#apocalypse survivor

[askthedarksidersfam]

Birthday Bash

So today is my birthday!! And I decided as a fun treat for myself I'd write my apocalypse survivor celebrating! I've always wondered what having a birthday in the post apocalypse would be like! It's all OCs from here!

Word count is over 6K

What was that saying for Spring? “April showers bring May flowers”?

Well, it must be April with all the rain that had been flooding the streets for days on end. Mere hour breaks didn’t lessen the dark clouds overhead, nor the lightning that flashed in the far distance.

Despite the world quite literally ending for humanity, nature did not mourn for their absence. It waited for no one and carried on as it has done for millions of years.

The rain had stopped, been near stagnant for almost three hours, a new record at this point. Thunder rumbled through the air, rattling the shells of demolished buildings and adding to the empty, almost eerie ambience.

But that didn’t stop Grace and her party of four from venturing down the streets. Together, the group of five traversed down dilapidated roads and shorn neighborhoods with Grace, the lone human, at the lead. Prometheus, alongside an ever vigilant Tarya with her swiveling ears and watchful eyes made the rear, with Tarya’s twins, a new family addition, settled comfortably on their mother’s back.

The two were still far too small to be venturing away from their mother, despite Dalva’s, the more adventurous of the two, protests to walk on her own to explore the exciting world around her. Sabodi, the more shyer sister, preferred to keep close to her mother, or Grace, her elder sister.

How Grace had loved the new family additions like true sisters.

Wiping away the slight sheen of sweat beading at her brow, Grace fans herself as the humidity starts to finally affect her. The April season was just as wet and hot as she had remembered it to be in her youth from fleeting, faded memories. But one specific memory belonging to the month of April hadn’t changed in the test of time.

Her own birthday.

At some point of her life in the post apocalypse, Grace hadn’t thought anything of her birthday, finding the need to celebrate or even acknowledge it a waste. It brought no food to any mouths or a modicum of safety to her in those earlier years, so she let it fade away to nothing but a piece of the past.

Not this year however.

This year felt more different. Safer, and with a more full belly, Grace had felt semblances of happiness returning to the more mundane things of her life. With solid walls surrounding her, contact with people (however brief and awkward it gets at times), things had begun to shift. Albeit it took a few years to reach where she is now, Grace took it as it came, and decided to do something different.

After reorienting herself with time again, courtesy of a grownup who kept tabs on the passage of the years, Grace had been able to keep up with the dates. And came to a discovery.

On the day she read the calendar, her birthday was fast approaching. The 19th was not even a week away.

That was five days ago on the 14th.

Today was her birthday.

She had learned after all these years, she would now be twenty.

Twenty…

Two whole decades of living, with over half dedicated to living in the post apocalyptic world. She reached this far. This was further than she ever expected to ever live in all her life, especially in her childhood.

The ability to live this long deserved a reason to celebrate. To truly party.

Which was why all five of them were currently trekking through the streets and deeper into the city’s heart. Towards the shopping district.

Worn down signs and half demolished neon lights dot the streets, some of the more functional lights doggedly spit bursts of electric sparks. Some of the more lucky signs flicker dimly with quick shivers of colorful light before dying just as quickly as it came. Puddles bled with the quick colors, illuminating the dull world to something more vibrant.

Leaping over a great grooves unquestionably in the shape of claw marks on the concrete, Grace pulls the hood of her jacket further over her head. Pellets of rain spat at her in the slowly building drizzle, urging the girl to get a move on lest she like to catch a cold.

Sick on a birthday. How exciting.

The thought however, doesn’t stop Grace from taking the slightest detour to pluck a single shard of concrete from a broken curb. Merely the size of her pointer finger and just as wide. For a second, Grace feels the coarse shard with her fingers, letting the hardness pierce her soft skin.

A curious grumble sounded from Tarya as Grace looked around for a moment before pulling her arm back and swinging it forward in a sharp arc, letting the piece fly from her hand. The piece clatters noisily across the street in a skipping motion for a considerable distance before submerging into a deep pothole with a quiet ‘splash’.

While that accomplished absolutely nothing, it brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

The simplicity of her little game brought some comfort, bringing a sense of longing for the distant past. How everything was so different back then, when Grace didn’t have to think about when her next meal would be, or whether or not she’d be sleeping for a few measly hours before danger came crawling to her doorstep.

