#but it’s the rest of us that are the problem somehow

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

#good omens #neil gaiman #sir terry pratchett #good omens show #good omens fandom #good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Follow Me

Request: Can you do something like Vault 4 in the show but with Coop and the reader and how they'd react to friendly faces (or what seem like friendly faces?) A/N: This prompt GOT ME GOOD. I started out with Vault 4, scrapped that, and somehow ended with hippie Ghouls singing Uncle Kracker songs that we're pretending are original because they definitely didn't exist in the pre-war Fallout universe a totally realistic Fallout story that involves hippies and the ocean Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language Summary: You can't help but be suspicious of everyone you meet in the Wasteland, but a group of friendly, musically-inclined Ghouls just might be the exception.

Word Count: 1.9k+

(Gif Credit to @オレは強い)

“You get the caps?” 

Cooper tosses a bag tied with twine your way in response. It’s heavy, the sound of bottle caps clinking in a soft reassurance that you can afford to rest your aching body for more than just a couple nights.

“There isn’t anything in these damn dunes but sand and rocks.” You kick at the ground, “Might as well start pedaling back east.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Cooper answers. 

“Not this late. We’ll go west. Follow the coastline.”

You sigh in defeat, resigning yourself to the fate of slogging through thousands of tons of sand. 

“Problem, sweetcheeks?”

A scowl curls your lip at Cooper’s sarcastic jab. He’s already walking west into the orange halo of a setting sun. 

“Just don’t want to hike back through more miles of dunes if we don’t have to.” You mutter and follow behind him. 

If he was going to be a prick, you were at least going to use his already-irradiated body as a sun shield. 

After a substantial payout on your most recent bounty, Cooper and yourself were both ready for a break. It had been a long few months of job after job and patience was wearing thin. You’re both getting more snappy with each other as the days slip by; Cooper is more dependent on his Vials after exerting himself, and you’re plain exhausted. Sunburned, sweaty and dry all the same. It is a volatile mix of attitude and flaring tempers, both of which you and Cooper possess a staggering amount of.

The drop location for the bounty had been far west in the sand dunes, nearing the coastline. Cooper had made the drop while you sought out shelter for the night. Sought being the key word, as you’ve been hiking through sand for hours with nothing to show for it. You met back up with Cooper at the crest of a dune, where he’s huffing down a Vial and pacing like a caged animal. 

And now, you’re back on the move. 

You trail in his shadow even when the sun sinks below the sand and a full moon rises. You’re comforted by the absence of heat and creeping relief of dusk as it soothes away the day’s burns, but desperate for a reprieve from the elements. It takes you a few moments shuffling through your pack while walking to find the salve you’d mixed up months ago and slather what remains of it on your roasted cheeks. Trying to put the lid back on and not fall flat on your face is a chore, made more difficult by Cooper’s sudden stopping in front of you. 

“Damn, a little warning would be…” You trail off, looking ahead. “Nice.”

It had been years since you’d seen the ocean, and its grandeur isn’t lost on you. Waves lap at the thirsty shoreline, breaking up the moon’s silvery reflection. For miles and miles, as far as the eye can see, water dances and shifts until it mixes into a twilight sky on the horizon.

A childish bout of excitement washes over you as you observe. Only one more hill of sand separates you from the water. Cooper sighs as you weave around him and hustle towards it. 

“Don’t you get in that water, woman.” He barks, “I ain’t fishin’ you out.”

You ignore him and hike up the next dune. Forever seems to pass as you climb upwards and you curse the sand once more. You’re almost to the top, ready to make a mad dash to the water when a voice stops you. 

“Hello!” A surprisingly happy voice catches you off guard, coming from your left, “Welcome, friends!” 

Cooper is immediately on guard, pulling his pistol. The Ghoul persona steps up to bat, his face all hard edges and glaring eyes. Despite the arguing and bickering you’ve been putting each other through, his protective streak drops over you like a shield. Now at your side, he nudges a shoulder in front of you.

Ghouls can take bullets a lot easier than a human, after all.  

In the direction the voice came from, you take stock of not one but several figures in a circular camp. They’re grouped around an old cable spool that’s topped with bottles of various liquor and drinks, and they move to the twang of what you think is an old guitar. A small fire crackles next to the table. The guitar chords reach your ears in slow waves, an inviting tune that makes you want you go down and dance with them 

The figure who’d called out is closer, hands held up in a placating manner. You’re surprised to note the familiar lack of a nose and wrinkled skin that labels him a Ghoul. He’s apparently younger than Cooper - as most Ghouls are- with skin a little less warped and blonde hair that still seems to grow rather wall from his scarred scalp.

“Woah there, brother. Take it easy.” 

Cooper doesn’t relent. “We ain’t here to make friends. Just passin’ through.”

There’s something about this stranger that’s genuine. That’s not to say you haven’t met real, genuine people in the Wasteland, but kindness is something found few and far between these days. You've met a few Ghouls outside of Cooper, most of which are inherently more friendly due their outcasting from a lot of the major settlements. They’re usually chatty, comforted by the sight of a smooth-skin traveling and being in close quarters with another of their own kind.

Your Ghoul, though, is less willing to accept friendship on the fly. 

“It’s not about the destination, folks. It’s about the journey.” He pauses, “And the people you meet.”

You blink at him and turn to Cooper, who snorts. “Well ain’t that sweet.”

“Listen brother, I know life is rough out there but I swear- we’re just here to enjoy what we can.” He motions over to the camp, where another male Ghoul is picking the guitar and laughing with the others.There’s no weapons lying about, and a clear line of sight in every direction.

A smile pulls at your lips, and you place one hand on Cooper’s forearm. The music is washing away any sort of hesitation you had, reinforcing the desire for rest. 

“Sorry, my partner here is a little paranoid. We wouldn’t mind stopping.” 

It takes a few moments of convincing (half of them being threats of physical violence) for Cooper to stand down. You’re fairly certain he knows these Ghouls are harmless, but can’t escape the suffocating paranoia that comes along with two hundred years of Wastelanding.

Shortly thereafter, you're introduced to the ragtag group, sharing only your first names and settling your things against the side of an overturned car that only has half of the roof sticking up from the sand. Kevin, Phil, Desiree, Cody and Mallorie regale you with their stories, about leaving the major settlements for a life on the road and somehow being happy and relatively unscathed by Wasteland violence. 

Through it all, Cooper is predictably standoffish, amber eyes shooting daggers into anyone that gets too close.

Which, with this group, is everyone. 

They aren’t just friendly, but physical, rubbing your shoulders and patting you on the back. One of the female Ghouls braids your hair while Cooper sits stock still across the firepit. They attempt to make conversation with him, most of which ends with no response. You scowl at his rudeness each time, and nudge his shoulder to prompt one word responses once you’re returned to his side of the fire. 

“So, where are you folks headed?” The female Ghoul who’d braided your hair inquires. 

Cooper is quiet beside you, cigarette dangling from between his lips. 

“Not sure.” You answer, glancing to your side to look at the ocean. “We kind of just... Move. Wherever we can find work, we go.”

“A shame that we’re still slaves to money after being nuked.” Phil, who’s been strumming on the guitar since you joined, speaks up. “You’d think everyone could just be peaceful now.”

And that statement actually gets a reaction from Cooper. It’s a snort, but a reaction nonetheless.

“Ain’t nobody peaceful out here.” Cooper stubs his cigarette out on the rotted metal of the car, “Everybody wants somethin’. Money, drugs, power.”

“Guns.” You add, lighting your own cigarette. 

“Not us.” Desiree, the very same that braided your hair, looks around the group, “We left all of that. All we want is peace.”

While it was a nice thought, you’d seen too much to ever believe it was true. The Wasteland truly metamorphosizes people, and not always in a good way. There’s always someone clamoring to be the newest leader, the brightest glow of hope for the world. 

“True that, sister.” Phil lifts his drink and the group follows, toasting to her words. “And to our new friends, I hope you can find peace someday.”

You smile in spite of your own thoughts, raising the cigarette in your hand in a lazy nod to their previous toast. The group cheers once again and lifts their drinks towards the sky. You bump playfully into Cooper’s shoulder, and your Ghoul stares at you from under the brim of his dirty hat. His eyes are narrowed and you know deep down he’ll never be able to escape the grip the Wasteland has on his heart, but that doesn’t mean you won’t try your damndest to get a smile out of him. 

“I got something the cowboy will like.” Phil pats his guitar as if it’s a shiny new car, “I dabble in the country genre.”

Cooper tilts his head back and steals the cigarette from between your fingers. “This oughta be good. You gonna regale us with some Johnny Cash this evenin’?”

Kevin pipes up then, smoothing out his blonde locks. “No Johnny Cash here, man. Phil’s got some original stuff. We call it ‘new age’ country.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Cooper finishes your cigarette, and starts working on lighting a second to make up for it. “Let’s hear it.”

The sarcasm drips heavy from his voice, and you resist the ever-so-common urge to slap him for his rudeness. You’re plucking the newly-lit cigarette from scarred fingers when Phil starts strumming the guitar again, now in a slow beat that immediately makes you think of the ocean swirling behind you. It’s a melody far different than that of the Wasteland radio stations, something new and creative that sends an excited tingle up your spine. You nod your head with each note, nudging the Ghoul beside you. He takes a long swig of whiskey, watching your swaying out of the corner of his eye. 

“You don't know how you met me, you don't know why

You can't turn around and say goodbye.”

Happy to have something cheery  in the sprawling hellscape you’re forced to live in, your smile cracks wider. Cooper is watching Phil now too, one hand resting on his thigh and the other loosely gripping his whiskey. 

“Follow me, everything is alright. 

I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night. 

And if you want to leave, I can guarantee

You won't find nobody else like me.”

Warmth washes over you at the lyrics and you lean into Cooper’s side. He shifts around to make it comfortable for you, and the fingers of that arm find your hip. Phil keeps crooning into the night, lulling your eyes shut as your cigarette turns to ash. Your eyes flutter when Cooper takes another swig of liquor, sweeping over the group. Everyone’s swaying to the tune, singing along and dancing. It’s not until you move to settle back down that movement catches your eye and a shit-eating grin spreads across your face. 

Cooper’s boot just so happens to be tapping along with the beat.

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#Cooper Howard #Cooper Howard x You #Ghoul x Reader #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too #the ghoul

[coolshadowtwins]

I love the ways fanfiction gets around the problem of nicknames.

In canon, Zhou Zishu introduces himself under a fake name, Zhou Xu, so Wen Kexing calls him A-Xu for the rest of the series, even after learning that not actually his name. There’s so many Word Of Honor fanfics where it wouldn’t make sense for Zhou Zishu to use a fake name tho- be it a modern au, or just an au where he has nothing to hide- and then the author has to figure out what WKX is calling him now. A-Shu? It’s said the same, but does it work when you read it? Or do you make up a reason for the nickname?

There was one fanfic that I can’t remember anything else about where ZZS introduces himself with his actual name, and WKX is just like, “Hm…. I hear you, I do. But you’re so bendy that you remind me of catkins, so I’m just going to call you A-Xu!” (Xu is written with the character for catkins, for reference)

And don’t get me started with SVSSS lol. Every story where SY isn’t SQQ for whatever reason gets it’s own justification of why Binghe calls him Shizun. Off the top of my head, these range from “You have taught me so much more than my actual Shizun(SJ)” and “Wow, you taught me two (2) facts, and I think you’re neat. Shizun it is!”

And then there’s the modern ones where Shizun absolutely doesn’t make sense, since I’m pretty sure it’s an older term. A lot of fics get around this by having Binghe call him “laoshi”, meaning teacher, while some of them just go, “Yeah, Binghe just decided one day that SY is Shizun, even though they are the same age in this au, and no one is able to get him to stop”.

As I write these out, I’m realizing that most of the Shizun problem is apparently just solved by Binghe deciding, “Hm… That one is Shizun shaped.”

