#apocalyptic doom metal

[doomanddead]

Dead Cosmonauts Navigate the Wreckage of a Shattered Future

Here at Doom and Dead we shine a light on the underground doom, drone, and psych acts you’ve never heard of. Every month we choose a new release that deserves more attention than it’s gotten. This month’s pick is from the UK band Dead Cosmonauts. 

We find ourselves living in dark times. Every day we struggle a little harder in a world that’s more expensive, more hateful, and more toxic than ever. Dead Cosmonauts’ first full-length album, Parasomnia feels like a warning, or maybe a premonition, of how much worse things can get. These songs are constantly in flux, shifting between graceful melodies and dissonant noise. But above all, these tracks are undeniably HEAVY. The album was mastered by Cult Of Luna’s Magnus Lindberg, so expect a sound that’s both haunting and forceful. These Sheffield-based doomers offer up a feast of technical musicianship and audacious songwriting that will keep you enthralled from beginning to end. So strap on your gas masks, and step out with me into the post-metal wasteland that is Parasomnia. 

Liminal Space (65 mins REM, vitals = stable) is some moody, chaotic doom. Listening to this track is like dragging your fingertip across a wine glass; the sounds are both resonant and screeching, satisfying and unsettling. The song boasts deadly sharp riffage and decisive drumming, all bathed in a noxious broth of heavy fuzz. The composition shifts into a lower gear as we approach the finish line. Vocal samples from radio presenter Ailbhe Máiréad emerge from the digital snow, painting detail into the post-apocalyptic scene. The weight becomes unbearable, and the song finally buckles under the crushing atmosphere.

Beneath the Choking Sky starts with an ominous drone. Tone and texture form a boundless landscape. In time, the drone gives way to an introspective melody that slowly expands to dominate the space. The track is layered and delicate, but dangerous — a spider’s web that tangles listeners in silvery strands of desperation and despair.

Kenopsia propels the album forward with a digital pulse and an insatiable groove. Odd rhythms and novel drum patterns flare up and burn out rapidly, their short lives leaving stains on the unforgiving environment. The track flirts with intensity, building in magnitude only to pull itself back again. It’s a titillating composition, adroitly and artfully executed. 

In Spirals It Took Everything is a palate cleansing soundscape that weighs the noises of nature against digital human chatter. The vibe ranges from safe and cozy, to wondrous.

Swallowed In Dark Waters is mysterious, plush. It exists in a dim expanse with wafting smoke and the cloying aftertaste of plucked guitar strings. Mania descends and the composition is impassioned, even fanatical. Sumptuous bow work from guest violinist Ruth Nicholson adds spice to the experience. In the wake of this outburst, the mood curdles. Chugging, slow passages are interwoven with bursts of frenzied lunacy. Extra notes jostle for domination in the narrow space of each beat. This piece is nothing if not restless. The tide shifts again and again, pulling us into ever deeper waters. This track is not the longest on the album, but undoubtedly one of the most profound. 

The final offering, A Vision From The Valley Of Dry Bones, starts out insubstantial and jolly as if tapped out on a toy. A heftier layer of instrumentation rolls over the desert, dropping a barrage of gritty guitar riffs and jolting drum work. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… dyin’ time’s here! Digital effects whiz by like meteorites. This piece fiddles with sound and texture, but remans melodic at every turn.

Nothing remains stationary on Parasomnia. Everything transmutes, changes behavior, and is continually replaced with something new. The bleak and unforgiving realm the band has conjured feels like a very real omen of things to come. The album oozes with narrative, even if the story is up for interpretation.

[hargreeves-duncan]

I saw your requests were open and because I'm very hurt/comfort I would like reader to be fives spouse and then the subway happens like the after of everyone learning about it at the house and having to bring up what happened with not only Diego but us as well who thought we [Five and spouse] were happy??? Immaculate. Also I hope you're doing well stay hydrated!

a/n: thank you so much for your request, i am super hydrated, thank you :)) i really loved writing this (even if it is a little angsty) and i hope you love it just as much

summary: you thought you were happy together - if only you knew how wrong you were.

warnings: mentions of canon compliant violence, cheating (obviously), lila x five😬

word count: 2.1k

pt. 2

Christmas Eve would always be a time of joy and merriment for many, and the same had been true for you for all of your life. Even when you’d spent a few decades working as a trained killer for The Commission, the holidays were always a normality and a comfort that you could fall back on, without fail. In between snapping necks and pulling triggers, you’d seen the snow covered hills of Lapland and the warm festivities of Munich’s Christmas Markets and now that you were retired, you could enjoy it all with your family.

The family that your husband, Five, had brought you into. Whilst there was some initial shock from the Hargreeves’ siblings as they found out that not only had their brother aged forty-five years without them on a post-apocalyptic Earth but that he had actually gotten engaged in that time, slowly but surely, they had let you in. They were chaotic, at the best of times, but you loved them all the same and you knew that you’d do anything to protect them now. They were your family, just as much as Five was.

You’d met Five at the commission, when he was worn down by a lengthy four decades of solidarity and you’d pieced him back together. You’d shown him that living wasn’t just a means to an end and that it could be good and loving. You’d joked at the time how silly it was, that the two of you had found love at an organisation designed to kill, for the most part, innocent people. He’d said he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d get to you.

After spending the last few years trying and failing to stop the apocalypse, you weren’t quite those people anymore. Instead, you had grown and evolved but you’d never had the luxury of waiting around for the two of you to settle down and retire like you’d both hoped for. So, when you’d come to this timeline, Five powerless, you hadn’t looked back. You’d gotten married, whilst you knew you still could and you’d lived the last six years in bliss. Five had softened now that there wasn’t the weight of impending doom on his back and you both got to be enveloped in the love you’d worked so hard for without consequence.

Tonight, you had gone over to Diego and Lila’s place to spend the evening with your extended family. At some point in the evening, Five and Lila had reappeared from whatever they’d spent the day doing and since he’d got back, Five had been unsettled. His eyes kept flickering over to Diego and Lila, constantly. He looked seething. Your husband had never been one for public displays of affection and Diego’s increasingly wandering hands must’ve been beginning to anger him, you thought. Five frowned, how was he supposed to enjoy his evening with that sitting across from him? 

Noticing his restlessness, you slipped your hand over his comfortingly, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring slide over your palm, “You okay?”

Five glanced back at you. He cleared his throat and nodded, smiling gently at you, “I’m alright, love.”

Occasionally, Lila would look over at him. She looked shy and timid under Diego’s touch, a look you’d never seen on her before. Lila’s love had always been performative and outlandish. Her affection was everywhere and to see her look so strained in his company was strange. It was entirely foreign to watch it play out and it didn’t match the Lila Hargreeves you’d come to know. Diego noticed too.

Even Luther noticed the tension in the room. He watched as Five rolled his shoulders for the hundredth evening, “What is with you tonight? You’ve barely said a word, Five, when does that ever happen?”

So, it wasn’t just you then? You thought to yourself. A ball of anxiety began to develop in your stomach. You searched Five’s face for the root of the problem. Five sighed and adjusted himself, “It’s called thinking, Luther. You should try it sometime.”

A flurry of shock and distaste shot up from everyone as he said that and you shrank slightly in your seat. Five bristled as you got closer. You frowned.

“I do think, I think you’re an asshole.” Luther clapped back, pouting as he leaned back against the couch. At this moment, you happened to agree. Five didn’t brush you away, physically, but he kept his eyes forward, anywhere but down at you. You felt dread in the pit of your stomach.

Five continued to avoid your gaze as Allison sighed, brushing her hair from her face, “Okay, can we not do this right now?” Her eyes drifted pointedly to Claire, Grace and the twins in the corner of the room, happily occupying themselves with toys and the tv which displayed a graceful ballerina one of the girls was currently trying to imitate.

“No, let’s. Let’s do this now.” Five said, smiling bitterly at her as he stood from the couch and dropped your hand.

You sighed, sitting forward, “Five-”

“Five, it’s gonna be okay.” Lila interrupted, smiling reassuringly from where she sat. Your head swivelled around to her, in time with Diego’s, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you had the chance to question Lila, Five smiled sarcastically at you all, moving his hand to cut her off, “No, it’s not gonna be okay.”

Diego shot from his seat, chuckling, “Hey, come on, man. Don’t talk to my wife like that. Not tonight. Not on Christmas.”

