#holidays while isolating

[savage-rhi]

✨️Magenta✨️

[arqueete]

cdc guidelines say that starting tomorrow i can leave my apartment with a mask on and i've been staring out the window all day yearning for the moment i get to go outside

[tchaikovskym]

I get why you would not like your neighbors to be loud, but also like. Why would you constantly have to think about not talking too loud, not listening to the music too loud, not walking too loud, not cooking too loud, etc. That's tiring, and that's a pretty awful way to live. Life is loud sometimes, and we should let it be (unless it's bedtime).

[naritaren]

.

[amatusrook]

So Season 2 Episode 6 huh...

[freebooter4ever]

.

[reserwrekt]

But what if I've felt like I'm too traumatized to have friends, practically since I was born?

[indigodawns]

.

[pascal-oswell]

i need. to write isolate pink again

[rickyyysaurus]

When you're having a bad time in the club 💃🕺💃🕺

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i miss hanging out w puppies

[maggieisalarrie]

.

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom. 

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal. 

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all. 

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself. 

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too. 

Geto wants to get better, to be better��not only for Gojo…but for himself. 

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough. 

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind. 

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side. 

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal. 

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years. 

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant. 

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit. 

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy. 

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right. 

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.” 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice. 

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing. 

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird. 

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did. 

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel. 

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose. 

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays. 

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe. 

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is. 

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him. 

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose. 

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards. 

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

[emptyjunior]

Can I say how much I love how Ouran High School handles the rich boy/poor girl in love trope. 

Like I absolutely believe it’s discussions about classism and elitism to this Day still hold up! 

I will admit there is so much weird stuff in ouran😭, but we see the Handsome ‘Unlimited Money’ Male Lead a LOT in anime and I feel ouran gets a lot of points of the characterisation SO right, that a lot of other shows just don’t! 

Ouran does the whole love story/harem/all the boys want brown hair girl that we project on, trope. Like they do that, but they show that at the foundation, the root of all of it, those rich boys are JEALOUS. They aren’t approaching Haruhi with the need to protect and own her, at their core the rich are envious of her! Even though they have everything, they want what she has! 

Like we see in the real world with how the rich cosplay as poor! And say "ohhhh I'm so broke please venmo me for lunch" and wear their ripped jeans and strained sweaters and take pictures at the met gala with a box of McDonalds fries in their hand. 

The classist comments made towards Haruhi ARE comedic relief, but the joke isn’t on characters like Haruhi, the joke is on THEM. 

They are the ones who can’t do anything! They are the ones who are stilted and emotionally closed off! They are the ones who can’t make an instant coffee or go to a mall without help! 

THAT is why Haruhi is the center of this harem, why she is the one they’re chasing. They are jealous of her insight and world experience from living independently, from living a REAL life. That is her enviable trait. Haruhi GETS people! And they don’t. Their wealth has isolated them and now there is a barrier between these characters and the rest of the world and they have no idea how to navigate it. 

And this is the foundation of 90% of the problems/conflict in the show! 

The holiday ep when Hikaru has feelings because Haruhi reconnects with Nice Guy Arai? Hikaru says he doesn’t like this guy for all these reasons and most of them are like ‘he’s just some nobody from nothing who only knows Haruhi cause they went to some stupid public school together’. Like okay? Haruhi has all of those ‘bad traits’ as well but you still seem to like her?  

Because it’s not about that, it’s never about that, it’s not even about the love rival/romance angle (at least not completely).  

Hikaru is scared and embarrassed! He already was when they got there, when these rich boys crashed Haruhi’s summer to find out she is an employee here and she is working with her own two hands. This is not a break for her! And then he’s so worried when Haruhi and Arai find each other because what they have is so untouchable to him. Same background, same class, they can meet each other’s needs! And know the other's needs! And this is a chasm that Hikaru has no idea how to cross so he starts lashing out. 

