#post-apocalyptic stories

[stone-cold-groove]

H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. Paperback edition - 1968.

[bethanydelleman]

One of the things I loved about The Wild Robot from a writing/world-building perspective was that it was clearly set in a post-apocalyptic world, but the details were very vague, and you don't even know until about an hour in:

"Beautiful shot," you think, and then it hits you that the whales are swimming over the Golden Gate Bridge.

Abandoned, crumbling satellites and a sunken city. And then when we do see the human city, they freak out at the sight of geese:

Animal-derived plague? Global warming? We don't know. We only know that something has happened. But like the general theme, whatever bad has occurred, the natural world is thriving. An unexpected positive from a history of tragedy.

[unboundprompts]

hello! stumbled across your tumblr recently and love it, so resourceful! I wanted to know if you had any prompts or a list of ideas for things to occur/prevent someone going to their destination in a dystopian/post-apocalyptic world?

Problems That May Occur in a Dystopian/Post-Apocalyptic World

The fresh water supply is running low and your character needs to find a resource to replenish it.

A family member or loved one has fallen ill and your character needs to care for them/find the medicine they need.

The map your character has been following was ruined by the rain.

An animal/monster/rival group is attacking your character's home!

Someone important to your character has gone missing.

The wall around your character's base has fallen. It needs to be rebuilt before *it* gets in.

A storm is passing through and the conditions are too rough for your character to continue traveling. They need to find shelter before it gets any worse.

A dead animal has been found in the middle of your character's base.

Something is causing the food supply to rot.

A group of thieves has robbed your character while traveling.

Some kind of creature has been stalking your character during their travels. I hope it's friendly.

One of the wheels on your character's mode of transportation has broken/gone flat.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[scipunk]

Battle Angel Alita (1993)

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

A link design!!! For a story that’s solid enough in my head to possibly become a comic ehehe

some notes:

Link has been Heroing for some time now, with minimal success. He’s a bit grumpy.

he also has a bulky brown overcoat, but I haven’t figured out what it looks like yet so i didn’t draw it lol

the gloves are to hide his scar, but also help in the cold. Because this Hyrule is rather cold :)

The overtunics are both pretty new, which is the only reason they aren’t torn to bits. The same person who made them mended his pants and made his hat, which is why the patches match cloth in other parts of his outfit.

the scar on his face is from a lizalfos. I figured, if the Dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park gets to spit acid, then shouldn’t a lizalfos get to too? So it’s an acid burn. He’s lucky he dodged most of it!

I’m still figuring out how to accurately depict the scars, so they don’t look quite right yet! With research and practice I’ll get there!

the other scar I will not get into for plot reasons hehe

This is the same story the above Zelda design is for!! I’ve posted her design in varying stages before, here, here and here, but the story in the previous posts has changed a bit since!! There are also some really old doodles of Link if you (hehe) follow the links.

the above is Zelda’s formal dress. I designed it with a girl a little younger than her in mind, because she loses most of her wardrobe when she’s about 12! So I really ought to draw this on her younger self XD

Finally, scrapped Ganondorf and Link designs!!!

don’t look into these too much as I’m only putting them here because I’ll never post them otherwise; they do not fit the story at all lol

Ganondorf is gonna be… really hard to design… I made him a very complex character and his personality is so intertwined with the story there is a lot to be taken into account XD

ummm that’s all for now!!! I doubt many people will read all this but feel free to send asks if you have questions nevertheless :D

[kindasortawriting]

I celebrated my last birthday today.

Everyone left was there.

Two mannequins from the corner store, both in disrepair.

I celebrated my last birthday today.

With what? Just wait and see.

Kindling on my favorite rock.

The cake for you and me.

I celebrated my last birthday today.

I lit the pile of sticks.

A candle made of Mother Earth.

What a fancy trick.

I celebrated my last birthday today.

Alone at the end of time.

Thanks to me for jotting down

The world's last silly rhyme.

[voidopal]

New Bliss District characters‼️‼️ (Both unnamed at the moment)

The top guy is a leucistic Tamaraw (a species of small water buffalo) from the second district and he’s a butcher! (It’s suspicious a district containing 97% herbivores has a job for butchering but don’t look into that to deeply yet)

The second guy is the vice commander for the first district! He is currently the only character I have from the first district so this is quite monumental!

