#literally just wrote this in a fugue state last night

[sunsetofdoom]

but I cannot come in unless you dream of me

"I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me..." -Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

-

Blitz’s knee rattled against the wobbly side of the barstool, tapping his leg compulsively as he scanned the dim bar. Everybody was fucking obnoxious, was the problem. Girls with judgy laughs, smug jocks, arrogant hipsters with their post-post-irony bullshit. Everybody copying the last trend, but really making fun of it, because they were soo over it, actually. What he wouldn’t give for Stolas’ full-throated fucking sincerity, sometimes. Maybe he was cringe, but he didn’t have the dead-eyed ‘look how cool I am’ syndrome that infested this fucking shithole like a plague.

He tapped his fingers against his phone laying facedown on the bar. If he flipped it over, he’d just have to look at the fucking weather app announcing the full moon, and the ghost of Stolas’ cancellation text lurking in his notifications.

“-and she just thinks she’s soooo,” some woman drawled, and Blitz’s eye twitched at the thought of talking to her for long enough to get his dick in her mouth and shut her the fuck up. That was a no.

“Better than workin’, though, innit,” said some guy, and Blitz leaned over, trying to figure out who. The accent was familiar. Not Stolas’, but the imps that worked for him all seemed to have that low-class, ‘allo guvnor’ shit going on. When Blitz exchanged two words with them, at least. Which he tried not to.

“You still workin’ at the Palace like your dear old Dad did, Reg?”

“Nah,” ‘Reg’ said, and Blitz caught him as he spoke- short-horned imp about Moxxie’s size, hair slicked back like he thought he was cool. Clearly dying a slow death of Hipster Prick disease. “Got to be too much for me. Pay sounded alright but there en’t enough money in the world to put up with those rich fucks.”

“Oh, tell us the good shit, Reg,” the girl at the table gushed, obviously thirsty for his shrimp dick. “Nick hasn’t heard your stories, ooh, Nick, they’re sooo funny-”

“You never came out with us,” Reg said, pointedly.

“Hard enough to when you don’t work two rings away,” Nick put in, and Blitz could have yelled at them to get on with the stupid story, because it was his only excuse not to find somebody to fuck in the nasty ass bathroom.

“Tell ‘im about the prince, Reg,” the girl begged, and Blitz slouched deliberately to look like he wasn’t listening. His nerves tingled.

“Oh, just a sad sack, it’s the wife that’s a real piece of work,” Reg said, sounding worldly and uninterested. “D’you know I once watched her smash a vase worth more than my mum’s house? Just hucked it overhand like a shot-put. Horrifying.”

Blitz filed this away. Like most mistresses, he had a looming blank space in his brain labeled The Wife, and he thought about her as little as possible with an angry, guiltless nausea.

“Why!?”

“Oh, her shit husband opened his mouth, what else?”

Stomach tying itself into a knot, Blitz reminded himself that he didn’t actually know who they were talking about. Maybe he was hallucinating Stolas in places where he wasn’t, like letting his name slip while fucking somebody else.

“Prince Stolas says the word divorce and she gets an extra health bar and a choir starts singing in Latin,” Reg continued, so there went that theory.

“This isn’t even my final form,” smirked the other fucking idiot.

“That’s, like, so derivative,” the girl snorted, and Blitz took a second to imagine shooting them, except then he wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on horrible stories about his sad fuckbuddy.

The bartender cruised by, giving him a hard look, and Blitz flicked two fingers at him for another drink. The first one was pretty much a prop that he’d intended to ditch on his way to Bonetown, but apparently that wasn’t happening because this place was full of miserable assholes. The second would be something to nurse while he tracked this stupid conversation. Blitz took a drink. He tried not to drink when he was pissed off. This felt like a special fucking occasion.

“What was the worst, Reg?” 

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Reg sighed, leaning back in his chair until two legs were off the ground, and Blitz wanted to shove him over. “Gotta be- right, I come in when I’m s’pose to, end of the night, clean up after the gentry are in bed, except this one’s on the bloody floor, right? Demon prince dead drunk on the fancy rug. So I scarper.”

The other guy cracked up, booing him and throwing a crumpled-up napkin. “Coward!”

“Oi! Shut up! I was right to! The wife comes in screamin’ her bloody head off about what a fuckup he is, winds up, kicks him in the stomach-”

Blitz choked on his drink. He swallowed frantically, eyes watering.

“-and what’s he do, cover his head? No! Rolls over and throws up everywhere, she’s still screaming bloody murder, only thing out of his plastered mouth is not to let the kid hear, she smashes a vase next to his head and leaves. And there’s me behind the curtains, stuck there until he peels all ten miles of himself up off the floor and fucks off, and I have to clean up the sick and all the bloody shards-”

The other two ghouls at the table with him were fucking laughing, and Blitz hadn’t come with his usual kit but he wasn’t unarmed, either; he could throw his knife and give this little dickhead some new holes to fuck. He toyed with it, but what would be the point. Instead, he took another drink, trying to wash down the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

“Really. Surprised the miserable fuck hasn’t slit his wrists in his fancy fucking bathtub,” Reg shuddered mockingly. “I en’t gonna be cleaning it up when he does.”

“Good on you for quitting, Reg.”

“Oh, I didn’t quit. Got caught stealing the silver.”

And then they were laughing again. Blitz chugged his drink and tried to drown them out.

They stopped talking about Stolas after that, even though Blitz listened in on them long enough to want to blow their fucking brains out. Or maybe his. Somebody’s. Drink number three went down numbly, and then the group of fucking idiots left. Blitz stayed hunched over at the bar, drinking more than he’d planned to because it was better than thinking. He brushed off the couple of people who tried to talk to him, because his dick was so out of commission it may as well have been in another universe.

A notification on his phone snapped him out of the tunnel-vision haze, and it wasn’t anything, some fucking app trying to get him to open it; but it pulled up the fucking weather app with its little moon icon, which he stared at for a solid minute before opening the rideshare one, because he definitely wasn’t okay to drive home.

The guy’s car pulled up in the parking lot, and Blitz shook his coat to make sure he still had his keys (he’d get the van in the morning, or better yet make Moxxie do it) and got in. “There’s a puke bucket back there if you need it,” the guy said, and then proceeded to ignore him for the twenty minute drive.

That was fine by Blitz, who was still silently processing. Half-formed thought glopped around in his mostly-drunk brain like a lava lamp, putting disparate images together. Stolas, quietly uncomfortable as he stated one of his only limits was being hit in the face. Stolas, cringing and apologizing over and over with a rictus grin. My knight in shining armor, come to rescue me! That empty fucking house. Wine bottles stashed in weird places, the bedroom, the bathroom. Stolas sinking into the pretense of affection in Blitz’s subpar aftercare with starved desperation.

It’s like drowning, Stolas had said once, nonsensically, stuck in a subspace haze. Not just once, actually. Over and over, rolling it around. Feels like drowning. Like drowning.

C’mere and lemme give you mouth-to-mouth, then, Blitz had leered at the time, which made Stolas do that high-as-balls giggle that reached into Blitz’s chest and twanged a discordant note on his out-of-tune heartstrings.

At home, he hung up his keys and paced back and forth in front of the couch a couple times, tail lashing, full of manic energy that had nowhere to go. He flipped his phone over and over in his hands, tossing it in the air and catching it, seeing how many times he could do it before it fell. He wasn’t stupid, the juggling game was an excuse to keep him from opening the fucking thing, from making whatever stupid decision was lurking in his impulse-ridden brain.

Giving up, Blitz took off his coat and threw it in the general direction of the chair, tugging off his shirt and pants until he flopped down face first on the couch, took his horns in his hands, and groaned.

Not letting himself think about it long enough to realize it was a bad idea, Blitz grabbed for his phone, opened it, and texted Stolas.

u ok?

