This often led to frustrating moments where characters might not communicate as much information to the party as they might have otherwise, and in other cases one character’s actions could pull the entire party’s journey off-course.

The three of us all played together in a completely different game, three years later - Last Fleet. Let me tell you, the character interactions were completely flipped on their heads. Player A got a dramatic emotional arc around an NPC who was integral to the main plot. Player B got to pursue their own agenda, often in ways that worked against the efforts of other PCs. As the GM, I was given tools that actually encouraged both of these moments: both pushing Player A to wrestle with their relationship and implicating Player B as a suspicious person very early on.

A basic move from Last Fleet.

There are a number of reasons this worked in Last Fleet and not in D&D. One, Last Fleet playbooks often encourage players to keep secrets, work against the benefit of the crew, and fuck up their relationships with each-other. Two, Last Fleet has something called the Pressure mechanic. This is both a resource and a time bomb: you can mark Pressure to improve your chances of success, but hit your cap and your character has to do something to relieve their stress - and that choice is usually rather detrimental to the ship.

Finally, Last Fleet’s a different kind of story. You’re not playing heroic adventurers fighting monsters and clearing out dungeons. You’re playing the last desperate strains of humanity, fleeing an alien threat that has the power to infiltrate your fleet and resemble the ones you love most. Last Fleet is all about how a high-stress situation can lead people to making poor decisions, and, should you desire, it can also be about how people are sometimes forced to rely on each-other in order to get through a harrowing situation.

When I compare these situations, I don’t think we had bad players at the table: we just had the wrong kind of game for the story that the players wanted. I suppose I haven’t necessarily played enough D&D to say that it can’t allow for compelling, flawed characters - what I like to call “shitty little guys” - but I certainly don’t think it’s a play culture that accounts for the diversity of player goals.

More to the point, I find myself really drawn to playing flawed characters - both with them and for them. I love my over-perfectionist superhero in MASKS who lashes out when her friends don’t meet her standards. I adore my Thirsty Sword Lesbian who doesn’t know how to flirt or how to process emotions. I’m having so much fun watching play-testers pick up their various monsters in Protect the Child and demonstrate each character’s struggles when it comes to relating to a kid. I think it’s fascinating that in Changeling: the Lost 1e, a Fairest is rewarded with a discount when they use their Contracts of Reflection to spy on people that they love.

Contract of Reflections, Equinox Road Sourcebook, Changeling the Lost 1e.

I’ve personally seen the most leeway for character friction in PbtA games, like Apocalypse World, Urban Shadows, and Apocalypse Keys. When I brought up the question in the Community post, I asked folks for other examples of playing Shitty Little Guys. Their interpretations were really interesting, and far broader than my initial scope.

@nebmia mentioned that by giving your characters “unpleasant” abilities, it will incentivize them to use those abilities in unpleasant ways.

@goblincow has a lot of thoughts about creating little guys who aren’t just horrible, but are also in horrible situations - which gives license for the players to endanger their characters in the pursuit of mischief.

@airkseablade brought up Tenra Bansho Zero, and how it uses something called an “Emotion Matrix” to randomly determine how a player character might reaction to meeting a new person, as well as “Fates”, which are goals that each player is rewarded for playing towards, but mostly based on group consensus.

@willknightauthor talked about Wraith: (The Oblivion?), and how each archetype available to players has a part of themselves that pulls them towards darker choices.

It turns out that we really like playing characters who are mean-spirited, greedy, and struggling to get what they want, and we have a lot of different ways to make that happen. It reminds me of a common piece of advice given to writers when they’re writing a novel - you want a character who’s flawed, because those flaws can be used.

In games like Trilogy or TSL, you might want those flaws because you want to see your character overcome them. In games like Mothership or Cairn, you might want those flaws because then it makes it easier to push your guys through a meat-grinder. In games like Hillfolk or Apocalypse World, you might want those flaws because you want to see just how much well-meaning or desperate characters can fuck each-other up, given the right circumstances.

So what’s the point of all this? What am I trying to get out of this?

When I hear stories about horrible players, the experience I’ve had at my tables makes me want to approach these “trouble” players with a bit of grace. Perhaps these “trouble” players simply want something that is a challenge to provide in a game like D&D, but in Mothership, Urban Shadows, Apocalypse World etc., they might find their choices welcomed and encouraged. And if you've found yourself being accused of being a "trouble" player because you like to a cause drama, perhaps these games might be more up your alley than you think!

Consider playing a game with horrible guys who suck today!

[faceyourphobia]

THEY DIDN’T EVEN TAG IT PROPERLY!! DUDE WHAT THE FUCK

Jesus fuck dude. I did not need to get flashed by straight up self harm cuts with actual fucking stitches. At least a content warning god sake man…

That grossed me the fuck out good lord, a WARNING would’ve been nice..

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Two

Summary: Y/N decides to leave the bunker for good when Dean reiterates that he can never give her what she wants. Struggling to adjust without her, Dean turns to hormone suppressants, unable to stomach the thought of going through a rut with anyone else.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Hormone Suppressants for @j3bingo

Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, angst, arguments, heats, ruts, language, Dean’s still a bit of an asshole.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: The response to the first part of this angsty, angsty fic has been overwhelming. Thank you to every single one of you who read and commented and reblogged. It means so much 🥹 Now, without further ado, I hope you love part two!

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy, or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

Being back in the bunker is suffocating, and you haven’t even been back twelve hours yet. The mild cramps in your stomach are now an annoying and constant discomfort, and being near Dean is only making it worse. Your body is so used to the green-eyed hunter that his scent has you craving him. If you don’t get out of here and find another alpha, you know you’ll cave and go to the man who keeps breaking your heart.

Digging into the depths of your meagre closet, you pull out one of the few dresses you have and get ready to have a night on the town. It’s nerve-wracking; you haven’t done this in a long time, but you need to kick old habits and rid yourself of your addiction to Dean. It’s no longer a healthy relationship—maybe it never had been—but your last time together opened your eyes and proved that he doesn’t see you as anything other than a fuck toy.

Walking through the hallways of the bunker, your heels click loudly on the cold, concrete floors as you head towards the library. You know at least one of the boys will be there, and you pray to Chuck it’s Sam. You’d skip this part entirely, given it’s none of their business, but as an unmated omega going to find someone to satisfy a heat, it’s probably best that someone knows your intentions.

As you turn the corner into the room, the scent of Dean’s agitation slaps you in the face. If you’re not careful and can’t control your emotions, it’ll end in a fight and a tumble in the sheets, and that’s really the last thing you need.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Dean asks as soon as he sets eyes on you.

“Out,” you respond.

“You’re in heat, Omega,” Dean growls.

“I’m aware,” you can feel your body warm as his gaze on you intensifies.

“Do you think it’s wise to go out in your condition?” Dean questions, and you fight your biological instinct to shrink in on yourself and submit to him. 

“I need to find an alpha who’ll help me through this, so yes, I do think it’s wise.”

“You have me, Y/N.” Dean’s tone softens, and the hurt that flashes in his eyes almost makes you run to him.

“No, I don’t. Not anymore.” You don’t wait for his response, walking out of the library and up the stairs because you’re so close to saying screw it and making him take you right there in the library.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” you call out and shut the bunker door behind you.

You know you won’t find what you’re looking for in the bar a few towns over, but at least you’ll find someone who can scratch your current itch and make you forget about Dean fucking Winchester.

At least for a few days.

DEAN’S POV

Dean feels his heart shatter as he watches Y/N walk out the door. This isn’t how he wanted things to go with her. He wanted to talk to her and apologise for his behaviour during his last rut. At least if he’d done that, there was a chance they could still have some kind of relationship.

What they had is gone. He knows that. He’s hurt her too much. If he’d dealt with things differently, they’d still have had the potential to at least be civil to one another, but his gut’s telling him that the opportunity for civility has gone.

He can’t blame himself entirely; she hasn’t let herself be alone with him since he’d realised how much of an asshole he’d been to her. Dean had expected her to come to him last night when the scent of her heat became stronger and carried through the bunker, but she’d remained shut in her bedroom. He isn’t even sure she’d eaten since yesterday morning.

“Hey,” Sam says as he sits beside his brother and hands him a beer. “I heard you and Y/N talking. You alright?”

“No, Sammy, I’m not. You know, it never once occurred to me that what Y/N and I had could end?”

“It doesn’t have to,” Sam says softly, noticing tears in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, it does. I can’t give her what she wants—”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam interrupts, and Dean’s heart pangs at the implication he’s being his usual stubborn ass alpha self.

“I can’t, Sam.” Dean didn’t usually show his vulnerabilities to Sam. He’s the pack leader and can’t afford to show weakness. The only person he’s ever shown vulnerability to is Y/N.

“Why?” Sam’s question is simple, but the weight of the answer is something Dean’s not sure he’s ready to admit out loud.

“It’s complicated,” Dean answers and takes a long swig of beer, drinking half the bottle in two swallows.

“Enlighten me, Dean, because from where I’m standing, it’s not complicated at all. You already have an emotional bond with her. You’ve been mating with her for what, six or seven years? Why is it so hard for you to claim her, have that deeper chemical bond, and make you both happy by having a couple of pups? It’d be nice to have some little ones running around here.”

“Because the second I claim her, she has a target on her back. She’ll become the hunted. Every monster on the continent will want to tear her apart to get to me. And that’s something I won’t survive.”

“So you do want to claim her?” Sam confirms, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Of course I do!” Dean’s voice booms across the library. “I love her. More than anything. I always have, but I would rather die than put her in danger because of me and who I am,” Dean can’t keep his turmoil to himself anymore. Now it’s out in the open with Sam, he can’t shut the hell up. “I have thought of every way possible to give her what she wants… for years. Give us what we want, but in every scenario, she ends up dead, and I end up alone.”

“Dean, if you keep going the way you have been, she’ll die, and you’ll be alone anyway. And if you let her walk out of here and into the arms of another alpha, you’ll still be alone.”

“I know that, Sam! But I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone and know she was safe and happy with another alpha and a few pups than put a target on her back by claiming her! What part of that don’t you understand?”

“You think Y/N would be happy with another alpha? You think she wanted to go out hunting for someone else to fuck her through her heat? You think she’s not wishing it was you? You think she doesn’t love you? Because she does, Dean! It’s clear to everyone!” Sam’s frustrations reach boiling point, and he no longer has the patience to hold back. “That curse she saved me from loosely translated to stealing what your brother has broken and making it yours. If she hadn’t got between me and that witch, and I’d been hit by that curse, I’d have claimed Y/N for myself because you’re too chicken shit to do it. You know what that means, right? That even the witch knew you were in some kind of relationship. Even just being associated with you in the way she is makes her a target. And she’s an even bigger one without a claim.”

“Then maybe it’s for the best that she’s out there trying to find someone to take care of her,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Sam’s exasperation.

“No, Dean! It means that, claimed or not, monsters know what Y/N is to you and you to her. It means she’s already a target, and you’ve been protecting her from the monsters for a long time. Claiming her and having pups with her isn’t going to change that.”

“Look, can we just drop this? Y/N is better off without me, okay? And nothing you say will change my mind. She deserves something good, and I’m not good.” 

Pushing his chair back, Dean stands from the table and enters the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and locks himself in his bedroom to lick his wounds.

It may not be the healthiest way to deal with things, but at least getting blind drunk on whiskey will stop the images of Y/N presenting for another alpha or taking another’s knot from playing like a video in his mind.

FIVE DAYS LATER

Y/N’S POV

“You’re alive, then,” Dean’s voice greets you as soon as you step into the bunker.

“I am,” you respond, warily making your way down the stairs. You’re on high alert, knowing this could turn volatile very quickly.

“You alright?” he asks next, his eyes scanning your body for signs of injury. His gaze lingers on your neck, and when he notices it remains unblemished, he releases a breath, and his shoulders relax slightly.

“I’m fine.” It feels like you cheated on Dean, and it makes you feel so sick you want to cry.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, you could’ve called. Let us know you were fine. It would’ve stopped Sam and me from worrying about you every second of the day. For all we knew, you were lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“My phone’s GPS was still…” you pause and sigh, knowing you don’t need to explain anything to him. “Look, can we not do this, please?” You plead. It’s been a rough few days, and you just want to shower and sleep.

You stop next to him, waiting for him to let you pass and frown when he rears back with a snarl. 

“Go shower, Omega. The stench of sex and Alpha makes me want to vomit,” Dean growls and walks away, leaving you standing at the entrance to the library, no longer able to keep the tears in.

The decision to leave is one of the hardest you’ve ever had to make. The bunker is your home, too. Still, you know you’re no longer welcome. Dean doesn’t want you, and you’ve hurt each other beyond repair. You could’ve tried to sort this mess out. You could’ve done that rather than look for a heat buddy, but had you not gone out, you’d have fallen straight back into bad habits and Dean’s bed. You had to break ties with him completely, and the only way to do that was to sleep with someone else, even if it broke both your hearts in the process.

