#post apocalyptic story

[billtergiest]

Water demon witch powers go brrr

[ambrosiasaladofthebrain]

Ambrosia Salad of The Brain

Ch 1: Meet Jake

The teacher’s note read like it usually did: “Nice Job” written under a circled 100% and a smiley face creating a small triangle of pen ink. Jake knew it was childish, it was because he was far younger than all of his classmates that his math teacher always left small notes of encouragement and excitement on his tests, but he supposed he didn’t care. He still cut each one out carefully before throwing out the test and placing the scrap onto the growing pile in the box he kept under his bed.

 He would show his sister the pile someday and she would be impressed with how well he had done. That day would probably be soon, hopefully soon. For now he would stack them until the box burst. With the ringing of the bell the school day came to a close and he scrambled to collect his things and leave before the mass of bigger students could trample him.

He was quick to make it to the front steps, wanting to double check his items before he left. Someone had stolen his first aid kit but he still had his second one which was good enough. There was a father a couple blocks from school who had started robbing from the richer district people who came to feel better about themselves and show off. These people often had bodyguards with some pent up emotions they needed to release. Jake couldn’t stop the man from doing what he could for his kid but he could apply his basic knowledge of first aid. He might be an amateur but where he lacked in practice he hoped his mind and memory made up for it. He supposed living in a hospital and watching professionals daily had to have upgraded his skills somewhat. 

He also needed the bread he had saved from lunch, a pack of rats had taken root in an alleyway he had to pass to get to the hospital and their attacks on random passerbyers were getting worse, as long as he threw them a good chunk of food however, they seemed to leave him alone. Simon had tried to protest Jake’s sharing of half his lunch with rats but he understood that certain measures had to be taken, and not a week later after the incident he had started carrying bread for a gang of rats on his block as well.

With his rusted swiss army knife prepared he was ready to walk home. He just needed to check in with Simon and Piet who were unusually late. They were usually at their meeting spot first, skipping their class to share a smoke, or, he thought they still smoked, they promised they had quit but they still carried packs and lighters and the smell never left their fingers and breath, nor their sweaters he needed to return.

“Hey kid!” Simon called as he left the building and hopped down the steps, tripping on a hole, and stringing a colorful display of words together as he stumbled to a stop. “‘Hey! Hey,” he corrected his volume with the second ‘hey’, looking apologetic, “Guess wha’ we got.”

“We?” Jake looked around, expecting to see Simon’s ‘better half’.

“Yeah, uh.” Simon looked around, before swearing again, “I lost her. No! The love of my life! Gone! Sorry, gone,” he corrected his volume again, really trying not to be so aggressively loud. “I’ll nev’a see ‘er again. Lost, to the chaos of the school, or maybe the lunch lady,” he shrugged, flopping down on the school steps, “Beauty like that will surely be missed, I’ll nev’a love anoth’a,” he clenched a fist to his chest, suddenly being tackled from behind

“That’s right you won't! But maybe I will! Leave your girlfriend to the demise a the lunch lady? She works out y’know. Too buff even fer me an’ you leave me! Ah Jake, ‘ey kiddo. how’d’yer test go?” Piet sobered down sitting on Simon’s back, pinning him to the ground as she reached for the 100% paper Jake handed her. “‘Ey, nice job, though I wasn’t all that worried, the one about explainin’ how ya did the work kept trippin’ ya up when we studied but ya’always pull through.”

“Thank you,” Jake blushed.

“I nev’a doubted ya either,” Simon added.

“Ah shut up,” Peit smacked his head lightly, “Anyway you got the goods?” 

“Duh,” Simon rolled his eyes, pushing Peit off and pulling a small cardboard box from his cardigan pocket. “Here ya are mister smarty pants.” He ceremoniously tossed the box to Jake who fumbled with it a moment before catching it properly and giving it a suspicious glance. 

“You didn’t,” He mumbled, cracking it open. “How? Where? The school doesn’t have a-”

“Eh I found some chips lyin’ ‘round an’, well, Peit has some chickens so we jus’ needed a stove ‘n a few other things,” Simon shrugged, Peit shrugging with him. 

Jake picked up the two chocolate chip cookies from the box, they were sloppy and a little flat, nothing like the images he had seen online but the last time he had had chocolate chip cookies had been with Zoey. He wondered if he could save one and find some milk but quickly shook the idea from his head remembering the growing prices.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the cookies, almost too quiet as he tried to stop the prickling of his eyes.

Piet let out a soft swear, raising a hand; “‘Ey don’t cry now, we were bored.”

“Yeah, it really wasn’ that hard even!” Simon added. 

“Or expensive, I mean, we stole most’a the stuff.”

“Sh!” Simon elbowed her, “No, we bought it, promise, promise,” He lied.

“Thank you,” Jake whispered again, breaking one of the cookies in half, then breaking that into two quarters, “Here.”

“We couldn’-” Piet began.

“Really?” Simon asked, “You sure?” He grabbed a quarter with excitement. Piet looked disgusted at him for a moment before taking her piece. The treat was dry and somewhat burnt yet uncooked all at once. It was very sweet, which was better than bitter Jake supposed, it would definitely benefit from a glass of milk though.

“Oh wow,” Piet coughed.

“You, don’ ‘ave to eat that Jake,” Simon grimaced, “I can throw that out.”

“No!” Jake held the small box close, glaring, “No, I’ll keep it, they’re not half bad.”

