Licho

professional reader, amateur writer; blog swinging somewhere between a hundred fandoms; (she/her)

[frog-on-top-of-a-log]

I feel so pretentious whenever I talk about my podcasts.

People will say it’s like an audio book and I will correct them like “umm actually ☝️🤓 it’s an audio drama. The story isn’t based on a book. It was originally written to be an auditory medium, which affects writing style, since you can play with sound effects and pronunciation in a way that a book cannot. Fictional podcasts are its own medium.”

Like even I am annoyed with myself

[puppetmaster55]

suddenly thinking about the courtroom scene, of Stratt being accused of pirating literally everything, and Grace later having everything in the various computers aboard his ship that he gave a copy to Rocky without issue, and the beetles having such a massive memory capacity and...

Stratt was a historian. She wasn't just pirating for the sake of entertainment for the astronauts, she was doing a full historical backup of the planet. Who knows how much knowledge and communications ability, how much art and culture and history, how much niche knowledge of how to make specific pieces of modern technology or modern medicines, was lost as the wars for resources isolated everyone, as the death tolls led to the deaths of specialized trade workers and scientists, as the power grids failing across the planet (or cut off, potentially) led to all the cloud servers going dark. Stratt was facing methods of combating extinction and she did her best to ensure that if/when the Hail Mary worked, it would send back not just the hope of the future in the solution to the astrophage, but the restoration of history and culture and knowledge.

Just.... she pirated everything, and put it all on the Hail Mary.

[glitchedgirly]

See the thing about Stratt putting all media ever in the Hail Mary is that it isn’t just for lolz or to keep the crew entertained, it always struck me as something deeply sad. Because even if all the crew survived, there was no way they could consume all possible media ever, language barriers alone would present a problem. And even then, they had a job to do and focus on first (which could have theoretically taken decades of work to figure out) so they wouldn’t have much use for The Great Gatsby or a week’s worth of poorly written amateur Guatemalan experimental opera. Let us remember that Stratt is practical and true utilitarian Instead, I think it was another part of the Hail Mary. If the scientists failed, if the Earth died, then what? Everything would have been completely lost. Art, music, film, history. Destroyed. Without a single living soul to remember it by. It would be as if all of humanity had never existed.

But if it survived? If other alien civilizations discovered traces of humanity? Then the memory of mankind could live on and be remembered. What better way to do that than to send everything (literally everything, the art, the music, the science, the history) out as far as humanly possible so that it might connect with someone else in the universe? It would be a long shot, a Hail Mary, but it was the best chance that humanity had to be remembered

[blanketcoffin]

i think we all forget far too often that there are plants on the hail mary

what if grace manages to make a garden on erid from those plants. what if years and years later after his death the biodome flourishes with overgrown plantlife like a sealed terrarium. what if grace can still teach about earth and science long after he's gone because his classroom now houses the only tree on erid. what if a branch falls one day and sap seeps out and rocky sees that the tree bleeds too.

idk man do you think maybe rocky thinks it's unfair when he finds out that other earth organisms can have tough exteriors and long lifespans after grace is gone

[simply-a-dream]

“don’t take it personally” how would you like me to take it then? professionally? romantically? academically?

[creative-anchorage]

[kaafii]

Allie Hayes in Off Campus (2026)

[rosiewrites28]

"Hockey Jackets Lead To Bad Decisions"

Summary: John Logan can flirt with anyone for fun, but the second y/n ties his hockey jacket around her waist, it starts feeling dangerously less casual. Between stolen touches, teasing confessions, and a growing inability to keep their eyes—or hands—off each other, one night at Malone’s turns into the beginning of something neither of them is prepared for.

wc: 2870

Pairing: John Logan x Reader

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but then changed my mind. Formatting is kind of everywhere. Not edited.

Masterlist

The bass at Malone’s was loud enough to vibrate through the floorboards. 

Every surface in the place felt sticky, humid from too many students packed together under flashing lights, and the air smelled like cheap beer, perfume, sweat, and something aggressively fried from the kitchen. Which normally would have been my cue to leave after thirty minutes. 

But Hannah and Allie had cornered me before I could escape. 

So now I’m trapped in the middle of the dance floor while Allie screamed the lyrics to a JLo directly into my ear. 