Five squares up to him, broadening his shoulders and raising his eyebrows at his brother, “You going to do something about it, fuckface?”

An uproar of protests from all of the others. Your eyes widen as things begin to escalate and you stand up, reaching for his arm, “Five!”

He glances back at you. Diego scoffs and steps closer, prodding Five’s chest, “Yeah, I’m gonna K-I-C-K your A-S-S, man.”

“Oh wow, somebody’s passed the first grade.” Five says sarcastically, still not backing down. 

“Five.” You say again, more forcefully as you step up to them. Lila gets up and steps between them, putting her hands on each of their chests and pushing them away from one another. Your eyes flare as you watch her fingers skim Five’s chest. They follow her hand up to her wrist and-

“What is that?” You ask, reaching for her wrist. A silver bracelet, woven like vines, dangles from her arm. You roll your sleeve back, looking at your own bracelet. The one that Five had given you on some anniversary or other, he’d had it made especially for you - strung together with gold, because silver was too trivial for someone like you, he’d said.

The bracelet felt trivial altogether as you looked at its pattern now, beside Lila’s - practically identical to your own. Cheaper, yes, but still like yours, “What’s what?” Lila asked innocently, taking her wrist back.

“That thing on your wrist.” Diego’s eyebrows furrow as he takes Lila’s wrist and he glances between your wrist and Lila’s, “You hate bracelets. You traded the one that I got you for Valentine’s last year to the pawn shop. What…”

“Where did you get it?” You demand, looking her in the eye with a determination that you haven’t felt in years. Lila stands there guiltily, leaning in Five’s direction and your heart sinks. Diego watches, the dots connecting in his mind.

“Did you give her that?” He asks, stepping closer to Five. Lila reaches out for him and he shrugs her off, “No, answer the question, Five. Did you give her that?”

“I made it.” Five answers, hands slipping into his pockets. He’s casual, as if it means nothing, and that only makes it hurt so much more because if this gift to Lila means nothing, then you must mean even less.

“You made it… for her?” You say, hurt and grief for the life you’ve had together seeping into your voice. And just when you think he can’t get any more cruel…

“Who does it look like I made it for?” He says, looking over at you, and your heart shrivels up painfully. A dull ache blooms in your chest and you can’t even form a response because he’s being so cutting and it’s something you’ve never had from him before.

Diego steps up, pressing a hand to your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pushes you back. He takes a breath and looks between Lila and Five, biting his lip, “Is there something going on between you two?”

The two stare silently for a moment and Lila’s voice grows soft as she looks at her husband, “Diego-”

Diego holds his hands up and turns away, “Holy shit… Holy shit, I was right!” He says, pointing at them both, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment in the people he’d trusted.

“Book club, a- all this time, you- you were cheating on me with…” He can’t even get the words out properly as he looks at them, his stutter resurfacing as his emotions get the better of him. He looks over at you, your eyes widen further, if that’s even possible as you realise things for yourself.

“Oh my god… oh my god, I am a complete and utter fool.” You say, laughing in shock as you mentally take a step back from the last few months.

This is what you got for letting your guard down, you supposed, “I can’t believe you… why did I never… you were never doing research, were you? You were off with her.”

“Now, just wait-” Five starts, holding his hands up and trying to approach you at the same time that Lila says, “No, we weren’t cheating on you. At least, not when you thought we were…”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, scoffing and folding your arms over your chest.

“It means that, for us, it’s been seven years. I blinked us to the subway and we got stuck down there.” Five said, stepping forward.

“Please, tell me you’re joking.” You say, shoulders dropping as your heart clenches, all of your defences falling.

“Love, I wish I was.” He says tenderly, stepping closer to you again. He takes a deep breath, “We were lost for seven years, Y/N.”

Seven years. He’d spent almost as much time with her as he had with you. Were you really that disposable? You’d thought that things were good between the two of you, great even, but the moment he’d been out of your sights, he’d done this…

Breaking down, you sit back on the couch, putting your head in your hands as you blink back tears. Five sighs, sitting beside you, “We went through a lot of timelines and I promise, I never stopped trying to get home, you know I never would, but… I got tired. Tired of failing over and over and I had to stop.”

“I wouldn’t have given up.” You say, drying your eyes as you look up at him again. Five smiles tiredly, shaking his head.

“You can’t know that.” He says, looking over at you. His eyes are soft, but it doesn’t stop the harsh sting of what he says. 

“I can, because I love you, it’s as simple as that.” You protest, looking at him brokenly, “You wouldn’t have stopped looking if you loved me the way that I love you.”

He rubs his thumb over his clenched knuckles, sighing, “Don’t say that. You know that I love you.”

“Of course. And her? What about Lila? Do you love her too?” You challenge, eyes flitting over every pore in his face, seeking an answer or an apology, anything that isn’t going to confirm what you so deeply fear; that he doesn’t love you anymore.

Lila perks up from where she’s standing beside Diego. Diego’s face drops and all either of you can do is watch as your partners lock eyes with one another instead of you. Five sighs, glancing back at you, “Y/N, now is really not the time for-”

“Do you love her?” You ask again.

He glances between the two of you and sighs again. It feels like that’s all he’s capable of doing right now, sighing. You want to scream or yell or cry because that isn’t fair, he doesn’t get to be frustrated or hurt when this is his fault and you shouldn’t be feeling bad for him when he looks so defeated but you just can’t help it because it’s Five, your Five, and you’ve never known anything else but wanting what’s best for him.

He parts his lips, about to speak, before Claire interrupts from where she’s sat on the floor, “Hey, grown-ups! Look at the TV! Isn’t that Uncle Ben?”

Five stands up to look with the other Hargreeves and you steady yourself. This is okay, you think, you can let things go on as normal. Just for a little longer.

[danielhowell]

DOOMED MERCH HAS DROPPED!

No this is not a drill - after touring the world (that is ending), probably the coolest merch I will ever release is finally here - we have scoured the corners of the earth to pull together a collection of WE'RE ALL DOOMED! merch to celebrate the recent show (and slit) and bring it online for you.

From the tour date t-shirt, to the iconic DOOMED ambigram hoodie, the black metal longsleeve and ..the 'DanHub tee' - choose what your apocalyptic aesthetic is.

WORLDWIDE: shop.danielhowell.com USA: us.shop.danielhowell.com EUROPE: eu.shop.danielhowell.com AUSTRALIA: au.shop.danielhowell.com

As a SPECIAL (wow) online-only offer - every order of the super limited quantity Vegan Leather Jacket (with rapture art on the reverse) will also ship with a totally unique Polaroid selfie that I took while thinking about death! 

I make no promises what I will be doing - it could be a cute smile, or a middle-finger. It's just whatever the vibe was in the moment. Who knows what someone will trade for the rare under-chin angle that some lucky person will get? (I am so sorry)

And it's not just garments - we've also got rare collectors items to snatch including the interval playlist cassette tape, and the 'Tears of My Enemies' water bottle, that I drink out of myself everyday while manifesting people's downfall.

Lastly, look out for the signed Ally Pally London show posters commemorating the final performances, which may come with fingerprints allowing you to perfectly fraud my identity, due to my left-handed sharpie smudging.

I want to say thank you to the tens of thousands of people that tuned into the stream to celebrate my show - without you it wouldn't have been possible to capture for posterity and now the message can live on. I'm going to begin my quest to determine where DOOMED will live forever, and who knows if we'll manage to wrangle any of the other rare itemz🐝 along with it in the future. I appreciate you all and I can't wait to see you all looking gnarly as fuck scaring the normies in this merch. Thanks 🖤 - Dan

[azazel-the-eldritch]

I had a thought recently: Silver the Hedgehog has to be one of the strongest characters in Sonic canon in terms of raw power.

It's often shown that he can use his psychokinesis to do some crazy things like fly, levitate, throw energy blasts, sometimes teleport, and any time he manipulate or moves things with his mind, it takes so little effort or energy to do so. Even things as big as buildings don't take much for him. Granted he does need to keep his focus on those things, but never seems to strain himself that much, if at all.

Upon first crossing paths with Sonic, Silver is dog-walking him. As much as we all shit on that boss fight, I'm convinced that's how it actually went in canon. Like yeah, Sonic is fast and knows how to scrap, but getting close to Silver just means getting caught in a psychic field and being yeeted across the arena.

