#i wanted to leave it open until it dried but spore...

[dippyface]

our bathroom was mold hell before the fire and renovation of literally everything so there's black mold in the corner of this lil recessed cabinet in there we don't use and was painted shut until like two weeks ago. and idk what to do with her so I just sprayed it with peroxide and closed it again. I think I might buy some kind of moisture absorber and put it in there. die bitchass mold

[hoe-doroki]

flotsam, jetsam, lagan, and derelict

A response to this ask:

Reader having a silent mental breakdown and trying to hide it with Bakugo and iida!( bakugo’s fine if not iida)

warning: detailed descriptions of panic attack, self-loathing

pairing: Iida x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 1.5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Your ship was a sturdy one—or so you’d always thought. You weren’t naïve enough to realize that your ship didn’t have a number of holes in it, depression, anxiety, intrusive thoughts to name a few. Sometimes they broke through planks, splintering the wood in moments of tension or grief, maybe separately or maybe all at once creating a fall hazard yawning open on your deck. Sometimes they were quieter, bits mold spore collecting on the framing or rust on the sheet metal, leaving you mysteriously enfeebled until you stumbled across an infestation of the stuff and knew what had happened. In either scenario, you’d scramble for more wood, more steel, the sturdiest you could find to rebuild the rotted out sections of your boat. And almost always you could rebuild, restore before you began to sink.

But that was all for naught if the person doing the fixing—the captain—couldn’t steer.

You weren’t sure if it was the slow decay sneaking up on you again or if there’d been some greater break today, but your boat wasn’t just in disrepair—it was crashing. You were hitting rocks that were saying that you weren’t good enough. That you never had been good enough and would never be enough. It was something that you heard every day of the sound of the waves, but today it was thunderous. Deafening. The noise was screaming in your head and you were screaming back—you weren’t sure for what. Did you want salvation or did you want cessation?

“Y/N?”

You blinked your living room back into existence. There was a show on the TV, you had no idea which on what program. Iida had chosen it. Maybe your eyes had been on the screen, but they’d been unseeing, your ears plugged with water, locking you in with your thoughts.

“Are you cold?”

You weren’t. In fact, you were sweating—your hands, your armpits, the back of your neck. As steadily as you could, you shook your head, working hard to keep your face placid. Your boyfriend was sharp and he’d notice if your face exposed your inner turmoil.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice pressing. “You’re shaking.”

You hadn’t felt the tremble that he’d spotted immediately—it was just another way that your body was betraying you. “Mhmm,” you intoned, trying to act as though your attention was rapt on the TV as you shoved your damp hands under your thigh.

“Then are you sick?” Iida asked as he leaned forward to get a better look at you.

Your façade began to break. Your breathing was getting heavier and you didn’t feel the usual comfort you did when your boyfriend was this close, giving you his attention. You felt splayed, quartered, and scrutinized while you just wanted to be able to board yourself up somewhere small and hidden.

“Please, Iida,” you whispered, looking down at your lap. “Please just watch your show.”

“Watch my—” Iida grabbed the remote and turned off the TV promptly, giving you even more of his attention. “Y/N, I insist you tell me what’s wrong.”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes tight as they too began to feel hot. “Nothing.”

The word came out so quiet while everything inside was still crashing, shouting. You weren’t good enough and now you were a liar too. You couldn’t even have a movie night without devolving into a shaking, sweaty mess. You couldn’t steer your boat without leaving flotsam and jetsam, lagan and derelict in your wake, portending a shipwreck.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” Iida said, putting a hand to your shoulder.

The trembling had vibrated up your whole arm and uneven gasping was rattling your chest. Every effort you put into stamping it out, rebuilding your mask with eyes a little too wide, lips a little too quivery was torn out of your hands. Your grip was failing.

“Okay, stay right here,” Iida said, pushing off the couch. “I will procure a paper bag.”

Iida was back in a flash—had he used his quirk or were you just that far gone?—unfolding a paper bag and holding it in front of you.

“Breathe into it.”

But you were frozen. Your hands had gone numb under your thighs, the trembles now feeling like the rattling of a skeleton’s bones. No flesh, no muscle, no life—just shaking and air forcing itself into your body only to squeeze right out, rejected before it could find your blood, your marrow.

Iida held the bag to your mouth and pressed a large hand to the back of your neck, trying to settle your heaving, your capsizing. Your blood felt light, carbonated as tingles spread through your whole body. They felt like bugs or tiny splinters trying to find something vital and fleshy to sink into and ruin.

But you could also feel Iida’s hand stroking up and down your neck, the top of your back. Slowly, you began to hear him say, “Breathe, breathe, breathe.” Eventually, you remembered what the word meant as you grabbed hold of the wheel again, and steer away from some of the rocks.

You didn’t know how much time passed. It felt like forever and nothing more than a second frozen in time. What did time matter when you were this detached, this unmoored?

“What was that?” Iida asked as he pulled your bloodless hands out from under your thighs, rubbing them in his. “God, Y/N, that was terrifying. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I—” you tried, but the word was all breath. You swallowed thickly and tried again, still nothing more than a whisper. “I never say anything.”

Your boyfriend stared at you, open mouthed. “This has happened before?”

You looked down, shame putting distance between you and his blue eyes. “A few times but…the lead up happens…sometimes. It just doesn’t…it’s not like I know when it’s going to end up like this versus when it’s going to be normal.”

“Hold on a second,” Iida said a hand chopping in front of you. “What do you mean by normal?”

“Just…” You shook your head, hearing you’re not good enough and why are you even bothering him smack from side to side as you did. “Thoughts. About myself. Usually I can handle them.”

“This is handling it?”

“No!” you said, frustration and pique spilling out of you. “This is obviously not handling it! Usually I can just navigate through it and live another day.”

“Okay, okay…” Iida said, voice quieting as he seemed to realize that he was pushing you towards a gangplank that was already in reach. “Is there anything that I can do?”

A million thoughts popped into your head of the things you wanted. You wanted to be held, reassured, given water, touched, loved. But the language for that dried up on your tongue and the only thing that made it out was, “No.”

Iida sat with that for a second, sharp brows angling in on each other. Then he sat back, looking determined. “An insurmountable challenge only looks that way because you have not yet seen the finish line,” he declared. “There’s always something we can do.”

“We?” you asked, risking a glance up at him.

“We,” Iida repeated confidently. “You and I, we make a we. And if you think I’ll let this happen again, without trying to do something about it, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

“But…”

You shook your head again, wishing that the simple language that Iida used, the simple vision of your problems that he seemed to have was anywhere near the truth. You’d only let him see the shiny hull, the exterior you’d worked so hard to polish over the years. He knew nothing of your many layers of disrepair, the self-loathing that had, in fact, kicked in the very floorboards you stood on, until there was very little ground at all.

“I never know when it’s coming. It just happens and I have to be ready for it all the time.” Tears welled in your eyes and you tried to blink them away. “It’s so exhausting.”

“So let me help,” Iida said as he brushed his tears away.

“I don’t know how,” you whispered.

Iida looked at you, eyes sad but smile warm. Then he lifted you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you. Deep voice muffled in your neck, tickling behind your ear, he said, “Does this help?”

It took a second. Your body was tense, wanting to reject the comfort in favor of more pain. Wanting to let you hate yourself because it was what was familiar and, even in the coarse hold of self-loathing, the familiar felt safe. Like you’d fallen for your captive and you were trapped playing both roles.

But he kept holding you, rubbing your back and breathing in a slow, even tempo. You could feel your sailor’s knots relax your contours falling against his as the pressure of his broad body grounded you. “Yes,” you breathed. “It does.”

“Good,” Iida said, adjusting so that you were just that much closer. “Then it’s a place to start.”

[greaterspawnislands]

red eggs and ham: chapter twelve

xii . holding the sky from the sea 

chapter 14/17

summary: facing the consequences of his actions, ranboo and technoblade have a talk

reblogs appreciated! link to the rest in the notes/reblog :)

The world rocked underneath him, and wind pushed against his sweat-soaked locks of dual-colored hair. Ranboo shifted against an unfamiliar surface, face drawing a frown as he found himself struggling to untangle his arm from his side. His vision was a blur of color, fuzzy fading hues of red, dark gray, green, and pink.

“Techno?” Ranboo murmured, and the arm underneath his shoulders shifted. Ranboo suddenly became aware of how his feet were dangling off the ground and the two arms that were holding him. His gaze finally managed to focus on Technoblade, on the hardened determination that fit his face like a mask of stone, unmoving. “How long- wait, how long was I-”

“Not long,” Techno said shortly, voice clipped. “But we had to go, it wasn’t safe over there anymore.”

“Well, we have to go back, right?” Ranboo struggled a little more, managing to slip out of Techno’s hold and spill onto the ground, chest heaving with labored breaths.

Looking up at Techno, he was only met with an impassive expression, betraying nothing. “We’re leaving, Ranboo.”

The trees around them were unfamiliar, dense oak upon raised hills. “But you said- you said we were going to go find Phil. We can’t just leave him to go after more people, he could hurt them, we- we have to stop him!”

Techno sighed heavily, and the clear disdain stung like the raindrops that were beginning to break through the heavy clouds overhead. “What do you want me to do, Ranboo? I’m not just going to leave you out in this forest to chase after him, we’re both already injured enough as it is, and I’m out of potions. There’s no way we can take on Phil- or whatever is controlling him - and beat him.” For the first time, Ranboo noticed dried blood crusting against Techno’s temple and in his hair, shades of red and pink and brown mixing in a hazy cloud. He was favoring his left side, bending his right leg like he was testing the weight of it.

The two of them stared at each other helplessly, wind whipping up a fervor around them. Guilt clawed its way up Ranboo’s throat, and his stinging claws dug into the bark of the oak tree as he pulled himself up to stand. “I’ll fix this,” he rasped, nodding firmly. The world spun around him, once more blurs of green and pink. “I have totems, I can go find him, I can do this!”

“Ranboo, I just watched you pass out a couple of minutes ago, and Phil hurt you bad, those potions aren’t doin’ much. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” Techno stepped forward, and though Ranboo willed his body to back away, his battered and sore physical form felt like pounds upon pounds of iron, dragging him down against the dirt.

He felt like screaming. The static had returned, furiously buzzing in his mind, crowding out all other noises of wind and rainfall. “You don’t understand!” Words tumbled out, his final defense, all he had left. “I have to be the one to fix this, it’s all- it’s all on me, Techno.” His shoulders jerked forward, stinging arms wrapping around his torso. “I- I’m the one who- I couldn’t save Snowchester, I couldn’t- Tommy- and then, and then I couldn’t figure out what to do with the Egg and it’s my- it’s my fault Phil was taken.” His face stung, beginning to burn as the rainfall increased, though the leaves above him shielded him from most of it. “I’m not strong- I’m not strong enough to take on the Egg like Phil thought I could- like anyone expects me to, all I’m going to do is fail more people and hurt them in the process.” Ranboo’s breath caught, sobs forcing their way past his lips. His chest was barely rising and falling, his panicked breathing stopping any chance at calming down before he could start.

He could see it clearer than he had in weeks. Phil, eyes gleaming blood-red, choking Techno with the very same vines that spread across his wings. Tommy and Tubbo, stained hands wound tightly together until they were ripped apart by a sea of writhing plants and overcome by it. Puffy, fighting through the vines until she was pulled apart at every seam, revealing nothing but more vines underneath. And Ranboo, in the center of it all, witnessing every failure until he, too, became a key instrument in the downfall of this world, every inhale full of spores and every exhale a command that would destroy everything that he had once fought to protect.

His vision was awash in a fuzzy red color, and everything burned. “Ow,” he mumbled listlessly between hitched breaths, just barely able to hear past the static in his ears enough to make out the sound of tears sizzling on his skin, opening fresh wounds in the well-worn grooves of his face.

But as acidic water continued to spill, Ranboo felt a hard pressure just underneath his right eye, ripping a startled gasp from his mouth. The burning feeling felt a quick, temporary relief as no tears fell into the fresh wound, and then there was a rough, familiar voice crashing through what was left of the static.

“-nboo. Ranboo. Can you hear me?”

Another point of pressure joined the first under his opposite eye, and underneath firm hands Ranboo’s head was held steady. It felt nice, to finally be able to cry without it hurting. Ranboo let out a low warbling sound, barely nodding his head in recognition.

Techno exhaled, slow and steady, while Ranboo’s chest continued to stutter, endlessly wracked with sobs. “Alright,” he said eventually, shifting his body weight to sit fully on the ground. It was only then that Ranboo realized that he had collapsed again, and half his body was in the grass and mud. And Techno sat across from him, legs crossed, still holding Ranboo’s head in his hands with a strange look on his face, a mixture of confusion and compassion. “Tommy let out all the dogs yesterday, and he expected me to be the one to corral them all back into the pen.”

Ranboo sucked in a painfully sharp breath, bewilderment breaking through the cloud of crowding emotions in his head. “What?”

[ma-sulevin]

12. the one where soulmates can heal each other’s injuries.

The prompt is from @softmillers​ and Dakota belongs to the light of our life @tommymillers​

This is a long prompt (8199 words oops) and it has some TLOU canon-typical violence and some moderately spicy scenes. If this were AO3, I’d tag it as M.

Life inside the QZ was shit, but life outside the fallen QZ is shittier. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was alone, but with Lucy at his side, depending on him, looking up to him, crying every time she has to fall asleep in a place that isn’t the shitty city apartment she grew up in... It’s hard. It’s so hard, and it feels like he’s failing her every day they wake up and walk farther away from the mess in Seattle.

He knows it’s for the best, but he still feels like he’s failing her.

They walk south, out of Washington, away from the rain and the city with all the memories, good and bad, of his life before. Lucy holds his hand as they walk and starts sucking her thumb again at night, but she’s brave, the bravest kid he knows, and he tells her that every morning as he braids her hair again to keep it out of her face.

She deserves a home, and he’s going to find it for them.

Portland is worse than Seattle was, and his hometown doesn’t exist anymore, but they hear a rumor about a town in Wyoming that’s self-sufficient, not run by Hunters or WLF or Fireflies or FEDRA, and even though it’s so many miles away he’s not sure they’ll both be able to walk there... Lucy looks up at him with her big blue eyes and he knows he’d walk clear across to Atlanta if it would keep her safe.

She’s already seen more than she should ever have seen. 

If he can just find them a home...

They’re still in Oregon when they find a house to camp in for a couple of days, just to rest. Their walking blisters have long since hardened into calluses, but Lucy can barely stay awake all day and he’s afraid she’s going to get sick if he keeps pushing her. It’s not safe, but this house is the safest they’ve found. There’s no spores or infected or Hunters that he can find on his sweep, and there are still some canned goods that haven’t spoiled.

They eat dinner and clean up with the supplies the house’s old owners left behind, and Lucy falls asleep against his chest as he tells her the story of The Hobbit from memory. 

She finds some books in one of the house’s bedrooms the next morning and curls up with her breakfast to read on the couch. It makes tears well up in his eyes, watching her sit on a dusty couch under a moth-eaten blanket, reading a faded book like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He goes outside and breathes in the fresh air, still crisp this early in spring, and lets himself imagine them staying there forever, being safe without having to walk halfway across the continent. She could grow up in a real house with miles of land around her -- she wouldn’t have had that even if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Morgan never wanted to live outside the city, and they’d been making it work before, well.

Before.

The distinctive rack of a shotgun pulls him from his spiraling thoughts, an intimate reminder of why they’re trying to find a town. He raises his hands and turns slowly, cold sweat breaking out along his hairline.

“You alone?” The Hunter is standing a few feet away from him, too far for him to be able to grab the shotgun away from her, dirt and dried blood smeared across her face and a deadly look in her eyes. 

“No.” She raises her eyebrows at him so he adds, “I don’t have any supplies on me, but there’s canned food in the house. If you let me--”

“Daddy?” Lucy’s voice cuts across his and he flinches, but the Hunter does too. She takes a step back and lowers the shotgun, though she doesn’t take her finger off the trigger. “Who’s that?”

“Sweetie, can you go get some of the cans we found and bring them out here for me?” He looks over his shoulder, trying to keep the Hunter in his line of sight at the same time, and sees Lucy hesitate. “It’s okay, just go grab what you can carry.”

She does what she’s told, leaving the front door open as she disappears back into the house. 

He turns back to the Hunter. “Take what you need and leave us alone. We’re just passing through.”

“That’s your daughter?” He nods, and she chews on her bottom lip as she stares past him at the door. “How old is she?”

“Eight.”

The Hunter draws in a deep breath, then she flicks the safety on her shotgun. 

He lowers his hands.

“I didn’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything even though it looks like there’s real regret on her face. She keeps her shotgun in one hand but doesn’t move otherwise, waiting with him as Lucy crashes through the house.

Lucy comes back out with her arms full of cans and drops one on the stairs. It rolls into the overgrown grass without her noticing, and she marches right up to the Hunter before Tyler has the chance to tell her to put the cans on the porch and go back inside.

“Here you go,” she says, voice strong. She’s always liked to help, and even the shotgun isn’t enough now to make her feel like the Hunter can’t be trusted, not if her dad wants to share their food. Tyler waits to see what the Hunter will do, and he raises his eyebrows when she puts the shotgun in its holster on her back so she can take the cans with both hands. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay,” the Hunter says, shoving the cans into a bag that’s suspiciously empty. “I’m just gonna--”

“If you don’t clean it, you’ll get an infection and die.” Lucy’s very matter-of-fact, parroting words Tyler’s explained to her more than once over the years, though not quite in that order. That she remembers, not the lecture about not trusting strangers. “Right?” She turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, hands on her hips. 

Tyler meets the Hunter’s eyes, then looks back down at Lucy. “Yes, but she can clean it later. You need to go back inside.” 

Lucy looks back up at the Hunter, who smiles gently, then back up at him. “But we have soap here.”

“Lucy. Go inside.” He thinks she’s going to pitch a fit, just for a second, because she screws her face up at him in a moment of pure irritation. He stares back at her and she deflates. The fight goes out of her and she goes back into the house by herself.

She slams the door this time, so maybe the fight isn’t all the way out of her.

“She’s cute.” The Hunter is still smiling a little, like she wasn’t just trying to rob him blind and probably leave him for dead. “She seems like a handful. Is it… just the two of you?”

“Are you going to bring your group back here?” His voice is hard, anger at Lucy being in danger pushing his words. “I told you we’re just passing through. You got your food, now you need to leave.”

She holds her hands up in surrender, the smile dropping from her lips. “Okay. Okay.”

She walks away and he watches her until he can’t see her anymore, then he turns and picks the dropped can back up. It isn’t dented, isn’t opened at all, so he brings it with him back into the house.

Lucy’s sitting on the couch, fat tears rolling down her face. She runs over when he shuts the front door and wraps her little arms around his waist. He hauls her up into his arms and she clings to him as he carries her back to the couch and sits down with her.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says, voice low, his hand rubbing over her back. “You just have to listen to me, especially out here. Not everyone is a friend.”

“She was hurt.” Lucy’s voice is wet and small, and he heaves a heavy sigh.

“I know, sweetie. She’s okay, though. We gave her some food and she’ll go back to her group and they’ll be fine.”

He waits until Lucy calms down to tell her they have to leave. He doesn’t know where the rest of the Hunters are, but he’s not going to be here when they get back. He wanted them to rest longer, but now it isn’t safe.

They take as much food as they can carry, and he pretends he doesn’t notice Lucy sneaking a few more paperbacks into her little dirty backpack. He’ll probably have to carry them for her later, but right now… if they make her happy, it’s worth it.

They don’t see another human for two more days. This time it’s a man, outside a gas station, and Tyler can smell the trap a mile away. Lucy must be able to too, or she learned her lesson from the house, because she tightens her grip on his hand and lets him keep her on the far side of the street.

The man follows them.

Tyler’s just shifting Lucy so she’ll be behind him when he turns when he hears the sound of another fucking shotgun racking. He flips around, pistol out, Lucy tucked so close behind him she won’t be able to see anything, and he sees the Hunter from before with her shotgun leveled at the new man.

She’s not looking at Tyler. All her focus is on this new guy, anger curling her lips until her teeth are bared in a snarl. “You wanna rethink that?”

The man puts his hands up, keeping his fingers away from his pistol’s trigger. 

The woman glances at Tyler. “Grab that.”

He does, tucking it back where he keeps his.

The woman gestures at the man with her shotgun. “Don’t let me see your face again.”

The man spits at her, but she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t lower the shotgun until he disappears back behind the gas station.

“You two good?”

Lucy pops her head out from behind him. “Hi!”

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?”

Lucy nods, but she puts her thumb in her mouth anyway. Tyler pulls it out and wraps his hand around hers instead. 

“You following us?”

The woman shrugs and grins a little. “Seems like a happy coincidence. Got here just in time, at least. You two heading east?”

Tyler hesitates, but nods. “We heard about a settlement that’s supposed to be safe. We figured it was worth the risk.”

“A safe settlement east of us? The one in Wyoming?”

“You been?”

The woman shakes her head. “No, but I’ve heard about it. I was thinking about going that way too, maybe… Three of us traveling together might be safer?”

She asks the question confidently, but there’s real hesitation in her eyes. She’s uncertain about his answer, worried that he’ll say no after what happened at the house.

Lucy tugs on his hand. When he looks down at her, he can tell she wants the woman to come with them.

He looks back at her and presses his lips together before he nods.

Her face breaks into a wide smile, and even under the grime and blood, she’s beautiful.

“I’m Tyler,” he says, and he lifts Lucy’s hand a little, “and this is Lucy.”

“Dakota,” she says, looking from him to Lucy and back. “Let’s get going.”

She still has most of the food she took from them, which makes him feel better about a future ambush. She doesn’t apologize for holding him up, but she does pool her food in with theirs when it’s time to stop for the night, and she says she’ll take whichever watch he wants her to so they can all get enough sleep to keep walking the next day.

Lucy loves her, asks her a million questions until she gets tired and wants Tyler to hold her, and then Dakota takes some of his supplies so he can. 

He finds himself trusting her faster than he should. He knows better than this. He knows better than to be fooled by a pretty smile and dark eyes, and even though it’s been seven years since Morgan died… it still feels like a betrayal of him, somehow, to look at Dakota and find her beautiful.

He tries to focus on Lucy, on keeping his eyes and ears on the world around them, on getting them safe to Jackson when it’s hard to follow maps that are a decade out of date. He tries to focus on listening for any infected, to make sure Lucy doesn’t have to see them, to make sure none get close enough to threaten either of them.

