#postapo au

[sygneth]

that was actually how it all started in my head, the post-apo AU that is! This whole idea has no sense whatsoever but it's fun to draw, so may happen on occasion

(later same night:)

[amrehmar]

Kineema Key

based on @sygneth's postapo disco inferno au

No one else in the shelter was awake. Only Kim. He sat by the fire, deep in thoughts, feeling for the key in his pocket. A simple key with a leather-wrapped keychain, with every notch familiar to his fingers. Cool metal quickly heated up from touch. The key belonged to his Coupris Kineema. Kim never dared to check the place where he parked her last time; looking at ruins, surrounding their shelter, did that place still exist? He wanted to keep the image of Kineema as she was the day he left her. The dear smell of leather interior, the windows covered with raindrops, the shiny metal with RCM markings - a memory of what is lost forever. She had almost no chance of surviving the apocalypse and there was only one way to find out.

"Get a grip, Kitsuragi," he muttered through his teeth, clutching the key tightly in his hand, "After all the scars life has left on you, can't you survive another one?".

There was no answer. Only the fire crackled, throwing sparks into the night.

[skambigbang]

Today we feature "In the Cracks Where Flowers Bloom" by @112ance with art by vantablack! Are you squeeing as much as we are for post-apocalypse Evak?

112ance: What inspired this story?

The recent HBO adaptation of the 2013 video game "The Last of Us." On a more personal note, a friend of mine who is also a fellow writer in this very Big Bang. Stories set in post-apocalyptic worlds also intrigue me, and this paved the opportunity to create my very own story in this particular universe.

Vantablack: What inspires you about this story?

When I first read the excerpt I knew it was something I wanted to work with. I'm a huge fan of The Last of Us, both the games and the show (needless to say I love Skam) and I always wanted to read a postapo AU. I think it was a great idea to combine these two worlds. I'm really exited to create something for this story.

The Skam Big Bang 23 starts posting June 21st!

[propagandistisk]

8?

8. what's your favourite au?

i thought about it for a while but all aus i know i think are rather considered in terms of human aus? and i don't really know what to count as a separate au at this point (lawyer den and physicist nor is my hot take? warm take? mild take.)

i have this steampunk-paramilitary-monster hunters-postapo alternate universe i created in 2020 that some people surely might remember, but i stopped posting about it for a long time because it's exactly the one i want to work more on if god wills. i really like it as it's aesthetic is inspired by my favourite band and my mountain trips, so it's close to my heart

one day,

[windydrawallday]

You know WHAT I'll gonna list too stuff I want to draw more/finish to draw that's Transformers related:

As expected, I got a lot of Lockprowl artworks... that are sequential, and that is the main reason is taking me time to finish each pic for each set.

One of them is a mockery of "Pocky Day", more comedic than romantic even if there are stasis cuffs involved.

The other features Lockdown's Cybercanines (with my own design of Steeljaws) and Prowl's meeting... and taming the doggos without fuss, to Lock's aggravation.

A long One Shot Comic that shows how they see each other's "cooperation" and impact after a bunch of intermittent collaborations, heavy in dialogue and interior scenes of the Death's Head.

Another One Shot Comic that probably sets before the one before, again heavy in dialogue exchange and I can see I'll keep minimal details too: is during a night comm call from Prowl to Lockdown after weeks of what happened in "A Fistful of Energon".

One more One Shot that's not quite a comic because I did it as an experimentation in camera angles and used minimal dialogue and colors of the two rascals chasing each other for fun.

Classical Assorted Lockprolw Cuddles Pics by Windy (TM). The reason why I don't release these frequently like I did before is because my brain says "But what if we can use that pose for an actual comic/complex scene?" and so, I keep hoarding and saving pfff.

Misc TF AUs:

Predaking's Design/Reference for the Dinoformers PostApo AU that belongs to @magicalmousey.

Ratchet, Wheejack and Perceptor's (Human) Designs/References for The Lighthouse (Merfolk AU; they are a trio of scientists/aquatic life researchers).

I want to Remake Lockdown and Drift's Merfolk Design to look WICKER than ever! There's one for Shockwave and Blitzwing that's half there too.

I only have floating notes in Keep but, I want to do a heavier/long Sequence for @sug4r-melon 's Shrike story after Prowl's departing and Lockdown dealing with the grief of it with the aid of the sparkling.

I know I don't need to rush on these but, acknowledging them helps me to cope a bit and be more mindful in not putting so much pressure over my shoulders lmao

[itsdark0ut]

„No One Sleeps At Night”* [Info panel]

[*or „It’s Dark Out”]

Mcyt AU by: @littlescammer & @pvmpkim

Ilustrated by: @pvmpkim & @ari-axis

Basic info:

- - -

What caused the apocalypse?

