#and look. it's all repeated in their experiences with the upsidedown

[obaewankenope]

this is very unacceptable you absolute monster ked

i love it

Happy Ending? There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part. So just give me a happy middle, and a very happy start. -- Shel Silverstein | Stranger Things S4

[katscatnip]

Listening to one song on repeat

My experience with listening to a certain sound or song on repeat for long periods of time.

Shown below all this text is my most recent streams on Spotify. as you can see,, there is just one song listed, and that's because It's all I've listened to for the past 2 days or so.

I have done this kinda thing sing as long as I recall having personal access and control over what I listen to. my earliest memories of it being the time my mom let me chose the song we play on the sound system (the song in question was Rock the Nation by Michael Franti) and i would constantly ask her to "play it again!" until she couldn't handle it anymore. Next it was when we bought the Curious George movie on CD and in the bonus features, there was a music video for the song played earlier in the movie Upsidedown by Jack Johnson (again was eventually asked to stop playing it over and over lmao.

Next was when i was old enough to stay for the "after school program" it essentially let the kids get into fun toys and boardgames and such and what I would do every single time is find one of the three sony CD walkmen in the electronics box, put in the Shrek soundtrack cd and set SmashMouth's allstar to loop, then proceed to walk up and down the gym's left wall gliding my fingers against the textured grout for the next hour and a half to three hours depending if it was an extended day.

Next was another walkman, my older sibling's bf at the time would bring one over with him when he visited along with his latest playlist burned to a cd and would let me borrow it. this is when I heard the oh-so-familiar and desired FireFlies by Owlcity (my current fav song at the time that I could only hear on the car radio when going into town) where I would proceed to lie on my upper bunk bed in complete darkness and imagine I was in space.

Another time was when a different friend would bring over their iPod and I would loop a couple greenday and Metallica songs over and over (I don't remember the song names now lmao)

Fast forward to my teen years im actively annoying my siblings after playing a song 7 times too many. yada yada ya-

I am aware of that now,,

my friends have been pointing out traits that were worth looking into for a while and I finally did and ya. when I went in they said it was not hard to notice and identify it from the moment I walked in the door.

Anyway, this post isnt about that its actually about how self-aware and insecure I've become from having others perceive this part of me. I've never really had any bad experiences aside from the occasional family member shout at me to "stop playing the same song" which is whatever.

The real issue for me is things like Spotify Wrapped and the idea that what I listen to as an auditory stim is perceived as my "taste" in music and such. i guess its rooted in maintaining a kind of character in the social aspect, and feeling like I have to make what I listen to look palatable to peers and that means having a high listen count and knowledge of artists whose music has meaning and depth while also not being caught listening to the opposite (breakcore, hyperpop, noise, goofy nonsensical hip-hopy stuff, etc)(?)

Which I'm finding to be stackingly exhausting and I think I've trying this year and lastyear to give myself the grace of being me and not conforming to the shape I feel pressured to fit into.

I hear and read a lot of peer's takes or reviews on music and such (which I think is important to have ofc) but it kinda feels to cliquey for me to feel fully comfortable being in those circle's conversations.

sometimes i just like the noises and vibration pattern coming from a specific artist's stuff and don't take in or care about the meaning or depth of a song's lyrics,, anyways yeah. here's some of the semi-recent past loops: (noise warning on some!🔊) 757, Hollywood baby, Improved mashcore, kickback, 3 o'clock things, Being so normal, Uncanny long arms, Leg room, Stuck Inside

below is my current song backslide by 21 Pilots. the tapeworm synth and silly bass drops itch the itch good :+)

[deathangleedits]

The Resurrected: Steddie

Chapter 3: Bats and Scaredy Cats

In the bed sat the male who was previously unconscious and nearly dead irses glowing an ember color and obsidian wings sprouted from his back . Eddie looks up,”S-st-Steve help please.”  Steve got up and slowly walked over to Eddie. He reached out and embraced him tightly. “It's okay, I'm here now.” he whispered. Trembling in terror the curly haired brunette clung to the other male who looked like death walking. Steve sat there looking into his friends eyes that now held a strange glow they were no longer the warm brown that resembled hot chocolate. An hour had passed of them sitting tangled in a ball a blanket messily over them nothing could’ve prepared Steve for what his friend was now. Despite this he wouldn’t let Eddie  go through this alone even though he was terrified himself; hell when you stopped and thought about it it was actually his fault that the other ended up this way.