“If you elbow me one more time, I’m reporting you to the authorities,” I yelled over the music.

“You look too hot to complain!” she shouted back immediately.

“That’s because this dress is cutting off circulation to my legs!”

Hannah burst out laughing beside us, dark curls bouncing as she danced. “Worth it!”

Easy for her to say.

The black dress looked incredible in my bedroom mirror two hours ago. Sleek. Tiny. Dangerous in a fun way.

Now?

Now it had decided it couldn't stay down on my thighs and kept trying to ride up. Every thirty seconds I had to yank the hem back down while trying to preserve what little dignity I had left. 

“I swear to God,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric again, “this dress is one wrong move away from becoming a crop top.”

Allie nearly choked laughing.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m fighting for my life.”

“You’re winning, though,” Hannah assured me. “Half the bar has been staring at you since we got here.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It should be.”

Unfortunately, Hannah wasn’t wrong. I could feel eyes following us every time we moved through the crowd. And one pair in particular was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Because leaning against the bar in a fitted grey Henley—with sleeves pushed up to his forearms like he personally wanted to ruin my mental stability—was John Logan.

He was currently talking to Garrett Graham. Laughing at something Dean said. Looking unfairly good doing literally nothing. I made the mistake of glancing over again. Big mistake. Huge.

Because Logan happened to look up at the exact same moment. Our eyes locked across the crowded bar. Then he smiled, not a polite smile, not a casual hey-I-know-you smile either. A slow, knowing smile like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be. Heat immediately crawled up my neck.

“Oh my God,” Hannah said beside me. “You’re staring again.”

“I am not.”

“y/n,” Allie deadpanned, “you literally stopped dancing.”

I immediately started moving again out of pure embarrassment, nearly sloshing my drink onto the stranger beside me.

“I hate both of you.”

“You wanna know the worst part?” Hannah asked.

“No.”

“He keeps looking over here too.” 

I nearly choke on air. “Excuse me?”

But before Hannah could answer, the dress betrayed me again. Aggressively. I gasped, grabbing the hem before disaster struck. “That’s it. I’m taking this thing out back and setting it on fire.”

Allie doubled over laughing. “You brought extra clothes though, right?”

“Yes,” I said obviously. “Because unlike you two, I believe in preparation.”

Honestly, being roommates with Hannah and Allie meant always carrying backup options.

Backup makeup, shoes, advil, dignity. 

“My bag’s at the table,” I said, pointing toward the back booth where Tucker and Dean sat.

Hannah nodded sympathetically. “Go change before you accidentally traumatize the hockey team.”

“Excellent idea.”

I shoved my way through the crowd, muttering apologies. Heat clung to my skin from dancing, and by the time I reached the booth, I was already annoyed enough to change into sweatpants and never speak again. 

Tucker looked up first. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “The only responsible person at this school.”

Dean snorted into his drink. “That’s a low bar.”

I laughed softly and bent down to grab my tote bag from beside the booth—Only for another hand to reach it first. Long fingers wrapped loosely around the strap. My stomach immediately did something humiliating. Slowly, I looked up.

Logan sat sprawled comfortably against the booth seat, one arm stretched along the back behind Dean. Up close he somehow looked even broader than he had across the room, shoulders straining the soft grey fabric of his Henley. His hair looked slightly damp at the ends and his eyes were absolutely full of amusement. 

“You leaving already?” he asked. His voice was rough from the noise in the bar, low enough that I felt my heart skip.

“No,” I replied. “My dress is trying to humiliate me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I noticed.”

My entire body heated instantly. “You noticed?”

Dean made a choking sound into his beer while Tucker physically covered his face.

Logan looked completely unashamed. “It’s hard not to,” he said. “You’ve been fighting with that thing since you got here.”

I pointed accusingly at him. “You are a terrible person.”

“Nah.” He stood up from the booth in one smooth movement. “Just observant.”

Standing this close to him felt unfair. He was tall enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact. Then Logan glanced down toward my legs again. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know,” he drawled, already shrugging off his hockey jacket, “there’s a pretty obvious solution here.”

Before I could answer, he held the jacket out toward me. Navy blue with ‘Briar Hockey’ stitched across the chest. It was still warm from his body.

