#stopping the apocalypse is a task for someone else

[extraaa-30]

I'm a go3 ineffable looney tunes sex truther because truly nothing could be more Good Omens than Aziraphale and Crowley spending the entire apocalypse 2.0 failing to do literally anything (except each other)

they shall fuck nasty and break the power grid of London my liege

[inbrightshadows]

*sticks one arm out from under my rock, slips this into the tag, and retreats back under my rock* Inspired by the cass apocalyptic series by somerandomdudelmao It's a very very cool rottmnt fancomic and you should give it a read 👉👈🥺 (Not canon but you might recognize some parts/dialogue from the comic) [warning for implied/referenced past infant death but no actual infant death (the boy is fine dw), infected wounds, amputation, and a dog like creature biting someone]

The first time Casey Jr almost dies he's about three months old, by their best guess, and he's only been Casey Jr for a week.

Cassandra and Raph go out on a supply run, which is normal. They come back with a baby in a box, which is not.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there's no such thing as government or paperwork in the apocalypse. So there's nothing stopping Cassandra from saying “I found him in an alley so he's my son now, his name is Cassandra Jr.” And that's that.

Thankfully, this isn't the resistance's first baby so there's plenty of formula and hand me downs to supply Cassandra in her sudden status as a Mom. And everything else the family quickly supplies.

Donnie is very uninterested in babysitting the oozy crotch goblin but Casey Jr's crib still has the genius built logo and built in laser security system to prove he cares in his own way.

Mikey breaks into his carefully rationed paint supply to paint a small mural above the crib and takes every chance to babysit he can.

And Raph? Well Raph dives headfirst into the roll of co-parent slash halway blockade.

Then there's Leo.

In his own words, he has a whole resistance to babysit. And besides that there’s not much he can really do other than what he’s already doing.

Fight the krang, stop the war, give little Casey Jr a better world to grow up in. And also avoid everyone’s efforts to get him to hold the baby.

He is not cut out for tasks that require a delicate touch but it seems like he’s the only one who understands that. He’s a gigantic mutant ninja turtle who, unlike his brothers, has never had any kind of hobby that requires any kind of delicacy. So he hangs back, he keeps an eye out for things that will be useful to the Caseys while he’s out on the surface, and he waves away attempts to hand Jr to him.

And then Casey Jr gets sick.

It should be fine. Should be normal. Babies are delicate little things, getting sick is a thing they do. Except there’s not much the way of medicine in the apocalypse. And babies are delicate.

It starts as a low grade fever. By the end of the day it’s a raging bonfire. They have a lot of things but medicine is in short supply. Nothing they have is working. It’s just Casey Jr, sobbing his heart out on Raph’s shoulder while Cassandra hovers and Raph tries to soothe all three of them.

There’s nothing Leo can do to help. They don’t have the medicine they need to treat the fever. At least not something safe to use on a baby. Raph is the one who remembers how Dad used to use lukewarm baths to break their fevers when they were little and he was still too scared to try human medicine on them. It helps enough that they can get some formula into the kid. But it’s not fixing things.

Two days pass and the fever refuses to break. The baths are becoming less and less helpful. After the third refused feeding attempt that afternoon Donnie slams down a map of ‘areas most likely to contain useful information or materials for treating a sick baby.’

Leo and Mikey gear up and head out leaving Donnie to monitor things back at base while April takes charge of running everything else so that Raph is free to help Cassandra take care of Jr.

It’s bad luck, really, that a pack of krang dogs find their camp on the first night. It should be fine. They should be able to handle it.

But bad luck is bad luck.

Leo sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He moves to dodge and the ground underneath him decides now is a perfect time to give way.

“LEO!” Mikey yells as Leo tumbles away into the dark.

Leo grunts, biting back a scream as the Krang dog’s teeth sink into his arm. They tumble into the dark together, bouncing down the stacks of rubble. It’s dead by the time he lands but the damage is done.  

The good news is that the fall kept the dog from getting a good grip on him.  

The bad news is that even if the bite won’t infect him with Krang regular infections are different story. Krang zombies have foul mouths.

Mikey can’t find out it managed to bite Leo. If he does he’ll want to go back and get Leo treatment before they look for the medicine.

And right now every second could mean the difference between getting medicine to Casey Jr in time or adding to their graveyard.

So Leo makes sure that by the time Mikey makes it down to him his first aid kit is a good bit lighter and any sign of the bite is hidden beneath his normal arm wraps.

When Mikey finds him Leo smiles and doesn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around his little brother.

“Are you okay- did it bite you?” Mikey asks, darting around him to hunt down every last scrape.

“Nah, just a couple of scratches,” Leo lies. “Let me heal them-” “No, we’ve got a ways to go, I won't risk you wearing yourself out too soon.” “Leo!” “I already used my first aid supplies on them! It’d be a waste if you healed me now!” Mikey glares at him but huffs and nods. “Fine! But if they start to feel bad-” “I’ll tell you, don’t worry,” Leo lies again.

Day two is a bust. There's useful supplies in the area Donnie marked out for them to search, sure, but nothing that will help  Casey Jr. Or the sensation of a burn throbbing its way up Leo's hidden bite wound.

Leo and Mikey mark out where the useful things are and keep going. Someone can go back for them when they're less pressed for time.

That night Leo waits for Mikey to fall asleep before he checks the bite. It's bad.

The moment the bandages come off he's gagging at the putrid stink of infection. It's hard to see it in the dark but then again he's not sure he really wants a better look. It wouldn't change his mind anyway.

He can make out the dark veins of infection spreading. If he wasn't green it'd certainly be a violent red.

He cleans it, spreads a thin layer of disinfectant cream that will do about as much good as throwing a cup of water at a bonfire, and re-bandages it.

His usual arm wraps go up over top of it, hopefully Mikey won't notice he's done them a bit higher than normal.

All the evidence goes into the fire. By the time Mikey's turn to take watch comes all that's left is ash.

On day three Leo wakes up feeling like someone dropped a building on him. He makes the mistake of groaning about it.

“Leo? Are you okay?” Mikey asks. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just, uh, I think I’m inheriting Dad’s back problems! That or the Krang made the ground harder.” Mikey snickers. “I mean, they would, but I’m also pretty sure you just called yourself old.” “I did not!” Leo drags himself upright and makes a show of cracking his back. It obliges with a satisfyingly loud pop that makes Mikey giggle harder. “I think your spine disagrees with you too.” “Shut up!” “Awwww are you feeling cranky, old man?” 

Leo is too exhausted to feel properly offended or even think of forming a comeback but he plays it up for his little brother anyway.

Anything to keep him from worrying. Or forcing them to turn back. It’s fine. This shouldn’t take too much longer anyway.

It’s midday by the time they reach the second site. Just from a glance it’s obvious this is a more promising site. There are actual chunks of buildings scattered around and there’s enough of a shattered sign left lying around to tell them that whatever kind of care this place used to give it was geared specifically towards children.

There’s plenty to find digging through the rubble. Well. Plenty for Mikey to find. Leo is mostly trying not to let on how dizzy he is.

To both of their frustration, they run out of daylight before they find anything. Leo can feel his body screaming at him to lay down and rest. Just a little longer, he tells his body. They’re going to find the medicine. He can feel it. Leo just needs to make it at least that long.

The fourth day dawns. Mikey shakes him awake as soon as there’s enough light ot see by. Leo bites back a moan as he claws his way upright. Leo thought his arm hurt before but now it feels like someone is pouring lava down it.

He notes with a calmness that boarders on absurdity that he can’t feel his fingers.

Something must show on his face- or maybe he just looks at least halfway as awful as he feels- because Mikey frowns at him when he wakes up.

“I’m worried,” Leo blurts out. “If this takes much longer then- I don’t think- he’s already been sick for so long.” “We’ll find it. Today, I’m sure. I’ve got a good feeling.” Leo tries to smile for him and hopes the shaky thing he offers up is enough. Well. At least one of them is feeling good.

Leo is lucky. He’s always been lucky. Luck runs out eventually, it always does. But not today. Maybe it helps that Leo isn’t hoping for something for nothing. Because on day four they strike gold.

Mikey is a short bit away, digging through the rubble with his power, hunting for anything with even the chance of helping. Leo is doubled over just out of his site, trying to stifle his stomach’s efforts to rebel against him.

Don’t hurl, he tells himself, if you hurl there’s no way Mikey won’t realize something is wrong.

He forces his eyes open, hoping that focusing on something will help. And then Leo’s eyes fall on a shattered glass cabinet, several packs of some something promisingly adorned in cartoon human children. He reaches in, flips it, and feels a wash of relief when he realizes it’s exactly what they’re looking for.

“Mikey- Mikey look-” everything fuzzes, tumbles. There’s something under him. He blinks back blurs of color, tries to resolve them into something coherent. Mikey’s face hovers over him, mouth moving. He looks upset. “What's the matter?” he tries to ask. “Leo! Leo, are you sick? What hurts?” “Arm,” Leo answers without thinking.

Oh shit. Oh shit he’s not supposed to let Mikey know. But it’s a little late for that. At least the panic clears his head a little. Mikey makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat as he uncovers the bite.

“Leo.” “Yeah, I know. Sorry… sorry for lying.” He watches Mikey’s lip wobble until Mikey catches it in his teeth. “Leo this is bad! We- I don’t know if we have the supplies to treat this!” Leo hums. Now that the panic is fading it’s getting so much harder to think. He lifts his good hand before he can forget and flops it over towards Mikey. “S’okay. We can go back now.” Mikey takes the box of medicine with shaky fingers. “Leo,” he croaks.

Mikey is talking. Something… probably important? He looks scared but they’re not under attack. He’s pretty sure they’re not. Leo tries to focus on him anyway but it’s so hard. He’s so tired.

He’s been tired but there was no resting, not properly, not until they got what they needed. They do now so it’s fine, he can rest his eyes a bit.

Good. Seeing is hard too. Just blurs and colors.

He feels Mikey’s hand on his face, his voice in his ears. He tries to pay attention but he’s slipping, sliding away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s out before he can think of what, specifically, he’s sorry for.