Well. Any of them, really.

Dakota’s part of the group now whether he likes it or not.

(And he does like it. He just tries not to think about it.)

They find another house a few weeks later, similar to the first one they stopped in, and they set up for the night once it’s cleared. Lucy takes a bath while Dakota goes out to see if she can catch anything to eat, and he brushes out and braids her hair while Dakota cooks up the rabbit she managed to find.

It’s very domestic, very relaxed, and Tyler finds himself drifting closer and closer to Dakota the longer the night goes on, but… she seems like she’s drifting closer to him too, a little smile on her face whenever she catches him looking at her.

Lucy demands a story for bedtime, snuggled up in one of the house’s empty beds, and he tells her part of Star Wars: A New Hope, talking to her in a low voice until she falls asleep.

Dakota is pouring over the maps when he comes back into the living room, sitting on the couch with the coffee table pulled up close, a towel still in her hands to wring water out of her hair. He sits next to her when she smiles at him, and watches as she points at where they are and where they need to be going to get to Jackson.

“This is the best time to be traveling,” she says, voice pitched low so she won’t wake up Lucy. “You don’t want to be out here when it starts to snow.”

“Have you been caught out here in the winter?”

He knows almost nothing about her, not really, but he’s not wholly surprised when she nods and then looks up at him to explain.

He is surprised when her lips part but she doesn’t speak, because she’s too busy looking at his mouth. She shifts toward him, just a bit, and their knees touch.

Had he sat down so close to her?

He’s not sure which of them moves first, but their lips meet and she moans into his mouth. She pushes closer, climbing into his lap, fingers tangling in his hair that’s too long and still damp from his bath, and he pulls her closer, leaning back so she has more room to settle with her knees on either side of his hips.

It’s overwhelming already, her body warm and solid against his, her teeth catching his lower lip as his hands run up the warm skin of her back under her ratty shirt. 

It’s a bad idea but it doesn’t even occur to him to push her away, to tell her they shouldn’t do this while they still have months of travel ahead of them, but she’s squirming against him and tugging at his shirt too and it feels too good to do anything but yank her shirt off over her head so he can kiss her breasts while she pulls at his belt.

He leans back when she wraps her fingers around him, biting his tongue to keep from being too loud. She pumps him a few times before slipping off his lap so she can push her jeans down, and she’s climbing back in his lap to sink down onto him before he has a chance to lean in and kiss the tattoo on her ribs.

“Fuck.” He swears against her mouth and holds tight into her hips as she starts to move over him. She’s already so wet and he’s barely touched her, and it’s been so long that he’s even had time by himself that he feels like he’s on the edge after just her first few thrusts.

She moans and bites at his lip again, and she holds onto the back of the couch as she starts to really move. “Wait for me,” she says, cheek against his, lips against his ear. “You feel fucking amazing.”

He can’t talk now, can’t do anything but hold on as she fucks him, barely has the presence of mind to reach between them for her clit, but she bats his hand away anyway. She takes care of that too and she comes around him as she touches herself.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, hands sliding up her sides and then scratching back down. “Dakota, I--”

She kisses him, pulling on his hair, and he comes still deep inside her. She swallows his groan and then kisses him again, soft, lingering as he catches his breath.

“That was great,” she says, conversationally, like she’s complimenting his cooking. “We should do that again next time we find a house. I feel amazing.”

She climbs off of him and pulls her pants back on like nothing happened, and he stands, still trying to catch his breath, and tucks himself away.

Lucy’s still asleep when he checks on her, flat on her back with her arms and legs starfished, and he watches her in silence until guilt creeps in on him. He goes to sleep in the room across the hall, tension creeping back into his limbs.

Dakota grins at him like they have a secret the next morning, but she doesn’t say anything else as they pack up to move along after breakfast. Lucy chatters like she always does, asks a bunch of questions -- this time about outer space since he was telling her about Star Wars -- and they answer what they can. Dakota is delighted to hear they’ve been talking about Luke Skywalker, and she and Tyler compare notes until Lucy gets bored.

It’s easier to walk that day, lingering soreness in his feet and hips all but disappeared. Endorphines are a hell of a thing, and he tries not to think too hard about it.

A glance at Dakota catches her looking back at him already.

She blushes and looks away, so he knows he’s not the only one still thinking about it.

They don’t find a good enough house to give them safety and privacy again that night, or the next, and then they’re not even in a town anymore so it’s hard to find places to sleep at all. It feels like they’re never going to get to Jackson, and Tyler’s still not convinced they’re going to find anything at all when they get there, but he doesn’t know what else to do, so he keeps walking.

He just keeps walking.

They celebrate Lucy’s birthday after they cross over the border into Idaho. Tyler’s not totally sure he has the date right, but it’s close enough, and they find a little bookstore without any Infected in it for her to raid. She wants to sleep there, and they agree, setting up their sleeping bags all in a row in the musty children’s section.

Tyler and Dakota take turns reading from Inkheart until Lucy falls asleep, and then Tyler follows Dakota to the other side of the store where she pushes him into the shadows against the front counter. 

She kisses him the same way she did at the last house, deep and desperate, nipping him when she wants him to do something different, and he starts feeling the same sort of energy washing over him as last time, just from wrapping his arms around her, with her lips against his neck and her hands pulling his belt free of its loops.

He has more control this time, spinning them around and then turning her so he can bend her over the counter. She braces herself against the dusty surface and arches her hips toward him, making the quietest moan when he pushes deep inside. She’s tighter this way than she was last time, with her jeans keeping her knees trapped together, but she’s even wetter, and he gives her all he has until she has to bite her arm to muffle her cry as she comes. 

He finishes inside her again, pushing in as deep as he can and bending over her to press his face against her back. He shudders through it, then relaxes, pleasure still coursing through his veins in a way that makes a thought tickle at the back of his mind.

He ignores it and kisses her again instead, pushing for that last little bit of connection before she slips away to clean up.

He’s nearly asleep when she makes it back to her sleeping bag on Lucy’s other side. He watches her settle in until he can’t keep his eyes open for one more second.

It takes them a long time to get through Idaho, passing through it at its widest point. They have to travel around infections and cities, avoiding anywhere they might find more trouble than two adults can take on with a child to protect.

Lucy bonds hard with Dakota, enough that Tyler worries about what will happen when they reach Jackson. What if they have to keep traveling? What if Dakota wants to stay but he doesn’t, or what if he and Lucy find a home and Dakota wants to leave?

He needs to ask her, to find out what she’s thinking, but whenever they have enough time and privacy to talk about it…

Maybe they’ve bonded hard too, enough that Tyler worries about what will happen if Dakota wants to leave him behind. Having her in his arms, in his lap, bent over furniture or pressed against a wall is one of the best things he’s ever felt, and he can’t get enough of it. 

It seems like she can’t either, because she looks for opportunities for them to be alone. He and Lucy had never found as many safe places to sleep as they do when Dakota’s in charge of navigating across the countryside. It’s like she knows, from being alone all that time, exactly where to find a safe place to bunker down for the night.

Tyler could cry when they pass over the border into Wyoming, and he almost does when he feels Dakota slip her hand into his. Lucy’s on his other side, and it almost feels like…

No.

They’re not a family, and until he talks to Dakota about whatever this is between them, somewhere Lucy won’t hear but somewhere they also won’t get distracted trying to fuck each other’s brains out, he can’t think like that.

They’ve already spent so much time together that no matter what, it’s going to hurt him and Lucy when they have to go their separate ways, but… with her hand in his, it’s easy to pretend that won’t happen. It’s easy to lean into the soft warmth, into the way it makes him forget the aching of his feet, and pretend they’ll keep living like they have been once they reach Jackson.

The same thought that keeps stirring in his head rises up again, the thought that she doesn’t just make him forget the pain, that touching her makes it disappear entirely, but he shakes his head and pushes it back down, deep down where it belongs, and starts walking again.

Morgan was his soulmate. They found out when Tyler cut his thumb trying to cook, and Morgan’s worried fingers on his wrist made the cut fully heal before their eyes. Morgan died, back before the real outbreak started, caught the infection trying to treat the earliest outbreak up at Lakehill, and you don’t get that twice.

Dakota helps, but they’re not soulmates.

There’s not a chance.

They’re actually not that far from where they think Jackson is when they run into trouble.

They’ve seen infected before, mostly around the cities they’ve skirted, usually runners that they’re able to sneak past without trouble. None have gotten close enough to their camping spots to be a threat, and they’ve really only had to worry about packs of Hunters as they’ve walked from Washington. 

It’s not easy to forget that the infected exist, but it’s easy to pretend they’re too far away to really hurt them until it’s too late.

Lucy sees them first, because Tyler’s let himself get too comfortable on this leg of the trip. He’s too used to the three of them being together, to letting Lucy walk just a little ahead of them, to letting his eyes drift over Dakota’s body like he has any right to it. He’s gotten too comfortable, and he doesn’t even realize it until Lucy screams.

The sound pierces him, shrill and loud enough to scare birds away from the nearby trees, and he’s pushing past Dakota to run for Lucy before he has time to process what’s happening.

They’ve made it so far.

Lucy’s running back to him before he finds her, appearing from around a car someone abandoned on the side of the road, and she rams full-speed into his legs before he has a chance to grab her. He’s snatching her up so he can press her face against his shoulder before she has time to say anything, but Dakota is already right there with him.

She pushes forward, around the car, shotgun in her hands and a snarl on her face that spells trouble for whatever’s on the other side.

“Are you hurt or are you scared?” It’s a question he’s asked her before, over and over, and she knows she needs to answer. When she squeaks out a tiny scared, he shifts her weight so he can support her with one arm, leaving his other hand free for his pistol.

He can see the top of Dakota’s head as she moves, looking for what scared Lucy, and he moves slower to join her.

There’s a pile of dead infected, clickers, crumpled up behind the car. Dakota meets his eyes and he knows they need to stay quiet now, and he whispers as much in Lucy’s ear as they start following the road again without speaking.

Their guns stay out, and they stay close. Dakota stays on Tyler’s left, covering Lucy for him. 

He’s glad she’s with them, has been for weeks, and he needs to tell her when they find somewhere to camp. He wouldn’t have let her travel with him at all if it hadn’t been for his daughter, and now he can’t imagine making this trip without her.

As careful as they’re being, as quiet as they’re being, Tyler can hear it when the forest starts to move on the far side of the road. He hisses a word of warning to Dakota and tightens his arm around Lucy, clenching his jaw when he feels her little hands tightening in the collar of his shirt.

“People,” she says, and the little whisper raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

He squeezes her tighter and whispers, “Do you see the blue car?” She turns her head toward the car just on his other side and nods. “When I put you down, I need you to go right to it and crawl under it, okay? Like we did in Seattle. Remember?”

She nods, and he looks over to see Dakota watching from the corner of her eye. She gives a little nod too, arms tensing on her shotgun, her jaw clenching in preparation of whatever’s about to happen. 

“Ready?” 

Lucy’s arms tighten around him and he wants to scream. “Ready.”

He presses a kiss into her hair and says, “Now.”

She runs as soon as her feet hit the broken asphalt, right to the blue car, just like they practiced in Seattle, just like she had to do outside of Portland, dropping her little backpack as she goes.

Tyler spins so that his back is to Dakota’s, gun up, facing the two men that were behind them as Dakota faces the men that were waiting in front of them.

Ambush.

Hunters.

“Y’might as well lower them guns,” one of the men says, one of the ones behind Tyler. “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.” Neither one of them moves, and the man laughs. “It ain’t the time to be brave, not with your little girl hiding like a rabbit.”

The men move closer, and Dakota does too. Her hip presses against his as she draws their defensive stance tighter, and just the reminder that she’s with him makes him feel a little calmer, even as outnumbered as they are.

“Just toss the bags and we’ll get out of your hair.”

Dakota moves first, drawing in a deep, irritated breath before she shifts enough to let her backpack slip off her shoulders. She tosses it to the side, well away from the car where Lucy is hiding, and Tyler watches from the corner of his eye as one of the Hunters snatches it up.

Tyler bits the inside of his lip as he does the same, tossing his bag to the same Hunter going through Dakota’s. It hits the man in the leg and he snarls at Tyler.

Tyler ignores him.

“Your weapons too.” The leader sounds so fucking smug, and Tyler twists to look at him over his shoulder. “Ammo’s hard to come by these days.”

“Ammo’s in the bags,” Dakota says, voice rougher than Tyler’s ever heard it.

She’s scared.

The Hunter grins at them both. He’s grimy, just like them, but there’s a feral glint to his eyes that makes Tyler absolutely certain they’re in it worse than he thought. 

“You ain’t gonna fight us for a few extra bullets,” he says, moving closer. His fingers twirl a knife around as he walks, and Tyler stares at the motion. “Not with a kid. Not with this many of us. Hand it over.”

He’s close enough to just take the shotgun from her hand, and even though Tyler can feel her tensing behind him… she lets it go.

The Hunter tosses the gun to the side and one of his men catches it, then he turns to Tyler with the same twisted grin on his face. “Your turn now, unless you’re gonna be a man all of a sudden.”

Dakota tenses again, but Tyler hands over the pistol. He still has another tucked under his shirt, the one they took from that other Hunter back in Oregon, but with only a few bullets in it, he’s not sure what he’ll be able to do.

His pistol gets tucked into the Hunter’s belt, then the Hunter turns his attention back to Dakota.

“Maybe you oughta come with us too,” he says. “He obviously can’t keep a pretty thing like you safe out here.” He brushes his knuckles over Dakota’s cheek, and Tyler’s just drawing in a sharp breath when Dakota punches the Hunter in the throat.

Chaos erupts around them as Tyler lunges forward for the leader, tackling him to the ground before he can grab for his weapon. Dakota’s colorful swearing is drowned out by the yells of the other Hunters, the far-off pops of gunfire, and the wheezes of the man under Tyler’s hands.

The Hunter tries to fight back but Tyler has the advantage, and he slams his fists into the man’s face, over and over, until blood starts to splatter and the man goes still.

The pops of gunfire grow closer, and Dakota screams, and Tyler clambors to his feet and turns back to see one of the Hunters shoving her into the dirt with her arm twisted up behind her and the barrel of his gun against the back of her head. 

Just as Tyler gets his handgun leveled at the Hunter’s head, there’s another pop and the Hunter falls to the side in a spray of blood. Dakota pushes herself up to her knees but her right arm is at an odd angle that makes Tyler’s stomach twist.

“Stay right there.” The new voice makes them both freeze, and Tyler forgets how to breathe. There’s no way they can fight off another group of Hunters, not with Dakota’s arm broken and Lucy still waiting for them. “Where’d you come from?”

Tyler turns toward him, ready to do whatever he needs to get them out of there alive, but his words fail him when he sees an older man on a horse. There’s a rifle over his shoulder and a serious look on his face, but he doesn’t look angry.

And the horse is unexpected.

“Seattle,” Tyler tells him, holding his hands up, finger away from the trigger. “These Hunters jumped us.”

The man nods and climbs off his horse. “We’ve been having trouble with them lately. Where you two heading?”

“Jackson.”

The man stands still for a second, staring at him, and Tyler stares right back.

Finally, the man nods and whistles, sharp and loud, and Tyler flinches at the noise. Another person on a horse appears, a younger woman this time, and the resemblance is strong enough that Tyler knows they’re related.

He lowers his hands.

“I’m Michael,” he says. “This is my daughter Maria. We’ll take you to Jackson.” 

Tyler turns and looks at Dakota. She’s climbed to her feet and she looks pale, cradling her injured arm, but her chin is high and she nods when he catches her eye.

“Thank you,” Tyler says, putting the safety back on and tucking the gun away. He moves to the blue car while Maria starts digging through one of her bags and kneels down to look under it. Lucy is flat on her stomach, her eyes wide, dirty cheeks streaked with tears, and she starts to cry again the second she sees him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, c’mere.” He holds his hand out and she starts crawling forward, and he pulls her out from under the car as soon as he can to pull her into his arms. She clings to him, shaking, and he pushes himself to his feet. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re safe now. We found some good people who are going to show us where Jackson is.”

He rubs her back as she calms down, standing off to the side as Maria bandages Dakota’s arm as best she can, creating a sling for her. Michael collects the guns the Hunters dropped, looks through their pockets for supplies, and then picks up the bags Dakota points out. The horses, unbothered, nibble at the weeds growing high on either side of the road.

“Look, baby, real horses.” Lucy’s sniff is wet and gross, but she sits up and wipes at her nose to look at the horses. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Mhm.” He doesn’t correct her when she puts her thumb in her mouth, not this time. She’ll stop when she’s not scared, and she’ll stop being scared when they’re somewhere safe. She talks around her hand to ask, “Can I ride one?”

He starts to tell her to ask Michael, but Maria answers first.

“Why don’t you ride up here with your mom?”

Tyler freezes, eyes darting up to meet Dakota’s, but she doesn’t do anything more than give a little smile as she settles onto one of the horses with Michael’s help, her arm supported with bandages wrapped around her torso.

“I got room,” she says, and then holds her hand out for them, “and one good arm.”

Lucy leans forward in Tyler’s arms, and he takes her over to Dakota. Dakota hisses as Lucy bumps into her broken arm, but wraps her good arm around her and kisses the top of her head without saying a word about it.

Once they’re both settled on the horse, Tyler runs his hand over its neck. “Are you okay?” He meets Dakota’s eyes, voice low, and she smiles at him.

“I will be once we get to Jackson,” she says. “Bones heal.”

“Y’all ready?” Michael appears on Tyler’s other side, holding the horse’s reins, and Tyler nods.

The walk back to Jackson is slow, but Tyler’s never felt safer during their whole journey. Michael and Maria know what they’re doing, and they fill them in about Jackson as they all walk together. The town was Michael’s idea, they say, and they’ve been working hard over the last couple of years to see it become a reality. They want it to grow, to be a safe haven, to have clean water and electricity and fresh food, and they ask questions about how Tyler and Dakota can help once they’re settled in.

It’s like they took one look at their little group and decided to keep them forever, and Tyler could cry with relief.

There’s a wall around Jackson, tall and strong, and a guard lets them all in the gate. They stop just inside to leave the horses at the stables, and Tyler gathers Lucy back up in his arms as they walk deeper into the town. She lets him carry her, tucks her head against his shoulder and holds on tight, but he knows her eyes are wide open to take everything in.

“We have a doctor’s office set up,” Maria explains, “so they can take a look at your arm, Dakota, and they can make sure none of you were bit. If you have anything else you need them to look at, now’s the time. I’m going to see if I can find you a house to stay in -- we’ve been fixing them up as we have time and supplies -- and I’ll come back to take you in a bit. Okay?”

They nod, because of course it’s okay, and Maria takes them to the little wooden building that’s serving as Jackson’s clinic, and the silence that’s left behind as she leaves is heavy.

Dakota breaks it first. “Tyler, I--”

He doesn’t let her finish, moving before he can think about it, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest. She leans against him, her good arm going around him and Lucy both, and she hiccups a sob when he kisses the top of her head.

She pulls away with the door to the clinic opens, wiping at her face with her sleeve, but Tyler grabs for her hand. He entwines their fingers as he turns to look at the doctor, who smiles when she sees the three of them standing together.

“Hi! We have one broken arm and three new Jackson residents, huh?”

Tyler nods and pulls Dakota’s hand up to his mouth so he can kiss her knuckles before she goes with the doctor. As soon as he sits, he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, exhaustion pressing him down until he feels like he can’t move.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetie?” He turns his head to look down at Lucy next to him.

She’s looking at the door to the exam room, but she turns back to him as she says, “Is Dakota going to live with us?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before he answers. “I don’t know. Would that be okay with you?”

Lucy nods. “I know she’s not my mom like, um, like that lady said. But I don’t want her to go somewhere else without us.”

Tyler’s worry about Dakota leaving them rears its ugly head again. Lucy would be heartbroken, but… so would he. He didn’t think this would happen, not when she stole his food, not even when she climbed in his lap that first night in Oregon, but… he loves her.

“I don’t want her to leave either,” he says. “I’ll talk to her for us, okay?”

Lucy nods and then falls silent. They sit together until the exam door opens and Dakota comes back out with the doctor. Her arm is bandaged again, in a loose sling, but she has a smile on her face that grows when she sees Tyler. He raises his eyebrows at her, but she just shakes her head.

“Your turn,” she says. “I’ll wait out here.”

Tyler stands and takes Lucy’s hand, pulling her along with him into the exam room. They let the doctor check them both for bites, then for wounds, and Tyler lets her clean his knuckles that split during his fight with the Hunters. Lucy’s not hurt at all, and the doctor praises her for being brave, and then they go back out to where Dakota’s sitting with the smile still on her face.

“Maria’s outside,” she says, standing up to meet them. “She says there’s a house we can use down the street.”

The three of them follow Maria down the street to the house, listening quietly as she gives them a tour. They have a supply store and a blacksmith, a town hall, a building where there will be a school soon since they have a few kids now, a little library, and a playground. Lucy perks up when she sees the playground, but Tyler’s more excited about the library than anything else.

He takes Dakota’s hand again as they walk, and she squeezes his fingers when he does.

“And here we are!” Maria walks up the steps onto the porch of a two-storey house and pushes the door open. The three of them trail along inside to find it already full of furniture, a woodpile stacked up next to the fireplace, and several cloth bags in the kitchen. “I tried to find clothes that would fit all of you, but there’s also soap and some food and things in here too. If you need anything else, anything at all, you can usually find me in the town hall or at my house. I’m the one who coordinates most of this, so just ask anyone and they’ll point the way.” She looks at her watch, then back up at Tyler. “I’m going to bring you dinner in a bit, once you’ve had a chance to settle in.”

They thank her, and she leaves them alone in their new house.

Lucy breaks the silence. “Do we have to share this house?”

“I don’t think so.” Tyler finds it hard to speak, dizzy with relief as he is. “It’s all for us.”

Lucy’s eyes are wide as she looks around. “Wow!”

He glances at Dakota, then looks back down at Lucy. “Why don’t you go see what’s upstairs? Maybe you can pick out a room to sleep in tonight.”

Lucy chews on her lip for a second, then she starts to grin as she runs off. Her little feet are heavy as she runs up the stairs, and they can hear her exclaiming over the rooms as she runs from one to the other.