Now with those questions finally being able to be answered with a “yes, food and shelter is available”, Grace allowed herself to indulge on the simpler things.

Then, the quiet of her mind is broken when thunder breaks across the sky, shaking the very air. The whole party jumps at the sound, with Prometheus’ hackles raising and Tarya’s wayward glances to the sky as if expecting a foe to descend from the clouds. The twins yip and chitter nervously, unused to the strange loud sound.

Throwing a glance to the dark clouds illuminated with lightning, Grace picks up her pace, more than willing to get out of the streets. The rain deterred most demons and angels, preferring to take shelter, that didn’t guarantee totally empty streets. Hungry beasts still prowled the city in search of an easy meal. Angelic soldiers would patrol their territories under orders or find some way to a fight on their expeditions, more than bored.

That thought urged the redhead to have a purpose in her stride, carrying herself with a swifter speed than wandering. And with the wind picking up the light rains, Grace needed no more excuses to stay on the empty roads longer than necessary.

But luckily, the brisk pace was beginning to pay off with the silhouette of the mall slowly beginning to loom over the horizon. Surrounded by distant demolished towers and twisting flora life, it beckoned Grace to come closer. Promises of a day full of exploration ahead.

If she tried hard enough, Grace could pretend that she was entering the mall before everyone else early in the morning. That today was simply another day and she was coming to the mall to celebrate her birthday like all other teenagers do, er… did.

The long dulled memories of a normalcy in walking down the great halls of an enormous shopping center begged to be relieved again. For far too long had this luxury been robbed from her, far too young she’d been torn from everything she only began to understand and thrust into a new world she couldn’t navigate.

After all this time relearning and guiding herself to live this hard, brand new life, didn’t she deserve a chance to escape? A few hours of losing herself in the confines of solid walls, pretending nothing beyond the building existed?

No scrambling for survival, no great war between two very real yet mythical races, and no worries about what hides in every shadow. Just bliss.

Breaking from her dead glare into the far distance, Grace eyes one of the grand entrances to the mall. Twisted metal what was probably once depictions of art lay on the ground, stripped of the once bright paint and shorn like weak branches. The spindly end points spread out like spider legs, and are just as wickedly imposing as a Trauma.

Neon signs above the collection of entrance doors wrote out a scrambled ‘welcome in” with several letters either half torn down or missing altogether. The array of sliding glass doors were in mid-motions of opening or closing, probably from the fleeing crowd or scavengers. Several of the doors were shattered open, glass lettering the floor.

The paint was in several degrees of peeling, years of severe wearing revealing the monochrome gray of the building’s foundation. Scorch marks from an unknown source marks the facade’s face a sooty black in a straight streak across the welcome lettering.

A few remnants of corpses lay across the tarmac platform, three winged, armored corpses and two large leathery, hardened cadavers long since picked clean by animals. All seemingly have been caught in the throes of battle of their poses of impalement and severed limbs have anything to say. Even down to the eyes missing, nothing was wasted.

Though the sight has become an all to familiar

occurrence in the apocalypse, Grace couldn’t help but grimace at the sight and stench. Those poor things, she doubts that their end was all but peaceful.

But that wasn’t her concern. She could mope about the fates of angels and demons caught in a fight, but that wouldn’t bring food or shelter to the table. Plus, it isn’t going to suddenly change the other-worldly people’s views on humanity and change them for the better. Such fantasies belonged in book pages where the impossible happened casually and gave everyone a happy ending.

Those thoughts can be kept with a fool.

Breezing by the mangled cadavers, Grace and her entourage round near the mall doorways. Glass crunches underfoot heavy boots as the girl inspects the entrance.

They’re large, meant to accommodate big crowds and large groups to come in and out on the constant. They’re more than big enough to allow Tarya, the biggest of them all, to crawl in with some effort. Not that the GrimHorn could have any problem tearing through the metal framework.

But today, Grace didn’t want a hint of brutality on this day. Or rather, an unnecessary amount.

Green eyes inspect the destroyed doorways and take notice of glass protruding from the frame. Fingers flex around the leather gloves, feeling the hard material as she aligned herself with one of the doors and braced her hands to the frames.