Due to unknown reasons Earth has stopped moving around its axis. It caused half of the globe dive in non-passing night while the other half become dry and burned because of the sun.

- - -

Why is the action taking place only on the non-passing night side?

Despite the darkness, most of the survivors decided to fight for their life on the night side, because it is easier to find water there. It is also possible to grow plants in greenhouses thanks to that. You only need to find a good source of energy (other than solar energy).

- - -

Is this world build more in Minecraft world of more classic postapo world realities?

Due to the fact that postapo is a science fiction sub-genre and the situation with the Earth just stopping is unlikely to happen, we decided not to include the classic mobs that can be found in Minecraft as an everyday element, so that we can get closer to real life world. Therefore we will put redstone connotations and the story will most likely include [SPOILER ALLERT!]:

- minecraft origins (or at least those that managed to survive ehe) which will be refereed as “hybrids”* and “races”**

- Warden (:D), Ancient City and Deep Dark stuff

- overgrown spiders, phantoms and new additions to the Earths fauna and flora. 👽👍🏻

- - -

Hybrids and Races case

For example - Jimmy is a hybrid because he has human and non-human genes, but in reality he is a different race because he is an so called avian. He has many changes that make him unlike a human, despite having a partially humanoid appearance.

Races that have human genes in them can be called hybrids (although some may be offended), but not all hybrids can be called a race. There are cases of mutations that are too few to be passed on to offspring, or to create any at all. Changes to the appearance or function of a hybrid that is not eligible to start a new race are lost with them upon their death.

It's too early to tell yet, but it is suspected that by stopping the Earth, hybrids' ability to procreate has decreased, thus preventing races from settling, which may explain why is it easier to meet a one-of-a-kind hybrid than a representative of a particular race.

- - -

Who will be included in the ido/nosan series?

Minecraft personas mostly from so called Hermempires (Hermicraft + Empires), maybe NewLife SMP, don’t know yet. I don’t plan on adding anyone from DSMP or QSMP.

- - -

How will the series begin? How will your posts look like?

I ( @littlescammer ) will be posting here something similar to chapters or diaries if I feel a need to show you how a single situation looked in mind of a character. The “chapters” will mix of different POVs of various groups or duos starring in the series and I will be using omniscient narrator for that. Diaries will be posted as 1st person narrator, obviously.

Also sorry for my mistakes, this is my very first time writing something like this in English which is not my native language. 🙏🏻 Fell free to correct me. 🧍🏼‍♂️❤️

So I am the writer and @pvmpkim & @ari-axis are illustrators. 🤝

Btw we are starting with ranchers POV, because the illustrator 1 said so. ;)

- - -

How should I call the series? “It’s Dark Out” or “No One Sleeps at Night”?

Well… First name for this AU was “No One Sleeps at Night” and it was my idea. I liked it, because it sounds nice and poetic in my native language and it was pretty spontaneous. Also the acronym for this in English translation is NOSAN which sounds like “no sun” which is… Correct. XD But before I noticed that @pvmpkim decided to call the AU “It’s Dark Out” (instantly in english) because it’s more clear and plain. So yeah…

I guess we will be using two for now and we will se which one will work better in future. Maybe I will make a pool if the series would gain more attention.

- - -

This post will be edited to add more info! :D

[goth-automaton]

😐😈👩‍🏭 for the fanfic ask!

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

That I can't do longer, deep descriptions for life. Why does my writing always sound so dry and laconic?!

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

Cramming as much mpreg, drama and mpreg related drama into my fics as humanly possible. ^^" Brace yourselves, my current WIP will be a fucking tragedy.

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Not a single one (yet)... But I have a couple of pretty controversial ideas (that'll probably not get written for this reason). Like, starting with a postapo AU, where Xemnas owns a brothel, most of the cast are prostitutes with dark past, Axel is dead, Saïx is pregnant, Zexion is traumatised to hell and back, Marluxia most likely have killed someone and, in general, everything sucks (except for Larxene, this girl is pretty content with her current predicament). ^^" But if I reeeeeally had to choose, I'd say my last fic in the old fandom (which is why I locked it for logged in users only... Maybe I'll orphan it, I dunno).

Thank you! 💜

Fanfic Ask Game (the movie, the sequel)

[teratheo]

Had very vivid dreams again (yesterday I dreamed abt szekh and A TON of stuff was "lore-accurate").

Today I had a dream I was listening to an audiobook of a "breaking bad official Apocalypse!AU sequel". The scene of the dream was me imagining what I heard.

