In Beautiful Ruins

[inbeautifulruins]

As I posted in the heat of the moment, it still stands true.

I'm done.

This isn't fun for me anymore, and RPing should be fun. I'd go into details, but there really isn't a point. If you want to keep in contact with me by chance, you can find me on discord under : Myllie. with the period because someone got to my name before I could.

Just let me know who you are.

Otherwise, it's been fun until it wasn't.

I'm logging out. I hope everyone stays well and the world gives you nothing by good vibes <3

[inbeautifulruins]

If you're still following here, thank you, but you can unfollow if you feel up to it because I'm not coming back to this blog.

There is too much in my life going on. Passing of grandparents, passing of a pet recently, still dealing with pain and real life and I just do not want to be here, I don't have the mental capacity to be here.

I'm sorry for the threads and plans I had with people but I gotta do what's good for me. I can't force myself to want to be here.

That being said, I appreciate the interactions I did have here, you are all wonderful. <3 Keep being you.

[wachtraeumen]

𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕, or what it felt like to belong to something like a family, it had always been with Jackie. From the first moment she crossed his path▬▬back when Francis had only seen her as something fragile and valuable to be guarded, a prize on display▬▬Jackie had been different. He didn't flatter, didn't spin pretty lies to keep her docile. Only the truth, spoken in a way that anchored her when she might have drifted off into the void of who she thought she was supposed to be. He was the one to remind her she had worth beyond the shine of a corpo's protection. Without him, she knows the woman she became would never have taken root. She would have gone up in flames with that car bomb, another ghost in Night City. Instead, he gave her fire enough to temper her will into steel. From there it had been the two of them, hand in hand, scraping by and pushing forward, turning debts into stepping stones, carving out a name in the underbelly of Night City. The rhythm of it had been rough but it was theirs. And then came the Relic, the chip lodged like a curse in her skull, tearing her apart and piecing her together into someone she barely recognized at first. It made her, reshaped her. And yet, now standing here, she knows the fight bought her something rarer than all the eddies in the city could buy: freedom. And freedom was meant to be lived. Time to breathe. Time to rest. Time to live as yourself. So she leans into him, body finding its place against his as naturally as breath, letting gravity carry her until her head meets the hard plate of his chest. Too long but her heart insists it was only yesterday she was wheeled away for the surgery, saying a last goodbye to Johnny. His voice still lingers, trembling at the edges of her memory, a guilt that pricks behind her ribs. She thinks now she owed him more than a thank you. A quiet shiver passes through her as her arms circle Jackie's waist, her smaller frame fitting against his broad build the way it always has, his solidity closing her off from the rest of the world. A fortress, her fortress.

Her lips part against the fabric of his shirt, a sigh threading through the smile that won't quite stay hidden. ❝ Never giving up on me, no matter what, non ? ❞ The words carry warmth and weariness alike before she tilts her face up just enough, eyes glinting with mischief muted by relief. ❝ But seems like not even death can keep me away. ❞

[inbeautifulruins]

He  recalls  the  day  they  sort  of  fell  together  –  an  odd  day  it  was.  The  sky  was  overcast  as  it  always  felt  it  could  be  in  this  town,  but  then  suddenly  he's  sitting  on  a  stoop  with  a  woman  whose  husband  tried  to  be  rid  of  her.  A  woman  with  smarts,  wit,  drive  that  he  clearly  didn't  deserve.  From  strangers  to  friends  to  family,  and  now  there  is  something  that  tells  him  what  they  have  is  something  more  than  just  a  familiar  kind  of  love.  What  he  feels  for  her  is  something  stronger,  more  fierce  than  a  lion  in  the  wild.  When  he  thought  his  life  already  had  purpose,  she  gave  him  something  more  to  fight  for.  And  for  two  years  he  kept  that  fight  going  because  even  if  she  was  somehow  gone  he  didn't  want  to  disappoint  her. 

