#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

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — part 2

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 13k

MASTERLIST

Warmth.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the warmth of the sun on your face, its golden light filtering through the gaps in the trees. You blink against the brightness, disoriented for a moment as you sit up abruptly. That’s when you realise your head had been resting on Jungwon’s lap.

He’s still there, sitting exactly where you left him, his blade resting against the wooden railing. His posture is stiff, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but his gaze remains focused on the treeline, sharp and unwavering.

“You didn’t sleep,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse. It’s not a question—it’s an observation, one that feels heavier than it should.

He glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t want to risk it,” he says simply, as though staying awake all night was no big deal.

Your brow furrows, guilt creeping into your chest. “I thought we were switching shifts.”

He shrugs, leaning back slightly against the railing. “You looked like you needed it more.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He barely knows you, yet he gave up his rest so you could have yours. The realisation sits uncomfortably, making your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, the word feeling inadequate. “But you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his tone light but firm. “It’s fine, I didn’t think i would’ve been able to sleep anyway.”

The camp below begins to stir, the others waking slowly as the day takes hold. You glance down, watching as Sunoo stretches lazily, Sunghoon stokes the embers of the dying fire, and Jay mutters something under his breath, clearly not a morning person.

“You should get down there,” Jungwon says, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Grab something to eat before they take it all.”

“What about you?” you ask, still uneasy with the thought of him staying awake all night.

“I’ll eat later,” he says, waving off your concern as he finally stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Someone has to keep an eye on things while everyone else sleeps in.”

For a moment, you consider arguing, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not worth it. Jungwon’s sense of responsibility runs deeper than you realised, and while it frustrates you, it’s also hard not to respect it.

“Alright,” you say finally, climbing down the ladder. But as you reach the ground and glance back up at him, the faint guilt lingers.

You sit by the dying fire, its faint warmth barely reaching your skin as the morning unfolds around you. Despite the ache in your body and the exhaustion clawing at your mind, you can’t stop your eyes from darting across the camp, taking in the subtle movements of the group. 

There’s a rhythm to them, an unspoken flow in the way they interact, as though every task and gesture has already been decided without a single word being spoken. It’s not chaos, not the haphazard scramble you’re used to seeing in desperate survivors. It’s something else. Something deliberate.

The longer you watch, the clearer it becomes that they aren’t just a random assortment of people who happened to survive together. The dynamics of this group, odd as they may be, seem to work, each person carrying out a role that seems as vital as breathing. 

You hate to admit it, but it intrigues you. There’s a part of you—a part you thought you buried—that wants to understand how they make it work. Against your better judgment, you can feel your curiosity growing, clawing at you for answers.

One thing, however, is abundantly clear: Jungwon is the leader.

You spot him high up on the watchtower, his silhouette outlined against the soft glow of the rising sun. His arms are crossed, his posture relaxed but alert as he surveys the camp below. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t bark orders, yet the others seem to fall into line as if guided by an invisible tether.

“Hey,” Sunoo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, jolting you slightly. He’s seated across from you, fiddling with a dented tin cup and flashing one of his easy, disarming smiles. “Jungwon figured that if you’re going to be staying, it’d be better to let you in on how things work around here.”

Staying. You’re not entirely sure about that.

The idea of staying with a group, of being around people again, stirs something uneasy inside you. It’s not a fear of them—it’s a fear of what comes with them. The horror of your past still clings to you like a second skin, a constant reminder of what it means to care, to hope, and then to lose. You’re not sure you’re ready to open yourself up to that again.

Because staying with people means watching them die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

Not to say this group will meet the same fate—but in this world, there’s no guarantee of survival, no matter how capable or united they seem. Death isn’t a possibility; it’s an inevitability. The only question is when.

You’ve seen it before—how quickly things can go wrong. How one misstep, one unlucky moment, can unravel everything. Staying means becoming a part of something, and a part of you wonders if you’ve got anything left to give. After all, what’s the point of building something that will inevitably collapse?

“It’ll help you understand why we do what we do,” comes another voice from behind. You start slightly, not having noticed Jungwon’s approach. He settles on the log beside you, his presence calm yet commanding, as if he’s somehow taken control of the conversation without trying.

Sunoo leans forward, his grin widening. “Alright, listen up. Starting with our fearless leader over here—Jungwon.” He gestures dramatically, and Jungwon rolls his eyes, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s our strategist, the one who keeps us alive by figuring out where to go, when to move, and how to deal with… well, everything.”

Jungwon exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Someone has to keep you lot in line,” he says dryly, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Whatever you say, captain,” Sunoo replies, offering a mock salute before turning his attention to Heeseung. 

The man sits at the edge of camp, methodically sharpening a blade. “Next, we’ve got Heeseung, our scout and tracker. He’s got the best eyes out of all of us. If there’s something—or someone—out there, he’ll find it first.”

“And that grump over there?” Sunoo gestures toward Jay, who’s seated a short distance away, carefully cleaning his pistol with a precision that borders on obsessive. “Jay’s our long-range shooter. Best shot we’ve got. He’d never admit it, but he’s saved all our asses more times than we can count.”

“Jake,” Sunoo continues, pointing toward the man currently inspecting a med kit, “is our medic. If you get hurt, he’s the one you want patching you up. And don’t worry, he actually knows what he’s doing, and not just throwing plasters on everything hoping for the best.”

Jake smirks faintly, his hands moving deftly as he tosses a roll of bandages into the kit. “I was in pre-med before all this,” he says, his tone light but tinged with a quiet seriousness. “It’s not anything impressive, but it’s enough to keep us alive. Just don’t make me work too hard, alright?”

“And then there’s Sunghoon,” Sunoo says, his tone growing slightly more dramatic, “our weapons expert and close-range fighter. If it comes down to it, he’s the one who’ll keep the rest of us breathing.”

Sunghoon glances up from where he’s tinkering with a makeshift blade. “And by ‘close-range fighter,’ he means I’m the one who has to deal with the messy stuff,” he says dryly, though there’s a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“And then there’s me,” Sunoo adds, placing a hand on his chest with mock seriousness. “Diplomat. Negotiator. The one who talks us out of—or into—trouble, depending on the situation.”

“Mostly into trouble,” Jake interjects, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.

Sunoo waves him off with an exaggerated sigh before turning to the cheekiest of the group. “And last but not least, Ni-ki, our little magic hands. If it’s broken, he can fix it. If it’s running, he can make it run faster.”

Ni-ki, who’s crouched by the van inspecting its undercarriage, glances up briefly. “Yeah, and if you want it to work, don’t touch it,” he says, his tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly.

The pieces start to fall into place, the dynamic clicking in a way that almost makes sense. You find yourself both impressed and uneasy, the thought of fitting into something so cohesive feeling alien to you.

Sunoo tilts his head, his gaze meeting yours. “And you? What about you?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve been on your own for so long, your only role has been survival. You’ve never had to think about what you could bring to the table—only about what you could take to stay alive. And in that sense, staying would be a terrible idea.

Then again, these people clearly know what they’re doing. It doesn't hurt to be around people that will keep you alive.

“I guess… I’m figuring that out,” you say finally, your voice quieter now.

Sunoo studies you for a moment before nodding, his grin softening. “Stick around long enough, and we’ll figure it out too.”

About three days have passed in their camp, and you’re beginning to entertain the possibility of staying with them. They work well together, almost seamlessly. It’s not something you just discovered, but the more you witness their dynamics, the more in awe you are. 

You can’t help but wonder: if the community building you were part of had been like this, would it have fallen the way it did? Maybe with them, you finally have a real shot at staying alive.

Most of them seem to have opened up to the idea of you sticking around—at least, you think they have. Truthfully, the only people who’ve expressed any contentment with your presence are Sunoo and Jake. But that’s likely because they’re the ones you’ve spent the most time with. They’re always in camp, managing supplies and rations, keeping the place running while the others head out.

And, of course, because you’re not allowed to leave camp. Orders from Jungwon—though you suspect Jay had a hand in that decision too. You figure it’s less about keeping you safe and more about making sure you don’t fuck up their rhythm.

Speaking of Jungwon, you’ve noticed something about the way the group operates: his words hold a lot of weight here. And not just because he’s the leader.

Even after spending the last few nights on watch with him, sharing quiet conversations under the stars while the others slept, you still haven’t quite figured it out. There’s an ease to the way he interacts with the group, a quiet authority that doesn’t need to be forced.

Every decision, every movement, seems to flow through him first. But it’s not in a micromanaging or authoritarian way. It’s just… natural. The others look to him, wait for him to weigh in, like his judgment is the glue holding them together. He doesn’t shy away from it either, even when it’s clear the burden weighs heavily on him. 

Whatever this group’s flaws, it’s clear Jungwon holds them together, even at the expense of himself. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to understand why.

He’s not the leader because he demands it—but because the others trust him to be. 

It works for them, clearly. They function like a well-oiled machine, each person playing their role with practiced efficiency. But if you’re being honest, you find it a little risky.

To have everyone’s lives hinge on one person’s decisions? To place that much responsibility on a single set of shoulders?

It’s a dangerous gamble. For even the strongest leaders have their breaking point. And if Jungwon ever falters, you wonder what will happen to the rest of them.