In the same vein, Shang Qinghua calling MBJ “My King”, even in modern aus. Because what else would he call him??? His name???? Never. This one is funny, because unless MBJ is still royalty somehow, the authors I’ve read never addressed this. SQH just shows up one chapter, calling this random guy he may or may not be dating “My King”, and then leaving SY to his own devices with no explanation lol

Lesser issue is shixiong and Shidi. Mostly YQY? Because what should he call SJ other than Shen-Shidi, or Qingqiu-Shidi, when SJ inevitably yells at him for being called Xiao Jiu? This one does come up less, because of most modern aus I’ve read focused on Bingqiu, and so Qijiu were having a much better time than canon in the background, if they were even brought up lol

What are your stories about nicknames in fanfic lol

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #luo binghe #yue qingyuan #shang qinghua #mobei jun #word of honor #zhou zishu #wen kexing #fanfic

[oliversrarebooks]

corporate retreat 3/4

Previous > Masterlist

tw: brainwashing, drugging, dehumanization, hypnosis, amnesia

"Quinn? Can you open your eyes for me, please?"

Somehow, they managed to get their eyes cracked slightly open. The lights in the room had mercifully been dimmed, and everything seemed fuzzy and indistinct.

"Good. Follow the penlight with your eyes, please."

Quinn did their best, but it all seemed like a big confusing blur.

"Reactions very slow but perceptible. Subject just barely able to respond to stimuli. Twilight sleep state achieved. Based on the results of the tests and their psychological makeup… recommend… and fifty milliliters… around two hours…"

Quinn felt the mask being taken off their face, and the cool rush of fresh air untainted by sedatives was a relief. They cracked their eyes open again as their arm was grasped by one of the assistants. She wiped the inside of their elbow with a cotton swab soaked in cool liquid, and then began to insert an IV line. They were still far too out of it, their limbs much too heavy, to resist.

The IV line was attached to a big bag of light blue fluid. Quinn watched as the drug went drip-drip-drip down the tube and into their arm. The assistant used the IV port to inject a dose of what looked like the same drug.

"We'll give you a little time to adjust to the new medication," said Dr. Moon. "You can just relax."

They assumed they were going to be put back to sleep, but instead they just lay there, staring at the slow drip of blue liquid, in a kind of tranquilized daze. Whatever this new drug was, it wasn't bad. They couldn't remember the last time they had felt so peaceful. Actually, they were feeling pretty good. The all-consuming sleepiness they'd felt from the gas had melted away into a drowsy calm, and their thoughts were gradually returning.

"Quinn? Are you awake? How are you feeling?"

Quinn turned lazily to Dr. Moon. "Good. Really, really drowsy… but good," they said.

"That's excellent to hear," Dr. Moon said. "You're on the good stuff now. We gathered enough data to understand how best to adjust your mind."

"The good stuff…" Quinn's gaze traveled back to the IV line. "What is it?"

"We like to call it cleaning fluid -- but don't be alarmed. It's a nickname, because it's for washing your brain." She laughed. "We have many different components we can use to make it. It's highly customized for the individual, their needs, and our needs."

They really couldn't have been alarmed even if they tried. "What's in mine?"

"Cleaning fluid always starts with Influence Serum. That's our proprietary control medication that removes your mental defenses and inhibitions and increases suggestibility, leaving your mind delightfully pliant and malleable. Then we add Liquid Lullaby -- that's what's keeping you drowsy and docile," she explained. "Your custom mixture also has Pacifier, our anti-anxiety agent, and a little False Paradise, to induce mild euphoria. Plus a few interesting other traces."

"That seems like… a lot of drugs."

"Don't worry, it's especially formulated for you, and completely harmless," she said. "You were so anxious coming here, weren't you?"

"Yeah," they agreed without hesitation.

"And you seem so exhausted. Aren't you exhausted from all the work you do?"

"Yeah, I am."

"And I bet you're so tired of thinking, too. Solving problems. Making decisions. Your poor, tired mind needs a break from all of that."

She was right, that sounded heavenly. What had they even been so worried about? The Brainwashing Department was so nice, and Dr. Moon was so friendly and helpful. "Yeah, I guess I really did need a break." They relaxed into the comfortable chair, resting their arm with the IV on the armrest. Dr. Moon was right. These drugs really were the good stuff.

"Well, it's a good thing you've got a month long vacation, then, isn't it?" said Dr. Moon.

Quinn smiled. "I can't believe it, but I'm actually glad I came here."

"Oh, that's just so lovely to hear you say! I really do think we do great work here. We help people," she said. "And I've got another treat in store for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I'm going to turn on the screen and you're going to watch a fun movie for the next couple of hours. It's going to hypnotize you and help you be so obedient. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Um…" Quinn furrowed their brows. They dimly remembered that they hadn't wanted that, but they didn't really feel like making a fuss when instead they could just relax in a blissful daze.

"Great, let's get you all situated." Dr. Moon reclined their chair a little bit more, then turned on the screen and placed it in front of Quinn's face.

The screen burst to life with a pulsating rainbow spiral, one that drew Quinn's eyes right to the center as the colors shifted and swirled. They couldn't look away. They didn't want to. Something about it was so, so… compelling… like it was the greatest and most fascinating thing Quinn had ever seen, like they could watch it forever.

"There we go. Just watch the spiral. You're too sleepy to resist, aren't you?"

"I'm… I'm not…"

"Oh yes you are. You're much too sleepy to resist."

"I'm… too sleepy to resist…" Quinn heard themself agree.

"The spiral is going to open your mind up very nicely," she said. "You're going to keep your heavy eyes open and watch the spiral, but your mind is going to go to sleep, okay? Deep, deep sleep… a deep hypnotic sleep where you can listen and absorb everything."

They could feel it. They could feel themselves falling asleep in the heart of the pulsating spiral. "I can listen…"

"So obedient, aren't you? Just like you should be. What an excellent subject."

Quinn couldn't help but smile. "…Thank you…"

"Oh, you like the praise, don't you? You're the type that wants to get a good grade in being brainwashed."

It felt like so long since they'd done anything right, really. "Yeah…"

Dr. Moon draped a warm blanket over Quinn's body. "Then be a good little test subject for me, stare in to the pretty spiral, and let yourself be hypnotized."

Quinn nodded slowly. They didn't want to do anything else. They felt a pair of headphones being slipped over their ears. Through them, they could hear soft music playing and Dr. Moon's voice coaxing them to fall asleep, to be obedient and docile, to love the experience of being brainwashed.

They were much, much too sleepy to resist. Besides, they wanted to please Dr. Moon.

They should just listen, let Dr. Moon do all the thinking for them, and fall deep into trance.

"Sleep and obey…" they heard their own voice saying. "Deeper asleep and deeper entranced… too sleepy to resist… I love being brainwashed… I must obey Dr. Moon…"

Their eyelids were getting heavier again, the entrancing spiral a colorful blur, as they repeated the mantras and fell so deep into hypnotic sleep.

They weren't sure how long they remained there, eyes half-open, staring into the spiral. Time seemed to have no meaning. It could've been five minutes and it could've been five months.

"…so happy that you were brainwashed. Three. You'll be docile and obedient. Two. You'll be relaxed and refreshed. And one. You can open your eyes and wake."

Quinn opened their eyes just as the screen turned off, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They felt so, so utterly relaxed, like they'd just had the world's finest spa treatment. Like that was the first really good sleep they'd had in years.

They were still in their chair in the clinical room. The machines were quietly beeping, and the bag of drugs attached to the IV looked mostly empty. They were more than content to just rest for a while and see what would happen next, floating in a cloud of bliss.

It didn't take long before Dr. Moon entered. "Why, hello Quinn. Welcome back to the waking world. Did you have a good nap?"

"The best," they said. "I feel amazing."

"Oh, I'm so glad. You really needed that sleep and mental readjustment," said Dr. Moon. "Here, have some water and a nutrition bar."

Quinn eagerly took the food and water. It hadn't really been something they had thought about, but they actually were hungry.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" asked Dr. Moon.

"It was wonderful," said Quinn. "It feels so right to be hypnotized and not have to think for myself. I didn't realize how badly I needed that."

"Oh, you're such a model subject. I think you might be one of my favorites," said Dr. Moon as Quinn beamed in pride. "You're taking to the brainwashing so, so well. I agree, I really think it's exactly what you needed. And you're going to get another round with a new movie -- but first I wanted to give you a little break."

"Thank you," said Quinn through a mouthful of nutrition bar. They couldn't wait to see what the new movie would be like.

"First, though…" Dr. Moon nonchalantly pulled a capped syringe from her lab coat pocket, injecting the contents into the IV line. "We call this one Loose Lips. It's a truth serum. You're probably too hypnotized to really need it, but I want to make sure you're completely honest with me when I ask you embarrassing and invasive questions about your personal life."

Quinn nodded. "That makes sense."

"First off, how do you feel about your boss?"

They frowned, annoyance just barely managing to push through their drugged calm. "She's driving me insane with their unreasonable demands. She's constantly calling me in to work on nights and weekends because we're so short-staffed, and then she acts like it's my fault that I'm burned out. She wastes my time with boring, pointless meetings, and when there's some kind of problem, she micromanages me and keeps asking for status updates when I just need to concentrate on fixing it." The grievances poured out of their mouth easily.

"That sounds really rough," said Dr. Moon sympathetically. "You should tell me everything you know about your boss. I'm very interested. And after that, maybe you can tell me all about your insecurities, secret fantasies, and embarrassing fetishes."

"Sure!" said Quinn, so eager to be obedient and useful.

Dr. Moon questioned Quinn for a while, and Quinn found that they could answer all of their questions easily and in great depth without a hint of shame. It was really nice to be able to speak so freely. Dr. Moon was such a kind, understanding person.

"You've done so well for me," said Dr. Moon. "I couldn't ask for a better test subject. I think it's time for you to get another round of brainwashing, don't you think?"

"Yes, please!" said Quinn with a big smile. "I'm so lucky that I get to spend an entire month in the Brainwashing Department. Do you think I could transfer permanently?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea. We'll see. But for now, I need to change out your IV medication, okay?" Dr. Moon switched the nearly empty bag for a full one. "This formulation is a little different. I've reduced the Liquid Lullaby and added a little River Lethe. That's our best and most gentle amnestic -- a medication that interferes with memory formation and produces amnesia."

"Amnesia…?" said Quinn, feeling a strange bit of anxiety, the first they'd felt since waking.

"You'll be less sleepy this time, but don't worry, you'll be every bit as hypnotized and blissed-out. You're not going to remember the next few hours, though. You probably won't remember much of this conversation, either," said Dr. Moon. "This new medication will leave you feeling pretty fuzzy for a while after your treatment, too. Is all of that okay with you?"

The anxiety was dissolved by their desire to please the doctor. "Of course it's okay. Whatever you think is best." The new drug was already dripping steadily into their veins. It was strange to think that it was already at work in their brain, that they wouldn't be able to remember any of this.

"Then you can just sit back and enjoy your new favorite TV show," said Dr. Moon, turning the screen on again. This time, it was a scene of slow moving clouds floating by.

Quinn barely noticed when Dr. Moon dimmed the lights and left the room, the drugs and the voices in their headphones already turning their mind into useless mush, fit only to listen and obey. After all, they were so sleepy, and the hypnotic program was far too good to resist.

Previous > Masterlist

#whump #whump writing #hypnosis #brainwashing #drugging #corporate retreat

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 25: Reconnaissance

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Donnie wakes up first. After a small battle of disorientation, he realizes that he's in his brother's traincar and the odd weight on his stomach is Mikey. He’d forgotten that they’d all made a turtle pile in Raph’s room…

Raph is pressed up against the wall, sleeping on his side with his arms stretched out over his brothers as though he were protecting them in their dreams. Leo is on Dee’s side, clinging to his arm and legs as he desperately tries not to fall off the edge of the bed. Mikey is deep asleep, body sprawled across the three of them — his legs are folded over Raphael, his torso and head are draped across Dee’s stomach, and his arms and tail are hanging over Leo’s side.

