#do we like it question mark is it anything

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: HEAVY NONCON, smut, possession

i really went wild on this one i hope y’all enjoy

Ford has been worrying you lately. His sleep schedule is erratic, he barely eats, and it seems like he’s always talking to someone that isn’t there. But there is someone, you’ve come to know him as Bill.

In Ford’s words Bill is his muse, his inspiration. You hadn’t questioned it at first, it kept him so driven. But now things were different, Ford wasn’t quite the same as when you first met him.

You’ve never spoken directly to Bill, only when he speaks through Ford via possession. You never let Ford know but it terrifies you to see Ford so unlike himself. He turns wild, dangerous, unpredictable. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time and returning with no recollection of what transpired. One time coming back sporting a tattoo of a star on his neck that he had no memory of getting, but a tattoo was the least of your worries.

You’ve started to hate Bill for what he’s done to your partner. You fear the day that you turn on the news and see that the local mysterious scientist in the woods has turned up dead.

You secretly love him too. He captivated you, perhaps that’s why you cared so much. If he was just your coworker it wouldn’t keep you up as often as it did. You wanted to take him away from all of this, to just kiss him and tell him that there was more to life than being Bill’s puppet.

These thoughts consumed your mind as you sat at your desk going over your research notes. You were so in your head that you didn’t sense the looming presence behind you.

A hand grasped your shoulder, you jumped nearly a foot out of your chair. It was Ford.

“JESUS Christ, Ford. A little warning next time?” You gasped.

He released his hand. “Oh dear I’m sorry I hadn’t realized I’d scare you like that, you just looked so wrapped up in your own thoughts. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You huffed. “Yeah, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Oh? Perhaps I can take your mind off things.”

“How so?” You asked.

“Well for starters sweetheart I can rip off those clothes.” He cooed.

“What?” You stammered.

“You heard me.”

You blushed, this was so unlike him. “Ford are you feeling okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt more like myself.”

It was then you noticed his eyes, the yellow tint and catlike pupils. Your heart sank. Bill.

“I know it’s you Bill. What do you want?” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m just doing old sixer here a favor. I’ve seen inside his mind and I know what he thinks about you. Thing is, he’s too damn shy to just go for it. So I figured, why not do it for him?”

You felt like a rock just sank to the pit of your stomach, you knew what that meant. Your thoughts quickly screamed at you to defend yourself. You knew you had a small knife in the drawer of your desk, but could you grab it before Ford, rather, Bill reached you?

You decided to take the risk, you shot up and darted your hand to the drawer, pulling it open. You quickly grabbed the knife and held it out in front of you. Your hands trembled.

Bill laughed coldly “That’s cute of you, but here’s the thing, you try hurting me and you’re just gonna kill Fordsy. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

Before you could say anything Ford descended on you, coming up behind you his hands gripping your wrists and wrestling the knife out of your grasp.

“Now listen to me toots, we’re gonna have some fun on behalf of my good old pal here. You can struggle all you want, but I think you and I both know he’s a lot bigger and stronger than you.” He said, running the knife against your throat.

You felt his teeth sink into your neck, rough kisses left at every bite mark, his hands traveling up and down your body. He hooked the knife underneath your clothes and began to tear away at the fabric, leaving your top half exposed.

You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but you knew it would be in vain. Where would you run? To whom would you scream or cry to? You were all alone in a shack in the middle of the woods with a man possessed by a twisted demon.

The knife slowly cut away at your skirt, next your bra and panties. Ford kept a hand on your waist, the other still holding a knife to your throat.

“Now,” he said, his fingers massaging your breasts “I’m going to have my way with you.” His voice sent a cold chill down your spine.

In one quick motion Ford spun you around and forced you to the floor, hands holding down your wrists.

“But first, I think Ford deserves a good look at my work, don’t you?”

As you looked up at Ford you saw his eyes return to their normal whites and rounded pupils. He looked down at you, confused, then the horror set in.

“Y/n, what are you- oh god no, Bill what have you done?”

Before he could even remove his hands from your wrists his head snapped back violently, when he returned his gaze to you it was with the same terrifying look, Bill had retaken control.

Keeping a hand on your wrist he began to wrestle with his belt.

“I’ll never understand you humans and your complicated clothing.”

He slipped his pants low enough to reveal his cock, which was dripping with precum. You tried hard to fight against him but your efforts were in vain, Bill was right, Ford was stronger.

Sharply and violently he slid himself into you all the way to the base. You screamed from the pain and Ford let out a loud groan. He began to thrust hard and fast, growling and breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

“Ah fuck, now I see why sixer wanted this so bad.” He hissed.