Leo doesn’t remember the trip back, just the thud of Mikey landing. Someone screaming. A hand squeezing his. Small. Thin fingers. Lots of them.

“April?” he might mumble. He thinks. “Shhh, rest big guy,” Probably-April says. “Donnie has it. He’s gonna fix it.” Oh. That’s good. He lets himself sink, lets her hold him together while he waits for Donnie to do what Donnie does best.

A light in his face. “Am I dying?” he says. Thinks? Someone hisses. Angry sound. Who does that again? “Not if I have anything to say about it. And I have a lot to say about it.” Oh. Donnie is here. That’s good. Didn’t someone say he was coming? “Now go to sleep, you don’t want to be awake for this part.” Leo doesn’t get a chance to answer, he’s already sinking again.

Leo blinks up at the ceiling of Donnie’s lab. He spends a good while just staring at it, trying to get his brain to work. His arm throbs. “Ow.”

Some several things crash and shatter and then Donnie''s face hovers into view. “How do you feel- nauseous? any pain, aches, fever? Chills?” “Uh, my arm hurts a little?”

“Which one? The one that got bit by one of the most disease ridden things in the apocalypse and then went four days without medical care or the other one?” “Hey I did some medical care!” “You did FIRST AID. You know, the thing you do to help someone before you get them ACTUAL MEDICAL CARE.”

Leo winces. There’s no arguing about that one. “Ok well, I was hoping we’d find the medicine and get back before it got too bad.” “Well. You didn’t.” “Yeah, I guess. How long was I out?” he asks. He tries to lift his arm but he can’t feel it move. He frowns. “It… barely hurts anymore. Uh. Donnie? I can’t- Um. Donnie. I can’t feel my arm.”

Donnie’s face twitches. Leo tries to turn his head to look at his arm. Donnie’s hand darts out out to stop him. Leo looks at Donnie again. Donnie looks away, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact.

“Donnie-” “Don’t look yet.” Leo tries to move his arm again but there’s still no response. No it’s not just that there isn’t a response. He can't even feel the weight of it.

He can feel his shoulder. He can feel a ring of throbbing pain a few inches above his elbow. And then it’s just… light? Like there’s nothing but air- oh. Oh. Okay then. There’s where his luck ran out. “...Huh. That’s. Hm. Let me see?” “Leo-” “Donnie. Let me see.” Reluctantly, Donnie eases back.

For a second Leo doesn’t do anything. He closes his eyes and breathes. He turns his head. He opens his eyes.

It’s gone.

Everything past his first crescent marking is gone.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, measured, breath. Okay, he thinks. Okay. He’s a medic. He knew this was a possibility.  Donnie starts eyeing him nervously.

“Did he make it?” Leo asks at last. “...Yeah he made it,” Donnie says quietly. Leo feels like he's fully breathing out for the first time since Cassandra burst into the infirmary with a sick baby in her arms. "Good. That's good." Donnie puts his hand over the end of Leo's nub, covering the scar. He stares at the floor and says nothing. Silence reigns. Leo stares up at the ceiling, letting it settle around them.

Until the door slams open and the rest of his family tumble through the door, both Caseys included.

The last knot of tension loosens from him at the sight of Casey Jr, happily wiggling in his mom’s arms as he flails his arms at Raph.

He tears his eyes away as his family gathers around him, worried and loud, and Leo only knows one way to calm them down.

“So. I’m guessing I'm the opposite of... All Right now, huh?” Cassandra covers Casey Jr's ears. Donnie leans away, inhaling sharply. “Why are you like this?“ he asks. “Because it's all I've got... Left” Raph groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Already?” “Put him back under,” April says, deadpan. “Boooo,” Mikey says, and Leo pretends he doesn’t sound two steps away from tears.   “I hate you so much,” Donnie lies, a few screens manifesting around him. He taps away with the hand that isn't still covering the scar on what remains of Leo's arm while Leo laughs at his own terrible jokes.

“You no longer have a choice about getting a prosthetic. Mikey tried to say I had to ask before implanting experimental technology in your body but you know what? I’m making an executive decision. I can’t live with the puns.”

Leo starts laughing harder, so hard that it circles right back around to sobbing. He’s buried in a pile before the first sob can even fully leave him. Donnie’s eyes stay on the screen even as he shifts his hand to Leo’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

Leo spends a lot of time sleeping but he’s never alone when he wakes up.

There’s Raph, showing off the balls he’s threading onto his mask tails so Casey Jr can climb them while Cassandra sits nearby, once more restitching her perpetually tearing sleeves on her shirts.

He wakes to Mikey making little fish or birds dance in the air while Casey Jr sits in his lap and reaches for them.

Or there’s April pouring over battle plans with a mug in one hand and the other wrapped around Casey Jr.

Point is there’s a lot of Casey Jr. So Leo really should be prepared to wake up with a tiny weight on his chest, healthy and safe and sound. And still so very tiny. His breath hitches, he doesn’t dare move.

“Bemused scoff.”

Leo carefully turns his head toward where Donnie is busily typing away at something.

“You know you can’t avoid holding him forever. Even I've held him." Leo gives Donnie the flattest look he can manage. Sure. Donnie has held Casey Jr. Once in a blue moon when there was literally no one else to do it (and Leo's hands were firmly tucked under his arms.) For about sixty seconds total. "...I've held him more than you have.”

Leo grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t cut out for holding delicate stuff when I had two arms. It’s an even worse idea now that I’m twice as likely to drop him.”

“Invalid excuse. I’m already working on a solution to your arm situation.” Donnie waves his hands and his ninpo sparks, building a blue print of an arm and some other thing hovering in the air between them.

“These are the schematics for a bio-mechanical arm and a socket implant to allow it to safely interface with your nero-” Leo’s brain glazes over the rest of Donnie’s explanation.

“...So you want to turn me into a kick ass cyborg?” he asks as soon as Donnie is done. “Did you listen to none of what I just said?” “C’mon, Don, I’ve got you for all the nerd stuff.” “Exasperated sigh, yes I’m turning you into a kick ass cyborg.” “Sweet,” Leo says, yawning. Donnie huffs. “Go back to sleep, Nardo.” “Can’t, baby could fall,” Leo mumbles. “I won’t let him fall. Just rest.” And Leo trusts his brother. So he does.

It takes a frustratingly long time for Leo to recover enough for the surgery to implant the port for the arm in his stump. It’s more low profile than he expected, hardly noticeable at all unless you’re looking head on at it.

Then there’s a whole other saga of learning how to use the arm Donnie has built him. It’s clunkier than Donnie’s preferred standards but it works almost as seamless as his real one. He gets good with it and he gets good with it fast because with the Krang you either do it fast or you don’t do it all.

The unintended and unwanted side effect of this is that now his family are no longer accepting “I’m not good enough with my arm I might drop him” as a valid excuse to not hold Casey Jr.

And they are very, very, intent on getting him to hold Casey Jr.

Look. Leo is thanking sweet pizza supreme in the sky and every one of the Hamato ancestors, Casey Jr bounces back from being sick like it never happened.

He bounces and wiggles, he babbles and giggles, as though less than a week or so ago he wasn’t so sick that Leo and his family (literally) risked life and limb to get him medicine. And Leo is thrilled. Really.

It’s just that he wishes his family would stop encouraging Casey Jr’s newest favorite game- trying to grab Leo. Because apparently one of any baby’s favorite thing is whatever they can’t have.

“Here! Hold him!” Mikey holds Casey out so that he faces Leo. Casey Jr, who seems to have a sixth sense for when someone is playing the 'try to get Casey close enough to touch Leo' game,  is thrilled. His tiny arms wave at Leo, itty-bitty fingers clenching like they’re ready to latch on the second they’re close enough to touch him.

“W-wait, I can’t!” Leo protests for the thousandth time. But Mikey isn’t taking no for an answer this time. A nudge of mystic power keeps Leo from fleeing. All Leo can do is tuck his dangerous un-baby proofed metal arm away from tender baby skin and wave his flesh hand pleadingly.

“C’mon Leo… you have to hold him eventually.”  Mikey cajoles, gently waggling Casey Jr.

“Not happening, no way.” Leo leans back as far as Mikey’s powers will let him.

“Yes way,” Mikey says, holding Casey closer and closer. Casey is giggling furiously, tiny arms flying at top speed.

“Do you even see how tiny he is?” Leo points at the baby, just in case Mikey needs a reminder. “I could break him with one finger!” There’s a tiny nudge to said finger. Leo looks down. Casey Jr is copying him, nudging Leo’s much larger finger with his own.

Mikey gets a look on his face. A terrible, evil, look.

“One finger? Like thiiiiis one?” Mikey grins as he lifts his middle fingers away from Casey Jr’s body. Leo freezes. “Mikey. Mikey no.”

“Whats that? Oh nooooo.... I can’t hear you over the sound of my grip slipping!” Mikey sing-songs. “Don’t you dare!” Leo stares at him, horrified and frozen. He won’t. Surely he won’t. Cassandra would murder him. Raph would double murder him. He wouldn't. Right? Right??? “Oh no! I hope someone catches the poor delicate baby!” And then Mikey drops Casey Jr.

Leo shrieks. He forgets that Mikey is literally magic and does not need his hands to hold a building, much less a baby.

“Mikey what the fuck!” Leo squawks, hands flying forward and closing around the tiny delicate bundle that is- … not falling towards the ground at all actually.

The gears turn, the realization that he's been tricked sets in. Leo glares at Mikey. Mikey grins, unrepentant, and waves his faintly glowing hands, a glow also present around a perfectly safe Casey Jr. The glow vanishes and Leo feels the surprisingly greater weight of the baby properly in his hands for the first time.

“Ahhhh Mikey- Mikey take him back!” Mikey stubbornly keeps his hands in the air and backs away, still grinning. “You’re fine, you’ve got this.” “I don’t have this!” in spite of saying this Leo is already tucking Casey closer to him. “It’s fiiinnne, you're doing fine! Look, he’s having a great time!”

Tiny clumsy fingers hit his jaw, drawing his eyes down. Casey Jr has one hand buried in Leo’s scarf. The other is pressed to the highest part of Leo’s face it can reach. As he looks down they stretch up, reaching for the vibrant red markings on his face.