With one great heave, the door’s shifted slightly, after years of being rusted into place they stubbornly held. Giving another rough shove, the doors screamed horribly against the broken frame, but gave a little this time.

More confident, the redhead places her booted foot to the door and times her kick with her shove. Then, the stubborn metal framework finally gives way, sliding completely free from its position and recedes into the wall. Grace yelps as she almost falls from the sudden freeing of the previously unmovable doorway. She barely manages to catch herself on the frame, narrowly avoiding kissing the glass covered rug inside the mall.

Looking back to her entourage who all more than clearly watched her tumble stare at her, sounds of damn near close to laughter escaping from Prometheus and the twins. Tarya‘s head ducks down as if ready to inspect for injuries a grumble coming from her, a burr of concern.

Immediately, Grace gives a thumbs up to the maternal demon and begins to work on the other doors. Pushing and kicking with effort.

Then as the young woman pried open the last pair of dead sliding doors with a horrid screech, bliss awaited dead head.

Taking her first steps inside, Grace is met with the smell of musty air, definitely from years of zero maintenance and holes in the roof allowing weather to stink the place further.

The sight isn’t exactly what she remembered from childhood. Tiled floors coated with layers of grime under open spots in the ceiling, varying pools of dirty water accumulated in the dips of the floor. Graffiti painting the walls of scrawled messages and crude characters. The once vibrant paint jobs of the mall a duller hue, as if the very life had been siphoned away from years of neglect.

The concession stands were in absolute shambles, destroyed and partially picked clean from opportunistic thieves. Whether from when the apocalypse happened or afterwards was a mystery.

But what irked Grace the most, was without a doubt the deafening silence that blanketed the whole place. It felt too wrong, this place was supposed to be crawling with people, boisterous children as the music was barely audible over the chaos. But now? Silence.

However, it is quickly broken as the sounds of groaning metal tears Grace to attention. Whipping her head back to the origin, the culprit Tarya who’s more than trying to squeeze her way through, wings tucked flush to her body as she crawls through. Protesting chirps from the twins fill the air as their mother tries to slither her huge torso past the doors, metal stretching around her frame.

“You can do it.” Grace encouraged, observing her closest thing to a mother try to bully her way past. She was already close to fitting, and the woman has seen her fit in much smaller without trouble. Though, she supposed it was in the case of an emergency that was why Tarya could do such things.

Whether luck from her words or impatience, Tarya in one great shove, breaks free from the confines, tearing the metal with a terrible snap, and Grace immediately covers her sensitive ears. The twins screech noisily as Prometheus snarls, scrambling to get away from Tarya’s stumbling path, the demon trying to catch herself as her daughters crawl across her back, airing their complaints.

They’re heard by their mother, purring apologetically as she shakes her head, ridding herself of the dust that accumulated on her when she broke free. Prometheus harrumphs from his spot, completely unimpressed. Grace merely smirks.

“C’mon, we got a whole day of exploring ahead!” Turning on a heel, Grace begins her march forward, ready for everything this place could offer. Passing by a map posted on a

Broken glass, dirty water pools, graffiti, and half lit stores was what could be seen as far as the eye could go. It was vastly unimpressive but-

Wait…

The lights were on?!

Completely scratch down what Grace thought before as she ran to the shop’s window, a bookstore, staring gape mouthed as she looked at the dim, but very real, lights flickering.

The dying lights, those that remained, cast their pale colors upon the rows of shelves inside. All lined with books. Grace could only gawk.

Well, actually, the simple fact that electricity was still working, in a huge place like this, for some odd years, was more exciting than anything.

So many thoughts raced through her head as she booked it through the shop doors, beelining for the shelf of unclaimed novels. Unworried of the faint, questioning churr from Tarya.

Immediately, Grace’s fingers traced over each and every book, feeling the aged pages, every groove and dip as she perused the titles. Every single one of them she didn’t recognize, which made everything all the more exciting! There were new things to be read, and she was more than eager to learn what stories the pages kept all these years.

There were so many to choose from, where could she even begin?

Begin by shoving the most intriguing ones in her backpack, weathered from time that the soft blue fabric was more of a gray tinted blue. She packed light for this trip, with a few snacks, water, extra carrying pack, a sketchbook and her weaponry which stayed on her at all times.

