#but blegh of a positive note

[theropoda]

if i ever find myself lying to myself again about how im normal and have nothing wrong with me other than being oversensitive im gonna show myself my own damn tweets from like 2016 bc That Is Not Normal Behaviour. i guess i keep denying myself the right to be sad about myself and my life because i didnt know anyone else who had it like me, so i didnt have anything to compare it to and just assumed that my life wasnt that bad when it.....Certainly was not good and shouldntve been that way. esp bc the whoooole time my parents way of cheering me up about the situation was "other people have it worse, it could be worse, dont worry it isnt that bad" (in general thats indian culture i think LOL, to acknowledge that your situation is bad is some kind of embarassment almost)

its so crazy though to see tweets of me just entering like high school trying to figure it out like "i have no idea how i will keep living"........Well guess what.......I LIVED BITCH........Life may still be difficult but it has genuinely gotten clearer, about hey imDisabled actually which explains fucking everything, theres people like me out there!! and i feel like the path to a good life is visible to me now i just need to walk it. It looks really fucking ugly and hard etc but knowledge is power and just knowing things about myself that i didnt know back then, makes me feel better i guess. Dont worry lil john you made it :] i can only hope john from 8 years from now feels the same way.

its interesting to look back on this time period, like i was literally just going through My Files looking for oc stuff and just kinda happened across this archive. probably the part of my life where i most severely delt with self hatred and the idea i was a morally horrible person (average 13 year old experience i have learned) that should straight up die....i learned to deal with it eventually, convince myself that im not evil, but its just....interesting seeing it at its worst, before it subsided, and the past few months it's been comin back again except this time its less "im literally evil scum i oughta die" and more "i'm a pretty okay, average guy, but man do i want to be so much more". but i definitely think that's an improvement LOL.

anyways whats the point of this post. just airing out my thoughts. also that it gets better. even if things don't become perfect they'll maybe get clearer. maybe you're not out of this hole yet but you know it can be done. Or something i dunno

[zevrra]

same anon from before :3 but another thot

HEAR ME OUT. i saw a tictok the other day about how jayce just does what he’s told and oh em geeeeee commanding jayce to mess Vik up ie. kissing him up and down, jacking him off all while you watch. SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S

includes: [nsfw!!] [18+ only, mdni!!] jayce is an obedient little thing and does what he’s told! :3

ft. jayvik x gn!reader

extra(s): thank you so much for this request anon! this was a lil fun to write ;3 i hope you enjoy tho!! feel free to request for more! (i also barely skimmed over this so forgive any errors kshdjh <3)

“jayce, you’re such a good boy and you listen so well,” you muse, running your fingers through thick brown hair. his soft, hazel gaze stares up at you from his seated position before you, his head resting on your knee. “always so eager to please, hmm? but it’s not me who needs attention tonight.” you add as you rub your thumb across the high of his cheekbone.

jayce had been to another council party and had come back home to you and viktor rather…tipsy. honestly, he was actually really drunk and far more clingy than he normally was as his head rests in your lap. if it were any other night when you didn’t have reports to go over and present before 6 am tomorrow; you’d be all for jayce’s little advances to join in on his and viktor’s fun. but tonight he’d just have to enjoy viktor’s company alone.

“listen to me, pretty boy. i want you to make vik feel good, can you do that for me?”

jayce looks at you with slightly saddened eyes as you caress his face. his pretty, begging eyes were sure to work on you if viktor had not stepped in. “are you sure you cannot join us?” he asks, his own hand brushing along jayce’s bangs as he leans back against your desk.

“i’ll just have to watch tonight.” you respond with a smile.

and that was far easier said than done.

for jayce, he still wanted to have you involved in any way he could get you— and that came down to you ordering him around like a lost puppy. he wouldn’t move, kiss, or touch without your instructions. he wanted to obey every word you spoke while you watched from the sidelines. and vik was no help at all either; he wanted all of this. wanted your gaze to watch their every move while jayce followed your every order to make him feel good. wanted to know you were included just as much as jayce did. and after some pretty pouting and a mix of pleas, you finally agreed.

so between paragraphs breaks of whatever paper you had written up days before; you would take a glance at the men leaning against your desk. coming to said break, you look up from your notes as viktor is pressed against jayce’s chest while jayce trails kisses against his neck, his hands roaming over viktor’s thin waist. somewhere along the line you had managed to get them to strip their shirts off, without tearing any clothes thankfully, but jayce still refused to advance unless you told him so.

“kiss him baby.” you order jayce who happily obliges.

jayce turns viktor’s face towards him, kissing him eagerly as he caresses vik’s jaw with one of his big hands. their tongue’s clash together as they make out and jayce eats up every groan he draws from vik. you watch as jayce presses viktor back up against him, gripping his hips from behind, as the two kiss each other like they were both air they needed to breathe.

you glance briefly away to go over the next paragraph on your notes. you find yourself reading the printed words faster than before solely so your eyes can find the two of them just a little bit faster.

“blegh, i can taste the liquor you drank jayce.” viktor gripes as he breaks the kiss, sticking out his tongue a little. he could clearly taste the strong alcohol lingering on jayce’s tongue; and it almost made you want to taste jayce too, just to confirm.

“m’sorry v…” jayce apologizes with a little drunk pout before chasing after viktor’s lips once more. he returns to kissing viktor as you finally finish the paragraph as your gaze settles on the two once more, while their eyes fall closed as they kiss. you watch as jayce’s tongue runs over vik’s bottom lip before diving between his parted lips and you have to stifle your own whine watching them. you wish you could be jealous but you’re the one who declined in their activity so you’d just have to continue to watch, for now. thank god it was a tasty sight to behold.

“take his pants off, jay. he’s so hard.” you softly instruct, gesturing to the strain on viktor’s pants. even out of the corner of your eye you could see the bulge inside of his pants, begging to be freed. jayce is quick to have his hand travel down the front of vik’s thin torso, fumbling with the belt of his pants, as vik breaks their kiss once more to groan deeply at jayce’s large hand brushing up against his erection. and you can only watch for so long as jayce attempts and fails a few times to undo vik’s belt before you finally reach out with your free hand to unclasp the belt for jayce. who quickly does away with the it, muttering something incoherent about how horrible the design was, while smoothing a hand down the front of vik’s pants; giving him a firm squeeze. you smile at the noise vik makes.

“jerk him off for me pretty boy. make him feel really good.” you sigh, reluctantly turning your eyes to your notes once more.

you glance quickly over your notes while out of the corner of your eye you watch jayce practically manhandle vik. he’s unceremoniously yanking down the other’s underwear and by the sound vik makes you know jayce has wrapped his fingers around his cock. your eyes scan over the paper in your hand as your leg subconsciously bounces. and if listening to viktor softly whine wasn’t enough to distract you, the sound of jayce whispering sweet nothings while stroking viktor off was for sure making it a little harder to pay attention to the paper in your hands. and while you do manage to read the last few words of the paragraph (and you’ve probably had to re-read it a few times) you thank god; for there’s only one more paragraph left now. you debate going over it as quick as you can, finishing off the notes right then and there but before you can, viktor's voice draws your attention to the two once again.

“j-jayce!” viktor whines, throwing his head back. his fingers grip jayce’s forearms, while jayce continues to stroke him off, practically standing on the tip of his toes as he craves more and more from jayce. pleasure written all over his face as his amber eyes stare at jayce’s fingers rubbing over his tip. you knew how sensitive he was and so did jayce, clearly targeting his weak spot; even when drunk he was damn good with his hands. the sight and the noises slipping from both men made your thighs ache with need. you couldn’t deny your own growing want inside of you as you simply watch the two.

“your hand will not be enough jayce.” you mutter, eyes fluttering up at jayce’s drunk gaze. he glances at you just as he plants a heavy kiss against vik’s neck as his hand falters just a little at your words. realization breaks through the fog of his inebriated mind at what you’re telling him to do and he’s quick to act. he repositions viktor to take his spot on the desk and in one swift motion he drops down to his knees, adjusting viktor’s bad leg onto his shoulder to rest, while his hand wraps around the base of vik’s cock once again. without hesitating jayce is just as quick to wrap his mouth around the thick of vik’s head, swallowing him down until the very base.

at this point, you’d rather chew on glass than read these damn notes anymore but you manage to rip your eyes away from them one last time, skimming over the words as fast as you can, retaining absolutely nothing, just to finish off whatever paragraph you had left. finally done with these damn notes, you toss them onto the other side of the desk not being used, and hurriedly stand up. you strip off your shirt before joining viktor’s side. your fingers push through jayce’s dark hair while you capture vik’s lips and you eagerly get to swallow his moans this time. you can just barely taste the lingering liquor on his tongue from jayce but it’s still there; just enough as you press your tongue against vik’s.

viktor and jayce share a groan as you join their little entanglement. you press your other hand against vik’s thigh as jayce continues sloppily sucking him off. vik breaks your shared kiss with a whine. “thought you were just watching tonight?” viktor mutters with a sharp cry as jayce sucks, particularly rough, against his tip.

“yeah well, you two are gonna be the death of me.” you respond before diving back to his lips once more.

after the three of you finished fooling around for the night you’d definitely have to re-read over those damn notes again before tomorrow morning…you weren’t getting any damn sleep tonight.

[xi-xi-chen]

Lightcannon Week // Day 03 - Dystopian

Bringing back Halo! I had so much fun drawing an old design I made for them. Spartan Lux and Soldier Jinx, although she eventually joins the ODST unit.

But ever since the Spartans were released to the front, Jinx can't help but notice as Lux seems to be assigned to her platoon everytime they deploy. Eventually Jinx realizes a terrible truth about how Spartans were made, especially about the rumor of clones being involved. Jinx would not only find herself fighting war but thrown into an investigation about missing children.

On the other hand, Lux has been at death's doorstep several times over but Jinx refuses to let her die, even after she told Jinx that her purpose is to fight for humanity, she's just a weapon afterall, nothing else.

_____________________

Some notes : (disclaim//this isn't at all from expertise, I'm still in training)

CO - Company Commander <- this is usually a captain's position, (or Lieutenant [Officer]) that controls two platoons, in turn, platoons have four squads, squads with fire teams, breaking it down more, each squad is two Attack by fire or assaulting elements (ABF), one support by fire (SBF) and a weapons squad (WPN) (this is the most mass casualty producing team, they are very essential to the operations.)

AO - Area of Operations <- this is not completely accurate for this scenario, however may be still categorized as Area of Op since this mission is classified as a Raid turned Defense in order to eliminate the enemy forces and cut off some of their supply chain within the objective.

Radio Dia - "Monkey Tree niner-- (3-9) Platoon Lead will first address the Squad Lead by their assigned nics and then repeat their own after brief of OPORD. Usually, we give radios only to the main chain of command within our platoon, which is our leadership. Does not contain team leads either. However, I can't remember if all the soldiers in Halo were hooked up on the same frequency of comms. Oh, well. But the pain I felt while rewatching Halo legends...NEVER say "over and out." Blegh! It's just "Out!"

++ OPORD - Operations Order <- basically the plan about the shit that's about to go down. It's pages upon pages of planning people, not fun, but very important. We have two more Orders as well, yay, more paperwork...

[ckret2]

Sama anon that sent you the ask beginning with “I always figured that Bill held disdain for Soos because…” so sorry about that last paragraph in the ask, I realize you’re not the type of author to seriously change your story or writing style because you got a long question and saw it as a Hint, I was just feeling guilty about another author whose story I think I inadvertently messed with absolutely no idea or intention. Sorry. Ignore that last bit, it was kind of uncalled-for unfaithful..

I'm gonna use this ask as an excuse to copy/paste your original ask and put it under a read more since it's Long.

Yeah, as you figured out in this ask, I'm not changing anything. I know exactly why Bill hates Soos, and I know exactly when, how, and why the audience will find out. I only change my plans based on asks if they make me think of a way to do what I wanted to do that's even better than the way I was originally gonna do it.

But yes: the reason Bill hates Soos is personal.

Anyway, your theory has been officially noted!

Anonymous asked:

I always figured that Bill held disdain for Soos because he viewed Soos’s positive attitude/outlook and friendliness as being naive and mindlessly conformist and unaware of all the ways he was harmful and delusional in a blind-to-anything-that-society-doesn’t-say-is-bad, without ever having the curiosity/worth to think outside the box.

Like, think of how… a disabled person might see licensed professionals casually abusing their disabled patients with cruel, damaging practices that do nothing to help and actually obviously harmful if you think/ pay any attention at all, but they tell themselves they’re good people and cheerfully don’t look any further into it. And that’s how he sees Soos, and his morality, as someone who thinks he’s nice and good and doesn’t get everything he’s doing wrong/thinking wrong. Ish. Only Bill sees all order as pointless and repressive and evil.

(Maybe there’s a degree of separation, somewhere, because as we see in The Book of Bill, he verrrrry subconsciously sees himself as a monster, in a way that’s actually bad-bad. But overall the lines are blurred for him, between what values of society are pointless and cruel, and all order being bad, burn it down, kill the people. When it comes to Bill’s kind of morality, where chaos is freedom, and order— all order— is repressive and cruel and unnatural. Is doctors force feeding you meds to fix you when you’re not broken but they’re breaking you.)

And that it wasn’t particular to Soos, that any average, cheerful, “common ol’ Joe” human like Soos would in general receive that kind of disdain from Bill. That sort of, “what an idiot” feeling, that’s got some real pain, and hatred for everything he thinks that person’s cheerfulness and kindness/morality represents, buried deep beneath. Not anything too personal against Soos himself. Just everyone like him, and what they look like to Bill. A typical, benign, blithely cheerful example of the dumb masses, another moron human organic who doesn’t get it. And isn’t even weird/creative enough to be interesting, blegh.

And it makes sense, anyway, since Bill is basically being abused here, that he’d have disdain for any of the people complicit in it who put up a cheerful friendly attitude, which they themselves bought. Talking from Bill’s perspective here.

But anyway, with Bill’s disdain for Soos, I was just like, yeah, makes sense. Soos seems to be the type of human to come off to Bill as a typical annoying dense meatsack. I didn’t think about it too much though I guess it took a lot of words to describe.

But with that ask about Bill’s disdain for Soos… okay, so was it more personal/more, in general, than just the stuff I just said? If it wasn’t, that’s fine. It makes sense if Bill’s disdain isn’t any more personal or extra complicated than what I tried to describe. It’s interesting enough on its own, it doesn’t need more factors. I just wanted to ask.

I just realized the length of this ask probably sounds pushy, somehow, but I only wrote so much because I got sidetracked trying to put my thoughts into words, it was only going to be a few sentences. It really was just a casual question. I’m not even that committed to this over other things. Don’t change the preplanned story because of me, please. Or add a specific scene about Bill’s dislike of Soos when you wouldn’t normally because of me. And you don’t have to spell it out for us in the next chapter, or whenever you write about it, because of me. Your writing is already great, you don’t need to change it to be more obvious for any reason. Just write it like you would. I really was just asking casually, this ask was really going to be a few sentences long, but I couldn’t figure out how to put my thoughts into words and now it’s paragraphs, sorry. But yeah.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 7

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omarashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted - a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 7 - The Liberal Assault on Traditional Values

After the bathroom, Bucky feels … loose. Kinda like how you feel right after getting one of those beat-the-crap-out-of-your-muscles, deep-tissue massages. It’s positively dreamy.