It's implied that he's at least as powerful as Shadow, and seems to be just as naturally attuned to the Chaos Emeralds as Shadow is, evoking Chaos Control in a fit of rage after seeing Shadow do it once . And a lot of the things he can already do naturally are things Sonic and Shadow would need to go Super or use Doom Powers for.

That last bit makes me think about how the Chaos Emeralds, and by extension Master Emerald, are often lauded as "turning thoughts into power". And then you have Silver, who's whole power set revolves around thoughts being his power.

The biggest hints we have to his upper limits are the whole two times he has gone Super in the main series. The first time, he was aiding in fighting a rogue time god across multiple futures, handily throwing all of its attacks back at it. The other time was during the climax of the Metal Virus arc of the IDW comics where Super Silver just... psychically pulls the entirety of the virus out of the planet and its inhabitants, thus curing them, with what seems like minimal effort. He just... did that.

And all this power, all this world bending mental prowess in the form of a teenage rodent who was born in an apocalyptic future who is equal parts kind optimistic bean and seething hair-trigger crashout. And he has anxiety and struggles with self-worth, so there's that.

I love him. He is my son.

[shamrockqueen]

Predator in the desert

Chapter 3

Pairing : Winter soldier x reader (post apocalyptic AU)

Warnings : Desperation, starving behavior, references to war, duality of the mind, emotionless man

Word count : 2020

Chapter 1

Bucky MasterList

You stopped breathing, the ghost of an echo bouncing through your ears after he’d yelled at you.

Your eyes snapped from his cutting and cold gaze, further down to the glimmer of his fearsome metal fingers as they closed around the old brass knob on the door. The only opening to the room, the only way out, and you wouldn’t be able to reach it, let alone slip past his solid stonelike frame.

You weren’t ‘calm’ by any means, but he had your attention, and even as you continued to shiver, it was all he really needed.

“Are you hungry?”

You flinched as he spoke; his voice edged only with a lack of patience as it reached out to you with heavy hands to shake you from your reeling thoughts.

You didn’t answer just yet, feeling your pulse thrum along your skin wildly. You just laid there, stunned as you stared at those metal fingers tightening around the knob of the door and trying to ease your own breathing before it made you feel numb.

“I asked if you were hungry.” He was much more stern, and even a little louder this time, watching with equal disinterest as you gasped back and struggled to answer.

“Y-yes… I‘m hungry.”

You spoke weakly, your lips shaking and your eyes welling with a wet dribble of tears. Like a small break in the smallest of bones as you gave in to the absurdity.

Of course you were hungry. You’ve been hungry since you were a screaming infant, just as everyone doomed to a life in the wasteland had been. Food in any amount was a luxury, whether it’s warm meat and grains or smashed bugs you find crawling along the floor by your bedroll.

This promise of food without a single bat of his eye should have felt like a dream come true, but something in your stomach felt heavy before clenching with a sharp cramp. That familiar pang of hunger pains morphing viscerally into obvious fear as your guts knotted together.

This was the only moment in your miserable life that you didn’t crave food, as you were consumed only with dread.

You didn’t want to take anything from this unholy amalgamation of man and metal. It was like cowering beneath the boogeyman, a monster of jagged teeth and twisted limbs that could steal your last shred of innocence, only to find an unreadable being that looked no different from yourself. He didn’t wear enough of his lethality on his skin, leaving you to spiral at the possibilities of what these chains binding you to his lair really meant for your near future.

It was no better than being a rabbit caught in a cage. There is the offer of water and now food, but the danger of your captivity, just as the chain around your leg, was a staunch reminder that none of this would be out of kindness. There is no good reason that you are here—none that could be conceived as all the terrible reasons swarm your aching head.

His expression never seemed to change as he took in every reaction you gave him, seeming to read it like new data to further his own strange purpose. When he was finished searching your jumbled tomes, whether having found his needed information or losing interest, he dragged that door open and disappeared through it before shutting you back inside that room. Only this time, you were alone with the crushing silence he had once held above you.

A silence quickly broken by the hard clack of a lock turning shut in the flimsy wooden barrier this soldier had placed between you two.

He fit the stories from old fantasies of war. An old story long left covered in dust, detailing how both sides ate away at one another until the bones were bare and empty of their marrow. He bore the red star, the mark of a demon of irradiated sands. One head severed from its ranks meant two would splinter out in its place, biting and gnashing its way through the wasteland.

The great hydra was supposed to be dead, a final rest assured long before your own birth. How wrong they all were apparently, and as you recounted those scary fairy tales, your stomach twisted harder and harder.

You tried to steady your breathing, letting it stutter and shake before it finally met an even rhythm.

‘You really did need to calm down’ The traitorous thought was the last fly to buzz through your brain before you let the muscles in your shoulders fall loose to hit the floor.

Your ankle still felt heavy with its new iron cuff, and you struggled back onto your elbows and further onto your feet, the sound of the chain dragging along the wood the only noise left to taunt you.

Your eyes narrow at the brassy knob, a small spark of defiance finally igniting in your chest only to fall short of catching a flame.

You were frustrated at best, hot tears stinging your eyes before spilling out over your dirty cheeks.

‘Why me? For fucks sake, why?”

How were you significant enough to be stolen? Did he pity you, thinking that keeping you would be better for your well-being, like a lost kitten climbing among the rocks he had scooped up?

Why would a monster want to help you? Why would he bother to care for you when he could do what any other villain would do to others who strayed too far from home?

But, this room didn’t look like a pen to keep his livestock. It had a small window at its other end, barred on the outside of the glass for your protection. The bed wasn’t shabby, only worn, and with actual blankets and pillows.

If you were to be kept, you suppose he chose to keep you well.

You turned back to the door, its knob within reach, but you didn’t jump to futilely pull or tear at it. You reach forward, a shriveled shard of hope still tearing at your heavy heart as you slide your fingers around it.

You know it was locked; you heard it happen, but you still clung to the possibility of this being a terribly real nightmare instead. Maybe your mind would let you open the door, but as you twisted the handle, it of course did not budge.

You stood closer, your head falling to your chest as you pressed your fingers to the wood. Your mouth opened with a shaking exhale of an empty scream, and new tears flooded over to wash the rest of your grimy face.

You did not expect the door to push forward on its own, nearly smacking you in the face as it knocked you back. You land on the floor unceremoniously. Still so weak and unsteady, you weren’t even a suitable match for an old door.

The man was back, standing over you with a plate in his human hand. He sighed before setting the platter of promised food on the bed, stepping over you in the process.

He spoke evenly, saying, “I didn’t mean to hit you,” but his voice didn’t carry any ounce of guilt for knocking you back on your ass. Would this have been the first time he’d knocked you down, or was it simply the only time he hadn’t meant to do so?

“Are you alright?” he asked as he leaned over your crumbled form, reaching towards your reddened cheek where the wood had initially smacked you.

You immediately shied away from his touch but didn’t fight to scramble backward.

He leaned away but offered you his less harrowing hand to help you off the floor instead of leaving you to do so by yourself again.

You never answered his last question, but as he didn’t press further, it was possible that he wasn't really interested either way.

He gestured to the plate of food he’d set on the bed and said flatly, “Eat.”

You looked over at the plate still perched on a pile of blankets. A slab of cooked meat, diced cubes of root vegetables, and a mush of something boiled, green, and leafy. It was the best thing you’d ever seen.

Actual meat the size of your hand coupled with real vegetables possibly rich with those vitamins and mineral-things the doctor used to talk about. Whatever it was, it made your tongue wet as you swept it over your cracked lips.

A small part of you still wanted to be cautious, as another balled its fists in frustration from being kept away from a beautiful plate of healthy food.

You opened your mouth, only to choke back on the words with a wet cough. You sputtered again, crying like a sad child for him to witness before finally speaking.

“Are you going to drug me?”

"No,” he answered quickly and with little care.

You watched for any signs of a farce, a twitch of an eyebrow, a quirk of a lip, anything. His eyes held their dull, disinterested blue as he waited for you to make up your mind.

You ventured closer to the plate, pressing a dirty finger against the still hot morsel of meat. It was light in color, like white meat off a rabbit, but you needed to be certain before going past this thin line you had drawn for yourself.

Your lips stuck together as you nearly whispered a squeak of a few words, “Is it people?”

The ‘P’ was sputtered by the drop of collected tears, making the sound more pronounced as it left your lips.

