#but i felt like i had to reference that specifically

[la-principessa-nuova]

as a software engineer, i genuinely don't think this is even a thing that is happening, besides a little bit in a technical context but only for the word program

i think that people noticed the abbreviated "app" being used a lot by non-technical people, and got mad at it for existing and felt the need to assert their being a "real computer user" by hating the word

before the iPhone i mostly heard program, and less frequently application and less frequently than that app, but now most people call applications apps, operating systems operating systems (or OSes), scripts scripts, games games, and have never heard of anything that doesn't fall into one of those categories, but may also call software more generally software

occasionally i hear someone refer to a program i wouldn't consider an application as an application, but usually in a context like "the running application", where it's being more technical, but also like what is the line?

at what point does is a program directly useful enough to an end user or big enough in scope or whatever you want to use to separate it to become an application? Does it need a GUI, or is a CLI tool an application? Does it need complexity, or would a program that just lets you enter two numbers and adds them be an application?

my expectation is that people who weren't interested in computer programs suddenly became interested in them, in particular the applications running on their phones, and people who were talking about other kinds of programs just kept calling them what they were calling them, with just some of the people who weren't into tech but had been calling applications programs switching to calling them apps, which was just them getting more specific

this is far from definitive research, but just out of curiosity I checked on the frequency of a few of these terms in google trends, and it kind of lines up exactly with what I'd expect:

app takes off from basically nothing before 2007 to way more than program, application, or operating system, but the other ones don't really go down much

program takes a slight dip, but overall, everyone kept saying what they were saying, plus there was a huge surge in interest in apps

in response to the part "it's part of the general trend of hiding the inner workings of computers from the user, which is something i hate since it tends to promote computer illiteracy which tends to promote incompetence and dysfunction in society as a whole", i would say:

it's part of the general trend of making computing accessible to more people, which necessarily means that a higher percentage of computer users are not particularly interested in computers themselves, and therefore are only interested in the part they interact with: the application

not to enforce gender roles but a computer should NOT fucking have apps okay. if I wanted an app I'd go on my phone my laptop is for Programs. I mean this.

[mogamuncher]

Heeeey I'm back again with another tidbit of the Slay the Knight AU (AKA: the Re:Zero and Slay the Princess crossover au)

Anyways due to some of y'all's amazing suggestion, I think I have a lot more ideas to rave about rn, mostly about the voices, but also some about the different Barus that this au would have!

Ok so, first the voices:

Voice of the Hero - Voice of the Noble: Julius.

Voice of the Contrarian - Voice of the Opposed: Ram

Voice of the Opportunist- Voice of the Cunning: Anastasia

Voice of the Cold - Voice of the Shut-in: Beatrice

Voice of the Paranoid - Voice of the Troubled: Otto

Voice of the Stubborn - Voice of the Proud: Priscilla

Voice of the Hunted - Voice of the Protector (shield, get it?): Garfield

Voice of the Cheated - Voice of the Wronged: Felt

Voice of the Skeptic - Voice of the Cynic: Pick

Voice of the Smitten - Voice of the Devoted: Rem

Voice of the Broken - Voice of the Selfless: Reinhard

I think that's all the voices but I might be wrong. . Uhhh anyways here they all are! Again a lot of these are from suggestions, but I really liked them! Some names are still iffy (Felt and Garfiel could definitely be improved upon I think) but I do like the character placements!

My favorite thing to think about is which route these voices will interact with, since all the Barus will be very. . . Interesting.

Speaking of the Barus, here's some ideas I had for their princess equivalents, with pictures!

So, first, to get it out of the way: The Witch

100% Wrathbaru, there's not a single bone in my body that says otherwise. The Witch route is all about distrust, it's all about how you betrayed the Princess and so she betrayed and beat up you, there's even a reference to the Frog and the Scorpion fable in her route, a fable all about trusting someone only to get hurt in doing so. Hell, the characteristic voice for her route is Voice of the Opportunist, who's singlehandedly the voice that should be trusted the least

Meanwhile in the Wrath IF route, Wrathbaru was specifically incredibly paranoid and distrustful to the point where he stopped seeing color, only ever seeing color in people who he fully trusted, mainly because he knew for certain where they stood emotionally when it came to him either through consistency across loops (Beatrice and Emilia) or because he knows that they just hate him (Ram and also kinda Emilia)

The point is, Wrathbaru absolutely would be the Witch equivalent, if only for the themes alone, though he's a lot somber than the very playful Witch.