Steve drops him back off at French with Sharon, and Bucky sits at his desk and doesn’t hear a word the teacher says for a little while, because he feels nice and fuzzy and weak. He’s back with it once class is over, and is grateful to find that not only did Sharon take notes on the rest of the class for him, but that she also plans to act like the whole bathroom incident didn’t even happen. 

They go to lunch in the dining hall, and Bucky remembers his excitement over how the food at this place is going to be one of the main highlights. There’s so much to choose from, multiple buffets, and it all looks delicious. Sharon grabs a tray for him, because the rules are that Bucky has to go around with her and ask for what he wants as she fills up his plate. It’s a dumb rule but not worth fighting over, so he complies. There’s a boy over by the dessert bar who looks like he might be around Bucky’s age. He appears to be pleading his case for a piece of chocolate cake.

“Please, Nat? I’ll do an extra thirty minutes on my parkour tomorrow!”

The redheaded handler who’s with him looks amused. “It’s not about calories, Parker. You can’t have sugar like that. You’ll be bouncing off the walls all night—and not in a parkour way.” She guides the boy over to a soft serve machine that’s mounted into the wall. “Frozen yogurt,” she proclaims. “No sugar added.”

“Blegh.”

Bucky smirks and sets his sights on the chocolate cake for himself, later. As far as he knows, no dietary restrictions have yet been set for him. This theory is confirmed when Sharon doesn’t say no to anything he asks for. She doesn’t even hesitate to comply when he asks to have double portions of the less healthy items, so Bucky decides not to get huffy at her over how silly it is that he can’t fill up his own plate.

Besides, he’s just relieved that Sharon doesn’t make him kneel on a cushion on the floor like some other students are doing. 

They sit down at one of the dining tables and Bucky asks if the kids who are kneeling and being hand fed by their Handlers are being punished. Sharon looks at him funny for the question, like she thinks he’s really ignorant and feels bad for him. “It’s a protocol,” she says, then proceeds to explain the difference between “punishments” and “protocols.”

The former are always deterrents and are meant to be unpleasant. The latter are daily or weekly routines done for reinforcement and wellbeing, and are tailored specifically to each individual student’s needs. Sharon points out that there can sometimes be a degree of intersection between the two (as in the case of spanking), but that protocols typically involve things like sleeping restraints, or hand feeding, or leashing. “It depends on how you’ve been assessed,” she tells him. “What your Handler decides your needs are. Some boys eat at the table and never get leashed, some get hand fed and maintenance spanked. It just depends on the student.”

Bucky flushes at the mental image of Sharon “maintenance spanking” him on the daily. Yikes. He forces himself to casually eat a few potato chips off his plate so that he doesn’t come across as too anxious when he next asks, “Um, so … have you assessed me yet?”

Sharon smiles sweetly at him and sips her drink through its straw. “Oh, I’m working on it,” she says, somehow managing to make it feel like a threat even through her cheerful tone. She tells Bucky to finish his food, as lunch is almost over and they’ve still got his afternoon classes to get to. Bucky hurriedly complies, hopeful that there’ll still be enough time to go back and snag that piece of chocolate cake for dessert. 

Well, the bomb had to drop somewhere. 

Turns out, that first half of the school day had lulled Bucky into a false sense of security, exceeding his expectations and leading him to think that he’d be receiving a totally normal education at this backwards institution. But no such luck. 

Reality comes crashing in after lunch, when Bucky’s made to sit through the introduction of material that he refuses to believe could be accurate. “Who produces this garbage?” he mutters, flipping to the front cover of his biology textbook and searching out the copyright page.

Scholastic Publishers The Complete Human Body: a comprehensive framework of human biological systems  Copyright © 2024 Oxford College Publishers

Well. That actually seems pretty legit. He twists his lips unhappily and closes the book. In the tutor’s seat beside his desk, Sharon taps her hand against the desktop to get his attention. All she has to do is give him a look, and he knows she’s telling him to pay attention to the teacher. 

Up at the front of the classroom, Professor Cho has been giving a lecture on brain anatomy.

“The limbic system is where we see the biggest differences in the omega brain,” she says, clicking her little remote to bring up the next slide. It shows a cross section of a human brain with labels and highlighted regions. “It’s located here, to either side of the thalamus and just beneath the medial temporal lobe.” She uses her laser pointer to highlight said parts of the projection. “Now, the main functions of this system are emotion, behavior, olfactory, and long term memory. Omega brains are both structurally and functionally unique. We see the biggest structural differences in the nucleus accumbens, the amygdala, and the septal nuclei. Let’s take them one by one and explore what the differences are and how that affects us.”

She says “us,” but Bucky is pretty sure she isn't omega. Why would an uber-traditional school like this one hire an omega professor, after all? Bucky listens with pursed lips as Cho proceeds to talk about the different structures.

“Now, the piriform cortex in omegas is the one part of the limbic system that’s actually very similar in structure to that in the alpha brain.” She indicates a spot on the diagram with her laser pointer. “Right here. This is where we process olfactory information, including pheromones. You see how much bigger it is compared to the beta brain? You’ll always see this increase in size—that’s why we can scent more intensely than betas do.”

Sharon taps the desk again and looks pointedly at Bucky’s notebook, telling him to get to work on taking notes. Bucky huffs but he does listen, picking up his pen and scribbling down a few notes about the piriform cortex and scenting.

“In terms of omega brains specifically though, we do see massive structural and functional differences when it comes to the pleasure and reward centers and emotional regulation.” She points to another part of the diagram. “Here. This is the septal nuclei, and this,” she points again, “is the nucleus accumbens. They both deal with one’s pleasure and reward feedback loops. The accumbens especially is enlarged in omegas, and that is where sexual arousal is processed.”

A few students snicker at the mention of sex, and Cho smiles good naturedly while she waits them out. “Yes, yes, let’s all try to be mature about this, okay? Moving on. You can see the size difference, yeah? In omega brains these structures are nearly double to the size of what they are in the alpha or beta brain. That is what leads to the hypersexuality we see in omegas, and the heightened level of pleasure response to certain stimuli that wouldn’t really affect betas or alphas. This is multi-faceted, by the way: it’s not merely sexual pleasure that’s intensified. We also see the marked increase in pleasure-reward pathways with regards to things like scruffing, Holding, biting, and other possessive Alpha behaviors. These structures are the reason why omegas respond so strongly to dominance and aggression behaviors.” She looks at them all and says, “So the next time you get that gooey, goosebumpy feeling from the pressure of a collar, or from your Handler making you kneel, you know you have your nucleus accumbens to thank.”

Bucky scowls, resentful as fuck of his nucleus accumbens. One sharp look from Sharon has him writing down the information, though. 

Nucleus Accumbens: horny central, cause of simping for alphas.

Sharon narrows her eyes when she sees what he’s written, but Bucky just ignores her and focuses on Cho at the front of the room.

“It’s not just the bigger size of these structures that affect omegas, it’s also the differences in activity levels. And we know this because we’re able to observe this through neuroimaging studies. Does anyone want to take a guess at what types of neuroimaging are most useful for this kind of brain mapping?” She waits, and when nobody raises their hand, she calls on the kid whom Bucky had seen begging for cake in the cafeteria. “Peter? You ought to know this.”

Bucky looks over to where “Peter” is sitting with his red-headed Handler. The boy groans a little at being put on the spot, but eventually he guesses, “I dunno, like a CATscan or something?”

Cho smiles. “Good guess, that is one type. But the most common methods we use are MRI scans and EEGs.” She clicks to the next slide, which shows animated pictures of multiple brains, each illuminated in various colors that flare and flicker to show the brain activity.  “So this is an alpha brain’s amygdala, and this is an omega brain. Unlike the different sizes of the accumbens, the amygdalas are structurally identical. But the omega amygdala is much less active. The warmer the color, the more activity is indicated.” She points to the alpha brain. “All this dark blue? That means that it’s only moderately active—not too much emotion. But over here on the corresponding structure in the omega brain, what do we see?” She points to where the same part of the omega brain is lit up red. “Much more intense activity. So what does this tell us?”

She waits, and after a moment another student raises their hand. “That omegas are more emotional?”

Cho nods. “Exactly! Brain mapping studies have long indicated the increased emotions of omegas, but what’s important to note is that it’s not just that one factor that results in a high level of observable emotionality. We also have to consider this other little area over here.” she points to another spot on the diagram. “The anterior cingulate cortex is what regulates emotional control, and this is where the most pronounced difference is. Not only is this structure physically smaller in the omega brain, but it’s also much more inactive. This is why omegas struggle with independent emotional regulation and focus. Now this is fascinating: If you look here at these three comparison scans, the one on the left is an unmated omega at rest. You see the dark blue, indicating minimal emotional control? Now look at the next one over: that’s the cortex of an omega who’s been newly bonded!”

Bucky squints at the powerpoint, able to clearly see the lighter color blue in the area.

“Now it’s still extremely poor compared to alpha or beta brains, but you can see how the bond has mildly improved the activity levels.” Cho beams at them. “This is because of the influx of the alpha’s bonding pheromones. That’s the connection and settling that omegas feel upon bonding.” She says it all cheerfully, as if this a good thing, and Bucky sits back grumpily in his chair. Cho continues, “This last brain on the right shows the most activity of all, however. Anybody want to guess why?”

A few students raise their hands. One guesses that it’s not an omega brain at all, but Cho assures them it is. “This is the burst in activity levels seen just after an alpha has Voiced,” she says. “They had omegas wear headphones in the MRI machine, and hearing the Voiced intonation of an alpha caused many observable brain changes. All to the positive.” She continues prattling on about all the ways in which interactions with alphas have been shown to increase positive and decrease negative brain activity , annoying Bucky with every single fact she throws out. “Next class we’ll talk more about pheromonal feedback loops and the structures of the prefrontal cortex, so for homework I want you to read all of chapter two in your textbooks.” 

When class is over, Bucky slaps his pen down onto his notebook, and on the short walk to his next classroom, Sharon asks him what’s wrong. Bucky avoids looking at her. “That’s all bullshit,” he says. “Just putting a spin on things to make it look like we’re dumb.”

Sharon ‘tsks’. “I don’t recall Professor Cho saying anything about intelligence in that lecture.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky grumps. “That’ll be next.”

“Hey kid, I don’t know what to tell ya. The science doesn’t lie.”

“Junk science,” Bucky grunts, though he honestly isn’t so sure about that. Dr. Cho’s slideshow had cited sources from places like Johns Hopkins and the Mayo Clinic, The Lancet and The New England Journal of Medicine. Bucky’s pretty sure those are major medical institutions and publications …

“Don’t be grumpy,” Sharon says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Maybe you’ll like psychology class more.”

Bucky does not like psychology class more. 

Professor Banner spends a whole thirty minutes lecturing them on the roles of neurotransmitters in omegas versus alphas and betas before Bucky finally gets frustrated enough to call out, “How come they don’t mention any of this crap in regular school? Huh?”

Banner looks over at Bucky, surprised, and Sharon shoots him a warning look from where she’s sitting across the room. Unlike in Cho’s class, where all the desks face the front of the classroom and the Handlers stay by each student’s side, in Banner’s class they’re all sitting around in small clusters at communal tables and the Handlers sit in chairs along the far wall. Bucky’s cluster has the chocolate cake kid, Peter, in it, along with two other boys. In the chair directly across from Bucky’s, Peter is staring at him with wide eyes. Bucky clenches his jaw and looks back down at the worksheets they’re supposed to be filling in as Banner lectures.  

“Well …” Banner says, parsing his words. “It depends what school you went to before this. You’re American, right?”

“Duh,” Bucky mutters. Across the room, Sharon narrows her eyes at him.

Banner just chuckles. “Yeah, well. A lot of folks in academia don’t like to emphasize anything that goes against the popular narrative, I suppose. But this is all extensively documented.” 

Bucky scowls. “It’s not a narrative. It’s just the real world.”

Banner blinks mildly at him. “Uh huh.” He turns back around to continue the lesson. “So, moving onto the role that endorphins play. I believe you all discussed regulatory centers in the brain in bio today?” A few students murmur in agreement, and Banner nods. “Okay, good. So we know that the parts of the brain that house your pleasure pathways and emotionality are located in the limbic system, and that’s where everything gets processed, but what makes the process happen, what makes it work?”

Bucky stares mutinously at his paper and mutters, “Apparently there’s not much going on up there,” he mumbles sarcastically. “Our ‘amygdala’ is ‘hypoactive’.”

If Banner hears him, he ignores him. “Think of it this way,” he says. “The structures in the limbic system are the factories, yeah? But they need workers inside and machinery to make anything happen. What is the factory worker, in this case?” He calls on Peter when the boy raises his hand. 

“Um, is it endorphins?”

Banner claps his hands, pleased. “Yes! But even broader than that, it’s your neurochemicals and the receptors for those chemicals. Endorphins are just one type of neurotransmitter that the brain releases. And you’re right, that’s what makes these processing centers in your brain work the way they do. The main ones we’re going to be going over today are omgestrin, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. Only omegas produce omgestrin—it’s totally unique to you guys. That’s known as one of the “love hormones,” and omegas produce the most of it when they’re in heat, newly bonded, or when they have a new baby. Omegas naturally produce higher levels of all of the other three neurochemicals too, but: their bodies aren’t as good at regulating it. It has to do with the amount of receptors available in the brain—don’t worry, we haven’t gone over that yet. But in a general sense, you guys have more neurotransmitters floating around, but less active receptor sites. So your body struggles to be able to use the neurotransmitters effectively. Does that make sense?” A few students mumble in agreement, and Banner nods. “So does anybody know how we turn the receptor sites on? How is good regulation achieved?”

“I’ll take a whack at it,” Bucky drawls, not raising his hand. “Alphas?”

Banner nods and shoots him an approving grin. He doesn’t seem to notice Bucky’s sarcasm. “Yes! Exactly. Now simple proximity is probably the biggest and most important factor. We know that omegas who spend large amounts of time in close proximity to alphas fare much better than those who don’t. Usually this means an alpha in the household, but there can be other situations that provide enough contact. Perhaps a friend or a neighbor or a teacher. Someone or several people in the community.”

Bucky doodles nervously on the edge of his worksheet, not looking up. “So then ... what happens if you don’t have an alpha in the house?”

“Good question! Now this is something psychologists have studied extensively. We see a lot more depression in omegas who forego A-o contact, along with higher rates of emotional and behavioral disorders. Suicidality rises by almost ten percent when no alpha is present in the household, and an omega is much more likely to engage in impulsive and high risk behaviors.”

Bucky’s eyes track to the question on his worksheet that asks about the effects of lack of A-o contact. Sighing, he reluctantly writes down Banner’s answer. “Stupid,” he mutters, but it’s said so quietly that nobody hears it except for the boys in his group. Peter shoots him a curious look from across the table, and Bucky flushes and looks away.

“Of course, there are a whole host of proven behaviors that alphas and omegas can engage in that essentially ‘turn on’ the neurotransmitter receptors in your brains. It’s that ‘rush’ of good feelings that you get when an alpha Voices, for example.” Banner looks around the room. “What are some other examples you can think of? I’ll give you a hint: they don’t all require an alpha to be effective.”

This is another question on the worksheet, so Bucky poises his pencil and waits for the other students to call out their ideas. He’s not willingly participating in this misogynistic lesson, he refuses to. One by one, the other kids call out their ideas:

Holds? Scruffs? Scenting? Kneeling? Being hand fed? Spanking?