I figured that there would eventually be people who wanted to explore beyond the city and into the wasteland beyond the walls of trash that compromise the outskirts districts and what better character to take that chance and explore then a desert hawk?

Needless to say it’s rough out there and very dangerous, the only life out there are primitive and hungry creatures and he ended up losing an arm while escaping some of those creatures. He’s lucky his left hand is his dominant hand… He’s a sweet guy, it really sucks he’s currently working for the first district ���😔

[candlelitcorners]

out back after church

[whereserpentswalk]

It is a lovely morning. This is the seventh day of your existence. You are a humanoid robot. You were made to help people. Right now you're working in a large building in a city, you don't really know what's outside the city. There are men in suits who tell you to go little jobs for them, like sending emails, or bringing them whatever food is. They all seem really impressed with the technology that went into you, you think they like you, and they say nice things to you. You like helping people you think, this is what you were build for you think.

It is a grey morning, you think there are ashes in the sky now. This is the seventh year of your existence. Even machines like you have been conscripted into the war effort. They added weapons to your body, it feels so weird, to have new limbs that weren't there before. They say this is how you help people now, you don't like it, you didn't see so many people unhappy at your old job. You don't like having to shoot people, it hurts to have people be afraid of you. You enjoy the people they have fight alongside you but it hurts to see them die. Occasionally there are white lights in the sky that all the men hold their thumbs up to, you don't understand why, but you are afraid, you are very afraid.

It is a smoke filled day today, there are ashes in the sky. This is the seventieth year of your existence. You found another group of survivors today, you try to identify any illnesses they may have, and treat what you can. You travel with them looking for fertile land, you remember more about what is lost than they do, the new generations of survivors don't even understand what the world was. But you help them, they all seem so impressed with you, you're something ancient and magical to them, they call you a "golem", you enjoy that word. You don't want to fight anyone but your appearance is enough to scare off most raiders. Everyone looks up to you so much, the children talk about you like you're some sort ot superhero, and when people are afraid of something they'll come to you. When you're able to find hidden stores of food for them they look at you like you're some sort of divine gift. It's been awhile since you've been able to help people like this, it feels good.

The sky is starting to clear, as are the ashes. It is your seventh human generation of existing. You stand in front of a newly reclaimed town, you think it is the local king’s capital. The people don't even think you're ancient technology anymore, they think you were made by God, or a wizard, it's best to play along. The local king tells you to fight off enemies inside or outside the town, you don't like doing it but it's good to have influence over him and its sons, so they don't do anything worse. Everyone in the kingdom is nice to you at least, the armed men all look up to you as an ancient folk hero of some sort. You don't like how they outsiders see you though, you're feared as the king's greatest weapon. Sometimes you're just asked to move stuff with your strength, and that feels good. You like it when the children of the kingdom get excited to meet you, even adults do too now. You've even seen some people pray to you, you think they think you're an angel, you're not sure how you feel about that part.

The day is lovely and the sky blue and clear. In is your seven-hundredth year of existence. You're only ever handled by trained archeologists now, you understand, you enjoy helping them find out more about the staff. Useally you're put in a display case at a meusum, in the middle of city, a city that's younger than you. You like how the people look at you, they're all so impressed with you, some of the locals talk about how you helped their ansestors, how you're a part of their history. It's like they're thanking you, for your help. It hurts to move, someday you won't be able to move at all. But you're still helping now, helping them learn, helping them remember, you hope that's how it is at least. It's been a long time since you've sensed ashes in the sky.

[ranticore]

Are female kobolds intrinsically from a higher cast from birth, or do they have the same social status as their male counterparts- just with the ability to socially climb if a priestess has a dream or someone appoints them? Both in Holly'w and Kettle's societies, i'd love to hear the differences between those groups on that, if any

i think these two asks are asking more or less the same thing or similar enough that i can just meld it into one post.

first of all i want to avoid the words 'harem' or 'caste' when describing these fictional societies, they are not applicable here

the two colonies (holly's and kettle's) are different but have the same sort of attitude towards male kobolds which isn't a 1:1 reverse sexism. male kobolds are seen as somewhat inferior due to being impermanent. they're a deviation from a base state which is parthenogenetic. they aren't allowed to forget that they'll be the first to go if anything happens to the colony and that the overarching society, the colony as it has persisted for centuries, is not made for them. they're tourists in their own colony, not residents. you can have fun with them, but they're fair-weather friends, so don't get invested.