“Ah- what- what does he want?” “Awww he likes your stripes, hold him higher!”

Hesitantly, Leo shifts the baby a little higher in his arms and Casey’s little fingers smack against his markings, clenching against them as best the pudgy little things can. Leo chuckles. “What? You want those? Hate to break it to you bud but they’re kind of attached to me.” Big dark eyes lock onto his. Casey Jr babbles. His little fingers flex against Leo’s face again.

Someone makes a noise like a slowly deflating balloon. Leo looks up to find Raph has found them. He’s standing in the doorway, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Please tell me Donnie has a good angle on this,” he says, voice wobbling. Raph’s com clicks on and switches itself to speaker mode. “Sending you the best shots as I speak,” says Donnie’s voice. “I hate all of you,” Leo lies. Mikey snickers at him, Raph is too busy cooing to reply. And then Casey Jr realizes Raph is there and decides he’s done being held by Leo. He leans his entire body toward Raph and puts all of his tiny baby might into wiggling free of Leo's grip.

“Oh fuck-” “Don’t cuss in front of the baby!” “Raph. Raph.” “You’re doing fine, relax-”  “He’s gonna fall! I’m gonna drop him- Raph!” Raph easily scoops Casey Jr up, saving Leo from the terrifying force of a wiggly baby.

Casey Jr giggles and grabs for Raph’s mask tails while Leo dramatically flops to the floor. Mikey continues to snicker at Leo’s expense, floating over to pat his head.

“I can’t believe you pretended to drop him just to trick me into holding him,” Leo groans. “You what?” Raph’s head snaps over to them. Mikey freezes. “I had mystic hands on him the whole time!” “Baby holding is a two hand activity!” “You literally hold him with one hand!” “Raph’s hand is big enough to count as two!” “Oh that is so not fair!” “... Leo watch the little man for a minute.” Raph sets Casey Jr down by Leo’s head. Leo makes an inarticulate sound of horror but before he can protest Raph is already bolting for Mikey.

Mikey flees with a yelp.    Leo looks at Casey Jr. Casey Jr looks at him. “So, you come here often?” Casey Jr stuffs his fist in his mouth and makes a garbled noise around it, almost recognizable as a very turtle like chirp. Leo checks that his brothers are out of ear shot and then chirps back. Casey Jr’s eyes widen and sparkle. He takes his damp hand out of his mouth and smacks Leo in the face with it. Leo grimaces. “Thanks.” In the distance, Mikey screams as Raph catches him but it's just as quickly followed by laughter.

Casey Junior grows up in between loss and stolen joy and forgotten childhood memories. He gets old enough to ask questions. Inevitably, the day comes when he asks “Sensei, how did you lose your arm?”

And Leo lies.

Or, well… He doesn’t lie so much as he just… leaves out some details. Details Casey Jr does not and will not ever know if Leo gets his way.

“Ah, you know… Krang dog got a lucky bite in. By the time I got back to base it was the arm or me and Donnie chose me.” He says it with a light little shrug, like it’s no big deal.  

Because for Leo, it’s not a big deal. Between losing an arm and losing family he’d chose the arm over and over again.

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

The last few people had logged off the server, leaving it in its burnt, damaged state.

She knew where Gem would be.

Cleo scaled up the ladder and clambered up to the rickety roof of Joel’s tower — where you could look out on the entire server.

Sure enough, Gem was perched on the railing, sitting on the edge with nothing to support her but the wind, staring in the direction of the Secret Keeper.

Cleo looked around at the short cobble walls. Grian had told her that he’d hid away here. Not a bad strategy, overall. You could shut yourself here and forget everywhere else existed.

“Hey, Cleo.”

“Am I that loud?” Cleo joked weakly.

“Who else?”

Cleo watched as the last remains of the green flesh flaked off Gem’s skin, leaving her regular human tones. “No more zombies now, then? Good job, anyway. Killing people left and right.”

“Not you, though.”

“Not me. Only way I’m going out is my way. I’d rather die on my own stupidity than someone else’s callousness.” Cleo allowed a hint of pride to enter her voice. “You were great zombies, though.”

“We weren’t zombies.” Gem turned and hopped down from the railing.

Cleo noticed that unlike the other zombies, or even Scott or Grian, Gem didn’t have a single scratch or injury, save one neat bandage that no doubt was due to Scar’s reckless arrows.

Which meant the blood splattering her face wasn’t her own. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not how zombies work. No offence, Cleo, but most zombies aren’t sentient.”

Cleo blinked. “No worries, I know they aren’t. I kill plenty of them at night.”

“So you should know how they work. They’re mindless. They lurch along, they kill without thinking, they probably bump into trees.”

Gem tilted her head. “They don’t set TNT traps, or betray their teammates, or ask for permission to kill their wife’s perceived murderer.”

Cleo’s mouth was dry. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying the apocalypse wasn’t zombies, Cleo. It was human.”

Horribly, incredibly human.

Cleo remembered when they were up on the tower, staring at the others down below, condemning them as monsters.

Somehow, it was better to think of them as a mindless horde and not people she’d been laughing and arguing with a session ago.

Gem was watching her. “You know I’m right. Look at Pearl. Was running from us, convinced we were infected or something but once she realised she had permission to kill, she went in. Even unleashed a warden, or two. That’s how quickly we switch.”

Ironically, Cleo realised, the roles had been swapped this session. The humans were chasing the zombie, but it hadn’t been any different.

“That’s not true,” Cleo said, “It’s not all bad. Did you know, Grian snuck down from this tower to check on his magma pet, and I was there too. And so was Etho. He didn’t kill us.”

Irritation flashed across Gem’s face. “He didn’t kill you? If he had, or, like, told us your location or something, we could’ve all just gone after Scott, and, and, the task would’ve succeeded…”

She trailed off, and looked at Cleo. “Is that the point you’re trying to make here?”

Cleo shrugged.

“Alright, I get it,” Gem grumbled, “No need to rub your holier-than-thou alliance and great morals in my face.”

“Well, no one asked you to put your task over your bandmates.”

Gem didn’t say anything to that.

“It’s not as if I’m exactly a paragon of morality either.” Cleo continued.

“I guess not.” Gem gave a short laugh. “Neither am I. You know, all the murder and stuff? I don’t feel bad! In fact, I feel great. I feel proud of myself for it.”

“…I feel you should be a little less bloodthirsty.”

Gem smiled at Cleo, an innocent, cheerful smile that would have been such if not for the circumstances. “Oh, no.”

Cleo was suddenly feeling very unsafe on the highest platform on the server. She wished Etho was here, or even Grian.

She knew Gem couldn’t take any lives, not now, not when the session was already over. But still…

Cleo raised her sword to stop the axe swing that came, but it was a feint, and her sword hit nothing.

Gem dramatically swung her axe back into her inventory.

“You really thought I would attack you?” Gem said.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” Cleo retorted curtly.

“That’s true,” Gem conceded. “But the curse is just so- it’s so freeing, Cleo? Can’t you see? You could do anything.”

“Uh- no thanks. Session’s over, anyway,” Cleo pointed out.

“That’s true. But I’m still kinda cursed, you know.”

In response, Cleo warily raised her sword. But all that Gem did was deliver a mock salute before logging off with a chirpy “See you next week!”

Cleo stood silently. There had been one zombie on the platform just now. Her.

And thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if there hadn’t been two.

[visit-ba-sing-se]

misread a prompt about being the last human on earth. still wrote a short story. enjoy.

My name is Sophie Smith. I am the last human on earth, and this is my report for June 28, 2070, day 456 of monitoring. General population: one. Changes since the last report: none. Maintenance work completed.

I save the file for today's report on my memory implant and shift my focus back to the monitor in front of me. A familiar black screen with a familiar white outline of the world map. One small red dot keeps blinking on it, in the middle of a region described as "European Union." If you were to zoom in, you would see that it is located in the middle of a town called Berlin, marked as the capital of a state called Germany.

Not that those things still mean anything anymore.

Zooming out again and seeing the empty map, it seems strange they ever did.

At the beginning back in 2069, there used to be 8.9 Billion red dots. One for every beating heart, monitored from above by space-link satellites. Now only mine remains.

I had singed up to monitor them quite early after the omega variant broke. After wasting years of my life on a - in face of the apocalypse utterly worthless - degree and an even more worthless PhD thesis, it felt like doing something real, and the task was simple: Monitor the development, stay in touch with the other stations all around the world and file a report for each shift.

At first, there were many of us, all in some way believing that we would help save humanity by observing trends and giving out warnings. Instead, we just became the chroniclers of it's decay.

Many didn't even fully witness the first month. The virus was cruel, but at least it took you fast.

You could leave your house feeling great in the morning, only to collapse coughing on the sidewalk before arriving at your bus stop. Or you could get up to make tea in the isolation of your own home, all doors closed and windows shut, and grasp for air on the kitchen floor minutes later. There was no cure, no vaccine, no distancing measure that helped. The virus cut through us like a scythe through a field of weeds, and it soon was more than clear that no amount monitoring would change that. Some volunteers quit. More died. But through a weird twist of fate, I stayed alive.

And I kept going to work, day after day after day, even after the government that had hired me stopped existing, the subway train I used to take became a fighting ground for rats and my shadow was the only one left to walk beside me in the once busy city streets.

And so did the others, who, when I called in "here Berlin, please respond" answered me with "here Warsaw" "here Seoul" "here Mexico-City" "here Tel Aviv". And the less we were, the more we talked. About our lives before. About the people we had loved and lost, about the places we had called home and the dreams we had dreamed, about our favourite books and movies and dishes, about god and fate and about which birds who saw outside their window.

Mostly, I think, it wasn't about what was spoken. It was about hearing another human voice, and the reassurance that you weren't alone that came with it.

And so, we were there to witness as one by one, more of the blinking red dots disappeared. Just like one by one, someone else among us started to cough. It was an unwritten, unspoken and yet unbreakable rule that none of the rest commented when it happened. Some decided to ignore it until their last moments. Most said goodbye. One of us, Alexey, fircely insisted the air in his office was simply too dry when he got the cough. Of course, we all wanted to believe that it was. But only minutes later, the transmission from his channel ended, and one of the at this point 5 remaining red dots in Kyiv vanished.

