#but idk how to feel but I hope you still like it anon

[dykedvonte]

love seeing your takes on mouthwashing and how sane they are. everything's so black or white. I like how you acknowledge curlys abuse under jimmy (which I honestly didn't quite notice when I first watched a playthrough. should rewatch w this in mind) and how that very much doesn't "forgive" his inaction towards Anya and Her abuse under jimmy. I think what happens to him despite all his issues (bc he clearly wasn't OK 😊✌🏼) is very much karmic. I really did hurt huh

I hate the take that what happened to him is karmic as becoming disabled and being tortured is like not in any way an equal consequence for not taking more action against Jimmy. It is a consequence as is the whole game for everyone but it’s one that is very much established as being undeserved and extreme as everyone else’s but Jimmy’s fate.

Thank you for liking my takes but I also try to point out that this exact sort of framing of the events and what happened to Curly is bad especially if you are gonna factor in his own abuse into the equation of his inaction/ineffective acts. It’s like “saying yeah he deserved the abuse he was already going through to escalate because he didn’t do enough” which is like not a message the game tries to deliver at all. It’s like the game shows that abusers escalate

Karma and punishment are not concepts that I think should be directly tied to Curly’s fate especially since during the game and even in discussion he takes on too many consequences of someone else’s actions. Like this framing is the direct thing I describe taking the discussion away from Jimmy, P.E and the factors that created the environment in the first place.

[chocohedgie]

if you're still taking art reqs

zooble comforting caine?

“I’m sorry for making you feel this way.”

“Honestly… it’s not your fault, Caine.”

I think we all therapy after episode 3. Also, I'm so sorry this looks bad-

[imminent-danger-came]

do you think the writers are being too slow revealing what happened with wukong and macaque? like should the full story been revealed in s4

That's very subjective!

For me personally, I'm totally fine with how it's played out. We get enough tidbits every season/developments with their dynamic that I'm pretty content. I also just think that when the time comes, how they choose to reveal that information to us (and especially to MK) will have optimal impact!

Idk, I just think it's going to work out you know

[inkykeiji]

Random thoughts. Could you imagine, though, if the first time Enji saw Dabi, he just blurted out Touya's name. Like it's not a conscious thought, but seeing those eyes all he can think about is his son. He doesn't like to think about him. Of course he doesn't. Who really WANTS to think about the fact that they drove their kid to overwork so much that they ended up accidentally getting themselves killed. But he sees Dabi, and he can't help it. He's not even particularly calling Dabi by Touya's name. He just wanted to hear his son's name out loud. And Dabi just Freezes cause fuck he did not expect endeavor to actually recognize him so soon. And he's just like, so you actually recognize me. And endeavor is caught off guard cause what? He was just saying dabi had the same eyes. But damn now that he thinks about it he does look like a weird older version of his son.

I just like thinking of an endeavor that wasn't a complete monster to his children for almost 15 years

i actually genuinely believe this is what dabi was hoping for when he first came face to face with enji after touya’s ‘death’ all those years later!! i think when he says ‘this is our first time meeting, right?’ / ‘well, endeavor, should i say…nice to meet you?’ there was a part of him that was hoping so desperately for his father to look him in the eyes and recognize his own, recognize his son, turn to rigid stone and go ‘…touya?’ or something of that manner. but then enji calls him dabi, and that HURTS, because that means enji knows who dabi is—has seen him before, has perhaps even scrutinized/studied him as a villain, but failed to put together the blue eyes + the flames. he’s looking right at touya and yet he is still not seeing him.

this is also the first time we see dabi lose his cool, and i think that enji failing to recognize him has something to do with it or at least adds insult to injury. i know i’ve said this a million and one times before, but touya’s family (especially his father!!) seems to be the one thing that sends his usually ironclad emotions spiralling out of control. dabi is an absolute master at masking his emotions…until he’s face to face with his father. i feel like there’s so much subtext in that first meeting aaah like !!! no one can convince me that he didn’t phrase things the way he did (‘none of this is how i planned, but that’s fine’) because he really was hoping, on some level, in some capacity, that his father would come face to face with his long dead son and recognize him.