He slammed it facedown on the cushions, face heating up. Stupid. Stupid. Fucking stupid idiot. He made a policy of not texting first. He was gonna get back three six-paragraph texts that would take forever to decipher and when he did would tell him nothing except that Stolas was a double-texting asshole who ate dictionaries for breakfast.

The wife wound back and kicked him- Fuck, Blitz wished he’d killed that fucking kid. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so awful now.

His phone buzzed.

I’m perfectly hale, thank you so much for asking, Blitz. I do appreciate that. Perhaps tomorrow we could meet up for coffee and complete our requisite trade of my grimoire? You can have it back straight away, I don’t mean to keep you from your important work

Blitz squinted. He could smell the avoidance on that bird.

Thot u wre sick ?

Typing bubble. No typing bubble. Typing bubble again. Blitz gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

I was unwell this afternoon, but I feel much btter now. Thank you for thinking of me <3

It took a second, and then another message dinged:

*better.

Squinting again, Blitz looked at it hard. Stolas didn’t make typos.

Blaming it on the drinks, Blitz closed his eyes while he typed, like not seeing it would mean he wasn't really sending it.

r u lkie fr ok

He opened his eyes. Looked at it. Thunked his head down on the sofa again.

Surprised the miserable fuck hasn’t slit his wrists in his fancy fucking bathtub. Except he couldn’t, because they’d played with knives before and nothing actually broke Stolas’ unbreakable immortal shell. He was untouchable. Un-hurt-able.

Right?

Determinedly, Blitz swallowed hard and followed up. Another rule broken: No fucking double-texting.

i worie abt u smtms

He tossed his phone onto the floor, crossed his arms under his head, and tried to go the fuck to sleep.

The next morning, he got up, nursed his stupid fucking four-drink hangover because being thirty-five sucked absolute ball sack, and got dressed for work. He didn't find his phone until he was almost fifteen minutes late, and going to be later since he'd have to walk; it had ended up wedged under the bean bag chair.

He opened it. A text message from Stolas waited there. 2am, almost an hour after he'd sent his, which was a record- Stolas usually responded instantly, like he had nothing better to do than wait by the phone.

Everything will be okay.

Somehow, Blitz thought as he slipped his phone in his pocket, that didn't make him feel better at all.

[nebulations]

Does anyone have the tweet where it's like tri/stamp ep 8 baby vash BEAMING when luida says that instead of being handcuffed and locked up they're going to place a guard on him instead captioned "his bar for being treated well is in HELL" because I just watched that episode and am like. Shaking. Lmao.

[shigayokagayama]

i literally thought of the saddest fucking fic concept and wrote the first half of the first scene in some kind of fugue state last night but itll hit so much harder if i dont explain what its about so. just know.

[howlingmoonrise]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

thank you so much for thinking of me anon! <3 <3 <3

(i also got tagged on this on my main blog, so if it looks familiar to anyone that's why!)

okay, this is a hard one. let's see!

cinq d'epées (the princess and the frog, charlotte la bouff/dr facilier)

in which charlotte needs to turn to the shadowman to save big daddy, and then finds herself coming back. again and again and again.

honestly this one is like. a HUGE underdog, and yet possibly my fave. people always go for the barbie/dracula due to powerhouse popularity and sleep on this one. the first couple scenes or so are a bit awkward but then it really hits its stride.

--

2. a spun sugar night's dream (the nutcracker & the mouse king, nutcracker/marie stahlbaum)

Sometimes, her prince is too perfect.Godfather Drosselmeier's single dark eye is not unlike those of his nephew. But in the right light, in the right mood, her beloved’s could have been perfect black circles painted over wood, glossed over in a steady toymaker’s hand.

*throws vibes around like glitter* a fest of candy-related words with an undertone of fae creepiness, just the way i like it. post-fairytale exploration my beloved.

--

3. beloved, beloved (hold on to the world) (petshop of horrors, leon orcot/count d)

D's kind is not easy to hold on to.

*banging pots and pans* tam lin au!!! tam lin au!!! also an underappreciated fic, even in the midst of all my petshop of horrors works. it reads very poetically and, well. it is a tam lin au. it was bound to be a winner.

--

this is where is starts getting hard. i'm VERY picky and i turn my nose at most of my own writing, especially older stuff, so these last two are less faves in terms of enjoying them as a written piece and more "i had a lot of fun writing them way back when" sort of self-recs.

4. In the Woods Somewhere (ever after high, daring charming/cerise hood)

AU where Milton Grimm discovered Red and Badwolf's affair and went to great lengths to silence it. Years later, Daring Charming finds a girl in the woods. Or, Daring Charming accidentally becomes the next Red Riding Hood.

basically a role reversal, but if their initial roles were more or less the same? i wrote the first 12k of it non-stop in a fugue state after watching thronecoming, that's how many brainworms it gave me. i feel like the writing is a bit dated (this is from... 2016? oh wow) but i'm still pretty proud of the work i did regarding daring's characterization here!

--

5. hearteater (howl's moving castle, howl jenkins/sophie hatter)

It was a joke, at first. A quip thrown this way and that when they call him a rake, a rogue, a ravisher. You just go around stealing hearts, they say, sometimes accusing, sometimes sad, and he can’t stomach any sort of seriousness so he replies with a winking and I eat them, too. But this is the land of Ingary, where things such as giants and fire demons and seven-league boots exist. And so, it becomes true.

in which the whole heart-eating thing becomes a loooooot more literal. written originally as a gift for sandmancircus, my beloved

thank you so much for the ask!!! <3

[foulbearobservation]

banger avalil smut, has me like (see below gif) bc everything about it is >>>

but also, couple questions

1) does/did lilith’s killing michael via ripping out his heart ever complicate avalil’s bedroom activities involving insides grabbing to some degree?

2) also the bit about, beatrice and camila are at a comics convention 👀. who’s the comics fan among em? or is it both? what kind of comics and/or comic genres are they into? 👀

haha thank you!! I wrote half of it in a fugue state last night so I'm glad to hear it!

1) short answer: yes lmao. long answer: yeah it's complicated and there's a lot of trust involved between ava and lilith re:insides grabbing. This is set extremely post canon, so lots of therapy on both sides! I just think of it as an extension of the fact that ava wants to feel everything and lilith is the only person willing to indulge her when it comes to pain, because she's a masochist lmfao. I think the first few times they did anything involving pain they obvs had beatrice and cami watching. bdsm is about building up and trust and they've had (in this vague au) probably like 8-10 years since the events of canon. I also think that's part of the appeal for ava like. this woman can and will kill you. you are putting your trust in her. she is literally holding your heart in her hands.

2) I think Cami is the comics fan between them but I think Bea is getting into it! Bea had to break out of the way her parents talked abt them like a lesser art, so Cami keeps trying to find a comic that Bea would like. I think she'd like a serious house on serious earth (an absolutely wild batman comic that inspired the arkham video games), but I'm not like. A Serious Comics Enjoyer myself so I'm not best equipped to answer this question. Someone call Em to rescue me from my lack of comics knowledge

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 2/4/2022

I realize that this feature has mostly turned into Polynya-complains-about-distance-learning, but I added it up this morning. If you recall, my kids’ school district went to distance learning from the 2 weeks before Christmas until Jan 14. In the three weeks since they have allegedly “gone back”, there have only actually been 5 days where they were both in school all day. There was one holiday, two planned early dismissals, two snow days, my son barfed at school one day and had to be picked up (he wasn’t actually sick, sometimes kids just barf. They were perfectly correct to send him home, I am just saying), and there was a close contact in my daughter’s class this weekend (they all have to do rapid tests on Sundays and send them in), so her whole class had to quarantine Mon-Weds. Early dismissals are better than them being home, I guess, but it basically turns my day into get up early, get everyone ready, drive daughter to school, be home for long enough to do the Wordle, get back in the car to go pick her up. Furthermore, all of this is incredibly haphazard-- like we got a phone call about the quarantine at 7am that day. Our last name is close to the beginning of the alphabet, other families had already dropped their kid off when they got the call and had to go back and get them. 

