#it's not socially exhausting like my previous one is so i have more energy to do stuff though so thats a good sign

[fawfulydoo]

new job kinda knocked me on my ass for a sec but ill be ok i just have to get used to it

[californiaquail]

anyone else feeling fundamentally incapable of adjusting to society. also just discovered there's a 30 tag limit which i can't believe i've never hit before

[copperbadge]

I was diagnosed with depression when I was seventeen, the "this will probably keep happening your whole life" kind of depression, but aside from some really rough moments in my mid-twenties I coped pretty well; by the time I was living in Chicago I could see a depressive episode coming and I had techniques to ensure I got through -- kept going to work, kept making and eating food, kept myself and my home clean.

By the time I went in for my ADHD assessment I hadn't had an episode in a couple of years, and when I had they weren't particularly severe. So when I got the ADHD diagnosis and started studying what that meant, it seemed evident to me that what I'd been experiencing wasn't depression but rather exhaustion from unrecognized burnout. Which was a good thing -- it meant that with medication it probably wouldn't happen much or if it did it would be very mild.

But it turns out that clinical depression and ADHD can coexist! All discovery is useful, but this one was a real pain in the ass.

For the last couple of weeks I haven't had a ton of energy for doing anything, in a way that I recognize from previous episodes. The coping mechanisms did kick in; I pulled way back on chores and hobbies, focused on keeping caught-up with my job, made sure I was doing the minimum level of cleaning and didn't worry too much that I wasn't doing more. Looked after the cats, made time and saved energy for socializing. Didn't have much energy for longform writing but I had enough focus to work on short stories, so I messed around with those.

I'm okay in the specific way where I'm not a harm to myself or others and perfectly competent to run my own life, I'm just not real happy about any of it.

The longer I go managing my mental health and the ADHD, the more important the "show jumper" metaphor I came up with has become for me. Because yeah, firing on all cylinders and with Adderall I can basically do any task I aim myself at -- but with depression, even with the medication, it pulls backwards into "Okay, well, I guess put the horse over the jumps it'll take, not the ones you want it to take."

But I've been maintaining decently and this morning it turned out I wanted to cook a bunch of food, so even though what I really need to be doing is mopping the floor and vacuuming the rugs, I'll take "cooking enough pizza sauce to drown a small animal while boiling some pasta" and "making a nice loaf of beer bread". And hopefully the burst of energy means it's resolving itself, and the floors will get done sometime this week when I don't have to be baking bread or making pasta salad.

I'm very carefully saving my second daily Adderall dose until I'm ready to do the massive stack of dishes the cooking led to. Gonna take this horse over the goddamn dishes jump whether it likes it or not.

[cupidzgf]

CHRISTMAS MORNING | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: satoru wakes you up on christmas morning to open presents. its 7 am and you want to sleep.

cw: mentions of sexual activity, non sorcerer au, rich!gojo, no pronouns, no smut, fluff, all of it is fluff. w/c: 1.8k a/n: my first post in a long time. ahh kinda nervous I hope you like it! merry christmas eve!

christmas was an occasion that satoru always went above and beyond to make special.

whether it was for his sake or yours, he made sure there was no way to get out of decorating his place, baking cookies, or matching christmas pajamas. not that you mind. you savored the time away from work to bask in each other's presence uninterrupted and entirely devoted to the holiday, but what perhaps made it even more so was the slow wake of your lover beside you.

his hands, warm from where they were pressed against your midsection during slumber, trace the curve of your spine. his fingers dip between the knobs of your vertebrae gently as if trying to rouse you as well. it works because your mind slips from your unconscious state into consciousness with the kisses he presses at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. sensing the shift in your stirring frame, his kisses grow in numbers as they rise up the column of your throat, lips brushing and pressing with varying pressure on previous faded marks.

you lay on your side, facing away from him, and satoru practically climbs on top of you just as your eyes flutter open to get your attention to fall solely on him.

in the blink of an eye, you're met with an infinite void of vivid, azure irises peering at you with an expression you can only describe as childlike.

"it's christmas." a dimpled grin beams from his too-wide smile, devouring your lips in one fell swoop before you can protest. satoru vibrates with excitement, and he pours every ounce into the kiss, holding your face with a giddy glee. "merry christmas."

a sleepy grin of your own curls at your lips as you try to regain your breath from the overwhelmingly passionate kiss you just received before speaking softly in an admiration-filled voice. "merry christmas, toru."

you lay there, admiring your boyfriend, as he practically jumps off the bed and pulls your arm. "c'mon, we have to open presents! pleaseeee," he whines impatiently, tugging at your hand like a small child. you groan, still exhausted from the long night at suguru's house, and attempt to roll over.

suguru's christmas eve party the night before had left both of you exhausted, though the way satoru acts, you would never have guessed. your friend was never one to skimp out on these rare get-togethers with your friend group, formed from years enrolled at the same college. the holiday atmosphere and the rich decor lulled you into christmas cheer, which always made for great nights of booze, food, and rekindling. dripping in wealth satoru insists on buying for you, the two of you made it back in the early hours of the morning, drunk and worn out from socializing.

this, however, did not stop satoru from fucking you into the bed like he had been deprived of your touch (he had clung to you the entire night), where you both passed out after a single round.

now you're paying the price for the long night as his eyes widen comically when you avoid him. he rushes to stop you by throwing himself over you and, despite your protesting, makes you face him.

"nah, uh, where do you think you're going? it's christmas! we have presents from santa–"

"--he's not real, baby. let me sleep a couple more minutes." you chime back, and his expression drops with a huff.

"you don't know that! and we only will when we look under the tree," he states jokingly, refocusing his abundance of energy on getting you up.

you scoff, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "yeah, like you would be on the nice list."

satoru gasps, loud and dramatic, falling to his knees in front of your bed with a cry.

"how could you say such a thing? i'm the kindest, nicest person you know!" he exclaims, a hand hovering over his heart to further the theatrics, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his exaggeration.

"you weren't very nice last night."

his eyes shift, darkening by a shadow passing over his irises as they gain a mischievous gleam. satoru leans over you despite kneeling on the floor. "oh yeah? well, you didn't seem to mind when i fucked your pretty pussy so hard she was crying and screaming my name–"

"ok, time to get up!" you interrupt, mortified by the vivid personification he used to describe last night, your cheeks set aflame by his teasing. you hide from his cocky chuckle and self-satisfied smirk, embarrassment churning in your gut as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"that's what i thought, sweetheart." cocky bastard.

you rummage the floor for a shirt, the blanket covering your lower half as you throw his santa hat off the first one you can find, which coincidentally is his.

satoru whines sadly when his shirt covers your bare breasts, a frown pulling his lips down as your once naked body, decorated in hickeys, is covered. "what's the point of my hard work if you're just going to cover it?" he gestures to the bruises, pouting with the familiar solum look he uses when he wants something.

"i'm not going out there naked, toru." slipping on slippers, you stand, craning your neck to look him in the eye. your exasperation does not go unnoticed by the white-haired male.

"there's no reason you can't," he suggests, tugging you in front of him and letting his hands settle on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "it could be like a christmas present…to me!"

you raise an eyebrow. "i thought you wanted to open gifts?"

his face brightens as he remembers his original goal, his one-track mind making his hand tug you to the door without a second thought and newfound eagerness.

your living room is the same as you left it last night, with your cocktail dress strewn across the back of the sofa and satoru's shoes scattered across the hardwood, but what's different is the snow swirling in slow flakes outside the massive windows. it lands on the window sill, and the rest slowly descends to the world outside satoru gojo's penthouse. the bleak grey does nothing to discourage the sight of the luminescent christmas tree taking up your living room and glittering with a rainbow of lights against the grey sky in the ray of morning light.

a christmas morning crafted from a hallmark movie.

an array of presents ranging in various sizes and shapes overflows from under the tree you decorated weeks ago, and before you know it, you throw yourself into your lover's arms. a teasing remark sits at the tip of his tongue, maybe to poke fun at your elation, but he hesitates, fingers twitching at his side. in a moment so delicate it could be shattered like glass, he frames every second of the scene into memory, holding the warm and achy feeling in his chest close.

arms circle your body pressed tightly into satoru's, butterflies erupting from your stomach when you glance upwards and find him already staring.

"thank you," you muster every ounce of sincerity into your voice, swallowing the lump forming in your throat when he returns your gentle smile with his own.

"don't thank me yet. you haven't even seen what i got you!" effortlessly, he turns your attention away from the raw and achy emotions being pulled to the surface and onto you, where your eyes sparkle with eagerness.

the both of you find a seat on the floor and begin the seemingly endless presents and discarded wrapping paper; the laughter and joy that can only come from christmas morning echo off the walls you call home. and when the gifts are opened, and the faint tune of falling snow is all that's left, you are sure it can't get any better.

even as satoru nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his lips parting to whisper the words on your skin that have never been uttered in a moment of complete clarity. "i love you."

it somehow becomes perfect.

bonus:

staring at your mountain of gifts, ranging from designer to everything under the sun you mentioned wanting during the year, piles around you, and the thrill of being spoiled by your filthy rich boyfriend quickly wears off into guilt.

was his presents thoughtful? yes. overwhelming? also yes. especially since neither the price nor the quantity of gifts you'd given him come close to what you have. so the shame of being spoiled and unable to provide the same, in turn, quiets you into an insecure ball of nerves.