Also, catboy Wrathbaru, enough said.

Though if Wrathbaru is The Witch then The Thorn will definitely be really interesting

I like to think that Wrathbaru in the Thorn would still be very jumpy and paranoid, instead of the gentle show of trust in the og game, Emilia (The Long Quiet) would have to drag Wrathbaru out of those vines kicking and screaming

Having Rem, Julius and Anastasia harassing Echidna (The Narrator) about describing a kiss with Wrathbaru would be absolutely hilarious though, absolutely peak fiction

Now, let's please talk about The Damsel

So, we can like, all agree that this is arc 1-2 Baru, right? Just straight up that Subaru, but with more bimbo energy

Rem here would be fun, though she probably wouldn't say things in the exact same manner the Smitten does, she can still be really funny with her Subaru crush, as seen in the snow special

Ok, so like, we got the Damsel figured out, cool.

Now, Happily Ever After, on the other hand

Ok so this is pristine cut content, so definitely some big spoilers, but:

Greebaru. Just, 100%, 1000% Greedbaru coded. There's not a single princess that could ever rival the Greedbaru-ness of this princess in the entire game

Just, him and Emilia being literally controlled the entire time, the idea of Echidna slowly growing disillusioned as the route goes on as she sees where her meddling will take her, the constant repetition and Subaru's desperation that doing things again and again will fix it, the fact that REM I would be the one orchestrating all of this???

Just, how utterly miserable everyone is inside of this route, it's simply Greed IF core. Everyone knows that Greed IF is the IF where no one gets to be happy despite everything technically being "alright", which is exactly the vibes that this route has!

Also, going from Arc 1-2 Subaru to Greed IF Subaru would be such a drastic jump, I love it

Greebaru would be a lot calmer than the og princess in this route, think lots of fake smiles and call insistance that slowly becomes hysterical desperation

Also, dancing with Greebaru under the stars, enough said

For other standouts:

The Den

We get to have a full monster Baru!

He'll probably be a chimera type beast that's a ground dragon (Petrasche reference ayy) mixed with a rabbit (hah) with a big horn on his forehead and Cappella-esque wings

There's no way to really stick his iconic slicked back hair on a rabbit head without it looking a bit goofy, so I propose we let Subaru grow his hair out and have it down for this one

The Razor:

For some reason I cannot possibly describe to you, I keep thinking of her equivalent being Pridebaru. No seriously do not ask me why, I don't know either

Maybe it's because she's the most affably murder happy one? Then again there's the Adversary. . . Anyways if she were to be Pridebaru then I suggest an added fire motif, along with the blades

The blades can mainly stay due to the association with Elsa, in fact, maybe this Baru can specifically only ever target Emilia's guts when he goes to skewer her

Also Mutually Assured Destruction

That entire interaction will be hilarious now. Rem finding this beautiful, Priscilla saying it's the perfect man, Ram wondering if he can be thrown out of a window??? Mwah, perfection

I also would like if there was a fire motif there, maybe he can also he on fire

The Nightmare

My beloved, because he would mean we get to hear Otto do the "Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves" chant, but also I have no clue what Baru he would even be

Maybe Gluttony??? A Moment of Clarity would make Gluttony an interesting pick here, but I don't know for sure

Other than that I'm still brainstorming ideas, and ofc taking suggestions, so feel free to tell me what y'all think!

[whencyclopedia]

Tsul'kălû', The Slant-Eyed Giant

Tsul'kălû', The Slant-Eyed Giant is a myth of the Cherokee nation and is among the most popular. The legend relates the story of the great giant, Tsul'kălû', his marriage to a Cherokee maiden, and how the people broke trust with him so that, ever after, he could not be seen, though his presence and power could be felt.

Tanasee Bald, North Carolina

Thomson 200 (Public Domain)

The giant's name, Tsul'kălû', means "he has them slanting", referring to his eyes. He is said to inhabit the top of the Tanasee Bald Mountain in modern-day North Carolina in his home, known as Tsunegûñ′yĭ. He is the Great Lord of the Game, the spirit invoked prior to and during a hunt, and he is said to assist hunters in tracking their quarry. As a spirit, the giant is invisible, and this is hardly unusual as Native American lore generally, and Cherokee tales specifically, abound with unseen spirits, but this tale explains how Tsul'kălû' came to be invisible and why the people never have, and never will, see him.