Between the anxiety from you and Dean’s argument after the witch hunt and your heat, you’ve barely eaten for the past week. Before you leave for good, you head to the kitchen to grab something quickly, knowing it’s late enough that both Winchesters will be in their bedrooms, and you can eat and leave undetected.

“Sneaking out on us, huh? That’s mature,” Dean scoffs, and you jump, startled by his voice coming from somewhere in the dark kitchen.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting in the pitch black, Dean?” you ask, your hackles raised and ready to flee if needed.

“Answer my question first, then maybe I’ll answer yours.”

“Come on, Dean. We both know it’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” you reason.

“But this is your home,” Dean says, and where before you only heard contempt, you can now detect hurt.

“Not anymore.” You turn to leave, deciding to just forget about food so you can get the hell out of here.

“Please don’t walk away from me, Omega.”

“I told you I’m not your Omega, Dean. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.”

“Y/N, please, sweetheart,” he begs, and you turn to face him, your anger rising.

“No, Dean. I can’t do this with you anymore. We can’t keep doing this same dance over and over again. I want more. I need—” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow down the emotion that wants to spill from you. “I need to be claimed. I need to have pups. It’s in my biology, Dean, and I can’t change that. And I can’t change the fact that if I don’t settle down soon, I’ll go feral and die.”

“And you’re gonna do that with the asshat from the bar?” Dean spits back at you.

“No! I want to do it with you, but you don’t want me!” The tears spring from your eyes, and once again, you will Chuck, or whatever fucking angel is standing in his stead, to give you the strength you need to finally leave. To break this toxic bond that’s been forged under false pretences for years.

“Y/N, I do want you. I just can’t give you what you need,” Dean pleads.

“You can,” you nod with a tearful smile. “Because even if it wasn’t in the traditional way, you gave me what I needed for years. You just don’t want to.”

“No, Omega, please.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

DEAN’S POV

Y/N has been gone for two months, and there hasn’t been a peep from her. If Sam has heard anything, he’s kept it quiet, and Dean hasn’t asked. She’s turned off the GPS on her phone and removed the tracker from her car, and anyone he’s asked in their network either hasn’t seen or heard from her or has just told him she’s fine.

He misses her laugh and her smile. He misses her comforting scent that would linger around the bunker. He misses her soft, warm body sliding into bed next to him when she’d had a nightmare or wanted to cuddle in those first few hours of her heat before her need for him changed to something more carnal.

Yet, never once did he reach out to her. She’d made it pretty clear they were done, and he’s accepted that. What he did to her was unforgivable. Still, he’s hurting, too and feels betrayed by what she did. He may not have the right, but it’s how he feels, and try as he might, he can’t change it.

As the telltale signs of his next rut make themselves known, Dean knows this will be the hardest challenge he’s faced since Y/N left, but if she could so easily toss him aside and find someone else to mate with, so could he.

Standing at the bar, Dean preens under the attention of several omegas surrounding him. It’s been a long time since he’s had so many women fawn over him, and he guesses that being with Y/N has kept them at bay all these years.

Looking towards the other end of the bar, he does a double-take. The woman has similar features to Y/N: same eye colour, same shaped face, and from what he can see, a similar figure. It’s not her, but Dean is on his feet and making his way over to her before he can think twice about it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean gives the woman his most charming smile and feels his confidence soar as she giggles and looks down briefly before raising her eyes and batting her lashes at him. “The name’s Dean.”

“Carly,” she responds shyly, and Dean smirks.

“Pretty name. It suits you, Omega. Can I buy you a drink?” he drawls, using his alpha tone.

“Sure, Alpha,” she smiles sweetly, batting her eyes at him once more, and Dean knows he’s found a rut partner for the next few days.

“So, what’s your poison?” Dean asks, grabbing the bartender’s attention.

“Appletini,” Carly says, and Dean fights a scoff at the girly concoction. Y/N would’ve ordered a whiskey or an Old Fashioned if the mood struck her, none of this fruity shit that makes you question whether there’s even any alcohol in it.

“Whiskey, neat, and an appletini for the lady,” Dean says to the bartender.

“So, Dean, what’s a handsome alpha like you doing in a place like this?” Carly asks.

Glancing at her kind eyes that remind him so much of Y/N’s, he finds himself spilling everything to her. He’s not sure why he finds it easier to talk to a stranger than his own brother or even Cas, but he does.

“Look,” Dean says after an hour of talking and a few more whiskeys. “I came here intending to find an omega to ride out my rut with, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he confesses. “I’m not even sure I could… physically… uh, you know.” he chuckles.

“I think that’s a wise decision, Dean,” Carly smiles kindly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be mating with someone new. You haven’t fully accepted that your mate left you, and it could be dangerous for both of us if we leave here together.”

“I wouldn’t say she’s my mate. I never claimed her, so…” Dean shrugs, feeling a little bad for leading her on.

“Doesn’t matter, Dean. You bonded with her intimately, and I’m guessing you stayed faithful and only had her the entire time, right?”

“I only ever wanted her,” Dean nods and swallows another whiskey.

“So, you were together like a beta couple would be, right? Like dating but not married?” Carly replies with a knowing smile, and Dean has to admit he’s never looked at his relationship with Y/N in that way before.

“I suppose we were,” he responds with a nod to the bartender for another drink.

“Do you know where she is? Can you go to her?” Carly asks.

“No,” Dean sighs. “We have some mutual friends, but they are very quiet about her whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I hurt her. A lot. And I wish I’d handled things differently.”

“You’ll get there, Dean,” she smiles. “And if you don’t, try begging your friends to tell you where she is and grovel until she forgives you!” Carly chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It could be an easy fix if you can overcome your fears. It’s clear you love her, and if you can give into those feelings, you’ll work it out.”

Carly hops off the barstool and pulls her purse strap over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope you find your girl and make things right,” she cups his cheek and winks at him before walking away and leaving him alone.

Downing the whiskey in one, Dean throws some bills on the bar and heads to the Impala. If he’s going to see himself through his rut, he’d need a lot of provisions.

It took six days, three bottles of lube, and the help of various knotting toys for Dean to come through the other side of his rut. He can’t remember the last time one had been so brutal or unforgiving. However, now he’s out and can start taking the suppressants he got from the drugstore, so he doesn’t need to go through one again.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam asks, seeing Dean at the hob, frying bacon and eggs.

“Still feeling rough, but some food and fresh air should do me good. Please tell me you found a hunt while I was out.”

“Yeah, looks like there’s a ghoul loose in Stillwater, Oklahoma.”

“Alright, then. We’ll get everything together and leave in a couple of hours.”

“Dean, are you sure you’re up for this? You still look a little… off.”

“I’m fine, Sammy. Just ready to get out of here. Been cooped up too long.”

For the next few months, that’s what they do; move from small town to small town, saving people and hunting things, and Dean? Well, he’s just peachy.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Dean always knew the suppressants would take some getting used to. They’re the drug store variety and weren’t for long-term use. Still, the nausea and headaches are getting worse and are now accompanied by bouts of fever and a loss of appetite.

He knows his age probably isn’t helping, and the fact he’s been rejected by his mate in a roundabout way, so rejection sickness has been on his mind the past few days as his symptoms got worse.

Sam’s said he’s easier to anger than usual too, and Dean’s starting to feel constantly on edge now. He can only hope whatever this is will end soon because this fucking sucks.

Swallowing down another pill, Dean throws the pill bottle into his duffle so that he and Sam can get home, put this vampire hunt behind them, and take some time off.

Although sceptical at first, he’s now grateful he’d agreed to take a break from hunting for a couple of weeks to recoup and relax. They hadn’t stopped hunting in close to twelve weeks, and he feels awful. A little time off might be just what he needs.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asks, frowning when he notices the pill bottle at the top of his brother’s bag. The younger Winchester walks over and picks it up, huffing loudly. “This is what you’ve been taking? Over the counter suppressants?”

“Yeah, so?” Dean replies.

“Dean, these aren’t for long-term use. They’re supposed to only delay a rut for a couple of weeks, not for taking every day. Why didn’t you go to a doctor and get the right thing?”

“Oh, because we have that luxury, Sammy!” Dean snaps. “‘Do you have insurance? No. What’s your address? An underground fortress in the middle of fucking nowhere.’ Seriously, you don’t see anything wrong with that? And they say you’re the smart one!” Dean scoffs and shakes his head.

“We would’ve found a way, Dean. We always do. These are probably doing more harm than good. I think it’s why you’re feeling off, and it’s only going to get worse.”

“It can’t get any worse, Sammy! Y/N left me. Nothing will ever be worse than that!” Dean yells as he grabs his bag and stalks out of the motel room, and slams the door.

Dean is agitated. So much so that even he can’t deny it. And the more he tries not to be, the worse he gets. He knows it’s annoying Sam—it’s annoying him, too—but it’s not something he has any control over. Everything is going haywire; his skin itches, sweat drips down his back, and he just wants to pick fights. That’s why he had a go at the idiot at the gas station and the douchebag from the diner. He blames Sam for that one. He wanted to keep driving, but Sammy just had to stretch his freakishly long fucking legs now, didn’t he?

When Sam finally rejoins him in the car, Dean tries to avoid his baby brother’s puppy eyes. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he should’ve found a way to get the real thing, but the fear of a doctor telling him he’s a lost cause, that because his mate left him would mean that suppressants can’t fix him stopped him. Besides, it can’t take the ache of Y/N’s departure away. It doesn’t change the fact that as an alpha, it was his duty to claim her.

“What am I in for, Sammy?” Dean finally asks, breaking his silence on his suppressant use. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he needs to keep what’s left of his pack safe. If this ends the way he dreads, he needs to put a plan in place.

“You’ll go into a rut that can only be satisfied by uhm… your mate,” Sam says, avoiding her name so it doesn't set the older alpha off again. “And because she’s not here, you’ll go feral,” Sam sighs.

“And when I go feral, I’ll be dangerous to any omega who isn’t Y/N,” Dean finishes what Sam doesn’t say.

“I think it’s already started. I can smell your rut pheromones, but they’re… off.” Sam said.

“Listen to me, Sammy. I’m going to the safe house in Montana. I’ll let nature take its course. You will leave me there and take the Impala so I can’t get out.” Dean begins, but Sam’s quick to intervene.

“Dean, no. I can track down Y/N. When she hears what’s happening, she’ll—”

“Laugh and tell you to tell me to go fuck myself! I made my bed, Sammy. I gotta lie in it.”

“You’re signing your own death warrant!”

“Then so be it!” Dean roars, but Sam won’t back down.

“I can’t let you do that when someone can help you!”

“She won’t come because she doesn’t want me, Sam!” Dean yells. “How many times do I have to say it? She left me because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. For all we know, another alpha has already claimed her.”

“I have to try, Dean! I can’t just let you die!” Sam is trying to stay calm, not wanting to upset his brother more.

“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“It’s not, and you know it. I’ll lock you in that cabin and take the car with me to keep you safe, but I will find Y/N.”

“Fine. I can’t stop you,” Dean relents. “But when she tells you she’s done with me, you will leave me there, and whatever happens, happens. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sam agrees reluctantly.