You’ve also learned that they only leave the camp unattended during high-stakes expeditions, like the one back in the city. Other than that, it’s almost always Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, or Jay who take turns heading out. And even then, they only leave when it’s absolutely necessary.

Not to hunt. Not to scavenge.

They don’t hunt. They’re surviving off the food they stole when they escaped The Future.

It’s a startling revelation, one that lingers in the back of your mind every time you watch them ration out supplies. Even though you know Heeseung is perfectly capable of hunting, they don’t take the risk.

No, when they go out, it’s not for food or water. It’s to cover their tracks and secure the perimeter. To ensure that no trace of their last expedition leads anyone back to this camp, which you suspect is also another reason why they don’t let you leave. 

Ni-ki is harder to figure out. He’s a wild card—sometimes he goes out when needed, but otherwise, he stays behind to keep watch. These past few days, though, Jay has been staying in camp too, and it’s clear he’s still wary of you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. He doesn’t sleep when you’re on watch and makes sure you’re never alone with any of the others for too long.

Aside from Jungwon, Jake, and Sunoo, you haven’t exchanged many words with the rest. Even when everyone’s in camp, the conversations are minimal.

Most of them don’t like talking about their lives before the world fell apart. And you understand. What’s the point in reminiscing about a time that no longer exists? It only makes the loss worse, reminding you of everything you could have had.

Well, most of them feel that way—except for Sunoo.

He talks endlessly, filling the silences around camp with anecdotes and bits of his past. You’ve learned from helping him manage supplies that he was in law school before everything fell apart. It makes sense, given how much he talks. He’s always negotiating, always diffusing tension with his words.

When he asked you what you did before the world ended, you kept it vague, telling him you were in school too.

And yet, despite the distance, they’ve started treating you like one of their own. It’s been a long time since you’ve gone days without starving, and for the first time in forever, you almost feel like you’ve found a safe haven.

But before you even have the chance to fully sit with the idea of staying, your attention is drawn to Jungwon, who’s making his way over to Heeseung. His movements are careful, deliberate, and the moment they begin talking, it’s clear the conversation isn’t meant for everyone’s ears. Still, their words are loud enough to reach you from where you’re sitting by the logs.

“Heeseung, how’s our food situation?” Jungwon asks, his expression serious, his brows furrowed in thought.

Heeseung glances around briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the camp before leaning in closer to Jungwon. “We’ve depleted almost everything we took from The Future. With our current resources, it’ll last us about a week.” He pauses, then adds in a lower voice, “Well, less now that we have…”

Heeseung’s gaze shifts toward you, and you realise a second too late that you’ve been staring. Your eyes meet his, and he stiffens, clearly caught off guard by your attention. His words trail off, but the meaning behind them hangs in the air, unspoken yet deafeningly clear.

A wave of guilt washes over you, sharp and overwhelming.

That’s right. You’re just another mouth for them to feed. Another person whose survival they’re now responsible for.

You hadn’t thought about it before, not really. But now, it hits you like a freight train. Every bite you take, every resource you use—it’s something they can’t spare, something that might have kept one of them alive just a little longer.

And that triggers something in you.

You lower your gaze, suddenly unable to hold Heeseung’s. The weight of your presence in their camp feels heavier than ever, and the resolve you thought you’d solidified earlier begins to shift.

Staying with them, trusting them, letting them trust you—it’s not just about your own safety anymore. It’s about what your presence costs them. And that’s not something you can ignore.

So, you make up your mind there and then.

The next opportunity you get, you’ll leave. Leave and never turn back.

They don’t entirely trust you, but they don’t distrust you enough to keep you at arm’s length, either. They let you into their camp, shared their food, their fire. They even explained how they work together, the roles they each play. Yet, you remain an outsider, lingering on the edges of their tight-knit circle. And you know, deep down, that’s exactly where you belong.

So when the opportunity arises—though you’re not sure when you’ll have a moment alone long enough to slip away unnoticed—you’ll leave. You won’t even take anything with you. Just slip into the shadows and disappear before they even realise you’re gone. No attachments, no debts, no goodbyes. That’s how it has to be.

But not yet. Not until you’ve made sure they’re safe. 

Despite your resolve, you can’t bring yourself to abandon them while the unknown danger you and Jungwon discussed the night you met them still lingers. Not after everything they’ve done, not after the way they fought to protect each other, to protect you. That’s right, you still owe them for saving your life and feeding you these past few days.

So you’ll wait. Watch for the right moment. Repay your debts. And when it comes—when the threat has passed, and the dust has settled—you’ll leave. Without hesitation. Without looking back.

But that selfless thought is, in itself, an act of caring—you just haven’t realised it yet.

Jungwon and Heeseung return from their quiet discussion, their expressions unreadable. Without needing to say a word, the group instinctively gathers around the fire that has long gone out. The way they move, as if summoned by some unspoken signal, is fascinating. No commands are given, no prompting required.

Just the sheer presence of Jungwon.

“We’ll have to send a team out to hunt,” Jungwon begins, his voice calm but firm as his sharp gaze sweeps across the group. “Latest before noon. If we leave then, we can make it back before dusk.”

Jake, sitting with his legs crossed, looks up sharply. “Hunt? Are we out of food already?” Concern threads through his voice, his usual calm demeanour faltering just slightly.

Jungwon doesn’t answer immediately, his focus flickering toward Heeseung, who nods in silent confirmation. “We’re low,” Jungwon says finally.

“I mean, we do have one more mouth to feed,” Jay mutters, his tone biting as he glances at you. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed. It’s not the first jab he’s made, but it stings more than you’d like to admit.

You force yourself to keep your expression neutral, meeting his gaze evenly. If anything, you’re oddly relieved by his hostility. At least someone here is keeping their guard up around you. Someone who doesn’t want to trust you, who wants you gone. You can’t explain why, but you hope it stays that way. It feels safer, somehow, for at least one person to see you as an outsider—a liability.

It makes leaving easier to justify.

“Jay,” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp but not angry. It’s enough to make Jay’s expression shift slightly, though he doesn’t apologise.

The silence that follow is heavy, Jungwon’s words settling over the group like a cold wind. The reality of their situation is clear—if they don’t find food soon, things are going to get a lot harder. And none of them, not even Jay, have to ask for you to know you should be the one to do it.

“I’ll go,” you say, your voice firm despite the nervous knot forming in your stomach. All eyes snap to you, the weight of their gazes almost crushing.

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “You?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “You need every fighter you can spare here, and I can handle myself. I’d hate to sit around and do nothing all day, like a parasite. Let me help.”

“At least she’s self-aware,” Jay mutters under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Sunoo.

The air grows thick with tension, the subtle coo of morning birds the only sound as the group processes your words. Heeseung is the first to break the silence, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll go too,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “If she’s going out there, someone has to track. I’m not sending anyone out blind.”

Jay lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. “Yeah, no. If Heeseung’s going, I’m going. Someone has to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces.” His words are pointed, his glare fixed on you. It’s clear he doesn’t trust you, and he’s not about to risk Heeseung’s safety over it.

You bite back a retort, understanding his scepticism even if it stings. Heeseung glances at him but doesn’t argue, his focus already shifting to what the group will need for the trip.

“I’ll go too,” Jungwon says suddenly, standing up from the log. His tone is steady, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the calculation in his eyes. “We can’t take chances with this.”

“No, you can’t go,” you say quickly, before he can cement the decision. The firmness in your voice catches him off guard, his brow furrowing as he turns to you. The rest of the group falls silent, thrown by your sudden declaration. Usually, whatever Jungwon says goes, so for you to challenge him is clearly a first.

The awkwardness is suffocating, the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on you. You take a small step closer to Jungwon, lowering your voice so only he can hear. 

“They need you here,” you whisper, your voice steady but insistent. “If you leave, that’s four people left at camp—two of whom isn’t much of a fighter.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “They can handle themselves. It’s not the first time I’m leaving anyway,” he replies, his voice calm but firm.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “But it’s clear they’re rattled by the food shortage. They’re anxious, Jungwon, whether they’re saying it out loud or not.” You glance briefly at the others, noting the subtle tension in their postures, the way their gazes flit to Jungwon as if waiting for reassurance.

“You’re their leader,” you continue, your voice soft. “You’re the reason they stay focused, the reason they trust they’ll make it through the next day. If something happens to you out there...” You let the sentence hang, the weight of the implication settling heavy between you both.

Jungwon’s expression falters for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he schools it back into something unreadable. He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think he’s going to argue. But then his gaze softens slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“And you think you can handle this?” he whispers, his voice softer now but no less serious.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “Heeseung knows what he’s doing, and Jay clearly won’t let anything happen to… well, him. I’ve hunted before, Jungwon. Plus, I know you stayed up on watch again last night. You need to stay here.”

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he exhales sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Alright,” he says, though there’s a reluctance in his voice. “But don’t take unnecessary risks. If it looks bad, you come back. Understood?” 

The way he says it, as if he knows you’re considering running, makes something twist in your chest. Not yet, though. Not yet.

“Understood,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms.

Heeseung secures his knife into its sheath with a nod, and Jay rolls his eyes but grabs his gear without protest. The three of you prepare to head out, the camp watching in silence as you gather your supplies.

