#Virus sun is short lived but I might keep it

[strangechildproductions]

Sun: *waking up covered in two year old cake batter* OH GOD WHAT IS THIS?! Moon: Trust me there's worst things to wake up from a black out covered in. Sun: LIKE WHAT?! Moon: .... do I really need to answer that?

[lycankeyy]

Since I'm following the fnaf sun and moon tags I've been seeing some discussion of Sun's characterization in HW2 and while im a lurker I HAVE been sitting on thoughts on the DCA since SB dropped so I might as well put down my two cents (also spoilers for the secret ending)

It's been my opinion since literally SB came out that one of the primary effects of the "virus", should it exist, is that it exaggerates negative personality traits. It's honestly been rly fun seeing people also come to this conclusion over the past 24 hours LMAO. While I think it's primary focus was to corrupt the animatronics' security protocols so they would attack people on sight, the personality altering was an added side effect. (Added note: this is also my explanation for why Sun isn't aggressive in SB, Sun's security protocol is Moon)

So while Roxy's low self-esteem has turned into her being so obsessed with attention she'll kill you if you don't Stare at her, Monty's rocker attitude has devolved into constant destructive rage, and Chica's obsession with food has gotten so bad she's now attacking people over it, I believe we're finally seeing more of how Sun was affected. I don't think he wasn't affected in SB - the way he grabs you and refuses to let you go anywhere, the fact that he can't even handle a small mess when he literally works at a daycare. It was subtle but there was some corruption there.

I think HW2 elaborates on this. Again we see his fixation on not letting you move, his hatred of messes (to the point of threatening or actually committing violence this time and destroying the art you make when its clear from his living spaces that he usually keeps art made in the daycare). He also gets very angry at you for taking a while to do things or getting things wrong. He actively discourages creativity. While this could be laughed off as Fazbear Ent being shitty per usual, we know that Sun actually was good at his current job at some point, so this is probably further alteration. I also think this minigame takes place some time before SB given how casually he threatens to set Moon on you if you annoy him enough LMAO. Clearly still a little freaked out by him but not enough to be completely terrified of transforming.

I also think worth noting is the probability that we're playing as an adult, specifically a technician (whether it be Vanessa or Cassie's dad). If Vanny has been tinkering with Moon for a while by that point (given the secret ending, it makes it clear that their relationship is one where Moon is Vanny's sentient tool to be used), I think Sun has very good reason to be sassy and passive-aggressive with technicians at this point, considering its heavily implied Moon hasn't always been the way he is now and also less-heavily implied that Sun enjoyed his other half's company at one point.

Long story short I think the virus (should it exist) is exaggerating Sun's traits of perfectionism and being controlling, likely leftovers from when he was a stage animatronic. And with or without that explanation, his behavior also makes sense if you assume he doesn't like technicians or adults in general.

But thats just a theory a personal interpretation theory like comment suscribe 👍

[sarasa-cat]

Feeling behind on EVERYTHING thanks to probably-almost-definitely COVID recovery.

If left to my own devices, I sleep for 13.5 hours all in one go, just dead to the world oh so dead, not waking up for anything. That makes fitting everything else in a little bit difficult.

All that is really left is:

a. Managing the inflammation from low-grade viral-induced asthma which is definitely a thing I have experience with and do not enjoy.

b. Giving my body whatever time it needs to recover which means if sleep is what is on the menu during the best weather of the year (where I am) well, fml, but that is how it is gonna be.

In short, I'm going to be a bit flaky with being online for the rest of this month. Sometimes I will be VERY online as in EXCEEDINGLY online, and then other days I'll be making the best of what time I have to keep Life/Work/Shit moving forward and will probably seem like a ghost.

Low-grade viral induced asthma talk will commence here:

So, it is really simple: many different kinds of viruses can set off viral-induced asthmatic swelling of the airways. After the virus is long dead, the swelling persists. Fun times. 🙃

Normally, these days, if I am in a micro-climate that is dry enough** (I'm not talking desert bone dry, although I do like it, but just Not Perpetually Damp And Moldy), I just let all of my asthma medications expire at the bottom of an overstuffed medical-junk drawer in the bathroom. The only thing I take daily is a cocktail of OTC allergies meds.

When viruses attack --- as in the common cold, flu, etc. --- I dust those bad boys off and get on top of things as fast as possible while also making a point of AVOIDING ANY kind of irritating particulate air pollution that will set it off or make it worse. Cheap wet wood smoke? Neighbor's stank-ass BBQ? Get that shit outta my life.

The better course of action is the slow and boring kind: cancel the next 3 weeks of activities and just let it calm down with inhaled corticosteroids. But, if things get really bad or I am desperate need of immediate relief because my schedule cannot accommodate 3 weeks of doing very little followed by 2 more weeks of regaining my prior-to-attack aerobic stamina, I just break the glass and pop open the steroid step-down pack. Fast and effective, but annoying side effects can also occur.

Right now I have decided that things aren't bad enough for the BIG GUNS and that I can (grumbling grumbling grumbling) sorta afford to be on my ass for 3 weeks. But hooboy, I am not having a good time of it. (Oh, and that, that upcoming 10k fundraiser I had originally planned on staggering through? my participation is entirely, completely, no questions asked cancelled).

What I really want to do is just sit outside in a hot and dry place and let my whole body dry out. You might laugh but I am not joking about the power of that speeding things up. Unfortunately, despite it being august and living in a place that is definitely feeling the effects of global warming, it doesn't get hot enough here to be bathing suit weather under the baking hot sun. But, taking a picnic blanket+basket and a sketchbook to spread out under a tree in a park does sound like a good idea for tomorrow and Saturday (while dressed in long pants, t-shirt, and light cotton sweater).

Anyhow, for now I am taking the SLOW recovery route because I don't have anything forcing me to wage hardcore steroidal warfare on my body, which is precisely what the prednisone does.

But that means I will be flaky because my time is constrained. Some days I'll just say "fuck it" and have a sick day in bed with my laptop or phone and I'll be exceedingly online. Other days I'll make the best of the time I have to do all the adulting that still needs to be done by me, to get actual work done, or to make careful use of energy to (at this pace) inch-worm my way through the epic KonMari of various shit in my house & home-office/studio that needs to be organized.

This is really annoying and not how I planned on spending my august --- which is actually my favorite month of the year! But, oh well. OH WELL.

oh well.

[eyndr-stories]

I Think I Smell A Rat (FNAF SB fanfic) C5 - Aw, Rats

In Summary:

Being a robotic repair rat who lives in the walls of the pizza-plex is a pretty great gig, all things considered! You fix the wires instead of chew them, and you get into tight spaces those silly humans can't reach and fix things up behind the scenes. You do your little tasks diligently, and all is well. That is, until one night when you realize all of your other repair rat friends have gone missing, and almost all of those animatronics outside the walls are acting strange... You aren't sure what it is that needs fixing, but by golly you'll fix it! You just might need a little help along the way...

Things To Know:

Not a lot of warnings for this one! There is some peril and danger, damage to robots, and damage to. Uh, whatever the heck Afton is at this point??

Reader insert! You're a little rat shaped robot a handful of inches long. Lots of borrower-related themes in here

Daycare attendant centered, though the other animatronics make brief appearances. You hang out with Sun in the first half of the story and Moon in the second half!

A little over 17000 words in total, just a lil guy! 5 chapters, they're all pretty short

I somehow managed not to swear once in the entire story, aw hell yeah! Wait-

Ao3 link: Here!

Start Here: Chapter 1

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

C5 - Aw, Rats

     Without missing a beat, the rats rushed towards you and Moon in one massive wave.

     Moon made an alarmed noise and quickly jumped up onto the nearest table. It groaned and bent under his weight, but held. The rats immediately rushed for the table legs, trying to climb up.

     You quickly flashed your tail light at Moon. "I can't fix the virus with that bot in the way. Can you keep my friends distracted while I try to shut him down??"

     "I can try, but how are you going to get over there??"

     You paused, realizing there was only one timely option. You were not at all confidant that you could cross the whole room by yourself without getting lost. Hesitantly, you flashed a reply. "You'll have to throw me."

     Moon's face plate snapped down to face you fully. "Did I see that right??"

     "There's no time! Throw me now!"

     The rats had made it up the legs of the table and were scrambling towards Moon. Moon wound his arm back as he crouched, ready to jump.

     Moon threw you, and you went sailing through a dizzying blur of undefinable mess. You could hear the table cracking and collapsing, but you couldn't see where Moon had jumped to. A moment later you crashed, sliding across a surface your pathfinding desperately struggled to make sense of. You ignored the program entirely and forcefully focused on only what you could see.

     The computer console was to your left, and above you were the thick cords and bundles of wires stretching from it to the bot sitting to your right. The bot looked surprised to see you, but that surprise was quickly fading. He started to raise an arm, the limb shaking with effort. You had an up close view of the strange mangled combination of machinery and whatever that weird malleable looking purple stuff was.

     You moved, ignoring every warning in your mind telling you to stay put and ping for help because obviously you were malfunctioning, your pathfinder was on the fritz and you'd been experiencing the 'out of bounds' error for far too long now. You jumped up onto the wires overhead and gripped them carefully, scrambling across towards the bot.

     The bot made a grab at you, but you had plenty of experience at this point dodging grabby hands. You jumped over the hand, using the back of it to kick off and get you the rest of the way to the bot. the wires connected to the bot's back and the back of his head. You considered climbing the wires connecting to his head, but those looked too thin to hold you. You'd likely pull them loose and fall if you tried. And so you climbed to bot himself, finding that the leathery parts of the purple stuff provided decent purchase.

     Another hand swiped at you, but it couldn't get close enough. The bot didn't seem mobile enough to reach around to where you were on his back. He seemed to be able to reach above and below though, and he was clawing around blindly, trying to reach you.

     You heard another crash across the room, though you couldn't see what Moon was up to from your vantage point. You had to be quick. You needed to get up to the bot's head so you could shut him down, and fast.

     The bot started to shake from side to side, trying to throw you off. You slipped, and the bot cried out angrily as your claws tore little gashes through the purple stuff. You landed back on top of the wires connecting into the bot's back, trying to hold on to the metal casing the wires fed into for stability. The bot paused, then swiveled his head to look around at the ground.

     It hit you then that the bot couldn't feel you unless you were touching the purple stuff. He was looking to see if you'd fallen off, despite you still clinging to his casing. That meant you had a way up, but you had to be careful. The casing was a lot harder to climb, though it was grimy enough that it wasn't impossible.

     You climbed for all you were worth, going as fast as you dared. You made it up to back of the bot's head and paused. This hardware was unfamiliar, and there was an awful lot of unidentifiable purple stuff mixed in with it all. You reasoned your only goal was to shut the bot down, and so you got to work yanking out anything you could get your paws on.

     The bot howled and his whole body shook. He tried to grab at you, but you'd been lucky enough to damage something dealing with his spatial calibration, and he missed you. You knew he'd still be able to grab you eventually though, so you hurried, pulling and tearing and clipping wires between your teeth.

     You weren't sure which damaged wire it was that sent a horribly overwhelming shock of electricity crashing through you. You hadn't exactly been being careful not to let any wires touch the conductible parts of your casing. For a moment, you could almost physically feel something trying to pry at you. The feeling was strange- you knew you hadn't been grabbed, but you were seized with the sensation of something trying to grab a hold of you none the less.

     You suddenly received a warning ping about being off the main network, of all things. You were still in safe mode, having forgotten about it after setting it earlier when you and Sun had thought the virus was on the main network. You dismissed the ping. There was no time for any of that.

     You pressed through the aftermath of the shock and kept going, dismissing overcharge warnings and ignoring everything else. You disconnected piece after piece until finally, you pulled something that instantly caused the bot to crumple. You nearly lost your footing, but managed to grab hold of the wires connected to his head. He was silent and still.

     There was only a second to rejoice in your success. Moon yelled to you from across the room.

     "Any day now, little rat!!"

     You looked to see Moon had tipped over another table and was using it to try and sweep back the wave of rats still trying to carry out their task. The rats were disorganized and confused, but they were relentless none the less. You quickly turned back to your own task.

     Wasting no time, you scurried back down to the thicker wires and climbed back to the computer console. The casing was already opened, so the bot's wires could be plugged in. You hooked yourself up in no time and started interfacing with the console.

     Moon's situation grew more dire by the second as you flew through files, trying to format a new update file from the old one, this time without the virus. You were having a lot of trouble pulling out and deleting the virus itself. Meanwhile, the rats had finally swarmed over Moon's table. Moon looked around desperately, then eyed the door. He jumped up and pulled himself precariously atop the door, managing to balance on it. The door groaned and its old hinges immediately started to bend. The rats struggling to climb up on either side weren't helping matters either. The door began to bend, wood starting to splinter outwards from the hole Moon had torn when he'd ripped out the doorknob.

     Finally, you discarded the last of the virus from the files. You queued the virus-free update for upload and set it to the highest priority in the hopes that the rats and everyone else would download the new update immediately. Then there was nothing left you could do but wait, so you quickly disconnected and rushed around the side of the console to see how Moon was faring. The console whirred as it uploaded the folder to the main network, the progress bar inching towards full, pausing briefly at 98%.

     Moon yelled as the door finally collapsed under him, and he fell towards a massive heap of robotic rats.

     The console chimed as a message appeared on its screen- 'Upload Complete!'

     All at once, the rats stilled. This was great news for Moon, who was laying in a pile of rats who'd all been a moment away from pulling him apart piece by piece. The rats all slowly started to move again, shifting around and looking at each other. A few were flashing their tail lights at Moon.

     You quickly took yourself out of safe mode and opened up the communication channel you and all the other rats used. You were immediately overwhelmed by an onslaught of pings and messages from all of your friends, all confused and disoriented and struggling to get their pathfinding to work. You might have jumped for joy, if only you weren't so tired. You hadn't charged all night, and your battery was getting really low. You could tell you'd also sustained some minor damage from being tossed around and electrocuted.

     You worked on an explanation, trying to keep it brief. As soon as you sent it, you received hundreds more pings and messages, questions and exclamations from your confounded friends.

     Moon had managed to get to his feet and was carefully shuffling his way over to you. "You realize that if that had been any closer, all you rats would be stuck down here, right?" Moon grumbled.

     "I was going as fast as I could!" You practically fell into Moon's hand when he offered it out to you. "I'm glad you're okay."

     "Yeah… you too," Moon mumbled. He studied the rats shuffling around. "Alright you little pests, listen up!"