In the story, the young woman and her mother live in the village of Kanuga ("gathering place"), roughly, modern-day Hendersonville, North Carolina. The mother lives in the family lodge while her daughter lives in the asi – a wattle and daub house, often referred to as a "winter house", which is sometimes, though not always, smaller and more compact than a lodge. The asi of the Cherokee, historically, had no windows and a hearth in the center, and so it was always smoky and dark. Setting part of the story in an asi lends a comedic aspect to some parts of the tale, as the structure was not big enough to accommodate a giant, much less the giant and his wife, which would have been appreciated by the original audience.

This story – like the Cherokee legend of The Man Who Married the Thunder Sister, the Cherokee Ulunsuti tales, the Wihio tales of the Cheyenne, and the Iktomi tales of the Sioux – emphasizes the importance of paying attention to and following instructions. This concept appears frequently in Native American literature where supernatural entities bestow gifts on those who follow instruction, even if they do not understand the reason, and punish those who cannot do so. Frequently, the transgressor actually punishes himself or herself by failing to simply do as they were told.

Following instructions is a central cultural value of the Native peoples of North America generally, as it has to do with the observance of traditions, rites, and rituals, which need to be performed in a certain way, as they always have been, without deviation or innovation. In the following story, failure to follow instructions results in gifts withheld and the giant rendering himself invisible for all time.

Text

The following text comes from Myths of the Cherokee (1900) by James Mooney, republished by Dover Publications, 2014.

A long time ago a widow lived with her one daughter at the old town of Kănuga on Pigeon River. The girl was of age to marry, and her mother used to talk with her a good deal and tell her she must be sure to take no one but a good hunter for a husband, so that they would have someone to take care of them and would always have plenty of meat in the house. The girl said such a man was hard to find, but her mother advised her not to be in a hurry, and to wait until the right one came.

Now the mother slept in the house while the girl slept outside in the âsĭ. One dark night a stranger came to the âsĭ wanting to court the girl, but she told him her mother would let her marry no one but a good hunter. "Well," said the stranger, "I am a great hunter," so she let him come in, and he stayed all night. Just before day he said he must go back now to his own place, but that he had brought some meat for her mother, and she would find it outside. Then he went away, and the girl had not seen him. When day came, she went out and found there a deer, which she brought into the house to her mother, and told her it was a present from her new sweetheart. Her mother was pleased, and they had deer steaks for breakfast.

He came again the next night, but again went away before daylight, and this time he left two deer outside. The mother was more pleased this time, but said to her daughter, "I wish your sweetheart would bring us some wood." Now wherever he might be, the stranger knew their thoughts, so when he came the next time he said to the girl, "Tell your mother I have brought the wood"; and when she looked out in the morning there were several great trees lying in front of the door, roots and branches and all. The old woman was angry, and said, "He might have brought us some wood that we could use instead of whole trees that we can't split, to litter up the road with brush." The hunter knew what she said, and the next time he came he brought nothing, and when they looked out in the morning the trees were gone and there was no wood at all, so the old woman had to go after some herself.

Almost every night he came to see the girl, and each time he brought a deer or some other game, but still he always left before daylight. At last, her mother said to her, "Your husband always leaves before daylight. Why don't he wait? I want to see what kind of a son-in-law I have." When the girl told this to her husband, he said he could not let the old woman see him, because the sight would frighten her. "She wants to see you, anyhow," said the girl, and began to cry, until at last he had to consent, but warned her that her mother must not say that he looked frightful (usga′sĕʻti′yu).

The next morning, he did not leave so early, but stayed in the âsĭ, and when it was daylight, the girl went out and told her mother. The old woman came and looked in, and there she saw a great giant, with long slanting eyes (tsulʻkălû′), lying doubled up on the floor, with his head against the rafters in the left-hand corner at the back, and his toes scraping the roof in the right-hand corner by the door. She gave only one look and ran back to the house, crying, Usga′sĕʻti′yu! Usga′sĕʻti′yu!