Next Chapter>>

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[delululand]

hihi could you do what makes enha jealous & how will they act on it?

hiii, I got about 5 messages asking about enhypen jealousy so I think this is a really long awaited post hahaha

I’m incredibly grateful to the engine who asked those questions at the fansign because now we have not just guesses, but literally their answers about the limits

heeseung

actually I was a little surprised that it would be okay for him if his girlfriend went out to dinner with a male friend and talked on the phone, he seemed a little more jealous to me. but okay, we know that texting every day, going to the cinema with male friend and going to an idol fansign would not be okay for him. and if you look at his answers, he is literally the only one who allowed this. and to me he seems like a guy with a calm type of jealousy. like if this was not some kind of open provocation or something rude, he would simply take you away from that guy and would of course be outraged, but rather just grumble like “oh did you see how he flirted with you? fucking asshole…”

jay

first of all, I want to note how thoughtfully I approached questions about this and how carefully tried to answer. I always thought he’s a super protective guy and my suspicions were confirmed. he answered no to literally everything, he is against his girlfriend and male friends talking on the phone, texting every day, going to dinner together, going to the theater, any physical contact (he said that giving a high five is okay and maxim pat on the shoulder) and even when answering about patting on the shoulder, he said something like “probably if she has a lot of male friends, she’s used to it, so ok” and actually I think he's not really ok with it. he's struggling with a kind of protective boyfriend inside and respecting/understanding the other person's personal boundaries like on the one hand he'd like to keep his girlfriend out of it completely, but on the other hand he realizes he can't push and forbid anything. and in a situation that could make him jealous, he would initially try to behave persistently but tactfully, not because it is normal for him that that guy is flirting with you, but because he does not want to make you feel uncomfortable or awkward, however, if the situation were not changed even with his appearance, he absolutely would not have remained silent and showed that guy his place

jake

ohhhh jake my sweet jake…. his playful puppy vibes and even the way he answered these questions... we won't even talk about his tendency to induce jealousy, but okay, the concept of jealous sex in real life always seemed a little strange to me, but JAKE... based on his answers to the questions, he also answered no to everything and if it was something serious, he certainly would not be happy, (but in fact I don’t think that he would really swear or get angry, he would rather be annoyed and discussed this situation asking you don’t communicate with that guy more). however, if it was something like a light momentary flirtation with a random guy, and especially if he knows that you are doing it on purpose to annoy him, I don’t know if you will understand what I mean, but with what intonation he says 이게 뭐야 (what's this) even out of context from his lips it sounds so flirtatiously seductive hahaha. and thinking about this situation, he would absolutely come up to you as soon as you finish the dialogue with that guy and, taking you to a secluded place, pressed you against the wall with the words «oh baby what was that?” and we all know what will happen as soon as you return home

sunghoon

as expected of him he answered no to everything and he answered with such confidence and enthusiasm hahaha. definitely the type who gets jealous easily and kind of shows it right away but not in an aggressive manner. for example, seeing you with another guy, he immediately comes up with a murderous look at him, but smiles sweetly at you and, as if by chance, puts his arm around your shoulders, but if that guy turns out to be dull and continues to flirt with you, then sunghoon would not remain silent and explain to him in a calm commanding tone that you are his girlfriend and what will happen to him if he doesn’t leave now

[februarybluues]

enemies with benefits || 2. - wounded.

warnings: tw shirtless hobie, slight flirting tbh, cursing, arguing, slight angst to fluff, hobie gets injured, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 ) read part one here - series masterlist here part three - can't be love

After a few months of being partnered up with Hobie, you found yourself growing to like him. Well, slightly. There was no denying that he was a dick. Miguel paired you up together multiple times, and soon enough your hangouts with pav, miles and gwen, now included hobie. Normally this wouldn’t be a bad thing, right? Except for the fact that he was insufferable. He was smooth and pitiful. He knew he could get away with anything, and that’s exactly what he did. “Did you just take that from miguel?” You asked him, looking right at his shit-eating grin. He had pocketed a few ‘spare’ parts from around the spider-society. What he was planning to do with them was beyond your concerns. He shrugged at you, his hands planted in his vest’s pocket. “Yeah I did. It’s easy to nick from that lad. He either doesn’t care or he’s too daft t’notice.” he said, pulling the mechanical piece from his pocket and showing it off. He was so difficult. “So, what? You’re an asshole and a thief? Pick a struggle.” you insulted him, annoyed. “Aye i’m no thief! I’m tellin’ ya, them big corporations are plannin’ somethin’. Prob’ly gonna use it for new brainwashin’ tech anyways. Pigs.” “So, your theft is justified by the fact that the government are brainwashers?” he shook his head at you. “Big businesses don’t need th’money. They get more people to buy their stuff, and make it more expensive. It’s a scam, innit?” he concluded. You stopped walking and he turned back to look at you. “I don’t think Miguel is a big business. You just robbed an old man.” you said, and the both of you shared a quick laugh. He was kind of cute when he laughed. I guess. That happened a few weeks ago. It was the last peaceful moment between you two. Soon after you had a huge argument, that almost got physical.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shouted at him, interrupting his speech. “Wha’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Y’show up one day n’suddenly you’re better than everyone else! It’s a load of bollocks!” your eyebrow furrowed as the both of you got angrier. “Oh you think i’m bad? Says the dickhead that practically feeds off of the attention of others.. I’ll tell you what you are, you're a greedy, narcissistic, self-absorbed cunt that is so far up his own ass he doesn’t even realise there are other people around him! You never listen to what anyone has to say as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you in the slightest, because god forbid you actually help out for once in your life. Typical fucking punk. Maybe one day you’ll rebel against your own jacket for being too small.” you enunciated each word with venom laced in your words. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Hobie looked at you with the intention to kill. His piercing gaze burned right through your eyes. You never saw him that mad. Ever. “That’s fuckin’ it.” he cursed, before standing up. You stood up right after him and rolled up your sleeves, about to fight. Luckily, Pav jumped in between you two before a fight broke out. “Guys, guys, guys! There are better ways to settle things than with violence! Come on, sit down. Let’s just talk it out. Share your feelings with each other.” he said, his hands still barely keeping you apart from each other. You scoffed. “If he keeps talking shit I’ll be sharing a punch in the face with him.” “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, love.” The pet name was spoken, but not in a romantic or cute way. It was teasing, and insulting. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning around. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” you muttered before storming out of the room. Now, almost three weeks after that had happened, you hadn’t seen him since. You hadn’t seen much of anyone since. Miles and Pav tried to talk to you about what happened but you just shrugged them away. You couldn’t be bothered to deal with what had happened anyways. You were still so furious at him. You never wanted to see him again after that fight, and you were sure he didn’t either.  But, of course you’d be wrong. As he approached the window of your apartment, he was grateful that you had left it open. He clung to the wall next to it, peeking inside to see if you were there. The light was on in your bedroom, but you were nowhere to be seen. Or at least he thought it was your bedroom. This was his first time at your apartment. You both never hung out besides when you were paired up by miguel or when you were with miles, pav and Gwen. He'd never so much as been in your dimension at all. You were in the living room, eyes glued to the tv screen as you had been watching whatever had been on for the past few hours to pass time. It was then that you heard him climb inside through the window. Or rather, you heard the sound of him landing face-first on the ground. You sprung up, sneaking to your bedroom in order to investigate the sound. To your dismay, there he was. Standing right in the door frame; his hands inside of his vest pockets, posed strangely, as if he were hiding something. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hobie? What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get here?” you asked, looking at him with shock. His face remained blank and he looked at the ground. “Miles told me.” was all he said. He refused to look at you. As much as it pained you to say it, you really missed the sound of his voice. - Despite claiming to hate him. But whatever! “Why are you here?” you asked, this time your voice wobbled – not that you were sad. Well, you were sad. - and angry. And frustrated. God, you were just confused. Your voice wobbled with concern. You could only think of a few reasons as to why he’d decided to pay you a visit, and none of them were good. “Well, I uh.. Missed you?” “Bullshit,” you crossed your arms. You saw right through his lies. “Why are you actually here?” you asked, and he hesitated before speaking up again. 

“I… I need y’help.” He then  stood up straight, and pulled his vest off; now revealing a concerning wound that spread across his chest. He got hurt, badly. You looked at him and barely kept your jaw intact. You had so many questions, but you were sure none of them would be answered. “You… What…? Hobie what the fuck happened? Why- Why did you come to me for help?” your words were uttered with pure panic. He shrugged. He just looked at you and fucking shrugged. “Hobie, talk to me you dickhead!” you demanded, and for the first time in weeks, he looked into your eyes. But this wasn’t his usual hatred and spiteful look, He looked genuinely hurt. “Jus’ got hurt fightin’. No need to worry ‘bout me, princess.” you gave him a look that said both “are you serious right now?” and “are you okay?” He’d be lying if he said It didn’t make him laugh. You took a sharp breath, “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” you began. He tilted his head, curiously. “I’m gonna grab the first-aid kit in the bathroom, and I'm gonna patch you up.” without uttering a word, he nodded, and with that you led him to the bathroom. “Knew you loved me.” he muttered, and your head snapped back to look at him. “What?” he smirked. “You talk all this big talk ‘bout ‘ow much y’hate me, but ‘ere you are.” you laughed at his words, turning back around and grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink.

“I don’t love you. It’s just that if you bleed out on me, I won't have anyone to make fun of.” you said as you walked back up to him. But, he didn’t seem convinced, mumbling a quiet “sure..” “Shut up or I won’t help you.” much to your surprise, he actually did end up shutting up. You carefully examined his wound. And definitely not his abs. Nope. The side of his chest, and a little bit of the front was all-but ripped up. His skin was littered in almost cat-like scratches. But these marks weren’t from a cat. You grazed your thumb over a particularly nasty scratch, and he winced in pain. It hurt you to see him like this. He was suffering badly. Mumbling a quick apology, you opened up the first aid kit and began cleaning him up. He didn’t say anything the entire time. Which must’ve been a record for him. You wiped the dampened cloth around his chest, carefully and gently cleaning the blood. Once the wound was clean, you stitched and bandaged him up. You didn’t notice your face gradually getting closer to him, as you focused on the bandaging. It wasn’t until you felt his eyes boring into you that you looked up; your faces now a smile distance apart from one another. Embarrassed, you backed up slightly. “I’m almost done.” you mumbled, finishing up the bandages. “There, all done.” you looked up at him and smiled. A warm and genuine smile, he smiled back. There was such sweet bliss in that moment, for a split second you forgot that you were still mad at him. “Thanks, love.” The pet name was a common insult that he spoke like a prayer, never once failing to piss you off. But this time it wasn’t teasing. There was something about it that just felt real. genuine. He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the closed toilet seat. “Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere yet. You need to answer my question.” his eyebrow furrowed with confusion. “Question? Wha' question?”

“Why are you here? Why did you choose to come to me for help, instead of like – anyone else?” “Dunno.” he shrugged, smiling at you. You couldn’t believe him. “What do you mean you don’t know? You could’ve gone to anyone. Why did you choose me? We literally almost killed each other last time we saw each other.” “I don’t believe in consistency.” He stood up, and put his shirt back on. “What-” he cut you off before you could furthermore question him. “Goin’ to someone else woulda been the smart thing to do. It’s what they woulda expected.” “They? Who’s they?” you asked, and his smile got bigger. “Doesn’t matter. I also just wanted to see you I guess.” he mumbled that last part, silently hoping you didn’t hear what he said, but at the same time wishing you did. In truth, he missed you. He missed the pointless conversations you had shared when the room fell silent. – Almost always ending in a dumb battle over who had the best insults. He missed the joy and relief he felt when Miguel assigned you to a mission together. He just missed you. Although it had only been a few weeks since you’d last seen each other, let alone only knowing each other for a few months, he quickly found himself enjoying your presence much more than he did others. He’d choose to be around you in a heartbeat. But, It’s not like he liked you. Of course he didn’t! He just felt happier when he was around you. While, yes, his heart would beat a bit faster when he was around you, and his cheeks and ears grew hotter when your arm accidentally grazed against his– that didn’t mean he liked you! Of course not! If anything, he hated you! He hated your stupid face, your dumb smile, your annoying mannerisms that he definitely didn’t have memorised, and he especially hated the way your nose scrunched up when you got embarrassed or flustered.  

“You missed me?” Suddenly, your confusion was forgotten. Now replaced by a grin. He quickly sprung up and grabbed his sleeveless jacket “Well, would’ya look at the time! I gotta get back to um, – yeah! Thank you for the help, my love.” He pulled his spider-mask over his head and opened the window. “Bye hobie.” he nodded at you, before climbing out and going god-knows-where. “My love.” the sentence repeated in your head an embarrassing amount of times that night. That was the first time he had ever called you that. And one thing’s for sure, it wouldn’t be the last time. Your relationship definitely changed after that. – but who’s to say that wasn’t a good thing?

taglist: literally no one help dm me or comment or send an ask if you wanna be added idk

hope u enjoyed this part guys because it's getting juicy now mwa

[salty-croissants]

Hello, I have a request

Since in the show that Rayman went to college before Eden and all that.

how about the reader and Rayman were good old "college buddies".

Thank you for the request !

I’ve actually been thinking a lot about making a story something with a similar premise , so this was definitely fun to write :D

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

friends to lovers ;

no warnings needed 

So , as we know Rayman didn’t have it easy before Eden came along and made him a star : 

pretty much nobody respected him , with people always mocking him and his appearance … sometimes even choosing to be more cruel by hurting him physically .

All this considered , I think Rayman struggled quite a lot to understand that you were showing him genuine kindness and didn’t consider him a monster like everyone else …

< Can you walk ? Here , let me help you … I’m sure they have something to patch you up in the nursery . > 

< Hhh … why … why are you doing this …

Did someone dare you to be nice to me ? Is this a prank … ? 

… it’s gotta be , right … ? > 

< I understand why you’d think that , Rayman , it’s only natural after all you’ve been through … but I promise you , I’m not trying to take advantage of you in any way .

Now take it easy , just lean on me , it shouldn’t be very far … >

< … thank you . > 

After he realized that you were someone who could be trusted , Rayman was simply overjoyed to finally have someone treating him like an actual person , and he quickly grew very , very attached to you : 

he would sit beside you when you had classes together , telling you all about his dream of having his very own tv show one day and overall just feeling way more relaxed in your presence …

Tough I can definitely see him being absolutely terrified of boring you and making you leave him .