Like all of theirs did, eventually.

And yet.

"Here Berlin, please respond", I whisper. For the protocol. For the false, poisonous hope that there has been some kind of bug in the system and that someone might still answer. Of course, no one does.

And even though I expected it, the following silence crushes me once again. A lonely tear rolls down my cheek as I rip the headphones off. Just like the voices in them used to be the undeniable proof that I wasn't alone, the static in the channel now is the undeniable proof that I am.

To distract myself, I get up and open the window. It would be easy to jump onto the empty street and make a final exit like that. All things considered, it's a miracle I am still sane enough to not consider this opinion. Even though… probably at this point death would be the sane choice. But something in me still wants to keep going, wants to hold out for as long as I can. It might be irrational, but I feel like this is what I am owe them. All 8.9 Billion.

Unaffected by my dark thoughts and humanities decay, a small sparrow lands on the window stil. It must have flown over from the tree across the street, where a family of them has build their nest.

Diah would have loved to hear that their little ones are now learning to fly.

Diah. She was last one to leave, and the pain of loosing her still feels like a fresh wound. It had only been us for quite some time, and we had stopped logging out or even taking off our headphones. We even, of course disguised as jokes, had started planning how we could meet. We could find a still functional high-speed train and somehow make it work. We could both steal cars. We would just start walking towards each other and meet in the middle between New Delhi and Berlin.

But of course, we wouldn't. And when her time came, the virus didn't even give a warning. One moment, I was listening to her beautiful voice. The next, there was silence. And only one blinking dot left on the monitor. Maybe she didn't even notice that she died. Only I did. Like I noticed so many deaths before. Maybe that is the only advantage of my situation now. The only death I still will have to witness is my own.

Before I can sink deeper into my thoughts, suddenly, I see them. Or to be precise, actually, I hear them first. Voices. Human voices. "I still can't believe it's only been two years since we left," one of them says, "Just look at this mess. Good thing we got out of here early." "Right?!" the other one responds laughing. "And I thought the time on board was stressful, especially towards the end. But it's nothing against whatever the hell happened here."

Humans. Walking, talking, joking humans.

This can't be real. I rush to look at the monitor. Still only one lonely dot. I must have finally gone insane, not being able to stand the thought that I was last anymore. But when I lurk outside again, they are still there, and now close enough for me to recognize more details. Black uniforms with a silver star, black face masks and both carrying a PreciseWeapon. Space-link personal.

Days ago, Diah and I both saw what we had believed to be a small meteor. Instead, it must have been their shuttle entering the atmosphere. I am not insane. This makes sense. This is real. I know that probably should feel relief. Or happiness. Or pride. It surely would make sense to feel that way. After all, I just learned that humanity might still prevail despite everything.

This should be a triumph, or least salvation. And yet, all it feels like is betrayal. "Two years since we left" the man had said. Two years ago, the omega variant hadn't even been discovered. Or at least so I had thought.

'Thank God we got out of here early.'

They knew all along, soon and well enough to "get out early". If the earth had been a house on fire during the last years - as often depicted in political cartoons back when there were still people who drew such things and other who looked at it- they had always known the fire would come. But instead of warning the rest of us, they had snuk out of the house at night, watching it go up in flames from a safe distance. And now, where the dust had settled, they had come back to inspect the ruins and dig through the remains. Only that I was still here. A living dead, covered in ashes with burns on my skin. Still breathing, but surely not nice to look at. So why would they come to pick me up now?

Suddenly, the dominos cascade in line and I sink back into my chair as the realization hits me. They are space-link. The satellites are space-link. They don't show up on the monitor because they are not supposed to. And the PreciseWeapon is meant for me. I shiver. That's why Diah died so sudden and silent.

The virus didn't get her. They did, with one precise shot in the back.

For a moment, I consider running. But just a moment. They could easily track me, and I don't want to spent my last moments being dragged out of a hiding place, nor do I want a bullet in the back.

No.

I want them to look me in the eye. And I want them to know that I know.

I get up from my desk and turn away from the black monitor with the lonely red dot. The door swings open, and the black uniforms enter. They look just like you would think they'd look. Painfully ordinary, with faces reddened by excitement. For just a moment, I see a hint of surprise in their eyes. Then, the uniform on the right nods at the uniform on the left, who reaches for his weapon. If he feels any doubt, he is good at hiding it.

"Go ahead." I say. My voice is calm and firm. I can't say much, not in the short time it takes him to charge, aim and fire. But what I say, I mean. "I already died 8.9 billion times. One more won't matter."

I feel a numb pain as the projectile hits my chest, and then the edge of my table as I stumble backwards against it. And then, just before I hit the ground and my senses fade, I hear it. A cough. A familiar, dry cough. A cough I heard more times than I could count. And that is now coming from the direction of my shooter.

My name is Sophie Smith. I am the last human on earth. And this concludes my final report.

[jellyfishsthings]

My lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

Warnings: my shit writing, violence (kinda?)

part 2

I will be the first person to say it. School is boring. And that is a lot since Nevermore is no ordinary school. The only class that is interesting, yet exhausting, is this one. Mrs Smith is sitting across from me. Staring intensely in my eyes, trying to find the weak spot in my mental shield. We have been at it for hours and I have managed to preserve my resolve. Until now. She finally breaks in.

"So what is it about you? You seem quite ordinary to be going to that school." The cute Barnstaple across from me asks. He has nice brown hair that curls at his ears. Deep thoughtful eyes. He is mundane or better yet, ordinary, as he called me. He is perfect. But something about him screams certain danger. Tyler, Tyler Galpin, whom I have come to know as my best friend. My dreamy best friend, who I moon over day and night and constantly plagues my thoughts.

"That is top secret agent type of shit, you can not know" I answered him with a chuckle.

The memory soon fades, as fast as it appeared. I feel my shoulders sag from exhaustion and I try to find sense in the safety of my magical pendant. The one that keeps others at bay while also containing my powers. The one that keeps me safe not only from others but also from myself. Mind control is not easy stuff, you have to be hyperfocus. Do you want to control something or someone? You have to draw all your willpower and pour it into that task. Which is tough shit. Making someone forget or simply reading their thoughts or memories, even manipulating them is now as natural as breathing. Shielding yourself from others with the same powers is the hardest. There aren't many of us but we are more powerful than anyone else. So if you slip up, you are vulnerable to the world.

You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.

My ears are ringing. My mind is reeling. Each breath I take feels like hell. They are uneven, torturous and slow

"Drink this" I feel a cold water bottle touch my bottom lip. I drink the offered water greedily. My vision from hazy slowly starts turning itself clear and I can make out my surroundings again. "Better?" I nod and wait for the lecture to start. "So your shield lasted over two hours. You are strong, you know that, but you can not let yourself get lost in your daydreams. Especially when we are practising ".

"Yeah I know, I know" I heave, still trying to stabilize my breathing.

"Go rest"

I get up slowly. Unsteady on my feet and wandering through the halls while feeling my way in the walls, trailing my fingertips in the cold stoned wall. I enter my dorm and change out of my uniform. Putting on a white oversized shirt, half buttoned and collapsing in my bed.

The hours pass as I am in a half-awake state. Being aware of the room around me, but my organism turns to its usual state. And so I dream. I dream of him. What it would be like to kiss. What it would be like to date.

I am startled awake as my roommate slams the door behind her wake. Wednesday in her usual lack of colour stops in the middle of the room and sharply looks at me. "Good, you are awake".

I sigh rolling my eyes "What do you want?"

"I am going to the house I was telling you about. I might need your help."

"Why?"

"Because you are useful."

"Jee thanks. It feels good to be appreciated. "

The sun has finally set and we walk towards the school's entrance door, where a familiar Jeep awaits. Tyler, he is here. Enid and Wednesday are wearing their matching hoodie scarf things, as usual, I am left out. As usual, Wednesday climbs in the passenger seat, my seat, and Tyler doesn't say a word about that, instead, he flirts with her. He doesn't even greet me or ask about my day, as he used to.

I silently seeth as we arrive at what looks like a haunted manor. We break in and we start wandering through the house trying to find evidence. At some point, we are separated. As I walk into what looks like an old girl's bedroom, I feel a presence behind me, the hair on my neck standing as I grab the nearest object ready to attack.

Yet a strong hand shoots out and stops my blow easily. "Hey there. Be careful, Rockey, you wouldn't want to hit me, now would you?" The breath is knocked out of me. The moonlight hits him just right, highlighting his features, the soft smile, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline. His laughing face turns into one of confusion. He opens his mouth ready to ask me something, when a strange sound echoes through the room.

He grabs me and flushes me to his chest. He places his hand to my mouth and I feel my heart race. I can feel every plain of his body against mine. His defined chest rises and falls in a crazy rhythm, and his hands hold me in place with urgency. We must stay like this for a few seconds or mere minutes but it feels like hours as I try to catalog his characteristics.

"I will go check, it must have been the girls, please stay here."

"What? No, I am coming with you."

"Please." He uses that voice. The one he knows that can convince me to do anything.

So I stay put. Until I see a light shining into the forest. I find myself following it. Threading through the trees and the fallen leaves. Someone moves just out of sight. A knife is thrown my way and I drop to the ground. The figure stalks towards me and as I think that I am doomed. The Hyde makes its appearance, attacking what I assumed to be a man, tiring him to shreds. After it's done it turns my way, snuffing the air as I am frozen in place, terrified to the bone.

The sound of bones breaking fills the air as the monster in front of me turns into a … boy? A familiar one. He is covered in blood and unconscious. I make a quick decision and drag him towards his house, cleaning him up in his bathtub and stitching up the scratch wound on his pecs. Tyler is the Hyde. The Hyde is Tyler. They are one and the same.

I am watching him, studying him while he sleeps. He looks so peaceful yet troubled. I creep towards his father's room and find some handcuffs, thank you Sheriff Galpin, and tie him up in his headboard, waiting till he awakes.

words: 1.154 (there will be a pt.2.... propably?)