"do you like it?" your heavy gaze lifts to find him, and he squirms where he sits, uncharacteristically nervous. he waits for your reaction with uncertain eyes, wringing his hands together to calm his apprehension. "i tried to get everything you wanted, but i know how you feel when i overdo things…"

"satoru," you breathe, looking over the gifts once more. the following words come in a gentle coo he's come to recognize are used to let him down easily. "i do love everything, but it is a lot. you didn't have to spend so much."

frowning, your gaze flickers to him, and his eyes dip, avoiding yours. "ah, okay. i didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs in a quiet, saddened voice, and you quickly shake your head, realizing he took it the wrong way. shuffling on your knees to where he sits, you fall into his chest. solid and well-defined arms circle your body without a word, and you hear the distinct sound of his breath hitching at the contact.

"never. you're too good to me and treat me so well, baby, but you don't have to spend all your money on me."

"trust me, i didn't," he teases, attempting to regain the lighthearted atmosphere, before adding in a more hopeful tone, "but i'm glad you like your gifts."

"oh yes, the lingerie set was especially thoughtful," you joke, and he cracks a smile at that. only your expression falls a moment later when you clear your throat. "i just hope what i got is okay. i know you've been asking for a new watch and those glasses, but it's hard to find gifts for someone who has everything. i'm sorry i didn't get you more."

the sad murmur and downcast expression made satoru's heart crack, remorse twisting his stomach into knots. "no, no, no baby, i love what you got me. i couldn't be happier with all of your thoughtful gifts." he kisses the top of your head, resting his head on yours for a quiet moment of admittance that makes you fall in love with him all over again. "but everything i want is right here with you, sweet thing."

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?” 

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air. 

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?” 

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.” 

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?” 

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting. 

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries. 

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?” 

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.” 

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house. 

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.” 

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between. 

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.” 

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?” 

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how. 

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it. 

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly. 

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch. 

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all. 

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.” 

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.” 

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection. 

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….” 

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space. 

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.” 

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same. 

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start. 

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support. 

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.” 

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation. 

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again. 

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be. 

You’re overwhelmed. 

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise. 

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal  – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not. 

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop. 

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag. 

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring. 

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened. 

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general. 

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd. 

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them. 

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?” 

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.” 

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered. 

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.” 

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle. 

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.” 

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement. 

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone. 

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.” 

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him. 

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to. 

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers.  “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….” 

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.” 

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”  

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?” 

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either. 

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you. 

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin. 

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?” 

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I  don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask. 

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style. 

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.” 

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.” 

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him. 

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable. 

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.” 

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ” 

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.” 

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being. 

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face. 

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.” 

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.” 

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.” 

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.” 

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it. 

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes. 

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” 

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.” 

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself. 

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point. 

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?” 

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside. 

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms. 

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed. 

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever. 

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates. 

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.” 

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning. 

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back. 

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long. 

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that. 

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing. 

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too. 

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little. 

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move. 

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips. 

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after. 

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach. 

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.” 

“We can do this again, right?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired. 

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against. 

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book. 

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.” 

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Are you tired?” you ask. 

“Always,” he says through a yawn. 

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do. 

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you. 

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off. 

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.” 

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like. 

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him. 

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise. 

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

-

-

-

[ruth-writes]

ruthswip

Overview

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Chapter 4: Jamie's POV

Content warnings: depression, abuse

I woke up to blinding lights that I could barely see through my swollen eyes and every breath making my ribs scream in pain. It made memories come crashing though my skull, all attempts to fight them off useless. They were only slightly more bearable than the nightmares that had been plaguing my sleep.

I prayed no one would notice I was awake. Every bone in my body still felt limp with exhaustion. What would happen to me now? Were they gonna sit me across from some social worker who’d explain to me that I was now part of the system? It would have been easier if John had just killed me. Everyone would be messed up for a month at most before moving on with their lives. Holden would go back to hanging out with Charlie and Alex would be free to move even further away and start fresh.

Alex’s absence always made my chest feel hollow, but now it felt like something was clawing out my insides until there was nothing left but a shell. All I wanted was for him to be here, telling me it was all gonna be okay, that I wasn’t gonna be a case for a foster home. But I’d ruined all of that when I’d blocked him. Maybe I could run away, somewhere far where I’d never have to see anyone I knew ever again. I willed the tears forming in my eyes to seep back into my skull, but it was useless. My chest was rising and falling rapidly now anyway. I felt someone take my hand. Was Holden here?

“Jamie?” a voice said gently. It definitely wasn’t Holden. It sounded like… no, that had to be my brain playing a cruel trick on me. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to hold onto the fantasy. The voice stayed quiet, but the hand started rubbing soothing circles on my skin. Only one hand ever did that. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and opened my eyes.

They still felt puffy but opened wider than I’d thought they would once I’d gotten used to the light. Through my tears, I saw him. Clinging to my hand and watching me with bloodshot eyes.

He smiled, looking elated that I was awake. “Hey.”

I didn’t feel like saying anything.

“Jamie, I’m so, so, sorry. I’m never letting him touch you again, okay? Mom neither, I swear. You’ll never see any of them again.”

He kept rambling, and I didn’t have the energy to listen.

--------------------

Holden and I had been sitting silently on my bed for what felt like an eternity, but the ticking clock cutting through the silence told me it hadn’t been more than ten minutes.

“Do you like it?” I asked him eventually.

“You room?”

“Yeah.”

He looked around. Admittedly, there wasn’t much left to like. The little evidence I’d lived here for the past fourteen years was safely packed into the cardboard boxes. “It doesn’t feel like you,” he observed.

There wasn’t much I could say to that, so we were back to sitting in silence.

After another painful three minutes, he was the one to break it. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I was a far cry from good. My ribs were still broken, I couldn’t walk normally because one of the kicks had hit my left knee in a weird way, and I was still finding new bruises everywhere. But my face wasn’t swollen anymore, and I wasn’t confined to a hospital bed.

“That’s good.”

I nodded, staring at my lap so I didn’t have to see his face as I bit the bullet. I took a deep breath and folded my fingers into his. “I don’t think-“ my voice cracked. “I don’t think I can do this long-distance.”

The sentence hung in the air until he wrapped his arms around my chest and rested his chin on my shoulder. I clung to his arm as I choked out, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” he immediately stopped me. “This is for the best. You’ll be away from your dad for good.”

And from him. This was for the best, but that didn’t stop it from being terrible. “We can still be friends. Like, really, I’m not just saying that. We can text and stuff.”

He nodded. “Definitely.”

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” I told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m gonna miss you, too.”

He stayed over that night, which was the only way I was able to fall asleep in that room. We watched a movie none of us paid any attention to, talked for hours, and savored our last moments together until the next morning, he got on the school bus and I got in the car with Alex.

Alex was silent until we got onto the highway. “I know this really sucks. I’m sorry.” I knew that if he wasn’t driving, he’d be rubbing circles on my hand again.

I bit back a snarky response about how he couldn’t know because he’d never been in a relationship and stared out the window.

A few miles later, he got a text. Then another. When the third one came, I was able to catch the name on his phone. “Who’s Aaliyah?” I asked.

“A friend,” was all he replied.

“From your new life?” I said passive aggressively.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he bit his lip. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he said firmly once he’d calmed himself.

Angry tears sprouted from my eyes. I furiously stared at the car in front of us, pretending to read the license plate.

“Hey,” he scolded, still not yelling. “I know you’re mad. You’re allowed to be mad, but you’re not allowed to be mean.”

I rolled my eyes and relented to get him off my back. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said pointedly. “I love you, okay?”

I didn’t reply, only talking to him when absolutely necessary for the rest of the car ride, like I’d been doing since the hospital. I could tell it upset him, but he didn’t comment on it.

We carried my suitcases up to the Airbnb we were staying in while Alex went apartment hunting. It was downtown according to him, and not too far from the new school I was supposed to be going to tomorrow. Apparently, being beaten to a pulp by your father wasn’t a good enough reason to take more than a week off.

“Why don’t we get pizza?” Alex asked once we were settled on the couch.

“Really?” I asked uncertainly. We’d never ordered pizza before. “Isn’t that expensive?”

He shrugged the question off. “Don’t worry about that, okay? It’s fine.” He got out his phone, typed something and handed it to me. “Here, pick something.”

I scrolled through the website, looking at every option before I decided on plain cheese. It didn’t take long to arrive.

“Can I eat in my room?” I asked as Alex handed me the box. I had the only room in the small space, Alex was sleeping on the couch.