Tsulʻkălû′ was terribly angry. He untwisted himself and came out of the âsĭ, and said good-bye to the girl, telling her that he would never let her mother see him again, but would go back to his own country. Then he went off in the direction of Tsunegûñ′yĭ.

Soon after he left the girl had her monthly period. There was a very great flow of blood, and the mother threw it all into the river. One night after the girl had gone to bed in the âsĭ her husband came again to the door and said to her, "It seems you are alone," and asked where was the child. She said there had been none. Then he asked where was the blood, and she said that her mother had thrown it into the river. She told just where the place was, and he went there and found a small worm in the water. He took it up and carried it back to the âsĭ, and as he walked it took form and began to grow, until, when he reached the âsĭ, it was a baby girl that he was carrying. He gave it to his wife and said, "Your mother does not like me and abuses our child, so come and let us go to my home." The girl wanted to be with her husband, so, after telling her mother good-bye, she took up the child and they went off together to Tsunegûñ′yĭ.

Now, the girl had an older brother, who lived with his own wife in another settlement, and when he heard that his sister was married, he came to pay a visit to her and her new husband, but when he arrived at Kănuga his mother told him his sister had taken her child and gone away with her husband, nobody knew where. He was sorry to see his mother so lonely, so he said he would go after his sister and try to find her and bring her back. It was easy to follow the footprints of the giant, and the young man went along the trail until he came to a place where they had rested, and there were tracks on the ground where a child had been lying and other marks as if a baby had been born there. He went on along the trail and came to another place where they had rested, and there were tracks of a baby crawling about and another lying on the ground. He went on and came to where they had rested again, and there were tracks of a child walking and another crawling about. He went on until he came where they had rested again, and there were tracks of one child running and another walking. Still, he followed the trail along the stream into the mountains and came to the place where they had rested again, and this time there were footprints of two children running all about, and the footprints can still be seen in the rock at that place.

Twice again he found where they had rested, and then the trail led up the slope of Tsunegûñ′yĭ, and he heard the sound of a drum and voices, as if people were dancing inside the mountain. Soon he came to a cave like a doorway in the side of the mountain, but the rock was so steep and smooth that he could not climb up to it but could only just look over the edge and see the heads and shoulders of a great many people dancing inside. He saw his sister dancing among them and called to her to come out. She turned when she heard his voice, and as soon as the drumming stopped for a while, she came out to him, finding no trouble to climb down the rock, and leading her two little children by the hand. She was very glad to meet her brother and talked with him a long time, but did not ask him to come inside, and at last he went away without having seen her husband.

Several other times her brother came to the mountain, but always his sister met him outside, and he could never see her husband. After four years had passed, she came one day to her mother's house and said her husband had been hunting in the woods nearby, and they were getting ready to start home to-morrow, and if her mother and brother would come early in the morning, they could see her husband. If they came too late for that, she said, they would find plenty of meat to take home. She went back into the woods, and the mother ran to tell her son. They came to the place early the next morning, but Tsulʻkălû′ and his family were already gone. On the drying poles they found the bodies of freshly killed deer hanging, as the girl had promised, and there were so many that they went back and told all their friends to come for them, and there were enough for the whole settlement.

Still the brother wanted to see his sister and her husband, so he went again to the mountain, and she came out to meet him. He asked to see her husband, and this time she told him to come inside with her. They went in as through a doorway, and inside he found it like a great townhouse. They seemed to be alone, but his sister called aloud, "He wants to see you," and from the air came a voice, "You cannot see me until you put on a new dress, and then you can see me." "I am willing," said the young man, speaking to the unseen spirit, and from the air came the voice again, "Go back, then, and tell your people that to see me they must go into the townhouse and fast seven days, and in all that time they must not come out from the townhouse or raise the war whoop, and on the seventh day I shall come with new dresses for you to put on so that you can all see me."

The young man went back to Kănuga and told the people. They all wanted to see Tsulʻkălû′, who owned all the game in the mountains, so they went into the townhouse and began the fast. They fasted the first day and the second and every day until the seventh—all but one man from another settlement, who slipped out every night when it was dark to get something to eat and slipped in again when no one was watching. On the morning of the seventh day the sun was just coming up in the east when they heard a great noise like the thunder of rocks rolling down the side of Tsunegûñ′yĭ. They were frightened and drew near together in the townhouse, and no one whispered. Nearer and louder came the sound until it grew into an awful roar, and everyone trembled and held his breath—all but one man, the stranger from the other settlement, who lost his senses from fear and ran out of the townhouse and shouted the war cry.