Donnie sighs softly, wondering what made Leo and Mikey call for this. Leo seemed pretty serious… and now, looking in the dim light of late morning, he can see loose gauze wrapped around his neck and leg.

Mikey starts muttering in his sleep. His fingers curl across Dee’s plastron, trying to cling to something he can’t hold. His lips purse, his brow furrows. He moans in distress. It’s quiet enough in the room that Donnie can catch a few words he says…

“….Nnnoo… no… no more tests….. please….. I wanna… home……”

Donnie sighs and starts to trace circles on the back of Mikey’s head, hoping the motion will soothe him.

“You’re safe, Mikey. There’s no more tests.”

Mikey somehow hears Donnie in his dreams. His expression relaxes.

“…No… tests…?”

“No more tests,” Donnie repeats, trying not to let his surprise ruin the moment. Maybe he can use this to help Mikey’s dream become calmer… “Mikey, if you can hear me, you’re not in the labs anymore. You’re safe. You’re home.”

Mikey’s head turns, rolling across tummytello as his subconscious tries to adhere to Donnie’s commentary.

“…home…. home……”

Mikey stretches a bit before moving more onto Donatello, his head resting just below Donnie’s chin.

“….is…. is brothers…. home…?”

“Yes, Mikey. We’re home, too.”

“…mmmm…… Mikey loves brothers… Mikey… M-Mike—“

He starts crying in his sleep.

“…mmmm'nsterrr…. m’so sorry……”

Donnie gently wraps his arms over his brother and kisses his head.

“It’s okay.”

“………….hurt…” Mikey croaks.

It isn’t too big of a leap to deduce what Mikey could be sorry for. Leo did not have those injuries when Donnie went to bed. Leo insisting that they have a turtle pile immediately because Mikey needed comforting. Mikey must've hurt him --

It suddenly hits him.

Mikey… hurt him?

‘Monster’…

Donnie turns and looks at Leo again, this time really analyzing the wounds. With one hand, he pulls the wraps around his neck down.

There are bruises. Scratches. Scabs. Claw marks.

His leg is torn up, by the looks of his pants. There are spots and smears of dark brown blood stains on the fabric.

What did Mikey do…?

A horrible thought comes into Donnie’s mind, that maybe Mikey is in a metamorphosis and will soon be completely animalistic and will lose all sense of who he is and —

NO, no, no no no! Stop that! He thinks to himself. Those thoughts aren’t helpful. Mikey is getting better, anyone can see that! He’s speaking in full sentences now, using first person speech instead of talking in the third. He remembers their names, he knows who they are, things are looking up! They just need to give him more time… This isn’t the kind of problem that gets solved overnight or in a week. This is the kind of healing process that takes months, maybe even years. There’s no sense in getting discouraged at the starting line.

Donnie exhales deeply. Mikey rises and falls with his chest. The breathing calms them both down.

“You’re not a monster,” Donnie says. He tries to force himself to believe it. Mikey is no monster…

But what he is now…

…Is no monster either. It’s still Mikey.

He has to believe that. He has to.

Mikey rubs his cheek against Donnie’s plastron, his tail slowly sweeps across him in a lazy wag.

Donnie sighs.

He’s so unbelievably tired…

Maybe he can sleep in a little more, since everyone else is still resting. It must’ve been a late night for them all.

Donnie holds Mikey close and closes his eyes.

.

.

.

Leo is woken when something behind his head makes a deafening buzz in the silence of the room.

In his startle, he falls off the edge of the mattress and lands with a bump onto the floor. He groans, rubbing his bottom in discomfort as he slowly rises to get the phone.

It's not even his, it's Donnie's. Good thing Leo remembers the passcode...

BZZ! INCORRECT PASSKEY.

Maybe he typed it in wrong? He tries again.

BZZ! INCORRECT PASSKEY.

Huh. Dee changed the code. That's not like him. He only ever does this when he's working on a surprise that he doesn't want spoiled, or if something is bugging him...

Fortunately, he doesn't need to unlock the phone to see what the buzzing was for. There's a message on the lockscreen from Casey Jones Jr. in the group chat.

CASEY: GOING OUT TO GET SOME PIZZA FOR YOU GUYS

Leo smiles. That's nice of him. Considering how he's still unfamiliar with this un-kranged, warless New York and is coming to terms with all the changes (good and bad) that came with time travel, going to order and pick up a pizza for a surrogate family is a pretty big step.

Leo's smile fades as he thinks about it more.

Is... is Casey even a part of their family?

Splinter calls him 'future boy', still. It's a term of endearment on Splint's end, but how does Casey feel about it? Donnie treats him like a new teammate, not so much like a friend. From what Casey has said, his Donatello was like an uncle to him. Mikey was some mystic butt-kicking warrior... but Mikey is exempt from this scenario due to recent events. Raph is also exempt, considering that... well, that Casey didn't really know him. He died when Casey was still a little toddler.

Leo swallows the fear that comes with such a thought. He watches Raph, his breathing, slow and steady and clearly visible. Donnie snores with every other breath, his mouth wide open and drooling. Mikey purrs with each exhale, mostly curled on Dee's chest.

He thinks that by watching them, the fear that they could be lost at any time will dissipate. It doesn't. It only grows. How does he know events won't continue as foretold? How does he know that Raph won't die in his twenties? Or that Donnie will die in his thirties? Or that Mikey -- Mikey...

...How does he know that none of them will ever suffer again?

And how does he know that he won't be forced into a decision that takes him away from them all again?

It isn't until Raph starts stirring and groaning that Leo realizes how loud his hyperventilating is, and that he's been crying. He quickly scrambles back onto the bed and wipes his face against the sheets and covers before Raph can see him.

It's quiet.

You up?

Leo sighs, relieved that Raph didn't catch him in his moment of weakness.

Yep. What's up?

How's Mikey? Why did you want to do a cuddle sesh?

Can't a guy just ask to get uncomfortably close to his brothers late at night every once in a while?

Mikey was crying. Why?

Leo sighs, and sits up so Raph can see the bandages.

He had a nightmare and... woke up rough.

Raph's eyes go wide.

Holy $#!%.

Hey! Leo scolds with a smirk. I thought we weren't allowed to swear?

Sorry, sorry, I forgot you could hear my thoughts. Mikey did that...?

Yeah, Leo sighs as he lays back down, arms propped behind his head so he can see still see Raphael's expressions. But it's not that bad. Just some abrasions and bruises... the leg doesn’t even hurt anymore --!

HE GOT YOUR LEG TOO?! Raph yells in his brother's mind, causing Leo to flinch.

Dude! Volume!

Leo, this is serious!

You remember what it was like.

Well... yeah. But seriously, Leo... Are you okay?

Leo pauses to think it through.

I'm... I dunno. Physically, I'll be okay. My leg stings slightly, but that won't last, so I'm not worried. I got it cleaned and bandaged last night before bed. But emotionally? Mentally? I... I can't say yet. I don't know what to say to Mikey about it. We talked before we came in, and... he seemed more hurt by what happened than I did. He's really struggling with this, I think. More than he's letting on.

Raph gets that feeling, too... he sighs. And... he ain't the only one struggling.

What do you mean --?

What're you guys talking about? a third voice asks, entering the private mind call.

The two jump out of their skin, causing Leo to once again tumble out of the bed.

DUDE! What are --

You think I don't know a silent conversation when I see one? Donnie asks incredulously. I practically invented them. What are you two trying to keep secret?

Nothing, just... wanted to talk about Mikey, Leo answers.

...Oh, Donnie replies flatly.

...Uh, anything you want to say? Leo asks, raising a brow at his twin. You sound like you have something to say.

Donnie strokes Mikey's head quietly. His fivehead furrows, he presses his lips together tightly to keep them from quivering.

Raph takes Donnie's freehand, and squeezes it twice. Donnie glances over at him, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. Leo wonders if they're doing a private mind meld on another line, or what. Eventually, Donnie swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut before turning back to his other brother.

.........Leo...... I think there's something that... that I need to tell you...

.

.

.

Bishop groans as he stands in line for his food. He’s so sick of coffee and stale donuts, so he’s decided to go for a signature NYC meal… pizza. Sure, it’s not the recommended meal of an EPF agent, but he’s not so sure he can even call himself an agent anymore.

It’s getting harder to do his job, for many reasons. Professor Honeycutt sent him some footage he managed to download from the drones. They got a blurry frame of Mikey. So now they know where he is… well, they already knew. Now they just have confirmation. Honeycutt also sent him a single frame of a young human boy. Bishop hadn’t seen him during the initial sighting. Apparently they’d tried facial recognition with the kid, but nothing came up. There was no record of him anywhere. No medical history, birth record, citizenship status, social media profile, internet history, nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

They’ve found one thing of interest.

Apparently Ms. Campbell had uncovered a blurry pic on some social media site taken during the invasion, moments before the destruction of the alien ship.

A young man, swinging across the city with a grappling hook and hockey stick as he fought against the strange monsters and protected the civilians. The caption read ‘PICS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN’.

The boy from the drone footage was wearing an oversized red hoodie and ripped jeans with sneakers, completely casual clothing and not something you’d typically wear in a mutant-infested sewer.

The mysterious hero was wearing a mask and armor-like attire, so for mere mortals it was difficult to connect the two.

But the build and height was the same. The hair was the same length, colour, and style. But most notably, and most importantly, the thing that really tied them together — was the fact that they both had the same weapon.

Bishop has been studying the face. It’s a bit pixelated and blurry, and the shocked look of surprise makes his expression difficult, but it’s all he has. He’s been focusing on features that are easy to identify — the long hair, the chipped gap in his teeth, and of course the weapon.

Though, the guy wouldn’t be stupid enough to carry the weapon in broad daylight.

Then again, he is just a kid, judging by the looks of him.

Bishop sees his order come out — a heavenly golden slice of mushroom and olives, with a soda and salad to go. He thanks the server, leaves a tip, and turns to exit when a shoulder bumps into him.

"Sorry," they say quickly, shying away from him.

"No worries --"

Bishop freezes when he sees a tuft of navy black hair slip from the hoodie. He analyzes their figure... same height... same build... and a heavy tote bag with the end of what looks like a hockey stick poking out.

The kid keeps their hood up, but offers the server at the counter a handful of dollars and requests a full pizza to go.

"...You know what? I got that," Bishop says, handing his card back to the server. "I'll pay for it."

"Really?" the kid asks, turning to look at Bishop.

Bishop recognizes his face instantly. It is the same person from the drone feed.

And he knows where Mikey is.

"Yeah," Bishop answers him with a smile, "it's no problem. So, where's the party?"

"Huh?"

"You're getting a large pizza, are you gonna eat it all yourself?"

The kid goes stonefaced.

"Yep. All mine. I'm really hungry. Have you never eaten a whole pizza by yourself?"

"Not since I was in college," Bishop says with a dry chuckle. "but after the week I've had, maybe I'll try it again. But I was just wondering. Hey, mind if I ask you a weird question?"

The boy doesn't answer, only grips the strap on his duffle bag. Bishop sees how he carries himself, how he stands tall and straight and feigns his confidence, but not his bravery. This kid is a soldier. Bishop wonders who's been training him to be a soldier as a teen...

Bishop takes out his phone and shows him the video frame of him swinging his hockey stick at the drone.

"Is this you?"

The kid's face goes pale. He swallows softly.

"...Where did you get--" he whispers.

"I think you know," Bishop whispers, taking off his shades. He maintains eye contact to make sure the boy understands the severity of the situation.

The teen takes a step back, but Bishop grabs his wrist.

"Look kid, I'm not here to do anything to you. Or to our mutual friend, Mikey."

The kid's eyes widen.

"Let me go--"

"You're all in danger," Bishop says quickly, quietly. "They know what you look like, and that's not all..."

Bishop swipes and shows him the frame of Mikey and the teleporting mutant.