“Sure,” he said. “Take a plate with you, okay?”

I wordlessly grabbed one from the kitchen before I left and shut the door behind me. I sat on the bed, listening to The Battle of the Labyrinth audiobook to distract me as I ate. Thankfully, the crust was nice and crunchy and the pizza wasn’t one of those soggy messes that made me want to puke. When I was done, I crawled under the covers, not bothering to put on pajamas.

Percy Jackson didn’t do its job of stopping by brain from buzzing. I rolled around for hours until I gave up and just stared at the ceiling. As the minutes ticked by, I started dreading the next day more and more. Only six hours of sleep I could handle, but five? Four? I was at something around three and a half when I finally drifted off.

Judging by the pounding headache I woke up too, it definitely wasn’t enough. The sound of someone arguing drifted through the walls, which immediately put me on high alert as I strained my ears. I sounded like Alex was on the phone, but I couldn’t make out with who. Crawling out of bed, I crept towards the door and cracked it open.

Alex immediately saw me from the other side of the room. “Dad, I’m gonna have to call you back, okay?” he said, then hung up without waiting for an answer and turned to me. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”

I ignored the question. “Since when does your dad have your phone number?”

Alex bristled. “Since he started paying for my entire life.”

Right. He’d offered him money, and Alex had come running. “What were you arguing about?” I prodded.

“He wants me to visit him over break, and I was telling him it wasn’t gonna happen,” Alex said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You look exhausted. Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Yeah, like three hours.”

Alex decided that was enough for him to call me in sick. Even though he obviously didn’t like it, he left me alone after drilling me to call him for anything I needed whatsoever. It was sweet, and I even let him hug me before he finally ran out the door. Once he was gone, I crawled back under the covers. After a few hours, I was wishing I’d sucked it up and gone to school. Being alone with my thoughts was definitely worse.

The next day, Alex was running late again, but this time it was my problem because he had to drive me. I stood by the door with my backpack and shoes already on, yelling at him to hurry up. Being the new kid was bad enough, I was not gonna draw extra attention to myself by being late.

“I coming!” he called back, obviously taking care not to yell. “Don’t worry, we still have more than enough time.”

He did know the city better than I did, but I had to go to the office before my first period and find all of my classes in the unfamiliar building, which I’d reminded him of multiple times. Still, he ended up being right, getting us to the parking lot fifteen minutes before I had to show up. It was both a relief and annoying.

“Do you want me to help you find it?” he asked as I opened the door. “I’m pretty sure I can still pass as a senior.”

“No, it’s okay.” I’d already jumped out of the car. “Bye.”

He waved. “Good luck, have fun, and if you need anything, call me.”

I assured him I would, then turned to the school. There was a kid heading towards the entrance, so I followed him inside. Thankfully, I was greeted by clear signs that pointed me towards the office.

The office lady looked up from her desk when I entered and gave me a fake smile. “Can I help you?”

I cleared my throat embarrassingly loudly. “Uh, I’m new, and I was told to go to the office to get my schedule?”

“Of course! It’s James, right?”

“Jamie,” I corrected her, mentally preparing myself for having to deal with this for the rest of the week.

She nodded. “Jamie. Excellent. Let me just find it…” She rummaged through a stack of papers on her desk and handed me one. “A student with a similar schedule to yours has been assigned to show you around. Why don’t you take a seat while you wait for him?”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” I promptly tripped and stumbled into a big chair that was shoved against the wall, my face burning. The desk lady was engrossed in her computer again, so I got out my phone to text Holden while I waited.

J: Omg I’m about to start my first school day. I hope I don’t die

H: same

H: As in, same, I hope you don’t die. I don’t have a reason to think I might die

J: they assigned some random kid to show me around

H: Are they nice?

J: I don’t know, I haven’t met them yet

H: Well, update me

Before long, a kid wearing loafers and a button-down shirt walked into the office and hocked his eyes on me, which I found incredibly uncomfortable. “Hi, are you James?” he asked cheerfully.

“Jamie.”

“Nice to meet you, Jamie. I’m Noah, I’ll be showing you around today.” He held out his hand, which I shook half-heartedly.

“Cool, thanks.” Of course, my buddy was a thirty-year-old businessman stuck in a teenager’s body. Only a nerd would sign up for this kind of job.

“Can I see you schedule?” Noah asked.

I handed it to him.

“Awesome, our first class is the same. We should hurry, it’s on the other side of the building.”

Noah practically flew through the halls, making sure we arrived exactly as the bell rang. “Mrs. O’Brian, this is Jamie. He’s new,” Noah panted in the doorway.

Great, thanks for announcing me like a guest at some kind of medieval ball.

Mrs. O’Brian frowned at the sheet on her desk. “Jamie? I have you down as James.”

“My name is Jamie,” I told her bluntly.

She smiled condescendingly. “I don’t know how things worked at your old school, but teachers don’t use nicknames here. You can ask your friends to call you Jamie, but in my class you’ll be addressed by your legal name.”

“It’s not a nickname, it’s my name,” I argued hotly.

Noah cut in. “Mrs. O’Brian, aren’t there typos on those lists sometimes? It might be something like that.”

Maybe having your buddy be a teacher’s pet wasn’t as bad as I thought, because Mrs. O’Brian immediately morphed into a kind, understanding person as she addressed Noah. “Yes, thank you, Noah. That’s probably what happened.” She wrote it down, then looked back at us. “Welcome, Jamie. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” I replied politely, even though it wasn’t.

“You can sit behind Caleb.” She pointed to an empty chair behind a tall, lanky guy with blond hair. I could already see myself craning my neck all year to see the board around him. “But before you sit down-“ Oh God. Please, no no no no no- “why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”

I looked to Noah for help, but he’d already made his way to a seat by the window. I was completely alone in front of about twenty pairs of eyes, that were watching me partly with expressions of pity, partly with ones of amusement.

“Um, well, I’m Jamie,” I started awkwardly, then stopped. What was I supposed to say now? Where I was from? That was boring. Hobbies? The only one I had was dance, and that was weird for a guy. I wasn’t about to hand them bullying material on a silver platter, they could figure that out on their own. The silence was becoming excruciatingly painful as the seconds ticked by on the large wall-mounted clock behind me, only made worse by everyone’s eyes boring into me. Was my breathing getting heavier? I forced back a sob. I would not be crying on my first day.

Mrs. O’Brian’s voice cut through my trance. “Jamie, are you all right?”

I realized I’d started swaying and quickly straightened myself, then gave her a feeble nod. “I’m fine.”

She smiled awkwardly. “Well, why don’t you tell us where you’re from?”

“I-“ my voice came out as a whine, so I cleared my throat and started again. “I’m from the Chicago area.”

“How nice!” She still wouldn’t let me sit down, so I had to endure the silence again until she asked, “What sort of things do you like?”

Couldn’t she just let me go? I took a shaky breath and said the first thing that came to my mind. “I like cats.” Were cats gay? Probably. High schoolers could turn anything gay.

Mrs. O’Brian must have had at least five cats waiting for her at home, because now she was smiling in earnest. “Cats are wonderful! Do you have any?”

I shook my head. “No.” She looked taken aback, and I heard someone laugh. I just knew this was gonna be the funny story they told their friends at lunch.

I was finally allowed to sit down, and I took the opportunity to zone out. I kept it up for the rest of class and the next few hours, only paying attention when Noah gave me rapid-fire information during passing time. He seemed nice enough, even lying to me that everyone would forget about my little cat stunt by tomorrow.

My third teacher had me sit in the last row, which I took advantage of and got out my phone.

J: Everyone keeps calling me James. One teacher even argued with me about it. Like, lady, I’m pretty sure I know my own name

H: Ugh. If I was there, I’d slap her for you

I grinned, spending the rest of my time until lunch envisioning Holden slapping Mrs. O’Brian in different ways.

The cafeteria was similar to my old school, right down to the noise that made me want to claw my own ears off. I followed Noah’s lead and got pizza, which he said was the least gross out of all the available lunch options and sat down at a table with him and two kids who introduced themselves as David and Oliver.

Oliver quickly turned out to be the kind of person who didn’t know when to shut up. “Dang, I’d hate being the new kid. Why would your parents move you from Chicago to here? Do they hate you or something?”

No one said anything, but Noah and David had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Oliver tried again. “Why’d you move here?”

I shrugged. “Some stuff came up.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“It’s not important,” I retorted coldly.

“If it’s not important, why won’t you just tell me?”

“Oliver!” Noah finally snapped. “Lay off, will you?”

They exchanged a look, and Oliver gave it. “Damn, sorry. I forgot how sensitive y’all are.”

They spent the rest of lunch bickering, leaving me to zone out again.

Overview

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[beetleskeleton]

for the fall asks, lone graveyard for leshy and grimora please?

Hello hello! Thank you for your request! 

Yes I will be finishing the fall ask prompts to hopefully clear up my inbox a little bit in time for Halloween and before Mariah Carey is fully defrosted. The thought makes me shudder more than the cold mornings these days...Anyways I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night!