[monodramatic-cannibal]

Renegade!Fell/Edge

Info post about the au

(If characters seem OOC ((Out Of Character)) it's beacause I'm going off of my own interpretations/headcanons/fandom versions. So please be aware of that)

More info under the cut (Info is subject to change at any time. Info may be added to as well)

-Jobs in the group: building upkeep, storage management  

Weapons of choice: bones that come up from the ground/walls, gaster blaster (larger than the others blasters), throwing knives

-Head canon voice: ???

-Uses he/him, doesn’t mind other pronouns. 

-His coat was a gift from his Frisk. Will barely go anywhere without it. (Fell!)Frisk is a kid who belongs to someone he knows, basically became an uncle to them, since he babysat them so often. 

-Has a bit of an attitude and is very quick to go on the aggressive/defensive. But once someone actually takes the time to actually get to know him he’s protective, loyal and good humor to have around.   

-Had his tooth knocked out in a bar fight. But if anyone asks about it he makes up some random story on how he lost it instead, more so just to entertain himself.

-Had a youtube channel that he started as a joke where he narrated horror stories, it got pretty big but he stopped posting over time due to not finding any more stories he felt like reading. He was going to get back into doing it, but the apocalypse happened. 

-Swears often, though tries not to swear around people who have asked him not to swear. So long as that person had asked him nicely. 

-Doesn’t mind wearing any sort of jewelry, providing it’s gold, doesn’t like any gems on it, just pure gold jewelry and he’ll wear it. 

-He is often in charge of fixing things around the living area and just general upkeep on the buildings. Finds this relaxing since most of the others won’t question why he’s there or what he's doing, can just say he's doing his job. Will often pretend to look busy in a quiet corner of the living area so no one bothers him. 

-Hates not having clothes fully cover his arms/legs, just feels uncomfortable so will always wear things to cover his arms/legs. To add to this he also doesn’t really like clothing with zippers, since he's normally too rough with the zippers and they end up breaking. 

-Struggles to express things through words, so often expresses things via touch, either that be to show violence or to show kindness. E.g. punching someone, or lightly putting a hand on someone's shoulder.  

-One of the more misunderstood people in the group, since his attitude is what keeps most away from fully getting to know him. 

-Likes things with fluff, hence why he has clothing with fluff on them. Doesn’t just extend to clothing, but other things such as animals and items, just likes how soft fur feels. 

-Is the type of guy to say whatever is on his mind, doesn’t tend to think of the consequences of saying it. He isn’t too worried about upsetting people, unless it's someone he likes. 

-Will bite if anyone puts limbs too close to his mouth. Only people he likes can get away with it but if they’re doing it to annoy him he will still bite them. 

-Doesn’t really leave the living area, since he doesn’t want to fight Wraiths. He’d much rather be lazy and chill in the living area doing basic tasks.  

-Despite him having storage management as a job he mainly leaves the storage room for Error to sort out, him mainly focusing on getting objects to the storage room in the first place, or getting equipment that wasn’t returned. 

-Hates when things are a mess, or unorganized, it just bothers him so much, will go out of his way to sort things out if it’s something he's going to be seeing often, e.g. a room he’s in a lot. 

-Tends to often hang out with Sci when he has free time, often helping Sci out or just keeping the space where Sci works clean. 

-Has several stress balls, and other things such as fidget cubes, always carries at least one of these things on him, normally for himself, but he will hand it to someone else if he sees they may need it more than him at that moment. 

-Type of guy to mind his own business, if something is happening, he will watch from the sideline. He’s not getting involved, nor will he talk to anyone about what went down, unless he’s bothered enough about the situation is the only time he will talk. 

How they feel about:

Nightmare: Doesn’t really get along with Night, but also feels like an asshole whenever he’s mean to Night, as Night always remains polite to him. So just tries to stay out of Night’s way most of the time.

Dream: Likes Dream, they’ve also asked him not to swear as much when they’re around, which Fell abides by. Dream often helps him when he needs it so he’s willing to do anything Dream asks of him back.

Cross: Got into an argument once with Cross, sure Cross apologized to him later on, but he’s still somewhat salty about it. But other than that he can somewhat get along with Cross.

Blue: They got along somewhat decently, though they get into arguments on the regular. Blue doesn’t really put up with his attitude. He does respect Blue a great deal though due to the fact Blue won’t take any of his bs.

Ink: Is unsure of Ink. Knows Ink can be really nice and does appreciate whenever Ink is chilled out. But doesn’t appreciate any pranks Ink may pull on him.

Dust: Doesn’t really like him too much, given he's a murderer and the fact he just can’t make heads or tails about what Dust is thinking or feeling, it freaks him out to no end, especially with the fact Dust will be around Night as well, normally staring him down when he has to talk to Night.

Horror: They don’t tend to interact too much. Doesn’t really have a proper opinion of him, only tends to see him whenever he goes to the storage room. Has noticed that Horror seems to forget interactions that they’ve had.

Killer: Very similar feelings to Dust that he has for Killer. He can’t make heads or tails of Killer. Also knows Killer tends to act like an idiot to get reactions or to have others not question him.

Error: Sort of gets along with Error, knows to just stay out of his way mostly, despite them both having storage management as a job it’s Error who does most of the work in the storage room, leaving him (Fell) to do all the storage related tasks outside the storage room.

Lust: Likes Lust, one of the few people he runs into in the storage room that he can get along with. Though he doesn’t talk to Lust much but likes how patient they are with him, Fell feels Lust actually took time to understand his personality with the limited interactions they’ve had.

Geno: Will hang out with Geno somewhat regularly, normally run into each other when Fell is trying to avoid doing his job by sitting in a quiet corner of the living area, which Geno will join him wanting to avoid his job too.

Outer: Often goes around the living areas with Outer so they can talk and do tasks at the same time. They get along well. Outer often telling him about anything interesting he’s heard from the others.

Sci: Gets along well with him, spends most of his time hanging out with Sci. Often chatting with each other, he tends to keep Sci’s workspace clean, as well as making sure Sci takes care of himself. Tends to keep others from bothering Sci as well, trying not to let any work pile up for Sci.

Reaper/Death: Sees him somewhat regular, whenever Geno comes to hang out with him. Thinks Reaper is chill, knows Reaper is just there to do his job but still holds a light grudge on the fact he’s there to kill Geno.

Fresh: Not seen him before.

Gans/Echo: Uses the radio room to hide from his job sometimes, so tends to talk with Echo whenever he’s there, they get along well and have somewhat similar views on things. 

Chief: The one who normally catches him trying to avoid his job. Sometimes Chief pretends he doesn’t see him when Chief knows he’s in a bad mood, which he really appreciates Chief doing. So when Chief does tell him to get back to work he normally does.

[britt-kageryuu]

Phasmophobia Stream VOD.

Description: "Are you sure it's a [insert ghost type here]?" "Yes! Trust me!" Results:Ghost is not what anyone chose.

---------------------

The video switches between POV, because the original stream had a "Swap to this POV" feature. So the editors (the Purple Dragons) were paid extra for how long it took to edit this together. Possible upload of the all four POV later.

++++++++++++

"Okay we've ruled out 2/3 of the list, have most of our photos done. So do we have any guesses before we do some tests?" Donnie says as they get ready to do a candle test, double checking that the crucifix was still good.

Mikey who's stayed in the truck the entire time checking the cameras, "I think I saw an orb, but the camera got moved before I could check." Replies while also checking the task board, "We still need to 'Cleanse the area of the ghost' also."

Leo who was searching for the bone that they still needed a picture of, asked "Which camera? Because I don't think we moved any of them. And has anyone found the bone we need the money!"

"Oh, it's labeled Headcam 3! So someone needs to go back into the ghost room so I can check!" Mikey shouts into the radio. He's been forgetting that they were all in the same room, just distanced to help with the effect of the game.

"I think that's my head camera thing, just a sec." Raph says, he hadn't moved to much because he'd almost broke his controller during an event where the ghost appeared right in his face, but he also wanted to not just be sitting there the entire round.

"WE HAVE A MIMIC!!!" Mikey yells out into the room, scaring or startling everyone else. "Choose Mimic, get to the truck, and let's get out of this asylum!"

"Mandarin we still need to finish that task, find the bone, and get 3 more pictures for a perfect game. So call down. You've been in the truck the entire time so why are you complaining?!" Leo says with quite a bit of sarcasm, right as he finds the bone, so he snaps a pic, picks up the bone, then zooms back to where the others were.

Right before

10 Minutes later the results read Mimic, and they all go up a level or two.

<><><><><><><>

"Alright, so are we going to do the weekly challenge, or a custom challenge now?" Leo asks they just wander around the lobby with the clipboard that had the challenges on it.

Mikey was attempting to make the blacklight land straight up.

Donnie was looking through the custom challenge menu selections.

And Raph was playing with the games up the stairs. He was mostly playing with them to stop any potential physical fights, which while unlikely could still happen.

"The weekly challenge is basically a no evidence run, with the teir 3 equipment, but we also have no sanity or sanity medicine." Donnie informed everyone, "And it's in the Jail."

Mikey let out a groan. He hasn't liked the big maps since he got lost in the full asylum map, while being hunted by a Banshee.

"So Weekly Challenge it is!!" Leo announced.

"Just be glad we're not doing an Apocalypse challenge M. You still owe me for helping you with that by the way!" Donnie says turning to where Mikey was dramatically slouching in his chair.

================

The next three runs where shortened down, but all had the argument of what the ghost was. Only for Raph to somehow guess the ghost correctly, while everyone else got it wrong.

Then a run where Mikey was suddenly the only one alive, and the twins wouldn't let him leave without getting the ghost right. So what followed was a lot of dramatic screaming and hiding from Mikey.

"Mandarin you need to get out of that hiding spot if you want to get out of there alive."

"Then you get over here, and get me out!" Mikey shouts.

So the round was finally ended with Leo on Mikeys screen because he was too freaked out to move.

"So we sure it's a Morai?"

"I am Not going back in to check!!"

Results: Yokai

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They eventually all complete the challenge, and decide to call it a night.

Though before the end of the video there's a series of clips of Leo screaming his head off while running from a ghost while Donnie is calmly circling a kitchen island, labeled Blue playing Phasmophobia for the first time.