Anyway, I have anxiety, and mostly what I need is predictability in my life, and this has been really horrible for me, mental health-wise, so I am cutting myself some slack. 

Last week I had been working on the Tattoo Artist AU, and it wasn’t that I got stuck or anything, I just got really disjointed by all of this and for some reason, I wanted to start on the next part of Heart is a Muscle, so I did. I think I mentioned that I struggle to write AUs because the characters feel really OOC to me (or perhaps like different characters entirely) and I felt like it would be helpful to work on a canon-compliant fanfic in parallel, so that I jump back and forth between them when I get stuck, or miss the characters. 

It is really weird to me to be starting things. I spent from about June through December of 2021 finishing stuff, which is a very different writing mode. Currently, I am just slapping down anything I want. It’s bad. I know in my heart it’s bad, and I am literally just making myself problems to fix later, but that’s how writing works. You slap some wild ideas down, and then you skip the parts you don’t know how to write and you come back and fix a bit here and there or and throw in Squad Six poetry night, and then at some point you have a breakdown and make a detailed outline and go into a fugue state and when you come out, it’s a story. I do have to say that I really really love writing Bleach fanfic, because I can write 3 pages of Hanatorou infodumping about shinigami anatomy and say to myself “my weird fans are gonna eat this up.” 

Upshot: I wrote 4032 words (for a total of 4032 words). I have to integrate a rather substantial flashback that I wrote, like, two years ago, and I’m having trouble deciding how I want to do that, and I keep bumping up against that, but I have really not been in the mood to make an outline. Well. I made an outline. Here it is:

Anyway, it’s so boring and talky right now and I’m probably gonna end up deleting a bunch of it but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I think I am going to jump back over to the Tattoo Artist story again shortly anyway.

In other news, I have an art I want to do, but I couldn’t get my sketch to work this weekend and I threw up my hands and haven’t touched it since last Saturday. It happens. I’ll get back to it.

Anyway, we’re celebrating my kid’s birthday this weekend, so I will be busy making a tirimisu and some soft pretzels.

I still haven’t gotten back to that book I was reading. :/ 

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 2, Episode 2: Shape Shifted

check out the series masterlist!

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse 

Notes: our fav curly haired boy finally makes an appearance!! even tho he’s on the struggle bus rn I’m so excited to finally have him in the series 

                                                  ————————

I winced as my back slammed against the concrete floor of the jail cell, a twinge of pain rolling up my spine. A snarling face appeared above me only a moment later. He caged me in with a clawed hand on either side of my head, growling only inches away. 

“Isaac!” I barked, trying to snap him out of it.

There was just enough space between us for me to brace my hands against his chest. I shoved him away with all the strength I could muster and, surprisingly, he stumbled up onto all fours a few feet away.

Isaac growled again from his crouched position, pupils blown wide, making his eyes look completely black. He snarled, revealing his sharpened teeth, and glowered at me dangerously. In the blink of an eye, he hauled me up to my feet and pinned me against one of the brick walls. 

He leaned close, roaring loudly, and my eyes pinched shut as a fear-induced tremor wracked my body. I pressed my back firmly into the wall behind me, my heart sputtering in my chest. I peeled my eyes open when the room went silent and stared ahead with wide eyes, my breath reduced to trembling gasps. 

I should probably take a moment to explain how I got myself in this ridiculous situation.

Stupidity, mostly. My intentions had been mothing but good and still, everything somehow managed to fall apart. But that seems to be a trend in my life, doesn’t it?

Earlier that day...

“You really don’t remember anything?” Allison pressed, despite being told the same answer several times on our way to school.

“They called it a fugue state.” Lydia quipped, swaying her hips as she held her jacket tightly beneath her crossed arms. “Which is basically a fancy way of saying ‘we have no idea why you can’t remember running through the woods naked for a week’.”

She rolled her eyes with a huff, as if the whole thing was nothing but a minor inconvenience. I watched her closely as she bounced up the stairs in her heels. She’d been acting way too...normal since we found her. She kept insisting that she’s fine and doesn’t remember a single thing but somehow, that seems so much worse.

“But, personally, I don’t care. I lost nine pounds.” She shrugged with a satisfied smile, and Allison chuckled.

I couldn’t help but frown. There was no way she didn’t have any lasting effects from being lost in the woods for a week, or that Peter’s bite had done absolutely nothing to her. There was just no way.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I peered at her with concern, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Please, it’s not like my aunt’s a serial killer.” She turned on her heel, flicking her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, before either of us could respond.

Allison’s lips parted as she stared at her retreating figure, her brows lifting in surprise. I rubbed a hand over my lips to hide the smirk that was threatening to break through. While completely and utterly inappropriate, I couldn’t deny that the comment was pretty funny.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” I followed after her quickly through the front doors of the school.

My steps faltered as I saw that every single person in the hallway had stopped to stare at Lydia. She stood froze in place, her eyes wide as they flickered around the space. Quiet footsteps sounded behind us, the only noise in the otherwise silent hall.

“Maybe it’s the nine pounds.” Allison joined us at Lydia’s other side and leaned down to whisper the jab into her ear.

She squared her shoulders and flattened her features into a practiced boyeed expression before flicking a stray piece of hair away from her face and strutting away. I narrowed my eyes at her back, the persistent feeling that something was going on with her beneath the surface nagging at me. Allison and I shared a quick glance before following her toward our first class of the day.

————————

I let out an annoyed sigh, for once trying to actually focus on the assignment in front of me. We were doing partner work today and since there were an uneven number of students, Mr. Harris put me, Stiles, and Scott together. We were all surprised by that choice, but I honestly think he wanted us to get distracted so he’d have an excuse to give us detention again.

“Why would Derek choose Isaac?” Scott whispered harshly, continuing the conversation the boys had been having around me for the last several minutes.

“Peter told me that if the bite doesn’t turn you, it could kill you.” Stiles’ eyes briefly flickered toward me, and I avoided his questioning gaze. I was already painfully aware that we were no closer to figuring out what’s wrong with me. I didn’t need any reminders. “Maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving.”

“Does being a teenager mean your dad can’t hold him?” Scott’s voice became urgent as he leaned forward in his chair.

They’d both been freaking out all day. Apparently, one of their teammates was pulled during their morning practice by the police for questioning. His father was killed mysteriously a few nights ago, and he was the prime suspect. Now, that wouldn’t usually be anything more than news-worthy gossip, but it conveniently happened moments after Scott realized he’s a werewolf.

He had to have been turned recently, because Scott only sensed that there was another werewolf on the team this morning. I’d never really noticed the guy before, but he was definitely on my radar now.

Unfortunately, it was most likely Derek who turned him, unless there’s another alpha running around Beacon Hills that we don’t know about. Honestly, I’m not sure which scenario would be worse.

It also just so happens to be a full moon tonight, because heaven forbid a day go by in this town without a supernatural disaster. Scott and Stiles were stressing the fuck out about what a freshly turned werewolf will be capable of, especially while stuck in a jail cell. 

“Well, not unless they have solid evidence. Or a witness—wait...” Stiles’ eyes widened as a thought struck him and he abruptly turned around to face the table behind us. “Danny. Where’s Jackson?”

Scott and I peered back toward him as he glanced up from his paper, the pencil in his hand coming to a stop as his eyes flickered over the three of us slowly. They were swirling with a strange emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost as if he’d been listening in on our conversation.

“The principal’s office talking to your dad.” He answered slowly, seemingly surprised that we weren’t up to date on the latest developments.

“What? Why?” Stiles whispered harshly, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac?” Danny shrugged, as if it were obvious.

My shoulders stiffened at his words. We all turned back toward the front of the room quickly when it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, not wanting to be caught talking. I glanced between Scott and Stiles, waiting for the inevitable. I could practically see the gears turning behind their eyes. They were coming up with something that I undoubtedly wanted no part of but would get roped into anyway. 