The distance a clap of thunder sounded sending shivers down Eddie’s back he use to find clamness in thunderstorms before his experience in the upsidedown which he remembered vividly. The flashbacks would start in a few minutes the uncontrollable shaking shook Steve awake as he had dozed off. Eddie was awake and his eyes were rolled back in his head indicating that the reason for the flashbacks was none other than Vecna. A knock on the cabin door snapped him out of it. “Steve who’s here I don’t want anyone seeing me like this I’ve become a monster,” Eddie voiced shakily.  Slowly getting up off the bed Steve made his way to the door he knew it was either Hopper or Joyce with food. A scruffy voice echoed on the other side of the door, “Harrington you in there I’ve got food,” Hopper rang out. Steve opened the door. 

Blocking the older male the best he could from getting too far into the cabin to hender the chances of him finding out Eddie wasn’t human anymore. Nothing was going to plan currently in the way that he was supposed to wake up human not an otherworldly creature. The only person that would be mildly ecstatic about that would probably be Dustin though he still didn’t have a clue they even found Eddie. That was a whole other issue Steve didn’t want to think about at this moment. He just wanted a break he needed one but wouldn’t take one. 

Scared as he was he knew Eddie was more scared hell he had bat wings sprouting from his back and at some point would probably need blood since he was a vampire now. One thing that was unknown to Eddie at the time was he had the ability to call on bats not just the duranged bats from the upsidedown but aslo normal bats. Soon everyone in town would become scardey cats.

On the bed set Eddie still when Steve finally let Hopper through. The other male was stuck in his head and that was never a good place to be especially when Vecna was around still.  His mind was going a million miles a minute you could tell by the fact he was picking at his nails. A voice was telling him, “No one wanted you around before why would they want you now that you’re a monster.” That same line repeating over and over again in his mind he couldn’t get it to stop it wouldnt go away. The worst part of it was he actually believed the voice he was a monster now. Eddie told himself,” I am a monster I don’t deserve to be here. They should’ve never found me.”  Tears welled up in his eyes as an almost to silent sob escaped his through his lips. 

Who would want a vampire around even if it was him? He didn’t even want to be around his friends or there at all he felt if he actually died it would’ve been better. All that was bound to happen was hurt and anger. There was already hurt in the air he could sense it. What would happen? Who knew he didn’t and Steve definitely didn’t he was exhausted. In the months to come everyone would find out and things would seem to return to somewhat normal until they were no longer normal.

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day thirteen

Prompt #13: “I missed this.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Alan Deaton

Words: 1420

Author’s Note: Scott & Deaton have a quiet afternoon in the clinic, and maybe talk about hard things, maybe just talk about cats. Post 5B. Scott McCall POV. Read the extended version (3k) on Ao3.

>> administered twice, daily

Scott doesn’t have a proper shift at the clinic until a full week after all the loose ends with Beast are tied up.

He knows it’s been—a lot, to say the least—but he doesn’t realize how on edge he’s been until he walks in the back door, fifteen minutes early, and immediately sags in relief at the sight of the Doctor calmly filling out prescriptions.

He’s still here.

The Doc must notice his reaction, because he lays his pen down on the clipboard and moves his full attention to him. “Something the matter?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I just…” Scott shrugs, heading to the cabinet to pull out the disinfectant and scrubbing brush for the dog cages. “…I missed this.”

“Had I known cleaning out the cages was so important to you, I could have added it more regularly to your daily tasks.”

Scott laughs. “No, that’s okay, you super don’t need to do that. I just meant… this.”

“Ah.” Deaton’s expression softens. “I believe I know what you mean.”

It’s not much of an opening, but the second it presents itself, Scott can’t help it.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he says, before he can think better of it. He knows the Doctor usually prefers to leave this kind of thing unacknowledged, but—the sting of almost losing his pack, thanks in large part to a lack of communication, is still too close.

Deaton, who’d only just begun writing again, pauses. “If it’s any consolation, I rather thought I’d lost me as well. Remind me to thank Malia again for her timely appearance.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you,” Scott says. “You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”

“Thank you,” Deaton says. He sets the clipboard down on the desk and moves to the next one. “Though as I understand it, I almost lost you as well.”

Deaton gives a significant look towards the center of Scott’s chest, and even though it’s been several days since it fully healed, his muscles still clench painfully.

Scott swallows. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m fine now.”

“Now, yes,” Deaton agrees. “But not then.”

Scott remembers words like knives, twisting in the pouring rain; a superhuman strength, powered solely through its hatred of him; claws piercing his heart, left to bleed out all alone.

He’s forgiven them now—or at least, two of them—but he’s still not sure which ultimately cut deeper.

“Who told you,” Scott says, his voice small.

