shrink the world, nothing left

"i mean—i didn't have plans, so i don't mind. but if you do, that's totally fine!" she tells him. "i could like, work on lesson plans or something."

after his divorce, he & his ex agreed, amicably, to live together until they were able to get baby sophia on a better schedule. with her time in the nicu, it took months longer than most to get her to sleep through the night and eat on a schedule. the divorce was hard enough to agree upon, and they swore to each other that they wouldn't let it interrupt sophia's growth. it's not that they broke that promise, but... it was hard for sam. he tried for months to keep things normal, but he couldn't fathom spending even longer in the house they once shared as husband & wife. not to mention, his ex seemed especially relieved when he offered to take sophia with him for weeks at a time.

in his ideal world, he'd have a nice little home in the suburbs with a big backyard and room for a grill. but—life rarely is that kind to him. so he's here; an apartment with a bedroom he shares with sophia, and a kitchen so small he could cry. it's not his dream, but it's a start. a new beginning on his own.

it's nights like this, though, that make him miss having a partner. sophia's been crying for hours. even when sam's able to get her to sleep, it only lasts minutes before she fusses again. she'd spent days grabbing at her ears, and after a quick visit to her pediatrician, they confirmed an ear infection. with another two hours before he can give sophia her next dosage of medication, he's been rocking her, pacing through the apartment, trying desperately to get her calm.

sam's lacking sleep himself, still not quite used to his new home—however temporary it may be. he has yet to meet any of his neighbors, but after a full night of sophia screams, he's sure they must hate him already. with a sigh, sam turns to make another lap of the room, patting sophia as he goes. maybe, maybe there's a chance a change of scenery would calm her down. besides, if his neighbors hate him now, there's a slim chance he can make it any worse.

he lays sophia down to swaddle her in a blanket and grabs his keys. with sophia tucked in his arms, he steps into the hallway, hoping desperately that something—anything—will calm her down.

the sound of a door clicking open makes him turn, coming face to face with her. he blinks blearily, glancing down at sophia and then at the cookie the woman's offered him.

With a smug smirk, he plucked the cigarette from Nathan’s fingers and took a drag.  It really wasn’t so much a challenge as it was an excuse to show off his own thick skin.  Jonathan’s high opinion of himself didn’t really mean much if others didn’t have the same opinion of him, and it wasn’t enough to just be rich, tall, and handsome. He wanted to be respected, too. And there were few better ways to be respected than to have others view you as brave and fearless.

Passing the cigarette back to Nathan, Johnathan chuckled. “Just a bit of sport.” He added. “ And it’s not really haunted, but if you insist, it’s not far. Some old mill or factory. Hop in, we can get there in no time. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch some kids lurking around and give them a good scare. I’ve been told I make a rather convincing sounding cop.” He laughed as he made his way to the driver’s side and entered. “ Besides, the open stretch of road is where this baby of mine shines.” 

"Oh, if we're gonna be scarin' kids, we're playing ghouls, not cops," Nathan laughs. "'sides, if this place is haunted, that's what they'll be looking for."

Nathan follows Johnathan outside, snuffing their shared cigarette as he goes. His 'mobile is just as nice as Nathan remembers, practically shining in the moonlight. They settle into the passenger's seat, resting one arm upon the door. Of course, the interior is just as nice; the seat just as comfortable.

theo stares at the guy—spy, how could he not recognize his voice—mouth agape. the chances of something like this, meeting the person he'd spent so much time playing with, they've gotta be astronomical.

"theoriffic," theo tells him, eyes wide, reminded of the gamertag he hadn't though of in years. "dude, i don't know how i didn't recognize you! it's been... man, it's had to have been years since we played."

"i just don't want you to stress, maude. i hate seeing you upset! especially over faceless nobodies that live for pissing people off."

his smile catches her off guard. it brightens up his whole face, and she can't help but match it with one of her own. even as he asks the dreaded question of her night.

"ah, can you believe it was a second date?" her nose scrunches and she shakes her head. "it's fine though," she sighs, "he was a dick." it was a wonder she even granted the opportunity of a second date to this man, but oh, right. the desperation, the ticking clock of life, the loneliness had all kicked in and driven her to try and be right back in the arms of this man who didn't care enough about her to shoot her a text.

charlie seems resigned to the fact that her night has taken a turn. david can't help but wonder how often something like this happens. he's had his fair share of shitty dates... he wants to question whether charlie's had similar experiences.

but, no. his night's not over yet. no need to dwell on the bad, when things seem to be looking up.

rue hummed... looking down at the grasp of her palms, feeling her fingers twitch, tighten, pull at their grasp. "um, i can promise you it's probably KINDER than you'll ever be." and that's the fucking rub of it all, isn't it? that they were far crueler to themselves, thus the question to start with. a faint smile on her lips, that tired slope, tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek.

