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private blog do not follow

[cfmusings-blog]

     whatever doesn’t kill me … 

              BETTER START RUNNING. 

[nothingbutholesinyou-blog]

          Dipper squinted, gripping the shovel more firmly as the sound of activity from outside of their location increased his heart rate. He wasn’t sure if staying still or leaving would be worse. It was hard to assess the situation when no one acted rationally anymore. Not being able to gauge emotion made him even more nervous, but the lack of an attack on him was a good sign. He didn’t move, but relaxed his shoulders a bit. The tension was making him cramp up anyways. Still, he found himself avoiding eye contact, if it could be called that. The guy had on shades that he only saw in the likes of comic books and the small amount of anime he had seen. He wanted to question it, but now wasn’t really the time, especially with the silence breaking outside of the apartment.

          “Uh…”

          Should he give him his name? Well, a first name should be fine. Besides, it was just a nickname anyways.

         "D…Dipper?“

           With the immediate threat dissipating, he purposefully lowered his voice, his statement coming across more as a question than an answer. He took a deep breath and released it, wanting a level head as often as the situation allowed for it. 

          "Now’s not really the time for small talk though, I’m sorry. I need to get out of the city. I mean…” He removed a hand from the shovel and picked a scab on his arm. “Look… I don’t really know you but…” Another deep breath. “I need to get to California somehow and I just want to make sure I’m heading in the right direction. I’ll leave you alone after that, okay?” Frankly, Dipper was worried about strangers turning on each other, and he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. If he had to drown in loneliness to stay alive, fine by him. He would be less of a target if he stayed away from others and snuck around silently when the crowds of the undead thinned. Then again, going alone was what caused everyone to be picked off and die in the movies. He always had at least one person he could for sure trust when these sorts of things happened in the past. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was at a loss.

[timaeustestifing-blog]

There's honestly a few things you want to question. First off, you're a little curious as to why this kid's name is Dipper. It's not that you think it's weird or obscure or anything like that, but mainly because it was not what you were expecting at all. When he came in, you figured him to be someone like a Lucas or maybe a Brad, but Dipper? That was no where near what you might have thought. Second, of all places in the world why California? The beaches there were great and the people even better apparently, but this wasn't time for fun anymore. Actually, now that you processed the thought you realized he probably wasn't looking for amusement or entertainment. If anything, he was more or less likely looking for family or someone he knew. That was an aspect you could relate with.

However, as he spoke you leaned your head slightly to the side, absorbing it. The master of control it wasn't all that hard for you to read people or see through them, but this one? You weren't sure what he was asking. On one side it seemed like he just wanted directions or as if he thought maybe, just maybe, you knew the exact route to where he was headed. On the other side, it seemed as if he was asking in a subtle way for you to help bring him there. Whatever he was asking though, there was just one problem. Two actually.

You didn't know how to get from point A to point B without a map and the choice of joining someone else wasn't entirely yours.

So, you give a little shift to your posture and right yourself until your back is completely and entirely straight. " I don't know how to get to California so I can't tell you if you're going the right way. " Being truthful would be the better choice here, so you follow on that line of thought to better the situation. " My auto-resp..-" He wouldn't know what that is. " My friend has a map though but he can't go with you on his own. And uh. " You turn your head towards where Butch had run off before looking back at him. " My boyfriend sort of went somewhere, I don't really know what he's doing right now so if you want to sit tight for a minute, I'm cool with it. There's food in there- " You give a notion towards the inside of your apartment with your head. " Just watch out for the robots. They're unsettled by the shit of a plot going on right now. "

[nothingbutholesinyou-blog]

          After breaking into what he thought was an abandoned apartment as quietly as possible, Dipper was still incredibly on edge. He gripped his shovel tightly and gasped a bit when he saw that his designated area was occupied. He found himself panicking, glancing around rapidly and ignoring the light hearted conversation and the evils of Con Air… he was focused on what he should be doing. In his frenzy, fight or flight set in, and with a determined face, he raised his shovel and backed against the wall, trying to gauge any hostility in the people before him.           He refused to let himself relax, and he could feel his shoulders tense up more than they already were.          He thought of two options in his defensive position, hoping that false confidence would startle his companions enough to give him time to think them through. On the one hand, he could run forward with the shovel and try to knock out the guys unconscious. They weren’t the undead though, and he didn’t know if he could overpower them. In fact, his weak, noodle arms wouldn’t put much of a dent in these guys. He quickly discarded his plan to charge… also aware that the noise could drag unwanted attention.           The only other thing he could think of was remaining in defense, keeping a firm stance, and asking questions.