You felt your will begin to fade, you were stuck like this, there was nothing you could do, no one was coming to save you.

“I think Ford should feel this too, I never know if he feels anything I’m doing.”

His eyes reverted again, they widened.

“No no no, dear god, make it stop. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Ford tried to fight it, he struggled to get himself off of you but Bill began to take hold again.

“Fordsy might be sorry, but I’m not. Quite frankly I always feel like you’re getting in the way of things, perhaps this will teach you to stay away.”

He resumed his brutal pace, the loud slapping echoing through the lab accompanied by his grunts and your whimpers. All you could see was his yellow eyes and wicked smile. This was pure hell, you wanted Ford, but not like this, never like this.

He could feel himself getting close, he grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your calves.

“Hahhh, hahhhh. I’m going to… make you regret ever agreeing to work with Ford. You’re gonna… keep your distance. You hear me?”

Tears began to stream down your face, you started to hope that Bill would just kill you after he was done.

Ford was fucking you at a punishing speed, as he forced a hand to your throat Bill released him right as he began to cum. Ford let out a deafening moan and his whole body shook. Everything went white for a few seconds, when his vision returned he was greeted with a frightening visual beneath him.

Ford let you go and backed up against the wall, he had to focus all of his attention on not vomiting.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

All you could do was lay on the floor, nothing felt real. Ford took off his trench coat and wrapped you in it. Tears began to fall down his face.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

[muwapsturniolo]

⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ⋆.˚

IN WHICH...a wallflower finds solace in her life thanks to a boy who gives her the will to live

WARNINGS...mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts! depressive thoughts, alcohol, weed, IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

BTW, the series playlist is linked in the title!

THIS SERIES IS NOT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE , OR FORM TRYING TO ROMANTICIZE DEPRESSION OR SUICIDE! THIS IS SIMPLY A FIC THAT IS SUPPOSED TO SHOW THE STRUGGLES OF MENTAL HEALTH AND HOW SOMETIMES WE JUST NEED TO FEEL LIKE WE BELONG TO FEEL BETTER! IF YOU SUFFER WITH ANY TYPE OF MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLE, PLEASE REACH OUT FOR HELP! AT THE END OF EACH CHAPTER I WILL PROVIDE A PHONE NUMBER FOR THE SUICIDE HOTLINE!

Matilda.

A movie about a young girl who was ignored at times by her family, or simply just treated horribly for existing.

She related to that.

From a young age she was ignored by her parents, the adults constantly forgetting they even had a child to tend and take care of.

They would leave her home alone without even mumbling a goodbye, they wouldn't even leave a note. The birthdays she wished to celebrate every year were forgotten, the holidays she would see being celebrated on TV in grand and dramatic ways were never like that for her.

She thought it would be different at school.

She'd seen the TV shows of kids having big groups of friends, having nice and welcoming teachers, and having fun.

She was wrong.

In elementary school she was bullied, the kids making fun of her hair and clothes. They made fun of the fact she was soft-spoken and always reading the 'Magic Tree House' books. Her teachers never did anything about it, and she didn't want them to.

She would take bullying over being ignored any day.

Then, middle school happened.

The bullying had stopped, but not because the kids felt bad, they grew tired of her. They treated her like she was a nuisance making their lives unbearable. To make it worse, her teachers felt the same way. She would raise her hand to answer a question, and the teacher would roll their eyes while her classmates would mock her and call her a 'suck up' or 'annoying". Her peers would bump into her in the hallways and yell in her face to move.

A vivid memory of hers was when she bumped into Lacey Sanders in the lunchroom, spilling her lunch all over her brand-new white top. Lacey lost it, she pushed the girl to the floor, screaming in her face that she was a waste of space and should have never been born.

It was embarrassing.

So embarrassing that she raced out of the lunchroom and straight to the bathroom where she had her first panic attack.

She began to believe the callous words and actions around her.

Maybe she was annoying, maybe she was a suck-up, maybe she shouldn't have been born...

It seemed as the school year went on and people began to forget the lunchroom incident, they began to forget about her too.

High school soon came along, and that's when she realized how invisible she truly was.

No one would give her dirty looks anymore, they would bump into her in the hallways and continue to walk as if she were an inanimate object. Her teachers would either mark her absent or not even call her name during attendance.

It's like she didn't exist.

She blended into the crowd, but she wasn't a part of the crowd,

She was an empty shell, a ghost begging, screaming, pleading to be noticed,

Just like she's doing now.