Long story short, Walter White was a fisher, pissed off at ppl, the audiobooks reader voice was very close to WW in the show and it was written in 1st person. Siddenly boom apocalypse and hes leaning into all the most edgy apo tropes, killing for loot, doing shady deals, betrayal etccc

Meanwhille his son was an apo prepper but in the hopeful way. He researched a ton of sustainable farming, water cleaning, how to make energy and repair stuff like that, make effective defences etc. He went with friends to a bigger survivor camp and just. Bettered everyones lives. They were living two completely different postapo genres MDJDNXJJS

[oddtinspeas]

Oh Miss Maggie postapo modern AU with Aemond wasn’t sth I had expected from your next story, but now I know it was what I definitely needed. Your writing is amazing as always, I already like Chips and Rio, and I’m also already crushing on this Aemond. Zombies were the only monsters I feared from “the most known” pool and actually I still fear them, but my teenage self decided one day in middle school that we would start watching TWD and I think that I desensitised myself in the matters of reading about them and watching them? But TWD also taught me that the worst monsters during the apocalypse are people and I think this kind of AUs gives a lot of chances for breaking readers' hearts by making characters go through hell, so knowing your Suffering Sundays we’re indeed here for the ride, aren’t we? And I actually thank you for that, because it’s always Sundays’ only asset 💚

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[blogapart3bis]

« Espérer le soleil », de Nelly Chadour

Aujourd'hui sur Blog à part – « Espérer le soleil », de Nelly Chadour Le soleil a disparu derrière l’hiver nucléaire. Ce qui réjouit les vampires, mais déprime les Londoniens, dans Espérer le soleil, de Nelly Chadour. #PostApo #Fantastique #Vampires

Il y a sept ans que le soleil a disparu derrière les nuages de l’hiver nucléaire. Ce qui réjouit les vampires, mais déprime les Londoniens, tous deux – et quelques autres – au cœur du roman de Nelly Chadour, Espérer le soleil. Dernier refuge d’une Europe incinérée par les bombes atomiques de Staline, la Grande-Bretagne se réfugie dans ses réflexes d’ex-Empire. Elle exploite avec mépris les…

[sygneth-archives]

This is my archive side-blog (as you might have noticed), where I keep all my art. My main account is @sygneth, but if you only want to see my art, maybe actually follow this one.

!TRIGGER WARNINGS FROM MAIN ACCOUNT APPLY! [link]

Also: art here means all art. Drawings, writing, photos, crafts. (Mainly drawings though.)

Index:

Fandoms are tagged by most obvious fandom name (ex. #disco elysium, #acd holmes, #granada holmes, #good omens)

Characters are tagged by most obvious character name (ex. #crowley, #harry du bois, #john watson)

Sherlock Holmes College Adventures (Holmes&Trevor comic series) are tagged additionally with #holmes college adventures

Echoes of Elysium comic in tagged by #echoes of elysium ONLY! (not included in main DE tag)

Postapocaliptic Disco Elysium AU (on hiatus but I feel it's not over yet) is tagged #postapo disco inferno ONLY! (not included in main DE tag)

My OC content is tagged #sonnaa and #my OCs

My photos are tagged #photography

My fanfics are tagged #fanfiction and by respective fandom tags

Handicraft is tagged #handicraft and all things I do with the furniture, antique or new, are in the #furniture, naturally.

[sygneth]

i might have accidentally made a postapo AU (Revachol bombed 20 years earlier) don't ask

[angeart]

and 24!

24. What work would you like to talk more about?

this is a tricky question. because the answer is all of them kxjbnjn

i feel like i don't talk enough about hmtb. (i don't know what people want to hear, and my head is full of spoilers that are off-limits, soo i end up just not being sure how to tackle rambling about it? if that makes sense? but any questions or incentive to talk about it, and i'm in!!)

i also need to be more insane about the boatem circus. that found family crew is so precious. there's something really nice about a group of people with their own issues who come together and gently guide each other out of the horrors of their pasts. (only for me to burn it all down-) i'd love to talk more about the boatem circus!

but. but to be fair. i'd love to talk more about many of my other aus, too. (i know they're technically not "works" but. one day they might be??) hhau is obviously on the mind, always spinning there, living rent free in my head. then there's the postapo au i once made on a whim, and vampire scar au made similarly randomly, and sleep demon grian, and cursed forest, and and and-

yeah

yeah the answer is all of them. (oops?)

--- >> question from this ask game

[advena87]

And how about a Witcher in postapo AU, something like a combination of Resident Evil, Mad Max and maybe a bit of Universal Soldier?

