maladaptivewritings

[maladaptivewritings]

just a heads up to my fellow writers out there that AO3 is currently fighting off bots commenting on people’s works to tell them that AO3 will delete their fics “due to the works being deprecated”, and the deletion will affect their accounts unless the authors delete the fics themselves first. IT IS A SCAM. AO3 will NOT delete your works. please do NOT fall for these bots!

I’ve been told the reason why these bots are doing this is due to copyright infringement issue where they’re trying to steal your works (possibly to train AI but this is just a guess) ‼️‼️‼️and once you deleted your fics, it will be either very difficult or impossible for you to claim ownership of your own fics when they were already deleted.‼️‼️‼️

a reminder that AO3 will never contact you through your comments section (in case they claim to be one of the moderators). AO3 will only contact you through your email address which you use to register your account, and it will be from AO3’s official handle. not some sketchy ass @

so if you get a comment telling you you should “delete your works to protect your account because AO3 is doing blah blah blah” report that comment. don’t delete your works.

PLEASE DO NOT FALL FOR THESE SCAM.

AO3 IS NOT DELETING WORKS.

DO NOT DELETE YOUR WORKS JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE CLAIMS THEY KNOW SOMETHING.

[maladaptivewritings]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[maladaptivewritings]

has this been done

[maladaptivewritings]

How to train your dragon live action

The thing that is actually offensive is the blatant effort to manipulate us, the viewer, for our money and time—and the fact that it will succeed.

Is it a movie that we have never seen before? No, the animated version exists.

Does it expand on the world we love? No, looked basically shot for shot. And a show already exists.

Does it tell the story in a new artistic or technologically interesting way? No.

Is it a corporation preying on our nostalgic love for something that exists to make easy money? Yes.

Then there’s always the question:

Can’t you let people enjoy things?

“Let” is an interesting word. It implies that a criticism forces someone into a non-choice. No one is ever forcing a person from spending their money and/or time with a critique. But if a critique makes a person rethink how they see things or even consider other points of view, that’s really valuable. A person might even hear a criticism and still disagree after.

The reason my particular criticism exists is because it makes me sad to see fellow regular people signal to a corporation that, “yes I will allow you to manipulate me. Yes I don’t mind if the progress of our cultural creativity gets stunted.”

Because where we spend our money and time says that—and time is our most important and valuable asset. Corporations take our time in exchange for them to have money, and it is exactly why they create remakes. It is the easiest way to get money from us. So easy, they don’t even have to think of a new story. They just use the original property as a beat for beat plagiarized reference.

Many original works of art do not get funded because people are giving their money to see a retelling of the same story that exists. The money will be given to whoever will earn. Interesting to always hear “they’ve run out of ideas”, and then see the box office for these story husks soar past the original.

These types of movies belittle the past and future efforts of hard work and creativity.

That is why it is hard to see people enjoying something that has obvious disregard towards us. As a patron of the arts, I want our world to move forward; and the next generation to feel encouraged and inspired by creativity, art, hard work, and the humanities. I don’t want to be scammed of my money and time when that’s harder to earn for us than them.

This is not a critique on remakes that recreate, reiterate, and reimagine. There is an art in a retelling especially if it’s through a new medium or technology.

This is a critique on scalpers reselling for easy money. Things need to be worth our time and money for us to give it away, and I don’t think things like this should be worth it for you or me as working class people.

[maladaptivewritings]

𝘿𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙

A Private in a Kortac camp is the bane in Ghost's side, but he can't just let them get picked on.

TW: Age gap, power imbalances, bullying, war y'know, Cursing

Y/N: A private hoping to be in Demolitions, and has the callsign Soot.

The task force was deployed and the humid coast of some random country, at this point they didn't even care, they just wanted to get out of the heat. It was some militant group that possibly had connections to Makarov, or so says the informant. The flight in was already rewarded with fire-fight as they hastily landed running to a meeting ground.

Thick jungles greeted them with vines and tall tree roots tripping their tired legs. The safe house was a mile or so still away and they were meeting with a private military group, and the 141 was already well aware that they were not gonna have a nice walk ahead of them.

Simon watched as gun fire came over head.

"Get FUCK'NG DOWN" cried out from Soap, scared shitless from the break in silence.

The men booking for cover, guns in hand as the creep through the thicker brush. The bramble kept quiet as they followed through the tree-lines, men march in the opposing direction fire warning shots once more.

