#the day after doomsday

[all-action-all-picture]

Weird War Tales No. 36, April 1975. Cover by Joe Kubert. This issue features a reprint of the 2 page story "The Day After Doomsday..." by Len Wein and Jack Sparling which had originally appeared in The House of Secrets No. 86, June-July 1970.

Many will find, um, some similarity (or lots) with the later "A Second Chance..." by Alan Moore and Jose Casanovas, a 2 page Tharg's Future Shock from 2000AD prog 245, dated 2 January 1982.

[companion-showdown]

Who had the worst time aboard the TARDIS?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[eebie]

Grinds my teeth to dust…. i wish touch didnt have so many Implications. im just trying to survive out here

[doodleduck]

He just went for it, really what else does he have to loose

@b1rdza ‘s mtiys :]

[joyoimiya]

very very simple idea i couldn’t get out of my head. i want to go back and make a proper edit later though!!

[the-haunted-office]

Doomsday has only just managed to gather her senses, to put together the fact that not only was it Sept who had landed on her and squashed her, but that she is no longer running up the stairs in the tower, that she is now back in the Office, and-

"Thursday?" she calls out into the hallway. "Where's Thursday? And-" She finally actually notices the state of the hallway. "Holy shit, what happened?"

Her eyes are almost comically huge as she stumbles down the ruined hallway, taking it all in. Sept is still on the floor behind her, and although she is also staring, her expression has a far more faraway look to it, as though she is looking at something beyond the hallway

Doom isn't paying attention to her, though. What she is paying attention to is the destruction surrounding her. The 210 hallway, where she and her fellow Days have their rooms, looks like it has been ravaged by a very concentrated source of heat, or something else that has blackened everything it managed to touch.

The carpet, once a fun, lively 90s arcade style complete with glow-in-the-dark shapes, is now missing except for the smallest ragged bits in some tiny, tucked away corners, the floorboards and supporting structures beneath lying in a good amount of ruin as well. Doom is quite frankly surprised she isn't falling through the floor right now, judging by the look of it.

The walls and ceiling are in a similar state, all destroyed, ripped apart by whatever struck it all, and anything else that was in the path has been totally annihilated as well. All the authentic Bob Ross paintings once framed and hanging on the walls, gone. The famous Starry Night painting, gone. The various silly fan art from various media, gone. The water coolers, gone. The small tables with vases with long-forgotten dead plants sitting on them, gone. All of it, gone, destroyed, like it never was. And Doom and Sept, there, standing in the middle of it all, staring.

Doom turns back to look at Sept, and finally an appropriate question regarding her comes to mind. "Sept, what's going on here? And what the hell is up with you?"

This finally gets the ghost's attention, as her head moves to look in Doom's direction, and she can tell she is looking at her even though the ghost has no eyeballs. "You're here?" she says in a voice so faint and small and strange that Doom can't help but blink back at her and then squint her eyes.

"Okay. This is getting weirder by the second. What are you on about?" Doom says, moving closer to Sept.

"The energy jet... was here a moment ago. I stepped into it, looking for Thursday," says, in that same strange, faint voice. "Where were you? Where's Thursday?"

"That's what I just- Okay, let's back up. Energy jet? Here? Is that what did all- this?" Doom asks, gesturing at the destroyed hallway around them. Sept looks too, but it's like she hardly notices any of it. She gives some sort of half-hearted nod. "Well, that answers... mostly nothing, but all right. And as for where Thursday is, that's what I want to know! We were both just in this dimension that was full of staircases, I was talking to The Narrative, I told them I didn't want to die, but they said Thursday had to make the same choice, whether to live or die, and so I was trying to find her so that she didn't have to... I don't know, do whatever it was she was trying to do alone, and then suddenly the staircase I was on fell apart and then I ended up back here."

She realizes that all sounded like a big load of shitfuckery, but even though it was a big load of shitfuckery, it still happened.

For all it's worth, though, Sept doesn't question any of it. For once, she doesn't scoff and turn her head and call her, Doom, an idiot. She's quiet for a moment, looking around the hallway, like she's thinking - or lost, it's sort of difficult to tell the difference at the moment, not that Doom can blame her with as lost as she is feeling herself. Then she says, "I saw something in there." She pauses, and something about the way she said it gets Doom's attention, I saw something in there, like she was talking about... a monster in a closet, or like a person who has just seen a ghost or a UFO, as absurd as that idea is given everything they've experienced in the Office.

"I don't know what it was, but it was... Huge. It was filling the world. Kind of like a... a fractal shape, almost, but more than that." Sept trails off. Doom expects her to say more, but she doesn't.

Doom is about to start asking more questions, but it is then that Dorian interrupts them.

"Doomsday? Is that you?" it says. It sounds terribly tired and weak, and the reason for it isn't hard to guess.

Doom gives a small smile, glad to hear its voice again, despite everything. "Hey, buddy! I'd ask how you're doing, but looks like you got hurt pretty badly here. Don't you worry, we'll get you fixed right up, okay?"

"Yeah," says Dorian, trying to sound a little bit more cheerful. "I know, I know. I'm glad to see you back, Doomsday! Where were you? Did you get rid of the energy blast? It was like a giant spear running right through me! I was told that- AAAAHHHH OH MONOLITH, WHAT IS THAT?!!!"

Both Doom and Sept startle at the sudden outburst from Dorian.

"What are you talking about? What happened?" Doom says, concerned.

"That! That thing! It's- Outside! Come outside and look! Hurry! It's filling the world! AAAAHHH!"