“No”

You looked back at him at the subtle change in his voice. With one word, one syllable, it was oddly unmistakable. He sounded a little offended, and yet he didn’t lift a finger against you.

That last ‘no’ was all you needed before throwing yourself at the plate, scooping at the wet potatoes and greens with your fingers to wipe the tasteless sludge over your tongue in ecstasy.

You tore at the meat with your bare teeth like a hungry dog in a frenzy of unending starvation.

You weren’t human anymore; no longer yourself. It was shameful how you felt. In this moment, as you tore at a lump of fat with your back molar, you wanted this more than ever.

You wanted to be a pet if it meant the promise of this minimal care. You wanted to be kept; you wanted the fresh water and food; damned be the consequences.

You weren’t thinking clearly, not until you licked the last stain of grease and green vegetable smudge off the plate with your desperate little tongue. You hadn’t realized you were panting, gasping at the air, and holding the plate with white knuckles and numb fingers as if he could fly off and never return.

His expression had shifted for only a second. A split moment where his eyes widened a single centimeter before returning to their natural steely state. His shoulders stayed stiff with new concern. It was all a subtle change you had missed during your indulgence.

“Do you want more?” He asked, his voice still tainted with that unspoken concern.

You swear you could nearly feel your heart stop at just hearing those words. You were still desperate, and you nodded frantically.

He reached carefully towards you for the plate, giving you his metal fingers instead of the soft fleshy digits of his other hand. Possibly anticipating being bitten when pulling away the saucer. You let him take it from you, watching as he repeated his earlier actions of leaving and locking you inside the room.

There was a burn of shame somewhere in your stomach, but it was greatly overshadowed by a deep desire for sustenance. And, this man, what should be a monster in your eyes, was unbothered to fulfill such a desire.

You stood in place, not reaching for the door like the captive you are, not waiting on the bed like a puppy missing its master. But, by god, you wanted that fucking food.

Chapter 4

More post apocalyptic AU

Tags : @itsswritten @cjand10 @dear-lolita @took-a-wr0ng-turn @scott-loki-barnes @ihavetwoholesforareason @potatothots @toozmanykids @wintrsoldrluvr @heletsmelovehim

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part Three

CW: violence, emotional distress, angst, dystopian/apocalyptic imagery, Mutant!Reader, character death Word Count: 1948 Summary: Logan is pushed to his breaking point as he battles both enemies and haunting visions of a doomed future. The tension between young Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr only adds to the strain. Will this be the end of the Wolverine?

Authors note at the bottom <3

(Part four)

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The weight of the mission was slowly grinding Logan down. The relentless march of time, the pressure of knowing what was at stake, and the constant strain of working with younger, unpredictable versions of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr—it was all taking its toll. Each day, the burden grew heavier, pressing down on him like an iron vice, threatening to crush him beneath its weight.

The Charles Xavier of this time was a shadow of the man Logan had known in the future. Broken by loss and drowning in despair, he was erratic, teetering on the edge of self-destruction. And Erik… Erik was a ticking time bomb, his ideals and anger clashing violently with Charles’s more pacifistic approach. Their constant bickering, their differing views on how to save mutantkind, only served to stoke the fires of Logan’s growing anxiety. Every decision, every word exchanged between them, felt like a knife edge, cutting deeper into the fragile hope that they could change the future.

As the day of the assassination approached, the tension became almost unbearable. Logan’s nights were restless, his sleep plagued by visions of a future he was desperate to escape. But the visions had started to bleed into his waking hours, haunting him when he least expected it. At first, they were just flashes—brief glimpses of the devastation that awaited if they failed. But as the day drew closer, the visions grew more vivid, more terrifying.

One evening, after a particularly heated argument between Charles and Erik, Logan found himself alone in a dingy motel room, trying to steady his racing heart. The small, flickering light above the bed cast long, distorted shadows on the walls, making the room feel claustrophobic. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, his face a mask of exhaustion and tension. The man staring back at him was barely recognizable—eyes hollow, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut with stress.

As he splashed cold water on his face, the vision hit him like a freight train. He was no longer in the motel room; he was in the middle of a battlefield, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning metal. The roar of Sentinels filled his ears, their mechanical voices cold and unyielding as they hunted down the last of the mutants.

And then he saw you.

You were fighting valiantly, your powers flaring with an intensity that took his breath away. But even as you fought, even as you took down one Sentinel after another, Logan could see the fatigue in your movements, the desperation in your eyes. You were outnumbered, overwhelmed, and the odds were stacked against you. The scene shifted, and Logan watched in horror as a Sentinel, larger and more menacing than the rest, bore down on you. He tried to move, tried to reach out to you, but he was frozen, helpless to do anything but watch.

The Sentinel’s massive hand swung down, and Logan screamed your name, his voice raw with anguish. But it was too late. The last thing he saw was your face, a mix of determination and fear, before the vision shattered, plunging him back into the dim light of the motel room.

Logan stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the room spun around him. He clutched the edge of the sink, his knuckles white, his entire body shaking with the aftershocks of the vision. The image of your final stand was seared into his mind, a relentless loop that played over and over, driving him to the brink of madness.

“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “No… it can’t end like that.”

But the fear gnawed at him, a cold, insidious thing that wrapped around his heart and refused to let go. What if he couldn’t change the future? What if, despite everything, you were still doomed to fall? The thought was unbearable, a torment that threatened to break him.

Logan’s mind spiraled, memories of you flooding his senses. He remembered the way you had looked at him before he left, the silent plea in your eyes, the unspoken promise that had hung between you. He had sworn to protect you, to save you, and now that promise felt like a cruel joke, slipping through his fingers like sand.

But then, as if answering the turmoil in his heart, he heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible whisper, like the softest brush of a breeze against his skin.

“Logan…”

Your voice.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he strained to hear it again, his heart pounding so loudly he thought it might drown out everything else.

“Logan… I’m here…”

The sound of your voice was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of despair. It was soft, tinged with a warmth that cut through the darkness threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound, clinging to it with everything he had.

“I know it’s hard… but you have to keep going.”

Logan’s chest tightened, a mix of relief and pain flooding through him. How were you reaching out to him? Was it a trick of his mind, a desperate hallucination conjured by his longing for you? Or had you somehow managed to connect with him across the vast chasm of time? It didn’t matter. In that moment, all that mattered was your voice, the sound of you, still with him, still fighting, still holding on.

“I believe in you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly, as if you, too, were fighting back tears. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets… remember why you’re doing this. Remember what we’re fighting for.”

Logan’s hand tightened around the sink, his resolve solidifying into something unbreakable. He couldn’t afford to lose himself, couldn’t afford to let the darkness win. You were still out there, still depending on him, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let you down.

“I love you, Logan… never forget that.”

The final words were like a knife to his heart, the truth of them cutting deep, but also giving him the strength to keep going. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I love you too,” he whispered, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. “And I’m going to save you. I swear it.”

The connection faded, leaving behind a bittersweet ache that settled deep in his chest. But the message had done its work. Logan was more determined than ever, his focus sharpened by the memory of your voice, your touch. He couldn’t afford to fail. Too much was at stake.

The days leading up to the assassination passed in a blur of tension and preparation. Charles and Erik continued to clash, their arguments growing more heated, more volatile, as the day approached. Logan played the role of mediator, trying to keep the fragile alliance from shattering, even as his own nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

And then, the day was upon them.

The air was thick with tension as Logan and his team approached the site where the assassination was set to occur. Every step felt like walking through quicksand, the weight of the future pressing down on him with each breath. His senses were on high alert, scanning every sound, every flicker of movement. This was it—the moment where everything would either be won or lost.

As they reached the courtyard, chaos erupted. The enemy was relentless, attacking with a ferocity that matched Logan’s own. Claws extended, he moved like a force of nature, cutting through the ranks with precision and fury. Every strike was fueled by the memory of you—your voice, your face, your final words. He had to stop Trask. He had to prevent the creation of the Sentinels.

But then, amidst the chaos, a familiar and dreaded presence made itself known. Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto—hovered above the battlefield, his eyes cold and determined. He raised his hands, and from the distance, the ominous clanking of metal footsteps echoed through the air. Logan’s heart sank as the Sentinels, massive and imposing, emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing with a deadly intent.