It was a cold December night in Boston, a few days before Christmas. The streetlights illuminate the icy roads, showcasing the flurries of snow flying around. The streets were basically empty, the majority wanting to escape the cold, but not her.

She loved the cold.

She loved the way the crisp air pierced her skin, numbing her fingers and toes. She loved how when she breathed out, she could see the carbon dioxide, showing that she was in fact there and alive much to her dismay and others.

Her hands grip the cold railing tightly, her palms burning from the frost coating the metal. The murky water below was currently sloshing against the rocks violently, the noise so loud yet calming at the same time.

She couldn't help but wonder if her end would be the same,

Violent and loud, yet calming.

She takes a shakey breath and looks away from the water, looking behind her and watching as a few people walk by...Ignoring her.

They were dressed in their winter attire, laughing and talking about the holidays to come and how excited they were to spend time with family. They weren't worried about the 17-year-old girl on the bridge.

Why would they worry?

As much as she wanted someone to notice her, to stop her from ending it all and tell her it's ok, she knew they wouldn't

They don't care.

"They don't care," she murmurs to herself.

Her eyes began to burn, she wasn't sure if it was the cold air or the tears forming in her eyes, but she didn't care...Not anymore. She closes her eyes and faces forward once more, the noise around her beginning to soften as the rushing water grows louder in her ears. Her grip on the railing began to loosen, a faint smile gracing her face.

This is it.

She's finally going to be at peace.

Just as she begins to let go, a hand firmly grabs her shoulder and yanks her backward, her back hitting the railings harshly. Her eyes snap open and she whips her head around, coming face to face with a boy who looks out of breath. 

His eyes are wide and filled with genuine fear, but he has a smile on his face.

“Come to a party with me!”

She blinks in confusion, not sure if she heard him correctly. "w-what?"

" Come to a party with me. It's not a huge party really. It's just me, my brothers, and a few friends in Nate's basement. We're going to watch Christmas movies, play games, drink, smoke..."

Despite the tension in the air and his body, the boy keeps a smile on his face, begging internally for the girl to agree.

"You don't even know me..."

"Well I want to..."

He wants to know her.

Someone wants to know her.

Her grip on the railing tightens once more as she begins to feel conflicted. She wanted to end it, she was tired of hurting in silence, yet here he was, a stranger, inviting her to a party.

Was this the universe finally answering her wishes, or was she already dead and in her own version of heaven?

"Come on, it will be fun...We have pizza."

He was warm and inviting, the cheesy smile on his face and the crinkle by his eyes proving that much. It was a nice change compared to the coldness she felt in her life.

She hesitantly nods to his invitation, the action accruing before she even realizes she's doing it. He quickly drops his bags to the ground and yanks her over the railing, holding her close as he mutters a 'Thank God' to himself once he realizes she's now safe.

Once she's steady, she pulls away from him and looks away awkwardly, her nails digging into her palms.

He wants to confront her, tell her what she planned on doing was stupid and she would regret it, but he didn't.

He couldn't.

She didn't need a lecture right now, she needed a friend.

Noticing she's just in a flannel and sweatpants, he quickly takes off his jacket and throws it over her shoulders, "S'freezin kid, should have worn a jacket in this weather...Come on, let's head to Nates. It's not that far." He grabs her hand without a care in the world, grabbing his dropped bags in the other, and leading the way.

The walk to Nates is quiet for the most part, the only sound coming from the plastic bags and their feet crunching against the snow. She was lost deep in thought, her mind buzzing with the events within the past few minutes.

She's pulled out of her thoughts by the boy speaking, "I think I've seen you around school, I say I think 'cause I'm rarely there...What's y'name kid?"

He noticed her around school? She actually stood out for someone to notice her?

"Y/n..." She answers softly. He hums in response and gives her a big smile, "Well, I'm Chris. S'nice to meet you Y/n."

They soon make it to Nate's house and Chris waltzes right in, stomping his feet on the matt to get rid of the snow before kicking the boots off. "Come on, everyone's in the basement." He motions to the basement door, already walking towards it.

Y/n hesitantly follows, this was all new to her.

She's never been invited to parties or asked to hang out.

As Chris opens the basement door, she hears the sound of laughter and shouting.

"You cheated!"

"How the hell do you cheat in Candyland you dumb fuc-I'm back!" Chris's announcement of his arrival causes the group of four to look at the two teens standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"And you brought a stranger?" A boy who looks just like Chris asks, looking Y/n up and down.

She feels her face grow warm as the boy calls her a stranger, he wasn't lying though, she was a stranger. Chris rolls his eyes and drops the bag on the table before slapping the boy upside the head. "Shut the hell up Nick, Y/n's not a stranger... She's a friend."