His  arms  around  her,  holding  her  petite  frame  against  his  and  he  felt  the  piece  of  him  he  was  missing  all  of  this  time  fall  right  into  place.  This  is  what  it  feels  like  to  be  whole,  he  thought.  Don't  need  a  damn  mountain  of  eddies  at  the  end  of  the  day.  This  right  here,  what  he  has  with  Eve  is  everything  and  then  some.  Money  can't  buy  this.  It  can  buy  a  cheaply  made  replica  but  that's  not  what  he  wanted  at  the  end  of  the  day.

What  he  wants  is  right  here,  back  in  his  arms  right  where  she  belongs.  No  anger,  no  questions,  no  demanding  answers  for  where  she's  been  or  what  she's  been  through.  No,  she'll  tell  him  in  her  own  time  when  she's  ready.  Right  now  it's  just  the  matter  of  holding  her  to  let  her  know  she's  where  she  belongs.

She's  home. 

❝  No  matter  what.  Didn't  start  when  we  first  met,  not  going  to  start  now.  Don't  see  the  point  in  giving  up  on  you.  Not  when  you'd  just  prove  me  wrong  and  we  know  how  I  feel  about  that.❞  He  says  with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  looking  down  at  her  while  gentle  fingers  brush  against  her  hair,  moving  the  strands  from  her  face. 

When  she  speaks  of  death  he  laughs,  the  sound  loud  and  barking  through  the  years  of  silence.  ❝  Death?  Eve  …  Death  can't  touch  you,  so  it  should  really  stop  trying  to  chase.  He's  going  to  wear  himself  out,  then  who  is  going  to  come  for  him?  A  Back  up  reaper  ?  No,  he's  going  to  stop  trying  if  I  have  my  say  about  it.  You're  safe  now.  You're  home  now.  ❞

Here  in  Night  City. Here  with  him.

[cfthesoul-a]

Taylor isn't stupid. She knows this could be messy. Hell, not only was this her best friends brother in law but also her ex boyfriend. Things wee already messy when it came to Steven, with him being Belly's sister. It seemed like Taylor just liked a little mess in her endeavors of dating. Maybe it was the wedding. Love in the air that was making her feel like risking it all. They're sat close on the couch, bodies turned towards each other as they share the playful conversation. Even then, she knows Steven is watching but it doesn't make her fear continuing.

"I have not and I hope I never have to experience such a gross encounter." She holds her hand up, making a face of disgust just at the idea of being caught in a situation like that. Steven finally makes his way over, refilled glasses for the other two before plopping down on the couch next to Taylor. He could sit between them, be a makeshift barrier between them but that just doesn't feel right. Like he said, he's feeling some weird emotions regarding these two. "You should have offered advice, future doctor." Steve added, smirk on his lips.

[inbeautifulruins]

Conrad didn't think of it as anything more than Taylor being Taylor, holding a conversation with him to make him feel more comfortable with everything going on right now. His brother marrying his ex-girlfriend. The love of his life -- former. He was trying to move on from it even if there was a heart string or two that tugged him toward her he did what he could to ignore it. For starters staying here with Taylor rather than going to ask his brother and Belly what the hell, why the hell, and most importantly -- what the fuck.

But his attention now on someone else as they spoke, and he laughed as she made a fast of disgust of his talk of the flight coming here. A laugh that he needed more than he realized. Stuck in studying in California, he forgot that fun was something he was allowed to have. When Steven comes over and sits next to Taylor he can't help but notice the way that Steven is sitting as though he's trying to keep him and Taylor apart. Suspicious, but he's just talking.

There is no harm in that. Right?

❝ Some advice? Like...what? What fungal cream to use on your feet? ❞ He lets out a bit of a laugh that came off as almost nervous among friends. But after being gone so long could anyone blame him?

[carrerak]

As Bailey spoke, Kiara listened carefully, as her brow furrowed. She could hear the disappointment in her tone, and it made her want to reach out, to say something that could relieve the ache. "Bee," she murmured, "h-how and when?" The brunette was shocked by this information. Really, she had no idea she was with Topper so much. Where had she been to not have realized? A long sigh expelled from her lips, "Trust me when I say, love's never straightforward. It's messy, erratic, and occasionally it makes no sense at all," she observed. "If you're spending that much time with him, there has to be something real there, even if it's complicated." She wanted her to be serious and non judging. Therefore she gave everything she had. "You deserve someone who is all in, not only when he's one-on-one but also everywhere he goes. Settle only with someone who recognizes your value, alright? You're a Routledge, be proud of that," she smiled warmly.

