#cockroach wastelander

[frosteee-variation]

Looking at some doodles I did a month or so ago — I should probably make a full reference for Creature at some point, I think. Not much has changed design-wise, but it’s got a cool pair of sunglasses now, so that’s a plus? Also it may or may not have used itself as a prison for a demonic(?) entity so that might have some. lasting effects. it’d be cool if so ngl I might just do that

One of the perks of just being a funky lil thing, I suppose!

[toastysol]

I don't get why everyone's surprised that the brotherhood use the correct pronouns with Dane. I think people have forgotten a major aspect of the fallout environment. The bombs falling destroyed conventional societal norms. This includes any political agenda to erase trans people from history and the future. Also this is fiction. The brotherhood of steel are not a conservative christian political party. They care about what they dub "abuse of technology", this includes the biproducts thereof. The only people who fit that category are synths and mutants who they view as abominations that need to be exterminated. If trans people even counted as abuse of technology (which they don't and shouldn't, as the technology used for transition is helpful and not hurtful), they would be so far down the list the brotherhood wouldn't care. Why would they care. It's really not a big deal imo. It's a big deal in OUR world, but not theirs. Not by a long shot.

[perversedelight]

          ‘ it's not petulance, it's a promise. ’

[dyns33]

Only wastelands

I will try to do this Cooper Howard x reader in three parts, but I like the Ghoul so much, I might want to write more

People said Y/N’s neighborhood was lucky.

After a draw, they were selected to join a Vault shelter for free, if something dramatic happened one day, allowing them to survive.

Y/N had received the news with mixed feelings. She didn't want to die from a nuclear bomb, but she also didn't want to think about the possibility of a nuclear bomb falling on their heads.

There was no reason for this to happen anyway.

China and the United States had resumed peace negotiations. The war was going to end and everything would be wonderful. The vaults would then be of no use.

That day, she was washing dishes in her small kitchen. She lived alone, having left her parents who were in another state to settle near Lors Angeles.

Of course, she had first dreamed of Hollywood, and then she had been reasonable, finding a normal job, to live a normal life.

First there was the light. For a moment, she blinked, wondering if she had fainted. And looking out the window, she first saw the smoke in the distance.

Her neighbors were out, she could see them in the street which also looked towards the city center, and no doubt they were talking, but Y/N heard nothing, all her attention fixed on the smoke.

It was just smoke. She watched without being able to move as the cloud grew, before the shock wave reached her house, destroying the windows and shaking the walls.

Screams were then heard, in addition to the sirens. Falling to the ground in shock, Y/N almost didn't get up, but one of the neighbors, instead of thinking selfishly, ran to see if she was still there, helping her to get up and taking her with her to the vault.

Everything happened very quickly after that.

Y/N vaguely remembered those smiling doctors, who explained to them that everything would be fine, doing several exams before putting what they called a pipboy on them, giving them a ridiculous blue and yellow jumpsuit.

"You are now the inhabitants of Vault 8. What has just happened is a tragedy, and we are going to need you to ensure the future of humanity."

They were taken to a large room, with human-sized tubes. The doctors explained that they would be put to sleep, kept in the cold, safe, and awakened only on the day when it would be possible to go out and repopulate the Earth without it being dangerous.

No one could have known that they were not safe at all.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she had a hard time understanding what was happening. There was no light in the vault, except for the one in her crate which had just opened automatically.

Most of the boxes in front of her were open and empty. Then turning around, she discovered decomposing corpses in those that had remained closed.

Her cries of terror brought no one to come, because there was no one in the shelter, just as there were no resources, no water, no food, nothing. Because no one was supposed to survive here.

For two days, Y/N cried, not knowing what to do.

Then she decided she didn't want to die, not like that anyway, and she tried her luck outside. She didn't know how long she had slept, or what she would find, but she had to try.

Her pipboy quickly told her that the air was breathable, despite the presence of radiation in certain places. But that wasn't the most important thing for her, seeing the desert surrounding the vault.

The bombs had destroyed everything, leaving only ruins and sand. Not being stupid, Y/N moved forward cautiously, trying to stay as covered as possible, even if it was difficult with her outfit.

On her way, she encountered two-headed cows, giant cockroaches, and other horrible creatures. No humans though, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

With war, she knew that men could be much worse than beasts. Maybe they were all dead, from the explosions or all killing each other, or maybe they were still in the other vaults.

But life always found a way, even for assholes, and Y/N was attacked by three men while she was sleeping. Real savages, who talked more about eating her than anything else, laughingly ignoring her pleas.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a woman.” someone then said, stopping them as they were about to cut open her stomach.