She feels her heart skip a beat at his words.

Friends...She was a friend.

Chris plops down on the couch, immediately man-spreading and crossing his arms. Meanwhile, Y/n stands by the stairs awkwardly still wrapped in Chris's jacket. Chris notices and pats the spot next to him, urging her to sit down.

She shuffles over, her movements unsure as she sits down next to him.

She expected the group to jump back into what they were doing, to completely disregard her existence - that wasn't the case. They immediately begin to talk to her, asking all types of questions to get to know her better. It was different, it was scary, it was overwhelming, but she found herself relaxing in the warm atmosphere of the basement.

Despite Nick's hesitancy towards her earlier, everyone was so welcoming. They treated her like they had known her for years, like they grew up with her. It was comforting, for once in her life she felt like she belonged, like she was actually alive.

It was refreshing.

"S-so do you guys always hang down here?" She asks as she looks around the basement. It looked like the basement of an early 2-thousands teen movie. Posters of different bands and TV shows were thrown on the wall, the colorful Christmas lights were strung along the ceilings creating a serene atmosphere. There was a huge tv mounted on the wall - gaming systems on the stand below. Two couches, a recliner, and bean bags of different colors were scattered about.

"Yeah, my mom doesn't want us messing up her nice couches and she says we are too loud, so she and my dad let us use the basement as our hangout spot," Nate states as he sets the bong down on the table, Alahna immediately taking it. "A-and they let you guys smoke-" her eyes dart over to the alcohol in Nick's hand, "And drink?"

"Better here rather than out somewhere getting hurt....Are your parents really strict or something?"

The question makes her wonder, were her parents strict? They were never around or paid any attention to her for them to be. She could have been causing all types of trouble and doing god knows what without any type of repercussion, yet she never did

She gives a brief smile, "N-not really... I've just never done any of that stuff...." The group looks at her in shock. How could someone in their grade never dabble in any of these activities? "Well, that is going to change! Take your pick, what drink do you want?"

"Or do you want to smoke?"

The group begins to debate on what the girl should do first, two of them leaning towards drinking while the other two claim an edible would be better. Meanwhile, Chris is doing neither. His eyes land on the girl who looks frightened by the idea of ingesting any type of paraphernalia.

"Hey-" his hand finds its place on her knee, giving comfort. "You know you don't have to do anything if you don't want to right? Don't let them pressure you."

Conflicted feelings swarm in her mind. On one hand she's not completely keen on the idea of being intoxicated, worried about what she will say and or do while not being in the right state of mind. What if they find her weird, or they make her the butt end of a joke? However on the other hand, she wants to fit in, she wants them to like her, and she wants to belong.

"I-is there anything not...Strong?" She asks timidly. Chris nods and grabs an unopened can of Twisted Tea. "It's tea with vodka. Taste kind of funky but I like it." She examines the big can, a look of nervousness still on her face. " We could share if you want? I doubt you will drink the whole thing." He was mainly offering out of concern, he knew the drink wasn't strong, but he didn't want the girl throwing up everywhere because she couldn't handle alcohol.

“T-that sounds nice….” Chris nods and cracks open the can, handing it to her for the first sip. She takes it once again, smelling the liquid before taking a hesitant sip. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. She shivers as she swallows, smacking her lips as the taste settles in her mouth. Chris laughs as she hands the can back to him, taking his own swig of the spiked tea.

“Alcohol virginity has been semi-taken! We’ll save the weed for a birthday or something,” Alahna cheers, the whole group joining in.

The night is a whirlwind of endless activities ranging from Just Dance, board games, Heads up, the girl learning how to play Fortnite, and karaoke.

Y/n was having fun. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sad, she was happy. Even if it was a temporary happiness, she spent her whole life worrying, it wouldn't hurt her to live and enjoy her life for one night.

The night soon ends and everyone is getting ready to leave, “We can drive you home. S’pretty late and I uhh... I don't want you walking alone..." It was obvious Chris was worried, scared she would find her way to the bridge once more and disappear. He knew he couldn't do much to make whatever she was going through better, but he sure as hell was going to try.

"It's fine, I can wa-'' As she tries to turn down the offer of a ride, not wanting to be a burden, Chris turns to Matt - "You good with driving her home? She doesn't live far."

Matt's eyes drift over to the girl who is smiling awkwardly, shrugging his shoulder and grabbing his keys, "Yeah, let's go. "

After saying their goodbyes to Nate, Alahna, and Nate's family, the four pile into the black van. Y/n climbs into the car, sitting next to Nick in the backseat as Chris and Matt remain upfront. Matt suddenly hands her his phone, Google Maps opened- a clear sign to enter her address. She does so, handing him back the phone quietly. “ You live next door to us?” Matt questions as he puts the car in reverse, the tires crunching against the snow.