"Although your choice is rather disconcerting, I mean maybe have a talk with Sarah. She might understand a bit more than anybody," her words made her grimace.

"Listen," a gentle giggle drifted out. "I won't tell your brother. Being the carrier of bad news to him, I have no desire to die, alright. Does Top know?"

[inbeautifulruins]

The question of how was still a mystery to Bailey, but the when ? That was a steady build up. She and Topper had moments away from everyone else where she was sure she'd rip his head off his shoulders and proceed to use it as a volleyball, but he actually turned out to be decent? Even she still remains surprised that underneath the Kook facade he's human underneath it all. Even a bit of a sense of humor and a sense of self that he's still trying desperately to find. She can see that underneath it all he's just a guy trying to figure out who he is with the pressure of a name, of his friends, of the world around him and the expectations that come along with it.

❝ Sometimes I find it hard to be proud to be a Routledge -- I mean, dad left us for a treasure hunt, and then went off and died.❞ not that she can hold that against him entirely, but there is still a lot there that she's mad at him for. But he is her dad, and she does miss him. Just the grief is piled under anger ; which is why she bites her tongue. ❝ But I'm proud to be me, I mean, look at this hair.❞ she jokes.

Sarah, yeah, she could talk to her about it - then beg her to not tell John B. That's the last thing she wants is for him to know, for what he might say about it. She's already feeling her own kind of way about her own emotions. But as Kie asks if Topper knows, Bailey looks up surprised.

❝ What? No! God! I'm not...absolutely not, no. We are not telling Topper I have feelings for him. We are...you're the only one who knows. Not even Topper knows. Topper cannot know that I have feelings for him.❞ Bailey sighs. ❝ I'd rather have my leg amputated by gator teeth.❞

[dichenlachmandaily]

Dichen Lachman for Oczy Magazine

[storiesfromtheobx]

"the chances of you actually getting struck by lightening is like one in a million and only ten precent are fatal. " of course she would know the statistics. she likes storms like that and living on the coast of north carolina, storms were always happening. "think about it like this. there is heat. unbearable, making your skin feel sticky. a storm comes in, breaks up that heat and humidity and you feel like you can breath again. stepping outside doesn't feel so constricting.

maybe it's how she raised. not having much had her looking at every day things like they were gifts. to get to experience another day. a storm was chaotic. a force to be reckon with and yet people tempted fate all the time.

"absolutely terrifying. who knows what's to come next." she jokes a bit. "red. as much as i like to be blissfully unaware, sometimes that's worse than knowing the truth."

[inbeautifulruins]

The fact that she seems to just know this and spout it out without hesitation makes Topper take a step back for a moment. This is where he'd jokingly pull out the word 'nerd' and yet somehow he was impressed with her knowledge on this kind of thing? And slightly disturbed just the same. Attracted to it? Hardly, even if he seemed to light up just a bit at hearing her speak like this. Maybe he was underestimating her in more ways than one.

Especially when she chooses the pill color.

❝ I see your point. ❞ he says, though he's not sure which one he'd take. Part of him wants to say the red one for the sake of transparency, to see the world beyond what he's been told. But at the same time the concept is scary as hell for Topper - to see beyond what he knows, to be himself.

❝ So do you just...know these things or are storms a fascination of yours? ❞ @cfthesoul

[victoriakonefal-archive]

[myhappyendiing]

She smiles as he puts his arm around her. She's happy to take a break. She knows studying is important. But she also knows that she needs to get fresh air. Maybe get something to drink. A coffee sounds good right now, she thinks. "Yeah. I think you're right, Jere. Air will be good." She nods as she gets to her feet.