"We found the bitch before you, pal ! Go get your lunch somewhere else !"

"Oh, but I think I found my meal. Mistreating a lady."

“You fucking ghoul !”

Too busy trying to get away, Y/N hadn't really looked at the man who had just arrived and was shooting at her attackers. Then, still too busy recovering from her misery, she took a while to raise her head, ready to thank her savior.

He didn't really seem surprised by her terror, although he grimaced as he watched her crawl away from him. She had to put her hand over her mouth to stop screaming.

It was impossible to tell if he had been burned or peeled, but the cowboy no longer had a nose, and his skin was in a catastrophic state.

As she stared at him with wide eyes, he watched her too, his attention settling on her pipboy.

"Ah. A vaultie. I understand the screams better. Never seen a ghoul before, sweetie ? Barely coming out of your little hole ?"

"… Sorry."

"No problem, sugar. You haven't insulted me or thrown things at me yet, it's quite polite."

At first, the ghoul was not very friendly. Yes, he had saved her, but he didn't want her to follow him into the wastelands. He didn't need a burden, and even less if it was a little rich girl.

But Y/N insisted, explaining to him what had happened to her, and the man looked at her with what looked like pity, muttering that she had ended up in one of the "bad vaults".

"I don't understand. What year is it ? Why is it only me who survived ? You… Sorry, what happened to you ?"

"Hey, honey. It's been over 200 years since everything blew up, thanks to Vault Tech. I imagine you and your friends were meant to serve as a pantry or an organ bank but like all their equipment, there's had a problem, and you were very lucky not to die like the others, and since you were there when everything happened, you should be able to guess why I am like this."

The Ghoul was gentleman enough to let her cry without comment.

The world was dead, and all because of money and power. Those who had sworn to protect them had killed them all. Nothing remained but an infertile, polluted, radioactive land, where the few survivors fought between factions instead of trying to find a real solution.

"Please… Don't leave me here…"

"You know, people didn't really like guys like me. It's not a good idea, sweetheart."

“They don’t like cowboys ?”

The question made him laugh. Maybe that was why he let her follow him. Or maybe because he wasn't as bad as he wanted to make out. Surely he felt lonely too, and it was nice to have someone who had lived in the same era as him , and who didn't judge him on his appearance.

Y/N didn’t understand ghoulophibia at all. Yes, they were scary, but that was no reason to mistreat these poor people.

"Okay, we judged on lots of things before, skin color, clothes, religion, but… Now, it's as if we were pointing at a cancer patient and shouting 'Look, he's sick Insult him !”

“It’s more complicated than that, sugar.” sighed the Ghoul, taking out a sort of hynalator to swallow its contents.

He explained radioactivity and the risks for him of becoming feral when they arrived in their first city. A chance for her to stay safe with people, their paths separating quietly.

But after three fights and an attack by Deathclaws, she preferred to stay with him.

So he taught her how to survive, use weapons, hide, follow a trail, earn caps. When asked why caps and not something else, he made a noise, saying he had no fucking idea, but men still wanted something to make business instead of helping each others for free.

After several months, he gave her a name. Cooper. Cooper Howard. He groaned when she asked him if he had anything to do with the old actor who did the Vault Tech commercial.

“Thanks for the bad memories, sweetie. An autograph ?”

“No thanks, never was a fan.”

"Ouch. Not even now, with my new look ? Do you think the cameras would like me ?"

“Let’s say that you will need less makeup for certain types of films, and a bag for others.”

Cooper laughed again, smiling at her with his slightly yellow teeth. It was obvious that it had been a long time since he had laughed like that with anyone.

He told her about his daughter after a year together in the wastelands. Handing her a photo, Y/N could see him as he was before, holding the little girl in his arms. They looked happy.

As she was about to give it back to him, he told her to keep it. It was the most important thing to him, so Y/N could keep the picture safe, and she would know that he would always come for her.

She muttered that she didn't doubt it anyway, putting the photo in her bag.

It was even longer later, when she had proclaimed herself the accountant of their small group, that Y/N noticed an inconsistency between the caps earned and the number of vials Cooper had.

“You should have five more vials.”

“Sugar, leave it.”

"No, really, I counted three times. I know the price by heart, you had fifty caps on your way to town, you should have fifteen vials. Is there a problem ? Has the price changed ? You… You Are you feeling well ?”

"I'm fine, sweetie. Sleep."

