#tell me i should like it or making me explain and justify why i don't like it

[simplepotatofarmer]

yeah people are so weird about buildmart ngl.

i have never in my life had to justify my dislike for a minigame so hard as i have to for buildmat. like i should not have to tell people 'i'm autistic and i have adhd and for me, personally, it's overwhelming and confusing and i don't have a good time watching it'.

but i do!! every single time i say i don't like buildmart someone tries to explain why i should like it!

[svenzio]

cho hyunju as your girlfriend

« non-binary reader » « other acc: @antinitoniny »

« not proofread, lots of mistakes & errors »

prompts w imagines after the cut, lmk ur thoughts !

softspoken gf!hyunjuㅡ whether it's during a casual conversation or an argument, you always feel huge amounts of affection & warmth in hyunju's voice

ㅡ after an unspecified misunderstanding

"can we talk?" hyunju softly knocked on an opened door to get your attention, leaning on the doorframe.

"i'm sorry, i promise i didn't mean toㅡ" you were so close to crying while trying to explain til hyunju interrupts you

"i understand" hyunju smiled, sitting in front of you. she placed her hand on top of yours.

"i didn't mean to invalidate your emotions earlier, i was just confused. i'm sorry. i know that you just want the best for me" hyunju talked so softly that one would think that she's putting a baby to sleep.

"but stillㅡ" you attempted to not justify your actions

"it's okay, i promise" hyunju said, giving an assuring smile. she cups your cheek, placing a peck on it.

hyunju's crazy good with eye contact. she always manages to make you flustered even during casual conversations. she actually just makes sure to listen well

it's a normal saturday afternoon for you & your girlfriend. for this weekend, you're in charge of planning & your plan is to stay at home and do nothing. when hyunju heard about the plan, she can't stop laughing at it because her plans have always been outdoors & active.

now, you're sitting on the couch with hyunju, talking about your week. you guys made it a habit to catch up after a busy week.

"yeah then like cath yelled at him and i was likeㅡ DESERVE!! as she should" you said with all of your emotions, eyes focused on the television 'coz you're trying to find a show to watch later.

"HAHAHAHAHA then?" hyunju responded enthusiastically. it's always fun to tell stories when hyunju's present.

you reached out for the chips and sat back, planning to focus on telling your story as you look at hyunju.

"cath basically told him to fuck off and that g-guy ha-hasㅡ oh my god! stop staring at me" you panicked, unable to keep a smile in.

confused hyunju: "huh?"

"nevermind umㅡ yeah soㅡ" you looked back at hyunju only for her to look so focused on you. you had to internally meditate before continuing, meeting hyunju's eyes.

"um yea, the guy, his name's mick, he gaslighted cath right in front of oㅡ oh fuck i can't" at least you tried for five seconds.

it's not that you're weak with eye contact, hyunju's eyes just sparkle as if they're adoring you right in front of youㅡ you get it? yea. you can hear that tiktok sound "blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff"

"why?" hyunju laughs, knowing exactly what's happening but wanted to tease you about it anyway

"why are you staring at me like that?" you asked

"like what?" hyunju teases

"like you wanna shut me up with a damn kiss or something"

"i feel like that's what you want & it has nothing to do with my stare" hyunju laughs

"NUH UH UR EYES ARE PRACTICALLY STATING A 300-WORD POEM FOR ME"

hyunju LOVES forehead kisses. she doesn't know that but you've noticed that she kisses your forehead like five times in one hour

"good job, my love" hyunju kisses your forehead.

"am i gonna get a kiss whenever i do a good job?" you asked, smiling. hyunju smiled, patting your head.

"hmm... sure" hyunju said, hugging you from the back as you continue figuring out the manual instructions for the cabinet. you know damn well that hyunju can do that for you in 20mins but you wanted to try by yourself anyway.

"does this go here?" you asked yourself, placing a screw on a hole.

"no, baby. it's for the handles" hyunju softly corrected you, snuggling on the crook of your neck.

"so no kisses for me since i got it wrong?" you pouted

"a kiss for trying" hyunju smiles, kissing your forehead.

hyunju who never gets jealous but enjoys how you overexplain because you don't want to make her overthink unintentionally

on your way home, you & hyunju decided that it'll be nice to take a 30min walk at night since the weather's pretty nice. you talked about various of things, noticed different things, started a 10min worth of conversation from just a passerby's shoesㅡ it was a great evening for the both of you.

until, you passed by a club. unexpectedly, you saw your high school friends outside. you haven't seen them in years which is why you were so excited that you immediately ran and hugged them.

the conversation between you & your two friends went on for 10 minutes. of course, you also introduced hyunju to them & bragged about her.

during the next couple of minutes, the walk was filled with silence. it was the complete opposite of the energy that you guys had before meeting your friends.

a lot of things went inside your head. you can't read hyunju at all. is she tired? but she still initiates conversations even when she's tired. is she mad? she would've told you if she is. is she...

you stopped in your tracks which made hyunju stop as well. hyunju looked at you quietly, wondering why you suddenly stopped when you're four blocks away from home.

"are you jealous?" was the conclusion that you made.

hyunju managed to keep her smile inside because she's curious about how this situation will escalate.

"i'm not" hyunju said with a straight face

you were stressed, you didn't know what to do, you don't know what's running inside her mind so you're clueless abt how you're gonna assure her.

"those were just my classmates from high schoolㅡ we're not even following each other on social media iㅡ we'reㅡ i hated everyone during high school" you rapped, panicking.

you're afraid. you don't want to unintentionally hurt hyunju in any way.

hyunju smiles "you don't have to explain" she says

"huh? oh my god do you not trust me" you cried out dramatically which made hyunju chuckle

"i trust you. that's why you don't have to explain" hyunju said, holding your hand.

"i love you so much & i have the same amount of trust on you so you don't have to worry" she said

"then why are you so quiet?" you pouted, leaning your body on her as you guys walk.

"i thought you're tired & wanted to enjoy the scenery." oh right, you're the type to make your own little bubble whenever your social battery runs out.

"i thought you were mad" you said

"...me? when was i ever mad?"

"exactly. i thought tonight's the first time"

"you'd never see the first time" hyunju smiles.

hyunju hates it when other people touch her hair but she LOVES it when you experiment with different hairstyles w her hair

"baby, a package came for you" hyunju said, entering the room. you jumped out of the bed & immediately opened the package. hyunju stood behind you, resting her head on your shoulder as you open your package.

"TADAAA" you excitedly said, showing her the pastel clips & ties that you ordered.

"that'll look fantastic on you, love" hyunju genuinely said

"it'll look a lot more fantastic on you" you said with a wide smile, facing her.

hyunju's confused face slowly turned into a smile. at this point, it's a monthly activity for the both of you to style each other's hair (or usually just hyunju's)

"any requests?" you asked, brushing hyunju's hair.

now, you're sitting on the couch while hyunju's on the floor, holding the boxes of clips.

"you do you. i just want a mix of black and pink clips" hyunju said as if she's talking to a hairstylist (roleplaying is ur thing too)

"alright, pretty lady"

bonus: hyunju having a whole ig highlights of the hairstyles you gave her.

hyunju who has a habit of unconsciously giving you her first & last bite of food

you brought hyunju with you at your friend's night out. your friends are also her friends so it doesn't really matter.

during meal, you're a lot more focused on talking with your friends than eating. on the other hand, hyunju's starting with her meal already.

hyunju tapped your shoulder lightly & fed you a spoonful of her food. you ate it without looking at her nor batting an eye as if it's a normal thing between the both of you.

since you weren't eating much due to the intense topic that you're having, hyunju's basically feeding you spoonfuls from time to time.

"baby" hyunju said, trying to take your attention

"i'm full, sweetie. thank you" you told her

"last one." hyunju smiles, showing you her last spoonful of food.

"i feel like these two got an invisible private bubble with just the two of them" your friend told the other

"that bubble is probably heart-shaped" the other responded

"may this love find me" your friend says (basically begging the heavens)

hyunju's the BEST when it comes to comforting you. probably also bcs she read a lot of books to help you manage your emotions

you're curled up on the couch, staring at the wall. hyun-ju walks in, her steps were soft but deliberate, carrying a steaming mug of tea. she places it on the coffee table in front of u.

“hey..i made you chamomile. don’t argue, just drink it. i know you didn’t have lunch today.”

u didn't respond, but your eyes flicker briefly to the mug before dropping back to their lap. hyunju sits down beside u, keeping enough space to not feel imposing.

"you know, it’s okay to take time for yourself. but.." she pauses, her tone softening “locking yourself away like this isn’t helping. I can see it in your eyes—you’re not resting, you’re just… running.”

"i don’t know how to face anyone right now. It’s like… I’m not enough. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

hyunju leans forward, thinking.

"i read something a while ago. about how we talk to ourselves.” she said, glancing at you.

"if a friend came to you saying what you just said, would you tell them they’re not enough?” she asked

you shake your head, lips pressed together.

"exactly. so why is it okay to talk to yourself like that? why are you doing that to yourself? you don't deserve that" hyunju said, your tears threatening to fall but you didn't respond.

"you’re allowed to feel lost, but don’t let those thoughts win. they don’t know you like I do.” hyunju continued, smiling warmly at you.

"you make it sound so easy…” you said, tears pooling in your eyes.

hyunju smiles gently, reaching over to place a hand on yours.

"it's not. it'll be a rough path & it surely will be filled with tears and crazy evenings" hyunju said, sighing

"but you won't be facing them alone. i'm here, and I’m not going anywhere. so… drink your tea, and let me stay in your corner. Okay?” hyunju smiled, handing you the mug. as you take it, hyunju wraps her arms around you, making you feel protected and warm.

right there, you knew that you'll be just fine.

hyunju who's so good w words & have a very unique perspective about things which makes your late night conversations amazing

the two of you are sitting on a park bench, watching people who's doing their midnight workout at the park.

“you know what’s funny about people? we think we’re so smart, but we act on instinct most of the time. all gut reactions, fear, and hope.” hyunju suddenly speaks.

“hope is an instinct?” you raised an eyebrow

“of course. it’s survival. you think a soldier keeps moving forward because they’re brave? no. they hope the next step gets them out alive. you think someone falls in love because they’re logical? no. they hope it won’t destroy them.” hyunju nods

“so, we’re just… running on hope and instincts?” you asked, actually thinking about it.

hyunju chuckles & nods, turning to look at you.

“yeah. and you know what? that’s not a bad thing. makes us unpredictable. makes us dangerous. and…”

“it makes us human.” hyunju proudly smiles, looking at the nightsky

“sometimes you sound like a philosopher.” you said, resting your head on her shoulder.

“don’t get used to it. i’m only this deep after midnight.”

the two of you sit there a little longer, hyun-ju’s words hanging in the air like the stars above—simple but impossibly vast.

active dates. hyunju's physically active (and in this case, you're not) but you always do your best to do her favorite activities w her.

you’re both halfway up a hiking trail, and you’re already out of breath. hyun-ju stops ahead, turning to look at you with a smirk.

“you good back there? or do i need to carry you?” hyun-ju asked, her grin teasing.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you said, panting as you tried to keep up.

“maybe,” she said, grinning wider. “but you’re doing fine. come on, just a little further. the view’s worth it.”

“the things i do for you,” you muttered, trudging up the trail.

hyun-ju was waiting for you at the top, holding out her hand. “and that’s why you’re my favorite. now, let me show you why this is mine.”

she pulled you up, and as you caught your breath, the view of the valley below left you speechless.

lazy dates, ofc. hyunju considers every moment w u a date. even staying on the bed for the whole day is a date for her

the two of you are tangled in a mess of blankets, the sunlight peeking through the curtains. hyun-ju is lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching you scroll through your phone.

“you know this counts as a date, right?” hyun-ju said, her voice soft but playful.

“lying here doing nothing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“yep,” she said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “as long as i’m with you, it’s a date. simple as that.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “you’re too easy to please, you know that?”

“maybe,” she said with a smirk, leaning in to rest her forehead against yours. “or maybe i just know how to enjoy the good stuff.”

you laughed, setting your phone aside and curling closer to her. lazy days had never felt this perfect.

protective hyunjuㅡ lowkey on army mode whenever the both of you are in a dark street. makes sure to remind you that she's capable of protecting you even if you don't expect her to.

the two of you are walking home late at night, the streetlights casting long shadows. hyun-ju is walking slightly ahead, her posture sharp and alert.

“you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“and you don’t have to worry, because i’m looking for both of us,” hyun-ju said, her eyes scanning the dimly lit street.

you sighed. “it’s not like anything’s going to happen.”

she glanced back at you, her expression steady but confident. “you don’t expect anything to happen. that’s why you have me.”

“you’re really pulling the ‘special forces’ card right now?” you teased.

“damn right i am,” she said, smirking but still alert. “i’ve got instincts, training, and enough muscle to make anyone regret trying something stupid. you’re safe with me. always.”

you smiled, slipping your hand into hers. “i know. thanks, captain.”

“don’t mention it,” she said, squeezing your hand gently. “but if anyone even looks at you wrong, they’re getting a lesson they won’t forget.”

doing hyunju's makeup! you love helping her w her makeup. whether yk a lot of things abt makeup or not, u just love seeing hyunju's happy smile whenever she finishes her look

hyun-ju sits cross-legged on the floor in front of you, a mirror propped up on the table and her makeup bag between you. you’re carefully applying a touch of eyeliner, your tongue sticking out in concentration.

“you’re taking this way too seriously,” hyun-ju said, her lips twitching into a smile.

“and you’re moving too much,” you said, gently tilting her chin back. “i’m trying to make you look flawless.”

“i already look flawless,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed slightly.

“yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling. “let me finish, miss ‘flawless.’”

when you finally pulled back to admire your work, hyun-ju turned to the mirror, her face lighting up.

“not bad,” she said, grinning as she checked her reflection. “you might actually put me out of a job.”

“i don’t know what i’m doing half the time,” you admitted, laughing. “but seeing you smile like that? worth it.”

hyun-ju looked at you, her grin softening into something warmer. “you’re the best, you know that?”

“obviously,” you said, smirking. “now, where’s my tip?”

she leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “how’s that for a tip?”

“good enough,” you said, laughing as she grabbed her lipstick to finish the look.

hyunju who dries your hair after your late night shower. you can barely keep your eyes open so she asks little questions about your day to stop u from dozing off

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel wrapped around your shoulders. hyun-ju stands behind you, gently running a soft towel through your damp hair. your head keeps drooping forward, but she nudges you awake each time.

“don’t fall asleep on me,” hyun-ju said, her voice light but teasing. “you’ll wake up with a wet pillow, and then I’ll have to deal with your complaints.”

“m’not complaining,” you mumbled, eyes half-closed.

“uh-huh,” she said, smirking. “so, what did you eat today? anything that wasn’t instant noodles?”

“had a sandwich,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

“a sandwich? impressive,” she said, ruffling your hair gently with the towel. “what kind of sandwich?”

“...the kind with bread,” you mumbled sleepily, earning a soft laugh from her.

