(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

The Good Fight (One-shot)

This idea popped into my head and I figured with most people stuck at home, they would need something to read. While nothing bad happens in the story, some people might not be comfortable reading this since it centers around the virus and its societal effects, so if you don't feel comfortable reading about the current events then feel free to skip this story; mind the warnings and stay safe~

 Chapter Warning: Coronavirus discussion, death mentions

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Goth dispelled his scythe with a sigh as he trudged up the front steps and fished out his house keys. Opening the door and discarding the keys and his phone into a bowl to sanitize later, he quickly stripped off the outer layer of his clothes and slippers along with his washable mask and deposited them into the plastic bin stationed by the door.

Judging by the fact that Palette hadn't come out to greet him yet, he guessed his roommate had gotten caught up in whatever activity of the day he had taken up in an effort to occupy himself during quarantine and didn't hear Goth come in.

Reaching over to the ever-ready bottle of hand sanitizer next to the bowl, he massaged the clear liquid into his hands and the lower halves of his ulna and radius, making sure to disinfect every crevice on his bones before grabbing the handle of the plastic bin and making his way to the laundry room. Dumping the bin into the open washing machine, he headed for the bathroom with the bin in tow while snagging a towel along the way.

The skeleton turned on the shower, pulling off the shorts that remained and tossing them into the bin. Once the water warmed up, he jumped in and quickly scrubbed himself down. As the warm water washed away any remnants from his job, he let his body relax and his mind wander through the events of the day.

The body count had gone up once again; while he was mildly relieved his job was now more centralized around hospitals, morgues, and mortuaries which required less overall travel from place to place, it was still disheartening that the influx of deceased souls he needed to transition into the afterlife only required his assistance because basic precautions weren't taken. 

It frustrated him to no end seeing people and monsters alike bypassing barricades to visit closed public venues or crowding around food stands as if nothing was wrong. What part of 'only leave home if you have to' and 'pandemic' did they not understand; was outside time and ice cream really something to risk their families and other innocent lives over?! 

The infected and death count kept rising every day, yet so many continued to ignore what was happening!

Realizing he was getting himself worked up again, Goth took a deep breath of steamy air and gave himself one more scrub-down just to be on the safe side; he didn't think he could handle it if he had to reap Palette, so any extra precautions to keep the bug out of the house were well worth it.

Shutting off the shower, Goth wrapped a towel around himself and dragged the bin back into the laundry room; letting his shorts slide into the machine, he closed the lid, set the wash cycle on hot, and hauled the plastic container back into the bathroom. Placing the bin in the tub, the skeleton retrieved a bottle of bleach solution from under the sink; he sprayed inside, then flipped it over to spray down the outside, leaving it to disinfect in the tub so it would be ready once again for tomorrow.

Once he was in a fresh pair of pajamas, his key bowl was sitting on the counter full of soapy hot water, and his phone was wiped down, he flopped onto the couch as a voice called out, "Goth?"

"Yeah?" the smaller called out, rolling onto his back and unlocking his phone in hopes of finding something to entertain himself. He frowned when his browsing yielded mostly talk about the virus, what the government was or wasn't doing, and similar discord; he just couldn't get away from it.