She bet that within hours the backpacks would be stuffed to the seams. But it would be worth it.

After three rearrangements of five books and a wander around the bookstore, Grace spotted a wagon cart knocked over in the children’s section. She promptly set it upright and dumped her backpack between the seats, lifting the weight off her shoulders. A very convenient solution to her predicament of how many books could she take back to Haven.

The five books turned into sixteen. Different genres from fantasy, horror to non-fiction, thick chapter novels to illustrated pages for efficient gardening. Her muscles shivered excitedly at the prospect of curling up on her bed and reading by starlight. The simple domesticity of the imagery left her wanting for more.

More of the simple pleasures, more of the fun she’d been denied for so many years. A chance to feel what the older survivors reminisced about late into nightfall. Things she didn’t even have a taste for when others seemed to have indulged in the good times. It made Grace wonder how different their lives were.

Talk of classic movies and boomboxes with the latest hits when she knew living on the move and distant screams when the sun went down. Memories of luxurious homes and lavish meals at fancy restaurants where she knew scavenging for scraps.

Grace didn’t envy them, as much as she wanted to. She couldn’t imagine missing a wonderful life she didn’t know. It was pitiful to see them all struggle together, try as they might to cope without those strange luxuries. Maybe these little gifts of books could ease their minds, even if it was temporary. But with this discovery, she can always come back to pick each book off the shelves.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea…

But for now, she had a birthday to celebrate and a mall to… ahem, shop to her hearts content.

Readjusting the bow on her back as well as her grip on the wagon’s handle, Grace trotted past the doors and to her awaiting entourage. The twins perk up, chirping curiously at the shiny, so to speak, toy their elder sister brought. Tarya tilts her head as well, matching the image of her daughter’s tilted heads as each stands on her shoulders. Prometheus remained stone faced.

“Look what I got!” She doesn’t expect an answer, “I got some paper with words on it!” An oversimplification and terrible joke all in one. She’s sure Prometheus rolled his eyes as he huffs, throwing his head back to emphasize his displeasure.

The twins however seem to disregard the embarrassing attempt at humor, instead both clambering down Tarya to skitter right into the wagon. Dalva, the more adventurous, wastes no time in throwing her whole body inside, landing on the backpack with a pleased chirp.

Sabodi however had a more reserved approach, carefully sniffing the cart’s wheels as her small wings unfurled defensively, ready to take flight at the sign of danger. It was cute since she was too young to fly.

A chuckle spills from Grace’s lips when Sabodi ducks her head down when Dalva pops out from above too quickly, frightening her sister. Sabodi was far too cautious and jumpy for this world. It reminds Grace of her younger self.

“C’mon, it isn’t so bad ‘bodi,” she crouches down to her sister’s level, putting the demon at slight ease. She takes her hands and slides it under the baby’s belly, feeling the warm, soft leathery skin on her fingers. Sabodi whines in gentle protest as she is lifted into Grace’s lap, allowing her a view above the little wagon.

Gently, a small paw is taken between gentle fingers and coaxed to be placed upon the fabric wall. “See?” Grace coos, letting Sabodi get used to the feeling, “there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s only a little pull cart.”

Dalva seems to have picked up on the mood, for she sticks her head out to rub her snout on her sister’s, an encouraging gesture Grace had come to learn over time. Slowly, Sabodi’s big ears prick up with confidence and the weight in Grace’s lap is lifted as the demon carefully slinks in to sit with her sister.

“Perfect! A carriage for two!” She claps her hands together, smiling at the pair of wide, black eyes innocently staring up. Plucking the handle with a delicate finger she turns to the empty walk way ahead and playfully drags her foot on the tile, like she’d seen horses do.

“Where to my ladies? I, your valiant steed shall take you to your hearts desire!” Dalva trills, shifting restlessly in her seat as she picks up on the exciting energy. Grace puts her hand to her pointed ear, listening carefully to the sounds before her head shoots high, ears flickering skyward.

“Aha! I see! My fairest lady wishes to see the finest shops in the kingdom! Of course, right away my fairest of the young maidens!” Grace bends at the hip with a sweep of her arm, mimicking a dramatic bow. Her long braid spills over her shoulder and Dalva takes a swat at the red tuft of hair sticking from the end.