[inbeautifulruins]

❝ Air, some sugar -- you'll be right as rain after that.❞ probably an old person saying, but he remembers his mom saying it once or twice to him. His heart aches for a brief moment at her memory, but he wraps his arm around Ayla. ❝How do you do it ? All of that studying and your brain not exploding? ❞

[storiesfromtheobx]

it was odd really. how the expectations of their father lead them in different directions. her's to break every rule placed and not be this idea of perfect and his was to prove he could be the perfect son. they never should have felt the need to prove either outcome. should have been free to just be themselves with the love and support of their parents no matter what.

"i found a home in the way tanny hill never felt after mom died." it was the honest truth. once their mom was gone and rose stepped foot through those doors, their home never felt all that homey. she had tried to escape it long before she got mixed up with the pogues. though rafe and wheezie were a missing part of her life.

"yeah. married." she chuckles slightly, a soft look coming over her face. "he's the only person who saw me for me. saw the flaws and still thought i was amazing. dad could have and probably should have ruined that for me after everything but john b...he stayed."

"so you and a pogue, huh?"

[inbeautifulruins]

Still a long road to follow, a long road until they can get back to a truly good place but this was a good foot to start off on. Letting himself see his sister as she deserved to be seen. Not as the one stealing the spot light, but as the one who had the expectations of a father put on her that were unrealistic along side the ones given to him that were unrealistic. It seems that the only one who managed to get out with minimal scars so far was Wheezie, but she's still young and she has gone through a lot along side them, and now she's left alone with Rose. So whose to say what she is going through.

And for Sarah, she found home. Real home, while Rafe was still learning the meaning of the word.

Hearing how John B sees and treats Sarah, maybe he isn't as big of a douche bag as Rafe thinks he might be...but he isn't about to admit that out loud. Not when he prefers to keep up the big brother 'I'll hate everyone you date including Topper and he's my best friend' facade.

But she asks about Sofia, and there is a blush on his cheeks.

❝ What? Me? N..❞ he rubs the back of his head to try and keep from smiling. They were starting off new and fresh -- with honesty. He had to keep to it. ❝..Yeah.❞

[ladamereveuse]

" 𝑮𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕" - 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒎 ( @inbeautifulruins )

𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 slipped by in quiet sameness, her little house at the edge of town cocooned in silence that sometimes felt like safety, sometimes like a cage. She had grown used to it▬▬walls for company, pages for confession. But lately, ever since Storybrooke itself began to feel different ... something has shifted. As though a veil has loosened and now she finds herself stepping outside more often, pulled by an itch she can not name, something nagging at the back of her mind like a half-remembered dream. That is why she is sitting at the kitchen table, pen scratching over paper to make sense of it, when the sharp ring of the doorbell breaks her trance. Visitors are rare ; expectation rarer. She blinks, startled, her heart quickening as if she already knows before she opens the door. She opens the door with confusion pressing at her chest, only to find the Sheriff waiting on her porch. The Sheriff. Graham ... .

He lifts a bag with that almost boyish tilt of his head, a flicker of wry humor playing at his lips as he offered, Guess what’s for breakfast. Her lips part before her thoughts catch up, her voice slipping out with more ease than she feels ❝ Donuts ? ❞ she teases, light enough to mask the sudden heat that rises to her cheeks. What she doesn't say is the more troubling question: why him, here, now ? On this morning ? And how does he seem to know▬▬better than she admits to herself▬▬that too often she forgets to eat at all ? Then again, they have spoken enough, in passing at the library and afterward at Granny's Diner, for him to notice the patterns she tries to downplay.

[inbeautifulruins]

He stood at her door with an offering - one that was sweet and freshly baked in the morning. He holds it up to her and offers her a game of guessing and he's met with her slipping out with the word of 'donuts'. There is a pause as he smirks underneath that scruff, a scoff following close behind. ❝ I will have you know I do better than donuts - that's a cliche. We have muffins, turnovers, a croissant... ❞ and there is one donut in there, maybe two, but he skips over that as he looks at her. He doesn't want to be too predictable. Or called out, depending on how one looks at the situation at hand between them. Her smile, the way he's trying to hide his.

Do friends, just friends, banter like this? Do they look at each other the way they are looking at one another right now? Maybe not, but that is an argument he'll hold close.