Lone Graveyard-Do they like spending fall with someone or do they prefer to be on their own?

–

Leshy

Typically, he prefers to be on his own during the fall season. Some of the beasts are starting to prepare to go into hibernation, after all, and he needs not to spend time with others when he needs to hussle in making cards. 

Specifically on Halloween night is an entirely different story.  

He has specific masks for the occasion, new cards such as new bats with an addition of spiders, and a bombarding amount of scary tales for each and every challenger that comes into his cabin. Leshy seems more alive in his acting and roleplaying as a Scrybe than he had been, practically jumping out of his chair as he performs each and every character.

If he had a partner, they would get to see all the excitement practically buzzing off of him afterwards, as he gushes about just how much he enjoyed the festivities. He’s probably worn out from all the energy, though, which is a shame if he wanted to do one for them (which is very likely). But with a bit of reassurance, he would push past the exhaustion and perform as best he could without the immense amount of energy he showed to the challengers. 

Leshy prefers a mix of both company and solace, one just preparing up for the other in good fun. 

Grimora

Grimora, on the other hand, loves company all throughout fall. Then again, she has all the ghouls of her domain as company all the time anyway, so there’s not much of a need of seeking company. 

But she’ll never turn down extra company either in challengers or otherwise! She loves socializing and being around people. 

I have said this in previous posts related to this, but she definitely celebrates the Day of the Dead. Therefore there is certainly going to be a variety of celebrations and with it a variety of people. She also definitely has a pipe organ somewhere in the crypt to welcome new challengers with.

Grimora is certainly the most festive out of the Scrybes, as with how many of the dead end up in her crypt, she likely celebrates just about every holiday or celebration. That being said, she welcomes any and all that enter her crypt as long as they are respectful to her and her lovely ghouls.

Grimora prefers a lot of company and loves having bunches of people over in her domain for festive activities!  

[heinous-desiree]

Okokokok, if all your PCs existed in the same world together, would there be any changes in character if any?

Like would they all date the same people they did before? Would they all act the same now that there was someone who knew exactly what they were going through?

Ohhhh boy. So I do imagine Jas and Hunter in the same world, but... Like with there being fraternal twins of female Sydney and male Sydney. Also, two Robins. One is Jas' precious sister, and one is Hunter's boyfriend.

NOW LET'S SAY EEF THAT. YOU ALL GET ONE. Also, I'm adding my newest PC to the mix. Meet Dee the Disaster!

How do things change? First off, Jas will end up as all my fellow PCs' orphanage Mum at some point. Hunter was always her brother from another mother, Jas will spot Celeste working herself half to death eventually and step in, Maeve gets bullied so much that Jas will violently step in and provide consistent support, Dee will approach Jas herself.

Jas is... Much more stressed, traumatized, and worn out in this scenario. She never met Avery and had no steady weekly income when she started paying her debt. She also landed herself Robin's debt after three weeks of she paying her own. She ALSO can't stop herself from taking on her fellow orphans problems, so she does many unsavory things to make ends meet/help everyone.

She never ended up with Sydney, knowing Celeste's feelings for the religious librarian and believing Celeste is better for them. Jas instead found refuge in Alex. Without Sydney in her life, Alex became the kindest person she knew that she didn't see as family. Her life is tough and she has had a few breakdowns, but she's determined to make her found family's life as good as she can.

Hunter doesn't have a harem anymore. Most of his previous love interests are taken by other people. He will not get in the way of Celeste and Sydney too cute budding relationship, he will NOT steal his big sis Jas' partner Alex, he also never met Avery, Kylar is obsessed with another orphan, and he only has the law preventing him from killing Whitney for continuously bullying someone precious to him.

Speaking of precious to him, Hunter ends up with MAEVE. Hunter is weak to people that depend on him and cute things, with Sydney out and him never needing to save Robin, it was Maeve that filled out that role of being the one Hunter wanted to protect. Hunter became a fallen angel when he got intimate with Maeve, with Maeve gently caring for him when the horrific pain of falling from grace hit him. Hunter lost his mind when Maeve was taken away for not being able to pay his debt, and was so much more clingy when Maeve finally escaped (as a cowboy) and got home. They both still have sex with other people (just demon things), but they are each other's number one.

Celeste life is better in this world, just because she has an army of people that would stop her from over working and help her. She doesn't have to deal with Whitney's nonsense as much because Jas, Hunter, Dee, and her take turns beating up that bully. She no longer has to look over her shoulder in anxiety cause she doesn't have a stalker in this world. Jas studies with her, often teasing Celeste and urging the angel on how to pursue Sydney (Celeste feels like Jas looks longingly at Sydney sometimes?). Hunter is a bit awkward with her but always kind, trying his best to bring her out of her shell with games and jokes while trying not to offend her. Maeve will tug at her sleeves when she tries to keep working when the exhaustion starts kicking in, eyes doe and asking her for favors that involves her doing low energy tasks till bedtime. Dee has simply stepped in her life, told her to get it together, closed her textbook, and made her do... Fun and decent jobs around town to de-stress... And sometimes forces her to socialize with other people, mostly fellow students because, "your reputation sucks... Please, for the love of God, make some friends."

Celeste is happy... She plans to invite all of them to her wedding with Sydney when it comes. She never turns into a harpy in this world.

Maeve was the lucky orphan that caught Kylar's eye! So Maeve still ended up in between Whitney and Kylar's tug of war with Maeve as the rope... Well, initially, at least. Maeve was okay with having them in his life even when things... Got difficult. It's fine, they wanted him!

Then, Jas beat up Whitney for him when Maeve really... Really didn't want to do something Whitney asked. Then, Jas asked him if he was okay, smiled warmly, and helped him back to the orphanage. Maeve wanted to avoid her at first, she was too good for someone like him, and he felt guilty depending on her.

Then, he met Hunter, who scared off a group of bullies before they could do anything to him. Hunter was far more persistent than Jas in making sure Maeve was okay, with each incident of bullying, attacks in public, or just bruises that Hunter catches, the more the wolf boy stuck around, warm, patient, and kind... Made Maeve want this more than the humiliation Whitney gives him, or the creepy obsession of Kylar. Maeve felt safe...

Kylar kidnapped Maeve after the incident where he was sold to the farm. Jas, Hunter, Celeste, and Dee found him in record time, but it was Hunter that beat Kylar up, and Celeste that got the police involved.

Dee is with Avery, and she ensured it. In the beginning, her own security was the only thing that mattered. She needed moneybags to pick HER so she could protect herself. She had no intention of involving herself with other people, she couldn't afford to. She was small, weak, with no support. She refuses to let this town eat her alive.

...Things didn't go as plan. She managed fine, but her not all her fellow orphans did... She watched Jas slowly give more and more of herself away, and for what? Other orphans. Not even herself... Dee felt bad for her. She watched Celeste try her best to stay pure in this town despite making it impossible to make good money and she felt the angel was stupid... But admirable. And she felt her resolve snap, stopping Jas from taking on certain jobs and shoving money in her hands, "take care of yourself, idiot." And forcing Celeste to kick back and relax before she collapsed, "come on, church girl. Dance in the name of the lord! It's called having fun!"

They are all a messy family. But they have each other. (Of course, even in this world Hunter fucks his pseudo brother.)

[piningpercussionist]

... first and foremost, I would like to apologize for any discomfort I've caused you, Kim. now, I'm not the most... socially apt person. but I really, sincerely, do *not* mean you any harm. I'm not intending to come off as creepy, I can, however, understand why you'd be uncomfortable or perhaps concerned by these gifts and all. (I mean, shit. if somebody mailed me a painting of me dancing with them, I'd be weirded out too, flattered, granted. but weirded out.) I never really expected anything to happen, I guess I just... felt the need to tell you how I feel about you, get *that* off my chest, at least. even if you don't feel the same way that I do. (which is fine, and understandable! I get it.) as for why I've sent you gifts... I suppose I just wanted to show you how I felt with something other than a note or whatever. *just* a note feels kinda cheap. I'd rather give you something that's at least a bit useful to you (hence those custom made drumsticks.). I hope you find success in whatever future endeavors you do. and I hope that you don't find this note too off-putting. enclosed is something that I hope you and the rest of Sex Bob-Omb like. -sincerely, the guy who said he had a crush on you. *enclosed is a folded, custom made Sex Bob-Omb poster, it's actually quite well made. it's an homage to the album 'Ramones', by The Ramones, featuring Sex Bob-Omb's lineup leaning back against a brick wall. unlike the original album cover, it's in color and not black-and-white.*

ooc: answering this as though it is in the nebulous but near future! I just didn't want to leave this lingering any longer; sorry for the delay! Hopefully I have left things vague enough for myself to wedge it back in the timeline of the blog later lol

Kim lets out a long, weary sigh as she finally gets back to the relative peace of her room, taking a moment to rest back against her shut door and scrub at her face. The energy and emotional exhaustion of everything that had happened between the last time she'd been here and now seemed to be sinking into her bones, and she wanted little more than to sink to her knees right there and just be comatose for a while.

