#apocalypse cw

[indivines]

MICHAEL LANGDON. ( 30, he/him/any, the antichrist )

application / stats / plot page / art credit

cringefail antichrist who DID successfully destroy the world... only for witches to come and try to undo all his hard work by literally reversing time :/

mommy AND daddy issues! his true father is satan, his earthly father is mr. "normal people scare me", his mom tried to kill him, and his adoptive mom died and he coped by making her into a robot. he's SO normal it's insane!

blond goth representation

presents himself as a composed, smug asshole and WILL call you pathetic but is incredibly emotionally vulnerable himself!! especially now that he's in this new place and feels totally abandoned by dear 'ol dad. and no powers to just kill people so he might cry instead :/

but also, like his devil dad, michael genuinely loves encouraging people to be their worst, picking apart insecurities, watching people destroy each other, etc. he's biologically driven towards it, and while he's curbed the urge to instinctively murder anyone in his path (and can't so simply do that here!), he's very much Evil.

humble his ass <3

[voirs-fortunes]

💭-tell me of dreams

Sometimes I dream I'm a bit of rot, turning a big tree into nothing.

Sometimes I dream I wake up one morning and everyone I know died except for me, and there's feathers everywhere.

Sometimes I dream about my parents, who gave up their lives to make me who I am. I was so little I never got to really meet them.

Sometimes I dream I'm not a Conduit anymore, and the world isn't going to end. That's the scariest one.

[harteofthehart-ayyy]

This might be a little tangential to Harte himself, but I suppose it would inform his particular traumas. Could you elaborate a little on his universe's Aquas and the conflict between them and the Magmas? Asher for one is very concerned about this conflict having been violent.

//This answer is ooc!

So, Team Magma and Team Aqua formed separate from one another. Team Aqua first, with the goal of starting the planet anew, using Primal Kyogre’s torrential downpour to wipe out all life on Earth and start over. Biblical flood style.

Team Magma formed without any knowledge of Team Aqua, with their goal being to expand the land and create artificial islands for the growth of Hoenn, which was dealing with a housing crisis. Their goals changed later on, but that’s what the initial goal was. Groudon, to Maxie, seemed like the easiest way to get that done. (Nobody said he was smart…)

Death mentions and shit under the cut. <3

Aqua saw this as a threat and began targeting Magma. Espionage to find the location of the seafloor cavern, multiple Magma grunts actually fucking died while defending themselves against them, Tabitha was bitten so hard by Archie that he’s got a bit of his shoulder missing and scarred by bite marks, it just...was really not a good time for Magma. They could only do so much about it, and it’s not like anyone was doing anything about Team Aqua. The location of their headquarters was unknown and the amount of Sharpedo they somehow had at their disposal was enough to scare off most law enforcement.

The most Magma did was concuss Archie. They could have easily killed him, but Tabitha could not bring himself to finish the job, nor did he want anyone else to, and instead anonymously delivered him to a hospital in Slateport.

Not to mention the espionage had the Aqua spies disguised as Magma grunts, which only spread the seeds of distrust through the ranks.

Harte had to take care of a few spies.

You can imagine for yourself how that went.

//Thanks for asking!

[fates-theysband]

having a villain f/o is so funny. fate is describing the latest horrific doom i've spelled for the world in his game and im just sitting here kicking my feet and going like "heehee your voice is so pretty 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 and then what happened baby"

[paradisecursed]

boss battle darcia + hunter, but its the concept you fucking blasted me with. hey. owwwwuh.

PROMPT.

&. WEREWOLF. -

the monstrosity is familiar. 

a part of you wishes it was comforting. you grew up in it, after all. small & helpless, carried from the deep dark woods - this was love, he taught you. & you believed him, for he loved you. perhaps that’s why the strange man intrigued you. he spoke to you with an earnesty that sounded strange from uncle, though you knew not why. he spared time for you to answer questions on his world’s magic (or lack-thereof), even after uncle warned you to be wasting it. he raised his voice only once, & that was when you’d truly overstepped your bounds as a guest.

you knew love, & so you must’ve known, somewhere, that he too was monstrous. 

but uncle wore monstrosity. silken & gold-plated - a tight-lipped civility until the throne room emptied to relay the day’s ill tidings. his was like his finest robe, splayed across the rubble like broken dove’s wings as dark pools soaked the feathers around the crook of his neck.

