#probably not canon unless Otter thinks its cool at which point its absolutely canon /lh

[cats-thoughts]

"Hey, this is," a hesitation, "Stickynote, I'm a survivor. If anyone is hearing this, please, just... reach out. Get in contact. I'm by the radio, um, always, so, I'm right here. Just reach out. Maybe we can fix this. I-I haven't left my, um, station, in... a while, I don't want to without a plan, I don't know what it's like out there. But just! Get in contact! We'll figure this out."

It waits by the radio. Hasn't slept since it woke up to the apocalypse, because... who knows what they'll miss? But it waits. The message echoes every hour, across every open channel they could access. It's insanity-inducing, really, hearing nothing but your own voice every hour no matter where you turn. But it can't stop. It has to listen. Because someone else will reach out. Someone else will hear them. Someone else has to. It can't be alone. It can't. And then, one late afternoon, radio crackling, it hears a familiar voice. "Hello?" "Pacific?" They asked immediately, waiting with bated breath. It was silent for a few moments. It began to doubt its sanity. "Sorry, my name's Otter." Right. Pacific was dead. Rain had died long before the apocalypse. They try not to think about how they'd slept through that, too. "oh. Oh, Um, Right, haha, sorry. You just... sound like an old friend. Um- are you okay? Is- Is it still raining, um, blood? I haven't gotten up to look out the window in, forever. Um, are you- are you safe? Are you out of the- rain, in whatever form it's taken? I can still hear it hitting the rooftop. I-I don't want to leave my apartment but- I mean- If you think I can help, I..." they trailed off. "Um, sorry, it's just... been a while." "It's alright. I'm... as safe as I can be. I've got a group. We're... We're at some sort of park, right now. Not the playground type, the um... well, there's a big lake. It's mostly blood now. If you... would like to meet us here? Strength in numbers?" "...I..." another hesitation, "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I know where that is, I think. I'll see you in a bit." It moved away from the radio for the first time since the start of the apocalypse. Grabbed a gasmask and goggles from an old Halloween costume. Pulled on a hoodie. Threw supplies in a bag, as many as it could carry. They eyed the radio. Sat next to it. "This is Stickynote," It said with a shakey voice, though with confidence nonetheless, "I'm leaving my radio. I'm joining up with other survivors. If you're hearing this... we're going to fix this. No matter how long it takes. I won't sleep until it is. We'll figure this out. Stay strong." It left the message to loop until the radio runs out of battery, and locked the door behind them. They had an apocalypse to stop.

Waiting on a signal