Erik’s voice rang out, commanding the Sentinels with a flick of his wrist. They moved with terrifying precision, their metal limbs whirring as they turned their attention toward Logan. He barely had time to react before the first Sentinel lunged, its enormous hand sweeping down to crush him. Logan leaped out of the way, his claws slashing through the air as he fought to keep the mechanical giants at bay.

But for every Sentinel he struck down, two more took its place, their relentless assault wearing him down. Erik watched from above, his expression unreadable, his power thrumming through the battlefield as he manipulated the metal constructs with ease. The ground trembled as more debris was ripped from the earth, swirling around Erik like a deadly storm.

Logan fought with everything he had, his claws tearing through metal and circuitry, but the odds were overwhelming. The Sentinels closed in, their attacks growing more coordinated, more brutal. He could feel his strength waning, his healing factor struggling to keep up with the damage being inflicted on his body.

And then, Erik made his move. With a cold, calculated gesture, he ripped a massive chunk of concrete from the ground, laced with jagged metal shards, and sent it hurtling toward Logan. The impact was devastating. The concrete slab struck Logan with bone-crushing force, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing into the ground.

Before Logan could recover, Erik raised his hand again, and the metal shards embedded in the concrete shot forward like spears, impaling Logan’s limbs and pinning him to the ground. He roared in pain, his claws digging into the concrete as he tried to free himself, but Erik’s power was too great. The Sentinels closed in, their cold, mechanical eyes fixed on him as they prepared to deliver the final blow.

But Erik wasn’t finished. With a final, forceful gesture, he lifted Logan off the ground, the metal and concrete holding him aloft like a ragdoll. Logan’s vision blurred, the world spinning around him as Erik sent him hurtling through the air. He slammed into the side of a building with a sickening crunch, the impact shattering the wall and sending debris raining down around him.

Logan’s body, broken and bleeding, was thrown through the air one last time, the force of Erik’s power propelling him toward the edge of the crumbling structure. For a moment, he teetered on the edge, his claws scraping against the concrete as he tried to hold on. But the weight of the metal and concrete was too much, and with a final, shuddering breath, Logan plunged into the water below.

The world above seemed to slow as Logan disappeared beneath the surface, the cold, dark water swallowing him whole. The shock of it stole the breath from his lungs, and the weight of the metal pulled him down, deeper and deeper into the abyss. He struggled against the pull, his lungs burning for air, his vision blurring as the darkness closed in.

Above, the battle continued, but without Logan’s ferocious presence, the tide began to turn. The enemy forces, seeing their chance, pushed forward, forcing the remaining X-Men to retreat. As they fell back, eyes scanned the water, desperate for any sign of Logan. But there was nothing—no movement, no bubbles, no sign that he had survived.

“Logan…” someone whispered, the name carried away in the wind.

 And somewhere, in the depths of that cold, dark water, Logan drifted, his body still and lifeless, the shadows of the past closing in around him.

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A/N: Hi loves! I'd like to apologize for the inactivity the past few days. I was finally able to get into the doctor yesterday and ended up having an in office procedure done😕 my biopsy results won't be available until sometime next week---but please take it from me to regularly check yourselves for breast lumps... - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus @angelofthorr @swthxrry @ayamenimthiriel @charlyrmv @alex21705 @penguinsravioli @mxtokko

[big-robot-fan]

I always think how metal sonic is best instance of a character that is utterly doomed by narrative in various aspects: he keeps dying (doomed to die narrative), he'll never surpass sonic because he is a copy of him where he is nothing more than that, and how writers/creators always have him done dirty so much

He's doomed to die, doomed to come back wrong, doomed if he fails, doomed if he succeeds, doomed as a weapon, doomed as a child, doomed to be just another copy, doomed to be one of a kind, etc.

The only character that comes close to being as doomed as Metal Sonic is Silver, because his existence relies upon the future being apocalyptic and his destiny is to prevent that from happening. (This is part of the inspiration for the Morpheus Shadow AU)

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

🗡️ 💙ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT BARLEY LIGHTFOOT💙🗡️

These are just my personal HCs. This is just a huge list or rather my personal wiki ALL about Barley. This list will have four different categories, the basics (birthday/sexuality etc), preferences (what he likes/dislikes), facts (random short facts about him), relationships (facts about his relationships with his friends and family) and history (facts about his childhood and high school years).

💙BASICS💙

He was born on the 3rd of August 2001

He is pansexual 🩷💛💙

He is neurodivergent

He is an extrovert

Dream job

His dream job would to become like a mercenary and go on many quests. Since that isn’t likely though he may become a mechanic.

Hobbies

His hobbies include: playing Quests of Yore, playing RPG video games, drawing (he is a traditional artist), writing (mostly poetry and songs but he has written some adventurous stories as well), playing guitar and writing his own songs, exploring and travelling in Guinevere, cosplay, LARPing, making and painting QOY figurines and miniatures to add to his games, fixing up broken things.

Talents

He is very good at drawing and painting traditionally but is hopeless with digital art, he can be a great actor as well, he is a surprisingly good cook as he did used to cook sometimes when Laurel was super busy or tired, he is a master of improvising and can work well with nothing but scrap.

Fears

He doesn’t fear much but he is afraid of the hospital, gelatinous cubes, and losing loved ones.

🥰Preferences😒

Loved food and drinks

He is a huge fan of junk food especially and he does also enjoy a lot of dairy. He loves a nice hearty meal. Some of his favourites meals are pizza (especially BBQ and ones with plenty of meaty toppings), burgers, burritos, nachos, pretty much anything with lots of cheese, roast meats and pies.

He enjoys some sweets too! He is nuts about chocolate and anything that is very chocolatey. He is also a big fan of doughnuts and pastries. He likes to drink soda and energy drinks. Overall his preferred diet may not look the healthiest.

His ultimate favourites are pizza, chocolate cake, fries covered in cheese, any sort of cheesy crisps like cheese puffs, any sort of cheesy snacks in general, fried griffin wings, roast ham, mountain doom drinks, Coca Cola and chocolate milkshakes.

Disliked/hated food and drinks

He is not a fan of anything that tastes bitter. He loved pretty much all chips and crisps but he isn’t a big fan of the ones that are vinegar flavoured. He dislikes most vegetables.

He especially hates meals that are nothing but vegetables, a warrior needs his protein he says! As for drinks he isn’t a huge fan of tea. He dislikes the taste of green tea.

Music

Barley LOVES rock and heavy metal! Electric guitar solos are his favourite. His loves a good rock opera as well.

Barley isn’t a fan of most pop songs. Occasionally he might find one he doesn’t mind though. He hates a song that is slow and quiet though. He NEEDS something he can bang his head to or play air guitar to.

Movies/shows

Barley of course loves ANY sort of adventure movie or series that has to do with olden days. He would be way into LOTR/Hobbit for example. He enjoys a lot of action but he does also secretly enjoy some romance because he is a softie (he won’t admit it though.).

He isn’t too fussy with genres but he isn’t a fan of anything that feels too sad. Because of that he may not be into post apocalyptic series (although he does enjoy the concepts of post apocalyptic) because he feels too bad for any of the characters that die. He can actually get shockingly emotional. He also doesn’t like ones that feel too slow, if not much is happening for a long while he gets bored easily, “where is the action?” He would say.

Books

Any classic old fairy tale or legend that was written back in the olden days. He likes stories about adventure but he doesn’t read much as he tends to be too busy with his other hobbies. He reads literally every QOY book or comic he can get his hands on though and always finds a way to make time for them! He also enjoys books that talk about history.

As for disliked books he doesn’t really have any so to say, he only focuses on the genres above and hasn’t tried any other. He thinks about trying out some more comics and even some manga someday though.

Style/clothes/furnishings

Barley obviously loves to rock an outfit that says “metal”. If a shirt has a print of a weapon or skull there is a high chance Barley will wear it. He isn’t too sure of wearing anything that might look a bit too cutesy though. He wants to look cool! The clothes he wears also has to be comfortable, he will never wear anything that isn’t.

He loves clothing and furniture with either a rocker’s vibe to it or something that looks old fashioned and mystical. He is not too fussed about colours but he does prefer darker colours over pastels, such as a dark blue, deep red or black. He loves to collect any old amour or weapons! He has grown quite the collection.

Barley is not a fan of a modern look or anything that is minimalist. One reason he dislikes a modern architecture is because it makes him feel like the world is drifting further and further away from its humble beginnings and as for minimalist he just finds it boring.