         "Who are you?“ His voice cracked a little bit, puberty ruining his resolve. He hoped that the few blood stains on his clothes would point out that he meant business… or more that he just wanted to avoid any sort of trouble.  

[timaeustestifing-blog]

And then there was a sound of a voice.

Naturally, you're prone to surveying a situation before you deal with it. Like any person of logic, you always look at every corner of an issue, every speck of detail that is presented and or hidden. It's how you work, how you've always worked and how you've managed to keep not only yourself alive, but your friends too. But this time? This time you're not able to do so. You're not in control. Or well, you are but..you sort of, kind of don't want to show that yet and the kid with the shovel? Bad news right there, especially considering how easily he managed to sneak up on both you and Butch. Apparently the two robots inside weren't doing their damn jobs right and keeping watch, thus leaving you vulnerable. Not that you felt that, anyway. Pissed off maybe, but like you were out of your element? No, not at all.

So it's because of that factor in which you don't really give any sudden movement. You stand, sure, but you do so in a calm, collected way. It's unlike you to ever show much emotion, so why start now? Just because the world was going to shit didn't mean you had to either. A light press forward of your lips in a thoughtful expression would be what you would show to him. Mysterious yet allowing him insight that you were not a hostile, angry person ready to bust his ass over the railing. Judging by his size and the fact that his voice sputtered worse than Dave's had when he was younger, it'd be okay to assume he was still in the prime of his youth. Probably sixteen at the most or eighteen if he was a Leonardo Dicaprio case and didn't show any sign of age until he hit his thirties. AKA: Someone who you could connect to due to your own younger age as well.

“ I’m Dirk- “ You begin with your typical tone of discussion, the one that sounds fairly flat and makes people wonder if you’re actually monotone or just acting like you are. “-And you must be..? “ 

[thebutchmans]

With the street below crawling with undead, it was difficult to have a peaceful moment. One could be touching or meaningful, but peace, if peace only rode the wings of comfort and ease, would never again be delicately enjoyed. Perhaps sought, but never found, and the times between here and there could hold only promise of dreams of peace. But sometimes, when the world paused to take a breath, one could almost call it such. And now, with the cheek against his shoulder and the illusion of safety at his back, Butch was confident this was as close as close could get anymore. Even as calamity waited one floor below. 

“Nah. He’s chillin’ in there. I thought you might want some company.” If Dirk wanted to, and it seemed he did, Butch would help him dance around the subject. They could talk like nothing had changed, like the voices below were pedestrians, like life hadn’t shifted gears in the blink of an eye. As his hand reached to find Dirk’s, he found the perfect words. “You know what I want? A fuckin’ pizza with breadsticks an’ garlic sauce.” Perfect. “It’d be like cocoa on a cold day.” 

[timaeustestifing-blog]

Dance around the subject? No. That wasn't what you wanted at all. It was in your nature to acknowledge what was going on and you couldn't just throw aside everything surrounding you. Doing that would be like refusing to see your own flaws, which was a blinding, tragic mistake many people made. You wouldn't be one of those types. You refused to be, actually. Failure was just something that you didn't want to tamper with nor could handle. If you tried to pretend like nothing was going on? Well, that would mean you lost the battle before it even began.

But even with that idealistic settlement ridden in your head, you couldn't pop the metaphoric balloon of his day. You knew he wasn't made for drastic changes in environment like this, but you were also well aware that he could survive. If there was any use for the stimulation you two went through, it was to learn who could handle what and how they did it. That aside, you still open yourself to play along with his antics. Later you can be more serious. For now, spirits needed to be kept up. " Garlic sauce doesn't sound bad. We could pop in a movie and call it a date night. " You curl fingers along his, eyes closing behind the rim of your shades. " Maybe watch that shit movie you hate. Con air. "

[thebutchmans]

As Dirk turned his head, blues squinted side-long towards him, narrowed against the currents of the incoming winter storm as they blew past. Bringing a knee up, he settled his elbow onto it and let his hand hang out over his shoe. Although there was no wall between them as far as Butch was concerned, he sensed a need for distance. Not to be rid of him, per say, but to surrender to an isolation that would bring about focus, or instinct, or perception, though maybe even peace of mind. 