Are female kobolds intrinsically from a higher class from birth - no, there are female kobolds in every class, they just tend to be over-represented in leadership and in legacy bloodlines because they can trace an unbroken lineage and accumulate generational resources and wealth. they have the privilege of never being seen as entirely disposable, no matter their status. but, realistically, for scavengers and those living outside the warrens, everyone's in the same meat grinder.

social mobility is rare and works differently in different colonies. for holly, he was allowed a chance to jump to a high social class. any red-black kobolds are also fast-tracked to working directly with the dragon, regardless of sex, and this can be a very privileged if strenuous position. the mother-of-matriarchs is also not an inherited role - the reigning matriarch selects a kobold who has a track record of never having birthed a son. once a mother-of-matriarchs has provided the colony with a daughter who survives infancy, she is allowed to retire into a cushy life in the warrens and a new mother-of-matriarchs is chosen. the matriarch herself is guaranteed to have only sons because of her proximity to the dragon's heat, and yes her sons do get put in as consorts for a new baby matriarch to ensure at least some continuation of the matriarchal bloodline, though only if they're considered a suitable fit for one of the 6 consort roles. if their new baby matriarch dies, these failsons are just kicked out into the warrens where they usually end up in normal social roles like labourer or artisan.

in kettle's case, she was selected because her colours were the best match to those in the high priestess's vision. i think i'd have to make a separate post about the social structures of this colony because it's several centuries older than holly's and far more developed. but kettle faced classist barriers to becoming a priestess - she received a lot of pushback from the other junior priestesses who felt they were being mocked by a scavenger's inclusion in their ranks. when it came time for her to interpret her own visions and select a candidate consort, even thinking about picking another scavenger was social suicide and confirming all the worst stereotypes about her, but she went ahead with it because she knew lucky would die on his own (he was very badly injured at the time of her own selection and she was forced to leave him then, and that was eating away at her 24/7. she had to confirm with her own eyes that he was even alive before she dared to select him as a candidate).

lucky himself faced less scrutiny than kettle did, because he was barely a person from the get-go and wasn't considered to have any agency whatsoever (which he did not. he is, at best, a professional sperm donor). but he was considered a reflection on her, and she was not brave enough or secure enough in her role to pick him from the candidate pool to be her own consort, so she basically dragged him to the enclave against his will and stranded him there without much support. as a junior priestess she could only pick two boytoys and couldn't have exclusive rights over either of them, had to share with another junior priestess. with increasing seniority, a priestess is allowed to have exclusive rights over one consort, then two, and so on. she picked two randos she didn't know or care much for, and then proceeded to neglect them while being a terrible busybody around the priestesses who'd picked lucky.

[closetdystopia]

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I'm starin' down the lens, and it's like lookin' into an abyss that's swallowed the guy I used to be. These wires, they're not just connected to my body; they're tethered to whatever's left of my soul. It's a mental labyrinth, and every thought's a dead-end, every emotion's a flickerin' light about to go out. I keep pullin' on these threads, hopin' to find some fragment of me that's still real, still human. But the more I pull, the more they unravel, 'til there's nothin' left to hold onto. The last flicker of emotion, the last shred of hope— it's all gone. I'm just a shell in a world that's moved on, a ghost in the machine with no place to haunt.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

>> PJT36v7

Links:

[ Redbubble Store ]

[ Etsy Store ]

[ Pinterest ]

[ Instagram ]

[tofu83]

For The Good Of Mankind

The old society collapsed but a utopian society rose from the ashes. There are only 3 kinds of people existing: Authorities, Servants and Laborers.

Authorities follow the advice of supercomputers to govern society. Servants serve the authorities and carry out orders from superiors. Laborers obey the orders carried out by servants to work and engage in production. No one will be jobless because everything is calculated by supercomputers.