< Wait … oh god , I’ve been talking for so long haven’t I ?

Damn it - I’m so sorry y/n , we can change the subject if you - > 

< No no , it’s fine Ray , don’t worry about it !

I like listening to you , and I really admire how passionate you are about making your show ! > 

< You … heh , you mean it ? > 

< Mhm , of course ! >

Since Rayman wasn’t exactly … popular among the other college students , you had a pretty hard time defending him from the constant bullying he was subjected to … sometimes even ending up hurt yourself . 

While part of him felt happy to see that you were willing to stick with him despite everything , he absolutely hated the fact that you had become a target for mockery because of it … it was something he felt immense guilt about . 

< y/n ! Are you okay ??

Your eye - > 

< Oh , that ? It’s nothing … just wanted to teach a lesson to that guy that keeps calling you “alien scum” … I’m gonna be just fine Ray , trust me . > 

< … listen , I really appreciate everything you do for me , but I can’t stand seeing you get hurt like this . 

Maybe … maybe if we … > 

< No . I know what you’re about to say . I don’t wanna stop spending time with you because of a bunch of … frankly , assholes .

I’m just … happy to be with you , and no one’s opinion will change that . >

< y/n , I … 

Heh , thank you , thank you so much … 

We should probably put some ice on your eye though , it doesn’t look too good . > 

< Yeah , that sounds like a plan … > 

It’s wasn’t long before Rayman started to realize that the feelings he had for you had become something different , and despite being incredibly anxious and worried he decided to try and bring that topic up one night : 

you were both in his dorm , studying together like you usually did , but you noticed that he didn’t seem to be very focused on the papers … but on you . 

< Hey Ray ? Is there something you’d like to tell me ? > 

< Oh - uh … yeah , actually .

 I’m just trying to find the right words to say it , since it’s … pretty big . > 

You put down your pen , looking at your long time friend with curiosity .

< Well , as long as you’re comfortable with it , you can tell me anything .

I’m be more than happy to listen . > 

Rayman smiled at you in response , grateful for your patience and your kindness … 

Then he took a deep breath , and finally begun talking . 

< Okay … okay . 

You see , before I met you I was really starting to lose hope for … everything , really . 

All alone , constantly judged by everyone for being different … but you already know all that , so I’ll cut it short . > 

His eyes met yours , and the way his gaze softened when he looked wt you made you feel warm inside … 

After all , Rayman wasn’t the only one who had developed feelings over time . 

< Then you came along …

y/n , you gave me a reason to keep pursuing my goals , and … I know this might sound very dramatic , but you also gave me a reason to … well , live . 

Words wouldn’t be enough to describe just what a wonderful person you are , and having you by my side is something that I’m always going to be thankful for . > 

He then looked away for a moment , bracing himself for the most important part of his little speech …

< … but it’s more than that . 

y/n , I know this is very sudden and I understand if it’s too much to handle … I really should’ve planned this all better , but …

*inhale* … I love you . > 

There was a moment of silence following that sentence , and right when Rayman was starting to worry about just how uncomfortable he had made you , his widened the moment you leaned closer to place a gentle kiss on his cheek . 

< I love you too , Ray . > 

< Wait - you … really ? > 

He couldn’t believe it … you actually loved him back ?

A joy he had never felt before overwhelmed him , and when he wrapped his arms around you to hold you in a tight embrace Rayman truly felt home … despite being so very far away from his own home . 

< Oh y/n … I’m so happy , I’m so happy you feel the same … 

I know there isn’t much I can do , but I promise you I’ll be there for you the same way you’ve always been there for me . > 

His words were so loving and sincere , and when your lips finally met in a tender cascade of kisses you felt like both of your lives were going to be different from that moment forward …

As long as you and Rayman stayed together , there was nothing that you wouldn’t be able to face , even if the whole world was against you . 

[sapphiretanto]

Try Harder

“‘Try harder?!’ I always have to find the solution! You’re leader, Leo. You find the answer!”

Two Quick PSAs:

Because I feel people will think I’m taking Leo’s side, or justifying his actions. I’m not. I don’t think he was in the right for saying that.

This will be very Leo focused— not because he’s my favorite or anything— but because Donnie’s side has already been understood by a majority of people.

Whenever I come across this conversation— whether tiktoks, fanfiction, or fanart— Leo’s personality that’s presented always rubs me the wrong way. He usually gets written or drawn as some haughty asshole that doesn’t give a shit about Donnie’s feelings… ever. That is simply not true. Or that Donnie is the only one to get them out of problems. That isn’t true either. There are plenty of times that Donnie turns to Leo to have the answer or plan when his go awry. He also depends on his older brother’s outward bravery and confidence.

Leo and Donnie’s argument in “The Fourfold Trap” can be built on two things Donnie and Leo are at constant odds with:

Pressure

Limitations

Both Donnie and Leo have the same kind of pressure where they are multitasking and are having to switch tactics in battle almost always.

Donnie is a genius. He’s knowledgeable in mechanics, technology, math, science, biology, history, etc etc. and has also mastered learning some technology of the Kraang as well as creating a way to translate their language. He often lacks the resources to accomplish projects or time to calmly dismantle weaponry and machines and get him and his brothers to safety during battles.

Leo is intuitive and strategically intelligent as well as very disciplined and focused. However, his pressure lies within his leading abilities. Not only must he plan battle strategies with his brothers, he also has to keep an eye on them in battle, be ready to change tactics should something go awry, figure out an exit strategy and this is usually done all while fighting with the enemy. Leo also has to keep a level head and keep his emotions in check. While in the beginning, he often wasn’t respected, his collectedness kept the team together and functional (Raph leading the team in “New Girl in Town” and struggling as well as Leo panicking in “Panic in the Sewers” are good examples of when the leader isn’t collected)

The burden placed on both of their shoulders is very heavy, draining, and a lot to take on as a teenager and they do their best to keep it together, but the built up pressure will sometimes put them at odds when planning during larger battle (i.e. “The Invasion”).

Now, as with anything and everything, there are always limits. Leo and Donnie both struggle with accepting that they have their limits, though, Donnie tends to accept his more than Leo.

Growing up and being the way they are unfortunately puts limits on what they can have or use. Donnie uses a lot of scrap metal and junk to piece things together for the brothers and himself to use and has to be careful with what he does have, since he doesn’t have the access to go into a store and get what he needs.

All of this frustrates Donnie as it limits his abilities, but it has helped him accept it and understand that he can’t push himself to do everything he would like to for himself and to help his brothers. It has also taught him to be resourceful and he has put together amazing mechanical machines. And despite being outcasts in society, he and his brothers do get accepted by some humans. He grows into it becoming enough for him, becoming at least physically confident in who he is.

I don’t think I have to explain just how much Leo ignores his limits. Just woke up out of a coma and his leg is fucked? This idiot goes off in the woods to fight a mutant made of vomit, tree bark, and nightmares. He doesn’t rest it as much as he should be— both because a conflict is happening and when nothing is going on, he’s training on it. Because of some of the lessons Splinter taught him—

“We choose what holds us back and what moves us forward”

“It doesn’t matter that the burden is heavy. It matters that you carry it!”

“With the world at stake, the only thing of importance is that you complete your mission, no matter what you have to sacrifice. Or whom.”

— Leo develops a complex to keep the world and his family safe no matter what happens to him, as well as to suck it up and keep going. Him complaining or ranting about his frustrations doesn’t get him sympathy.

“I just think you guys should be a little better at following my orders.” (Leo)

“Aww, it’s too bad I can’t play my violin while I drive.” (Raph)

“They have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under, and all they do is complain! Is it too much to ask for a simple ‘thank you’?” (Leo)

“Of course it is! Leadership is not about being appreciated, it’s about responsibility.” (Splinter)

Unfortunately, either out of resentment or something else, he holds this same principle for Donnie and pressures him until Donnie snaps at him.

“Donnie! You said you could do this! … They’re aliens from another dimension, what did you expect: a big round ball with a lit fuse that said ‘bomb’?!”

“You gotta fix the Shellraiser fast. Like, yesterday fast!”

“Donnie, you’re gonna have to speed this up.”

There is one other factor that drives Leo to pressure Donnie, and that is his guilt for Karai’s mutation and his lack of skill and knowledge to get her back to herself. Even though there was nothing he could have really done— after trying to stop her or even go with her as back up in “Vengeance is Mine” and coming very close to freeing her before Shredder attacked— he more than likely plays scenarios over in his head where he saved his sister or even took the fall into the mutagen instead of her.

“You should be celebrating your victory. You did a brave thing tonight, Leonardo. You saved everyone.” (Splinter)

“Not everyone. I tried to get Karai out of Shredder’s control. …I failed, Sensei.”

He becomes rebellious and risks his safety���his brothers’ safety also is toyed with if they choose to go along with him— to rescue her and reunite Master Splinter with his daughter and have her be with her family.

The building of his guilt towards Karai’s mutation, the pressure he’s feeling to rescue her from Shredder’s control, and the fact that he is at a limit that he cannot go past altogether drives him to snap at Donnie the way he does.

Was it right and justifiable? Absolutely not. But do I understand that it was a build up things from within and that he didn’t say it just to be an asshole? Abso-fucking-lutely.

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐓𝐰𝐨 ✠ ❝𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞❞

(A/n) ➳ Started playing the older games of Assassin’s Creed and when I tell you it’s so cuz I’m so used to Rogue/Black Flag controls. But you can expect some works for AC2 and Black Flag, maybe AC1 as well.

Word Count ➳ 1.6k

Content Warnings ➳ descriptions of violence, mentions of death, Chevalier being as asshole, talk about marriage/children...

Dreamers Masterlist

Liam held your arms firmly, his grip bruising. He pushed you into one of the rooms of the manor, the door slamming behind him with a loud thud, it was clear how frustrated and angry he was.  

You nearly hit the ground if it wasn’t for the desk you collided into, knocking over books and papers off the desk. You winced from the impact and were surprised by Liam’s action. You looked back at him, fearful.  

“Why did he do it?” You questioned, trembling under the eyes of your own brother. You dared not look at your arms and see the marks he left. But as scared you were, you were confused, you had no idea what went on.  

“Is it true what they say? That Shay stole the manuscript?” 

Liam paced back and forth, his hands clenched together. “You don’t understand. Shay betrayed us, betrayed the Brotherhood. There is no good reason for what he’s done.”  

“Yet you and I know him, Liam!” You insisted. “He would not do this without cause. Tell me, what happened in Lisbon?!”  

Liam froze as his head snapped in your direction. “You’re acting like a child.” He scoffed at you. “This is not a game! His choices put all of us in danger!”  

You flinched at his loud voice. “Then stop treating me like one! I can take care of myself!”  

“Can you?” He argued. “Chevalier could’ve shot you instead? Do you understand that? You could be dead because of Shay!”  

Yet you ignored his words and thought differently. “Shay had a reason.” You once again repeated. “And I intend to find out what it was, with or without you.” 

Liam pressed his lips together for a moment, his hands ran over his face as he was struggling to calm himself. “You will not.” He finally spoke. “You will stay here, on Davenport, and you will leave with me if I must.” He declared.  

“I will be keeping an eye on you.”  

You snorted, waving him off with a flick of your arm. But he remained stern, his gaze unwavering as he stared. Your smile slowly dropped when you realized that he was being genuine.  

“You cannot be serious!”  

“Would you like Chevalier to do the same?! I'm sure he would love ordering you around like a dog!”  

You stepped closer to him, getting in his face. “I am part of this Brotherhood just like you! I have fought by your side! I have fought for you all like the rest! Yet you treat me like- like-!”  

Liam grabbed your shoulder, and you froze in response. “Achilles will have you killed if you say another word.” As furious as he sounded, you could hear a crack in his voice. “I promised father that I would protect you, and I intend on to. Do you understand me?”  

Liam was right. Achilles would kill you if he caught of whiff of betrayal and Liam’s face solidified your answer. You knew that he tried to keep his anger from you, not wanting scare you away, and kept a kind face around you, yet he was honest this time. 

His eyes stared into yours, he watched as tears fell as you maintain a strong face. Or tried to. He saw right through your facade. He knew you were hurting, after all, Shay was your friend too. 

He engulfed you in his tight embrace, allowing you to cry in his arms. But he left you there. Alone.  

You cried in the room, collapsed to the ground. This time, you cried into your hands, truly believing the Shay was gone. Hope came moments later, trying to soothe your sobs by rubbing your back and whispering in your ears.  

Liam ignored the stares coming from everyone. He refused to speak to anyone, more like nobody dared to speak to him when they saw his face. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were narrowed.  

If Shay never fell down that cliff, he would’ve strangled him with his own hands for putting his sister in danger.

 

DAVENPORT HOMESTEAD, 1755 

Either you were brilliant or just blatantly lucky. The year without Shay was painfully long, yet all those days and nights spent in a room were trying to find anything that screamed Shay. But all of them were dead ends, you were starting to believe that it was all lost cause. 