Just as you’re about to step beyond the barricade, you spot Jungwon whispering something to Jay. Whatever he says makes Jay scowl, shaking his head in visible protest. But Jungwon’s expression hardens, his voice firm as he cuts the argument short. Jay sighs, clearly annoyed, but ultimately relents. His sharp eyes shift back to you, now carrying an edge of suspicion sharper than before.

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you as you leave, his expression unreadable. The weight of his trust—or maybe it’s his doubt—feels heavier than any weapon you’ve carried. But you push the thought aside.

The three of you move quietly through the forest, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees in patches of gold. Heeseung takes the lead, while Jay trails slightly behind, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. You stay somewhere in between, the knife in your hand an extension of the resolve you’re trying to summon.

The silence between you is heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chirping of distant birds. You don’t speak, and neither do they, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s one born of necessity, of focus. Every sound, every shift in the forest, could mean danger—or an opportunity.

But, of course, the concentration doesn’t last. Jay, who you’re beginning to suspect thrives on friction, breaks the quiet with a pointed comment. 

“I don’t understand. Why does Jungwon care so much about you?”

Heeseung doesn’t turn around, but you can practically feel the exasperation radiating off him. “Seriously, Jay? You’re talking about this now?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of disbelief in his tone.

“What?” Jay retorts, his tone almost defensive. “Are you not curious at all?  They stayed on watch together a few times, and now Jungwon’s ready to risk everything to keep her safe.”

“I’m literally right here,” you snap, the annoyance in your voice cutting through the tense air. “If you’ve got questions about me, maybe try asking me directly instead of talking like I’m not standing a few feet away.”

Jay glances at you briefly, his expression unimpressed. “Fine. Why is Jungwon sticking his neck out for you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “I don’t think he’s sticking his neck out for me,” you say, your tone defensive as your grip tightens around your knife. “What are you even talking about?”

Jay lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as if you’ve just proven his point. “Then why did he ask me to keep an eye on you? Make sure you come back alive?” he says, his voice low but edged with irritation.

Your steps falter for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He… told you that?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to something more uncertain.

Jay nods, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. Said you’ll be a great addition to the group or something. Like we don’t already have enough to deal with.”

You’re not sure how to answer—hell, you’re not even sure why Jungwon has been so willing to give you a chance. Before you can formulate a response, Heeseung cuts in.

“Maybe because Jungwon’s a nice person,” Heeseung says dryly, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Not like a certain somebody who can’t seem to shut up.”

“Nice? Jungwon?” Jay scoffs, his tone sharp. “He’s the last person after me among the seven of us to be nice, especially to strangers. You think this is just him being friendly?”

You glance at Heeseung, hoping for some clarification, but he keeps his focus on the trail ahead. Jay’s words settle uneasily in your chest. If Jungwon isn’t the kind of person to extend trust easily, then what’s his angle? Why is he giving you the benefit of the doubt when others—like Jay—clearly think you don’t deserve it?

The weight of Jungwon’s trust feels heavier now, more significant.

“Well, I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need anyone keeping an eye on me.” you say finally, your voice a little steadier, though the uncertainty still lingers.

Jay snorts, his expression sceptical. “Yeah, well, tell that to Jungwon. He’s not exactly the type to give orders lightly.”

The tension between you hangs heavy in the air, but before either of you can say more, Heeseung glances over his shoulder, his tone calm but firm. “Enough. We’re here to hunt, not to argue. If we don’t bring back any game, it’ll blame it all on you.”

“Well, it’s her fault we’re even out here in the first place. Blame her.” says Jay with a scoff.

Heeseung’s gaze narrows. “I said that’s enough, Jay.”

Jay rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and turns his focus back to the forest ahead, the tension in his shoulders still evident.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, the heat of the argument leaving you rattled. But it’s not just the argument that lingers in your mind—it’s Jay’s words. Jungwon had specifically told him to keep an eye on you? To make sure you came back alive?

Why…?

Before the silence stretches too long, Heeseung motions for a stop, crouching low and studying a patch of disturbed earth. His fingers graze the ground lightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. You watch him carefully, impressed by the ease with which he reads the signs the forest leaves behind.

“Squirrels,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He points to a set of tracks leading deeper into the woods. “A few of them. Probably moving together.”

Jay nods curtly, his grip tightening on the bow he’s been carrying. “We’ll have to be quick. If we miss, they’ll scatter.”

Heeseung glances at you, a faint flicker of consideration in his expression. “You’ve hunted before, right?”

You nod. “A few times. Mostly small game, but I know how to stay quiet.”

“Good,” he says simply, standing and motioning for you to follow. “Let’s move.”

As the three of you make your way deeper into the woods, the tension eases slightly, the rhythm of the hunt taking over. Heeseung’s calm, methodical approach is a stark contrast to Jay’s sharp vigilance, but they work well together—an unspoken understanding guiding their every move.

At one point, Heeseung stops again, holding up a hand to signal a pause. He crouches beside a tree, studying a new set of tracks. Jay moves ahead slightly, keeping watch, and for the first time, it’s just you and Heeseung.

He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly. “You’re doing alright,” he says quietly, his tone low enough that Jay won’t hear. “Not bad for someone new to the group.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His calm demeanour is a welcome contrast to Jay’s constant scepticism, but you can still feel the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Heeseung hesitates, the silence stretching between you as he seems to weigh his words carefully. His hand flexes around the hilt of his knife, a nervous habit you’ve noticed before. Finally, he sighs, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost reluctant tone.

“Jay’s not… always like this with everyone,” he says, his gaze fixed on the ground, as though avoiding eye contact will make it easier to get the words out. “The way he’s acting with you, I mean. There’s a reason he’s so hard to trust new people.”

You furrow your brow, confusion flickering across your face. Of course, it’s not unusual for survivors to be cautious—vigilant even—around strangers. In a world like this, where danger lurks at every corner, you either kill or be killed. Trust extended to the wrong person could easily land a knife to your back.

But the way Heeseung describes Jay’s distrust, it sounds like something more. Something personal.

“Why?” you ask cautiously, your voice low. You don’t want to push too hard, but you can’t hold back your curiosity.

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. “After our escape from The Future, we took in another survivor. A guy, around our age. He was half-starved, injured. Begged us to help him. Said he’d been on his own for months.”

You can already feel where the story is headed, but you don’t interrupt.

“Jay didn’t trust him from the start,” Heeseung admits. “Said something felt off. But the rest of us… we thought he was being paranoid. We were tired of losing people. We wanted to believe the guy was just another victim of this world.”

His voice grows heavier, the memory clearly weighing on him. “At first, it seemed fine. He kept to himself but didn’t cause any trouble.” Heeseung’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as he grips his knife tighter. “But turns out, Jay was right.”

Your stomach knots, dread curling in your chest. “What happened?”

“He waited until we were vulnerable,” Heeseung says bitterly. “Waited until we were distracted. Then, he grabbed one of our friends, put a knife to her throat, and demanded our supplies.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“We gave him what he wanted,” Heeseung says bitterly, his jaw tightening. “But he didn’t let her go. He slit her throat anyway, right in front of us. And then he ran.”

The air around you feels colder, the quiet of the forest suddenly oppressive. You glance at Heeseung, his calm facade cracking just slightly as he stares at the tracks before him.

“That’s why Jay is the way he is,” Heeseung continues, his voice low but steady. “He was closest to her. Blames himself for what happened. Ever since then, he doesn’t trust easily. And he doesn’t forgive.” 

Your mind pictures Jay back at the camp, how his posture is always tense and hunched as though he’s carrying the weight of that memory with him every second of every day.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“No,” Heeseung says softly. “You wouldn’t have. But now you do.” He looks at you again, his expression softer, though the pain in his eyes remains. “So, if he’s hard on you… it’s not personal. It’s his way of protecting us. His way of making sure it never happens again.”

You nod slowly, the weight of the story settling over you. “I get it,” you say softly, though the words feel inadequate. “I’d probably feel the same.”

Heeseung glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But trust me, if you stick around long enough, Jay will see what the rest of us do. That you’re not like him. That you’re not a threat.” 

You don’t respond immediately, his words settling into your mind like seeds in freshly tilled soil. The weight of their past lingers with you, a reminder of just how fragile trust can be in a world like this—not that you needed the reminder. 

The two of you rise silently, falling back into the rhythm of the hunt as you make your way to rejoin Jay, who has moved further ahead on his own. You spot him crouched behind a dense thicket of ivy, his form still but alert.

Heeseung is about to call out when Jay abruptly places a finger to his lips, his sharp eyes locking onto yours as he motions for you both to get low.

You and Heeseung exchange a quick glance before crouching, carefully shuffling toward Jay. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rustle of fallen leaves beneath your boots deafening in the tense quiet. The forest, once filled with the gentle hum of wildlife, now feels suffocatingly still.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung whispers, his voice barely audible as the three of you huddle closer.

Jay doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on something beyond the ivy. Then you hear it—the familiar shuffling of feet, slow and uneven. The guttural moans and growls you’ve come to dread. But this time, it’s not just a few. The sound is overwhelming, a dissonant symphony of the undead. Dozens, maybe more.