“genius answer,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed the hairdryer, switching it to a low setting. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

the warmth from the dryer and her steady hands lulled you further, but she kept asking small questions—about your favorite part of the day, whether you saw anything interesting—until she finally shut the dryer off and kissed the top of your head.

“all done,” she said softly, her voice almost lulling you to sleep completely. “go on, lie down. i’ll be right here.”

of course, drying hyunju's hair too every morning is part of your routine.

hyun-ju sits on the edge of a chair, her hair still damp from her morning shower. you stand behind her with a towel, carefully running it through her dark strands. she leans back slightly, her eyes half-closed as she enjoys the moment.

“you don’t have to do this every day, you know,” hyun-ju said, her voice soft but amused.

“and yet, here i am,” you replied, gently squeezing water out of her hair. “besides, you’d just leave it wet and call it ‘air-drying.’”

“it’s efficient,” she said with a smirk, cracking one eye open to look at you.

“it’s lazy,” you corrected, grabbing the hairdryer. “sit still, or i’ll make it worse on purpose.”

she laughed quietly but stayed put, closing her eyes again as the warm air from the dryer brushed against her skin.

“you’re good at this,” she murmured. “if you ever get tired of your day job, you could make a killing as a hairstylist.”

“i’ll stick to this one client, thanks,” you said, smiling as you gently smoothed her hair down. “she’s picky but worth it.”

hyun-ju tilted her head back to look up at you, her grin soft. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“and you’re lucky i’m patient,” you teased, finishing with one last stroke of your fingers through her now-dry hair.

“perfect as always,” she said, standing up and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before heading off. mornings didn’t start right without moments like this.

you love every morning with hyunju.

"you look amazing" you told hyunju, both of you are barely awake. waking up w hyunju every morning is what you consider a blessing. it's such a great way to start your day & you believe that a sight of her in the morning would make it impossible to ruin your day at work.

"but i just woke up?" hyunju laughed, hugging you.

"ethereal" you said, admiring her face.

hyunju got shy almost immediately, kissing your forehead. "i'll go make us some coffee" she said, sitting up.

"sounds good" you responded, drifting off to sleep once again. hyunju chuckled as she stepped out of the room.

you were sleeping soundly when you felt light taps on your shoulder & soft pats on your head.

"baby, i made breakfast" hyunju said, almost a whisper to not startle you.

"i love you" you responded, half-awake.

"i love you too so please get up, you're gonna be late" hyunju laughed at your state, kissing your shoulder.

you pulled her to the bed, unintentionally tickling each other. the room's soon filled w laughs for a solid five minutes.

"i love mornings with you" you said, caressing hyunju's cheeks

"i love my life with you" hyunju said, kissing the tip of your nose.

hyunju who was once afraid of public display of affection because of the weird stares from other ppl so you were always the one to initiate.

the two of you are walking through a crowded park, the early evening breeze carrying the hum of chatter and laughter. hyun-ju’s hands are stuffed into her jacket pockets, her shoulders slightly tense as she glances around.

you reached out, slipping your hand into hers without hesitation. “relax,” you said softly, giving her fingers a light squeeze.

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to a nearby couple, then back to you. “people are staring,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“let them,” you said, smiling up at her. “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

she looked at you, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and awe. “you make it look so easy.”

“that’s because it is,” you said, swinging your joined hands slightly. “besides, if they have time to stare, maybe they’re just jealous.”

hyun-ju’s lips quirked into a small smile, her shoulders relaxing as she laced her fingers more tightly with yours. “you really don’t care, do you?”

“not even a little,” you replied, leaning closer to bump her shoulder with yours. “and one day, you won’t either.”

she chuckled softly, her grip on your hand firm now. “with you around, maybe.”

the rest of the walk felt lighter, the world fading into the background as you led the way, her hand warm and steady in yours.

bonus, same prompt:

the two of you are sitting on a bench at a quiet bus stop late in the evening. hyun-ju keeps glancing at the couple across the street, who are laughing and holding hands, before quickly looking away. she fidgets with the hem of her jacket, avoiding your eyes.

you reached over and placed your hand over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “hey,” you said softly. “you’re thinking too much again.”

she let out a small sigh, her gaze still fixed on the pavement. “it’s just… people look at us differently. like we’re doing something strange.”

“who cares?” you said, giving her hand a squeeze. “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

hyun-ju hesitated, then finally looked at you. “but doesn’t it bother you? being seen as… not normal?”

you smiled, leaning closer until your shoulder brushed against hers. “we are normal. the world’s just slow at catching up.”

she blinked at you, her lips parting slightly, before a quiet laugh escaped her. “you really believe that?”

“absolutely,” you said, lacing your fingers through hers. “we’re normal, hyun-ju. and anyone who thinks otherwise? that’s their problem, not ours.”

hyun-ju’s smile grew wider, and this time, when a passerby glanced your way, she didn’t flinch. instead, she leaned closer to you, her hand firmly holding yours. “we’re normal,” she repeated, almost like a promise.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think you mentioned you're cis, right? Many of my friends and acquaintances right now are cis women, some not even part of the lgbtq+ community. I'm a trans girl, and I'm very bad at standing up for myself. How should I talk about language they use that makes me uncomfortable? I don't know if I'm able to explain why "biological women" is a term I'm wary of because it's so often a dog whistle, or when they talk very sweepingly about the effects of male/female socialization, or espousing very cisnormative beliefs in general. I don't wanna be misunderstood and I don't think the words they are using are necessarily wrong or bad or hateful, I've just seen them so often in that context and am a bit shaken hearing them. I also don't think they want to hurt me or are cognizant of my discomfort. I'd love your input on this.

Thank you for reading this, mx batman.

hi anon,

I am so grateful that you trust me with this question and I am so sorry if you're looking for a way to do this gently. possibly you wee hoping that I would have some insights into how to gently call out cis women without upsetting them but the gag is that almost all my friends are trans and I'm an insane bitch who will unhinge my jaw and devour people at the first whiff of transphobia.

all you need to say is something to the effect of "you may not mean any harm by it, but the terms you're using spread transphobic ideas and hurt women like me and make me feel unsafe. please find other ways to express the thing you're trying to talk about." and that has to be sufficient for these people, or they aren't your friends.

listen to me right now. you Do Not need to justify why those things make you uncomfortable. you are not required to provide a dissertation to prove that your feelings deserve to be respected. if these women are your friends they are required to give a shit about your feelings, and that includes not requiring you to provide an entire powerpoint when you ask them to stop using terms that are transphobic. when a friend says "you're hurting me," you're supposed to just stop fucking hurting them.

if they want to educate themselves, which I strongly recommend the do, there are plenty of people who are writing books and articles and video essays and podcasts that will hold the hands of cis allies trying to learn Don't Be A Transphobe 101. you ARE NOT obligated to be that person for every person in your life, and they do not have the right to demand that of you.

recently I was listening to an episode of the podcast Vibe Check, which is excellent, and one of the hosts (I believe it was poet Saeed Jones, but don't quote me on that) offered some advice to the effect of "if you tell someone that they're hurting you and you tell them what they need to do to stop, and they do it again, they've told you everything they need to tell you." live that learn that love that. being fiercely protective of your needs and boundaries is an act of protection and self-preservation and it's what you deserve; cut a bitch OFF if she won't listen to you and be a better friend.

also hey as a cis woman. and specifically as a white cis woman. do NOT let them come at you with the cis lady tears, especially the white cis lady tears. anyone who starts whining and crying and acting like you're attacking them for just asking them not to say things that hurt your feelings, run. run so fast. those women do not love you.

[spacelazarwolf]

saw a post that gave me an eye twitch so i’m gonna break it down and analyze it bc i feel like it exemplifies a lot of what’s wrong with gentile discourse on i/p rn.

1. yeah, it is awful that zionist institutions and leadership use jewish trauma to justify why diaspora jews should unquestioningly support the current state of israel, regardless of the atrocities it commits against palestinians.

2. "israel is not your bube who survived the shoah" i don't know how to explain to you how fucking callous this sentence is.

3. for better or worse, israel did save jewish people. nearly a million jews from the swana region and 24,000 from ethiopia fled there after experiencing extreme violence and discrimination. you really think america or europe would have taken in a million black and brown jews? have you seen the current state of immigration?

4. "how do you argue with someone when their idea of israel is so rooted in their family trauma?" you don't. you validate their fears, make them feel heard, and then you offer them alternatives. the vast majority of diaspora support for israel is based in fear of persecution and eradication. if you offer real, legitimate solutions for the safety of diaspora jews, i guarantee you will be a thousand times more successful than just screaming at them and telling them "who fucking cares about your holocaust survivor bubbe????"

5. "how do you possibly tell them that the holocaust isn't relevant?" you don't, because it is. nearly 500,000 holocaust survivors moved to or were sent to israel after the shoah. some did not have a choice of where they were sent, some tried to go back to where they were living before but had no money and gentiles had taken their houses and belongings so they had nowhere to go, many faced violence upon trying to return to their hometowns in the form of pogroms, several countries turned them away. you cannot say the holocaust is not relevant to the current israeli population because gentiles in the diaspora are the reason they're there.

6. "i'm so tired of centering jewish identity in discussions over a nation state." are you stupid? genuinely, are you stupid? do you really not see how jewish identity and the history of the jewish people factor into a state with a fucking star of david on the flag that was founded after a genocide of 6 million jews that the rest of the world didn't want to deal with? seriously? no, jews in the diaspora are not responsible for the actions of the israeli government. we aren't more loyal to israel than we are to wherever we're living. but to say that israel has nothing to do with the jewish people is frankly laughable.

7. "how do you say that without sounding invalidating? like that just sounds horrible and antisemitic." that's because it is. you are being horrible and antisemitic.

edited to add: NUCLEAR SUPERPOWER?????????????????????????????? HELLO??????????????????????????

so please for the love of fuck educate yourself on the history of the jewish people and the history of the state of israel before making stupid ass posts like this. israel didn't manifest out of nowhere, it didn't come from "jewish supremacy" it came from hundreds of thousands of jews who were at their wit's fucking end with antisemitism in the diaspora, and from britain's colonization and imperialism paired with it's complete and total disregard for anyone who wasn't racially and culturally white. the monster that is modern day political zionism is a creation of the world's own making. people have been posting a lot about hamas being a response to 70+ years of israeli occupation, violence, and apartheid, but don't seem to understand that israel is a response to 3000+ years of persecution, expulsion, and genocide. the massacres and terror committed by hamas don't take into account the wellbeing of palestinians, and the oppression and violence perpetuated by the israeli government don't take into account the wellbeing of jews in israel or in the diaspora.

nothing will change if gentiles in the diaspora do not take responsibility for the rest of the world's role in the creation of israel. research your country, learn about how they treated their jews (not just during the holocaust but from the moment there were jews in your country), talk to your local jewish population, ask how you and organizations you are part of can help keep the diaspora safe for jews. because as an american jew, i don't want to move to israel. the government is borderline fascist, non ashki non orthodox jews are often seen as second class citizens, i don't speak the language, and my life is here. a lot of diaspora jews feel this way. but every time i see another group of nazis at a rally or get another bomb threat at my synagogue and look to see which country would be safest to move to as a trans person and as a jew, the only answer is israel, which is exactly what zionist institutions and leadership are counting on. if you want that to change, you and your community have to change it.

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[st4rgirllv]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚

And you keep on falling, baby, figure it out Just drive slow, straightforward, or I'm walking around And your dad keeps calling, tell him, "Cut that shit out" Just keep steering, keep steering now

Synopsis: Late night drives with your bad influence boyfriend, Rintaro Suna

cw: fluff, angst cursing, not proofread, sh mentioned, abusive dad, 3rd year hs suna, mention of sex

"Hello?" Suna picked up his cell phone and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked for the time only to see how late it was. "It's 3 a.m., who's this?" He tried to check for a contact, but the screen was blinding him.

"Rin? D-do you think you could... uhm, pick me up?" you asked your boyfriend. He knew something was wrong because you were sniffling and whispering during the call. "Rin?" you panted, trying to calm down. "My- my dad's kind of.. uh, upset and I just don't wanna be here right now."

"Yeah, sure. I'll come by the back. be there in five, okay? Just lay low 'til I get there." Suna reassures you. Okay, well now he's fully awake.

The car drive was silent. Although he's your boyfriend and should ask stuff on why you wanted to be picked up, from the bruises on your face and arms, he thought maybe you'd want to talk at your own pace. It'd be fucking stupid if he asked if you were okay after seeing you like that.

So, he helped you sneak out and get into his car and drove around the neighborhood for at least 30 minutes while you looked out with your hands in between your knees before you spoke.

"Sorry, I had to call you up this late..." You did everything not to look the brunette. "My dad was acting up again and he just had a drink and I happened to be in his way when he threw a baseball so I got a bruise and everything..." you rambled.

"Fuck that," Suna cut you off, turning the corner. He sounded pissed for the right reasons.

"Sorry?" you asked, confused.

"I can't stand you defending your father again and again after he keeps hurting you like this," Suna parked on one of the sidewalks and looked at you. "Have you seen yourself? You're covered in bruises and all you're thinking about is justifying your asshole dad's action." He gestured at you, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not saying that what my dad did was fine! I was saying that it was an accident and that it wasn't his fault because he was drunk!" You explained, tears forming in your eyes.

"Who are you fucking kidding? Look at yourself, you look like you just left a gang fight." He opened the car mirror. "yn... I'm tired of answering your calls just because wanna escape your dad," you looked at each other in silence

"Look," Suna grabbed your arms, bruised with cuts and scars. "Every time you call me I always hope that it's because maybe you miss me or- or that you wanna have phone sex or something, I mean I'd be down to do that," He kept on talking, making you chuckle.

"But I seriously don't wanna hear you say you need me to pick you up while you're sobbing after your dad hit you because that would mean I'd have to see you hurt. That hurts me too."

You were so glad you never believed those dark rumors about Suna because he's quite the opposite. "I'm sorry," was all you could say.

"I told you, you should've just lived with us. My mom loves you so much, God knows why. She probably loves you more than me," your boyfriend cringed at the thought as he restarted the car. "I mean you are living in scholarship, you can totally live with us."

"Do you want anything? We're gonna pass by a 24/7 store here, I'm gonna buy you some bandages for your bruises, then we're gonna go to the beach so you can rest." Suna repeatedly looked at you to see how you were doing.

You couldn't help but smile. You didn't know how lucky you were that Suna was here. Maybe he's all you needed. "Hmm.. I want M&Ms with peanuts, snickers, iced tea, and did I mention M&Ms with peanuts?" you pretended to be curious.

"Yes, you have. What a way to spend my money but you know what they say, "happy wife, happy life."" The brunette shrugged.

"Really? I'm your wife now?" You asked, giggling.

"Yes, you've always been my wife, just not officially yet, you know." He reached for your hand, intertwining them together.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"It's my dad..." you looked at Suna as he parked near the 24/7 store.

"Look, just ignore it. If your dad keeps calling before I come back, just tell him to cut that shit out, you're not going back there." He left the car and walked over to the store.

You did what he said, your dad had called at least 5 times before Suna could come back. "Is he still calling?" your boyfriend settled in the car.