[sadaveniren]

Hi Sada! I saw your nasty anon and I thought i’d balance the hate with some love: you’re my favorite blog on Tumblr! I always look to see if you posted and I love reading your thoughts on things! Lots of love xx

🫶🏻 thank you so much!!!! I’m glad to know I entertain the majority of you!! I’m just here for a laugh and to enjoy myself and if other people like it all the better 🥰

[rosicheeks]

To anyone who messages me - I’m sorry. Im sorry I suck at replying 99% of the time. I’m sorry I don’t have the mental capacity to hold a conversation. I’m sorry if you see me active on here reblogging and answering asks but I still haven’t replied to your message. I’m sorry I want to talk to you but I get overwhelmed by the smallest things.

I really really really hope you never think I’m purposely ignoring you or trying to hurt you in any way. I hope you can understand that I’m truly trying my best.

[jtl07]

What are your thoughts on the OCS?

Sometimes it seems like a manipulative cult that recruits vulnerable girls. But, it's also this found family for many of them. Is it good or evil? Is it both?

oh buddy. i ... actually have been having thoughts about this for the past few days (what is it with y'all being on my brainwave? must be something in the universe idk) as in, i've been contemplating the parallels between the OCS and the military.

so for context, i'm coming at this as a person who was in the military, who is a female poc from a middle class immigrant asian family. i give this context because i see a lot of the military in the OCS (i've mentioned it in some of my write ups and a big part of why i ended up writing the top gun 2 au) - mostly because the OCS is presented as an organization with a methodology that is built on violence.

i tried my best to be coherent but there's likely some meandering - feel free to ask further questions or clarification.

tl;dr - imo, it's all of the above.

i'm going to start with my experience in the military before i talk about the OCS because there's something in me that's chafing at the word "vulnerable." it's not that i think it's the wrong word per se, but that there's context that's needed.

for me, i had several family members who were in the military: my dad for one, several uncles, and a handful of my older cousins. this means i grew up learning that the military was a) one of the most honorable, respectable, and coolest professions you could join, b) the only profession where you were judged solely on your performance (i.e. racism wasn't overt), c) great financially because the pay was transparent and the benefits (back in the day) were fantastic if you stayed til retirement.

i don't believe any of that anymore, but that's what i'd learned. this is what my family believed (still does, actually). this is what many other poc believed too. compared with the opaque, racist corporate world - and having the responsibility of taking care of one's parents, who'd immigrated from their home country to give you "a better life" - having something stable and honorable like the military seemed like the best choice. why would i choose something else? how could i even see anything else? the military was the only choice i knew.

i left the military over a decade ago, but there's still a part of me that thinks "i'll never top my time in the military; i'll never have an experience quite like that." and the larger part of me can acknowledge now that yes, that's true. because when you're in an organization like the military (and comparatively, like the OCS) it's exhilarating in a way, knowing that you're part of something that's larger than yourself, knowing that you were deemed worthy - that you proved that you were worthy - of being part of this elite, special organization that has this grand, noble, world-saving mission. and yes, you feel a bond with the folks you serve with - bound by a vow to serve and protect, bound by experiences only they will understand.

there's nothing quite like that.

and i never want to experience that again.

because yes, it's exhilarating and exciting, and it's addicting in a way - to do all these cool things that folks make movies about, to know you're doing your part in keeping the people you love safe, to build relationships where no matter what, they've got your back.

but it's blinding. it blinds you to the violence, the harm that you're inflicting in the name of the mission - on both others and your own self. it blinds you to other ways of living. it blinds you to other ways of being safe - on both a personal and national level. this kind of experience trains you constantly: "this is the only way; this is the only choice."

and you can probably see why Beatrice's backstory resonated with me. of course she chose the church, the OCS - this was the only choice she had, the only choice she could possibly make to prove herself, to make herself worthy. in the OCS, she found a community of folks who, like her, were committed to a mission and ready to give their lives because, like her, that was probably the only choice they thought they had. it was the best choice they had.

maybe that's why i chafe at the use of "vulnerable" - because at the time, choosing the military felt like my shot at redemption, at salvation. it wasn't a moment of weakness, but of strength.

at least, that's what i had been trained to believe. and there is, apparently, still a part of me that believes it. even though there's the larger part of me that can see now the ecosystem that forced my hand.

it's also why i love Ava as a protagonist - how she was determined to find another way, how desperate she was to live. because organizations that are built on violence, organizations like the military, like the OCS, it takes folks who believe they need to prove themselves and takes advantage of that need, forces them to carry more than any person ever should, then calls them noble, calls them honorable, calls them worthy - all the while training them, ultimately, to die.

does good sometimes result from that, grow out of that? yeah. but the cost is very, very high.