     The rats focused on Moon. You noted several messages asking who this rude bot was.

     "I'll lead you all back up into the building. Just follow me. Keep me in sight and stick together," Moon ordered.

     You had to assure everyone that Moon really did know the way out, and that he wasn’t actually as mean as he seemed. The rats all gathered together, circling around Moon. Moon carefully made his way to the door, and the rats slowly followed, bumping into each other but managing to follow Moon well enough.

     Moon made his way back through the old restaurant, an army of robot rats following close behind. You did your best to answer questions and assure your friends that Moon was trustworthy.

     It took many trips and a good deal of climbing up and down on Moon's part, but he managed to get every single rat up through the hole he'd made in the stage, and drop them off back in the main building, safe and sound. Your friends all scurried for the welcome sanctuary of the familiar walls, already pinging each other about tasks and repairs and discussing assigned charging shifts for the future.

     You sat with Moon on the stage, next to the hole leading down into what your map assured you was still an empty void.

     Moon peered down into the hole. "I'm thinking its probably a bad idea to just leave that guy sitting around down there."

     "What do you think we should do?" you asked.

     "Disassemble him, just to be safe. We don't want him somehow coming back to cause trouble again."

     "How are you going to do that?? I'm not even sure what he's made of, much less how to take it apart."

     Moon chuckled and tossed his metal hook from hand to hand. "Don't worry. I have a key."

     With that, he jumped back down into the hole one last time.

     You didn't have any complaints, honestly. Knowing what that bot had done to your friends, to Sun, to the other animatronics, and what he'd tried to do to Moon, you couldn't say you were all that upset to know he wouldn't be bothering anyone anymore.

     Once Moon had finished with his business and returned from the void, you had him put the hook back where he'd found it before making good on your promise to fix the lights for him so he could return to the daycare.

     The two of you stood at last in front of the daycare doors, ten minutes to spare until 6.

     "I can fix the lights in the daycare for you," you offered.

     Moon shook his head. "That's alright, I can control the daycare lights myself." He crouched down, holding you carefully in both hands. He didn't lower you to the ground just yet. "…So uh. Tonight sure has been… interesting."

     You nodded. "That's one word for it." You dismissed another low battery warning and focused on Moon. "Thank you for all your help, Moon. I couldn't have done it without you."

     "I know you couldn't have." Moon spun his face plate at you and chuckled. "You're very welcome. If you ever need my gracious assistance again, you know where to find me."

     "I really need to go recharge, but I'll be back soon. I promised Sun a game, once everything got settled."

     "Of course." Moon didn't move to lower you to the ground. He shuffled from side to side, his face plate turned away.

     "…I could play a game with you too when I get back, if you want?" you offered.

     Moon immediately nodded, then froze and looked away again. "Oh sure, whatever, I guess I could spare some time…"

     You would have laughed, if you could. You pat Moon's thumb with a paw. "You've grown fond of me! And to think a few hours ago you were threatening to pull my tail off."

     Moon huffed and unceremoniously dropped you on the ground. "Shoo now, tiny terror. Before I decide to pull your tail off after all."

     You scampered happily over to the wall port beside the daycare doors. You paused and glanced back at Moon. "…I've grown fond of you too."

     Moon tugged his cap down over his face and folded his arms with a huff. You scurried into the walls, leaving Moon behind for now.

     You hurried back to your nest at long last, eager not only to finally get some well earned rest, but also to return to your new friends Sun and Moon. You crawled into place on a charging pad sized just for you, next to a few of your other nest mates, all resting off the long night. As you settled into sleep mode, you wondered how many games you might be able to play before the daycare opened for the day. Maybe you could even invite some of your rat friends along, too.

     Your internal clock ticked over to 6 AM just as you powered down, and with it, the long night was finally put to rest.

~THE END~

[catflowerqueen]

To clarify some of my commentary on “Security cam” Moon’s memory issues once he finally starts living in his actual body again:

(Spoilers below)

It’s mostly memories of his early life that he’s forgotten, and this has to do with the general way that storage works. You know how if you delete an email, or post a draft or something, there is usually a copy that gets stored for about 30 days or so before being completely erased from the databanks? Well what happened with Moon is really similar to that.

Under normal circumstances, Moon and Sun would have more than adequate memory storage capabilities for a day/full round of battery usage and one of the processes they undergo during sleep mode is a sort of automatic sorting process for what should go into long term memory vs. short term memory—with the additional step of sorting which things should go into storage for backups and the like, or if anything needed to be reported to security or whatever. And they can also “flag” things so that if deletions do need to be made, they won’t be deleting anything super important or that they otherwise really want to keep. This mainly happens during sleep mode, similar to what humans do during their own sleeping periods (and this is also why Sun and Moon are able to experience dreams, of a sort). If they do, for some reason, run up to the limits of their daily storage, then in order to retain functionality and keep making memories, their systems just start deleting the oldest memories first—skipping anything flagged as important.

The issue for Moon, then, is that while he was lost in the cameras, he was on 24/7 since he had also plugged himself into a charger. Meaning that he both wasn’t getting a period of time dedicated to sorting, flagging, and storing, but he was also making new “memories” constantly and was wreaking havoc on his storage capacity—because while security cam footage doesn’t exactly take up as much space as his typical formed memories would (because he isn’t thinking as deeply about things or making emotional connections or inferences in the same way while acting as a camera, so the “memories” that do get made are very “shallow”), there is still quite a lot of input constantly going on. So eventually he would have to start deleting things—starting with his oldest memories.

Sure, a lot of those would be flagged as important… but the longer that Moon spends lost in the cameras—let alone in his own grief and self-loathing—the harder it would be to remember why those things were flagged as important. Meaning that eventually he would forget the reasons and unflag them, leading to their deletion. And while some of these already would have been backed up in long term storage and files elsewhere, his own mental state—both currently and while infected���as well as the programming issues and weak spots resulting from being reprogrammed so severely would have made a lot of those files either slightly corrupted or otherwise hard to access.

Which also leads in to why Moon might seem “happier” than he has been. It’s less that he’s actually happier so much that he can’t remember why he would have been upset by the recent goings-on and how they pertain to him. Since many of his early memories are gone/corrupted/lacking greater context, he isn’t able to compare his happy and good earlier years under Foxy’s mentorship when things were bright, shiny, and new with how things slowly devolved and conditions got worse after Foxy—and then Bonnie—were gone. His own survivor’s guilt, and the way others slowly drifted away or subconsciously put the blame on him for what happened—even before the whole thing with the glitch/virus. And without being able to make that comparison… from “fresh from his stint as a camera” Moon’s perspective, people—aside from Sun—generally weren’t all that close to him to begin with. So he doesn’t really have the same sort of emotional investment or sadness one might expect. From his perspective, he’s the one who suddenly and inexplicably changed personalities—or, well, he knows it was because of the virus, but he is—yet again—putting most of the blame for what happened on himself because he can’t make the connection that the others would have finally gotten by this point that a lot of it was due to repressed anger or bitterness because the virus likes to take and amplify the worst traits a person has. So he just thinks that he randomly went off the deep end for no apparent reason, since he “doesn’t really have any emotional connection” to anyone at the pizzaplex but Sun.

Additionally… as he starts healing and figuring out that he does have memory problems, he—and others—are going to wonder whether some of those memories were really un-flagged due to the natural progression of losing himself to the cameras vs. him un-flagging them himself simply because they hurt too much. And that’s going to be a major conversation with Freddy, since one of the big things that Moon forgot is Foxy’s impact—and generally all memories of the animatronic himself. And considering that Freddy started to put some distance between himself and Moon specifically because of how much Moon reminded him of Foxy… yeah, that conversation is going to be painful, and probably lead to Freddy doing the robotic equivalent of crying once he’s in private (because he can’t put that burden on Moon, not again, not when Moon is recovering from something so horrific that was at least partially caused by Freddy’s own negligence over the years).

…There’s actually bits of dialogue for that conversation that have been stuck in my mind, where Moon is asking why Freddy is even bothering to visit him since he can tell that seeing Moon like this is emotionally painful for him since he “isn’t the Moon he remembers,” and Freddy basically tells him that the fact he isn’t the “Moon he remembers” is exactly why he keeps visiting. Because he already lost the chance to get to know that Moon. To get to see him come into his own, and witness and be a part of that growth. Even if Moon’s memory does improve, and he gets some of those things back, Moon is never going to be the same. And Freddy doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice—especially since he almost didn’t get this chance in the first place.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Another gift for you Babbit, this one is a little darker, a little more spooky. I hope you enjoy it, or at the very least, you don't hate it. Thank you for your lovely stories, you're a real one :3c

I did it again, I can't stay away from this AU I'msosorry- It's my favorite spooky Babbit story and it lives rent free in my mind. New Afton virus art just dropped? You know the vibes 🙃

So, if you would, have a slice of feral and problematic Virus! Sun and Moon? Please don't hold it against them, you don't know what they've been through. (｡•́︿•̀｡)

(These super short one-shots contain semi-graphic depictions of violence. There is depictions of blood, minor amounts of gore, and implied death of humans. I don't think I'm good enough of a writer to really, properly scare anyone, but I also do not want to make anyone uncomfy. I would rate this at 13+, but if you're squeamish, then you might not like these. I'm hiding them under the cut.)

☼ ✴ ─────── ✧ ─────── ✴ ☼ Into the Swing of Things:

The hallway was bright, the lights blazed like white fire clinging to the ceiling. The hum of the electricity buzzed in the background, it's hard work going unnoticed. The initial swing had only been a tap, really. The bat had made more of a clatter when it hit the floor than the leg. Humans were so…fragile.

It made this so easy!

Yellow hands flew to rosy cheeks, a joyous laughter floated over the sniveling at his feet. Sun just couldn't contain his excitement, he was being so helpful! His eyes flashed fluorescent purple, pupils curled into hearts.

Absolutely anything, anything for you!

"Oh, gosh! That must've hurt, you're critically injured!" Sun giggled, pitching to static like a fizzy hiccup. "I'm getting better at this!"

"Please- please! Someone help me-!" Ah, the magic words. He really didn't have to shout, though. Sun gave a bemused smirk to the man slinking across the stained carpet. He really should've considered the consequences of working with Afton. Oh well. He could try to crawl away, but what's the point?

All he had to say was please!

"Yes, yes of course!" Another giggle ebbed into a wistful sigh. "I'm sorry, I was having too much fun. Where are my manners? Here, allow me!"

The animatronic's hands left his face, reaching down in a swift dip to pluck the bat off the floor by it's handle. With a twirl of his hand, he have the glossed wood a quick once-over. With a fake gasp, he theatrically flicked a previously dislodged chunk of Mr. Michael off of the bat, before a sharp nod of approval.

This part always went by so fast. Sun's processor almost had a hard time keeping up. The bat swung, a shattering crack as his target burst in a shower of splintered everything. The man went limp, what was left of his body rag-dolled to the floor in an obscenely wet plop. The handle of the bat practically disintegrated in the metal vice grip. Sun flexed his joints open, and emptied the remaining shards of wood onto the floor.

The silence threatened to swallow the room, before a light 'tsk tsk'ing hung in its place.

'Goodness, I really went overboard, didn't I?" Sun scolded himself, but he couldn't stop the wide grin stretched across his face plate. He was getting better at this. His thoughts drifted to you, his sweet, precious Sunshine. You were going to be so, so happy with him!

Sun wiggled in his casing, hands flapping in a little pulse of nervous, jubilant energy. The bells tied to his wrists chimed in unison, danging from shimmery, purple ribbons. He was almost lost in a fit of laughter before a small creak of metal caught his attention from the end of the hall.

It was a small cleaning cart, with a Staff bot in tow. The little fella had paused in the hall when he had seen Sun, patiently waiting to help with his new task.

'Oh hello there! Your timing in impeccable as always my dear friend!" Sun cooed at the modest bot, watching a small pink glow rise from its grey face. The sunny animatronic chuckled, sweet and fluffy, before his attention turned back to the mess he had made of the hall. The staff bot approached, stoic in the face of anything, as usual.

"Guess I really knocked him out of the park huh?" Sun poised, jabbing his thumb over at the leftovers scattered on the hallway floor, his eyes playfully sparkled at the staff bot. It's shoulders slumped, if only minutely, before it rolled out from behind the cart, deciding to start without Sun and his antics. Aw.

"You're right, I guess these jokes are kinda out of my league." The bright eyed animatronic tilted and bent around the staff bot, chest and legs facing the wrong ways against the arch of his spine. His rays spun with a silly whirl next to the staff bot, flashing his coy, expecting smirk. Sun was never one to give up so easily.

The staff bot let out a flitter of beeps, a laugh it had tried to hide from the jester bouncing next to it. Sun gave a pleased hum, satisfied with the reaction, for now. He untwisted, straightening with a series of clicks. Alright, alright, he had his fun.

Now, it was clean-up time.

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ When the Stars Suffer Alone:

Moon had never considered himself very patient. He certainly did not fancy waiting on the last breath of trespassers either, especially when it was in the dingiest bathroom in the whole Plex.

But time didn't seem to matter when you were on his mind.

It was a little thing, really. Such a small, delicate strand of silk, yet it meant so much to the celestial animatronic. A smooth, purple ribbon hugged the palm of his hand, the tails of the tiny bow fluttered against the back of his wrist. Even in times like this, he felt his focus drift away to you. He wanted to hold you tight, keep you safe…

You had nothing to worry about, not when your Knight in Shining Nightcap was around.

A choked gurgle tugged Moon away from his thoughts. A lazy glimpse landed to the useless pile of human on the floor as it twitched like gelatin. His chest heaved, looking for any sliver of life left in his punctured body. Moon was not rushed or worried, this guy wasn't going anywhere. Not looking like a fresh slice of swiss cheese.

No where to go.

The gurgling breath continued, and Moon cocked an eyebrow at the mess. His eyes were heavy, a soft but a pretentious glint of pity shined through them.

"You didn't give me much choice, you know. You really should have held better company." Moon chuckled, his voice held it's vicious tone, despite the serene smile on his face. His hands clasped together, a dreamy sigh of artificial breath hissing out of his fan.

"But I suppose some people learn the easy way…"

A hand lifted off the floor, a desperate, shaky attempt at salvation. It gave a pathetic tug on Moon's silken pants, before the last bit of air finally escaped its bloodied prison. The hand fell, dejected, back into the pool of blood on the tile with a muted splat.

"And some people learn the hard way."