If everyone abides by the guidance of the super computer, society will maintain harmony, and mankind cannot afford to be destroyed again. Therefore, anyone who violates the rules must be punished immediately without trial, because the super computer is infallible, absolutely just and compassionate.

Workers who violate the rules are often reported to the servants by the people around them, and the servants immediately assign law enforcement robots to arrest the violators and send them to jail. The servants then summarize the situation and report it to the authorities. The authorities will ask the supercomputer for its opinion and impose punishments. If a servant dares not to arrest or report, other servants will arrest him. If a leader makes decisions without asking the super computer, his colleagues will just ask servants to send robots to catch him.

A prisoner is usually sentenced to reform through labor, but if he is already a laborer, this means that he cannot be reformed anymore. The only fate that awaits him is transformation. He will be escorted to the Transformation Factory by law enforcement robots. There he will be stripped off all his clothes, shaved all hairs from head to toe, and put into a transformation capsule. The capsule will release sleeping gas to make him appear half asleep and half awake.

Several tubes were pierced into his skin and the transformation fluid was injected, turning his bones into alloys, his blood into motor oil, his muscles into reinforced fibers, and his skin into invulnerable armor. As for the appearance of his head, it is a perfect oval. His head becomes a small computer that can directly receive messages from the supercomputer but is temporarily authorized to give instructions to some humans. The original eye area has become a small screen that can display current tasks and regulations to the person he is facing.

The process seems painful, but with the help of gas and nanotechnology, he is actually moved by incomparable joy and glory. He will no longer be a problem, will not be a threat to social order, and will not cause mankind to face destruction again. On the contrary, he will absolutely obey and implement all instructions of the super computer, arrest and transform all diehards like the old himself!

What's more important, he no longer has to take responsibility for his actions. Because he is no longer an individual, but a robot, one of many drones. The supercomputer is his Master and will be responsible for making decisions. All he has to do is obey. It's so wonderful to be freed from the shackles of responsibility. It turns out that giving up your sense of self is true freedom!

"Thank you, Master! I swear I will obey you forever." He shouted his loyalty to the supercomputer in infinite pleasure, and then the last trace of humanity disappeared.

The capsules are opened and all new law enforcement robots walk out in unison and line up towards the factory exit. After being assigned by the super computer, they will report to their respective law enforcement units to show all citizens the consequences of disobedience and the benefits of obedience.

Thanks to the supercomputer, the real Master of mankind, the earth has been peaceful for another day.

Finally, please always remember, when you find it difficult to obey the rules but don't want to destroy the peace, the Transformation Factory always welcomes volunteers to contribute to social stability.

[tdp-official]

For those of you who did not know, this world does not have normal and typical animals. When the mass extinction event happened, the group that preserved humanity (known only as the progenitors), also engineered lifeforms to stabilize the ecosystem after the fall of the world. Many of these engineered lifeforms were based on middle to upper epochs of the Cenozoic era. This is due to the fact that following the apocalypse it was predicted to set climate back to a more archaic state. With increased global temperatures, rising sea levels, and about 2 times the carbon emissions in the atmosphere, it was only logical to base creatures off of prehistoric animals that lived in these conditions. (People were modified as well, but that’s not relevant right now.)

The animal you see in front of you, is an engineered animal based on megalostragus, the giant goat from the Pliocene epoch. These animals live transiently from the Dòrok steppes and mountains, and they have been domesticated and are the primary ground mount that people use within Dòrok. You may have noticed that they have 2 sets of nostrils, and this is because many animals have advanced respiratory systems to deal with lingering toxins that may be present in the air. These second sets of nostrils, lead to a separate sinus cavity with tiny hairs that become inflamed when certain toxins interact with them, alerting the animal to potentially dangerous breathing conditions.

This one is a quicker drawing. I usually mess around with concepts and sketches to help put together a cohesive look and feel for cultures. Eventually I would like to do short drawing exercises where I pick an occupation, a region in Dòrok, and a name and then just put together a large assortment of different sketches.