Activities

Barley loves all of his hobbies mentioned above but as for things he does not like to do, that would have to be a lot of chores. While he does love to draw and work on things to add to his game he actually isn’t into a lot of craft related activities. He enjoys colouring or things that are on paper but he doesn’t have the patience to sit still and knit or cross stitch. He is usually the type who is down for anything but he doesn’t do well in things that feel a bit too quiet, like yoga and meditation for example. He loves video games but he actually isn’t really into most cozy games as he personally gets bored from time to time, he loves the thrill of an adventure both in real life and in games! He isn’t a huge sports fan but he does enjoy playing some sport games from time to time, however he HATES fishing because he gets very impatient and bored.

📚Facts📚

Barley is a heavy sleeper, he can sleep through a hurricane! He also tends to be a night owl and can sleep in late at times. It is hard to wake him up!

As mentioned he loves to collect old amour and weapons, he has a huge collection now and he constantly wonders what adventures these old relics went on. He admires each and every one of them, even if some of them may be very rusty. He even gives them names just like he did with Guinevere!

He has an iron stomach, in both the sense he can handle gore and gross stuff shockingly well and he can eat slightly spoiled food or eat extreme amounts and be perfectly fine. Although he did have a few moments where he over did it. (It was mentioned in one of the Disney apps where he ate five buckets of fries and it didn’t end well). Regarding handling gross things or gore he can watch the most insane stuff, he can watch someone during an operation while snacking on cheese puffs just fine.

He actually secretly has a huge soft spot for animals, kids and cute things.

Barley doesn’t do a lot to take care of himself, he may avoid a shower every once in a while so he can focus on questing. On an average he showers once a day but it is not uncommon for him to miss just one day. This was implied in the movie as well.

Barley can sleep in his clothes just fine, he has even done that a few times if it’s been a long day.

Barley is a huge hugger and he gives the best hugs as well!

He may seem silly most of the time but he can be mature in other ways. While he seems impatient when it comes to what he is doing as of now he is very patient when it comes to others. Because of this he makes a great and understanding friend! He also tends to be very understanding and he never judges.

He has no fear of bugs, he just casually picks them up and lets them outside if they’re in the house. He has even held some huge spiders which always freaks out his family.

He isn’t the athletic type but he likes to go on walks, he takes his time and enjoys the scenery though, it’s not for exercise personally. He loves to explore new areas! He is very curious of the world around him and is thrilled to discover something new.

He actually knows how to play a lot of instruments and has studied music. He can read music notes as well.

When visiting a theme park he enjoys the extreme rides like roller coasters.

He is a huge fan of puns!

He loves riddles as well and likes to solve them and ask them. Although sometimes if you get it wrong multiple times he may drop a hint or two…usually in the form of ANOTHER riddle.

He is not only passionate about the past and preserving historical structures and relics, he often collects any litter he finds to help keep the streets clean enough. This is tied to his passion about the past as well, to keep the old kingdom clean of modern garbage. Sometimes he may find ways to repurpose the things he finds and has made some…bizarre things.

It’s not uncommon for Barley to help himself to a midnight snack. Depending on his mood sometimes he will snack on left overs from dinner or he might even make himself an ice cream sandwich.

He also has weird food habits. Some joke that he eats like a pregnant person at times! He gets cravings of things and they form into some bizarre combinations! He once made himself some toast and smothered it with ice cream for one example.

Barley is a big stress eater. He doesn’t normally get stressed though. (It was kind of implied in the movie when he tore through a bag of cheese puffs and went to get another snack when he got angry at Ian).

Barley is usually calm and cool but when he gets super angry he might punch at a few walls or posts. He has bruised his knuckles a few times when things got really rough.

Barley is the worst at lying, doesn’t matter what lie it is, what the circumstances are or who he may be lying too, he is just awful at it. (Was kind of implied in the movie as well at the beginning with Colt LOL)

Barley sometimes sings in the shower.

He has lots and lots of journals that are filled with his art, ideas and literature. He has so many scattered around him room and he probably has enough to make his own library. Sometimes he might just sit and doodle completely random things.

He is great at most mechanics related stuff but he struggles to understand a lot of computer related stuff.

Barley talks to himself when he gets nervous or impatient. So much so it can be like he has a conversation with himself at some stages.

He usually says whatever pops into his head. So sometimes he can be a little blunt and say things at a bad time. He rarely says things that are offensive though because he has a genuine and kind heart. The worst he may say is if someone is boring or a total buzzkill. (Usually towards Colt).

Barley will go out of his way to help a stranger in need. Like helping old people cross the road for example. If he sees a baby or kid crying he would usually try to make funny faces to make them laugh or cheer them up.

Barley has a FREAKISHLY good memory.

Barley may seem confident most of the time but if he gets a crush on someone he can actually be pretty shy about it to begin with. Basically he is all like: 😳🥺👉👈

🫂Relationships🫂

Ian

He obviously loves Ian a whole lot! They were very close when they were younger but when Ian went through puberty he sort of drifted from him for a moment before their big adventure took place. When his father died Barley was grieving heavily and Ian’s arrival helped him a whole lot! He is grateful to have him in his life and it’s all just one of the many reasons he loves him.

He feels a strong need to protect him no matter what! During school he would often go and check on Ian to make sure he was alright. When Barley graduated he has tried to sneak back into school just to make sure Ian was alright. This was also because Barley did have to deal with a few Aholes so he wanted to make sure Ian was ok. This of course embarrassed Ian greatly and a small argument did break out where Ian told him not to baby him anymore.

When Ian got his first facial hair Barley almost cried because his baby brother was growing up. He truely is like a brother AND father figure to him. It used to embarrass Ian as well because he made a huge deal out of it! “Did ya hear that? His little voice is breaking” “ugh….”

Barley has tried to play a few pranks on Ian before, usually by hiding behind a door and jumping out to scare him! It works every time. Although his main intention is to train him to be more alert and to have fun while doing it. It’s part of him lightly shaping him into being a warrior. He has gotten into trouble when Ian complained to Laurel though when his pranks went a bit too far, (not harmful at all! Just annoying and startling.).

When they were kids they played a lot! We have seen them go swimming, bike riding and play pillow fights! They often used to make their own pillow forts and watch tv together while snuggled up inside. Barley tried to play swords with Ian using sticks but Laurel quickly banned them from playing that game in fear of them accidentally hurting one another.

Barley actually used to get lots of nightmares about losing his dad when he was little and sometimes he has nightmares about his mother and Ian getting sick the same way Wilden was. He always goes into Ian’s room and watches him sleep for a while to make sure he is ok.

Laurel

Laurel loves Barley but is often frustrated with his recklessness, habits and the immature side of him. She can be strict with him but it is ultimately out of love, like “Look for a job!”, “Clean your room!”, etc.

Even though Barley is an adult she will still ground him sometimes. She says she has that power for as long as he lives under her roof. There have been a few times where poor Barley had his Quests of Yore campaign closed down earlier and she hides the box away somewhere for a while. A lot of Barley’s Quests of Yore friends think she is pretty scary.

It was hard losing her husband but it was also hard being a single mother. Because she had to work so hard it wasn’t uncommon for her to get home late from work. When Barley got a little older he used to help cook dinner when she got very tired of busy. Although he did used to make a huge mess of the kitchen, still Laurel couldn’t complain if it meant she didn’t have to worry about dinner so much. Barley is weirdly mature in some ways and immature in other ways.

Barley wasn’t able to spend lots and lots of time with his mother during childhood since she had to work twice as hard as a single parent. It is also part of why Barley was extra close with Ian because he was always there to play with.

When Laurel got stressed Barley used to try and cheer her up by telling jokes or making funny faces to try to make her laugh. It worked almost every time!

Colt

They aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Colt does care for Barley though since he is his stepson but Barley still cannot see him as his dad. For a while he felt angry because he saw him as a cheap replacement and had trouble understanding why Laurel suddenly wanted to start seeing someone else after so long. That feeling faded over time but he still isn’t fond of Colt.

Laurel and Colt met when Barley got arrested for one of his protests. He was completely baffled when his mother and the police officer started dating! After all he was like an enemy to him!

Colt tends to scold Barley a fair bit but he does still try to make an effort. Usually they still don’t see eye to eye though.