Risking your position and your life... Was it all for nothing? Questioning your loyalty to the Brotherhood, was it all for nothing?  

You tossed your bag over your shoulder, carrying all the papers, scrolls, and maps of your search. You didn’t dare leave any of it behind in case someone came across it and reported it back to Achilles or Liam.  

You had gained permission from Liam to go on a mission without him. Your heart pounded quickly as you boarded Chevalier’s ship.  

It was bustling with activity from the crew, cleaning the deck of the ship, repairing damage, working on cannons or its mortars. You felt out of place, you clutched the strap of your bag tightly and stepped towards Chevalier carefully.  

He eyed you, arms crossed as his lips curled into a sneer. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he raised his hand, cutting you off. “If you try anything girl, you shall end like the cabbage farmer.” Chevalier advised.  

You nodded in agreement. “I will be out of your way.” You replied. “Captain.”  

He scoffed at you, heading towards the wheel of the ship. “Seems like you can listen.”  

You kept silent, knowing that any sign of disobedience would jeopardize your task. When he started barking his orders, you rushed below deck, pushing past the crew going up or down the steps.  

The ship sailed smoothly for hours, from word from the crew, it was a secure path that they often took to avoid the Royal Navy.

It was dark when the ship docked at a small settlement, and the crew, including Chevalier, went towards the tavern.  

Though a couple of members stayed on the ship, it was easy to slip past them and enter the captain’s cabin. The room was illuminated by candles, and many of them surrounded a large table.  

It was easy to tell that these were his maps, you flipped through the stacks, unrolling the scrolls until you found one that stuck out the most. You wanted to cheer with joy but instead you took out your own parchment and used Chevalier’s quill and ink to copy the actives of the Royal Navy.  

The minutes flew by, yet they felt like an eternity. You felt like you were sweating, your dominant hand nearly shaking from the panic. You had to get every detail correct, you could not afford to mess up.  

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from the deck outside. You gasped, dropping the quill and rolling up the maps, and carefully hiding them in your bag.  

Just as you were about to slip out the same way you came in, you heard voices approaching the cabin... Chevalier.  

You rushed away from the door, your eyes scanning the room for an escape route. You spotted a small window and hurriedly climbed through.  

You climbed the side of the ship, trying to remain calm as you heard the drunken shouts of the crew, the obnoxious singing and chatter did nothing but stress you out more.  

But you took your chance, landing on the deck of the ship. But no one had said a thing, they were drunk out of their minds or focused on the drunks. You were invisible to them.  

1757 

As rather small Davenport seemed to be, it was always active. You sat on a bench, watching the community go about their daily tasks. You watched as people cut down trees, prepared food, and parents playing with their children.  

“(Y/n).” He began from behind you, resting his arms against the bench. “What’s on your mind?” 

“Have you ever wished for kids?” You asked him, you didn’t look back at Liam. 

Liam looked in the direction you were looking. “If things had gone differently, there was a chance. A different life, perhaps.”  

You laughed. “You’ve told me time and time again that my life was supposed to be different. Apparently, you had it all worked out.” Now, you looked back at him and saw him grumble which made you laugh again. “And you’re still angry about that.”  

Liam sighed and took his place beside you. “I suppose I am. You were always stubborn. I don’t know why I thought you would just go along with what I had for you.”  

You leaned back and looked up at the sky, the cloud slowly passing by. “I’ve had this dream. A wonderful husband, a child or two. My husband works aboard for work, disappearing for months but always comes home.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I in this dream of yours?” His tone was playful. 

“Yes. You’re married and have numerous of children.” You rolled your eyes, earning a jab from him.  

He laughed as well until it came to a halt. You hated how peaceful this moment was. And you hated having to tell your dream that was meant to have Shay in it to Liam. 

“I know you’d make a wonderful mother.” Liam started. “But I cannot see you watching your children grow.”  

“Excuse me?”  

“The life as an assassin is a life you cannot escape. We are bound to it. Whether you are a wife, a mother, or a sister, our duty comes first. And assassins... We don’t have the luxury of a future.”  

“It does not have to be that way.”  

“It’s the order of things, we cannot change it.”  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.  

⊰ Chapter 1 ⊰ » » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 3 ⊰

[meowzfordayz]

later

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~400

CW: death content, explicit language

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Hi there! I've been so attached to Sanemi lately and super sad about his past. Can you possibly do a Sanemi x reader, where the reader is comforting him? Thanks 💗

“You deserve to be happy.”

Sanemi chuckles roughly, eyes rolling as he waves off your gentle remark, jaw tightening at the warmth budding in his stomach.

“I’m serious,” you huff, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace, “Don’t run away from me when I’m saying something nice to you!”

“I’m not running away,” he deadpans, mouth twisting into a halfhearted scowl, “But we are going to be late to the meeting,” snorting wryly, “You chose a hell of a time to say something nice.”

“It’s not like I get many opportunities to speak with you,” you counter evenly, “What if you died without a kind memory to recall?”

“Then I’d be unsurprised in the slightest,” he grumbles.

“Sanemi,” you try again, fingertips grazing the flowing sleeve of his haori, “You deserve to be happy.”

He stops abruptly, your body barely avoiding his as you stepside his halted posture, his voice dangerous and pained as he mutters, “Why are you doing this?”

Avoiding each other’s gazes, you clutch your hands to your chest, inhaling deeply, exhaling quietly, arms gradually lowering to your sides.

“Because I want to,” you finally shrug “Because you’re stupid,” you add on, “Because nobody deserves to die alone.”

Because I want to make you happy.

“Well you can do whatever the fuck you want,” he scoffs, “And I’m not fucking stupid,” snarling now, “And how else am I supposed to fucking die?”

“With me?” you murmur tentatively.

“Absolutely not,” he hisses, backtracking as quickly as he jumped, “We’re both Hashira, why the hell would we die together?”

“Could you just let me help you?!” you snap, patience worn thin, “Your asshole act is very convincing, and probably mostly true, but you deserve to be happy, and I’m not ever going to let you forget that.”

“Like I could ever forget a stick up my ass,” he retorts.

Arms crossing, you glower at him, “If I have to be up your ass to make you happy, then I’ll gladly do so.”

“The fuck?!” he shrieks.

“Oh piss off!” you exclaim, “Why is it so hard for you to accept my kindness?”

“Because kindness gets people killed,” he answers immediately.

“Sanemi.”

“What,” he hisses.

“We’re going to miss the meeting.”

“No we’re not,” he sighs loudly, “We’ll continue this later.”

He resumes walking, not bothering to glance behind him, your heart in your throat as you watch his back.

With a soft whisper, you take a step in his direction, “We’ll continue this later?”

He swallows thickly, Yeah uttered fleeting and disgruntled beneath his breath, pace slower than before.

[frozenjokes]

How I Lost My Hand (+ mumbo jumbo mermaid returns to the surface not clickbait???)

“Jimmy said that you were fine, safe, the mafia isn’t after you or whatever, but I’m not going to lie, Grian, all these specifics about where and when and with who and all this build up you’ve made before telling me why half of your hand is gone..” Joel shrugged, discomfort mingling with his anxiety. He, Lizzie, and Grian were all in the car together on the way to the zoo to drop Grian off at his new job after a week of Grian being extremely cagey about the mysterious new injury that had appeared across his hand. Even weirder than half of his fingers being gone was the fact that there was no wound, only a nasty scar that snaked across his hand and continued under the sleeve of his sweater, but Grian had refused to pull it up so Joel could see. It had not been nearly long enough since Joel had last seen Grian for an injury that severe to have happened and then healed, and Joel had no idea what could have possibly happened to him.

Lizzie, in the passenger seat, poked her head around to look at Grian in the back, “I’m happy to be here, flattered even, but I’m also very confused about.. you know.. being needed here. I’m not much use against the mafia, Grian, I will keep a secret for you but under the threat of torture that will change. They don’t even have to threaten me and I’ll crack, I promise.”

“It’s not about the mafia.” Grian cut in before Joel could regale what his own experience being tortured by the mafia would look like, “You know the aliens? The ones that abducted you in highschool or whatever. That Jimmy and I don’t believe you about.”

“Jimmy believes me.”

“He doesn’t. He just feels bad. You were a chronic liar then, and you’re now taking this bit to your grave, that’s what we agreed on.”

“Lizzie believes me!” Joel threw his hands up and off the wheel, to which both Lizzie and Grian lunged forward to force his focus back on the road. “Lizzie also got abducted! Not even a whole year ago!”

“Yes, she’s in on the bit. That’s something she would do. She thinks it’s funny, which it is, at least that’s what Jimmy and I agreed anyway. You almost got us too, Jimmy was a little shaken. Anyway, I believe you now.”

“I am not-” Lizzie stopped short, processing, “Wait what?” Once again Joel was opening his mouth to interrogate, but Grian gave the answers freely.

“Don’t ask me why or how, it was a complete accident, but I think I met them? Your aliens, I mean. And I don’t think I met them, I know I met them, because they’re clones. A completely new Joel and Lizzie, except the Joel can do magic and the Lizzie is blue and a fish person. She bit my hand off. Joel healed it. Despite this the Joel is actually a Grade A prick and the Lizzie is nice, the hand thing was an accident. Scar and one of Scar’s friends was also there, so I can give you Scar’s number if you want to ask him about it, but only if you promise not to use that information for evil. You know what evil means.”

“I- You- Okay, wait a minute! Threatening Scar for being an asshole is not evil because he was being the asshole first. If you two can’t keep your hands off each other then someone else has to step in!”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Lizzie squawked, Joel closing his eyes against the noise, then opening them again when he remembered he was on the road. He honked at a car about to pull out into the intersection in front of him for being a dumbass, clearly Joel was not paying attention and everyone should get out of his way if they intended on living another day.

“I’m still processing the rest-!” Joel struggled to defend himself, mind whirling with this new information. “And I’ve decided you’re lying, this is unbelievable. And Jimmy is in on it, this is some kind of convoluted revenge against Lizzie and I who are not lying.”

Grian was unperturbed. “I’ll call Scar.” Joel and Lizzie were left in a stunned silence as Grian dialed Scar’s number, the line clicking as the call connected. “Hi, Scar, you’re on speaker and I’m in the car with my friends, Joel and Lizzie, telling them what happened to my hand.”

“Wow! You know a Joel and a Lizzie? What a coincidence!” Scar stopped, deadpanning in his shock, “Wait you’re doing what.”

“The Joel and Lizzie that your friend, who I am not going to name, is associated with are clones. That’s what I’ve concluded anyway. The Joel and Lizzie I know are also married and look and sound pretty much the same besides the fact that they’re both human and the Joel doesn’t have a tacky green strand of hair.”

“What?? Joel and Lizzie are clones?”

“My Joel and Lizzie are not clones, they are the originals. They got abducted by aliens.”

Joel interrupted, unable to believe what he was hearing, “You two don’t even have your story straight!”

Scar yelped over the phone, “Grian! Why is Joel in your car?”

“He’s the original Joel!” Grian seethed, apparently not expecting all of this back and forth, “The other evil Joel is a clone! So is the Lizzie that ate my fingers!”

“Ate them?” Lizzie fake gagged, “Gross! I would not do that. If I had to cannibalize anyone I would not go for the fingers, are you kidding?”

“Ah! The Lizzie!” Scar sounded just as surprised to hear Lizzie as he did Joel, which was starting to be extremely confusing.

“I am not-” Lizzie cut herself off, like she wasn’t sure if she should be offended or confused, “I am just Lizzie. There’s only one of me- and if there’s more I am the original! I think. Maybe I’m not. Joel, are we clones?”

“We are not clones!” Joel skidded into the zoo parking lot, tires screeching. He swiveled into a parking space, paying no attention to the lines before throwing the car into park and whirling around on Grian, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bag.

“Thanks for the ride, Joel. Bye, Scar.”

“Wait a minute-” Scar said, but Grian hung up, opening the car door and scooting outside.

“Hey! You get back in the car right this instant, Grian!” Joel rolled down his window in an attempt to grab Grian by his bag, but he ducked out of the way, not looking back.

“This is why I wanted to do this on the ride to work,” Grian shrugged, continuing forward, “Time limit. If you don’t believe me, I don’t care. Reminder that Jimmy is picking me up today.”

“Jimmy- Jimmy is not picking you up! I’m going to call him! We are not done talking, Grian!”

“If you show up, I am not getting in your car.” Grian waved, and despite Joel yelling several expletives his way, Grian did not turn around. Joel huffed, slumping in his seat. Lizzie was still staring after Grian, a look of incredulous bafflement clear on her face.

“What a cunt!”

Joel laughed, shaking his head. “Right?”

***

‘It’s hot. It’s hot up here. Why did I let you convince me to go to the surface. This sucks. I knew this would suck. Humans can’t be that interesting, you must be mistaken about their language. They’re pests, they don’t need complex systems of communication to be pests.’