Tyler speaks first. “Will you stay?”

Dakota takes a step closer, a little grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “In Jackson?”

He brushes her hair behind her ear and cups her jaw. “With me.”

Her smile grows, like she knows something he doesn’t. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?”

She pushes up onto her toes and kisses him instead of answering. He tangles his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her close as he kisses her back. It’s deep and it’s heady, and he doesn’t notice when she cups his jaw with both her hands until she nips at his lower lip and pulls away to look up at him.

“Tyler.”

He blinks down at her, then he blinks again, then he takes a step back so he can really look at her. Her sling sits empty against her chest, and she holds both arms out to the side and wiggles her fingers.

“I’m all better.”

“You… we…” His thoughts swirl around him and everything he’s ignored or pushed away as a coincidence over the last months hits him at once. 

The sheer coincidence of them meeting, how natural it felt whenever she reached out to touch him, how aches and pains always seemed to disappear whenver they slept together… the way she feels as right in his arms as Morgan felt, even before they knew they were soulmates.

And now, the last fact he needs to accept what he’s known since Oregon… her broken arm isn’t broken anymore. It’s healed, just from the short time they’ve spent in each other’s arms since the attack.

“We’re soulmates?” It comes out more of a question than he meant it too, but he can’t help it. It feels too surreal, too big and out of his control, but she just smiles, wide and open and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I didn’t think it would ever happen again,” she says, and her smile grows brighter when he starts drifting closer. “I thought I had my chance before and that was it, but then…” She loops her arms around his neck and pulls him close. “I found you.”

“I love you,” he says, the confession spilling out of him. “I already knew I loved you. I was going to ask you to stay with us.” He wraps his arms around her too, holding her body against his.

“Is Lucy okay with me staying here?”

“She wants you to,” he says, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. “She asked at the clinic.”

Dakota tilts her chin up and kisses him, and he parts his lips for her. It feels good and right, and when he breaks the kiss to pull her in for a hug, tucking her head under his chin, he notices that the split knuckles on his right hand have completely healed.

“Daddy! I picked out my room!” Lucy’s voice echoes down the stairs, and Dakota starts to pull away… but he tightens his arms around her so she can’t move. When Lucy skids to a stop in the kitchen again, she puts her hands on her hips and stares at them. “Did you ask her to stay with us?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You still okay with that?”

Lucy’s smile is the biggest she’s had since before they had to leave Seattle, and she nods fast, but she’s not distracted from her goal of showing off her new room. She just changes the way she’s going to do it, grabbing both of their hands and tugging until they disentangle themselves and start to follow her up the stairs.

Having a whole house to themselves in Jackson feels like a dream. It feels too good to be true, like Tyler’s going to wake up and find out that this is a fever dream and he’s still back in Seattle, listening to the WLF fighting against FEDRA and hoping his apartment block isn’t going to be the one that has a bomb in it next. 

Maria brings them food, and they eat together as a family at a table in the kitchen, just like he did when he was a kid growing up. Lucy takes a bath with hot water in her very own bathroom, and then he tells her the beginning of Harry Potter before she falls asleep.

He and Dakota go to bed together, truly clean for the first time in a while, their breath minty and their skin smelling of lavender soap. She pulls him against her, and he goes willingly, covering her body with his as he presses kisses against her skin. He tangles their fingers together as he presses inside her, holding her close as he finally gets to hold her the way he’s been wanting to for weeks.

She moans into his mouth, tugging at his hair and scratching at his back as he moves over her, his thrusts deep and sure after so long together. It’s so much more intimate than their first times together, and he revels in it, soaks it up until he can’t do anything but press his face into the crook of her neck until she calls out her release and shudders around him.

After, they lay still tangled together, her head tucked under his chin and her hair tickling his bare skin. Her fingers trace over the lines of his muscles as he runs his fingers through her hair.

She tilts her chin up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Tyler?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, just keeps playing with her hair. “Mmm?”

“I didn’t say it, but. I love you too.”

[musutofu]

【 When It Rains It Pours 】

♡ pairing | ᵞᴬᴺᴰᴱᴿᴱ Kaminari x ᵍⁿ Reader ✑ word count | 2.9k ✎ genre | yandere, traitor!kaminari ✗ warnings | blood prompt | 46. “It’s okay to love me. Please love me.”

The rain had been unaccounted for. Just a few rolls of thunder somewhere over distant rooftops, a dark smattering of amassing clouds, and the slightest humidity in the soft breeze. The air had that stormy quality to it; thick and balmy, the scent of something damp swimming like waves on the wind. A whisper of rain that would steal in under the cover of darkness and be gone by morning. In a way it had, creating its own early evening as the clouds thickened, knitting together a quilt of darkness that covered the city and blocked the sunlight. Only a faint glow of burning sunset lingered behind the clouds and even that didn’t last. The sky cracked open on a white bolt of lightning, a crash a thunder following. Torrents of rain followed, pummeling the earth into soggy submission as the storm rages on. Sheets of foggy white rain fall like glass bullets, shattering against the pavement with each drop. It’s nearly bruising as you venture a hand past the edge of the patio awning, palm getting smacked lower with each raindrop. The water is lukewarm but dries cold in the wind as you shake the lingering droplets from your skin. “Wait!” Kendou has the nerve to look miffed as she comes tromping out to stop you, gait uneven and breath short as she pauses to catch her breath with her hands behind her head. In one hand is a black jacket–leather with a grey hood–and she offers it to you once her breathing has steadied. “I really have no idea where my umbrella went.” She huffs to herself as she watches you put on her jacket. It’s warmer than the short sleeves you wore to enjoy the last of the unseasonably warm weather and carries the faintest hint of her perfume. “It’s fine, Kendou. You shouldn’t be so worried about me when you’re still sick. Why’d you even run all the way out here?” She laughs, then coughs; a reminder that she was sent home from training early after a run in with Komori’s Quirk. The spores should be on their way out after so many hours, but the effects are still lingering in her uneven breath. “I just don’t want you to get sick.” Her chin lifts resolutely as she stares down at you with a frown. It’s a maternal look that refuses to be denied and you tuck yourself further into your borrowed jacket. “Thank you,” you finally concede after a short staredown, “I’ll return it tomorrow.” “Thank you for looking after me. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.” She bows, ponytail swinging over her shoulder. “Text me when you get to your building. I know it’s a short walk and we’re on campus but I just want to make sure you’re home safe.” “I will.” She hums, waving you off as you shrug into your hood and start for home. The 1-A Alliance building is only a few minutes away from 1-B’s but the rain is disorienting. It’s hard to see anything let alone the grey concrete leading the way back to your dorm. A few times the ground turns squishy beneath your feet as you mistakenly veer off the path. With the soles of your shoes already caked in mud you decide a shortcut would be worthwhile, straying into the grass only to stop when something shifts in your periphery. It could’ve been anything, just your mind playing tricks on you in the low visibility, but something tells you to hide anyway. The squelch of your shoes tromping through the mud is mostly lost to the pounding rain as you bolt behind a tree. It’s probably nothing, just the wind swirling the falling rain into odd shapes, but then why does it look so contained. It’s almost like a vortex opening in the middle distance, deep violet and glowing with just the faintest light as it expands and someone steps out. The hair is unmistakable. A burst of bright blonde hair glowing like a candle in the night, darkened only by a bolt of black. Then there’s more. Yellow, but brighter and glowing like twin flares; eyes. Your breath stops short, scraping and catching noisily in your throat at your realization. You bring your wet hands to clamp over trembling lips as your lungs rattle with the need to cough but concealment is more important than breathing in this moment as you watch Kaminari wave his goodbyes to the Warp Gate; Kurogiri of the League of Villains. As if nothing strange has happened, Kaminari starts for the dorm, head bobbing to some unheard song under the cover of his umbrella. You cough then, a heaving noise that makes you think you’ll throw up until it’s stops. The rain stops too and when you look up Kaminari is standing over you. The rain has already dampened your face and you hope it will hide the tears of betrayal trailing down your cheeks as you swipe at your mouth. He tilts his head at you, a charming smile taking over as he pulls you up from your crouching stance. “What are you doing out here without an umbrella?” “Forgot it.” You croak. “I was looking after Kendou at the 1-B dorm and got caught in the rain. This isn’t even my jacket.” You lift your arms to show the loose fit. “Cute.” Is all he says, tugging on one of the drawstrings until it springs back into place. “You look cute in big clothes.” There’s an edge of flirtation to his voice. Had this been any other moment, if you’d arrived here just a few moments later, you’d feel butterflies stirring in your stomach. They’re still there, but the feeling turns sour and their wings feel like serrated blades. Instead of answering his playful words you sneeze. “Ah, you’re going to catch a cold.” He tosses an arm over your shoulder to huddle you closer under his umbrella. His hold doesn’t loosen until you’ve reached the dorm’s porch. You sniffle to yourself and pretend it’s the cold and not the fear as you kick the mud from your shoes. You leave them by the door with everyone else’s to be cleaned later. A hand catches on your shoulder as you start towards your room and everything inside you freezes. But when Kaminari turns you to face him he looks concerned. “Remember to take a bath so you don’t get sick.” Is all he says, leaving you to shiver by the door and pretend it’s only the cold getting to you. It becomes easy to pretend that that’s all it is as you fall ill from the wind and the rain, a stubborn cold that keeps you from class for a few days. It leaves you time alone with your thoughts and you hate it because all you can think about is what you saw that night. You want to tell someone, but who? No one would believe a U.A. student is colluding with the League and even if they did you had no evidence to back your claim. Something you saw in the rain just before you got sick? It could easily be written off as a fever hallucination. And maybe it was because Kaminari is still the same as ever. Dorkishly charming and devilishly sweet as he nurses you back to health after classes. It’s easy to forget what you saw after dreaming of such strange things while you were bedridden and it becomes a distant memory; a dream that melded with reality. Until the truth comes crashing down around you. The alarms are sounding. Someone from the outside has breached the perimeter of the campus. It’s easy to stay calm after having gone through the panicked pandemonium before only for it to have been a gaggle of nosy reporters. Except it’s the middle of the night and even reporters have enough respect to not disturb the sanctity of students’ sleep. But someone has and as Iida calls everyone’s name you realize who it was. Kaminari is missing, but so are a few other; the heavier sleepers of your class that are slowly trickling out of their rooms, yawning and rubbing at their bleary eyes. Kaminari has never been a heavy sleeper but Iida sends Kirishima to check his room just in case. When the redhead returns empty handed you step away to find Aizawa-sensei. He’s guarding the door, tired eyes holding a certain sharpness that promises protection at any cost. His mouth opens, probably to send you back to the rest of the class, only to snap shut at the tears brimming in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” Is all you can say. “This isn’t your fault–” You don’t give him a chance to say anything more, voice trembling as you stumble over your words in an effort to explain as quickly as you can that this is absolutely your fault. “It is! I should’ve said something. I thought I was just seeing things or remembering them wrong because I was sick but I know what I saw was real! I saw Kaminari with the Warp Gate villain. I saw him and I didn’t say anything and now we can’t find him and it’s all my fault!” You’re wailing now, screeching like a banshee and Aizawa-sensei pulls you into a hug, hand resting on your head to soothe your cries. It helps a little and you quiet to soft sniffling. “You should’ve said something, but I can understand why you didn’t. It’s doesn’t matter now. We know who is responsible and we know how to fight them. Everything will be fine.” He reassures you, sending you back to the others as someone calls him outside. When you rejoin the class everyone looks to be in varying states of grief and you realize they must’ve overheard your wailing. Yaomomo is the first to move towards you, collecting you in her arms as you try to stop your tears. She’s already reached acceptance, face stoic as her eyes dart to all the windows in a quick circuit. “It’s not your fault.” Sero looks terrifying, eyes burning with rage at the betrayal of his best friend. “We all trusted him. I wouldn’t have believed it either.” “Then I did my job well.” Kaminari’s voice is unmistakable and everyone shifts into a fighting stance, hesitant but still prepared to defend themselves. “Though I will admit it wasn’t all an act.” His eyes linger on you. “It would’ve been a mess if they’d sent Toga. I’m sure she’s having her own fun somewhere.” He looks around as if the girl is about to come crashing through a window. “Kaminari, if you were ever really our friend you’ll leave now and turn yourself in.” Tsu says, level headed even in the worst circumstances. “No can do, Tsu-chan.” Kaminari shrugs. The frog girl bristle at the sound of her nickname coming from a villain’s lips. “Don’t call her that.” Ashido snaps. “Only her friends get to call her that.” “Oh. I’m not a friend anymore?” He has the nerve to sound upset by the thought. “You know you aren’t.” It’s Bakugou that growls this, his temper mounting at how calm Kaminari is being. “Now get the fuck out before we take you down ourselves.” His palms spark with the promise of violence. Kaminari sighs. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” He calls your name as he readies himself for the impending fight. “Babe, come here. I don’t want you getting hurt.” A hand clamps protectively over your shoulder before your body can habitually obey his command. Even as your head tried to stop it your heart was pulling you towards him without a second thought. “No.” Iida says, already shifting you behind him. “Can’t you see you’re causing them distress by continuing to pretend you cared about any of us.” Kaminari’s brow twitches, an angry tick that you’ve come to recognize in your months together. Iida’s words have irked him and he’s about to do something rash. Instinctively you reach out to grab the back of Iida’s shirt in the hopes of pulling him out of danger but someone is already tugging on yours. Ojirou crouches in front of you, tail wrapped around your waist as Hagakure steadies you with her hand in yours. “Don’t tell me how to treat them, Iida. You don’t want to get between us, I promise you it’ll end badly.” He seethes. “For you.” The bolt of electricity hits Iida before he can get out of the way and he crumples to the floor in a mass of twitching muscles, eyes rolled back behind his glasses. His body seizes, contorting unnaturally as the electricity forces his muscles to contract and release without his consent. When is stops he’s drooling and his eyes have closed. “Iida!” Someone screams. “Bastard!” Bakugou shouts. “Traitor!” It sounds like Sato. Everyone is moving, preparing for a real fight now that it’s obvious Kaminari isn’t going to back down. Todoroki attacks first, ice fractals freezing Kaminari in place as Bakugou launches forward, blasting the blonde with a double fisted explosion that sends him flying back. He hits the floor hard, springing back up with a hand to his cheek as blood drips from the scrape Bakugou left. He charges again only to be stopped by a tremor Jirou blasts through the floor. It’s loud enough to rattle the floorboards an Kaminari sets off an indiscriminate burst that drops those closest to him into the same state as Iida. It’s a terrifying thing to watch. To see your sweet, soft Denki doing such horrible things to the people he called his friends. One by one they fall by his hand, some taking longer to down than others until it’s only the two of you left standing. You’re shaking as he prowls towards you with a proud smile on his face. It foolishly tugs at your heartstrings and tethers you to the floor. It’s hard to focus but fear has you throwing your weight into a punch, mind too scrambled to properly use your Quirk. He catches your hand and flattens your fingers, kissing the palm of your hand before holding it to his bleeding cheek. “Whey~” He’s smirking like it’s a joke and you yank your hand away before you get too lost in the feeling of familiarity. “Eh? What’s wrong, baby?” Why does he look so confused? Why does he look so hurt by your rejection? He’s the traitor not you. The larger the distance between you grows as you step away from him, backing away from the threat he poses, the more upset he looks. “Where are you going?” His expression is a dangerous mix of hurt and annoyance as he watches you move further away from him, legs barely steady enough to carry your weight. “Away from you.” Is all you can say. He doesn’t chase you but he follows, walking as if you won’t get far. You don’t. Your feet stop you at the threshold as you look out at what’s become of your beloved school grounds. It’s starting to rain, a soft pattering that’s barely enough to wet anything but the ground is already soaked. Blood paints the grass red as teachers and villains clash; students fighting and running, some crying and others already collapsed. The sight stops you in your tracks before you even step off the porch and it’s long enough for Kaminari to catch up to you. He winds an arm around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He says, voice rumbling against your spine as he sways the two of you to a melody only he can hear. “I tried my best to keep the others safe but I couldn’t do much for everyone else.” He quiets as a figure approaches. The legion of hands adorning him gives away his identity. “Bakugou and Midoriya are indisposed inside.” He reports without provocation. Shigaraki tilts his head inquisitively. “And them?” Your heart lurches in your chest as his hand lifts to point at you. Even with the distance dread fills you. Kaminari holds you tighter. “This is who I’m always talking about.” He says proudly, smiling against your neck. Shigaraki hums in understanding, brushing against you as he passes to go inside. When your body doesn’t start to crumble in Kaminari’s arms a strange cocktail of relief and dread pools in your chest. “Get off of me.” He doesn’t. “Let go.” He holds tighter. “Get away from me!” You tumble down the stairs as you wrench yourself free from his arms, your own blood adding to the carnage as your skin is scraped open on the pavement. You hardly notice the sting of pain as Kaminari’s expression turns sinister. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you love me anymore?” You turn away instead of answering but he won’t allow you to remain silent. His footsteps approach with an ominous thud, hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “That’s better. It’s okay to love me, baby. I’m still me. I’m still your Denki.” His words turn pleading when they’re met with tears. “Please, love me.” “I can’t.” Your tears fall into his hair as he joins you on the ground, gathering you in his arms as your tears mingle with the rain that’s falling harder. The sirens are still wailing. People are still wailing. And all you can do is cry in the arms of a villain. “I can’t love you anymore, Denki.” His eyes are resolute when he looks up at you. “You can and you will.”

[autisticstarseed]

👐 Hand washing guide when you have sensory issues 👐

tbh. we shouldve been talking abt this a long time ago for many disabled ppls sake but ive put this post off for like a million years out of pure solidified fear of ableist harassment/kneejerk ignorance and also generalized cringe idiots but now that we got so much covid-19 fear and autistic ppl actually tend to have weaker immune systems than most people lets jump the shark;;;

i have autism and i physically struggle with washing my hands as often as i want to, having wet hands, drying them, the temperature difference, bad soap smells/textures, etc. are all genuinely painful. the good news is that ive dealt with water aversion shit since birth (its a common sensory issue), so ive had time to figure out alternatives and coping skills that still help reduce risk of disease and spreading it in ways that i can personally manage. (ie. not lazy or selfish or gross. genuinely putting more effort into this every day task than most other people would even think about. just disability lads) so heres the guide i have to offer if you’re in a similar boat, with some keypoints about hand hygiene and tips addressing the most common sensory struggles ive noticed with it;;;

1. hand sanitizer

i love hand sanitizer, i can get it in almost any scent i want and it dries down very very fast. the problem is; hand washing and hand sanitizer do different things. it only kills certain types of germs. which is all fine and dandy, but because of this, using only hand sanitizer wont actually keep you from catching or spreading many illnesses. so what its good for is times you cant wash your hands (out in public, sensory overload, no spoons, etc), thats fine, but it should not replace all hand washing if at all possible. it is supposedly effective to covid-19, but so little is currently known that it should not be considered your go to for this, and the only unanimous statement straight from the CDC is that hand washing works best at preventing its spread.

temperature - if you have trouble with it being too cold, conveniently keeping it in your pocket or closely against your body in some way warms it up and makes it much more comfortable. 

scent - they come in almost any scent you can imagine, but if you have trouble with strong scents, there are ‘scentless hand sanitizers’. they usually have a faint chemical smell, so if there are any testers available, you should check to make sure it can work for you before you buy it.

texture - if gel doesnt cut it, they also make foamy hand sanitizers and liquid sprays, but theyre harder to find and might be a little more pricey.

and remember; always buy hand sanitizer that says it contains AT LEAST 60% alcohol, the higher alcohol content the better, but try to keep track of how high it is and how much you apply it so you dont dry your skin out. and right now price gouging is pretty bad, so dont be surprised if you cant find any for a while, and dont buy any small bottle that costs over a couple dollars, its a rip off.

2. hand washing 

so what does hand washing do thats better than sanitizer??? soap and water lift up the dirt and oils that are carrying the germs and actually wash them off, and not only that, it also gets rid of all the things sanitizer cant, such as dust/dirt, spores, chemicals, and the previously mentioned viruses that are harder to kill. ik to an outside perspective it might not seem that hard, but obviously when you have autism and these tasks are split down into bigger ordeals and sensory nightmares, it can feel impossible. 

soap - there are so many different kinds of soap! scentless soaps exist, and they very rarely have any lingering chemical smell! theres also soap for sensitive skin, and baby soap also works well for that issue. bar soaps can come in all different shapes and sizes, with many different ingredients and additives to choose from (independent soap makers are an amazing source for customized soap btw), and liquid soaps can be pure gel, frothy, mousse-y or even have tiny exfoliating or moisturizing beads in them if thats a sensory experience you enjoy. this is my number one rec for people struggling with hand washing bc of sensory issues;;; mix up the soap. finding one that gives you an okay or even a GOOD sensory experience can completely turn around an otherwise meltdown inducing task

temperature - this is the one thats always been hardest for me. cold water straight up hurts me, and our plumbing is Terrible, so the trick i have for slow pipes is to run the hot water on high as Soon as i get into the bathroom. leave it going and by the time you’re done there should be at least lukewarm water. if this still takes too long for you, try out the various sinks in your house, usually one is able to get hot water faster than the rest (for me its the kitchen sink) and that can become a designated station for you if need be.

texture - some ppl just hate water. if thats the case, it rly doesnt change much abt the process if you use less water, ie work the soap into a lather, and then only use as much as you need to rinse it off. you dont have to keep your hands under the whole time, the soap clings to the dirt, the water takes it off all together, as long as you scrub well and rinse till you see no suds, you’re good 

If it really comes down to it, a washcloth with water+soap, a disinfecting wipe, or even literally just a rinse with plain ol water is better than nothing, but the stream of water and act of rubbing the soap in is the most effective combo against disease. soap/disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizers are your second best option. if theres a time in your life where an issue is so disabling for you that you truly cant keep any of this up, rly the most important thing is to limit your direct physical contact with your face and commonly used objects as MUCH as possible until you can figure smth out. (you kno those old ladies that grab a wipe and open the doorknob with it between their hand and the knob? become that old lady) and if push comes to shove, if a safe and accepting therapy setting is something accessible to you, hygiene struggles are actually something many mental health professionals understand Very well and can help you cope with personally and directly, without shame.