"Yeah, Rin, maybe I should just answer it. Maybe he's gonna apologize, you know-" you tried to argue back

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"Maybe he's just checking up- Hey!" Suna suddenly took your phone and left the car "Rin! RIntaro, come back here! Ugh!" how dare he put you in child lock?!

After 10 minutes of pouting, your boyfriend finally went back into the car. He seemed proud of himself until he saw your face after he gave back the phone. "Oh, c'mon don't pout. I just told him to fuck off."

"Rintaro, I swear I'm gonna hit you." You pointed a finger at him.

"Okay, I just told him being an alcoholic isn't an excuse for being a bad dad. I just protected you, is that so bad?" Suna's eyebrows furrowed.

"I guess not..." You looked to the side.

"See? Now let me treat your bruises," His lips met yours, moving at a slow pace. "Mmh... then maybe we can have a little car sex, that's kinda one of my dreams-" After he pulled away you hit him on the shoulder, with a smile on your face.

"Oh, my- stop that!"

"Okay, I'm sorry! Now let's hurry so we can head to the beach." Your boyfriend said, pulling out the medicine.

"Thank you, Rin. I don't deserve you, I swear."

"You deserve the world, you should know that."

ᯓ★ I liked this, it's not that bad. Anyway, thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

[jweekgoji]

[BW] Yandere!Dinobot/Reader [hcs/thoughts]

tw/tags: heat cycle, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, a tinyy bit suggestive. word count: ~700 a/n: born to obsess over underrated characters forced to yap about the popular one (but I'm joking, I love them all, I'm just sad that Beast Wars is not talked about as much as other shows).

some quick thoughts in between requests because if I don't express it now, i will forget about it.

okay hear me out on...yandere Dinobot. I know Beast Wars is not really popular in the fandom, but oh my god, this ugly handsome man

we all saw that maximals/predacons share those animalistic traits that are connected to their beast modes. Rattrap likes to chew on scrap, Cheetor acts like a cat and even meows, Tigatron considers white tigers as some kind of family; Tarantulas and Blackarachnia have that rivalry for obvious reasons (bad for him).

it would be funny if they also had some type of cybertronian heat cycles.

even though Dinobot is heavily influenced by Jurassic Park velociraptors, I still feel like he'd act like a big bird rather than a lizard. or something in between, of course.

Yandere!Dinobot is overprotective and snappy as hell, to the point he considers even other maximals as a potential danger to you. Unlike more rational bots, Dinobot has no shame at all. It would cost him an arm and a leg to admit it to you, but he's actually jealous. Of what? There's no need to find any reason to explain his behavior once the season starts.

Yandere!Dinobot is vocal; he will growl, hiss and snap his teeth at anyone who tries to approach his mate. All maximals know that it's not the time to come near the two of you, but the unrespectful predacons...I'm a sucker for duos, their possibilities, and to imagine the dynamic between Megatron/Dinobot, both trying to court the poor reader.

But once the two of you are alone, I can see him having those rare moments where Dinobot lets himself relax. Most of the time he's in a constant state of alert, the dangerous mix of his primal instincts and  that warrior code of his just tells him to take you somewhere far-far away, so no maximal or predacon will get you. So maybe he can rest just for a little with you next to him. Dinobot definitely makes soft purrs, even to his own surprise.

Yandere!Dinobot is a stalker. Maybe, when it's just the start of the relationship between the two of you, he will try to somehow justify it, at least. Like, “I am just testing your skills, a true warrior must be always alert. You don't know when the predacons attack you next” , but the more you grow closer to him, the more he lets himself be a tiny bit warmer to you “You should not wander off alone. Stick closer to me”.

Read it, and don't forget a little personal nickname he has for you, which he adds at the end of the sentence.

It will also be funny to imagine Dinobot being a little too invested in building a nest. It also gets more awkward if your beast mode is some far different species. Why would he need to collect your stuff from your room? And why is he so adamant about you always staying in his room? He is holding you so tightly that you practically have no chance but to stay. So clueless!

“Is that [...] from my quarters?”

“Just be quiet and start recharging, you irresistible fool!”

Dinobot himself is a little embarrassed too if you start asking too many questions. He doesn't like being all vulnerable, even though he trusts you very much to know that you will never make fun of him. His own mind is clouded with not so innocent thoughts, and it actually becomes a big problem when he tries to focus on his training or fighting.

I don't think Dinobot would try to attract you with those silly dances reptiles/birds do to impress their mates, but when he is in his beast mode, you can definitely notice his tail wagging just a little bit when you're around. Rattrap probably picks on it faster than you and teases Dinobot about it until the two start fighting again.

[pyro-les]

Regina George X Reader

Warnings: none

"You, yeah you, come over here" Regina called from across the hall. Cady looking around unsure before slowly walking towards her. "Why don't I know you?".

"I'm new, I just moved here from Kenya" cady responds happily.

"Shut up, shut up" Regina replies

"I didn't say anything" Cady says with a confused smile causing Regina to giggle before slowly looking off somewhere behind Cady. "You're really pretty"

Surprised Cady happily responds "thanks".

"So you agree, you think you're really pretty?" Regina says turning her attention back towards Regina.

Gretchen joins in saying "You're an international student,that is so fetch!".

"What is fetch?" Regina says slowly turning to gretchen with a slightly judgemental look on her face.

Gretchen hurriedly justifies "it's like slang from an old movie. Juno I think".

Karen joins the conversation saying "Have you ever touched a tiger?".

"No,those aren't indigenous to Kenya" cady replies seemingly happy to be talking about Kenya.

"Cause that's one of my life goals. To not touch a tiger" Karen slowly responds.

"Hey new girl!" Jason cuts In "wanna see a trick? I can guess any girls bra size, just jump one time".

They all turn to him with varies looks of surprise and disgust except for Karen who happily says "ooo do me do me!" While Gretchen calls out "ew Jason!".

Before he can respond Regina cuts in harshly "Oh my god Jason, you do not come to my party with gretchen then skeeze on the new girl right in front of me. Do you wanna have sex with him?"

"Oh, no thank you." Cady says after a small moment, taken aback by Regina's blunt response.

Regina gives her a small smile before turning back to Jason with a harsher gaze "Then it's settled, no body thinks you're funny and that thing you do where you lower your voice is making people really sad." She then turns out to the rest of the hall which had seemingly been watching the whole interaction. "Excuse me anyone who wants Jason Weems to go back to his normal voice raise your hand"

Suddenly everyone in the hall puts up their hand, some nonchalant and some excited to be included in something related to the infamous plastics.

"Bitch"

"Wow, you're really going to get noticed around here. We should help you" Regina says with a small smile. "Can you give us some privacy for a second?" she asks.

Cady turns around towards Janis and Damien who are mouthing to her "we have your food" her attention is drawn back to the plastics as she hears some of their whispers.

"Shes nice, I'm sure she wouldn't tell anyone"

"People won't question it as much"

"Just ask her"

Cady doesn't know what they mean but she doesn't want to intrude so she returns her attention back up to the rest of the room. She sees a girl quickly looking up in her direction before returning to her phone typing something. Cady then hears Regina say "Okay so we don't normally do this but,you're invited to sit with us for the rest of the week".

"Oh no I'm fine,it's ok" she starts to say, wanting to go back to Janis and Damien.

"On Wednesdays we wear pink!" Karen happily says leaving no room for her to disagree.

~~~~

"Yeah he's almost too gay to function" Cady says giggling slightly before realising saying that might not have been the best idea. Before she can take it back Gretchen says "sounds like someone else we know". Karen laughs as Regina giggles with a light blush on her face.

After a short while Cady asks "do you write about everyone in here?".

"Not everyone. Just people who get on our nerves, it's a good way to get out feelings without anyone being hurt" Regina explains.

"And we would never write about friends in it! Because friends are completely deserving of our respect and confidentiality. I mean you would never tell anyone anything we told you, would you?" Gretchen adds on.

Cady nods "of course, you can tell me anything!".

"Good because some secrets are secrets for a reason, otherwise someone could get hurt." Regina states a sudden seriousness to her tone.

After looking up confused for awhile Karen suddenly turns to Gretchen and says "we have secrets?".

Shaking her head Gretchen reasons "of course! You know the fact that Regina-"

"It doesn't matter she'll find out soon enough anyway. For now why don't you give Cady the shoes." Regina cuts her off, turning the conversation into something else.

"The shoes? Oh yeah! Come on Cady." Gretchen says before leading Cady Into the closet.

Karen and Regina start to talk for awhile until the doorbell rings and Regina excitedly runs to get it.

"Hi baby" Regina says as she pulls Y/N Immediately into a hug who mumbles a small "I missed you" Into Regina's chest.

"I missed you too" she responds as she pulls back placing a small kiss on the top of Y/N's head before grabbing her hand and leading her upstairs to see the others.

"Y/N hi!" Karen exclaims seemingly shocked to see her as the couple enter Regina's room.

"Hiya" Y/N responds as she sits at the top of the bed right next to Regina. "Where's Gretchen?" She asks realising the girl was no where to be seen and neither was the new girl.

"I'm here! I was just giving Cady some shoes and having a bit of a chat with her" Gretchen responds as she walks out of the closet with Cady trailing slightly behind her looking a bit awkward.

"Oh I didn't know you had another friend. Im Cady, nice to meet you." Cady said thinking back to Damien and Janis' run down of the plastics and not remembering them saying anything else about a fourth plastic.

"I've heard quite a bit about you, I'm Y/N" the girl says with a smile.

"My girlfriend" Regina adds on as she puts a possessive arm around Y/Ns shoulders who happily leans into her touch.

Cady looks a but shocked before smiling and saying "Oh I didn't know you were dating anyone. Why weren't you at lunch?"

"People in northshore aren't exactly the most accepting with, well anything really. Especially when it comes to the most beautiful popular girl in school dating a loner theatre kid." Y/N says a bit sadly.

"But that's ridiculous, what does that matter to other people" Cady says quite annoyed. She doesn't understand why people can't just mind their own business.

"Everything here is perfectly set out, there's a clear hierarchy and rules on who can do what and if you make one wrong move you immediately fall down. You're lucky Cady, you're new so no one knows who you are, you could be anything, you could be at the top or bottom of the hierarchy. Luckily you have us to help you get to the top"

After a moment of contemplation Cady decides to ask "why did you decide to let me sit with you? I mean I don't exactly scream popular, I didn't even know schools had this kind of hierarchy.".

"Well exactly that, you seemed lost and we wanted to help. Besides it'll help with our plan" Regina responds like it's nothing.

"You're plan?" Cady asks confused.

"To help Y/N sit with us of course!" Gretchen answers "if we were to bring a loser into our group now everyone would question it but if we wait awhile then it won't be too weird because we already would've invited you.".

"Do not call my girlfriend a loser!" Regina yells.

Pulling Regina back towards her Y/N speaks softly to her "Hey hey baby she didn't mean it like that. She's just trying to say that that's what people think and I'm fine with that." Regina grumbles a small sorry to Gretchen before leaning back into the embrace of her girlfriend.

Watching the sweet interactions between the two Cady couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous of the two,she wished Aaron would look at her the way Regina looked at Y/N. But it also made her question, what would she tell Janis? She had promised her new friend she would tell her everything the plastics had said but she had also sworn confidentiality to Regina, what would she do?

~~~~~

A/N:

I finally finished writing the first part of this fic, it's nor the longest chapter but there should be more:)

I hope everyone enjoyed it. This is my first time writing a fanfic so if it's not the best I apologise.

Thank you so much for reading!💜

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

the thing that allistics talking about social skills never seem to grasp is that i do not SEE body language or facial expressions. i am not some innocent adorably stupid little darling who's never been taught what a frown means and so now i feel like everyone is hostile to me because i'm not participating in the Necessary And Unbiased social ritual that lets everyone know i'm Safe and a Real Person.

no, i spent 10 years regularly attending social skills courses. as in, weekly at minimum, for a lot of it daily. i still cannot read body language or facial expressions because i LITERALLY CANNOT SEE THEM. i am partially faceblind. my visual processing is ganked to the point that even though i am not blind i need to use IDs to understand images. these are VERY common traits in autism, this isn't a special "just me" thing. if someone makes a face at me, i can't SEE it. sometimes i can tell that some of their facial muscles are moving, but i have no idea what they're doing and very little ability to piece together what the end result looks like as a whole picture. sometimes i can see when someone is leaning away from me, or if their whole body is shaking or something, but anything less whole-body and cartoonish than that is literally invisible to me.

allistic social norms are built around treating me as scary and unsafe for not participating in them, and i LITERALLY CANNOT SEE a good portion of what they're based on. the less physical bits--implications and social context, etc--are 10x harder when you essentially can't speak half the language, and that's not even touching on how those parts can be near impossible on their own if you have a slow processing speed--which i also do. it takes me 30-60 seconds minimum to fully process a spoken sentence and understand what the unspoken and nuanced implications of it could be, and by then i have already been slotted into "unsafe creep" territory by being entirely silent for 45 seconds. and i am considered socially adept and to have very fast processing among my autistic peers. my barriers here are MINOR compared to someone very severely socially impaired.

this is why explaining to autistics the purposes of allistic social rules and nuances and giving us tips on how to navigate them is condescending and cruel as hell. you're dangling in our faces how important and necessary and integral it is to do something we literally CAN'T do and implicitly justifying us being seen as dangerous and socially undesirable for not doing it. and you're framing it as helping because you're "teaching" us. but it's like teaching a colorblind person color theory; maybe once in a while someone will be interested, but it'll always be significantly harder for them to learn than someone who isn't colorblind, and their experience with it will always be profoundly qualitatively different and produce different results, even subtly. and their existence doesn't mean that the REST of colorblind people who don't have that energy and time and investment should just put up with literally every road sign being written in red on green when you could just make signs that are black on white to begin with.

[nushkiespeaks]

THE MIGHTY PANCHALAS OF THE NORTH

I am honestly, HONESTLY baffled at the shitty portrayals of the Panchalas, be it in TV serials or Wattpad fictions on Mahabharat ( Yes, I am on Wattpad as a writer too ).

As someone who closely follows the authentic texts, the degradation of this mighty sect of Kshatriyas feels like a personal attack. Starting from Drupad to Dhrishtadyumn, EVERYONE is shown as GOOD FOR NOTHING. And this seriously boils up my blood to the core. Drupad and Dhrishtadyumn are mostly toyed around like clueless creatures, and the other sons of Drupad are hardly mentioned. Shikhandi has little to no job and those who mention Satyajit, oh God! They make an ABSOLUTE mockery out of him, like an incapable Prince who has no job of his own!

THEY DON'T EVEN SPARE DRUPAD'S WIFE PRISHATI EITHER!

Let me tell you, the PANCHALAS were a greatest power during the Era of Mahabharat, specially under Drupad! This entire part of north gains so much attention in Mahabharat!

And please, please! Drupad isn't some oldie or something, a misogynistic man ( like in SP Mb). He is one of the best fathers of Mahabharat! Also his ruling capabilities, his ways to analyze things will leave you shocking on how this man has been reduced to trash in fictions and serials!