God, this is so cringe. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and writes down a few of the answers that Banner nods along to.

“Remember, they don’t all require an alpha. Nesting is a good example of one that you can do on your own,” he says. “Though of course it always helps to have Alpha-scented materials available to use. Proximity to one’s own offspring is another, especially if the child in question is under the age of two.”

“Can’t we just cut to the chase?” Bucky interrupts. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, this is all just leading up to the part where you tell us that we can’t exist in the big bad world without an Alpha, right?”

Banner, surprisingly, doesn’t get mad (even though Bucky can see Sharon glaring at him from the other side of the classroom). “Exist? No, no I wouldn’t say that. You don’t need an alpha to exist. But to thrive? Yes, I would say so. Optimal mental health almost always requires interaction with an alpha.” Banner walks up to the room’s whiteboard and uncaps a marker. He begins writing on the board. Let’s discuss what can happen when one is absent that contact, okay? We already mentioned depression.” He writes “depression” down in big, looping letters. “And impulsivity, and high risk behaviors. Anybody want to take a gander about some of the most common high risk behaviors?”

“Sleeping around?” somebody says.

Banner makes a ‘meh’ face. “Well … yes, in the sense that arbitrary promiscuity is unhealthy. But not sexual activity altogether.” He writes down “promiscuity.” “Omegas have high sex drives, so it’s actually important for there to be outlets for that, but it should be with people you’re close to, not strangers or acquaintances.”

Bucky looks down. He’s never slept with anybody but acquaintances. Around the room, the students call out other problematic behaviors, and Banner writes down on the board, “alcohol and drug use,” self-harm,” and “criminality.”

“Good, good. Those are all good examples. And we see these behaviors in omegas who are, for example, raised in very rural communities where there might not be any alphas at all. It’s complex, but all you need to remember is that, in general, if there’s no A-o contact, then the risks for depression, addiction, suicidality, and criminality are all significantly raised.” 

That’s another question on the worksheet, so Bucky begrudgingly fills it out. He can’t help but make comparisons to his own life, of course. He’s never spent any significant amount of time around any alpha, and he does engage in more than one of these so-called “high risk behaviors.” But he’s not depressed, and he’s certainly not suicidal. Jeez. 

“So basically, the two big categories are one: being in physical proximity to alphas; and two: engaging submissive-dominant behaviors. Who here has a daily protocol?”

Almost everybody raises their hands, and Bucky glances over to Sharon. She shakes her head minutely, and Bucky’s shoulders untense. Banner calls on Peter, who’s got his hand raised. “I’ve got spanking protocol,” the boy volunteers.

Bucky’s eyes shoot up. “Daily?” he hisses, slightly horrified. 

Peter just smiles and nods. Banner calls on another student, who volunteers that they have assigned “lap time” with their Handler. Bucky doesn’t even know what that means. “Yeah,” Banner is saying. “So, what’s happening on a neurochemical level when you’re engaging in these activities with your Handlers, is that your body’s sending signals to more efficiently direct your happy hormones. More receptor sites become available, and that’s when you feel the effects—that rush of pleasurable sensation.”

Bucky answers another question on the worksheet, jotting down a few of the daily protocols that the other kids mentioned. He really hopes that he won’t get assigned the more humiliating protocols, like nudity or spanking. Yikes. 

“Now,” Banner says, erasing the board and starting over by drawing long lines to make a table. “Let's chart out all the protocol activities and work through which of the four pleasure receptors is involved in each.”

Banner’s class stretches on for what feels like forever, and Bucky is relieved when the bell rings and they’re dismissed. On the way out the door, Peter walks alongside him and holds out his hand. “Hey. I’m Peter.” 

Bucky shakes his hand. “Hey. Bucky.”

“You’re from the US too?” Peter asks.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky confirms, and watches Peter’s face light up like a Christmas tree. 

“Really?! I’m from Queens!” 

Bucky grunts. 

“Do you have gender studies next?” Peter asks eagerly. 

“I dunno.”

“He does,” Sharon supplies from behind. She’s walking alongside Peter’s Handler and the two of them are chatting back there while they walk along the hall. 

“Awesome!” Peter nods. “Miss Foster is my favorite teacher. She’s really nice and down to earth, you know? You’ll like her.”

“Doubt it,” Bucky mumbles, but he says it so quietly that Peter doesn’t hear, just keeps talking about how they get to sit in beanbag chairs for this class rather than at tables or desks. Bucky doesn’t say a word, just lets Peter prattle on, while privately wondering why the heck the boy seems so happy to be here.

They arrive at the next classroom, and inside there are indeed a bunch of beanbag chairs arranged in a circle. Bucky chooses one and isn’t too surprised when Peter plops down in the next one over. “Miss Jane” turns out to be a pretty omega woman, which surprises Bucky a lot. She’s wearing a collar, which means that she’s mated, and Bucky curls his lip in disdain. He wonders how self-hating an omega would have to be to want to teach at a place like this. 

Jane greets them all and introduces herself. “Welcome to gender studies,” she tells them, taking up one of the beanbag chairs for herself and tucking her legs under her. “I see a few new faces, so let me explain what this class is all about.” She gestures to herself and around to everyone in the circle. “We’re all omega, and in this class we study and explore the nature of that designation, what it means, and how we can all live our best, happiest and healthiest lives.”

Bucky’s eyes slip shut and he groans inside his head. It’s like they’re doing this on purpose, he thinks, slowly ramping up the rhetoric and reinforcing the previous teacher’s points. 

“This isn’t quite like your other classes,” Jane is saying. “For one thing, these chairs.” She wiggles in her own and smiles. “They mimic the atmosphere of a nest, so they should be much more comfortable for us than the usual desks. This is a place where we talk a lot more openly, omega-to-omega, and we have all sorts of discussions. It's much more loosey-goosey in structure, a place of free expression. Okay?”

(Bitterly, Bucky thinks that she probably wouldn’t like what he has to express.)

“Today I thought we could talk about gender roles and expectations, and how we all might feel that society is pressuring us to act one way versus another,” Jane says. 

“What?” Bucky says. “You mean like how we’re expected to stay home, pregnant and barefoot and catering to our Alpha’s whims?”

Jane smirks at him. “Actually quite the opposite. I’m talking about modern society, progressive values that dictate that we should all live and function independently, that we shouldn’t express our feelings or our needs. The modern feminist perspective is that there’s no difference between the sexes and that we should live exactly as alphas do, because that’s the right way to act. The valued way.”

Bucky frowns at her. “That’s a good thing though.”

She tilts her head. “Is it?”

Before he can answer, another student from across the beanbag circle speaks up. “I don’t think it’s always good,” he says. Bucky glares at the kid and Jane asks him, “Why not?”

The other boy shrugs and tucks his knees in. “I dunno. Just … it’s stressful, you know? I feel like we’re supposed to not say anything about how we're feeling, like it’ll be bothering people if you say you need help, or if you admit that you’re feeling sad or seem too needy or something.”

Jane nods along approvingly. “Yes. Well that’s the thing: modern feminism tells us that a good omega is just like an alpha, and that a good omega doesn’t need extra support. So we internalize that and feel guilt and shame when we do have these needs. We’re too embarrassed to speak up and feel like we should just keep it to ourselves and not say anything. But that’s not healthy, and it’s not fair to us. Modern western culture completely devalues the natural omega by insisting we’re the same as everybody else. What’s so wrong with being different?”

“That’s not true,” Bucky argues. “Feminism is good. It’s trying to make a fair world for us!”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “When did ‘fair’ become ‘identical’? When did ‘equal’ become ‘the same’? In today’s world we’re constantly sent messages to be self-reliant, to not be a burden: ‘Don’t mention it if you’re close to heat, just take suppressants. Don’t admit you need body contact, just stay in your space and don’t bother anybody.’ We have all these natural interests, abilities, and inclinations, but society tells us to pursue alphas’ interests and inclinations, to be just like they are because those are the valued traits. Don’t you think that’s the most sexist thing of all? To completely dismiss our natures as something undesirable?”

Bucky frowns and looks down at his lap. “I dunno,” he grumbles. He’s never thought of it that way. He doesn’t like the spin Jane’s trying to put on it though, as though omegas can’t or shouldn’t pursue independence. 

Jane goes back to addressing the whole class. “Just look at the ways that modern feminism has denied omegas’ nature and actually hurt us: We’re told we should want to suppress these traits, that we should ignore our urge to have children and a family, that we should avoid leaning on an alpha for support or comfort. The sexual revolution insisted that we could and should have casual sex with anyone, robbing us of the proven benefits we get from bonded sex and long term partners. It’s drastically increased the risks we face for abandonment upon pregnancy, because alphas are now given the message that they don’t need to commit and they don’t need to protect or nurture us. Both sides wind up lonely and deprived, and we’re told we should be saying thank you for it.” Jane looks around sadly at them all. “And what we’re seeing consistently now is tons of omegas in their thirties and forties—alone, mateless, childless, depressed—with houseplants and cats and regrets that’ve come too late.” She shrugs. “I would posit that true omega feminism would promote acceptance of our natures, rather than pretending they don’t exist. We need to think about what our culture can do to start valuing omegas how they are, not how they ‘should be’.”

Around the beanbag circle, a lot of the students are nodding along, looking relieved as if Jane has just put to words the way that they’ve all felt for a long time. Bucky isn’t nodding, but he is frowning down at his own lap, ruminating on it …

“Is there anybody who’s had an experience where they felt like they weren’t allowed or weren’t ‘supposed to’ act a certain way, and had to hold something that they really felt or thought in so they wouldn’t be judged?”

Several kids raise their hands, and they all volunteer times where they’ve felt pressured to not be their true selves. Bucky’s dismayed to realize that he can relate to many of the stories. He’s just never considered it before. He pulls his knees up to his chest and burrows further into the beanbag chair, chewing his lip and listening to things that he doesn’t want to believe might be true.

“So what?” he eventually says. “We’re all just supposed to stay home and make babies and never do anything?”

Jane shoots him an exasperated look. “Do you know the rate of antidepressant use in omegas in the US?”

“No.”

“It’s seventy nine percent. In the general population it’s thirteen.”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “Oh. … I didn’t know that. That sounds high.”

She nods sadly. “It is. But back in the fifties and sixties, the rate was nearly identical to theat of the general population’s. It only skyrocketed after the sexual revolution and second wave feminism. You think that’s just a coincidence?”

Bucky shrugs mulishly. “I dunno. It could be. Correlation isn’t causation.”

Jane nods. “Yes, but we also know that in bonded omegas who have children and work in traditional jobs, antidepressant use is still over sixty percent. In bonded omegas who fulfill caregiver roles? It drops to eight percent.”

Bucky avoids her stare, uncomfortable with being confronted with all these facts. “Whatever,” he mutters. “We should still have the choice to do whatever we wanna do.”

“Well of course,” she says. “We’re not saying those paths shouldn’t be allowed, but society has decided to demean and diminish the most common and beneficial life choices for omegas. It’s made us feel like what we naturally want to do isn’t good enough, isn’t worth anything. And that’s what’s not fair. We should be allowed to take pride in our designation, not be constantly told to ignore it and repress it.” 

Bucky shrugs, unhappy to concede the point. “Sure, I guess,” he mutters. 

Jane seems to sense that he isn’t interested in talking anymore, because she directs the conversation back to the class as a whole and moves on from there, leaving Bucky to sulk in his beanbag.

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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[oliverreedmasterass]

Greta Van Fleet having their own Disney Channel show like imagine if they were brought up that way omg

Notes: EVERYONE GIVE ALEX (@jmkho) SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE INCREDIBLE TITLE, I LOVE IT WITH ALL OF MY HEART SHE'S SO UNBELIEVABLY TALENTED!!! AND ADDISON (@starcatcherkiszka) THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT AND TALKING ME THROUGH THE PLAN FOR THIS FIC!! Much love to you both 🫶

Synopsis: In this pilot episode of a Disney Channel-esque show, the members of Greta Van Fleet all face their own personal challenges: Josh struggles with writer's block, Jake is convinced the studio is haunted, and Danny and Sam are in the midst of an intense prank war

Words: 5k (but it goes by fast since it's a script, trust me)

Warnings: ghosts/spookiness/hauntings, allusions to insanity, chimpanzees, James Hetfield

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The scene opens in the studio. Josh is pacing back and forth while murmuring to himself, Jake is perched on a stool with an acoustic guitar in his hand staring blankly at a wall, Danny is behind his drum kit attempting to twirl his drumsticks around, and Sam is sitting at his keys cradling an impressive cup of coffee. 

JOSH: I can’t believe this. 

JAKE: It’ll come to you, don’t worry. It always does. 

JOSH: No, it’s just, I don’t know. It feels different this time. Like, my brain isn’t coming up with anything. 

DANNY: I think the song you started writing about your rhinestones had potential. 

[Flashback to Josh brainstorming the rhinestone song]

JOSH: Twinkling, glittering, glimmering musical colors radiating on my face, my shining face, beaming at youuuuuuu…

[Cut back to the present]

Josh squints at Danny. It’s obvious he knows Danny is lying. 

JAKE: We have time before this song has to be done, Josh. No need to force it out. 

SAM: [to Jake] Actually I think he would work better under pressure. [to Josh] If we don’t finish this song in the next hour, I’m leaving the band. 

JAKE, DANNY: Sam! 

Josh drops to the floor and folds himself up in the fetal position with a moan. 

JAKE: Great idea, Sam. 

Jake sets his guitar down and squats next to Josh so he can place a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

JAKE: [to Josh] Why don’t we give you some space to work out the lyrics? 

Behind Jake and Josh, Sam takes a drink from his coffee and spits it out with a loud “BLEGH!” Everyone turns to look at him. 

DANNY: [cheekily] Burn your tongue? 

SAM: This tastes awful, like a salt lamp! 

JOSH: How do you know what a salt lamp tastes like? 

With a wide grin, Danny removes a handful of empty salt packets from his pocket and holds them up to Sam to see. 

DANNY: Gotcha. 

SAM: No! 

JAKE: Is this a part of your stupid prank war? 

SAM: It’s not stupid. 

DANNY: I’m beating Sam by a landslide. I only have to prank him three more times and then the crown will be mine. Sam, you have what? Seven more pranks? You’d think with two older brothers and all, you’d be a lot better at this. 

SAM: You haven’t seen my best pranks yet. 

DANNY: I’m hoping they’re better than drawing a banana on my drum kit. And my car. Actually, why do you keep drawing bananas on my stuff? 

SAM: It’s funny. 

DANNY: It’s annoying. 

Josh groans from the floor. 

JAKE: C’mon, Josh. Get up. 

Jake helps a limp Josh back to his feet and makes sure that he’s going to stand upright when he releases his grip on his shoulders. Josh looks dazed but stands vertically, which earns him a pat on the head from Jake. 

JOSH: I’m gonna get the studio to myself? 

JAKE: Yeah, we’ll give you some space to actually hear your own thoughts.

In the background, Danny crawls on his hands and knees to Sam’s feet where he proceeds to tie his shoelaces together. Sam is blissfully ignorant, giving his rank coffee another testing sip, which he spits out again. 

JOSH: Okay, yeah, hear my thoughts, good, yeah. 