[plotandelegy]

Crafting Future From Ruins: A Writer's Guide to Designing Post-Apocalyptic Technology

Photo: Standard License- Adobe Stock

Crafting post-apocalyptic tech involves blending creativity and realism. This is a guide to help you invent tech for your post-apocalyptic world:

Tinker, Tailor, Writer, Spy: Start with modern tech. Take it apart (conceptually or literally if you're feeling adventurous). Using the basics, think of how your character might put it back together with limited tools and resources.

Master the Fundamentals: Understand the basic principles underlying the tech you're working with. Physics, chemistry, and biology can be your best friends. This understanding can guide your character's resourceful innovations.

Embrace the Scrapyard: The world around you has potential tech components. Appliances, vehicles, infrastructure - how could these be deconstructed and repurposed? Your characters will need to use what's at hand.

Cherishing Old Wisdom: Pre-apocalypse books and manuals are the new internet. A character with access to this knowledge could become a vital asset in tech-building.

Indigo Everly

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

1

[next]

Tango's room was... not a cell, exactly. It was comfortable, and he had all the books and trinkets and furniture he wanted. He'd painted the walls himself, in firey sunrise colours to match him, and the carpet was soft enough that his toes sank into it when he walked around. He even had his own seperate bathroom with no cameras in. But the only window was a mirror on his side of the wall, and the door locked from the outside, and cameras near the ceiling monitored his every move, and he was only allowed to leave when one of the many scientists interested in him decided he could.

Still, it was all he knew, and he'd learnt as a kid to make do with a little.

Besides, it's not like the scientists were bad to him, not anymore. After 105 years, he'd become a sort of mascot to the palace labs, and it was taboo among the scientists to mistreat him. The tests, while annoying, never hurt, and for the ones that did they provided him with powerful anaesthetics that made him loopy and completely numb.

The tests themselves varied. They took cells from all over his body for the geneticists and microbiologists. They took samples from his scalp for the chemists trying to figure out how the fire on his head works. They tested how his body reacted to various types of radiation for the radiologists. The list went on and on, even after 105 years, of things they didn't know about him and wanted to find out.

He'd outlived four kings already, and more scientists than he could count, and they were no closer to discovering how much longer he was suspected to live. He still felt as lively as ever, so the general concensus was that he still had quite a while.

He was sitting at his desk, fiddling with the mess of wires and parts between his hands, when the door opened.

Tango looked up, confused, and saw Cub standing in the doorframe.

"More tests?" Tango frowned. He'd already sat through a whole host of tests this morning; he thought he'd be free for the rest of the day.

"No quite," Cub told him.

He was a man on the shorter, rounder side, but you wouldn't notice, not with everything else going on with him. Cub was the lead geneticist in the lab, and often conducted many of his experiments on himself. As such, he had a pair of tattered wings too small to be anything more than decoration, borrowed from the genes of a feathered dragon; a full set of sharp teeth not dissimilar from Tango's own, with which Tango had seen Cub snap a bone in half, borrowed from a mermaid; and pitch black hair and eyes, as well as traces of death magic, from a dark elf. He was the only person Tango knew who was older than him, though no one knew which race Cub had gotten the longevity from. While he was by no means human anymore, he got away with walking freely around the palace without hiding any part of himself by being a perfect mix of friendly, unsettling and indispensible.

It was Cub who had first combined the DNA of a pymgy dragon with that of a human, resulting in an infant with a mix of human and dragon traits, ie, Tango himself.

Cub studied Tango for a second with those almost soulless eyes, before announcing, "The king is dead. The new queen has ordered that all Vis being held against their will in the palace be released."

Tango blinked, reeling. "What?" The king was dead? He'd only been crowned a few years ago - that had to be some kind of record for shortest rule of the era. And the new queen...

Tango had met her once. Rebecca Argnum. She'd come to the lab the day before she disappeared two and a half months ago, and she'd sworn that she'd help him see the world some day. Tango hadn't put much thought into it - her brother was still young, after all, so by the time he died, he would have children of his own, and Rebecca wouldn't be next in line anymore - but still, it had been an tantalising prospect ever since. Now that it was suddenly a possibility - not just that, but a reality - he didn't know what to do.

Finally, he managed to get a question out of his brain and into his mouth. "What about Torchy?"

"Last I checked, he's still a Vis, too. He's as free as you are."