She knew from experience, however, that the floor was cold and miserable like that, especially this time of year; so, instead, she opts to shrug off her coat and toss it blindly in the direction of her desk, trudging towards her bed. She closes her eyes and lets herself fall forward into it, ready to finally, properly rest, maybe even unpack her thoughts about everything- but then, she hears the crinkle of paper as she makes contact with the sheets, and her eyes fly open while she rolls to the side and, thankfully, off of the object.

She blinks down at an envelope that had been tossed haphazardly on the bed, probably by Hollie, and after a moment recognizes the style of it. Oh, that one guy... how long has this been here? Did I miss this before I left? She hesitates briefly, mostly just in resistance to the idea of having to continue actively thinking, but sighs and sits up anyway. She won't be able to relax if it's just sitting there, tempting her.

Propping up her pillows, she leans back against them and opens it, pulling out both the letter and the folded poster. She looks over the letter first, and after a moment, lets out another sigh, this time a short, guilty thing. The words feel genuine, so she can't help but feel slightly bad about her previous response, but... Well, if they knew anything about her, they might've expected it. She tries to take comfort in that fact, glancing over in the general direction she left the drumsticks. Then, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the letter, opening her blog to begin her reply.

Hey, sorry this too so long to get back to. Life and things; with how people talk, maybe you've heard about the party by now? Julie's ragers, am I right? The apology is appreciated... and accepted. I think I believe you, especially given you're acknowledging the creep factor there. I'm not really a big gift person, I guess, so it was a little off putting just to begin with, anything else aside. I think you've already given me more than my parents got me for Christmas, and I don't even have a name for you beyond "Crush Guy." But, hey, it's far from the most uncomfortable I've been in these situations, so you're actually doing fairly alright in that regard. Thank you for the well wishes; I'll probably be needing them, ha! And no, I think you've quelled the fires against you, for now. (Joking- this is why I do the stupid videos...)

She pauses briefly, looking over at the newest gift and carefully unfolds it, trying to work out the creases as she goes. Once it's unveiled, she stops to look at it for a long while, a bit surprised by how much she genuinely likes it. She sets it aside with a mental note to hang it up later- ideally before their next band practice. She wouldn't be attaching a photo of it to the post, to help keep the surprise til then.

And again for the gifts. I think the rest of the band will really dig this one, honestly- especially Stills. It's very nice.

She gives it a once over before nodding to herself and hitting send, content. Then, setting the letter and the poster further aside, as to not crumple them, Kim moves to curl up at the top of her bed in a tight ball, eyes sliding shut peacefully. I'll think about things later. Ball time, she thinks idly, and then thankfully, blissfully, proceeds to continue thinking nothing at all.

[sheliesshattered]

Dragon Con 2023 Retrospective

We've been home from Dragon Con for two weeks as of today -- but we've spent most of that time recovering from a particularly nasty Con Crud™. I tested negative for covid, but Jack tested positive and we had the same symptoms, so eh I figure I finally actually caught it, after several rounds of head colds that tested negative.

I always get some level of Con Crud and/or spoonie post-event exhaustion, so I was prepared to feel pretty awful for a week or two at least. The fever and sinus headache was a bit novel this year, but as I'm getting over this infection I'm actually feeling okay-ish. Hopefully my energy will continue to return over the next few weeks (I've got a big day of walking planned for the end of October!) but otherwise I might actually be feeling better now than I have two weeks post Dragon Con (or post Wasteland Weekend) in previous years.

And unlike previous years, I got through the whole con and the trip home without feeling sick at all. A little dehydrated at times (the wait for airport security at ATL was the worst honestly), and my body taking the trouble to remind me how much stretching in the evening helps me, but nothing worse than that.

I've had Dragon Cons in past years when I was too wiped out to even leave the hotel room by Sunday evening, but this year I spent Sunday evening standing around and socializing at the Doctor Who Ball, and didn't hate myself for it later. A combination of being in better physical condition now in general, and pacing myself (and Jack needing to pace too), and staying on top of vitamins and electrolytes and water all really seemed to help.

We got home on the Monday of Labor Day weekend, and then Tuesday morning I was feeling well enough to go grocery shopping on my own and make corn chowder from scratch when I got back. I was tired, but not too bad, honestly. Buuut by that evening I had a sore throat, then by Wednesday morning both Jack and I woke up with a fever. The rest of the week continued more or less like that, with a lot of lying around on the couch and watching movies and tv shows, lol.

Despite feeling like death, we did spend some time talking about what went well at Dragon Con 2023, what we'd want to do again and what we'd want to do differently. I really enjoyed the House of the Dragon photo meetup on Saturday, and wearing my Rhaenyra cosplay in general. I even ended up wishing that I'd carved out time to go to the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF photo meetup in the same costume, just to have more time in that dress and hanging out with that fandom.

There's something that I really enjoy about working hard for months on end to make something screen-accurate from a fandom that is active but also fairly focused. I recognized every costume worn at the HotD meetup, knew which character wore it in which episode, etc. Everyone I talked with at that meetup knew exactly which dress I was wearing, which character I was, and noticed the details I spent so much time working on -- just as I did theirs. There's a wonderful camaraderie and bonding in appreciating each other's hard work to achieve screen accurate reproductions of well-known and visually compelling costumes.

Between that meetup and late night drinking shenanigans while wearing my Rhaenyra cosplay, I really felt like I achieved my peak Dragon Con experience this year while wearing that costume.

By contrast, while I did have fun wearing my Harley Quinn Taylor Swift mashup cosplay, I didn't have nearly as much fun as I did as Rhaenyra. I got some nice compliments from complete strangers who saw the shirt and got the mashup concept, and I had one funny in-character interaction with a Joker cosplayer, but by the evening I was ready to switch back to being Rhaenyra.

The Harley mashup was clever, but not people-stopping-to-take-pictures clever, and honestly there are just a lot of Harleys running around the con. And her canon is a lot more scattered than HotD/GoT canon, and costumes are much more commercially available, so there wasn't nearly the same level of bonding over hand-making the costumes.

The Swifties meetup was fun, and exchanging the beaded friendship bracelets I made was a good experience -- but honestly I had more fun handing out the few Rhaenyra ones I made than I did exchanging the Swiftie ones. I don't regret making the Harley Quinn Taylor Swift mashup, but it did really help clarify my priorities for future Dragon Cons.

So Harley Quinn was fun, but won't be repeated, I don't think. But because I'd worn Rhaenyra's red dress so late into the evening on Friday, I hadn't had a chance to wear my punk!Rhaenyra original concept yet, so on Saturday night when I wanted to switch back to Rhaenyra for awhile, I got to break that one out for late night parties and shenanigans (and also Dairy Queen).

Sunday was lower-key by comparison. Quite a few Doctor Who cosplayers looked right at my Oswin and didn't seem to recognize it, which seems to be par for the course for mainstream Whovians when it comes to Clara's era. That said, just when I was starting to get snarky about that (quietly, only to Jack), a Sixth Doctor cosplayer complimented my Oswin, which made the whole thing feel worth it.

And then when I switched to my MOTOE Clara cosplay for the evening hours, there were a few more people who clearly recognized the costume -- including one woman who gasped and yelled 'Clara!!' at me as we were passing each other in heavy Marriott crowds. I didn't get a chance to do more than gasp in surprise at her excitement, but the cycling of the Marriott crowd being what it is, we eventually passed each other again, and I ran off through the crowd to catch her that time. We chatted for a bit and I gave her the beaded bracelet reading 'Don't Stop Me Now' that I made for exactly that situation, lol. We ended up hanging out at the Doctor Who Ball, but her excitement over the MOTOE cosplay really made my night.

The Doctor Who Ball had a costume contest (that wasn't real well organized, but sounds like it will be a more official thing in future years, because it was such a popular event) that I entered on a lark. The announcement of the winners in particular wasn't well done, I missed it completely because I was talking with people, but I went and asked afterwards and found out that I'd done well and (according to the woman running the contest, who immediately asked to take a picture with me) apparently I only lost the Companion category to a Wilf cosplayer who was spot-on, and tugging on everyone's heartstrings. I don't know how close the vote really was, but her enthusiasm for my cosplay felt like such a gift.

I haven't felt like going to GallifreyOne in recent years, since I've felt so much on the outside of the Doctor Who fandom (between the hate focused on Clara's era and my own dislike of the most recent era), but the Doctor Who Ball was a great time to talk with like-minded Whovians, and to remember why I love this corner of the fandom in general.

I think MOTOE Clara will probably make an appearance at future Dragon Cons, and Oswin met the original purpose of being a comfortable easy-to-wear cosplay for during the day, so in all likelihood that one will come back too (after just a little bit of repair work on the belt).

