Sesquipedalian



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    Shame washes her in dusky pink, hidden by the night sky, as her boss and her Hinge-find shake hands.

    "Nice to meet you. I'm Jack."

    "Likewise. How do you know Sam?" her date asks.

    Jack throws her a look, bland and flat, and she doesn't know if she should laugh or die.

    (or, three times jack crashes samira's date on accident + the one time it's on purpose)

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    03 Jul 2026

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    One year out from Pittfest, Samira looks at her life and it’s not what she wants. A character study.

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    23 Jun 2026

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    “Jack,” he’s gray now. He wasn’t gray when they met but now his auburn brown hair has faded to almost entirely silver. She imagines it would suit him if there wasn’t so much blood in it. “to what do I owe the displeasure?”

    Maybe it’s a mean thing to say when he’s actively being loaded out of an ambulance, but Samira really cannot bring herself to care. He’s upright and breathing, so in the grand scheme of things, the situation can’t be that bad. And you’re allowed to be rude to your ex-husband—it’s one of the big perks of getting divorced before you graduate med school. It’s the participation prize of a failed marriage.

    “Hey there, gorgeous.”
    -----
    Samira's ex rolls into PTMC and brings a lot of baggage with him.

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    16 Jun 2026

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    “Well, aren’t you precious,” he remarks, tongue darting out to flick at his bottom lip. “Do I need to put a towel down on the front seat before you’ll get in the car?”

    She lifts her chin.

    “That depends. Do I need to Febreze you before we share an enclosed space?”

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    15 Jun 2026

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    “What’s with the sword theme?” She asks.
    “Aiglamene likes swords.” The walls of Scabbards are leaden with them, replicas of swords, pictures of swords, a suit of armor off in a corner holding–you guessed it–a sword.
    “So why not call the bar ‘Swords’?”
    “Well,” Gideon is only a little delighted that she’s asked this. “Imagine a sword is a dick, then a scabbard must be a–”
    “Ah.”
    “‘Pussys’ would be too on the nose for a lesbian bar, so Scabbards it is.” Gideon leans forward, hands on the counter and a conspiratorial tone in her voice. “You do know you’re in a lesbian bar, right?”
    “Yes, Griddle. I have eyes and critical thinking skills.” Harrow takes another too-big drink.
    “I didn’t know nuns went to lesbian bars.” Gideon says, to be a shit.

    Or: I was just gonna write a fun little thing about Gideon being a bartender and a drummer because I find both of those things attractive, and then 2k of tragic catholic guilt attached itself to Harrow like a revenant, so shit got angsty.
    There'll be porn in later chapters, I promise.

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    15 Jun 2026