Jake grabs his guitar and leads the way out of the studio, giving Josh a quick wave which Josh returns. Danny follows behind Jake and Sam stands to his feet, still unaware of his shoelaces. 

SAM: [whispering to Josh] Hey, give me a call if you need any help. 

JOSH: Thanks, I won’t. 

SAM: I’ve got some good ideas to motivate you to write something. 

JOSH: I don’t trust you. 

SAM: I’m only a phone call away. 

JOSH: Please leave the room, Sam. 

SAM: You’ve got it, brother. 

Sam starts to take a step forward and promptly tumbles to the ground with a thump. Danny and Jake pop their heads back into the room and start to laugh and taunt Sam, who is staring down at his feet in awe. 

SAM: DANNY! HOW? WHAT? WHEN? 

DANNY: [calling from outside the room] It’s too easy! 2 pranks to go! 

Sam grumbles, hastily unties his shoes, and then ducks out of the room, hanging his head in embarrassment. The door slams shut, finally engulfing Josh in silence. He closes his eyes and lets in a deep inhale, followed by a long exhale. He opens his eyes and sits on the floor next to a notepad and pen that had obviously been discarded in frustration earlier. 

Starcatchers Theme/Opening Titles

[acoustic theme song with a harmonica] 

From the fires we emerged anew, 

Singing, playing rock and roll, 

Reviving a genre just for you. 

Across the globe we traveled far

Recruiting an army of peace, 

Enchanting crowds with our guitar. 

A battle ensued at the Gardens Gate

And we preserved the gift of nature, 

Standing up against a culture of hate.  

We are the Starcatchers, reaching for the sky, 

Discovering words of wisdom to live by. 

We deliver a message from the heavens above:

Live your legend through the intelligence of love. 

[end theme] 

JOSH: [to the camera] It’s one song. Just a single song. What does it matter? People can never understand what I’m saying anyways, I could write literally anything. 

Josh immediately stares daggers at his notepad, deep in thought. His face is starting to turn red and his eyes bug out. He stops before his head explodes and throws himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the studio. 

JOSH: Nothing. 

Across the hall and a few doors down, Jake is in an empty studio, walking in circles while strumming his acoustic guitar. 

JAKE: [singing] What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor ear-lay in tha mornin’! Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, way hay and up-

Jake is cut off by the sound of something scraping against wood. Jake’s face pales in fear and he whirls around in a quick circle, searching for the source of the sound. 

JAKE: I just wanna say, for the record, I can kick really, really hard. 

The scraping suddenly stops and Jake lets out a sigh of relief. Then, he catches a glimpse of a water bottle quickly jerking across a table in the corner of the room. It seems as though it moved on its own. In a blind panic, Jake drops his guitar and books it for the studio door. He jiggles and pushes on the handle to no avail. The door appears to be locked. 

JAKE: Ruh roh raggy.

Jake is breathing heavily now, well beyond the brink of panic, and starts to kick the door with all of his might. The threat he threw out earlier has some merit: he can kick really, really hard, but the door doesn’t budge. Jake squeezes his eyes shut and smacks his forehead.

JAKE: C'mon, brain. Give me something.  

Jake grabs hold of the door knob again. He twists the handle and tries pushing out, but the door is still sealed shut. Jake turns the knob again and pulls the door towards him. The door opens. 

JAKE: [staring at the door warily] You’ve got to be kidding me. 

Now free from the haunted studio room, Jake runs down the hallway as fast as he can, past Danny, who is sitting in the studio lobby. 

JAKE: Ghosts! 

Danny watches Jake run past and then, unbothered, looks back down at his phone. Behind him, Sam sneaks along the wall of the lobby like he’s in Mission Impossible, armed with two bananas. He creeps closer to Danny and can’t help but let out a soft laugh, which makes Danny turn around. 

DANNY: What’s going on? 

Sam quickly retracts both hands behind his back to hide the bananas. 

SAM: Nothing…

DANNY: What have you got behind your back? 

SAM: Oh, you know, stuff. Taxes. I have taxes. 

Before Sam can react, Danny springs to his feet, barrels towards Sam, grabs his arms, and tugs them out in front of him so Danny can see the two bananas. Danny and Sam both stare down at what’s in Sam’s hands, and then Danny shoots Sam a tired look. 

DANNY: More bananas? 

SAM: Hyah!

Sam tosses the two bananas at Danny’s chest so they hit him with a soft thump before dropping to the floor. Danny stares down at the bananas, expressionless. 

DANNY: You just bruised two perfectly good bananas. 

SAM: Pick them up, you’ll get the prank. It’s a really stellar one. 

Danny looks like he doesn’t want to, but he grabs the bananas and turns them around in his hands with his eyebrows arched. 

DANNY: Oh my god. You drew my car and drum kit on these? 

SAM: I’m on my A-game now, Daniel! 

Sam runs off, cackling loudly. Danny watches him go and shakes his head. 

DANNY: [to the camera] What does he think a prank is? 

Danny places the bananas on the lobby table and then sighs and walks in the direction Sam went, passing by the studio where Josh is currently holed up. In the studio, Josh is stationed in front of a whiteboard. 

JOSH: What story should I tell? What needs to be added to the Greta Van Fleet universe? [Speaking aloud as he writes on the whiteboard using a sharpie] I get carsick. No. Jake’s feet smell bad. No. Womb memories. No. European architecture. No. Argh! 

Josh launches the sharpie off to the side and it crashes against one of Danny’s cymbals. 

JOSH: This is impossible. I can’t do this by myself. 

Josh eyes a landline phone sitting in the studio. The screen splits in two as Josh calls James Hetfield, and he answers the phone. 

JAMES: Howdy, it’s the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head. What can I do for ya? 

JOSH: Hey, quick question, do you ever have such a hard time writing a song that you want to pull your brain out of your head and play basketball with it? 

JAMES: Can’t say that I have. 

JOSH: Darn. 

JAMES: Want some advice? Don’t answer that. I’m gonna give it to you anyway. Write about the things that make your skin crawl, that make you shiver, that your brain actively avoids thinking about. That’s where your most complex emotions lay. 

JOSH: Eighteen wheelers. I’m certain they can’t see me when I’m driving next to them. 

JAMES: No, I’m talking about like the lowest of lows here. Think war, famine, plague, climate change, scary stuff. 

JOSH: Chimpanzees. Ooh, I’m getting shivers. I think it’s working, James!

JAMES: Oh, um, okay, get to writing then, Josh. I won’t keep you. 

With an air of triumph, Josh slams the phone down. 

Outside the studio, Jake is talking on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator. 

JAKE: I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, the water bottle moved. 

9-1-1 OPERATOR: No, I get what you’re saying. That’s not an emergency, sir. 

JAKE: Listen to me, the water bottle moved on its own. There’s something paranormal happening here, and I don’t want a poltergeist situation going down. Being sucked into a spooky closet is one of my top 10 fears. 

9-1-1 OPERATOR: I’m going to hang up. I have other calls to get to.

The line disconnects. Jake huffs and jams his phone back into his pocket. 

JAKE: How do they not have a paranormal sub-department? 

In the background in the parking lot of the studio, Danny tiptoes into frame with a marshmallow gun and a pair of goggles on. He scans the area and then crouches down, on the prowl, trying to find Sam. 

DANNY: [softly] Sammy, come out and play. I’ve got a little treat for you. 

Danny continues creeping around the cars and, as he moves past Sam’s Tesla, Sam jumps out of the trunk, decked out in a banana costume. 

SAM: [literally shouting] COME MISTER TALLY MAN, TALLY ME BANANA! 

DANNY: [shouting back] WHAT IS WITH YOU AND THE BANANAS? 

Sam reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a new banana, which he once again throws at Danny. 

SAM: How does it ‘peel’ to get pranked this hard, Daniel? 

Sam proudly removes himself from the trunk and stands in front of Danny, placing his hands on his hips with confidence. Danny can’t help but silently unload his marshmallow gun on Sam, pummeling him with mini marshmallows. Sam squeaks out in shock and ducks into a ball on the pavement. Danny continues until he’s out of marshmallows. 

DANNY: [down to Sam] One more prank to go. 

SAM: [coughing up marshmallows] You’ll never win. 

Jake runs over to his band members. 

JAKE: [still unbelievably on edge] There is something creepy afoot here. 

DANNY: I’ve told you before, Jake, the moaning sounds you keep hearing are coming from the experimental band’s sessions down the hall. 

JAKE: A water bottle moved right in front of my eyes. 

SAM: [mocking, from the ground] Ooh scary. 

Jake picks up a marshmallow from the ground and proceeds to chuck it at Sam. 

JAKE: [back to Danny] There’s a ghost in there and it’s upset that we’re invading its space. I’m gonna get sucked into a closet if I go back in there, and I can’t risk it. 

Danny and Sam exchange a glance. 

DANNY: I’ll go back in with you and show you that there’s nothing to worry about. 

SAM: And I’ll stay here because I really don’t care.

Danny shoots Sam a look and then guides a reluctant Jake back towards the studio. 

JAKE: Do you have any holy water on you? 

DANNY: I don’t think that works on ghosts, Jake. What do you think we’re up against here? 

JAKE: I want to be prepared for anything. 

Even though Jake is dragging his heels, Danny succeeds in pushing him through the front doors and guides him past the lobby, towards the “haunted” studio. Jake once again looks pale as a sheet. 

DANNY: See? Nothing supernatural going on here. Except you. God, you look like a ghost. 

JAKE: [whispering] I’m a ghost? 

DANNY: No, no, come on, show me the room where it happened. 

Jake starts to cautiously step towards the room when they hear Josh belting out lyrics down the hall. Danny and Jake stop in their tracks and listen. 

JOSH: Ooh! Ooh! Aah! Aah! Chimpanzee on my mind, coming near me, he’s by my side! 

Without uttering a word, it’s mutually agreed between Danny and Jake that they need to step in before Josh writes any more terrible lyrics. They both move to his studio door and storm in. Josh is sitting on a stool, shaking a tambourine, but stops when he notices them. 

JOSH: Something wrong? 

JAKE: What the hell are you singing? 

JOSH: [cautiously] The new song? 

DANNY: Chimpanzee on my mind? 

JOSH: You don’t like it? 

JAKE: Our album is called Starcatcher, Josh. Could you write about something a bit more on theme than apes? 

JOSH: [matter of factly] They sent a chimp to space.

DANNY: This is a good starting point, Josh. Maybe try to work with something a bit more abstract. How do chimps in space make you feel? 

JOSH: Confused. 

DANNY: Okay? Try to work off of that. 

JOSH: Yeah, yeah, okay. 

Josh shoos Jake and Danny out of the studio and looks back at his notepad with a sigh. Jake and Danny step out of the room and move back towards the haunted studio. Jake stands by the door, glued in place. Danny watches him. 

DANNY: Should I? 

Jake purses his lips and nods. Danny slowly pushes the door open and steps in first. Jake hesitantly follows behind him. Danny scans around. 

DANNY: Everything looks normal to me. 

Jake has peeled himself away from Danny and is stationed in front of the haunted water bottle, where all of his problems began. 

JAKE: [pointing a half centimeter to the right of where the water bottle is now sitting] It used to be here. But now it’s here. 

DANNY: Uh huh. 

JAKE: It jerked over on its own. I was nowhere near it. And there were weird scratching noises too. Maybe there’s something in the walls. 

DANNY: Like a squirrel? 

JAKE: Like a ghoul. 

DANNY: You know, what is a ghoul? 

JAKE: A force you shouldn’t reckon with. 

DANNY: I wish you could be a bit more specific sometimes. 

JAKE: I can’t help that I’m mysterious. 

DANNY: No, actually I do think that’s something you can help - 

A chilling sound fills the studio. 

MYSTERIOUS GHOSTLY VOICE: Oohhohohooooohhhhhoooooooooo

Jake screams and jumps into Danny’s arms. Danny instinctually catches Jake. The lights start to flicker.

JAKE: RUN, DANNY, RUN! BEFORE THE CLOSET OPENS AND TAKES ME!

DANNY: THERE’S NO CLOSET IN HERE, JAKE!

Danny runs out of the studio anyways and bumps into Sam, still dressed in the banana costume, in the hall. 

SAM: What’s going on? 

JAKE: [not making any sense] Water bottle and wood and oohhhooooohooohooo sounds and ghouls and spooky and closets and - 

SAM: Danny? 

DANNY: The studio is haunted. 

SAM: Oh, word. 

Jake squirms out of Danny’s arms and faces Sam. 

JAKE: You’re not freaked out? 

SAM: Why should I be? 

JAKE: Ghosts, Sam! They’ll get you! They’re always two steps ahead. 

SAM: Ghosts don’t have feet. 

JAKE: It’s an expression, Sam! 

Cut to Josh in his studio. Jake and Sam’s argument is muffled outside the door, but still audible. Josh sits back on the ground in front of his notepad and pen. 

JOSH: C’mere, lyrics, pspspsp, come to papa. 

This obviously does not work. 

JOSH: [tapping his pen on his chin] Maybe I’d be inspired by our old lyrics? Uhhh what’s a good one? Light My Love? Your mind is a stream of colors. Stream of colors, stream of colors, stream of co-lors. Stream of co…Hmmm. That’s it! A stream of consciousness! That should give me something to work with. 

Josh picks up his pen, suddenly filled with a new surge of energy, and starts to scribble on his paper. A montage of Josh writing in different dramatic angles plays with a song similar to Gonna Fly Now blaring in the background. He finishes writing and drops his smoking pen to the floor. 

JOSH: There. 

As if he’s dealing with an ancient relic, Josh carefully lifts the notepad up to his eyeline and carefully scans over what he wrote. 

JOSH: [reading aloud] All work and no play makes Josh a dull boy. All work and no play makes Josh a dull boy. All work and no play makes Josh a dull boy. Oh god! It goes on for four and a half pages! 

Josh crumples the pages into tight balls and eats them, removing the evidence. Josh approaches the glass panel separating the studio from the sound booth and looks at his reflection, jabbing his finger into his reflection’s shoulder. 

JOSH: No one can know about this, you hear me? No one! This is between you and me. 

JOSH’S REFLECTION: Whatever you say, boss. 

Josh shakes his head and backs away from his reflection. 

JOSH: Woah. [to the camera] I wonder if Carole King has to deal with this. 

JOSH’S REFLECTION: She doesn’t, but James Taylor does. 

Josh hops away from the glass in shock and returns to the whiteboard in a daze. 

JOSH: [to himself] It’s all in your head. 

He attempts to wipe his previous notes away, but it’s not working since he wrote them out in sharpie. Josh drops his arms in defeat. 

JOSH: What’s the point? 

Josh reassumes his spot on the ground in the fetal position. In the studio lobby, Jake is in a similar position on the sofa, staring down at his knees in muted shock. Sam is sitting next to him, still in the banana costume, awkwardly patting his legs. Danny enters back into the room and takes a seat across from Sam and Jake. 

DANNY: I didn’t hear any weird noises in any of the other studios. Well, actually, I think I heard Josh talking to himself, but that’s not out of the ordinary. 

SAM: [to Jake] Hear that? The spooky ghost is on vacation. 

JAKE: [softly] Ghosts can’t go on vacation. 

SAM: How do you know? Are you a ghost? 

Jake huffs but doesn’t continue to argue. 

SAM: [to Danny] One of the assistants brought in some smoothies if you want one, they’re pretty good. 