"Leo?" the kid whispers in horror.

He takes the phone and stares at the screen image.

"What... why are you telling me this?" he asks, looking up in fear at the grownup. "What do you want?"

"For Mikey to stay safe," Bishop whispers back. "If the EPF get their hands on Mikey again, they'll end up killing him with their stupid experiments or whatever else they have planned."

"But you're the EPF," he snaps. "Why should I trust you? What do you have to gain?"

"The EPF isn't supposed to be like this," Bishop defends. "They've corrupted it for their own successes and... it needs to stop. We're trying to take it all down."

"Who's we?"

"Me and a friend," Bishop clarifies. "We've been collecting data, smuggling info, gathering evidence. But we can't do it alone. I understand you have a hacker on your side? Likes the colour purple, wants us to 'leave them alone'?"

The kid huffs a chuckle.

"Well, what if I do?"

"We could use their help in collecting some more data. If you agree, I can send you some of our evidence files and some of the studies of the --"

"You said we were in danger," the kid interrupts. "What did you mean by that?"

Bishop halts mid-sentence, realizing he got off topic.

"...Right. They know where you are."

"Hmmph," the kid grumbles. Obviously they do, they have a picture...

"They're sending more drones into the tunnels, but with every wave your hacker friend disables them."

"So where's the danger?" he asks, snarkily.

"Don't you see? You're up against a government-sanctioned board of insane scientists with an army of muscleheads and tech nerds at their disposal. They will not stop until they get Mikey back."

"I've been up against worse," he answers. The tone in his voice makes Bishop believe him completely.

"I'm sure. But kid, this isn't to be taken lightly. They're coming for you. Whether by drone or drill, they will be attacking soon."

"So then, what do you suggest we do?" he asks.

His voice is accusatory, and Bishop can't blame him.

He's the one that told them where Mikey was...

Bishop heaves a heavy sigh.

"...Mikey has a tracker imbedded somewhere under his skin. I don't know where, but that's how we found him."

"WHAT?!" the kid growls. "You tagged him??"

"Yes, and you need to find that tracker and disable it immediately. Then, move out. Find some new place to hide. Anywhere. Keep it secretive. They'll be keeping an eye out for you specifically and your blue-green friend here with the portals. Is there anywhere you can go?"

The kid's eyes dart away as he thinks it over.

"...Well, in the meantime --" Bishop takes out a small scrap of paper and quickly writes on it. "-- here's my info. If you need anything, I'll be in touch. Oh, and if you or your hacker friend should decide to help us out to take down the EPF, then here's my email... as well as my friend's contact info..."

The kid looks down at the paper as Bishop writes on it. His eyes suddenly go wide.

"YOU'RE John Bishop?!" he asks, flabbergasted.

"Yes, I am," he says quickly.

Maybe the hacker found his info and warned them about him...

"...And my friend is Professor Zayton Honeycutt, he's an engineer with the EPF. He's a little jumpy, but a good egg."

Bishop hands the scrap of paper to the boy, whose jaw is still dropped.

"I'll be seeing you around, kid," he whispers as he places his glasses back on and walks out. "Stay safe. Enjoy the pizza."

The teen watches him, almost starstruck as if he were some celebrity.

Bishop guesses his reputation proceeds him... but how does this kid know him?

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#Double mutated Mikey #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tutant meenage neetle teetles #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt bishop #double mutation mikey #rottmnt fanfic recs #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt angst #mikey angst #fic rec #ficlet #fics #fanfic update #fanfic rec #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic

[97keanu]

The Beast You’ve Made Of Me.

Premise: After moving to the town of San Dimas in 1990, you figured it was nothing more but a small town filled with like minded drama. You’ve been uprooted mid senior year because of your “behavioral problems”, as your mother would put it, and it hasn’t been easy fitting in. Lucky you, you find the one person there you can really trust, your sweet and loving boyfriend Ted. It’s the night of a big party out in the woods, one last hurrah before the end of your senior year, and you debut you and Ted as a couple. The drama from that gossip turns out to be the least of your worries when your boyfriend is dragged away mid smoke sesh by something from the woods. When he reappears later, distant, and uninterested in seeing you, you begin to wonder what’s really going on. You soon learn that the town of San Dimas, California is hiding more secrets than you thought.

One thing you know for sure, you have to be careful when the moon is full…

CW/Tags: Hurt, Angst, Ted/Evil!Ted/This is kind of a Jekyll and Hyde situation, Werewolf AU, stoner!ted + reader, cheerleader!reader, eventual smut, slowish burn, clueless!reader, sweet but sad!reader, longing, outcast!reader, small town gossip/drama, revenge flirting, angry/needy, p in v, knotting, dubcon, drunk!reader, biting, tasting blood, size kink, aftercare?, cuddling, slight mentions of breeding, cute ending/happy ending/comfort ending.

Words: 8.3k

꒰˵ˊPlaylistˋ˵꒱

“Isn't it supposed to rain tonight?” You overhear one of the other party goers say shyly as pewter clouds churn overhead.

“Yeah, but it ain’t raining yet!” One of the ‘future-frat-boy’ seniors belts out followed by the howls of his pack, otherwise known as the San Dimas football team.

“Well, you know what they say about being out on a full moon…” One of the popular girls complains in a whiny tone, allowing an in for the jocks to make fun of her which for all they know could be flirting.

“Ohhh, someone's scared of the big bad wolf?” They tease while mimicking wolfish noises loudly.

Despite the stars being blocked out by threatening storm clouds, the full moon rules bright between tuffs of gray, an amber ring echoing around it. You watch it, perplexed by its color, not watching your step as you hike towards the lodge. Your white converse hits an uncovered mossy root and for a second you think you will already start to embarrass yourself for the night by falling in front of everyone.

Then, a gentle hand helps to steady your elbow, the other resting on your lower back, your tight, cream crop top exposing the skin there.

“Hey, easy now…” You hear the soft tones of your boyfriend's voice whisper to you.

You turn towards him, a small smile pulling at the corners of your glossy lips as you look into his comforting brown eyes. He returns the smile and gives your cheek a gentle peck.

You and Ted haven’t been dating long, you didn’t have the chance to.

After everything that happened at your last school, your mother thought best to pull you out in the middle of your senior year and plant you here in San Dimas, California.

It was different from what you were used to, and in other ways all the same. The clique-y drama, rumors that somehow snowball out of control, and your mother’s expectations of you being the perfect preppy daughter, her highschool mini me. Only problem was the move and your reputation nullified any chance at being prom queen, valedictorian, or dating the quarterback. Hey, at least you managed to make the cheerleading squad and your grades up. That seemed to keep her off your back for the most part.

Sure, your mother still doesn’t know you are dating one of the San Dimas High School’s resident stoners, but she wouldn’t understand anyways. Ted was an escape from the prim and proper world of suburbia, someone who liked to have fun and be himself, not to mention completely head over heels for you. It felt good to be loved, felt good to have a home in him.

You watch as fairy lights cast a glow behind him, almost throwing a little halo in his dark brown hair. You feign confidence as members of the SDHS’s student body watch you walk in with Ted, a few whispers already happening behind red solo cups. As you two go through the cabin to the back yard, you can tell Ted notices your tension rise, and his thumb creates comforting circles on your skin.

“Say the word, and we’ll go.” His voice says low and slow in your ear, breath tickling you there.

You give a small head shake, and Ted nods, keeping on as if he has no worries. The happy-go-lucky energy he gives off calms you. You lean into him, sweeping your long ponytail away from your neck.

Up until now, Ted Logan had mainly been a secret you kept all to yourself, but the prying eyes around you could never make you doubt how good of a boyfriend he was. You were too in love not to be confident about that.

______

The bonfire that the football team constructed was actually quite impressive, you had to give them credit there since manual labor was their forte. You snuggle into Ted’s orange jacket that he’s wrapped around you, inhaling the scent of cheap body spray and marijuana. The warmth of the fire prickles your cheeks as Ted strategically toasts a marshmallow beside you. Your chin finds a home on his shoulder, relaxing into his body.

The chatter of the rest of the party drones on with bursts of laughter cutting up the monotones. You know that this isn’t the usual crowd for Ted, but he seems at home as ever, whispering little jokes to you as he enjoys the night despite cross looks from others. You’re sure there will be more talk on Monday about how you don’t deserve to be on the cheer squad if you’re going to be hanging out with burnouts and stoners like Ted Logan, but that doesn't matter. It was only a week before the end of the year, and then you’d be free of highschool forever. Tonight, you were going to enjoy being a senior with your boyfriend without shame.

”Hey,” Ted leans into you, holding out a perfectly brown marshmallow and gently popping it in your mouth when you open it. “Do you wanna go smoke? There’s a little dock to the lake that I know…”

He looks at you with a shy half-smile, and despite the fact that he knows you like getting high just as much as him, he still acts nervous to ask one of the cheerleaders to do something so improper. You nod, mouth full of sweet marshmallow fluff, and let him help you stand up. No one really notices when the two of you slip away from the beacon of light and into the dark forest full of summer greens.

Ted guides you, the trail a bit hard to see in the dark, but not impossible.

“It’s not too far away from here,” You hear him say beside you, as well as the other night noises of the forest humming along.

You let him take your hand into his warm one, an arm wrapped around the small of your waist to keep you safe from almost falling once more. You don’t know what it is about Ted, but you just trust him. Like, completely, utterly trust him despite only knowing him for a few months. He’s not like the other boys at school, who you have to watch your drink with, have to be careful of ending up alone with. No, Ted really only has your best interest in mind, and you feel safe with him right now.

That’s why when you hear a low howl off in the distance you cling into his body, freezing up for a moment.

“What was that?” You say, trying not to let the tinge of panic rise in your voice.

“Probably just a coyote,” Ted starts to explain, his voice soft and soothing.

“It sounded like a wolf…” You whisper as another howl responds to the first.

“Wolves aren’t usually out this way,” Ted reassures with a small laugh. “And we’re only a five minute walk away from everyone else. Three if we run.”

“Do we have to run?” You try to look up at his face, but the moonlight is concealed by the clouds at the moment, so all you see is shadows.

“No, no,” He backpedaled. “We’re going to be fine, babe. Just the sounds of the forest, is all.”

You feel his hand gently rubbing your back, and the motion calms you down. You take a deep breath, and let him keep walking you forward. Soon enough, you walk through a clearing, and the world seems to open up once more from the claustrophobia of the forest.

The lake ebbs and flows, making splashing noises against the dark rocks on its coast. You can barely tell what’s in there, the water a deep color of black, small sparklings shining off as the moon begins to find its way out once more.

Your shoes knock against the wood of the docks, creaking as you make your way down, eyes starting to get used to the dark. You take a seat at the end letting your legs dangle off the edge. You settle in, slipping your converse and socks off, your feet dipping into the cool water. Your previous fear in the forest starts to settle down as you listen to the calming waters.

Ted gently opens his jacket that you’re still wearing, and pulls a joint and a lighter from the inner pocket, giving you a kiss after as if he’s thankful that you let him grab it. You watch as his face lights up from the small orange glow of the lighter, the joint hanging lazily out of the corner of his mouth. For a second, you feel a blush coming up to your cheeks as you appreciate how adorable he looks.

He takes a deep inhale of the joint, holding it in for a second, then coming closer. You know what he wants to do, and welcome his soft, full lips onto yours. He parts your lips slowly, letting you feel the smoke from his lungs exhale into yours, tendrils of smoke floating up from the spaces your lips didn’t fully close around. You let his air fill your lungs, then deepen the kiss while trying not to let any spill out. Finally, you must pull away, breathing out once more and feeling heat in more than just your cheeks.

This little ritual of yours continues until you hear something rustling in the brush behind you. Your eyes feel warm and heavy, and you slowly turn your attention towards the sound, the dark of the night keeping whatever’s there hidden.

“Did you hear that?” You say without turning towards Ted.

“Hear what?” Ted’s voice is soft and lazy.