“Witness.” Scott sighed, looking defeated.

Stiles’ brows pinched as a look of determination flickered over his face. “We have to get to the principal’s office.”

“How?” Scott leaned toward him expectantly.

Stiles’ wide eyes flickered around our table before landing on the assignment we were supposed to be doing. He practically lunged toward me so he could slide the paper out from under my hand.

He glanced to the head of the room where Mr. Harris was standing, his back to us as he wrote equations on the chalkboard, before crumpling it into a ball. I let out a huff, instantly realizing that he was about to do something incredibly stupid, and snatched it back.

“Wait a minute.” I glanced between the boys with narrowed eyes. “We literally just closed the door on the whole almost being murdered by two psychopaths thing. Can’t we sit this one out?”

“Not when we can help him.” Scott whispered earnestly, his eyes rounding as he silently pleaded with me to understand.

I groaned at his damn overactive conscience and sunk down into my seat, already giving in. I didn’t want to get involved in another problem already, but it was clearly important to him. Stiles held out his hand expectantly and I pursed my lips, hesitating.

He winked and blew me a kiss, the edge of his lips twitching into a smirk. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He was having way too much fun with this already. Finally, I dropped the paper ball into his upturned hand.

He wasted no time in chucking it toward the front of the room. It smacked right into Mr. Harris’s head and bounced to the floor. The room erupted into restrained giggles as he quickly whipped around to face the class.

“Who in the hell did that?” He snapped, his brows furrowing in anger.

Scott and Stiles both lifted a finger to point at each other, and I sank further down, making myself small. I had yet to get into any trouble at school, and I wanted to keep it that way, despite whatever potential supernatural crisis we were dealing with. 

“To the office. Now.” The boys instantly popped to their feet at Mr. Harris’s curt demand, failing miserably at hiding their satisfaction that the plan went so smoothly. “You too, Ms. Y/L/N.”

I jolted upright in my chair and gaped at him, my eyes widening in shock. “But Mr. Harris, I didn’t even do—”

“Unless you’d like to finish that thought in detention, I suggest you get moving.” His eyes narrowed into a hard glare.

My jaw clenched at his patronizing tone, but I scooped up my things and followed the guys out into the hall anyway. I shouldn’t have been this annoyed, but I was already a full two weeks behind after missing so many days of school while recovering from Peter’s bite. For once, I actually wanted to focus on school and bring my grades up.

Less than a minute later, we found ourselves sitting outside the office, one of Scott’s ears pressed tightly against the window. Jackson was visible through the glass, his arms crossed lazily over his chest as he sat comfortably in one of the plush chairs. His eyes flickered slowly over Sheriff Stilinski, seemingly bored by their conversation. 

Scott was reciting their every word as he listened in. It wasn’t like Jackson to care for other people, so exactly no one was surprised to find out that he knew about the apparent abuse Isaac was subjected to at the hands of his father for years without telling a soul.

The office door suddenly sprang open without warning, and I jumped in surprise. Stiles spazzed beside me, arms flailing as he grabbed the closet thing he could find to hide behind. Despite getting in trouble intentionally, he didn’t want his dad to see him. He’d been cracking down lately about his record of almost weekly detentions which were always, unsurprisingly, with Mr. Harris.

He slid down in his seat and lifted the magazine he found to cover his face. A moment later, Sheriff Stilinski walked out of the office with another officer in tow. His eyes trailed over Stiles slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Hi, Scott. Y/N.” He drawled slowly, his attention still firmly planted on Stiles. 

We both waved awkwardly and he just shook his head with a sigh, accepting that his son was a lost cause before brushing past us. We barely had a moment to breathe before a deep, gravely voice fluttered from the open door. 

“Kids.” My eyes widened as they swept up to the older man we’d seen at Kate’s funeral. Allison’s grandpa. Time seemed to slow as we all stared at him, equal parts surprised and confused. Just yesterday, we had a different principal. So what was he doing here? “Come on in.”

Hesitantly, we all stood and followed him into what was apparently now his office. We sat down in the chairs opposite his desk and waited anxiously for him to begin our lecture. He tooka few moments to ruffle some papers around on his desk before opening a small manila folder. 

“Scott McCall.” He said slowly, his dark eyes flickering over the pages inside. “Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you have become quite the star athlete.”

His gaze swept up to meet Scott’s, who’s lips twitched up into a half-grimace half-smile sort of thing. He was stiff as a board beside me, clearly uncomfortable being this close to someone from Allison’s family.

“Mr. Stilinski.” He continued, attention moving to another folder. “Oh, perfect grades...but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse.”

Stiles perked up in his chair, eager to talk about his growing role on the team. “Oh, actually, I’m already—”

“Hold on,” Mr. Argent held up a finger, and Stiles visibly deflated before falling back into a slouch. He pointed to Scott, his eyes narrowing slightly. “McCall, you’re the Scott that was dating my granddaughter.”

Scott’s eyes widened, instantly pancking at his words. The two of them were still sneaking around, since her dad’s threat to literally kill him if he caught them together was very much active. “We were dating, but not anymore. We’re not seeing any of each other or...doing anything...with each other.”

I let out an irritated huff at his rambling. For as often as these guys lie, they should be much better at it by now. Mr. Argent chuckled, but it lacked any humor. It was honestly kind of unnerving, like when a super villain laughs just before killing someone in cold blood. 

“Relax, Scott. You look like you’re about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth.” The three of us just stared at him, unsure of how to respond to that weirdly specific and alarming metaphor. 

“Now listen, guys.” He sent us a tight lipped smile, only slightly breaking the quickly mounting tension. “Yes, I am the principal, but I really don’t want you to think of me as the enemy.”

Stiles scoffed harshly from beside me, squirming back and forth in his seat. “Is that so?”

I jammed my elbow into his side at that ridiculously obvious reference to the supernatural. He twitched dramatically and rubbed at his ribs, furrowing his brows at me as if I were the one messing everything up. There was no telling what he already knew. He might not even know that Scott is a werewolf yet, and we didn’t need to be giving him any clues. 

“However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So, unfortunately, someone is going to have to take the fall and stay behind for detention.” He continued, eyes immediately sweeping toward Stiles. 

He was momentarily unaware of all the attention on him as he played with a frayed string on his red flannel. As much as it may suck, it just made sense for it to be him. Scott needed to figure out what to do about Isaac, and there was no way I was sitting in detention for a stupid plan that I had no part in.

After a few moments of tense silence his eyes flicked upward. They widened knowingly and he sighed before sagging back in his chair, ready to begrudgingly take one for the team. 

With that decision made, Scott and I were dismissed. He instantly bolted upright and practically ran to the office door. I followed as quickly as possible, squeezing Stiles’ hand reassuringly before I went. Scott frantically tumbled down the small flight of stairs just outside the office before rounding the corner and throwing the side doors open. 

“Scott!” I called, urging him to slow down. He wasn’t even using werewolf speed, he was just freaking the fuck out and going way too fast. “Scott, what are you doing?”

I ran outside after him, feeling a chill run up my spine as a gust of cold wind blew past us. He suddenly staggered to a halt and I swerved to avoid ramming into him. My eyes widened as I finally saw what made him stop so abruptly.

There was a police car pulling away from the curb, and Isaac was sitting in the back. 

“So what’s the plan?” I breathed, feeling my stomach churn with anxiety. 

I didn’t necessarily care what happened to the guy, especially if he did kill his father, but this couldn’t mean anything good for us. Everything just got a hell of a lot more complicated. It was one thing if they were just questioning him, but if they were arresting him our job would be much harder than we anticipated.

Scott let out a huff of annoyance and turned to face me. “Go back inside. I’ll figure this out.”

“Absolutely not.” I crossed my arms, offended at the mere suggestion that I walk away.

There was no way I’d be leaving his side anytime soon. They’d sufficiently dragged me into this problem with them, and now I was here to stay. Plus, I was honestly way too nosy to turn back now. There was only one more period left before school let out anyway, and I wouldn’t be able to focus with all of this going on. 