And that episode concludes with Hikaru being told about Haruhi’s fear of thunderstorms, finally actually listening and empathizing with what that means, and then going to her and giving her the stuff she needs to deal with that problem (blanket, headphones, support, protection etc.). 

He has to LEARN that none of those poor people inherently know all this secret knowledge! They just care and ask each other stuff! You can ask Haruhi what she's afraid of and then help her with that! It was always this simple! Just because you’re not the same class as her and knowing her isn’t as easy as it is with people the same as you, doesn’t mean you’ll never know! Learn! Listen! Keep trying! 

Ouran shows their rich characters being hurt by their wealth. Their elitists mindset does NOT benefit them and they’re only narratively rewarded when they break out of it, THAT’S why the arcs are so good. 

(And also while we’re here, I LOVE when they do eps that show Tamaki’s character is actually a parallel of Haruhi’s. Tamaki grew up as an illegitimate child, hidden away in France with his mother. He knows what it is to not be at the top of the food chain, and he learns the skills to keep living! Tamaki is a survivor in a world run by a man who was ashamed of him and did not want him. That can destroy a child, but Tamaki doesn’t let it. He learns how to work people and he learns that belief in yourself is the most powerful asset someone can have. And this is the life experience he imparts onto Kyoya and this SAVES Kyoya, who was barreling towards a black pit of despair and chasing his father’s shadow. The ‘poor’ characters of this show have power that the rich people desperately desire, and in the end they learn that it’s not something you take it’s something you build for yourself.) 

[apt502-if]

DEMO (JULY. 10. 2024)| INTROS

Apartment 502 is a 18+ slice-of-life romantic drama inspired by shows like New Girl and Friends.

Content warnings include: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence.

Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?

That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive.

Fun.

Essentially homeless and determined to make the life you dreamed of, you take a last-minute offer to move into the spare bedroom in Apartment 502. Now, you're twenty-five and living with three other longtime best friends with their own drama and messy interpersonal relationships. Parties, late-night pizza runs, drama, fights, heartbreak, betrayals...maybe the life you want won't be as easy as you first thought.

Will you find romance in the city that never sleeps?

**Apartment 502 is a romance, angst, and drama-centered story **

design your mc from clothing style to appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

choose 1 of 5 jobs that grant you different scenes and different people: (artist/musician, news anchor, writer, teacher, bartender )

curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the hijinks Apt. 502 has to offer, especially the drama that ensues. Style your MC's room and their aesthetic style.

navigate angsty and dark dramas that weave your roommates in a a narrative that can either save their friendship, or break them apart.

engage in a romance with 1 of 6 characters: one of your roommates, your ex, your neighbor or work rival.

Ruin relationships or mend them. Center yourself around the roommates and become part of the core group.

Follow Apartment 502 throughtout MC's first year as a roommate: from holidays, to birthdays, to everything in-between.

Atlas/Athena [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. A is the elusive and isolated musician who makes a living writing songs for others and doing gigs down at the local bar. A is quiet, nonchalant, and prefers their isolation. After getting their heart broken by their high school sweetheart, A has swore off love and vowed to focus solely on their career. A has no room for love, and they make it clear.

Appearance: Olive, freckled skin. Atlas has shaggy brown hair that falls in front of their eyes in a wolf-cut with bleached white dyed pieces at the bottom. Athena's brown and white hair falls down her back with black, straight-cut blunt bangs. They usually wear all black and have a variety of piercings.

Callum/Calliope [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. Cal is the ultra nice, slightly uptight, easily flustered college professor who is currently dating their longtime partner...that everyone seems to hate. Cal seems very in love with them and is oblivious to their best friends' irritation, but is that all a ruse?

Appearance: Cal has golden blonde hair. Cal's hair is curly fluffy while Calliope's falls down in soft ringlets around her face. Pale skin and green eyes. C dresses down, wearing basic clothes like button-downs and plain dresses.

Levi/Lani [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. L is boisterous, arrogant, and the comedian of the group. L makes their money as an influencer and uses their abundance of free time to pick up all kinds of people. L doesn't believe anyone can get them to settle down, especially considering they've never been in love..nor believe it exists.