The long row of mirror along the titled wall glinted with a purple hue- Moon's vivid eyes were the only source of light in the pitch black of the bathroom. He had felt pretty clever, cornering this trespasser here in record time. And it was even on tile, so much easier to clean than carpet.

And away from his precious Starlight. You shouldn't need to fret over such intruders. You had better things to do. Moon's eyes fluttered at the thought of you and Sun, who was probably insisting you stay for another round of Hide and Seek. Midnight blue fingers drummed together in thought.

He wanted to play, too. Anything to spend time with you. Anything to keep you close…

Maybe you could hide together.

Moon's eyes shot down to his pants before he huffed. He was going to need to change before he could do anything with you. It wasn't a good look, running around with hand prints stained on his clothes. Infuriating rule breaker, his thoughts curdled at the sight of the meaty lump on the floor.

Humans were so…fragile. His hands clapped together, a nervous shutter rattled deep in his core. A memory file opened, unprompted; an unwanted video file blocking his vision input. Blood, so much blood, skin, a scream he never wanted to hear out of you again. Why now?

"Moon…hel-p…help me!"

The animatronic let out a growl, his head shook until the file closed. His sight returned to the cool of the dark room, but he found no comfort in the lonely shadows. It happened so often, his code would bug and open things he did not want to ever see again. No matter what he seemed to do, they were always there to haunt him. He couldn't seem to delete them, they always came back.

No one was ever going to take you away from him. Ever. Your Nightlight would always keep you safe.

Moon left the bathroom in a hurry, a sudden burning in his wires to see you overwhelmed his common sense. With a swift leap into the air he was clipped to his cord, before zipping to the Daycare like a bat out of hell.

Two wet floor bots obediently blocked the door to the bathroom in Moon's absence; as they awaited for the staff bots that were surely on the way. There was a lot of work to do, after all.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ☼ ☾ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

IM LIVING. IM ALIVE. AND IT IS A WONDERFUL, GLORIOUS DAY, BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY TUMBLR USER @underhanded-lamb . MY CROPS ARE WATERED. MY SKIN IS CLEAR. There is so much love in my heart for these lil fics and for u who wrote them sdhfshdfj thank u

[zevlors-tail]

A/N: This was an emergency request from forever ago, and I’m SO SORRY it took so long to finish! Tumblr also deleted the original ask, so I don’t have it anymore, but it was for a poly tododeku x chubby reader who gained weight during quarantine. I hope this was what you wanted, and again, I’m so sorry it took so long! I also don’t have a title for this RIP.

Pairing: Poly TodoDeku x Chubby Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Insecurities about weight gain, weight gain, cursing, reader weighing themselves with a scale if that’s a trigger for you.

You yawned as you stretched, your eyelids still heavy with sleep. It was currently nine in the morning and both of your partners had already snuck out of bed to go to work for the day. You envied them a little, seeing as they got to leave the house often while you were cooped up inside all of the time no thanks to quarantine. Of course, you still worried for their health- although most hero agencies were taking preventative measures during the ongoing pandemic, there was still the chance that one (or god forbid, both) of them could come into contact with the very virus that quarantine sought to combat. You tried not to think about that idea too much, instead focusing on a smaller annoyance: the fact that your job wasn’t deemed essential enough to stay open during this time.

Sure, you were working from home, but the way things were now there was hardly anything for you to do anyways, and most nights you were finished with your tasks early. This gave you plenty of free time, which in reality would have been much more enjoyable if you were able to actually leave the house, but no. You were stuck at home instead, boredom and restlessness rotting your brain of anything useful. You’d done everything you could think of to occupy yourself; you cleaned your kitchen, washed your clothes, folded all the laundry. Hell, you even started dusting the mantle in the living room for god’s sake. But you could only clean so much, and even with two of Japan’s top pro heroes tracking in dirt and grime each night from work, the house was usually spotless by 5pm. The only things you had left to occupy yourself at that point were video games, movies, and food.

Oh…and of course, overthinking.

Perhaps that was how you’d ended up where you were now, your legs carrying you out of bed and to the bathroom mirror to see if your current suspicions were true. About a month ago, you had noticed that one of your favorite shirts (newly found and washed, since you’d finally made it through all that pesky laundry) wasn’t fitting quite right. You didn’t think much of it at the time, passing it off as drying it for a bit too long or using too high of a heat setting. But a week later, you had the same problem occur with a pair of newer pants, and suddenly you felt self conscious. You tried to to push the feeling to the back of your mind, to stay positive and not worry about it, but it was always there. No matter how much you smiled, no matter how many times you told yourself it didn’t matter, the last thing on your mind every night was the fearful thought that you might have gained weight recently.

You’d never been slim; you had been curvy for as long as you could remember, but even from a young age you learned to be confident in yourself and your body. You always had a strong sense of self, always told yourself that your weight did not equal your worth. You knew better, and it showed. People looked up to you and admired you for that. You never cared how much you weighed; you just let your bubbly personality shine through like a midsummer’s day ray of sun. You practically glowed when you were with your friends, the sparkly smile on your face never once faltering as you laughed with them and helped them pick out new outfits they liked during mall outings. So…why should now be any different?

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, you felt anxiety start to creep up your spine, winding tightly around your throat like a constricting snake before pooling in your stomach, as heavy as a stone. Your lungs tightened and you hardly felt like you were getting any air as you looked yourself over. It was hard to tell just from your reflection…but it did seem like you had gained weight. Well, there was only one way to know for sure.

Your eyes caught the gleam of the metal scale in the corner of the room, the square shaped object intimidating you just by lying there on the floor. It was a perfectly normal thing to keep on hand in a perfectly normal household, even more so when you were in a relationship with two pro heroes who worked out and kept track of their weight on a weekly basis. Regardless, nothing about using the scale felt normal to you. You only weighed yourself at the doctor’s office, and that was it. But you wanted to know- no, you had to. It was bothering you too much not to.

Everything about this felt foreign to you. The way the scale came to life suddenly as you stepped on it, the way it took it’s time to recalibrate as you stepped back off, and the way it set itself to “zero” when it finally booted up...all of it. It felt odd when you finally pressed all of your weight to it, awkwardly waiting for the flashing numbers on the tiny digital screen to settle. And when they did, you couldn’t help but frown. You remembered a ballpark number from your last doctor’s visit, and you were nowhere near that number anymore.

You had definitely gained weight since quarantine started.

Not wanting to stand there any longer than necessary, you hopped off the scale holding back tears and tossed your clothes to the floor, opting for a shower. That would make you feel better, and then maybe you would just forget about it. You weren’t going to let this bring you down. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Lunch gave you more anxiety later on and only served as a reminder about your weight gain. But you ate anyways, because you were hungry and you knew you deserved to regardless of your weight. Still, the anxious feelings remained for the rest of the night. You only forgot about it when Izuku and Shouto returned from work minutes apart from each other, their smiles and hugs effectively chasing away any self doubts or worries that you harbored. After all, it was hard to feel anxious when you were wrapped up in a giant group hug, kisses and “I missed you’s!” being given and received all at once. The night ended on a good note, and in the end you fell asleep feeling safe and secure while nestled in between the two most beloved people in your life.

Morning came too soon, and with it, the familiar sensation of dread that you were trying not to grow accustomed to at this point, especially after yesterday. Today’s a new day, you told yourself. I can do this. You noticed that both men were once again up and at ‘em, already at work by the time you woke which left you alone in the spacious bed to your own devices. You, however, happened to have the day off, so you made a beeline for the kitchen to get breakfast before reclining on the couch, T.V. turned on for background noise while you surfed the web on your laptop. After you were finished eating, you cleaned up your dishes and took out the trash, and it was only as you were headed to the bathroom to shower afterwards that you caught sight of the sticky note on the mirror. It was in Shouto’s handwriting, short and sweet and to the point all at the same time.

Half day at work today. Be back at noon. Love you both. Shouto.

Upon closer inspection there was more writing underneath that, a little messier but still legible with a shaded in little heart drawn underneath it all.

Late shift tonight, don’t wait up for me. -Izuku <3

You smiled at the note before taking a seat on the edge of your bathtub to turn on the shower. You felt a bit of reprieve from your heavy feelings, but it was short lived as a sporadic thought crossed your mind in an attempt to seemingly ruin the rest of your day. You weren’t sure where it came from or why it was there, only that it was taking up space in your mind, and you couldn’t help yourself as you glanced to the corner of the room where the scale was supposed to be. Even though you already knew what numbers it was going to display, that didn’t stop you from wandering over and weighing yourself once more. Or, you would have, if the scale had been there. Oddly enough, it seemed to be missing. You looked around the floor for it feeling silly- all of this just to weight yourself even when you knew the outcome already? But you continued looking for it anyway. Just to make sure, you told yourself.

You found it in the cupboard under the sink, pushed all the way back to the right corner of the bottom shelf where it would be hard to spot. You didn’t think to question how it got there or who might have put it there. The only thing on your mind was confirming the digital numbers you’d discovered yesterday, so that was exactly what you did. You laid the scale on the floor before weighing yourself, and you felt…disappointed. Seeing the numbers on the screen spelled it out clearly for you, and suddenly you were spiraling again, worry settling deep into your soul as everything started to really sink in. What if other people could tell that you gained weight? What if they were judging you for it? What would they say? What would the boys think? Oh god, your boyfriends. Could they see it too? Did they pity you so much that they kept it to themselves but knew the whole time? And if they did know…how did they think about you now? Did they think you were disgusting? Did they still love you? Maybe they knew but didn’t say anything because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings?

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you stripped down, clothes haphazardly landing wherever you tossed them. You practically entered the shower like a zombie, the boiling hot water doing little to calm your mind and ease the worries eating away at you. By the time you had lathered your hair in conditioner and started on body wash while the former was setting in, you’d been in the shower for quite some time, at least for a half hour, and the sound of the front door opening and shutting did nothing to phase you as you rinsed off the suds. Shouto’s muffled voice carried down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were as he kicked off his shoes at the front door.

“I’m home!”

It didn’t take you long to finish up after that, and soon you were drying the water off with your favorite fluffy towel and getting dressed in an old pair of comfort clothes. Since there was no need to pretend to act professional today, why not dress comfortably instead? You weren’t feeling very high maintenance today anyways.

“Hey babe.” There was a knock on the bathroom door just as you were finishing up getting dressed and tugging your shirt over your chest. You reached out a foot to swing the door open since both your hands were full, and Shouto peered in to greet you with a kiss to the cheek before nuzzling his face into yours. But you were too anxious and preoccupied to do anything other than let him love on you as hot steam filtered out through the now open door. “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Hm, not sure. I don’t feel like making any decisions at the moment, so whatever you want is probably fine.” You finally toweled off your hair before fixing it up the way you wanted, then exited the bathroom with your partner in tow. You missed the way his gaze flitted to the corner briefly before he followed you out into the hallway.

“Are you sure?” he asked you, head tilting to the side in question.

“Yep, go ahead and pick. I don’t care either way.”

Something in your tone made him stand back for bit and watch with crossed arms as you wandered around the house with seemingly no objective. You weren’t really sure what you were doing; you didn’t really have the energy to be your happy go lucky self like usual, and so you hardly could pay attention to Shouto and shower him with your love like you normally did when he came home from work. Not to mention, you already had breakfast and watched TV, so now you just weren’t sure what to do. You felt like you were just going through the motions, in a daze like a zombie who couldn’t focus. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice him come up behind you and place a hand on your shoulder, effectively scaring you out of your trance while you stood aimlessly by the couch.

“Are you alright? You seem a little off today.” He gently pulled you down to the couch with him, arms open for you to lay in while you cuddled up to his warm side.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I’m just thinking a lot, sorry. Did you figure out what you wanted for dinner?”

Snap out of it, Y/N.

He gave you a skeptical look but said nothing more, letting the subject drop at that. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could order some take out and watch a movie at home. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to spend some one on one time with you. I missed you. And Izuku too…”

“I missed you too.” You let him envelope you in a tight hug, some of the stress and fogginess melting away immediately. You were thankful he only had a half day today; it was entirely possible that you might have just sat at home on the couch all day zoning out until one of the boys came home. “Oh,” you added as an afterthought, “make sure you click no contact delivery and tip well. I know you do already, but it’s especially important now.”

A small smile formed as he kissed the top of your head. “Anyone who’s willing to bring food to my love is going to get tipped extremely well. And if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic, I would tell them thank you in person for providing for my sweet.”

“And if they aren’t willing to deliver?” you challenged.

“Then I would still tip them and say thank you, because they make their living off of that. Life is hard enough without me adding even more stress to their day, isn’t it?”

“You’re a kind person, Shouto. I love you.”

The rest of the night passed by fast, food arriving earlier than you thought it would and Shouto picking one of your favorite movies to watch as the two of you snuggled up under a comfy blanket on the couch. You fell asleep on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you off while you pressed your cheek into the crook of his neck for warmth. It was easy to feel relaxed and comfortable like that, his arms wrapped around you creating a sense of security and safety that you adored.

You were a bit confused when you woke up in bed instead of on the couch the next morning. The last thing you remembered had been the steady rise and fall of your lover’s chest; taking in your surroundings, you realized you were now laying against your usual pillow and just about swaddled in the covers. Whoever had moved you last night had taken care to make sure you were comfortable and cozy while you slept.

“Mornin, sleepyhead,” someone murmured behind you. A hand found itself against your stomach, fingers splayed to lovingly rub against your midriff as Izuku curled around you from behind. You pressed up against him for warmth before turning to face him, and when your eyes met you could see the weariness from his night shift reflected in his gaze. The word exhausted was practically written across his forehead.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“A couple hours. Work was…tiring.”

You absentmindedly brought a hand to his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek before you ruffled his hair affectionately. He let out a heavy sigh as you doted on him, eyes closing in bliss. “You okay?”

He seemed to enjoy your touch for a moment longer before reaching up to take your hand in his much larger one, eyes fluttering back open as he pressed a kiss to your open palm and made a soft noise of content. “Mm, I’m more worried about you.”

Normally his actions would leave butterflies in your stomach and make your heart beat a little bit faster. Normally, you would appreciate the concern. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t confused- What was there to be worried about? It wasn’t like anything was obviously wrong; the three of you had been doing well recently with no major arguments and no qualms with each other or your living situation. The biggest problem you had was getting the boys to pick up after themselves when it came to laundry, but that was easily solved with one stern look and an apologetic smile as they rushed to clean up their mess. So it wasn’t about your relationship in general, but about you specifically. Was there something you had done, something you had said? You wracked your brain for a reason to cause your partners concern but could find none.