-----------------

Masterpost

[q-starhalo]

Welcome in fellas let me tell you why q!Bad and Crowley are so similar because I want to and because they are and you can't stop me.

[undercut ↓]

Now, we'll start at the first episode of season 2, where we see Crowley before he fell. Before the Beginning. It seems that he is tasked with making the universe where Earth is going to be planted which is a big deal honestly. How does that fit with Bad? Well, we can only guess this but with a throne with angel wings behind it and a halo like chandelier above it we can assume Bad has a higher archy angel. Not exactly an archangel but close to it (or maybe a archangel who's to say but time). Now I'm not saying Crowley was one but being tasked with the creation of the universe where Earth was going to be? Pretty big deal that I would say only a higher archy angel would have. But that information is still to be confirmed.

Now the Garden of Eden, 4004 BC. Of course Bad isn't going to meet an angel at the wall that goes around the garden and he actually arrived in 960 BC, way before 4004 BC and blah blah blah. BUT I want to point out a few lines Crowley says to Aziraphale; "I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway" and "It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, if I did the good thing and you did the bad one". We've all mentioned how Bad chooses to be kind despite being a demon. That it's funny that he's doing good even though he's an entity that's defined as evil and dangerous. Which, yes, he is evil and dangerous but not always. The line is also supported by a good amount of actions Crowley does within the show; not killing the goats nor kids, helping Aziraphale, trying to help Maggie and Nina, etc. But he's not necessarily NICE. He only chooses to be nice from time to time. Especially with Aziraphale, someone he considers close. Just like Bad. He's only nice to those close to him and he choses to be kind to others if he wants to. He's literally known as the islands babysitter and someone you can trust. He has experienced almost everything that has happened on the island since the start.

Now let's go to Mesopotamia, 3004 BC. Noah's Arc before the flood. Crowley finds out that God had gotten angry and planned to wipe out most of the human population. Including the kids (actually one's + baby goats). Crowley, despite being an entity of evil and this being in his lots range, it's too much for even God to do. The Federation being as messed up as it is, them kidnapping their children, doing experiments on these babies, and everything else is something way out of Bad's demonic morals. He's a entity of chaos and even this is too much. For Heavens sake, even MOUSE, the Queen of Hell, finds it all too much. Too much for a demon. A war that'll end Earth. A Federation and an Island filled with horrors and chaos.

2008-ish, 11 years before the war between Heaven and Hell, the apocalypse, Crowley is assigned to deliver the antichrist. Himself. He's all for the war, but him delivering it and realizing that it's actually going to happen is another thing. Bad is all for chaos, pranks, spying, and lieing but when it comes to doing that stuff for the Federation that doesn't benefit the Island but just them, that's something else. That is something he doesn't want to do, ever. He checks every task he's given or others are given to make sure it's nothing.

And another thing. Atlantis. Bad, upon his arrival, was part of a historical event that we can confirm as the sinking of Atlantis. Killing off everyone he loved. He's haunted by it, a reason for his paranoia. Crowley was the one who had to deliver the antichrist, being the reason why Earth might've ended, a guilt throughout the years before the end times were to happen.

Now, the following will be during the week when Armageddon is to happen. The end of the world:

"I didn't mean to fall, I just hanged around the wrong people" WHEN I TELL YOU I LOVE THIS LINE. And it fits q!Bad soooooo well. "I didn't mean to fall" HE DIDN'T MEAN TO FALL. Many members have mentioned how nice Bad is, and within the story when you think about it, it shows that Bad is kind in his way. He didn't mean to be a demon. If anything, he tries to hide that fact and that he was extremely dangerous that he sunk a city once and killed everyone he ever loved. During and after the acceptance stage, Bad has given in into his messed morals and demonic nature a bit more. He had to ACCEPT his demonic nature after so long of holding that guilt of being something that killed everyone he cared for. While he still does hide the fact he's a demon, he acts more like it now. "I didn't mean to fall".

And I don't mean that q!Bad never loved having power of destruction, as if he wouldn't be gossiping with the witches during the salem witch trials knowing one of them is going to die and praying on one of their deaths. But he never destroyed, he never did anything BIG. It's only small pranks and he usually leaves a present after. He now, he's testing, he's becoming more risky, more dangerous. He didn't mean to fall but he certainly doesn't want to be an angel again if he can't have as much fun as he's having.

"But evil always contains the seeds of it's own destruction" No matter how well crafted Bad's disguise is, the seed of his destruction he made is marked on that universe. While this line isn't really directly about Crowley nor did he say it, it is directed to Hell as a whole. No matter how well made their plan for the apocalypse, for the antichrist to be delivered to the right person, to have Hell win, there's always going to be something against them. Something from their plan. And in this case, it's Bad against himself.

"I'm a demon, I'm not nice. I'm never nice, nice is a four letter word" Now, we know Bad is kind and from times admits it. But he most usually says he's hardcore, not nice. That he literally has bad in his name. However, as mentioned, the islanders see him as a nice guy despite the chaos he would sometimes cause. Crowley said the line because Aziraphale said that Crowley had some kindness deep down inside him and by God if that isn't Bad. Might've taken a bit during his first years but he's nice deep down, just more dangerous and crazy the deeper you go.

Also, 6 years before the world is supposed to end, Crowley dresses up as a Nani, and Bad's the Islands babysitter. I don't know how much more proof you need ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Okay thanks for reading o/

[happi-tree]

head in my hands (<- she is thinking about the dreamcatcher dystopia and apocalypse trilogies)

with dystopia it's like. (scream) the world is so full of hatred and vitriol and every time i am reminded of it, it seeps further and further into my veins and i'm worried it may consume me. the witch hunts are constant and ever worsening, and all that ever comes from them is more contempt and more regret. what is this poisonous masquerade all for. does anyone else hear this, i'm calling out to you, i'm begging for relief and for catharsis. i need this to reach you, i need you to hear the cries of the people who are suffering. i'm shouting alongside them. (boca) do you speak to your mother with that mouth. would she be proud of the things that you're saying. look around you - the angels are dying and the casualties grow with every spiteful word. sometimes kindness starts with silence when all you want is to fight fire with fire. my heart is pierced for you again and again, and i don't know how much longer it can be like this. i want to help you, i want to let you breathe again and give you relief from the harsh words that have strangled your lungs. i want to make this world better, and i want it to start with us. (odd eye) the world is broken, this is not a fairytale. utopia has never existed and it never will. do not believe the sugarcoated lie of perfection because it is impossible to grasp. the world is dark and you will not find what you're looking for if eternal peace is what you seek. open your eyes to reality, and you will make it a better place - not by dreaming, but by doing what you can.

and then with apocalypse it's like. (maison) our home is dying, our planet is dying, our people are dying, but i feel so detached from it all. i need to come down to earth, i need to keep pushing for change in every way that matters. your conscience is drying faster than the droughts plaguing our land, don't you see that we need to do something about this. please someone fight for us - the task is enormous and the stakes are daunting, and i'm coming down to rescue you but i can't do it alone. you have to help save yourself. (vision) the world is a scorched-earth battlefield and we are its foot-soldiers. we must press on and fight now that we've come this far. everything is painted in shades of moral gray, but we must act decisively. i am reaching for your hand in the trenches, i am sending a message to you, i am giving you a vision. do you copy, have you clasped my soot-stained hand. the work is hard, but we must reload and keep going. join us and fight alongside us. i am not asking, i am not begging - there is no time for either. ([reason] i am with you always, in war and peace, in hatred and in love. you are why i fight. i have spent years being beaten down, and you have, too, but it is your companionship that buoys me, brightens my darkness, makes this world worth it all. you are my reason. don't let me stop fighting.) (bon voyage) we have fought the good fight together, my friend. the war wages onward, but our assignments have changed, and we must part ways. i will carry every lesson you have taught me within me. the battlefield lies fallow until the footprints recede. the flowers are starting to bloom again and the colors are coming into focus. a part of me will always be drawn to you even as i leave you, even when you are long gone. travel well, my friend. may our battles not be in vain and may we both find rest. i hope i will see your face in peacetime.

[the-sand-guardian]

Whumptober Day 16: Wound Cleaning

A continuation of days 7, 13, 14, and 15.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Felps was in the infirmary, getting looked at by someone with far cleaner hands than Cellbit. His small conversation with Roier was cut short by one on their stomachs growling loudly. Whose it was, neither was sure. Both were absolutely starving after their excursion and their bags of food were starting to feel heavier and heavier the more they stopped to chat. Cellbit beckoned for Roier to follow him and brought him to the building in which they kept most of their food. 

“It didn’t start out this nice, but it’s getting to be pretty solid” Cellbit explained to him as he unloaded a few cans from his bag. “We even managed to get a fridge working in the other room. Maybe we can fix up something nice” 

Roier nodded from where he’d sat on the floor. Cellbit hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he thought about it, Roier hadn’t had his backpack on his back just about the entire time they’d been together. He watched the other slightly as he gingerly moved one or two cans at a time. “No matter what, it’s probably better than how I’ve been eating. Nutrients sound like a delicacy” He let out a giggle as he pulled a box of rice from his bag. 

Cellbit nodded as he finished unpacking his own bag and sat down to help out Roier. At the rate he was going, they had another hour until they’d actually be able to eat, and Cellbit wasn’t convinced he could actually wait that much longer. “If you have any requests I’m sure we might be able to get you a proper meal?” He offered. Surprisingly, the apocalypse had only kickstarted his cooking ability. He’d gone from burning pasta to cooking for his friends, which even he hadn’t expected. 

Roier nodded and looked over at him with a smile. “I’d like to see what you can come up with. Maybe you can prove to me that that big brain of yours actually works,” 

Cellbit flicked his shoulder. “It does work, asshole” He smiled a bit despite his words. How lucky was he really that the stranger he’d found was handsome, had some weird superpower, and a huge flirt? Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect? 

“That door said otherwise- Did you even try to open it or did you just punch through it?” 

Cellbit’s silence gave him all the answers he needed. Roier giggled again and shook his head. Finally, they put back the last of the food they’d gathered. Cellbit stood and offered Roier a hand to pull himself up. Initially, he reached up for it with his right hand before switching to his left. It was more awkward, and didn’t seem to help him as much as the other would have, which Cellbit found odd. He shrugged it off and just helped the man to his feet. 