Regardless of the mystery behind the reason for it, Butch respected it. The extrovert in him couldn’t help but be relieved to say goodbye to the silence when it broke, however, and he was quick to offer a concerned smirk. “Ay.” A pause. “You, uh. Doin’ alright out here?” 

[timaeustestifing-blog]

Maybe it was just the introvert in you that needed the space. Or maybe it was because deep down, you had a feeling that if this illness spread, whatever it was; the world would slowly crumble. It wasn't how you knew it, no- and maybe that's why you were rejecting. See in your timeline, everything flooded. After the whole juggalo scheme, shit went down and considering there hadn't been any news about Guy Fieri being that evil witch's handyman with the two brothers behind him..well. It didn't add up. So it just. Couldn't be possible. Not unless someone altered the future, which you were sure no one had done.

Still, that didn’t stop you from thinking about it. You were pretty lucky to have someone to distract you from those thoughts, though. Letting your mind be boggled and obsessed by them was a trait you could never really battle on your own, so you were grateful of Butch’s company. To show it, you even go as far as leaning your head into him, cheek pressed right along the top of his shoulder. “ Yeah, I’m fine. “ You’re really good at hiding your true feelings and you know he’ll only worry if you express your concerns.

 “ What’s up? Did Squarewave try to start a rap battle again? “

[thebutchmans]

For the first part of being in apartment lock down he’d spent his time thinking, mulling over the events laid out in his recent past. When the urge to stew in thoughts passed, he idled with inventorying his pockets a couple hundred times. When the novelty of that distraction wore off, he turned to staring at this phone as if will power alone would get it to ring. All to no avail. Though, between thinking and busying, his eyes cast to the patio door, checking for Dirk as if he’d disappear along with the rest of the world at any given moment. 

At last, he stood and carried himself outside to settle should to shoulder against him in the cold. Because he didn’t have words he felt were properly fit to console in such a situation, he simply offered comfort in his silent, but warm company.

[timaeustestifing-blog]

Comfort in silence wasn't that bad to you. Actually, any sort of silence was something you'd long been used to. You're grateful that Butch has come outside to sit beside you, though. Very grateful, actually. It's been a long, dragged out and uneventful, yet somehow occupying day but with how everything is turning out? Well, it's just pleasant to know you're not alone.

Your shoulder pressing back into his, you counter lean along him and turn your head. Honestly, you're not sure if he's gotten sleep lately or what he's been doing at all. It's like there's been some sort of wall these past days, one that has settled between the two of you. Maybe it's needed. Maybe not. You're not really thinking too much about finding the answer to that considering you're the one who probably set it there. You know that if you did, it'll go away soon on its own. You just have to give it time.

“ Hey. “

[timaeustestifing-blog]

█▓» Intro

Snow has never been something you've grown partial to. While beautiful and serene to watch come from the sky in flakes, it holds a deadly impact when in a mass. A threat to every person who walks through it or around it. One might say it's not all that bad or anything to worry about, but you'd have to disagree. It's something that needs to be taken seriously, something that poses a possible dangerous altitude to not only you, but everyone else who might still be out there. Though it's easy to wade through and to tread if you take light steps, you've also noticed that well, those who are ill, don't do that.

Instead, they drag their feet through it, fall, and sometimes fail to get back up. This wouldn't be so bad or much of a concern to you if they weren't as they were. Which was lethal. Malignant to others. See, when the sick groaned about and tumbled into the snow without working their way back up, they were hidden. As the weather continued on the same path and fresh lining covered their tracks, people like you, who weren't infected- couldn't tell that they were there. One sink of their teeth into flesh was all that it took. It was the first thing you noticed when someone had claimed they'd been attacked and represented a bite mark along their wrist. You, no medic by any means, hadn't been able to do much about it. But you had been a first witness to watch as they vomited, claimed to have a fever and then passed.

You'd felt sorry for them, like you'd failed keeping a promise you hadn’t even made. It wasn't your job to protect everyone, but that didn't matter. Of course, when they rose up again only to grab onto their friend and tear their throat out, you lost all feeling for anything. It wasn't that you were numb, no. You weren't shocked either. You were only trying to figure it out. As a puppet master and control panel to every situation, that's all you ever did. Try to understand. Try to keep the strings around your fingers.