3. hand drying

this is also. my personal hell. and what most people say is the hardest part of the sensory experience. but ya cant just walk around with wet hands right

towels - the obvious choice for most, but to me they actually dont dry enough. i always end up damp and with lint stuck to me. this kills the man. but hand towels do have some variety to them, you can find em with really long fibers or really short/flat, really fuzzy or really stiff, etc. sounds silly but its smth a lot of ppl dont think about that can change a lot. you can also try super absorbent towels (yes like a shamwow), and again baby bath towels are also an option if you want something gentle.

paper towels - yeah a little more wasteful and expensive, but imo much more absorbent. theyre also pretty thin so you can get between your fingers (MY BANE), and under your nails if you use a corner. 10/10

blow drying - ik this is the kind of shit you only see in like movie theaters and malls and they are definitely LOUD AS SHIT, but if you happen to have the money, and struggle more with Textures than Noise, ie a stream of warm air seems worth the sound, you Can actually find a small basic one of these items for your own home. 

4. public restrooms

everybody hates em!!! but you can make em more tolerable;;;

soap - bring your own! little travel soaps you can keep in your bag are a godsend for ppl with sensory issues, sensitive skin/allergies, and if you just prefer not sharing soap.

temperature - most public places i notice actually do get hot water pretty fast (like,,, too fast,,, like,,, it bur ns me) so if there are no faucets and its too hot or too cold, once again you can try different sinks and one might be more comfortable. if there are faucets i recommend grabbing a paper towel to turn it off, so you dont have to touch it again with your clean hands.

sound - WHY R AUTOMTIC FLUSH TOILETS SO FUCKEN LOUDD..... honestly if you have noise cancelling earmuffs or earplugs or w/e pop em in. if you dont have any of that i just literally plug my ears with my fingers when i stand up. if you struggle with the sound of the blow dryers, they almost always have paper towels as well, but its a great idea to carry something like that around in your bag with you just in case. if its really packed and people chattering is getting to you, sometimes the ‘family’ bathrooms are actually smaller and less full. if its bad enough and you feel comfortable asking, an employee might be able to direct you to a single stall bathroom or at least a different one than that.

and though its convenient, try not to use your sleeve to touch things like doorknobs, toilet handles, etc. instead use something disposable like a paper towel or wipe, bc the germs will simply transfer to your sleeve and still risk infecting you. 

5. schedule

the number one suggestion is to wash your hands literally as often as possible during a time like this but like. even for allistic/nt/abled/ ppl thats just not always an attainable schedule so the Best times to wash your hands are;;;

after using the bathroom - the most important time and generally the easiest to get used to. its smth you have to do multiple times a day that already has a schedule, and if you were to forget or go into sensory overload its usually immediately accessible as soon as you can. as i mentioned earlier, if you need help remembering, you can turn the water on when you first get in and leave it going.

the doctors - ANY KIND of health facility should be avoided right now unless really necessary, places where sick people would frequent is the quickest way to get sick but like. ya rly cant help it sometimes right. you cant stop dealing with your own illnesses just bc theres another one floating around. so, this is time to go apeshit on the handwashing. if your health issue involves coughing and sneezing, ask for a face mask. bring a scarf in case they dont have any, its not as great but better than nothing. otherwise, you honestly dont need it, face masks are more for these people bc they keep germs in better than out. whether you’re worried abt getting sick or infecting others, this is a time to use hand sanitizer, avoid physical contact like shaking hands [autistic cheering], and when you first arrive and right before you go to leave are the most important times to remember to wash your hands. 

preparing food - not as commonly spoken about, but also easy to work into a schedule. i personally dont care unless its food for somebody else or if im going to be putting my hands on it a lot, but if thats the case, a lot of the time thats produce you already want to wash in the sink, so you can kill two birds with one stone there. dont just get the germs off your own hands, get em off the fruits and veggies before you eat em. carpool

after grocery shopping - not very common. most ppl just slap some sanitizer/a wipe on there or dont think abt it at all, but if you just got home from walmart thats a great time to wash. you just touched a bunch of items other people touched, including the cart, money/credit cards, and all the products people will pick up and put back, so its prime germ time babey. But again, sanitizer or a wipe will help if its all you can manage after a trip out like that.

before self care - also uncommon. ppl always say ‘dont touch your face’ and ‘apply this product with clean hands’, and what they mean is that one of the fastest ways germs get into your system is through your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. if you’re simply washing your face theres not as much concern, but applying a mask, moisturizer, makeup, etc. should all be done after a gentle rinse of your hands (and face). very hard to get into the schedule of, but if you consider it a Part of your ‘self care’ or use a special fun cleanser, it can stick a little easier.

6. stim items

STIM ITEMS!! if you have stim items, its a good idea to clean them regularly, but even moreso during an outbreak like this.

rubber/plastic - if it goes in your mouth, hot water (not hot enough to melt!) and dish soap, if it doesnt, look up how to safely make a diluted bleach solution.

silicone - silicone is usually dish washer safe.

fabric - if its light, add bleach to the washing machine, if its colored, you can use white vinegar or hydrogen peroxide which are less likely to discolor any dyes. lysol detergent is also super great. small items you’re worried about losing, or items with details/loose parts, you can usually wash inside of a sealed pillow case. 

‘squishies’ - for ‘mochi’ squishies aka the rubbery ones, soap and water + some dusted baby powder or corn starch (optional) to keep it from grabbing lint for a while. for foam squishies, they can rarely be deep cleaned without the risk of growing mold or taking paint off, but a disinfecting wipe every now and then should keep it clean for a while.

slime - cant be disinfected, sorry. also a breeding ground for mold if you arent careful, so its always best to cycle through these quickly.

technology - cant really be completely sterilized, but there are many places to get sprays and cleaning wipes for the devices you use that can at least keep the areas your hands frequently touch a little cleaner.

BUT of course if your item comes with instructions on how to wash it, always follow that instead. this is just a general idea.

and as a final note;;; disabled ppl should not feel guilty or dirty for struggling with this. like. man idc abt ur cringe feels or your ignorant blame or your lack of understanding/sympathy for what goes into these tasks for us. if u dont wanna get our struggles and sensitivities when we’re working twice as hard on functioning tasks which personal ease you take for granted, thats on you. @ disabled people if you struggle with maintaining the same standard of hygiene as nts you arent gross or bad fucking person, you’re disabled and by definition that means your level of functioning will be different, and you deserve sympathy. its just that germs dont discriminate, they wanna cause problems for everybody involved (especially you!!!), so Anything you can manage is Great and if anything from this post can help make it a little easier for people in any way, i feel its absolutely necessary to talk about with respect and dignity. people with autism/adhd/sensory processing disorder/similar neurodivergencies/literally anybody else this could benefit, pls feel free to add on any tips you might have or send me questions. let disabled ppl help disabled ppl do our personal bests

[kusunogatari]

[ Plague || Chapter Four ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Blood, vomit ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ Previous || Next ]

Eyes closed in concentration, Ryū starts bleeding chakra into Obito’s lungs, which continue to rattle and wheeze as he breathes. Inside his lungs, it doesn’t take much to see the fungal spores in the pockets of the organs, causing inflammation and build-up of liquid. Her brows furrow slightly. “...hm…”

“What is it?” Kakashi asks, giving her a glance.

“It’s a fungal infection,” she confirms, letting her eyes open and chakra fade as she takes time to mull that over. “...he likely got it during his little escapade outside. Soil typically houses fungal spores, and the soil here even more so given how damp it typically is. When he went digging for that rodent, and ate it without any kind of...preparation, he likely got them into his system.”

“Is it...hard to treat?”

“Not really - it will just take time.” Looking to him critically, she then frowns. “...there’s likely also spores on his clothing, and possibly under his nails, in his hair…”

“...I don’t like where this is going.”

She gives him a look hinted with exasperation. “...I can handle it.”

“Not by yourself you won’t.”

“Then don’t complain.”

“I’ll complain as much as I want.”

Checking on his anesthesia, Ryū finds Obito still suitably under, and with Kakashi’s help moves Obito back upstairs. Removing his outer garments, she simply tosses them into the hearth for Kakashi to burn with some katon - they’re so soiled even beyond the spores, she can’t really salvage them...nor does she really want to. Instructing Kakashi to find spare clothes in the guest wing, she hauls Obito into the nearest washroom. Underclothes are soon tossed through the door to be similarly incinerated, and she washes him up as best she can, given he’s pretty much utterly limp. While not completely unconscious, he’s hardly able to do more than lightly grunt every so often.

“This is what you get for eating a raw rodent,” she chides, mostly just to help herself feel better. He can likely barely register her talking, let alone understand with his brain so addled. “...though I guess it was my fault for not paying attention. Seems for all my trying to help you, all I’ve done so far is make things worse, haven’t I…?”

Obito, of course, doesn’t respond. Filmy eyes flicker toward her, but he’s too anesthetized to do anything but look.

“...I’m getting close. Just a bit longer. But first we have to clear this up, ne?” She drags fingers with soap through his hair. “You’ll feel a lot better just being clean, though...it probably won’t last. Messy thing, aren’t you…?”

“Ryū?” Kakashi gives a knock.

“Hm?”

“Found some clothes.”

“Oh...just leave them outside the door.”

“...you sure?”

“I’m being very careful,” she replies, knowing what he’s getting at. “I’d like to spare at least some of his dignity.”

“Not sure he has much of that as he is, Ryū.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” she assures him. “I’m almost done.”

Soon Obito’s rinsed and dried, and she maneuvers him into a spare set of pants and a top. The pants are a bit short, and the shirt a little big, but at least he’s not naked. Knowing they won’t be clean long, she doesn’t really care anyway. Once that’s done, they move him to the main room, and Ryū gets to work on his lungs. Thankfully fungus is easy enough to kill with the right intensity of chakra - it’s just a matter of being thorough. From there, she can use a bit of saline to wash out the lungs, and then treat the inflammation so he doesn’t keep coughing and wheezing.

Kakashi mostly just sits at the ready, just in case Obito manages to start stirring and cause trouble. But unlike before, Ryū is almost overly cautious, not wanting her lapse in concentration to cause any more harm. She checks him about every minute, carefully monitoring his levels of anesthesia to ensure he’s out enough to be docile.

Otherwise, she works on eradicating the fungal infection until she can sense it no more. Saline, drawn from a flask in her pack, is pushed through his airway to carefully sweep through and clear out the dead spores and the built-up fluid. Chakra forces the muscles to relax to avoid him coughing, and she soon tosses the soiled liquid into the hearth.

“All right...now I just need to get the swelling reduced, and he’ll be fine.”

“It’s always fascinating watching you medics work.”

“Really?”

Kakashi nods, and only after a long pause offers, “...guess it’s just quite the change watching someone put a person back together rather than take them apart.”

That earns a dry smile. “I can say the same in reverse...though not in quite such a positive way.”

“That’s fair.”

Soon enough, Ryū’s attentions come to a stop, and they both listen. Obito’s breathing, finally, is nearly silent. The healer wilts in relief with a heavy sigh. “...there...that’s much better.”

“Good work. Now...let’s get him put back in his space so I can stop being so tense.”

Ryū can’t help a humorless laugh. “Sorry…”

They haul him back down, deciding to let the sedation fade on its own. “...I’ll get back to breaking down the virus,” she offers with another sigh.

“Tedious, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea. But it’s the final step. Once I know how to break it...I can make a vaccine, and kill whatever virus remains in a patient. From there...they just have to heal. At least...so long as they aren’t too far gone. I don’t know enough to be sure when that threshold is...but I hope it’s not too late.”

“Agreed. I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he snaps out of it okay.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the day passes with Ryū continuing to work on the virus’ code, doing her best to be diligent, and yet swift. The more time passes, the more they might lose. But nor can she rush and risk overlooking something.

The balance between the two is almost maddening.

Two more days pass in the same pattern, Kakashi monitoring Obito, and Ryū locked into a tiny, microscopic world.

...then, she finds it.

Freezing in surprise, she pauses...and double checks. Triple checks. And then...giving it a test, she introduces her modified virus to a clean cell. Watching with bated breath, she sees it latch onto the cell...and then nothing. No replication. No taking over the cell. It just sits there...useless.

...she did it.

Unable to help herself, she gives a loud scream of triumph, Kakashi almost falling over in the basement two floors below.

“I DID IT! KAKASHI, I DID IT!”

Balking, he gives Obito a glance before sprinting up to her level. “You’re sure?”

“Yes!” She turns to him with shining silvers, practically starry-eyed. “I found the right piece to modify - it can’t replicate anymore! I know how to stop it from spreading! That means I can make a vaccine!”

“...brilliant!”

Taking up a spare scrap of paper, she quickly (but neatly) summarizes her findings, calling Fubuki. “Take this to Tsunade as fast as you can. It’s the information we need for the vaccine.”

Gold eyes widen, nodding without a word and streaking out an open window.

As the owl disappears, Ryū collapses to her knees in relief, Kakashi taking one beside her and resting a hand along her back.

“...good work, Ryū.”

“...I still need to find how best to kill a virus already embedded...but that’s far easier with what I know now. The more pressing issue was stopping the spread to keep infections to a minimum. Now...we can focus on those already sick.”

“All right then. Just...take five minutes first, all right? You’re still shaking.”

“Yeah...o-okay. I just…”

“I know.” He gives a few pats on her back. “This is big. Take a moment to relax, because you deserve it. Work’s not over, but you need to run on more than fumes, hm?”

That earns a small breath of a laugh. “...yeah.”

As a break, Ryū finds her teacher and explains her findings, earning a proud rumble from the dragon.

“As is expected from one of your line,” she replies, eyes squinting like a contented cat. “Let us hope it is recreated and distributed quickly. I must wonder how this infection came to be...but for now, what matters is that it is stopped. Now you can tend to your mate.”

The word, so uncommonly used in the human regard, makes her go pink. “Right...that’s the next hurdle. But with the information I found, it won’t take long - for me, or for the other medics working on it.”

The sage nods. “Then I will keep you no longer.”

Ryū returns to the manor, allowing Kakashi to shove food at her stubbornly. “Rest, and fuel. Also water.”

“Yes, Mother,” Ryū can’t help but retort with a weary smile. The Hatake just pats her head in tandem, earning a laugh as he goes to check on Obito.

Reenergized, Ryū leaps back into her work as soon as she’s done, picking apart more DNA to find where to attack the virus. Applying chakra to any weak points, she needles it and needles it until - finally, after several hours - she feels the virus wither and die.

With Fubuki still out, she calls upon another owl, sending the intel to Konoha. And as soon as the avian leaves her arm, she heads down into the manor’s basement.

Time to finally finish this.

Kakashi looks up as she enters, unable to help brightening in hopeful question. And when she gives a weary smile in reply, he takes her shoulders in his hands, gripping them tightly in excitement. “...all right. Let’s do this, hm?”

Obito, far more energetic without the pneumonia, gives his typical tirade against the barriers. Ryū manages to reach through and relax him, urging him prone and summoning her chakra. Kakashi holds him down just in case...and she starts urging the energy into his body in just the right way to vaporize the copies of the virus within him.

It takes hours. As she goes, it keeps replicating, a vaccine not exactly viable on someone already ill. But her determination knows no bounds, and well into the night she works. Entering a sage state to pool more energy, she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak...just keeps going.

Kakashi, too, is still and silent.

Only once she’s confident it’s eradicated does she let her chakra fade, body wilting in fatigue. “...I think...I think I did it...we’ll let him rest and check him again in an hour. If there’s no further activity...I can be sure.”

“So the vaccine won’t really...work?”

“At this point, no. A vaccine is like...a training dummy for the body. You take a sample of whatever is afflicting the body, and you make it inert. The body can then approach it, and figure out a way to beat it without the illness being able to actually take root and do harm. Your immune system gets to learn how to handle it, and can therefore eliminate it if and when it actually hits. Obito’s body has already been fighting it as best it could, but it didn’t have as much time as it would with a vaccine to learn from. So it got...overwhelmed.”

“Ah...I think I get it.”

Ryū gives a nod. “Now...he just needs rest and energy to help his body rebuild what damage the virus did. In addition to me helping him along, of course. It’ll likely be a while...he’s in rough shape.”

Kakashi gives a thoughtful hum. “...it’ll be interesting to see what he says when he wakes.”

“...are you going to try to capture him?”

That earns a hefty sigh. “...in all reality, I should. He’s part of a known enemy faction. Old friend or not...he’s a traitor to our village.”

At the word ‘our’, Ryū nearly retorts...but holds her tongue. Though not her birthplace, Konoha has been where she’s lived and worked for most of her life. But in spite of that...it’s never really felt like home...for several reasons. She’s not sure Kakashi would understand, however...so she keeps that to herself. “...but…?”

“...but...I might want to hear what he has to say, first. I think I owe him that much...and he owes me an explanation.”

She nods. Given the connected pasts the pair have, she can’t help but agree to that. And a large part of her is also curious.

...but…

If it comes down to it...she’s not sure what she’ll do if Kakashi tries to take Obito in. While she doesn’t want to fight him, nor does she think she would help him. She doesn’t want to be his enemy - or Konoha’s enemy - but nor does she want Obito to get hurt. For now...she’ll just have to see how things go.

With the virus all but gone, and Obito on the mend, Ryū insists on moving him back to a proper room. “I won’t have him anywhere but a bed. I can put chakra sealing bindings on him - that should suffice. But he needs proper rest, and won’t get that any other way.”

Kakashi just shrugs and agrees, insisting that he in turn keep an eye on the Uchiha. After his escape, the Hatake is paranoid he’ll do so again. And cured or not...he doesn’t want to risk either of them getting infected.

After some sleep, Ryū uses the first hints of morning to make Kakashi and herself the vaccine, administering it once it’s properly prepared. “There...that should keep us safe, but...we’ll still need to be careful, of course.”

“Right.”

A check shows a very small resurgence of the virus, which she quickly works to eradicate. Once that’s done, the rest of her spare energy goes into undoing all of the damage the infection has done over the last several weeks. It...isn’t pretty. But patience and diligence mean that she won’t quit until the job is done, and done right. Over the next several days, she balances repair work, and ensuring the rest of the virus is completely gone.

After about three days...there’s no more sign of the infection. Ryū allows herself to slow down a bit, relying more and more over a period of two weeks for Obito to recuperate on his own. His body needs to regain its own strength, after all.

Kakashi takes most of the time to watch him, but relents to let Ryū do so in order for him to rest. Obito hasn’t truly regained consciousness as of yet, seemingly caught in something like a fever dream as his body struggles to remedy its deficits.

In the meantime, Konoha keeps up more correspondence. The vaccine came in the nick of time, infection rates growing steadily even as Hi no Kuni led the charge in quarantines. With it, new cases practically cease...and with the knowledge to kill the virus in those already infected, it seems that the pandemic is finally beaten, with only a few dozen casualties throughout the continent.

Tsunade commends Ryū’s efforts, as well as the work put in by all of Hi no Kuni’s medics as soon as the illness was discovered. With their fast action, disaster has been curbed.

In the wake of it all, Ryū requests a bit of time to remain at home to rest, which the Godaime grants. In truth it’s mostly to keep an eye on Obito...but also to hopefully recuperate after so long of constant grind.

Nearly two weeks after first beginning to treat him directly, Ryū is seated at Obito’s bedside, senses attuned to his chakra in search of consciousness, and a hand idly brushing fingers through his hair. For once, his rest is fairly calm - not broken by heavy dreams, mumbling, or twitching.

And then, as the witching hour settles over the valley...he stirs.

Ryū, snapping to attention, freezes and watches as dark eyes flutter open. She then glances toward Kakashi’s chakra signature, ensuring he’s still asleep.

“...hn…”

“Shhh...be quiet,” she urges at a whisper. “You’ll wake Kakashi.”

His brow furrows, still addled by sleep. “...Kakashi…?”

“Yes, don’t panic. He’s asleep a few rooms over. He can’t know you’re awake, Obito.”

A long moment passes where he clearly tries to put all of this new information together with a weary mind. “...he’s here…?”

“Yes.”

“...you...you called me…?”

Gently, she lays fingers over his lips, begging for silence. “...it’s a long story, and I doubt you remember anything, but...you’ve been very, very ill. What’s the last thing you remember…?”

The Uchiha goes quiet for a long moment. “...I remember...walking. I was with D-...with my partner. We were...going to…” His face pinches, trying to recall. “...then I started getting so...tired. And hungry, and...angry…”

“That was the illness. A virus that spread over the continent.”

“Virus…?”

Ryū nods. “I was on my way to another village with Kakashi as an escort when we found you by chance. You were already very sick.”

“...I...I remember a...a light...I needed to find it…”

She stills. Does he mean…?

“...ugh…” A hand lifts to press the heel of a hand to his eyes. “...it’s so blurry…”

“It’s all right. For now, you just need rest. You were ill for a few weeks, so...you’re still recuperating. You’re in my home village. My teacher and I have been caring for you, and working on a cure.”

“...cure…?”

Another nod. “Thankfully I managed to make a vaccine, and other medics found ways to kill the virus, too. It’s over, for now...so long as it doesn’t mutate. But even then, we have a head start now.”

Slowly, his expression relaxes...and Ryū allows her own to crumble. Cupping his jaw gently, she bows her brow to his. “...I was so scared I was going to lose you...I worked every spare moment to find the cure. I had to save you…”

He stares up at her, still not quite fully conscious. “...seems you did.”

“...yeah...thank the gods.”

“No...thank you. Gods had nothing to do with it.”

That earns a small, teary smile.

“So...what happened after you found me…? I can’t remember anything…”

Quietly, Ryū does her best to summarize: from Suigin taking him here, to her treatment, to his escape...to his secondary illness, her breakthrough, and then working to heal him.

A hand reaches up to cup along her back over the wound from her landing atop the chair. “...I hurt you…”

“You didn’t meant to, Obito. It wasn’t you, it was the virus. Besides, I’m pretty much healed by now. Kakashi gave me a patch job.”

By now, he’s far more awake, eyes flickering between hers. “...so...you know who I am…”

Her head bows slightly. “...I do. At least...vaguely. Your mask was gone when we found you - Kakashi recognized you, and told me the basics. Otherwise, I know very little. I...know you didn’t mean for me to find out that way, but...I’m glad to know your name.”

He sighs. “...this is going to ruin everything…”

“...you likely would have been found out eventually. I...I don’t know why you’re with that group, or what you’re trying to accomplish. And I’m not going to force you to tell me...not that I really could.” Her hand on his cheek gently strokes her thumb over his scars. “...but once Kakashi knows you’re awake...he wants the truth. And he might try to take you back to Konoha.”