"I-I do?" She questions. She had never noticed the three boys - it's obvious they hadn't noticed her either. The car ride to their respective homes is pretty quiet, a song from Chris's playlist playing softly as the two boys upfront hold a whispered conversation. Nick was busy sleeping, all the alcohol finally catching up to him. Y/n looks out the window, her eyes focused on the blurry imagery passing her by.

It wasn't long before Matt pulled into their driveway - everyone piling out of the car and ready to go to bed. "You guys head inside, I'm going to walk her to her house." Chris moves toward Y/n, his hand resting on her back. Matt eyes the gesture and says nothing, grabbing a half-asleep Nick and walking him inside.

"Y-you didn't have to walk me back...."

"I want to...Come on."

The two begin the small walk toward the white house - silence being the conversation between the two.

"Well...This is you," Chris states as they arrive in front of the brown door. he shoves his hands into his pockets, his feet kicking at the snow on the ground. "Y-yeah..." Her hand rests on the doorknob, her eyes looking over Chris as she tries to figure out what to say next.

"Did you have- Thanks for," Soft laughter falls from both of them as they talk over each other, Chris running a hand through his hair as Y/n wraps her arms around herself. "You go ahead, what were you going to say?"

"I-I was going to say thanks...I-I needed this tonight." Chris smiles softly at her, the two coming to a mutual understanding of what she really means.

"S'no problem...Hopefully I- We get to see you more." The thought of this friend group - a group that has been friends forever, wanting to hang out with her again, fills her with excitement. She tries to hold back her giddiness, a Cheshire smile wanting to make its way onto her face. Chris notices it but decides not to say anything, not wanting to embarrass the girl.

"Well, I should head back. I'll see you soon alright?" She nods and watches as Chris walks back to his own home, their eyes meeting briefly before he goes inside. She smiles to herself and rushes inside, nothing but pure joy in her system.

It's not long before she's showered and laid in bed, her eyes trained on the ceiling covered in stars. She was thinking about her night, how it started off so shitty, and ended up being the best night of her life. She was seen, she was laughed with and not at, she felt like she belonged.

She turns on her side, pulling the blankets closer, a smile on her face.

Maybe things are getting better, her wishes being granted.

She could only hope it stays that way.

As she falls asleep, she fails to notice a body climbing out of a window next door, situating itself onto the roof. The person lights a cigarette between their lips, letting the mix of cancer and cold air enter their lungs. They take a big swig from the vodka bottle in their hand, the alcohol burning their throat. They stare off into the empty street, their eyes void of all emotion as they wonder-

What went wrong?

I hope you all like this. i did my best to articulate the words and feelings i have experienced into this. i want all of you to know you are loved, you're seen, and you're not alone! if any of you are struggling mentally i want you to know you're so strong and I'm proud of you for making it this far.

i believe this is a nationwide site that you can use to call and or text when it comes to mental health. if it is wrong, please let me know!

[vyxated]

Your sims 2 UI mod is breaking a bunch of textures of wall papers and certain objects. can you please address and fix this??

I'm guessing the purple looking question mark on the DX11 version of the game?

this is my game, with the sims 2 ui mod out of my mods folder, DX11 on since this is where most of that texture issue happen, cache files deleted beforehand:

so as you can see.. since it still persists without my UI mod, it's not my thing to fix but the individual creators of which the CCs with the "broken" textures belong to (or you can do it too with the DX11 batch fix tool).

(Broken in quotation as in it's not the creator's fault that there are now new requirements for setting up the texture sizes, and the devs might fix the issue from their end and make all CCs work with DX11 and DX9 regardless of how the CCs are set up.)

So far all EA wallpapers work fine, which is why I assume it's the wallpaper CCs and not the UI mod, or else we would've gotten it on the EA wallpapers too.

aside from this specific issue, I don't know of anything else, texture-wise, that could've been affected by my UI mod (so far most issue associated w/ the lovestruck patch have been addressed, only the werewolf icon left). If you have any more specifics that are not this, you're more than welcome to send another ask.

anyway, I tried to find the reason why it breaks the way it does and here's my understanding of it below the cut.