You say nothing, trying to force your ears to hear something within the hum of the night. The feeling of the hair on the back of your neck raises, a sense of being watched beginning to flood your body.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

“I think someone’s out there…” You try to speak as quietly as possible.

“Probably someone else from the party trying to find somewhere quiet.” Ted whispers back, then calls out towards the noise. “Hey! Spot already taken, find a new one, dudes!”

You know your boyfriend isn’t trying to be dismissive, not trying to make the fear in you rise, but you find yourself trying to hush him anyways. He stands from the edge of the dock, and you find yourself pulling your feet from the lake, water dripping onto the wood.

A low growl escapes the tree line.

“Ted, I don’t think that’s another student.” Your hands are already clutching his forearm, and with another snarl from the darkness, you feel Ted take a step back.

Both of you are wordless, unmoving as a pair of yellow eyes glint in the moonlight from the overgrown brush.

“Ted…” You don’t know what he could even do, but he was your only solace now as the blood in your body beats harder.

Those yellow eyes flick towards you, the sound of your voice and the tremble in your legs already sorting you out as the weaker one. Ted’s arm pulls over your chest protectively, and feel his body brace.

“Can you swim?” His never serious tone has flipped on its head.

“Y-yes.” Is all you can say, fear taking hold in your legs, freezing them to the spot.

You don’t have much time to think as something your eyes can’t even comprehend stalks from the forest towards you. It had the face of a wolf, muzzle too long, teeth too sharp, body too human. Its teeth are bared and ready, hands ending in dark, thick claws. In the split second before its legs are ready to pounce, you feel Ted’s arm push against your chest.

In one moment, you’re frozen to your spot, fear pulsing through you as this creature breaks out in a run, eyes set on you. In the next, the cold, dark lake is taking the breath from your lungs and you watch helplessly as Ted intervenes the wolf from chasing after you. Just as you sink under the blanket of water around you, those sharp, white teeth are glinting in the moonlight and sinking into the shoulder of your boyfriend. Your lovely, sweet, kind boyfriend.

Water fills your mouth, preventing the scream from escaping.

You don’t even want to resurface, don’t even want to fight, but you know you must. Your muscles tense with strength you don’t want to give, arms wildly clutching for support you can’t find. You break through the water with a gasp, choking out the disgusting, earthy taste of the lake from your throat. Your eyes try to find your boyfriend in the darkness, your ears already hear his screaming being dragged farther and farther away from you, snarls interjecting until you hear nothing.

The moon shines down on you, a silent watcher to the night events. The sound of the water slapping against the dock and the cicadas calling out is all you can make out. The horror filling inside you has no escape, nowhere to go, falling deeper and deeper into the pit of your stomach. You float aimlessly, and when you find yourself on shaking legs, gingerly stepping out of the water, you can’t even remember how you got there.

When you stumble back towards the noise of the party, the warm light of the bonfire, no one even notices at first as you make your way there. Your arms held tight around each other, Ted’s orange jacket cold and stuck to your wet skin. Your short, flowy skirt is now suctioned against your bare thighs, and your ponytail drips down your back. You don’t even notice Ted’s blood mixing with lake water on your legs. An arm on your shoulder stops your shuttering walk, and you turn to see the concerned faces of the rest of the party.

“What happened?” One of them asks, concern genuine.

“Oh my god, is that blood?” Someone recoils from the sight.

“You’re soaking wet, where were you?” Along with other hushed inquiries.

You try to speak, but your lip just quivers without answers. The world seems too bright and big by the fire, too many faces in the sea of people beginning to huddle around you, and you doubt even half of them care about you for more than just the gossip. You recoil from hands that are seemingly forever trying to guide you somewhere.

“It…got him.” Is all you could muster as you’ve somehow found yourself sat in the dirt by the fire.

Silence follows after you speak, then hushed tones create a simmering symphony in the small crowd.

“Who? That-that…” they try to remember who you came to the party with, but you know this crowd never even cared to learn Ted’s name. “That boy you were with?”

You don’t get time to answer as a scream breaks out from the edge of the crowd.

“It’s him!” You hear a few people call.

The crowd thins out to look at what new, shiny piece of gossip for Monday they can find, and that’s when you see him.

Ted.

Your loving, wonderful boyfriend, stumbling in from the tree line. You stand, dry dirt caked on your legs, creating stains you’ll never be able to explain to your mom. You don’t even know what to do at first, you watch, feeling as if you’re looking at a ghost. You were so sure he was gone. Tears prick your red eyes, and soon enough they’re falling down your face as you’re running to him.

You see the weariness in Ted’s tired, dark eyes, his mop of brown hair haphazardly in his face, and he leans into you for support when you reach him. You can see the rips in his shirt, see the blood looking black as night, so you reach up a worried hand to apply pressure to his shoulder. All you feel is smooth, tan skin under your fingertips.

“Ted?” Worry furrows your brow.

“I’m alright,” his breath seems heavy, skin sweaty to the touch.

He looks up and sees the crowd, and to your surprise you see his teeth bared, from pain or something else, you don’t know. Then he speaks, low, almost growling, to you.

“Let’s get out of here.”

–-----

You expect the last Monday before summer to be a buzz with rumors of Friday night, that when you walk into school there will be looks, questions, people who can't even begin to understand what really happened out there. As you pass the threshold into the hot halls of San Dimas High, it's as if people are recoiling from you.

Lockers are shut, whispers halt mid sentence, and no one wants to look you in the eye. You feel completely outcast from even pretending to be normal.

What's worse, you haven't heard from Ted since you dropped him off at his house. You haven’t even returned his rusty old van, and he loves that van. You called his line a million times, and no one picked up, not even his dad to tell you to stop calling so much. Helpless doesn't even begin to describe how you feel.

You know how he looked when you dropped him off. Sweat dripping from his hair, his body hot to the touch, hotter than you thought possible. He would try to suppress groans as he directed you to his house, yet insisted on not taking him to the hospital. He stumbled into his door, slamming it behind him before you could even push your way in. You stood there, hair still wet, the cicadas singing a sad chorus to how pitiful you felt.

That was the last time you saw him.

Now, on Monday, as you approach the locker you traded with someone to be closer to his, you half expect him to be there, goofy grin and all making your morning better. Of course, there his locker was, plastered in band stickers and graffiti and…lonely. You hold Ted’s orange jacket closer to you, not having taken it off since Friday. You know how it must look, but you need it. Need to feel like he’s here with you, smell his cheap cologne on the collar, fiddle with the old bic lighter in the pocket.

You feel all eyes on you as you put your things away, but no one says a word. You feel as if you may burst into tears right there from the stress of it all when the bell rings, making you jump. Everyone knows you’re on edge now.

Classes go on, and the silence gets less and less. By lunch, hushed rumors are stirring as you try to find somewhere to sit in peace. You consider taking your tray of unappealing slop to the cheerleaders table, but of course, your typical spot is taken by someone else, signaling that you’re unwelcome. You find half of a table to sit at, and try to make it seem like you're busy by pushing around your food and gingerly biting into a red apple. It tastes like mush.

“I don’t think we'll see him before the end of school.”

“My dad says this happens every few years…”

“Yeah! Mine said his cousin went out on a full moon when they were kids and never came back…”

“Well, I guess the San Dimas curse strikes again.”

“You don't really believe that do you?”

“Either way, that guy’s probably dead.”

“Not that big of a loss, he was a burn out anyways.”

You're standing before you know it, sick of listening to everyone speculate on the person you love most, the only person here who ever cared to get to know who you really were underneath it all. Your tray is promptly dumped and the cafeteria goes hush as you walk with tears falling down your cheeks. You burst through the large, metal doors, and your sneakers squeak as they take you away.

Soon enough, you’re ditching. You know it’s more than possible that your mother will hear about this, and of course, berate you for old habits. If you’re lucky, maybe they won’t care at the end of the year. Either way, you have to know, have to find the answers that kept you from finding a wink of sleep these past 48 hours. You burst out of the school into the hot, humid air outside. Everything smells thick after the rain of the weekend, petrichor and musky. You don’t even have a car, you just let your feet beat on the hot pavement towards Ted’s house.

You two have walked back to his place countless times since you moved here, especially since you could never take him back to your house. The world is a blur of neighborhoods and mid-afternoon traffic. You don’t stop until your hand is raised at Ted’s door, ready to pound, but before you can even lay a knuckle there, the door opens, just a slice.

“Ted?” You whisper, knowing his dad is at work now, and his little brother in school.

A moment passes without a word from the otherside of the door. Maybe his dad is home, maybe something bad really did happen. You hope more than anything it’s him.

”I can’t come out.” You hear his voice, raspy and low, and for a moment you don’t think it’s really him.

“What?” You ask puzzled, moving your head to try to get a better look inside the small sliver of door that’s open. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to…” He pauses for a long moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hurt me? What the hell does he mean by that?

“Ted, you won’t hurt me, I don’t care if you’re sick, I just wanna make sure you’re okay!” You begin to ramble, anything that keeps him talking, and potentially lets you see him.

“Go home, babe.” You can tell it kills him to say it, his voice choking up, those three words getting caught in his throat.

“I’m not going home until you tell me what’s going on, Ted Logan!” You stomp your foot without even thinking, folding your arms across your chest.

Ted says nothing. In fact, he does the single most heartbreaking thing you can think of.

He closes the door.

“Ted!” You yell, you pound on the door.

There is no response.

No matter how much you call for him, he ignores you, so you say the only thing you can think that might get to him.

“Ted, you open this door right this minute or we are OVER!”

The door swings open.

Ted, standing there in only his sweatpants, dark circles under his eyes, looking more tired than you could imagine a 18 year old boy could look. His hair is damp, plastered to his forehead as if feverish. His breath is heaving. He looks nothing like your sweet, gentle boyfriend you’ve come to know and love.

“I said,” He speaks to you in a tone he’s never done before, half begging, half demanding. “Leave…”

You stand there, confused, mouth open, unsure what to say, but not moving.

“Leave!” He snarls again, louder, hand hitting the doorframe loudly, making you flinch.

As cruel as his voice is being with you right now, his eyes say something different. He looks as if it’s all he can do to get you away from him, truly believing it for your own good.

You begin to speak, and Ted turns rapidly, slamming the front door with all his might, house seeming to shake from the impact.

That was it.

That was all you could do. Come here, try to help him, but if he wanted you away, then he got it.

You turn, walking down the sidewalk with your arms around yourself, shame and embarrassment and heartbreak heating your face and ears. You suppose you’ve lost your boyfriend after that, and over god knows what. You don’t understand what’s happening at all. You thought you did everything a good girlfriend would, but maybe you made a mistake. And even if you did, could you two not talk about it? You let out a half sob as the pain in your heart tenses up, holding your breath to try to keep it in until you can safely let it all out.

Tears of hurt and anger slip down your face. Frustrated, you make your way home.

That was the last time you saw Ted Logan, for a while, at least.

————

The end of your senior year came and went. The talk died down, and just like predicted, Ted never returned to school for his final days. You knew he was alive, at the very least, but nothing else.

Graduation took place on a Saturday, a week or so after the last day. Everyone else cheered, watched as the schools wolf mascot was finally revealed to be some half popular nerd, the valedictorian gave a speech about how the best days of our lives were yet to come, threw their caps in the air when it was all said and done.

You sat, holding your diploma and hat, finger tracing the square edge while thinking about how Ted was supposed to be here. You two worked so hard to get his grades up so he could pass and his dad wouldn’t send him away to Alaska for military school. Maybe he really went through with that threat, for all you knew.

Either way, it had been a month since you had seen Ted Logan.

A month of lonely nights, your hidden stash of weed getting smaller and smaller as you self medicate in your room, and still you think of him. You blow smoke out the window at night, sometimes thinking you heard the sounds of rustling leaves out there, then dismissing it.

Who would want to stalk around your suburban home anyways?