“There’s something very wrong,” Jay whispers, his voice taut with unease. “Look at the way they’re moving.”

Your stomach churns as you part a few strands of ivy, revealing a massive clearing surrounded by towering pines. In the centre of it, a cluster of zombies moves in a strange, unnatural rhythm. They’re walking in a perfect circle, their shuffling steps eerily synchronised like ants trapped in a death ring.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The sight is wrong—so wrong it makes your skin crawl.

And then you hear it.

Voices. 

Your head jerks toward Jay, whose wide eyes mirror your own shock. “Did you hear that?” you mouth, barely breathing.

The sound comes again, low but unmistakable. “Round... them... up…”

It’s deliberate, controlled. Words spoken in the same hollow, rasping tone as the undead.

“They’re… talking?” Heeseung whispers, his disbelief matching your own.

You strain your ears, heart pounding as the voices continue.

“Saw them… around here…”

“Find them…”

Your blood runs cold. They’re not just words—they’re instructions. Coherent, deliberate instructions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hand instinctively grips your knife tighter. You glance at Jay, and the flicker of fear in his eyes confirms what you’re dreading. These aren’t just zombies.

There are people—or not people—you're not entirely sure. But something is walking among the dead.

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weight slightly, readying himself for whatever comes next. “What do we do?” he whispers, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Jay’s gaze remains fixed on the clearing, his expression grim. “We move. Quietly. Back the way we came. Now.”

You don’t argue, your body already taut with tension as you begin to inch backward. The sound of human voices mingling with the moans of the undead burns in your ears, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on your chest. Whoever these people are, whatever they’re doing, one thing is clear: they’re more dangerous than the undead. And they’re looking for something—or someone.

The trek back to camp is a blur of tension and urgency. None of you speak, your steps light and calculated, careful not to make a sound that might draw attention. The eerie chorus of moans and human voices fades behind you, but the weight of what you’ve just witnessed hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens with every step, your mind racing with the implications.

By the time you see the familiar barricade of the camp, your legs are trembling—not just from exertion, but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through your veins. Heeseung is the first to signal to the others, his hand raising in a sharp, deliberate gesture that sets the camp into motion. Sunoo and Jake rush to open the barricade, their expressions immediately shifting from curiosity to concern as they take in your faces.

“What happened? Why are you guys back so early?” Jungwon asks, his voice calm but edged with urgency as he strides toward you. His sharp gaze sweeps over each of you, searching for any sign of injuries.

“We need to talk. Now,” Jay says, his tone clipped and serious. He glances back at the forest, his hand still gripping his bow tightly. “Inside.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t question it. The commotion quickly grabs the attention of the rest of the group and they instinctively assembles, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry.

Heeseung speaks first, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. “We found a horde. Dozens of them, maybe more, moving together in a clearing.”

“Okay, and?” Jake asks, his brows furrowed. “That’s not unusual. Hordes travel together all the time.”

“It wasn’t just a horde,” you say, your voice quieter but no less urgent. All eyes snap to you, and you feel the weight of their attention pressing down on you. “They were… whispering.”

“Whispering?”  Sunghoon repeats, his expression sceptical. “You mean the dead started to talk?” Sunghoon leans forward slightly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usually calm demeanour cracks under the weight of disbelief, his brow furrowing deeply.

“We don't know what it was.” you say, your voice sharp. “They sounded like the dead, but they were coherent words.”

A heavy silence falls over the group, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Sunoo looks between you and Jay, his usual light-hearted expression replaced by unease. “Are you sure? It couldn’t have just been… I don’t know, echoes or something?”

“‘Round them up,’” you say quietly, your voice breaking through the tense air. “‘Find them.’ Those were their exact words. It wasn’t just random sounds or echoes. It was deliberate.”

Jay shakes his head. “And it wasn’t just one or two words. They were coordinating.”

“Coordinating?” Jungwon repeats, his voice low and measured. He’s not panicking, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his concern.

Jake leans back slightly, his expression hardening as he processes your words. “You’re suggesting that the dead have started to talk? Or that people are out there pretending to be the dead? Why? To what end? That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. “Why would anyone—”

“Doesn't matter. They were looking for someone,” you cut in, your voice sharper now as you recall the chilling words you heard.

Jungwon’s expression darkens, his sharp mind clearly working through the possibilities. “Did they see you?”

You shake your head. “No. We got out before they could.”

“For now,” Jay mutters, his jaw tight. “But if they’re moving through the area, it’s only a matter of time before they find the camp.”

The group falls silent again, the weight of the situation sinking in. Jungwon exhales slowly, his gaze sweeping over everyone before settling on Heeseung. “What did the clearing look like? Could it be a pattern, or just a random gathering?”

“It wasn’t random,” Heeseung says firmly. “They were walking in a circle. Over and over, like some kind of… ritual.”

The word hangs in the air, chilling in its implication. You glance at Jungwon, his expression unreadable as he processes the information. Finally, he speaks, his voice steady but resolute. “We don’t have enough information to act, but we can’t stay complacent. Sunghoon, Heeseung, start reinforcing the barricades. Make sure every gap is sealed. Jake, check our supplies. I need to know how long we can hold out here if we need to. Sunoo, Ni-ki—keep the van ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll keep watch with Jay,” you pipe up just as Jungwon turns to you, his sharp eyes meeting yours. His gaze lingers a moment longer than you expect, as though he’s searching for something—resolve, maybe, or doubt. Whatever he finds, it’s enough to make him nod.

Without a second to spare, everyone falls into a rhythm. The weight of what you’ve encountered hangs over the camp like a storm cloud. Nobody says anything, but the silence tells you everything. They’re scared. Jungwon included.

You climb the watchtower with Jay, the makeshift structure swaying slightly under your combined weight. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the forest in hues of orange and gold. The beauty of it feels jarring against the tension in the air, a cruel reminder of the world that once was.

Behind you, you hear the faint sizzle of the campfire, now reduced to embers and smoke despite the night’s cold settling over the camp. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the smart move. Light and smoke would only draw attention, and right now, attention is the last thing any of you need.

Jay settles into position, his bow resting across his lap. His expression is stony, his eyes scanning the tree line with sharp precision. You don’t speak, sensing the simmering emotions beneath his calm exterior. Instead, you keep your focus outward, your own knife gripped tightly in your hand.

The forest is quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that prickles at the back of your neck. Time crawls, every second feeling heavier than the last. Dusk settles in slowly, the golden hues fading into muted greys and shadows. Then, just as the last rays of sunlight vanish, movement catches your eye.

A figure emerges from the tree line, their silhouette hazy against the growing darkness. They’re limping slowly, deliberately, their steps unhurried, as they approach the gate. It’s a single person, their posture relaxed but not aimless. Something about them feels… wrong.

“Someone’s coming,” you whisper, nudging Jay with your elbow. He turns quickly, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure. The second he sees them, his entire body goes rigid.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. Before you can ask, he ducks behind the barricade, pulling you down with him. His face is pale, his usual composure cracking just slightly. “Stay down.”

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice low but urgent.

“It’s someone we took in. Don’t necessarily have the best relationship with,” Jay whispers harshly, his voice barely audible as his eyes remain fixed on the approaching figure. His expression is dark, and there’s an edge to his tone you haven’t heard before—something between anger and unease.

“A survivor you took in…” you begin, your stomach knotting as you piece it together. “You mean the one who killed your friend?”

Jay’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the figure. “Did Heeseung tell you that?” he mutters, his voice sharp but low enough to avoid carrying. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is he’s bad news, and he’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat, a cold dread settling in your chest. You glance over the edge of the barricade, your gaze snapping back to the figure, who is now closer to the gate. His features are clearer now—sharp, wiry, with a crooked grin that sends a chill down your spine.

“He doesn’t know you,” Jay continues, his voice tight. “You talk to him. He hasn’t seen you before. If he recognises me, it’s over.”

You hesitate, the weight of what he’s asking sinking in. Before you can respond, the man stops just a few feet from the gate, his eyes scanning the camp with a calculated intensity. Then he calls out, his voice loud but casual, almost friendly. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Jay gives you a small nudge, his expression hard but pleading. “Just keep him distracted, long enough for me to warn the rest,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, swallowing hard as you straighten, forcing yourself to step into view. Your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand, its cool weight a poor comfort against the fear knotting in your chest.

The man’s eyes light up when he sees you, his crooked grin widening. “Ah, someone’s home. Wasn’t sure if this place was abandoned or not.”

You take in his tattered clothing, the dried blood stains on his skin, and those eyes. Those eyes belong in a mental asylum if this were the world before.

“What do you want?” you ask, keeping your tone neutral but firm.

The man chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with a calculating glint that makes your skin crawl. “Relax,” he says smoothly, spreading his hands in a mock gesture of innocence. “I’m just passing through. Haven’t seen anyone in a while, thought I’d see if there were any friendly faces around.”

“This camp’s occupied,” you reply coolly, standing your ground. “You should move along.”

For a split second, his grin falters, a flicker of something darker passing through his expression. But then the smile returns, sharper this time, and his gaze narrows slightly. “Fair enough,” he says lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. Just curious, is all.”

