Is the world ending? Who's gonna throw the party?

[harborshore]

*peers out from under her thesis-shaped rock* So I hear there's a volcano? In Iceland? Doing things? This is nuts, you guys. It doesn't seem like anyone has died, and I hope I haven't gotten that wrong. All planes are canceled in Stockholm and the air space is closed, because apparently it's incredibly dangerous to fly through volcanic ash. Here's hoping it stops soon, because danger and chaos and the ashes being potentially lethal for people who are seriously ill and they're coming right at us, guys, they're already over Sweden. CRAZY. Also, I'm supposed to leave for the US in a month and I want to see my little sister graduate. It's an extremely minor concern in the grand scheme of things, but I love my sister a lot and I want to be there. And compared to the Haiti earthquake and the Chile one, this is decidedly minor. Obviously. Still, a little nuts.

So. I would like to offer ficlets, because I want to think about other things. I'm going to do the first five prompts I like, which may or may not be the first five that appear, because what I can write right now is a little limited.

Theme: post- or pre-apocalyptic scenarios WITH HOPE. Interpret that as you will. Pairings or gen are fine. Bands/fandoms I can write: Mikey, FOB, Bob and Brian (they're a subset of fandom, right?), The Like, Panic/The Young Veins (even if my Jon voice is nonexistent), MSI, others possibly. I can also do Veronica Mars, DCU or BTVS, though the last two feel like cheating since it's not like they've never done the apocalypse thing before.

Prompt away!

ETA: I am done! Five, er, seven ficlets.

Comments

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

Z's been here for a week now, living off of what she can find in pantries in the abandoned building (her can opener is her dearest possession, and she's put it on a necklace, all Martha Stewart chique). Her favorite apartment is the one on the third floor with enormous windows. It doesn't have any furniture, which either means the people who lived there took it with them or there were some very thorough looters. Z thinks it was probably a bit of both.

Anyway, she's been steadily populating the rooms with a chair there, a cushion here, and she dragged a mattress three stories down (it's not like the elevator is working) so she could have somewhere to sleep.

It's really quiet, most days. Sometimes there's a rumble like another crash is coming, but it never goes anywhere.

One day though, one day she wakes up and is absolutely sure someone's staring at her. And wow, okay, there's a girl on the floor.

"Hi," Z says, and the girl waggles her fingers like she's saying hello back. She doesn't open her mouth, as if--

"You can't talk, can you?" Z blurts out, and the girl shakes her head. A bunch of people got their vocal chords burned out in the third crash, if they were outside when it hit.

"Sorry," Z says. The girl shrugs. "Oh! I'm Z."

The girl squirms a little and takes out a folded piece of paper, which is--a map of the US? Z shifts closer so she can see where she's pointing, and after a few false starts, she realizes--"Your name is Tennessee? Is that it?"

The girl, no, Tennessee smiles, wide and breath-taking, and nods.

[blindmouse.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is lovely! Z's can opener on a necklace! ♥

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

This and the one about the birds are sort of the two I want to write out of all of these. I think Tennessee would learn Morse code to communicate, at least to start with. *ponders* ♥