Two two actually had a rather nice meal together, once it was all made. He probably wouldn’t be admitting it anytime soon, but he’d really tried his best to make something nice for the other. He wondered if maybe it was just out of pity for his prior situation, but he was almost certain there was something else there too. Something he certainly wasn’t going to admit after knowing a man for less than 24 hours. That would be ridiculous. 

All through dinner, Cellbit carefully eyed Roier. Part of it was for his own enjoyment, but the other was because he couldn’t help but feel something was off. One can only watch someone else struggle with seemingly basic tasks for so long before they suspect something was up. It all came down to that damned shoulder. Cellbit hadn’t patted his back that hard yesterday, right? And now he was clearly babying that arm, too. 

The sun was starting to set again and the two were heading back to one of the buildings that the camp had designated for housing. Roier still lugged his empty backpack around by the straps, refusing to put it on. Cell got the door for him and shut it tightly behind them in some attempt to keep out the cold. He might not have minded cuddling back up with Roier, but it wasn’t something he was going to try and trick him into. 

Cellbit dropped his backpack next to the small collection of his things on the ground of ‘his’ room, and Roier put his down right next to it. Cellbit smiled a bit at this as he removed his respirator. Roier sat down on the floor and stretched, though careful to avoid pulling that shoulder too much. 

“What’s the deal with you and that shoulder?” He asked, finally deciding it was better just to get it done. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” Roier shrugged him off. 

There was a slight pause. “Do you usually sleep on your stomach?” 

Roier shook his head. Cellbit had figured as much. 

“Will you let me look at it for you? Maybe we can get it fixed?” 

Roier thought it over for a moment. “You’ll be gentle with me, right?” 

“Of course I will. Come on, let’s get you feeling better” 

Roier turned his back to Cellbit and hissed as he pulled off his shirt. Cellbit sat down behind him and tried not to make a face as Roier exposed a nasty gash that went over his shoulder. Dust and dirt mingled with the dried blood and Cellbit couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. 

“We need to get this cleaned out, you wait here for me-” Cellbit got up and went to wet a rag for him. He returned quickly and took his seat once more. “This might sting a little, but you need to stay relaxed for me, alright?” 

Roier nodded and hissed as the wet cloth touched his wound. He tensed for only a moment before making himself relax again. Cellbit brought his other hand to rest on Roier’s bicep as he worked, and Roier only further relaxed at the gentle touch. 

“You’re lucky you probably won’t need stitches, then I’d have to turn you over to the medical tent too,” He hummed and finished what he was doing. “I try to keep some things up here though. They come in handy” 

“I’m sure they do,” Roier nodded again with a hum. “Why are you doing all this for me?” 

Cellbit shrugged and pulled a roll of bandages from his bag before remembering Roier couldn’t see him. “I couldn’t tell you, really.”

“Well thank you. Really, I mean it” He lifted his arm slightly as Cellbit began to wrap him up. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” He pat Roier’s arm as he finished wrapping him. “Be careful with it, but that should help you out plenty” 

Roier turned to face him and smiled. God, that smile already had such a hold on Cellbit. He wanted to hate it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Roier carefully brought a hand to cup Cellbit’s face. Cellbit watched as he blinked absurdly slowly- oh, no, he was just closing his eyes. He leaned closer until their faces were mere inches apart before stopping and putting a hand over Cell’s mouth. 

“Christ, how much coffee have you had today?” He asked, not moving his hand for an answer. “Nevermind, I don’t care.” 

He moved his hand and carefully connected their lips.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Thank you for reading! I've also posted this to Ao3, where I'll be cataloguing all of my works for this month! I also have 3 other WIP fics, so if you enjoy my works please go show some love over there or feel free to shoot me an ask!

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

what is the reasoning behind putting something that absolutely ignores mechanics in a system that's all about defined mechanics? if you want to play powered by the apocalypse go play pbta or whatever? stop trying shoehorn in shit that doesn't belong in D&D

I'm gonna do my best to take this question and answer it in good faith.

The system/subsystem I'm working on is to include a combination of things that are COMMON and beloved by many in fantasy, but ESPECIALLY Heroic Fantasy: someone pushing beyond their normal limits in order to accomplish a goal when everything else looks bleak. When a character says "fuck the consequences, I have no other choice," whether through desperation, anger, determination, etc. These are almost ALWAYS accompanied by long term consequences for that character.

In D&D games like mine that are just as much about the storytelling as the mechanical gameplay, it SUCKS when your dice have done nothing but betray you, for instance. There are plenty of REAL LIFE examples of stuff like this happening as well: real life people have found themselves capable of feats that they can't replicate afterward and had never done beforehand, because the situation was so desperate.

I'm not saying the system I'm working on is right for every table, not by a long shot. But there IS precedent for similar mechanics. The (slightly controversial) madness mechanic in 5e is an example.

My players, for instance, I know for a fact would avoid using this system unless things were truly desperate for their character. And I'm not saying this system even allows someone to say "I do this and it's perfectly successful." If it's a big ask, it might simply be impossible. If it's very difficult, they might be able to mostly succeed on their goal or they might have a monkey's paw version of a success.

The mechanic isn't intended for "I kill the BBEG." It's not for an extended, complex task. But if a character is standing next to someone they love and they can see someone pointing a crossbow at them, I would enjoy my players having the option to have a minor heroic moment of taking a shot for that person, or for a sorcerer to be able to push their powers beyond their normal limit when things are looking at their darkest, even knowing there will be some severe long term consequences.

My players LOVE D&D 5e. We love the mechanics in it. But we also love good narrative and storytelling, and as a DM I'm confident in my improvisation skills, I can handle it. My players also know if I have a blank slate of "Ellie can really fuck with my character if I do this" (in a good natured way) it's only to be used VERY sparsely.

In short: We WANT to play 5e D&D. We just want to add some narrative choice and flavoring that doesn't exist in the base rules.

[my-gf-is-kazuichi-soda]

A lot of Nagito self shippers have a remnant of despair sona! One person calls theirs maid to match servant! I think it’s super cute! Does Zoey have one?

Ultimate Despair AU - Remnant of Despair Zoey (Ultimate Cartoonist)

(Also, here is a link to the post I wrote yesterday).

Junko and Zoey write depressing comics together about the Ultimate Despair spreading around the world, and they include silly Monokuma short stories sprinkled in (like those segments in the games where Monokuma tells a nothing-story in between chapters. I liked most of those.) Zoey can also write the stories on her own or draw new copies of previous ones if needed.

Zoey would shove these into people's arms and faces or drop them from atop the giant Monokuma robot, and any flashy, cool pictures that drew potential readers in would be juxtaposed with the insistent attitude that Monokuma and the Despair will (and did) take over the whole world.

Zoey still has sensory issues that impact her ability to enter crowded and/or loud spaces (I mean, if being a remnant somehow fixed autistic sensory issues, then, shoot, maybe being brainwashed wouldn't be so bad after all! /jk). Junko found it amusing to watch a brainwashed Zoey scream and punch people (including other Remnants) (since she wouldnt care to control herself anymore) whenever she got overstimulated, but she realized quickly how difficult it was to give orders with Zoey's constant outbursts, so she gave her Monokuma-style headphones to block outside noises and focus on the tasks at hand. What else would she ever need to listen to other than Junko's orders?

Zoey and Kazuichi knew each other as Remnants but hardly ever interacted, as both of them (like everyone else) stopped socializing for anything other than for obeying and worshipping Junko. Still, it wasn't uncommon to see them both standing on the giant Monokuma robot, throwing "Despair Comix" down to people together.

Zoey never wanted her art to be used like this. Kazuichi told her to throw those things in the garbage, but she would keep reading the "Despair comix" over and over, looking for any inspiration for parody or mockery, because she wanted desperately to turn this garbage into something good, anything good. Even though she didn't have any luck with this herself, she felt better after finding out that online communities used to make these into memes. Even dumb shit - like a panel of Monokuma with a poorly-edited bong that read "420 in the apocalypse -smoke weed in despair" made Zoey feel that her art, in a way, played a small part in giving someone a chuckle or a moment of relief during the end of the world.

[justnat15]

The 141 as the Horsemen of the Apocalypse version 2

Here’s the second version! I really like both versions I wrote. But please tell me which you prefer! Version one can be read here.

Whispers around the base called them the apocalypse incarnate. Death, Famine, Pestilence, and War in the flesh. It worked out quite well since there were four of them. 

Captain John Price was whispered to be the one called Death. The leader of the 141, he and his men went into the hairiest battle situations and somehow still came out on top. Nobody tried to keep track of the force’s kill count. Price led the hunt each time a new target was acquired. He rarely left any enemy survivors behind. He trained his men to be as ruthless as him. Wherever Price went, death was sure to follow.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. Most would assume he would be the one called Death, due to his call sign and preference for skull masks, yet he was nicknamed Famine. His very presence on the battlefield starved the air of anything except bloodlust. Off missions, there was something empty about the man. Something was missing. Whenever he was around the other soldiers, it felt like whatever it was was being sucked right out of the air. The soldiers felt a little colder, a little bit less somehow. They didn’t know what they needed to fill themselves, but whatever it was there would never be enough.

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish was Pestilence, or the conqueror. The first one sent in to clear the area, killing all hostiles. Teamed with Ghost on the field, he’d rain bullets and hellfire on enemy combatants. Back on base and off mission, he tended to plague his fellow soldiers with pranks and extremely corny jokes. Once he had decided you were his next target, whether on or off the battlefield, you had no chance.

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick was one that tended to confuse everyone. On base, he was one of the most polite and borderline sweet (if soldiers could use that word to describe a member of a special task force). He was Price’s protégé, sure, shadowing the captain whenever possible. He was learning every trick of the trade he could. But on the mission, he was just as vicious as the rest of his comrades. The other soldiers dubbed him War because he became someone, something, else when on the battlefield. Someone unstoppable. Some swore they saw the fires of hell shining in his eyes during combat, like he was Ares, the Greek God of war himself.