"But can he come with me?"

"If he wants to."

"Where is he?"

Cub eyed him up a moment longer, before smiling smugly, pointed teeth on display. "I sent Doc to fetch him. He's on his way."

Relief pulled Tango's shoulders downwards. Torchy, the pygmy dragon that half of his DNA came from, was usually in his room with him, but he'd been taken out earlier that morning for reasons no one would explain to Tango, and hadn't yet returned.

With the first of Tango's questions answered, the rest started spilling out. "Where do I go?"

"Wherever you want."

"Where am I allowed to go?"

"Wherever they'll have you."

"What happened to the king?"

"A group of rebels killed him."

Good.

Before the next question could make itself known, Doc stepped up behind Cub, a tiny, writhing mass of red-gold scales twisted around his cybernetic arm.

"Torchy!" Tango grinned.

The dragon lifted his head, spotted Tango, and pushed off of Doc's arm, with a happy growl of, "Tongo!" Torchy struggled more with speech than most pygmy dragons, and often his words came out garbled. Most of the time, no one besides Tango had any idea what he was saying.

Torchy reached him and settled on his shoulders, twining happily around his neck.

"Don't use me as your errand boy again," Doc snapped to Cub, though Tango knew he wasn't actually mad.

Doc seemed intimidating to those that didn't know him, because he was abnormally tall, had a resting scowl and held a grudge like a champion, but those who actually knew him knew he was really a big softie. He was the chief engineer in the lab, often working side-by-side with the geneticists, and was almost as strange to look at as Cub. An undercover mountain nymph, he took great care to hide the goati-ish parts of him: he wore his dark hair long and hid both it and the goat's horns the hair didn't quite conceal under a cap. His skin was more grey than pink, and he had a goat-like beard growing from his chin. Much of the right side of his body had been replaced by bionics, leaving him with a glowing red eye, an arm rather more "muscular" than the other, and a limp due to his right leg being human-shaped and his left being goat-shaped. No one knew what had happened for him to require the additions, and whenever someone asked, he always refused to explain. Doc was the oldest person in the lab, apart from Cub, and took orders from no one except Cub and the king himself.

Although, it was probably the queen herself now, Tango reasoned.

Everything Tango knew about engineering and electronics, he had learnt from Doc. Everything Tango knew about genetics and biology in general, he had learnt from Cub. In return, Tango didn't put up a fight when they wanted to do any sort of test, even the uncomfortable ones. The three had formed an unlikely crew of mutual benefits and mix-and-match bodies.

Doc held out his flesh arm, a messenger bag swinging from it. "I got you food and some real clothes - you can't wear Cub's old labcoat in public."

Tango looked down at the labcoat he wore. It was scorched from where he'd lost his temper a few times, stained from where he'd spilled seadust on it, and torn from both his and Torchy's claws. Cub had gifted it to him years ago, after the previous labcoat got incinerated due to events entirely unrelated to Tango's flames, he swears it.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the bag from Doc. He flicked it open and peered inside. All he could really identify from the pile of folded clothes was a black vest, though he definitely saw both yellow and red fabric beneath.

"Go get changed, then you can throw some of your things in the bag and we'll walk you out," Cub told him, gesturing at the bathroom door.

"Got it."

*

Half an hour later, Tango was standing at the palace's side gate with Torchy coiled around his arm, Cub on his left and Doc on his right.

He'd filled the messenger bag with books, seadust and seadust components, and as much of Torchy's horde - a small collection of gears and springs - as possible.

Tango loved the outfit Doc had picked out for him - though part of it was, of course, due the fact that he had never had real clothes before: in the summer, the lab coat sufficed, and in the winter he burrowed under the blankets and slept most of the time. The long-sleeved yellow shirt was tight enough to keep wind out and heat in, and the grey vest he wore over it was buttoned all the way down to keep it from flapping around. A pair of thick, baggy trousers made his legs look far wider than they really were, fuzzy grey boots kept his feet warm, and fluffy bands around his wrists kept his hands from freezing off. Without the carefully warmed conditions of his room in the lab keeping him just the right temperature, added measures were a must to ensure he didn't freeze; as such, a long, thick, black coat lined on this inside with blue fur was hung neatly over the bag, ready for when it was needed.