“Once again, I find myself indebted to Malia. She seemed quite worried.”

Scott hears the implicit ‘I was worried, too,’ loud and clear in his statement, and it makes him feel equal parts gratified and guilty.

“I don’t…” Scott bites his lip and looks at the floor. No lying. “…I know. There’s just… a lot to fix. I don’t even know where to get started.”

“Hm.” The Doc taps his pen thoughtfully against the page, then slips it into his jacket pocket and tucks the clipboard under his arm. “Would you mind bringing Sophie to the examination room? I think it’s about time for her insulin injection.”

Scott arches his eyebrows, surprised by the sudden change of topic, but familiar enough with his mentor to not take offense. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He sets the cleaning supplies down and heads to the backroom. There, he pauses briefly to say hello to Felix—the American Wirehair cat that finds himself in trouble more often than not—and then locates the maine coon in one of the cages on the right wall, coaxing her out with minimal difficulty.

Deaton’s already waiting for him when he brings Sophie into the main room, the air drawn into the needle and needle puncturing the upsidedown medicine bottle, so Scott dislodges Sophie’s claws from his shirt and sets her down on the table without comment.

“Hold her steady, please.”

Scott buries his hand gently into the fur on Sophie’s back, scratching her under the chin with his other hand to help relax her into a lying position.

Being a vet assistant, as it happens, mostly involves an absurd amount of holding—holding forms, holding doors, holding pets.

Sophie purrs and butts her head against Scott’s hand, seeking out his touch.

Holding pets is most definitely his favorite part.

“She seems very calm.”

Scott glances up—the Doc seems unconcerned as he draws the insulin into the syringe, correctly measuring the dosage with a speed and assurance that always amazes him.

“I don’t have to do much.” Scott gives Sophie a few extra scritches. “She’s pretty good at behaving herself, as long as she gets enough attention.”

“Very true,” Deaton says, tapping the syringe against his fingernail to release the air bubbles. “But nonetheless, I remember how your presence made those of the felis genus rather unnerved when you were first bitten.”

Scott smiles at the memory. “Yeah, the whole cat section went crazy. I thought I was crazy.”

“It certainly did seem that way,” Deaton agrees. “It took several weeks for you to learn how to approach them without causing a stir.”

“I honestly thought you were going to fire me over it.”

Deaton nods and Scott inches his hands further away from the intended injection site. Sophie remains placid as the needle pierces her quadriceps muscle, the Doctor only moving his thumb over the depressor once the syringe is secured.

“That would truly have been a waste,” Deaton says, administering the insulin and then removing the needle in one smooth motion. “I had every confidence you would figure it out.”

Scott runs his hand through Sophie’s fur, checking for any liquid in case the dosage didn’t take, while Deaton disposes of the needle. Once satisfied, he gives her another scratch behind the ears.

“Good girl,” he says, scooping her up off the examination table and tucking her against his chest.

Deaton returns, giving Sophie a quick neck rub as well. “Thank you, Scott. You can take her back now.”

Scott slides off the chair he’d been perched on, careful not to dislodge the cat, and carries her back to the overnight room.

He’s struck, this time, by how little of a reaction there is. There are over a dozen cats in the room, all at various stages of alertness, but none of them so much as tense at his presence.

He hovers there for a moment, Sophie’s contented purrs vibrating through his chest, a gentle reminder that his ribcage is whole and his lungs unbruised. He closes his eyes and breathes.

He hears the soft footfall of the Doctor’s gait as he comes up behind him. It’s comforting, unlike the sound of the Doctors that had been haunting him and his pack for the past few months.

Deaton rests a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s been my experience,” he says, “that things that seem insurmountable at the time often turn into simply another part of life, once we’ve had enough space to work them out.”

A shudder runs through him, but Sophie just cuddles closer to his chest. He opens his eyes and marvels at her, thinking of how impossible the act would’ve been two years ago.

“How,” he manages, before he stops again.

Deaton doesn’t seem to mind. “Well, you can’t ignore them. I think we have more than enough evidence to demonstrate the futility of that approach.”

Scott winces, but the words are said in empathy, not judgement. Sophie wriggles impatiently in his arms, so Deaton unlocks her cage for him, and he gently lets her go.

Deaton smiles at the cat as he closes the door. “She’ll need to keep receiving the insulin shots twice daily, but she’s doing quite well. Her glycemic control is excellent for how long she’s been diagnosed.”

Scott kneels down to watch Sophie play with the cat toy in her cage, blissfully unaware of the conversation pertaining to her. “You think it’ll go away?”