“You’re offering me your jacket?”

Logan lifted one shoulder casually. “Seems safer for the general public.”

Tucker laughed so hard he almost dropped a fry.

I should’ve said something smooth. Something flirtier than standing there staring at him like an idiot. But of course my brain had become occupied by the sight of Logan holding the jacket. Dear God. “You okay there, y/n?” he asked, clearly entertained now.

“Yes,” I lied immediately. “I am perfectly fine.”

His grin widened. “That’s good news for me.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been flirting with you for the last ten minutes.”

My heart nearly stopped.

Dean made a loud gagging noise. “Jesus Christ, Logan. Buy us dinner before you start confessing feelings.”

“Shut up,” Logan muttered automatically. But he never looked away from me once.

And suddenly the noise of Malone’s felt farther away somehow., like the entire bar had blurred around us. Then Logan stepped closer, close enough that my pulse jumped stupidly hard.

“C’mere,” he said softly.

My brain short-circuited again.

Before I could respond, he took the jacket gently from my hands and moved behind me.

Every nerve ending in my body immediately became aware of the fact that John Logan was standing directly behind me.

I could feel heat radiating off him.

Could smell his cologne more clearly now—clean and warm and dangerously comforting.

Then his fingers brushed lightly against my hips as he wrapped the sleeves around my waist.

Not lingering.

Barely there.

Still enough to make my stomach flip violently.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured near my ear.

I swallowed hard. “It’s winter.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Oh.

Oh, that was flirting flirting.

His knuckles skimmed my waist one last time as he tied the sleeves securely in front.

“There,” Logan said quietly behind me. “Problem solved.”

I turned around slowly.

Big mistake.

Because now he was even closer.

Close enough that I could see the tiny scar near his eyebrow.

Close enough that I noticed his eyes weren’t just brown—they had these stupid gold flecks in them under the bar lights.

Close enough that my brain started making deeply unhelpful observations about how nice his mouth looked.

“You’re very smug for someone lending me a jacket,” I managed.

“Can you blame me?” His gaze dragged slowly over me, entirely unapologetic. “You look really good in my clothes, y/n.”

That should not have affected me that much.

And yet.

I crossed my arms mostly to give myself something to do. “Do you flirt with every girl like this?”

“Nah.”

His eyes held mine steadily.

“Only the ones who stare at me from the dance floor like they wanna climb me.”

My jaw dropped open.

Dean lost it completely beside us.

“Oh my God,” I laughed, horrified. “You saw that?”

“Baby,” Logan said, grinning now, “everyone saw that.”

I groaned and covered my face instantly while Tucker cackled loud enough to attract attention from nearby tables.

“This is my villain origin story.”

Logan laughed too then.

Not the cocky teasing laugh from before.

A real one.

Warm and low and ridiculously attractive.

Then his hand closed gently around my wrist.

The touch surprised me enough that I looked up immediately.

“Don’t hide now,” he murmured, tugging my hand away from my face.

The teasing edge in his voice softened just slightly.

And somehow that felt even more dangerous.

“I kinda like when you look at me.”

My stomach flipped so hard it was honestly concerning.

For one suspended second neither of us moved.

The lights flashed blue and gold across his face. Music pounded through the floor beneath our feet. Around us, Dean was still laughing at something Tucker said, people shouted over drinks, glasses clinked behind the bar—

But Logan’s attention stayed completely, entirely on me.

Like I was the only interesting thing in the room.

Then his gaze flicked briefly to the jacket tied around my waist before returning to my face.

“Plus,” he added casually, “now everybody knows you’re wearing my jacket.”

I blinked. “And why exactly does that matter?”

His grin turned lazy again.

“No reason.”

Liar.

And judging by the look in his eyes—

he knew I knew it too.

By the time I realized John Logan was still holding my wrist, it was already becoming a problem.

Not a real problem.

A dangerous problem.

Because his hand was warm, his thumb rested lazily against the inside of my wrist, and the look in his eyes was doing deeply irresponsible things to my nervous system.

Around us, Malone’s was still loud and chaotic—music blasting, people yelling over each other, glasses clinking behind the bar—but somehow the space directly around us felt weirdly smaller.

Focused.

Like the rest of the room had blurred at the edges.