DANNY: Oh cool, thanks. 

Danny grabs one of the smoothies from the table and takes a long sip. Sam is staring at him, looking on the brink of laughter. Danny sets the smoothie down and eyes Sam. 

DANNY: What? 

SAM: Got you! 

DANNY: [paling] What? What did you do? 

SAM: I put a little extra something in your smoothie. 

Jake untucks himself out of his fetal position to watch the exchange between Danny and Sam. This is some interesting stuff. 

DANNY: Sam, what did you do? 

Sam, beaming wide, pulls out a banana peel and drops it on the floor in front of Danny. Danny looks down at it. 

DANNY: I don’t get it. 

SAM: I put a banana in your smoothie! 

DANNY: Are you being serious? 

SAM: Samuel Francis Kiszka does it again! 

JAKE: Sam, smoothies already have bananas in them. It’s literally one of the main ingredients.

DANNY: Oh thank god, I thought you put laxatives in there. 

SAM: The banana strikes again! I’m right on your tail, Daniel! 

JAKE: I don’t think putting a banana in a smoothie counts as a prank, Sam. 

Sam pouts. A bang and a crash comes from down the hall where Josh is. Jake springs to his feet in alarm. 

JAKE: Josh? 

Completely forgetting about his paralyzing fear of the haunted studio, Jake rushes down the hall to Josh. Danny and Sam trail behind him. Jake throws open the door to the studio and gapes at Josh, who is bashing a tambourine against the glass panel separating the studio from the sound booth. 

JOSH: Stop! Talking! To! Me! Get! Out! Of! My! Head!

JAKE: Josh! Our insurance doesn’t cover trashed studios! 

Josh continues banging on the glass. It’s as if he doesn’t realize Jake is there. Jake tries to turn Josh around to face him, but Josh doesn’t budge. From Josh’s perspective, he’s smacking his reflection with the tambourine while his reflection laughs and taunts him. 

JOSH: Your treacherous ridicule will never break me! 

Danny rushes to Josh’s side and drenches him with a bucket of ice water, finally snapping Josh out of his spell. He stumbles back from the glass a few steps and then holds at his head and grunts. 

JOSH: [dejected] I didn’t write the new song. I got distracted. 

SAM: Yeah, obviously. 

Josh looks Sam down in his banana costume. 

JOSH: Did Danny and Jake tell you about my chimpanzee song? Did you like it or something? Is this an act of solidarity? 

SAM: Wait, you wrote a song about chimpanzees? 

JOSH: James Hetfield told me to write about something that scares me. 

SAM: And you wrote about chimpanzees? 

JOSH: He shot down my idea about eighteen wheelers. 

Sam doesn’t know how to respond to this. 

JOSH: I’m sorry, you guys. I’m just not getting inspired in the right way. I don’t know if the lyrics are ever gonna come to me. 

DANNY: Hey, they will. It just takes some time. 

JAKE: I say we call it quits for the day. I wanna get out of here. 

JOSH: [finally taking in Jake’s face for the first time] You look like you saw a ghost. What’s up with you? 

JAKE: [whispering] That’s exactly what happened to me. 

JOSH: Okay, yeah, let’s get out of here. 

Jake and Josh move for the door but then stop when they realize Sam and Danny aren’t following behind them. 

JOSH: You guys coming? 

SAM: We’ll be right behind you, just give us a second. 

Jake and Josh shrug and leave Sam and Danny behind. They move down the hallway and, when they pass the haunted studio, clawing noises sound inside the door. Jake and Josh exchange a terrified look. 

JOSH: Is that? 

JAKE: Yeah. 

They’re both stuck in place, staring at the door in fear. The door starts to thump and spooky sounds come from inside the room. Before Jake or Josh can react, two sets of hands pop out of the door and drag them into the room. 

JOSH: Oh mama! 

Jake and Josh are standing in the dark as the door slams shut behind them. 

JAKE: Josh? 

A bunch of crashing noises sound and Jake lets out a yelp. 

JOSH: Sorry, I tripped over something. 

Jake fumbles for his phone and turns the flashlight on. Across from him he can see a panic-stricken Josh, his eyes darting around looking for danger. Jake slowly moves the flashlight around the studio, taking in the empty space, and then lets out a holler when he sees a shadowed figure standing in the corner of the room. Josh sees what he’s looking at and screams as well. 

JOSH: It’s a chimpanzee! 

JAKE: What? No, it’s a vengeful spirit! 

The shadowed figure starts to slowly move closer to them and Jake and Josh embrace in a tight hug, screaming. 

JOSH: [shrill] Stay back! 

JAKE: I’m gonna kick you so hard in the gonads! 

The shadowed figure stops about 20 feet away from Jake and Josh. 

SHADOWED FIGURE: [in a large and booming voice] Jacob Thomas Kiszka and Joshua Michael Kiszka! 

Jake and Josh scream at the top of their lungs, still hugging. 

SHADOWED FIGURE: You have continually trespassed on my territory. You must face a reckoning for your carelessness. 

JOSH: Would a simple sorry suffice? 

SHADOWED FIGURE: NO! 

Jake and Josh cower further. 

SHADOWED FIGURE: You must go through the spooky door to another dimension. 

JAKE: Oh god, no! Anything but that! 

The door to the studio flings open on its own. Strobe lights and smoke flood into the studio from the door and Jake and Josh shield their eyes in fear. They both back up against the wall farthest from the door.

SHADOWED FIGURE: Whatever you think is beyond that door, it’s worse. 

JOSH: [whispering to himself] Eighteen wheelers. 

SHADOWED FIGURE: Three…

JOSH: Oh god not a countdown. 

SHADOWED FIGURE: Two…

JAKE: What do we do? 

SHADOWED FIGURE: One…

JOSH: It’s been nice knowing you, little bro. 

Jake whirls to face Josh. 

JAKE: By five minutes! 

SHADOWED FIGURE: Zero! 

Sam jumps between Jake and Josh, still in his banana costume. 

SAM: IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE HAS BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH MESOTHELIOMA - 

Jake and Josh jump about 4 feet in the air. 

JAKE AND JOSH: AAAAAAUUUGHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The lights to the studio flick back on and Jake and Josh are greeted by the sight of Sam and Danny standing in front of them, laughing hard. Danny is wearing a cloak, revealing him to be the shadowed figure. Jake pushes out of Josh’s embrace and storms up to Sam and Danny. 

JAKE: You need to start explaining yourselves now. 

Sam puts his hands up, guilty as charged. 

DANNY: I thought Sam was easy to prank, I guess it’s actually all the Kiszkas. 

SAM: It’s amazing what a voice changing microphone and some strobe lights can do. 

DANNY: And a fishing line. 

JAKE: A fishing line?

Sam moves over to the haunted water bottle, steps behind the piano, and tugs on a string, making the bottle lurch to the side. Jake stares, dumbfounded. 

JAKE: It was all you? 

Sam and Danny share a glance. 

DANNY: I mean, yeah. 

JAKE: Why I oughta…

Jake moves his foot back, ready to kick Sam and Danny with all of his might when Josh speaks up, capturing all of their attention. 

JOSH: I felt like such a massive chicken back there. But I think I finally understand what James was trying to tell me. I’m terrified of the unknown, of a feeling of hopelessness, where everything is crashing and burning around you, but you have to try and hold things together.  

SAM: My god, he’s doing it. 

Josh is already booking it back to his studio. 

JOSH: The lyrics are coming! They’re crowning! 

Jake looks back and forth between Danny and Sam like he still really wants to kick them, but ends up shaking his head and following behind Josh. Josh needs supervision in the studio moving forward - he can’t be left alone anymore. 

SAM: That was one hell of a prank, Danny. 

DANNY: I’m glad we could team up against Jake and Josh. They need a little humbling from time to time. 

SAM: I couldn’t have said it any better. 

Sam clasps Danny on the back and then motions towards the door. 

SAM: Wanna watch Josh’s creative genius at work? 

DANNY: I do like it when he yells, “BAJABULE!” every time he gets down a verse. 

Danny walks past Sam and moves through the door. Sam happily follows behind him. When Danny turns into the hallway, he subtly drops the banana peel that Sam had thrown in front of him earlier. Sam doesn’t notice and steps on it, slipping backwards and falling with a loud THUD. 

DANNY: Victory, baby!! 

SAM: [dramatically groaning from the ground] What a tragic end to a war. 

DANNY: Eat it! 

Danny does an impressive victory dance over Sam, who is still sprawled on the floor in defeat. Transition to Josh, Jake, Danny, and Sam playing The Falling Sky in the studio. As the song finishes, they all come together. 

JOSH: For a while there, I really thought I would never be able to write a song again.  

DANNY: We’ve got a real winner on our hands. You know, like me. 

SAM: Drop it, Daniel. 

DANNY: I think you owe me something, Sam. 

Sam grumbles but takes his bass off, retreats to the side of the studio, and returns with a crown made out of bananas. He brings it to Danny and places it on his head. 

SAM: [emotionless] I hereby pronounce you, Daniel Jean Louise Marie Wagner, King of the Pranks. All hail the king. 

Jake approaches Sam and Danny. 

JAKE: As a congratulations, I would like to extend my foot into both of your shins. 

As Jake is about to do this, the lights in the studio flicker out. 

JOSH: The same joke twice isn’t very funny, guys.

JAKE: I didn’t think it was that funny the first time around. 

DANNY: We didn’t do anything. 

SAM: Yeah, that wasn’t us. 

Chimp noises sound around the dark room. The band screams. 

END OF EPISODE

[i984]

Signing off...

Hello! I want to start this post by telling you guys something really interesting...

Tl;dr: I'm taking a break for a month due to severe stress and performance anxiety, plus college and work is kicking me in the arse, but do send requests and prompts in because I need to write them FLUFF to get rid of the stress. Love ya!

So a month ago I stumbled upon a really amazing writer here on tumblr dearest, and I immediately fell in love with their work. It was so well written, and I couldn't comprehend the fact that it was the first ever story they've ever written and they wrote it under such circumstances that if I were to be put in their position, I can guarantee I wouldn't even be able to string a coherent sentence.

Anyway, that really got me thinking.

It's been two months since I first started writing, and revisiting old works of mine reveals something along the lines of "I'm not improving," and "I'm not creative."

It's been a problem I seem to notice, is that I struggle a lot with characterization (ESPECIALLY this) and pacing, among other things that makes me view my works mostly as blegh.

I know comparing is probably not the best way to develop, and I wouldn't say I'm envious of people's talents (because it's obvious some people are just so great at stuff lmao) but it's more like I'm disappointed in myself I guess(?)

In the collective 20 works that I've published over the two months, I still can't fully grasp what works and what doesn't with the Fandom, and I can't quite identify nor fix the problems in my writings. Combined with the burn out, this makes writing a very painful process for me even though I really want to enjoy it.

I rely very heavily on external validations and to see that in the midst of the dead Fandom (when compared to when it's at its peak), people can still garner almost 1k notes in the span of a week (and I can see why it's very well loved), posting here just makes me so stressed when I shouldn't even be.

It got so bad to the point I have trouble breathing every time I think about writing, and although now it doesn't happen as often, the performance anxiety is pretty much there.

Work, as well as college too has been a pretty great contributor for my stress and to put writing on top of that is just excruciating for me.

And that's why I'm taking a break!

It'll probably a month break like how I've stated in previous post, because it's become apparent I need rest LMAO

Thank you so much for the support you guys have shown and sent my way, I want to say that I really appreciate it! Honestly I wouldn't get this far without you guys, I love you so much!

I've set some reblogs for other creator's works while I'm gone, because I've been meaning to read but I just haven't found the opportunity for it. People here make such great works <3

If you guys have any requests, PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND THEM IN. I know this might feel contradictory but as I pointed out, I'm not really imaginative or creative, and I really want to write things, but most of the time I cant come up with anything or what I think is good isn't what you guys want (I know I still have a bunch of requests sitting around, but like I said I write when inspiration struck me).

So yes, send requests in so that I can do some writing during the break, and hopefully come back with a bunch of requests already done and ready to post!

Also, if you guys make it this far, I've got a surprise for you which is I'm finally trying to work on the series I've been planning to do since January HAHA! We'll have to see where it takes me but right now I have so much ideas running around in my brain and not enough waking hour in the day to develop and write it.

How do you guys feel about lord crime v.s. master detective trope BECAUSE I AM CRAZY ABOUT IT.

I'll see you guys when I do :) Love you! ❤

Special thanks to:

@missmonsters2 and @robiin-buckley for being the people who literally BURNS my heart with the desire and give me the courage to write, I wouldn’t be here without you 🥺💘

@ocyrus for being my first ever anon, I cannot stress how much I owe you <3

@tulipsbymybed for hyping me up when I first started and when I thought my work is a shitshow.

@vorsdanysstuff for being the first person to reblog my stuff and says some very very nice things about it and gave me more confidence to write, and also. For finding me and being the love of my life. I treasure you with my whole being.

@wol-fica for feeding me with cat pictures and being my lovely wife who misses me when I'm gone and makes picrews of us together, I love you so much 💓

@maryannecrimsworth for noticing my username and for loving my blogs questionable aesthetic, and for talking to me about dystopia and being my favorite lil bro!

@cursedchar for being the awkward mutual at first but now we spew chaos every where and every time we talk and interact. Honestly, you bring the wild side in me out to the world. Still hate your angsty stuff tho.

@tundra1029 FOR BEING THE ICON THAT GIVES GOOD ASS AMAZING PROMPTS and being a super lovely person and a great writer, I love you buddy <3

@alexkolax for well. You know me the most out of everyone in this site. My respect and trust for you is through the roof and cannot be expressed with mere words. Thank you for being here, Lex.

@ricosnumber1fan for being there in most of my works. I still think about you and scroll through your comments and reblogs. You're the best (second to sourdough tho).

@theflamboyantshadow for always leaving amazing comments under my posts, you are the sweetest person ever and I really wish you a great fucking life. Love you.

@iamnicodemus for writing that dragon Wednesday fic... and LEAVING THE MOST FLATTERING REBLOGS. ILYSM AND. you always make me smile when I think of you LMAO

@literally everybody else who've single handedly kept me alive and well on this site, I appreciate all your little asks, reblogs, comments, likes, and just UGH my heart aches for every single one of you.

Pray I return soon.

[warmbottles]

Leaving Mama's tomorrow...big sad. Stressed about money and my birthday and lots of big adult stuff. Wish I could shrink down and be a mouse. I'm just always so scared. And I feel like something wrong with me. I feel bad. But I think maybe nap will help? Blegh

On positive note I got a Baymax plushie as a present!!! He's my comfort character and I'm sooo excited!!! I love Baymax he's so nice and soft.

[fraddit]

2, 18, and/or 24 for the ask game? :D

2. show us a picture of your handwriting?

Here are some fic planning notes from almost a full year ago (woof):

Left is me working out the fic timeline and is also maybe the neatest it ever looks, because I was trying to be legible and pencil is always neater for me than pen.

Yellow page is me trying to work out the timeline of events in 2.01 in pen.

Right is a rough draft snippet.

It can look so much worse than this though. The chicken scratch in my morning pages journal is basically illegible.

18. do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

It seems a bit presumptuous to me to not believe in alien life of some sort? But also, there's that one theory that we're currently existing too early in the timeline of the universe and actually are the first life and alone out here. That's a sad thought, so I prefer to lean yes on aliens.