“It might,” Deaton says. “Remission is certainly possible at this point, provided she’s properly supported and continues her treatment. But regardless, even if it doesn’t, those things will still do more than enough to allow her to live a long and happy life chasing mice and chewing furniture.”

Scott snorts, and watches the cat a moment longer.

“Support and daily treatment,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Deaton says. “That should set Sophie up quite nicely.”

Deaton straightens and walks over to the door, holding it open in invitation. “Coming?”

Scotts stands, and brushes off his jeans.

“Yeah. I’m coming.”

[simpleidiotpsychic]

Serizawa Week Ficlet #2: Power

@serizawaweek2019

Day 2: Gen. Tome learns the true extent of Serizawa’s powers.

AO3 Link

“Fuck,” Reigen wheezed.

It occurred to Tome in that moment that he didn’t usually swear in front of her. She’d assumed he just never swore in general, but now she had a flash of suspicion that he consciously chose to wash his mouth out around her and Mob.

What the hell, Reigen. She was 17, not a baby.

But this thought came and went very quickly because they were both currently running for their lives, and that was a more pressing issue to attend to.

The forest around them bent with a cracking and snapping of trees, like they were wrenching their own roots out of the ground. It was only a little farther until she and Reigen made it back to the village at the edge of this cursed woods, but the sun was blotted out by a mass of darkness chasing after them. At this rate it would catch up to their heels in no time.

Tome had abandoned her dress shoes to run better, and her socks were absolutely sloshing with mud. She wasn’t used to running in a suit either. Since this was the first weekend job they’d allowed her on, she thought she’d put on the charms and prove herself as a useful marketer, fashion and all. She wanted more experiences that could actually be put on a college application when the time came, and maybe she’d been a little inspired by Reigen’s general getup as well. But now even the memory of how snazzy she’d felt earlier was a little bitter with how much the nice blazer weighed her down. At least a suit was better than her school skirts for running, but her tie kept flapping around her head like it was trying to attack her face.

She didn’t want to die looking so stupid. Least of all with Reigen.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” he was spouting like a mantra, stumbling out of the way of a falling log. He threw his arm across Tome’s back--either to keep spurring her onward or to shield her from something, she didn’t have time to check--and then the whole earth heaved under them, throwing them up into the air. Something grabbed her before she fell back down again. The world spun and jerked around. Then she found herself hanging upsidedown with her legs held fast by something itchy like ivy. She blew her tie and her hair out of her mouth. The darkness had caught up with them and she couldn’t see a thing.

“Reigen-san!”

“I’m working on it!” came his voice from beside her, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was similarly confined.

Well. They’d lost.

“My mom’ll never forgive me if I die!” she yelled, and the darkness grew thicker, suffocating. It was like she could feel it sticking to the insides of her lungs. This wasn’t even supposed to be a real exorcism! It was supposed to be a networking event!

“Your mom will never forgive me, she practically murdered me just because you lost your uniform’s tie--”

“It was your fault for not going down that sewer after it--”

“Are you telling me you’d gladly wear a sewer tie?”

“You’re the worst!”

“I know! Shut up!”

Then all of the sudden the darkness exploded in a blinding wash of purple. The awfulness constricting in Tome’s lungs shriveled up into nothing and she gulped in good, fresh, warm air and blinked into sudden sunlight.

She was hanging in the air not by possessed trees now, but instead by Serizawa’s psychic powers. He had both hands extended toward them. Reigen was weirdly sideways and looking irritable.

“Just in time, Serizawa,” he said, spitting out a leaf.

Serizawa smiled a little, but looked worn out and worried.

He gently tilted them both upright and then floated them to the ground, depositing them lightly on their feet. Tome stood there for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to think of a joke, but then the shock wore off and she realized where she was standing.

Serizawa had not just exorcised the evil entity of this woods. He’d reduced the trees surrounding them to nothing but splinters in an instant. A huge circle was leveled to a fine powder around them, indistinguishable browns and greens all trampled down together, as if there hadn’t been a forest here at all within ten meters.

Tome was stunned. It was more power than she had ever seen Serizawa use.

He was still thrumming with it, a certain intensity in his eyes that wasn’t usually there, a leftover energy radiating from him.

It maybe frightened her a little, how very powerful he was.

Reigen seemed to sense something, because he stepped his way through the rubble and laid a hand on Serizawa’s shoulder.

“Just in time,” he repeated, in an oddly comforting way. “Good work, Serizawa.”

Serizawa seemed to shake off his darker mood and his smile became more genuine.

“You two really need to be more careful,” he chastised.