Simon’s watch on his outstretched hand buzzed, “I gotta get to work, you’ll be ok by yourself?”

“I walk every day by myself.”

“Doesn’ mean I can’t be worried.”

“You got your stuff?” Piet interrogated, “Books, pepper spray, pocket knife?”

Jake shuffled through his bag then pockets making a show of making sure it was all in place and hadn’t been stolen throughout the day despite having just done these actions moments ago, “Yep.”

“Alright. Get home safe bud,” She waved bye dragging Simon along with her.

Simon was still calling out to Jake; “I’ll be at the gate in the mornin’, and make sure to watch out for those rats, oh and cases of,” as they rounded the corner his calls disappeared with them. Jake giggled at them as he took another bite of his cookie and started his own walk. His first stop would be the rats and he needed to come up with good names for them.

He was still thinking of names for the rats when he left their alleyway. Rats are terribly smart creatures and Jake had always felt akin to them in some odd way. He was close to his next stop now, which meant he should get his swiss army knife ready. The Robber Father would never harm him but this wasn’t always his haunt, it was a very popular place for muggings to occur either way. However, while most let him by some people had become very desperate with the rising prices and crack down on crimes the President himself had initiated to help clean up the district.

Jake slowed, nearing the alley and peaking in. At first he didn’t see anyone but someone shifted in the pile of trash bags and Jake entered recognizing it as Robber Father. He squatted next to the man poking his arm with the dull knife. 

“Sir?”

The man groaned, sounding in pain, Jake scrunched his face looking for injuries. When he couldn’t outright see any stab wounds or broken bones Jake slapped the man's cheek, trying to wake him.

“Sir?” he called a bit louder.

This scene was reminding him a little too much of when he had found his sister. She had been warm, Jake felt the man’s forehead but his temperature felt normal enough. She had also coughed a lot as well as had a scratchy breath that seemed to tug at her throat, trying to stick to the sides. Jake brought his ear to the man’s mouth. His breath was soft if not slow.

“Siiiiirrrr!” Jake drew out his call, slapping the man's face repetitively.

“Wha? Who’s ther?” The man slew out, sitting up and focusing on Jake, “Oh, hey Doc, ‘ere for my checkup?” He rumbled as he sat up.

“What happened?” Jake asked, wanting to get to the point.

“Eh, this rich prick came into town lookin’ for trouble, I beat ‘em up but he got a couple hits to my stomach. Nother one’a those hit where it can’t be seen’ things, ya’know?” He lifted his shirt to show off the patchwork of bruising, “Could’a done better but I forgot to eat today.” He chuckled, Jake didn’t join him, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. He pulled his gift box with the last half-a-cookie from his bag and handed it to the man before he could change his mind.

“Eh? Wha’s this?” Robber Father took it with a quizzical look, and gave a soft oh upon opening it, “A cookie? In this economy? Pretty impressive kid, you're basically the richest kid I’ve met now,” He went to hand the box back only for Jake to shove it back to him.

“You can have it, my frie-” Jake bit his tongue on the slip up, “Simon and Piet gave them to me, I already ate one, you have the rest.”

“The, ones who babysit ya at school?” Jake nodded. “They rich or somethin’?” “Nah, just stupid.”

Robber Father huffed a laugh, “Teenagers. My Rose ‘s turnin’ 14 soon y'know, you wanna come to the party?”

Was that a joke? When most kids invited him to a party it was usually to laugh moments later. Also people usually brought gifts to birthday parties and he had no money or anything to give.

“You don’t have to bring anythin’ kid, your, like, six-”

“I’m 8 (timephrame),” Jake informed, then realizing he’d interrupted quickly added a “Sorry!

“Point is, you wouldn’t need’ta bring anythin’, it’s next week, at that one park near the gas station with slushies, I can tell ya more details later if ya want?”

Jake nodded before looking at his watch, he needed to continue walking if he wanted to make it for the cafeteria’s dinner. He quickly waved goodbye and headed back out of the alley, pocketing his knife.

By the time he made it to the hospital the cafeteria was bustling. Jake quickly grabbed his food, it was watery soup and bread today, before leaving the loud area.

Jake balanced his meal tray in one hand to knock on Zoey’s door. After a beat of silence he opened the door.

“Hey Z! I’m back from school, I still needa check in with Joy but I said hi to a couple other people on my way here so she probably already knows. She’s been real strict ‘bout knowin’ where I am lately. I think it's prolly ‘cause I got picked up by that gang last week, they didn’t do anythin’, I was jus’ hangin’ out with’em, but I guess social services didn’t like that I was hangin’ out with a,” he set down his tray and threw off his backpack to use his hand for air quotes, “‘violent gang’ such as the Cat’s Claws. They’re honestly not that bad.”

Jake drug the armchair closer to his plate and Zoey’s bed, picking up his milk carton to clink it against her feeding tube gently. He drank his soup slowly, enjoying the few pieces of meat and feeling proud every time he chewed a potato. He had been helping in the hospital garden when he could. Something social services had made him do to keep him off the streets but he still enjoyed it.

“Y’know, S.S’s been strugglin’ lately Z. Well, they always are, but really, after all that trouble I told ya ‘bout they’ve been breathin’ down my neck lately. They don’t like the idea of me livin in a hospital, this one worker told me I was goin to disrupt the peace, or waste people's time, y’know cause it’s a hospital and doctors an’ nurses need to focus, but I’ve been tryin real hard to blend in, I stayed out late to not clog the hallways but then they yelled at Joy ‘cause I kept gettin inta trouble, even when I wasn’t!