“I can’t let that happen.”

“...I knew you’d say that.” She sighs, expression torn. “...I don’t know what to do. What to think.”

“...you aren’t going to help him? Even knowing what you know?”

Ryū hesitates. “...I don’t want anything to happen to you. My feelings about Konoha - about shinobi - they’ve always been...confused. Conflicted. There’s so much about them - about you - that I don’t understand. That I...can’t understand. I think about the villages...about how they all house people who just want to survive. To thrive, and...be happy. I think about how Iwa was Konoha’s enemy...how they destroyed my home...and yet Konoha surely committed atrocities against Iwa. Us and them. Them and us. Those sorts of lines were never drawn for my people. Every shinobi kills. Every shinobi thinks they’re doing the right thing. But with how countries are pitted against each other...someone has to be wrong. And I don’t know who is. Akatsuki has done terrible things...but so have the villages, even if they won’t admit it.”

She looks back to his face from her lost gaze at her lap. “...I can’t draw those lines. I can’t...I…”

“I won’t ask you to.”

“...but -?”

“At this point...I don’t know what I’ll have left to go back to. If what I wanted to accomplish is still possible,” Obito admits softly. “...and with Kakashi knowing what he knows...I have no idea how that will play out, even if I escape him. At this point...I need to regroup.”

“...I understand.”

“...will you let me go?”

Brows wilted with confliction, Ryū lets silvers flicker across his face. “...how will I explain…?”

“There was a flaw in the bindings. I overpowered you. Whatever you want to tell him. Maybe he won’t believe you…” He hesitates. “...I could take you with me.”

“...no. No, I...I have to stay here.”

“But what if he -?”

“My actions might have consequences. But if I go with you...surely that will only solidify my guilt.”

“Unless I kidnapped you.”

That earns a soft laugh. “...not sure I’m really the type to be gallivanting across the countryside with you. I’m just a medic. I’m not...I can’t…”

Obito sighs. “...I don’t want Konoha to hurt you, either. All you’ve done is care for one of their enemies. There are those in far more powerful positions who have done worse.”

“...what do you mean…?”

“...it would take too long to explain, but sometimes the lines between enemies and allies isn’t so clear...or looks different in the shadows than in the light. My point is...if Kakashi accuses you of helping me...they’ll surely hurt you. And I can’t let that happen.”

Ryū is quiet for a long moment. “...guess I can always remain a mountain hermit. Suigin-sama would have a lot to say before anyone from Konoha tried to come here and take me away,” she notes dryly.

“I don’t even want the possibility. You’re too -” A pause, unsure how to explain. “...there are so few people like you left in this world. Truly good people. I won’t let Konoha, which is far from innocent, hurt you because you betrayed a flawed system by loving someone they claim you shouldn’t.”

At that, she can’t help a somber smile. “...I’ll be all right. We’re not exactly best friends, but...I think Kakashi will understand.”

“...are you sure?”

“...yes, I’m sure.”

Obito doesn’t look wholly convinced. “...I suppose I can’t make you do anything you don’t want…”

“No, you can’t. Look...we’ll get you loose. We’ll wake Kakashi. And he’ll come in here just in time to see you escape. I don’t think he can expect me to stop someone of your caliber.”

“...is that what you want to do?”

“I think it’s what’s best. That way, he’ll have only a partial excuse - he’ll have also let you get away, whether he meant to or not.”

“...all right then.”

Moving to Obito’s bindings, Ryū ever so carefully damages one, which allows him to ‘break’ free. Standing and rubbing at his wrists, he barely catches her as she clings to him tightly.

“...be careful…” she murmurs, nuzzling against his chest.

“You too. I’ll come back eventually - check on you. If Konoha tries anything...I’ll raze it to the ground.” He parts enough to stare at her, expression unyielding.

He’s serious.

Something in her stomach twists. “...well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll stay here for a while. I already have permission. Konoha can figure out the rest.”

“...very well.” Embracing her again, he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “...I’ll see you again soon.”

“Goodbye...Obito.”

They position themselves accordingly, Obito activating his Sharingan in preparation to teleport. Ryū, once he’s ready, gives a mock cry of surprise.

As expected, it takes mere moments for Kakashi to burst into the room. And just as he does, Ryū stumbles back, Obito disappearing in a swirl of chakra.

Back pressed to a wall, she pants for false breath, eyes wide.

“...what happened?”

“He...he just…” She gestures. “...he woke up, and just...broke one of the seals. I-it must have been faulty.”

Checking the broken bindings, he doesn’t reply, instead asking, “...did he hurt you?”

“...no. He demanded an explanation, and I gave it...then he snapped the seals and disappeared.”

Turning to her, Kakashi examines her critically.

...technically, she isn’t lying. He did do all of those things...just not quite the way it sounds.

After a long pause, he heaves a weary sigh. “...well, I doubt there will be any tracking him now.”

“...are you...are you going to report this to Konoha?”

“...I have to,” he replies, watching her again. “...it’s my duty.”

...he knows she’s lying. She can tell. And yet...he doesn’t confront her.

“...well...not much point in me staying now, what with him gone,” he then goes on, hands on his hips. “...suppose I’ll try to sleep a bit longer, then head back. I take it you’re staying a while longer…?”

She hesitates. “...a few days, yes. Just to...rest.”

“...mm.” He itches the rear of his head, sighing once more. “...I’ll report we encountered one of Akatsuki. Uchiha Obito. But, alas...he got away. Not exactly someone we could have handled by ourselves, all things considered. Especially after the few weeks we’ve had. Better he ran than hurt or killed us. There’s always next time.”

Her eyes widen, genuinely surprised.

“...but, that next time,” he goes on, looking to her plainly, “he might not be so lucky.”

Ryū’s form wilts. “...I understand.”

“Mm.”

“...Kakashi…”

He waits patiently.

“...thank you. For...for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

At that, Kakashi considers her one last time, head tilting. “...well, I can’t exactly say it was a pleasure...I did get vomited on, and found out my old teammate is now my enemy. But...I was happy to help.” His eye crinkles with a smile. “...maybe we’ll do this again sometime.”

“I...I’d like that. I’ll see you off in the morning, but...either way, I hope the journey back goes smoothly.”

“I appreciate it.”

She doesn’t really sleep after that, already awake when Kakashi rises with the dawn. Packing up his few things (and allowing Ryū to force some extra supplies on him), he gives a mock salute. “...guess I’ll see you around.”

“Mhm.”

“Until then.” Leaping up into the valley’s trees, he makes his way to the pass out of the valley.

Ryū watches him go, heart heavy and conflicted in her chest. Well...at least he isn’t going to rat her out. Not yet, at least...but should they encounter Obito again, he can’t let it happen a second time. All she can hope now is that the pair never cross paths again. She doesn’t want harm to come to Konoha, or the people there...or anywhere, really. But the lonely, selfish part of her can’t stand the idea of Obito coming to harm, either.

...eventually...part of her is going to end up disappointed.

But for now, she has a few days to rest, and recuperate before heading back to the hidden village. From there...she’ll just have to see how things go.

Already she misses him terribly. Having him so near for so long - even though he was ill for the vast majority - left her a bit spoiled. Their goodbye was awfully rushed…

Lost in her thoughts, she can’t help but gasp, spinning around as a chakra emerges from behind her. Before she can regain her breath, Obito captures her in his arms, stealing a breathless kiss.

“...sorry,” he murmurs against her lips, watching her continue to gape with a smirk. “I thought he’d never leave...and I wanted to do this properly.”

“...O-?” She cuts off as he rests his brow to hers.

“...I can’t stay...but I’ll return soon. I just couldn’t stomach that lackluster farewell.”

After a pause, she laughs. “...neither could I.” Arms gently grip his neck. “...I’ll be here for another few days, if you try to find me before then. Otherwise...I’ll likely be back in Konoha. Kakashi is letting me go.”

“Hm, so I heard. Good to see he’s not the hardass he was when we were young. Still...be careful.”

“You, too.” She gently nuzzles their brows. “...I miss you already…”

“Mm, me too. I’ll see what’s left...what I can still do. Then I’ll return.”

“...promise?”

“I promise.” Giving her forehead a press of his lips, Obito slowly retreats, hands slipping through hands before he vanishes one last time.

Staring at the now-empty space, she sighs softly. She, too, has to reacquaint herself with the world after the sweeping of the virus. But, for now...she’ll linger at home a little longer.

She deserves that much, at least.

     All righty! After...far too long, finally finishing this little fic up! Admittedly I never planned for it to be multichap, so figuring out a plot was a lil difficult. But here we are!      It might feel a little...clipped? Cuz it really COULD turn into a big ol' thing, but...neither Meg nor I feel like doing that, so we figured this'd be a good way to end it lol - open ended for your imagination as to how things would go from here. But it was still a neat project! Zombies are always fun xD      Hoping to finish up more WIPs soon now that my dailies are over, so hopefully you'll see more sooner rather than later! But for now, that's it - thanks for reading!

[bellygunnr]

No Drinks for Me

Hamlets and Hiers

from the Crusader The sanitarium loomed high above the rest of the Hamlet, overshadowed only by the manor perched upon the hills, its windows casting colored shadows across the wearied streets. Reynauld peered through his steel visor at its heavy hardwood doors, a hand lifted to press them open, when someone grabbed his wrist. He startled, exhaling heavily, and took a moment to find the owner of the hand.

Junia.

"Quarantine," she said simply.

"That bad?"

"Yes. Were you seeking to pray for them?"

Reynauld inhaled, exhaled. He didn't remember what led his feet to the doors of the stern stone structure-- just that there was a pulling in his chest.

"Yes. Light knows that they need it," Reynauld lied. The excuse was easy, but his tongue burned.

"Then come with me. The Abbey has been opened wide so that we may sing and pray, and all may hear our calls."

Just like that, Junia led the armoured knight to the abbey, where his services would be more potent in the gathering of the Light.

in the sanitarium Their flesh had grew warped and distended, bloated with the strain of an invasive force, and movement fled them entirely. The afflicted stared out with glassy, vacant eyes, and mumbled strange things, spitting and heaving up globs of mucus that dried rapidly and became floating dust in the air. Their caretakers, may the Lord bless them, dressed like steel Plague Doctors to protect themselves from the new disease, all while desperately trying to cure them.

None of the Sanitarium's usual concoctions worked. Their serums and potions were merely absorbed into their bodies and coughed out as spores that took to the stale air and clung to wherever they landed. These clumps were later gathered up and burned, for if nothing else, fire destroyed the plant matter readily.

Worse, the staff would not collaborate with the Hamlet's soldiers to find a cure. Plague Doctors and occultists were turned away and promised nothing. Frustration was building within the accursed Hamlet. The Heiress did nothing.

A leper had fallen to the disease and the situation was dire. It was a wonder how the already diseased man was still alive, his bruised and scarred skin ridden with boils, face thick and swollen and falling apart. He was disintegrating. The straps digging into his wrists caused his skin to slough. Any movement- even the most minuscule- threatened to strip apart his muscles. From his scabs and wounds, fleshy stalks were peeking, the burgeoning heads of mushrooms. Brinon, the Leper from the seas, was losing.

Yet beside him lay a man who was entirely emaciated, all gaunt skin and peeking bones and deep scars, the patchwork glowing a sickly green. He had not become as terribly afflicted as his neighbor thanks in no small part to the eldritch blood coursing through his veins. A modicum of consciousness still remained and his eyes were not blank nor glassy, instead they glared out into the room with fury. Immobilized and strapped down, Garrett from the North prisons was rendered useless.

Across the room lay a woman nicknamed a Hellion and she, too, had somewhat resisted the disease. Her eyes glared out through a face malformed with sickly yellow bulges, bright and indignant, entirely self-aware. She, too, was strapped to the beds with leather and chains, for fear that she would try to leave. Sticky spores glued her lips together and floated from her nose, occasionally drifting from the air. Marion, from the wilderness, was losing.

These heroes heard not the praying nor the singing from the abbey. They felt not the power of the Lord and his Light and definitely not the carefully curated hope of their peers. They instead felt intimately the confines of their minds and the insidious birth of a sixth sense. Each beat of one's own heart was doubled, louder, and the intake of their lungs felt like the breaths of many. Somewhere within the disease's progression they had become bonded, acutely aware of not only themselves but each other, and even the Weald so many winding miles away.

Light flooded briefly into their sick-addled ward. Another steel Plague Doctor had arrived to administrate them.

from the highwayman The Heir had remained in her Ancestor's venerable house for as long as Dismas could recall. She rarely ventured outside, communicating purely by letter, or when she summoned soldiers forward to spit them back out again. Now Dismas took the overgrown path from the Hamlet directly to that dilapidated home, his breath loud and roaring in his own ears. He bared his teeth in frustration-- why was it he that approached the heir? What was possessing him? The weight of it all felt like stones settling in his lungs.

Dread built steadily in the recesses of his belly. He tried to focus on the lingering singing of the holy people, led haphazardly by the entire lot of them, unguided now that the priest was dead. His tongue curled in his mouth at the memory-- they had all tried their best. Not even a bullet could have saved him. The music escaped him now, fading to nothingness as he came upon the door with its brass raven-pendant knocker.

It's now... or never, Dismas thought.

He grasped the knocker with his gloved hands and let it drop several times. In fact, he kept dropping the pendant until he detected movement from within, at which he halted and waited somewhat patiently for the door to open.

"What-- could you possibly want? I have summoned no one here. It better be important," came the voice. Haggard, irritated, and exactly feminine.

"It's Dismas, from the Hamlet," he announced.

The door slid open slowly.

"What do you want?"

The Heiress was clad in a heavy, heavy cloak and a thick hood that concealed her face from view. Dismas kept his unease at bay and tugged his mask away from his face.

"Hamlet's plagued," Dismas said roughly. "And no one can fix'em."

"The hamlet's dealt with sickness before. What do you want me to do about it?" The heiress snapped.

Dismas hissed in discomfort. "What the hell do ya mean? I want ya to do something to fix it!" His temper was short and his tongue slipped.

"They'll live or they can die trying. I don't care. Just keep any coach recruits away from the ill and we'll be fine! I have more important things to do right now. Let the Hamlet know they are on their own."

"There's gonna be riots, damn you! What's gotten into you, girl?"

The Heiress lashed out with pale, bloodied hands. She grabbed up the thief's shirt and pulled him so close that he felt her breath raking against his throat.

"I am this close, Dismas, to driving out my father's sins. I just need a few more weeks. I've found the shortcut-- no one will have to enter those corrupted acreages again!"

Light flickered and bounced from the sun, and Dismas saw madness swirling in the lady's eyes. He grit his teeth together with a pained clack. What did she mean? What was she doing up here? If he didn't know any better, he'd say she's gone the way of her father. It must run in the blood, if nothing else.

The Heiress shoved him back out onto the neglected cobblestones. The door slammed with a resounding crack that felt like a branding across his own heart.

There's a plague in the Hamlet. And the Heiress had gone mad.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Longest Week

Okay, so here’s chap two. I was happy to write this, and had a lot of fun, while trying to put myself in someone else’s shoes. To @porkchop-ao3 I know this is not enough dear, and for now this is what al I can give, but I hope you like it. Thanks to @hoodoo12 and @xerxezra who are very lovely to talk to. Oh, @councilofrickfics I made a movie mention that had been inspired by a lovely fic of yours. Please enjoy!

_______________

Chapter 2

You couldn’t do it, and if you made one wrong move, you’d kill his babies. Zeta-7 had demonstrated how to cut crossover branches and hangover branches, but you preferred just to clear away the dead leaves instead. Rick puttered around, lovingly pruning, whispering sweet nothings. It was both adorable, and sweet.

According to gardening for dummies, the practice of cleaning up the flower beds, dead plant debris, and clearing the ground, prevented mold growth, spores, and deterred pests. Rick kept his plants happy, healthy, of that you were sure of, but was mold really all that bad? For the plants, probably, but there must have been some that that weren’t. Thoughts of Florey and Fleming came to mind, and their scientific pursuits, as well as the scandals behind those names, but what did that have to do with mold?

Funny, the places your mind would go if you allowed it to wander. Why, if you wrote a story about Rick, he would be the protector of a locked garden, a creature of the day, who retreated to the branches at night, twisting, and curling himself, until he was nothing more than a bud. Not so much a beauty and the beast sort of story, but of friendship, of the melding of minds, of spirit, and whoever would come to love this creature, would be one with the garden. A story of two souls, symbiotic, lost to each other, and built up in love.

Rick came around, checked on your progress, and swept away the debris. This brought you back to the real world, and you were determined to do a good job. With a small dustpan, you cleaned up the little pile you had made and dumped it in the marked bin. When you turned back around, you found him staring at you. The lines about his mouth deepened, and whatever he thought about made him sigh happily before he returned to his activity.

It was a simple gesture, but you were appreciative of it. When he was at peace, it was like there was an extra sun in the universe. Everything smelled better, you felt prettier, and in his shared world, you had a taste of paradise. You fed the turtles, Rick fed the fish, every so often you poke him to remind him you were there, and he laughed wholeheartedly when you pouted, because he had been overly affectionate with the hydrangeas.

When you had finished, you passed by the old bird cage to find the rose bush bare. Oh no, why this one? Hmm, Rick must have dried the roses for tea, and before you could receive one of its beautiful offspring. Perhaps one could read too many novels, and with your girlish dreams being crushed by this revelation, you swept, even if it was already clean around it. You sighed, since another disappointment had been added to your list of disappointments.

You heard the clatter of a fallen broom, and then all of a sudden a pair of arms were around you, and he asked what was the matter. Your cheeks felt warm, his breath feathering your ear.Whatever it was you wanted, he said, he would do for you. Zeta-7 wasn’t normally this affectionate, and blame it on the magic of the garden, it’s warm temperatures, and earthy scents, it’s singing plants; his version of paradise, this was where he was most himself.

You leaned into him, taking advantage of his brief confidence. A part of you had craved this sort of attention, and the current of his happiness, made you very warm in your soul, and comfortable. Lips bitten, you thought over the consequences of telling him, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt. In a small voice, you told him how you had wanted a rose. Resting his chin on your head, you felt his voice reverberate through you.

There was something he had to show you.

________

In the garage, there were several small pots with different sprouting plants. Each one had tags with words written in Latin, each had a shade of colored light on them. Zeta-7 had been experimenting with gene splicing, and the effects of light. These were the ones which had survived. One had straight stems, another was twisted like a pigs tail, two were ghostly white, and the rest were in varying shades of green.

While you were sure they were all going to be lovely, they weren’t the blue roses you had seen. From the cabinet, he took out a small, glass bottle shaped like a rose, and gave it to you. It was the concentrated essence, a perfume made from his beloved roses. Knowing you enjoyed scents, he had made it, and you wanted to cry. You had been distressed over flowers, words, and stones, and here he goes being darling, and what had you done?

You ignored him for a week, even though he was only one call away. How could you accept it? You hadn’t earned it, but he insisted, and listed all the reasons as to why you did. Whatever ability he had in seeing the best in everyone, you wished you had it too. You wanted to be more like him, because there couldn’t possibly be anyone this good, perhaps because he was the only one.

The unattainable or the mysterious, like the single blue rose he handed you, is what he was. There was so much you wanted, so much you wished to understand. The blue rose, frozen in its peak of perfection, you turned in your fingers, finding all its thorns had been cut off. He told you how it had been dipped in a chemical which would prevent it from wilting. And as happy as you were, there was still that seed of self doubt, that there was someone out there more deserving than you.

___________

It was cold when you two went back inside. You settled yourself on the comfy side of the couch while he made some popcorn. You flipped through the channels until you found some alternate version of You’ve Got Mail. The crown jewel of rom-coms, you knew the lines by heart.

When Zeta-7 returned, he smiled when he recognized the Jerry on screen. Jerry? You have heard of Jerry Smith, though you had never seen him in person. This particular Jerry was an actor, and personally you thought he wasn’t cut out for the role, but it made Rick happy. Perhaps he knew this particular one. You had seen a few photos of a Jerry in Ricks house, though you hadn’t really paid attention to the likeness.

Considering you two had shared the bowl of popcorn, it was only a matter of time before your hand found his at the bottom of the bowl. You moved the bowl aside so you could snuggle up next to him. It was charming to watch as Zeta-7 blushed terribly as he slowly draped an arm around you, and pulled you a little closer. Really, after all the attention he had bestowed on you for a better part of the day, there was no need for all this shyness.

Still, such deep rooted behaviors didn’t change in a day. Oh, but this was not the time to ruminate.  With his warmth all around you, and your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes for what felt like a few seconds. However, when you woke, you were in your own bed. Had everything which happened been a lovely, delusional dream?

You called for him, and wondered if you had dreamed it. Hmm, you were still wearing your minion pajamas, and your hair still braided. Moving the blanket, you noticed that about your shoulders, was Rick’s labcoat. No, this was proof that it couldn’t have been a dream. Again you called for him, and he came in, the floorboards squeaked under his weight.

A cup of warm tea he set on your bedside table, before he took a seat on the nearby stool. What had happened? You asked. When you had fallen asleep, he didn’t want you to sleep improperly, so he brought you back home. Not knowing what else to do, he waited.

Rick looked ready for a nap, and you asked if he’d like to go back home, but he didn’t want to, so you told him to make himself comfortable. There were plenty of books, your living room TV, or he could tinker with any one of your appliances if he cared to, as long as he was comfortable. Yet, before you went back to bed, he encouraged you to drink the tea so you would have a restful sleep. It didn’t smell very good, but with his hands placed over yours, you had the courage to down it. Knowing his comforting presence was in the house, you felt a calm no sedative could provide.

You tugged his lab coat tighter, and lost yourself to restful thoughts, and vanilla scented dreams.

_________

Later, you found Rick in the kitchen, with the disassembled parts of your vacuum cleaner. Lately, it had been doing that thing where it was spitting out dust. After he had taken apart one of the brush heads, you were a bit sheepish to find that the problem had been caused by an earring; thankfully it was not a favorite of yours. While he was reassembling it, you set about making breakfast and giving him one word answers to his questions.