----------------------

Tome had done some research. She knew that Serizawa Katsuya, perhaps one of the most powerful espers in Seasoning City, had not just popped up out of nowhere.

What could she say? She was a conspiracy theorist at heart. Just out of her own interest she’d been poring over news footage and Youtube cellphone videos of the terrorists who tried to take over the world just over a year ago, and she’d spotted an umbrella among them that made a sick feeling coil in her stomach. After that shock, she’d had to stop prying for about a week or so. It felt like she’d seen something private, something twisted.

But she was always too curious for her own good. She couldn’t stay away from it.

She went to the internet and found a tiny local newspaper story about a boy twenty years ago who hurt four other kids and his own mother in an accident. The story didn’t supply details on the nature of the accident, but it did supply a name.

Serizawa Katsuya.

She started grilling Mob, who to his credit lasted a very long time before he finally caved under peer pressure.

“Serizawa-san has had a hard life,” he said simply. “He drew the attention of cruel people.”

“Tell me about Claw,” she demanded.

So he did. She could tell he was leaving out important details, probably for Serizawa’s sake, but she couldn’t blame him for that. She felt a horrible guilt even asking in the first place, like she was betraying Serizawa and everything he’d done for her.

But she was always too curious. She needed to know.

She’d known for awhile now.

She knew Serizawa Katsuya was powerful, so powerful that he was actually quite dangerous.

And sometimes she didn't know what to do with that.

------------------------

They still had a ways to walk to get back to the village. It would probably take some explaining to tell the villagers why their local forest had a giant hole in it now, but they’d surely be relieved to hear that their evil spirit problem had been greatly reduced.

Reigen talked too much as they walked, like he always did, and Serizawa quietly chuckled off and on. Tome was a little distracted. She’d lost her shoes after all, and now she just felt kind of foolish for dressing like a professional when she was really so over her head all the time.

Also her ankle hurt. A lot.

She must have twisted it or something. It kept shooting pain all the way up her calf to her knee, until she was limping to avoid putting pressure on it. It was just turning out to be an unexpectedly shitty day.

“Are you alright, Kurata-san?”

Tome stopped and looked up. Serizawa had appeared beside her, his eyebrows just slightly creased with worry.

“It’s just my leg…” she mumbled, feeling weirdly embarrassed. Or maybe it was more like ashamed.

Ashamed for knowing. Ashamed for being scared, even for a moment.

“Can I look at it for you?” he asked.

She sat there on the ground and he knelt in front of her, like a knight in front of a queen, and gently rolled her nasty mud sock off her foot. He pressed her heel between thumb and forefinger. It kind of made her think of getting help from her dad when she was little, when she scraped her knee or something. Even now she was still young enough to get that treatment sometimes, if she hurt herself badly enough and her dad was there. If the timing was just right. He was a good dad, all things considered.

Serizawa’s fingers were big but careful, barely touching her unless they had to test something, and then they were firm and sure.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, laying his palm on the bottom of her muddy foot and pushing up slowly.

“No-- not yet-- YEP there it is.”

Reigen hovered over them with a calculating look, but she had a feeling he was just bullshitting because he wasn’t sure how to be actually useful at the moment.

“It’s not broken, but…” Serizawa frowned. “Well. My powers aren’t really good for healing,” he said quietly.

Only destroying things.

She thought maybe she spotted a hint of sadness in him because of that, and she again felt ashamed.

“That’s ok,” she said lamely.

He turned, still kneeling, and patted his back. “Want a ride?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but laugh because it was so ridiculous. They were both still wearing suits. It looked so stupid.

“A ride would be great,” she said.

She climbed up on his back and he looped his arms under her knees and stood. Reigen was sneering at them. But Tome liked this, honestly. She perched her hands on Serizawa’s shoulders and sneered right back because hey she was taller than Reigen now so fuck you Reigen.

Also Serizawa’s back was warm, and she could feel a sturdiness behind her, like he was holding her in place ever so gently with his powers as well, to make sure she didn’t fall.

You’re really powerful aren’t you, Serizawa-san?

But like Mob he didn’t see a usefulness in psychic powers. In the sort of powers that could level trees and take over the world.

He instead saw usefulness in carrying someone on his back, very carefully, making sure they didn’t fall. In having gentle hands.

She remembered what he’d told her about finding out for herself what skills were important to her, and doing her best to put those out into the world. She decided that Serizawa was doing a really good job.

She luxuriated against his back like a queen, or maybe more like a cat who’d stolen her owner’s dinner.

“This is so much fucking better,” she declared.

Reigen’s head whipped around at the swear with the most alarmed look she’d ever seen.