Note: you can only romance L by starting a purely physical relationship first.

Appearance: Russet brown skin and long black hair that falls down their back and tied in a messy bun. L usually wears a white, billowy button down tucked into black slacks with an abundance of rings.

Garrett/Gaia [f/m] - Your neighbor. G is friendly but distant, always looking down at their phone when they see you. They seem disinterested in the happenings of Apartment 502. You can't help but wonder more about them...and their young child.

Appearance: Brown skin and curly black hair. G usually has headphones on, and Garett's hair is cut into a curly undercut while Gaia's is primed in a slick bun. They're usually dressed in a pristine black turtle neck and matching black pants.

Rainn [f/m] - your perfect, financially-stable lawyer ex. You thought what you and Rainn had was special, until they abruptly dump you the same day you were set to move in. The worst part? They live in the same building.

Oddly enough, Rainn doesn't seem to be acting like someone who should be completely moved on...

Appearance: Rain either has a severe black bob or black slicked back hair and usually seen in a pantsuit or business-casual clothes. They have tan skin and bright blue eyes.

Mason/Mona [f/m]- your old academic rival...who is now your co-worker. What are the chances you two ended up in the same place? M seems to have a lot of fun making things harder for you at your new job, especially considering you guys are competing for the affection of your boss. Tch.

Appearance: Long or short dyed white hair and tan skin with bright brown eyes. (M's outfit is dependent on job of choice.)

[heartpascal]

hoping there’s somewhere to go

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader + tommy miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you try to navigate life after the rejection of the only family you’d ever had (part two of weight too heavy to hold alone)

▹— a/n: the song too much time in my house alone by leith ross inspired this <3 longer A/N at the end!

▹— warnings: angst (as always), isolation, and then self isolation, mention of christmas time but it’s not christmas, a winter’s dinner that isn’t christmas dinner, fears being proven correct, very little self worth, it has been a long while since i have written/posted/needed to put warnings so let me know if something is missing!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa  @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro) — please let me know if you want to be added/removed

MASTERLIST

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Jackson is cold in winter.

And it’s not just because of the weather.

There’s winter festivities, holidays that you had never really had any experience with. And because of the weather, patrols were undertaken by smaller groups, leaving crowds of people wandering the streets, or trying to find work within the small community. So, not only was it cold and miserable, but it was about ten times as crowded in the communal spaces, with everybody packing into every space possible in order to preserve their warmth.

That’s not even the worst part — there’s the whole focus on family, or whatever a person in the apocalypse might have that’s close enough to it.

Holidays bring people together, Tommy had told you once, about a year ago. It wasn’t long after you had first arrived in Jackson, traipsing through the gate alone, aside from the patrollers who escorted you there.

The thing was, though, that you didn’t have people.

And it wasn’t as if you were wanting them! That definitely wasn’t the case — you couldn’t bear getting close to anybody, after what had happened last time — but you couldn’t help the more prominent feeling of isolation. You knew you weren’t alone in your feelings, after all, there were plenty of Jackson residents who had nobody, or resented the holiday season for one reason or another, but you felt alone.

You’re allowed to feel bitter about it, even if you do want to stay that way. It’s not like you had always felt this way, there was a time when you had thought yourself close to having a family — whatever the hell that was. In spring, if somebody had told you that you might feel this way, you might have disbelieved them, might have had faith in Joel and Ellie, despite your reservations. But then everything there had fallen apart, and you were left like this.

Living on your own, halfway across town, closer to Tommy, but further away than ever.

It was like that gaping hole in your chest had reopened with a vengeance, sucking any amount of trust or affection you had for the man into a void where it couldn’t be found. If Tommy hadn’t stuck you with Joel and Ellie, you might not be feeling like this — feeling so cold, and alone, and frozen despite the world moving around you. If he had just minded his business, or even, maybe, if he had just looked after you himself, rather than passing you off as nothing more than a chore, you could’ve been something at least close to happy.