Logan tilted his head slightly, watching me with obvious amusement. “You always get this quiet when a guy flirts with you?”

I narrowed my eyes immediately. “I’m not quiet.”

“You were staring at me like you forgot your own name two seconds ago.”

“That’s a medical condition.”

Dean nearly fell out of the booth laughing.

Tucker pointed a fry at me. “Honestly, y/n? Respect.”

“Thank you,” I said with dignity. “At least someone here supports women.”

Logan’s mouth twitched.

Still holding my wrist.

Still entirely too close.

“You okay there, hockey boy?” I asked sweetly. “You seem attached.”

His gaze dropped briefly to where our hands were touching before lifting back to my face.

“Nah,” he said easily. “Just making sure you don’t run away.”

My stomach flipped.

Which was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

Because John Logan flirted with everyone. That was practically part of his personality. He was charming and hot and knew exactly how to look at someone like they were the center of the universe for five minutes at a time.

I knew that.

Unfortunately, knowing it did absolutely nothing for me when he smiled like that.

“You think I’d run away?” I asked.

“I think,” Logan said slowly, “you’ve been pretending not to notice me staring at you all night.”

Heat crawled up my neck instantly.

“Oh my God,” I muttered.

“That’s not a denial.”

“Please stop being observant. It’s ruining my life.”

He laughed softly, finally letting go of my wrist.

I immediately missed the warmth.

Which felt pathetic.

Before I could spiral about that too much, Logan leaned one hip against the edge of the booth beside me.

“So what’s in the emergency backup bag?” he asked.

“Gym shorts. Oversized T-shirt. Snacks.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Snacks?”

“I’m a woman in STEM. Survival is important.”

Dean pointed at me dramatically. “See? This is why she’s my favorite.”

“You told Hannah last week I looked like I’d poison someone for fun.”

“You do.”

“That’s just the eyeliner.”

Logan laughed again, shaking his head.

God, he laughed a lot around me.

That felt… nice.

Dangerously nice.

“What kind of snacks?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Are you flirting with me or trying to rob me?”

“Can’t it be both?”

I snorted despite myself and finally crouched to dig through my tote bag. “Goldfish crackers. Granola bars. Sour candy.”

“y/n,” Tucker said solemnly, “marry me.”

“No.”

“That’s fair.”

I pulled out the folded pair of black athletic shorts I planned on changing into and tossed the bag onto the booth seat.

Logan looked personally offended.

“You’re replacing the dress?”

“The dress betrayed me.”

“But the dress is winning.”

“That sounds fake.”

“No seriously.” His eyes dragged over me again, slower this time. “It’s a really good dress.”

My brain fully malfunctioned for half a second.

The confidence in his voice was what got me.

Not teasing now.

Not joking.

Just honest.

And somehow that was worse.

“You are aggressively good at this,” I informed him.

“At flirting?”

“At making people forget basic motor functions.”

A grin spread slowly across his face. “Yeah?”

“Unfortunately.”

Dean groaned loudly. “I can literally feel the sexual tension from here.”

“Then leave,” Logan said without looking away from me.

Tucker clutched his chest dramatically. “He’s in deep already.”

“I’m not in deep,” Logan shot back automatically.

I raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of wording.”

He looked at me for a second.

Then smirked.

“You catch everything, huh?”

“Occupational hazard.”

“What occupation?”

“Judging people.”

“Damn,” he said. “And here I thought it was pharmacy.”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

And Logan’s expression shifted immediately when he heard it.

Softer somehow.

Like he liked making me laugh.

That realization hit me right in the chest.

“You know what’s weird?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“You’re way less scary than Hannah made you sound.”

I gasped dramatically. “Excuse me. I worked very hard on my terrifying reputation.”

“She told Garrett you once made Dean reconsider his entire personality.”

“I did.”

Dean pointed at me. “She looked me dead in the eyes and asked if I had hobbies besides being loud.”

Logan barked out a laugh.

“To be fair,” I said, “you didn’t have an answer.”

“That’s not the point.”

The music switched songs, bass vibrating through the floor harder now as more people crowded onto the dance floor.

Across the room, Hannah spotted me and wiggled her eyebrows obnoxiously.

I immediately flipped her off.

She looked delighted.