By now, you thought you would have been over the whole outbid thing, but an early morning email had reminded you all over again of what you had lost. Yesterday, with all the lovely activities you two did together, you’d thought you would have forgotten. And when you no longer answered any of Rick’s questions, he stopped what he was doing and patted your back. You just looked at him, his smiling face, unassuming, curious about your cooking technique. It hurt even more to think that you wouldn’t get the chance to see that wonder, and the curiosity when you handed him the stones you had mentally picked out.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

There was so much which had been building up, and you had tried to forget it all, but it only made you feel worse. Rick waited for you to speak, and when you did, you poured out every stupid little detail. You set aside the unfinished set of pancakes. Right now, all you wanted to do was leave, and go back to bed. Oh, but Zeta-7 took you in his arms, rubbed your back while you sobbed.

It hadn’t just been about the crystals and gemstones, or being outbid. You were all sorts of stressed out, about work, and just had too many things on your mind. This was when he offered to take you somewhere. Of course, you were going to need to dress much lighter, and put on a pair of walking shoes.

__________

Everyone had their version of paradise, but this place, it….it reminded you of places you had only read about.

The brightside of the Moonstone cast a calming, ethereal, blueish glow. The Sunstone and it’s weak, yellow light casted a soft warmth. Downhill, arum lilies sang praises, waving about to distract you two. Quickly you two passed them, then stopped again, your eyes drinking in all you could for a moment. This, it couldn’t be right, you had just seen an armadillo made out of citrine walk by.

You tried to adjust your goggles, but Rick’s firm grip stopped you. On this planet, you had to wear protective eye wear or risk going blind, as well as protective gloves. It was easy to forget at times that even aesthetically pleasing places could hold dangers. You were sure to stay close.

On one side, there was a vision of the sea, calm waves, which even a child would not fear. No boats of any kind, no seashells on the shore, but the sweet breezes which kissed your skin were cooling and refreshing. The purple sands clean and smooth, it’s dunes covered with cotton candy maiden grass. In another direction, white peaked mountains were partially disguised by the oncoming storm. You took his offered hand, careful to tread quietly, but you felt no danger; it had been a long time since you had felt that way.

Rose colored clouds drifted by in the cerulean sky. Zeta-7 was quick to point out the shapes he saw, before you two ran for dear life as chunks of violet Apatite rained down. You mimicked his action to tug on the gloves, which activated a deflector shield. With this safety precaution, you were free to admire their loveliness.

_______________

According to Rick, the introduction of certain invasive species had caused some of the wildlife to lie dormant until the conditions were favorable enough for their return back to the surface. The road, a single, well traveled road glittered, it’s many misshapen stones made for a colorful walkway. How had it come about you wondered, but Zeta-7 confessed to have done it. It was a funny story actually, which involved a dragon, a princess, and Geologist Rick.

There were many details which were classified information, but as you understood it, many years ago, there was a rock Geologist Rick had wanted. The princess was the rock and the dragon it’s protector. In order to protect what he loved, the dragon scattered the shards of the princess in such a way that it was everywhere and in everything. When it was all said and done, a once thriving, and beautiful land was now a dangerous, but still very beautiful land, that could not sustain human life.

The road in question had been made by Zeta-7 who over the years tried to piece together the whereabouts of the princess, and who had unknowingly had attracted various creatures to follow his trail, only to die along the way. A handful of gravel showed pieces of cats eyes, rough bits of crystal, fool’s gold, fire opals, and fine purple sand. My how lovely, but he flashed a special light on them, and they began to crawl, while others flew away. What the hell?

As Rick explained, the wildlife were made of living gemstones. And when they ceased to be living souls, they became dust, their leftover organs becoming crystals or stones. However, it was hard to tell what was living, or what was dead. Oh, but you could spend hours here, gazing upon them, curious as to what they were before, who they were before. Still, there was somewhere else he wanted to show you.

__________

Everything on this side of the planet was dead.

You had your pick of all the stones you wanted, but you had a different opinion now. How many lives had been lost because of one person’s careless actions? Why was there such a drastic change in the environment? There was so much you didn’t understand, but one day you hoped you would. Perhaps, if there was ever enough time, Rick could teach you, show you his ways, so that in some way you could understand.

Every so often, when he did take you off world, to some distant planet, or to some different dimension, your universe expanded. The more you learned, the less you knew, and unless it was all fixed, like it suddenly all stopped somewhere, then the literal universe was ever expanding. With Rick, would there ever be enough time to see it all? Only time would tell.

_____________

Curious as to why the creatures here had died, you drew your own conclusions which were not too far off from the truth. Due to atmospheric changes, the air quality on this side of the planet was not sufficient to sustain any life, which was why you two had to wear breathing masks. The crystalline plants left standing were also dead, but you would never be able to tell. Everything was more muted here, a lot more greys, and earth tones, and there was more than enough stones to pick from. However, you weren’t here to take what was dead, but to learn.

Appreciate what you had, before it was taken away.

Alright, perhaps there was no moral to the story, and you had been searching for meaning where there wasn’t any. Knowing Zeta-7, he brought you here because he wanted to show you something beautiful, something you loved, and in some way share what he loved with you. The scientist he was, saw everything fascinating, even if melancholic. Who knows what power the princess had which allowed a utopia to fend for itself against the elements, but that was beyond you. All you saw now was your own piece of paradise as he brushed away some dust, collected small samples of various stone types.

You found a suitable place to sit, while Rick scanned some geodes. His face brightened when he cracked a few open to examine their formations. The loveliest you would say was one with multiple layers of colorful agate and a crystal-filled central cavity. Each colored band represented an episode of agate formation due to chemical changes in the ground water.

Along the side of your goggles, he pressed a button which allowed you to view the chemical composition of whatever it was you looked at. Charts and lists of known chemicals made it a bit hard to see, and when you stared at Zeta-7, it went crazy, words flashed, lists, charts, even a snazzy little jingle played. You pressed the side button, which deactivated the function before you had a seizure. It made you wonder what secrets he was hiding, but then again it might have had something to do with all the places he had to visit during work hours.

For a while, you made shapes in the sand. Later, not wanting to disturb him, you dared not stray too far, and settled with circling about the group of crystalline Juniper trees. They were terribly sharp, and perfectly shaped like figurines. Why, if you were to touch their very tips, would you not bleed? As tempting, and as stupid as it would have been, you backed away, and took plenty of photos instead.

This wasn’t the time to test the theory of whether or not you were a Disney princess.

Even here, in the desert plains, the Sunstone and the Moonstone were easily seen. Was it possible, that the princess became the moon and the dragon the sun? Ricks eyes widened to this idea, and he thought about testing your theory, but then stopped. There was some things better left unknown, and this place had been through enough.

Perhaps, you were smarter than you thought, and that somehow, someway, this place could be perfect again.

_________

Zeta-7 brought you two back to his garage before his portal gun lost all its charge. You were fast to sit by the roses, whose heat lamps kept you warm. To the smallest of them, you told the story of a very special man. And in your heart, you hoped that this one would grow to be the strongest, and even more beautiful than the rest.

In the corner, Rick had placed every sample in a chemical bath. When he was done, he removed his gloves, and scratched the back of his neck. The crystals would take about three days, while the stones about two weeks. Rick knew how to form rocks and grow crystals?

From all the samples he had collected, why he could grow you a garden of gems, shape them to your heart’s desire. He rubbed his arm, eager to please, waiting for you to say the word. He would do it, why he would do almost anything if you asked him, but you pressed a finger to his lips, and shook your head. No, he didn’t have to. This was enough, you admitted, you already had your perfect gem right here. With Rick, you had more than enough, and he would never not be enough.

[firefly-knights]

Fionna’s Adventures in Wonderland

Fionna wrinkled her nose as she peered over Prince Gumball's shoulder. Every time he turned a page, she'd peer over to see its contents. No illustrations. No conversations.

What a stupid book. It's not worth reading if there aren't any pictures or dialogue. At least, that's what Fionna thought. Apparently though, Prince Gumball didn't share her theory. He'd been bent over that old book for near two hours now and dare she say it, but Fionna was beginning to get bored.

She considered making a dandelion chain with the little flowers that sprung up around where she sat. She could even add a few of the fluffy white parts too- whatever those were called.

After a few minutes of braiding the stems together, however, Fionna was abruptly interrupted. A flash of blue and white blurred past, pausing a moment beside the hedge opposite where she and Prince Gumball sat. It was Ice Queen, Fionna realized with a start, dropping her six inch dandelion chain onto the skirt of her pale dress.

The white-haired woman glanced behind her before pulling out a golden pocket watch from the folds of her gown. It clicked open silently and Fionna observed the red crystal on its lid- one that perfectly matched Ice Queen's tiara she currently wore.

Sensing eyes on her, Ice Queen glanced up, catching Fionna's gaze. Swiftly she pocketed the watch again and just nearly dove into the hedge beside her.

Without a second thought, Fionna grabbed her green backpack and leaped after Ice Queen, following her through the brush that seemed to be deeper than Fionna had thought it would be. Once she broke free on the other side, she had no time to pause and be surprised by the grand castle in the distance nor the treetops that created a thick canopy below her before her foot slipped from the edge of the cliff and she began to fall.

Head over heels and heels over head she tumbled down the cliff side, her dress catching on twigs here and there before she finally somersaulted to a stop at the base of a giant mushroom. It loomed twenty feet above her head, the small accordion-like folds on the underside quivering.

Fionna blinked and then blinked once more. That tumble rather hurt, actually. Not to mention she'd landed on top of her backpack and crystal sword- not the softest cushions ever.

She pushed herself up, dusting her skirts to remove some of the dirt when a dusting of silver wafted down around her. The powder itched her nose and caused her to sneeze. Over and over. The mushroom had rained spores down on her, the tiny shiny specks clinging to her dress, hair and rabbit ears.

Fionna coughed, a cloud of silver spores escaping from her lips.

"Oh my glob, that is disgusting," an annoying voice spoke up from somewhere to Fionna's left. She turned and stared for a moment, not trying to be rude but merely surprised. Floating above a much smaller mushroom cap was a purple puff. Almost like a cloud, really, except he had eyes and hands, a mouth and a gold star upon his forehead.

"Excuse me?" Fionna retorted, slightly offended.

"I said that was disgusting. Anyway, who are you?" the sassy purple lump demanded rudely.

"I'm Fionna and you-"

"You may call me Lumpy Space Prince," the frumpy floater interrupted.

Fionna huffed, not much enjoying the supposed Prince's company. "Fine then. Now, where-"

"What are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, my glob! What are you?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand?" Fionna shifted, shrinking the slightest away and leaning lightly against the base of the giant mushroom. What a queer question.

"What is there to not understand? What is a simple enough word, is it not?"

"Well, yes, when you're not using it about me, but-"

"Well then, what are you?"

Fionna had just about enough of this Lumpy Space Prince's nonsense and was ready to end the conversation then and there. "Not saying."

"But, I must know! I can't stand not knowing what you are, even more-so than knowing who!"

What? Fionna's brain could hardly keep up with the Prince's words- words that weren't making much sense and so she marched away into the surrounding woods, her backpack slung over her shoulders once again.

Mushrooms, dandelions, clovers and ferns grew at unnatural heights throughout the woods, Fionna noted. Colors of all hues composed the landscape around her- red and blue mushroom caps, followed by orange and green furls of leaves, a bouquet of yellow blooms next to a cascade of dried purple stems. After being doused in mushroom spores thrice more, she decided that walking beneath the mushroom caps simply wasn't worth it. She would just have to avoid them, or at the very least walk around them.

After a while of simply walking, Fionna began to wonder where she was, and more importantly, where she was headed when she came upon a quaint leaf-covered path. Up the path a way she could just catch a glimpse of sunlight filtering in through the flora. A little clearing. In the middle of said clearing basked a content spotted cat, warm in the shaft of sunlight she'd found. The cat sprung to its feet, startled by Fionna's sudden presence, before she sat back on her hind quarters and gazed evenly at the girl. Then the cat grinned.

"Are you lost, bunny?" she purred softly, almost warmly. It was the kind of purr you'd imagine a cat using to greet a friend.

"Yeah... kind of. Which way should I go?" Fionna wondered.

The cat smiled a little wider, "That would depend."

"Depend? On what?"

"On where you want to be, sweetcheeks."

Fionna considered the cat's words. Where did she want to be? She wasn't sure. She'd followed Ice Queen into this mess of a world- Ice Queen!

"Do you know which way the Ice Queen went?" Fionna turned to face the spotted cat fully, a glimmer in her eye.

"Well, naturally. Girl, I get it, really. I get that you're new and all, but get with the program, hun. I'm Cheshire Cake, Queen of the Crossroads."

"Then why are you sitting in the middle of a clearing?"

Cake rolled her feline eyes and looked from left to right. "This clearing is the cross-road, girly. You and I are stood at the center of it."

For the first time since Fionna had entered the clearing, she actually stopped to look around. The grass clearing stretched about ten yards in any direction, and at the edges, the woods sprung up again. Every so often a pathway cut into the woods. Spinning in a circle, Fionna counted thirteen paths in all. Each looked the same as the next, but each was at the same time unique in their own way. Vines formed a net over the pathway of one, a log nestled across the pathway to opening left of it.

"Well, where did she go, then?"

Cake's Cheshire grin faltered slightly, her green eyes flickering behind her before she sighed. Nodding her head a little, she began to lead Fionna to a pathway lined with singed leaves. "This way," Cake prodded, settling down on a clump of clover. "Follow this path, it'll lead you to where you should go."

Fionna offered Cake a grateful smile before dashing onto the path. Footprints were singed into the fallen leaves and tea light candles left scorch marks upon the looming rocks that blocked the flames from the breeze that would otherwise put them out.

Step by step, the pathway slowly progressed into a set of stairs which started out spread out before quickly reverting into steeper stones that grew narrower and narrower still. Then suddenly the steps stopped. Fionna who had been looking at her feet for the last five minutes to make sure she didn't fall upon her face finally looked up only to lock eyes with a living flame.

He wore a white vest and trousers, his feet bare as were his arms. His skin glowed a brilliant orange and from the top of his head sprouted a flickering fire. Sat at a long table covered in burned baked goods, his eyes shone with annoyance, his fists gripping the armrests to his chair where the once smooth velvet was now charred. Beside him sat a doughnut, crispy around the edges, and next to the doughnut sat a small blue cube. The cube and Fionna's dress were the only cool colors in the room-

When had the path through the woods turned into a dank hallway? Fionna wondered. She hadn't realized until now as she took in her surroundings, but she was definitely no longer in the wilderness, surrounded by thriving plants. Instead, stone floors stretched further into the distance than the light illuminated- light that, she noted, appeared to emanate from the glowing boy sitting on his once lavish chair.

She pulled the bag from her shoulders that had started to get sore and set it next to the door. A cinnamon man materialized out of thin air beside her, surprising her as he slipped a white apron around her waist before blending back into the shadows.

"Are you the baker," the doughnut not so much asked as stated, catching the girl off guard.

"Baker? No, not really."

"What do you mean not really?" the doughnut questioned skeptically. The small blue box next to him beeped curiously, its lips pulling down into a subtle frown.

"I mean I don't really bake much. I'm not that great at it."

"Then why are you here?"

"Excuse me?" Fionna bit out, offended.

"Why are you here?"

"Because Cheshire Cake told me to-"

"Cheshire Cake? Is that what she told you to call her? Crazy cat..."

"Well, what else would I call her?"

"You're a strange girl," the flaming boy spoke up for the first time. He tilted his head to the right, his fiery hair persisting to keep straight to the world as he studied the bunny ears that sat atop Fionna's own head.

Fionna scoffed. "Excuse you! That's mean."

The flame boys eyes widened before narrowing again.

"Excuse yourself!" the doughnut yelled, outraged. "That's no way to talk to the Flame Prince!"

"Flame Prince?" Fionna repeated, looking back now to the orange boy. Sure enough, a red jewel glowed in the center of his forehead, much like the Ice Queen's own crown- Fionna's eyes widened as she remembered the reason why she was there. "Have you seen Ice Queen come this way?"

"Ice Queen?" Flame Prince muttered. "No, there has been no Ice Queen here. Ice is cold, and I am flame."

"Yes, your majesty, you are," the doughnut agreed.

"Then if she was here I would either melt her or she would put me out."

"Yes, sir, of course- what?" the doughnut nearly shrieked it was so startled. Fionna seemed to realize at last that this was not where she needed to be. Ice Queen was obviously not here, and perhaps she never had been here. Had the cat lied to Fionna back at the clearing?

Seeing Fionna glance at the bickering prince and doughnut once more, the little blue box plucked itself out of its chair and zipped over to her discarded backpack. It didn't really know Fionna well, but she seemed saner than the other two. Besides, the box was afraid it would short-circuit if it had to eat one more piece of burnt brownies. If only the duo had allowed it to bake in the first place. It was rather fond of baking.

Turning on her heel, Fionna picked her backpack from the ground and began to ascend the steep stairs. Only instead of the road flattening out like it should have, it began to spiral and grow steeper. Up, up, up she climbed before suddenly she stepped out into the sunlight once more.

It blinded her for a minute, and when she finally regained her sight she almost wished she could turn back around and descend again. She tried to, but she found the way blocked off by a stone wall. Fionna blinked.

Huh. Strange place. Turning back she looked around again only to find herself back in the clearing with the cat called Cheshire Cake.

Fionna looked around for a moment and then the stone wall was no longer there. Just thirteen lonely paths that wandered off into the woods.

"You lied, Cake," Fionna sighed and eyed the creature wearily. "You said that Ice Queen was that way but she wasn't."

Cake shook her head. "I never said you would find her there, girl. I told you it would lead you to where you should go."

"Lot of help that was," Fionna rolled her eyes, annoyed at the spotted feline. Getting an idea, she whirled around, her skirts following her fluidly. "Which way should I not go?"

Cake tilted her head, not quite understanding.

"Where should I not be? Where will you tell me not to go?"

Now a worried look flashed in Cake's eyes. "Don't go that way," she immediately responded, pointing with her front paw to a path that had a black iron gate. Green, black and blue colored the path beyond, the mushrooms pale and many of them white topped.

But Fionna just grinned, her bunny ears flouncing as she nodded her head. "Thank you!" she said and started towards the very gate.

"Hey! Wait! Why are you going that way?" Cake called out, running to catch up with the girl.

"Because," Fionna spared the spotted cat a glance, "you told me to follow the wrong path, therefore this path must be right."

Spinning on her heel, she nearly skipped through the black iron gate, leaving a frantic Cake behind her. The cat worried her lip for a few moments before exhaling slowly and gently stepping toward the path herself. "If she meets him it will be my fault. I'll have sent her straight to him. Catnip, Cake! You should've known she'd do that!"

Like mist, her white fur began to vanish, leaving a few brown spots and her worried face. Then as spot by spot began to disappear, all that remained were her dark cat eyes. They peered untrusting at the path beyond the gate before they closed and were gone.

Fionna didn't see why Cake wouldn't want her to come down this path- it seemed much lovelier than the others, and as the sun set slowly and the stars began to peek forth, everything seemed so much calmer. The breeze danced by, the cool tendrils flushing her cheeks as she inhaled the scent of roses it carried.

Roses...

As the path began to widen, she found the sides were lined with rosebushes. Beautiful, pure white roses. The blooms smiled up at her, displaying their glory in the untainted starlight. Here and there she found a light pink bloom among the rest, but then the hedge of roses appeared to suddenly turn bright, sinful red.

Fionna was so focused on the roses themselves she nearly ran over their caretaker, a peppermint fellow with a smoothed down suit jacket and a bucket of red liquid in one hand. With a start, she realized the reason these roses were red and the others weren't. He was painting them!

"Mr. Peppermint, what are you doing?"

"I'm painting the roses red!" he answered, not even sparing her a glance.

"But why?" she asked. "The white are so pretty-"

"The King wants them red."

"The king?"

"Yes, the King. And if the King wants them red, red they'll be, or else white I'll be," the peppermint paled slightly.

"White? What? I don't understand," Fionna murmured beyond confused.

"The King specifically told me to plant red roses, and these are quite obviously not red. So I'm painting them."

"I still don't get it."

"If they aren't red, I'll be in trouble! He'll have my red, instead!" the peppermint panicked, and began to paint faster, damaging a few of the blooms with his furious strokes.

"Careful!" Fionna warned, kneeling to pick up some of the damaged petals.

A trumpet sounded from a little ways off, catching the peppermint's attention immediately. He all but dropped his paint, scurrying up the path followed by a curious Fionna who was being tailed by a reluctantly curious invisible cat.

They came upon a wide courtyard, also lined with the rose bushes, ten other candy attendants stood about the edges as a tall, grey-skinned boy floated around the center fountain. His tailored suit fit him finely, his black hair and combed and mussed just enough to look collected yet effortless. A bite mark adorned the left side of his neck. He floated toward the rose hedge and leaned over to inspect them.

"Peppermint butler," his voice snapped calmly, turning his attention to the cowering creature nearby. Reaching his hand into the hedge, the vampire king pulled back a single white blossom. The peppermint butler paled slightly as the king stooped forward and looked straight into his eyes. "These roses aren't red, are they?"

"N-n-not that-t on-ne, s-s-sir, b-but most of the o-others ar-re," the peppermint gulped, his thin hands shaking by his sides.

The king narrowed his eyes, "I said red roses, not white! I might as well suck the red right out of you!"

"Please don't! Mercy!" the peppermint trembled, hiding his face with his hands.

With a shink, Fionna drew her crystal sword, standing before the frightened peppermint butler and before the smirking vampire king.

"Ah, Fionna the Human, is it?" he chuckled, his eyes soft at the edges as he beheld her in her slightly light blue dress and baker's apron. His eyes flickered to her bunny ears before gliding along her golden fringe. "I've heard of you."

With the king's attention on the girl, the peppermint butler took this as his chance to escape, skittering into the hedge as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Y-you have?" Fionna cursed herself for stuttering. She never stuttered! She was a heroine, for glob's sake! Heroines don't stutter. Ever. And yet she did.

"Mm," he hummed, gliding around her in a circle, inching closer by the second before finally hovering just beside her. "But I must say, the stories don't do you justice."

Fionna's head felt rather light and she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was because he was so close or maybe it was because of all the adrenaline pumping through her veins at that second- yeah, it was definitely the adrenaline.

"You just lost me my dinner," the vampire king continued, now in a normal voice. "Maybe I should suck the red out of you, instead."

"Fionna! Don't let him!" Cheshire Cake materialized on the girl's other side, her paws grabbing Fionna's skirt in an attempt to pull her away.