“But Coop…”

“Y/N, sleep.”

In the end, the price hadn't changed, Cooper was fine, but since they met, he had been spending his caps on non-irradiated water and food. For Y/N.

This discovery was a shock to her, who often watched him drink from puddles or eat human remains.

He didn't want her to do this. For her to become like him. When teaching her how to shoot, he added that it was just in case, because she wouldn't need to fight while he was there.

And now they were arguing about food, and he was ordering her to promise that she would continue to take what he gave her without question.

"You don't drink that dirty shit. You hear me, sugar ? Can you promise me ? You'll never drink that."

"… All right."

Their relationship was complicated. Cooper had probably told her everything, and yet he kept a distance. He didn't like her touching him, patting his shoulder or snuggling up to him to sleep.

Maybe he was afraid of making her sick. Maybe he thought she would rot on contact with him, and not just her skin.

Y/N really liked him anyway. They were both over 200 years old, even though she had been frozen during that time. They had spent a lot of time together. And even if she was still a little dizzy by his lack of nose, it wasn't the most important thing in a man.

It would have been two years when the raiders attacked. Far too many, so Cooper yelled at Y/N to run, to hide far away. He would come get her later.

Several days passed, and nothing. She was good at hiding, he had shown her, so it was possible that Cooper hadn't found her because she had become too good.

So she returned to the town where he came from, to at least find some informations. People did not easily forget the passage of The Ghoul.

But she didn't have to ask. She saw him in the bar, drinking and chatting with several guys.

Silent, discreet as a shadow, she came close enough to hear, thinking that he was in the middle of an business, and that she could surprise him when he finished with a beautiful reunion.

“You really don’t know where she is, Ghoul ?”

"Nah. Look guys, I know she was a real lil puppy that followed me everywhere, but I finally got rid of her, so I don't really care where she is. Not my problem. It was fun at first, but good riddance.”

She had seen the bomb fall, she had seen the bodies of her neighbors, but Y/N had never felt so bad as in that moment. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest, as Cooper and the others laughed together, mocking her.

Once, he had said that she should never trust anyone. It was an important rule to survive. But Y/N never believed that rule would include him.

With her bag and her weapon, she ran into the night, alone in the middle of the wasteland for the first time since she left her vault, and completely unaware of what she was going to do.

Only one thing was certain, she would never see Cooper Howard again.

[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

[lakesbian]

genuinely obsessed w/ taylor hebert. like. Incredible character design. despite it all, worm is still The Best Superpowered Media. the way the bug powers are entirely integral to her identity the way she is Literally a bug girl the way she’s always putting the para in parahuman. obsessed w/ the fact that she’s a crawling worm you can’t root out and a biting swarm that blots out the sun and a cockroach that loses its head and keeps fucking going. obsessed with the bit during gold morning where she’s floating dead in the water and then lab rat’s tech lets her grow literal bug legs & mandibles so she can skitter back up the oil rig and think about how much she wants to hurt an entity which can snuff billions of people like ants beneath its heel. character who is a bug both in the sense that she’s infinitesimally small and that it is impossible to really get rid of her. you can shoot her and leave her in a burning building for dead, you can snap her spine, you can blind her, you can tear her intestines out, and she still just Keeps Fucking Crawling so she can reach your mouth and suffocate you. literally the most david vs goliath character of all time except it’s cockroach vs goliath. you can nuke the planet and she’ll hide in the nooks and crannies of the barren wasteland promising that she’s going to get back at you for what you’ve done, and she always makes good on that promise. she’s the queen of the hive she’s the monarch she’s the administrator she’s The Worm That Turns she is THEE top weirdgirl character Ever

[thenightfolknetwork]

I never wanted to be part of the creature community. It isn't that I have anything against anyone--I was just born sapio and didn't ever feel any desire to be Turned. I was happy with my life and myself and I was more busy with my O-Levels and looking to go to uni than anything else. But that's all changed a couple of years ago when...well, I know the technical term, but "Sudden-Onset Apotheosis Syndrome" is just a fancy way of saying "Turned into a god with no discernible reason", yeah? It always makes me feel like a tool and so I try to hide it as best I can--no one wants to hear you complain about how hard it is being given divine powers and all that entails.

But I do have a problem, and I thought I might not be the only one with it, MUST not be, except I can't find anyone talking about it and so here I am? I can't talk to anyone anymore, can barely do even shopping for groceries, I feel paralyzed because all of a sudden now I have to think about a whole lot more than a "five year plan". All around me my old friends and my family, they're all...