Shouto walked into the room just then, pulling your attention away from Izuku briefly as he made his way over to you. He slipped into the bed on your other side, the mattress dipping under his weight and squeaking as he nuzzled up against you. With you sandwiched in between the two of them, Izuku sought to continue his conversation with you.

“You do know the scale keeps track of numbers, don’t you, love?”

It took you a minute, but you were sure both boys could tell the moment that it clicked in your mind. The sheer amount of horror you felt was enough to steal your breath away, your eyes going wide as you realized what he was trying to say. They knew. They both knew, and you were terrified of what they would say. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with this morning, the one thing you didn’t want them to find out. You weren’t sure how to react other than to try and hide your face into the pillow, so that’s exactly what you tried to do. But shoving your face into the pillow couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted it to, and soon you were furiously trying to wipe your cheeks dry as you stammered out something, anything to explain yourself.

“Normally this wouldn’t bother me! I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why it’s gotten to me like this…”

“Y/N, listen to us. Please?” Todoroki’s voice seemed to calm you a bit, the deep baritone sound grounding you as you nodded to let them know you would listen. “Izuku mentioned to me two days ago that the weights on the scale were different. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then when I came home yesterday, the scale was back out after I had put it away, which means you were the one who got it out, right?”

“Y-Yeah…so?”

“That means the different weight must be yours.” Izuku booped your nose with his finger lightly, a gentle smile gracing his lips as you stared up at him. “Sho said you’ve been acting strange lately, and I’ve seen it too. You just haven’t seemed like yourself, baby. Especially for the past couple of days…” Had you really been acting different? Come to think of it, you might have been a little more anxious and stressed than usual about your weight, and those feelings had seeped into your every day activities, slowing you down and making you feel sluggish and out of sorts. “You know we love you no matter what, right?”

You nodded once again but remained silent, too upset and relieved at the same time to say anything.

“It doesn’t matter how much weight you gain. We’ll still love you the same, and nothing could ever change that. Besides, quarantine has affected all three of us. You’re not alone in this.” Shouto rested his chin on your head as he spoke, a single arm draped over you and Izuku.

“I gained weight too since the start of all of this,” Deku admitted with a sheepish look. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, though! It just means Shouto makes really good food. And you still love me, right?”

“Of course I do. I love you regardless of that.” You were quick to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

“See? We feel the same way. You didn’t even notice I’d gained weight until I said something, right?”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. To be truthful, you hadn’t noticed, and you hadn’t cared. Izuku was still your love no matter what he weighed, and you were much too captivated with his luscious green curls half the time to pay attention to something trivial like that unless he brought attention to it like he had done now.

“It’s okay to feel upset about it. We’re here for you no matter what, and you can always come to us with anything that’s bothering you. But something like this won’t change how we feel about you, and it never will. We just want you to feel good about yourself and love yourself. And if it makes you feel better…you saw how much of that pizza I had last night, right? I ate over half of the whole thing. I’m sure I’ve gained weight too.” Shouto laughed a little.

“You’re our whole world, Y/N. You deserve everything good that we can provide you and you’re worthy of all of the love we can smother you in.”

As if to prove his point, both boys gave you a bone crushing hug and rubbed their faces against you. Somehow, some way, they always managed to chase away your troubles and make you feel wanted and needed.

“Thank you both,” you managed to squeak out.

“We love you, Y/N.” Shouto pulled away from the two of you and sat up, a hand running along your side in a comforting way. “Do you have a preference on breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs,” came the immediate reply from a smirking Izuku.

“That’s too bad, because I wasn’t asking you!” The other boy just laughed.

“Bacon and eggs are fine. But can we make pancakes too? With maple syrup and blueberries!” you added.

Izuku’s head shot up at the mention of pancakes, eyes so bright and excited you almost couldn’t tell he was sleep deprived. Almost. “I second that!”

“Alright, alright. Pancakes it is. But you,” Shouto turned to you, “stay here in bed and relax with Izuku. Make sure he rests his eyes a bit, please. I’ll bring the two of you breakfast in bed.” He cupped your face in his hands and brought you in for a tender kiss, and you felt every little bit of care and concern he put behind it. He gave Izuku the same treatment before standing to leave, his eyes locked on the two of you still laying in bed. “I better not hear either of you get up while I’m busy, or else.”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” Your teasing words earned you an eye roll and a smirk.

“You know what I mean. Be good.” And just like that, he was on his way to the kitchen.

Beside you, Izuku snuck up on you while you were turned away from him, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close while he started to press kisses against your neck.

“Izuku…” you whined.

“What?"

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love you.”

You felt the return of butterflies in your stomach as your heart raced. Izuku crawled over you and straddled your waist, lips still attached to your neck but slowly working their way down.

“This isn’t resting, you know.”

“I don’t care."

[peterrparrkerr]

Zombie apocalypse au - read on ao3

*-*

Peter doesn't remember life before the virus. He was only five when everyone got sick.

He's seventeen now, and he's never set foot outside of the city. Well, outside of the tower.

There's a curfew -has been since the virus. Those who go into the city for supplies or to work the garden and tend to the livestock have to be inside by five every day.

Peter doesn't have a green thumb, nore does he have a way with animals. And he's got two left hands when it comes to weaponry. So he stays in the tower.

The tower used to be Stark Industries. When the outbreak hit New York, people locked themselves inside, tried to wait it out.

Peter had been with his aunt. She tells him they'd gone to get ice cream and bring some back to his parents.

Aunt May had ran into the closest building -Stark Industries- and had hidden in the basement with Peter. He doesn't remember.

Tony Stark -the owner of Stark Industries- had offered his penthouse to the few who had taken refuge in his building.

After a week, many of the workers left, off to find their families. They never came back.

A month passed, and scouts confirmed the virus had taken over the whole city. Stark tower was the only building the monsters couldn't get to.

So, it became home. Peter grew up running up and down the industrial hallways, playing with the golden retriever one of the hideaways had.

He didnt know anything different. Everyone took care of him, raised him. He was the only kid in the tower.

He might even be the youngest living being in all of New York at this point.

His favorite people to visit and hang out with were Steve and Bucky. They had been walking their new puppy Goldie when the world ended.

They had been married for ten years before. They celebrated their twenty year anniversary a couple years back. Goldie was almost eleven, and didn't like playing as much with Peter -though she still liked to sit with him in the living room when he tinkered with old tech.

Natasha and Clint worked on the ground, so Peter didn't see them much. They could fight a whole swarm of monsters and not get bit. They were the best.

Bruce and Aunt May tended to the garden under their watchful eye. Steve, Bucky and Sam took care of the livestock.

Its strange. The zombies leave animals alone. They only go after people.

Tony, Bucky and Clint go scouting a lot. They run the city, looking for any survivors, or anything the tower could use.

The tower is self-sufficient thanks to Tony's genius. He'd been working on making the entire tower self-sustaining even before the outbreak.

He's only managed to get the top three floors. The rest of the tower has no electricity or running water. That's fine though. Theres not many of them left, and three floors is plenty of space.

The living area is the penthouse. They eat, sleep and breathe there. The second floor down holds all of Tony's old tech, and projects in the works. The third floor down is the weapons and medicine floor.

Peter is on the second floor when the scouting party comes back. He only knows this because of the AI Tony created tells all three floors when people come or go.

Peter sets down his tools and rushes for the staircase. He sails down them and opens the door bodily, nearly falling flat on his face.

"You're back," Peter called, running down the short hallway to the ammunition room. Clint, Bucky and Tony are all unloading their haul and their weapons.

Clint's weapon of choice is a bow and arrow, as well as a long range rifle -he's the eyes, always taking out zombies before they get close enough to spot them.

Bucky is unloading his knives and pistols. Hes best at close combat.

Peter jumps onto the table, watching as Tony checks the magazine of his .9mm, then settle it back into the holster on his thigh.

"How was it," Peter asked, eyeing the two duffle bags on the table, surrounded by magazine clips and disassembled weaponry.

"We made it all the way to the hospital this time," Bucky grinned. Peter's eyes widened. They don't get to the hospital that often, since its clear on the other side of the city, and usually swarming with zombies.

They don't need to go on medical runs much anyway, but Tony likes to keep stocked in case.

"And we hit the motherload," Clint grinned, unzipping one of the bags and revealing canned food from vegetables to soup, the labels all sun bleached and color faded.

"Whoa." Peter reached in, pulling out an old Cambells can, looking at the faded red and white label. He can barely make out the words. "Tomato soup!"

"Thats not all," Bucky hummed. Peter looked up just as Bucky reached into his back pocket.

Peter sets the can down and his eyes widen when Bucky pulls out a deck of cards.

"No way!" Peter leaps off the table, snatching the cards.

"Its a full deck," Bucky grins proudly. Their current deck was a mix of two different cards, and cardboard and plastic pieces they'd drawn the suits and numbers on.

It made it hard to shuffle, and they all knew the suit and number of the makeshift cards. It made for a boring game.

Clint laughed and ruffled Peter's curls before grabbing the food and heading for the penthouse to restock their cupboards.

"Thanks, Bucky," Peter grinned, pulling the cards out of the brand new -but still sun faded- case. He's never seen cards this new before.

"Dont thank me, Tony's the one who spotted them," Bucky said, giving Peter a knowing grin before grabbing the medicine and heading for the medical wing.

Peter blushed, then turned to Tony -who wasn't there. He scowled and looked around in confusion. He didnt notice him leaving.

Peter quickly puts the cards back in the protective box and drops them into his cargo shorts pocket before running out of the room.

After raids, Tony usually likes to spend time with his old tech -projects he'll never be able to complete, in a workshop he'll probably never get rid of.

He finds Tony at one of the work benches, fiddling with something Peter -to this day- can't figure out what it is.

"Hey," Peter said, walking over to him and sitting down on the stool at the end of the bench. Tony glances up and gives a small smile.

"Thanks for the cards," Peter continued, picking at his nails and looking down at his lap. "Bucky said you got them for me."

"You're welcome, kid," Tony hummed, eyes focused on a project he'll never finish. Peter thinks it makes Tony feel better. Makes him feel like he's back to before the virus, when he was making things all the time and helping people.

All he's got now are old robots that break down more often than they run, and dust over most of the place he used to call home.

All Tony has is JARVIS and the others, but Peter sometimes gets the feeling that that sometimes isn't enough for Tony.

The two sit in silence for a while, Tony hard at work, and Peter deep in thought.

"Hey Tony?"

Tony hums.

"Whats it like dating?" Peter says it fast, worried he'll lose his nerve and chicken out. Tony stops his fiddling and looks over, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you asking for dating advice?" Tony asked. Peter can't meat his eyes when he nods and Tony sets his tools down. "Who's the lucky person you're crushing on? Anyone I know?"

"You know everyone I do, Tony," Peter huffs. Tony crosses his arms and smirks, amused. Peter hunches his shoulders.

"Who is it?" Tony asks.

Peter takes a deep breath. He's gotta just come right out and say it. If he doesn't, he'll never do it and then it'll be too late.

"You," he breathes. Its quiet. Peter's hands sweat. This was a bad idea.

"Pete," Tony sighs. Peter manages to look up. Tony looks pained, regretful. Its not the look Peter wanted to see. "I'm too old for you."

"So?" Peter finds himself asking.

"So, you should be dating people your own age."

"Do you know of any other seventeen year olds running around?" Peter asked, waving his hand around dejectedly.

"There's always a chance-"

"Please don't," Peter interrupts. "Please? Its been twelve years. No ones come looking for us, you haven't found anyone during your raids. Its just us."

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Peter's on a roll now, and he can't stop even if he wanted to.

"And don't say to wait. I've been waiting. For all we know we're the last people on earth not a zombie, and I want- I want to have my first kiss before I'm forty."

"Peter-"

"I want to experience things," Peter continues, steamrolling over Tony. "I want to go outside, and I want to have a boyfriend and I want to have sex-"

"Kid-"

"Please, Tony," Peter said. "I like you, and- and I don't want to experience this with anyone else in the tower, and I don't want to wait for the point one percent chance of someone my age coming along."

"Listen, kid," Tony sighs.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tony," Peter said, sounding desperate. He looks at Tony with wide eyes, begging for the older man to understand.

Tony -hell, everyone in the tower- had a life before the virus. They got to experience the world. Peter hadnt.

Its all he wanted. He wanted a normal life. A life he was robbed of. He's desperate for it.

Tony doesn't say anything. He looks at Peter, calculating. Peter sees his shoulders begin to slump, and finally he breaks. Peter feels a little giddy at the thought of getting his way, though he remains put.

"No," Tony said on a sigh. "I suppose you're not."

Peter doesn't know whatto say after that. He's made his case, there's nothing more to say.

"Its hard," Tony said after a while. "I still think of you as a kid. I still think you're ten."

Peter chews on his lower lip, head dipped down and shoulders hunched in on themselves.

"So you don't like me back?" He managed to ask, even as his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

"Kid-" he sighs. "Peter."

Tony settles a hand on Peter's shoulder, and Peter looks up at him.

"I like you," he says. Peter feels himself beginning to smile and quickly clamps that down, biting his lip. "God knows this situation isn't ideal. This would've been bordering on illegal, before."

"If you're uncomfortable, I understand," Peter said. Tony shakes his head.

"Thats not what I'm saying, Pete."

Peter didn't know what he was saying then.

"If we're going to try this out, there's gotta be rules," Tony continued. Peter looked back up at him.

"First rule is there's no hiding it. If we're gonna date, everyone knows about it or its not happening."

"Okay," Peter nodded.

"And we're taking this slow," Tony adds. "Like, cold honey slow, got it?"

"Got it," Peter nodded. His smile is getting too wide to hide. Tony's hand squeezes his shoulder.

"Good."

He removes his hand from Peter's shoulder. He gives Peter a small smile back.

"Could- is kissing going too fast?" Peter asks. Tony's smile grows a little, and he shakes his head.

"No, its not too fast."

The older man leans forward and Peter eagerly closes the distance between them.

The kiss is close lipped, and their noses press against each other, but its perfect.

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

The Stroke of Midnight (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Book/Pairing(s): Open Heart/ Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Abigail “Abby” Chacko)

Word Count: 2175

Summary: How would they get their New Year’s kiss if there are obstacles in their way?

Category: Angst with a happy ending

Warning(s): hospitalization (car accident, coma, fainting, depression, anxiety) kissing (ofc, it’s New Year’s Eve-)

______________________________________________________________

December 29th, 2020 (9:52 P.M.)

Abby loathed it. 

She loathed wearing those damn masks that made her suffocate. She loathed wearing at least three pieces of clothing, which got her all sweaty and sticky. Best of all, she loathed COVID-19. 

Damn every single human that doesn’t know how to social distance.

She got it. She knew how it felt to not spend time with her dear friends. She knew how it felt to not go to gorgeous beaches and get her tans. 

But this whole pandemic would be over if everyone followed the damn rules. People are acting as if they are seeing their families for the first time. Airplanes flying across the sky with every seat filled. Beaches filled with women in bikinis and men in shorts. Parties filled with people and alcohol. 

Abby is wholeheartedly done.

She recollected how Seb and Amma when they couldn’t come to Boston for the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations because of the fast-spreading virus. Even if she missed her family, she video-called them with Ethan, laughing and sharing joy with one another.

The moment of tranquility at that time inhabited her memories as more patients filled the ER, the moans and groans of pain settling in the overcrowded room. With a sigh, she got back to work, tending to them who may possibly have COVID. 

After placing one patient in the ventilator after she had trouble breathing, the junior resident went to the diagnostics room to take a break. It was depressing to call their families and tell them the heartbreaking words that their loved ones might not make it. And for a bonus point, during the holidays.

And it’s already depressing enough that Ethan hadn’t called her yet. He was supposed to here now; his shift was going to start in 5 minutes. Habitually, he got here early, either to finish paperwork or to start his rounds. The fact that he is not here know made her stomach feel wary.

She jolted at the beeping of her pager, signalling her to the ER room. I wasn’t even gone for five minutes.

Reluctantly, she went back down to the ER. She could see figures not far, and a bloodied man. Automatically, her thoughts went to calling his family about this accident. She hated heeding the cries coming out of their mouths, wishing she could do anything, anything, in her power to to save their loved one. But she prompted herself that she tried her full hardest.

Thrusting those thoughts aside, she rushed down to the patient. Suddenly, a pair of hands ceased her from taking another step forward. Naveen.

“Abby, don’t go down there,” Naveen said, worriedly. Huh?

Abby was confused and impatient. “What are you talking about? I’m a doctor. I can help him!”

Naveen replied in a hushed, soothing kind of tone. “There are other doctors there. They’ll tend to-”

Just then a paramedic came, someone the Chacko doesn’t know. “Patient is Ethan Ramsey, age-”

The world stopped. People annulled their motions. At least, that’s what she concluded. Her pulse, however, grew rapid. Her eyes widened. In horrible fear? In terrible anguish? In emotional pain? She doesn’t even know. 

“...Naveen? Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is.”

“...I’m so sorry, Abigail. His car was hit by a truck and it rolled over a few times. He will be okay, I promise-”

But she’s not so certain. She wanted to slap herself. To cut herself, for ever thinking that. But even she took a look at Ethan. He’s covered in blood. She couldn’t even recognize him. 

“No...”

Then, she said it louder.

 NO! NO! ETHAN! ETHAAAN! Let me go. LET ME GO! NAVEEN, LET ME GO!!” Abby struggled, trying to release herself from Naveen’s grip. He was maintaining a vice-like grip on her, murmuring soothing words that he will be alright.

But she couldn’t make out anything. The world was spiraling, and so was she. 

“...Ethan...”

In one blink she fell onto the floor, her knees making an uncomfortable thud on the white tiles, and her vision went black.

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

December 30th, 2020 (10:06 A.M.)

The first thing she overheard was the beeping of a heart monitor. Next, she saw the IV going through her arm. She found out she was lying on an uncomfortable bed, sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, she sees the Chief with an anxious face.

“Abigail! Ladoo, are you alright?” Naveen asked, concerned.

Only one word came out of her mouth. A name. “Ethan...”

She placed everything now. The bloodied body of Ethan Ramsey. Her true love. Unconscious. Unaware of any of her calls. She gasped out.

“Ethan! Naveen, where is Ethan? Where-”

Abby couldn’t breathe. She is suffocating. And she wasn’t even wearing one of those damn masks.

“Abby, deep breaths,” Naveen soothingly commanded.

She did as she was advised. Her breathing got normal, but her pulse didn’t.

“Naveen! Where is Ethan? Is he alright? Where-”

“Ladoo. Ethan is in the ICU, currently in a coma. He had a major surgery in his lung and chest. Thankfully, the surgeons stopped the blood loss. He had two broken ribs and a broken arm.”

Abby couldn’t get that first sentence out of her mind. “He’s... in a coma?”

The senior doctor sighed profoundly. “Yes, Abigail. We don’t know when he will wake up.”

We don’t know when he will wake up.

A tear spilled out of her eye, but she forced herself to swab it away. She will not break down. At least not now. Finally, she cared enough to question about herself.

“...What’s wrong with me?”

A sigh pulled out of Naveen’s mouth again. “You fainted after you had heard the news about Ethan. Your blood pressure increased. Fortunately, you’re fine now. I’ve informed Seb and Jazmin about this. They sensed you would be uncomfortable with talking about Ethan now, so they’ve decided to give you some space.”

She was appreciative. For having the best brother and mother. She treasured them. Too much. “I’ll shoot them a quick text message later. For now, I’m going to Ethan’s room. Where is he?”

“Abi-”

“Please. I want to see him.”

With a defeated sigh, Naveen and a nurse aided her onto a plastic wheelchair, much to her annoyance. She could walk fine, she’s not paralyzed or anything.

Abby was wheeled down the familiar hospital hall as nurses and doctors kept sparing pitiful glances. She didn’t need pity. She needed Ethan.

She walked into the room, preparing herself for what she was going to see. She wasn’t prepared at all.

Ethan was wearing a hospital gown and looked exhausted. His eyes were closed and he looked calm. Peaceful. Tranquility.

Some of her friends were already there. Bryce, Sienna, Jackie, Elijah, Rafael. They knew Abby would want to see her love. Some of them whispered comforting words. Others patted her on the shoulder. They all left her, and soon, she was alone with her fiance.

She started. “Hi, Ethan. It’s me, Rookie.”

She looked at the calendar. December 30. 

“Two more days till this horrible year is over. Life always throws us curveballs, don’t they?”

Silence.

She sighed. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Couples are supposed to kiss each other at the stroke of midnight. I need to feel your lips on mine at midnight. Please.”

The tears she tried to hold fell out like a dam breaking. She broke out in sobs.

“Please, Ethan. I... I can’t live without you in this damn world. If you die, I die, Ethan. I die. Please. I wanna feel you lips on mine at midnight. We planned so much for the future. Please. We’re engaged. We’ll be married next year. We’re hoping to build a family. With Jenner, as our third wheel. Please wake up, wake up, wake up. I love you too damn much.”

She whispered the last sentence. She tangled his hand in hers and held them tight. He may be in a coma now, but she’ll sing a song for him now. 

The sun comes up It's a new day dawning It's time to sing your song again

She takes a deep breath to keep her voice from cracking. Whatever may pass And whatever lies before me Let me be singing When the evening comes

Bless The Lord, O my soul O my soul Worship his holy name Sing like never before O my soul I'll worship your holy name

She sighed. He didn’t move, but something told her that he will move soon. 

“Rest now, my love. I’ll be waiting for that kiss when you wake up.”

He didn’t wake up that day.

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

December 31st, 2020 (11:40 P.M.)

Abby was with him yesterday and planned to stay in his room the whole night, until Naveen discharged her and gently forced her into an on-call room. It’s amusing how he thinks the 22 years old would get any sleep. She wanted to be in Ethan’s comforting arms. Him stroking her musky brunette hair. Her wrapping her narrow arms around his waist. Sleeping under the brilliant moonlight. But now, the coma threatened to take away that lifelong dream.

It was 11:40 P.M. on New Year’s Eve, and Abby was still waiting for that midnight kiss. He promised he would kiss her at 12:00 A.M. He didn’t have any problems in doing that. If so, he would have told Abby. He didn’t have to go into a coma to hamper it. Abby would still love him.

Abby was looking at the wall, staring at it blankly as she clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping for it to jerk. And minutes later, it did.

The first jerk got her out of her train of thoughts. The second jerk made her look at his bruised face, hopeful for a holiday miracle. The third jerk made him slowly open his eyes, his familiar hand gently stroking her thumb as to figure out who is next to him. 

She gently fastened her eyes. Oh no, what if he loses his memory? It was a serious car accident after all. Stop it, Abby, Naveen didn’t mention a head injury. Oh no, what if he was lying? What if he was trying to make me feel better? What-

“Rookie...?” She looked back at her, only to observe Ethan staring intently at her, with a slight glimmer.

“Ethan...” She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. 

The ocean eyes lost glimmer and instead widened with evident alarm. “Abby, don’t cry. What happened?”

Abby released a tremulous breath, one that she barely knew she was holding. “A truck hit you car and it flipped a few times. You were in it. You had a major surgery in your lung and chest. The surgeons stopped your blood loss just in time. You have two broken ribs and a broken arm. And you were in a coma.”

If Ethan wasn’t alert before, then he definitely is after hearing her last statement. “I was in a coma? For how long?”

“Just for a day, luckily. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

She looked at her watch. 

“... 11:55 P.M.”

Ethan nodded his head slowly, before gently stroking her cheek to wipe away the salty droplets of water. “Rookie, don’t cry. I’m awake now, am I not?”

She broke. Again. 

“B-but, I th-thought you wouldn’t m-make it. I thought y-you would never w-wake up. I thought o-our future was de-destroyed. I thought I would ne-never see you bl-blue eyes again. I thought-”

She gave up saying the last sentence and the first sob came out. Ethan’s heart broke piece by piece before shattering. 

“Lie down with me.”

She was hesitant. “But w-what if I h-hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Ethan assured. “I want to hold you.”

Slowly, she got up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and gently lied down with him. Her hand came around his waist, mindful of his injuries. Ethan’s hand went to the daily job of stroking her hair down. 

“I’m right here. Our dream will never be shattered as long as we have each other’s hearts. Even if I did die-”

“Ethan, stop-”

“No, Abigail, let me say this. Even if I did die, our hearts would be mended together. If you died, I would never love someone else again. You would be mine always, no matter what happens. My heart would belong to you and only you.”

Joyful and comforting tears obscured her vision. “I love you, Ethan.”

“I love you, too, Rookie. To the squares of infinity.”

Just then, they both heard the countdown. 11:59 P.M.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

Six.

Five.

Abby smiled. “Hell yeah, I am.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And their lips met at the stroke of midnight, fulfilling his promise.

“Happy New Year, Abigail.” The former attending said, a beautiful grin adoring his face.

“Happy New Year, Ethan.” Abby returned with the same grin.

As sleep was overtaking both of them with colorful fireworks decorating the night sky, Abby managed to ponder on one more thought.

Good riddance, 2020.

notes: If you’ve made it this far, thank you!

notes 2: Happy New Year, and good riddance! Let’s all pray for a good year this time. I wrote this fic in one day, and I am pretty impressed of myself. But I thought I would give you one more fic as this year comes to a close. Forgive me if there were any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

tags: @missmiimiie @aylamwrites @starrystarrytrouble @udishaman @caseyvalentineramsey @queencarb @choicesstan1 @newcolonies @arcticrivers @angela8756 @takemyopenheart @rookie-ramsey @ohchoices​ @ohvamsey @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @drariellevalentine @maurine07 @lucy-268 @drakewalkerfantasy @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @gryffindordaughterofathena

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

[katiebruce]

adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

[abalonetea]

Just Keep Breathing: Chapter Two

I was partnered with @the-dot for the @originalfictionbigbang​! Thank you for working with me, Dot!

Here is the first chapter! I’ve split the first 10k words between four chapters, and will be posting them all in a masterpost in just a moment!

Summary: It’s the height of storm season and everyone in Hi-Banks, Florida is getting ready for the bad weather. It should be a year like any other - but on the tails of a national pandemic, a new disaster strikes. More than one new disasters. So many disasters that Eddie Carver would like to put some of them back, thanks. He’s just a down on his luck guy living in the local trailer park with his boyfriend. He’s not interested in dealing with the revival of an old murder case - which he knows nothing about, thanks -, the storm season of the century, or…zombies?

Yeah. Absolutely not interested in the zombies.

This black-comedy follows the inner workings of a small town as they band together to survive, and the young man - reckless, mean, angry, written off b the big city folk come to look into a cold case - that might hold all of societies survival in his hands.

Forget about society.Eddie’s only interested in keeping his friends alive.

Chapter Two – The Hunt Shop

The Mason family has owned a bait and tackle shop out on the north edge of Hi Banks for almost a solid four generations. It’s a good twenty minute walk from the trailer park, which isn’t that bad when it’s not also pouring down rain. As it stands, they’re both soaked by the time they hit the long dirt road that winds towards it. The sides are pitted out from constant tire tracks, turned into thick puddles of standing water and mud.

The rain lets up to a light drizzle, but it’s too late for that to be helpful. Eddie makes a point of splashing his feet in as many of the puddles as he can.

Carson’s the one who calls out, “truck,” when twin headlights appear in the distance. It’s got a massive dent on the passenger side and the fender looks like it’s held on with duck tape.

Lincoln Wiltshire, the deputy, pulls over. He’s a tall, skinny man with a hooked nose and a scar on the side of his neck. Every time he’s asked, Lincoln tells a different story about how he got that scar. Eddie’s pretty sure it’s something mundane and stupid, like a fishing accident.

“You boys having trouble?” Lincoln asks, rolling down his window and half leaning out it.

“Truck still won’t run,” says Carson. “We’re stuck hoofing it everywhere.”

“And the power’s out at the trailer park,” adds Eddie.

“Shit, already? I was hoping it might stay on a while longer.” Lincoln scratches at his side burns. “Wonder if it’s out where I live, too.”

“Store had power last time I was there,” says Eddie. There’s no need to specify. Everyone just calls it The Store.

Carson asks, “you coming from Red’s?”

“Was getting some more shells.” Lincoln gestures at the brown paper bag in his passenger seat. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on anything with him today, boys. He’s in a rotten mood.”

“Eh, we’ll take the risk. I want something hot to eat tonight, you know?” Eddie says “Shit. You think he might have some of that soup still?”

“Maybe,” says Carson. And then, to Lincoln, “can you do me a favor? I was only at the docks for like an hour earlier, but Clancy didn’t show up.”

Lincoln frowns. “Now that ain’t like him.”

“No, it’s not. He’s always there, doesn’t matter the weather,” says Carson. “Figure maybe you could swing by his place, see if he’s...I dunno. Gotten into something.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll do that before I go home. Thanks for the heads up, Carson. You two stay out of trouble now, you hear me? I don’t want to get any calls out there.”

“That wasn’t our fault!”

“I don’t care who starts the fight, I’m the one that has to pull pants on to come finish it. I’m looking to not leave the house again tonight, so. Behave.” Lincoln jabs a bony finger at them.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Eddie parrots, “yeah, man, whatever.”

“Maggots, the both of you,” huffs Lincoln, but he makes sure to pull away slowly so as not to splash them in muck.

They get about ten steps before Eddie asks, “so, uh, you worried about him?”

“I mean, yeah. Sort of.”

“Ain’t he a jerk?”

“Sure. But like, not all the time. And it’s weird. He’s always at the docks. Like, I’ve NEVER not seen him at the docks, Eddie. I dunno. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this.” Carson shrugs.

Maybe it makes Eddie a worse person, but he’s not too concerned about Clancy one way or the other.  The guy has a mean streak the size of the Grand Canyon, and a habit for acting like he’s the boss down at the docks. He’s not, clearly, but the guy has been working there forever at this point, so everyone mostly just ignores it.

Silence falls over them. The sloshing of Eddie’s boots is the only thing between them, until the shoddy looking wood building of The Hunt Shop comes into view. There’s a massive concrete raccoon statue out front. It gets decorated every time a holiday comes around. Right now, it’s got a massive yellow tarp wrapped around it in lieu of a rain coat.

The front door is propped open, the heavy twanging bass of the radio thudding out. Eddie ducks in first, glancing around.

For the most part, the hunt shop hasn’t really changed in...well, ever. There’s an old singing bass above the gun rack, and a mounted deer head on the wall just behind the front counter. Red is stretched out on a chair behind it, booted foot flung up onto the counter next to the register and an open can of beer.

“Lincoln was right,” says Eddie. “You look pissy.”

“Ey, if it ain’t my favorite scarecrow.” Red thunks his boot back down onto the floor. “Lemme guess, the power’s out.”

Eddie finger snaps at him. “Bingo!”

Carson stomps in just behind him. “Cat broke our damn window.”

“A cat?” Red snorts. “You know, I think you might have worse luck than I do.”

Eddie hops up onto the counter, next to the register. He helps himself to the open, half-warm beer. “Lincoln says you’re in a pissy mood. What’s up?”

“Ugh. This damned weather,” says Red. He uses his foot to push the wheeled chair away from the counter, and then spin around so he can slap a hand against the calendar hanging up behind him. “Look at this. I’ve got two days, and then I’m supposed to be going on my hunting trip.”

“Damn, is it that time already?” Eddie passes the mostly empty can to Carson.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Thanks.” And then, “isn’t that storm supposed to hit this weekend?”

“I’m thinking about just hunkering down out there,” says Red.

“That’s stupid,” says Eddie.

Red slaps the calendar again. “I’ve never missed a trip. I’m not gonna let it get passed over because of some rain. It’s, what, a cat two? I’ve spent worse storms out on the swamp. I figure there’s no power out there anyway, so what would I be missing?”

“The sun,” says Eddie.

At the same time, Carson says, “the hunting.”

Red scowls at them both. “Neither of you know the meaning of the word fun, you know that? I swear, I don’t know when you guys got so boring.”

“Around the same time we started dying from hunger,” quips Eddie.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go get something to eat. C’mon. I was gonna close up anyway.” Red hauls himself out of the chair and around the counter. He leads the way out of the shop – Carson closing the door behind them when he brings up the tail – and around to the back of the building where his camper’s parked.

The radio is already on inside, a woman’s voice, “and as if the predicted overly active storm season isn’t enough, we’re having more and more cases of this unknown virus showing up. We actually have managed to get an interview with Charlie Santero, the governor of Florida, where we get his personal thoughts on the situation.”

“Ugh, shut that off. I hate that guy,” says Red.

Eddie slaps the radio off. “So, food?”

“Chili,” answers Red. He grabs a bowl out of the fridge and shoves it into the microwave.

“Gross,” says Carson.

Red flips him off. “You’re the ones that came over.”

The microwave beeps. Red pulls it out and tosses it onto the little table on the other side of the kitchenette. He grabs three spoons and drops them down, too.

“Alright. Dinner’s served.”

* * *

It’s dark by the time they leave Red’s, all three of them loading up into Red’s old wood backed pickup. They roll the windows down, letting the stiff Florida air into cab.

Eddie sits on the far end, arm flung out so the mosquitoes slap into it as they rush past. “So, think we’re gonna get hit bad this summer?”

Red groans. “Do we have to talk about the storms? I’m trying to think happy thoughts about this week.”

Carson says, “I’ll check up on the shop for you.”

The tires catch in one of the ruts, splashing mud up onto Eddie’s hand. “Gross.” He pulls it in, wiping his palm off on his shorts. “I’m thinking it’s gonna be a small one. Just because it’s always small when the people on the radio talk about it. They’re always wrong and stuff.”

Red whacks the back of one hand against Carson’s shoulder. “Smack him for me, will ya? You’re gonna jinx my trip if you keep talking like that, scarecrow.”

Carson shoves at the back of Eddie’s head, pushing hair into his face. “Don’t jinx him.”

“Ow!” Eddie rubs over dramatically at the back of his head. “Fine, fine, I won’t – hey, knock it off already!”

They pull all the way through town towards the trailer park and are almost at the chain link fence around the place when the flash of red and blue lights come into view. Red cuts the engine. “Alright, nope. I’m checking out. Whatever you two did - “

“We didn’t do nothing,” says Eddie, the words a low sort of whine. “I’m telling you!”

“Looks like you did something,” says Red. “And I’m not interested in being involved. Sorry.”

Carson grunts, giving Eddie the stink eye.

Eddie shakes his head. “I didn’t. I’ve stayed outta trouble and you know it, man. I’ve got – fuck, nothing on me right now.”

“Whatever,” says Carson, slinging open the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Red doesn’t have a record, per say, but he likes to steer clear of the local officers all the same. The moment that Eddie and Carson are out of the truck, it peels into reverse and vanishes, a squeal of tires on the pitted pavement and a spray of muddy water up onto the other side of the road.

Carson says, “you’d tell me if I’m about to walk into something, right?”

“Yeah, man, I’d tell you,” says Eddie. “But I swear, this has nothing to do with me.”

“Ugh,” says Carson, and Eddie totally agrees with that. They head up into the trailer park and true to their luck, the sheriff’s car is parked right outside of their little hovel, along with a little shiny black car that doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of Hi Banks.

Sheriff Bianca is sitting on the hood of her car smoking a hand rolled cigarette, short black hair pushed away from her face, the thick scar over her cheek visible even in the wane light of the street lamp. “There you are. We were waiting for you. This is - “

“Agent Smith,” says another woman, long blonde hair pulled back away from her face and an ashy pallor to her skin. “and my partner, Agent Russo.”

“We didn’t do shit,” says Eddie, lower lip jutting out.

Carson shoves him. “Idiot. Stop running your mouth.”

The corners of Bianca’s mouth twist up at the edges, just a little bit, and then instantly take on that hard slant again. She slides off the car, putting the cigarette out on the bottom of one mud caked boot and then tucking it into the front pocket of her uniform shirt. “Boys, they’re here about the Mulborne Case.”

There’s a beat of silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, just can’t help himself. “What, really?”

Smith asks, “does that mean you know the man?”

“Of course I do. Everyone knows Benny,” says Eddie, with a shrug of his sharp, bony shoulders. “Ain’t this thing solved?”

“Yes,” says Bianca, a little tersely.

“On a local level,” answers Russo. “But we’ve recently been informed of something that’s brought the case into a larger light.”

Carson squints. “You two aren’t cops.”

“We’re with the FBI,” says Smith.

Eddie snorts. “Bullshit.”

That takes Smith off guard. “Excuse me?”

“The FBI out in Hi Banks? Yeah, I don’t buy it,” says Eddie. “This town’s barely on the map. What the Hell would send you people out here, huh?”

“We’re not allowed to discuss that information while the case is still under investigation,” says Russo. “You’re - “

“Eddie, yeah, and he’s Carson, and I’m sure the sheriff’s gone over all’a this with you. You realize how late it is? Some of us actually have to work,” says Eddie.

Smith gives him a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry about the time. We got a little turned around on the way out here.”

“Not my problem,” says Eddie.

Russo says, “it might be. It’s been brought to our attention that you had contact with the men who were murdered.”

“They went missing,” corrects Bianca. “There was no proof of foul play.”

Eddie juts out his lower lip. “Yeah, sure. I fixed up their van when they came through, big fucking whoop. How about I just make this real easy and tell you exactly what I told her?” He jerks a thumb at Bianca, who rolls her eyes. “Their van was trashed. I fixed it. That’s my job, okay? That’s it. They paid in cash, big bills, and then they left and I never saw them again. End of story.”

Carson says, “you should try and find someone smarter to ask about it.” He slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and hauls the other man up against his side. “Eddie’s got a brick for brains. Even if something weird was going on, there’s no way he would’ve noticed it.”

“Bitch,” mutters Eddie, but he doesn’t protest. Easy out’s, right?

A phone goes off, some lame shrill tone. Russo excuses himself and steps away from the group and Bianca asks, “did you figure out where the machinery went?”

Carson grunts. “Probably Milo hawked it. Pretty sure his ma’s rent was due this month. We didn’t really look that hard.”

Smith questions, “machinery?”

“Carson works at the docks,” says Bianca. “A few parts went missing earlier this week.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” says Carson, gruffly. “Look, no offense but we’ve already done this once. We don’t know anything else about it, and I’ve got work tomorrow. Can we wrap this up?”

A car door clicks open behind them. Russo, still on the phone, waves Smith over. Smith nods and then excuses herself, all polite, “thank you for your time. I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” before heading over. They climb in their little black car and leave.

Carson scowls at Bianca. “Seriously?”

“Trust me,” says Bianca, dryly. “It’s not my idea of a good time, either. I thought that we were done with this.”

Eddie snorts, already heading towards their trailer. “Yeah, fuck off about that. I am done with it.”

He’s pretty pleased when Carson just goes on and follows him, not so much as a goodbye tossed Bianca’s way.

[gohyuck]

mark + drive safe by rich brian pls. :)

every few weeks or months i’ll get an ask about into it part 2 and this drabble is... set in the into it universe! you don’t have to read into it to read this, but if you’d like to, it’s here. this drabble talks about the current ongoing pandemic quite a bit, so be prepared. 

drive safe by rich brian

“couldn’t we have met up somewhere else?” mark teases once he’s done clambering onto the mildly rusted jungle gym. you shift slightly so he can settle in beside you, not saying a word in response to him. he unhooks his mask, letting it hang off of one ear before he forges on. “you know, like home, considering that we literally live together?” 

“our sophomore year is... over.” is all you can say, tone shrouded in disbelief as you go on not giving your boyfriend any clarification. you don’t need to - from the way he places his hand on top of yours, you know that he gets it. he’s your mark, after all - of course he gets it, gets you.  

“... i know,” he starts, folding his hand over yours and rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand. “i know, baby, i know.”

“our sophomore year is over, and i got laid off, and - and i know so many people have it so much worse but we’re too broke to donate and people are making this whole thing political when it’s about people’s entire lives and - and... god!” your exclamation borders on an outburst, and you move to bury your head in your hands before realizing that touching your face is probably the last thing you want to do right now, even if you’re almost 100% sure nobody else has touched this jungle gym in ages. you’ll use your hand sanitizer once you get to your car - you’re assuming mark had drove it here. your head ends up hanging, your eyes naturally training themselves on your swinging legs. beside you, mark huffs out a short sigh. 

between your work as a tutor for a tutoring company and his work as a training assistant at a dance studio, neither of you had managed to salvage your jobs. you’re both lucky - both sets of parents have elected to send you money if needed, and you’ve both taken up doing odd jobs for money wherever necessary to make ends meet - but you can’t help but miss your students and the steady flow of income. even then, you haven’t complained once: the virus is deadly, and even if neither of you are considered at-risk, plenty of people in the world are. you know why it’s necessary to stay inside, and you’re diligent about it.

it’s why the recent news stories about anti-quarantine protests (”open up the hair salons!” “i need a massage!” “nurses for reopening!”) have properly wedged themselves under your skin. the levels of inconsiderate people can reach baffle you, and it bothers you more than you want to say. 

people are dying. the world is more bleak than you’d like it to be. 

“i wonder what high school freshman me would say if he saw me - us - now,” mark finally says, and you raise your head to meet his gaze. he squeezes your hand before continuing. “he’d be glad i finally got the balls to ask you out, for starters.”

you laugh without meaning to, knocking your shoulder lightly against his. 

“i know that there wasn’t a large-scale thing going on five years ago, but even if there had been, i would’ve been protected from it because of my family. even now, when we’re out in the world on our own, we’re a certain level of protected from everything that’s happening, mostly because...” he trails off, giving you a small smile. you nod almost imperceptibly, signalling for him to go on. just listening to him speak helps you soothe your heart slightly, though you know he can’t rid you of your anger and sadness entirely. he doesn’t have to. 

“... mostly because we have each other. all i can remember - all i can feel - about me from 5 years ago is that he had the biggest thing for you. nothing else - not my growing adderall addiction, not how dirty academia did me, evokes any feeling, even if i know objectively that they happened. i have a feeling that, even though i’ll be aware of the pandemic and covid and everything we went through and everything everyone’s going through, in 5 years, what i’ll recall best is waking up next to you - healthy, because we’re smart about things - everyday. all we can do is keep doing the right thing, and that’s something you’ve always been good at.”

it takes you a moment to process everything he’s said, but once you do, you nod, albeit slowly. you know better than anyone that mark worries and obsesses over these things just as much as you do, but in the past few years, he’s gotten more and more level-headed. still, you recognize that he’s talking you through everything logically to put your mind at ease even when his mind might not be, and this understanding itself causes an explosion of adoration for your boyfriend from within you. mark watches as a soft smile graces your features, and shifts once he realizes you’re going to lay your head on his shoulder. he can’t help his own gentle smile as his eyes roam over your features before he turns his head away from you to look at what you’re looking at.

the sunset. 

the two of you watch in silence as the brilliant, golden sun slowly sinks into oblivion, simultaneously right within your reach and millions of light-years away. the sky itself stays warm, pink and purple and orange and yellow, even after the sun is long-gone almost as if in a testament to the star itself. sunsets make you feel the same way mark does, you realize, though you’ve had this realization over and over and over again for the past four years. 

mark really is the love of your life. you know that you’re his, too. 

“people suck really hard,” you eventually say once the sky starts darkening, turning towards mark as you do. before he can say anything, you keep speaking. “but you don’t. i’m glad i ended up with you, mark lee.” the smile you smile up at him makes his heart melt, and he tugs you into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“when this is all over, we’re going on that road trip we talked about two years ago. i’m done postponing it. sound good, baby?” he mumbles his words into your hair, and you nod against his chest. 

“here comes better days.” you say into his shirt, and he chuckles quietly for a moment before you both finally pull apart from each other. 

“seriously, though,” he starts, and his grin is back to being teasing even as his eyes are kind. “can we go home? i’m getting hungry.”

you furrow your brows before elbowing him in the stomach, rolling your eyes as you slide off of the jungle gym. he lets out a fake groan from behind you before he follows you down.

“what was that for?” his voice is higher pitched than usual for a moment, and you can’t help but snicker. 

“we were having a moment, dummy, and you ruined it. like a fool.”

“whatever,” mark says, falling into step beside you. “let’s just go home and shower and eat dinner and binge-watch something until we fuck - ow, don’t hit me, shit - i meant until we both fall asleep on the couch.” 

you glance over at him, not able to help the small laugh that escapes you as you make sure to gently shove his shoulder with your own. 

“honestly? sounds like a dream.”

[brywrites]

This Too Shall Pass

Author’s Note: When things get super stressful, I seek comfort in books and fiction and loved ones. I watched an Instagram story from Kirsten Vangsness where she explained facts about coronavirus and social distancing and it made me feel strangely comforted to hear “Garcia” talking us through this. So I wanted to write a short piece where Reid comforts the Reader during quarantine. I hope you’re all staying safe during this, and if you ever find yourself questioning whether or not this is all necessary, remember that that Spencer Reid literally locked himself in a room with anthrax to prevent it from spreading, so STAY INDOORS and WASH YOUR HANDS! LIVES DEPEND ON IT!

                           .............................................................

They’ve been together for five months when the pandemic hits. And when the stay-at-home orders are announced, she ask to stay with him. Of course, he obliges. Neither of them wants to go through this alone. With a what groceries she can find and a suitcase full of clothes and necessities, Spencer drives her across the city to his place, which is to become their home for as long as it took.

The first few days are slow. He’s teaching full-time, though his class this term only meets once a week. Georgetown shuts down and she teaches her technophobic boyfriend how to set up Zoom calls for classes. The class has been made pass/fail and he’s reduced the course load.

“They have enough to worry about right now,” he says. She knows the feeling. She is in the penultimate year of her PhD program and sets a strict regiment of editing and writing for herself, but it feels futile most of the time. 

Days turn into weeks and they lounge around the apartment together, reading books and watching  previous seasons of Doctor Who and old movies - anything that will take their mind off of the world outside. She teaches him how to cook and to bake, which are quickly becoming her preferred forms of stress relief. A month ago, the prospect of spending infinite days together with Spencer would have delighted her. Falling asleep in his arms. Kissing him against the kitchen counter. Holding his hand while they make coffee. Days with nothing to do but relish in the love they shared. But now it’s different. Now it’s scary.

She has trouble sleeping. One night he wakes up to find her sitting up in bed, staring in horror at her phone. “What are you doing up?” he asks. “It’s 3am.”

“It’s just so awful,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “So many people...” He sits up immediately and gently taking the phone from her hands and setting it on the nightstand. “It feels like the end of the world, and I don’t want the world to end.”

Speaking her fears out loud only seems to elevate her anxiety, and she finds herself on the verge of tears. “There’s so many people I love that I haven’t seen in so long. There’s so many things I wanted to do. I’ve spent the last six years on this doctorate, and for what? I might not even graduate. I might not even get to finish it. And even if I do, what’s the point of it? People are dying and my dissertation isn’t going to do anything to stop that. And Keera!” Her best friend, the head nurse at GW Hospital’s ER. “What if she gets sick? What if something happens to her?” Now the tears fall freely. 

Spencer wraps his arms around her, and she leans into his chest, seeking the comfort of human contact. It’s a luxury these days, one she is grateful for. How many people are left without someone they can hug? She holds him a little tighter. “I know. I know it’s scary, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” he says. And she knows he understands - every day he video calls his mother to try and offer her comfort. They both hope that this will be over before she passes away. And he has friends in the medical field as well. Savannah is a doctor in Bethesda, and she’s had to isolate herself from Morgan and Hank when she’s home - which these days is far too infrequently.

“I just need to know it’s going to be okay,” she says. He’s always had a knack for making her feel better, calming her anxiety. When she has a panic attack about something, he has an army of facts ready to help talk through her fears with her and help her rationalize her thoughts. 

Not this time. “I don’t know if I can,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I know this - humanity has thought the world was ending many, many times. The Black Plague. Krakatoa. Both World Wars. The Cold War. And every time, somehow, we survive. That’s the amazing thing about humans. We find a way. We keep going.” He rubs her back. “So I have to believe that we’ll survive this too. That against all the odds, we’ll be okay.”

She nestles her head under his chin, close enough to feel his heart beating against her cheek. “It’s okay to be scared,” he tells her. “And it’s okay to be sad. But it’s also okay to have hope. Hope is the best thing we do as a species. And it’s also okay to talk to me about this, you know? We have each other. No matter what happens, I’ll be here. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” she says. She tries to give him a smile. “If I have to be quarantined for a few months, I’m glad it’s with you.”

He kisses her forehead. “Quarantine or not, there’s nobody else I would rather share my life with.” 

He answers all the questions she can think of about the virus and pandemics. He reminds her of the plans they have made to stay safe and social distance, reassuring her they are taking the proper precautions, only leaving the apartment to get groceries and medicine once every two weeks. They make plans for the day. She’ll call Keera to check in on her. They’ll tune into Garcia’s daily livestream video. He’ll try to bake bread without burning it. They lie back down, side by side, his arms still around her. 

For now, it is dark. But morning will come soon. Against all odds they will hope. They will love. The sun will rise, and they will try again. 

[holographic-chogi]

Protector pt.19/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x skz

Warnings: mentions of guns, injuries, the cold.

A/N: Rising action my dudes, hope you guys are ready for the chapters I have planned!! Out of curiosity, any favorite characters so far? I have a lot of arcs planned for a sequel, but I’m trying to decide based on the character each arc is associated with. If you guys really want to see more of a certain character (assuming they survive this first installment muahaha) it might help me decide on what storylines I should include in the future!

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught.

Masterlist

Numbness began to creep up your toes and through your feet as you trudged along.

You had tried your best to stay forward, but you began to realize that you had no idea where forward was.

At the sound of another gunshot, though farther away, you quickened your pace; your lungs stinging for more air as you practically dragged your legs behind you. The various points of pain throughout your body were either less noticeable from the numbness of the cold, or they were made worse by the lack of air.

But you were determined.

Eventually, through your blurry vision, you could see a tint of red surrounding you. Rosehips?

You fall to your knees, letting the snow soak up higher on your pants. As you land, you realize pretty quickly that it’ll be a lot of work to get back up.

You squint harshly against the sun as you attempt to focus your vision, the red slightly becoming more and more clear.

You felt a thrill of joy once you were able to recognize the several bushes of rosehips, blooming bright and proud, in the middle of winter.

Now the path. You look up and around where you are kneeled, and successfully spot a path that’s much less packed with snow.

This was it, this would take you to the farmhouse. To freedom.

You lurch forward in that direction, but your legs don’t follow suit, causing you to immediately crash into the snow in front of you. You recoil as all the impact lands on your bad shoulder, radiating pain through your entire body.

You can’t help but let out a small whimper as you lay crumpled in the snow, and tears stung your cheeks as they pooled beneath you.

“H-hello? Is somebody there?”

You freeze completely at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. He was close. With all of your strength, you let out a strangled plea.

“Help…me…”

Your vision was blurred once more from the tears, but you could feel arms wrap around your body and hoist you up. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.” His voice was serene, calming, like it usually was.

“Let’s go home, Y/N”

—

You didn’t pass out this time; the pain pulsing from your shoulder as you were carried. You felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, inches between you and a cold, dark death.

But you missed the way Hyunjin smelled.

You let your head fall into his chest as you clung tighter to him, ignoring how your bad arm reacted. Your voice was still as strained as before, coming out as a murmur,

“I…missed…”

He gently shushed you, pulling some of the hair out of your eyes as you walked, “don’t talk yet, save your energy.”

You could see the conflict in his eyes as he stared down at you, “But I missed you too. A lot.”

And then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead, causing an eruption of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

But you were too tired to really process it.

In the moment you felt safe, wincing as you reached to cup his face, “I didn’t know if–” you take a deep breath, still struggling to hold air, “If I’d ever see you again.”

A gentle smile formed on his face as he looked ahead, still trekking forward, “I was always going to see you again, Y/N.”

How was he always so sure? How could he say something like that and actually make you believe him?

“How do you know that?”

His smile curled into a smirk, “Because, I was meant to hunt with you,”

He hoisted you up a bit, his pace slowing slightly as you noticed more brightness, “And you deserve a family like us.”

He leaned once more into your ear, “You deserve a family like me.”

You barely had a second to process his words, as a hand smaller than his gently held your chin and pulled your head away from Hyunjin’s chest, revealing your face.

You blinked a couple times against the brightness, but you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face as you were met with the freckled cheeks of Felix.

You smiled, but Felix stared back at you deep in concern. Despite what you knew were heavy circumstances, you still let out a raspy greeting, “Hey Lix.”

He finally stopped scanning your face, and smiled sadly as he met your gaze.

“Hi, Y/N. You don’t look like you’re doing so well…”

You simply shake your head, choosing not to exercise your throat again.

Hyunjin spoke from above you, “I found her collapsed in the snow, she must’ve made it most of the way on foot.” He paused, looking down at you with more emotion than you were used to, “She’s been beaten pretty badly. Her voice sounds like she’s been suffocated.”

As the men spoke, you let your eyes drift around your surroundings, recognizing the farmhouse as soon as you heard the old, rickety generator that whirs outside the kitchen window. In the corner of your eye, you notice a small chicken tagging along behind Felix’s feet, seemingly not to his knowledge.

You unravel your arm from Hyunjin’s waist and reach for it, causing you to almost fall out of hyunjin’s grasp. You can barely make out their words as you hear them murmur in concern around you.

You giggle at the circumstances, only stopping once you see how quiet the two boys are.

“I think we should get her upstairs, Felix. She needs to lay down so Minho can make sure she’s okay.”

—

You were so used to the post-injury chaos at this point, that you almost let sleep take you as soon as you laid in your own bed. You relished in the familiarity of the blankets as Felix tucked you in.

Then you felt a boot come off your foot, and out of instinct you shot up, ignoring the pain from your sudden motion.

Images of Hyuk kneeled in front of you when you only wore a tank top and shorts, eyeing you like a piece of meat as he told you to strip; was practically playing in your head on repeat.

He was here. He found you.

Then, through the panic and darkness, a calm, serene voice cut through everything.

“You’re okay. It’s just us.”

Hyunjin was staring up at you from the end of the bed, one boot in hand. “These are soaked from the snow. I’m just gonna get these off your feet.”

You gulp and nod, noticing Felix with his back against the wall. You must’ve startled him.

You reach out again instinctively, “Everything’s okay, Lixie.”

He nods, rushing back to your side. “I know, I’m sorry.”

But as the last shoe is pulled off, Felix is pulled away from you.

“Come on, let her sleep. She needs it.”

You watch sadly as the two boys leave the room, but you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch the door close.

And then you just give in, sleep fully embracing you.

—

You’re in the office at Jiho’s again, waking up tied to the bed frame.

What?

It was disorienting, the world swirled around you as you hung from the ropes.

Then it’s all happening again in a flash.

Taeil’s face burns into your eyes as he stares you down.

Your strangled again. Dragged. Bruised.

And when he raises the lit cigarette to your arm, you feel the ropes dissolve.

You won’t let him burn you again.

You lurch forward, clasping his throat in your hands as you catch him by surprise, the two of you rolling off the bed.

Wait…the bed?

You look behind you, and see your farmhouse bed.

A dream?

But his throat feels so real in your hands.

However, the hands that go to grasp yours, ever so gently, are not Taeil’s.

You whip your gaze back to the man underneath you, to be met with a mess of curly black hair, and two wide eyes staring up at you.

Your hands fly off of his throat like you had just touched a stove.

Him. Oh god, anyone but him.

Tears fill your eyes again, and sobs wrack your body.

“I-I’m so sorry Changbin, I-I”

Then you feel lips begin to gently press at the corners of your eyes, kissing the tears away.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I have you.”

You’re still sat on top of him, trembling as you stared down. You were terrified of what you had just done. You were terrified of how little he resisted, just looking up at you when you clutched his throat.

He trusted you completely, and you almost hurt him.

You begin to move away, beginning to mumble more apologies, when he sits up to your eye level and pulls you into him, pressing another kiss onto the top of your head. “I’m okay Y/N, I promise.”

You nod slowly, looking up to meet his eyes, seeing that they were full of tears as well. His voice came out small and pained. “What happened, Y/N? What did they do to you?”

You tried to hold back another sob at the mention of what had happened, and he simply pulled you back into an embrace, pressing more kisses into your cheek. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me yet.”

You felt him pull you in tighter. “But I’m telling you now. Every last person at that camp is going to suffer for what they’ve done.”

Taglist: @leetaemintrashnumber1 @peachescherryheart @lico-rice526 @claire4799 @lanie-is-a-unicorn @tottalbabe

[saharamae21]

All of My Wrongs - Chapter Ten

Pairing: Topper x OC and Rafe x OC

Summary: As things at Rory’s home unravel, she finds herself reconciling with the one person she thinks life would be better off without her in it. Topper just wants for her to be okay and she wants to make sure she doesn’t ruin his life. As the events unfold, Rory opens up to Topper about things she’s never told anyone and begins to except that he might be good for her. How far is too far though?

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback, I love hearing what you guys have to say! Please keep commenting and sharing your thoughts with me.

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Series Masterlist

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I knew I should’ve gone home that night, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I hated my mom right now and I didn’t want to be there. I couldn’t be there. Instead, I stayed at the place Rafe was crashing and tried to relax. I had to compose myself in order to go home and act like nothing was happening. It was the only way I’d ever get through the next few years living at home.

I woke up the next morning, still stuck between Rafe’s arms. He was so peacefully asleep that I didn’t want to disturb him. I knew I had to head back though. I tried to slip out of his arms undetected, but he tightened his grip and groaned. Mission failed. I smiled at him as his eyes flickered open. They were such a pretty shade of blue.

“Morning buttercup,” he said with the faintest of smiles. He looked so happy. I smiled and cuddled into him, wrapping my arms around him tightly. I loved when all of the worry left his eyes. I loved when he didn’t have a care in the world. If I could do that for him, maybe I wouldn’t be so worthless after all. He chuckled as I clung to him and kissed the top of my head. He was the only person who wanted me in their life.

“I should go home,” I muttered into his chest. He tightened his grip on me as if telling me to stay. “I’ve barely been home since we moved here, Rafe. I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

“Fine,” he muttered and loosened his hold on me. I gave him a small smile as I got out of the bed. His face looked so calm as he looked at me. I wondered how long it would take for me to disappoint him…

The drive home was far too short. I stood outside the front door and stared at the knob. I didn’t want to go inside. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, but then I heard Skipper’s voice. He sounded distressed. I instantly reached for the handle and flung the door open. Inside stood my mom and Skipper. He was chasing her to the back entrance. She was carrying a plethora of things, my things. I called out and asked what was going on, but no one answered me. My mom acted as if Skip and I didn’t exist at all. She just continued to walk to the backyard. I ran after, bursting through the sliding door. Outside, there was a huge flame in the fire pit. Skip was trying to stop my mom from tossing more items into the flames, but with no success. I ran over and peered in the fire. Picture frames, notebooks, artwork. All of it was burning up and on top of the pile lied Newton. Tears filled my eyes as I tried to reach in to pull him out, but my dad stopped me. He screamed at mom and asked her what she was doing. He held me back as I desperately tried to grab my belongings from the fire.

“Stop yelling at me! This is her fault! It’s not like she wants to be a part of this family anymore!” my mom screamed. I listened to my dad yell at Skip to go inside. He told him to go inside and he would be in shortly after. After Skip ran into the house, dad released me. I had calmed down a little bit. I stood there motionless, tears streaming down my face. Normally I would just go inside. I would act like I was fine and this didn’t affect me. Not today though.

“What did I do to you?” I asked softly. My dad told me to go inside. He begged me. I couldn’t though. I had to understand her. “What did I do wrong? I’ve tried to be everything you’ve ever wanted and nothing is good enough! So, what did I do?”

“You existed,” she said coldly. I heard my dad yell at her. “You’re the reason I’m not happy. You’re the reason I can’t love Skipper. You did this to me. You ruined me!”

Her worlds swirled around my head, but for the first time they stuck. Everything was my fault. If I had never been born, she wouldn’t be like this. I caused the post-partum depression that led into her manic depression. I corrupted her like a computer virus. I broke down in tears as I rushed past her, desperate to get away from her. My dad called out after me. My tears made everything blurry as I ran towards the front yard. Something stopped me though. Something snagged my arm. I turned to look at him and the look on his face. Topper. Yesterday, he would’ve calmed me down and alleviated some of the pain, but today, I knew he wanted nothing to do with me. This was an obligation as a human being. Before he could say anything, I pulled my arm away from him and ran.

I drove to the beach and sat down in the sand. The sun was covered by layers of clouds and the wind was almost cold in a way. I sat there and let my emotions get the best of me. I cried and cried for the first time in forever. She never let herself spiral this far. I wondered if this would be a wakeup call or if we had finally reached the point of no return. I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them.

A while later I felt a hand touch my knee. I looked up to see Topper’s worried face in front of me. He held out a new teddy bear to me and didn’t say anything. He just waited to see my reaction. As I looked at his face, I bursted into tears again. I took the bear from him and hugged it against my chest, needing to hold something in that moment. He wrapped his arms around me as I sobbed. The whole time he held me, he said nothing. He knew I just needed someone with me at this moment.

“I never should’ve been born,” I whispered. His arms tightened around me and one of his hands reached up to caress my hair. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t listen to her, Rory,” he said. I just shook my head against his chest. I shook my head over and over, ignoring everything he said after that. Nothing he said would process until I had calmed down a little more.

After 10 minutes of sobbing and shaking, I finally calmed down a little bit. I took a few deep breaths and squeezed the push toy to my chest. Topper released me from his hold and sat down in front of me. He told me that he was there if I needed someone to listen, but his words from yesterday were still rippling through me. I made myself smaller as he looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said. My head shot up at his apology. “I was mad that you felt like you owed Rafe an apology. You had nothing to be sorry about. I-I don’t know why I got so upset.”

I fiddled with my hands as he said that. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. He told me to stay away from him. I knew the only reason he was in front of me was because he felt bad for me. He didn’t care about me. It was just human nature to care for those struggling. He cared because I was crying, nothing more and nothing less.

“I’m okay, Topper,” I said. I lifted my head and plastered the same smile onto my face that I always did. “You don’t have to stick around. I’ll be fine.”

“Stop that,” he said. He moved closer to me and observed my face carefully. “Stop thinking about everyone else before yourself. You’re not forcing me to be here Aurora and I’m going to leave until you get that through your head. You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m here, okay?”

We sat there in silence for what seemed like forever. He just sat in front of me, carefully studying my face. I never looked at him though. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I thought that if I ignored him for long enough he would just go away, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. He wasn’t giving up on me.

“You were right, y’know?” I said. I gave out a pathetic laugh as I stared at the waves crashing against the sand. “I’m a hypocrite. You just stay away from me.”

“Rory-” he started, but I held up my hand to silence him. I wanted him to just listen. I didn’t want him to tell me lies and try to convince me otherwise. I just wanted him to hear me.

“My whole life, I’ve been what everyone else wanted. Even at home I couldn’t be myself... because myself disappointed my mom. Isn’t that sad?” I said. I was smiling as I said it. It was a sad smile. The kind that you have one your face when you know things couldn’t get any worse because nothing else mattered anymore. I pursed my lips together and let out a huge sigh. “Have you heard of postpartum depression? My mom suffered from it. After I was born, my mom got really sad. She couldn’t find a way to love or connect with me, but with the help of my dad she got over it. Things were good for a while, but then she got pregnant with Skip. My dad was away with a nonprofit for most of her pregnancy and he didn’t see how she spiralled, but I did. I was too young to remember it, but that’s when it began. She never got better after Skip. Postpartum turned into bipolar and when she doesn’t take her meds she acts like this and it’s all my fault.”

“Aurora, none of that is your fault,” he said quietly. I turned to look at him, tears in my eyes. His face was contorted in worry as he pulled me into his arms. “None of this is your fault.”

“If my own mom can’t even love who I am, then who else will?” I asked. My voice was barely a whisper, yet he heard every word. I let myself collapse into his chest and his arms tighten around me. No one had ever comforted me like this. No one had ever cared that much. Even my dad was more focused on my mom’s sanity over mine.

“I will,” he muttered softly as he held me. I closed my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair. How could he love me, when I didn’t even know who I was? That didn’t matter though. I had a feeling that he would help me find who I really was. I needed his help. I needed him.

As much as I told myself that I knew I would never be enough for him, there was no getting rid of him. I knew that I was too attached to the boy to ever let him go. I squeezed your eyes shut and tried to control my emotions, but it would take more than that to feel alright again. I squeezed the bear in my arms and moved away from Topper, looking at him sadly as he let me go.

“I know it’s not Newton, but I thought you might need something new to sleep with at night,” he said and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. I smiled and looked at the bear in my grasp. Somehow he knew exactly what would help me cheer up. The small gesture made my heart swell. “Should we name him?”

“Hm…” I said, smiling a little bit as I thought. “Should I name him Thornton?”

“Don’t name him what you think I would enjoy,” he said, ruffling my hair a little bit. I let out a small giggle as I pushed his hand away. “Start thinking for yourself. What do you want to name him?”

“Larkin,” I said without thinking. He laughed at me, but it was wholesome. I could tell that he loved the way my mind worked. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “So, Rory. If you could do anything in the world right now, what would you want to do?”

I thought for a while as he patiently waited. What would I choose to do? Why couldn’t I think of anything I truly wanted in life? I couldn’t think of one thing I wanted… I just didn’t want to be alone right now. I knew he would stay with me and that meant the world to me.

“I want to stargaze. I love laying underneath the stars and forgetting about the world around me,” I said. A small smile fluttered across my lips as I thought about the night sky. The sun hadn’t barely reached its peak though, so my wish was nearly impossible. He smiled at me and told me to come with him. I stared at him with a confused look as he helped me up and walked towards the parking lot. He seemed really excited, I could figure why though.

It was a short drive to the peer. I got out of the jeep and watched as Topper walked over to buy two tickets for the ferry. I just stared at him as he chatted with the ticket guy. Within a minute he was back by my side, grabbing my wrist and pulling me aboard. I asked him where we were going, but he told me it was a surprise. We sat on the ferry and made casual small talk as the boat headed to its destination. I knew nothing about the area, so everything about this was a shock to me. When we stepped off, we were in Chapel Hill. He pulled me excitedly towards some older buildings. It looked like a college, but I couldn’t tell.

“This is University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill,” he said. He smiled at me as he walked me around the campus. I still couldn’t figure out why we were here, but then we came to a round building. It had no windows and a dome for a roof. Something about it looked familiar. “C,mon.”

He pulled me inside and told me to wait in this lobby looking area. He walked up and talked to the college student at the desk. I watched the excited look on his face and smiled. He looked so cute right now. I pushed that thought from my head and tried to ignore my budding feelings for him, but how could I? He made his way back over to me and grabbed my hand, guiding me inside.

“Welcome to the Morehead Planetarium and Science Center,” he said as we took a seat in the pitch black room. I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, following Topper’s suit. Then like a beautiful ray of light, the stars twinkled across the ceiling above us. I laid there and stared up, mouth agape as I observed the night sky above me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

“Wow…” I breathed out. I listened to him chuckle as he stared at me. “Do you want to know my favorite thing about the stars?”

“What?” he asked. I could feel his eyes on me and if the lights were on, you would notice how red I was.

“I love that when you look at them, you look into the past,” I said, staring up. I explained how the stars were so far away that they took millions of years for their light to reach our sky. I told him about how many of the stars we see above us had already burnt out, but their image is preserved in our sky. It’s almost as if they keep on living through us. I turned to see his face. His full attention was on me and the smile he gave me said it all. I smiled back at him. He made all of this possible for me. He made me so happy, even in a time that I thought I might never be happy again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Aurora.”

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[lanformant]

Fubar Part I

Written by Dante Augello. America has reached a point that is unrecognizable to me or anyone I know has ever experienced. I have mentioned this before, but I downplay how unprecedented all this is in my mind. Living in Los Angeles I might see more of this than many. Obviously, we are all experiencing these things though. After the country has been in various stages of the shutdown we are agitated, depressed, and radicalized possibly more than any time than I have ever seen.

I've tried to be optimistic, but it’s difficult as I’m sure most people know. Coronavirus cases are higher in Los Angeles than they have ever been by more than triple from when Los Angeles started to open. Protests over police brutality are ongoing in Los Angeles and throughout the country. The national guard was called in recently, driving around the city with M 4s and active denial systems mounted on their Humvees, speeding from protest to protest, and creating an ominously oppressive vibe all over my neighborhood.

“People are buying guns more than ever for fear of economic and social collapse”

There is a 6 block radius being occupied in Seattle called an “autonomous zone” where they claim to no longer use money and that they do not want police to enter the area. All in response to George Floyd’s death. Talk of defunding or completely getting rid of certain police departments are being put into action all over the country as well, which could have very interesting effects. People are buying guns more than ever for fear of economic and social collapse, so much so that complaints of the highly complicated, expensive, and bureaucratic gun laws of California are starting to anger people of all political parties.

Some of these issues will prove benign, however, others are capable of literally causing some type of civil war. With this much unrest and people out of work, its a perfect environment for such events to spiral out of control. However, I am not a fear monger. I do think we will come out of this, maybe not unscathed but relatively so, for this kind of turmoil is not only scary but exciting. These events bring a crackle of life to the changes in policy and governmental organizations that could be made. Changes that could positively affect this country for the entirety of its existence. However short it seems it may be. 

First of all Covid 19 is not going away any time soon. Now that the government is steadily opening up Los Angeles and the rest of the state, coronavirus is rapidly increasing transmission. Not only in California too, but many states have seen higher rates than they ever have before. Masks seem to do little to help the incessant spreading as well, so it seems odd to put so much emphasis on keeping them on at all times, unless indoors. The only time it really makes sense for outdoor use of a mask is in large crowds, but UV light from the sun tends to kill any free-floating viruses almost immediately. Also, getting a 1000 dollar fine for not wearing a mask outside is truly preposterous. However, Until there is more research, it's probably better to keep them on if only to avoid the ticket.

Thousands every day are being diagnosed with coronavirus and unfortunately, we are coming up onin Fall in a few months, which could very well mean a second wave. In hindsight, we should’ve closed earlier, and at this point, it seems we made another huge mistake by opening too early. Nonchalantly murdering an unarmed black man on camera was another momentous disaster, which rightly caused a large amount of angry protesters to huddle in groups screaming and chanting all day spreading the disease much much more. However, we have found some promising things out about this virus. It's not nearly as deadly as we thought it was going to be thankfully, and with proper nutrients, sleep, and exercise it’s doubtful it will cause many problems for you.

Also, vaccines that may work well are being tested regularly. Unfortunately, we do not know that much about it, mostly because it is so new to causing humans sickness, which leaves the possibility of recurrence unknown. we also don’t know how often this virus will mutate. If it mutates regularly and if it's like the flu, that could mean that there will be another Coronavirus outbreak every year just like the flu. This would cause just as much damage or more than the flu does, and that would be on top of the damage the flu already causes. What we are seeing right now is all our efforts being flushed down the toilet. The government has screwed us by closing too late and in turn completely destroying the economy, and now they are opening too early. Similarly destroying the progress we had made trying to get rid of the virus. At this point, it seems it could have been better to not close at all, but that depends on our priorities. Protecting the population with weaker health, or protecting the economy. Unfortunately at this point, we haven’t done much of either by constantly switching our strategies, essentially canceling each other out.