Logan followed my gaze toward the dance floor. “You gonna keep dancing?”

“Eventually.”

“You were having fun before your dress declared war.”

“I was having fun until somebody noticed.”

“y/n,” he said, looking genuinely amused, “you were staring at me like you were conducting scientific research.”

“In my defense, your arms are upsetting.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Tucker made a strangled noise.

Dean physically bent over laughing.

And Logan—

Logan looked so pleased with himself it was unbearable.

“My arms?” he repeated carefully.

I immediately realized my mistake.

“Oh my God.”

“y/n likes my arms,” he announced to the table.

“I actually need everyone here to die.”

He laughed outright now, head tipping back slightly, and the sight hit me with embarrassing force.

Because Logan was pretty.

Like offensively pretty.

Especially when he laughed.

“You know,” he said casually, flexing one arm against the table edge just enough to be annoying, “most people compliment my face first.”

“You don’t need compliments about your face. You already know about your face.”

“That’s true.”

“Horrific answer.”

He grinned.

Then leaned closer suddenly, voice dropping lower.

“But for the record,” he murmured, “I noticed your legs first too.”

My entire train of thought derailed.

Completely.

Gone.

Dean slapped the table hard enough to rattle the drinks. “Jesus Christ, just kiss already.”

“Dean,” I said weakly, still staring at Logan, “I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown in peace.”

Logan’s eyes flicked down briefly to my mouth.

Just for a second.

Still enough to make my pulse jump.

Then he looked back up slowly.

“Would it help,” he asked softly, “if I told you I’ve been trying not to kiss you since you walked in?”

I forgot how breathing worked.

Actually forgot.

Logan noticed immediately too, because his grin turned lazy and unbearably smug.

“There she goes again,” he murmured.

“Shut up.”

“You get all wide-eyed every time I flirt with you.”

“Maybe because you flirt like you’re trying to cause structural damage.”

That earned me another low laugh.

And before I could recover from that either, Logan reached out and adjusted the collar of his hockey jacket where it sat tied around my waist.

His fingers brushed bare skin just above my thigh.

Tiny touch.

Barely there.

My stomach flipped violently anyway.

His eyes lifted back to mine.

“You keeping the jacket on?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

His gaze held mine for one long second.

“Because I like seeing my stuff on you.”

Oh.

Oh, he was dangerous.

[carbonitechaz]

The more jedi are added to the 'survived O66 list' the more clear it is that the the tragedy of the Jedi is absolutely about genocide, but it's no longer COMPLETELY about Obi-Wan and Yoda as the exiled survivors or Luke as the Hero that can Save Us. The tragedy isn't about BEING alone, its about FEELING alone.

Kanan and Cal, who almost certainly knew each other (to me), are circling the galaxy around each other. They both know Saw Gerrara. Gungi goes back to Kashyyyk. YODA IS STRAIGHT CHILLING. Ahsoka is running an intelligence agnecy. And like, that's what, 5 people? I know there's a handful of more, but even if there's a hundred? Instead of 10000? It's not much, its obviously about their decimation, but they're all, at least for awhile, under the impression that they are lone survivors. They all have to shed everything that identifies them as Jedi, they see their temple desecrated as the palace of a tyrant. They cut their braids and shed their robes, they hide their lightsabers. They find new families, new roles, all assuming the Jedi are extinct.

AND YET. They are all pulling in the same direction. They all remain true to the Jedi they are. Most are involved in the rebellion, some train students, all of them shine in the galaxy even though it's an offense punishable by death.

It never mattered to the Emperor to get every last Jedi ever. It was about destroying their culture, it was about scattering them, breaking their will, and making sure they FELT alone.

It works, for awhile. But as we are shown over and over, being a Jedi is not about any of that. Being a Jedi is about hope, about goodness, about the peace and light that you carry with you, that sustains you and supports you, it's about offering yourself up as a vessel for that peace and hope to manifest itself around you no matter the consequences.

So truthfully, the Emperor could never succeed. No matter how dark things get, the Jedi - whoever they are, wherever they come from, no matter how long its been since they swung a lightsaber, cannot be defeated. Only killed. They will all, always, no matter how few, pull in the direction of justice, and they will always succeed.