I know my English is shit but just hear me out.

The war is hanging on a continent, the Nilfgaard Empire is arming itself to attack the North Union. The North Union is setting up a team of scientists to create genetically modified soldiers to fight the forces of the Empire. They manage to create a small squad of super soldiers, but there is a split among scientists. Some of them withdraw due to moral dilemmas (human experiments). The military-scientific corporation - Salamandra - is also withdrawing from the project after corporation president Jacques de Aldersberg and chief scientist Azar Javed disappear in mysterious circumstances.

Meanwhile, a mysterious virus called Catriona is turning on the military front, transforming people into zombies, which significantly weakens the strength of the Northern Union. Nilfgaard conquers Cintra and enters Temeria - Velen, and nobody knows what's really going on there. But there are rumors that in Velen was seen Catriona infected people who have kept consciousness and intelligence. Velen becomes no man's land overrun by zombies. The virus stops both armies in place. So Nilfgaard begins to cross north through Lyria and Rivia.

At the same time, Temerian spies learn about a virus-resistant girl who is in Cintra (Ciri ofc). Secretly from Nilfgaard, they want to transport her to Redania and get a vaccine from her. Unfortunately about the girl and her escort (Blue Stripes) hearing is lost at the border of Temria, Redania and Aedirn. Councilor Foltest decides to send two teams of genetically modified soldiers. One is to find a girl, the other to escort scientists to Velen to take samples for research and find out what is actually going on there.

Council of the Northern Union:

Foltest - chairman of the council, is murdered along with Demavend as a result of the Nilfgaard conspiracy. After his death, Nilfgaard entered Lyria and Rivia as well as Temeria and conquered Vizima. Major fights are currently underway there.

Radovid - After Foltest's death, he takes over the chairmanship of the Council. He puts all the major scientists in jail, he doesn't allow anyone to work on the antidote to Catriona on his own, he wants to control the drug and thereby gain more power. He orders the murder of Henselt, who is the greatest threat to him after the death of Foltest and Demavend.

Demavend - murdered together with Foltest as a result of Nilfgaard's plots. After his death, the self-proclaimed leader Saskia and her guerrillas led by Iorveth take over Aedirn.

Henselt - murdered at Radovid's orders, was a serious candidate for chairman of the Council after the deaths of Foltest and Demavend.

Calanthe - she was the first to die as a result of Nilfgaard's actions, after her death Nilfgaard took over Cintra.

Meve - She took an active part in fighting on the front, disappeared on the battlefield, her fate is unknown.

Esterad Thyssen - after death of Foltest and Demavend, he broke the pact with the Union, trying to cut off Kovir and Poviss from the war. He secretly granted asylum to the scientists wanted by Radovid, funded their vaccine research, and continued research on genetically modified soldiers.

Genetically modified soldiers, commonly called Witchers Squad.

Wolf Team - The main strike team, the most stable, consisting of experienced soldiers. Soldiers included in the project of their own free will. Their specialization is close combat, on an open fire. They were to escort the second Witcher Team and scientists to Velen and then set out to look for Blue Stripes and Ciri. In Velen they learned that the girl and her escort had been taken to Vergen.

Wolf Team members:

Vesemir - Team commander. He served earlier in the Kaedwenian Army, joined the program on a volunteer basis.

Geralt - served earlier under Vesemir in the Kaedwenian Army. Together with Vesemir he volunteered for the program.

Eskel - served earlier under Vesemir in the Kaedwenian Army. Together with Vesemir he volunteered for the program.

Lambert - selected from recruits from the Kaedwen military academy, the youngest member of the team. He was against the program, but he joined it because his friend did.

Berengar - previously served in the military corporation Salamandra, was a volunteer from them who took part in the experiment. He had an episode in the Kaedwenian Army; he knew Vesemir before. He turns out to be a double agent acting on the orders of Salamandra. Eventually, he turns away from the corporation and remained loyal to the Team.

_______

Cat Team - Quite unstable team, it consists of people whose genes were highly susceptible to mutations. They come from social margins and mercenaries, they joined the project for a good pay. A light mobile group, they specialize in long-range combat (snipers), scouting, and are able to get into buildings that are difficult to access (parkour). Their task was to escort scientists to Velen and care for their safety. They also had a secret mission from Radovid.

Cat Team members:

Jad Karadin - Team commander, he previously worked as a mercenary. After reaching Velen and separating from the Wolf Team he betrayed the scientists along with Brehen and Gaetan. He was ordered to take over the research and notes and deliver it to Radovid with the scientists. Karadin also murdered Henselt on Radovid's orders.