Just read through the parts where Drupad was involved with the Pandavas along with Krishna, Balram etc and discussing about the war ( from BORI) and you will be baffled with the way Drupad articulates himself and keeps his point of view there. This man knows what he wants and that's how a Kshatriya should be! He is the one who supports the Pandavas till the end!

Like any father, he could've taken back Draupadi or instead go against the Pandavas for what had happened to his daughter, but no! He is the one who genuinely understood the plight of the Pandavas too! Like any family the Panchalas could've blamed the Pandavas, but did they? They never! Till the very end they stood on the side of Dharma with them! If you think Drupad to be stupid, just look at the choices of friendship and strategies he makes. This man knows very well how to make Panchal a powerful kingdom and oh man he lived up to it.

Also yes: I want to bring your attention to Drupad Drona rivalry. Yes, this is somewhere where Drupad falters, but let's also have a look at the story from Drupad's POV too-

Drupad was a child when he had gone to the ashram and he meets Drona, who is older than him; double of his age- they become fast friends and Drona also helps him in his studies. Drupad, happy enough, promises him a part of his kingdom.

Drupad thinks that Drona is his friend and will be forever loyal to him.

Also, mind you, Panchalas and Kurus were always enemies ( before DrauPan marriage) . Drupad, after a few years sees his best friend sticking with Bheeshm, and becoming the son in law of Hastinapur! ( if anyone doesn't know, Dron's wife Kripi is the adopted daughter of Shantanu.)

How will you feel seeing your friend making your enemy a close family all the while, and not even bothering to inform you about it? Mind it Drona always knew about the beef between the two kingdoms, but did he bother ever explaining to Drupad anything? Or assuring him? Even for once?

But what does Drona do? He one day lands up in front of Drupad and start asking for the part of Kingdom he promised? Suddenly he remembers Drupad?

As Drupad, why will you even trust someone who was sticking with your enemy like it was nothing? Isn't Drupad's anger here justified? Yes, he did not fulfill his promise, but will you had if your friend ever did this?

Won't you feel betrayed, left out and hurt? Someone you innocently considered your own and then they do these without bothering to tell you anything?!

Also what's with showing Dhrishtadyumn so angry and hot headed 24x7? If anyone doesn't know, Vaishampaayan considers him like one of the Pandavas, at par the Pandavas almost! He for God's sake IS THE INCARNATION OF AGNI HIMSELF! Stop showing him so petty everywhere! You know, when he comes out of the fire, he roars like a lion that the entire Panchal almost trembles at it? You show this guy powerless, good for nothing? He was one of the favorite confidates of Bheem and Saatyaki ( if anyone didn't know) and one of the most crucial one in handling the army of Pandavas during war! He's the one who looks after the Upapandvas and cares for them!

I seriously don't understand the need to pull them down just to glorify the others!

The Panchalas were one of the most powerful forces to exist, get that fact drilled in your head guys!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Is there a reason Marinette’s lying to Adrien about Gabriel doesn’t make sense to you from a character-standpoint? She’s lied a fair bit in the show for reasons other than keeping her identity or crush on Adrien a secret, and her love for Adrien has consistently created a blind spot for her in terms of her “general” morals/behavior.

Is there something more specific to Marinette’s pattern of behavior that indicates how her lying about Gabe would be OOC, or is the lie something you believe Canon!Marinette should recognize as too egregious to take part in?

(The closest alternative explanation I’ve seen thus far is that she shouldn’t have any reason to lie for Gabe because they share zero good will, but if we interpret it as lying for Adrien, then I’m not sure if that explanation fits.)

I have, admittedly, not gone through the show and tracked every lie that Marinette has ever told to see if I can weave together a pattern that backs Marinette's behavior at the end of season five. It's possible that there's a lie that I'm forgetting that would totally change my stance and, if you think that's the case, then feel free to respond to this with a comment or an ask on that topic! My "this is BS" stance is based on the overall story of the show and the ways that I've seen people try to justify the season five lies as those are the arguments that I've thought through and found lacking.

We'll start by discussing the two lies people use to try to back Marinette's behavior at the end of season five: the scarf and Chat Blanc. Then I'll talk about the story's lead up to the season five lies and why it makes for a horribly unsatisfying story in my eyes. If someone gave this to me, I'd be suggesting some major edits to make it work on a technical level.

The Scarf

For those who don't remember, the season one episode The Bubbler sees Marinette make Adrien a scarf for his birthday. She drops the scarf off at the Agreste mansion with a note for Adrien and the hope that this will get him to finally notice her. Nathalie then takes the scarf and uses it as a gift from Gabriel instead. Marinette learns about this during this exchange at the very end of the episode:

Alya: Yo, nice scarf, Adrien. Off the chain. Adrien: Yeah, can you believe my dad got this for me? (Marinette looks surprised) it's so awesome. He's been giving me the same lame pen for three years in a row.... Alya:(to Marinette) You gotta tell him you were the one who knitted the scarf. Marinette: But he seems so happy about his dad. I don't want to spoil it for him. Alya: Aw, Marinette. (they hug.) You're amazing, girl. You know that, right? And someday Adrien will figure it out too. Promise.

I can see why someone would look at this and call it a setup for the end of season five. There are some parallels here. The problem is that there are a lot of massive differences, too. Differences that make this a really crappy setup:

Marinette does not lie in this scene. She simply overhears a lie and doesn't correct it. Remove her and Alya from the scene and nothing changes. The lie still exists. Meanwhile, without Marinette, the season five lies would never have come to be.

Marinette knows about the scarf lie for about a minute on screen. She hears about it and tells Alya to let it go within the same scene. That's a gut reaction, not a carefully planned and considered deceit. Once again, wildly different from what season five gives us.

Adrien and Marinette aren't shown to be close friends in season one. They rarely talk to the point that I didn't even know that they were supposed to be friends until we got to Origins. That complicates correcting the scarf lie. How does Marinette approach a random classmate and explain a situation that she doesn't even fully understand herself? That's very different from Ladybug telling a lie to a civilian or Marinette lying to her boyfriend.

Season one Marinette has no idea how messed up Adrien's home life is. All she knows is that Adrien liked her gift, but that he thinks it came from a different person. She doesn't even know that a lie was involved in this confusion! As far as she's aware, this could just be a minor misunderstanding that she'd rather let go because does it really matter who the gift is from? This is extra true because the scarf never comes up again, meaning that this is not an ongoing or damaging lie as far as canon is concerned.

That last point and the issue of Marinette never actually telling the lie herself are probably the biggest points in Marinette's favor. If Adrien wore the scarf all the time and used it as a comfort when he was fighting with his dad, then you'd have a solid case for Marinette needing to say something because the lie is arguably doing actual harm. This is especially true if you let Adrien say things like, "I wear this to remember that my father loves me," to Marinette. But that's not what canon did.

As far as canon is concerned, the scarf lie exists for all of a minute. A minute in which Adrien expresses delight in the gift, but gives it very tepid weight in terms of what it means for his relationship with his father. (Adrien's room is full of nice gifts, I don't think a scarf was going to make-or-break their relationship.) After that, the scarf never comes up again, meaning that Marinette's gut reaction to not immediately destroy Adrien's happiness is all we get. That's hardly a great setup for her being the source of massive ongoing lies about Adrien's personhood and the truth of his father's abuse.

I'll also remind you that this all happened at the very start of the show. The Bubbler is one of the first episodes people see. If this is your best argument for Marinette's behavior five seasons later, then we have a major writing problem on our hands. You should not have to dig back to the very start of the show to justify a major character beat like this. There should be more relevant material. We'll circle back to that problem in a minute. First let's quickly touch on lie two and why it also falls flat.

Chat Blanc

Another thing people point to as foreshadowing for the season five lies is the fact that Ladybug kept Chat Blanc from Chat Noir and, if Chat Blanc was actually affecting her, then I would agree with this take. However, that doesn't seem to be the case. The official story is that Ladybug's actions in season four had nothing to do with Chat Blanc. It was just guardian stress! If that's true, then I don't think she should tell Chat Noir about Chat Blanc.

Why?

Since when do we tell people about all the awful things they did while they were akumatized? There's no point to that. It's cruel. Do you think that Ladybug also needs to walk him through everything he did while under the control of various akumas like Dark Cupid? If no, then how is Chat Blanc any different? What's the value in telling Chat Noir the gory details of what will happen if he ever has a moment of weakness and becomes akumatized? He already knows that it will be bad! Why tell him exactly how bad it will be? I can't come up with a single good canonical reason.

Ladybug has no idea what caused Chat Blanc, so she can't warn Chat Noir what he needs to avoid. You can't even use the "he should know about Bunnyx" argument because that wasn't Bunnyx's debut. Canonically speaking, the only reason that Ladybug should talk to Chat Noir about Chat Blanc or any other bad thing that he's done while under the power of an akuma is if it's effecting her or their partnership and it's apparently not! That's why Marinette never reacts to Chat Noir getting a white makeover (see: the Paris special & Jubilation) and why Chat Blanc is never discussed in the show outside of that one brief nightmare callback in Sentibubbler.

To be clear, I think that's an asinine choice as Chat Blanc's memory hurting Ladynoir would have been semi-decent foreshadowing for the season five lies, but the writers decided to go another route. They also let Chat Blanc haunt Adrien even though he doesn't know about it, which I don't even know how to dissect because it's such terrible writing! If you don't know what I'm talking about, this is the official explanation for why Adrien couldn't make it to the final fight. The reason for the white-and-blue Chat Noir that haunted his nightmares:

Mélanie says that he "could become Chat Blanc" and the others add that even though he does not remember and has never lived it, Chat Blanc still has an influence on his actions.

Quality writing here folks. Quality writing. At the very least have season five Adrien be freaked out about the fact that he cataclysmed a human! That would make this make at least a little sense, but we don't get that. Instead we get Adrien almost cataclysming several akumas like it's no big deal while having nightmares about a thing he's never even been told about (see: Derision and Jubilation and probably other's I'm forgetting.)

The Events of Season Four and Five

As you can hopefully see, we don't have a great, ongoing pre-end-of-season-five lie to point to as proof that Marinette would decide to tell the massive lies that she does. That's a pretty big writing flaw, but it's not a show stopper. A lie like this could still fit her character if the story sets it up right.

The problem is that the story doesn't do that. It actually sets Marinette up to be primed to want to tell the truth.

For all Miraculous' nonsensical and wacky writing, the season five lie still comes at the end of two seasons with relatively clear messages. Those messages were to trust others and avoid lies. Let me show you what I mean.

While season four's writing is an absolute disaster, we cannot ignore the fact that the stated lesson in Strikeback is that Marinette learned to trust others, give up control, and stop lying:

Ladybug: Why don't you just give up on me? I've lost ALL the Miraculous! I'm the worst Guardian EVER! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of EVERYTHING! (continues sobbing)

This is what Marinette says to Chat Noir directly after losing the Kwamis. This is the lesson that she supposedly learned. The end note of the season. The word of god meant to be internalized by children everywhere. The show even goes so far as to have Ladybug give Chat Noir more responsibility in the first episode of season five (Evolution):

Cat Noir: Catch, m'lady! (throws the Rabbit Miraculous at Ladybug and she catches it) Only the holder of the Rabbit Miraculous can open a time portal. Ladybug: (contemplates shortly then places the Rabbit Miraculous on his chest, smiling) You do it, kitty. Cat Noir: You want me to control time? Ladybug: It's you and me, remember?

Really driving home this idea that Ladybug is going to be more trusting and open with others moving forward.

The meat of season five sees Marinette and Adrien start dating. During this arc, Marinette learns to be more open with her feelings around Adrien while also being confronted with the reality of just how messed up Adrien's home life is. Marinette and Gabriel clash with each other over Adrien with Marinette fighting for Adrien's freedom and Gabriel trying to control everything:

Gabriel: I don't think you understand, child, so let me put things differently. Life is like fashion. You think you have a choice, but all you have is the illusion of choice. And I decide what choices are given to you. Marinette: You're wrong! (Shows Gabriel her sketchbook.) Fashion is about listening to people, it's about understanding who they are, what excites them and creating the clothes that will help them express their inner world. Help them connect with others and make their dreams come true.

This conflict means that Marinette and Gabriel do not have a single positive interaction in the entire season outside of maybe the final. We also see Adrien defy his father more than ever before. This is not the kind of setup you write if you want Marinette to tell Adrien that his father was a hero. Why in the world would she think that he'd want to be told that kind of lie? Why would he even buy it after all of the things that Gabriel has done? The final literally sees Adrien locked in a padded prison cell!!! Writers, what are you doing??? Why did you write this???

There's also the fact that season five has a major theme of lies = bad. It's the season where Lila's lies are finally outed, but only after they almost cost Marinette's friends their futures. For those who need a reminder: Lila tried to mess with the forms that stated where everyone wanted to go for lycée and would have succeeded in pulling off that harm and blaming it on Marinette were it not for the lies being outed.

On top of that, we also see Adrien keeping the plan to ship him off to London from Marinette, ending in this exchange:

Marinette: (on the video call) Adrien! Adrien: (voice breaking; in tears) Marinette, I should've told you sooner, but... up until the last minute, I thought I'd find a solution. I tried everything, I swear. Marinette: (on the video call) Adrien, what's... what's going on? Adrien: I have to leave Paris. (his voice breaks) I'm not worthy of your love. I feel terrible for hurting you.

Adrien kept the truth from Marinette to try to keep her from being hurt and ended up hurting her more than he otherwise would have because they don't even get a proper goodbye.

None of this is a solid setup for Marinette turning around and lying to Adrien about his father. Why would she do that after all of the harm lies and Gabriel caused in season five? Between this and season four, she has not been setup to want to lie to Adrien. Season five needs massive rewrites to make that choice work! (Note: I have yet to see the London special, but based on everything I've heard, I think it's just going to cement my annoyance at Marinette's wishy-washy writing by continuing to ignore the plot of the seasons leading up to the final and the special.)

Final Thoughts

I don't think that Marinette lying to Adrien about his dad is a terrible idea. It's a believable struggle! It just doesn't fit her character's journey. They've failed to have her tell that type of lie before and they had her tell this lie after two seasons where the main lessons were how much lies have hurt her and the people that she loves. If she hasn't gotten the message that you shouldn't lie by now, then when exactly is she going to learn it? It's incredibly hard for me to get invested in characters that aren't allowed to grow and learn from their mistakes and Miraculous has made it abundantly clear that it will not let these characters grow if growth messes with the plot that the writers want to tell.

I will openly admit that I think that Marinette's lie was a last minute retcon to make there be a cliffhanger to season six, but let's ignore that and give a quick three-point plan of how you could make this ending work:

Really lean into the negative consequences of people knowing the truth about things. Nino knowing Alya's identity outing Alya. Luka getting shipped off to Brazil. Make the truth hurt Marinette at every turn. Basically remove all lies = bad consequences and have Ladybug see losing the miraculous be the result of trusting others because she trusted "Adrien" and lost, leading her to keep pushing people away

Don't let Lila be outed. Have Lila be a good president and make that part of her big plan for the next season.