The red silk Rhaenyra gown held up well, much better than I feared it would. I maaay need to handwash it, but I washed the fabric with shampoo before I sewed it, so theoretically it can be handwashed again, if it really needs it. I need to replace the shoes, but that's already in progress. At this point I'm planning to bring Rhaenyra's Red Dress back to Dragon Con 2024 (and maybe even to something else in between, like Wonder Con?). Quite possibly punk!Rhaenyra too.

I think season 2 of HotD will air before next Dragon Con, or at least start before the end of August. There's every possibility that there will be new costumes from s2 that I'll want to make -- but either way, I know now that I want to lean into cosplay from fandoms like HotD/GoT, and focus less on fandoms like Harley Quinn.

I've already started thinking about and planning cosplays for next year, but this is already way too long, so I'll post an update about that tomorrow...

[biwritesfics]

Dead Girls Don’t Die

Part 2: When the devil calls

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, hospital setting. My previous parts have more exhaustive warnings just make the decision that feels right for you.

1k words

——————————————————————————

Something was very very wrong. I bolt up lashing out blindly. A ball of ice-cold crackling energy shoots from my hand. A bearded man dressed in some kind of robes moves his hands opening a portal out of thin air and then closes it; trapping the energy. That's shocking and amazing and all but I can't help but stare down at my own hands in shock. “I apologize, that is- erm, a new development.” I murmur.

“It's alright I've handled worse, it's actually my job to handle mystic problems but that's not why I'm here.” I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Tony Stark called in a favor so I came to look at your scans. In my career I handled some interesting cases, but it's rare to see damage like yours.” My heart skips a beat. “You can see the damage?” “Yes there’s damage to the frontal cortex of your brain and various injuries to your nerves If I’m correct you don’t have feeling on the soles of your feet?” I nod. It wasn’t that big of a deal until it turns out I’ve had something embedded in my foot for God knows how long.

“You're otherwise functional, we released some pressure from the base of your skull so that should be tender for a while, overall you have a clean bill of health. I raise my eyebrow inquisitively at him. “Is the psych eval not in or what?” “That’s clean too, you tested positive for the mutant gene. It explains your abilities.” My mind is going a mile a minute trying to process exactly what he’s saying. “That can’t be it, at least not the only…” I pause thinking for a second. “They found the bunker didn’t they?”

He seems to contemplate lying before admitting the truth. “Yes State and Local authorities are on scene, I suspect the FBI won’t be far behind.” I nod softly, it’s strange for my deep secrets to be common knowledge. “I appreciate your help but I have one question for you. Am I taking this IV out or are you because I have to go.” “No one is taking the IV out because the moment you’re off the morphine you’ll have a migraine strong enough to take out a grown man.”

“Coming from a girl who's taken out two grown men, just remove the damn IV” I wasn’t angry, just firm. I could tell he would be a tough nut to crack. “No I’m not risking the wellbeing of my patient you’re staying put” he counters. “You have a very short amount of time before I just rip it out.” I threaten. “Try that young lady and I'll restrain you.” His glare shows that he wanted to use words other than “young lady”

Sadly I’m still above begging. “Can I at least get a call? I've been in prisons with better bedside manner” I grumble. I think he says something about kids these days as he hands me the hospital phone. I feel a presence behind me. “I memorized the Lawyers number” Martin says. I push the phone in his direction and he dials. I place the receiver to my ear and listen to it ring.

I can hear the conversation in the background of the call. “I’m not your fucking secretary Red Im not taking your calls. “Just five minutes Castle I have to talk to the police chief and social services.” There’s some grumbling before someone finally speaks directly into the phone. “This is Matt Murdock’s phone. What do you want?” “Hi I’m Sylvia Cole I was hoping I could speak to Mr.Murdock regarding his visit to Massachusetts? He inhales sharply. “I’m assuming you’ve seen it, can I

ask— . “There were 12” he answers quickly, sparing me from asking the question.

My mind is reeling for a moment. “You need to tell then there are five more, the earliest ones.” “Alright Doll I’ll send the message,” he tells me. “Thank you, Mr…?” “Castle, Frank Castle you can call me Frank,” he replies. “Thank you, Frank, I truly appreciate your help,” I tell him softly. “Anytime Doll, call if you need anything alright? “I will, goodbye.” I set the phone in its cradle appreciating the satisfying sound.

Strange was staring at me as if he expected my head to burst into flames at any given moment. “I do hold some respect for you Dr.Strange I won’t rip the IV out I swear it. If you find me a bible I’ll swear it well or the Torah I’m half and half either works,” I offer. “Somehow I don’t believe that as you choose to sass me and promise in the same breath.” “You gotta let a girl have her fun somehow Doctor. The ghosts don't always get my humor.”

“The ghosts, what exactly are they like?” Strange asks taking a seat in the hospital chair. “Well they're all different, most of them are either terribly sad or angry at their predicament. I'm not entirely sure how they become ghosts, but they're not quite good or evil. Not in the black or the white ; they just get stuck in the grey. That's what I call where they go when I can't see them.” I explained to him. He begins to ask a question but doesn't get to finish it as I begin to scream bloody murder at the sight in front of me.

“What is it, what is it!?” Strange grabs me by the shoulders. I fall against his chest sobbing. “I can see them and I can feel their pain. They were just babies how could he do this? He was a father, he was my father, how could he do this to us.” Strange wraps me in his arms awkwardly at first but he softens a bit rocking me back and forth. “It’s alright he’s gone he can’t hurt anyone else.” “No no! you don’t understand they keep chanting it.” I try and scream louder to drown them out but I still hear them as a needle pricks my shoulder and my eyelids droop.

He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive

[flipchild]

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[160+] One Word Captions For Girl-Cute, Cool, And Good Instagram 2023

Leave a Comment / Caption For Girls / By Paul Chrish

Are you looking for a perfect one-word caption for your photos? Then look no further as we have formulated a huge list of our 153+ one-word captions for girls. You will also find some of the best one-word captions for girls with multiple words. Writing one-word captions for a girl is an art that not everyone has. Only a few people can think of writing one-word captions for girls. In this article, we will share the best and most pleasant one-word captions for girls that you can use in your Instagram profile.

Table of Contents

One Word Captions For Girl

Best-One Word Captions For Girl

One Word Instagram Captions For Girls

Good One Word Captions For Girl

Cool Girl One Word Instagram Captions

One Word Captions For Girl

One Word Captions For Girl

Smile

Ambivert

Vibes

Aquatic

Brave

Heartbreaker

Daydreaming

Scorching

Sisters

Dieting

Badassy

Beast

Bestie

Playmate

Shhh

Atomic

Blissful

Frostbite

Motivated

Best-One Word Captions For Girl

Rare

Fierce

Lust

Loving

Hope

Talented

Ecstasy

Calm

Passion

Unicorn

Classy

Flawless

Bad

Brainfreeze

Fearless

Happiness

Gorgeous

Relax

One Word Instagram Captions For Girls

Fashonistas

Fragile

Joy

Positivity

Live

Aquaholic

Surprise!

Alone

Snowflake

Dreamer

Happy

Grateful

Sweating

Sarcastic

Cutie

Badass

Glamorous

Beauty

Speechless

Good One Word Captions For Girl

Getting your emotions into pictures is quite interesting. The fun is even more in sharing these photos with your friends and followers on social media. Photos with captions are more engaging than those with no captions. So you need to use them. But it can be quite confusing when writing a caption. Besides, You may not always want to have long captions on your photos. This is when you can go for good one-word captions for girls. Here is the collection of good one-word captions for girls.

Relaxing

Breathe

Savage

Hangry

Wanderlust

Foxy

Different

Resilience

Unpredictable

Chill

Love

Splendid

Night Out

Fine

Eating

Incredible

Girlboss

Thankful

Fashion

Sisterhood

Curls

Textrovert

Cool Girl One Word Instagram Captions

Writing an Instagram caption is an art in itself. But it is quite exhausting and sometimes, you don’t have the energy to think of a cool girl one word Instagram captions that perfectly encapsulate and elevate your photos. Sometimes you need cool one-word Instagram captions which require zero thought i.e a single word, to sum up, your picture. So here is a list of all the very cool girl one-word Instagram captions ideas that are super cool and super easy to tie with your post and get the most of the attention and likes.

Comfy

Shopping

Blooming

Sassy

Cuddles

Greatness

Sunkissed

Sparkle

Crazy

Drifter

Ambitchous

Girls

Gold

Ageless

Pretty

Escaping

Chilling

Cozy

Shopoholic

Confident

Soul

Bitch

Sore

One Word Captions For Girl

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[audaciousamadeus]

Alpine science monastery

I wasn't the only one suffering through the waiting time mentioned in the bottom of my previous post. A native Genevese who lives in London also suffered with the consequences of EasyJet's greed. After parting our ways early in the morning, we found each other again sitting next to each other in our very late plane.

She had far more energy than me and was surprisingly social. To avoid having small talk, I started talking about personal issues and drama (good to do it to strangers, as there is nothing at stake and can be occasionally insightful). She said that when arriving in Geneva, her and her friends were gonna go clubbing and she invited me to come along. My sister in Christ, after so many hours waiting how is it possible that you have so much energy? Even when I have energy, I don't have energy for clubbing. At this point I was merely an empty shell of a person, so I politely declined. We did agree to see each other at some point in London though, maybe for a salsa class.