[hella1975]

Hi hella!!!

I feel like i always start these off or end them by saying that these things are going to be incomprehensible in some way, mainly bc i have trouble translating whats going on in my mind into written words so i really dont know how much of my list thingies make sense to you but this one is especially probably going to not make much sense. (also bc i send them a lot when im either very tired or not sober, but i am sober and wide awake rn so this might be a different kind of incomprehensible)

I found one of my old drafts for an ask from around a year ago and it was a follow up response to the last chapter you posted at the time, so im not sure how its going to sound without the context of that specific chapter, but i also mentioned in one of my other asks that i add stuff in last minute and that ask i added a shit ton of stuff so i dont have any of that pretyped out so im going by memory.  But im sending it again bc i havent seen you answer it 

(please do not interpret this as ‘why didnt you answer my ask >:/’ or me rushing you to answer asks or anything like that, but like I said its been a year so im assuming tumblr ate it.  If not and you just havent cleaned out your ask box and you find the original, congratulations you’ll know what i originally said.  Bc idk how accurate this will be)

SO

Theres two different ways that you seem to write metaphors (idk if thats what theyre called im not caught up on my literary terminology)

 (im scrolling through your blog rn looking for my other asks and tumblr really did you dirty in your asks system like i started scrolling and the third one down was from 2021 and im fighting for my life trying to find my tag (thank you for my tag btw its very useful to me))

Anywho, most of your metaphors ( to me) can be split into two categories.  Theres the simple ones and the complex ones.  Now this might seem obvious but im going to explain to you how these have different effects on my brain.  

An example of the ‘simple’ ones is  

““If Nanook’s tone had a note of seriousness, then Zuko’s was the entire orchestra.”” (idk what chapter this is from its been a while)

You have a lot of these kinds of whatever the haick kind of literary technique this is (is this a metaphor i’ve been trying to google it for like ½ an hour and i cant figure it out) BUT these type of things that are simple and easy to process is one of my favorite things about the way you write.  I think this is a very common technique but the way you do it to me is just a lot more unique than the ways ive seen it done before.  Its extremely fluent with the voice of the characters and brings a perfect kind of vibe to the ‘conversation’ (or story, text, whatever) and it paints the picture of what your trying to say perfectly.  I also really like how these types of things arent ever in Zukos pov a lot (sometimes it is, but not nearly as much, I’ve noticed) and its not in the more serious like revelations that you drop these in.  Like I said, it adds to the voice of the characters, bc of the contrast of Zuko constantly having revelations and dramatic archs and stuff, and the other characters just in general being a lot more calm.  Its like when youre listening to a song and you have the lyrics and the like ‘main’ music behind the lyrics, but then when you listen to the song a lot you notice the smaller, like backup music that adds a lot to the song and makes it a lot more enjoyable than if it was just the lyrics and the louder more up front music.  

Then in contrast you have the bigger ‘metaphors’ 

An example of this is ‘You curse in words already invented’ 

THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE IN THE ENTIRE FIC.  

OF ANY FIC OR BOOK EVER READ

AND THIS IS WHY

When I tell you I could not figure out what this meant for months I am AWFUL with stuff like this and interpreting it my english teachers hate me bc of it.  Id have the question ‘why were the curtains blue’ and my answer would be ‘bc the people who decorated the room like blue maybe theyre interior designers and it goes with the room 😊 and thats so hot of them bc i love blue too’  

But even thought i couldnt figure it out it stayed in my head and i probably thought about it once a day (i mean this literally, i think about that part all the time) and i cant remember the context for that or anything but i do remember that i knew it was a wonderful phrase.  

I’ve mentioned in my other asks how whenever im reading anything at all that you’ve written (whether its tams, or toab, or in the tags of something even if its like 10 words), everything you type comes out so fluidly like a formula or a color wheel or however i put it last time i talked about this.  And this is on the prodigious end of the spectrum of this.  