Barley was worried about Laurel getting her heart broken so he broke into Colt’s office at one stage to snoop through all of his stuff to find any sort of evidence. He found nothing that could prove he had any ill intentions though.

Sometimes Colt will start talking about something and it would be hard to make him stop. He hits Barley with a whole lot of “When I was your age” stories that tend to be very boring and they are often tied to some even more boring lecture as well.

Colt wants to be a good enough stepfather but has no idea how. He once asked Barley if he was interested in anyone and needed advice about that sort of stuff or if he had any questions. It was the hardest Barley has ever cringed in his WHOLE life!

Barley will sometimes stick his tongue at Colt when he or Laurel are not looking.

Manticore (Corey)

Barley is a HUGE fan of her and looks up to her a whole lot. He tends to be a big fanboy when it comes to her.

He sees her the way many others see celebrities and was actually a bit nervous when first getting to know his idol. He is always respectful around her but the first few months…perhaps even years…he has been a bit over the top. He would kneel before her constantly and always talk so formally even though they are technically friends now. Corey feels like she should tell him to just act natural but has no idea how too.

Barley frequently asks her to share some of her stories, as politely as possible of course. When she speaks he always watches her with a sparkle in his eyes, like an excited kid.

Barley usually says how she is like the coolest person in the world. Ian being in close second (which Ian always denies).

Barley did actually go to her tavern when he was only five years old. Laurel had an important meeting and lunch was being held there but she couldn’t find any babysitters at the time so she took her kids along. She had to do this more than once. Ian has no memory of being there but Barley absorbed every moment of it! The tavern was actually different back then, it looked more like how it did by the end of the movie but empty and worn down. Barley ended up wondering off for a moment and examined some of her old weapons and treasures. The manticore finds him and tells him a few stories about her adventures as he looked through her stuff. She seemed sad as no one else seemed interested anymore but was thrilled to see Barley showing interest and had to share her tales. Barley asked many questions about her old stuff and she was overjoyed to tell him everything! This is where his love for history and adventure began to grow. Laurel panicked when she realised Barley wondered off and Corey happily led him back to his mother who scolded him for wondering. The memory is a bit hazy now but Barley still holds onto that. Since it has been many years though Corey didn’t remember Laurel at all and she was just another customer at the time, since Barley grew up it was hard to recognise him. At some stage when Barley got a bit more comfortable around his hero he did tell her about it and asked if she remembered, this jogged her memory and her, Laurel and Barley had a good laugh over it whilst Ian stood there clueless as he was far too young to remember much about that day.

He felt sick when he saw the dramatic changes to her tavern halfway into the movie, with the gift shop and games and such. He felt as if his childhood was ruined in some ways! He hid it pretty well though. In the end he actually helped her come up with the idea of sharing her stories with her customers as an attraction like how we see in the end of the movie.

Shrub Rosehammer (a friend of his that was briefly mentioned in the movie and some books)

Shrub is a troll friend of his who is briefly mentioned. They both love quests of yore and play it together.

They met in kindergarten and had been good friends since. Barley was alone after just recently losing his dad. Most of the other kids ignored him as he sat alone but Shrub was concerned and asked if he wanted to play. Barley was a bit taken aback at first as he was still grieving but he was also surprised how someone at his school actually said something to him. Because of that he took the offer and they played during lunch break and their friendship grew from there.

Barley is like the wild card of the duo. Wild Shrub can get into mischief on rare occasions but he still isn’t nearly as chaotic as Barley and does try to avoid breaking some rules. He was what Barley would call a lawful good.

When Barley got himself into trouble Shrub would just chuckle a little, not in a mean spirited way but because he knew what was coming. Barley is so unpredictable that he has become predictable.

Barley is a lot more passionate and will go on rants about how old facilities of their ancient past are being torn down. Shrub just listens and lets him blow off steam. He would say “I agree that it sucks, but there’s nothing we could do.”. He didn’t really help Barley with that stuff in the sense of joining in on the protest. BUT he was somewhat supportive in the sense he would be like “Yeah that’s sucks. Hey man, did you wanna grab something to eat? I’m sure a doughnut or something will make you feel better.”

🏫History🏫

Childhood

Barley has an old teddy bear his father gave him before he died. It’s his most treasured possession and he still sleeps with it to this very day.

Barley would have had a lonely childhood if it wasn’t for Ian and a few friends he did have in school. He would sometimes feel upset about his father and felt robbed of his parents but just having Ian helped a whole lot.

He had to be independent pretty quickly. Laurel would often call for babysitters when needed but there have been a few times when they couldn’t get one and Barley had to take charge. Laurel was very stern about the rules of safety and repeated them to Barley literally thousands of times each and every time she goes out. She wanted to imprint them into his brain. Ironically though they were put into Ian’s head and he was often the one who reminded Barley not to do certain things.

Barley used to injure himself CONSTANTLY as a kid. He still does to this day but not nearly as much.

Barley was a super hyper kid who just wanted to play ALL the time, Laurel used to wonder how he never seems to get tired. Usually he would be bouncing around and then all of a sudden he will crash and fall into a deep sleep. There were no in between moments back then, his energy levels were just like a switch!

When Barley was little he wanted to be a knight but got his dreams crushed quickly by a teacher who told him there are no knights anymore.

High school years

Barley actually used to get bad pimples around the age of 13 to 16.

He had been picked on a little bit in school but it was nothing ever TOO extreme, mostly some name calling here and there. Although he still did get his feelings hurt from time to time. He used to do what he can to stand up for others who were being picked on. On rare occasions he did end up in a few fist fights against bullies.

Barley is incredibly intelligent! Although he struggles in subjects he has little to no interest in. His best subject was obviously history!

He used to struggle with chemistry, which he had insisted was just updated potion brewing…he used to get quite experimental with that sort of stuff and it usually would not go too well. He would also often complain about the “unnecessary modern equipment” that just felt like it made things far more complicated than need be.

Barley used to try and explore every single inch of the school to try to find any hidden secrets, it did used to be an ancient castle after all. He would make note of anything he felt was interesting or perhaps even a potential key to a hidden chamber.

Barley would sneak lots and lots of snacks into school. He always had lots of gum and it used to drive some of the teachers crazy!

💙thanks so much for reading! I plan to do other characters in the future as well! At some stage. This took so long to make.💙

[drondskaath]

what is the best bands from your city?

Mournful Congregation- Funeral Doom Metal

Elysian Blaze - Ambient Black/Doom Metal

Freedom of Fear - Melodic/Technical Death Metal

Altars - Death Metal

Stargazer - Avant Garde Black/Death Metal

Sundowner - Stoner Sludge/Doom Metal

Tzun Tzu - Technical Death Metal

Charnal Altar - Death/Doom Metal

Cauldron Black Ram - Blackened Death Metal

Gwel - Ambient Black Metal

Foul Temple - Black Metal

Apocalyptic Annihilation - Black/Thrash Metal

[cedar-sunshine]

writer intro!

making a real one this time! I'll probably pin this one haha

Me!

My name is Sunny, I use he/they pronouns primarily, and I'm a queer writer. I'm 15, AuDHD, and a little chronically in pain. If you're reading this, tell me to drink water and stop doom scrolling so I can actually write like I want to, please

What I write!

I mostly write fantasy, although it very much ranges from urban to high and all the in betweens. My main WIP, Star, is technically not fantasy, but it IS apocalyptic, which is my second favorite genre. Technically, everything I write has an element of romance or is a romance, but the romance is never the forefront of the plot and is rarely only romantic (aroace romance writer time).

My current WIPs are

Star, a post-apocalyptic queer romance starring Mental Health Boy and Mental Health Boy #2. It's atmospheric and deals with a lot of Things. I like it a lot! It's my main WIP and I have the most done in it, the cast includes Tristan and Orion. I've described it as grumpy x sunshine vs cult and that's still accurate. It's my longest running piece and if u follow me for it I PROMISE I won't abandon it. I haven't done it for years anyways

Science fiction Australia situation! 100 criminals get (consentually) sent to a superhabitable planet to prepare it for a human colony, the trip should take 150 years but something goes wrong and they end up making an emergency landing (read: aimed crash) on a smaller habitable planet leaving only 9 alive of the original 100. And humanity's already forgotten about them after nearly 120 years, so... found family queer bullshit, I think a majority of the characters aren't fully human including 1 squid person with bright colors, weird eyes, transparent skin and very strange hair, 1 robot made of pieces of magnetic metal so small they're basically magnetic fluid, 1 Guy with synthetic parts and a cool tail, 1 mildly mad scientist-esque dude that can only be described as if a person was a seal with maned wolf hardware, lots of microplants around a natural frame who is a hacker and diplomat, a mix between a fossa/civet type thing and a human, and a Guy with cool ears and a non-human genetic disease. Only two people bit don't worry they're cool too (autistic mechanic who likes engineering more than people and space pirate emo boy with a lot of grief and anger at the System, plus some symbiotic friends). Most likely includes a polycule because I can't choose who should be dating who (if you have an opinion, look for my poll a while ago)

[nsfwmiamiart]

Read this Fun Fact:

A Quiet Place is a 2018 American post-apocalyptic horror film directed by John Krasinski. The screenplay was written by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods from a story they conceived, with contributions by Krasinski after he joined the project.