There must be truly no rest for the wicked and I must be Elphaba. Arriving in my hostel in Geneva I was met with an insanely hot room and I had to share the room with two strangers. I went to bed cuddling my backpack for protection and couldn't sleep due to the heat, so I doomscrolled until exhaustion. Maybe I managed to catch 2 hours of sleep before my train to Visp at 6am. Getting out of my bunk bed was slightly worrying as I was dizzy from consecutive days of sleep deprivation. The way to Visp and then to Saas-fee was so scenic it felt like everything was a postcard on a green screen at times. I stayed in a tiny flat that I shared with two other workshop attendees and had a beautiful view to the alps. Apparently, they shot the video for Last Christmas here, wowie. Good thing that I arrived early so that I could claim my solo room and have good nights of sleep.

After greeting the other attendees and lecturers, including my boss and some colleagues from the Slovenian part of the lab, we had an ice breaker session (most people were from Swiss universities, as the workshop has been subsidised by the Swiss government) and then the lectures and other activities started. I stood victorious against my exhaustion and watched even the chalk talks without falling asleep.

The workshop was divided into sessions for different aspects of RNA biology: processing, compartmentalisation, translation, development, localisation and modifications. For each session some of us were assigned to present and criticise papers that were previously chosen by the lecturers of each session. This made me expect that the course would happen in a more information-based approach. However, I soon realised the course would be more dynamic than expected and most of the learning would come from having to come up with projects and criticising the papers we had to discuss throughout the course. The course was like a huge journal-club and parts of it were actually dedicated to how we should approach ideas, both in creating them and discarding them. In the end creating a sense for these and for critically assessing the research of your peers (and your own) are just as important as having vast knowledge about biology. I have a feeling that all of us in the course had this shared conclusion.

One of the lecturers was a big shot from the field of the biogenesis, function, and degradation of eukaryotic RNAs. Throughout other lectures the others were basically sucking up to him. Big cringe. Hierarchies in academia are so annoying, as if it wasn't enough to deal with just the science you also have to deal with the social component of interactions between people who were most likely misfits in high school and didn't go through therapy later in life.

Interestingly enough the big shot remembered my name and continued to refer to it and to make me answer questions. People asked me if we knew each other from before (we did not). I had a feeling that it was because I was one of the few people that did not treat him as if he was a God. I can only hope it was also because I said very intelligent things but I don't want to be delusional.

I had to prepare my presentation with a PhD student from ETH Zürich. Upon further discussion about our backgrounds before actively working on the presentation, he told me that he was from the exact lab that was my second choice for my PhD back in the end of 2021. In a parallel universe we would be labmates! The PI of the lab he is in was kind and passionate, but seemed like he demanded a lot of independence from his team. Additionally, his intensity could potentially make me uncomfortable in expressing myself when it comes to science. When speaking to my current boss from London I felt comfortable discussing science, was offered a more concrete project, and was assured I would receive more support. Somehow, I intuitively knew this would be the perfect choice and that it would be the ideal place for me to grow even before we finished talking for the first time, which surprised even myself. Considering that I had just been through a traumatic academic experience and my confidence and sense of stability were shaken, these factors were my absolute priority to rebuild myself. Even with the crazy leap of faith that it was to apply for a PhD programme in London and to discard offers in Germany and Switzerland.

When we started discussing the paper itself, I could clearly see how much of a good match he was for his lab. He was extremely critical and vocal about it. Something about him screamed that he was very independent, passionate and intense about science, in a borderline unhinged way. It reminded me a bit of a Russian friend back from my Master's programme in Frankfurt. They are both born and raised Muscovites and both studied at the Moscow State University. I wonder if that's a pattern and if so, if that's a selected personality trait for that specific university or a specific social class in Moscow. Regardless, it's a trait I admire and aspire to develop. Feels like my most instictive mode of interacting with information is to just simply absorb it (and I am very good at it) passively instead of critically. I was reminded of that when hearing his extensive criticism. Always good to have a reminder to improve and we had a productive discussion.

On Wednesday we had a free afternoon in which we could've chosen to rest or to go on hikes. I would rest, but thinking that the opportunity to be in the alps wouldn't present itself again so soon, I decided to join a small group of crazy people that wanted to do the craziest hike around but to go even higher up than its official ending point. What could go wrong with such a great decision? Needless to say, around 30 minutes in my pressure was dropping and I realised the error of my ways. Luckily, I wasn't the only unfit quitter in the group! One of the lecturers, a woman from the University of Vienna whose expertise was in the ribosome heterogeity in bacteria, was also feeling unwell. We both told the group to continue going and found a resting spot 10 minutes later.

"Well, we're already here in Saas-fee, we should still see the top of the mountain..." She trailed off, with an unspoken suggestion that wasn't that hard to infer.

"Should we take the cable car?" - I suggested.

"Oh yes, absolutely. You know, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

We went our gleeful way up living our best life. On the way the topics ranged from the discussions within the field of ribosome heterogeneity, methods, academia and how it changed within her life time to more personal topics like her family, upbringing, motherhood in academia and other experiences. Getting to the top we knew we had an unspoken agreement to get a beer to continue living our good life and to patiently wait for the fit freaks to arrive at the top so that we could belittle them and say how slow they were. This happened when we were already at our second pint. She reminded me a lot of a PhD student from the lab that I was in when studying in Frankfurt. More and more I feel like I can have a glimpse of what kind of students many senior researchers were.

I briefly wondered who did I see myself reflected on.

The whole week included very productive coffee breaks, as I discussed things to do in my project with my PI. He was under great stress having to finish the application for an ERC grant and still had time to brainstorm for ideas with me and that fills me with gratitude. It also included however feeling some melancholy at times when I wasn't thinking about science. It should be illegal to be sad in the Alps. "Brat summer", I chanted beneath my breath, in hopes that it would fix me.

By the end of the week we worked on a group project in which we basically had to come up with a grant application, down to designing work packages and assigning students and post docs to parts of the project. We then had to present it - kinda felt like a Saas-fee's got talent. I thought this would be way more stressful at first, but even though in the final day we worked together until almost 11pm I had so much fun! Shout out to the people involved. These will be my peers in the future and I cannot wait to see what they will become and when will life make our paths cross again.

Going our separate ways at last, I headed to an Airbnb in the small village of Zeneggen. I spent the afternoon without one single useful thought, and decided to watch youtube videos that were not related to RNA biology until the time I went to sleep. It was marvellous. Finally some crumbs of rest.

Peaceful salutations,

Ms. Audacious

[burning-basilisk]

Surfing social energy currents is so much easier lately. Even when my energy is low.

Resisting the urge to shame myself for not being a social butterfly, is doing wonders for me.

It was a typical extended family birthday dinner. We went out to a nice restaurant and I was seated in the center of the table, far away from those I would be most comfortable with, but I was okay with this.

I was quiet. Very quiet. Enough to reflect on previous times I've felt this way... just not having the energy to keep up with others around me who are being loud and happy and hyper social with each other.

I used to stew in my hyper awareness of how much I wasn't vibing with anyone, and stay fixated on how alone I felt in the middle of the swirling storm of connections that I simply couldn't dial into or engage with. Like some kind of hopeless alien.

Not now, though. I'm still the same person. I still bring very weird (sometimes interesting, sometimes "wtf?) perspectives on things. People did engage me here and there tonight. And it was pleasant! I didn't have the energy to match theirs, though. But it was okay!

I was genuinely comfortable with where I was at. I remained mostly present. While everyone around was standing up on their surfboards and flying through the peaks and troughs of their.conversations, I simply laid down and gently paddled along. Still there with everyone, but just drifting gently between the currents, sometimes letting myself get caught up in one or another for a bit before drifting back into my quiet zone.

I spent so, so many years shaming myself for being in this kind of state when at these kinds of events. And when people WOULD engage me, even for a bit, then of course they'd see the misery and loneliness that I was radiating.

But no longer.

Even when my energy is low, and I'm around people who are very energetic and high-energy. That is okay. I don't need to push myself to the point of discomfort just to match them. I'm more pleasant when I'm comfortable, and I'm more comfortable when I don't feel like I'm exerting myself to meet some expectations that I think others have of me.

My inner child hasn't emerged to talk to me in a long while. I'm writing yet another apology note to post on his door, which is already covered with them.

This one says "I'm sorry for shaming you for failing to socialize when you were exhausted. The right people love being around you, even if you don't have the energy to engage with them."

[agloriousstar]

I’ve been working hard on myself.

On my life.

The past year has been insane. Left my abuser, got thrown into a ton of crazy living situations and then finally found a spot that was close to the work I needed to do, close to public transit and with roommates that were kind and loving toward me.