Gaetan - Former mercenary. Along with Karadin and Brehen betrays scientists at the behest of Radovid.

Brehen - Former mercenary and thief. Together with Karadin and Gaetan betrays scientists at the behest of Radovid.

Aiden - the only member of the team from the military academy (the same as Lambert), joined the project because he needed money. Together with Kiyan, he tried to protect scientists from the rest of his team. The scientists managed to escape, but their research was taken over, and Aiden was captured by Karadin and handed over to Radovid. Radovid's scientists made experiments on Aiden and Kyian later.

Kiyan - along with Aiden tried to protect scientists from the rest of his team. He was also captured and handed over to Radovid. Radovid's scientists made experiments on him and Aiden later.

_______

Viper Team - A team of former prisoners and criminals, included in the project in exchange for amnesty. They specialize in infiltration and assassinations.

Viper Team members:

Kolgrim - Team commander, as the only one in the team was not a criminal. He previously commanded the security service of the Council of the North Union. He believed in his team, considered them fully resocialized. His and his team's call was to protect Councilors, unfortunately he was betrayed, and as a result Foltest and Demavend were killed.

Letho - A former prisoner and criminal. Along with Serrit and Egan, he was bribed by Nilfgaard and killed Foltest and Demavend.

Serrit - A former prisoner and criminal. Along with Letho and Egan, he was bribed by Nilfgaard and killed Foltest and Demavend.

Egan - A former prisoner and criminal. Along with Letho and Serrit, he was bribed by Nilfgaard and killed Foltest and Demavend.

Ivar Evil-Eye - Former prisoner, truly resocialized, Kolgrim's right hand. He and his commander tried to prevent the assassination attempt on Foltest and Demavenda, but they failed.

______

Griffin Team - a group of super soldiers appointed secretly by Esterad Thyssen. It included: Coen, George and Jerome. Later, Kolgirm and Ivar joined them. Their task was to secretly find missing scientists and find a cure for Catriona. Much later they join forces with the Wolf Team and openly oppose Radovid.

___________________________________________________

Blue Stripes

The Temerian secret service team delegated to bring Ciri - a girl resistant to Catriona - from Cintra to Redania. They broke through Velen and arrived in Ellander to the border with Redania and Aedirn. There, unfortunately, they were taken over by Iorveth's guerrillas and taken to Vergen. The team includes: Vernon Roche, Ves, Thaler, Thirteen, Fenn and Silas. The Wolf Team followed them.

Salamandra

The military-scientific corporation, at the request of the North Union, began a project of genetically modified soldiers. The head of the corporation was Jacques de Aldersberg, and the main scientist was Azar Javed. They both disappeared in mysterious circumstances. Then it turned out that they were behind the chaos in Velen, they wanted to create a new race of super people that would replace humanity. Wolf Team and Cat Team encounter their mutants in Velen, they are forced to fight them. For some time Salamandra worked with Radovid to help him take over the Union, but eventually Aldersberg had different ambitions and acted on his own.

Scientists Team

Yennefer, Triss and Keira - all three participated in the project to create genetically modified soldiers as a team of independent scientists. They gave up because they didn't like Salamandra method. After being removed from the project, they were sent to Velen for research purposes. After the Wolf Team separated from them, the Cat Team betrayed and the women had to escape. They managed to escape with the help of Aiden and Kiyan, but two soldiers were captured. During escape the women separated. After returning Vergen, Wolf Team manages to find in Velen Keira, who has acquired the necessary components to create an antidote to Catriona without Ciri. The fate of Yennefer and Triss is unknown (for now ;> ).

This is just a sketch and in fact it all arose in my head only so that I would have a good excuse to set Witchers in post-apocalyptic realities and clothing and arm them with modern military equipment. Because I think they would look really good at it. You know, this is how the spinster's afternoon fantasies look like ;)

I haven't figured out a plot for Ciri and what happens to her after reaching Vergen. Somewhere here should also appear Avallac'h and Eredin, but I gave up. I don't plan to write it anyway. Speculation about this AU was just for fun.

I’m also sorry for all the mistakes I have made, I don’t write very well in English and this is a lot of text. I certainly wrote something stupid, but I don't know where...

[spaceninjasq]

Jill trying to be a badass again but she run out of stamina yknow

[ayahne]

so, people (hrmhrmThaneCalistaSevnissAndAWholeLotOfOtherPeoplehrmhrm) told me this was good enough to publish.  If people likes it enough, i’ll probably make the rest ! 

This is my UT AU (postapo ? anyone remembers XD ?) that is as of yet still unnamed (but you can search the design sketch under #postapoAU if you’re interested.