Instead, you’re here. Making the short trip back from the school he had forced you to start going to, heading back to the little space you were supposed to call home. It wasn’t home, though. You had never occupied a space that had felt anything even close to that before, other than Joel’s. You’re pretty sure you’ll never live anywhere like that again.

You’ll probably live here, in the shitty garage that Tommy had someone convert for you, for the rest of your life. Either that, or until they finally have enough of you, and kick you out. Whichever came first.

Really, you should be used to being on your own. To having to do everything yourself, be responsible for every aspect of your own life, but strangely, after Joel’s, you find it hard to go back to that. Balancing things has never been your strong suit, and this only goes to prove that. And it’s aggravating, feeling as though something within you had changed, feeling as though you’re no longer capable, when you had spent your whole life looking after yourself.

Feeling like this has had you thinking some incredibly stupid things, your mind at one point trying to convince you that the only way to prove that you were capable, was to go back out into the big open world. Luckily for you, your survival instincts are stronger than that, and you’re able to remind yourself that Jackson is the best possible place for you, regardless of whatever thoughts and feelings you were having.

Besides, you wouldn’t want to give any of them — them being Joel, Tommy and Ellie — the satisfaction of your leaving. If they wanted you gone, they’d have to tell you as much, this time.

It was clear to you now, that they hadn’t wanted you there in the first place. And given the distance between you and Ellie since Joel had gotten rid of you, you gathered that, despite what you believed to be a close bond, she had never wanted you around either. She seemed happy enough, gallivanting around the town with her few friends, friends she had never even bothered to introduce you to. At least that meant you weren’t missing anything. Maybe she had actually done you a favour. Although given the way she avoided your gaze like her life depended on it, every time you happened across her, you somehow doubted that.

You’re not sure which loss was worse. Despite how close you had grown to Joel, how attached you had become, Ellie was the first person your age who you had ever trusted. You had told her things that you had never spoken aloud to anyone before. And now, you were left with a constant weight of regret, of dread, in the pit of your stomach.

Selfishly, you wanted Ellie to be angry at Joel for getting rid of you. You wanted her to fight for you, wanted her to remain in your corner when everybody else opposed you. What you really wanted, though, was for somebody to choose you. You wanted to feel important to somebody.

Though, now, you think you’ve outgrown that childish desire. You don’t want anyone around you, anymore.

Not even Tommy.

“Kid, would you just open the damn door?” Tommy asked, speaking to the plain face of your front door. He had knocked three times before opening his mouth, growing exasperated by your cold shoulder. He knew you were in there — had seen you walk home after school, when he was finishing a job just around the corner. Besides, where else would you be?

You stayed silent, sitting on the unmade sheets of your bed, staring at the door as Tommy knocked once again.

“C’mon, open the door. Please?” He repeated, and you could practically picture his stance outside, one arm resting against the doorframe and one hand resting against his hip. “Just wanna talk, alright? Then I’ll be on my way.”

You heard the heaviness of his sigh from your space across the room. But it didn’t change anything for you. How could it? Tommy had sent you to his brother, he had known what his brother was like, and he had sat idly by while you were uprooted and sent across town like you didn’t matter. Just another inconvenience. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also forcing you to go to Jackson’s community school, run primarily by an almost 70 year old woman, who was meant to retire a year after the outbreak.

It was ridiculous and unfair.

Ellie didn’t have to go to school.

It just felt like another method of getting you out of the way. After all, what did you need with writing and reading? Mathematics and history? The world had ended before you were even born.

Besides, you knew for a fact that Tommy had volunteered to take Ellie out shooting soon. Despite her avoiding you, you could still hear her boasting about it in the canteen to her friends.

You couldn’t help but feel like it should’ve been you. After all, weren’t you the one without anybody? Weren’t you the one who would be alone, should Jackson fall apart? Ellie would have Tommy and Maria. She would have Joel. Who would you have? Nobody.