❝ But can you complain? ❞ he asks, wanting to reach to her and brush a strand of her hair from her face. ❝ When was the last time you had anything to eat ? ❞

Graham isn't claiming to know her that well, but he is claiming to know her.

[inbeautifulruins]

[elfsroot]

[wachtraeumen]

𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔… two long years. Not what she had expected, not at all. Maybe months, a stretch of recovery time she thought she could grit her teeth through, endure with enough stubbornness. A long nap, nothing more. She could live with that. A year, if fate wanted to play cruel. But two▬▬non, she had not prepared for that and yet, she should have known. With the Relic lodged in her head things were never meant to be simple. Or with Johnny. Johnny… . The name alone stirs an ache in her chest. An emptiness that answers back whenever she thinks of him, like a room echoing after someone has left it for good. He was never supposed to matter, never supposed to become anything more and yet she cannot deny the void he left behind.. She would never have believed they would part on something like good terms, and now the absence sits like a hollowed-out space, as if some part of her went with him. He had been a pain in the ass, toujours, but he had pushed her forward when she might have collapsed, and in his own damned way, he kept her safe. That mattered. That kept her standing now, in this doorway. Everyone went on. That is the nature of Night City: it forgets you even while your name is still warm on someone's lips…but he didn't. Jackie. The one person who never stopped waiting. The one who never let her ghost slip into the grave others had written for her. While the rest moved on, he simply remained where she left him. Two years settle under her scars ; she is recognizable, and not. The chrome stripped down to the bare minimum, no more clutter of cyberware humming under her skin. Fragile in a way but it feels like freedom. A price paid, oui, but not one she will cry over. She is still Evelyn, breathing with both feet back from the brink and before her stands the only man who has ever felt like home.

When he speaks, it claws at her ribs and pulls a smile to her lips even when her eyes betray the gloom still clinging from the coma. She lingers in the doorway, letting the light frame him, letting herself take in the impossible reality that he is here, and she is here. Her legs are not steady, still clumsy after so long strapped to a bed but she forces them forward, meeting him halfway.

His hand finds her shoulder and she looks at it first, then up at him, her mouth tugging into a crooked, almost shy smile. ❝ Oui, definitely need Mama Welles' chili… and zat beer. I am starving to death, ❞ she says with a soft chuckle and her hand rises▬▬skin smooth where jacks used to be▬▬, curling around his wrist like she is testing the physics of him, testing that the world has mass again. She tips her forehead a breath closer to his, small as the gesture is against his height. ❝ I am sorry for keeping you waiting, Jackie. ❞

[inbeautifulruins]

It's  funny  how  in  a  moment  those  two  years  don't  feel  that  long.  The  same  eyes  that  could  bring  him  home  when  he  felt  he  was  too  far  gone  to  make  it  back  again.  The  same  smile  that  reassured  him  that  no  matter  what  they'd  make  it  out.  Maybe  not  entirely  unscathed,  but  they'd  make  it  out  –  together.  Her  cyberware,  gone.  But  it's  still  Eve,  still  that  same  woman  with  that  fire  underneath  that  calm.  The  kind  of  woman  who  looks  so  sweet  and  soft-spoken  until  the  wrong  button  is  pressed  and  suddenly  she's  commanding  hurricanes  with  the  flick  of  her  own  wrist. 

She  stood  before  him  still  as  strong  as  a  statue  that  refused  to  crumble  with  the  passing  of  time.

With  careful  steps  as  though  she's  a  rabbit  he's  bound  to  scare  off,  Jackie  closes  in  the  distance  between  the  two  of  them.  Somehow  she  seems  smaller,  but  maybe  it's  just  what  she's  been  through  these  past  two  years  without  him.  No  doubt  there's  a  story,  a  simple  explanation  that  she  can  tell  him  at  some  point  -  but  right  now  all  that  truly  matters  is  the  fact  that  she's  back.

She's  home.