In the "A Quiet Place" universe, sightless aliens with highly advanced hearing and impenetrable armor plating have invaded Earth and decimated most of the human population. Here are some additional details about these terrifying creatures:

Characteristics of the Aliens:

Sightless but Acute Hearing:

The aliens are completely blind and rely entirely on their acute sense of hearing to hunt their prey. Any sound, no matter how small, can attract them from great distances.

Impenetrable Armor Plating:

Their bodies are covered in tough, impenetrable armor plating, making them nearly invincible to conventional weapons. The only known weakness is a small opening in the armor around their ears, which is exposed when they are disoriented by high-frequency sounds.

Incredible Speed and Strength:

These creatures are extremely fast and strong, capable of ripping through metal and taking down humans with ease. Their agility allows them to move swiftly through various terrains.

Behavior and Hunting:

The aliens are relentless hunters. They attack anything that makes noise, regardless of its source. This has forced the surviving human population to live in constant silence to avoid detection.

Impact on Human Survivors:

Living in Silence:

Humans have adapted to this new reality by living in silence. They communicate using sign language, walk barefoot to avoid making noise, and create soundproof spaces to carry out necessary activities without attracting the aliens.

Innovative Survival Strategies:

Survivors have developed various strategies to stay alive, such as setting up noise traps to distract the aliens, using sand paths to muffle footsteps, and living in remote, secluded areas.

Isolation and Fear:

The constant threat of alien attacks has led to a high degree of isolation and fear among the human survivors. Communities are sparse, and trust is limited as any loud noise can spell doom for everyone nearby.

Plot Points and Key Events:

The Abbott Family:

The story primarily follows the Abbott family, who have managed to survive by adhering to strict silent living practices. The family faces numerous challenges, including the birth of a new baby, which poses a significant risk due to the inevitable noise.

Discovery of Weakness:

A critical plot point involves the discovery of the aliens' weakness. The Abbotts find that high-frequency sounds can disorient the aliens, exposing the vulnerable area under their armor. This discovery becomes a pivotal tool in their fight for survival.

The Struggle for Hope:

Amidst the terror and constant threat of death, the human spirit persists. The survivors strive to find hope and rebuild some semblance of normalcy, even in a world dominated by these terrifying creatures.

Conclusion:

The aliens in "A Quiet Place" are a formidable and terrifying enemy, pushing humanity to its limits. Their presence has reshaped the world, forcing humans to adapt in extraordinary ways to survive. The story is a gripping tale of resilience, ingenuity, and the unyielding will to live in the face of overwhelming odds.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

TW: character death; blood

When Simon regained his wits, he finds no sign of the vampire lady that enthralled him. He also has no idea how long he's been under his thrall. He finds himself waking up to an empty, patchwork room. The walls were made from broken pieces of cement, assembled together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Thin sheets of tin metal was laid on top of the walls to resemble a roof, and barely managed to prevent exposure. Damp dirt, just dry enough to avoid becoming mud, served as the floor, with layers and layers of newspapers to act as some form of insulation.

Yet despite the lack of proper resources, someone ensured this post-apocalyptic shelter contained personal touches. Crayon drawings and half written lyrics were pinned on most flat surface. A mattress of scrap cloth was laid out beneath him, sewn together with wide clumsy stitches. And lying next to him, as if to keep him company, there sits a stuffed toy - its long, threadbare limbs fraying at the edges.

Simon woke up in Marceline's home. But Marceline was nowhere to be found. His hand automatically reaches up to his head, and his fingers brush the cold kiss of metal. She didn't take it off. Now, what could that mean? And where has Marcy gone? And why hasn't she come back?

He jumps to his feet, storms out the shelter, and runs - runs - runs. The sweet whispers of frost - no, shut up! Shut up! Something is wrong! He needs to go. Where? He doesn't - the Empress. She would know! He reaches into the Crown, pushing past its cold promises and seizes the heart of its power. He summons a howling wind that nearly knocks him off his feet before it carries him up and over and far - further - faster!

The sun is a sliver of orange in the horizon. The stars are already twinkling in the indigo sky. And perhaps, it would have been better if light had completely abandoned him - the whole damn universe already saw fit to forsake him, why not light as well? A shroud of immutable darkness would have shielded him from... from...

Simon never reaches the Empress - never finds her in whatever den of depravity she dug for herself. As a self-styled expert on lost and forgotten things, he is doomed to find precisely what he's looking for.

He spies an abandoned camp - torn tents and tossed supplies. He hears screaming - men, women, children. No, that's not important. No. There - pressed against the trees all broken and bent, there is a little girl. Except, she's not so little anymore. It's been years. He left her. He left her.

She was supposed to be safe.

He lands, soft as if afraid to wake her. But her eyes are wide open, staring sightlessly into the distance. A sharp thing - he cannot look. Her shirt is soaked through - there's so much. Her hand holds a stake - she hasn't let go.

Time stops for Simon Petrikov. His thoughts fade to depthless black. His body becomes a distant memory. The world dissolves around him like snowflake melting in his palm.

It's dark now. The sun sunk a long, long time ago. In the lack of light, he could almost, almost believe that he was looking at someone else - anyone else. This could be another girl with black hair, pointed ears, and grey skin. This could be another daughter of a different man.

The axe damns him. Its sharp blade nestled deep into her chest, sliding straight into the tree. The axe is bright red and sharper than the Devil's tongue.

She was supposed to be safe.

She was supposed to be protected.

She was supposed to have her father.

tHe CrOwn HuMS.

It sears with power, balancing on a precipice, awaiting his command. He only needs to ask. His will be done.

A branch snaps to his left. The bushes rustle as a creature leaps out, long fangs ready to sink into its next meal. Poor thing. It freezes mid-air, neither feet will ever touch the ground again.

Frost begins to sweep and curl across the ground. It swallows whole everything it touches - every leaf, every worm, every creature in its path. It crawls through the veins, solidfying lungs, entombing hearts. The living and the dead and everything else in between - all turn to ice.

No one is screaming now.

Simon grabs hold of the axe. His fingers brush against the embedded strings - her work, undoubtedly. He grits his teeth, letting every curse and cry rot within his throat. He pulls.

How does that old saying go? When hell freezes over? Well.

Simon can answer that one, can't he?

[tsunflowers]

elaborating on nuance in post-apocalyptic settings

a huge part of the drama in this setting comes from the different reactions different groups have to the change that's taken place. people who remain obsessed with the technology of the before times can be doomed cultists or misunderstood geniuses. people who give up on the old ways and embrace the new world can be misguided fools or secretly the only sane ones. generally the group that's in the right is the one that merges the old and new. but even if you write a story where that's your message, there can be a tendency to portray the people who throw away everything from the old world as ideologically pure and good. they are noble in their pursuit of living off the land, strange as the new land may be

moon of the turning leaves made me think about that concept and how it's tied into pastoralist fantasies. this is a book where the characters could very well have said "our ancestors made arrows with stones and feathers. we don't need synthetic arrows" but they don't. they do say "our ancestors hunted their own food, we don't need canned chili" but like, reusable objects that have already been made are valued. other Anishinaabe groups the main characters meet also wear scavenged factory-made clothes and live in houses with metal roofs. it's not treated as all or nothing based on ideology, it's about using high-quality materials that are available to you. it's interesting to me bc I think there are white writers who make characters live purely off the land bc they think that's what stewards of the land like historical Indigenous people would do. but here's an Indigenous writer who says "nah, I bet even people who greatly value their traditional culture and language would still wear sneakers"