...They're all dying. Not of anything particular--yet--but I can't so much as think of them without knowing how they're all going to die one day and I'm...not. I'm going to keep being like this for as close to "forever" that matters. It doesn't matter what I do or what they do, in just a handful of decades everyone I've ever known and loved will just be dust and I'll still look like I'm seventeen. And it isn't just people, it's everything. I thought I was used to the idea of living in a world perpetually sprinting headfirst towards climate disaster or nuclear oblivion, but NOW it's like--what, am I going to just be wandering around the blasted radiated wastelands waiting for the cockroaches to evolve wi-fi? I can't so much as plan for a lunch date tomorrow without working myself into a freezing panic about something that's not going to happen for ten thousand years--what the fuck is wrong with me?

How do any of you manage this sort of lifetime expectancy? How do you not try and Turn everyone on the street out of pure terror that they'll die and you won't? If this is how bad I feel after a few months, how much worse will it be in a year? In ten? In a million?

I'm so glad you've reached out, reader. This sounds to have been an extremely frightening, isolating experience for you, and I'm grateful you feel safe bringing that experience to my door.

The first point I want to talk to is your assertion that you are going to “keep being like this” forever. I recognise that some divine individuals do experience true eternal life, unchanged and unchanging. But they are few and far between, and it doesn't sound from your letter that the condition applies to you. Truly eternal beings do not suffer from panic attacks, for one thing.

You may not change physically, and emotional or intellectual change may be a little more difficult for you than they were before your apotheosis. But over time, I assure you, you will change. You will have new experiences and be shaped by them. And that means you can heal from this.

You ask “what the fuck is wrong” with you. Nothing is wrong with you. You are responding to a desperately frightening situation that has undermined every expectation and hope you had for how your life would play out. Give yourself a little grace, my dear.

This powerful fear response is not a personal failing or a sign of weakness. Your brain and body are trying to keep you safe, urging you to certain actions in a bid to protect you from harm.

The next time that “pure terror” hits you, try to breathe through it. Notice how it's making you want to behave, and acknowledge these impulses as a desire to protect yourself and the people around you. And then, let the suggestions go.

The action – or freezing, panicked inaction – suggested by your fear is not helpful. You can't turn the world, and you can't sit in frozen panic, waiting for the world to end. Take a breath, and ask yourself instead what you can do.

When you feel afraid of losing your friends, focus instead on expressing gratitude for the time you get to share with them. If you're afraid of the effects of climate catastrophe or political conflict, try getting involved in helpful action around these concerns. Let your love for this world and the people in it carry you forwards, not hold you back.

There are many models of god-hood. The detached, eternal observer is only one model of divinity, and not one you have to accept for yourself. Embrace instead your own immanence. You are here in the world. You can connect. You can change. You can make a difference.

We cannot possibly know what the future will hold, for ourselves or anyone else. Perhaps the world will end in fire and fury. Perhaps there will be exciting cockroach internet in our future. And perhaps life will carry on much as it always had, but in shinier outfits and with more spaceships. Who knows. What I do know is that nothing can be gained from worrying about that now.

You do not have to have a ten thousand year plan, dear reader. You do not need to have a ten year plan. It might be helpful to have a plan for the coming week, if only so you can make sure you take enough time to do the weekly shop and catch up with some friends.

Beyond that, remember: you are here with us, experiencing linear time just like everyone else. So please, try to take it as anyone else must – one day at a time.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[mrpicasso-face]

Summer is a filthy cockroach

A worthless bug

A symbol of uncleanliness

That refuses to

Just

Fucking

Die.

Every day,

I look outside and see it

That leering ball of hate.

Where are the clouds?

Where is the rain?

The snow?

The cold?

There is no life in this wasteland.

This weather makes me

Physically sick

My eyes water

My nose runs

My muscles weaken

It makes me want to die.

Unironically,

I genuinely would prefer death

To a single day more

Of this hell.

Make it end

Someone drive it away

That it may never come back here.

I see the sun above me

And I am filled with hate.

If every molecule of hydrogen

In that filthy orb above us

Were to cease existing

I would feel immeasurable joy.

"But without the sun,

There would be no life!"

At this point,

That is a sacrifice

I am willing to make.

[201xs]

idk ... it brings me comfort whenever i see birds or rats or even flies and cockroaches in any kind of post apocalyptic nightmare wasteland fiction like... it can be the most bleak and depraved and insane landscape imaginable but the life is still there. theres never any shortage of tiny things doing everything they can to keep living

[petrolstationflowers]

New Simfornia Republic Army not for you? Why not try the Brotherhood of Simtanium instead, a Sims 3 flavoured version of Fallout: New Vegas' Brotherhood of Steel!