“Jus’ cause I hang out with criminals doesn’t make me one! I mean, someone has’ta take care of ‘em, else they’re all gonna die of infections, I tell ya, one time I met a lady who had let a lill’ stab wound get infected, it was so gross, but nobody wanted to help her so I looked at it and guess what, she just needed to wash it out a bit and properly bandage it. I showed ‘er how to make bandages from scraps like ya taught me. I’m ramblin’ uh.

“Oh yeah, so after they gave me that curfew I started tryin to make friends with the other patients and they were all real nice but S.S. didn’t like that either for some reason, somethin’ ‘bout it not bein professional, I can talk to other patients my age an’ that's it apparently. Like that makes sense. So now I ‘ave’ta check in every day after school, an’ before Joy leaves, an’ she locks us in here now! Have you noticed? She always unlocks it at five the next mornin’ but still. It’s been real borin.”

Jake pushed a strand of hair from Zoey’s face, it was to her shoulders now, she’d probably want to cut it when she woke up. Or maybe not, Jake was pretty sure she had only cut her hair in support of him having to cut his, she’d always had these really detailed hair styles before that. He wove a messy braid into a small bit of her hair and smiled at the attempt. 

“Sorry fer ramblin’, I know it’s annoyin’. But, uh, when ya wake up can you teach me how’ta braid hair please? Ok, I’mma go check in with Joy now, love you.”

He waited a moment, breathed in, breathed out. When nothing followed he quickly got up, pushing his chair back into place and collecting his dishes.

In the cafeteria it had quitted just a bit, most people had gone back to their rooms and work now. Entering the kitchen wasn’t really allowed but, like in many things, Jake was an exception. Entering the kitchen always felt like going under water and only hearing the muffled voices of the surface. 

The kitchen staff always talked in soft voices that mixed with the cling and clack of kitchen utensils. The sound of people in the cafeteria would worm it’s way through the walls and dance with the quiet music that played quietly from a trashy radio someone had fished out of a trash and repaired years ago. The smells of food stuck to a schedule just as much as the food. Today had been potato soup so the music was samba, Chef Maya’s playlist. 

She always danced her way around the kitchen but on samba days her movements would grow smoother like they’d been defrosted especially for the day. 

Jake quietly started running water over his dishes, happy to be looked over in the bustle. Tomorrow was fresh bread Friday so the kitchen was moving in a muffled hurry to prepare. Usually Jake would love to help, bread was one of his favorite things to make, but he still needed to check in with Joy so he quickly waved to the welcoming chefs and left. 

Joy was on the second level like always. She was checking in on a patient who had come in with a severe case of  Stardust yesterday. They hoped he would wake up in the coming days but it wasn’t likely. Jake hoped he woke up soon. From the door window Jake watched as Joy drew his blood and added it to her vial already filled with another liquid. She shook it until the red changed to a silvery metallic color, knitting her brows at the reaction, Jake mimicked her face, scrunching his brows in a similar fashion. 

Doctors had done this to Zoey every so often, more frequently when she first arrived, when they still had higher hopes. They’d let him shake the vials until the colors changed as a sort of morbid entertainment. 

Sighing, Joy zipped the blood sample into a contamination bag and checked the rest of the patient's vitals. When everything was in order she headed to the door, spotting Jake in the process. She knitted her brows at him and he quickly jumped off the stool he’d drug over to the door and carried it back to her desk. A minute later she walked out of the patient room and over to Jake, taking off her medical mask, and tossing her gloves into a garbage.

“See this line?” She pointed to the obvious silver and navy hazard line painted into the floor. 

Jake looked at it, taking another step behind the desk that was outside the line that separated the Stardust ward from the entrance of the floor.

“You see it, right?” Joy said again, tapping her foot on the line twice.

Jake nodded, eyes fixed on the simmering silvery lines nestled between the blue. Apparently the floor had been originally closed off with a temporary tape made for the epidemic but when it became a-

“You’re not supposed to be lookin round this floor,” She nagged, pulling Jake from his thoughts.

“I know,” he mumbled. When it became a permanent issue-

“If Social Services found out I was lettin’ you wander ‘round they’d move you again.”

“I know.” When it became a permanent issue they painted the line.

“That’d be what? 5 houses in 11 months? I mean, y’know they hate you livin’ here, and I can’t really disagree, it’s no place fer a kid.”

“I know.”

“As soon as a place opens up they’re gonna be itchin’ for a reason to kick ya.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she sighed, sitting on the floor next to him, “You're lucky we got yer sister moved for you, ya’know.”

Jake gave her the look, he gave her every time she said that, like he was lucky the hospital had given up on Zoey’s recovery enough to move floors, like they were waiting for her bed to open up, like he was lucky social services was so overworked that they were desperate enough to send a 13 year old [timephrame] to live in a hospital, in the same room as his comatose sister. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed.

He scrunched his face more, hoping to double whatever feeling it caused.

“Stop,” she groaned, squishing his face, causing him to freeze, “Sorry, uh,” she withdrew her hands and tucked them between her legs, “Sorry, yeah, yer not lucky, but, yeah. Take the wins kid. You're close to her, I mean, you practically lived here even ‘fore you officially got signed over. And now you get to have me as your legal guardian!” She pointed at herself excitedly, “How awesome is that?”