At once the roar stopped and for some time there was silence. Then they heard it again, but as if it were going farther away, and then farther and farther, until at last it died away in the direction of Tsunegûñ′yĭ, and then all was still again. The people came out from the townhouse, but there was silence, and they could see nothing but what had been seven days before.

Still the brother was not disheartened, but came again to see his sister, and she brought him into the mountain. He asked why Tsulʻkâlû′ had not brought the new dresses, as he had promised, and the voice from the air said, "I came with them, but you did not obey my word, but broke the fast and raised the war cry." The young man answered, "It was not done by our people, but by a stranger. If you will come again, we will surely do as you say." But the voice answered, "Now you can never see me." Then the young man could not say any more, and he went back to Kănuga.

Continue reading...

[sampirism]

talkn bout my opinions on rook and varric and roleplay and feeling disconnected (roleplay in a game sense not the freaky sense. sorry) - SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE GAME, BEWARE. this post is WAY too long. sorry about that too.

it's very evident that bioware/EA wanted an action/adventure game first and an RPG second, but let me type at you.

i hate to say that i didn't feel particularly sad about varric's fate, due to the structure of the game. it is, in hindsight, completely obvious that he was not alive! i just hadn't been thinking about varric much at all the entire game because you have limited opportunity to talk to him in the infirmary or when he plops around barefoot when everyone decides to sit at a table and talk about how fucked we are. i genuinely forgot he was there otherwise.

he barely feels like a guy himself. because there's no personalized worldstate, any specific mentions to events or characters might be jarring to the player who may have made a different choice along the way.

no one talks about how sorry they are about varric because they CAN'T or the twist is completely revealed. even with another DA2 character in the game (who my hawke romanced. who is now dead in the fade. glad to see you're LIVING IT UP ISABELA!!! (I'm jk. a little.))

there's no response rook can say to condolences outside of "oh, thanks" without the game fully revealing its Twist, because "I'll tell him you said hi" and "he'll be up and walking in no time!" are only reasonable responses from a Mourn Watcher, and even then, should still cause your companions to be a little alarmed. the closest we get to this is the inquisitor making reference to lost friends, and rook visually registers it, but its swept under the rug and moved on from immediately.

(i know we're all mentally unwell in this lighthouse repressing our feelings but jesus christ)

despite spending two games with him and enjoying him as a character, I struggle with feeling much for his loss AS my rook, because i found there to be no meaningful connection between him and rook. i was only told i was supposed to have one.

the game wanted so badly get the ball rolling with an immediate threat, its at the expense of roleplay. you could argue that da2 and inq also started with Immediate Threats but you are also very limited in the choosing of your backstory in those games.

rook was deliberately designed to be more open-ended, with more similarity to origins, but still gave you a prequel where you felt what your life was before The World Began To End.

there's this conversation you can walk in on with lucanis and davrin, where they're talking about their worst jobs. there are three dialogue for rook I think and i can only remember two but they were "I don't want to talk about it" or "man I have the dreadwolf in my head". (I... honestly think the third option was very similar to the second one but I have a very bad memory. sorry)

i played a mourn watcher mage. i had to have done some messed up spirit stuff. some bone shenanigans. not able to mention my Down With Nobles rebellion at all. i halfway expected it to be revealed that my rook was just like a shitty pawn (haha) and actually all her memories are fake and not real. but obviously you meet people from your shared backstory and they do know OF you but they don't really know you

in mass effect 1, there were some unique missions related to both the backstory and psychological profile you picked for shepard. they were short, and nothing happens like that in 2+3 that i remember, but they are unique to your character and are something at least.

no one really asks you much more about yourself! mourn watcher rook is literally Found In The Crypts as an Infant, an incredible mystery that you have to fill in the blanks yourself, which could be something someone wants-- but i personally like my characters a little more predefined in a game such as dragon age. vague history worked for me in games like skyrim and fallout new vegas, even baldurs gate! but makes me feel wholly disconnected from the story and group here.