Using this nostalgia living wallpaper as an example:

on short & tall walls, you get the question mark. on medium wall, it works fine.

after running the Sims 4 Studio's DX11 fix and with my sims 2 ui mod back on, with the wall height set to short & tall:

problem fixed, and the sims 2 UI mod still doesn't affect it in any way.

what's the difference and why does it only happen on the short & tall walls? first, here's what the dx11 fix does based on andrew's comment, which suggests that any textures that are not in the power of 2 will likely get the question mark.

Build/Buy images always need mip maps. The batch fix scales non powers of 2 up or down to the nearest power of 2, so it could either increase or decrease in size depending on how close the image is to the next power of 2.

on this nostalgia living wallpaper for the short wall height:

texture before dx11 fix: 1024 x 768 pixels (768 is not a power of 2) texture after dx11 fix: 1024 x 512 pixels (512 is a power of 2)

here's a comparison between the texture sizes before the dx11 fix:

medium, which works fine: width & height are 1024 px (both are powers of 2) short & tall, which has the question mark texture: has 768 px & 1280 px height (both are not powers of 2)

on EA walls, you can always expect texture sizes to be 256 x 512 px (for short & medium) and 256 x 1024 px (for tall height walls) or 512 x 512 px and 1024 x 1024 px for square textures.

here's how you can fix the "broken" files yourself:

on Sims 4 Studio > Content Management > Batch Fixes > Misc > Update Images for DX11

and finally, additional info on what to expect when a UI mod is actually the one behind an issue (again, based on my own understanding and may not encompass every issue there are):

misplaced/mismatched icons/UIs (most known: broken GUI/buttons/empty trait icons in CAS as it gets broken every. single. patch.)

missing grey llama texture, most often attributed to missing/wrong icon texture size.

being prevented from accessing certain features/modes and may cause lastUIExceptions (sometimes non-UI mods do it too).

some features not working as intended, likely caused by conflicting UI mod files.

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: chapter three

chapter one ✩ chapter two

Paul Lahote x Reader

- The previous day -

“Why did we even agree to this study, clearly she is going to notice signs that the wolves around here aren’t always of the typical gray variety?” Paul questioned the tribal council, pacing at the foot of the meeting table.

“Son we didn’t have a choice, the majority of the land you boys protect falls out of the reservation. It was going ahead anyway, so it made sense to at least have someone from the council always there to steer clear of anything suspicious,” Billy placated, hands up in surrender to the clearly riled man.

“Billy’s right Paul,” Sam chimed in “there wasn’t an option. Plus this way we get income from the cabin and a guide. You know we need this to complete the maintenance on the school.”

“So you are okay with us becoming a study? Because we all know between the cameras and her field observation training we’re fucked. There is no way we can always play it safe with these cold ones lurking around, a mistake is inevitable.”

“Son,” Billy continued “it’s not even like it’s an issue anymore. You’ve imprinted on her, so she is one of us now. It’s well within reason to tell her what is going on.”

“No” Paul growled. “That is my choice and it’s absolutely not happening. Some silly idea that she’s my soulmate doesn’t change the fact she is a complete stranger. We don’t how she’ll react, there is no way I’m risking it,”

“You might not have a choice if she catches sight of something she’s not supposed to.”

“This is my only choice, and I’m not letting anyone taking it from me. Not even you.”

Billy sighed, resting his head in his hands. The chief was well aware what Paul’s reservations were really about. “Son, I know you didn’t want this. But please understand this is a blessing from the spirits, fighting this will only hurt you,”

“I refuse to let my choice be taken away, and I refuse to let hers. I will help to keep our secret safe but once this project is over she will leave and life will continue. And I don’t want anyone to try to do anything to change that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sky was clear but the southerly winds whipped ferociously along the cliff face where Paul parked up. The great blue expanse of ocean was mesmerising, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was in moments like this you felt solace, out of the noise and bustle of large cities. Just the sounds of birds, waves crashing and winds whistling amongst the trees. After taking the moment to ground yourself you made your way over to the truck bed to grab your gear, Paul doing the same with his own bag.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well the most recent report says the last sighting was off this trail here,” you said pointing across the gravel road and to the unsigned trail head. “It happened in a clearing about four miles in so I think we head out there keeping an eye out on the way.”

“Sure thing boss. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“If you wouldn’t mind looking for prints, the ground should be pretty muddy under the vegetation cover so anything that’s been here since the previous rainfall last week should have left a mark. I don’t think we’ll actually come across a wolf since they’re nocturnal. But hopefully we can find a good spot for at least one of the cameras,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For the past hour you had been hiking in relative silence. Paul lead the way, keeping a steady but maintainable pace. The trail itself was muddy but relatively flat, and wide enough you didn’t have to squeeze past any bushes. So far you hadn’t spotted anything apart from a wild rabbit that darted across the path in front of you.