Yes, there were a lot of drugs floating around and they threw frequent parties, but we were not a trap house and my room was on the opposite side of the house from their shenanigans, so I was able to maintain my own routines. Living in the middle of a rave focused household and social circle made the frequency of seeing it easy to ignore for me.

Someone made a comment that made us (all roomies except one were females) sound like sister wives or something and it really fucked with my mind. It seems as though the friend I was staying with portrayed it to be that way, but we were just regular roommates trying to survive the economy together.

I say all that to begin telling the story of how I got caught up in some MORE bullshit that I didn’t even start and am once again relocating and finding another job. 😂

Hold onto your tits:

SO. Gem & Jam weekend approached and I was brought along by the owner of an EDM collective (also the person I rented my room from) to help get camp set up, take care of our team & be a vibe checker. Along came his girlfriend Lindsay and a few artists that were meant to paint a mustang for an art installation.

Day 1:

We got to Gem & J and picked our campsite. Lindsay & I got the camp set up without anyone else’s help despite us asking for it. Come to find out, all four of the others started randomly tripping balls on LSD and literally spent the rest of the night in the owner’s mustang and stumbling around camp having bad trips when the weather got bad.

Meanwhile, I was having an amazing time, being the trippy rave fairy that I am. I decided to hang out at camp to ground myself later in the night and ended up taking care of 2 of the girls. One of them went into the festival by herself to separate herself from the energy.

Side note: the level of distress these girls were in were straight up MK Ultra levels of psychosis. It was insane. I had to redress them because they didn’t realize how cold they actually were and everything. 💔

Day 2:

The owner slept for the entire 24 hours.

The girls didn’t want to come back to our camp and stayed in a friend’s tent next to ours. One of the girls even went home that night because she was so exhausted and disheveled from the bad night she had and was visibly shaken.

Lindsay and I spent the day having an amazing time together, but were very exhausted from not getting help with setting up camp or making sure it didn’t fall apart in the storm the night before. I actually tapped out of raving around 10pm that night to rest and collect myself because of how much it all burnt me out.

There was a sweet dog though that came by for free smells when I was cooking and it made me vv happy. 🤍

Day 3:

I woke up early in the morning to make breakfast and green tea. The owner finally woke up around that time as well. He and I didn’t exchange more than a few words for the rest of the experience because I was disgusted and disappointed in his lack of professionalism and resourcefulness in a camping setting as he was extremely unhelpful in almost every way and I’d never experienced that treatment from him before.

At some point in my morning sequence, there was an eruption of yelling + threats directed at the guy who brought us coming from guy who owned the camp the girls moved to, who we’ll call Bill. :)

Bill and the owner had some of their own business dealings that suddenly were brought into focus by this falling out between them. The rest of the night played out with details of the things that happened the previous Friday trickling out for all to see. This becomes more relevant later.

Lindsay and I had to leave before everyone else because we both had work the next day, but the owner stayed behind. On the way back, that’s when she told me details of sexual misconduct being the reason for everyone fighting.

AFTER THE FEST:

This is when it gets even juicier, kids.

So… it was around lunch time that the owner followed us on the journey back home. Lindsay and I left at about 1am and were settled at home getting prepped for our jobs.

Owner got back and was in a state of covert distress, then said he had to run to the bank. 👀

It was THEN that I got a text saying that Bill demanded 30K to be paid back to him in cash, and for what?! I don’t know… pobably beanie babies or bulk orders of Hershey’s kisses. 😜

Anyway, we checked owner’s location and he was just driving in circles. I decided that in order for us to get the truth, us girls should go to the source of the text message since it was the only notification we had about the situation at all. I, for one, do not like being treated as a pawn in other people’s games and tend to take matters into my own hands when it comes to my safety/ wellbeing so OF COURSE, I left that hot spot and sought information.

After MUCH investigation, we found ourselves in Bill’s nest. Discussing details and determining the fact that we want nothing to do with any of their Hershey kiss quarrels. 😇 We thanked him for his hospitality and then kindly removed ourselves after what I’m about to say next had time to air out.

In the midst of this visit, the owner showed up at Bill’s house with the 30K cash in hand, but ended up losing more than that because after giving up the cash, he was forced to drop his backpack and lost the keys to his mustang as well. It was later stated that Lindsay’s life was secretly threatened as collateral while we were over there (despite not being treated that way during our visit and had the freedom to leave when we wanted to), an added reason for avoiding going back to our house.

So we left and found other places to stay for safety. The first time we went back to the house, Lindsay and I did it together because one of our roomies still has to stay there until she finds somewhere new, but also because she was able to tell us nobody had been back since any of us left, except for one visit from the owner before he went into hiding (I thought it odd he left his puppy behind but perhaps it was to keep her safe).

Days later, word got out about the owner’s desire to hold a Mexican Standoff… 🔫🤠

This made going home a thing to completely avoid.

At that point, I decided that I officially don’t need or want to have anything to do with anyone actively involved in this situation in its entirety.

As far as I know, the owner’s still in hiding. The girls and I are safe and doing okay. We’re all just picking up the pieces of this bomb being dropped on our lives. When I go back it will be with a proper escort.

😅

Told you it wasn’t my fault. Lol

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 28: My So-Called Life 1x03

This is a weird episode to watch in 2023, in many ways... It's the guns-in-schools ep but it aired in 1994, before Columbine, before mass shootings were common news, and so it's really not about that fear, even though it can be easy to forget that, watching it now. This is the fear that there could be guns in schools, that violence could be seeping into schools, that schools are not inherently safe places. It's not a fear that a person with malicious intent might enter a school, heavily armed, with the specific purpose of inflicting as much as pain as possible.

And that makes it much sadder for me. Where is this energy now, this outrage now? I know it's still here but it's just burdened with so much loss and so much exhaustion and this fatalistic attitude... This is like a letter from an era of early alarm bells and it's like no one listened and now we have this. There was a while when I watched the ending and thought 'oh this doesn't hit as hard now, because, duh,' but this time I felt like it actually was worse. Yeah, I am heartbroken that kids have to go through a metal detector to enter a SCHOOL. A SCHOOL. I don't want to be desensitized to that.

At the same time, tying the presence of weapons to... really this whole under-world of the school that adult don't see or understand was very clever and gutsy too, I think. The parents get mad and yell but they seem mostly inept, even when they truly are trying their best. The Principal cares about the school's reputation. The Boomer teacher cares about the principle and rhetoric of the thing. And all the time, Angela is going through this crisis of reputation--not life and death of course, but hurtful to her, and an example of how a situation can snowball out of control completely by accident, in this wild adolescent world with no brakes on it--and, more importantly and more critically, Rickie is being bullied and hurt and, guns or no guns, he doesn't feel safe.

This is such a good episode for Rickie. I don't just mean because he gets to become more three dimensional or because he has those stand out moments like his speech in Social Studies or his conversation with Angela in the car, but because in the previous two episodes, he was the 'gay sidekick' character, or veering into that territory, and here in episode 3 it's made clear: he's a multi-faceted character like everyone else. His longing for a normal life like Angela's, his desire that people see him as scary and dangerous, his actual relationship to the person who brought in the gun (just another hint of how different his situation is from hers), and yes, that school is a dangerous place for him--and so is home--all of this is part of him just as much as his humor or his style. And Rickie's so smart, man. I always thought the speech in the classroom was his real thoughts on self-defense, but I see now that it's not: as he tells Angela, he doesn't know how to shoot a gun, an he thought it was dumb for his cousin to bring it to school. But he's using the narrative to his own advantage, in a way not dissimilar to how Rayanne does, but more adroitly. Someone out here is dangerous--and it's me.

This is such a Gen X episode in many ways, one of the times MSCL shows its era in ways other than clothes or tech. Angela wanting to be cursed to live in dangerous times... really comes with new irony, post-9/11, or in the covid-era.

Jordan continues to have a definite crush on Angela, and also to reveal himself as just generally a pretty nice guy? Like, again, seeing this from his POV, he tries to use the rumor as a segue with her, sees she's not into it, thinks about it a lot, decides he's freaked her out, and tries to fix it. Something about "I'll say we hardly know each other, which is, of course, true," just reeks of something Angela would say.

I know Amber's speech about Rayanne was trying to establish Rayanne's platonic girl crush on Angela but like... Rayanne has a regular ol' crush on Angela. "She's in love with Angela, she wants to be Angela!" is a line that is really in the show. At the same time, I think this ep shows again Rayanne's maturity level: she's gossiping with her mom, showing her Jordan's picture in the yearbook, talking all the time about Angela... I've always been close to my mom too, but there's an unfiltered quality about Rayanne that just strikes me as...unformed. I also think we see her being a pretty good actress (with the counselor) but at the same time, I think her disinterest in the gun threat or the gossip threat is genuine. She's in full protection mode of bot Rickie and Angela, but she's not scared.

Hmmmmm I am fading fast. No idea if any of that made sense, but I gotta take a shower and get some sleep! I think I'm sufficiently over my bug that I can no longer make excuses for myself re: not doing stuff. Time to get rested.