If Tommy Miller had ever actually cared about you, perhaps he would’ve helped you work on the issues you’d been facing when you went to him for help, rather than passing you off to his older brother. You had spent your entire life depending on only yourself. Tommy had no idea what it had taken for you to approach him, for you to want help. To have that thrown back in your face, you knew, had done damage. As if you weren’t already damaged enough.

It was something you had been aware of for a long time — that there was something wrong about you. Something rotten. Like something had crawled into your chest, into the gaping cavity between your ribs, and died in there. It had been decaying over the years, leaving an air about you that told everybody exactly what you had always known: you are unsalvageable. Nothing in this world could reverse the decomposition that had occurred inside of you, just like nothing could reverse the infection that had taken the family you had never known.

The whole thing made you feel foolish, really. Your whole life, a voice inside of your head had been telling you that nobody could help you. Nobody would help you. And when you had finally gathered the courage to prove that voice wrong? It was proven right instead. It was a kick in the teeth. A thorn underneath your fingernail. Something bothersome, painful.

Tommy Miller had proven that you were just as alone as you had always felt.

He knocked against your door again, apparently content to wait you out. You had nowhere to go, but the knocking was irritating, the knowledge of his presence outside of that door was grating.

Before you could think better of it, you made your way over, and opened the door.

He looked the same as he always had done. Dressed for the weather, his favourite pair of boots on, and hair pushed away from his face, which held a surprised expression.

“Hey, kid.” He said, finally, after a moment of just staring at you in shock. It had been a while since Tommy had seen you up close. You looked more tired than he remembered.

“What do you want?” You asked, forgoing any sort of greeting towards the man. Opening the door was about as generous as you were prepared to be towards him.

His face morphed slightly, shock ebbing away, regret flowing in at the creases by his eyes, the grimace of his mouth. “Right, uh,” He paused, looking into your converted garage through the gap between you and the door. You pulled the door closer, so only you fit into the gap. “Alright, so, I know things have been… tense, between everybody, but I was hopin’ that you might join us. Me ‘n Maria are doin’ a winter’s dinner, not exactly Christmas, but it’s a day to be with family, y’know?” Tommy rambled on a bit, trying to spit all of his words out before you could decline, or shut the door in his face.

“We’re not family, Tommy.”

You watched his expression fall, which provided you with a sting that you hadn’t expected. But the sentiment remained the same — you weren’t family. Your surname wasn’t Miller. And even if it were, with the state of things between you, Tommy and Joel? It definitely wasn’t something you’d call family.

Honestly, you weren’t sure why he was coming to you with this now. Maybe before Joel had rejected you, before Tommy had watched on as any trust you had was shattered, but now? Now, he was lucky you even opened the door. You didn’t have a family, and it wasn’t a big loss to you. You’d gone this long without one, so what did it matter?

Tommy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He was at a loss for words.

“Go home, okay?” You said, when his words continued to fail him. He swallowed, jaw clenched as his teeth gritted together. He was frustrated, though you doubted that was directed at you. More likely, was that it was directed at Joel. You knew things had been tense between the two of them recently, too.

He paused just as he was about to turn away. “Will you think about it, at least?” Tommy asked, though he didn’t look like he wanted to hear your answer. It wasn’t much of a question anyway.

You nodded, with no real intention of thinking about it. Well — no intention of thinking about attending. Thinking about the offer was a different story.

His shoulders deflated as he turned away, hearing you shut the door as he followed the path away from your place.

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Even a full twenty four hours after Tommy had approached you with his invitation, you couldn’t let it go.

It felt as though something within you had snapped, falling from a great height and landing in the pit of your stomach. For whatever reason, one that you couldn’t get into now, maybe ever, you were filled to the brim with dread. It bubbled over, pooling in your limbs and making everything feel far too heavy.

You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just let you be? Couldn’t he see that he had done more than enough, when it came to you?