Mumbo’s fins flicked with increasing frequency at his companion’s complaining, irritation with each other seeming to be a new facet of their relationship.

‘It will get hotter. At this rate, I don’t care if you shrivel.’ Mumbo aimed a quick blow at Atlas’ face with his tail, but when it came to fine motor skills, Atlas had him beat, ducking out of the way far before Mumbo’s fins landed at the spot his companion had been moments before. If only they were that fast when it came to swimming; Altas could propel themself quickly at short distances, but in a journey like this, they were agonizingly slow. Of course, they could probably go quite a bit faster than the pace they had stubbornly set, but Mumbo had convinced himself Atlas was doing this specifically to piss him off. Though, when it came to long distance travel, Atlas was no stranger. They were born much further north, where the water was freezing and the land was white and gray. Northern mermaids lived much closer to the surface because the human communities were much smaller, much more spread apart, but regardless, with the northern mermaids living so close to the surface, they tended to encounter humans directly more often. Mermaids up north were massive because of the cold, physically tougher as well, and more aggressive, feuding with the human populations instead of running from them like so many other mers had. Mumbo admired them for that, though Atlas had other opinions.

They took the shape of an octopus, covered head to tail tip in an odd sort of lichen or sea-plant or- Mumbo wasn’t really sure what it was, but Atlas was fond of it, cultivating, breeding, and strengthening it to survive harsh conditions. Mumbo was honestly a little afraid of it, and most other mers found it to be a pest, given it stuck to everything and spread everywhere Altas went. Mumbo wondered if it would survive the surface, and silently hoped it wouldn’t. But under the lichen, Altas’ skin and scales were peppered in scars, some hunting injuries, but most from human aggression, machines and weapons that punctured effortlessly through mermaid skin.

‘We’re being slaughtered,’ Atlas had said, and while they couldn’t emote in the same way the other mers could, it wasn’t difficult to tell how they felt, ‘Decades ago, it didn’t matter. Human tools could not stand up to mer strength.’ They had addressed a large group of mers then, and distinctly he recalled not being able to tell if this was a call to action or a word of warning. He still didn’t know.

Atlas had traveled a long way to get to Mumbo’s pod, along the way discovering a passion for study, language holding their particular interest. They had essentially brute force learned Mumbo’s language on the way down, shocked to discover there was even more than one, but that knowledge had lit a fire in Atlas regardless, leading them to take a shine to travel, wanting to see more mers, learn more languages, give those languages names. Perhaps fittingly, Atlas had dubbed their birth language Northern, and they called Mumbo’s Middle North. Apparently they’d traveled so far south that the water had gotten cold again, but Atlas knew they weren’t in the same place because the mermaids down south did not speak the same language, though fascinatingly, they looked quite a bit like the northern mers.

Apparently though, Atlas quite liked ‘Middle North’ or at least the region. Mumbo got the sense it was because they got to stay close to home without the immediate threat of human interference, and Atlas usually said they liked the temperature of this region, which Mumbo didn’t doubt to be true. Regardless, after many years of traveling and language learning, Atlas had decided to settle down for a while and teach the things they had learned to anyone who might listen. For the most part though, mers found Atlas to be exceptionally odd, and not in a good way.

Atlas had two things going for them, that being they were massive and that they were old. Well- Mumbo didn’t actually know how old Atlas was, but given the size and the amount of travel, many mers assumed very.

Mers were drawn to Atlas because of their size, then drawn away by the everything else. Atlas was not the easiest mer to get along with, and by not easy, Mumbo meant they were kind of an asshole. Being friends for so long, Mumbo got the sense Atlas’ bluntness was more of a cultural trait than anything, but Altas didn’t even try to play nice with anyone they didn’t respect, and respect was earned. Atlas cared very little for social hierarchies, jewelry, accessories, or anything else that indicated status, outwardly irritated by pastimes they considered impractical or vain. Mumbo had watched in horror as Atlas grabbed and pulled on several different mers’ accessories, getting into countless physical fights that they always won with minimal injuries, their adversaries left with the consolation prize of a mouthful of lichen.

Atlas was aggressive with their opinions and had the size and strength to back it up, establishing themself at the top of the pecking order they cared so little for in the first place. However, after the initial conflict with Atlas sometimes taking on three or four mermaids at a time, things calmed down a little. Occasionally a group of mers would try and destroy Atlas’ gardens of lichen in petty revenge, but they were rarely successful, even in the most thorough of cases. Regardless, Atlas’ lichen was sticky, and given its gentle bioluminescence.. well, Atlas had no trouble finding the culprits. Mumbo had watched Atlas terrorize the settlement he lived in for quite a while from the sidelines, staying far out of their way.

Even then, Mumbo did not escape Atlas’ attention.

Atlas had an incredibly unnerving habit of staring, which was a little bit different from human staring, but conceptually the same.. Just sitting there.. watching.. You always knew it was Atlas too because they almost clicked with an accent, or at least had enough of a distinct way of doing it that it was easy to tell who was around. Altas liked to watch Mumbo often, and in hindsight this was probably because Mumbo was also a freak of nature, but before they had met properly Mumbo was certain he was Altas’ next victim.

But Atlas never told him off, trilling their amusement when Mumbo said respectfully that he did not want to associate even a little bit. After that small interaction, Mumbo thought he was good to go, but Atlas did not leave, and Mumbo was about to learn they were very persistent.

Nearly by force, Atlas befriended him. In his defense, very few mers were interested in Mumbo’s hobbies, and even as independent as Mumbo tended to be (LYING), he quite enjoyed the attention. Part of him wondered if Atlas was drawn to him because he was often stationary, spending most of his days tinkering. Relevant because Atlas had a lot to say and a lot of stories to tell, and as much as Mumbo was apprehensive about Atlas’ presence, he also really liked listening to them. After a while, he got the sense that Atlas was a little lonely as well, but lonely for the mers they couldn’t go back to.

Atlas wasn’t always around, and neither was Mumbo, but when their paths crossed, they had plenty to share with each other. It was a little funny the way they exchanged news; while both of them had mild interest in what the other had to say, they were far more interested in their own stories, a sentiment both of them understood without speaking it aloud, so they ended up taking turns in a way that was quite rigid, but it worked for them. However, this did not stop the two of them from attempting to ‘steal turns,’ grabbing each other’s attention with cliffhanger mentions of the other’s fixations, so that they couldn’t help but forfeit their next turn in order to know more. Mumbo enjoyed playing this game, and he had sufficiently won with the subject of his humans; not the mermaid-human bond he’d managed to form or even their intelligence, but their language.

Atlas was floored by the mere idea of humanity having a complex language; every animal communicated, but Atlas had never taken the senseless babbling of humans to mean more than the chittering of [animals Mumbo did not know, nor have a word for in Middle North]. They wondered out loud if this was the reason humanity advanced technologically so quickly, and if mermaids could do the same thing if they got over their aversion to travel and figured out how to talk to each other (said with great bitterness, Atlas was frustrated about this subject even with their own people). Mumbo replied simply that he didn’t know, but that Atlas could find out for themself if they wanted to go to the surface, or more specifically, meet the mermaid that spoke the human language and Middle North. Mumbo left his story there, allowing Atlas their turn. They forfeited it immediately.

Which led them to now, after some time of course, neither of them were itching to go to the surface right away, and Mumbo wanted to take some time away, catch up with friends and appreciate his life in the deep, because really, as much as the surface caught his allure, he loved being home, and it had been a long while since he’d let himself stay.

However, now, learning that Atlas was an abysmal travel partner, Mumbo was about two seconds from biting them at any given moment. Even with the promise of studying human language, Atlas hadn’t necessarily wanted to come, most of the reason being that they fucking hated humanity, which, fair, yeah, Mumbo didn’t blame them, however, his humans were cool, and Mumbo was so excited by the prospect of getting to show them off to someone else, he was ready to say anything to get Atlas to come with, failing to remember that at the slightest discomfort, Atlas was a certified pain in the ass.

Oh well. It would be a matter of days before Atlas got used to the heat, at least enough to stop whining about it, and after that, they’d get everything they wanted. Well. If Etho happened to be a mermaid at the right time that is, but Mumbo would cross that bridge when he got there.

[distracteddream]

Ooooh, What They Didn't Say plz 👉👈

I am so close to trashing this one entirely. I’m trying to save it but IDK. This is a post-Roxxcart divorce that was supposed end with a feelings realization/reconciliation but it’s not coming together. I love it but I also don’t know how to write it now. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Basically Loki and Mobius had a sexual relationship pre-Roxxcart. It was to follow canon, including the canon dialogue/scenes, and then deviate. But now I don’t like it because I’m just rehashing canon and the deviation doesn’t work anymore.

With that in mind, here’s a good chunk of it, in case I ended up trashing the whole thing.

He should have known better. Having any interest in a Variant beyond their impact on the Sacred Timeline was well outside the scope of acceptable behavior for an agent. To fraternize with one, if Mobius lied to himself that it was only fraternization and nothing else? Pruning would be the best he could hope for.

And to do so with a Loki? Mobius isn’t quite sure if he’s more mad at himself or at Loki. Probably both equally. He knew what Lokis were like and yet he had hoped… Mobius didn’t know what exactly he’d hoped but it probably didn’t include this disappointment he felt in himself.

Loki starts struggling behind him and Mobius swallows down his bitterness at the thought that Loki is fighting to get back to that Variant.

He chokes on that bitterness as he walks them to an empty Time Theater.

“Well?” Mobius asks.

“Well what?” comes Loki’s snapped reply.

“I know you got some quip you’re dying to say.”

“I don’t have a quip,” Loki lies. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Come on,” Mobius prods. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. If for no other reason than the presence of the two Minutemen who will overhear everything. But if Loki really has nothing to say to him now…

“By the way, I should have an equal amount of security. This is insulting!”

Mobius can’t keep a straightface at that. Insulting? Loki is upset. Not because he’s been captured again. Not because he’s been separated from the Variant. Not because he behaved like a capital A asshole to Mobius. No, Loki is upset because he’s insulted that his ego is taking a hit! Mobius would find it hilarious if it didn’t cut so deeply.

“You just can’t help yourself,” Mobius says, as much to himself as to Loki.

“You betrayed me!”

Unhinged. Mobius knows Loki must be absolutely unhinged to say such a thing to him. And Mobius might be just as unhinged, giving into his pettiness as he snaps back. “You betrayed me!”

“Grow up!” comes the frustrated growl over his shoulder.

“You grow up!” Great. Now they both sound unhinged. And juvenile. The doors of the Time Theater open and Mobius has never been so glad he planned in advance for something. He’d wanted nothing more than to find Loki after Roxxcart, but now that he has, Mobius can’t wait to get rid of him for a little while.

But on his terms this time.

“You know,” Mobius starts, strategically choosing his words. “It occurs to me that you’re not really the God of Mischief.”

“Oh, here it comes,” Loki mocks as he tries to tug himself free of the Minutemen. “The folksy dopey insult from the folksy dope.”

Mobius is glad he’s on the other side of the room. Words will hurt Loki more than physical pain ever would - not that Mobius didn’t conveniently arrange for a bit of that too. No, he lets Loki’s barb land and roll off him. The mockery can’t hurt anymore than Mobius already does. But two can play that game. Loki seems to have forgotten that.

“What am I?” Loki asks, still incapable of shutting up once he starts. “The God of Self-Sabotage, yeah? The God of Backstabbing?”

Mobius would agree with both of those at the moment, but he doesn’t take Loki’s bait. If Mobius hopes to genuinely teach Loki a lesson, then he isn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction of his self-fulfilling prophecy.

His mask is fully in place with his TemPad in hand. Mobius looks Loki dead in the eyes. “Just kind of an asshole. And a bad friend.”

Loki freezes, surprise clear on his face as he looks at Mobius. A precise strike, meant to do the most damage and throw Loki off. No one, not even his own mother, knows Loki like Mobius does. They both know it. With just a few words, Mobius cuts him down and lets Loki feel the way he always makes others feel.

Mobius can’t lie that he does feel the tiniest bit of perverse pleasure in hurting Loki back.

“Yeah, chew on that for a bit,” Mobius tells him. He nods at the Minutemen. “Alright, it’s ready.”

The door for the Time Cell opens and Loki balks. “What is this?” He looks back to Mobius for explanation, as though he expects Mobius to hold his hand through it.

The thought makes Mobius go numb. “You’ll see.”

Loki fights against the Minutemen for real now. Mobius almost feels sorry for him.

“Mobius!”

Mobius sighs and gives in. He should have known Loki wouldn’t go quietly after that. And part of him is dying to know what Loki will say which only feeds into his irritation. “Okay. No, no, no. Let him,” Mobius calls to stop the Minutemen. “One last desperate trick from the desperate trickster. Go ahead.”