“Onward, I hear you cry,” Grace straightens her back, trotting in place as she looks around the walkways, eyeing the safest routes to run. “Onward we shall go! Your gallant steed will charge forth into the big kingdom and take thee unto your heart’s desires!”

“Charrrrrrrgge!!!” The yell echoes across the whole place as the sound of running footsteps bounced off the walls. Two squeals, both of delight, roared over the sound of blood pumping in Grace’s ears.

Picking up speed, Grace pulls her pointer, middle and ring finger to her palm, leaving the thumb and pinky to stick out. She raises the thumb to her lips and whistles the tune of a trumpet in fanfare, feeling much like a character in a fantasy novel.

It felt freeing.

Then, Grace pulls to a stop, the contents of the store from through the glass catching her eye.

An arcade. The sounds of electronic songs playing their tunes, though some spluttered sour notes. The most enormous of smiles stretches across the girl’s features, eyes gleaming with wonder.

It felt as if all the luck in the universe had condensed into one little spot and transported itself here, waiting patiently for her.

Hesitantly, as if afraid to break the bubble of this neon lit dream, Grace takes soft steps forward, taking in everything. Heavy boots gently padded the carpeted floors of black, shimmering neon paints her body in its bright glow as she took a breath in, intently remembering the scent. Faint musk and mildew.

However, her brain could practically reproduce the savor smells of buttery popcorn, fresh pizza and steamy pretzels. Her stomach moaned at the thought of a soft pretzel.

The place was obviously abandoned in a hurry. Soda cups and trash litters the ground and stains the carpet. Coins scattered the whole place, and well earned prizes lay discarded, forgotten.

The smile fails for a moment, remembering the realness of the world outside these walls.

But she was here to forget those worries, just for a few hours.

“This…” she starts unexpectedly, feeling four pairs of eyes on her, not needing to turn to know Prometheus and Tarya are Perry at her from the door. “This is… was, an arcade. People would come here to play games and party.” She doesn’t stop the drooping of her lips as she lets go of the wagon handle, opting to pick up a pile of dropped quarters.

“You know, I went a few times as a kid to one of these.” Fingers brush off the dust covered quarters, and her heart aches as she reads the date print. 2009.

“I, of course,” she laughs weakly, “had to stick to the claw machines the most. I always spent the most time trying to get a stuffed animal.” Grace’s head tilts back to see her sisters sniffing about curiously, crawling to the noisiest machines and climbing them to investigate. Tarya had squeezed herself inside, surprisingly with room to spare as she navigated to Grace’s side.

“They were always the best part to me, because I always brought home a friend. At least when I won.” She continues, looking at her mother who listens intently. She smiles and lets her gaze search across the plethora of gaming consoles. She even spotted a skating rink. She would definitely be searching for rollerblades later…

Her eyes wander again to lo and behold, the claw game of legend. The organ beneath her breastbone picks up speed, and her muscles quivered at the sight.

It was one of those larger models, meant to hold plenty of little treasures within. And in the colorful blob, Grace could get lost in the fluffy chaos. She readjusts her belt, feeling for the stuffed unicorn tied to the leather, the plush, but worn fabric soothing.

Grace had the white and pink unicorn from childhood. Her young heart won over by those blue bead eyes and heart sewn to the rump with the pink bow to wrap it all together.

It had been the only thing left from her old life. It had lasted so long from tender care and territorial protectiveness. She had done everything she could to keep her unicorn, Amalthea, intact. Even learning to sew to keep the smallest tears from tearing her apart.

“It would never hurt to bring a few… friends over for the others right?” Not a total lie. Grace would feel guilty if she didn’t bring some back as gifts.

“‘Sides, Dalva and Sabodi would like some new toys.” That was true, but the twins had their own collection of toys raided from pet shops.

It didn’t stop her from depositing the quarters into the machine, listening to the music pick up a cheery tune as Grace readied herself. Tarya watched with great interest, ears twitching forward.

Eyes scan across the wide array of plush toys, noting the many bears, cats, dinosaurs and even cartoon characters. Maybe she’d pick up the triceratops, or the rabbit with the oversized ears-

Then, her eyes lock in on the prize that stops every thought. The loudest gasp escapes Grace’s mouth, it startles Tarya who jumps back, surprised.

