postcards from your next major crisis

February & March 2088.

*** content warnings: miscarriage, blood

#1: Cora Lawrence is doing just fine, thank you very much


Her life is complete, Cora tells herself. She doesn’t need a man. Especially not one like Luis-Fucking-Talbot. She is twenty-seven years old. Her biological clock is set to silent mode and folded away in her sock drawer. She owns prime real estate in downtown Sierra Nova and an investment portfolio that would impress most people twice her age. She buys fancy coffee and drinks it in silence after doing an hour of yoga at sunrise. This is going to be an incredible day, and Luis Fucking Talbot can go screw half his college campus if he wants to. Cora is filling her cup with zen, and it tastes just fine.

He probably has loads of STDs anyway.

we used to be kings

April 13th, 2087. Angelo Shaw is 24, Devon is 15, Valerie is 51. Aldous Jones is 15. Aliyah Sylvester is 26. April Hutchins and Beau Jackson are 23.



In another life, fifteen-year-old Devon Shaw might have grown up a spoiled mafia princess. She sighed and fantasized about that life as she sprayed degreaser on the coffee machines, because in this life, her dad is in the slammer and most of their assets were repossessed and her mom works two jobs to barely cover their rent. But a teenage girl needs pocket change sometimes to buy new earrings or see a movie with her friends, or you know, help her mom cover the electric bill occasionally. So Devon picked up her first job at IceBerry Cafe. She had a lot to learn, but she was eager.