Ghosts? Not really, no. But ghost movies and stuff scare the crap out of me. Also, I love that tumblr post that posits that ghosts are instead places where the veil between periods in time is flimsy and you're actually just seeing through to the past. I love this theory mostly because it means there are so many Victorian children and civil war soldiers in the past who caught a glimpse of like... a guy in a crop top and tiny shorts with feathered hair from 1980 or something.

But, on balance, I'd say the evidence seems to weigh heavily in favor of no ghosts.

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

Oof. Going for the jugular. Okay, um... I guess I'm proud of how much I've taught myself about architecture and building science in last several years? I'd say at this point, I know more about designing building high performance, energy efficient houses than most people. Which feels very braggy to say. Blegh.

[deludedmarimo]

Yes, I will! I think I may have Frankenstein? I've been wanting to read that since my teacher said it was fantastic. I need to read more classics. That's a great attribute to have, just remember to also put yourself first! I hope your work has been productive, I really admire your hardworking and open-minded personality. Same, I think I have little to worry about next week. I'll still try to talk with you at least once a day. I expected that from you, are you very independent? I get that energy from you. It's still good to know you have someone to rely on. Yeah, obsession can change a lot in a person. I'm different when I'm obsessed, but also not if that makes any sense at all? I don't know. No one is completely put together, it is fun tearing down that facade and finding the faults behind. Everyone has an area in life in which they lack because no one is entirely perfect. I don't think I would trust an entirely put together person, it's just false. Hmm, I can see you as put together but not in a way that is unrealistic, you know? Whenever you get the time I'd love to hear more about it. I love to hear people talk, just in general.

Yes, that's it! I need subtitles for everything, I can process a lot without it and it's the same with books but more manageable. It just saves me a lot of time from rereading certain part because my silly brain did not process it enough.

I've heard of cowboy bepop! Not Monster though, but from the look of the description it seems to be something I'd enjoy! That's true, but for me I need to be good or at least feel like I'm good at something in order to enjoy a hobby. But you're right, my brain is just unable to accept that. Mhm, indeed. It'll be less scary once it's over. I've wanted to try crocheting, I'd love to do that in the future! Thank you and also you're welcome!

I can see how it can be, it's invigorating just being an anon too. Have you been an anon for someone else before? I know you've said in a post before you'd be too jealous of others but I'm curious anyways. You seem more direct so I don't believe you'd want to be anonymous, at least not for very long. ^⁠_⁠^ You're quite the chaser, aren't you? It's okay, I don't mind. I hope I'm not making myself too easy to be hunted, I have no idea to be frank. That's very kind of you, I find a lot of people just don't.. try to hide themselves very well at all. You sound so confident! I wonder if there's been times where you've been wrong, surely? I always second guess myself. I do want this game to go on... it would be terribly embarassing if I were to fail so quickly. Thank you, I am doing my best anyways. I have to take my time lest I make a mistake! Thank you, I enjoy the praise! I'm going to continue searching, it was a bit annoying to go through twitter just to find there was infact.. nothing. Not to fault you, it was my assumption. I feel like a mole scourging whatever grub I can feast upon! Maybe that is a weird metaphor– anyways I'm glad you made it public again. I still had notes and screenshots written regardless but thank you for your generosity! I will provide even more effort in that case then, I have only gotten started.

Indeed he is!! 🫧 Yes, I know ( ｡– ‸ –｡) the name is misleading, no? I just put it anyway despite that it didn't count, but I'm glad it does! Koi fish are adorable! I don't know if there is a real reason, they are a bit nostalgic for me as they'd always have them swarming around when I'd enter restaurants or animal stores. I'm glad on being the first person then!

Thank you for the encouragement and positivity! I've tried breaking the habit before, it doesn't work for me. Blegh. Same here, I only need one alarm! If I'm sleepy or not used to the time I'm waking up at I'll set a few in case. Loud noises scare me so it gets the job done well. It is! It actually provided to be useful when it came to projects, I had to make a sculpture but sculpting was not my forte. I think it is definitely worth the investment if you plan on buying one, making a soushin figure is definitely a must. Exactly! My dreams are usually violent, comedic and nonsensical all at once somehow. I think I would cry and hyperventilate all at once if someone took my things. I don't even prefer ice cream that much, oh well!

Don't apologize, thank you for taking the time to respond so thoroughly! I will think of questions to ask you in the meanwhile. Get your work done and prioritized!

— 🐟

frankenstein!!! i've been recommended that as well. i've read some southern gothic literature before and deeply enjoyed it, so i'm sure i'd love that as well! i also need to read more classics... there's this huge classic book collection on amazon i've been meaning to buy at some point . i could just read them all for free online, but i also love having the books in my hands! reading on a screen can be rather difficult sometimes... thank you for the concern! i promise i do my best to look after myself!! not as much this week since i've been . locked in on study mode but after this week i'll get more into it ! my work has been going alright. i've been needing to finish an assignment before i'm able to study, but its been progressing rather slowly which worries me since i have exams beginning tomorrow. after this goes out, i'm going to do my best to speedrun it...

thank you !!! i'm always so pleased when someone recognizes my being a hardworker ... i put lots of effort into things, so its always gratifying when its recognized. i also love when people enjoy my openminded-ness. more people should be more open about themselves and others . . hopefully next week comes sooner for the both of us!! it seems like we're both in desperate need of a break. don't force yourself to talk if you're busy (says me who responds to all my anons despite my being busy . . .)!! the sentiment is incredibly endearing though! i am a hyper independent person, yes. i'm usually only dependent on one person. i grew up relying on myself and always struggled with trusting others, so i grew into being self sufficient. obsession definitely changes people, that's how potent love can be. no, it makes sense to me! for me, i'm still closed off and distant with others but i'm able to express a more soft/affectionate part of me to that one special person. i change, but also don't . .. i think it's how, when you have someone to love, you reveal more intimate parts of yourself. i agree! there is no such thing as someone who is perfect. i'm always amused watching people try to portray themselves as such, only to have that mask crack over time. i do not know why people wish to be someone they're not. be true to yourself !! of course i have walls myself which keep others out (maintaining independence!) but i don't know if thats quite the same thing as having a mask. i'm rather open about my personality and how i behave ... i love the thought of tearing away such a mask, or breaking down someones walls! it's intimate! put together in a way thats not unrealistic ... i think i get what you mean? i don't try to present myself as perfectly perfect, like how i don't have perfect grammar or ways of typing. in my next response, which will probably be tomorrow, i'll talk more about it since i'll have time then!

ah same !!!!!! you probably already know why ... in case you don't, i have hearing loss which causes me to struggle with hearing or processing words. so i always need subtitles (whenever i'm able to get them! sometimes i'm fine with none). i believe my autism also cuts into my processing speed ...

i've heard outstanding reviews of it, i'd definitely recommend despite not having watched it myself!!! i used to have a similar mindset with anything i enjoyed, but i've managed to push myself past it. i think that sometimes you just have to do things scared and they get more easy ! i don't remember if i've already said that... just looked at my response. i definitely did. hangs my head. crocheting is a great hobby!! it can be mindless, making it fun to do while you're doing something else-- like watching a show or something. and there's so much you can do with it ... for me, i want to crochet some flowers. i have the supplies already, but not the time.

i've not! i am more of a direct person, you're correct. i dislike the idea of competing with others for someone's affections, and i'd go insane seeing them flirt with people other than me . . . i rather just jump straight into DMs, as it's more personal that way as well. its easier getting to know someone when you know who they are. i am !!! i'm basically a wolf after all !! who am i if i am not a hunter . . . i don't think you're being overtly easy, i just pick up on small details a lot. i've definitely had more simple.. when people send in anons right after liking or following something of mine it is . . the most obvious thing on this planet. are you even trying..... my guess on who you are could very well be wrong, it all really depends on how long you've watched me -- which i do not know the exact date of . i do think i'm pretty certain of it, but i'll stay quiet until i'm 1000% certain ! i also wish for the hunt to go on longer. i can admit i've been wrong before ... but really only for one person. they had no online presence or any connections to me which made it troublesome .... i think they're the only person where i've actually asked someone if they were said anon. all of my others reveal themselves when they're ready! you are doing a good job !!! either way, it is entertaining talking to you. apologies for the disappointment ! i don't have much social media that i'm active on, since i prefer to keep my circles small. some of them i'm forced to have since people i know wish to actually have contact with me... otherwise i'd have zero social presence. i like being sneaky!!! alas, i cannot. i actually love moles... they recently discovered a species of mole they previously thought extinct. turns out he was just too shy. silly!! of course! i may clean up some of my tracks here and there to ensure others don't find it, but i'll keep it public. ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᴗ ᵔ )!!!

right? sometimes scientists have the most ridiculous names for things.. name it something that actually correlates to what it is !!!!! stop deceiving us !!!!! i always enjoy when i see koi in ponds . i've gotten to feed them before and they're voracious eaters... its always funny to watch! whenever i think of koi, i recall the youtube video where someone is spoonfeeding one and giggle.

i'm sure if you keep trying, you'll get somewhere eventually! my alarm is always under my pillow right next to my ear so i'm sure to hear it. loud noises can also be rather jarring to me, since i'm used to quiet while i sleep (no hearing aids !!). but if the noise is close to me, i'm able to hear it. otherwise i'll sleep through anything... sculpture is fun albeit difficult !! i find in-person sculpture more troublesome though, since you can so easily mess up .... 3D programs are much more forgiving, but troublesome to learn. soushin !!! come to me !!!!!! soon the dream will be alive ... hopefully in the future! i don't cry or break down when my items are taken, but irate instead.

will go work now !!! salutes and runs off !!!

[ruvelli]

Castle Swimmer x Final Fantasy AUs General Update

Here’s some thoughts and ideas I’ve chosen to share. Feel free to toss in your own two cents, so long as it isn’t something rude.

There’s a few things I wouldn’t mind getting feedback on, or having ideas tossed at.

Starting with FFX-2, I have quite a few things fleshed out now (mostly by accident), but again I feel like I’ll have to replay it/watch a playthrough of it before I can do too, too much.

I do like where it’s going with Galoo and Mono, as well as Kappa’s role.

I also plan on putting Kappa into that moogle mascot outfit somehow >> Because I said so. Once he’s introduced I want to get into the quests stuff more.

FFIX no clue if I’m keeping the genomes. They don’t seem to have a purpose for the plot I’m plotting, which has a different end game (plot end game, still gonna be KappaSiren) than the game did.

I did figure out what’s up with the sharks, and it’s a little sad (whoops). Galoo has a purpose within the story that makes sense now, at least. I may be changing who Mucku, Mono, and Neth are.

Because some friends were curious about it, I had considered making Kappa Garnet, of course. But given how bold he can be, he’s far more traveled, becoming an “evil witch” while still being a good guy, and given how Siren started off so naive with no clue what he was doing—he would just stubbornly push forward with what he believed was right, etc… it made sense to put them where I did. To me. And then I adjusted the plot to make sense to their personalities.

For instance, Siren won’t be drugging anyone because he thinks he knows better than everyone else, and how dare they treat him as someone who doesn’t (I could rant about how much I can’t stand Garnet for days). Siren wants to help and be useful and hates that he has to be left behind, but realizes he’s just a liability if he goes. I have a different plan for why he ends up back in Alexandria.

I’m still not sure what to do with/who would be Vivi 💀 Or Kuja.

As for FFVIII, I have maybe… 30% planned. Blegh.

Most of the problem is when I first started maladaptive daydreaming about it, it was with a good deal of the FFVIII characters still in it. I love those kinds of cross-overs and don’t mind doing them, but would that be weird to anyone else?

If I did a full cross-over instead there’s a lot that would have to be tossed from the original idea and I’m not even sure what would go where. But in my head, it began with Siren already an established SeeD during the Garden “civil war” defending the doctor’s area with Pagoon and Pim before being sent to defend the garage and then library type deal. He was more in Nida’s position.

(side-note: Pagoon was too young to be a SeeD yet, though the three of them together had a reputation that was “You see those three? That’s Pim and her boys. Don’t piss them off.”)

Then again, I don’t have to have things from the perspective of the way the game goes the entire time… Hm.

And just to be clear, yes, in the current idea it would go the way of the game the whole time except for the SeeD exam. I’m probably cutting that chunk off and saying Siren has been a SeeD.

Anyway, to anyone who cares let me know whacha think. The one I’m most likely to start on sooner than later is FFIX. (I even drew one of Siren’s outfits, and if I was a better artist I’d happily show it).

[crossbust]

Just saying, please don't act like you're my parent. Don't belittle me or talk to me as if I'm a child. Even if you care about me, don't talk to me or lecture me as if I am your kid.

[fanficimagery]

Lucky Charms pt. 1

Since you were a little girl, you've always believed in the otherworldly. But then your mother gets sick and you have other things to worry about. Many years later, your eyes and mind are reopened.

Words: 4.5K Author's Note: First time ever writing Mad Sweeney. He won't be quite so mad in this, though I'm positive he'll be OOC. I have no idea how to write an Irish accent, so apologies in advance. As for the reader, she will be given a birth name, but the only one to use it will be Sweeney. She will still go by YN with everyone else. TRIGGER WARNING for mild violence.

Ever since you were a little girl and learned how to read, you were obsessed with fairytales. But while most little girls were drawn to princes and princesses, you were drawn to fairies, pixies, elves and leprechauns all because of the name you were given at birth. Being named Fela made you believe you were lucky and had some sort of connection to the leprechauns. This was a notion your parents never dissuaded you from and, in fact, your mother encouraged.

So to feel like you had some form of connection with your favorite otherworldly beings, once a month your mother would bake a fresh loaf of sweet bread and you would put a piece of it along with a bottle of sweet cream on the kitchen windowsill. The following morning, the plate would be empty and the sweet cream gone. You always believed a leprechaun had taken it, but once or twice you caught your parents questioning where the food went since neither of them touched it.

The tradition of giving offerings lasted for a few years before your mother became ill. Her mental stability started to dwindle, you spent less and less time with her, and then she was admitted to the hospital for full time observation. You and your twin Stiles spent more and more time with Melissa McCall and her son Scott, and it wasn't long before your mother succumbed to her illness.

It wasn't until after you buried your mother and your father took to the liquor bottle did you remember your tradition. You had no one to bake with, so you asked Mrs. McCall to get you some sweet bread and sweet cream from the store. She thought it was an odd request, but bought it nonetheless. Then one night, after your father had more than a little too much to drink and passed out on the living room couch, you took the bread and sweet cream to your room.

The bread and sweet cream found its way to your windowsill, and you climbed into bed while praying to whoever and whatever was listening that things would get better. Then sometime in the middle of the night, the sound of your window being pushed upward woke you. You sat up, rubbing at your eyes and watched as a hand reached in for the bread.

"Blegh. What is this shit?!" You frown at the heavily accented voice, watching as the hand reaches in again, grabbing the bottle of sweet cream.

Crawling towards the bottom of your bed, you fold your knees beneath you and sit on your legs. You should be scared of the stranger right outside your bedroom window, but you're not. Oddly enough, you feel as if this person is someone you know though you can't place the voice. "Sorry it's not fresh," you say. "Mrs. McCall isn't a baker and she had to buy it from the store."

All movement outside your window ceases and then a moment later, a head of shocking reddish orange hair cut into a mohawk peers in. "What was that, little lamb?"