Just then, a black sports car peeled up to the curb with a high pitched screech. I jumped back in surprise, the sight of the tinted windows making me nervous, but almost immediately relaxed when the passenger window rolled down to reveal Derek. 

“Get in.” He ordered gruffly, not wasting any time with pleasantries. 

“Are you serious? You did that. This is your fault.” Scott raised his voice in frustration and pointed toward the retreating police car. 

“I know that.” Derek barked through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Well, I guess it’s confirmed that he was the one who bit Isaac. “Now, get in the car, and help me.”

Scott rolled his eyes and stood firmly in place. “I’m gonna call a lawyer. Because a lawyer might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon comes up.”

“Not when they do a real search of the house.” Derek shook his head solemnly, although it was hard to tell exactly what he was feeling behind his dark sunglasses. 

“What do you mean?” I spoke up for the first time, utterly confused by his characteristic vagueness. It honestly wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if he’d been in Isaac’s house since the murder, but if there was something damning in there, he just needed to come out with it. 

“Whatever Jackson said to the cops...” He let out a tense breath and pursed his lips. “What’s in the house is worse. A lot worse.”

He leaned over and popped the passenger door open, peering at us expectantly over his black frames. Scott and I shared a long glance, unsure if we wanted to get tangled up with him again already. Despite the fact that he wasn’t an immediate threat to us, he was an alpha now. That made him dangerous. And if he’s going around turning people, there’s no telling what his agenda is. 

With a sigh, Scott stepped forward and got in the car. I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, but followed after a few seconds. It felt like we were opening the door to something much worse than a newly turned teenager gone rouge. I couldn’t place it, but that nagging feeling was back. There had to be something I was missing. 

                                                      ————————

“If Isaac didn’t kill his dad, who did?” Scott asked anxiously, waving a flashlight around the dimly lit space. 

Derek was adamant that we wait until the “right moment” to enter Isaac’s house. After a couple hours of sitting around and ducking down to avoid any living thing that crossed his car, I was convinced that he was stalling. The moon would be up soon. We were running out of time. 

The goal was to break Isaac out of the station before he has a chance to shift. There’s no telling how many people he could kill while stuck in there and although they wouldn’t be innocent deaths, the last thing Beacon Hills needed was more bodies. 

“I don’t know yet.” Derek huffed, seemingly annoyed. 

“Then how do you know he’s telling the truth?” I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, feeling the chilly evening air sinking into my skin. This house had absolutely no insulation and I was freezing already. 

“Because I trust my senses. And it’s a combination of them. Not just your sense of smell.” He peered around me to glare pointedly at Scott.

I cringed at his disapproving tone as we continued through the house. I swear, sometimes he acts more like a disgruntled father or older brother than a random werewolf we con into helping us sometimes. It was equal parts endearing and off-putting. 

“You...saw the thing at lacrosse this morning.” Scott grimaced, his shoulders stiffening as he realized he’d been caught. 

“Yeah.” Derek quipped, letting his eyes scan over the disaster of a house in front of us. 

There was nothing...wrong with it, per se. It just wasn’t well maintained. There was a mountain of dishes in the sink, clutter everywhere, and dust covering almost every surface. It was just kind of gross, overall. I was surprised that anyone would want to live like this, but after learning about what a dickwad Isaac’s dad was, I didn’t think he had much of a choice. 

“Did it look that bad?” 

As we made our way around the house slowly, I was beginning to question whether there was even anything here at all. It wasn’t that I thought Derek would intentionally lead us to a dead end, but I didn’t really trust him, either. 

“Yeah.” He clapped a hand over Scott’s shoulder and pressed his lips into a firm line before coming to a stop in front of a door. “You wanna learn? Let’s start now.”

He popped the door open to reveal a narrow staircase that led down to a basement. Only a few feet of floorspace was visible through the darkness, but I could already tell it was a cluttered mess. 

“What’s down there?” I asked tentatively, squinting my eyes in an effort to see more of the room.

Scott started walking down the stairs slowly, looking from side to side as he went. I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched him disappear into the darkness. Part of me wanted to follow him, but there was also a terrible feeling of dread churning in the pit of my stomach. There was something evil down there, I could just sense it.

“Motive.” Derek nudged my back gently and I sighed before following behind Scott.

“And what am I looking for?” He called over his shoulder, sweeping his flashlight over the space quickly. 

“Follow your senses.”

There were piles of junk everywhere. That was the only word one could use to describe the stuff lining the walls. There were tools, random knickknacks, and a bunch of things that honestly looked like forgotten trash. There were big heaps every few feet, making it hard to walk through the room.

“What happened down here?” I breathed, my chest tightening with each step I took. I hugged my sides tighter, needing something to ground myself. It felt like my skin was buzzing, as if I could actually feel the raw emotions that had been left in this place. The air had this thickness that I couldn’t place.

“The kind of thing that leaves an impression.” Derek murmured ominously, and I turned to send him a glare. 

He was being the opposite of helpful, as usual. If he knew what happened, he just needed to tell us so we could get the hell out of here. There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to be here any longer than necessary. 

Scott moved a shower curtain that was somehow hanging from the ceiling as he continued on his path around the basement. He fidgeted with a few things as he passed them by, walking around a disgusting, stained couch before kneeling down in front of a shattered TV that looked like it was from the eighties. He ran his fingers along the concrete floor beside it, his brows furrowing in concentration. 

His head suddenly jerked upward, his gaze settling on a large freezer against the wall a few feet away. He slowly rose to his full height and stepped toward it. He stopped directly in front of it, his breathing labored. I rushed to his side at the sight of his heightened anxiety, more curious about the odd reaction than anything. 

My lips pulled into a frown as he toyed with a lock that hung from a latch on the freezer. That definitely wasn’t normal. Scott’s eyes flickered to me briefly, but it was long enough for me to see the concern bubbling beneath the surface. We both jumped at Derek’s sudden presence beside us a moment later. 

“Open it.” He encouraged, his eyes firmly planted on the freezer. 

Scott lifted the lid at a painstakingly slow pace, the rusted hinges squealing in protest. He shined the flashlight inside, and my breath instantly caught at the sight of the interior. There were claw marks along almost every inch of the inside. Bloody claw marks. 

The worst part was that they clearly weren’t from a werewolf. The scratches were dull, barely perforating the smooth metal. They were human. My heart dropped into my stomach at the thought of Isaac—or anyone, for that matter—being locked in something like this. 

“This is why he said yes to you.” Scott’s voice was barely above a whisper as he peered down into the freezer. His eyes were dark, swirling with a stormy slew of emotions. 

“Everybody wants power.” Derek quipped, crossing his arms with a shrug as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

I scoffed in disbelief as Scott slammed the lid back down. He couldn’t honestly think that turning a tortured teenage boy was a good idea. He could’ve killed him, for starters, but instead may have given a vengeful human all the power he could ever ask for. Either way, he was screwed. And now, so were we. 

“If we help you, then you have to stop. You can’t just go around turning people into werewolves.” Scott’s voice was hard as his eyes narrowed angrily. 

“I can if they’re willing.” Derek lifted his eyebrows casually, completely oblivious to the seriousness of this situation. 

There was no way of telling what anyone would do once transformed into a powerful beast. It was downright irresponsible for him to run around making his own werewolves, but as we learned, alphas are stronger with a pack. And if there was one thing I knew about the Hale’s, it’s that they’re power hungry.

“Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?” Scott’s voice rose incredulously, and Derek just shrugged again. 

“Yes, and he still asked.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” I snapped, over this whole situation. It seemed that our problems always started with Derek. He was a walking magnet for supernatural horrors and I was more than ready to be done with him. It’d barely been a couple weeks since our issues with Peter.

I jumped as my phone suddenly started ringing in my back pocket. I hastily pulled it out, my eyes widening as I saw that I had several missed texts from Allison and Stiles. 