This is available from YA - Elder and can be joined via the Science Lab. You will start out in a general branch, which then splits at the Level 5 promotion point, where you can choose either the Paladin or Scribe branch.

No opportunities, uniforms, or books, and no carpool, so make sure to send your sims to work manually!

Please note if you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

Each branch has custom tones and skills, which I will list under the cut:

Base branch, levels 1 - 5:

Tones:

Tinker With Spare Parts (Inventing): There’s always scraps lying around. Why not see what you can come up with?

Catalogue Findings (Future Tech): Gadgets and gizmos are forever being dug out of the sand and brought back to base, and it’s very important to know how it works, what it does, and most importantly, how to turn it on.

Repair Equipment (Handiness): Yes, your job is to haul back technology, but you also need to keep order. Make sure your weapons and gear are all up to date.

Levels:

Aspirant - 10 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 16:00, M-F

Description: Life isn’t the most fun in the wastes. Most of your days can be spent harvesting the least mutated tatos from the community gardens or sweeping giant cockroaches out from your house. On the weekends, you like to poke around the junkyard for something interesting to take apart, and that might be just what the Brotherhood of Simtanium is looking for…

Initiate - 30 simoleans p/h, 08:00 - 17:00, M-F

Description: Who knew that turning up at the local chapter’s bunker and refusing to leave would net you a job? You’re only training at the moment, but you’re one step closer to where you want to be, even if your daily routine consists of patrols of the town square and brewing coffee.

Squire - 37 simoleans p/h, 08:00 - 17:00, M-F

Description: It might only be a baby step, but it’s a step up nonetheless. You’ve been assigned to squire for one of the knights, which isn’t as romantic as the stories make it sound. You’ll need to get good at cleaning weapons, polishing Power Armour, all the while studying to make sure you’ll actually qualify for the knights when the time comes. Best get studying.

Knight - 45 simoleans p/h - 08:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description: Finally, a knight in gloriously chrome armour! Though you’ll be seeing some combat, what you’ll mostly be doing is making weapons for the troops and repairing the ones they break. You’ll need a steady hand and a little imagination before they’ll let you get your hands on the fun toys.

Journeyman Knight - 55 simoleans p/h - 08:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description: You’re finally taking your first tentative steps into the field, taking on more dangerous patrols and venturing further out in search of more interesting gadgets and gizmos. Still, at least the long walks give you time to think, because you’ll soon need to specialise – choose wisely!

Paladin branch:

Tones:

Attend Combat Training (Athletic): Your instructors run various workshops on different combat styles; keep yourself sharp by turning up every once in a while.

Maintain Gear (Handiness): It’s a harsh wasteland out there and a jammed gun or rusted chestplate could mean the end of you. Make sure your gear works properly before setting out!

Practise with Energy Weapons (Laser Rhythm-a-con): A strictly classified gun, known only as the laser harp to avoid civilian panic. You’ll need to perfect your “harp playing.”

Levels:

Paladin - 64 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 19:00, S,U,W,T

Description: A Paladin is the Brotherhood of Simtanium’s shining star, someone civilians look up to and kids want to be when they grow up. Now that you’re done with your training you’ll finally be taught how to use Power Armour, and more importantly, the laser harp! Uh, rifle. Definitely a rifle.

Star Paladin - 85 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 16:00, S,U,W,T

Description: Now you’re actually a big deal, and the higher ups are content to let you out alone and actually argue with them when you’re given a stupid assignment. Sure, it’s a little boring guarding Simberty Prime or casing warehouses in Lunar Lakes, but it sure beats making parts on a factory line!

Senior Paladin - 100 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 17:00, S,U,W,T

Description: You’ve impressed your superiors enough to rise beyond the rank of Star; you’re shooting for the moon, maybe the whole universe! Keep working at it and you’ll be in line for Head Paladin soon enough; that is, if you’re up to the challenge.

Head Paladin - 150 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 17:00, S,U,W,T

Description: You’re top of the food chain – at least, in the Paladin chapter. You’re in charge of the green recruits, making sure their training is up to scratch and who is to follow in your footsteps. You’ll need patience, and a lot of it.