Have Gabriel and Marinette get along. Gabriel has said that Adrien is like Emilie, let Gabriel see himself in Marinette, leading Gabriel to trust Marinette to be Adrien's support should the worst happen. Let the final fight be a heartbreaking moment between two people who have an actual relationship built around loving Adrien. Have Adrien going to London be a "convenient" trip to get him out of the way on the day of the evil plot and not a prison sentence so that Gabriel doesn't look cartoonishly evil. Make it feel like he cares! Sell the redemption!

Do that and, yeah, I'd buy Marinette's choice even without setup lies because you don't need setup lies! Setup lies don't matter anywhere near as much as selling this lie and the writers simply didn't do that. I don't believe for a second that Marinette would lie for Gabriel or think that this was what Adrien wanted based on the relationship season five gave us for those three characters. It is so glaringly obvious that this is nothing more than a stalling tactic that has nothing to do with Marinette's character and everything to do with the show's rule that "there must always be a secret between Adrien and Marinette." I genuinely struggle to understand how anyone sees it as anything else.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 55

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

You sigh in relief, that was close... too close, you almost had to think about some of the stuff you really don't want to aknowledge.... Hopefully Joel doesn't get funny ideas from that.

Sure, you might have gotten a slight bit attached to one mortal...or two...but it's just more fun this way! Yes! Nothing more to it. Nothing at all... And well you don't need to justify yourself to him anyway! Who is he to question you? ... Outside of like being the literal sky.

You are digging your metaphorical hole deeper at this point.

...

ANYWAY, It's time to go back to your vessel now, It's been a long enough time that it shouldn't be too weird for you to wake up... Well it might still be but at this point you are too bored to care.

You just give it a bit of a push and you open your eyes.

Ugh, It's way too bright in here and now that you are back inside the body the pain has somewhat returned, going to have to fix that at one point tll. You never understood why humans were made to be so fleshy and weak and sickly in the first place...

You push yourself up on the medical bef, the muscle mass in the arms is mostly intact with minimal athropy luckily, the legs are pretty much the same so not an horrible state by mortal standards at least... The door to the room opens, It's a nurse... She seems shocked to see you awake, she quickly dashes to your bedside to check on some monitors near you...then after a few minutes of questions that you really didn't care about she nods and leaves to make a call...

Soon after Cub burst trough the door, covered from head to toe in water.

"Grian? I was told you were up."

"That I am ..."

You should probably be asking questions right, they think you have been unconcious for the last week or so.

"... What happened? The uh nurse that found me when I woke up didn't explain much."

There! Perfect! Now he thinks you are clueless and your divinity is once more kept secret, good job you!

"You ...got shot protecting Hotguy from a sniper"

"And how long was I...?"

"Oh just... A bit more less then two weeks"

"Hmm."

...

The silence that follows is akward, you just want to get this over with so you can leave and the two of you barely know eachother... You really want to ask about what the associations current plans are for you but you can't just ask that, you already made Cub suspicious with the blood samples way before everything went down...

...Ok maybe you can phrase it in a non-suspicious way, It's a better option then laying on the bed for who knows how long.

"So... What now?"

"Uh?"

"Can I like ...leave now?" That should sound earnest enough hopefully.

"What?"

Cub is not the expressive type, you have gathered that from the little you have seen of him. This is not an exception, he just tilts his head before giggling a bit, you really can't tell if It's genuine or not.

"Grian, you just woke up from a coma you- you can't just...you can't just get up and leave."

"Oh..."

Well then, you messed it up, he's -

"Where would you even get that idea? Is that something you have done before? Wake up from a possibly life ending injury and just leave?"

There is a right answer is. . . You don't know what that is, you have no clue what he wants you to say. So you do a bit of gambling.

"Yes yes, many times, all the time"

His smile falters a bit, this somehow feels more like genuine confusion or thought...he just looks at you, did you say the wrong thing? You should have just done the mind reading trick... No, you gave yourself a challenge, if you just used all your powers this wouldn't be any fun anymore.

...

He doesn't even say anything else he just keeps looking, you tilt your head a bit and it seems to bring him back.

"Right... Well, I'll be speaking with the medical staff then."

"Sure."

He slowly gets up and after a few seconds goes to open the door and leave... He stops just as he reaches for the door.

"And Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Scar is worried, should -"

"Tell him to come by."

"Alright"

And like that he's gone.

*End of Chapter 10*

[erabu-san]

You are literally French. What would you know about any of this, an issue and drama stirred up by anericans.

Blackwashing exists and is used by bigots that hate white people. Its used to erase the ethnicity of asians just because people dont think they are "poc enough" because of their pale skin. Its used to demonize people with pale skin because its becoming more and more the norm to view anyone with pale skin as evil. That anyone who is "too pale" isnt enough or a human being.

They arent real people, and their skintones are fine as is. You wouldnt go up to, for example an albino or mixed race black/poc person and tell them they arent "dark enough". They dont even need to be special like that to be pale. Some just are pale.

Whether you think there should be more characters that are dark or not is not the issue. Its that you think they wouldnt be/arent good enough as is with pale skin that shows how much of a bigot you are.

Blackwashing is not the progressive act you think it is. Its obvious that your only experience with it is through genshin drama. You obviously know nothing about how much red haired pale characters & asian ones are substituted with black characters. How characters are simply replaced in the name of "diversity". How this forced inclusivity and diversity is just bigots trying to "get revenge" on the white people they hate so much, and to tick off DEI boxes on their little bigoted checklist.

You tell me to educate myself but its actually YOU who needs to be educated.

Many are complaining about sumeru and natlan characters with names similar to gods in cultures of our world that are pale when their inspiration is dark skinned. Claiming they want representation and for it to be accurate, to reflect our world on a 1-1 scale.

Yet these same people will make xiao, zhongli, Ei, and many more asian characters darker " because asians can be dark skinned too". Yet so can mostly dark skinned races be pale.

So why cant you (gen) respect such characters, who are gods and divine beings based on a culture where pale is more beautiful, and gods of such cultures are pale?

There is hypocrisy in everything to do with blackwashing. Its okay when its done to pale characters because in real life black people have been oppressed? But these characters are not real, nor are they a reflection of our reality, as far as we have seen they dont even have racism in this fictional world.

It is one thing to explore a character like with the recent hatsune miku trend, atleast there most people arent going at each other's throats saying black miku is better than japanese miku(as far as i have seen)

Seriously how can you even begin to justify this. And who ever told you that dark skinned characters "scare white people" is an absolute fucking liar trying to justify their own bigotry towards white people.

No black washing IS just as disgusting as whitewashing. Neither should exist, and you shouldn't feed into the stupid circle jerk of bigotry that both of them are.

Aaaah that's what I like ! Yes ! Thank you for telling me your opinion, explaining what is wrong. I absolutely love to learn, and I prefer to read this long text calling me ignorant and explaining why that just a simple text of you saying you are annoyed by a fanart.

Thank you for telling me ! First yes I am french, and indeed my culture has more an european pov. But again, I also grow up as a minority "race" with my parents culture !🙏 in france, i don't look like a french. Well. Still I am aware that it doesn't remove anything from what I said

And I totally agree with you, some are just pale !! It just happens I draw Kinich black because I like it like this. Is Kinich true inspiration are actually pale ? Tell me more, I wish to learn !!

Tbh when you talk abt gods being pale is beautiful, I thought about Nahida. I did research when she were out and yes, I do agree, there is character who are fine as they are.

And because I live in France I also see "dark skin scare white" as a true fact. It happens and it is harmful. 🧍 not only in France tho, in country where pale skin is portrayed as beautiful, people who have tan skin are less represented even if it is the majority. I suppose the contrary happens too !!

"Character are not real" and yet you are annoyed, I guess it is the action of "blackwash" that make you mad, more than "a fictional character w diffent skin tone" tho! My opinion is fiction does affect real world, as do real life affects fiction, and this is something I won't debate on

"They don't have racism in this fictional world" sorry but it does in Sumeru. 🙏 about this one npc she is reject by forest and desert because of them being mixed, desert not being access to book and even Cyno said his scholarship was complicated because he is from desert

If you wish to continue, please send me DM with arguments. I don't know if I would change my mind of not drawing Kinich pale, but I am super interested about what you have to say !! 👍👍

[the-amber-raven]

I would never delete my fics

I got linked to a reddit thread today where people were being advised to download my mortifying ordeals/Buddie fics, since apparently "now that I'm a BuckTommy shipper", I might be "petty" and delete all my Buddie fics.

So. I'll move past the complicated feelings it gives me to have people hoarding my fics while actively shitting on me as a person (and seemingly not even telling me that they enjoyed my work, although in fairness that could just be a difference in usernames.) That's the nature of fanfic, fandom, and putting things out there on the internet and I accept that.

But I do want to reassure people that I would never delete my fics. I still have the cringy-as-fuck Harry Potter fics I wrote in high school up; believe me those would be first on the chopping block if I was inclined to delete my work. And all of my 9-1-1 fics hold a special place in my heart, but none more than the mortifying ordeals series, which consumed basically a full year of my life and reminded me why I love writing. Hell, I got engaged while writing the final chapters of I once was lost. That fic is indelibly tied to my life now.

And look... I don't think it really matters, nor should I have to explain and justify what I do and don't enjoy about a show or fandom, but this whole experience has upset me more than it probably should have and I can't help but want to get it off my chest anyway.

My favourite thing about this show is the found family feels. I either love or am at least intrigued by every single character that has appeared. You'll notice that family is the central theme of every story I write, whether the story is Gen, Buddie, or BuckTommy.

Because yes, the idea of BuckTommy and how that plays into the family themes of the show has intrigued me and captured my muse.

I've also said before that I didn't think Season 7 left Buddie in a great place in terms of romantic relationship potential - in my opinion, the ghost of Shannon would be an absolutely massive barrier to them getting together right now. The post season 7 Buddie fics have also heavily featured character bashing, which isn't something I generally enjoy seeing, and infidelity, which I really don't like seeing romanticised especially since I've had a partner cheat on me.

So yes, I've distanced myself from the post-S7 Buddie fandom because I just don't enjoy the pervasive negativity I've seen and the way that cheating and violence is suddenly celebrated by a significant subset of the fandom.

That does not mean I've given up on Buddie altogether. I still have a whole list of pre-S7 buddie fics in my to-be-read list that I've been making my way through and 2 out of my 5 WIPs are Buddie fics (both in the mortifying ordeals 'verse, just to make it even clearer that I'm not at all interested in deleting that series.)

But two of those 5 are BuckTommy, because as I said above, their relationship was intriguing to me and it captured my muse.

I don't think those opinions make me some kind of betrayer, or that they inherently make me a "petty" person but I guess I just didn't realise that not-exclusively-shipping-Buddie was such a High Crime in this fandom.

[nomoreusername]

Out of Denial

Pairing:Gally x gender neutral reader

Summary: Seeing Gally again brings up emotions you thought you pushed past.

“You were supposed to be dead?!”

“Good to see you too.”

“That's not-that isn't what I meant. It's just-I-we watched you get impaled. That would kill anyone. How are you here, Gally? That's insane. This is insane,”I rambled.

“So is life, seeing as I’m still in it.”

“This is crazy. This just feels like a nightmare,”I admitted, handing him the icepack for his nose. While it didn't look swollen, Thomas had still punched him in the face. Who knows what he would look like tomorrow?

Who even knew he would be awake tomorrow?

I certainly didn't.

“I don't know what you want me to say. I survived, I got picked up, now I’m here,”He listed, placing it on his face.

“That’s an insane thing to survive though. It’s almost unsurvivable, and you're just alive? I mean I’m happy about that. I really am, but it's still a lot. You could always be unexpected, but this is a new level,”I tried to explain.

“I’m alive though. Shouldn't that make you happy?”He pointed out.

“It's not that easy. I have been grieving you for almost a year now. I lived my life in constant mourning for people dying in front of me and for the person who means everything. Now that you're actually here, my mind has this urge to deny everything else. It wants to make up stories where I can see Alby and Winston and everyone else again,”I sighed, purposely not saying Chuck. Sitting beside him, I rested my head on the couch as I looked at him, my feet tucked under me as I took in the information.

“This is good though. It should be good that I’m alive,”He mumbled.

“It is, but it just makes me want to make up all these stories that I know aren't true. It's like since one person I care about isn't actually dead, maybe nobody else is either. Maybe everyone else is living out a secret life. And I know that sounds crazy, and I know it isn't true, but some part of me is so tempted to believe it.”

“I’m sorry. I really wanted to contact you, but I didn't know how. I didn't know where to even start looking, and I didn't know if anybody would want to see me. I didn't mean to make it harder.”

“It's not that you made it harder. I used to spend almost all my time justifying exactly this. Justifying why you were actually okay and safe. Then, I had to push past that and accept that you were never coming back. Now you are back though, and I have to accept that that's not happening for anybody else. It's a lot to take in and accept, on top of what we came here for. There's just so much going on in so little time.”

“I know there is, and I hate that I just threw this on you, but I had to. I saw you, and I had to see you for real again.”

“Gally, do you think that everything will just go back to the way it was before this?”I asked slowly, my expression dropping at the thought.

“No. Not really, but a guy can dream,”He shrugged, leaning his head back. He placed his icepack in his lap before turning to face me. “So where do we start then? Where do we go from here?”

“I don't know,”I admitted.

“Well, I don't either. I wish I did, that I had the answers, but I barely have answers for what's been going on in the past several months, much less hours.”

“It's not your fault,”I repeated.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can't tell anymore.”

“I can, and you know I’ll call you out when you do something wrong. Right now, you don't have to be. You’ve been through enough. We all have, and it's not your fault life won't give any of us a break.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course,”I smiled.

“Well, thanks. For the advice. And the icepack,”He smiled back, holding it up.

“It was the least I could do after leaving you like that,”I promised.

“You don't think I blame you for that, do you?”

“I don't know. I’ve been trying not to think about it,”I admitted.

“But now you have to,”He added, reading my mind.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

“And I have to help think about what we do next, don't I?”

“About us?”I confirmed.

“Yeah. About us.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.”

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 5: Black Magic

series masterlist

If you had a scale right now, you’d say the situation you’ve been ignoring has escalated from probably not good to really fucking bad.

You stand quietly in the makeshift doorway, arms crossed tightly across your chest as you observe Lorraine's reaction to the hidden room, the toe of your boot tapping against the wood anxiously.

Your fist covers your mouth as you take in her every move, watching as she carefully examines the items contained within the space.

Her disbelief and shock are palpable, visible in the way her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

You had to do something, exhausted of her continued refusal to reveal her secrets. You could tell that she was protecting something, something she thought you wouldn't understand or believe.

So, you made the decision to show her the hidden room you had discovered in your Pops’ study.

Match energy, one might say, meet crazy with crazier if anything.

You knew that seeing it firsthand would finally make her realize that you were serious about this. Lorraine stands frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief as she takes in the sight before her.

The hidden room remains as it was — filled with an array of cult-like items, including the altar and all the candles, ritualistic tools scattered atop it, and of course the gaping empty space in the middle.

Her mouth hangs open, trying to form words but failing. The reality of what she's seeing slowly sinks in, and a mix of dread and shame washes over her face.

Lorraine takes a deep breath, taking a moment to collect herself as reality sinks in. She turns to you, her eyes wide with disbelief, and exclaims “you waited until now to tell me this was here?!"