————

You soon got tired of being holed up in the house all summer, and find it surprisingly easy to call up some of your old school friends to see what everyone else has been up to. You thought after everything that went down last time, you would be a social outcast. Turns out, they were more than willingly to invite you, some even more than vocal about wondering where you’d been. You know they have no real care for your wellbeing, but decide to go to one of the jocks upcoming parties.

And that’s how you find yourself anxious to see anyone other than your mother on a Friday night. You curl the ends of your high ponytail so the curls bounce at the nape of your neck, blow drying a mess of bangs in the front until they look pristine. A baby blue mini dress and some pumps later, and you’re feeling a bit more like yourself for the first time in a while. You finish everything off with a bow on your hair tie the color of marshmallows.

Soon enough, you’re driving to the outskirts of San Dimas, letting the A/C keep you cool on this June night. Some farm boy jock was hosting a barn party way out here, and you knew it was probably stupid to come. Best case, everyone feels to awkward to interact with you, worst case, they ask you questions incessantly about Ted’s disappearance and the last outing you were at.

Still, somehow, you tell yourself, this is better than Friday night alone watching reruns on the family T.V.

The moon is almost full, an orange hue clear and bright in the sky, it’s light guiding you to your destination.

It is easier than you thought to find your way there, despite not knowing the area. A few wrong turns and a right, and you’re pulling into the grass front lawn with 20 other cars or so. The barn is already lit up, spilling light and sound from inside. You open your door, struck with the heat of the night, already feeling your makeup begin to melt into your skin. Heels weren’t the best idea for the terrain, but at least you looked hot.

You pass a few straggling people hanging on the front porch of the old farm house, and one calls you over.

“Hey!” You see a few semi familiar faces, but hardly know them other than going to school together for the last few months.

They seem to know you though, so you walk up the groaning old wooden steps, and smile. Before you can even speak, one of the girls interrupts, as if she would explode if she didn’t say it.

“So, you like, have no idea about the San Dimas curse, huh?”

”Come on, Jenny, don’t get into that.” Her presumed boyfriend groans, and ‘Jenny’ keeps going.

“No, but for real, like you’re new so you wouldn’t know right?” You can see she’s dying to tell you more, so you simply shake you head.

“Curse? What curse?” You try to say casually, your interest piqued, but not wanting to show it.

“Oh here we go…!” Another girl groans, then reaches into a cooler next to her, handing you a can of beer. “Here, you’ll need this to get through this one.”

Everyone laughs before Jenny gets their attention back.

“Hey! Hey! She’s the newbie, so she deserves to know, especially after everything that happened…” As she trails, everyone looks to see your reaction, but you’re looking down at the condensation on the cold can.

“Alright, well, I’m all ears.” You shrug, looking back up, meeting their eyes.

“So,” Jenny turns serious. “San Dimas has this, like, ‘curse’, right? I mean, we don’t really know what else to call it, but that seems right enough.”

“Anyways, every ten years or so, someone goes missing. Not that unusual, sure, that just happens sometimes, but it seems to happen like clock work, okay?” Her blue eyes are big, like she really believes this, but the crowd still has unsure snickers of doubt. “Well, that’s not the only odd part, is it? No, because it happens whenever the moon is full-“

A jock grabs his buddy and annoyingly cuts Jenny off with a howl.

“Hush! It’s true, okay! They always go missing during the full moon. Always in the woods, always mysteriously. Not to mention, the sightings!” Jenny continues, trying to tame the crowd in her favor. “Folks say there’s something stalking out in those woods, something big, something not human. Say it’s got claws, teeth sharper than a dogs, head like a-“

“Oh yes, the werewolf sightings, told by old men who don’t even remember what they saw out there.” A few agreeable sounds follow the jocks interruption.

“Well, that’s what I’m saying! She saw it!” Jenny points to you like you’re her key to all this, her evidence that the curse is real. “You did, didn’t you? What did you see out there when that thing took your boyfriend?”

All eyes turn to you, all curious to hear, to know what you really saw. Dark flashes from that night bubble up in your mind, flashes of that beast, biting into Ted and dragging him away. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Just as you might have had an answer on the tip of your tongue, someone interrupts you.

“You don’t really believe those old stories do you?” You turn, your heart already racing at the sound of that voice.

His voice.

Ted Logan stands on the porch of the old farm house with a grin. Everyone is silent as Ted’s eyes graze across your body, practically eating you up where you stand. The yellow of the naked bulb above seeps into his dark eyes, and for a second you think there’s something wrong with them. No, must be the lights, playing tricks on your eyes. Ted watches you closely, examining your reaction.

“Besides, not much of a curse when the ‘missing person’ is right here.” Another voice joins Ted, and you notice someone with Ted.

Everyone waits to see where this will go, the social pressure to speak building up in you. Ted always knew you hated being the center of attention like this, and you watch as he smirks at your unease, almost exuding cockiness, but you can’t believe it. Your Ted Logan? He would never act in such a way…

Ted holds out a hand.

“Why don’t we speak somewhere more privately.” His voice is more serious now, tone lower.

You know you should just stay here, ignore him after everything he’s done, but you find your hand in his warm, large one, leading you away. Your heels click off the porch onto the grass as the crowd you’ve left begins to dissect what’s just happened. The man Ted arrived with follows, and you frown towards his direction.

“Who is he?” Your eyes narrow at the stranger, hair bouncing as you walk towards the back of the barn with them.

“He’s my…my…” Ted can’t seem to find the right word..

“Cousin.” The other responds, a devilish grin on his lips.

“R-right! Cousin!” Ted affirms. “This is Bill.”

Cousin? This guy was like a foot shorter than Ted, big blue eyes, and a mess of blond curls on top. They looked nothing alike, and yet, there was something…An aura of sorts, if you had to describe it. Something that seemed to link the two, either in attitudes or something else your basic senses couldn’t pick up on. Either way, you doubted more than anything they were cousins, and you were going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

”I don’t know who you think you are showing up out of nowhere like nothing happened, Ted!” You hiss in his direction as you all round the corner of the barn, and Bill snickers at your remark.

“Relax, babe, can’t you just be happy to see me?” Ted scoffs at your attitude, making your rage grow.

You can’t help yourself, you slap him.

Your hand leaves a hot mark behind on his cheek,

“Babe? That’s what you think you’re going to call me after dropping me for a month? Let me worry about if you’re hurt, if you’re sick, if dead? No, you don’t get to call me that, Ted, that’s reserved for boyfriends who actually give a fuck to contact their girlfriends after being dragged into the woods by a damn wolf!” The anger is really welling up inside you now, but you can’t stop it, not now.

“So, no, you don’t get to call me babe after all that! As far as I’m concerned, we are not dating anymore!” You could keep going but the way Ted’s looking at you has you stopping in your tracks.

“Wouldn’t have done that if I were you…” Bill chuckles behind Ted, lighting a cigarette without much care for how the situation goes.

Ted, however, is shaking. No, not shaking, vibrating. He stares you down through thick strands of dark hair, breath heaving, shoulders raised, looking at you as if he wanted to tear you apart. The moonlight casts shadows on his face that make something in your stomach churn with a moment of true fear.

A deep growl echoes from somewhere inside his chest, and Bill puts a hand on his shoulder. Bill looks you in the eyes with his icy blues and throws a nod towards the rest of civilization out here.

“You should go back to the party now, girlie.” He says with a fake smile at the end, dropping it and whispering something into Ted’s ear that makes him back off.

The two of them turn and walk deeper into the darkness, and you’re left standing there once again.

————

Anger is still coursing through your veins, your head not thinking properly. You don’t even want to go home, you want release from all of this. You want something different, anything.

You rejoin the party in the barn this time, and the crowd dances to music someone has set up out here. It doesn’t matter to you much what’s playing as long as it’s loud and it’s fast. You walk over to a table that hosts various amounts of liquor and find yourself a few shots deep very quickly. Heat pours through your veins, making you feel tingly all over as the alcohol begins to hit, and you join the crowd.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the beat, winding your body in ways that you haven’t done in months now, your dress riding up shorter and shorter as you go. Soon enough, someone’s hands have caught your hips and begun grinding them into their crotch. You don’t recoil, instead, grinding back, letting their mouth find a home at your neck. If you and Ted really were broken up now, then you might as well have some fun.

You let the strangers hands wander your body, groping where they please, enjoying how the liquor feels when you move against another warm body. Sweat begins to prick your skin as you continue, and soon your mysterious stranger is whispering filthy things in your ears. Things you and Ted never even got around to doing since he used to be shy about such things, which you also used to find cute.

Now, it was like you didn’t even know him.

You shake your head with anger as the thought of Ted comes back up, trying to get back into the groove with your dance partner, but of course that too is interrupted when he is forcibly pulled from you. You pause mid dance, confusion filling your drunk mind. You turn on wobbly heels, and see those eyes, and this time it can’t be the lights making them so yellow.

Ted grabs your wrist, pulling you into his body, glowering at you.

“That’s how you’re going to get back at me?” He snidely whispers in your ear.

“What? Not like you wanted me anymore, anyways.” You cruelly throw back, turning your nose up at him to leave.

He holds you fast.

“Who said I didn’t want you anymore…?” His voice almost sounds hurt, and you try to get a read on his face.

For a second, you’re almost convinced the old Ted was back by how soft he looked right now.

You open your mouth to retaliate anyways, spiteful as always, just like your mother always warned about, but instead, Ted pulls you even closer, until your lips are almost touching, his breath mingling with yours, eyes staring deep into your soul.

“Trust me,” His voice is smoother now, hot and full of want. “I want you.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the situation, but with the alcohol pumping through your system and a history of bad decisions, you can’t stop yourself. You let your lips graze his, not even full on kissing him, just giving permission. And that’s enough for Ted.

Enough for him to let his soft, warm, silky lips crush against yours, the want so strong he has to hold himself back with every muscle in his body, arms clutching you tightly. He devours you with his kiss, and it’s almost hard for you to keep up with his lips. He pulls you onto his leg, spreading your thighs so you can ride him there, your dress now fully exposing your ass and pale blue checkered panties. His hands grip your hips, pulling you towards him and away, letting his bent knee create friction down there.

It takes everything inside you to pull away from his kiss, your chest heaving and almost ready to fall out of your dress at this rate.

“Not-Not…” You say breathlessly as you notice a few prying eyes in the crowd. “Not here…”

Ted gives you a look that sends a chill straight to your pussy.

A look that says “I would fuck you right here, right now, in front of everyone if you just gave me permission.”

And even worse.

“I might do it anyway if you don’t get us out of here quickly.”

You’re stumbling out into the woods outside of the barn before you know it. Ted half carries you the whole time, your legs wrapped around his waist as he takes you deeper away from everyone else. Your head knows this is dangerous, knows something about Ted is off, something is wrong, but you need this. You’ve been needing this, ever since he left. Maybe even before then.

Your back ends up crushed against a tree, the bark scraping against your bare shoulders there. Ted breathes heavily into your neck, no, not breathing. Inhaling. Smelling you so deeply before a moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck…” He growls in your ear. “Fuck, I-I need you so bad…”

It’s as if he can’t even get the right words out to describe it, as if it’s painful how badly he needs to fuck you. He’s hungry for you in ways you couldn’t begin to understand.

He grinds himself between your legs, and you can feel how hard he is against your pussy and stomach. His hands go down your shoulders, and you wonder when his nails got so long, the feeling of them almost clawing into your skin turning you on. He quickly pulls your dress down, exposing your breasts to his hands, where he gropes you deeply, the softness of your skin contrasting his.

You let his tongue linger in your mouth, tasting him deeply as he ruts against you, cock needing to be released. You help him, hands drunk and fumbling with his belt. Once his cock is out, you feel the head with your hand, and for a moment, you can hardly believe how big it is.

Ted’s kissing on your neck deepens, teeth grazing the skin there as you stroke his thick cock, using both hands and letting him support your weight. You don’t remember his teeth being so long, not to mention sharp, and just as your thinking of pulling way to get a better look at him, as his growling begins to reach a breaking point, you feel his teeth graze too deeply, biting into the tender flesh of your throat.