‘wild things do not wear clothes,’ uncle had once said. ‘their wicked nature is laid bare for all to see. it grows from their fur; shines in their eyes. this is what separates us from the beasts, nephew. you understand?’

the man who let you into his house & stood over uncle with dripping hands did not wear his.

there’s nothing outside. you walked with him here, where he couldn’t see; across gray ice-fields & scrap metal graveyards & crumbling cliffs melted by rain that didn’t sting quite as terribly as home, yet carried with it a far more putrid stench. the sky is caving in. a white flash somewhere in the cloud-choked horizon, & the cool bite of blood as young as yours lapping at your boot asks you only to wonder how many were lost in it. you walked with him here.

looking ahead, you see a dark silhouette stumbling moondrunk towards the redlit peak. the way you saw the wolves go.

you know what's going to happen if he reaches the top of that mountain.

[blxsscd-x-fxrsakcn]

[fictionkinfessions]

God fucking damnit, Alan Arnold. I just realized that even if I'm canon compliant and I died and the war ended, your short-sighted self-absorbed "I don't need a plan, I'm Aerian and white and descended from the purest Nordic lines" ass didn't bring any seeds or livestock to grow food for your people. It could've been a partial apocalypse, but no, you DEFINITELY doomed your people to starvation, and blew up any of that my people had stored. What was even the point of winning the war if you sealed your own fate afterwards? For someone who considered himself the peak of white intellect, you sure didn't demonstrate any then. - a very bitter Olga Romanov from Syren of the Skies

,

[lilycoving]

What? Ok, maybe yours was way different than mine. Mine would have been disasterous, but not apocalyptic

Perhaps it was. Aqua wanted to wipe out all life on Earth. I'd rather not think about it.

[chimerabytes]

also i had a really weird dream??

so I was in some sort of Minecraft-like world. I was hanging out at home watching some spacecraft carrying cargo fly off into space while I was busy doing menial tasks.

a little while later its announced that the spaceship is coming down, so i go to the top of this giant tower to watch it come down. a bunch of other people are with me too. the cargo for some reason is sort of like- yknow those shipping crates? like Crowley brand cargo crates? that you'd usually see attached to trains? yeah, that what the cargo crates all were shaped like. and they were put on a buoyant raft since the landing area was next to a body of water.

i accidentally drop a really tiny light purple object which causes all the crates to start falling down off the raft and into the water. i know it makes... NO sense, but everybody started getting really mad at me so i had to hightail it out of there!

except during the mobbing i was thrown off the tower into the water. i had no way to save myself, so i just accepted my fate and let myself sink.

... until i washed up a little while later and realized the currents took me into a cave! the cave was, of course, very damp and humid, but there were crystals everywhere. i walked around in it in amazement, and i touched one of the crystal clusters which reminded me of angels aura quartz. i pricked my finger on one of the crystals, and the blood absorbed into said cluster, and the blood in my body became iridescent. the angel aura quartz cluster infused my body with some sort of ice powers.

so i make my way further down the cave, and i wind up in some deep dark-like area. there were glowing mushrooms which helped me find my way through the caverns.

unfortunately i wasn't alone in there! people from the surface began rioting to find me, but they had all turned into some corrupted entities, like the deadites from the Evil Dead franchise. i had no other choice but to run from them, since I was outnumbered and knew that if I was attacked by them I would also turn into a deadite.

i accidentally summoned the warden, which looked far more eldritch-like, and it began chasing me, until its attention was turned to the deadites. it began to devour the deadites, which allowed me time to escape to the surface world again.

after all of this... i found a warm cabin in the middle of some woods, belonging to a lumberjack part of a village, which all seemed very autumnal to me despite this being the middle of summer, and i turned on the tv in there to see what was going on.

i'd been stuck in the cave for who knows how long, and i had no idea how i survived in there.. but when i saw the news, it turned out that it was in fact *not my fault* that the cargo was dropped... and yet i felt dreadful. i wondered just what the hell things were coming to.

the lumberjack told me the deadite invasion probably came from space first, having infected all of the spaceship crew and also having infestations stored on the cargo the spaceship had been carrying. so i told him how i thought it had been all my fault. i'd spent who knows how long in some dingy cave, and i had been chased away from the home i knew because of a mistake.

at least theres sort of a happy ending wherein i become part of the village. the deadites never find us.