Her voice is tinged with incredulity, as if trying to wrap her mind around the fact that you hadn't told her sooner.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain your decision “I-I... I found it recently—" you stammer, a hint of defensiveness in your tone as you try to justify your actions.

"—and I didn't know what it was at first... I didn’t wanna believe it" your voice trails off, realizing that perhaps you should have spoken up sooner, but it's too late now.

Lorraine's frustration and disbelief reach a new level, and she throws her hands up in the air, gesturing towards the room of dark religious paraphernalia.

"I've been stayin’ here with you for days," she exclaims, her voice filled with incredulity, "and you were just okay with this?!" Her eyes widen as she tries to make sense of your nonchalance towards the situation.

You raise your own hand in a gesture towards the room, defensive and frustrated as you respond, words full of urgency and conviction "now you know why it's so goddamn important we get the hell out of here!"

You lock eyes with her, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation and the need for immediate action, "there's some messed up shit goin’ on here, and I got reason to believe your friends know about it!"

Lorraine falls silent, her eyes glazing over as if lost in thought. A sense of realization washes over her face, and her eyes flutter about the room as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

Her gaze sharpens as she takes in the room and its contents once more, a mixture of understanding and fear etched across her features.

You remain wary of the room, keeping a safe distance in the doorway. You shift your weight nervously as you call out to her, trying to pull her attention back to you.

"Lorraine," you say, voice urgent and insistent, "I need you to tell me what you know. I don't care how crazy it sounds, I know you know something."

You look at her intently, hoping that she'll finally reveal the truth behind the cryptic happenings that have been taking place since your return.

Lorraine fidgets nervously, wringing her fingers together and chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in the various ominous items scattered throughout. Her gaze lingers a bit longer on the unreadable yet foreboding writing on the wall, as if contemplating the meaning behind it.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before cautiously stepping into the room. The unsettling energy envelops you as you walk towards Lorraine, your footsteps heavy on the floor. You approach her, noticing how she's lost in thought, and place a gentle hand on her arm to get her attention.

Lorraine flinches away nervously as your hand touches her arm, and you quickly retract your hand, raising both palms in a gesture of surrender. She visibly relaxes a bit as you step back, muttering a soft "sorry” under her breath.

Lorraine looks at you uncertainly, her voice dropping to a soft, whispered confession. "I think I messed up, Rooks... I'm in deep shit," she murmurs, the weight of her words settling heavily in the air between you.

You stand there perplexed, your confusion evident on your face. You had already suspected that Lorraine was aware of the strange happenings, but now her confession confirms it.

Although your suspicions were correct, it still leaves you with many unanswered questions, and you don't quite what to make of her cryptic words.

You can’t be angry, because what good would that do? You might be more in the dark than Lorraine, but you’ll never know the truth if you just blow up on her.

"I already figured you knew what was goin’ on," you say, your voice tinged with both confusion and curiosity. "But what do you mean by being in deep shit?" you follow up, hoping to delve deeper into what she knows.

Lorraine's eyes flicker downward, and her guilt is evident in her body language. She fidgets nervously, her hands still twisting together and her shoulders hunching slightly.

She seems to already know that you're going to be upset with whatever she's about to reveal, and the thought of your reaction weighs heavily on her mind.

Lorraine takes a shaky breath before continuing, her gaze locked with yours. "There's somethin’ you need to see," she begins, her voice soft and tentative.

"But..." she pauses, a mixture of guilt and worry flooding her expression, “once you know, I'm worried you'll be just as stuck as I am," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

You gesture to the room around you, your voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief, “pretty sure I already am, Lorraine".

"For god's sake, I'm startin’ to think my Pop was leading some devil's cult," you chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in fully.

Lorraine lifts her head, her face a maelstrom of complex emotions. She shakily exhales and nods once, a silent agreement passing between you.

"Okay," she concedes, her voice filled with a mix of fear and determination, “we have to go to my place then."

Lorraine quickly brushes passes by you, and you follow close behind, not even sparing a glance at the makeshift door disguised as a fake bookshelf.

As you both exit the room, you ask, frustration and impatience clear in your voice, "are you not gonna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Lorraine halts abruptly in the middle of the hallway, causing you to stumble and almost collide into her as you quickly step out of the room after her. She turns around to face you, her expression serious and guarded.

Lorraine's voice lowers to a hushed whisper, tinged with sorrow and regret. "This ain't easy for me, Rooks," she admits, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sadness.

"It ain't been easy since they told me..." her words trail off and she shakes her head, her gaze fixed firmly on you.

"It'll be easier to explain when you see what I've seen," she repeats, her voice taut with tension.

Lorraine's eyes flicker hesitantly between yours, a silent plea passing through her gaze. She's searching for understanding, for a moment of solidarity before the storm. She wants you in the know, to understand her situation, but at the same time, she trying to suppress the emotions bubbling up inside.

The moment hangs heavy between you, the weight of her unspoken plea pulling at your heartstrings.

Lorraine looks intently into your eyes, her voice pleading and uncertain. "You trust me?" she asks, her eyes searching your face for any indication of your response.

The echo of the question you’d asked her a few days ago seems almost poetic, an anaphora.

You hesitate, a conflicted feeling stirring within you. The pain in her eyes is evident as your hesitation sinks in, but you also sense that she understands your wariness. The moment hangs in the air, neither of you moving.

You exhale softly, the memory of her words a few days ago fresh in your mind. With a steady gaze, you repeat her own words back to her, a hint of conviction in your voice.

"You'd never lead me astray," you reaffirm, your trust in her slowly beginning to resurface.

Despite Lorraine's initial lack of openness, you can't help but feel a sense of clarity. She's here, being honest even though it's difficult, and she's promised you the truth. There's a part of you that still harbors doubt, but the longer you spend in her presence, the harder it is to distrust her.

It seems to be a recurring theme when you're with Lorraine — the more time you spend in her presence, the harder it is to doubt her or maintain any suspicions you might have towards her.

There's something about her that just disarms you, making it near impossible to keep your guard up.

You haven’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing yet.

Lorraine nods once, a silent gesture of gratitude passing between you. She then turns and begins walking down the hall once more, her footsteps quick and resolute.

You follow closely behind, staying right on her heels as she leads the way. The regret begins to wash over you. Your mind races with thoughts of what you should have done instead.

You think about leaving the manor behind, burning it to the ground. You think about discarding the inheritance and walking away from this whole mess. It would have been so much easier to just pretend like none of this existed.

But then Lorraine turns to look at you as she touches the front door handle. A soft murmur escapes her lips, "thank you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you for believing in me. For not... leaving again."

There's a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes, a glimmer of the trust and hope that she once had in you coming back to the surface.

Your guilt settles heavily on your chest as you reflect on your previous thoughts, your mind quickly shifting to more important matters.

“Of course,” you nod firmly in agreement, swallowing down any further regrets, "let's just get this over with”.

____________________________________________

The town square lies quietly before you, the few street lamps casting pools of warm light on the pavement.

As you kill the engine of your bike, a heavy sense of anticipation settles in the air. The silence of the night is nearly suffocating, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant sound of an owl hooting.

Lorraine carefully dismounts from the bike, the warmth of her arms around your waist leaves a ghostly feeling in its absence.

You remain seated for a moment longer, taking the opportunity to scan the deserted streets with a wary eye.

The town square stretches wide before you, the surrounding buildings looming in the shadows, their darkened windows staring like empty eye sockets. Your attention pulls at the sound of a wings flapping, a distinct chatter of beak, yet you see nothing.

The atmosphere around you becomes tense, and as you turn your gaze back to Lorraine, the air between you feels charged with anticipation.

She’s removed the helmet from her head and offers it back to you, delicate fingers slipping slowly from the leather strap as she hands it to you.

The moment Lorraine offers the helmet back to you, your fingers graze against hers as you accept it. For a split second, the sensation of her touch causes a jolt of electricity to shoot through you, almost as if you had touched something volatile.

The feeling is subtle, yet it serves to increase the suspense that’s been slowly building, creating a sense of heightened awareness between the two of you.

Lorraine's eyes meet yours, holding your gaze for a moment before turning away to look around the empty square.

Lorraine mutters softly, a hint of urgency in her tone, "let's get a move on," as she turns away from you and begins walking forward. You quickly slide off the bike, hooking your helmet onto the handle before following closely behind her.

The echo of your footsteps against the cobblestone pavement seems almost deafening in the stillness of the night.

As you follow Lorraine to the library, a sense of foreboding surrounds you, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

Both of you can't help but glance around cautiously, your eyes flickering to every shadow and corner before coming to focus on the tall glass doors.

Your heart rate inexplicably begins to pick up speed as Lorraine fishes for the keys in her back pocket to unlock the doors.

Your gaze is drawn to Lorraine's trembling hands as she struggles to steady herself, the keys in her grasp glistening under the pale glow of the streetlight.

She pauses, clenching the keys tightly in her palm, clearly trying to quell her nerves. It's a brief but telling moment, hinting at the internal turmoil she's attempting to hide.

Seeing Lorraine's struggle, you offer her a small but reassuring gesture. A light touch on her arm, a brief brush of your knuckles against the back of her arm.

It's a subtle way of letting her know that you're there, you see her fear, you’re mirroring it yourself, but you're ready to stand beside her.

Lorraine takes a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes flickering towards you briefly in a side glance before focusing on the door again.

The soft click of the lock as it comes undone echoes loudly in the silent night air, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. The door gently creaks as Lorraine swings it open, the entrance of the library gaping like a dark, waiting maw.

You step inside after Lorraine, retrieving your phone from your pocket and flicking the flashlight on. The beam of light bounces around the room, casting shadows that dance on the walls.

Lorraine moves to the door behind you, the metallic jingling of the keys filling the air as she locks the door from the inside.

Lorraine steps up next to you, her body warm beside yours, closer than necessary yet not uncomfortable. She murmurs under her breath, "don't touch nothin’, you hear?”, voice taut and filled with tension.

Without waiting for a response, she moves forward, her footsteps purposeful as she leads the way deeper into the library.

You follow closely behind Lorraine, your phone's flashlight illuminating the darkened space in front of you. Despite the chill in the air, your leather jacket offers little relief from the cold that seems to have seeped into the very bricks of the library.

The shadows seem to shrink and stretch as the light dances across the walls, a sense of unease settling like a weight in your chest.

You follow Lorraine as she guides you through the dark and labyrinthine maze of stacks, keeping to her pace. Every so often, she casts a quick glance behind her, her eyes checking to ensure you're not falling behind.

She then turns a corner, disappearing from sight for a brief moment, only to reappear further down the aisle. She watches for a moment to make sure you're still with her before continuing forward.

As you're passing through the stacks, a figure flashes in your peripheral vision. The moment freezes you in your tracks, the sight so unexpected that it causes a jolt of alarm to run through you.

Your heart stutters, the momentary distraction causing you to pause, your eyes locked onto the area where you saw the movement.

The thudding is hard in your chest, you quickly swing your phone around, aiming the beam of light at the place where you thought you saw the figure. You peer around the shelves carefully, eyes darting, searching and alert, but the area is seemingly deserted.

After checking the area thoroughly and realizing it's clear, your muscles relax, attributing the movement to your own imagination.

With a relieved huff, you turn back around, fully intending to continue following Lorraine, only to realize that she's nowhere to be seen.

Fucking fantastic.

A shiver of unease ripples through you, your mind filling with the distinct sense that you're being watched. The silence of the library is now oppressively loud, the shadows seem to have eyes, and the air feels thick and heavy. Your heart rate picks up, your hand tightening around the phone in your grasp.

The silence of the darkened library is deafening, the shadows around you seem to come alive, shifting and moving in the corner of your vision.

You take slow, careful steps forward, your voice cutting through the silence as you call out her name.

"Lorraine?"

The sound of your voice is swallowed by the darkness, the only response being the slow, methodical ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere within the library.

Each step forward is slow and cautious, your eyes scanning the area. The beam of your phone bouncing off piles of books, shadows that seem to move with a life of their own, and the darkened stacks themselves.

Your heart beats faster in your chest, the sense of being watched growing stronger by the second.

"Lorraine?" your voice cuts through the silence once again, your call echoing through the dimly lit library.

The only answer being the soft rustling of leaves from an open window somewhere nearby.

At least, until a familiar caw from the open window sends a chill down your spine, your gut clenching in a sudden realization that you can't ignore what's before you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, your mind instantly connecting the dots. Your heart pounds as you slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound, every instinct telling you to trust your gut.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

You spot a shadowy figure down one of the stacks, the silhouette too far away for your phone's flashlight to fully illuminate.

However, even from a distance, you can tell it's someone tall, definitely taller than Lorraine. In an instant, your heart rate spikes even further, your fight or flight instinct kicking in.

What. The. Fuck. Is that?

The sight of the shadowy figure in the distance sets your heart racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, every fiber of your being screaming to react.

It's the stature of the hunter, and a quiet before the storm.

With your nerves stretched taut, you grip your phone tightly, your mind torn between confronting the unknown or turning and running.

Its eyes gleam and reflect in the light from your phone, a cold, otherworldly glow.

A low, ominous vibration seems to fill the air, the surrounding shadows twisting and writhing, as if the figure itself is shifting and taking form.

Every cell in your body tells you to run, to flee from the danger that hangs in the air. But something keeps you rooted to the spot, your fear keeping you frozen warring with your survival instincts.

The shadow’s voice, when it speaks, is warped and unnatural, a low, guttural sound that seems to come from every direction at once.

It chants words you don't understand, syllables that send a chill down your spine, the meaning of them filled with a malevolent energy that makes your heart race.

Your instincts beg for you to turn and run, to get away from the source of the ominous vibration and the twisted voice. But your body is frozen, fight or flight stalled by an overwhelming fear.

Every instinct you have screaming at you to run, seems to register at once as your body finally obeys.

As the shadow lunges forward, you bolt in the opposite direction, adrenaline pumping through your veins, the fear and desperation igniting every muscle in your legs.

Your phone flashlight bounces wildly, casting fleeting shadows that dance and shift as you tear through the labyrinth of bookshelves and rows, the sound of your footsteps echoing loudly in the silent library.

With your heart pounding against your chest, you cut another corner, the sound of you pursuer echoing behind you, the sound of your boots thumping and rustling shadows filling the air.

“LORRAINE! LORRAINE!”

The thought of turning around and looking back never even crosses your mind — your focus solely on survival. The only thing you can bring yourself to do is to shout Lorraine’s name, hoping against hope that she can hear you over the pandemonium.

Just as you thought you might be trapped, you turn a corner and there she is — Lorraine, the glow from her phone lighting her face as she looks at you.

“Rooks?” her worried and confused look mirrors your own, her eyes wide, the question on her lips.

"What the hell are you—"

But her voice is cut off as loud footsteps and guttural chants fill the air behind you, the shadow being close on your heels.

Acting quickly, you grab Lorraine by the arm and pull her out of sight, the two of you squeezing into the tight space between the two bookcases.

Your heart pounding, you shove both her phone and yours into your jacket, the light immediately extinguished.