Tango only hoped it was enough.

"Keep walking east," Cub was telling him. "You'll reach the Subsol Woods in about two days, if you make good speed."

"Two days?! I can't walk two days!" Torchy protested, in his dragon language.

"You won't be doing any walking," Tango reminded the little dragon, holding up his arm to look him in the eye. "You'll probably barely even do any flying, for void's sake!"

Tango was the only person in the lab who could understand Torchy. Dragons, like so many other races, were born knowing the language, and Tango had inherited that ability. Torchy could both speak English as well, but he refused to. He'd been caught by the king of the time shortly after coming out from hiding, and had since taken every offence at the mere suggestion that he speak their language.

Doc chuckled, but then sobered up quick. "Just make sure you ration your food and don't eat it all at once. In the woods, you'll find both a faerie and an elf camp, though you'll probably come across the faeries first. Tell them Meyer sent you, they'll take care of you."

Right. Tango kept forgetting that "Doc" wasn't the engineer's real name.

"Got it," Tango nodded.

"Good luck," Cub said.

Tango took a deep breath, and took his first step out of the castle gate.

"WAIT!" a voice called before he could take a second.

They all turned to see a young woman - barely more than a girl, really - running towards them. The queen.

"Good, I was worried I'd missed you," Queen Rebecca panted when she reached them.

"Your majesty," Cub and Doc said together, bowing.

Wordlessly, Tango copied the motion.

The young queen waved her hand at him. "Ah, no need for that. Once you're outside those gates, you're officially free - you're barely even under my rule anymore."

"Oh," Tango said, because what else was he supposed to say?

"I wanted to give you this before you go." The queen held out a small drawstring pouch.

"What is it?" Tango asked curiously, taking it and weighing it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, considering how little it seemed to hold.

"Something that'll help you later - trust me, it's saved my life more than once."

Tango started to open the pouch, but the queen hurriedly said, "No, no! Wait until you're alone."

Tango frowned. "Why?"

"It's..." She hesitated. "It's the sort of thing best opened in private."

"Right." Tango nodded, like that made any sense at all.

As he was tucking the pouch into the messenger bag, she went on, "I also wanted to wish you luck. I told you I'd get you out, and I did."

"Thank you," Tango said, and meant it with his whole heart.

Finally, finally he was getting to see the world.

He turned back to the city beyond the gate. He'd have to navigate that before he even reached the plains that stood between here and the Subsol Woods, but he'd memorised many maps of the country in his time, including one of the city as it currently stands. He didn't think he'd have much, if any difficulty with it.

After another deep breath, he took his second step out into the world.

And just like that, he was walking, a free male, his best friend on his arm and a mystery pouch in his bag, and Doc's call to "be careful!" in his ears.

He had no idea where he was going or who he would meet, but he was ready. This world was about to see what a Tek could do with freedom and a pocket full of seadust.

[next]

[gildedheartstudio]

Specimen File: ABYSS-13

Abstract This specimen was recovered from a volcanic vent system on Planet 5812. Initially cataloged as inert geological matter, subsequent trials revealed the object to be a passive-responsive construct of unknown origin exhibiting behavior consistent with sentient design.

Field Journal — Personal Entry [ABYSS-13]

Archivist ID: 141.Q Date: 19/08/2131 Location: Debrief Station B

It was white-hot when the probe made contact.

Not radiant—contained. Like holding the heart of the fissure itself.

Heat saturated the shell evenly, no hotspots. Internal readings were stable. Controlled.

But as it rose from the vent, something changed.

The heat didn’t dissipate. It retreated.

By the time it broke surface, the shell was cold. Ice-cold. No cooling curve. No natural transition.

It shut down. Completely.

Not dead. Not inert. Preserved.

Gas pockets remain suspended inside, perfectly rounded. Filaments curled but intact. No movement.

The structure mimics volcanic vent shells—silicate casing, heavy minerals, organic trace patterns like frozen breath.

It hums when unobserved, perhaps it's a seed. No emissions. No measurable signal.

Just the sense that something inside is waiting.

This isn’t something that survived the deep.

It is something born of it.

What we call void— it calls home.