"like, we both know i'm really bad at LETTING GO of something," so she had to acknowledge it up front, knowing the look her cousin might give her when she kept on going. "but honestly, sometimes you need to like. let go of a person. i think that's the only, real lesson that like, i feel has really come to me at all, which is like, this shit makes you better at learning when to cut and go. and that can be the right thing, even if you don't want to. maybe maturity is like, realizing love isn't enough. it never could be enough."

hollie knows how self-esteem works; knows that people are more critical of themself than they are anyone else. of course she knows that, like objectively, but it's hard to piece the truth together with the version of herself in her mind.

she sighs, glancing over at rue with a wry smile, "some days it's a mix & match of feeling, you know? i want to let go, but my mind won't let me."

hollie doesn't speak it aloud, but she wonders—if love isn't enough, then what is? is life just a never-ending cycle of not enough? living with a missing puzzle piece in your mind or worse, your heart. she's not even thirty yet, but the pressure feels insurmountable—the constant media drivel about getting married, having kids, and doing it all before you're ' too old ' to be worth it anymore. hollie knows better than to fall for bullshit beliefs like that, but anxiety won't let her give the thought up entirely.

"i don't know how i ended up like this," hollie turns another grin to rue, "spending time together and i'm just crying over love, of all things."

Farming was her passion. As the only Mahasti who remained in her family lands after their parents retired, Parisa had a great deal of pride for her career. She was born for this—this life was the only thing she’d ever known.

People, however, were not her forte. Parisa preferred her own company. Large crowds or loud public spaces was her kryptonite. Plus, the more people in an area, the greater the potential for them to become casualties if she ever got too reckless. But, in order to keep the farm afloat, she would have to mingle. Fake it ‘till you make it, her mom would always say. And here she was today, all smiles, eager nods, and genuine interest as she spoke to every potential patron that strolled up to her stall.

Parisa was not charismatic, but her extensive knowledge of her craft allowed her to wear that mask for a couple of hours every weekend. But now she needed a break, and when the crowd died down, she put a be back soon! sign up before taking her leave.

That leave was short lived. Instead, she found herself brushing past someone too closely. The apology was automatic, only pausing to catch a familiar scent in the air. Parisa froze. There was someone just like her nearby. Another werewolf. Her muscles contracted on reflex, only relaxing at the question about tomatoes. The farmer blinked at the woman—the werewolf?—before switching back on her faux confidence.

“You don’t want these tomatoes,” Parisa stated immediately, grimacing as she put gentle pressure on them. “They’re too mushy, not fresh.” The stand’s owner looked horrified at the blunt dismissal of their crops, and Parisa stifled a laugh. A beat passed between the two women as the farmer nodded to her farm stand. Guess she wasn’t getting that break after all. “Follow me. I have exactly what you’re looking for.”

As she's led away from the stand, she notes the confidence in which the woman carries herself with. She had no qualms when insulting the other farmer's tomatoes, and led Carina away without even glancing back to see if she'd followed. Clearly, she knows what she's talking about.

The woman leads Carina to a stall, which must be her own. Carina's eyes are drawn to the jars of preserves and honey—honey being one of few sweet treats she loves to indulge in.

"Are you a beekeeper?" She asks, inspecting the label on the honey. "Honey and strawberries—it's one of my favorite treats. But I can't say I've had it outside of the grocery store."

It's not that she's opposed to being used as a pawn for him to escape a dreaded party, but she can't help but tease him.

002 Zombie Apocalypse.

Open To: all. no prior interaction required.

Potential Relations: pre-apocalypse friend, stranger.

Plot: meeting and surviving the apocalypse together. found family.

Simon, if you’re still alive, I’m going to kill you. That thought kept running through her mind for hours. It started after they ran into a small group of hostiles and her younger brother, acting with as much sense as a clumsy puppy, ran off and made enough noise to attract the undead. She understood why he did it; he wanted to protect her and Jude.

Ren wasn’t really mad at him. She was just upset that he hadn’t paused for even a second so they could make a plan that didn’t involve him running straight into danger. Tears welled up as she experienced a wave of loss. She quickly shoved it aside and wiped her eyes. The last thing she needed was to start crying and miss a threat nearby. It was easier to joke about killing him than to think he might already be gone.

Ren adjusted the carrier on her back, her muscles burning. At first, the weight hadn’t bothered her, but after hours of walking, she was reminded that her nephew was no longer a newborn. Accepting the struggle, she headed for the local Walmart. She didn’t like the idea of going into the dark building, but it was the nearest shelter.