With your adrenaline still spiked, you stand there, your body blocking Lorraine's, the sound of the entity's heavy footsteps and the guttural chanting almost upon you.

With Lorraine safely hidden between the bookshelf and your body, your hand comes up to cover her mouth, muffling any sound she might make.

Your other hand raises, your fingertip pressing against your own lips in a silent plea for her to stay quiet.

Her wide eyes meet yours, and you can feel her body tense against your touch. Her confusion is evident, and you know there's so much she's probably itching to say, but her fear and your trembling hand keep her silent.

You hold your breath, the muscles of your body tensing as you cautiously glance to the side, out of the small space between the bookcases. The silence that follows is thick, the only sound the rapid beating of your own heart in your ears.

The footsteps have stopped, and the entity’s guttural chants have fallen quiet. The air feels like it’s hanging in suspense as you wait for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

No movement, not a sound. The air hangs still, the silence deafening. You and Lorraine are both frozen, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel her trembling against your chest.

Your eyes remain locked on the space between the bookcases, searching in the darkness for any sign of the thing that was so close to catching you just moments before.

Her trembling fingers reach up and wrap around your wrist, the one covering her mouth. The feel of her touch breaks your focus, causing you to turn your attention back to her, your own adrenaline still high.

In response, you slowly remove your hand from her mouth, giving her the freedom to finally speak.

As she does, her voice a trembling whisper, the sound barely audible over the beating of your own heart.

"What the hell is goin’ on?" she asks, her body still pressed close to yours, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

Your mind is a whirlwind of chaos, your thoughts bouncing around in your head like a ping-pong ball in an empty room.

The adrenaline is draining, leaving you feeling dazed and a little disoriented. You can feel your brain struggling to focus, the familiar clouded feeling starting to set in.

It's a feeling you haven't experienced in days, and the sudden return of it is enough to send a pang of frustration through you.

Lorraine, observant as always, catches sight of the dazed look on your face and immediately recognizes what's happening. Her hand squeezes your wrist gently as she whispers, her voice soft and understanding.

"You're seein’ things again, aren't you".

Her words cut through the fog in your mind, the truth of them sinking in.

Every instinct inside of you wants to deny it, to push aside the truth as you've had to do so many times before.

But when your eyes meet Lorraine's, the usual defensiveness fades away, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and resignation. The sight of her concerned but understanding gaze makes it impossible to deny it.

You open your mouth to speak, the words stuck in your throat for a moment before you manage to whisper “it started up again when I came back, it’s only gotten worse”.

Lorraine nods, her understanding evident in the small gesture. Her expression is calm, albeit slightly uneasy as she gently prods at the question on her mind.

“Okay, well... what’d you see just now?"

She never gave you a hard time back then for your hallucinations, but she never indulged in it either, it’s strange to have someone asking for once.

You take a deep breath, the image of the tall, shadowy figure fresh in your mind. "It was tall," you respond, your voice quiet yet filled with a hint of lingering fear.

"And it had these glowin’ eyes, like a cat's, and it was chantin’ somethin’, but I didn't understand what it was”.

Lorraine's worry deepens as you describe the figure, her grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "Did it touch you?" she asks, her voice tense.

You shake your head quickly, the memory of the creature's almost-touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"No, it didn't" you reply, your voice still somewhat shaky, "I was able to run before it could get to me... but it was close."

Lorraine nods solemnly, “as if shit couldn’t get any worse”, her expression becoming more serious “we need to hurry," she reiterates, her voice firm but low.

When she asks “can you still see it? Is still here?”, you close your eyes and focus inwards for a moment. You concentrate on the space around you, on the air, listening for any sound or feeling that might suggest its proximity.

After a few moments, you look back at her and shake your head. "No," you whisper, "I can't feel it anymore".

Lorraine's body relaxes slightly, a sense of relief passing over her face. Your words, however, seem to trigger a different response in yourself.

"No. No, it's not real," you whisper once again. "It never was. It's just in my head, right? Just a hallucination, that's all."

You attempt to explain, to convince yourself —and her — that the figure was just a hallucination, that you're just seeing things.

It has to be, because if it’s not, it means something you aren’t ready to face. That you have been seeing things that are actually there your whole life.

That means it’s all been… real. All of it.

Lorraine stands there, her mouth moving soundlessly for a moment as she considers your words. Then she lets out a small sigh, her eyes searching your face.

"To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore, either," she confesses, her voice soft and filled with a hint of resignation.

You can see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle to reconcile the rational with the irrational.

Lorraine's eyes dart around, her instincts pushing her to check their surroundings once more. Seeing it clear, she turns back to you, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

And for a moment, you both just exist, like planets caught in the gravitational pull of something between you. But then you’re clearing your throat and taking a step back, just as she’s exhaling and tearing her gaze away once more.

"Let's just get upstairs," she mutters, her voice tense but resolute.

With a nudge from her, you both start moving forward from the cramped space between the bookcases and out into the hallway.

Lorraine stays close to your side, her body barely a few inches from yours as you navigate the dimly lit hallway.

In the chaos, it's not until you reach the door to the stairwell that you realize that her delicate fingers are intertwined with yours, her hand holding yours in a firm yet reassuring grip.

You follow Lorraine up the creaking stairs, your locked hands hanging between the two of you.

As you reach the top, Lorraine lets go reluctantly, her hand reaching out to turn on the light switch. The loft is momentarily illuminated with a soft glow, flooding the room with a warm, familiar light.

It's a cozy living space, a reflection of Lorraine's personal style. The walls are a soft cream color, accented with tastefully selected artwork. The space is neat and tidy, with a mix of modern pieces meshing seamlessly with vintage finds.

There's a small but elegant couch facing a vintage television, the walls lined with bookshelves that are a smorgasbord of different genres. The entire space is clean and minimalist, with just a hint of whimsical.

Figures. Fitting.

As you look around the loft, your eyes taking in every little detail, a small smile unconsciously tugs at the corners of your lips. The simplicity and charm of the space pull at your heartstrings, and for a brief moment you find yourself lost in the surroundings.

The tense atmosphere from the encounter fades to the background, replaced by a temporary sense of comfort and familiarity.

You hadn't noticed it at first, but something catches your eye — a pendant hanging from a hook on Lorraine's vanity.

Curiosity piqued, you're about to take a closer look, when Lorraine's voice rings out from the other room, calling your name.

Your eyes linger on the pendant for a moment, your desire to investigate it strong, but Lorraine's voice pulls you away from it.

You cast one last glance at the piece, promising yourself you'd inspect it later before turning away and proceeding into the next room where Lorraine's voice issued from.

You enter the makeshift kitchen, the space cozy and compact yet functional. Lorraine is bent over the small kitchen table, her attention fixed on something in front of her. Curious, you step closer to see what it is that engrosses her interest.

As you approach Lorraine's side, your eyes fix on the leather-bound book sitting on the table in front of her.

A sense of foreboding washes over you as you realize what it is, and you start to inquisitively ask, "What—" but the words die in your throat.

Lorraine continues, her eyes locked on the book, "Maxine and Bobby-Lynn got into a real nasty fight over this just a few days ago. They demanded I leave, but I was just so curious..."

She pauses, her fingers nervously fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve as she casts a sidelong glance in your direction.

"So… I took it when they thought I'd left”.

You glance back and forth between Lorraine and the book, an uneasy feeling settling over you. You mutter your question, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What... what is in it?"

Lorraine hesitates, her eyes flickering back to the book. She seems reluctant to say, her voice soft.

"Dark magic. Rituals, spells... some truly nasty stuff."

Your brow knits together in confusion as you step back from the book, “so... they are fucking around with witchcraft after all, and you've known this whole time?"

Lorraine looks up at you, her expression conflicted. She glances back at the book, then back at you, her voice defensive.

"Yes, but... I didn’t think it was gonna to go this far. I thought they were just curious, playin’ with harmless things they didn’t understand..."

Lorraine starts talking quickly, her words coming out in a rush as her fingers twist and fiddle with each other anxiously.

"They came to me with it one day — said they needed a third person to make it work. They did a few party tricks and I... I believed them."

She looks up at you, her expression somewhat pleading. "They were the first people in a long time to want to include me, became my only friends, and I stupidly went along with it without question—“

Your thoughts race as the words ‘I was your friend’ linger on the tip of your tongue, the memory of the past clouding your mind. Yet before you can utter the words, reality hits you.

Technically, you were the one who left. You were the one who distanced yourself, who abandoned her. You pushed her away without even intending to.

Lorraine moves to the book, her fingers trembling slightly as she starts to slowly flip through the pages.

She continues speaking, her words spilling out in a rush, “—but then I started to realize that there might be more to it. That it could be something serious... and dangerous."

Lorraine pauses, her fingers coming to a halt on a specific page. Without saying a word, she then crosses her arms, fingers nervously biting at her thumbnail. She steps back and gestures towards it, a contemplative look in her eyes.

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Lorraine and the page, curiosity and concern etched on your face. You take a tentative step forward, approaching the book, gaze fixed on the page she’s gesturing to.

As you take a closer look at the page Lorraine has turned to, your eyes scanning over the text.

The words ‘prophecy’, ‘dormant curse’, and ‘descendant of a powerful bloodline’ catch your attention, the cryptic message intriguing and ominous.

You hesitantly pick up the book, your eyes flicking back and forth across the words as Lorraine speaks aloud, summarizing the passage.

"There was a pact between a town ancestor and a malevolent demon, power in exchange of sacrifices," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of unease, "but… there’s a curse in the original bloodline that carries within their lineage”.

You break your gaze away from the book to look at Lorraine, your expression a mixture of trepidation and intrigue. She continues speaking, her voice trembling slightly as she goes on.

"The curse activates after a certain amount of generations, triggered by specific conditions..."

You interrupt her, your curiosity getting the best of you, “what is the curse, the conditions?" you ask, your voice edged with tension.

Lorraine shakes her head, her expression one of frustration. She continues biting her thumbnail, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"I don’t know," she mutters, her eyes fixated on the book, “the next page is gone."

You look back down at the book, your fingers flipping to the next page to find that Lorraine is correct. The page is in fact missing, and a few specks of dried blood can be seen lining the gutter. The sight sends a chill down your spine.

“And you just thought having this, knowing what’s inside it, and NOT telling me was a good idea why?”

The incredulous look she gives you almost gives you whiplash, fairly so as she shoots back “consider us even, or do I need to remind you of the devil room in your Pops’ study?”

Your eyebrows knit together as you open your mouth for rebuttal, but the words die on your tongue, a small exhale replacing it as you process.

Yeah, alright, fair enough.

As your eyes dart from the missing page to Lorraine, a cold realization settles over you.

Of course, it all makes perfect sense.

The pieces of the puzzle start to slot into place, and the atmosphere in the room seems to grow heavier. You begin to describe the atmosphere, your voice tinged with a hint of dread.

"Are you thinkin’ what I'm thinkin’?"

Lorraine tilts her head to the side in response, a sense of resignation crossing her features.

"I think I might have an idea," she admits, her voice betraying a tinge of trepidation. "It's not good."

Lorraine jumps slightly as you snap the book shut, startled by the sudden sound. You point a finger at her, your tone firm. "Go pack a bag, right now. We're leavin’ in ten”.

Without waiting for a response, you drop the book to the table and begin digging through her kitchen drawers, searching for something.

Lorraine starts to protest, her voice coming out in a pleading tone, “Rooks we don't know for sure, maybe—"

Before she can finish her sentence, your fingers close around a decent-sized kitchen knife, and you hold it up for inspection.

As you do, you grunt out “you said lineage, Lorraine — a town ancestor — you and I know damn well who the foundin’ families of this godforsaken place are”.

Lorraine lurches forward, her hands grasping at the leather of your jacket as she tries to convince you. Her voice is full of desperation and uncertainty.

"It might not be what we think," she pleads. "This is all speculation, please, look at me and let’s talk about this?”

You lower the knife back onto the counter, turning to gently grasp her shoulders, gently looking at her.

"Lorraine," you start, your voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination, "they're not good people. They’re messin’ around with dark forces and I wouldn't be surprised if they got that damn book from my Pop..."

You then suddenly stop, the realization of something dawning on you.

Even if you don’t come from a founding family, your Pop was deeply rooted in this community, which means…

You speak aloud, brow knitting together, “my Pop... that explains how he must have known too," you murmur, the implications of your words sinking in slowly.

You shake your head, pushing aside the thoughts to focus on the present situation. Turning back to her, you speak with urgency.

"Please, Raine — let me just get you out of here. We can figure things out once I know you're safe," you say, gently squeezing her shoulders, your gaze earnest imploring.

As you utter her old nickname, it hangs in the air between you. The five years apart fade into the background, overpowered by the weight of the familiar term.

Her eyes widen slightly, the muscles in her face tensing as she processes the nickname. You can already see the emotions battling behind her eyes, the nostalgia and familiarity flooding back.

You assure her with a firm voice, your grip on her shoulders never faltering. "I promise, I'll keep you safe. We're getting you out of here before they can hurt you, I won’t let them” you say, your gaze unflinching.

Lorraine's eyes shine with a mixture of fear and resignation as she nods in agreement. "You were right all along," she admits, her voice wavering slightly.

"I should have listened to you sooner. I should have left when I had the chance," she says, her words filled with a hint of regret.

Your brow furrows in confusion as your hands adjust, still holding her shoulders, your gaze never wavering. You murmur, your voice thick with concern.

"What do you mean? When did you have the chance to leave?"

Lorraine hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on yours.

There's something in her gaze that you can't quite read, like she's contemplating whether to reveal something. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are caught in her throat.

You step closer, concern and curiosity etched on your face. "Raine, what is it?" you ask, your voice gentle.

"You can tell me. Whatever it is. Whatever you're not saying."

Lorraine shakes her head, her eyes flickering away from your face to gaze down at her hands. Her fingers continue their restless fidgeting, twirling and twisting together. You gently reach out to cover her hands with yours, attempting to soothe her tremors with your touch.

Lorraine takes a deep breath, her eyes still fixated on your hands covering hers. She then whispers, her voice barely audible, "okay”.

You feel a flicker of confusion in your mind.

What was she okaying to?

Lorraine looks up at you, her soft brown eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability and trust within them are clear, and you know intuitively that she's agreeing to go with you, no questions asked.

Her decision is clear and unwavering — whatever secrets she's holding, whatever obligations she has, none of it matters now.

You ask her, your voice filled with a tinge of uncertainty, “we're on the same page here, right?"

Lorraine's eyes never waver from yours as she nods slightly, a small, determined but terrified smile on her lips. "I'm with you," she affirms, her voice steady.

In that single moment, a silent understanding passes between the two of you. Screw the town, the dark prophecy, the secrets. Screw it all. All that matters is that you're leaving together, and nothing is going to stop you.

You're in this together, and whatever comes next, you'll face it head-on.

Together.

____________________________________________

You've been keeping watch from the window, your gaze fixed on the streets below, eyes scanning for any signs of trouble.

The minutes seem to stretch out as you stand there, anxiously waiting and watching. Silent. Empty. Not at all reassuring in any sense.

Meanwhile, Lorraine is in her room, hastily throwing essentials into a bag, her mind focused on the task at hand.