But phrases like that are another part of the fic, theyre like the lyrics of the song.  Like the phrases that gets all the attention and gets put in fanart and that gets quoted in comment sections because they deserve that recognition and you deserve that recognition and are just a reminder of how incredibly talented you are.  

I mean that in the most sincere way that i know how to express.  

I am constantly in awe of you and your writing style, and i really do think of you as one of the most talented writers of everything ive ever read.  

And something else worth mentioning is that it isnt just your ao3 that portrays that.  Like if I were to just read your ao3 I’d be like ‘oh wow this person is an amazing writer’ But your tumblr persona plays into it a lot more (In my opinion).  Because then you see like more ‘backround’ stuff on ao3.  And more of your system (im not articulating this in the way i mean it very well) and you get privy to the fact that you’re not a 30 year old with a masters in english and that you’ve never had any formal education on writing.  I vaguely remember you talking about a story about a sailor (??? i might be misremembering that) that you wrote when you were a child and thinking ‘oh wow so she’s always been like that’.  And its stuff like that that you dont get on ao3 that kind of reaffirms how incredible of a writer you are.  

And this (to me) makes you a really easy person to admire.  (ik i touched on this in a different ask but i dont remember if it was one of my list asks or not) but as someone who probably isnt going to ever be able to get an education around writing, it kind of reassures me that i dont need that to be great at it.  

(i kind of feel like a lot of the stuff in this ask is too like ‘simple’ or obvious to be given a lot of weight, but this whole thing is about the kinds of things you do that brings me personally joy and the metaphors are one of them so)

Also on an off note when i was looking through your asks to try to find my tag, I noticed that i send you a heavy percentage of your anonymous asks (mainly without my alias) and I thought that was funny.  But also i hope it doesnt come across as obsessive or weird, I swear i do that to a lot of people on here, I’m just a very social person.  .😂

Also Im in your tbos server (lurking in the shadows) and someone pointed out that whenever you do the reaction emojis you always do the white ones, and thats going on the official ‘my favorite things about hella’ list because that was genuinely one of the funniest things ive seen. 

Also the ‘anytime you type its very fluid (im too lazy to scroll up and see how i put it rn) also carrys on to discord.  I think that i could probably block out the user names and be able to figure out that its you talking every time, you have a very distinct way of talking.  

Also i wanted to mention that every time you answer these i read them again and i want to say like 1/3 of what i sasy, i have no recollection of. And i never have any idea what im talking about. so i think thats funny.

LIST ANONNNNNNNNNNNNN BAWLING MY EYES OUT HELLO BABY WELCOME BACK FROM WAR IVE MISSED YOU IM JUST HERE LIKE THIS RN

[skeletalheartattack]

If you were a chulip character how would players kiss you?

find and present to me a working copy of Dragon Ball Z Budokai 1 for the PlayStation 2 and you can kiss my stupid ass

[chimielie]

in my “crying over deactivated people” era

[dykedvonte]

I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?

-💀

I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.

I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.

I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.

The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.

It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.

[definitelynotshouting]

Allrighty, I'll just start signing my asks as 🌠 now, I am sticking around here and you can't get rid of meeeeee /pos/j

Just popping in to say that I'm so grateful for your offer to share the general notes about what happens in the fic!!! It's really kind of you, but I don't think it will be necessary, cuz I did manage to read through all of it today! I started with chapter 4, and then chapter 3, and so on. By starting from the end, from the chapters that had less focus on the pure angst and a bit more character interaction, I pinpointed which exact moment upset me so previously (end of chapter 1 and then beginning of chapter 2), and so I just skipped that part and I was all good ^.^

And I feel like your reassurance about the happy ending helped a lot too! This kind of makes the fic feel less... cold and detached from reality? In a way? I'm not sure how to word this, but learning that you are an absolute sweetheart of a person means a lot to me and made me feel safer when reading ^.^

ALSO, unrelated, but I own the exact kind of scissors you showed in the scrapbooking post, I feel like I should inform you of that hahaha

~🌠

ANONNNNNN I AM SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO READ SOME OF MY FIC AAAAAAAAAA and i am SO so glad you felt safe to do so... 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ this has me legit emotional, im never exactly sure of how i come off but i always want people to feel comfortable and protected when theyre around me. Its SO important to me that people feel safe-- especially when my angst writing ventures into such dark places 😅😅😅 im glad you're doing alright and im glad you're sticking around :D and i hope you'll continue to enjoy the story as it evolves; i have a lot of stuff planned out for the healing process that im super excited to write!!!