“Hell—”

“We need to do something right now.” Allison’s urgent voice fluttered into my ear as she interrupted me before I could even get a word out. I put the call on speaker and held my phone out so the guys could hear. “My dad and grandpa were asking me all these questions about how Lydia was bitten by Peter and then they sent this guy out.”

“Wait. What guy?” Scott asked frantically, his eyes widening with anxiety.

“He was dressed as a sheriff’s deputy.” 

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. Did that mean the Argents had a man on the inside? Or did they somehow fake a uniform? I glanced up toward the Scott and Derek, who didn’t look any more pleased than I felt.

“They’re sending him to the station for Isaac.” Scott confirmed the fear nagging at the back of my mind. 

“He was also carrying this box with him with something on it. Like a carving or something.” She rushed the words out quietly, probably hiding from her family somewhere in her house. 

“What was it?” I pressed when she didn’t continue.

“Hold on, hold on. It’s in one of these books. I’m gonna send you a picture.”

My phone vibrated in my hand a moment later and I instantly clicked on the notification. It confirmed what all of us were surely thinking. “Wolfsbane.”

She paused for a moment, most likely wondering what the hell I was talking about. There was still a lot she didn’t know about the supernatural. “Okay, what does that mean?” 

“Just come meet me at Isaac’s house. Hurry.” Scott ordered, taking my phone from my hands before ending the call abruptly. 

I raised my eyebrows in question, and he sighed. “I have a plan.”

It was only when he dropped the phone back into my hand that I noticed his nails had extended into pointed claws. My eyes widened with the realization that the moon was coming up. That meant Scott and Isaac both would be losing control any minute. 

We were officially out of time. 

                                                    ————————

My legs bounced anxiously as I sat on the front steps of the house. They were falling apart, the conceete all cracked and dirty. I let out a slow breath into my hands as I tried keeping them warm. My eyes flickered up toward the sky, my heart sinking further into my stomach with each inch the moon rose.

I let my eyes sweep back to the front door, wondering what was going on inside. The loud squeal of tires against the asphalt had me jerking upright in surprise. I turned back toward the road and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Stiles’ Jeep lurching to a stop at the end of Isaac’s driveway.

I popped to my feet and jogged toward the car as he threw the passenger door open. His wide eyes flickered over my frame from head to toe quickly, a gesture he’d started after I was released from the hospital. It honestly seemed like a habit at this point, an uncontrollable urge he had to check for some kind of psychotic break every time he saw me. 

“Where’s Scott?” He breathed, still leaning across the bench seat. 

“Doing something really stupid.” I mumbled, moving out of the way as Derek appeared at my side. 

He and Stiles exchanged a tense glance as he wordlessly got into the back of the Jeep. I slid into the passenger seat and let the door fall closed behind me. We were leaving Scott and Allison—who’d arrived a few minutes ago—in the basement to figure out his wolf hormones or whatever. If he was going to be helpful tonight he needed to stay human, and she could assist with that better than anyone. 

Stiles eyed me suspiciously, but eventually jerked the car into drive and sped off. The ride to the sheriff’s station was short, but painfully awkward. Derek and Stiles were taking turns glaring at each other in the rearview mirror and I wanted nothing more than to remove myself from the situation and let them work through whatever the hell was wrong with them. But I was stuck, so I sat in silence until we pulled up at the back entrance of the station. 

“Okay.” Stiles sighed and threw an arm over the back of the seat so he could glance between both of us. “The keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office. The problem is getting past the front desk.”

Derek huffed from the back, as if personally offended by that statement. “I’ll just distract her.” 

He leaned forward to push me out of the way so he could get out, but Stiles lunged across the seat to grip his leather jacket tightly. “Whoa, whoa! Hey. You’re not going in there.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed before flickering between Stiles’ face and the hand balling up the fabric of his jacket. 

“I’m taking my hand off.” His voice rose anxiously as he lifted both arms in surrender. 

“I was exonerated.” Derek snapped, clearly annoyed at being labeled a criminal for the lie that Stiles and Scott had come up with a few weeks ago. In their defense, Peter did have us trapped in the school with a bunch of people who knew nothing about the supernatural. Framing him for the murders Peter had committed was the best option at the time.

“You’re still a person of interest.” I tried to reason with him, but it didn’t look like we were making any breakthroughs as he rolled his eyes in aggravation. 

“An innocent person.”

“You? Yeah, right.” Stiles scoffed with a chuckle, but instantly sobered up at the glare Derek cast his way. 

“Alright, whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just go.” I rushed out, starting to get impatient. 

I just wanted this night to be over already. We had Scott probably shifting at Isaac’s, Isaac definitely losing control inside the jail, and Derek causing way more problems than he’s worth. It was a lot for one day. 

Derek went inside first, shamelessly flirting with the woman at the front desk. Stiles and I waited a few minutes to make sure that she was sufficiently distracted before slinking inside and quietly ducking past the lobby. Stiles ran toward his dad’s office, and I was right on his heels. Once inside, he found the small lockbox mounted onto one of the walls and punched in the code. 

He lifted the front panel off and instantly froze. “Oh, no...” 

He bolted out of the office so fast that I had to stand there for a moment, processing what the hell just happened. After coming to my senses and realizing that someone had taken the keys, I ran after him, easily catching up within seconds. My body slammed into his back harshly only a moment later as we rounded a corner and nearly barreled into a police officer. 

“Whoa.” Stiles breathed, staggering back a step. His eyes widened in alarm, knowing that we weren’t supposed to be here right now. “Uh. We’re just looking—um...”

His awkward attempt at lying trailed off as his eyes flickered down to the man’s leg. I did the same, my breath catching at the sight of an arrow sticking out of his leg. Allison must’ve gotten Scott under control, since before we left she promised to help if she was able. My panic only grew as I noticed the syringe grasped tightly in one of his hands. 

“Oh, shit...” Stiles gripped my arm and started running down the narrow hallway. 

We only made it a few steps before he was violently jerked backward. My eyes widened as I felt his hand leave me and I whipped around to see what happened. A startled gasp tore past my lips as I watched the man wrap an arm around Stiles’ throat and haul him against his chest. 

“Hey! Let him go!”

He started dragging Stiles down the hall, and I instantly ran after them. I had no idea what I could possibly do to help, but I wasn’t stopping for anything. All I knew was that I couldn’t let him get hurt. His arms flailed wildly and he kicked his legs, trying anything to break free. My eyes swept the area for anything that I could use as a weapon. 

“Y/N...go!” Stiles gasped through his struggle. 

With a grunt, the man brought a hand up to cover Stiles’ mouth as he used his free hand to land a few punches at his ribs. His eyes were wide as they silently urged me to run away. But I couldn’t. There was nothing that would make me leave him right now. 

He somehow managed to pull the fire alarm as the man dragged him through the doorway to the cells. I cringed at the loud ringing, but quickly forgot the inconvenience as the man dropped Stiles into a heap on the concrete floor. 

I instantly rushed to his side, placing a gentle hand on his back as he rubbed at his chest and gasped for air. There was barely enough time for relief to begin bubbling in my chest before a low growl echoed through the room. We both stilled at the sound. 

Eerie silence blanketed the room for only a split second before Isaac emerged from a dark corner, teeth barred. He lunged at whoever the Argent’s had sent, wrapping a clawed hand around his throat before slamming him down onto a metal interrogation table. I winced at the harsh sound, but could do nothing but watch as he threw the man across the room. 

His head met the brick wall first, the impact instantly knocking him out cold. Isaac’s head then whipped in our direction, and my breath caught. A bolt of fear surged up my spine as his empty eyes caught mine. They weren’t even glowing, which was somehow much worse. I’d barely noticed the guy when he was a human, but the sight of him as a werewolf right now was terrifying. 

My heart lurched in my chest as he suddenly sprang toward us. Stiles gripped my elbow and tried to pull me with him as he scrambled away, but Isaac got to me first. 