As  she  speaks  he  hadn't  realized  just  how  much  he  missed  her  voice  because  he  could  replay  it  in  his  mind  easily  enough  -  but  actually  hearing  it  after  all  this  time  made  something  flutter  in  his  chest  as  well  as  letting  it  settle  after  living  on  the  edge  of  worry  for  so  long.  A  smile  comes  into  play.  ❝  You  didn't  keep  me  waiting  that  long,  Chica.  You're  only  a  little  late.  ❞  That  smile  remains  though  there  is  a  quiver  to  it.

For  a  moment,  Jackie  Wells  stops  playing  coy  and  lets  himself  wrap  his  arms  around  her  petite  frame,  pulling  her  in  to  his  chest  and  he's  going  to  hold  her  like  he'll  never  have  the  chance  to  do  it  again.  His  eyes  shut  and  a  single  tear  falls  against  his  scarred  cheek.

❝  But  I  can't  lie,  Eve,  you  had  me  a  little  worried  there,  but  I  had  no  doubt  you'd  be  back.  No  doubt  at  all.  ❞

[inbeautifulruins]

I am trying to write, I am trying to get the flow going, but too many distractions so if I don't get to anything for you soon it's not me ignoring you, it's the fact that no one is ignoring *me* in this house to let me write ;-;

[ladamereveuse]

" 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 ? " - 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 thought she would end up in a kitchen like this▬▬one that belongs to them. The walls, the light spilling across the counter, even the worn wooden spoon resting in her hand▬▬it all feels like it shouldn't last, like it could dissolve if she blinks too long. Home was a word that used to mean nothing, carved out of her like everything else HYDRA had taken. Now it lingers in the air with the faint sweetness of cinnamon and eggs, ... fragile but real enough to breathe in. The air tilts, threads of steadiness winding through her chest before the floorboards even creak. Warmth spreads low in her back, a sensation she has come to recognize without thought. By the time his voice roughens the morning stillness, his presence has already settled against her ribs, familiar as her own breath. The pan hisses as she flips a slice golden-side up, the edges crisp, the center soft, exactly as she wanted. The small tug at her mouth almost feels smug before she answers.

❝ French toast, ❞ she says, lifting her gaze, her dark brown eyes narrowing on him with that same curl of amusement. The smile doesn't leave, though it tilts sharper. ❝ Did you know the Romans invented eet ? ❞

[inbeautifulruins]

Home.  The  word  almost  held  no  meaning  to  him  for  so  long  sleeping  on  the  floors  of  hotels  and  apartments  with  no  furnishing.  But  now  they're  living  their  best  life  in  a  cabin  away  from  everyone  -  by  a  lake  with  a  view.  Where  autumn  leaves  come  in  various  colors  and  the  winters  are  warm  with  a  white  backdrop,  very  picturesque  that  he  remembers  from  the  days  of  growing  up.

He  thought  he  missed  so  much,  and  yet…now  he's  gaining  more  than  he  ever  imagined  he  would.  A  life,  a  love,  something  worth  fighting  for  that  was  bigger  than  him,  bigger  than  the  heroes  he's  teamed  up  with  before.

A  simple  life,  a  family  –  all  to  call  his  own.  But  for  the  sake  of  keeping  it  out  of  the  hands  of  flame  and  ash  he  lets  Cassandra  take  control  of  the  kitchen.  After  the  great  pancake  mishap,  it  just  makes  so  much  more  sense  to  give  her  control  over  the  stove  than  giving  it  an  attempt  again.  Slipping  behind  her,  his  hands  rest  carefully  against  her  hips,  his  head  against  her  shoulder  as  he  watches  her  cook  and  the  question  comes  so  smoothy.  He  chuckles  faintly  against  her  neck,  placing  a  soft  kiss  against  her  skin. 

French  toast,  she  says,  and  offers  him  an  anecdote  about  it  and  how  it  was  created  by  the  Romans,  not  the  french. 

❝  I  did  not.  ❞  he  says  with  a  smile,  just  watching  her  cook.  ❝  So  why  call  it  French  Toast  if  not  made  by  the  French?  ❞   he  asks,  smirking  against  her  cheek.

[inbeautifulruins]

I'm feeling a bit better, almost normal, so I'm going to get back into the swing of writing I think ... Gonna try to. I make no promises.

I also just wanted to make / share this gif.