there was a fair amount of dialogue choices for mourn watcher, especially with Emmrich-- talking with emmrich was one of the few times my rook felt like A Person-- but there were other times that my companions seemed to think emmrich was the only necromancer/watcher on the team. (i even specialized in death caller!)

by containing all the dialogue with companions to ! markers and outings, it's weird to be unable to have any conversations without being able to provide personal insight, whereas some NPCs in inquisition actively asked you about your past.

its particularly noticeable because of lucanis, whom my rook romanced. the dude has a lot to say about nevarran culture and the necropolis and such, and we can have zero conversations on the matter lol.

maybe this is like, really a mourn watcher thing? maybe it feels better as a crow or a warden. but if you offer me the choice to be a freak crawling around in a tomb. i am going to be.

TLDR: i really feel that a prequel mission, a recruitment by varric then a timeskip, a personal quest tied to the consequences of your backstory, something, anything, to make rook feel like an actual part of the world, was a necessity and sincerely a missed opportunity. if you actually read this far, thanks!

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

everytime i read this series i feel like im entering the battlefield 🚬😮‍💨my annotations below hehe ⬇️

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

ur writing has such PERSONALITY in it, i swear to god when i read this in beta, i was so in awe

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

this parallels perfectly to the first chapter where topper called rafe when reader was leaving, so not only is this paragraph giving us an at-point breakdown, but it's referring evidence that topper would slip and tell rafe

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

their lives are so intertwined that reader doesn't know who to turn to when she needs independence 😭 oh curse rafe and his big dick

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

this specific paragraph i wanted to highlight because i thought it was so descriptive and imaginative, but simplistic in a way that didn't feel like it was purple prose.

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

the last line EATS BITCH IT EATS

 “You should sit down.”

oh suck a dick

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

in love to hate omg

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

THIS IS SO COLD BUT IT SHOWED HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO WELL, HOW INTERTWINED THEY ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

i would crashout

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

hm.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

they're so toxic and dynamic and i love them

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

that stopped me cold i had to write something in my diary

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.  "Yeah? Get in line."

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I'M LISTENING TO BAD OMENS BY 5SOS AND IT'S AT THE BEATS AND WHILE I READ THIS, IT FITTED PERFECTLY OHMYGOD

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

i wanted to highlight this specific paragraph because i adore the writing, something about it made me feel every single atom of the scene

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”“And what?” you interrupted.“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”“You’re not coming in."He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

HE DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SHIT NO NO

“Yeah, I got someone.”

that's right baby tell em

💌 — ugh, something about this part has been so dynamic, in the way it's constructed, the way it flows so naturally, the way the dialogues are so emotionally-charged but bounces off one another seamlessly. it was like i was watching a perfectly-curated film, where the dialogues were performed by seasoned actors. i love love their arguments. i love how intense it always gets, how they have this push-pull against each other, this hate-love, this line they can't even comprehend nor define. and i love how you written it so beautifully, that you communicate the intensity and depth of this relationship but aggression, tension, and hurt.

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid��still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

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@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[upathosarts]

saw a chili shirt on twt so ofc had to draw akira in it

[welcometogrouchland]

Disgustingly messy and crusty sketch dump but I couldn't get my own terrible theory out of my head and ended up making a bunch of sketches about it. Also at the end a bonus dickbats and Damian doodle bc I was reading an issue of their Batman and Robin run (IDs in Alt)

[goosewizard]

“it’s so unbalanced” “I hate new developer soulslikes” “Easy baby game” (not true I got my ass beat) YES BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MESSAGE!!!!!! WHAT ABOUT THE SHUCKING MESSAGE!!!!! WHAT ABOUT JOY IN YOUR HEART AND FIGHTING FOR A WORLD THAT MAY NOT BE SALVAGEABLE BUT ITS YOURS!!!! WHAT ABOUT FRIENDSHIP AND ANTICSPITALISM!!! WHAT ABOUT GETTING SHUCKING ANGRY AND TEARING DOWN THE INSTITUTIONS THAT HARM YOU!! WHAT ABOUT SHOOTING YOUR ENEMIES WITH A GUN!!!!! WHAT ABOUT LESBIANISM!!!!

[sea-buns]

i need a drawfee archive that's got every stupid funny moment documented in chronological, alphabetized order for when i spontaneously remember a really obscure bit that i need to find or else i'll explode. i need to be able to type an extremely vague description in a search bar and have it understand me completely.