Elder - 250 simoleans p/h, 11:00 - 18:00, M,W,F

Description: You finally get to have a say in how your local chapter is run; whether they like it or not, the Brotherhood of Simtanium has to answer to you. Be sure to wield your new power wisely, because while you might be a brotherhood, your rivals won’t care about family.

Scribe branch:

Tones:

Transcribe Manuals (Writing): What’s better than finding a shiny new piece of tech? Finding the manuals that come with it. Copy them up for posterity and ensure they don’t get lost to time.

Analyse Findings (Science): The knights drop reports off and it’s your job to try and work out what they say. Read the notes, pull out the facts, and put together a hypothesis as to whether you’ve found a microwave or a time machine.

Preserve Art (Painting): Entertainment is sparse in the wasteland; art from the old world is something to keep safe. Painstakingly restore, preserve, and replicate anything from ancient comics to portraits of royalty; all of it is valuable.

Levels:

Scribe Initiate - 40 simoleans p/h - 09:00 - 18:00 - M-F

Description: The path of scribe is one of blistered, ink-stained fingers, and eyestrain; truly, you’d need to be dedicated to make this the rest of your life. Shadow your coworkers and decide if this is truly what you want to do; otherwise, EverFresh Supermarket is always hiring…

Scribe - 50 simoleans p/h - 09:00 - 18:00 - M-F

Description: You’ve chosen your path and donned the robe; welcome to the role of Scribe! Instead of venturing outside, you’ll be tasked with preserving arts and literature of the old world – and yes, that includes Don Lothario’s badly written smut novels.

Senior Scribe - 75 simoleans p/h - 09:00 - 18:00 - M,T,W,U

Description: Less smut, more essays on ancient Shang Simlan plays! You’ve reached the rank of Senior Scribe, tasked with preserving the more delicate works previously thought lost to time. Historical accounts, festival records, political scandals, all must be kept for future generations lest war break out again.

Proctor - 100 simoleans p/h - 10:00 - 18:00 - M,W,F

Description: - Now you finally get to choose what you’re studying; the perfect time to cash in on your niche interests! Whether it’s nectar making manuals from Champs Le Sims or a dedicated archive of every film ever shown at the Wilsonoff Community Theatre, there’s no one to tell you otherwise. Hopefully there won’t be a revolt on your hands.

Head Scribe - 200 simoleans p/h - 10:00 - 18:00 - M,W,F

Description: You’ve mastered Sword, Shield, and Quill, you’ve picked the next Proctors; life is pretty good at the top. There’s a lot of meetings to be had and opinions to be swayed, but you get first dibs on any artefacts that come in and get to build your own private library for a little bit of peace and quiet!

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial! and the very kind folks over on MissyHissy's Job Centre Discord server for their patience and help.

[tvsandmovies]

In 2005, actor Daniel Day-Lewis visited Gaza and witnessed the arrogance and crimes of the occupation up close. He narrated his experience, feelings and position in an influential five-page article that sparked the anger of the entity and its gang. These are excerpts from it:

“This is an apartheid state. It took me less than a week to lose neutrality. And through this I might throw stones at the tanks.”

In the Gaza Strip, the Israeli army responds to stone throwing with bullets. He responds to bombings and attacks launched by Palestinian militants by bulldozing homes and olive groves in search of the perpetrators, punishing their families, and establishing buffer zones to protect Israeli settlements. It blocks access to villages and multiplies checkpoints, cutting off Gazans from the outside world. MSF psychiatrists try to help Palestinian families cope with the pressures of living within these borders, by treating severe trauma and listening to their stories. These visits are sometimes the only sign that they have not been abandoned.

Israeli tanks and armored bulldozers can come without warning, often at night. The noise alone, for a people forced to suffer these violations year after year, is enough to freeze the soul. Israeli snipers are stationed on rooftops. They order homeowners to leave; They don't even have time to gather pots, pans, papers and clothes before bulldozers crush the unprotected buildings like dinosaurs trampling eggs. Those caught in the incursion area will be shot. Even those hiding inside their homes may be shot or bombed through walls, windows and roofs. The white flag carried by humanitarian workers offers little protection; We may be subjected to warning shots at least twice before the week is over.

Sometimes families do not leave the area being raided, because if they leave they will lose everything. Staying at home is a big risk. Sometimes the house is occupied by Israeli forces, and the family is forced to stay there as protection for the soldiers. Last year, an average of 120 homes were demolished per month. In the past four years, 28,483 Gazans have been forcibly evacuated; And the destruction of more than half of the usable land in #Gaza, which consists mainly of orchards. Last year, 658 Palestinians were killed in violence in Gaza, along with dozens of Israelis. This plowing, house after house, orchard after orchard, turns the community into a wasteland, scattered and combined with a stunted crop of broken glass, nails, books, and abandoned possessions. As we make our way toward the home of Abu Saghir and his family – one of many families we will visit today – we walk over broken histories and aspirations.