“The TVA is lying to you.”

Mobius cannot believe what he’s hearing. Well, of course not. How did he ever believe anything Loki ever said to him? Ever whispered intimately in his ear? The TVA isn’t the one lying to him but someone in this room certainly has been. Mobius huffs a laugh. They’re both fools but at least he’s realized that. Hopefully this little exercise will give Loki the same realization.

Mobius gestures to the Time Cell door, a smile on his face. “Put him in.”

[closetnerd62]

Punch-drunk and in Love

A Lautski fic

Takes place after abstinence camp when Steph and Pete go back to school

Author’s note: this is my first fic so pls be gentle and I have an idea for a pt.2 so lmk if there’s any interest thanks!

Eyes of teenagers followed as Stephanie Lauter trudged through the halls of Hatchetfield High. She had always hated back to school time but after the rumors of last year, things had only gotten worse for her.

“Hey Steph, has the body count reached triple digits yet?”

“Or did Abstinence Camp do you some good?” girls jeered at her.

How original. Steph had been brushing off comments for years but slowly they had

begun to wear her down.

—

As she stumbled into her English class she was greeted by a familiar face. Peter Spankoffski. On account of Stephanie’s father confiscating her phone after her return from camp, the two had not been able to keep in touch over the two weeks between camp and school. Even so, a shy, but obvious smile crept across Pete’s face as she sat down next to him.

“For a minute there I thought you were gonna ditch me for the cool kids.” Pete laughed, hitting Steph with his signature goofy grin.

“After we fought off a sex-hating forest demon together? Fat chance, Spankoffski.” The two had fallen right back in rhythm with each other. Steph had missed this.

Struggling, as usual, to pay attention to her teacher, Steph found herself watching Peter for most of the class period. The way he took notes despite it only being the first day, the surprising neatness of his handwriting scrawled on the page, the way he glanced over at her for a split second sometimes. She quickly pulled her gaze away each time he caught her staring, trying hard to hide her blushing.

At the end of the class period she noticed him fidgeting, like he was hyping himself up for something. As the bell rang and the pair gathered their belongings to go to there next class, she was just about to say goodbye when-

“Hey Steph,” Pete mumbled, “would you mind meeting me out by the flagpole after school? I’ve kind of got something I want to talk to you about.”

“Anything for you Pete.” She teased as they went their separate ways.

–

“Well if it isn’t everyone’s favorite bad girl, Stephanie Lauter.” Max Jagerman approached

Steph as she waited by the flagpole. In retrospect she can’t remember why she was ever friends with the asshole. She knew he sucked, but after she had gotten dropped from the popular crowd over the rumors last year? God, had he gotten worse. “You think you could squeeze me in for a blowie? I know you’ve got a busy rotation.”

“Shut up Jagerman.” She spat back. Cheeks getting hot. It was getting harder and harder not to take what people said to heart.

“Calm down Sweetheart. I’m just saying, if you’re giving em out so much, I wanna sign up early, make sure I get on that list.”

“She said shut up Jagerman.” Peter appeared behind Steph. His voice was practically a squeak. Steph could feel him, tense, beside her. Steph had seen him get bullied by Max for years, she knew how Peter was terrified of him. But there he was.

“Oh! I see Petey here beat me to it. Don’t worry you don’t have to defend her just because she got you off once, she’s a little SLUT!”

Before anyone knew what was happening Peter swung, fist colliding with Max’s face. A mix of rage and embarrassment for allowing a nerd like Peter to even land a punch fueled Max. He came back at Pete, pounding him over and over again. Steph could see the blood spout from his nose. Without thinking she too swung at the bully, landing her punch right on his temple. Jagerman collapsed, out cold.

Stephanie rushed towards Pete, cradling his head.

“Let’s get you out of here, before he comes too. I have first aid supplies at my house.” Stephanie gently led Peter to her car.

–

Steph burst through her front door, Peter’s arm slung over her shoulder as she ushered him into the bathroom and sat him on the edge of the bathtub, leaned against the wall. After scouring for band aids and antiseptic, she straddled the tub’s edge and began to tend his wounds. She tenderly wiped the blood from his face, helped him wash his hands, and cleaned the lacerations that covered his face. Aside from some soft groans at the sting of the antiseptic, Pete didn’t say much. Just stared at Steph in a dazed wonder. It wasn’t until she was wrapping and bandaging that he spoke up.

“You’re really pretty.” he murmured in a punch-drunken stupor. Steph couldn’t help but giggle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” A stupid smile spread across his face. Steph blushed.“I really wanna kiss you again.” he blurted. Steph froze for just a second. Ever since camp she had missed the boy, missed his hair, missed his goofy grin, missed his stupid suspenders, missed their connection, the way things just flowed when she was with him, the way she felt she could be herself. Although she hadn’t been able to admit it to herself, much less say it out loud, she yearned to see his face again, to have him back in her life, to have his lips back on hers.

“Let’s get you some rest.” She said with a gentle smile as she led him to the couch. As she watched the light rise and fall of his chest as he drifted to sleep, she couldn’t help but think, maybe this year won’t be so bad.

[justagalwhowrites]

this isn’t a criticism on you. you’re amazing and i adore you and i think you’re an incredibly talented writer. why is joel so mean all through lavender like he isn’t nice at all even in the beginning??? girl stand up, this man is not nice to you, find someone who treats you well! he’s always like i’m sorry for being a dick :( ok then stop being a dick then

OMG Hi Bestie!

I totally get what you're saying lol Lavender Joel is a tough one! I'm putting the rest below a cut because oh my GOD I wrote a lot, I have a chronic case of cannotshutthefuckupitis and it's incurable.

While I definitely get what you're saying, I do disagree in that I don't think he's an asshole at the beginning, at least not totally. He has his stumbling block of "this is wrong, I never should have done this" after they sleep together and has his dick moment at the bar. He struggles because of Doc's relationship to his daughter and the fact that the last time Joel had any kind of relationship with a woman it was Sarah's mom and I think he kind of sees himself as a potentially life ruining force for someone he adores and respects so much and he desperately doesn't want to be that for her. Before they're together he's looking out for her (saving her from the asshole guy, having her stay with him, doing little things like bringing her the pens when she's low on ink and making sure she drinks water because I think Joel's love language is acts of service) and once he lets himself love her, I think he's a great partner (though I could definitely be biased because I wrote him and we don't see a ton of their relationship together in the fic!) He supports her interests and ambitions, is so excited for and proud of her achievements, understands her struggles and cares for her through them. He just is keenly aware of the fact that he's not a traditionally successful person and he perpetually thinks she can do better than him. Eventually, he falls victim to that line of thinking and tries to do the "right thing" by breaking up with her.

With the breakup, I think Joel always kind of planned it to be a temporary thing - assuming Doc didn't find someone better for her while she was in med school, anyway. His hope was, at the back of his mind, once she went to Harvard or Yale or some other fancy school and she got matched for residency, Sarah would be off at college, Tommy would be more stable and he could be in a position to pick up and move to wherever she was and they could try again. He just couldn't bear to see her dictating her life around him and selling herself short because of his limitations. His greatest hope was for Doc and Sarah both to reach their full potential and do the things he knew they were capable of without him holding them back. If she met someone else and settled down then, well, it would hurt but he'd be happy for her, assuming it was someone who he thought was worthy (a high bar but it wasn't one he cleared.)

And thennnn there's the outbreak lol

Post-outbreak Joel is another matter ENTIRELY and I've talked about my interpretation of Joel's character a lot BUT it boils down to this: Joel is too traumatized to fully, properly love anyone. Not that trauma inherently keeps you from loving someone but Joel has this really horrible storm of circumstances around his trauma that makes it basically impossible. The biggest one is that the person he loved most in the world died in his arms and he couldn't handle that so he tried to die, too. To the basic parts of his brain - the parts that keep him alive, logical or otherwise - the association has been made: love will kill you. Just like someone who may have been in an awful car accident might have a hell of a time getting behind the wheel again, he can't just let himself love someone. Add that to the fact that the QZ is a state of constant retraumatization for Joel - his daughter died at the hands of a military force and he lives in a city controlled by the military, his job often involves him carrying the bodies of dead children - he can't move past the thing that gave him that association to begin with. The problem is, he already loved Doc. That doesn't just go away. So his poor trauma-addled brain sees her as a threat to his survival and is constantly and instinctually trying to push her away. He doesn't want to be doing these things. He clings so hard to her when he first gets to the QZ because what he wants is to be with her. The trauma just doesn't allow it. The reason it works out when it does is that he's removed from the state of retraumatization and put into a situation where he has a lot more control than he had in his daily life in the QZ and he was finally confronted with the fact that losing her would kill him, regardless of how near or far she is.

You are right, though, that Doc really did not have a spine when it comes to Joel (or a lot of things, really) but that was kind of by design. She accepts his treatment because of her own baggage. Being abandoned by her parents in infancy, being treated with a certain level of resentment by her grandmother (who loved her but really didn't want to be the one raising her), her best friend dying by suicide in her teens, she has developed this complex that she is supremely unwanted and unworthy. She feels like everything she does needs to justify her existence because she doesn't inherently have a reason to be there. Her whole life, she's been an inconvenience at best and she's keenly aware of that fact and she spends her whole life trying to make up for it (just look at her career choices - always looking to care for others.) While Joel never thought he was worthy of her, she never thought she was worthy of him, either. But instead of trying to push him away, she did everything she could to endear herself to him, including tolerate his mistreatment because she doesn't realize that she deserves better.

Joel and Doc are very much two sides of the same coin (which was the point of the fic!) in that they have a lot of the same trauma. The feelings of being unworthy from before, the loss after. But when they both lost everything, Doc took the path of "cling to everyone I love as hard as I can" when it came to surviving while Joel took the track of "push everyone away and I won't be at risk." They pick these paths right at the beginning, with Joel choosing suicide when he loses everything and Doc choosing to keep going because she knows Joel would want her to. In the end, when they're in a place where they're safe and their basic needs are being met, they can heal and have a relationship that's far healthier.

ANYWAY lol I'm sure you didn't want an entire dissertation about my interpretation of Joel but here we are! I hope this is some insight into why I wrote him the way I did. It's mainly that trauma is a hell of a drug and Joel got a hell of a dose of it.

Thank you for asking, bestie! Love you!

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

These have been sitting in my inbox for a while, and I want to apologize, because I am a world champion at procrastination. I actually have quite a few asks that I’ve never responded to, and I feel like such an asshole. If you sent an ask and I never responded, PLEASE don’t think I’m ignoring you or I don’t care; I just have this thing where I get distracted very easily and it turns into procrastination. I really cherish all the love jam packed into those tiny little asks.

But these are the most recent ones, and they’re kind of in the same vein. I really should make a narrated process video of some sort one day. I do have something like that on patreon right now, but it’s over a year old, and my process has changed since then. But for now, I’ll try to answer these as best I can!

First of all, thank you!! This ain’t a question but I’ll go on a spiel anyway. I use a dark pencil for outlining, and I try to emphasize deeper/darker areas with both pressure (pressing down harder on the pencil), and overall size of the line/mark/whatever. These spots are typically the upper eyelid, nostrils, corners of mouth, inner ear, bottom/roots of pieces of hair, spots where clothing wrinkles originate, that sort of thing. Oftentimes I’ll emphasize the “underside” of objects or shapes too.

As for time for a drawing, it varies a lot. The lengthiest thing I work on is commissions. The initial light sketch for a comm can actually take a while, depending on the drawing. 2 full characters together requires a lot of planning for the poses and stuff. So I might spend an hour, 2 hours if I’m really struggling, just making the sketch for a 2 full body character drawing. Then I’ll take maybe 5 or 7 hours to do the rest? That’s a guess, I don’t really keep track. Usually I’ll do the sketch one day, and the next day I’ll spend all or most of the work day just finishing the drawing. I consider one of those “a days work”. Hopefully that made sense! 

The images of my drawings are clean because I scan them! After I scan them, I do a levels adjustment in photoshop. (I struggle taking pics with my phone, even though it has a nice camera 🥲I don’t think I could ever get close to the way they look now without a scanner) 

As for how I make them look clean on paper, I think it’s a combination of two things: the pencil I do the initial sketch with is substantially lighter than the one I outline with. So when I’m outlining/rendering out the drawing, the sketch lines sort of fall back and aren't as noticeable. Secondly, I use a click eraser to erase the sketch lines as I go. And I take my time and use a lot of patience and prioritize neatness/details. This is especially the case with comms. With those I give 110%. For my own personal doodles, I don’t focus on making them as neat, and instead scribble around with my pencil to get the values I want, without fretting over each individual shape to make sure it makes sense. 

I hope this answers your questions okay! I really should make some sort of video but I don’t have a lot of time right now. Thank you for your asks and kind words!!

[changeling-fae]

Made another MW Rook because I love the MW. Her name is Cordelia Ingellvar, necromancer obviously.