At the same time, Fionna felt her backpack jostle. Confused, she pulled it off her shoulders to find the little blue box from before poking its head out of the opening.

"Beemo?" Cake asked. "What are you doing here?"

Beemo simply beeped in reply before rummaging around in the bag some more and pulling out a small bag of fruit.

The king raised an eyebrow. "Strawberries? You're going to try buying me off with strawberries?"

Beemo waved the bag slightly and the king's face fell slightly before he snatched the bag. He opened it slowly and pulled a strawberry out, placing it between his fangs. Fionna watched as the strawberry turned snow white, the vampire king licking his lips as he finished sucking its red.

"Hmm," he hummed, looking at the little device that now sat in Cake's hands, "Maybe you win."

Just then Fionna heard a familiar cackle sound from somewhere behind her. Ice Queen stood laughing on a balcony across the courtyard, her eyes gazing coldly down at the scene that played before her.

"Are you following me, Fionna?" she taunted, before giggling once more and disappearing in the blink of an eye into the corridor beyond.

Fionna huffed and ran up the stairs to the french doors that opened up into the courtyard. They swung open as she swept the aside with her left arm, her crystal sword held firmly in her right hand and her backpack shifting against her shoulders as she ran.

But as she stepped into what was supposed to be a foyer, she felt nothing but grass beneath her feet and saw nothing but mushrooms, ferns and options.

She was back at the clearing.

How does this keep happening, she wondered, keeping her sword at the ready as she waited for the Ice Queen to show herself again.

She didn't wait long, however, as suddenly the grassy clearing shimmered and iced over, turning into a frozen disk. Looking down, Fionna could just make out a faint reflection of herself, but as she looked closer she realized it wasn't her at all. The mirror image was the Ice Queen herself, standing foot to foot with Fionna.

And then the world flipped topsy-turvy before going completely black.

[a-strange-sim-fic]

It's All a Little Strange

Chapter One

"Your dad know you're here?"

"Hey Erwin, can I get another book? Dad trashed my last copy."

"Beck, you're not supposed to be here. If your dad finds out-"

"What? He'll ground me, again?" I rolled my eyes and slammed my money on the counter. The curio shop owner sighed and rummaged through his bins to look for my book.

A guest of wind passed by, kicking up some dust. When it cleared, I could see on of those crazy plants growing in the distance.

"I swear, if your dad finds out I sold you another copy-"

"Erwin, relax. I'll say I got it from a kid at school," I reassured him. He didn't seem convinced. "Seriously, Dad won't find this one. Promise."

I hopped on my bike to head home as Erwin shouted something about me saying that the last time. Blah, blah, blah. It was another dark, gloomy day, as always. If I tried hard enough, I could almost remember when the sky was blue. Almost.

Ever since I was little, our town was trapped under a mysterious dark cloud that barely let an ounce of sunlight through. I rode through the dusty desert, passing Jess Sigworth and a few other soldiers going into the Salty 8 Saloon.

She saluted me as I passed, glancing behind me towards Erwin and his little pop up curio shop.

Dammit.

She was sure to tell my father that I'd been down here again. She worked under my him, as one of his sergeants, but she's my mother's friend. Or at least, she was, until my mother disappeared.

I was nearly to the top of the hill, I could see the shiny gates to our community reflecting in the dull light. But, it wasn't Rusty the security guard at the gate. It was my dad.

"Beck, where have you been? You are grounded, you're not supposed to even leave the house. When I found out you weren't in your room-"

"You were in my room?" I shouted. "That is my private space, dad. You get the whole house, you promised-"

"To stay out? Yes I did," my father sighed, lifting my bike into the back of his pick up. "Don't worry, your thirteen locks on the basement door work just fine."

"Fifteen actually," I corrected.

"Beckleigh, you are the child and I am the parent, that is-"

"YOUR house, yes I know."

"You really need to stop interrupting me," he shouted. In his anger, he jerked the wheel and the truck bounced off the curb. He was furious with me, as always. Dad's been hot headed since even before my mother left. Always in a bad mood, always yelling at me about something.

We were finally home, and before he could place the truck in park, I was already jumping out and rushing to my room in the basement.

Dad had finished it off for me as a birthday gift when I turned 16. I guess it was his way of making it up to me that I had no mom, or he thought such a cool room would keep me home, instead of poking around town for clues about my mom.

"She's gone," he'd say. "Just leave it at that."

But it couldn't be so simple, could it? My mom loved me, I even thought she might have actually loved him too. She followed him here from Brindelton Bay when he was assigned a new military base, though she had nothing of her own. Well, except me.

She would spend her whole day at home with me, playing games and cooking. She taught me to walk, talk, everything. Meanwhile, Dad would spend all of his time at work. When he was actually home, he was shut up in his office or the gym he installed in the attic.

Even as a toddler I could tell my mom was lonely. It wasn't until my mom met Jess and Leslie that she ever perked up.

I went over to the far side of my room and put pressure on the loose floorboard at the foot of my bed. Everything was still accounted for.

My spore scanner sat nestled next to some of the bugs I purchased from Erwin the week before. Carefully wrapped in an old handkerchief, a photo of my mother sat on top of my secret treasures. I swapped the photo for my new book and gingerly unwrapped it.

A couple years after she left, Dad had taken down all of her photos in a rage after a long day at work, throwing them in the trash. I managed to save a few, hiding them in the bottom of my toy chest at the time.

Gently stroking the glass, I admired my mother's hair taking up more than half the photo. It was so wild and big, I never understood how she managed to fit it under her cowgirl hat. Her big blue eyes sparkled, and only her smile could outshine them. The yellow dress she wore complimented her dark skin, and she looked like the sun glowing in the early morning. I pressed a kiss to my index finger and tapped it over her face before covering the photo back up.

"Love you, Mama," I whispered, placing the floorboards back in place. I checked my watch, realizing there were only a few hours left before my curfew was invoked.

"I'm going outside, want to squeeze in a few laps," I told my father in the kitchen, as he stirred something in a pot on the stove.

"You are not to-"

"Leave the yard, yea, I know," I interrupted, waving my beach towel at him. "I'll just be in the pool. You can see me from the kitchen window."

He grunted his permission, never once looking at me. Rolling my eyes, I went out the back door and slung my towel over my old monkey bar. I eased myself into the pool and began my laps, counting each one as it was completed. Ten a day, that was the goal. I'd follow up with whatever high protein dinner Dad was making and do my sit ups downstairs before bed.

"Early to bed, early to rise," Dad would always say while leading me to my bed every night at 8pm sharp. He'd wake me the next morning for our daily jog and double check that my homework was finished while we ate breakfast.

I was expected to keep my mind and body at the highest point of health. Straight A student that could bench press a semi was Dad's ideal child. While I wouldn't be lifting semis anytime soon, I could still hold my own in my boxing class or whenever Dad insisted on sparring practice.

Working out was the only time he ever really spent with me. He was a military man, as was his father before him and his father before him. There was a long, long line of Cardenas men serving their country, and being the first girl in the family did not excuse me from that tradition.

"Beck, it's seven. Inside, now," my dad's voice shouted from the back door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I dried myself off, going back into the house. After changing my clothes, I was sat at the old mahogany dining table, my father on the complete opposite end.

"You know, I'm probably the only teenager ever to have a seven o'clock curfew," I muttered. His eyebrows raised high enough they'd have disappeared into his hairline, if he had one. "It's not fair."

"Excuse me?" He grumbled, his eyes shooting daggers. I nearly expected to feel the sensation of being stabbed. "You have a curfew to establish routine, discipline. You need to be responsible for yourself when you enlist, you can't expect others to pick up your slack."

"That's fair," I agreed. "I'm not saying I shouldn't have a curfew, just maybe one that allows me to actually spend time with my friends?"

"Oh, you mean your friends like Erwin?" Dad scoffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "That clown is nothing but trouble. He keeps poking his nose into business that doesnt concern him, and he's going to pay for it one day. You can't allow yourself to be involved with someone like that."

"Erwin is a nice guy, and he's smarter than people think," I countered.

"He's a paranoid conspiracy theorist, he's a total loon!"

"He's my friend!"

By now, we were both shouting, pounding our fists on the table as we stood up in defiance of each other. Dad's face was red, his eyes narrowed and I could see that he was working out if it was worth it to smack me across the mouth.

I rushed to my room, closing the basement door behind me before he could follow. I latched all fifteen locks behind me.

___

"Oh this is disgusting, Beck," I heard my grandmother call out. "Beck! Beckleigh, mija!"

"What is it, what's wrong?" I called, rushing to the bathroom after her. She opened the door and I could see the, the purple vines snaking their way out of the sink. "Oh, they're back."

"They're back?" She repeated, passing a hand over eyes. "This is a thing that just happens?"

"Yea," I shrugged, opening the sink cabinet to pull out the pruning shears we kept for these exact instances. "All the time, actually. It's really bad the further into town you get."

"So the whole town just has vines growing from their sinks?"

"Well, some people get it in their showers and toilets too. "

"That's appalling," she shuddered, eyeing the vines with disgust.

"That's Strangerville," I shrugged again. "Abuela, it's always been this way. It would be weird if I suddenly didn't have to clear out vines everytime I needed to pee."

"Tell me you're joking."

It wasn't often that my grandparents came to visit. They didnt like the desert, or the strange weather, or weird, glowing purple plants that sprouted up all over town. It was so different from their home in Willow Creek, and different is bad apparently.

Today was a special occasion though, Dad's birthday. My grandmother insisted on coming to us and preparing a meal for her only child. While he and my grandfather sat in the living room, staring at the sports center on our tiny television set, I followed my grandmother into the kitchen.

"Mija, will you take these and chop for me please?"

"Abuela, I'm not much of a cook," I tried to excuse myself and pushed the cutting board and vegetables back towards her.

"And what does that have to do with chopping? Any idiot can use a knife," she scoffed. "Just make sure you cut evenly or nothing will cook the same. And avoid hitting any of your fingers."

We worked quietly beside each other, occasionally hearing one of the Cardenas men shouting at the tv, as if the athletes could hear them. When I was done cutting the vegetables, my grandmother set me up at the sink to clean the dishes she'd already used up in dinner prep.

"Always clean as you go, mija," she stated matter of factly. "Then you can enjoy the rest of your evening without worry."

I smiled back at her, happy to have the extra company in the house for once. Dad didn't really like for me to have my friends over, even just to study. He occasionally made an exception for Christie Sigworth, if she came with her parents.

We weren't exactly friends, but we got along. Jess would bring her along for playdates when she came over to gossip with my mother and Leslie Holland about what was happening in town. After mom left, Leslie stopped coming around. The Sigworth's always stood by us though, especially in the beginning.

As if my thoughts had summoning powers, the doorbell rang and Dad called out to me to get it. I opened the door to find Jess, her husband Dylan, and Christie. Jess held out a freshly baked honey cake and made her way to the living room with Dylan.

"Hey," I said, gesturing for Christie to follow me. We left the cake in the kitchen and made our way to my old swing set.

"How are those college apps going?" Christie asked, digging her toe into the ground as she swayed in the swing. "I heard back from Foxberry, early admissions."

"That's great," I mumbled, so tired of college talk. We were less than a year from graduating, but it hardly mattered. It wasn't like I was going to get to leave anyway. Military first, school later. "Have fun in Britechester."

We sat in silence a few minutes, looking towards the crater under the big, dark cloud. The early spring air was already warm, as it was almost all year long. The faint glow of the plants scattered across the desert lit up the landscape as far as we could see.

"Have you asked your dad yet?" Christie suddenly questioned. "About Sulani? Everyone's going, and Wolfgang asked about you."

"Oh did he? And what did Wolfgang Munch want to know about me?"

"If you're coming," she cried out exasperated. "I think he likes you."

"He just likes that I'm his science partner. Easy A."

"Don't be so modest," she dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "You make him so soft, everyone can see it. You should give him a chance!"

"And give my dad a heart attack?" I laughed, thinking of how my dad would handle his daughter dating a Renegade. "Sergio's head would actually implode. And then he'd come back to life just to kill me."

"Since when do you care about your dad's rules?"

I rolled my eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows at me, giggling. Silently, I agreed with her, knowing that she was completely right about it all. Wolfgang was cool, but he was kind of an idiot. Acted sweet when we worked on our labs, but a total jerk to everyone else. It was clear that he had a thing for me, and as satisfying as it would be to stick it to Dad, I couldn't bring myself to use him like that.

"I haven't asked him about Sulani," I tried redirecting the conversation. "Ditching school to go to the beach doesn't seem like something he'd go for."

"We're not ditching! It's over the weekend, he cant be mad about that."

"Oh, so you think I should ask him to have a Saturday off when I could be studying or training? Anytime away from books is ditching school to him."

"You're dad is such a buzzkill."

"Tell me about it."

Inside, around the dinner table Dad talked to Jess and my grandfather about work, while my grandmother talked to Dylan about some new recipes he should try.

"I really want to try my hand at pork adobo," Dylan told her. "I'm planning to get a fresh pig when I take the girls to Sulani this weekend."

"Whose going to Sulani?" My father demanded, his eyes boring into my skull. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?"

"Because I wasn't planning on going," I explained. "Christie and some kids from school are going to the beach, I guess Mr. Sigworth is the chauffeur."

I shrugged and focused once again on my food, trying to avoid eye contact and hoping Dad would turn his attention back to work talk. But he didn't.

"You should go," he suggested softly. My fork clattered against my plate as I dropped it in shock. Pure glee took over Christie's expression, and I could tell it took all of her being to avoid squealing. "You made a good point the other night, you should be able to spend time with your friends. A day at the beach sounds fun."

I stared in disbelief, not sure what to make of his offer. A full day spent on pleasure, and not on securing my future? A day of real, actual sunlight away from StangerVille? I was hardly allowed in my own yard after seven, but suddenly I'm allowed to leave town without being under his supervision?

"Oh my gosh, Wolfgang is going to be so thrilled - ouch!" Christie rubbed her shin where I had kicked her from under the table. I glared at her, jaw clenched. How could she be so stupid?

"Wolfgang Munch? Why would that delinquent care if you're there?" Dad's demeanor changed immediately, and he sat stiff in his chair.

"He won't," I tried to assure. "We're lab partners, if anything he'll just want to make sure I finished my half of the project."

It seemed to settle him enough that he didnt take back his permission and the previous conversations resumed. Christie continued looking at me gleefully while I shook my head.

《 masterlist

[mmjjbbaannkkss]

2019 October 21-26 Allergy, Stress

“Suboptimal hydration remodels metabolism, promotes degenerative diseases, and shortens life.” ~  https://insight.jci.org/articles/view/130949 

Upsetting that Saturday’s workout was cut short by allergies. I was hitting PR’s all week, while sick; stairs machine is hard, 240lbs. Until antihistamines, I couldn’t drink enough, barely made it thru allergies adding apples and salt. 

Country-ish air refreshing, the smell of holiday pine helped a lot, we’ll be able to test blood pressure and allergies and get immunotherapy a day later, until then discount benadryl and mint; Allergies really made whole body start to seize-up, couldn’t stretch to relax or cardio to sweat, sleeping into knots, and days ago my ear had dried-out to pain, and was itchy ear nose eyes, now just feeling loose or limber, and happier. Pineapple salsa seemed to help, but only eating spicy food promotes vascular and metabolic actions, and allergies contradict that, and my needs for antioxidants only increased the allergens’ distribution in cardiovascular, still might eat some chicken livers for the iron, if that doesn’t work then a break. Neck finally popped, older than allergies, and the benadryl sleep felt like an earthquake inside a giant bell, but feeling rested; Partly wanted to foam roller from sacrum to neck, or stretching out. 

“Allergens and peptides” Googled reports recombinant allergenic peptides, aka malicious allergy, or self-perpetuating or eventual build-up of allergies, possibly from the high level stress of training, inflammation limiting circulation, warm-ups wouldn’t end, can finally turn the heat down and stretching is full of gravelly joints. Even my food allergy isn’t fatal, allergies are to a specific protein your body can’t metabolize, and peptides (according to internets) are strings of aminos, smaller simplified proteins, most of us are allergic to mold, dander, spores, etc. 

IDK what it could be other than the dead leaves and the dirty ground, or the dust in the vents, hopefully my body temp regulators are back online now, after 2x10 minute STAIRMASTER segments I was, maybe fever-pitched, in any event more accustomed to open garages this time of year instead of dusty hot air, if not just weary; Joints feel better with antihistamines, allergy medication is cheap, but makes me super-tired, some better catch-up sleep in a while, might keep minimal dosing.

>>>>∆∆∆∆∆

Week 3 (mixed: lite, slow) Same weight, increase reps

#13 Heavy Push  /lbs

Treadmill warm-up 10min >> Shldr Press 3*10/103050 >> Front Raise 3*10/101520- >> Lateral Raise 3*10/51015-R >> BB Flat Bench 3*10/45505560- >> Chest press 3*10/709011131517- >> Pec Deck 3*10/100,115,13,145,16,175,19- >> Dips 3x 8/888,&8- >> Pullover 3x 10/35&5065- >> Triceps 3x 10/304560607590-PR >> Rev-row 3"10/11131618-5- >> Treadmill null 

Better than being anorexic and helpless, me do help;

#14 Lite Pull  5*12

Treadmill warm-up 10/ >> Lat Pulldown 5x12/80,90*5,110 >> Palms In Pulldown 5x12/100 >> DB 1-Arm Row 5x12/25,45*4 >> Straight pulldown 5x12/253036*3 >> Supine row 5x12/60*2,75*2,90*2 >> DB Shrug 5x12/100 >> Rr delt cable single 5x12/5,10*3,15- >> Supine Curl 5x12/30,30*2,40*2 >> Preacher Curl 5x12/30,45*4 >> Alt DB Hammer 5x12/10,2020,20,25! >> Treadmill cooldown 10min

Next day, left traps dehydrated; supine straight bar better, plate row harder than cable kinda sorta; Rotten sunflower seeds covered in mold, dirt core - didn’t help the workout

#15 Slow Legs  

House blend SPDWY café, treadmill 20, pushups 6*10ct, rev-row 40lbs*100; treadmill 20, pushups 6*10ct, rev-row 50lbs*100ct-; talked to pops, treadmill 5, stairs 5, episode treaty broken, recovery, stairs 10 wtf, stairs 10 w>really>tf, rev-row 50lbx100-35-20-

Went  outside after second cycle, ankle cracked to heal again, like a hydraulic breaking rust, I keep telling myself, what a lucky problem, it’s as if someone cast petrify on a goblin, it had immunity, but passed it to me when trying to gnarkill my ankle, only a small part rigid, maybe I had an ankle clot? If that’s a thing, also not sure why I had a panic attack toward the end 

#16 Lite Push  60/lb/x

Treadmill warm-up 10 >> Cable Lat Raise (5*12)60/555,1010 >> Cable front Raise 60/10*5 >> Shldr Press ntrl 60/3030505050 >> Incl BB Smith 60/50*3,70*2- >> Vert chest press 60/25303035-35- >> Pec deck 5*12/ 85*2,100*2, >> Crossover 60/1515202025 >> Strt arm pulldown 60/ 20*5 >> Plate side bend 60/cable,50*2,65*2,80-hands >> Treadmill cooldown null

Toe touch cable press, seen in the wild; cover:: 

#17 Slow/Heavy Pull  

Treadmill warm-up 10- >> High Row 3x 6/3550658095 >> Chin-up ntrl 3x 6 >> Lat Pulldown 3x 6/607590,205,120,135,150,165,18,195-PR+ >> Low Row 4*6/95*4+ >> Shrug 4x 8 /50*2,100,120 >> Delt Deck 4x 8/7085100115130-pr? >> Prchr 1-Arm 4x 10/15303030 >> 6pullups >> EZ Curl 4x 10/ 20 30 40  >> Cable 1-Arm 4x 10/152025; >> Rev-row 4x 10/110,130,150,170- >> Treadmill cooldown null

#18 Lite Legs  60/lb/ct

97bpm >> Stairs 10/10, pushups 20, rev-row 40lbs*100; 

Massive allergies situation, everything smells like leaves and air ducts, sitting outside w/o much issue

[helatherwhite]

11 Best Easy to Grow Indoor Air Purifying Plants

Plants are a lovely addition to any home, but did you know that there are actually air purifying plants that can help make your home a healthier place to live? It's true–there are actually many indoor plants that clean the air and remove toxins.

Plants are a favorite thing that many like to add to their living situation. Plants bring nature inside, and that's a good thing. Connecting with nature has been shown to have many health benefits, but even that aside, plants simply beautify any environment. But there's more–it's really true that plants clean indoor air.

In this article, we will talk about plants that are pretty to look at, but also are some of the best indoor plants that clean the air and remove toxins from your living environment.

Air Purifying Plants–a Healthy Addition to Your Home

We all want our homes to be a safe place to retreat. We work hard to make sure our family feels comfortable and supported, we strive to serve nourishing whole foods, and we carefully research before bringing things into our home that might contain toxins. And yet, our physical homes are sometimes not the healthiest place to be because of poor indoor air quality. Did you know that one of the easiest ways to improve air quality is to grow air cleaning plants indoors? It's true.

Now, before you say you have a brown thumb and kill everything, let me say that there are some plants that are super hard to kill. If you try you can kill them, but you’d have to try.

For years, I believed that I could not grow indoor plants. The reality was, I preferred to grow plants outside since those plants feed my family, and thought that indoor plants were too fussy. So, I used the “brown thumb” excuse.

Then I came across a study from NASA about indoor air quality and decided that indoor plants were worth trying to figure out. I wasn't interested in all indoor plants–just the indoor plants that filter air. Because in my life, things have to have more purpose than just being decorative.

You probably already know that houseplants (or any plant at all, for that matter) are good for exchanging carbon dioxide and oxygen, but did you know that some plants are also good at removing toxins such as formaldehyde, ammonia, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene? It's true!

Why We Need Air Purifying Plants

But just where do these toxins come from? Well, from many places, but they definitely come from the out-gassing in the building of the home, from furniture, from cleaning products, and pretty much anything we bring into our home.

In years past, homes were more ventilated than they are today. Windows and doors weren’t quite sealed all the way and indoor and outdoor air were more easily exchanged. Homes were built with windows on opposite sides of the room so the windows could be opened easily for a good cross breeze.

These days, most homes are built air tight to reduce energy consumption with ventilation only happening through the attic. This is one reason why air purifying house plants are so important and worth the effort.