[boygirlctommy]

fuck it cbench as cryptids

[korixae]

making my sister watch ofmd with me 🤗🤗

[generationa1trauma]

whats up work hasnt paid me yet and the website is still showing last weeks payslip as my most recent one so thats todays vibe

[chaosmultiverse]

🚼

Okay here you go, let's see for Stanley and Doomy. x3

@the-haunted-office

send me a 🚼 and a ship I’ll use a doll-maker to design what I think a child between our two muses would look like

Hazel

Hazel is a wild child much like her mother and father, she is a very chipper punk who knows how to run her mouth. Growing up with a mother who could take her anywhere in the multiverse and a father with a love for nature and urban exploration has definitely led Hazel to be one to explore across the multiverse looking for cool and interesting things.

Due to the odd situation surrounding her birth, alongside the odd situations of her mother and father she has the ability to see souls and spirits, and is capable of forming a bound with a player like Stanley is but has avoided that entirely given uh... How much of a issue it was for her father.

As for intrests I can see her being into street racing and otherwise driving, alongside joining in with helping her mother with crimes for fun, in her spare time she would also probably enjoy investigating supernatural mysteries with her aunts and uncle.

[orcelito]

Logging on to find everyone doomsday posting again about this site and I'm just like. Man on a normal day I don't really care but right now? All else considered? I kinda really don't wanna see it lmfao

[eileensdress]

The music I put into a character playlist has nothing to do with whether or not they would listen to it. Hannibal Lecter would be fundamentally changed by Pink in the Night though.

[prismatica-the-strange]

The thing I love about disaster films and games is, yes they sometimes hit me in the anxiety, and yes they're somewhat unrealistic, but like it also makes me feel l would be so much better at surviving an apocalypse.

Like I already live a decent ways from town and can get trapped on the mountain. So we already keep bottled water, have collection buckets and large pots for boiling in case of emergencies. We keep extra bottles of rubbing alcohol and bandages. We have at least one whole deer in the game freezer at any given time. Lots of blankets, jackets, pants, gloves, even boots.

Idk maybe I'm just a low-key doomsday prepper.

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

[thecrimsondandelion]

Henry Fox had a Johnlock and Merthur phase, he had a secret tumblr account, i wont be taking questions

[the-haunted-office]

...These stairs really do just keep going, don't they? Just like the stairs in Mario 64, if you don't have enough stars to ascend Bower's castle or whatever. That endless staircase, taunting you with the end of the game you can't ever reach.

Except here there aren't even any portraits hanging on the walls for Doomsday to take her frustration out on - it's all just a bunch of shitty white and gray bricks, and many of them look like someone else already took their frustration out on them some time ago. Brick dust and brick shards lay coating the stairs in some places; in others, parts of the wall are missing altogether, exposing the swirling colorful, color-changing clouds and sky beyond.

What was up with all this shit?

"What is up with all this shit?" Doom complains as she continues to mount step after step after step.

This is tedious as all hell.

"This is tedious as all hell!" she groans, kicking a half a brick up the stairs, only for it to come tumbling back down.

Why was she stuck in this shitty-ass tower?

"Why am I stuck in this shitty-ass t-"

Hello... Doomsday...

Doomsday flips her shit sideways and nearly goes tumbling all the way back down the way she came. "WAUGH! Who are you?!"

We are... The Narrative...

"The Narrative?" she echoes, regaining her footing and looking around, as though she might be able to spot such a being. "Are you for real right now?"

Yes... We have always... been real...

"Right. Right, of course. The Narrative is a real, physical being and not just a metaphysical concept governing our lives. I should have known," she snorts in reply while rolling her eyes. She pushes up her glasses. "What do you want? Why did you bring me here? ...Did you bring me here?

Yes... We brought you... to Us... We needed you... to open... the way in...

Doomsday feels something inside of her stir. Alarm. Disturbance. Disconcertion. Anger. Mostly anger. How dare The Narrative use her as a tool. For... whatever purpose it's about to tell her.

"What do you mean you needed me to open the way in? Into here? Why? What for? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she barks in demand, her hands curling into fists. Already, she is on guard, and ready to fight whatever is going on here.

For Thursday... to complete... her Story... to make... her final... choice...

It's been a long time since Doomsday has felt her heart skip a beat, but she feels it now. Even in this place of what must surely be some kind of afterlife or in between state of life and death, she feels it. "What? What do you mean? Final choice?? Do you mean death? The end? Hey! Answer me!"

It is her... choice... But you, Doomsday... are the Deus Ex Machina... you are the one... who works for Us... whether or not... you are aware... of it...

"Nuh uh. No way. I do whatever I want. Nobody tells me what to do!" Doom immediately refutes with a snarl.

You are... Our dear... plot device...

There is warmth pushing out from behind her eyes, uncomfortable and raw and she hates it. She hates it. But not as much as the idea that her sister is in here somewhere, walking to her final death, and that she, Doomsday, was manipulated, used, by this... THING... into facilitating it all.

"HEY FUCK YOU! Do you hear me?! FUCK YOU! AND YOUR SHITTY-ASS STAIRCASE TOO!"

The Narrative doesn't respond, but Doomsday doesn't need it to in order to deliver to it her rage. She hauls off and kicks the nearest wall, taking out a good sized portion of the bricks. They fly outwards into the rainbow-colored sky, but they don't fall. They float around as if held aloft by an invisible force, or as though there were no gravity.

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU-" the former ghost continues to rant as she steps up onto the destroyed wall-

-and jumps.