You smile at the strange man, the smile falling seconds later. "Mom died. This was the best I could do."

The man blinks at you and then suddenly he's folding himself in half just to climb into your room. Your eyes widen at how enormous he is. "Sorry, lass. I had no idea."

"Are you really a leprechaun or are you some homeless guy eating up my leprechaun's offerings?"

His lips twitch. "Your leprechaun, huh?"

"Mhm." You nod. "Daddy's the sheriff. If you're some hobo, he'll shoot you."

The redhead chuckles. "I've had many names and many shapes, little lamb, but alas I've been cursed into who and what I am now. Name's Sweeney. Mad Sweeney."

"Mad is a weird name."

"Yeah? And what's yours?" He sneers, a bit affronted.

"Fela, but you can call me YN."

"Fela," he murmurs, his entire being softening. "'Ya know yer name means lucky, right?"

"Mhm. And Mieczyslaw means bear, but he don't like it. He likes to be called Stiles now."

"Mieczyslaw?" Mr. Sweeney grimaces. "Which poor lad got saddled with tha' name?"

"My twin. He's sleeping."

"Aye. As should you, little lass."

As if his words triggered something in you, you yawn and nod in agreement. "Will I ever see you again?" You ask while crawling back to the top of your bed.

As you tuck yourself back under your covers and stare up at Mr. Sweeney towering over your bed, he grins and crouches. He raises his right hand, wiggling his fingers at you before bending his fingers and moving his hand in a precise manner before a gold appears out of thin air. Your eyes widen and he smirks as he tosses the gold coin atop your stomach. "For havin' faith in me and leavin' offerin's, have a bit 'ol luck."

"I thought leprechauns didn't like to part with their gold," you murmur in awe.

"We don't like when it's taken," he corrects you. "If it's willfully given, well then that's fine."

You squeeze the coin, feeling the warmth it gives off. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." His voice rumbles and you smile sleepily at him, squeezing the coin in your tiny fist and letting your eyelids flutter shut. "Until next time, little lamb."

Mad Sweeney, the largest leprechaun to probably ever exist, visits you every month up until you're fourteen. He sits and talks with you every visit, listening to your teenage woes and grinning every time you fidget with the coin you had fashioned into a necklace.

At the end of one particular visit, however, he turned rather solemn as he sat you down and told you he was going away for a while. A long while. He wouldn't explain anything else, not really, but he promised you'd always have a bit of leprechaun luck on your side. You had a bit of a panic attack at the thought of not seeing your friend, that you thought nothing of the special tea he just so happened to have on him. He said it would calm you down and get you to sleep, but he never mentioned anything about making you forget.

As you got older and your group of friends got larger, someone always brought up just how lucky you were. You never got in trouble when Stiles or Scott did even though you were part of their plans. When Scott got attacked in the woods that started his supernatural journey, you tripped on a root and went down just as the creature sailed over you and bit Scott instead. Your injuries were never severe, the kanima took very little interest in you, and your skin was absolutely flawless.

Every time someone mentioned what it was that you could have done to earn such luck, you chuckled softly while fidgeting with the gold coin hanging around your neck. Allison had taken interest in it one time, but when she started asking questions about it and you thought about your answer, it always ended in a splitting headache. All you could remember was that it was gifted to you after your mother had passed.

As the years passed and problem after problem mounted up on your plates, you and your twin became the human researchers for the pack. A lot of it was new, but some of it seemed familiar. However when you tried to remember why it was familiar, the headaches came back and you let it go.

You gain even more new friends, lose a couple, and even gain some scars and really cool stories. Unfortunately, you can't tell anyone the stories unless you want them to think you're crazy.

By the time you've graduated, you've been to hell and back with all the supernatural creatures your hometown attracted. Everyone has a career path they really want to see through, but in doing so it would take them outside of Beacon Hills. And since you weren't too concerned about what you were going to do, you decided to work at the station with your dad and keep an eye on the town alongside Derek and Peter. Stiles, Scott, Malia and Lydia all left Beacon Hills but promised to be back should you need them.

You, Derek and Peter made quite the team- the two of them being the muscle while you remained the brains. Your dad and Melissa McCall got involved here and there, but they always let the Hales take care of any issue and just hid the evidence afterward to continue keeping their secret.

Everything is fine and dandy until a new werewolf pack is looking for territory, and sets their sights on Beacon Hills since it was alpha-less. One minute you were leaving Derek's building with a list of names to dig up some dirt on, and the next pain was exploding at the back of your head and causing everything to go dark.

The next time you have enough consciousness to open your eyes, your head is killing you. You pick up your head which sets off pain in your neck and try to move, only to realize you're bound to a wooden chair.

"Well fuck," you mumble.

"Oh good. You're alive." You glance in the direction of the voice, noticing it came from a darkened corner. You snort when you see red eyes suddenly glow as if they're trying to intimidate you. "I was afraid my second in command hit you a little too hard."

"Well if you couldn't hear my heartbeat to tell you I was alive, then you must be a shit alpha." Someone slaps you upside the head and you groan, slowly glancing over your shoulder. "Yeah, fuck you too, buddy."

"It's a wonder that that mouth of yours hasn't gotten you killed, human." A more feminine voice says.

"I've had loads of close calls, but I like to count myself lucky."

As you face forward once more, you see the male alpha step out of the shadows. But really, he's more of a boy. Scott looks older than him. "Your luck runs out today if you don't tell me what I want to know."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before." You sigh. "You want answers, I don't give 'em, and you beat me until I break. Unfortunately for you, you're on claimed territory, so Peter and Derek Hale will be here soon and rip you apart. With their teeth," you say.

"Where is alpha McCall and how many are in his pack?" The alpha crouches in front of you, waiting expectantly.

"Fuck off."

Claws dig into the back of your neck and you gasp, struggling in your seat to move away from the werewolf's grasp.

"Where is alpha McCall and how many are in his pack?" The alpha asks again.

"Eat me."

The claws dig in deeper and you cry out, but then the claws are quickly extracted before a blow is delivered to the side of your face.

"Listen, sweetheart, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

You right your head, licking the blood that's coating your teeth as you stare the alpha in the eyes. "Promises, promises."

The werewolf behind you chuckles darkly as their hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing. "I was hoping you'd be a pain in the ass. This is going to be fun."

You don't get a warning before the binds tying you to the chair are cut loose. There's a split second of confusion before a hand is in your hair, gripping and tugging you to your feet before blow after blow is being delivered. You fall to your hands and knees way too quickly, only to receive kick after kick. Then when you're on your back, spitting out blood and praying for a rescue, the telltale sounds of a door being broken down reach your ears.

The werewolf giving you a beatdown snarls at the interruption and you chuckle, smiling with blood stained lips. "Uh oh. The cavalry's here."

"Where's the lass, 'ya mangy cunts!"

The voice gives you pause, but the wolves in the room with you are put on edge. There's snarling and growling from the other room, as well as sounds of furniture being broken while the newcomer curses up a storm.

You find amusement in this new pack already seeing its downfall, but that amusement is cut short as a boot meets your face. Your vision starts to darken right before the door to the room you're in is kicked open and the tallest man you've ever laid eyes on stomps in. His red mohawk and red beard strikes a chord within you, but you pay more attention to the gashes and blood adorning his body as he glances down at you. His eyes flare gold and you think he's a werewolf, but he's not healing as one should.

"You cunts are fuckin' dead for takin' the little lamb."

The Irish accent practically splits your head open with the worst headache you've ever experienced, and you black out just as both wolves lunge at the newcomer.

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

When your consciousness slips back in and makes you alert once more, you feel something warm and wet being dragged against your cheek. You flinch and turn away from the presence you can feel sitting next to your left hip, and then flinch even more when a hand grasps your arm.

"Hey, it's okay. It's Derek. You're safe."

It takes a moment to realize you're not being hit and then another moment for the words to register in your brain. You unclench your muscles and slowly turn back around, frowning. "Der?"

"Yeah. You're back at my loft."

"How- how did you find me?" You try to sit up then, whining at all the pain that registers all over your body.

Derek gives you a hand, letting you sit up on the edge of the bed so your feet are touching the ground. "We didn't. Some guy who keeps calling himself a leprechaun did. He says you know him."

"A leprechaun?" A headache starts to blossom, but you squeeze your eyes shut against it. "Yeah. Yeah, I think- it's all jumbled though," you say. You press your palms to your eyes, rubbing your temples a moment later. "Sweeney, right? His name is Sweeney."

"Yes! Thank you, little lamb." You turn around, grimacing at the sudden movement, only to find Peter standing over the man in question who's sitting in a chair. He smirks at you, split lip and all, before he looks up at Peter and sneers. "Told 'ya mangy fucks that the little lass knew me." You frown at him before standing from the bed, swatting at Derek's hands that are trying to keep you in bed or keep you away from the enormous leprechaun. As you stumble closer to where he's sitting, he looks to you and raises an eyebrow before looking you up and down. Slowly, he smirks. "Not such a little lamb anymore, are 'ya Fela?"

"Fela?" Peter wonders.

"Birth name," you mumble. As your knees hit Sweeney's knees, you stop and stare at him as your headache gets worse. Your hands clench into fists at your sides and you frown. "I.. I don't-" You shake your head, trying to make sense of how you know this man. "I'm so confused. I feel happy to see you, but I also feel angry. Why.. why would I feel.." And then you remember. You flinch at the headache, but you remember. And in remembering, you reach down and slap Sweeney across the face.

"Oi!" He cries out. "That hurt."

"You.. you left me!"

"I had to! This old cunt of a god was gettin' suspicious," he says. "Couldn't have 'im lookin' in on me one day and findin' 'ya, could I?"

Your eyes fill with tears, both in pain from the beating you took and because you want to fully remember this man in front of you, but you can't. "I can't.. why can't I-"

Sweeney reaches into his jean jacket, scoffing at Peter's warning snarl, and pulls out a flask that he holds out to you. "It's time to remember now, little lamb."

Your lips twitch. "I thought I wasn't so little now?" You have no idea where the sudden urge to tease the man comes from, but you can't help it. He's quite handsome.

Sweeney slowly smirks at you and someone mutters a jesus christ under their breath. Your eyes fall back onto the flask he's offering and another headache pulses when you remember him offering you tea- a tea that gave you many blank spots in your memory. And if Sweeney is telling you it's now time to remember while offering a flask, well then you want to remember. So before Derek or Peter can talk you out of it, you take the flask from his hand, open it, and drink.

"YN, don't!" Derek tries to warn you, but he's too late.

You swallow three mouthfuls before you stop, and seconds later you cry out at suddenly being overwhelmed with everything you've forgotten. Derek is there to catch you as you stumble back and you assure him you're fine. You just need a moment.

When you remember everything, you look at the expecting leprechaun. "Mad Sweeney, oh how I've missed you." And surprising all three men in the room, you walk forward until you're placing yourself on Sweeney's lap sideways, curling into him.

Slowly but surely, Sweeney wraps his arms around you. "There, there. I've got 'ya."

"I wanna know everything. Tell me."

"I will. And then you're gonna tell me how 'ya ended up with the mutts."

Someone growls and you pinch Sweeney's side. "I will so long as you play nice. They're my pack."

"I was yours first," he grumbles.

You smile at Sweeney's words, but don't bother saying anything after that. You want to know everything he's been up to and what exactly led to him leaving you, but Derek reminds you that you're covered in blood and need to clean up. You realize he's right and as you make your way towards the bathroom; he also tells you he called the pack back to Beacon Hills. He and Peter had no clue how to find you since your scent was nowhere to be found, but they could smell the other werewolves and put two and two together. When not even your dad knew where you were, Derek decided to call the pack back home.

"And when you're done, sweetheart," Peter calls out before you could reach the bathroom. "We want the full story on Lucky Charms here."

Sweeney glares up at Peter and you can't help but grin at the elder werewolf. "Call him Lucky Charms again, Peter, and you'll see firsthand how a leprechaun holds up against a werewolf."

Not wanting to drag Sweeney back to your house and explain the leprechaun story all over again to your father, you ask Derek to use one of the renovated apartments on the floor below his own. He agrees but tells you that you still need to contact your father and let him know you are fine. So, after cleaning up and bandaging the cuts on your face and body, you let Peter drive you to your house since your dad is currently home. Normally you wouldn't be caught dead alone with the older werewolf, but you knew he and Sweeney would kill each other if they were left alone together.

Your dad is a bit of a mess to see how beaten you are and calls Melissa over to check you over. You assure him you're fine as the nurse prods and re-bandages your wounds, and you explain all about the pack who wanted information on Beacon Hills' very own pack. You refused them, which is why you were beaten, but that Derek and Peter had found you just in time. The werewolf snorts and you glare at him, trying to send a message with your eyes to remind him to go along with whatever you said as you had previously planned so you didn't have to explain Sweeney's presence.

Your dad ends up giving you the week off so you can heal and then you went on to explain that you'd be staying at Derek's for the duration since the pack was coming home. Then when your dad lets you leave and Melissa promises to have a bottle of painkillers for you later that night, you toss a bunch of outfits into a duffel bag before you have Peter take you grocery shopping so you can stock the refrigerator at the apartment.

Peter begrudgingly helps you carry your grocery bags to the apartment and promptly leaves when every bag is on the counter. You slowly start putting everything away, pausing when you hear footsteps.

Turning around, you're faced with the sight of Sweeney in nothing but flannel pajama pants and his hair dripping water down his neck and chest. You gulp, letting your eyes trail over his chest and the claw marks littering his flesh. "Do you, uh, do you need help bandaging those?"

"No." He smirks and then gestures to all the groceries lying about. "You plannin' to cook?"

You scoff. "Hell no. I picked us up some cheeseburgers and curly fries. It's in the oven if you wanna do me a solid and get them out." You watch as Sweeney saunters over to the oven, taking the food out and appreciating the way the muscles in his back move. "Beers in the fridge if you don't want your soda."

You divide up the food when Sweeney sets it down before making a trip to the fridge- one burger and a carton of curly fries for you, and two burgers and a carton of curly fries for him. When he sits on the stool next to you, he asks, "So how did a lass like you end up with these rabid cunts?"

"Easy," you murmur. "These men are part of my pack." Sweeney scoffs and takes a bite out of his burger, and you do the same before answering him. "When I was fifteen, Stiles heard a call over my dad's police scanner about a dead body in the woods. So as the curious and troublemaking teens we were, we went to investigate."

"Bloody morons."

Your lips twitch in amusement. "If only there was a six foot something tall leprechaun to steer us in the right direction." He grunts and you chuckle before eating a bit more. "Anyway, my friend Scott and I got separated from Stiles after we found half a body. We got turned around somehow and, whether I was living up to my name or that bit o'leprechaun luck rubbed off on me, I tripped on a root and the alpha that had been hunting us bit Scott instead of me."

Sweeney freezes. "The alpha was trying to bite 'ya?"

"Yep. Apparently, Peter thought I'd make a good wolf." Your leprechaun is a little too quiet and you glance over at him, eyes widening at the anger in his expression. "Hey, none of that." You reach over and lay a hand just above his knee to squeeze. "I'm still human and Peter's not as psycho as he once was. We're good here."

"Still don't like the cunt."

You snort before taking your hand back. "You and everyone else, but he is Derek's uncle and he is pack. Unfortunately." You eat a bit more, watching Sweeney from the corner of your eye and are amazed at how much he can eat. He's just as bad as the wolves. "So is my memory failing me and you've always been this raging asshole or..?"