"stay on the goddamn ground," Price hastily whispers, as they pass by the caravan of militants. The shots come each hour before they are finally fade.

The 141 was tired, injured and had another quarter mile to go by nightfall. The walk became easier as the heat subsided, the lights of the forests aided them to a small village near a riverbed.

Simon was exhausted the heat and his mask was always a hell and this was no way planned. He walked with Price as they reached the safe house, meeting with KorTac. Their presence was a nice surprise as König patted Simon's shoulder. Despite his height he was eerily quiet, the debrief was short and sweet.

-Invade the militant facility

-Take the Top men for intel

-Contain all weapons.

An easy enough goal for Kortac but for the 141 this week had told them it'd be way harder than that.

"Ah, you will be fine, das being said we will take the weapons."

König spoke softly, but the agreement for the arrangement was just that. S.A.S get the men, and Kortac keeping anything that isn't evidence. Price decided that it was enough, sending the taskforce to clean up.

The town was crawling with Kortac, if it wasn't for the shops and children one would think it was a base. Simon walked to the house, Gaz and Soap was already there by the way they ran off when Price spoke. Simon shook his head, taking in a light breeze, a rarity for his luck. As he just barely relaxed his shoulders a thud hit him.

A scruffy private who looked like they had just been a yard from a grenade stood against him. Ash and mud all over your clothes, looking up at his hulking form. The damn day couldn't get any better.

Some corporals laughed on the porch of one of the buildings along the road at the sight. Two walking over to help the Private evade the wrath of Ghost.

"Hey Big guy, forgive Soot here. Poor kid is clueless to their surroundings." One of the men speak as he leaned on your shoulder, the other behind you.

"Yeah, like a bull in a china shop y'know." The other speaks patting you other arm.

You wince out a smile, as if that will make an apology better. Ghost's onyx eyes staring through your core. If it weren’t for you nearly getting blown up an hour ago, you'd think you were in some kind of comic book dream.

"Sorry, Sir. I am a mess."

You take the shame that your higher ups handed to you, hanging your head as Ghost shoves past you. His night already to long for this.

You nearly slipped in the mud of the riverbed as he moved along. The men outranking leave you as you try to head back to your barrack hall. One of many for the small town, rooming with some local forces and other Kortac.

Simon finally got to the safehouse, pleasantly surprised by the quarters. Soap and Gaz already laid asleep on the couch and mattress in the living room. Simon was lucky for the first mission in months to get his own room. Heading off to the bathroom to rinse off the sweat and dirt. The ice cold water hit his back, the layers of grime rinsing off. His buzz-cut growing in as he took in the water, it was a blessing.

When he finally hit the bed, life was good again. Trying to ignore the yells from drills outside and the buzz of insects outside his window. The lone fan in his room worked overtime that night.

The crack of dawn came, and thus the boys of 141 had to join for rounds. Politeness of Price's part, and hope to gain more info from the KorTac troops.

Simon tasked with babysitting the privates, Price attempted to keep him from overheating like a few days prior. Something that now more apparent as he stalks the group from the shade. You wouldn't of thought anything about your higher ups being gone, that was common for you at least. Though the man who looked like a nightmare incarnate staring daggers at your squad from the shadows is less than ideal.

You’re off on one of the porches, hoping to avoid the glare. While the rest of your group finishes tasks that were meant for yesterday. Due to some chaos with the Militant caravan, you had to run and keep guard of the armory. Still rattled from when a land mine blew while running to position.

"Soot, 'mere kid." One of the older soldiers yell out. You follow orders, running into one of the corporals from last night.

"Sir, what seems to be the matter?" You ask, aware of the eyes from the shadow watching.

His eyes narrowed, as if debating his next move. Before you could excuse yourself, Ghost stood beside him.

"Problem?" The man's voice was like gravel. He was clearly annoyed as he stood in the sun.

"Nope, just was checking in with some of the new guys." He lied through his teeth before running off.

"Sorry sir, I won't let that happen again." You spoke softly, still uneasy. The harassment from them was a common occurrence for you, but of course this poor guy didn't need to save you.

Simon stared down at you shrugging, looking back at where the man had ran off too.

Odd

He sighed, sulking back to his shade as you continued to the group's task.

He made note of the officer, as he watched over. He knew what it was like to be the new guy on the station.