[lastclan]

WELCOME TO LASTCLAN

cw: BLOOD, GORE, ZOMBIES, DEAD CATS

MOON 0: Prologue

Next Chapter ->

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was applying for PhD funding. The guy in charge (whose name I had already forgotten) told me they were going to give £90k a year. He told me it was a lot but you’ve gotta spend your money on something. Then I went outside to see that the zombie apocalypse had begun while we’d been talking.

[allurilove]

Yandere x Zombie you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Body mutilation, gore, stalking, desperate and perverted man, gender neutral reader, begging, dry humping.

*He doesn’t have a name, and is referred to as “your stalker,” He only exists for reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. Here is part two! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: It’s the zombie apocalypse, and you’re a zombie who has a little stalker/fan. He tried to offer himself to you, but you want nothing to do with him.

You’re just trying to go on about your day being a zombie, but an annoying and persistent man won’t leave you alone. He thinks he’s slick, but you see him, and best him every time.

Your stalker always hated zombies. They reeked of death, their breath sour, and their jaws claimed thousands of souls. He kept quiet as he tiptoed around, hiding his body behind a trash can as you feasted on your latest victim.

You went for the jugular, your teeth puncturing their skin, and a burst of metallic tasting blood filled your mouth. You were wild. Your whole hands, neck, chest, and face were stained with blood. You had a couple of flies around you, which you ate as a snack too.

However, with you, he was infatuated. He never once thought it was disgusting that your skin stuck to your skull, your arm twisted in an unnatural way, and how your hair was matted. Or how your clothes were torn, and you had holes in your shoes.

He tried to trap you. But unlike the other zombies, you were smart. The bear trap didn’t work, he tried to lasso you and failed, he spent time building you a cage, just for you to trap him in it.

When you went after a group of humans, he panicked. He hated when you went after a crowd, and he watched with his heart hammering. He prayed that you would survive, and rip them to shreds.

Your stalker often made sure you were well fed. He dragged an old body that remained untouched, and he purposely pushed it into your view. He winced as the body rolled down the hill and knocked you down like a bowling pin. Whoops.

After this has gone on for months, he became envious. Your attention was solely focused on the girl you trapped against the wall, he huffed and puffed, crossing his arms as the girl continued to scream. He began to wonder how it would feel to be eaten by you.

He handed himself to you like he was the best thing around. He took a shower by the lake, scrubbing his body clean from the dirt and grime. Your stalker wondered if he should just be nude so you had an easier access to him, or be clothed and make you work for it…

Your stalker whistled as he approached you, but you didn’t look at him. Your body just wandering around the abandoned building, and he waved at you. But you ignore him. He purposely laid down in front of you, but you just step on his stomach, making him groan in pain. He watched as you were on the move again, and he grabbed onto your ankle.

“Wait— please!” He tried to bargain with you, “I swear I taste good!” Your stalker whined as you just drag him around, trying to go on about your day again. He decided to do something drastic.

Your stalker needed your attention. He needed to feel your hands on him. He stuffed his mouth with his sock, and he picked up his blade. He jumped a couple of times and his joggers slipped down a bit, enough for him to pull out his member.

It hurt like a bitch. He bit down hard onto the sock as his tears welled up in his eyes, he cut his member from the base— wanting to give you the whole thing.

He handed you his cock, and you took the phallic looking thing in your hands. With some sick perversion he wanted to see you eat it, to hold it in your hands, and watch it disappear down your throat.

He’s seen you eat raccoons, rats, pigeons, and decomposed maggot filled bodies rotting away in the hot summer sun, their guts spilled open, and there was barely any flesh left to eat. He’s seen you dig through trash and shove it in your face.

He watched you tear into your own arm after not being able to find something to feed on for weeks. He watched you bite into a pee soaked leg after the human pissed itself after seeing your morbid face.

And yet you wouldn’t eat his freshly cut dick?

You looked at him with an unamused expression.

Your stalker frowned, his hands snatching back his body part after you refused to eat it. His hands were shaking, and his legs about to give out— due to his wound he haphazardly wrapped with bandages. His ego was bruised.

You continued to stare at him with disgust, as if you haven’t done something as vile as this. But to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you were eating humans. It was the damn virus.

First, you don’t care to eat him. Second, you barely seem interested in him. And now third, you’re rejecting his offering? This was enough to make a grown man cry.