“You?” Jake asked quizzically.

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Jake hummed, pretending to think hard about how great it really was, “I don’ know. I had this one real cool guardian who taught me boxin’.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Jake popped the p, doing it a coupe times, liking the small pressure it caused in his chest and throat.

Joy chuckled, “How’d that work? Y’know, with the whole,” she waved her hands at him, not finishing her sentence.

“Uh, I don’ know, she jus’, took it real slow an’ had me practice with a dummy or spar with her but she wouldn’t spar back, only block. That took a while for me to be comfortable with. I almos’ got comfortable enough to have a normal practice, our goal was by the end of the month,” Jake smiled, remembering how excited she was to realize Jake trusted her that much.

“What happened? If you don’t mind?”

“Huh?” he cleared away the memories like a sticky residue,”oh, uh,” he thought for a second, trying to recall which offense matched her and not another guardian, “Oh! She was stealin’ from the district over, uh D-12, y’know the one with all those orchards, yeah they didn’t like that she was stealin all that produce, so she was sent to care for a field until she could properly make up for all the lost product. Should’a known somethin’ was up with how many smoothies she made me,” Jake smiled, remembering the apple milkshakes she’d make, at first he’d thought they’d be gross but let it be known he’d never turn down free food and sure enough they’d been a hit.

“Harsh. I think I hear Akuno’s passin’ a law ‘bout border crossin’ soon.”

“I think that’d do D-20 some good, wouldn’t have so many rich idiots passin’ through just to laugh at us.”

Joy hummed, patting her legs before getting up, “Alright, thanks for checking in, if not a bit late,” she added with a joking scolding voice, “I’ll check in before bed,” she turned to leave but suddenly turned back, “Oh, and, uh, so last week, right, Monday I think, we went to the library and I got the place’s number but I lost the slip and can’t remember it. I hate to do this but could you help me please?” She made an apologetics face clasping her hand in front of her.

Jake hummed trying to remember; last week, Monday, they had gone to the library, it had been sunny, but rain looked to be rolling in. Jake had been excited about that. He had wanted a book on observing vocal tone and needed to return his book on how to understand a person's body language. He’d found it, remembered where it was from the last time he visited, right next to a thick red book and a squat maroon book. When they left the librarian checking them out had talked to Joy, they’d had red hair, it was very pretty, Jake had thought their freckles were very pretty as well, he’d always liked freckles, the librarian had written down the library's number and handed it to Joy, and, oh! He had seen it then, in the exchange of hands.

“It was 218-734-345-3455, the five’s coulda been six’s though, they didn’t have the best handwriting.”

Joy wrote down the last number, making note of the five to six bit, “Perfect, thank you so much, I’ll call about that book fair for you asap, promise.”

“Ok.”

Jake waved goodbye, as Joy went to fulfill the rest of her tasks. First he went to the roof, helping with the garden, the potatoes had needed to be pulled today. Heading to the kitchen next they were still preparing bread and he found himself helping add things to mixers and memorizing recipes he was excited to try some day. Chef Ron loved to share tips on how to substitute expensive ingredients with cheap items. 

His brother, Remmy, always shared how to safely eat overdue food, he technically couldn’t share these items with the public but he would “accidently” leave items for Jake after “accidently” talking about the processes needed to safely eat the food or after they had already been prepared.  

Jake was writing a paper for his English class when Joy came to say goodnight.

“Hey sour patch,” she entered, chuckling at Jake’s huff of annoyance at the nickname he never understood, “Bed time,” she sing-songed, setting her bag on the floor, “Y’all ready?”

Jack hummed, focused on finishing his thought. Joy walked over to Zoey’s bed, flattening the odd wrinkles and fixing her stray hairs. Smiling at the girl, her eye’s softened for a second, then hardened with something like resolved. She inhaled, sipping air like it would solidify the emotions she was trying to press in place, not seeing the way Jake watched her. He had finished his thought, but finished or not he always secretly watched as Joy fussed with Zoey before getting him ready for bed.

Jake found himself copying her routine in the morning, making sure it looked just like how Joy did it. He could never perfect the tiny curl she would draw against Zoey’s cheek with a strand of hair.

“I’m ready,” he mumbled, setting the laptop in the nightstand drawer. 

“I better not find out you were on that all night,” Joy warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake lied. 

They both knew it was a lie, But this was a lie he wouldn't get punished for because one: it wasn’t really a lie as they both knew the truth, and two: Joy encouraged studying even if she didn’t approve of him studying into the early hours of morning. It was his own fault if he was tired in the morning and couldn’t focus at school, and that was punishment enough. 

“Pjs?” Joy scanned.

“Check,” Jake lifted his arm, revealing his soft pig sweater.

“Teef?”

“Check,” he widened his gums as if to prove they’d been scrubbed.

“Bed made?”

He pointed at the small cot in the corner, perfectly made.

“Window locked?” She walked to the window herself, checking the bolt and trying to lift it open. She turned away satisfied when it stayed closed, “Alright, school tomorrow, then right back. Amanda,” she sneered the name with a fake and horribly inaccurate posh accent, “is checkin’ in at four, so best behaviors. Now, in bed.”

She herded him into his cot, pulling the blanket over him and tucking in his feet.

“We gotta cut yer hair soon, it’s like a curtain in-fron-a yer eyes, how-d-ya even see?”

Jake crossed his eyes, pulling a curl and watching it bounce. Dad wouldn’t be a fan of this length, it was already too long, long enough to pull, reaching his nose and covering his ears.