My idea for her origins is I think there was an unscrupulous necromancer deep in the necropolis experimenting on bodies, mostly kidnapped orphans and the poor, who wanted to see if he could do a full organ transplant on his victims and bring them back to life (very Frankenstein/that serial killer in DA2).

Cordelia was his final experiment before he was caught and killed by a Watcher who discovered him. But essentially Cordelia’s infant body was given organs from other people and the Frankenstein necromancer brought her back to life but just barely.

That skeleton we find that seems to be connected to MW Rook says “need to save the girl with the grave” so I headcanon he was the Watcher that stopped the experiments.

He was injured in the scuffle though and the necromancer had been hiding further down in the necropolis, less explored, so the Watcher struggled on his way back.

The dead, spirits, and shades were stalking him and he is killed while trekking back with her.

A wisp of Hope had also been following and like a Wynne situation, cohabitated with her to keep her alive. The necropolis at this point shuffled around again and she ends up in the gardens where she’s found by undead caretakers who bring her to other Watchers.

They’re able to piece together what happened to her thanks to help from spirits, and Vorgoth is tasked with watching her in case there’s more forbidden magic at work or anything.

She grew up kind of sickly as a result though (given that it was a wisp helping her and not a full fledge spirit) and it was even thought she might not make it to adulthood, although obviously defied expectations. She’s also cooler to the touch and feels cold easily, so she layers up most times (also to hide her autopsy scars).

I’m playing her more anxious, polite, and less confident than my last MW Rook (Saffi).

She has an interest in medicinal practices, botany, and some alchemy.

Gonna romance Emmrich and Lucanis will be her bestie (awkward introverts unite).

She’s been very polite to Solas and it makes him come across as more of an asshole as a result, lol.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

The Look Of Terror

Summary: Peter Parker x Fe!Reader -> You joined Shield and when you're placed under a certain Team Leader, Peter can't help but worry about you.

Disclaimer: This is more platonic co-worker vibes, I think? Rather than romance? But there is romance in it? Fluff, angst, Peter takes care of the reader. Description of a panic attack, kidnapping, bombs and an asshole of a Team Leader. I'm a little unsure about this one. Comment if you'd like a Part 2???

You were new to the team. 

It was no surprise since you joined a week late into the program that your Team Leader pushed you harder than the rest of them. But you were okay with it, most of the time. In the times where you weren’t, you’d spend a couple hours in the library reading of worlds that didn’t exist - or at least, you hoped didn’t exist. Because, for as much as seeing a fire-breathing dragon would be cool, it could also destroy most of the population of New York in one breath. 

It was six months into the program that Peter finally saw you. 

Not that you had noticed. 

He saw you on your first day of arrival. He heard your name mentioned in passing and that was as far as it went. Until the training rooms had to be pushed into one due to a leak in the women’s bathroom. It was then that you caught Peter’s eye. 

But not because of your looks, although he didn’t fail to notice your beauty. But because of the familiar look in your eyes. 

It took him a while to figure it out; what exactly the look was in the beginning, he couldn’t be too sure. 

For over a month, he studied you. 

You weren’t a part of his team. In fact, you were with a whole other training division. But in the days when he saw you, he studied you as best as he could before it could become border-line creepy. 

He saw you talk to people, but they never became friends with you. You were happy to help out people when they were struggling but most times, you were left on your own. Whilst other groups studied the Shield Handbook together, cutting the 500 page manual into respectable chunks, you sat on your own in the corner. A few people would look over to you and snigger or sneer. One trainee had said aloud about asking you to join them but everyone else shut the idea down right away. You were the rookie. 

What baffled Peter was the fact that the group of trainees, who refused to collaborate with you, were rookie’s too. 

Then, one day, he pulled your file. 

You had the highest test score out of your group. You were intelligent and smart. You had enough strength training to be transferred into a higher level but due to your qualifying status, you would only move up when the rest of the rookie’s did, too. 

So, after all of this, when he found you in the library alone one night, he decided to talk to you. 

“You must know that thing like the back of your hand.” 

Peter saw you jump a little and instantly regretted not making himself known to you sooner. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, no. That’s fine. I-I should be heading home now, anyway.”

“You’ve finished that book three times this week alone. Shouldn’t you be out with the others having a…drink or something?”

“Maybe, but…I kind of prefer my solitude.”

“Ah, the mysterious lonesome type?”

“Some may beg to differ.”

“I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“You’re a part of Abbot's team, aren’t you?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I’ve seen your file.”

“You pulled my file?”

“That and I’ve seen him train you twice a week when all agents share the training room.”

A look of realisation crossed over your face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, you’re Agent Parker.”

“Please, call me Peter. Everyone else does.”

“By the handbook says-”

“That all employees refer to their Team Leaders by their working title.” Peter sounded off. “That was something written by Fury to keep HR happy. To be honest, I’ve never really liked it. You’re meant to be a team, and how can that happen if agents are too busy worrying about calling their team leader by their official title.”

“You have a point, but Abbot-”

“Drill it into you.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Well, if you ever need anyone to vent to, you can talk to me.”

“Thank you.” Then after a moment of consideration you asked; “Why you?”

Peter nodded. “I worked with Abbot before Barton came back. I’ve seen how he can train those in his team. I’ve also seen that your group doesn’t exactly seem to strive for trust. It can be hard, working alone. Believe me, I would know.”

“Well, thank you.”

The next day, as you sat alone in the cafeteria, you were slightly startled to find Peter place his food tray down in front of you. “May I?”

“G-Go ahead.”

It shocked you a little; how much Peter was trying to talk to you. By this point, you had been in the program almost six months and no one, other than Abbot when he was barking orders, bothered to try and interact with you - on any scale of capacity. 

And, for the following two weeks, it continued to happen. 

Peter would sit down with you in the cafeteria whenever you had a break from training together. He would join you in the library on late nights when he had to make test scores and you were going over the handbook once more. 

But it wasn’t until one evening when Peter noticed you had been a bit off for a couple of days, that he finally asked you what he’d been dying to ask you for weeks. 

There was a distant look in your eyes. Like as if something had crept its way out of the locked box you kept it sealed in, and was slowly making its way to the front of your brain. 

“What happened?”

It took you a moment to adjust back to reality before you could finally hear Peter’s question. 

“What?”

“What happened?”

“When?”

“Before you joined the programme.”

Peter could see you studying him before he saw a wall go up in front of your eyes. “Nothing.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I already told you why I joined Shield.”

Peter said your name, “I know the look of a horrible memory when I see it. What-”

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Peter. So, can you please just drop it?”

“Yes, sorry.”

You pulled the handbook back in front of you and began to skim through it again and again and again. 

Except, that wall that your build would soon crumble, even as you fought for it to stay standing. 

Three weeks later, and not saying a word to Peter, you found yourself in a training day that Abbot had set up without telling anyone. 

“You’re gonna have to stay on your toes. It’s not easy out there, so, first up!” 

Your name was called. 

Others were called after you and you were given five minutes to understand your mission. And it took everything in you not to stop breathing. 

As Peter made his way down to the training room, he found a “friendly” competition. The other Team Leaders had decided to get involved this time round and people were cheering and chanting and others were completely silent. 

And only then did he understand why. 

In the centre of the crowd, knelt three people and in the middle of them was you. 

No one else noticed, but Peter did. 

Your hands, despite the composure you were holding, were beginning to shake. Your eyes seemed glossier than the last time he had seen you and your breathing wasn’t like anyone else's. It was shattered. 

And, as much as he wanted to stop what was happening, he knew if he did, it would probably make it worse. 

Less than 30 seconds later, you were finished on the task in front of you and you stood back. 

“Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds!” Abbot called out your time. 

Peter watched as you turned your back and removed some of the equipment from your body before pushing your way to the back of the crowd. He rounded the corner of the crowd, but he couldn’t find you. 

A few minutes later, he watched as Abbot awarded one of the Rookie’s a gift-card of some kind and a medal. 

“Okay, that’s it for today! See you tomorrow!”

But you were the only one to leave. 

And Peter was hot on your train. 

From the moment you were given your task, your breathing was hitched in your chest and you couldn’t just quite fill your lungs with enough air to stop them from beating against your heart rapidly. 

Throughout the seven and a half minutes it took you to complete the task Abbot had given to you, you had been slowly losing clear vision due to the tears of old memories ripping their way into your mind. 

And once time had finally been called, you just had to force yourself to hold out a little bit longer. 

But, when your legs began to give out on you, you rushed to find a wall to support you. 

And, you did, for a moment. 

Your breathing was unsteady and out of control. Your head felt like it was spinning and you were going to throw up, all the while you could feel every single particle of blood in your body trying to fight its way into and through your heart. 

In a hazy distance, you heard someone call your name and you tried your best to focus and remain in control, but it didn’t work. 

It wasn’t until you heard a door click open behind you and a steady hand lead you inside that you sank to the floor in a weak attempt to try and ground your emotions. 

“Hey, look at me.”

You looked up and recognised the person who had helped you into the room. 

Peter.

You couldn’t speak. So Peter tried his best to calm you. 

“Just focus on my voice. Can you do that? It’s going to be okay. No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. I need you to keep looking at me. Here, pass me your hand.”

Peter took your trembling hand in his and held it against his heart. 

“I need you to try and focus on the beats. Can you do that for me?”

It took you a moment, but when Peter pressed his hand over yours so it pushed further into his chest, you finally felt his heartbeat against your palm. 

You tried your best to keep track of them, counting each one as they came. 

“Okay, good. Now, can you follow my breaths?”

You tried your best to follow his breaths. Breathing in with him, and breathing out just the same. 

It took a while but eventually your breathing returned, though it pained your chest a little when you did take in a deep breath. 

At some point, Peter had moved to sit beside you, placing an arm around you, yet still holding your hand against his chest. 

You didn’t know how long had passed before Peter spoke. It both felt instant and as if forever had passed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

You didn’t want to recount, just yet. You didn’t want to remember, just yet. 

Eventually the light in the room dimmed and you found yourself standing. Peter had taken off his jumper before placing it on you. He had felt you shivering for the last hour but every time he went to move and give you his zip-neck jumper, he felt your hand hold him tighter not wishing him to move. 

At some point, you found yourself inside of your home with Peter by your side, switching the kettle on without having to ask which is your favourite mug. 

Peter didn’t say anything. He just let you sit by your kitchen island and stare at your hands for as long as you needed. 

“It all started about two years ago.” you started, without even meaning to. “I, uh, I had been working the night shift. I worked in an emergency vet surgery. Anyway, one night, two guys came in. They said they had a horse outside that was giving birth but they couldn’t deliver the foul. It wasn’t rare that we got cases like this, so I grabbed my bag and rushed outside. But, instead of a horse trailer with a labouring mare, I found myself being carted off to a farm ten miles out of town.”

Peter slid the freshly made tea across to you before sitting down on one of the stools allowing the corner of the island to come between the both of you. 

“I had…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

You gave Peter a small nod, too emotionally exhausted to try and fight. 

You took a breath. “I had…found myself on a farm and all I remembered was getting hit over the head and when I woke up I was strapped into a ticking bomb.”

You recounted everything to Peter, from the moment when you woke up and what was going through your head, to managing to find your medical bag which they hadn’t hid well, if at all. And, how, from that, you had tried your best to get out and stop the bomb from going off whilst it was still attached to you. 

The fact that you had, by some miracle, managed to get away before it went off and blew up the barn was beyond you. But once Barton had found out, he wanted you in Shield. You had most of the medical training and with some training, you could become a major asset within Shield, helping eventually train medics in the organisation - even if you had started out as a Vet. 

It was safe to say Peter was pissed about Abbot's actions. 

Hell, it was even in the handbook and probably within the file that Abbot would have full access to since he was your Team Leader. 

You, under no circumstance, were to be put into a situation like you had been put in just hours earlier until you had clearance from a licensed medical therapist. And, after a few questions, Peter found that you hadn’t. 

Yes, you had clearance to train. You had clearance to practise. But when it came to something you had been so close with facing yourself? No. 

Again, time passed and before you knew it, you had come back around and your wall had slowly started to build back up. 

“I should probably go to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You tried to assure him. 

Eventually, Peter got up to leave but looking down at your top, you called out to him. 

“Sorry, here’s your top.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Peter turned to leave once again but then turned back. “Oh, here…just in case.”

You looked down and found Peter’s card. It contained his name, office address and his phone number. 

“If Abbot tries something like today again…”

“I’ll be sure to call.” you nodded, though Peter feared that what you were saying had no meaning. That you would continue through it, pushing your emotions against your brick wall as hard as you could before you broke again. 

“I mean it, Y/N. He shouldn’t have done that today.”

“I’ll be okay, Peter. I promise.”

AS the door closed behind him, Peter feared that you had made a promise you couldn’t keep, despite how much he knew you would try to.