Logically, you know it isn’t fair to blame him. Tommy wasn’t in control of anything his brother or pseudo-niece did. He had always tried to look out for you, and deep down, you know that he had truly believed that his brother would be good for you. He must have thought that, given Joel’s pre-outbreak experience, and now post-outbreak too, of being a father, he could’ve been that for you. Tommy couldn’t have known that Joel didn’t want another kid.

But that illogical part of you, the part that cowers away from everybody you meet, the part that was hurt, reminds you that it was his job to know. It was his responsibility to know what he was dumping you into. And more than that, Joel was his brother. How could he not have known?

You were the one who had ended up well and truly hurt from the encounter, not the other way around. So why did you feel guilty, every time Tommy’s expression at your scathing words popped into your mind? You hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, and you hadn’t said anything that he didn’t deserve to hear. So why? Why did you feel this unending twist of dread and guilt, eating away at your bones, your tissues, your organs?

Even now, as you worked a late night shift at the canteen, washing dishes, every time the water rippled, you could see his face. Distantly, you hoped Joel had felt like this, after what he had done to you. You hoped he remembered what he said, remembered your expression when you relayed his own message to him.

If you were honest with yourself, you think that if it had been Joel, you would’ve revelled in that expression. There’s a part of you, a part that is mean and bitter and full of resentment, that wants to hurt Joel, just like he had hurt you. You settle for staying as far away from him as you possibly can.

Joel had tried to see you a few times, back when it was fresh, with no luck from you. There was nobody in this world that you wanted to see less than him. At the very least, he got the message. Sometimes, you wonder if he had only shown up those few instances just for appearances. To make himself look better. It was no secret to the people of Jackson that Joel Miller was a questionable man, with an even more questionable past. But he did more for the town than most, so it wasn’t spoken about. Nothing more than whispers, anyway.

There had been a few whispers after your outburst at the Tipsy Bison, especially when somebody shared the news of your move across town. But it was chalked up to teenage dramatics, the youth, as if there really was such a thing.

Regardless, Tommy’s invitation to dinner was coming up in a mere two days. The knowledge of where and when it was happening made you uncomfortable, like an itch underneath your collar, it was stifling. Because that part of you, the one that wants to hurt Joel, also wants company. It craves a family, and that was a craving that had only ever come close to being fulfilled once. Still, it was a natural instinct within humans. Safety came in numbers, and there was comfort in having people you could trust. You wish that part of you could just be satisfied being solitary, because you’ll never go to that dinner. Not if you have anything to say about it.

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Two hours until dinner, and the sun was beginning to set.

And here you were, axe in hand, staring down at the dwindling pile of wood that you needed to cleave into pieces. It wouldn’t last two hours. In reality, it wouldn’t even last one. Still, you stare as though the logs might multiply, hoping for the excuse out of a dinner you didn’t want to go to. And you know that you have no obligation to any of those people, you do know that, but it’s hard to believe it. Partly because you don’t want to. Because you’re torn between the satisfaction of succeeding on your own, and the fear of cutting off all ties to the only people you think you’ve truly cared about.

Being alone is a lot easier in theory.

In practice, it’s harder than you had thought. You were doing okay when they all left you to it, left you to live your own life. But an invitation means something, and that’s hard to ignore.

You bring the axe down, letting the severing of wood distract you from all thoughts of invitations and dinners and meanings.

It’s about the most physical task they’ll let you do — courtesy of Tommy, you’re sure — but you relish in it. Something about it is rewarding. Reminds you of your capabilities, your survival. The cold air burns your lungs, and each swing of the axe makes your muscles ache, but in a satisfying way. And doing it like this, alone, makes you feel unmistakably powerful.

You hear the crunch of footsteps behind you, not heavy enough to be Tommy’s or—God forbid—Joel’s. You paid them no mind, leaning down to move the chopped wood into the pile you had already assembled. You grabbed another log and placed it down, and just as you were preparing to swing the axe back up, you heard somebody clear their throat.