Seeing a fallen trunk parallel to the path up ahead you decided now was as good a time as any to have a break.

“You keen for some morning tea?” You called to your companion, who gave you a nod and slowed down.

Perching on the thankfully stable trunk you pulled out the first of the sandwich haul.

“What’s your poison; PB & J or ham and cheese?”

“Whatever one you don’t want,”

“Na-ah, that wasn’t my question now was it. What kind of boss would I be if I just gave my worker scraps?”

“A standard one,” Paul smirked. Before grabbing the ham and cheese sandwich from the lunchbox. “Thanks”

“So Paul,” you began after a few bites of food, “what do you usually do besides leading clueless city girls around the forest ?”

“Thanks for making me sound like a serial killer. Plus I wouldn’t call you clueless,”

“I mean in the serial killer equation I think I’d rather be clueless. Would be worse if I willingly followed a killer into the middle of nowhere. Now answer the question idiot,” you laughed affectionately.

“Whatever the council needs really. Usually some form of construction or land maintenance,”

“Do you enjoy it? I imagine it’s nice to be working with your hands and doing something different every day?”

“I do. It’s not what I had anticipated doing, but it keeps me busy. I don’t think I could ever work in an office.”

“What did you think you’ll be doing?” You paused a second, and realised you may be getting too intrusive with someone you didn’t know. Something about Paul just made you want to dig into what made him…well him. “Sorry you don’t have to answer that. I’ll just shut up,”

“Don’t worry [y/n], it’s fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone,”

“I solemnly swear,” you declared grabbing his left pinkie with your right.

“Child,” Pull laughed, before wrapping his pinkie around your own. “I also thought by now I’d be travelling the country. Maybe working with animals on my way, at a ranch or something like that,”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it’s smart, animals are obviously much better than people,”

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“May I asked what changed?”

“Ah just council things really, it’s my duty to the tribe.”

You could tell he was skirting around the answer, but you knew it would be beyond rude to pry any further.

“Well there’s still plenty of time to try something new,” you declared as you swung your backpack on. “Shall we continue future cowboy?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you all enjoyed xx

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

Durbin’s seething resentment at being asked to talk about the threat of anti-Semitism was on display from one of his party’s two witnesses as well: Maya Berry, executive director of the Arab American Institute. She was made to look like a fool because she did exactly what Democrats asked her to do and said what they asked her to say. Her performance was atrocious from a moral standpoint but perfect from an “understood the assignment” perspective. Her main point was that focusing on any one group undermines the fight against all hate, a demonstrably false and frankly ridiculous belief.

But the key moment came during the witnesses’ questioning by Republican ranking member Lindsey Graham. Quoting the director of national intelligence regarding the pro-Hamas protests, Graham said: “We have observed actors tied to Iran’s government posing as activists online, seeking to encourage protest, and even providing financial support to protesters.” He asked if any of the three witnesses doubted the veracity of that report, and no one did. Graham then asked each witness the following: “Is it Hamas’s goal to destroy the Jewish state? Is it Hezbollah’s goal to destroy the Jewish state? Is it Iran’s goal to destroy the Jewish state?”

Two of the three witnesses—Kenneth Stern and Rabbi Mark Goldfeder—answered in the affirmative. All three entities mentioned in Graham’s question, after all, have said they want to destroy the Jewish state without shame or ambiguity. Which is what made Berry’s response so odd. “I think these are complicated questions,” she said—immediately earning a shake of the head from Graham and conjuring memories of the catastrophic answer given by several college presidents when asked before Congress if genocidal anti-Semitism counts as harassment: It depends on the context.

“If you think it’s complicated to figure out that Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran want to kill all the Jews,” Graham responded, “I should not listen to anything else you’ve got to say. And I won’t.” And with that, Graham moved on to the next witness.

Berry was rattled. Though Graham left the hearing soon after, Berry referenced that exchange at least twice more with other senators, signaling that she’d realized how poorly her comments made her look and desperately trying to claw back some credibility.

The bad news for Berry was that she could not undo the damage. The good news was that she would eventually provide another quote that might make people forget about the first quote, if only because it was potentially even worse. Asked by Sen. Josh Hawley about the inherently violent implications of the phrase “Long live the intifada,” Berry argued for the slogan’s ambiguity. “‘Long live the intifada’ can mean different” things, she said, catching herself before she got to the word “things” but far too late to avoid the rest of the ridiculous comment, which was tailor-made for the sound-bite politics of congressional hearings.