The night came, the men began setting up camera's for their stake out. The intel claimed a local leader was going to be meeting with the militant group. The men had to ensure to replace the envoy, and ideally go in the easy way.

The quiet jungle was uneasy as the men surveyed through cameras and the radios of the local men who did patrol flickering in every so often to report animals.

"Soot, go check on them british boys." Corporal yelled as you walked to the mess hall.

You knew if you disobeyed him, you'd be up for court-martial or even solitude. You hung your head walking to the men's quarters, knowing either way your screwed.

The silence broke with a knock on the door. Simon opened the door, you stood before him.

Eyes wide, and glossy, were you crying?

"What?" Annoyed he stood, trying not to scold you.

"My Corporal wanted me to check on you guys." Your voice shakes, knowing you'd been put up to this he sighs.

"Send food from the mess-hall, and you can come watch."

Why did he say that

You eyes light up at the thought, running to grab what you can.

"Ghost, What are ya thinking." Soap's voice comes from behind.

"Might as well give the kid a goal." He sighed, they were there due to formalities and favors, Simon couldn't just scold the men doing this.

[maladaptivewritings]

[maladaptivewritings]

One thing I don’t think is full taken advantage of in the DC universe is that the Scooby Doo gang is canonically in that universe

They’ve teamed up with Batman multiple times

Batman has even stated how Velma is a genius and smarter than him

So can you imagine a full JL crossover

One day in the watchtower they’re discussing a case and for what ever reason it’s not going anywhere and they’re having a hard time making connections (maybe it’s been a long week and they’re all burnt out by that point) so Batman says he’s gonna bring in some colleagues of his he know that deal with similar stuff regularly and that he thinks might have a connection to it

And JL is expecting like another hero or something

But no

Batman brings up a group of normal looking young adults with a talking dog???

And just gives them all the info to which they immediately jump on it and start piecing things together and making plans to lure and trap the people they’re after

But it’s a ridiculous plan and the guy and his dog that are supposed to be bait are super reluctant and another JL member is about to step in so they don’t have to do it but then they watch as the other 3 offer the dog AND the guy like 3 dog treats and they fold immediately to being bait

The JL just looking at Batman like “these your guys??!!”

But he’s not stopping them so the rest just let it continue

And then the JL is watching this plan take action from the sidelines and immediately it starts falling apart and are about to step in but then it all suddenly works out fine and they have their culprit in custody

Can you imagine them all just being like who is this group????

Or even funnier

Superman as Clark is sent out to cover one of the Scooby gangs most recent mysteries they solved and after talking to them for 5 mins he’s like “I need Batman/Bruce to meet these kids”

And like after the interview he calls him up like “hey so I just met a group of mystery solving young adults with a talking dog that I think you should meet”

To which to Clark’s surprise Batman just goes “Talking dog…oh you mean the Scooby Doo gang yeah they’ve helped me multiple times before, some nice and smart kids”

And like Clark just has to internally be like “who the fuck does he not know at this point”

[maladaptivewritings]

Things like this is why character development + group dynamics are sooo big in my writing

I'm going to go feral about so many things in scooby doo guys

The reoccurring werewolf and goblin themes between the rogers-doos. Fred and Vampires. Daphne's reoccurring forays into being in charge and the second in command. Her rich girl "I've tried almost every hobby in the universe" thing. Velma's sass and devotion to her friends. The way Velma has gotten LESS open to the supernatural over the years. Velma being a SINGER. Shaggy and Scooby being raised rich but down to earth. The way they all have big families. The internships, the way they find each other no matter the blowup fight that sends them apart.

[maladaptivewritings]

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐

pt. 4

Summary: Simon just returned from deployment, to realize he has a new neighbor. His paranoia soon leads to obsession as he dives into a cycle of charismatic stalking.

Tw: stalking, smoking, general Simon behaviors. weed, alcohol, possible mental health struggles.

Every morning he'd make his run through the old university, avoiding the general student population, months built the schedule to perfection.

10 a.m. Run starts

10:30 a.m. Grab breakfast at y/n's favorite morning spot.

11 a.m. Circle back to the flat, run into Y/N during their lunch break

The summer was rolling in quick, finals season had made his runs longer as he could venture the grounds further. Tempting enough he'd never be bold enough to enter the aging library that you spent most of your time in, though with the semester ending he'd only seen you only a handful of moments.

The late morning sun beat down on him as he shook the thought from his head, he'd need a shower before even thinking of "accidentally" running into you.