Laying on top of the pile is a small, but plump, white lamb. Small horns top the fluffy head and a tiny gold bell tied to its neck with light pink string.

The claw is directed to the lamb without Grace even looking away. She keeps her gaze straight on the lamb as the claw descends onto the toy, as if her focus could help the machine.

Metal fingers clamp down across the fat little body, slowly lifting it up above the other toys. As the claw starts to retreat back to the deposit box, it slips free.

“No!” Grace cries out, watching the claw return empty handed. Immediately, the girl sets back to getting the lamb. At the corner of her vision she sees the twins climb onto the nearby machine to observe. Prometheus comes from the right side, sitting with a loud huff, likely bored. But the slight tilt of his head and perked ears say otherwise.

Down the claw goes again, careening towards the toy and once more clamps its spindly fingers across the body. Only to fall out as soon as the claw lifts more than three inches above ground.

Grace growls, frustrated and tries again. And again. And again. Each play was unsuccessful. But she wasn’t ready to give up, instead opting to put the quarters in, ready to give it another try.

“Just give me a moment. It seems the greedy claw dragon doesn’t wish to give up a piece of its hoard.” She jokes, mostly to her sisters who droop when she doesn't acquire her prize. Or perhaps, their prize if she knew anything about them, it was destined to be a shared toy.

Just as she kneels down to put the coins in, the machine gives a horrid screech, rattling violently. On instinct Grace throws herself away from the danger lest she be crushed, her heart pounds wildly beneath her chest. A scream escapes her as she scrambles to the relative safety behind Tarya’s arm who remains otherwise still.

The ear-piercing sound shatters the silence, echoing across the empty room and jarring on sensitive ear drums. Grace covers her ears, watching from under Tarya’s chest for the cause of the mysterious rattling.

She didn’t know what to expect, maybe a stray demon or stumbling Wicked, but what the young woman saw was nothing she had imagined.

Prometheus, the all grumpy and impassive beast, was digging his two forelegs into the machine’s frame. The second pair of front legs held the machine in place as he was in the midst of tearing metal and glass apart.

Then, with an explosive spray of glass, Prometheus tears metal with the ease of ripping tissue paper. Grace retreats behind Tarya’s arm to avoid the flying glass that harmlessly licks the demon’s tough skin.

Slow, Grace peeks her head out as she watches Prometheus stick his huge hand into the broken frame, snuffling the items until he comes to a stop. Picking his head out of the fluff pile, he turns with his prize in hand. The small lamb delicately pinched between cragged teeth.

Gaping, the woman doesn’t move a muscle as she watches, completely awestruck. Prometheus growls at Dalva who stretches herself out to take an exploratory sniff, protective of the toy. Briefly, Grace wonders if he was taking it for himself, and she wouldn’t be truthful to herself if she pretended to be fine about that-

Ding ding!

The muffled jingle of a bell from above her head draws her to look up. Prometheus’ head was lowered to her level, shaking the toy gently as if attempting to toss it. Wait a moment…

Hands carefully pry off big ears, reaching slowly to the doll pinned by big teeth. The demon doesn’t flinch away as her hands experimentally curl around the leg and arm. The moment of truth.

She gives a small pull, and Prometheus promptly lets go without a fight.

Grace cradles the doll in her arms, feeling the almost heavenly soft fabric reverently. “Is it for me?” She whispers, warmth bubbling in her chest.

He doesn’t provide an answer, merely turning his body and walking away.

An absolute and definite yes.

Watching as Prometheus walks away, Grace pulls the lamb closer to her chest and smiles.

Looks like she had more toys to take home. So she immediately set to work. After retrieving the wagon, Grace began picking away at glass and plucking the prizes out from their confines. Bears, dinosaurs, a few cartoon characters and even a few small egg shaped electronics in plastic packaging (a weird place for an item like that) were stacked and stuffed til the wagon was close to bursting.

Satisfied with the haul, Grace returns to her wandering all across the arcade. Occasionally stopping for a quick game to play or a moment to lament over what each and every article of human machinery her sisters would stop to gawk at. They had an absolute blast of a time with the motorcycle game where she sat them on the moving bike.

It wasn’t exactly as thrilling as flying with the roaring wind in her hair and the pumping adrenaline, but it was perfection to her.