Buddy, the big, fluffy black-and-white Akita, used to be a military dog. Now, he was a loyal protector of all things small and human, and he stayed close to Ren. He was alert, eyes scanning, ears twitching, nose sniffing, and she was grateful for her furry companion. Because she knew that he’d warn her of the undead before she’d be able to see them.

The parking lot was silent as Ren moved carefully toward the store. Abandoned cars could hide danger, but her small group of three reached the Walmart without trouble. Even though Ren had a knot of worry in her stomach, she had no other options. They could go inside or stay out in the open all night.

With some effort, the sliding door, which once would have opened automatically, came off its track and folded inward. The sound was loud and resounded throughout the cavernous dark. Ren waited, knowing the noise would either bring danger, be they dead or alive. When nothing happened, she let Buddy go in first, then put the door back on its track behind her.

The light through the dirty glass doors didn’t reach far inside, so Erin took out her flashlight as she walked in. Normally, she would stay near the natural light, but she needed to pick up a few things. She avoided the fresh food and refrigerated sections. Without power, everything had spoiled long ago, and the smell was strong enough to make her gag if she got too close.

Instead, she went to the baby section. It was probably the least picked-over part of the store. There weren’t many babies left after the world ended, and while that thought made her want to cry, she was grateful there were still supplies for her little one.

Once she reached the baby section, she turned on the battery-powered camp lantern she had in her supplies, now far enough from the front of the store that she wasn’t worried the brighter light would be seen from the outside, and placed it on a display shelf.

Ren then carefully removed the pack that held her nephew, and the little one, now seemingly realizing that they were safe, started to fuss with good reason. His diaper was soaked, and his clothes were too. Ren whispered soft apologies as she cleaned him up. She hated that she’d let him stay in a dirty diaper for so long, but keeping him safe had come first.

The sky has been darkening for the past hour, grey clouds rolling through, slowly but surely snuffing out the sun. Days like today make her miss the mundane: meteorologists. Sometimes, it's easy to predict the weather, but it's harder in the winter, and even further into spring. The weather gets erratic, snow falling rapidly over the span of a few hours, or thunderstorms blowing in with only minutes of warning. At least today she has a chance to find shelter before the rain begins to fall.

She typically stays away from the supermarkets. It's harder to stay safe compared to a house or smaller shop. The shelves & stock rooms can hide all sorts of unsavory things, a risk she's rarely willing to take. She decides against her best interest now, sneaking quietly into the store through a back door. Although she has a gun on her hip, she instead grips her knife. Dani knows the kind of crowd a gunshot can draw.

Food was raided months ago, leaving shelves empty, some turned over & broken. Obstacles, she notes. If she has to run, she needs to avoid these aisles. Water was another necessity quickly looted. Dani has been lucky enough to know how to make safe drinking water, either filtering & boiling it, or using just enough bleach to make it safe. No one bothered raiding the cleaning aisle, of course.

Though she's sure it's a waste of time, she finds herself seeking out the aisles that used to hold camping & outdoor gear. There's not much left, but she expected nothing less. In fact, she and Dom had raided a camping store only weeks into the apocalypse. That's where the majority of her supplies came from, now carefully hidden away back at her camp.

As she picks through the shelves, unsure of what she's even looking for, she hears it—a distant cry, echoing against the walls. Dani freezes where she stands, unwilling to risk the sound of her shuffling feet. It sounds like an animal, she realizes. A kitten or a puppy, maybe, lost without its mother. The thought settles her. As long as she doesn't have to fight, she'll be happy—as happy as one can be during the end of the world.

Dani grabs a small pot, once part of a campfire cooking set. Still quiet on her feet, she follows the sound of crying, carefully checking around every corner.

The sound draws her further into the store, through aisles of ragged clothes, to the section meant for children. It's a sad sight, most of the shelves and racks having avoided the looters. She tries not to think too hard about why that is.

The noise is closer now, only an aisle away. As not to scare whatever animal is crying, she quiets her steps, turning the corner slowly. Light draws her attention first. Electricity was lost quickly when the end began; and she's surprised she didn't notice it glowing when she got close.

What she notices next makes her heart stutter—a woman, and a baby. It wasn't an animal she heard, but them. The woman has her back to Dani, bent over the baby, cleaning it up by the looks of things. Like the children's clothes, this aisle had escaped the raiders, leaving diapers and infant formula for whatever babies managed to survive.

Dani knows she only has moments to think before the woman notices her. Knife in one hand, and the camping pot in the other, Dani makes a decision she hopes she won't regret.