He takes a step closer, his tone turning smoother, more calculated. “Say… you haven’t seen a group around here, have you? Seven boys. One’s blonde. Another’s got a sharp tongue—calls himself Jay.”

The air feels heavier, and your grip on your knife tightens instinctively. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words settle over you, their implications clear. Your mind races, trying to calculate the safest response, but the danger in his tone is unmistakable.

“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you say carefully, forcing your voice to remain steady. “And I wouldn’t know if I had.”

The man’s grin widens, but his eyes remain cold, watching you with unsettling precision. ��Is that so?” he drawls, his tone almost mocking. “Well, that’s a shame. Been looking for them for a while now. That guy, Jay, he owes me… let’s just say, a few favours.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with menace. Behind you, you can sense Jay’s absence, the faint rustle of his movements as he slips away to warn the others. It’s just you and this man now, and you’re painfully aware of how exposed you are.

“Like I said,” you repeat, your voice firmer this time, “you won’t find them here. So you should move along.”

For a moment, the man doesn’t respond, his gaze lingering on you as though trying to read between your words. Then he takes a step back, his grin never wavering. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time,” he says lightly, though there’s a faint edge to his voice. “Nice camp you’ve got here. Hope it stays that way.”

With that, he turns and begins to limp away, his steps slow and deliberate. You don’t lower your knife, your gaze fixed on his retreating figure, tracking every laboured movement until he vanishes into the tree line. Only when the shadows swallow him whole do you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your legs tremble beneath you, exhaustion and adrenaline mixing into a potent cocktail that leaves you unsteady.

“Is he gone?” Jay reappears and asks from behind you, his voice low and tense. He steps closer, his eyes darting nervously toward the gate as if expecting the man to reappear at any moment.

“For now,” you whisper, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. The words feel hollow, more for your own reassurance than his. 

You glance at Jay—his face is pale, his usual composure shattered. His bow has been replaced with his pistol, and he grips it so tightly that his knuckles turn white, as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

The silence between you lingers for a beat too long. Without a word, you start climbing down the ladder, your mind racing to piece together what just happened. Questions swirl in your head, each one more unsettling than the last. Why was he here? How did he find the camp? And most troubling of all—what does he really want? 

Jay follows, his footsteps slower, more hesitant. By the time the two of you reach the bottom, the rest of the group is already gathered around. Their expressions range from confusion to concern, a tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“What happened?” Heeseung is the first to speak, his tone wary but insistent. “What did he want?”

You glance at Jay, whose jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. His grip on his pistol hasn’t loosened, and his posture is rigid, like he’s bracing for something.

You shift your gaze back to Heeseung, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. “It’s the guy you told me about,” you say quietly. “He was looking for you lot.”

“And I don’t think he bought a single thing I said,” you admit, your voice even but laced with quiet frustration. 

Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, but instead of relief, you see something else settle in his expression—panic, the kind that runs deep and raw. “Oh god… we can’t stay here. We need to leave. Right now.”

The fear in his voice startles you. You’ve never seen Jay like this, not the sharp, sarcastic, ever-sceptical man who’s never once let his guard down, and you’re suddenly more confused than ever. Then it clicks, the words the stranger said echoing in your mind: 

That guy, Jay, he owes me. 

He singled Jay out.

But why? If Heeseung was right, if the man was the one who killed their friend, why would Jay owe him anything? 

Your heart sinks, the realisation creeping in like a shadow. You glance at Jungwon, his jaw clenches subtly, the muscle ticking as he processes it all. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says it all. He’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Jay,” Jungwon starts slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “What did you do?”

Jay’s head snaps toward the leader, his sharp eyes locking onto him like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. Then his jaw tightens, and you see it—the guilt, the weight of something he’s been carrying for far too long.

“What did you do, Jay?” Jungwon presses, his voice steadier now, his suspicion hardening into certainty.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jay scoffs in mock annoyance.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Sunghoon steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Jay. “No, he’s right. Why would he be looking for us? Specifically for you?”

Jay’s head snaps toward Sunghoon, his eyes narrowing defensively. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m asking if there’s something you’re not telling us,” Sunghoon says, his tone calm but firm. “Because he didn’t just stumble across us, Jay. He knows exactly who he's looking for.”

Jay hesitates, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and you can see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. Finally, he lets out a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of him.

“I went after him.”

“You what?” Sunoo’s voice is a mix of disbelief and anger. “You went after him alone?”

Jay ignores him, his focus entirely on the ground as he continues. “It wasn’t hard to find him. He was camped out at the edge of the city, asleep, surrounded by our supplies. I took them back. All of them.”

“And then?” Jungwon presses, his voice dangerously calm.

Jay hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Then… I shot him. In the ankle. Left him there. The sound attracted the dead, and I ran.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You glance around the group, their faces a mix of shock, anger, and something heavier—betrayal.

“You left him?” Jake says, his voice low and incredulous. “You left him to die?”

“He killed her!” Jay snaps, his voice rising as he finally meets Jake’s gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of defiance and regret. “What was I supposed to do? He put a knife to her throat, and we gave him what he wanted. And he killed her anyway. You think he deserved mercy?”

“You could’ve told us,” Heeseung says quietly, his tone cutting deeper than if he’d yelled. “You could’ve trusted us instead of going off and doing something reckless.”

“I couldn’t!” Jay’s voice cracks, the raw emotion spilling over. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had to… I had to make him pay.”

“And now he’s here,” Jungwon says, his voice cold and measured. “Looking for you. And you’ve put all of us at risk because of it.”

Jay’s shoulders sag, the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. “I didn’t think he’d survive,” he admits quietly, his voice barely audible.

“Well, he did,” Jake snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface. “And now he’s got a grudge and knows exactly where to find us.”

Part of you understands Jay’s anger, his grief. The sheer weight of what they’d lost—what that man had taken—could drive anyone to the edge. But the other part of you, the part sharpened by survival, sees the problem for what it is. Heeseung is right—it was reckless. This isn’t just about a chance encounter or a petty grudge. That man is here for revenge, and now the camp is squarely in his crosshairs.

Jay swallows hard, the fight in him extinguished. His voice trembles as he mutters, “I’m sorry…” The words hang in the air, hollow and inadequate.

The moonlight cast harsh shadows on everyone’s faces, highlighting the unease and exhaustion etched into their expressions. Sunghoon leans against the barricade, his jaw tight as he stares into the darkness. Jake’s hands are curled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line. Even Sunoo, ever the optimist, looks pale and withdrawn.

Finally, Jungwon exhales sharply, breaking the tension. His shoulders square, and his expression hardens as he steps forward, taking charge. “We don’t have time for blame right now,” he says, his voice steady and commanding. The tone leaves no room for argument, cutting through the tension like a knife. “What’s done is done. We focus on what’s next.”

“And what’s that?” Sunoo asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“We leave,” Jungwon says simply. “Because if he comes back, he won’t be alone.”

The words hit like a hammer, and the weight of them settles over the group. Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “You’re saying we abandon the camp? Everything we’ve built here? I thought we’d finally be able to settle down.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon replies firmly, his gaze sweeping across the group. There’s a steadiness in his tone, but you can see the weight of the decision reflected in his tense posture. “He knows exactly where we are, we can’t defend this place against a coordinated attack. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pack up and leave because of circumstances beyond our control.”

Heeseung nods slowly, his expression grim. “He’s right. We’ve seen what people like that can do. And it’s not just him. There’s that strange horde we encountered earlier today. If he’s somehow connected to them—staying here is suicide.”

“But where would we even go?” Ni-ki interjects, his voice edged with frustration. “It’s not like there are safe havens just waiting for us.”

Heeseung pulls a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, its edges frayed and creased from frequent use. It’s a map of Seoul, though it’s seen better days. Parts of it are scratched out, and there are annotations scrawled in the margins—places they’ve scavenged, places they should avoid. As Heeseung unfolds it, you notice the heavy red crosses marking several areas.

“There’s nowhere to go but further north,” Heeseung says, his tone measured as he scans the map. “But that takes us closer to the demilitarised zone. That place fell to The Future the last time we checked.”

The tension in the group thickens as Heeseung continues to analyse the limited options. Judging by the sheer number of red crosses, it’s clear their choices are slim. The faint hope of finding refuge seems to dwindle with every second.

Then your eyes catch on something familiar—a road along the Seoul-Busan highway, just as it’s leaving the city. A rest stop is marked there, scratched out in bold red ink. The memory of that place hits you like a spark in the darkness.

“Here,” you say, pointing to the rest stop on the map.

Heeseung glances at where you’re pointing and immediately shakes his head. “No. That’s one of The Future’s outpost. The place is probably crawling with them.”

“What? No,” you reply quickly, your brows furrowing as you think back. “I was there. Scavenging. There was a gas station filled with supplies. It was too big of a place and too risky for me to set up camp, so I took what I could and left. But when I wanted to go back for more, it was overrun by the dead. I didn’t want to take my chances alone. But if there’s eight of us, it should be pretty easy to clear out if we’re careful.”

The words tumble out of your mouth, and for a moment, the group falls silent. You look up from the map, suddenly aware of the fleeting glances being exchanged between Jungwon, Heeseung, and the others. Confusion is written plainly across their faces, their unease palpable.