The good news is the 11 plants I’m sharing with you today are easy to keep alive with very little care. Each plant has its own growing environment requirements, so in addition to the tips that I'm sharing, be sure to check the tag that comes with your plant or ask the workers at your local nursery.

General Guidelines for Growing Indoor Air Purifying Plants

Use potting soil rather than soil from your garden

Potting soil is developed for growing plants in containers–not in the ground. Container plants need loose soil, but they also need the soil to be able to hang on to some moisture and not let the water run straight through. This was probably my biggest issue with growing houseplants. I wanted to use the soil and compost from my garden because it was free and grows amazing vegetables. However, it didn’t work well indoors.

This post may contain affiliate links from which I will earn a commission.

Important Safety Note – Please be cautious and use a face mask when using potting soil as there are known cases of people getting very ill from potting soil spores. (source)

Low light doesn't equal no light

All plants need some light in order to grow. They use the light and chlorophyll in the leaves to make food. If you find that a low light plant isn’t doing well consider putting it on a covered porch for a few days (not in direct sunlight) or near a sunny window.

Here is one “DIY lighting system” that a friend taught me; she has two “sets” of indoor plants. They aren’t identical but they’re interchangeable. One set is in the house while the other set is on the covered porch. She swaps them out every couple of weeks. It only takes about 10 minutes and she’s now able to enjoy air filtering houseplants in her home that has very little natural lighting.

Start small and then grow

When I got serious about growing air filtering plants indoors, I first got a bamboo for the bathroom. I decided that if I could keep it alive for three months, I’d get another plant, rather than purchasing multiple plants at the get go. My advice is to not start growing all of these air filtering plants at the same time since it will easily be too overwhelming.

11 Easy to Grow Air Cleaning Plants

While there are many houseplants that clean the air, some are proven to do so and are also easy to grow. According to a NASA study, the following plants remove toxins such as formaldehyde, ammonia, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air, making them some of the best indoor plants for air purification. (source)

One thing to note, however, is that according to the Humane Society several of these plants can be poisonous to pets, so be aware and do your research if you have curious dogs or cats. (source)

Peace Lilies (Spathiphyllum ‘Mauno Loa’)

Peace Lilies remove formaldehyde, ammonia, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air which makes one of the best air purifying plants. Peace lillies like bright, indirect sunlight; although they’ll grow across the room from a window, they won’t flower unless they are in the sunlight, so put them near a window if at all possible.

Peace lilies like evenly moist, well-drained soil.

Peace Lilies (Spathiphyllum ‘Mauno Loa’)

Boston Ferns (Nephrolepis exaltata)

Boston Ferns remove formaldehyde and xylene from air. They are a tropical plant and like moderate temperatures and lots of humidity with lots of indirect sunlight. A bathroom with a window is a good place to grow Boston ferns.

Mist the leaves of your Boston Fern with water several times a week, or put the pot in a shallow tray with pebbles and water, to increase the humidity around the plant. Boston Ferns also like the soil to always be moist.

Boston Ferns (Nephrolepis exaltata)

Spider Plant (Chlorophytum elatum)

The Spider Plant is another plant that removes formaldehyde and xylene and also likes consistent soil moisture. Spider plants like a lot of indirect light so place them near a sunny window.

They grow well in hanging pots as long as you keep the soil moist.

Snake Plant / Mother-in-Law’s Tongue (Sansevieria laurentii)

The Snake Plant removes formaldehyde, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air. It is also one of the hardiest plants around.

While Snake Plants like any indirect sunlight, low or high, just don’t put this plant where it gets direct sunlight. It also doesn’t require much watering and can go two to four weeks between watering. Make sure the soil completely dries out between watering so the roots don’t rot.

Snake Plant: Mother-in-Law’s Tongue (Sansevieria laurentii)

Weeping Ficus (Ficus benjamina)

The Weeping Ficus removes formaldehyde and xylene from the air. Ficus plants like bright light, so put it near a window that gets light.

Ficus is a tree and will keep its tree shape regardless of how big it is which makes it an interesting plant if kept in a smaller pot. Like many of the other plants mentioned, Ficus like a humid environment and will do well with a weekly misting. But they don’t like their roots to always be wet so if the top of the soil is damp wait a few days before watering again. A weekly watering should be sufficient.

Weeping ficus (Ficus benjamina)

English Ivy (Hedera helix)

English Ivy removes formaldehyde, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air. Ivy is a fun climbing plant and looks nice in hanging pots, dangling from shelves, or growing up a topiary.

This ivy likes humidity, so a weekly misting with water is a good habit. It also likes bright light but indirect sunlight is best as direct, harsh light will burn the leaves. English Ivy is on many noxious weed lists so be sure to check your local list before planting it outside.

English Ivy (Hedera helix)

Aloe Vera (Aloe vera)

Aloe Vera is a common household plant mostly used for treating minor burns, cuts, and scrapes. But it’s also an air filtering plant. Aloe vera removes formaldehyde and benzene from the air.

Aloe vera is pretty hard to kill as long as you give it bright light and don’t over-water it. It stores a lot of water in its leaves and only needs to be watered once or maybe twice a month.

Bamboo Palm (Chamaedorea seifrizii)

The Bamboo Palm and other palms like the Parlor Palm remove formaldehyde and xylene from the air. Bamboo palms prefer bright indirect light but will tolerate medium and even low light if you don’t over water the plant.

When the top 1/3 of the soil depth is dry, water until the soil is evenly moist. Don’t let the Bamboo Palm sit in the excess water that drains from the pot. Other than that these plants are pretty easy to grow indoors.

Bamboo Palm (Chamaedorea seifrizii)

Pot Mum (Chrysanthemum morifolium)

The Pot Mum or Florists Mum is another superstar when it comes to removing indoor air toxins. The pot mum will remove formaldehyde, ammonia, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air.

Pot mums like bright light and damp soil. You’ll probably need to water this plant twice a week. Most people only keep pot mums around while they are flowering and toss them when the flowering season is over. However, you can put them outside (as long as they don’t freeze) and they will probably flower again the next summer at which time you can bring them back inside.

Pot Mum (Chrysanthemum morifolium)

Golden Pothos (Scindapsus aureus)

The Golden Pothos or Devil’s Ivy removes formaldehyde, benzene, and xylene from the air. This is another fun trailing plant that can be grown in hanging pots, draped off shelves, or climbing a moss pole.

If you have a friend with one of these plants, ask for a cutting and root well in a glass of water. After they’ve developed roots, transplant into a container.

Golden Pothos plants prefer bright indirect light and regular misting with water. However, they do not like water-logged soil so let it dry out before watering again.

Golden Pothos (Scindapsus aureus)

Dragon Tree (Dracaena marginata)

The Dragon tree removes formaldehyde, ammonia, benzene, trichloroethylene, and xylene from the air. It’s also a really interesting-looking plant, adding an Asian or modern feel to the environment. Dracaenas like bright indirect sunlight but can acclimate to lower-light situations, but the leaves will be thinner. For better growing, let the top 50% of the soil dry out before watering and don’t let the pot sit in a saucer of water.

Dragon Tree (Dracaena marginata)

As you create a safe home for your family, don’t overlook the air that you are breathing. There are many things we bring into our home that affect the quality of our indoor air. Growing indoor plants that clean the air and remove toxins is an easy and fun way to improve air quality and add beauty to our homes.

Have you tried to grow any of these air purifying plants? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Angi Schneider lives on a small homestead along the Texas Gulf Coast with her husband and children. For over 25 years they have sought to reduce their dependence on commercial products and the grocery store by growing food, living a DIY lifestyle and cooking simple, tasty meals from scratch. Angi shares their journey on her site, SchneiderPeeps.com.

The post 11 Best Easy to Grow Indoor Air Purifying Plants appeared first on Whole New Mom.

[subjectwyk]

Just a drabble. Not great but wanted to share anyway. It's the idea of how Jack was sent away for his newest verse.

Be Good. No matter what else you do. Be good Jack.

It was the one thing his mother had urged of him that the boy never really understood. No matter how many times he went over that morning in his mind….

"Jack!" Jasmine called softly, trying to keep the worry from her voice. Hoping not to scare her son. She needed to get him out of the city. Now. Before she… "Jack, sweetheart, I need you to get your backpack." The boy was barely waking up. She knew that. Absently brushing her blonde hair back behind her ears. Jack had no reason to be awake this early. The sun hadn’t even made it into the sky yet. The streets and alleys were barely lit, if at all. She’d made her way home through habit and her flashlight.

Flashlight. She’d pack that too. “Jack! You really to get wake up and get out here, honey!” There was a bite on her shoulder. She knew it. She knew if it wasn't for the thick jacket she’d stolen off an unfortunate man’s body after the fact, the blood would have seeped through enough for her child to see it. She had two days. At most. And part of that time had been used in getting home again.

“Jack! Come out-- oh there you are. Good morning hun. How’d you sleep?”

Jack rubbed his eyes, holding his backpack up for her to take as he yawned. “Mama? What’s going on?” Bright blue eyes tried in vain to blink the sleep away. His dark hair a mess that needed to have been cut. Never the time before. There wouldn’t be time for her to do it now. Jasmine took the backpack from him, staring with a sad smile at her little boy. He was growing too fast. And yet, somehow, she had managed to keep him innocent. In this world. In this messed up, horrible world. Jack Jolene was still innocent and sweet. Hopeful and kind. He deserved so much more than this world.

If only she could bottle the moment. The look of him, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes the way a child much younger than him might. A small gap between his front teeth showing the thumb sucking habit he never quite kicked despite her best efforts. He knew how to shoot, but she had barely made him. Only had taken him outside once to teach him before letting him stay safe in the quarantine.

That was all over now.

“Jack. Do you remember my friends? The ones with the tunnel?”

The boy nodded with a yawn, barely seeming to register that the blonde woman was stuffing food and canteens of water into his pack along with a few odds and ends she was certain would come in handy; pills, a pair of scissors, a roll of duct tape, a roll of gauze. She prayed he never had to use the gauze.

“I need you to go to them. Ok? You’re going to go there and you’re going to remind them that your mother is Jasmine. You’re going to offer them this,” she held up a small stack of ration cards, “in exchange for getting you out of the zone.”

The last of Jack’s drowsiness vanished. She was telling how to leave. Without her. Why? What had he done? His mother shouldn’t be sending him away. And outside the quarantine? Isn’t that dangerous? There were infected out there. He didn’t want to be infected. He didn't want to be torn apart by someone who was infected either. “Mama?” He asked tentatively.

“You need to put on jeans and your boots Jack. I have a sweater for you to put on over your shirt. It might get cold at night.” Without looking at her son again, Jasmine reloaded her pistol. Fully loaded it only left three extra. The boy would need to either make every shot count or never have reason to fire it. Hopefully it was the latter. She never wanted to imagine her son having reason to shoot someone.

“Mama… I don’t understand….”

“Jack. Do as I say. It’s very important you get out soon.” She wouldn’t have two whole days. Jasmine was sure of that. With all the adrenaline in her system? With all the worry about her precious son? She would turn by the end of the day. Far sooner than she wanted. Not enough time to sit down and really talk to Jack. Not even enough time to take him out of the quarantine herself. He needed out. Once he was on his way, she would turn herself over to the army. Hopefully keep the entire zone from getting infected. But that was a hope. Not a promise. Jack was more important. And if she turned before she could turn herself in… there was no telling how many would be infected.

The boy hesitated but did as he was told. Changing into the clothes his mother had told him to, stopping for only a moment to glance around the bedroom. She was sending him away. His mother loved him. So she was doing it for a reason. But just the same, this was the last time he’d see this room. He’d grown up in this room. Sharing the one bedroom with his mother. The window faced away from the street. He knew that it meant that he had been spared having to see the patrols at night. A little world that the two-person family tried to make safe from the outside. His mother brought flowers with her when she left the zone and came back. She’d found him a few little things like that. A book. Crayons that he knew were too expensive if she’d not scavenged them. And it was over now. He was barely 12 years old. Barely ever socialized with other chlidren. And the life he’d known was over.

With a sigh he went back the to other room, trying in vain to smile. It twitched into a smirk. An expression that was painful for Jasmine to see. She knew that twitch. It meant he was lying, if only in his own mind. She smiled back, but it was full of sadness and pain. Her shoulder was starting to hurt like hell. That on top of losing her son? She might take a knife to her own neck once he was gone. Save the military the trouble.

Jasmine knelt down to her son’s level, still holding her pistol. “Jack, you remember how to use this, right?” The boy nodded, refusing to look at the gun until she took his hand and forced the weapon into it. “It’s full loaded right now. These,” she snatched the few spare bullets from the counter and put them in the front pocket of his jeans. “Are all the backups you have. If you have to shoot, make every single shot count. You understand me” The boy nodded. She hated that he wasn’t speaking to her. He was probably figuring out what she was up to. Why she was making him leave.

“Ok. Now, I’ve put my mask in the top of your bag. If you even think you see a spore you put that on, you understand me?” He nodded silently. Staring at her with big, bright blue eyes. One of the few traits he’d gotten from her at all. Looking too bright in the still dim light of the early dawn, especially contracted by his dark hair. “Now, wear your sweater. Unless it gets wet. Then take it off until it dries. You don’t want to be sick out there.” She reached back to the counter, grabbing the sweater and hte stack of ration cards. “Use these sparingly. If you can get what you need for fewer, do it. You want these to bargain with people and to help establish yourself in a new city.”

That was it. The statement that broke the boy. Even as his mother put the sweater over his head. Made him put the gun down only long enough to slip his arms through the sleeves. “I don’t want to go to a different city. I want to be with you. I don’t want to leave. Mama, why do I have to go? Don’t make me. There are infected out there.”

“I know, Jack. I know. But you have to. You’re going to go toward Boston. There’s another quarantine zone up that way. You get there and you eb safe. Don’t trust anyone. Keep your ears and eyes open. Take only what you need.” Jasmine pulled Jack into a tight hug. Tears starting to fall from her own blue eyes. He clinged to her tightly with his free hand, the one with the gun in it hanging dumbly at his side still.

“That’s a long, long way Mama.”

“I know. But if you stay out of cities it’ll be easier. Don’t go where there are tall buildings. Hunters live there. And stay away from places that look too lived in. People aren’t all good Jack. And if you come across Fireflies…” What could she tell him? Not to trust them? As far as she knew they were normally decent people. At least as decent as any group was these days. “You just… you be careful. Promise?”

Jack nodded, backing away from his mother even as she put his backpack onto him. She thought he didn’t understand. But he was smart. Smarter than people gave him credit for. There was only one reason she’d send him not only to hide but as far from her as she could. Only one reason a woman who frequently left the zone to get illicit goods wouldn’t need her mask anymore. Or her gun. He didn't want to leave. But at least… at least he would get to remember her like this. Pretty and smilig and petting his hair one last time before ushering him out the door. Human and alive.

“And Jack?” He turned back, hoping that she had changed her mind. But his mother just smiled that same sad smile, holding her shoulder in a way that was either pain or discomfort with the situation. “Be good. No matter what else you do. Be good Jack.”

[benjamingarden]

Winter Prep (Part 1: The Garden)

I always hate winter prep for the garden because it signals the end of the abundant organic food in the yard. (While I can appreciate the changing of seasons, I love summer best of all!) Yet, preparing the garden is an important part of moving into winter and will make everything better next spring.

In preparation for what is to come, I’ve been doing work on the garden spaces as well as helping the chickens get ready for the change in the weather.  There’s a flurry of activity as I try to put the garden to bed and brace the chickens for winter, while working in fits and starts between rain storms (and before the rain comes without stopping!).

Whew. There’s so much to do.

Winter Prep Garden:

Picking the Last of the Veggies

The first step with winter prep is to harvest any remaining hanging-on veggies and fruit.

I’ve already pulled all the tomatoes off the vines  and made some into green tomato sauce (here’s the recipe) and have some others tucked inside brown bags, waiting for them to ripen. Another big task ahead of me is pulling out the beans. For me, beans means DRIED beans. I save my beans until the end of the summer/early fall and shell them dry. I’ve been shelling for a while now, but there’s still TONS of beans on the  vines that aren’t dry yet. I will clip off the nearly dry beans and pull the vines up and hang them in the carport for the rest of the beans to dry.

In some areas (like here in the Pacific NW), you can leave some of your root veggies in the ground and harvest them all winter. I’ve left my beets and carrots like this. I will have to put a layer of mulch over the to protect them from (possible) freezing. Otherwise, I can just go out and pull them up as I need them.

Winter squash can be picked (make sure to leave a bit of the stem, it will keep them from rotting as quickly), washed (some people use a solution of vinegar water to kill the spores, etc. on the outside which can contribute to rot) and well dried. If they’re stored in a cool, dry place, they can last up to (nearly) a year, depending on the kind of squash it is.

Plants for Compost (and Not)

Once I have all the remaining food harvested, I separate the plants into compost and non-compost piles as I pull them out of the garden. While everything, technically, can go into the compost, I don’t put it all in there. I purposely keep the tomato and potato plants out of my compost, as my bins are open and my chickens think compost-diving is an Olympic sport. I don’t want them to accidentally eat something that would be bad (potentially even fatal) for them, so I don’t take any chances. (I also never put avocado shells or green potatoes in the compost for the same reason.)

Cover Crops or Not?

This year, on the advice of a guy who has a 5,000 square foot garden area, I’m not going to plant cover crops in all my raised bed garden spaces.

For the raised beds, I’m trying what he does: I took compost that’s in the in between stage—not quite dirt yet, but partly broken down—and ran it in a long pile down the center of my raised beds. Then, I took the dirt on either side of this pile and dug it up, piling it on top of compost I just added.

That’s how he leaves it all winter. So, that’s what I’m going to try. I figure he might know a thing or two about gardening. He says his family never ever buys produce at the store because they grow enough of it to meet their needs, YEAR ROUND! That’s enough to impress me!

What Is a Cover Crop?

But cover crops are good too. And for my non-raised beds, I’m going to plant red clover. I especially want to boost up the soil in my new (this year) garden space out back. (I live where the soil contains a lot of clay.) I like that cover crops can work for me all winter and make my soil better by next spring.

If you’re new to cover crops, they’re seeds that you plant in the fall to help your soil in all sorts of ways (such as adding needed nutrients to the soil and helping to keep weeds down). If you’re interested in learning more about cover crops, here’s a great site that tells you just about anything you might want to know about how to pick the right cover crop, the benefits of planting a cover crop and more.

Now….let’s dream of next year….

Once the garden is put to bed, grab yourself something great to drink. Drink it slow and enjoy yourself (kinda like after the kids are finally in bed and you can relax)….and dream of all those new things you want to grow/try/do in next summer’s garden!

    Winter Prep (Part 1: The Garden) was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

[benjamingarden]

Winter Prep (Part 1: The Garden)

I always hate winter prep for the garden because it signals the end of the abundant organic food in the yard. (While I can appreciate the changing of seasons, I love summer best of all!) Yet, preparing the garden is an important part of moving into winter and will make everything better next spring.

In preparation for what is to come, I’ve been doing work on the garden spaces as well as helping the chickens get ready for the change in the weather.  There’s a flurry of activity as I try to put the garden to bed and brace the chickens for winter, while working in fits and starts between rain storms (and before the rain comes without stopping!).

Whew. There’s so much to do.

Winter Prep Garden:

Picking the Last of the Veggies

The first step with winter prep is to harvest any remaining hanging-on veggies and fruit.

I’ve already pulled all the tomatoes off the vines  and made some into green tomato sauce (here’s the recipe) and have some others tucked inside brown bags, waiting for them to ripen. Another big task ahead of me is pulling out the beans. For me, beans means DRIED beans. I save my beans until the end of the summer/early fall and shell them dry. I’ve been shelling for a while now, but there’s still TONS of beans on the  vines that aren’t dry yet. I will clip off the nearly dry beans and pull the vines up and hang them in the carport for the rest of the beans to dry.

In some areas (like here in the Pacific NW), you can leave some of your root veggies in the ground and harvest them all winter. I’ve left my beets and carrots like this. I will have to put a layer of mulch over the to protect them from (possible) freezing. Otherwise, I can just go out and pull them up as I need them.

Winter squash can be picked (make sure to leave a bit of the stem, it will keep them from rotting as quickly), washed (some people use a solution of vinegar water to kill the spores, etc. on the outside which can contribute to rot) and well dried. If they’re stored in a cool, dry place, they can last up to (nearly) a year, depending on the kind of squash it is.

Plants for Compost (and Not)

Once I have all the remaining food harvested, I separate the plants into compost and non-compost piles as I pull them out of the garden. While everything, technically, can go into the compost, I don’t put it all in there. I purposely keep the tomato and potato plants out of my compost, as my bins are open and my chickens think compost-diving is an Olympic sport. I don’t want them to accidentally eat something that would be bad (potentially even fatal) for them, so I don’t take any chances. (I also never put avocado shells or green potatoes in the compost for the same reason.)

Cover Crops or Not?

This year, on the advice of a guy who has a 5,000 square foot garden area, I’m not going to plant cover crops in all my raised bed garden spaces.

For the raised beds, I’m trying what he does: I took compost that’s in the in between stage—not quite dirt yet, but partly broken down—and ran it in a long pile down the center of my raised beds. Then, I took the dirt on either side of this pile and dug it up, piling it on top of compost I just added.

That’s how he leaves it all winter. So, that’s what I’m going to try. I figure he might know a thing or two about gardening. He says his family never ever buys produce at the store because they grow enough of it to meet their needs, YEAR ROUND! That’s enough to impress me!

What Is a Cover Crop?

But cover crops are good too. And for my non-raised beds, I’m going to plant red clover. I especially want to boost up the soil in my new (this year) garden space out back. (I live where the soil contains a lot of clay.) I like that cover crops can work for me all winter and make my soil better by next spring.

If you’re new to cover crops, they’re seeds that you plant in the fall to help your soil in all sorts of ways (such as adding needed nutrients to the soil and helping to keep weeds down). If you’re interested in learning more about cover crops, here’s a great site that tells you just about anything you might want to know about how to pick the right cover crop, the benefits of planting a cover crop and more.

Now….let’s dream of next year….

Once the garden is put to bed, grab yourself something great to drink. Drink it slow and enjoy yourself (kinda like after the kids are finally in bed and you can relax)….and dream of all those new things you want to grow/try/do in next summer’s garden!

    Winter Prep (Part 1: The Garden) was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)