“I don’t really know,” He lamented, “I jus sorta look through the gaps.” He swayed his head, watching the curls move back and forth, then looking through the gaps made with the movement.

Joy huff, “Right, Well, for now, I’ll bring some hair ties with me tomorrow, I can cut yer hair later this week, a’right?”

“Ok.”

  Picking up her bag again she turned off the light, “I’m gonna lock the door now, you don’t need anythin?”

“Nope.”

“Ok,” she smiled, “See you two in the mornin.” 

Jake smiled back, “See you tomorrow, bye.”

Jake listened as she locked the door and her footsteps receded. He waited a minute before climbing out of his bed and into Zoey’s. He technically wasn’t supposed to do this, however Joy, upon catching him one too many times, had shown him the best way to sleep close to her while watching all the medical instruments plugged into her like a computer. 

“Hey Zoey,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna stay long promise, jus wanted to talk real quick see-” Someone jiggled the door knob to their room, and Jake zipped back to his bed. Joy must have forgotten something, she did that sometimes, forgetting to mention something or forgetting to give him something. The jiggling stopped, Jake held his breath a moment, waiting for Joy to properly unlock the door and walk in but nothing happened. Maybe one of the patients was walking around, sometimes they got confused.

Jake made his way back over to Zoey, crawling into the bed, “Weird,” he mumbled, “I heard one of the new patients is a sleep walker, I wanted t’talk to ‘em, see what it was like. I wonder if they dream when they walk, if the dreams affect how they interact with the world. Anyway, I scored well on that test I told you ‘bout. I knew I’d do good but confirmation is always nice. Oh, and I got invited to a birthday party today. I think it was a real invitation, not a joke, Imma ask more questions tomorrow. Oh, an’ Peit and Simon, y’know my babysitters, made me cookies today. With chocolate chips, I know they definitely traveled districts for that, maybe they’ll take me with ‘em one’a these days, probably not, I’m a bit of a liability. Plus, I think it’s like a date thing for them, I wouldn’t want’ta third-wheel.”

Jake paused, listening to the bustle of the hospital.

“Hey Zoey,” he looked up to her, patting her cheek. He told himself he wasn’t trying to wake her up, but there was always hope that maybe she’d rustle awake at the touch, “could I sleep with you tonight? It’s been 46 days since the last time I did.” Jake waited, a car passed outside; somebody walked past their door, casting a shadow under it; somewhere in the building someone laughed. “Alright, thank you.”

Jake curled himself into Zoey’s side and under the cover, inhaling and exhaling slowly, until sleep finlay came, and he woke up in his library.

The Library was not, against most people’s assumptions, organized. There was a desk when Jake first entered. Here a Jake that looked exactly like him sat, this Jake, he was often just called Desky, had a little laptop like Jake’s out in the real world and it ran somewhat slow. If real Jake wanted to remember something like “yesterday's lunch” this was his best bet but for things more complicated like the phone number from earlier today, he found it easier to travers his mind and find the memory he wanted with context.

Memories were often accessed like doorways for most people and Jake was no different even with his advanced memory. If he wanted to remember last Tuesday's lunch he’d first find last Tuesday in his library, then remember lunch time, who he’d been with maybe, what the menu at school had had to offer, something key like a fist fight breaking out. This sounded organized but his mind was still somehow a mess. 

Memories sat on the ground and were strewn across the shelves in odd orders, remembering a duck could remind Jake of green which would remind him of apples so of course those memories shaped like books were all currently stacked on top of each other on the floor. There was a crate somewhere in this library that moaned and tried to grab Jake’s attention but he had hidden it behind so many other random memories that he could only access it by really trying to remember those memories, or something reminded him of them, but he never wanted to think about them anyway so the box stayed hidden and Jake didn’t know were in The Library it was. 

Sometimes when Peit and Simmon wanted to talk without him hearing they’d ask him to think about how many pigeons he’d seen last Monday and he was always too naive to realize why they were asking at the time so he would delve into his library looking through Monday’s book, looking for birds he had seen and counting each one. When he would resurface the two’s conversation would be interrupted with his answer, their conversations had already been finished anyway.

As much of a mess as it was Jake loved his library. The odd ‘roof’ above was a deep swirling blue galaxy, shifting in hues and twinkling with stars. Vines laced their ways around  books and objects, red roses and other flowers blooming from oblong the body. Forget-me-nots timidly grew from crevices here and there, and while there was no smell inside his head except the wafting of a memory Jake liked to imagine it smelled of lilies and old books, crinkled and weary with age. 

The shelves ran high, decorated with ladders that stretched taller than buildings. The shelves housed more than books, flowers and shrubs burst from their counters. Toys and food stuck in time sat on display. Some of the books, placed between a puddle and a bowl of cereal were actually books he’d read and taken the time to perfectly reconstruct in his mind.

He was never lonely here either, versions of himself walked aimlessly, one version from each birthday, a version from hard to erase memories, and versions from mundane days. Each one would never exist again, only here could they remain like a copy of himself in that moment. Jake hated to even look at some of them but he knew even still, in some odd way he was never alone. Or maybe he should take Joy up on that offer of therapy. 

Sometimes Jake wished he could dream but being in the muted quiet of his head, organizing his memories and objects, he felt he was resting enough. Jake smiled as he picked up a book filled with all the recipes he’d learned, deciding to create a shelf for food related memories. Memories could be held on more than one shelf so he left this first version on the floor next to the book on pigs.