She also defended “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” a call for all Jews to be cleansed from the land.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 4.1 - Dating for Weirdos

ALICE

Alice agreed to meet Vlad at the library because she had a class nearby, and for once in her natural life, she wanted to be on time. Plus, she needed the extra fifteen minutes to give herself a completely normal, very-relaxed pep talk about not farting.

Or saying something nuts.

Or doing anything that would screw up the first date she’s had the courage to make since she broke up with Jeffery. 

Fuck, why did her mom have to call and ask a million questions about her flight home for fall break? It's not her fault that she forgot to buy the tickets two weeks ago before the price went up.

…okay, it was kind of her fault, but her mother freaking out because Alice planned to ask her dad for help was not. If there was one thing Cyrus Martin did well, it was to give Alice money. 

Ugh, she needed to stop thinking about marriages ending in divorce. She needed to stop thinking about marriage. She needed to stop—

“Alice?”

Shit. She whirls around to find Vlad standing by the bike rack.

“I’m Vladislaus,” he says as if she hadn’t seen his picture and wouldn’t know those cheekbones any-fucking place.

He’s tall and angular, with a deeply off-putting aura that makes her want to curl up beside him. Alice has always been a glutton for punishment, and no amount of lecturing herself to stay away from dangerous things has worked. 

“We arranged a date,” he continues, “I’ve spent the past week or so disabusing you of your wretched Tea & Treachery opinions. You think I’m pretentious, and my theories are shit, but you still agreed to meet.”

Holy Mother Watcher. Vlad writes like a Simlish Literature Textbook and talks like one too—crisp and precise, an odd combination of casual and antiquated, catnip for an audio girly like her.

“I promise I’m chill,” Alice blurts out, even though she is not. Chill is like a country in SimNation she’s never been to because she doesn’t have a passport. 

“Er…I-I mean, I just knew if I went back to my dorm after class, something catastrophic would happen, and I’d never make it on time.”

Vlad tilts his head, intrigued. “What kind of catastrophe?”

“The worst kind,” she replies with mock seriousness. “Llama attack, building fire, walking past my laptop, and then remembering the video I was watching earlier.”

His gaze shifts to the library's entrance. He looks distracted.

Fuck. That went south.

Suddenly, his attention snaps back, and he grins. “So many potential dangers. It’s a wonder you arrived at all.”

“I’m smart,” she replies, hiding her relief, “Resourceful. Faultless.”

“I see,” he chuckles, “Now, should we mark you safe from this catastrophe on Social Bunny, or do you want to keep your survival a secret?”

His laugh is like a prize Alice wants to win again. If he’s laughing, then he’s happy, and she’s not completely screwing this up. “Let’s keep this between you and me for now. Who knows how many of my enemies have also survived?”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Vlad agrees. “Who’s on your list?” His eyes glitter with something that looks like excitement. 

But that doesn’t make sense. It’s a joke. It has to be. 

“No one, really,” she lies, ignoring the dark part of her that wants to give him a name, “I was just being silly. Should we head out?”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 1 of 4)

If you prefer the long-form version of this chapter. You can read it here on my WordPress.

[theberzattos]

Maybe I'm just not built for this, right? Maybe that's okay. Maybe that just is.

[hellcatchvalley]

the way that if any bh member died now it wouldnt even be a "oh no im gonna miss them :(" feeling but more so a "man they didnt even really get a chance to finish anything" feeling is.

[tardis--dreams]

Feeling homicidal at work today ♡

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

I think nearly all of lewis' aloof persona is carefully constructed, as is his over the top style in the paddock. He's extremely good at distracting ppl or showing only what he wants to. He mimics vulnerability but he's hiding the stuff he's really vulnerable about. All the woowoo spiritual "ohhhhh he's so GENUINE" stuff is also a front (see how kate wagner talked about him).

ooooh bold take and as a fellow mimicker of vulnerability to hide the stuff i'm really vulnerable about, i'm into it!! i understand from your tone that you don't mean this as a particularly good thing but i personally am here for interesting/compelling characters in the vroom vroom soap opera and don't care too much if they're Good People ™ or not lol. (and thank you for the reminder that I still haven't gotten around to reading that Kate Wagner article!)

[salsflore]

just got home from school ～ ate a sandwich to cheer myself up, think i’ll play genshin for a bit and nap ... pulling on shenhe’s banner solves everything

[iced-souls]

SCA-HOODLES—

[bloomingbluebell]

i think it's another bum semester for me :/

[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 :)

[arolesbianism]

If I had the freedom of not knowing there is going to be future new lore stuff added to oni I would do unspeakable things to so many of these guys. Or Id just make them normal guys who just sorta exist. Either or.