“When was that?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the silence, careful and probing.

You hesitate, trying to gauge the timeline in your head. “Over a month or two ago? Give or take. It was the first time I had to venture that far out in search of food. Finding that place felt like a blessing—I hadn’t eaten for days at that point.”

You’re so caught up in recounting the memory that you almost miss the look of shock that flashes across Jungwon’s face. His expression hardens, his gaze shifting to Heeseung, who looks equally taken aback.

“Y/N, are you sure it’s the same rest stop?” Heeseung asks, his gaze sharp and unyielding as it locks onto yours.

“Positive,” you reply firmly, though the rising tension in the air makes your chest tighten. “I think I’d remember the place that quite literally saved my life.”

Heeseung’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes flicking toward Jungwon. “Jungwon…” he starts slowly, his voice laced with urgency. “Wasn’t the last time we had to move camp to run from The Future about two months ago?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond right away. His jaw tightens, his expression darkening as if the weight of the realisation is physically bearing down on him. Finally, he looks at you, his sharp eyes searching yours for answers, certainty, or maybe even doubt. But all he finds is your unwavering resolve.

“Something is seriously wrong,” Jake mutters, his voice barely audible as he scratches the back of his neck. His gaze flits between you and the others, confusion etched deeply into his features. It’s as though he’s trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces don’t quite fit. “If that place was overrun by the dead, and The Future was still active there, then…”

His voice fades into the background, his muttering drowned out by the rising unease. The tension among the group is palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. You’re equally as confused as the rest of them, but you can tell their confusion stems from something you don’t yet understand.

Jungwon’s expression hardens further, his voice low and deliberate as he says the words that send a chill down your spine. “The Future… fell?”

The statement lingers in the air, heavy and foreboding. Your mind races, trying to comprehend what he means, but before you can process it, the sound of shuffling feet cuts through the stillness.

It starts faint, like the rustle of dried leaves in the wind, but it grows louder with each passing second. The guttural moans of the undead follow, a haunting symphony of the dead. There’s no mistaking it—there are a lot of them, and they’re close.

Jungwon’s head snaps toward the sound, his hand immediately gripping the blade at his hip. His voice cuts through the rising chaos. “Ni-ki, start up the van! Everyone else, grab what you can and get on. Now!”

The group springs into action, weapons drawn as the moans grow louder, the shuffling of feet drawing closer. You grip your knife tightly, your pulse pounding in your ears.  The forest that once offered a fragile sense of safety now feels like it’s closing in.

“They’re coming from everywhere!” Sunghoon shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos as he points toward the tree line.

Jungwon moves quickly, stopping next to you, “Y/N, with me. We need to clear a path for the van to pass through.”

You nod, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat, and fall into step behind him. The first of the undead breaks through the undergrowth, its decayed face catching the dim light, its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto you with unrelenting hunger. 

“Stay close,” Jungwon says, his voice low but steady as he raises his blade.

The camp erupts into a flurry of motion and noise, the clash of weapons against bone mingling with the moans of the undead. You steal a glance at Jungwon, his movements precise and controlled as he takes down one of the creatures with a single, fluid strike.

Even as you fight, your mind is clouded with questions. The Future fell. The weight of those words lingers, gnawing at the edges of your focus. What could it mean? How could it connect to what’s happening now? The rest stop, the hordes, the whispers—none of it adds up.

Your thoughts are abruptly cut short as another zombie lunges toward you, its rotting hands outstretched. You dodge instinctively, driving your knife into its skull. The sickening crunch reverberates up your arm, but you can’t afford to dwell on it. Not now. That’s right, what’s the point of dwelling on the dangers of the future if you can’t even make it out of the present alive?

“Y/N, watch out!” Jungwon’s voice snaps you back to reality just in time for you to duck as another undead stumbles toward you. Jungwon’s blade flashes in the dim light, and the creature collapses in a heap. He glances at you, his expression unreadable but firm. “Focus. We need to keep moving.”

You nod, breathless but determined, and press forward. The path ahead is thick with the undead, their shuffling forms threatening to overwhelm the group. But together, you and Jungwon cut through the horde, each strike clearing the way inch by hard-fought inch.

Behind you, the van’s engine roars to life, Ni-ki shouting from the driver’s seat, “We’re ready! Let’s move!”

“Keep pushing!” Jungwon calls to the others, his voice unwavering. The van lurches forward, and you fight harder, carving a path through the chaos as the vehicle edges closer to the gate.

The group scrambles toward the van, the undead closing in with every passing second. One by one, the group leaps into the back, the interior modified into a wide, open space—likely Ni-ki’s handiwork. The seats have been ripped out, replaced with a carpet that’s seen better days but provides enough room for everyone to pile in.

You’re about to climb into the van when something catches your eye—a lone figure standing just at the edge of the clearing.

At first, you think it’s another survivor. It’s upright, still, as though it’s observing the chaos. But then you take in its tattered clothing and decayed flesh, and the breath catches in your throat. It’s a zombie.

But it’s not moving.

Your heart pounds as your gaze locks onto its face. The peeling skin and hollow cheeks are all too familiar, but its eyes—its eyes are clear. Not the usual milky, lifeless void you’ve come to expect from the undead, but sharp and disturbingly human. For a moment, you could swear it’s looking directly at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, snapping your focus back to the present. He’s gripping the doorframe, his blade still in his hand, ready to help you in.

“Do you see that?” you ask, your voice low and unsteady, gesturing toward the figure.

Jungwon’s eyes follow your line of sight. His expression shifts subtly—confusion giving way to unease as his gaze locks on the unmoving figure. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but the tension in his posture tells you he sees it too.

“Y/N, get in,” he says firmly, his voice quiet but insistent.

You hesitate for a split second longer, your mind racing as you try to process what you’re seeing. The figure doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Its eyes remain fixed on you, eerily still and unnervingly focused.

“Now,” Jungwon snaps, his urgency jolting you into action.

You clamber into the van, pulling the door shut behind you. The van lurches forward, the sound of the undead clawing at the sides as Ni-ki floors the gas, navigating the rough forest terrain with practiced skill. Inside, the group struggles to catch their breath, weapons clattering to the floor as they brace themselves against the jerking motions of the vehicle.

But you can’t stop thinking about the figure. You glance out the back window, searching for it, but the dense trees blur past too quickly.

Jungwon leans closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, gripping the side of the van for stability. “It wasn’t like the others. It didn’t move. And its eyes…”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze fixed ahead as if he’s already trying to piece together an answer. “We’ll deal with it later,” he mutters. But you can see the unease in his expression, the weight of what you both just witnessed settling over him like a dark cloud.

The van jolts over another bump, and you force yourself to focus on the here and now. The memory of the figure lingers, though, its sharp, human-like eyes burned into your mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal—and the thought of what it could mean sends a chill down your spine.

Sounds of laboured breaths and quiet muttering fill the van as everyone tries to catch their breath. Sunghoon sits near the front, wiping blood off his blade with the edge of his sleeve, while Jake rifles through the med kit, his brow furrowed as he takes inventory of what’s left. Jay is silent, his expression dark as he stares out one of the small reinforced windows.

“So,” Heeseung pipes up from the passenger seat, glancing back over his shoulder. “Any idea where we’re heading?”

“Can we not have a moment of silence for the fact that we’ve barely escaped death? Again.” Sunoo quips, his usual sarcasm laced with exhaustion.

“Geez, don’t have to be all prissy about it,” Heeseung mutters, rolling his eyes as he slouches back in his seat.

“Head for the rest stop,” Jungwon says abruptly, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. His tone is calm but resolute, the kind that immediately silences any further remarks.

Jay’s head snaps toward him, his dark eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. We don’t even know if what she’s saying is true. What if it’s not what she says it is? What if The Future is still there?”

Jungwon’s gaze flicks toward Jay, his expression unyielding. “We don’t have many options, Jay. You saw the map. Everywhere else is a dead end—literally.”

Jay scoffs, his frustration boiling to the surface. “And this isn’t? What if we’re driving straight into a trap?”

“Jay,” Jake interjects sharply, his voice uncharacteristically firm as he closes the med kit with a snap. “With all due respect, I don’t think you have any say in this right now.”

The tension in the van thickens as Jake’s words hang in the air. Jay glares at him but doesn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looks away.

“We’ll approach cautiously,” Jungwon continues, his voice steady but firm. “We scout the area first. If it looks clear, we check it out. If not, we move on. But we can’t afford to keep running blind. We need supplies, and we need a plan.”

The group exchanges uneasy glances, but no one voices further objections. Jungwon’s calm authority seems to settle over everyone, even if only temporarily. You can feel the weight of their trust in him, even Jay’s, despite his reluctance.

You lean back against the van’s wall, your fingers brushing over the hilt of your knife as you try to steady your breathing. The memory of the lone figure from earlier flashes in your mind, its clear eyes locked onto yours. You push the thought aside for now—there’s no room for distractions when the stakes are this high.

The van jolts slightly as Ni-ki manoeuvres it over the uneven terrain, his focused expression illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You catch Jungwon’s gaze briefly, and he gives you a small nod—an unspoken reassurance, for now.