And you did it.

With your bots and Butch, you got out of the fenced area and you departed. Hal told you what area to go in that was clear of officials and panic and you did it. Straight into an apartment that hadn't yet become a home for anyone. Illegal it may have been to break in like you did, but under the circumstances, you had to make due. It was one on a second story, one that gave you the ability to use the patio as a lookout. After barricading the door with someone's left over furniture beside the complex's dumpster, that same railed slate of concrete was where you'd been sitting since.

It was cold, sure. You knew that much with how you were curled up against the side of that wall, your knees drawn to your chest and your arms circling around them. But you hadn't much choice. In order to understand something you couldn't, you had to observe it. You had to watch it. And with all the bodies bumping along each other mindlessly on ground level, you were slowly gaining pieces to put together. Like this was but a puzzle, you were working to see the bigger picture. The one that you could hang up on a wall with pride for being so clever. 

But you didn’t know quite yet that this wasn’t something so simple.

[timaeustestifing-blog]

Everyone had plans for themselves. Things they wanted to do. Sights they wanted to see. Experiences they wanted to engage in, feel fresh against their face for the very first time. There was not one person who didn't want to do something for themselves, who didn't want to be someone who mattered on this very earth. Whether they were pleased to see the morning sun or dabbing tears that had stained their eyes for years while laying themselves down to rest, every living, breathing and walking human had one thing in common.

They were all surviving.

It's supposedly said that we're made to coexist. That we're made to help one another. Live beside each other as neighbors, members of a community. It's in our range of fascinating emotions to worry about those around us, even if we hardly know them. Or sometimes, if we don't know them at all. We live by our empathy, our hearts. It's why we instantly pull our vehicles on the side of the road when we witness an accident and rush to see if everyone directly involved need medical assistance. It's why we feel repulsed, disgusted and horrified when we see a man drag his wife by her wrist to scornfully yell in her face for not understanding something he said the first time he said it. It's why we cry when we watch a film with a homeless family trying to make due, trying to do anything to live, to cherish some sort of happiness.

It's why when things go wrong, we aim to stay together and to fight the source off side by side.

And we tried to do it. When the news came on to tell us what was happening and that things were going downhill..we really did try to fight. Some of us fled, raced away to try and seek shelter. Nobody blames them for doing that. It's only in our secondary nature to, after all. But the ones that stayed? We ran towards the army of the dead as if we were immortal. As if we could never die. And we wept. We screamed. We looked into the cold, lifeless eyes of our loved ones and we ended them. Sent what was left of their bodies to the grave as if we were reapers.

That was only day one.

There's been a few more days that have passed since then. The CDC has tried to take control, but in such trying times like these it's hard to know if they'll be successful or not. What neighborhoods that are left after anarchy seemed to break out are empty, completely void of all life. As if nobody ever lived in the houses, there's nothing there. No children skipping across the lawn as they pretend they're flying. No dogs barking to wake an elderly woman in the middle of the night. No man driving up to greet his husband after a long day of office work. No anything.

Except for the dead.

The soulless, hungry and forever incarcerated to roam the streets, shells of the living. It's hard to tell who they were before. Some have badges of authority. Some have expensive, eloquent fashion and designer dresses on. Some have a wrist band made from a child wrapped around their arm. Some have their left shoe missing. But none, none of them have a name anymore. None of them have a will. A way. A voice. And yet, they too all share one thing in common.

They only thrive to kill and devour survivors.

So it's your job to do what you have to against them. Run from them. Hide from them. Shoot as many as you can until you run on a blank. It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you live. You survive. What they said on TV? It's not under control. It's not caged in like some tamable animal. The acts of violence are real, unstoppable. The dead? They don't know any better. They don't know to listen to what you say or what you want. They just know to kill. And to survive-

You're going to have to kill.

It doesn't make you one of them. Don't ever lose hope that you're not who you used to be. We've all changed at some point in our lives and we're all still going to change. That's what you have to do now. It's only a few days into this mess and maybe you don't know what's going on. Maybe you're clueless as to what is happening. But that's okay. There's still time to manage. Just do what you have to do. Learn at the pace you need.

Try to make it.

[timaeustestifing-blog]

Butch wants somma dis.

[timaeustestifing-blog]

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