Jake spent his sleep organizing his memories on his new shelf, finally after some time he felt himself start to drift, starting to wake up. He stretched his hands over his head, it didn’t achieve much but he felt like one was supposed to do this after a bigger task so he did it anyway. Taking a step back to admire his work, something cold settled under his skin and panic wiggled it’s way into his heart as instead of hitting the hardwood floor or even waking up in bed his foot sank down. Instead of hitting the ground he fell into the floor.

Chapter 2

⭐️Hello hello! This is a story I've held close to my heart for a long time but haven't written a lot of. The other day I realized that when I started writing it I had expected be done with the first book by 2024. I'm goin to try n write a chapter a month (it'll probably be pocmarked with spelling mistakes ngl) but it's a challenge I hope I can keep up with 🌙

[starry-eyed-rat]

Hang My Body

Episode one

Summary- a boy named Cedric lives in the wreckage of a woods with his mother. His mother dies, and he decides to go to a safe place his mother dreamt of.

(Tw: death)

It’s been three days, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like it’s been 10 years and five seconds all at once. The stench of decay is all that lets me know it’s been more than a few hours, and less than a week. It’s been three days since my mom died, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s not like it was a shock. Mom was sick. She made sure I knew that. She’d always tell me to be ready for when she wasn’t there. She told me over, and over again, but I guess it didn’t sink in. I collapsed onto the ground sobbing. Desperately grasping Tommy, a stuffed bear. Everything felt too hot and too cold all at once. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with her. It was torturous.

She asked me one thing before she died, she said, “Cedric, when I die, hang my body.” It was so the bears wouldn’t eat it. Or, at least would have a harder time getting to it.

It took me a few hours to actually put her up there. For a little bit I just sat there. I hugged her body as tightly as I could. But ignoring her final wishes felt wrong.

I strenuously tried to sit up. It felt like the weight of the world was pushing me down. Demanding I stayed on the floor. I held Tommy. I held him tightly, as tight as I could. Shutting my eyes and pretending he was my mom. Trying to avoid the truth. I knew I probably couldn’t stay near her body for too long. First of all the smell was nauseating. Like rotting meat, with a horrid underlying sweet smell. I thought corpses smelt bad, But I’d only ever smelt animal ones. Human ones are different. Worse than anything you’ve ever smelt. Secondly, as much as I don’t want to admit it, her corpse would start drawing animals soon. People don’t like corpse smell, but animals do. Flies had already started to collect around her. The rope tying mom up would break soon. She would drop on the floor and larger animals would eat her. If animals were nearby, they wouldn’t just take some rotting meat. They’d take the fresh stuff too. Being eaten by something wasn’t an idea I was entirely fond of. That led me to leave.

I pulled a piece of paper out of my bag, a map. It was crumpled, stained and frankly disgusting. A map to a safe house. A big one too. Mom wanted to go there. She said everything would be better there. The weather would be warmer, the food would be fresher, the animals nicer, and the people healthier. Perfection. Mom said that it would be how the world was when she was a kid. The way things were supposed to be, she’d say. I don’t know if I even want that. I don’t even know what the world used to look like. Whether or not I’d even like it. Right now that wasn’t important though. Right now, I needed to pack my things and find out where this map lead. I wrapped my eye in a new layer of gauze, buttoned up my jacket, and shoved Tommy into my bag.

[toribookworm22]

Happy WBW! What color is the sky of your world? The water?

Hey, CJ. Thanks for the ask, love!

In all but a few of my stories, I'm pulling from some portion of reality that maintains the same.

HOWEVER, that is not true for my post-apocalyptic story. In it, the sky is always green, with the shades varying from sickly acid green to healthier teals to stormy forest greens. And while the water-- if it existed in oceans still-- would be clear but look blue-- there are only two sources of water now. Either the acid rain that is stained black or green or the few remaining stocks of only muddied water tinted browns.

[bethanydelleman]

One of the things I loved about The Wild Robot from a writing/world-building perspective was that it was clearly set in a post-apocalyptic world, but the details were very vague, and you don't even know until about an hour in:

"Beautiful shot," you think, and then it hits you that the whales are swimming over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Abandoned, crumbling satellites and a sunken city. And then when we do see the human city, they freak out at the sight of geese:

Animal-derived plague? Global warming? We don't know. We only know that something has happened. But like the general theme, whatever bad has occurred, the natural world is thriving. An unexpected positive from a history of tragedy.

[scipunk]

Battle Angel Alita (1993)

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

A link design!!! For a story that’s solid enough in my head to possibly become a comic ehehe

some notes:

Link has been Heroing for some time now, with minimal success. He’s a bit grumpy.

he also has a bulky brown overcoat, but I haven’t figured out what it looks like yet so i didn’t draw it lol

the gloves are to hide his scar, but also help in the cold. Because this Hyrule is rather cold :)

The overtunics are both pretty new, which is the only reason they aren’t torn to bits. The same person who made them mended his pants and made his hat, which is why the patches match cloth in other parts of his outfit.

the scar on his face is from a lizalfos. I figured, if the Dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park gets to spit acid, then shouldn’t a lizalfos get to too? So it’s an acid burn. He’s lucky he dodged most of it!