Also HELL YEAH FELLOW GAY SCISSORS OWNER!!!!! a friend gifted me those scissors a while ago and theyve become my dedicated craft scissors. I know theyre technically for embroidery thread (at least im pretty sure they are??) but theyre REALLY amazing for cutting washi tape or trimming stickers too, so thats what i use them for (and for cutting patina paper). Also theyre just so cute.... they be a forme of creeture to me<3 i love inanimate-object-beasts :]

[theloveinc]

https://at.tumblr.com/theloveinc/709386875263188992/wncg70pa448c

Hello! I am curious about your tags on this post. How do you personally like characterizing embarrassment with Bakugo?

(link but it's just my prev post!)

hey!! thanks so much for asking :D

don't take my word as law, of course, (in general and) because Bakugo is actually a character who i project A LOT on in terms of like... perfectionism, insecurity, self-doubt and shame (kin moment LMFAO)... so most of my characterization comes from the way eye react to embarrassment, both my own and other's, in situations of all different kinds (like romantic ones, or slapstick ones, etc). it's a feeling that i've literally always hated.

but/so, because i lean more on the Bakugo whose personality (in Cee's words) is insecurity based, i think he tries to avoid embarrassment at ALL costs, because embarrassment = defeat and/or therefore, shame.

in my mind, it's related to his journey of going from overconfident + feeling on top of the world, to... realistic and capable of humility, both in terms of his skills AND personality. even if he's at a point where he can confidently (and aggressively) say he's a good hero/lover/friend/etc... there's still (or, there becomes) this desire in him to avoid the potential failure of being too much or doing too much (aka: acting like the same person he was before and during high school)

so i'd say... i like characterizing Bakugo as being shy and hesitant and careful (in a sense) before he's confident that he has you (or whatever thing) FOREVER. like a built-in safety feature to avoid doing something he'd regret, or become embarrassed by his treatment of others... until he knows for sure he'll get the result he wants. it's part of why i think he's such a hard worker, too :')

(and in a non-romantic context, this might be: not talking about a new move w/ his quirk that he hasn't perfected, or saying he's won XYZ when he hasn't yet.)

there's also the similar depiction of him sort of... leaning into the feelings of embarrassment (defeat) for the end reward... but as someone who has always like. despised that kind of shame and exposure... i just don't really see it being something he likes. but it makes sense too as another result of that journey.

i really, REALLY hope this makes sense!

[atsu-i]

Hello, I just saw the anon ask talking about you not being on tumblr that much anymore and we don't really talk to eachother (I think we only ever exchanged messages once), but I wanted to say, while I can, that I have wonderful memories of this website and a lot of them include seeing the mangacaps that you reblog or reading your tags, including all of the occasional venting and even some of the adorable auntie stories.

If you allow me to ramble a little bit, I want to talk about the blog that you called "shitty" and how I think it is actually really cool.

You might not think that you do much because you mostly just reblog stuff, but I feel like all the mangacaps that you reblog are more meaningful than most people think. I think that they are an act of self-expression and throughout the years I've felt like those kinds of posts express a desire that people have to be more honest with their feelings and put them out into the world. I've felt like the mangacaps, combined with all of your text posts, probably do accomplish some of this.

I am not going to say that your blog changed how I view life or anything like that, but I can say that your blog, along with many other similar ones, have seriously been a part of my journey of better understanding myself.

For example, today I liked a post that had a guy feeding a cat in it. And I didn't like the post because the art was amazing. I liked it because I thought that the guy is gentle and that aspect of gentleness resonated with me personally. And obviously, there are times where I might like a post just because I think that the art looks cool, but I think that a lot of times when I'm browsing through tumblr I'm just learning more about myself through the things that I like.

Maybe the whole thing isn't supposed to be that deep, but sometimes (not always) for me it is. I think that this whole thing feels unreal for you because you don't put a lot of effort but I think that it is pretty cool that a bunch of people like the blog despite that.

As always, have a nice day and drink some water.

;-;

[killmymind]

about to overthink for a second.

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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