A thud hit his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

"Fuck"

A student sat there, blonde hair hiding her displeasure as she palmed at her nose. She raised her gaze up to Simon, as if taking not of his figure.

"Oh it's you" Her eyes narrowing as she fixed her own figure.

Simon remembered girls like her when from he was a younger man, Cadets would sneak them into the barracks for some fun... Though he'd been moved out of those quarters for longer than the one before him had probably been in school for.

"Hmm? Y'know me" His gruff voice startling the young woman, his head tilting at the thought.

Her hands searched for her phone as she tried to explain.

"Ya run through 'ere every day. My tutor ran into ya a few weeks back and she's gone off somewhere."

The ice blue eyes scorching his own, as she pulls out her messages app.

"I haven’t seen the damn girl in weeks, and for all I know you'd seen er' last."

Was that your number?

He stared at the icon, and the last message. That was nearly two weeks back, fuck when did he see you last.

The blonde stared at him for a minute, and just scoffed as the bell rang. Walking towards one of the brick buildings.

Simon made his way back home quick.

Shit this is why I don't get comfortable

He climbed the desolate flight of stairs as he ran through the scenes in his head,

Kidnapped? No, what if she was undercover? No, God what if it's worse

When had he seen you last? The mail room, was that you?

The only sound was footfall in the halls as he stopped at your door, knocking. Trying to catch his breathe, I shouldn’t be doing this

"Y/N ya there"

Quiet, maybe some scuffling. His knocks continued, more desperate.

Some more noises leaked from the room, louder now.

The door unlocked

You stood, eyes dull and smudged with liner from God knows when. Hair haphazardly pulled back and clothes hung off you.

Simon stood silent, the hall behind you dark as you looked awaiting his words.

"You've been gone for a bit.."

His words awkwardly come out, his worry thinly veiled. He tries to look into your flat, the faint light of the T.V in your living room illuminating the hall as a commercial turns on.

"Mhm,"

You'd send him away if it weren’t for the fact he is right.

"You busy?"

His arm leaned against the door, preventing you from closing it.

"No.."

He walked in, no invite needed at that moment. The smell of incense and weed wafted through the apartment. He made his way to the T.V's glow, greeted by your set up.

"I would've cleaned up if-"

"No need".

He cut you off, as he moves a stack of laundry from a chair. Trying to ignore the cases of beer to his left and the bong on the table. He sits, turning on one of the lamps beside the chair. It's obvious that you'd been hiding for weeks, maybe only leaving to take out trash.

"Y'know that beer is shit."

He said staring at the cases, as you moved to the couch hiding in your hoodie.

"I like it."

He nodded, he didn't know what was going on but he wasn't gonna leave just yet.

Authors note: Sorry for the delay mental health and tech things, more parts soon to come

[maladaptivewritings]

nsfw!streamer!reader x mod!simon (CANON DIVERGENCE) -> anon req

⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

simon riley, the good guy he is, is a little bit of a pervert. yeah, he's respectful, but that doesn't mean he won't catch a glance when you let him. you're a popular streamer, and simon's been watching you for years now—he's still your top donator. so when you make a complaint about weird, overly personal comments in your chat, he offers himself up to moderate.

it's just well that it means he gets to see you more. talk you you more. protect you. he slides into your messages, listens to you complain about the people who expect more from you, the creeps, and he promises you it'll be okay.

because it will—you don't know it just yet, but there's no reason to worry at all. not when simon's knife is pressed to the neck of some creep who was trying to dox you. it's only logical that, when the creeps start to go quiet, and you think it's just because of simon's great moderation online, you pay him back.

you get closer, naturally—simon's charming, isn't he? always knows what to say to make you feel better. so you invite him for coffee.

one thing leads to another, and your chat is begging to know who the tattooed arm is as it manhandles you down onto the couch, two thick fingers stuffing inside of you.

...and of course, when he's done, you’re too blissed out to notice how he bans those desperate, parasocial messages, desperately rambling about how their cock would feel so good in you—his would be better, that’s all he knows.