“Is it too small for you?” He pouted. “I- I happen to be a grower-“

He swore he saw you roll your eyes. For someone who barely had any mobility except for shuffling around, you had the gall to roll your eyes. You just groan. You try to wave your arm at him— to dismiss him, but you just smacked his face.

“Am I not appealing to you?” He glared at you, his face turning pale. His pants are soaked in blood, and he twitched.

The man fell down to his knees, throwing his dismembered cock to the side, and he clasped his hands together. His breath is ragged, and looked at you as if you were an angel who could take him out of his misery.

And so you do.

Most of your victims are scared, clawing at your arms and leaving red harsh marks on your skin, but he holds you closer. He moaned as your body was pressed up against his— chest to chest. You sat right on his hips. His blood tasted like nectar, it was pleasant and sweet. Your tongue swiped at his sweat.

“Oh god yes! Please eat me!” He cried out, and his fingers dig into your rib cage as you start to grind onto him.

He was already on deaths door step, his heart beat slowing down, and his grip slightly loosened. Your stalker’s moans, and the chanting of your name quiets. It wasn’t long before he let out his last breath.

Your stomach is full and you’re satisfied.

[hal-monitor]

🎶 I got spuuuurs, that jingle jangle jingleeee 🎶

[sukutrauma]

over sleeping like a dog on the floor

[fates-theysband]

outer wilds burger is what ive been calling my Kind Of Self Ship Since My S/Is Are There au where instead of a solar system where the sun goes supernova at the end of every time loop it's a fast food restaurant that burns down at the end of every time loop, with the implication that the fire then spreads to the rest of the town so even evacuating the employees doesn't solve the problem.

[paradisecursed]

♡ + moon !!

PROMPT.

mother moon, cruel in her beauty, had long since taken the throne left vacant by the death of old-world religion.

of course, fractured cults remained - for the most devout & most afraid would sooner die than forsake their churches. but to face the death of the world & see it for the blank wasteland it was, with no saviors or awe-inspiring terrors to stir anything in man’s heart besides its desolation made it difficult to justify the faith. new beliefs, built upon the foundation of the old, took their place. whispers of paradise reached desperate ears. flowers became sanctuary, & wolves grew wings. the moon became salvation, for at least she still bothered to watch the proceedings of the sickly earth.

his grandfather had written it once; that those with wolf’s blood are fed by moonlight. to waste time with medicines was but a fool’s errand, the book had warned - one need only bask in the night’s glow to fill their bellies & heal their wounds. 

& he supposed he believed it at the time. he recalled, with morose fondness, that those silver-lit nights invigorated him with something he knew only to be strange yet wonderful in its spontaneity. how he bounded through the halls, clamoring to his dearly beleaguered wife that he’d pen a far better novel than his ancestor, challenge a few rivals for long-lost territory, paint a new mural, or perhaps journey that very night for paradise without so much as a knapsack for supplies. she’d had to throw her arms about him & wrestle him back into the sanctity of their bed; the two of them laughing all the while.

the moon had turned away from the world the night his curse took her.

he’d known at once what ailed her. a physician’s diagnosis was useless; though he still called upon the servant in vain hopes they had a cure. for fourteen sleepless nights did he exhaust the castle’s resources; emptying his forefathers’ labs of their concoctions & banishing more than a handful of the keep’s staff to the wastes after their home remedies failed to raise her from her slumber. by the time the moon waxed, he’d resolved to pour tirelessly through his grandfather’s notes in the carcass of their bed. he did not speak. he did not eat. he barely drank, save for from casks crafted with long-extinct wood. 

on the eve that the sky burned silver did he bring her into his arms and carry her to the highest balcony in the keep. he stumbled onto the terrace as if possessed; collapsing onto his knees beneath the moon’s countenance. there it beheld him, hovering what seemed like mere inches away. at the mercy of the star-born leviathan, in the eye of his ancestors’ god; he found himself aware of how small he was. how hopeless, if she were not returned to his side. 

he stayed like that throughout the night. head craned towards the sky, knelt in heretical reverence. presenting her to the light like a prayer. he dared not to look away, even as his neck started to ache. even as the wolf’s eye began to pulse like a second heartbeat. he waited there, at that makeshift altar to the moon. 

he waited.

when the sun rose the next morning, he nearly threw the damned book into the sea.