About half an hour drifts by, Ni-ki drives steadily along the uneven roads skirting the edge of the forest, the dense trees remaining close on the van's left. It’s a long detour as compared to driving straight through the city. But it’s safer this way—quieter. No one speaks, no one stirs.

Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Jake is curled up against the wall, his head resting on his arms. Sunghoon sits with his back against the van, his knife still in his lap. Even Jay looks like he’s finally let himself rest, though his hand never strays far from his pistol.

But you? You don’t sleep. And neither does Jungwon.

You both sit next to each other in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on what little space there is between you. There’s an understanding in that silence—a shared knowledge of something far beyond your comprehension. Something that lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

This isn’t just about surviving anymore. It’s about staying ahead of someone who knows how to hunt you down. That said, sleep is the last thing you’re worried about.

“What do you think that was?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air, cautious, careful not to disturb the fragile peace inside the van.

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is locked on a single spot on the ragged carpet beneath his feet, his fingers tracing the worn fabric absentmindedly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, distant. “A mutation? I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s him?” you press, your heart beating just a little faster. You don’t need to explain who you’re referring to. The thought is already there, lingering between you both.

Jungwon’s hand stills against the carpet, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he replies, “Maybe.”

That single word carries so much weight, so much dread. It hangs heavy in the air, settling deep in your chest. 

There’s no certainty in his answer. No confidence. It’s unnerving—he’s usually the one with the answers, the one who reassures everyone else that they’ll figure it out. But right now, there’s none of that conviction. Just tired confusion, vulnerable, almost hopeless. A stark contrast to the strong, commanding voice he uses when he speaks to the others.

It’s the kind of tone he never lets the group hear.

And for a second, you’re glad they’re asleep. Glad no one else is awake to see this side of him—the side that isn’t sure, that doesn’t have all the answers. 

Because you know, without a doubt, it would weigh on them. Everything Jungwon says, everything he feels, it spreads through the group like wildfire. That’s how much they rely on him. That’s how deeply their survival depends on his mentality—whether he realises it or not.

Jungwon exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “If it is him… then we’re in more trouble than we thought.”

The van jolts over a bump in the road, and Ni-ki mutters something under his breath from the driver’s seat, his focus unwavering. The silence stretches between you, thick with tension but not uncomfortable. It’s a shared quiet—both of you lost in your thoughts, both of you carrying burdens too heavy to put into words.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye. His posture is rigid, his arms resting loosely on his knees, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion. He hasn’t slept since… Well, that’s the thing—you can’t even remember the last time you actually saw him let himself relax for a moment. His gaze remains distant, focused on nothing and everything all at once.

Without really thinking, you shift closer, the subtle bump of your shoulder against his drawing his attention. He glances at you briefly, his tired eyes flickering with surprise, but he doesn’t pull away.

Your heart is still racing from the events of the night��the man, the whispers, the horde that shouldn’t have been there. But now, sitting here beside him, the weight of it all feels a little easier to carry. Slowly, cautiously, you let your head rest against his shoulder.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. You wonder if you’ve overstepped, if he’ll pull away, but then you feel it—slow and hesitant. Jungwon shifts slightly, his body relaxing as he leans into you. His head rests gently against yours, his blonde hair brushing your temple.

Neither of you says anything. There’s no need to.

The hum of the van’s engine fills the space between you, a steady rhythm that matches the rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside fades into the background.

It’s strange, this quiet moment of closeness. You’ve spent so long keeping your distance from others, building walls to protect yourself. But with Jungwon, it feels different. It feels… safe.

“You should rest,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.

“So should you,” you whisper back, your eyes closing briefly as the exhaustion pulls at you.

A faint chuckle escapes him, more a breath than a laugh. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moves. You both stay like that, leaning against each other, finding comfort in the quiet, fleeting peace. And for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself forget the chaos waiting outside.

You let yourself breathe.

part 1 - rotten | masterlist | part 3 - whispers

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: my apologies if i missed any taglist requests commented under the previous part! my tumblr's not working like it's SUPPOSED TO. regardless, i should've noted down everyone. part 3 is a little shorter so i'll post it coming saturday 12am kst (maybe earlier if this manages to reach 200 notes hehe) enjoy!

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @M1kkso @tinycatharsis @parkjjongswifey @dcllsinna

taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @strawberryhotlips @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @engurishu @opheliaas-stuff

non-gray/underlined = cannot tag

[holly-opal]

The amazing digital apocalypse (Gangle)

Gangle has arrived!

She is the supply runner. Although she sucks at it and Zooble or Ragatha have to do it while she is given a different task. Gangle is a very sensitive person, and the apocalypse only made it worse. She panics a lot and she runs away, leaving the supplies she gathered behind. She can't fight but is very good as a distraction, so the group takes advantage of that. When she isn't doing supply runs, she is usually drawing or reading manga in the corner.

Before the apocalypse, she was an art student with a lot of debt. Her parents didn't approve of her career choice and cut her off, her coworkers and boss at her part time job bullied her, and nobody at her school liked her. She was in the middle of class when people down the hall started screaming and the school went on lockdown. Eventually, the abstractions broke in and started killing people, and Gangle escaped through the window. She was taken in by groups who didn't exactly like her and were pretty mean to her. The last group she was in eventually just left her to die in the middle of the road. She then met Caine's group after she was caught trying to steal from them. She begged and pleaded for them to not kill her and was literally sobbing so hard that her clothes were wet from her tears. The gang let her join them cause they felt sorry for her (or in Jax's case, just wanted her to shut up and stop crying).

Gangle doesn't know how to feel about Pomni. She's happy that there's a new person in the group, but also sad cause someone else in the group died and she still hasn't processed it yet.

- - - - -

And Gangle is done! I think Gangle's backstory was the most fun for me to write. And I wanna do more with her in the future. Next one will probably be Zooble. Their design might take a little longer to draw cause I don't draw Zooble much and unlike the others, I don't have much ideas for them, but I'm sure I'll get there soon. See ya!

Jax

Ragatha

Pomni

[jellyfishsthings]

My lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

Warnings: my shit writing, violence (kinda?)

part 2, navigation

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

[cityandking]

also 3, 29, 42 for lira/alistair, rani/solas and middy/niko!

thank you!!! // send me a ship

3. Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

LIRA/ALISTAIR — they're private about their pining, and also about the letters they send while lira's out searching for a cure and the distance is paradoxically bringing them closer together. later, once they work their shit out, lira's wary about PDA but mostly because she's got a streak of paranoia; she doesn't mind the intimacy or the attention, just the way it highlights a potential weakness. alistair's just happy to have her there.

NARAYANI/SOLAS — they don't go out of their way to hide it, but they're private enough that few people truly understand the depth of it (sometimes including each other). rani doesn't mind public displays of affection, but she thinks solas does and so tends to keep things discreet. solas also doesn't mind PDA, he's just concerned about rani bearing the brunt of the backlash for being intimate with an elven apostate and also angsting about being the dread wolf, so he kinda comes across as PDA-averse. it's fine; rani doesn't mind having something to herself in the clusterfuck of the inquisition (until he leaves and nobody understands how deep that cuts)

MIDDY/ENIKO — enikö really prefers to keep things private—he doesn't like PDA and he's reticent to tell people about his relationships—but he can be a little flexible for middy's sake. he still prefers to keep it discreet but he'll hold hands or let her tuck herself into his coat or use a pet name every once in a while when he thinks nobody is paying attention. he can weather a little discomfort for her happiness (he just wishes bran would stop being so annoying about it)

29. How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

LIRA/ALISTAIR — lira really buckles down when it comes to dealing with anything out of the norm. she’s got the disaster response training and experience and she’s more likely of the two of them to step up (see: alistair abdicating his senior warden rights). it’s a bit of a surprise to get back after years away and realize alistair has also settled into being the guy who has to take charge in an emergency (though he’s still more likely to gripe and joke about it than she is). when it comes to illness or injury, they’re both terrible patients but alistair is more likely to listen to her than the other way around

NARAYANI/SOLAS — rani gets impatient during an emergency. she's not any less on top of things, but she's much less willing to suffer an idiot. solas tends to be a soothing presence when she gets wound up, which is good, though she'll absolutely tell him off if he's being useless. she's a surprisingly gentle hand when it comes to illness or injury; it's rare she's close enough to anyone to play nurse and a lot of her protectiveness comes out in those moments.

MIDDY/ENIKO — eniko is excellent in a genuine emergency but kind of useless when it comes to illness or a minor injury, mostly in the sense that he'll either treat it like an emergency (if it's middy) or kind of completely blow past it (if it's himself). he's the kind of guy who could weather the apocalypse or do field triage but has to be bullied into bed before he gives himself pneumonia.

42. Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

LIRA/ALISTAIR — yeah they’ve got the “we survived the blight together” flexibility. both of them knew each other at their worst and most annoying and still managed to become weird and co-dependent; everything else may not be easy but it kind of pales in comparison. on the flip side, they're both More picky with stuff they'd usually let someone get away with. lira will absolutely take him to task for being A Little Bit Gross At The Dinner Table and he'll get on her case for something equally nitpicky

NARAYANI/SOLAS — solas will let rani get away with things he wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. rani will not let him get away with things. tbh this is probably best for both of them.