[maladaptivewritings]

roommate!simon riley realizing you've been stealing his clothes

simon didn't notice his clothes had slowly been disappearing from his closet. he was always gone on missions, and it wasn't like they didn't find their way back into his drawers at the end of the day.

there would be instances where he was looking for a particular hoodie that had disappeared without a trace, only to find it hanging in his closet the next day.

naturally, he was puzzled by this, but as long as everything returned to him, he didn't mind. he figured you had something to do with it, and to him, you were a harmless little bird. what harm was it to let you steal a shirt or a hoodie from time to time? especially if you needed something big and warm.

until he realised the harm it could cause when he found you in the kitchen with nothing, but his black shirt, 'riley' written across the back in big, white letters.

it was dangerous.

simon hadn't ever saw you in that light, hadn't ever imagined having any sort of claim on you other than being your roommate.

but now?

now you had his name over you.

now he wanted to see you with his last name after your first.

and he'd start making that happen by bending you over the kitchen counter, buried deep in your pussy after he pulled aside your lacy thong.

you'd gasp at the unexpectedness of his actions and keen to the feeling of his hands all over your body, his thick cock pounding your cunt. "fuckin' temptress." his gruff voice muttered into your neck, trailing sloppy kisses over your skin.

he'd knock every breath out of your lungs, make you delirious to where you didn't even question it when he muttered about giving you a ring and putting a baby inside you while rubbing your tummy, feeling where the tip of his cock nudged your stomach.

simon riley knows what he wants, and when he does, he doesn't stop at anything until he gets it.

[maladaptivewritings]

☆UPDATE☆UPDATE☆UPDATE☆

So sorry for being AFK! I am struggling with a major depressive episode coming out of a really bad academic year. I will be posting soon!!! Please flood my box with concepts so I have things to write about!!!

[maladaptivewritings]

here’s the closeted furries “hey man… can u bum me a cig” and “the one uncle nobody invites to the family reunion but SOMEONE keeps telling him where it is anyways”

if you want an idea of what john is like, imagine hau from pokemon sumo

ALSO the ppl who kept asking me for trans thomas art, HERE he’s trans in this au (; 

ft John:

[maladaptivewritings]

My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Vetted by @gazavetters

[maladaptivewritings]

Needing someone to light a joint or cig and smirk, a need from kind eyes that shine from their lighter.

The cravings to hear a low voice that'll shake me as you take the first inhale and muscles relax and worries roll away.

"Y'know smokin' is bad?"

"And you're lighting it nonetheless,"

I want to hear them stall off laughter as the words escape them, knowing they have that lighter for a reason. The mutual bond of smokers sat outside, pale moonlight clashed against the embers light.

Could you blame them as they'd stare at like you're some meek creature. The few times that a cough escape, a smile will soon follow. I need kisses filled with intoxicated lust, the coy moments that spillover when you're finally left alone.

Escaping the party that neither of you wished to join in,

A spare bathroom

Hands tracing the others as smoke filled kisses travel your body. their eyes hold you in this moment, nothing outside of that door exists. Your eyes rolling as calloused hands meet soft flesh. Never allowing respite as you pray a knock never comes.

Soon you'll simply have a number scribbled on your chest, a hope that this dark eyed stranger will return to your bed at some point. You meet your friends, too drunk to realize your frazzled state and follow them back home.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶drabble⋆✶⋆.˚꩜ .

[maladaptivewritings]

Yall when this morvie drops, get used to this mans SLUTTY LIL GLASSES

Jonathan Bailey as Dr. Henry Loomis — Jurassic World Rebirth (2025) dir. Gareth Edwards

[maladaptivewritings]

If I write a y/n who's in the military. Please know this is the vibe

Neurodivergent assassin who very casually uses their weapons as stim.

Turning on and off the safety of their gun. Tapping and spinning their dagger. Watching the poison in the vial move as they flip in and then back.

Nobody says anything because...well they're an assassin.

Turns on safety, presses trigger, turns off safety repeat.

People around them are in constant fear.

Chewing the end of their poison tipped dagger when they try to figure out a plan.

Wash their hands too much cause they don't like how sticky blood is.

However overtime it becomes a weird single to others.

Everyone is anxious trying to figure something out and they hear a little "click click" and it's just slightly calming to know that they have this person there and they are thinking of a plan.

Someone hands them a drink but it flows just a little too weird and they are like, "hmm that's poison" then chuck it because they have built up immunity.

No table that doesn't have something carved into it.

Never a situation where they don't have enough bullets because this person takes out the cartridge and puts it back as stim.

They take apart their guns and put them back over time being crazy fast and efficient with it.

Just give me a neurodivergent assassin/spy.