You let out a whimper, the feeling of pain mixing with pleasure. Ted takes this as an invitation, hand reaching down to your panties, and with one claw, tearing them in two. You shudder at the thought of how sharp they are and being so close to your most private parts as he checks how wet you are with one finger.

Ted pulls back from where he’s left a mark on your neck, looking you in the eyes. His face has changed, his eyes bright yellow, his teeth on full display and sporting your blood. Others may have screamed, tried to free themselves from his grip, but the monstrous look he was sporting had you weak in the knees. You shudder with pleasure as he places his cock at your entrance, the tip feeling way too big to fit even before it’s in. He seems to pause, for a just a moment, as if the human part of him can hold back just barely.

He’s waiting for you to say yes.

You nod with wanton want, and that’s all it takes. His cock is entering you, a tight fit that leaves you moaning in pain and pleasure as it stretches you beyond what you thought your limits were. You grip his back, feeling yourself already full without even having the entirety of his cock inside of you yet. What little of himself he could hold back before is gone now as he takes one small pull back from being inside you, and slams the force of his cock back where he left and then some. You cry out, trying to move to accommodate such a hefty cock, but failing.

You slip one hand down to your clit to try to tame the pain into pleasure once more, Ted’s cock filling you again and again as he takes you right there in the woods. Your hand circles your clit as best as you can, feeling yourself relax into the process of being fucked by an animal of a man.

Ted’s cock seems to grow even bigger inside of you, the base swelling as he fucks you, making it harder and harder for him to pull out of you. It’s as if you’re being infinitely filled by him as he clumsily tries to fuck you harder. His growls deepen, and as he gets closer he sinks his teeth back into the half moons he left in your shoulder earlier. You cry out as he tastes you, practically tearing you in two with his cock and his teeth, but shudder closer to climax from it all. You furiously play with yourself, free hand gripping your own breast as if the action could hold you in, hold you together for just a few more moments of the pleasure his cock fills you with at the moment.

You buck into him, his cock rutting deeper and deeper, no thoughts of the fact that he’s about to spill his seed inside you without protection, no thoughts of the teeth in your shoulder that tries to hold you still to be fucked. Only that blissful feeling of being so full you can hardly take it. So stretched out and how well that feels when you play with your clit just like that. It brings you closer and closer until you’re spilling over the edge, spamming on his cock that breeds itself into you without care.

As if he’d been waiting for you to finish, before you’ve even finished cumming the first time, Ted growls deeper than you’ve heard all night, jaw locking into your shoulder and popping his growing knot deep enough it won’t come out into you. You keep your hand busy on your clit, not ready to give this up with just one round just yet, as Ted cums deeply inside you. It’s hot, thick, and filling somewhere you’ve never been filled before. You feel it begin to seep out around his knot despite his best efforts to keep you filled, the amount of cum just too much for your body. You lose yourself in the feeling, cumming again, pussy spasming and tightening against his cock.

Worn out and overstimulated, you feel yourself being pulled from the tree. You fall on top of Ted, his knot still wedged deeply inside you with no hope of coming out soon. You straddle his body, where he lays against the dirt of the forest, breathless and staring up at the moon. It takes him a few breaths to look at you.

“So,” You say, chest heavy and pussy throbbing. “You’re a werewolf?”

He gulps in air, and almost tries to speak, then just nods, staring at you for your reaction.

After everything, you look at your boyfriend. You see his puppy dog eyes, his soft lips pursed slightly with worry, that shaggy overgrown hair. You consider it all.

“Okay.” You say affirmatively.

“Okay?” His voice is full of husk and confusion.

“Okay. Werewolf. I can deal with that.” You smile only slightly, and Ted smiles back, the Ted you know and love shining before you.

He pulls you in, tongue lapping at your neck where he bit you, and to your surprise, the bite begins to heal itself quite quickly.

“Werewolf powers.” You whisper to him and he laughs. ”Guess the San Dimas curse is true.”

“Guess I found out the hard way.” Ted whispers, half joking, half pained by the situation.

You two lay there, the moonlight devouring the scene beneath it, breathless and full. Ted’s cock throbs so deeply in your pussy you can’t imagine a time it wasn’t there. The exquisite feeling of fullness has you on cloud nine, and you can’t help but love the feeling of being so close in his arms. The way his languid hands slowly run circles on your back, the relaxed feeling of his softness almost overwhelming you along with every other sensation. You feel tears begin to well up as a release of emotions comes over you.

Ted hears a small sob hiccup in your throat, and holds you even closer, your face buried in his neck. You don’t even need anything to tell you that your soft, sweet, kind Ted was coming out now, you just knew. You knew the way he held you on top of him, letting all your weight into his body, the way his hands comforted you in ways no one else could.

You pull your face away from his, and he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, kisses up every tear that’s fallen. His lips move against your skin, his breath tickling your face, and soon enough you realize he’s whispering something.

You can’t tell what until he kisses your ears, lingering there.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t know how…” Pain seeps out of every word.

You pull his face back to yours so you can look into those brown eyes of his.

“Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan, don’t you ever lie to me again, you hear me?” You say sternly, and he nods, tears now welling up in his eyes, but not yet fallen.

“Never.” He promises, and somehow you know it to be true.

You collapse into his chest, letting the emotions of the night overcome you, Ted there to comfort you through it all. You fall mindlessly asleep, worn out and waiting for Ted’s knot to go down. You still can’t believe your boyfriend is a werewolf, but at least you got him back.

At some point, Ted takes you home, somehow transporting you all the way without waking you until the very end. You wake in the middle of being placed into his bed.

He pushes your bangs out of your face gently, kisses your forehead, then climbs into bed next you, letting your body relax into his before the two of you begin to gently fall back asleep. You hear him whisper in your ear before you fall asleep.

“I love you.”

#ted logan x reader #ted logan x f!reader #evil!ted logan x reader #werewolf AU #my writing

[sluttybrunette]

Cassandra

Just a random OC I made up

The town of Blackwood had an unspoken rule: never pry into someone’s past. It was a small, quaint place, hidden in a secluded valley, where everyone seemed to know everyone, yet no one truly knew anyone. The reason for this mystery was simple—Blackwood was a place for ex-assassins seeking a peaceful retirement.

When you arrived in Blackwood, you had no idea about the town's peculiar nature. To you, it was simply a charming place to start new, away from the chaos of city life. After settling into your new home, you discovered a minor health issue that required attention. A neighbour mentioned Dr. Cassandra Delacroix, the town’s physician, and you made an appointment, hoping to resolve your problem quickly.

The clinic wasn’t far so you ended up walking and when you got there you were met with a cosy atmosphere that was enough to make anyone feel safe. You looked around until you noticed the secretary distracted but you could tell she was alert.

“Uh…Hello?” You spoke, the woman immediately looked up her eyes looking over your body seeing your not visibly injured which she was used to seeing yet she still smiled.

“Hi! Can I help you?” The blonde woman smiled as she looked at you even though her smile didn't meet her eyes.

“I have an appointment With Dr Delacroix?” You said watching her let out a quiet ‘oh’ and typing on her computer before asking your name and saying she would be there in a moment and to sit down in the waiting area.

Soon a black haired woman with a braid in her hair came out of the back and smiled when she saw you “Y/n L/N?” She questioned to which you nodded confirming her words “Thats me.”

You followed Cassandra to the examination room, her small talk guiding the way.“You must be new to Blackwood huh?” She asked to which you nodded “Yeah wanted to get away from stuff” You replied smiling at the woman.

Soon you both made it to the room that looked like a normal room at first glance, “So…What seems to be the problem today?” The black haired woman asked, her eyes roaming your body trying to see the problem.

“It’s probably nothing but I've been having a hard time walking with how bad the side of my stomach hurts.” You replied to her question, noticing the way her eyes lit up when she heard you speaking relieved someone was talking to her like a normal citizen rather than just another retired assassin.

She motioned silently asking for you to lift your shirt so she could check out the problem and you obeyed by lifting it up enough to show her the harsh bruise that happened when you fell down the stairs.

Cassandra visibly winced as you watched her cringing at how poor at explaining you were. Yet despite it all Cassandra moved to press on the bruise a bit making you wince and flinch but to Cassandra she felt like she was in heaven with how responsive you were and the fact you weren't afraid to show your discomfort unlike everyone else who would tense up and not even show a single emotion.

After a moment of examining the bruise, Cassandra leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “It looks like you took quite a tumble. Does it hurt when you breathe deeply or move in certain ways?”

You nodded, feeling a bit of embarrassment at your clumsiness. “Yeah, especially when I twist or bend.”

Cassandra nodded, her demeanour professional yet somehow warm. “Well, I don't think anything is broken, but you’ve definitely bruised your ribs. It might be sore for a while but with some rest and maybe a pain killer, it should improve.”

You nodded again, a sigh of relief escaping me as you put your shirt back down.

“Thank you doctor, I appearate it” You smiled watching Cassandra light up a smile copying yours.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Y/n," she said softly, her voice sending a shudder through your soul. "After all, it would be such a shame if anything were to happen to you."

#yandere #female yandere #wlw love #lesbian #lovesick #wlw #wlw post #yanderefemale #yandere lesbian

[nightlilly0110]

I have not paid attention to My Hero Academia in ages. It got boring for me, I especially didn’t really like the “yes and” sort of fights they were doing where it was like “oh no he’s dead, oh wait no he’s not, and he also has gotten stronger and has somehow developed more powers” (I’m staring so hard at Dabi vs Shouto and Dabi spontaneously developing an ice quirk after having his ass beat multiple times already).

Anyway. Regardless on me having issues with that, because I know that when your main villain’s power is All Of Them, you gotta shove a whole lot of shit into your grand act, your finale.

The story of My Hero Academia did a really good job at pointing out all the flaws in hero society. Everyone wants the prestige with becoming a hero so they gotta limit it to people who have a strong enough power to get into hero schools, specifically the hero track. Not all heroes are good people and it’s dangerous to blindly give out this status as a top member of society. Not all villains are inherently evil - as the manga states, all it takes is one bad day. Racism, abuse, and mental health issues are overlooked because it happens to the people on the bottom rung. It’s realistic. It’s great. It gets the point across that this world isn’t as fantastic as it first seemed.

And then all of that immediately gets undercut by the reveal that Everything in the manga is AFO’s fault. He gave Shigaraki Decay and groomed him, he’s the one who caused the surge in crime and the anti-mutant rhetoric. They establish him as born evil, as the devil incarnate, that he has always been this way and will never change. I expected that he would never have redemption and is beyond saving, but to say he was Born Evil contradicts the “one bad day” narrative that is literally on the first page of Volume 24.

Gonna Devil’s Advocate myself for a second. I think the idea that AFO being irredeemable and going against the “one bad day” narrative would have been a great contrast to Shigaraki and the rest of the LOV.

Here’s the but.

They also go on to imply that Everything Will Be Okay As Long As We Kill AFO. Since he’s the Root Of All Evil, if they kill him, everything will be 100% perfect and nothing will be Evil or Wrong or Bad ever again.

Please hear my sarcasm. That’s unfortunately not how systemic racism, classism, abuse, or any other social issues work. They unfortunately do not vanish because you get rid of one guy. It’ll definitely help consider AFO won’t be around to fuck shit up, but it’s not a be all end all situation.

Additionally, having all of this realistic worldbuilding and establishing all the problems in this hero society, having testimonies from the villains and from Deku himself that if you are different you will suffer, and then turning it around and going “actually it wasn’t the system, the system it’s fine, it’s just this one dickhead lol” fucking sucks. Okay yeah, it’s cool to see all the ways AFO was pulling the strings behind everything and manipulating society how he wanted it, but it seemed very shoehorned in???? We see some glimpses of his control of resources with the Nomu labs and the implications of using doctors to scope out good quirks to use, but we spent too little time on that other than focusing on Kurogiri.