I’m still figuring out how to accurately depict the scars, so they don’t look quite right yet! With research and practice I’ll get there!

the other scar I will not get into for plot reasons hehe

This is the same story the above Zelda design is for!! I’ve posted her design in varying stages before, here, here and here, but the story in the previous posts has changed a bit since!! There are also some really old doodles of Link if you (hehe) follow the links.

the above is Zelda’s formal dress. I designed it with a girl a little younger than her in mind, because she loses most of her wardrobe when she’s about 12! So I really ought to draw this on her younger self XD

Finally, scrapped Ganondorf and Link designs!!!

don’t look into these too much as I’m only putting them here because I’ll never post them otherwise; they do not fit the story at all lol

Ganondorf is gonna be… really hard to design… I made him a very complex character and his personality is so intertwined with the story there is a lot to be taken into account XD

ummm that’s all for now!!! I doubt many people will read all this but feel free to send asks if you have questions nevertheless :D

[unboundprompts]

hello! stumbled across your tumblr recently and love it, so resourceful! I wanted to know if you had any prompts or a list of ideas for things to occur/prevent someone going to their destination in a dystopian/post-apocalyptic world?

Problems That May Occur in a Dystopian/Post-Apocalyptic World

The fresh water supply is running low and your character needs to find a resource to replenish it.

A family member or loved one has fallen ill and your character needs to care for them/find the medicine they need.

The map your character has been following was ruined by the rain.

An animal/monster/rival group is attacking your character's home!

Someone important to your character has gone missing.

The wall around your character's base has fallen. It needs to be rebuilt before *it* gets in.

A storm is passing through and the conditions are too rough for your character to continue traveling. They need to find shelter before it gets any worse.

A dead animal has been found in the middle of your character's base.

Something is causing the food supply to rot.

A group of thieves has robbed your character while traveling.

Some kind of creature has been stalking your character during their travels. I hope it's friendly.

One of the wheels on your character's mode of transportation has broken/gone flat.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[whereserpentswalk]

It is a lovely morning. This is the seventh day of your existence. You are a humanoid robot. You were made to help people. Right now you're working in a large building in a city, you don't really know what's outside the city. There are men in suits who tell you to go little jobs for them, like sending emails, or bringing them whatever food is. They all seem really impressed with the technology that went into you, you think they like you, and they say nice things to you. You like helping people you think, this is what you were build for you think.

It is a grey morning, you think there are ashes in the sky now. This is the seventh year of your existence. Even machines like you have been conscripted into the war effort. They added weapons to your body, it feels so weird, to have new limbs that weren't there before. They say this is how you help people now, you don't like it, you didn't see so many people unhappy at your old job. You don't like having to shoot people, it hurts to have people be afraid of you. You enjoy the people they have fight alongside you but it hurts to see them die. Occasionally there are white lights in the sky that all the men hold their thumbs up to, you don't understand why, but you are afraid, you are very afraid.

It is a smoke filled day today, there are ashes in the sky. This is the seventieth year of your existence. You found another group of survivors today, you try to identify any illnesses they may have, and treat what you can. You travel with them looking for fertile land, you remember more about what is lost than they do, the new generations of survivors don't even understand what the world was. But you help them, they all seem so impressed with you, you're something ancient and magical to them, they call you a "golem", you enjoy that word. You don't want to fight anyone but your appearance is enough to scare off most raiders. Everyone looks up to you so much, the children talk about you like you're some sort ot superhero, and when people are afraid of something they'll come to you. When you're able to find hidden stores of food for them they look at you like you're some sort of divine gift. It's been awhile since you've been able to help people like this, it feels good.

The sky is starting to clear, as are the ashes. It is your seventh human generation of existing. You stand in front of a newly reclaimed town, you think it is the local king’s capital. The people don't even think you're ancient technology anymore, they think you were made by God, or a wizard, it's best to play along. The local king tells you to fight off enemies inside or outside the town, you don't like doing it but it's good to have influence over him and its sons, so they don't do anything worse. Everyone in the kingdom is nice to you at least, the armed men all look up to you as an ancient folk hero of some sort. You don't like how they outsiders see you though, you're feared as the king's greatest weapon. Sometimes you're just asked to move stuff with your strength, and that feels good. You like it when the children of the kingdom get excited to meet you, even adults do too now. You've even seen some people pray to you, you think they think you're an angel, you're not sure how you feel about that part.

The day is lovely and the sky blue and clear. In is your seven-hundredth year of existence. You're only ever handled by trained archeologists now, you understand, you enjoy helping them find out more about the staff. Useally you're put in a display case at a meusum, in the middle of city, a city that's younger than you. You like how the people look at you, they're all so impressed with you, some of the locals talk about how you helped their ansestors, how you're a part of their history. It's like they're thanking you, for your help. It hurts to move, someday you won't be able to move at all. But you're still helping now, helping them learn, helping them remember, you hope that's how it is at least. It's been a long time since you've sensed ashes in the sky.

[closetdystopia]

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I'm starin' down the lens, and it's like lookin' into an abyss that's swallowed the guy I used to be. These wires, they're not just connected to my body; they're tethered to whatever's left of my soul. It's a mental labyrinth, and every thought's a dead-end, every emotion's a flickerin' light about to go out. I keep pullin' on these threads, hopin' to find some fragment of me that's still real, still human. But the more I pull, the more they unravel, 'til there's nothin' left to hold onto. The last flicker of emotion, the last shred of hope— it's all gone. I'm just a shell in a world that's moved on, a ghost in the machine with no place to haunt.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

>> PJT36v7

Links:

[ Redbubble Store ]

[ Etsy Store ]

[ Pinterest ]

[ Instagram ]

[tofu83]

For The Good Of Mankind

The old society collapsed but a utopian society rose from the ashes. There are only 3 kinds of people existing: Authorities, Servants and Laborers.