[skeletons-eat]

Ngl joining the jedi order sounds like the ideal life to me because just imagine:

1. People regulate thier emotion and communicate to you logically. No need to understand social cues when you're an empath.

2. No pressure to marry, be in a romantic relationship and live in a nuclear household my entire life.

3. I can just?????? Help people?????? Without the extra cost of a system working me to the ground to achieve certain things????

4. No strings attached companionship and friendships? Amazing.

5. A caring and respectful community who council each other and accepts who I am as a person? Count me in.

6. Lightsaber go brrrrrrrrrr

7. Being able to do what I want career wise (Gardening, art, politics, piloting, exploring, childreering, medicine, teaching, etc.) without having to worry about money.

8. Tax fraud

[pile-of-anxiety]

“average jedi is a mess” factoid actually just statistical error. The average jedi is perfectly well adjusted. The Disaster Lineage, who had TWO sith are an outlier and should not have been counted

[verenakauer]

"Why did Stratt pick a school teacher" — because my guy can frankenstein Venus out of plywood, some duct tape and a dream. "I'm not qualified" — buddy, you have scientific background and the resourcefulness of someone who is used to having zero budget. I love this specific part of the plot that is "let's take the guy who can problem-solve things with zero money and give him unlimited budget and see what happens".

[mikesseleven]

And so, the woman dies. The woman dies so the man can be sad about it. The woman dies so the man can suffer. She dies to give him a destiny. Dies so he can fall to the dark side. Dies so he can lament her death. As he stands there, brimming with grief, brimming with life, the woman lies there in silence. The woman dies for him. - The Woman Dies by Aoko Matsuda

[mewy101]

I could never find the right way to tell you, have you noticed I've been gone?

[selenitasofi]

seriously my favorite shots

[tris-morreu]

"the imaginary or hypothetical harm that we believe a black person to be capable of enacting will always be less socially acceptable than the harm we know for a fact white people materially cause" the movie.

[puppydogwhitaker]

the pitt is really just about how shit sucks. it sucks so bad. there is this deeply entrenched, intentionally unempathetic dysfunction baked into the fabric of all of our institutions. we are at the mercy of these forces that are incomprehensible and insurmountable.

and yet, we gotta try.

we gotta get up everyday, face the darkness, and find balance if we can.

and we don’t have to do it alone! in fact we shouldn’t. we can’t. but we can find people to make all of the helplessness and suckiness a little more bearable. we can find people to stand on the roof with us, we can find people to hold us, we can find people who stay when we’re mean and flippant and can’t give anything back.

the message is hope, even in the depths of despair.

[puppydogwhitaker]

that rooftop scene in the finale was actually so important.

the rooftop is the setting in the pitt where people have these big emotional beats in which they reach out and attempt to find community. this is established in season one between jack and robby. in the beginning of episode one, we see jack facing the void and turning away from it to follow robby back to safety, robby does the with jack at the end. season two reaffirms this interpretation.

all of these women we saw on the roof were on the brink this whole season. samira was personally and professionally adrift. mel was facing her malpractice suit and sister’s independence. perlah was facing national xenophobic sentiments and the pressure of being a highly capable nurse. dana was reeling from her assault and crumbling under the pressure of her position. mckay was realizing the depths of her emotional detachment. victoria was dealing with her insecurities and lack of freedom. trinity had the situationship and the frank confrontation and the child abuse trigger and the loss of dennis’s company.

all of these women were facing a profound loneliness, a profound void, a profound lack of support. they were all alone in this all day, briefly brushing against each other in moments that chafed and soothed in equal measure.

and just like jack and robby have each other to pull them back from the edge, these women can find that with each other in the exact same spot.

the pitt uses setting very well. the peds room represents the loss and gains of family. the bathroom represents the humanity denied to healthcare works. and the roof represents the community these providers find within each other.

they all have moments where they’re correcting, snapping, or disagreeing with each other this season. samira judges cassie for talking about her lack of intimacy, victoria and trinity have a more sarcastic relationship, mel flat out said trinity has a personality disorder, dana has been short with just about everyone. but in this one moment, they band together. they process the day, feel awe and exhaustion and sadness and wonder all at the same time, all together. they build an imperfect community out of tragedies.

it’s just impeccable story telling.