However, the looted quarters began to run out and the twins were beginning to grow bored of the place and all its climbable things. So onward they pushed.

The arcade was connected by three main entrances. One by the skating rink, the one she entered and another dead ahead, leading to a large court of sorts, lined with tables and restaurants. Her feet carried her forward as the sight of more unexplored stores just beyond the large plaza.

It’s then Grace finally spots it.

A carousel.

As if possessed, Grace breaks into a run towards the giant structure. A worried cry from her demon caretaker barely heard as she rounds upon the merry go round.

Disbelief fills her, even as her eyes rove over the many horses and animals in several poses of leaping, running, rearing and prancing, as if they’ve been frozen in time. She didn’t fail to notice the stains of blood painting the animals, or the floor. It looked as if a calvary was paused mid-battle, but all the riders were missing.

All but her.

There’s a puff of air that touches her shoulder and she doesn’t turn, knowing who it is.

“This is a carousel.” She looks to the rows of horses, spotting a control panel to the left. She walks to it, ducking under Tarya’s chest, reaching it after hopping a security fence. “What it would do was go around in circles.” She chuckles sheepishly, rubbing her neck nervously, “Kinda silly, I’ll admit, but, I always loved it.”

“It was one of my favorite things from when I was a kid…” she continued, “I loved picking out a horse to ride. And the music.” Eyes scan the controls, then spot the proper buttons to hopefully start the carousel.

“Please, please, please.” She prays, giving each button an experimental push. A shrill ringing goes off and heavy machinery groans to life. Glancing up, Grace feels tears well up in her eyes as she watches a miracle. The carousel sprang to life, light flickering on with golden hues and a tune sang for the first time in years.

Slowly, the carousel picked up speed, urging Grace to leap over the panel and hop on the carousel. Grabbing a pole, the woman looks at the nearest animal: a white unicorn with gold hair, a floral saddle and a peach horn lined with gold.

Normally, she’d opt for a more ferocious beast, like a lion, dog or viscous steed caught in the midst of a buck.

Now? It was the perfect pick.

With one swift motion, Grace throws her leg over the wooden unicorn and settles in, feeling the coolness of the brass pole against her cheek. Affectionately, she pats the head of the animal and revels in the steady rhythm of the bobbing. Up and down. Up and down.

Closing her eyes, Grace lets the darkness give way to distant memories, far and few as they are. The blackness is replaced with one of her child self in a very similar scenario to this one.

Her mother was in the most gracious of moods. She’d opted to take her and her brother to the city. They’d come across an amusement park and ventured in. Although she didn’t remember much, she could vividly recall every detail of the carousel.

The taste of popcorn and cotton candy on her tongue, the smell of a humid day, and oh the colors. Everything was so bright. She remembered how her mother was on the horse to her right.

Her cheek slams into the metal pole, breaking the illusion as the carousel breaks to a sudden halt. The music continued to sing, but the ride had come to a complete stop. Looking to her right, Grace watches Tarya come up to the carousel, ducking her large head so she could eye the girl. She tilts her head questioningly, unsure of the sudden mood shift.

“The ride stopped,” she half whines, “there’s probably not enough power to make the carousel move anymore. Or it’s just too old.” Tarya grumbles, looking at the grand machine whilst Grace keeps her eyes focused on the golden mane of the unicorn she was sitting on.

“Well, that’s okay. I’m just really happy to even find a - WOAH WOAH!”

Grace is jerked back and barely manages to save herself from a fall as the carousel moves forward unexpectedly. Has the power come back on? What was going on?

Turning to the right, Grace’s jaw nearly unhinges at the sight of Tarya’s wings and head pushed to the rooftop and those powerful legs of her digging into the ground, pushing the machine forward. It wasn’t the power at all. Just raw, brute power.

Slowly, a grin worms its way across her face once more.

As Tarya continued to push on, and the music continued to sing, Grace could conclude that this was definitely a great way to celebrate a birthday.

She couldn’t wait to tell Ulthane.

[andrew-the-architect]

Model sheets of researchs for 6 characters for 3 or 4 different universes.

[avi-mation]

Apocalypse buddies

[wizard-enthusiast]

out explorin’ the city!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten. 

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right. 

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.” 

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?! 

He? He was dying. 

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader. 