Authorities follow the advice of supercomputers to govern society. Servants serve the authorities and carry out orders from superiors. Laborers obey the orders carried out by servants to work and engage in production. No one will be jobless because everything is calculated by supercomputers.

If everyone abides by the guidance of the super computer, society will maintain harmony, and mankind cannot afford to be destroyed again. Therefore, anyone who violates the rules must be punished immediately without trial, because the super computer is infallible, absolutely just and compassionate.

Workers who violate the rules are often reported to the servants by the people around them, and the servants immediately assign law enforcement robots to arrest the violators and send them to jail. The servants then summarize the situation and report it to the authorities. The authorities will ask the supercomputer for its opinion and impose punishments. If a servant dares not to arrest or report, other servants will arrest him. If a leader makes decisions without asking the super computer, his colleagues will just ask servants to send robots to catch him.

A prisoner is usually sentenced to reform through labor, but if he is already a laborer, this means that he cannot be reformed anymore. The only fate that awaits him is transformation. He will be escorted to the Transformation Factory by law enforcement robots. There he will be stripped off all his clothes, shaved all hairs from head to toe, and put into a transformation capsule. The capsule will release sleeping gas to make him appear half asleep and half awake.

Several tubes were pierced into his skin and the transformation fluid was injected, turning his bones into alloys, his blood into motor oil, his muscles into reinforced fibers, and his skin into invulnerable armor. As for the appearance of his head, it is a perfect oval. His head becomes a small computer that can directly receive messages from the supercomputer but is temporarily authorized to give instructions to some humans. The original eye area has become a small screen that can display current tasks and regulations to the person he is facing.

The process seems painful, but with the help of gas and nanotechnology, he is actually moved by incomparable joy and glory. He will no longer be a problem, will not be a threat to social order, and will not cause mankind to face destruction again. On the contrary, he will absolutely obey and implement all instructions of the super computer, arrest and transform all diehards like the old himself!

What's more important, he no longer has to take responsibility for his actions. Because he is no longer an individual, but a robot, one of many drones. The supercomputer is his Master and will be responsible for making decisions. All he has to do is obey. It's so wonderful to be freed from the shackles of responsibility. It turns out that giving up your sense of self is true freedom!

"Thank you, Master! I swear I will obey you forever." He shouted his loyalty to the supercomputer in infinite pleasure, and then the last trace of humanity disappeared.

The capsules are opened and all new law enforcement robots walk out in unison and line up towards the factory exit. After being assigned by the super computer, they will report to their respective law enforcement units to show all citizens the consequences of disobedience and the benefits of obedience.

Thanks to the supercomputer, the real Master of mankind, the earth has been peaceful for another day.

Finally, please always remember, when you find it difficult to obey the rules but don't want to destroy the peace, the Transformation Factory always welcomes volunteers to contribute to social stability.

[billtergiest]

The knight and the bard <3

[plotandelegy]

Crafting Future From Ruins: A Writer's Guide to Designing Post-Apocalyptic Technology

Photo: Standard License- Adobe Stock

Crafting post-apocalyptic tech involves blending creativity and realism. This is a guide to help you invent tech for your post-apocalyptic world:

Tinker, Tailor, Writer, Spy: Start with modern tech. Take it apart (conceptually or literally if you're feeling adventurous). Using the basics, think of how your character might put it back together with limited tools and resources.

Master the Fundamentals: Understand the basic principles underlying the tech you're working with. Physics, chemistry, and biology can be your best friends. This understanding can guide your character's resourceful innovations.

Embrace the Scrapyard: The world around you has potential tech components. Appliances, vehicles, infrastructure - how could these be deconstructed and repurposed? Your characters will need to use what's at hand.

Cherishing Old Wisdom: Pre-apocalypse books and manuals are the new internet. A character with access to this knowledge could become a vital asset in tech-building.

Indigo Everly

[luwyv]

I give you a very self indulgent old oc drawing

It’s been a while since I had so much fun making a fully rendered drawing

[lorenzonuti]

I've been carrying out a personal project for some time. It all started just for fun. I wanted to create an Instagram profile where upload some sexy pinups every now and then (nothing too extreme, just an excuse to draw some nudes, yep Instagram was the right choice, stupid me). But drawing pinups without a context bored me so I created a character trying to build a bit of background around. In the end, now she has a story I would like to try to finish to tell, but they banned it from instagram ( xD). Will I succeed here?

The opening is the result of my attempt to understand something in animation. Be patient, I'm a beginner ^^'.

If you are interested here you can find the page dedicated exclusively to this content (if they don't ban me. Lol.):

https://dudydoodie.tumblr.com/

or on page X (Twitter):

https://twitter.com/DudyDoodie

The contents can be considered nsfw cause the main character is naked even if no one in the story seems to care. There are also tons of ref from animes, videogames and others 90s stuff.

Twitter (X) | Instagram | Artstation

[rendside]

your art is beautiful im rly curious about your wc ocs as well!!! what happened to harpy?

Harpy’s injury was by an attempt to drown him on the day where he was supposed to become the leader, by the previous leader. (Leaders in greater way are known as crown holders.)