Most of the regular soldiers gave them as wide a berth as possible, which didn’t bother the task force much at all. 

The four men knew enough about the whispers behind their backs, about being the four horsemen of the apocalypse back on earth to bring about the end of the world. 

Price would just scoff and light up another cigar while reading another mission report. He didn’t have time to deal with such things.

Ghost wouldn’t give a reaction. He had long since stopped caring what others thought about him. 

Soap would just laugh and shake his head, babbling on and changing the subject. But he would secretly make note of his next prank victim.

Gaz would cock his head to the side with a small smile. He’d comment about how that really wasn’t believable and why would the universe choose the four of them for such an important task? They were just soldiers, after all.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Okay, here's a good one: A fantasy adventure story that's like Moonrise Kingdom, with the surrealism of Zeno Clash 1 and 2. Go!

(I am working through the backlog at the moment, so for anyone curious: REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED. But these are my requests from years ago, that I am finally answering now that life is marginally less bad.)

Person A was an orphan born into a small town, but has no records of their family before appearing there as an infant, and is always told by the townsfolk that no one leaves the town and no one enters. One day, they start hearing a voice speaking to them and they follow it to the edge of town and discover a barrier far on the outskirts. The voice promises to make them feel happy and loved and cherished and begins to aid Person A in escaping the barrier, but the world beyond is far more treacherous than they could’ve imagined, but the voice stays with them the entire time, helping them through trials, singing them lullabies at night, and guiding them closer to what the voice calls ‘home’.

Person A is the adopted child and apprentice of the guardian at the center of the universe, a being vast and powerful, but who they view as more a nagging parent than much else. And despite being the apprentice, Person A is never allowed to view the world of mortals who live within the universe they are to be the future guardian of. One day, when their guardian isn’t looking, Person A steals a tiny screen and begins observing the small corner of the universe it shows - a bedroom of a child, Person B, who is talking about a mysterious monster called Death that they are afraid of getting them. Person A, deciding that since they’re the future guardian of the universe, they’ll prove their maturity to their caregiver by going on an adventure to go defeat Death. But Person A isn’t aware of what death even is, so they decide to seek out Person B to get their knowledge about the monster.

Person A is a child who doesn’t feel like they blend with their peers, and then a new classmate joins their class who’s extremely strange and terrifies all the other kids, but Person A feels an instant connection with. Their strange and terrifying classmate, Person B, seems equally drawn to Person A. Person A starts to have strange dreams of a world unlike their own, where someone who reminds them of Person B is always with them, in a life they shared together in the elsewhere place of the dreams. When Person A mentions the dreams to Person B, they seem excited and tell Person A they can help them get home to that world and that life, and the two start planning how to runaway to this other world.

Person A was born into a family that heads a cult that speaks of an apocalypse day that is set to fall on one of Person A’s future birthdays, and due to this coincidentally shared date, Person A’s birthdays are always fairly somber affairs, without much celebration. Person B is someone they meet from outside the cult who is their closest friend and only one who doesn’t think their birthday is unlucky and evil, and promises to throw Person A an amazing birthday after they leave their family’s religion/sphere of influence. When that day finally comes, Person B does throw them the party, but when their family show up to crash it and try to stop it, Person A becomes emotional and Person B, wanting to save their friend’s birthday, releases a great deal of power that triggers the predicted apocalypse.

Person A was abandoned on the doorstep of family of hunters with many children, but who took them in anyway, but Person A always felt a bit like an outcast among their siblings. Unlike all their siblings, Person A has never been able to kill an animal but is very good at foraging. But one day, while on a lone hunting trip that’s a right of passage within the family, they start hearing a voice calling them deeper and deeper into the woods, that tells them they are the child of the forest god and are tasked with ridding the forest of the humans who hunt the animals there. Person A can’t decide who to trust or what to do, since they can’t go back to their family without killing an animal, but they also don’t want to do what the voice at the center of the forest is asking them to do and kill the only family they’ve ever known. So they decide to run away and try to find their own destiny. Along the way they meet various people and creatures and supernatural entities who they learn from/help/get experiences with.

[lec743]

Darksiders Concept Thingy With Strife (3)

Strife was taking the lead as he was the one who got the whereabouts, from Vulgrim, for one of the ingredients they needed to bring back humanity. It was an enjoyable journey, because he and the human Alex were trading jokes.

She sat on Mayhem, fiddling with a project of hers that she says will help her make clothes. She smiled easily at him as her eyes were focused on her task. It was odd for Strife. He felt like it was only him and her in the world as the two of them talked. Unless, of course, Fury or Death had anything smarmy they wanted to add to the conversation. War was quiet, but whenever Strife checked on him, the giant nephilim was watching, obviously engaged with everyone talking.

The world around them trilled with her laughter when he told her a particularly bad joke. Strife smiled at her glee and at the groan that Death and Fury made.

"You're awful,' Alex said through her giggling.

"Ah, Princess. You wound me," Strife playfully lamented.

She laughed again. She fully looked up at him as she stopped working, then said, "Princess? When did I become a princess?"

Strife shrugged. "It makes since. You're small and fragile. That's what most princesses I know are like."

"You don't know any princesses," Fury snarked.

"Well apparently now he does," Alex teased back. Then she sighed and said, "But I am offended that I'm viewed as weak and fragile. It makes me feel useless."

"You are weak and fragile," War stated plainly.

"But you're not useless," Strife was quick to add when he saw the sadness seep a bit deeper into her half smile. "The way you defeated that grappleclaw with that environmental trap you set up was amazing."

"Which I still think was unnecessary and dangerous. We didn't need help," Death reminded Alex of his opinion.

Fury playful swatted Death with the back of her hand against his chest as she chuckled, "You just didn't like that it was you that she was helping."

"You're welcome, by the way," Alex said with a smile at Death.

Death only rolled his eyes as he raised his head and hands up slightly like he was asking the heavens why he was stuck with these people.

Alex then turned her attention back on Strife. "But anyways, if you're dead set on calling me princess, then I'm going to have to call you My Knight."

Fury gagged and Alex laughed, but Strife was just momentarily speechless over the idea of Alex seeing him as a hero or a protector of some kind. It's a new feeling.

"I have to say. I am determined to keep calling you princess... Princess"

She blew a raspberry at him through her laughter then said, "Very well, my knight," in a very elegant voice.

Fury gagged even louder and said, "Please go back to calling him Mr. Quickdraw Mcgraw."

"I will. But someone sounds jealous," Alex teased, "Do you want a nickname too?"

"That is not necessary."

"What? You don't want me to call you beautiful?"

It was Strife's turn to gag. "Please don't. She's got a big enough ego."

Fury was glaring at Strife as she said, "Besides we all already know I'm the prettiest one here."

"Maybe so," Alex conceded as Strife did silent, rude hand gestures at Fury, "but humanity, even before the apocalypses, lost a lot of information because people thought, "Everyone knows this, why would we restate it anywhere else," and well I think your beauty shouldn't be lost to the sands of time. You know?"

Strife could see everyone looking at Alex in complete confusion and he knew he was mirroring his siblings on the matter. Fury was actively avoiding the human woman's warm smile and gaze. Strife saw her hand twitching on her sword whip, like she wanted to use it on something.

"Alex, I think you're being too nice. You're going to start giving us ideas?" Strife joked.

She turned her attention back on Strife. "What's wrong with ideas. You all act like you've never been giving a complement, or had someone say thank you to you or anything else nice for that matter?

"That's because you keep acting like we're human." Strife stated.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

An uncomfortable silence fell on everyone as she looked expectantly at Strife, waiting for an answer that none of them can properly answer.

Eventually, Death's voice cut through the silence, asking, "How much farther until we reach our destination, Strife."

The human and nephilim turn their attention to the oldest of the group and Strife was, for once, eager to answer him, "It's just a few more hours away."

Death nodded. "Good."

Strife walked a little bit ahead, passing by Alex's sad and disappointed look as she went back to working on her project.

So much for being her knight, he thought.

[realistically-shifting]

Reality: Orion

In the story I had for Orion, Remus, our 12 wives, and I basically recreated the world with Hana in mind. Everyone else just benefited from it. This video reminded me of it because this is something we’d have in it.

For example, because of her trauma in the story, she struggled with being in hospitals because of the sterile rooms, but it was necessary for checkups and research. So, every hospital has room options in various styles, with doctors and nurses dressed to match. This and some other changes helped her, but also ended up helping others with medical trauma in the story.

After factories and global militaries stopped functioning, there was a spike in emissions due to militaries fighting zombies, but eventually nature started to overtake cities and come back to waterways. We worked with various groups to continue monitoring the environment, eventually giving rights to the land and treating it almost as a citizen itself.

Food, water, shelter, education, healthcare, etc. became universal rights. Cities were made more walkable. Public transportation exploded and years down the line people are able to do cross-continental trips using only public transit. Kids stopped being forced to do homework and a slew of child protection laws were enacted. Public infrastructure had to undergo a lot of changes to include accessibility features everywhere. Etc.

In the story, we wanted to basically create a utopia for Hana to raise her own family in one day. We also wanted her to live in a society better than what we lived through. We worked together with other new societies after the apocalypse, with several ending up under our “rule”. “Rule” isn’t exactly the right word, but we became responsible for them. These other societies and groups weren’t as fleshed out in the story, but they implemented our basic expectations (universal food, water, housing, healthcare, education) while still maintaining many cultural differences.

Remus was in charge of defense. I was surprised at how many people wanted to take over, and one man who we thought was an ally was working to implement plans that would essentially create ghettos for the “undesirables” of this new society, but Remus, Ivy, Daphne, and Valentina weren’t shocked at all. Every time I asked something akin to, “But why would they WANT a group of people to be poor?!”, or “Why wouldn’t I ask an expert for their opinion on this? They’re the expert??” they’d try to answer but all their answers flew over my head still.

Some attacked us and tried to start conflicts, but those scuffles were silenced by Remus or another Helvig showing up inside of their personal home. We didn’t believe in rulers using their people like pawns and wars like games, so Remus handled a lot of things himself or gave the task to someone he trusts.

I don’t think I’ll ever want to live through that because it sounds like a headache, so I won’t script it. At least not all of it.