MIDDY/ENIKO — yes but mostly in the sense that niko just isn’t bothered. stuff that would drive him up the wall if it were anyone else if’s fine if it’s middy (especially when it comes to life outlook and optimism). she gets a full pass. regardless of what she lets him get away with, he tries to hold himself to a higher standard for her sake

[iravaid]

💭💯🎄💔🍰 for biker pls

Hi Gen hi!!!! Biker questions, hell yeag

💭THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?

I took the MBTI test in character and it says Biker is an ESTP: the entrepeneur, which claims they're a 'bold and energetic individual who thrives on action and excitement. Your natural charm and quick wit make you a magnetic presence in any social situation...', which feels accurate!

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Biker's mother was a famous Italian novellist, who was known for her gothic styles and graphic gore. Physically, they look almost identical to her.

Biker doesn't like reading in general, and they think the entire genre of poetry insists upon itself. But, contradictively, Biker regardless has memorised three specific poems.

Biker has an incredible sense of direction and rarely, if ever, gets lost. This makes them a valuable navigator, especially when surveying along abandoned highways and roads in the post-apocalypse

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

New Year's Eve! It's less about the symbolicism of a new year and new opportunities, and more the massive parties they used to crash in NYC: they got to drink/snort/lick/taste whatever, fuck whoever, and the consequences for letting loose was far more relaxed, because it's NYE, babey!

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Oh god. They're an extremely vindictive and prideful person, so I think this, as a negative trait, conglomerates into overwhelming (and at times overblown) wrath. This all stems from their insane prey animl anxiety, which while not a negative trait on its own, leads Biker to act on violent impulse in order to protect themself.

They're also, on average, very apathetic towards others, and struggles to put themself in someone else's shoes in order to consider their side (especially in arguments). Biker thinks it's a pretty silly task and they believe their intuition/instinct is better than most, so they tend to make choices For others that should've been left well enough alone.

Biker is a burning the candle on both ends kind of person. They will push themself to their known limits and then some. If they stop for long enough, all the shit that's happened too them just might catch up. And Biker refuses to linger. They will live in the moment and that is It. They're too fast and too much and too overindulgent and too mean and too loud. They're more than an acquired taste, they require immunisation

🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)?

Hm!! Biker is less of a dessert person and more of a 'godawful, high sucrose content cheap gas station candy' kind of connoisseur (although they have a soft spot for a basbousa they tried in Qatar, during their racing days), and their favourite sweet things include: Fun Dip but ONLY the grape powder stuff (they just jam their gross fucking hand in the powder and licks it off.), sweet, neon pink bubbleum (they like chewing something for ages, it's like having something to fidget with), and sour apple Dragon Soop. what a catch

[irlkomaedanagito]

Optional ask about ocs - feel free to ignore if you don't wanna answer; and if ya do answer, I encourage rambling! ^^

Gimme 1-5 of your ocs - whether they're your favorite, most recent, the one you've been having fun with recently, etc. Tell me some fun facts about them, and why you picked them!

Hope you're having a great day/night - and remember to stay hydrated!

oh neat!!! so i have two, i talked about one already so ill keei it short but: lychee tillis for hit indie horror sensation mouthwashing. they r a medical intern who is really good at people watching, and over the years developed a really keen eye for psychoanalysis. its kind of the one thing they have to bring to the table, really. they're vehemently opposed to the general psychiatric institution so they cant even fuckinguse their talents. and just because theyre good at psychoanalysis, doesnt mean theyre good at psychological terminology, which is kind of needed if you were to, say, be tasked with treating someone who did a really bad crime.

see, in mouthwashing, there are five (six counting lychee) people trapped in a Windowless Tin Can and one of those people assaulted one of the other ones. now in the game this causes the death spiral of events that leads to all the horror and tragedy. but in the fic with lychee, dude has a horrible nightmare vision and decides to swallow his pride and ask lychee for some help

dude doesnt know how to go to therapy and lychee doesnt know how to be a therapist. this is going to go so so so so so so so well

lychee also mirrors their patient like this. lychee has a C plot with daisuke, the other intern. they have a relationship like this: one of them is the friend that has a worrisome pattern of brushing off the people around them. and the other one is obsessed with the first one and desperatley wants to be the exception to that dismissal, and take it REALLY emotionally when they are not

lychee is person A in their relationship with daisuke. their patient is person B, and person A is someone else. so where their patient and his friend failed, they succeeded with daisuke. which was like so good for the patient to watch play out it was so so so good i really hope this didnt spark any resentment or anything

the second is ichito moroboshi for the danganronpa series. hito for short. they are the ultimate wordsmith, a talent that is... pretty unusually broad, not that they'd know that. at high school age, they're pretty ignorant about the true depths of that talent. hito really likes vintage tech and dislikes pop psychology. they have a few different storylines tbh- in one, they commandeer an abandoned cruse liner in the middle of the apocalypse in order to cross the ocean to find their lost love. in another, their lover is one of the instigators of the apocalypse, keeping them captive to make them both feel hurt. in a third, they were experimented on for that talent.

in the first one, they were going to be the true subject of the experiment, but pure dumb luck stopped it. their lover in that universe is very... well he's very lucky. good luck, bad luck, it comes in cycles. he's both. now, they're out on a first date, which is very cute and all until.... BOOM!!! a manhole cover flies out from a construction zone and hits them square in the face!!! vertical style, right on one side of their face.

they collapse immidiatley. their lover thinks that they died. but they didn't! they did have to get extensive facial reconstruction surgery, however.

with all that metal rattling around in that head, no sane person would ever bring them near an MRI machine!

And that study needed that for measuring brain activity!

....so whomp whomp.

heres the kicker though: in every universe, they're destined to lose their eye to their lover. first universe, with the cruse ship and the manhole cover? took their eye out. second universe? it was gouged out, so they could "match." third universe? that "study" (experiment) they participated in, they lost their eye to that. it's in every universe. cyclops time dip fuck

anyway yeah those r my guys ty <3

[qstarhalo]

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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒

(includes descriptions and tags of everything that is not the 'normal' 616 based lore and universe. All always available.)

↪     --MAGNETO 2099 || dominion

Charles and Moira came to him-- told him of the future, of timelines destroyed and failed. And he was not satisfied with that. He lost Genosha. Lost his children. No more. A temporal storm took apart the ruins of Genosha, only contained by Storm. As a result, Magneto and her found themselves teleported to Krakoa in 2099. He is the crusader. The protector. This island shall not fall as it travels the multiverse to harbour all mutants who seek a home ... and he shall find what he seeks.

↪    -- #—GOLDEN TRACKS || AU

In a world where Art Deco 1920s meets Mafia movie, families and mobs have taken over various parts of the grand city of New Genosha, Max "Magnus" Eisenhardt rules the steel and mechanical industry and created the first, consistent cross-country train system. The Acolytes, who have the regional radio under their whim, follow his lead.It took a revolution for them to get power and more powerful groups intent to get a piece. Former alliances and enemies quickly go out the window for new eras.

↪     -- ANARCHY X ||

-- Set During #--UXBLUE ||

What if there are no X-Men to stop Magneto? After Magneto’s third destruction of Genosha, mutantkind lies scattered across the world. The X-Men are nowhere to be found. Trash dumps are filled with mutant bodies, in whole city parts, mutants sleep an eternal sleep. 

Magneto destroys London on a grand scale to unearth the perpetrators behind the ruthless torture. Mutants become more and more riled up. With no place to go, their fear becomes rage. Humans believe Magneto gone after the London incident, but a team of unlikely and chaotic allies form.

↪     -- PARADISE GENOSHA ||

-- Alternate Storyline to #--UXBLUE || Continues AnarchyX

What if Krakoa!Magneto was already existent during this time? What if someone else took the mantle of the mutant fighter? A year after London’s destruction, Genosha rises from the sea. It is formed from metal and debris of humankind, a new home for mutants. Magneto wears a holy white. The X-Men have gone more or less rogue. Pride is celebrated and mutants allow themselves to live in safety and flourish. But something is afoot. Sharks don’t sleep.

↪     -- Mutantmen of the Apocalypse ||

-- Alternate Storyline to #--UTOPIA || Continues & Ends Paradise Genosha

#Mutantmen of the apocalypse (Formerly DC/Marvel Crossover Event)

What if the pest of death strikes, controlled into armies that take down all that lives upon Earth? All heroes unite to fight on their own fronts. But there are other forces interested in playing against death that offer a helping hand if one can stay alive long enough. (Black Lanterns or the Symbiotes invade Earth. Verse to play god to)

↪     -- TERRA X ||

-- Alternate Storyline to #--KRAKOA and includes #--ARRAKO ||

Earth and Sol is still a habitat of mutantkind. As much as humans seek to destroy it, or it seeks to destroy itself, a group of mutants has taken it as their task to take care of Mother Earth and the other planets of the solar system, the natural needs of Krakoa. (includes Planet-Size X-Men and Storyline of Magneto:Jupiter)

↪     -- DARK FANTASY || ↪     -- HOUSE OF THE DRAGON // GAME OF THRONES || ↪  --WILL BURN THE WORLD TO FORGET || OLD GUARD

[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.