“No!” Stiles yelled frantically, flailing up onto his feet as quickly as possible.

And that brings us back to the present...

I peeled my eyes open when the room went silent again and stared ahead with wide eyes, my breath reduced to trembling gasps. Isaac’s beastly face was only inches from mine, our close proximity only making my heart beat faster. 

Suddenly, a loud crunch echoed through the room. Isaac whipped around, momentarily forgetting about me, and I peered around his shoulder shakily. Derek’s eyes slowly rose from the syringe he’d just stomped to pieces, landing on mine and Isaac’s compromising position with a glare. 

Suddenly, Isaac turned around and lunged toward him with a growl. Derek snarled, revealing his sharpened canines, and growled loudly. My eyes pinched shut as the walls vibrated from the sheer volume of it. I sagged to the concrete floor, my knees giving out as I suddenly felt faint. 

My vision blurred as I slid down the brick wall, but I could still make out the way Isaac dropped down and cowered into a corner. Derek finally stopped roaring and easily shifted back into his human form, his teeth and finger nails retracting. Within a second a pair of strong arms were wrapped around my shoulders. I was hauled into a warm chest, and I let my eyes fall closed with relief. 

“How did you do that?” Stiles breath fanned the top of my head as he ran a hand down my back soothingly. 

I let my eyes flutter open to look at Derek, only to find that he was already studying me curiously. I already knew the answer, and it did nothing to calm my nerves. He was not only an alpha, but the alpha that bit Isaac. They had a connection, just like Peter and I. I couldn’t help but wonder, as my gaze flickered toward Isaac’s crumpled frame...

If Derek had that kind of power over him, what did that mean for me?

Episode 1, Part Two Episode 3

[vveissesfleisch]

*me knowing you literally just wrote the JW fic and need time to write another* My monkey brain: MORE MORE MORE MORE

Heyo! I’m so pleased you enjoyed it! I honestly can’t believe how many people have responded positively to it, like holy shit, this is great. I literally wrote it in a fugue state on Saturday afternoon!

Also I rewatched part of the first JW last night which resulted in me starting ANOTHER wildly indulgent self-insert; can’t help where the muse is going tbh and right now it is humping the baba yaga’s sexy, bloody leg. So I guess keep your eyes peeled if you’re into it, it’ll be going up at some point this week depending on life things. Thanks for the love! 🖤

[cliffordbradshawcharleykringas]

I posted 1,612 times in 2021

42 posts created (3%)

1570 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 37.4 posts.

I added 630 tags in 2021

#beetlejuice - 145 posts

#nice art - 130 posts

#best - 105 posts

#gato - 70 posts

#posts i wrote - 36 posts

#christian borle - 34 posts

#something rotten! - 34 posts

#falsettos - 31 posts

#words - 25 posts

#sondheim - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#also the image is right there but i wasn't looking at it so my jaw literally dropped when i realized this is when the cursed selfie was lol

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

it’s the perfect day to die, cause this guy happened to be passing by!

(i posted this on my instagram also)

98 notes • Posted 2021-05-08 17:45:02 GMT

#4

happy halloween!!! here’s some act one sketches i drew last night in a fugue state

102 notes • Posted 2021-10-31 15:30:05 GMT

#3

a plague of mice, a lighting strike, or drop a nuclear bomb !!!

also posted on my instagram :P

121 notes • Posted 2021-06-03 19:23:58 GMT

#2

they’re the same image

131 notes • Posted 2021-01-31 06:26:46 GMT

#1

beetlejuice moments that make me laugh every single time (mostly dialogue)

“how YOU doin’? woah, not good! adadoodoodeedadoo da da!”

“if you die during today’s performance the show will not stop :-)”

“apart from frustration pain and financial drain it’s fun !!!”

“look at these jugs!” (beetlejuice turns around and then looks disappointed)

the little dance they do during “what’s the point of having children if we’re drowning in debt”

“maybe 80%” “i’d say 78”

“sometimes puppet shows are sad”

“i mean say we are…dead…that’s…that’s bad, obviously-“

“ghost zombie jesuuuuuus”

“you don’t recognize me. i’m your father.” “…dad?”

the face barbara makes when beetlejuice gives her the femur

“we. are. invisible.” (spank)

“mmmmmmmYYYyyess, there’s Very Good Energy In Here”

“he’s my white whale” “i don’t see race <3”

“oh god delia. you erotic astronaut”

“you said ‘stop being so we-eird, i need this job’”

“knock knock! who’s there? happiness-!” “NO”

“it’s just a figure of speech jesus christ adam why you gotta be so sexy”

“whose head is that???” “..i don’t know..”

beetlejuice air-drumming during the first chorus of fright of their lives

“dolly levi, matchmaker!”

the backup singers in fright of their lives’s entrance AND exit

barbara and adam’s little dance after they say “let’s hide their phones!”

“fuck brigadoon”

“see you in hell! bah! i’m gone!”

“hey guys..? fuck you guys”

“let’s…haunt this biiiiitch”

whatever barbara is doing during adam’s “if we wanna win back our home” part

delia dab

“it says i’m warm, i’m friendly, and i think about death only a normal amount.”

“LYDIA NO GIMME THAT! smash.”

“what’re they saying?” “buy more crystals”

“and you have to buy a cat cause that’s your last chance to have a family”

“we used to make these haunted houses in the garage, but in the summer, so no one was expecting it”

“adam that’s not why she doesn’t like it here” “i know but it’s not helping”

third leg

“she’s always like get a job, why is your hair purple, i should have left like your father”

adam and barbara possession song and dance

“fool your friends! fun at parties! i did iiiiit”

“i was kicked in the head by a dressage horse!”

“as my guru otho always says, DAYYYYYYY-O.”

“on behalf of delia and myself, i’d just like to say WORK ALL NIGHT ON A DRINK OF RUM”

“barbara, the pig!” “who wants bacon?!” “no! stop! i’m a vegan!”

“hello! i’m from the u.s. census bureau, time for a few Oh My God!”

“if i were alive i could get out of this house, meet my kind of people. yknow socially liberal but fiscally conservative.”

“what, where’d i lose ya? oh, it’s not a real marriage. it’s like a green card thing! yeah, strictly business.”

“who are we decapitating?” “beetlejuice.” “you should! he’d love that”

“hate is a strong word, but i…do not like him!”

“woah…! this is such an interesting font!”

“a spin your own yarn kit?!?” “okay, that was not as much fun as i thought it would be”

“break it.” “*gasp*”

“you have a big brain.” “you make it big.”

“and the age gap is upsetting :D”

“👏did 👏you 👏e👏ven 👏read 👏the 👏hand👏book. 👏what 👏else 👏do 👏you 👏have 👏to 👏DO mami? you’re dead!”

“Nietzsche was right you know, to live is to suffer, bro!”

juno “running” with the walker

“your mother knew this was going to happen.. i mean not this, i don’t think anyone could have predicted this-“

“i hid it in case that dancing football player found me. he was so fast! so much poise!”

“what’s wrong sugar lumps? did you think i wasn’t coming back?” “i mean you literally jumped into hell to get away from me”

“mr. juice.”

(i’m listing this as three separate jokes)

“NOW HOLD ON ONE DAMN MINUTE.”

“MISTER beetlejuice. since we met, you have PINCHED ME, GROPED ME, and HARASSED ME, sir.”

“and i wanna tell you in front of all these people, that it! has! worked.” (skeletons gasp) “i want you, beetlejuice.” (unbuttons collar)

“saggy old asses”

“i found me a wife. l’chaim. to life.”

“i was ignored, but now i’m adored! ‘cause i extorted, tortured, and lied! give it up for my underage briiiiiide!”

“i can’t believe some cultures think this kind of thing’s alright :/“

“YOU.” (BWAMMMMMM)

every “this guy knows what i’m talking about” but especially the last one

“yeah i’m a part of this too i don’t get it but i’m a part of it!!!”