One day, Rafael Eitan, the former chief of staff, likened the Palestinian people to “drugged cockroaches moving and floundering inside a bottle.” In 1980 he told his officers: "We have to do everything to make them so miserable that they will leave." He opposed all attempts to grant them autonomy in the occupied territories. Twenty-five years later, it seems to me that his position and policy have been implemented with great enthusiasm.

Watchtowers are these evil structures with malicious shadows of power all over the land. On our third day, as we stood at the torn edge of the refugee camp in Rafah, the forbidden border area between Gaza and Egypt, bullets pierced the sand a yard and a half away from where we were standing. In this place was Iman Al-Hams, a helpless schoolgirl who had been shot just weeks before. She ran and tried to hide here from the cruel death that came to her. I felt her presence. The sky shakes with its shallow, fluttering breaths of its last terror.

[Killing the little girl Iman]

Soldier 1: “We recognized a person standing on his feet 100 meters away.

Soldier 2: “A girl about 10 years old.”

Soldier 2: “She is behind the trench, half a meter away, scared to death. The bullets were right next to her, one centimeter away.”

Signal soldier: “We shot her. Yes, it seems she was hit.”

Captain R: “Roger, yes. She just went down. Me and a few other soldiers are moving forward to confirm her death.”

Soldier 2: “Catch her, catch her. There's no need to kill her.”

Captain R: “...We fired and killed her...I confirmed the kill...Anyone who moves in the area, even if he is three years old - an old child, must be killed, finished.”

A military investigation determined that Captain R “did not act unethically.” He still faces criminal charges. Two soldiers swore they saw him intentionally shoot her in the head, emptying the entire magazine of his gun into her.

Source:

[lazer-screwdriver]

“Life goes on, old man.” The woman rolls its head back and sighs contentedly — a jarringly out of place sound in the wasteland. “On and on and on and on.”

It isn’t a platitude but an inevitably, the promise of cockroaches. The teeth in the lazy smile it turns on him says it considers itself in that.

He wonders mildly how much longer it has like that before it ends up like him.

[caitlynskitten]

Crack crossover because why not

The ghoul, Lucy, Wednesday and Enid are a mission in the wasteland.

Wednesday and The Ghoul conversate about their experiences with weapons.

Lucy and Enid stops every five minutes to wander around. They find a giant cockroach and play with it.

Wednesday scolds Lucy and Enid and tells them to focus on the mission

[thatonebirdwrites]

As I write ficlets here, I dump them in my Books of Destiny. Newest chapter is the idea for the Fallout AU. I wanted to keep Kara feeling alien, and the best way to do that is for her to be a vault dweller who ventures into the wastelands for the first time. This puts Lena as a wastelander (secretly with the Railroad but working as a scavenger). I'm mixing the plots of Fallout 3 and 4 because I liked Fallout 3's plot better, but I prefer Fallout 4's setting and factions. (Have played these games dozens of times.) What is the Fallout Universe?

If Fusion Power was invented and became commonplace in the 1950s, where even cars are run on fusion, only for a nuclear war to break out. Two hundred years after the War, the character leaves their vault knowing little to nothing about the wasteland. It's a dark satire with ridiculous elements. As a fun easter egg, in Fallout 3, you can find Bethseda's offices. Yes, they put their offices in the game.

Year 2278, May 12 - 200 Years After the War

Two days after leaving the vault, Kara realized that the world did not fit what the overseer had described. In fact, everything she'd been told about the world seemed to be terribly wrong.

The giant cockroaches and mosquitoes? They weren't supposed to be that big! When she saw the furless mongrel dogs and cows with two heads, she quickly realized that the Vault's biology book was utterly useless for this wasteland. The land itself mostly dried grass, vine-drenched trees, and over-sized, glowing mushrooms.

How was Kara supposed to find a clean source of water and better foodstuff to replace their lost stores? The wasteland looked so inhospitable, and nearly all the water sources held far too much radioactivity. Her Geiger counter kept bouncing up to warn her away from the more dangerous areas -- her vault suit didn't quite protect against the radiation, she should have worn a hazmat suit -- but in other areas that did harbor life, none matched her biology vaultbooks. So she had no idea what was edible.

Up ahead, Kara sighted three figures. She darted behind a rock. Last thing she needed was a fight. The last one with that creepy, fur-less and rabid dog had nearly gotten her killed. Her arm still ached from the dog's claws. She'd had to use three stimpacks before the injury began to slowly repair itself.

So she huddled behind a rock and watched the approach of humans. The first she'd seen since leaving the vault. She had a knife with her, canned food and water, and some tech from the vault. The gun she'd found in a rundown shack yesterday was out of ammo. Not that she was any good at it. Shooting wasn't part of the vault curriculum.

Two of the humans were dressed in leather coats, black pants with knee pads, and a hard helmet. A giant, hulking robot walked next to them, but a human voice emanated from it. It looked like one of the power armors Kara had seen in the textbooks from the war.

One of the humans looked like a woman. She held a device in her hand and moved it back and forth over the ground. Her skin was sun-burned, her black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, but her eyes were so, so green. As green as the tree drawings in Kara's vault textbooks. She was gorgeous.

The trio walked closer, and their voices drifted over the broken trees and shattered road. "Jack, are you certain this was the coordinates? Because I'm not picking up any signals." Even the woman's voice sounded beautiful.

"We've been over this, Lena. The triangulation pinpointed the crash to this location," Jack said, his deeper voice held an accent Kara didn't recognize. "We simply need to cover more area."

"Perhaps we should split up?" The power armor person said. Their voice was a low alto. "Cover more ground?"

"Bloody hell, Sam, we'd be easy pickings for any enemy then," Jack said with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

"You would be fine, Sam," Lena said with a roll of her eyes. "You got the power armor. Besides, the idea isn't feasible. I have the scanner. Without it, you're looking for a cap in a lake."

Kara blinked as their words filtered through her. Wait. A crash? She'd seen lots of crashes since leaving the Vault. In fact, one had been still smoking. It resembled the Vertibirds from her textbooks of the war. She'd passed by it yesterday when she'd sighted the giant cockroach and almost fell off a cliff in her eagerness to escape it.

Without thinking it through, she darted to her feet. "Hey! I saw a crash!"

And soon found herself facing three weapons -- a flamethrower in Sam's hands, a hunting rifle in Jack's, and a laser gun in Lena's.

Kara threw up her hands. "Please don't shoot! I don't mean any harm. I just heard you talking about a crash, and I saw one."

Lena lowered her weapon first. One eyebrow rose as her gaze swept over Kara. "You're wearing a vault jumpsuit."

"Yes?" Kara looked down at the blue and yellow suit. The number 101 was emblazoned across the front. Was it a bad thing to be a vault-dweller? She wondered if maybe she should have lied. Too late now. "I left it two days ago."

"Wait, you're a vault dweller?" Jack slid the rifle over his shoulder and grinned. "Our luck is in! Can you take us to it?"

Kara lowered her hands, confused. "Why?"

"Most vaults are powered by fusion," Lena explained, "and we're low on fusion cores. Is your power still functioning?"

Kara shifted uneasily back toward her rock. "I'm not sure." She'd left the vault intact, meaning her family was still there. Leading these people to it just for them to take the vault's power? That would put them all in danger.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Sam asked. She had lowered her weapon, but her voice was still intimidating due to the power armor. "Come on, you just left it, didn't you?"

"I can take you to the crash," Kara said, firmly. Alex and the others relied on her mission to find a better water source. Leading strangers there to steal power was not part of the mission. "And maybe we can negotiate if you help me find a clean source of water."

"Now see here," Jack started to say, but Lena held up her hand to stop him.

"Negotiate we definitely can. So what's your name?" With a smile, Lena stepped in front of the others and held out her hand to Kara. "I'm Lena, this is Jack, and that's Sam."

"Kara from Vault 111." Kara shook Lena's hand with a smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

[earthling-defense-force]

Cell's mere presence has been enough to set off alarms, which would eventually lead them to find her just... Standing in the middle of a wasteland. Far away from civilization. As if she were waiting for someone to come find her.

"Unidentified Bio-android. State your manufacturer, allegiance and purpose here immediately. This vehicle is armed with enough fire power to level a city block. Surrender now or face termination."

A stern voice come over a loud speaker as a hovercraft descended from the sky keeping a safe distance away from the strange almost alien looking being. Officer Lazuli was hand selected for this mission given her expertise in dealing with augmented humans and artificial weapons but even she was surprised by how bizarre this target was... why on earth did it look like a giant cockroach? She hated bugs...