Moving on to the spoilers I saw today for the most recent chapter. Deku’s motivations have always been “I want to be able to save as many people as I can, just like All Might.” He’s stated many times throughout the last few fights that he wants to be able to reach Tenko - not Tomura, but Tenko - and this is the end he gets?????

Liberties with the translations as it’s not official but like. Come on.

“I’m a crying brat just like you said.” We established a long time ago that Shigaraki fights because he wants to build a better world for him and his friends. While he might have been a “crying brat” in his first few appearances, he hasn’t been that way in literal years. Deku calling him this (which I can’t find a good image of, sorry) goes against his entire character. He’s not a brat. He has reasons to do what he does.

“I wanted to stop you because you wanted to be stopped.” Stopped, not saved.

“So your sadness wouldn’t be passed on.” What Deku is saying here is that he is acknowledging that Shigaraki was wronged, but he isn’t going to do anything for him other than stop him (kill him) because he was hurting other people. Again, reminder, this was the kid that wanted to save as many people as he can, and Shigaraki wasn’t past saving. What was the point of emphasizing that Tenko was still a part of him that existed if you were going to kill them both?

We also don’t know what happened to the other villains as of right now. None of their statuses have been confirmed, but they’re presumed to be dead. None of them got their happy ending. None of them even got a good ending. None of them have the closure that their injustices were wronged. None of them have the closure that they left this world in good hands for other people like them. They just died.

So who exactly are we saving? What’s the point?

#crow grumbles #disappointed but not surprised #guys I’m so angry right now you don’t even know #bnha #mha #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #all for one #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #league of villains #bnha league of villains #mha league of villains

[mxtxfanatic]

Jc stans: Why are jc-antis so obsessed with us? We just stay in our lane 🥺

The main mdzs tag: “Jiang Cheng is the real protagonist (or at least the secondary lead)!” vibes in like 80% of the posts

The main Jiang Cheng tag: fanon, fanon, thirst art, thirst gif set of cql, “Jiang Cheng is the hottest most sexiest single mom in town who everyone wants to fuck and Wei Wuxian should be honored to have been killed by him 😤” posts

The “canon Jiang Cheng” tag created specifically to talk about his canon personality because jc stans didn’t want canon talk in the main tag: “we’re reclaiming the tag for jc!” posts, “why don’t people like jc when he’s so [insert fanon]?” posts, canon followed by jc stans complaining about the canon, more fanon

My fucking For You page despite having been mutually blocked by most large jc stan accounts and exclusively following blogs with canon depictions of him: “isn’t jc so funny??? Isn’t jc the bestest single mother jiujiu ever??? Isn’t jc the greatest brother ever to that ungrateful servant wwx??? Isn’t wwx so mean to jc??? Don’t you think jc is hot??? Who wouldn’t want to fuck jc??? Wouldn’t you???” (and a lonely wangxian art post)

Jc stans: It’s such a mystery why there’s so many people who just don’t like jc or us…

#mdzs #human gripes at fandom #because WHY am i seeing jc stan content on MY page? #NOBODY i follow likes his fanon but yet that’s 99% all i see #and i know it’s because it’s 90% of the fandom #but it’s the rest of us that are the problem somehow #the more something is forced down my throat #the more imma start making this whole damn place uncomfortable #if I can’t get rest y’all can’t either #jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng

[front-facing-pokemon]

#vibrava #i know the eyes are fucked up i have no idea why. i didn't think it would be so noticeable but apparently it is. so. here's. that #i zoomed it out just a bit so that you could see the rest of it to make it clear it's vibrava because quite honestly i wouldn't be able to #tell that this was vibrava if i didn't. y'know. make this post. i sent it to someone else and they said they wouldn't be able to tell either #i think vibrava into flygon makes sense. i dunno if trapinch into vibrava makes much sense. i used to think that vibrava was the first evo #in the line and flygon was a second evo. but i found out trapinch comes first‚ which looks like an entirely unrelated pokémon to me #i dunno if it's just me. i've talked about not understanding evolutionary lines in the tags before and folks have commented on it telling me #Why They Make Sense Actually and i was just like Damn Ok. it's like interesting to know but shit am i just looking at it wrong #i tend to look for common color schemes and design aspects i guess is my problem. but vibrava looks nothing like trapinch #i dunno what these are supposed to be exactly so maybe it makes sense somehow. like a larva bug hatching from a crab. thing. i dunno #trapinch doesn't look like a bug and vibrava does. i don't. i don't know. why does it get wings. and stay a ground-type

[wavernot4love]

hello i see ag 2morrow for the second show of boom done tour i am so excited

i haven't been to a show since thursday @ the end of january in typical northeast "no one, quite understandably, tours here in the winter" fashion & i very much need this i am so very much looking forward 2 it also this is gonna be a GREAT month 4 shows

#i may be manifesting this somehow reaches someone somewhere also going #also tonight is about to be spent absolutely cramming boom done etc #as despite the fact that i technically got introduced to homie's music via a boom done set #at that fest i was working in summer '22 #i still am not really acquainted with it #i am primarily going for good vibes and to support #but that's just as of now #i can Entirely see myself coming to love these songs just like the rest of that dude's projects #anyways i am soloing and while of course i have no problem doing this for shows in general #i am a bit nervous since i'm used 2 just blending in with a crowd due to moshing everybody being packed in etc #whereas here that obviously won't be a thing and everyone will kinda just be standing there noddin along #but it is okay i always seem to find cool folks to talk to at ag related shows #and even if i don't i know i'll have a great time #also i really hope the epic wavernot4love x anthony crossover can finally happen #genuinely i have so much 2 say this dude's music has had such a positive impact on my life this past year n a half #and i wanna chat about that a little bit #anyways off i go 2 jam some ag tunes i am so excited also mohawk place is a gr8 venue i can't wait to be back there #also ah i'm gonna see if i can find anything setlist wise from the first show 2nite in pa since i kinda like to know what 2 expect #anthony green #ls dunes #boom done #wavernot4love gets 2 the gig #wavernot4lovetalksmusic #wavernot4love talks ag tunes #yippee

[wutheringmights]

.

#my digestive issues are literally under the most control they have ever been in my life and they are still ruining my life #woke up fine today. went to a coffee shop. had to leave after an hour #i had so many plans for today and now i'm stuck at home because i can't be too far away from a bathroom #i didn't eat anything that would trigger this. my gut just hates me i guess #earlier this month i have a risk food but i thought i took enough precautions to be safe and it fucked me up for like #2 weeks straight #i wonder what its like for people to not have to wonder about bathroom access every time they leave the house #i wonder what its like to eat normal foods without calculating how sick its going to make you #i wonder what its like to not have entire plans tossed out the window for reasons beyond your control #fucking sucks man #i hate ibs #in exchange for my terrible gut i do have a fantastic immune system somehow but weirdly that means i never take time off work? #ok so i am so good at just managing my issues that i just power through whenever im sick. #it's not like i can afford to take time off whenever i feel sick anyway and besides once you have to take multiple AP tests in high school #while in the middle of an episode you grow a lot of tolerance for being functional while sick #but then. i just i could have excuses to take days off because i have a cold or something. get a rest every now and then #but what illnesses i get beyond digestion issues are so slight that i can just. power through. i am never ill enough to take time off #and i get so worried that one day I will need that PTO that I can't convince myself to use it for like mental health days and ugh #this is more of a personal problem than anything but still. i wish i got sick like a normal person

[fluffykitteninabox]

you know if everyone had a little anxiety it would be good actually because they'd have a little more humility and would be fucking normal about shit and wouldn't try to what others are doing and saying

#I am furious right now but somehow I'm the voice of reason #and all the others are making problems for the rest of us #I'm intentionally being vague because I can't talk about this shit here

[sovonight]

,

#ohhhhhhh i really do dislike the tonal shift in bg2/tob so much........ and by that i mean mostly in xan's mod 😭 #i mean maybe the sense of betrayal and disappointment is immersive but it really leaves me with No idea what to do with him #in my version of radri's story. like. do i do my best even with all the parts i find ooc? do i cherry pick what i want and forget the rest? #and even after all my complaints i keep thinking back to his author. the fact that somehow this is the *intended* experience #currently feeling like the necromancer who resurrected their wife and is convinced she came back wrong but who just never truly knew her #i keep going back to 'estel'amin'. the fact that xan named charname his hope--and then quickly stopped using that name for her #once her bhaalspawn nature continued to affect her life after the conclusion of bg1 #so--basically--i'm to assume that he changed his mind? she's no longer his hope; his light; and if she is it's rare #he just calls her beautiful now; something far more shallow #and the fact that in tob he vacillates between subtly criticizing her for her nature which she has no control over #(and which in radri's case she has never even willingly given in to)-- #and attempting to comfort her after her nature makes bad things happen to her & around her #--but then his comfort is once again undermined by the aforementioned shallow compliments #it's coming across as 'i love your body despite what you are in spirit' and really isn't a great look at all #look maybe i'm crazy but in bg1 i got the impression that he was able to accept and move past it fairly quickly #like 'ok you're a bhaalspawn so now let's move into problem solving. obviously i have to quit my job and travel with you full time' #but in bg2 he spends most of his time lamenting about how hard it must be for her to live like this #while also pointing it out as a personal flaw of hers. as if she'd had any say in who her father was #like there are npcs literally shouting 'i hate all bhaalspawn!' and here he is--supposedly her closest supporter-- #also subtly saying 'i hate bhaalspawn' right to her face #when literally as a neutral alignment and as a companion of 1-2 years-- he should actually have THE most nuanced take on her??? #in bg1 he says murder is unavoidable in the life of an adventurer. then in tob he comments that charname kills everyone haphazardly-- #--as though in another jab to her nature. meanwhile as a constant companion he should know better than anyone that it wasn't so simple #idk. i'm almost feeling gaslighted by the narrative in a sense #because when everyone else talks about xan in bg2/tob--including charname via the dialogue options/written internal dialogue-- #they say that he's ~gray~ and calm and collected and emotionless etc #meanwhile he's literally the most emotional guy in the game. like. he's freaked out SO many times #so?? how am i supposed to take anything here genuinely?? how am i supposed to engage??? SIGH #anyway today's my first day at my new job and i have to wake up in 2 hours & im certain that i'll be too nervous to eat today #my goal for today is just to not be fired 👍 12 hours from now it will be over...

[thecraftgremlin]

Nothing makes me angrier than someone who can look at the beautiful, grotesque, terrifying thing that is life on this planet and decide that actually we need to waste billions of dollars completely fucking up the foundations of every ecosystem because there's one thing they think is icky. And then still claim that they love nature.

#i love nature #that tag is usually reserved for pictures of animals but it feels appropriate here #like sorry the world doesn't fit into your pretty pastoral bambi fantasies but don't make that the animals problem my guy #my crazy eco sjw take here is that an organism doesn't need to be pretty or useful or even important to be worthy of existing on this plane #and by existing i mean living its life the way that it evolved to do no matter if it appeals to our sensibilities or not #and i don't mean this in some fucking ecofascist 'humans are a disease we need to leave nature Pure and Untouched' shit because guess what #that's a romanticization of nature too #the idea that human beings and the rest of life on earth are somehow separate from each other is complete horseshit #we've always shaped our environments around us and it's not a bad thing #i just think we could spend our efforts better than trying to make every predator go vegan or kill all the pollinators we think are annoyin

[ryanxross]

People on tumblr.com when rich people behave horribly in the Rich People Are Horrible Show:

#personal #do people not understand that this show at its core is about how people cannot change and are destined to endlessly repeat the cycle…. #that its using familial abuse as a metaphor for capitalism…..you can take out the Problem but it wont wven matter because the gears will #always keep churning forever…….. #ANYWAY. sorry whatever people can dislike this season but i truly don’t understand acting like its somehow out of place #with the rest of the show……PERSONALLY i thinn its been phenomenal