[claitea]

whoa guys did you see the new cards i really want alto's full art!!

made with this site! art without the text under the cut :D

[hibiscuslynx]

thinking about personifications. always. but like, how they view themselves. this is the sky and these are the trees and this is the dirt. you are the dirt, you are the trees, and in some ways you are the sky. blue sky, cloudy sky, rainy sky—there's a type of sky you are associated with, so, in a way, you are the sky, and your jurisdiction does extend into the air between your borders, so yes, you are the sky. you are also a body. living and breathing, with limbs you move on your own, a brain you call your own. a brain that functions on its own, though? not necessarily. no. free will is a myth. you couldn't break free of some of your traits if you tried. no amount of self help, no amount of reflection, no amount of anything at all could free you (the body) from yourself (the people, the ideas, the stereotypes). the question is not, who am i, then, without free will, if i am not in charge of my own brain, but rather: when you stand on a state, your state, you, between your borders, where do you end and where do you begin? you (the body) and you (the land) and you (the people) and you (the government) and you (the ideas) and you (the stereotypes) and you (the brain). parts of a sum. the distinctions are important. you could not function if you saw them as a whole. you are your own person and yet you are not. for example: the people. you shake the hand of a resident and you look in their eyes and you are them, whether you like it or not. they make up you. they are your children and they are your parent and they are the living, breathing, mortal parts of you. if they die do you die? fuck, you can't think about that. but, the fish in the river and the birds in the sky. they are mortal, too. and they are you, too. you, you, you, it's all you, because you are the state. you are the state—everything in it, everything that calls it home, whether its the microorganisms in the dirt or the specks of dust in the wind. the atoms in the sky. the atoms. H20, C02, and the like. atoms. that's all you are. atoms that don't abide by the laws of nature. yes, you get sick, but you don't die. you don't decompose. you don't decay. immortal. you're an immortal being made up of mortal parts that control you. you're not quite a puppet because you have some semblance of free will despite what you just said earlier, but the point still stands. you're nothing more than the sum of parts. but why? why do you exist? looks like you have something in common with the people. you are them, afterall. you look like them and you think like them too. so you (the brain) wonder why you (the body) exists. don't wonder too hard. don't wonder about your existence because you begin wondering about all existence. a negative feedback loop. instead, turn to religion. the religion you have no choice in choosing or leaving. try to find an answer. realize that there is no neat ending to this. no bow to put on the wrapping. this story is ever continuing and you are ever wondering. maybe you should give up trying to find an answer. stop wondering. stop thinking. you exist, whether you like it or not. you are a sum of parts, whether you like it or not.

[nancywheeeler]

i know people are not watching Stranger Things for period-accurate indiana culture but it’s wild to me over the course of 4 seasons now, no one has mentioned the colts once. not even in passing! they moved to indianapolis in 1984 and it was a huge deal! you’re telling me officer callahan never tried to break a painful silence between him and hopper with “how about them colts?”

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Bang Bang Bodhisattva

mystery set in a near-future cyberpunk future

follows a trans hacker who does random gigs to get by, but is on the verge of losing her apartment

and an ex-cop PI who takes her along on jobs sometimes - and when they’re investigating his missing ex-best friend they find him murdered instead

along with her new crush mysteriously disappearing - she’s dragged in the middle of a mystery with few leads

trans polyamorous MC, ace MC

[binders-and-beanies]

U know what actually. Another thing that’s cool abt sex w older partners is that they’re generally more normal about disability. You can say it’s inherently predatory if someone 30+ fucks someone who’s like 25 but a lot of the time they’re a lot more mindful about bodily needs.

I’ll never forget the guy in his 40s who would repeatedly ask which restraints and toys were disability friendly for me and made me feel safe asking to change positions if my muscles hurt, or the woman in her 50s who asked if I had any kind of medical devices implanted or any medical conditions that could be triggered by anything she may do.

Like ok yeah those people “victimized” me but the people in their 20s who would misgender me during sex or say mean things about my body and compare me unfavorably to abled people, are inherently safer. Ok

[somefopanwpics]

[moe-broey]

I CANNOT BE DOING THIS. THIS IS NOT WHAT I INTENDED TO DO. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA