justchomsky

[justchomsky]

benny-chanda​:

His frown deepened and he sighed, not at all looking forward to getting his hands dirty, or even doing work at all. He stood, grabbed the tool belt he had more or less for show, and nodded at her. “Couldn’t find anyone else?” he asked, sourly. But of course, saying no would be a mistake. “Is that it, or do you need something else?” He surely fucking hoped she didn’t. 

🍸

“i don’t see anyone else around — do you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she made a point of looking around the room. she probably could’ve looked a little harder for caleb, though he worked more than enough in her opinion. plus, benny was more than capable of doing the work. “you always were a grabby son of a bitch — nah, that’s it. but i need it done now.” she continued, expression much less friendly than when she’d entered.

[justchomsky]

liamhart​:

& .

liam had a mother. she was beautiful and powerful and he’d lost her because, she loved him too. “nah,” he smiles politely, busying himself with putting down his book to stand and stretch and make play of brushing the thought aside. “you don’t look a day over twenty one.”

“something interesting, though… uh…” 

and there’s a difference in him, how thoughtful he becomes with his genuine consideration for her needs and her interests, or rather, the lack of that are offered. “sorted through some horrors and thrillers the other day, they seemed… interesting, i guess. or there’s romcoms. or uh, i think we found some weird factoids.” he tilts his head. “what did you used to do before all of this? or um, what did you used to read?”

🍸

“you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” chomsky laughed as she shook her head, resisting the urge to grab at the boy’s cheek. “wrong, but a hell of a charmer.”

before all of this, chomsky used to read a lot. granted, most of it was work related but even then, she’d enjoyed it a great deal. now, she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d picked up a book, much less finished one. “i was a lawyer, so mostly legal citation guides. but i did always have a soft spot for horror novels.”

[justchomsky]

maverickmoore​:

Maverick really wished there was more to do in this town. Since he had come back injured again, he had been taken of supply runs until further notice and his guard shifts had been cut down as well. With his jobs no longer occupying his time, he grew painfully bored. There were only so many books he could read before he got bored with staring at the page. The answer to that was one. One book. Even his comics were getting boring. The small stack of ones he had grabbed from the gift shop were still wrapped in cellophane and sitting on the top of his dresser, unable to bring himself to open any of them. They were a reminder of that messy run and the shit that followed. Coming back to all the people he cared about most sick in the clinic and nothing he could do about it.

Completely sick of being in his house, he was stretched out in the grass of a vacant lot near town. At one point it could have been a baseball field or maybe a community garden. Those were the only reasons he could come up for just an empty space so close to the town center. He sat up when he heard his name called, squinting against the bright sun as he tried to find who wanted him. “I’m a cripple, Ma. I can’t go far.” He smiled, happy to see that she was looking a lot better. “I didn’t think I was that hard to fine. I’ve been here for most of the day.”

🍸

after being allowed to leave the clinic, chomsky had been brought up to speed about how the run had went and everything else she’d missed. she’d been worried for maverick, as she often was when he went on runs, but with ten million other distractions hitting her at the same time, she hadn’t had a chance to check on him until now. a part of her felt guilty about it but she tried not to let it get the best of her, especially now that the young man was in front of her. 

groaning as she plopped herself down on the ground next to him, chomsky took a moment to just look him over. apart from the injury from the run, he seemed mostly fine, which calmed many of the worries the woman had had over the last few days. “well, that’s why you’ve been so hard to find, then.” she grinned, flicking his ear gently. “whatcha doing out in a vacant lot, anyway?”

[justchomsky]

calebmajhi​:

🛠️

“You’re the most interesting thing that’s come along, considering I don’t enjoy poking my head through cobwebs in my downtime.” Caleb hunches down and digs through the box, a finger turning over a few sockets in a search. “And no one else has come to bother me. Nope, you think they’d send someone up here who’s going give themselves a shock?” Caleb doesn’t know many of the council members, except for Stella who put him on that run, and Chomsky who he feels he hit it off with pretty well.

It’s not an invitation to take a break, but stripping wires is an easy gig. He takes Chomsky’s presence as his chance to stamp his break card. “Suppose I can let myself die later.” Caleb sets aside the work he actually should be doing by folding up the ladder to leave leaning against the wall. The toolbox is shut too and slid to the side. “Join me for some fresh air.” And a smoke, too, even those he’s down to three in his pack.

🍸

“not sure if i should take that as a compliment or an insult.” she chuckled, watching as caleb put away his tools. although she was completely confident in the man’s abilities, it was easy to poke fun at him, if not just for the hell of it. “hey, you never know how these things go. touch the wrong wire and next thing you know, you’ve got an express ticket to meet your preferred god.”

without comment, chomsky followed the other outside, taking out her pack and putting a smoke to her lips before they’d even reached the outdoors. feeling generous, she extended the slightly crumbled box in caleb’s direction, motioning for him to take one himself. “y’know, i never thought i’d enjoy summer.” she said as she squinted up to the sky, attempting not to blind herself as she stared at the clouds. “you ever been to new york? whole place smells like hot garbage all summer long.”

[justchomsky]

victorbakker​:

— ⛺️ —

Chomsky was an…interesting person. She chose to serve drinks behind the bar but was also a figurehead of Fairvale. It made her a mixed bag of sorts in Vic’s eyes; on the one hand, they’d had learned the ins and outs of Fairvale, ruled over it (to some extent) - and yet there was also something to be said that she chose Hard Times as the place to spend her free moments. 

He could respect that, he supposed. 

And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t had their fair share of shooting the shit, so to speak. Vic had made a home in the corner of the tavern, often a man in the shadows nursing his drink because there was fuck all else to do in Fairvale. So the question didn’t surprise him in that it was being directed his way, though the contents of it was thought provoking. What did he think the world would look like in five years…?

“Well, given we’re less than two years into this…pandemic, or whatever the hell you want to call it, I’d say five more might end up a true wasteland.”

🍸

chomsky knew that her decision of keeping her job at the tavern was a strange one to outsiders but, as much as she liked being a council member (which wasn’t much), she liked this better — and there was something to be said about how people sometimes opened up to the woman behind the bar. here, people spoke openly, rather than the guarded way they spoke at town meetings or other events. as much as it could be frustrating, that kind of honesty often needed to be heard.

at victor’s answer, chomsky couldn’t help but smile a little. “my youngest kid used to play this game — fallout, maybe? i dunno, some kind of apocalyptic shit. wonder if it’ll end up like that.” she thought out loud, letting herself talk freely. rarely had the woman ever mentioned her kids but, with the appearance of charlie at fairvale, the topic wasn’t as hard to talk about as it once was. “world’s gonna smell like shit, though.”

[justchomsky]

southernrays​:

Ray checked the clock in the bar three times, and then he checked it again. Chomsky was never late for a shift, not since Ray had been there, and his mouth curls down in an uncharacteristic frown when he realized that she should have shown up over fifteen minutes ago.

A flurry of motion had Ray and some of the other patrons spinning around to look at the whirlwind of Chomsky that came through the door. Ray opened his mouth to ask her just what the heck was going on when she cut him off abruptly, sliding behind him to grab for her apron. His jaw snapped shut, obeying the request, but the furrow in his brown deepened at how flustered she appeared. If he was not worried before, he definitely was now. 

 “I was told not to ask about it. You said nothin’ about starin’ about it,” was Ray’s cheeky reply as he waited for her to look over at him and acknowledge that something was wrong.

🍸

if she’d been in a better mood, chomsky might have laughed at ray’s reply but in her current mood, she could barely find it within herself to react. delaying the inevitable, she continued her busywork to avoid looking at the other — tying her hair up, grabbing empty glasses on the counter and placing them in the sink — anything to look too occupied to reply.

unfortunately for chomsky, ray was actually good at his job so the busywork only managed to make her look occupied for a few minutes at best. now that the patrons’ attentions seemed to back on whatever it was on before she entered, she turned to ray with her hands on her lips. “your parents ever teach you that staring it rude?” she asked without any real bite, letting out a sigh. “just been a long day, that’s all.”

[justchomsky]

benny-chanda​:

With Yami back to work, some fresh meat around the bones of the Maintenance crew, Bishan continued with his ‘job’ the way he had before, which included mostly staying at HQ and sometimes going along either to learn or to tell people what to do. Sure, there were still a few small chores that fell to him, and he hated every single one of them, but doing absolutely nothing would look bad, but he mostly did paperwork, wrote down what was left to do, took stock of their own inventory. And sat back and relaxed. 

He opened his eyes when someone entered the building. He licked the inside of his teeth and sat up, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, what do you want?” He wasn’t quick to forget who had voted on him staying and who had thought it would be a good idea to throw him out there to fend for himself. Just the thought of it pulled a frown to his face. 

🍸

the frown on benny’s face was almost amusing. almost. it seemed like their distrust was mutual, which was more than fine in chomsky’s book — no one said they’d have to like each other, they simply had to coexist. unfortunately, because of chomsky’s position on the council, it meant they had to coexist in the same space a bit more than the woman would like.

“s’a pleasure seeing you too.” her smile was overly sweet as she responded, hands stuffed in her pockets as she turned her attention to her surroundings. the HQ’s stash of equipment was quite impressive, after all. “playground needs lookin’ at. the swingset looks about ten seconds away from falling apart, and the kids want to play on it, so someone needs to check it out asap.”

[justchomsky]

liamhart​:

& .

he’s practically falling asleep in his chair, the book in his lap threatening to fall from his grasp every time his head nods forward, eyes closed. it isn’t that he’s bored, or even the fact he still hasn’t been sleeping so peacefully. it’s more, the library is quiet and he’s comfortable and, it’s the perfect time of day for a nap.

or, it would’ve been, if not for the voice snatching his attention.

jumping to attention in his seat, liam blinks and snaps himself awake, looking at the woman the other side of the front desk in a sleepy daze. “m’not a kid,” he answers first, instinct and habit now to correct such a term he didn’t appreciate any more.

“and um, all depends on what you’re interested in.”

🍸

liam’s sleepy answer draws an amused smile out of the council woman, fingers tapping against the counter for lack of anything else to do. “you’re right,” she conceded quickly. “but i am old enough to be your mother.” she laughed, pulling herself up into a proper standing position.

taking a second to look around the sad excuse of a library, she wondered how many of these book had actually been read. with no other real form of distraction, she was sure it was quite a few, yet none of them seemed to be interesting to her. “i dunno — anything that won’t put me to sleep within three pages would be best.”

[justchomsky]

charliechomsky​:

—

the similarities were probably ghostly, not that charlie would have the slightest clue that his mother had any clue the amount of trouble he’s caused. still, the young adult craved those words of affirmation. so desperately. maybe it was just mother’s intuition to know what to say. admitting that she didn’t know him was probably painful enough, but it was fact. and an overwhelming in security that if she did get to learn about him and everything’s he’s done, he’d be hated. irrational, sure. to think his mother’s love would be anything but unconditional. 

but as their eyes met, charlie did know she wasn’t lying. that with all her heart, she believed that to be the case. he couldn’t change what he’s done and quite frankly, probably would never get rid of the impulses that he was so perfectly taught. maybe softness would never return to his gaze. and maybe, just maybe, chomsky could find some willpower to be okay with that. he didn’t have any words. didn’t want to make any promises as he was probably one bad event occurring in fairvale to get up and fleet. 

there’s nothing but silence that leaves charlie’s mouth. still, he somehow finds himself to move. to embrace his mother and let his eyes flutter shut in attempt to not think of how fucked up this world had become. as if it wasn’t bad enough before. and how cruel it was being to reunite the two in such twisted circumstanced. 

🍸

for a brief moment, chomsky was transported back to a simpler time in her mid twenties, when it was just her and her son against the world. at that time, everything she’d done had been for the little boy and now, with the world as fucked up as it was, with her daughter gone and hundreds of miles away from the city she called home, the feeling was the same.

even without the guarantee that he would stay, even with the knowledge that her son had changed in ways she’d probably never know, chomsky couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the boy, allowing herself a moment to simply bask in the fact that he was here, in front of her, and alive. at the end of the day, the only thing she’d ever ask of charlie was to be alive.

“i love you.”

[justchomsky]

who: @benny-chanda​ where: maintenance hq

as far as chomsky was concerned, bishan chanda was and always would be a persona non grata in fairvale. when kit had been banished and the council established, she’d been on the side of throwing him out with the rest of kit’s followers, but majority had ruled that he’d stay. she hadn’t argued with the decision, especially not when the town felt so fragile, yet nothing about the man had sit right with her since then, no matter how much time had passed.

now, she could recognize that just because she didn’t like him, didn’t mean benny wasn’t useful. he was a good asset to the maintenance team, which was why chomsky found herself standing inside the maintenance house, arms crossed as she watched the other carefully. “lookin’ real busy as always, benny.” she commented, looking around the room.

[justchomsky]

who: @liamhart​ where: central library

how she’d ended up in the library, chomsky had no clue. at first, it’s quiet and peacefulness had initially seemed like such an appealing thing, especially after the hectic few days she’d been through but soon enough, what had drawn her to the library was exactly what was making her jittery, the stillness of the place leaving her unable to focus on the notepad in front of her. tossing it in her bag in frustration, she got up and looked around, unsure of what to do with herself.

instead of leaving and going back home (or going to cause trouble at the town hall), chomsky made her way over to front desk of the library, leaning against it as she taped her fingers against the wood surface. “liam, right?” she asked, foot bouncing out of a need to just do something. “know any good books around here, kid?”

[justchomsky]

who: @southernrays​ where: the tavern 

though she liked to stay an enigma to the people around her, one thing that was obvious was that chomsky was never late. ever. other than to purposely annoy her father when she was younger, she was never late on purpose, even during the end of the world, which was why it was curious when she wasn’t at the tavern by the start of her shift. it was only about twenty minutes later that the woman finally appeared, albeit rather chaotically.

“don’t.” she warned ray as she finally burst through the front door of the bar, looking rather worse for wear. “don’t ask. don’t ask any questions. do not.” she continued to ramble as she made her way across the bar, wrapping her apron across her waist. after taking a moment to catch her breathe, she could almost ray’s gaze burning into the side of her head. “ray turner, i can feel you staring a a hole into me.”

[justchomsky]

who: @maverickmoore​ where: town square

if chomsky was asked to describe the past few weeks, she’d probably go with eventful. a mystery illness swept through town, then she got sick, barely made it out alive and then, when she did, she found out her son was still alive and here in fairvale. it was a lot for anyone to take in, and chomsky had very much kept a lower profile than usual, simply trying to recover and get back to her old self.

once she felt just a tad bit more human, there was someone she needed to find. it didn’t come as much of a surprise that the young man was hard to find, going by the tavern and the front gates of town in an attempt to find him. her next guess was his home and just as as she walked through the town square to head there, she spotted the familiar figure she’d been looking for. “mave!” she called out as she walked over to him, pushing her hair out of her face. “got me running around like a headless chicken looking for you.”

[justchomsky]

who: @victorbakker​ where: the tavern

although she was a council member, chomsky much preferred her job at the tavern — it wasn’t as high stakes, and no one really counted on her other than the regulars for their next refill. it was easy, a break almost, from the life she had outside the establishment. one she considered well deserved, with everything that was going on lately.

with a lull in clientele, the woman made herself a drink, making a mental note to place one of her ration tickets in the box before the end of her shift. “hey,” she called out to victor as she poured her drink. “what d’you think the world’s gonna look like in five years?” she asked as she placed back the bottles and turned to the other, leaning against the bar as she took a sip.

[justchomsky]

charliechomsky​:

—

there’s such a yank in his heart, strings being pulled on by all of this… new. emotions, everything by anger, were shoved so far deep down so he could survive. there were no time for tears, or remorse, or grief. no matter the situation. yet, his mother standing right here in front of him threatened to let his walls come crumbling down with ease. charlie wanted it to be simple. really, he did. he wanted to give his mother the role she always should have had: to protect him. keep him safe. all of that instead of rebelling, running away. 

maybe it’d be easier. charlie looked in his mother’s gaze that held so much hope. and he was so terrified of breaking it. feeling the tears well in his hues once again, charlie shot his gaze down, shaking his head slightly. “you wouldn’t – i can’t–” he muttered. and this time, the instinct to run away wasn’t out of just to piss her off in some teenage angst. it was a shitty attempt to protect her. 

“you don’t – you don’t know me anymore,” charlie states out. “the things i’ve done – even before all of this–” charlie states, the iced tone in his eyes finally gaining the courage to flicker back to look his mom in the face. “you wouldn’t, and shouldn’t love me anymore,” he murmurs out quietly. it was as if all the negative traits she did know of were amplified. and the add more ten times the toxicity. 

🍸

‘he’s just like his mother.’ the words her grandmother had said resonated in her mind as she looked at her son. when the older woman had said them, he’d been no older than a toddler, but chomsky couldn’t help but think they still applied now, how much he reminded her of herself before his birth. that alone was enough for her to know that he was wrong, and that she would love him until the end of time itself.

refusing to look away, chomsky held charlie’s gaze, a new type of determination filling her. she couldn’t change the past, no matter how much she wanted to, but she wouldn’t lose her son — not again. 

“i don’t know you,” she agreed with a sad smile, thumb caressing his cheek softly. “and you don’t know me. but i’m your mother, and you’re my son. you’ll always be my son.” her own parents had cast her away for what she’d done, the supposed shame she’d brought to their family name, and chomsky had vowed she’d never do the same to her own children. it was a vow she intended to keep. “what you’ve done — you did it, and there’s no changing it. it doesn’t change the love i have for you. it never will.” she paused, refusing to let her emotions consume her once again. “come home.”

[justchomsky]

chahid-narayanan​:

They stared at her for a moment, knowing who she was, afraid to make any comment, then just smiled. “oh… I meant… I meant the cigarette,” they explained, but instead they disappeared behind the bar and went looking for any food that came from the farm. There wasn’t a lot luckily. They figured they didn’t have to check the nuts. 

They looked back up, taking a moment to mule over her words again. Chahid wasn’t so sure they should take her offer as a command, or to think nothing of it. “Maybe I should check the alcohol,” they said, hoping she would give them an order or laugh at it or something. 

🍸

“what, you think the tobacco is what’s making people sick?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, looking at the cigarette in her hand before returning her attention to the other. “no, this didn’t come from the farm. one of the supply runners found a carton on a run — they’re stale, but they get the job done.”

with a huff of laughter, chomsky shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “do whatever you want.” this was mostly her attitude towards everyone and everything lately, something they made people wonder why she was on the council in the first place. 

[justchomsky]

calebmajhi​:

where: Fairvale Library when: early July, evening who: @justchomsky

Caleb is on a ladder, head in the space where a ceiling tile should be, stripping wires, splicing them back together, and toiling in general over a hard to reach power supply for the library. A small section lost its lighting, assumed to be due to faulty wiring. His mind in on whoever last connected these wires as some have electrical tape around them, frustrated but also thankful for something to do. As he’s climbing down the ladder to grab a tool, he pauses halfway, just in time to see a familiar face approaching.

Ruth Chomsky - the council woman who did his entry interview.

“And for what reason are you gracing me with your presence? Company, maybe? Or are you here to inspect my work - I’m not done quite yet.” Despite his words, Caleb’s tone is light, almost playful. He takes the last two steps off the ladder to drop a small volt meter heavily into an open tool chest. “Or are you giving me a reason to take a break?” If not he could bury his head right back up into the ceiling tiles and finish the job pronto. If so, well then Caleb still has no complaints. “Or maybe just an avid looking for the next best book to bury your nose in? I have no book suggestions if that’s the case.”

🍸

the last few days had been... eventful, to say the least. with her son arriving in town, it seemed like lots of old memories had come back, leaving the council woman feeling a little off. she tried to brush it off but she knew that she wasn’t quite acting like herself, no matter how much she tried. so instead of dealing with another round of questions about if she was okay, or looking at the pictures that were pinned to her kitchen fridge, chomsky made her way to the library.

at the sight of caleb, she couldn’t help but smile a little. though she didn’t particularly like doing the entry interviews, she’s done his, which had cemented him in her mind. “you know, you sure do talk a lot.” she teased, stopping near the ladder and stuffing her hands in her pockets. “was just coming to check up on you, make sure you hadn’t fried yourself playing with those wires.” in reality, she hadn’t even known he’d be here — a testament to how out of it she’d been recently — but she wouldn’t admit to that out loud.