Sweeney barks out a laugh as he finishes his last bite of burger. "Well I couldn't curse like I wanted to. You were just a wee lass."

"Yeah, yeah." You've barely finished your burger, sitting back with a grimace and taking a sip of your soda. "So what's the bedroom situation look like?"

"One bed fit for a king, luv. You okay with that?"

You glance at him and wiggle your eyebrows. "I'm not a child, Sweeney. I can handle sharing a bed." Collecting the trash, you toss it in the bin and wipe down the island counter you had eaten on. "I just need to wait for Melissa because she's bringing me painkillers."

Almost as if your words had summoned her, Melissa texts you that she's on her way up. You have Sweeney hide and then thank your best friend's mother for getting you a prescription on such short notice. You take one pill after she leaves and then head to the bathroom for your usual routine before bed.

When you walk into the bedroom, Sweeney wasn't joking about the bed. It's a king sized bed and has more than enough room for you and the 6'5 leprechaun.

As you slide under the covers, you sigh in contentment. "So what have you been doing, Lucky Charms?"

"I'm gonna let that slide because I like 'ya." You giggle and scoot a bit closer to the middle of the bed, laying on your side and curling one arm under the pillow. "And it's like I said, I was caught up in a war between the Old gods and the New. Even died for a few months-"

"WHAT?!"

"-but Shadow's cunt of a dead wife did the right thing an' brought me back. Even got me lucky coin back."

"Jesus Christ," you mumble. "Seems like we both got caught up in some crazy shit."

"Mmm." Sweeney turns on his side, shoving one arm under his pillow as he grins at you. "So what's your craziest story?"

"Uhh.. well the kanima fiasco was pretty gnarly," you tell him. "But the worst was probably the nogitsune. It possessed my twin and the Oni came in to check us. In fact, I'm pretty sure I still have the scar behind my ear when they checked me." You reach up behind your right ear, feeling the raised skin of the mark that meant self. "The nogitsune took control over the Oni and they killed one of our pack, plus an ally of the pack. It was bad," you say.

"How did 'ya get rid of it?"

"We managed to get Stiles to take control of himself again, but by then the nogitsune was pretty powerful. It took the form of Stiles, but since the nogitsune is a fox, we realized he couldn't be both fox and wolf. So we hand an alpha bite him. When it abandoned its form, we trapped it in a jar."

"Sounds like I missed one hell of a fight."

"Mhm. You should have been here a few years back." You yawn and don't fight it when Sweeney grabs your arm and drags you closer to him. You snuggle into his chest and leave your eyes closed. "A fear demon came to town and turned the humans against all supernatural creatures, plus those helping the supernatural. I got into more fights that year than I'd like to admit."

Sweeney chuckles. "Get some sleep, luv. That Hale lad said everyone should be here tomorrow."

"Ugh. I'm so not looking forward to those lectures."

[maryjanesims3]

Sneak Peek!

Hopefully it's coming very soon! This one, and the one without a hat you could see in the post about the morphs. As a V1 and V2 for a default hair, but also as a non-default eventually. Emphasis on eventually because I also want to convert it to children (and maybe toddlers!) and want to release the non-defaults together ^^

And some rambling, now I'm here anyway: as you might have read I finally figured out the linking between hairs. Handy if you want to battle the pigtail problem, but it also solves a lot of other problems!

...and adds a few for me, lol. This hairstyle you see in the sneak peek is not really appropriate for the naked flag for example. I kept it linked so the age up would go correct (I did A LOT of testing already) but disabled it for naked, meaning my sim will switch to a random hair that's enabled for the naked outfit. Well, because of that I've learned that I've enabled a lot of inappropriate hairstyles for naked... I remember why I did that, because I was so frustrated with sims switching to the friggin' pigtails or whatever weird hair for their shower, so tried to battle it that way. Now I know how it's actually done I'm suddenly facing a lot of defaults that are in need of an update.

Blegh. Not looking forward to that, lol. Working on new stuff is much more fun! But ah well, it needed to happen anyway at some point. I made a deal with myself though, to only do a mass update when I'm done with the project. Or else the cycle continues. I learn something new -> realize past mistake -> update hair -> learn something new again -> realize past mistake -> update hair again -> learn something new... and well, you catch my drift. It's not game breaking and it's not hard to edit flags so it could've been worse I guess.

Anyway, to end on a positive note: VERY excited about the new hair! Decided to only do the low poly version, which is morphed for the thin and fat bodies, and just release that one in two versions. But presets need to be made, previews and thumbs need to be made and I still need to do some testing (and might need to fix some things if encountered). On top of that, I also have three other defaults waiting for release that also need previews etc. Hope I can do it all before my vacation.

Rambling out and off to bed! Ciao ^^

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

god the twdg fans are so toxic when it comes to tillie, every time i see a post about the books art on reddit it’s just full of people insulting her personally ffs….

I know, it's annoying. I try to stay away from reddit because it's the worst, but sometimes I sneak in there just to see what's up. Usually it starts off not too bad, just a lot of shitposts. Apparently there was a huge debate recently over whether Clementine's hat is blue or purple. But then someone posts about the comic and I do an eyeroll so extreme that I'm pretty sure it's a demon trying to invade my body before my spirit swats it away with a flyswatter.

If it was just shit talking that comic, I wouldn't be irritated. I shit talk the comic, I hate that damn thing. But noooo, people have to make it about Tillie. Some of the stuff they write about her is disgusting and makes me want to just abandon the fandom completely, I'm embarrassed to have a shared interest in twdg with these people.

They're not even doing anything productive, y'know? They're just leeches in a cesspool that feed off each other's bitterness and misery and it infects anyone who steps too close.... is that a dramatic way to describe toxic twdg fans? Yes, but it's more thought put into that sentence than any of them put into their posts so I don't feel bad.

Blegh, see? Negativity infection, I hate it >:[

On a positive note, might I suggest Tillie's other works? Like Spinning, which is autobiographical of her life from when she was a figure skater? Gives a lot of insight into her as a person and it's just an overall good book, highly recommend.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Cabin Fever

Warning! This is a tickle drabble!

Ships: none

Warnings: tickles

The Breakdown: Switches Izuku, Iida and Todoroki.

Prompt: Izuku is back on his antics, stuck inside Iida’s dorm with his two best friends. To combat his boredom, he hangs upside down on the bed. After Iida tells him a silly way to feel better, the boy is in stitches. Then, Iida gives Izuku something to laugh about.

Tags: @cupcake-spice13

“Oh come on Iida, you can’t tell me you aren’t bored too.” Izuku whined as blood flowed into his head.

The green haired boy was laying upside down on Iida’s dorm bed.

“I’m absolutely content with my encyclopedia thank you very much.” Iida responded matter-of-factly, “it may behoove you to sit up before you pass out, Midoriya.”

“It’ll give me more time to waste.” Izuku grumbled.

Hurricane season in Japan was never fun. Especially when the students are cooped up inside the dormitory, struggling to entertain themselves.

“Midoriya, he’s right.” Shoto responded nonchalantly, not even ceasing his embroidering, “you’re gonna get too much blood flow into your head and then Aizawa is going to beat your ass for giving him more paperwork.”

“You guys are so bori-blegh.” Izuku dumped weakly to the floor, holding his rushing head.

“We tried to warn you, Y’know.” Iida chimed without averting his attention to his book, knowing exactly what had happened.

Before he resurfaced, Izuku gasped gently. Jackpot... he had found Iida’s secret stash of snacks. That’s when he got an idea. He could style Todoroki’s hair.

He grabbed a few clips from the chip and cracker bags, stealthily rising to his feet. Well, he tried. He fell loudly right back down as his entire field of vision turned black.

“Shit-“ Shoto said while his body jumped. He put down his embroidery and rushed to the aid of Izuku.

“Midoriya? Are you alright?” He softly inquired, grabbing both of the boy’s hands, “is it just from your head? Have you eaten today? Did you lose your footing?”

For someone with parental issues, Shoto sure was a big comfort to everyone. Poor kid was also a worry wart.

“I’m good.” Izuku said breathily, “Remember? Head rush?”

“Ah yes. That’s right.” Shoto said as he gripped Izuku’s hands tighter. The greenette made his way to his feet, clinging onto Shoto for help.

“If your vision spots again, clench your butt.” Iida said completely nonchalantly.

Shoto and Izuku burst into laughter, and the half and half boy could barely support his friend, so they both fell to the floor.

“I’m serious!” Iida replied as he turns around, “try it!”

As the two boys continued to laugh, Iida rolled his eyes and hoisted Izuku onto the bed by his underarms. He then gripped Shoto’s arm and pulled him to his feet, “you two are unbelievable.”

“Is that actually true?” Shoto asked calming himself down.

“Yes!” Iida groaned, “Midoriya. On your feet and try it.”

Izuku was still in stitches, laughing his head off at the complete casualness of Iida’s tone.

“You want something to laugh about? Fine by me!”

“Ihihihidahaha nononoNOHOHOHOHO-“

Iida had dug into Izuku’s stomach and was currently squeezing vigorously.

Izuku’s arms shot up in defense, pushing on his attacker’s face. “STAHAHAHAHAPIHIHIHIT!”

Iida simply let out a fond chuckle, “Todoroki. Want in?”

“Hmmmm...” Shoto looked at his embroidery, out the window, then at the laughing duo, “sure.” He said rising to his feet.

“NOHOHOHOHO TOHOHOHODOHOHOROHOHOKIHIHIHI! HEHEHEHELP!” Izuku kicked his legs furiously, trying to escape the tickly feeling.

“You want help? Sure thing buddy. Iida, off.” Shoto demanded, turning to Iida with a wink.

“You’re no fun Todoroki.” Iida groaned with pretend sadness.

“Thanks...” Izuku said while panting. He slowly sat back up in the bed, only to be pushed down again. “Hey! What gives!?” The boy whined.

“I want a turn. You think Iida and I aren’t plotting something? You’re not as smart as you make yourself seem, Midoriya.” Shoto said as he picked up Izuku’s shirt.

“AH WAIT! NONONONO!” Izuku was fighting madly at Shoto.

“I didn’t want to do this the hard way but.” Shoto said a sigh as he straddled Izuku’s waist, “you leave me no choice.”

“C-can we- can we talk about this?!” Izuku whined

“Mm. Nope.” Shoto replied positioning his hands.

“Todorohohokihihi! Nohohoho!” Izuku was already giggling like a madman.

“Giggling already? You must really want me to go for your secret spot.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Izuku gripped Shoto’s hands.

“Oh? But I would.” At that moment, Shoto wriggled his hands free and squeezed the pudge by Izuku’s bikini line.

Well now Iida knows why it’s the secret spot. The greenette threw his head back and screamed in laughter

“SOHOHOHOHOTOHOHOHO! NAHAHAHA! NAHTMY SQUIHIHIHIHISHYHYHYHY!” Izuku squealed as he writhed.

“Oh yes your squishy.” Shoto cooed, continuing his attack.

Izuku cackled as a hyper sensitive spot was attacked.

“Poor Midoriya. Your cute little squishy is just sooo ticklish.” Shoto teased, “such cute little squishy squish for me to tickle! All for m-IHIHIHIDAHAHA!”

Shoto fell off of Izuku as Iida drilled his hands under the boy’s arms. “IHIHIHIDAHAHA THIHIHIHIS IHIHIHISNT THE PLAHAHAHAN!”

Iida chuckled, “oh it isn’t? Sorry bud.”

“YOHOHOHOU LIHIHIAHAHAR! TRAIHIHIHTOHOHOHOHMYGOHOHOHOD!” Shoto’s laughter jumped an octave as two of his worst spots were now being tormented.

Izuku regained his strength and gripped Todoroki’s ankle, spidering his fingers along the boy’s sensitive foot.

“MIDOHOHOHORIHIHIHIHIYAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO!” Todoroki was absolutely dying.

“No! You target my squishy! You get payback!” Izuku snapped.

“IHIHIHIHIHI GIHIHIHIVE! STAHAHAHAPPIHIHIHIT! MEHEHEHEHERCHYEHEHEHE!” Todoroki slapped Iida’s arm vigorously, praying that the taller boy would get his message.

“Okay all done Midoriya. Stop.” Iida barked, ceasing his wiggling fingers. Izuku soon followed suit, patting Todoroki’s leg.

“Evil... evil friends...” Shoto curled into himself after Iida placed him on the bed.

“Now then. Midoriya, stand up- HNGRH-“ Iida hitched his breath as Izuku latched onto his shoulders, swiftly digging in.

“C’mon Iida. You’re the only one who hasn’t gotten tickled yet!” Izuku cooed, massaging his hands into the boy’s shoulder blades.

Snickers leaked from Iida’s mouth, who was being the utmost careful as to not drop his friend.

“That’s right Iida. You are the only one...” Shoto noted while repeatedly poking the boy in the side.

“G-guhuhuhys- stahahahappihihihit.” Iida’s eyes were squeezed shut, “Ihihihi dohohohont wahahahant tohohoho drohohop hihihihim.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Izuku chimed as he kneaded his hands into Iida’s shoulders.

The ravenette’s booming laughter filled the room. “WAIHIHIHIHIT! MIDOHOHOHORIHIHIYAHAHAHA!”

“Yeah?”

“YOHOHOHOHUREHEHEH GOHOHOHNAHAHAHA FAHAHAHALL!”

“Eh. I’ve broken my arms twice at once. Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

Shoto chuckled, latching onto Iida’s waist and digging in.

“HRGNH- GOHOHOHONAHAHAHA FAHAHAHALL! MIDOHOHOHORIHIHIHYAHAHAHA!”

When Shoto reached down and scribbled against Iida’s knee, they buckled and sent the trio to the floor.

“Ow ow ow ow.” the two assailants repeated, unlatching from their target.

“I told you idiots!” Iida barked.

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Izuku put his hands up in defense, while Shoto helped Iida to his feet.

Soon the three were sitting on the dorm bed, chuckling amongst themselves as Iida explains his interesting factoid.

“So uh. How much time did we just waste?” Shoto inquired.

“Hm.” Iida checked the digital clock on the nightstand, “Roughly ten minutes.”

Izuku groaned and threw his hands over his face, flopping dramatically to the pillow.

“Hey Iida.” Shoto said with a hint of playfulness in his voice, “did you know that Midoriya here-“

“Todoroki NO!”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!”

“DON’T CARE! DON’T SAY IT OUT LOUD!” Izuku barked.

“Fine by me.” Shoto shrugged as he whispered into Iida’s ear. “Just play along. He’ll admit something and be super embarrassed.”

“Shotoooooooooo!” Izuku whined.

“I mean really. There of all places.” Shoto said a little too playfully.

“Did you tell him-“

“Super close to the other spot too.” Iida chimed in return.

Shoto shot him a quick thumbs up. Turning his head to muffle his own snickers.

“Did you tell him about my hips?!” Izuku yelled.

Iida’s eyes sparkled, his grin grew wide and wicked.

“No. But you did. Good luck.” Shoto said, patting Izuku’s stomach then returning to his embroidery.

“Todoroki you traiHIHITOHOHOR- IIHIHIHIDAHAHAHA!”

Shoto simply smiled as he continued to embroider. His friends’ melodious laughter was a wonderful addition to the white noise of the pouring rain.