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps. 

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch. 

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My fellow survivors during a zombie apocalypse found a large guinea pig and it was deemed the camp pet.

When the camp had an outbreak, instead of running for my life, I was desperately trying to convince the guinea pig that letting me pick it up was a much better option than getting eaten. It didn’t seem to agree. 

[spacedustmantis]

charlie slimecicle is like barbie in the sense that he too can be anything

[nelkcats]

Immune

When a horde of Zombies was unleashed on the DC universe, Danny stared at the screen speechless. Clockwork had told him to keep an eye on the universe in case a catastrophe happened, but only 5 minutes had passed since then.

He called his mentor and the Master of Time told him to fix the problem, to which Danny began to complain before being pushed straight into a dimensional portal. He landed in the middle of a fucking horde, just his luck.

How was he going to prevent a fucking apocalypse? It had already started!

As he used his intangibility to get past the Zombies, he noticed the confused look most of them were sending him, but oh well. Danny was tempted to tell them that you can't kill what was dead, but he decided to keep quiet. Not that the Zombies understood anyway.

He set out to explore the world looking for some clues, avoiding the Zombies (For some reason, they avoided him too) and drawing the attention of the resistance, who quickly branded him as immune (he wasn't, he had just become intangible, again).

Ironically, he ended up siding with the only Zombie? Of a different race. Red Hood was much nicer than those who wanted a sample of his blood for a cure (again, Danny knew it wasn't going to work). But neither of them had any idea how to end the apocalypse.

Jason had no idea why the Zombies were avoiding that specific boy, like he was a hopeless case. Or why there were so many people chasing him, but at least he was nice, and seemed genuinely intent on 'stopping the apocalypse', so he joined him out of curiosity.

He was like a free Zombie repellant anyway, and Jason had no idea where his family was since the catastrophe started.

[calling-all-comas]

Virtue

[raiiny-bay]

THIS IS HOW YOU DIED

[literallytooangrytodie]

Gaze

[askthedarksidersfam]

Darksiders Bingo by @crowsofafeather

I have so many Darksiders ocs at the moment, but I have boiled it down to the og girl, Grace. She’s gone through so much character development that will be revealed eventually. But I’m miffed I had almost two bingos.

[yuesya]

“Hmm… I thought I might find you here.”

The words are sudden, and almost seem to resound in the empty silence, lingering upon the walls in a secret echo. Hers is a voice that comes out as a teasing drawl. Playful, as if there’s something that the speaker finds amusing about the world around her.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” The woman doesn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of response. There’s the loud click-clack of heeled boots against the polished metal flooring as she approaches, seemingly unconcerned. Gloved hands reach out, fingers pressing against the clear glass of the window.

And beneath the tip of the black fabric, on the other side of the glass, there is a veritable sea of stars stretching out into an endless expanse of darkness. It’s undeniable that looking out into the stars from the window of a space-faring vessel is quite different from standing on the ground and looking up towards these very same stars from Earth.

‘Space exploration.’ Unbidden, the words come to mind. Hazy, unclear.

But what remains certain despite the ambiguity is that the concept is not unfamiliar, even if the scenery is novel. And it has been a very long time since anything ‘new’ has last occurred.

… Prior to the arrival of unexpected guests. A conversation had then ensued, followed by the exchange of information and divulgence of certain secrets, eventually ending in an invitation to travel the stars together in pursuit of a common goal.

And now, a new beginning.

“A quiet one, aren’t you?” The woman withdraws her hand from the window, letting it drop back down to her side. She turns, and the momentum of the motion causes long strands of red-violet hair to swing up into the air behind her. For a moment, the color almost seems to glow like a drunken sunset.

The woman pauses. Then turns back around again, with a soft smile.

“Come along,” she says. “Not everyone is present right now, but you might as well meet the others who are currently on the ship. After all, us Stellaron Hunters will be working together for a long time in the foreseeable future.

Welcome aboard, Shiki.”

[whatsanameanyway]

i forgot how to art so have a late thing

[fridgrave]

schlatt in zombie apocalypse au gives me a brainrot

actually i have some thoughts on "the last of us" crossover where he helps tommy (who is immune to the virus-fungus shit) and wilbur to get into the medical station where scientists can make a cure

[sapphichymns]