The sound of Lorraine moving around in her room serves as background noise as you continue your vigil by the window, your eyes constantly surveying the street below.

You can hear the rustling of clothes, the soft thump of items being packed away. Time seems to move both agonisingly slowly and yet also too quickly at the same time.

All you can do is wait and watch, anxious for the moment when Lorraine emerges from her room with her bag packed and ready to go.

The will be damned, you don’t care about that bullshit anymore. You have plenty to keep you both going for a while, plenty to get you both far enough away.

Plenty to keep her safe.

After what feels like hours but is probably only a few more minutes, the sound of footsteps in the hallway snaps you from your thoughts.

You straighten up, turning your attention to the hallway, watching as Lorraine steps out of her room with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

You stride over to her, your eyes scanning over her, ensuring she brought everything she needs. You then look up at her and ask, "you ready?"

Lorraine nods, her backpack slung over her shoulder. "Yeah," she replies, her voice resolute.

Seeing the way her hands are trembling just a little, you gesture to the backpack and offer, "I can carry that for you if you'd like”.

Lorraine shakes her head, her hair falling in her face as she does so.

Her eyes are a bit dazed, her mind clearly grappling with the realization that she's about to disappear off the face of the planet with you.

It’s clear she’s combed through everything during her solitude while packing, trying to logically process the escalation of events.

The parallels aren't lost on either of you, and it's clear she's struggling with the same emotions you both felt the night you left, five years ago.

Lorraine looks up at you, her eyes wide and a mixture of emotions swirling within them.

Suddenly, she asks, "why?"

Her voice is soft, but there's an undertone of desperation there, a plea to understand. It's clear that she needs clarity, a reason to go along with you.

You stand there, your mind a mixture of emotions. Confusion, sadness, frustration, longing — it all mingles together, forming a tangled web of thoughts and feelings.

As Lorraine implores you, her eyes begging for an answer, you remain silent while you grapple with your own inner turmoil.

Lorraine presses further, her voice laced with both hurt and confusion, “why now? Is it guilt? Huh?"

Her words cut through the air like a knife, hitting you square in the chest.

"Why didn't you ask me to go with you five years ago?"

The question hangs in the air between you, a stark reminder of the past choices that led you here.

You attempt to shut it down, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “we can talk about it later, we don't have time for this—"

However, Lorraine cuts you off before you can finish.

"I need to know before I just up and leave the goddamn state with you," she says firmly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

You feel a pang of guilt and discomfort as she pushes for answers. You can feel the familiar fog threatening to creep in, trying to cloud your thoughts. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to keep a clear head, mentally wrestling with your inner turmoil.

Lorraine's voice takes on a stern tone as she demands again, eyes locked onto yours, “I need an answer. Now."

You can feel the pressure mounting, the weight of her question, the urgency in her voice. The cloud in your mind thickens, making it harder to concentrate.

You meet her gaze, your voice coming out in a measured, controlled tone. "I felt... somethin’ comin’," you begin, struggling to find the right words to express what you're feeling. "It was like a warnin’, and it scared the shit outta me. I couldn't control it. I acted on instinct”.

The fog in your mind thickens further, making your words sound distant and hazy.

You take a shaky breath, your words coming out in a strained whisper. "I... I didn't think you'd be willing to leave everythin’ behind. I didn't think I meant enough to you for you to do that for... with me”.

Admitting all that out loud, expressing the doubts and insecurities you'd harboured for years, feels like a weight off your chest.

Yet, it also feels like a trade for a noose instead, invisible rope coiling around your neck.

Lorraine looks at you, her eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. Her jaw hangs open slightly as she processes your words, clearly taken aback by your confession.

All this time, she had no idea what you'd been holding back.

Lorraine's surprise morphs into a mix of confusion and frustration as her voice drops to a shaky whisper.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"You're acting like you—"

She stops herself, unable to finish the sentence, the realization slowly dawning on her face.

The air between you is thick with tension as the truth, laid bare and raw, fills the space. You hold your breath, the reality of the situation crashing over you.

It's as if you're both seeing each other clearly for the first time, realizing the depth of emotions and feelings that had been hidden all along.

Lorraine's eyes stay fixed on yours, a mixture of shock and understanding slowly dawning in her expression.

Her mind is trying to compute everything, the gravity of what you've just confessed sinking in. Her hand tightens around the strap of her backpack, knuckles turning white with the force.

Your voice comes out in a broken whisper, a mixture of desperation and determination.

"We don't have time for this," you say, your mind focused on the task at hand. "I have to get you out of here, I need you safe."

The urgency in your tone breaks through the tension in the air, pulling Lorraine's attention back to the present situation.

“You don’t mean that,” Lorraine's demeanor changes, her eyes hardening as she mutters in disbelief, “you think you get to leave for five years and say something like that — play the hero, and expect me to just go along with it like it’s not bullshit?"

The hurt and anger in her voice are palpable. The revelation of your feelings has thrown her off balance, making her question everything she thought she knew about your friendship.

The realization hits you like a truck, a wave of understanding washing over you. It's not just her absence you've been feeling for these last five years, but something far more profound.

You've been missing a part of yourself, a piece that completes you, and that piece is her.

It pains you, knowing that it’s taken all of this, to find a sliver of clarity amongst the ruins of chaos.

You realize now that all those memories you've been clinging to, the ones that bring you happiness and contentment, all revolve around her.

They're the moments where you felt whole, alive, and real. And now, standing in front of her, you feel that same completeness again.

How have you never noticed? How could you be so blind to something that’s been right in front of you?

Wow. Can you even blame trauma on this one? You’re just a fucking idiot, apparently.

Now begs the question, are you open to change? Growth? Being healed?

Can you come back from this?

You take a deep breath, the weight of your realization resting heavily on your shoulders as the answer to your own question comes without a second thought.

"Raine," you begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I never meant to hurt you by leavin’. It's just... I couldn't stay, I couldn't stay in a place where I felt trapped, suffocated, broken."

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts, trying to convey the depth of your feelings.

"But now that I've been away, I see that the reason I still felt so empty, so incomplete even after leaving, was because I was missin’ a vital part of myself — you."

“Stop,” Lorraine shakes her head, her anger and frustration evident in her expression. "I won’t — I can't believe you," she says, her voice taut with frustration.

"You're sayin’ all this, that you felt empty without me, and yet you still chose to leave without a word!"

Her anger is palpable, the bitterness in her voice cutting through the air, “you just up and left, without a single word, and now you're standin’ here telling me that I'm the piece you were missing?"

Lorraine's shoulders are tense, her hand clenching the strap of her backpack even tighter “do you have any idea how much it hurt, how much I missed you, how broken I felt when you left?"

“Now all this shit happens,” her voice is a tangled mess of confusion and pain, “and you get this whole idea in your head — this need to escape, to save me to repent against your own guilt — but you didn't think to ask me how I felt about it? You just expected me to follow you without question?"

You're quiet for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air between you.

Finally, you nod once and mutter a single word: "Yes."

The admission is simple, blunt, but honest. You were so focused on your own thoughts, your own plans, that you hadn't stopped to consider how Lorraine felt about it all.

“I’m sorry, you’re right, you’re absolutely right.”

You steel yourself and turn fully to look at Lorraine, your eyes locked onto hers, “what do you want, Lorraine?" you ask, your voice steady but filled with emotion.

Your eyes search her face, your expression softening as you continue, “if you choose to stay, to face this bullshit for whatever reason — it'll rip me apart if something happens to you”.

Your words hang in the air, and Lorraine's eyes are focused on you, her emotions warring on her face. The space between you is filled with tension, the silence heavy and charged.

She's thinking, trying to process everything you've said, everything you've admitted.

Lorraine's voice breaks slightly as she whispers, the pain and longing evident in her shaky tone "I wanted you..."

There's a bitter pause, and when she speaks again, her voice quivers ever so slightly.

"I wanted you here, five years ago, and you weren't here”.

You take a deep breath and step forward, closing the distance between you and Lorraine. The regret and remorse in your voice are palpable as you offer an apology.

"I'm so sorry," you say, your voice quivering ever so slightly, "I know I'm late, I know I wasn't here when you needed me, but I am now. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Lorraine's expression softens slightly, some of the anger and bitterness ebbing away in the face of your heartfelt apology. She looks at you, trying to read your expression, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

There's a hint of vulnerability in her gaze, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you mean what you say.

She doesn't respond immediately, but the harshness in her stance softens, her shoulders loosening just a bit, and she lets out a shaky breath.

With caution and care, you take another small step closer to Lorraine, your movements slow and gentle.

Your gaze stays fixed on her face, watching for any reaction or sign of discomfort.

She doesn't move away, doesn't shrink back. Instead, she stands her ground, holding your gaze as you approach. Her expression is a mixture of uncertainty and something else, her eyes never leaving yours.

Another step. The space between you continues to shrink, the air between you crackling with tension.

You're close enough now that you could reach out and touch her, but you don't, waiting for her next move, whatever it might be.

Lorraine's shoulders rise and fall with each breath, her chest heaving ever so slightly. Her gaze flickers down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable between you both.

The tension between you is almost unbearable, a thread ready to snap. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest, the sound deafening in the silence of the room.

Now or never. It’s not even a question anymore: real or not real.

It’s the only real thing you’ve ever felt.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to reign in the intense emotions swirling inside you. Then you take a shaky breath and start to recount everything that's happening, the words coming out in a rush.

"We're in the middle of a nightmare, Lorraine," you begin, your voice strained.

"Black magic, cursed families, a prophecy, demonic pacts—it's all insane”.

You pause for a second, struggling to get the words out. The admission you're about to make feels even crazier than the whole situation you find yourselves in. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"And yet, the craziest part to me is it took me this long to admit how I feel about you. It feels more insane than any curse or prophecy”.

Lorraine's expression is a maelstrom of emotions, hesitation warring with a desperate need to bridge the gap between you both.

In a sudden, almost instinctual move, she drops her backpack to the ground and closes the distance between you. Her body collides with yours, and you’re meeting her half way.

The moment Lorraine’s body crashes into you, your lips meet in a desperate, fiery kiss.

There’s a raw, primal hunger behind it, years of pent-up longing and denial now exploding into a moment of undeniable heat.

Your arms wrap around her, pulling her close, your body molding against hers eagerly.

The kiss deepens as her fingers curl into your hair, your mouths moving together with a frantic urgency, as if trying to make up for lost time all at once.

The kiss is a potent mix of apology, anger, fear, and desperation. It's everything unsaid, every regret, every emotion pent up and finally coming to the surface in a flurry of movement and heat.

Finally. Finally. Finally.

You pour it all into the kiss, the way your lips move against hers, the way your hands grip her hips, the way your body presses against hers, conveying more than words ever could.

The feel of her nails digging into the back of your neck sends a shiver down your spine, but you barely register the slight sting. Your focus is solely on the feeling of her lips against yours, softer than anything you'd dared to let yourself imagine.

Something that’s been coiled tight inside you releases, a heaviness you didn’t know you were harboring, and suddenly everything just feels… real.

With a silent groan, you press yourself flush against her, your hands roving over her body as if trying to memorize every curve and dip, your touch hungry and desperate.

The heat between you is escalating, the intensity of the kiss growing more frenzied with each passing second.

Her hands hook under the lapels of your jacket to push it off you, roaming over your chest, her fingers dancing over the contours of your abdomen over your shirt. She pulls and tugs at the fabric, her actions becoming more urgent.

You respond in kind, your own hands becoming bolder, sliding up her slender waist, over her hips, and up to her back under her shirt.

When Lorraine moans softly into your mouth from the feeling of your fingers along her bare skin, the sound sending a jolt of something hot straight through you, you know you’re a goner. The sound echoes in your head, adding gas to the already roaring fire in your gut.

You pull her closer, thumbs hooking her shirt as your hands roam freely over her bare back now, your touch both possessive and worshipful.

A loud abrupt banging against the front door jolts you both, breaking the heated moment abruptly.

You both pull away from the kiss, hearts racing and faces flushed, and try to regain your composure. The loud noise has shattered the bubble of intimacy you’ve enveloped yourselves in, and now reality comes crashing back in.

You pull away reluctantly, your body missing the heat of Lorraines against yours, gaze locked on hers.

Both of you are breathless following the intensity of the moment, the room still heavy with the weight of what's just happened.

Another sharp bang on the front door startles you both again. The realization that someone — or something — is at the door sends a jolt of adrenaline through you.

You instinctively nudge Lorraine behind you, the harsh banging growing more insistent, the door visibly trembling with each impact.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the realization sinks in — whoever is on the other side is trying to kick the door in.

A surge of protective fury ignites in you. You stand ready, bracing yourself for whatever might happen next.

Lorraine is gripping your forearms tightly, her voice a soft, strained whisper “I need to know, Rooks please—“

Another harsh crack, the door is giving in, but you look over your shoulder to her and suddenly all that matters is those wide brown eyes.

“That— was it real?“ she says, her words interrupted by the sudden crash of the door giving in.

Wood splinters and the old hinges creak in protest as the door is kicked open, revealing an ominous, imposing figure standing in the doorway.

Your heart skips a beat, uncertainty and confusion blending with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You stare at the figure in the doorway, shock flooding your system as you recognize the man standing there.

“Wayne?” you call out, your voice slightly shaky. The realization hits you: this is Wayne, one of the last people you expected to find standing here, kicking in the door.

Wayne stands before you, but something is… off about him.

His usual confident composure is replaced by a disconcerting blankness. His features are dulled, his skin looking paler than usual, the life behind his eyes seemingly sapped away.

It’s an unsettling sight, one that sends a chill down your spine.

Lorraine — still standing behind you — calls out meekly to Wayne, her voice trembling with trepidation. “Wayne?”

His empty gaze slides over to Lorraine, and he takes a halting, unsteady step forward. The sight is uncanny, his uncoordinated steps and vacant expression creating an unnerving atmosphere.

Wayne takes another slow, lurching step forward, approaching you both with a jerky, disjointed gait. His gaze, normally astute and sharp, is now dulled, the whites of his eyes stained red and bloodshot, giving him a crazed, unhinged look.

His usually neat and tidy attire is disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and partially untucked, his hair ruffled as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over.

As Wayne gets closer, you can’t help but whisper under your breath, voicing your concern.

“Something ain’t right with him,” you murmur, not taking your eyes off the man.

Lorraine’s grip on your arm tightens, her fingers digging into your skin, a silent testament to her own growing unease.

The situation takes another foreboding turn as Jackson suddenly appears to follow Wayne in, his demeanor mirroring Wayne's eerie state. Like Wayne, he moves in a slow, almost zombie-like way, his usually sharp and focused eyes now unfocused and listless.

The sight of the two men, both of whom you’ve known for years, in such an unsettling state is enough to drive up your sense of fight or flight.

Lorraine's voice is barely above a whisper, her fingers clinging to you tighter as dread seems to ripple through her.

“Oh god…” she murmurs, her voice steeped in horror, “what did they do to them?”

Her tone suggests she might have some idea, hinting at a hidden knowledge that you’re not privy to.

As Lorraine's words sink in, a chilling realization hits you like a punch to the gut:

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn.

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