“Hey,” Ellie said, when you turned around. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as you failed to reply, fiddling with the gloves on her hands. “So, uh, you having fun chopping wood?” She asked, apparently trying to clear some of the tension that surrounded the two of you, that clung. You leant the top of the axe blade on the ground, and sighed. Your breath clouded in front of your face.

“What do you want?” You asked, repeating the very same question you had asked Tommy, feeling all the more certain about your adamancy about not going to that dinner. Ellie’s brows furrowed slightly, but she quickly deflated as soon as you could see the defensive air starting to rise within her.

She shifted again, before speaking. “Just wondering if you’re coming to dinner? Tommy said he wasn’t sure.”

You did your best not to scoff, mostly succeeding, as you turned back to the wood awaiting your axe. With practiced ease, your axe rose, and swung down at the wood, separating it with a satisfying crack. “Wouldn’t count on it.” You said, as polite as you could say: no, no, I’m not fucking coming to dinner. You’re not my family. You don’t care about me. I don’t care about you. There’s nothing left here.

It was ridiculous for them to send Ellie to come and convince you to attend, of all people. Their best bet would have been Maria, who had never technically done anything that had hurt you. No, all of the fault laid with the Millers, and with Ellie.

The two of you could’ve remained friends, could’ve been something close to a family, but she didn’t want that. She chose to cut you out, to isolate you even further, to disappear from your life completely, despite being the only reason you had ever opened up to Joel. It was like she had taken a knife, and cut you open, let you warm, simmer, before leaving you out on the counter to cool. To rot.

“What happened to you?” Ellie asked, as if she didn’t know, as if she hadn’t been a part of it. Like there was no reason for your shift from being warm around her, to being ice cold. She had done this to you. At least, in part.

You didn’t say anything at first, choosing to finish chopping the wood in front of you, and piling it off to the side. Finally, you turned to her as she watched you, brows furrowed, lip curled defensively. “You people happened. You all fucking happened. Is that enough for you? Is that enough for why I don’t want to go to some stupid winter dinner?” You said, not raising your voice, but hearing more anger and irritation seep into your tone as you spoke.

She looked like she wanted to take a step back, but she stayed firm. “We all have our own problems,” Ellie told you, voice harsh and unrelenting as she spoke, and her expression hardened. “Everybody does! It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, okay?”

It would have been so easy to continue arguing with her, to descend into childish taunts and quips, to disguise genuine hurt with ridiculous arguments, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You said nothing, turning back to the depleting supply of unchopped wood.

Ellie seemed ready to burst. “Me and Joel have our own fucking problems! It’s not always good. But you can’t just give up on someone!” She said loudly, stepping towards you, ignoring the snow crunching underneath her shoes. It seemed to you that she was trying to convince herself, more than anything. Whatever she came to you with, now, wasn’t really about you. It was about her.

“I’m not the one who gave up, Ellie. You and Joel are more alike than you know. But at least he had the decency to tell me why he was giving up on me.” You told her, staying calm, despite the way your blood was rushing through your body, carrying so much adrenaline you felt like your heart may just burst.

She gaped at you, seeming more stuck on the concept of her and Joel being alike than on how she had hurt you. You figured it would go like this, though, if the two of you ever spoke again. It wasn’t a surprise to you. Everything in your life always turned out the way you expected it to. Even Joel and Ellie, in the end, had done as much, despite surprising you at first. It was inevitable. Your every worry, every fear, even the ones that Tommy had once labelled as irrational, had turned out to be true.

You wouldn’t go to the dinner.

Everything between you and the extended Miller family was in ruins, and like you, it couldn’t be salvaged. It was over with. Done.

Now, all that was left to do was wipe your hands clean of them.

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A/N: hello if you made it this far! it has been a WHILE. but in honour of ITDWS being posted a year ago today (!!!!!!!!!) i thought i’d give y’all SOMETHING!!! it’s not amazing but i hope you enjoy!!! life has been crazy + i haven’t been writing much but i still love and appreciate every single one of you <3 i think of you often.