“well look at you! all ganging up against the mean lady from hell!”

“check it out lydia! now we both got dead moms!”

“delilah.” “delia.” “we didn’t hang out much. charles-“

“TELLLLL MYYYY STOOOORYYYY”

236 notes • Posted 2021-07-12 03:00:13 GMT

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[whiterosemarie]

So…this is the true story of my current working life.

I had a job that I loved. I was working as a assistant teacher at a child development center. I absolutely loved my job. And then I began feeling miserable. I couldn’t figure out why it was getting so hard to bring myself to come into work. I began feeling depressed and very much like everything was meaningless.

One day, I sat watching the kids sleep and was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t shake the dual feelings I was having. How can someone feel so miserable and yet love their job? What was it at my job that was making me feel this way? And I began to think on every day that had felt that way and it dawned on me: my boss.

Here’s the thing about being gaslit: you often don’t realize it’s happening even when you’ve had it before. The situation with my boss was like this: I was experiencing bad symptoms that was putting me in the hospital. I would get so sick that I couldn’t and wasn’t eating. Anytime I ate, my stomach would hurt and I would get sick. I spent a lot of the time in urgent care. When I did have to miss work for that, she’d berate me on the phone. The began on the second call in. I’d be told that I better have a note, that I was just fine yeatersay, that I’m xyz of an employee, that everyone else suffers when I do this. Mind you, I only missed a total of 5 days in the TWO terms I was there, two of which were from strep throat, which we’ll get to in a moment. When I’d come to work, pale and barely able to stand because of fearing I’d lose my job, I was patronized. She’d use the tone she uses on children. “Now Jen, you’re a…big girl now. If you don’t feel you can work, you should call in. Do you think you can do the duties of your job?”

I called in with severe laryngitis due to strep throat, which I received from work because that’s what happens when you work with children is you catch things. A lot. Always. Often. The doctor said to not go in for 5 days. Two of those were weekends so I didn’t work but on the third day I was supposed to take off, I was told to come in or lose my job that they could “work with someone without a voice.” AH yes, because 5 year olds always listen when you can’t even speak. On top of that, I wasn’t supposed to medically. I did. She threw a fit because my doctors note didn’t specifically say strep (saying so is a HIPAA violation. Her demanding he tell her is also a HIPAA violation).

It was a long time until my next incident. We had green eggs and ham. Right after that I began getting extremely ill and bad pain. Thinking I’d be a good employee, I warned people I wasn’t feeling good. My boss was MIA. The next day, i was on the bathroom floor from 6 am to 9 am, unable to even move as my gut hurt so bad and I couldn’t stop getting sick. I call in. I didn’t work til 12:30 that day but I knew where my boyfriend was gonna take me when he found me like that. That’s right. The oh so familiar Urgent Care where Thor the male nurse would be hooking me up to IVs AGAIN and making the same jokes about cocktails.

Over the phone I found no sympathy as I lay there crying on the bathroom floor. I was told I was faking it. That we’d have a talk Monday. I was not told to feel better. My boyfriend took pictures of me hooked up to 3 IV bags that day.

Monday comes. I still have hazy memories of this because it has been locked in my brain as manipulative and bad. My boss proceeded to insist that if I felt I couldn’t perform the duties that i “find other opportunities” and such forth. She said “You’re a burden on everyone else because of your illness” even though she was made aware that I do have disability status filed at HR. This talk lasted 30 minutes. I spent that day struggling not to cry. But it also dawned on me then: she couldn’t fire me. She was trying to chase me out.

Some other background.

My boss liked to undermine my authority. The thing about young children is they observe things and react accordingly. So imagine then that they see who has been equated to the highest authority treated one of the teachers like lower than the other teachers. On one particular occassion, the lead teacher was out sick. I was left in charge of a very wound up classroom. That day I had a student who was born drug addicted have a complete and utter mental breakdown into violent territory during naptime. I relied on my boss to help since she had told me that discipline was only hers (meaning I could not even have him go sit and calm down and not get his journal until afterwards without her). She kept bringing him back to my classroom in this state where he had begun to get physically violent at others. So it was a rough day, see? Well, after this, as children are getting their nap time things put away, she comes in and has me sit on the carpet to “talk” to me. We are surrounded by children. When she normally talks to teachers, they go off to the side to do so. This put me in a position where I’m being treated different. On top of that, she positioned herself to be higher than me. Her tone was talking down to me. Mind you, my job requires a high school degree. I have a fucking bachelor’s in CHILD AND FAMILY STUDIES. CHILD. STUDIES. So her telling me what to do as if explaining to a child while positioning herself above me, using a tone that she reserves for children….while we’re surrounded by children…it made the day worse as I literally felt the classroom begin to react to my authority far differently.

On another note, whenever my boss was near she would mention my work as “okay” And “getting there”. When I told my leads this they were astonished. “You’re the best assistant we’ve ever had here. You go above and beyond in work.”

When it comes to childcare, there are licensing requirements that varies by state. I asked several times for help getting those. Whenever she was supposed to help, she’d go home early. One day, I come in and she shows me an exit card on her desk. “This is to fire you. Get it done today.” “Show me where to go at lunch and I will.” Gone. That night I tried on my own. Wouldn’t load. Come to work. “Did you do it?” “Figured I could during my first 15 minutes. It wouldn’t load. Not sure I had the right forms anyways.” As I got it done, she entered the room and made such comments as: “Oh good. It seems you want to actually keep your job.” A high pitched fake laugh obviously forced. “Sorry it’s such a high price but you know it’s better than being fired.” Snide smirk. She dangled firing me as a suggestion in front of my face often to the point where I began to fear doing anything.

After that fateful talk with her about my absences, she would catch me during lunch when no one was around to dangle such in front of me. I began to job search. She found out. I’m still certain she’s the reason why I didn’t get the jobs. One day she caught me during lunch. “I heard you’re looking for new jobs. I would have hoped you would give your two week notice if you got one.” “I would. I haven’t gotten one yet.” “We’ll I would’ve hoped. So…I think you should give me your two week notice…how about this friday. That’ll put you at ending at the end of the term. I want it on my desk tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

Readers, I want you to realize the above is highly unethical and was what led me to go to HR that next week. I did give two week notice. I did not have to. No boss can force you to give leave just because they cannot find an offense to fire you on. I took the step and went to HR. I quit my job because shortly after that I had a large scale breakdown that would’ve led to suicidal acts while repeating her words over and over that “You’re a burden because of your illness.” My PTSD and chronic illness. My disabilities. I went to HR because my coworkers urged me to desperately.

He said things don’t happen over night. He was a pale man with the sharpest blue eyes. He scared me. But I told him as much as I could while shaking like a leaf. He’s a nice man. But his eyes pierce. He took note that I quit because of this. Things don’t happen over night.

I left my job and cried. I spent this last week in a depressive fugue feeling that I gave up something I loved doing. I had to say goodbye to 27 individual children. I wrote them each a card and gave each a pencil and eraser and an individual drawing. Everyone got one. That weekend, I saw one of my kids at the fair. All three days I saw her and I felt such horrible loss. I loved those kids, guys. I loved my job. I was chased out by a woman who had serious issues of her own and was in way more power than she need be.

Tonight…

Tonight my phone and Facebook blew up.

She’s been asked to clear her desk. Her contract is up. It isn’t being renewed. The term just started this week. It’s only been just over a week since I quit my job and she’s gone. Gone. My teachers want me back. My position was filled before my notice was ever given though. There’s no place to apply other than as a sub. I’m spending tonight crying. Because I want to go back so fucking badly. She’s gone. She’s gone. And she can’t hurt me there anymore.

In the end friends, I leave you with this. Never let a boss get away with harassment and bullying. Especially the abusive nature kind where they convince you that this is all your doing. Never let someone undermine you. And never ever let ANYONE tell you you’re a burden. You’re not. Not one bit.