#you know. the worst kind of apocalypse. a relatable one

[bedlamsbard]

The thing I have to remind myself when I get stuck on Horizon (which I think is why the last chapter was so rough) is that this is, first and foremost, a story about living in the aftermath of the Snap. It’s not about New Asgard or the super soldier serum or SteveNat or the Avengers -- I mean, it’s not not about those, but it’s not about them.

Which is why it has to have the Snap flashback on the page.  Unfortunately Thanos’s arrival in Wakanda is the worst scene in IW. *grits teeth* so I’m back at logicking out why it goes the way it does in canon until I hit a point where it can diverge again.

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Last House on the Right

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 1.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy related eating issues + vomiting, Reader's got some separation issues. Fair warning this is so half baked I haven't even decided what kind of apocalypse it is, but somehow Ive got a whole plotline regardless.Same pairing as my fic Blind Date

Next Chapter

You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was about this house in the dead of night that had you so transfixed, but your intuition has paid off in spades. 

The area’s been abandoned, to your knowledge leaving you the sole inhabitant meandering around. 

Or maybe waddling would be a more apt description.

Fear and uncertainty of the outside hurry you along into the house. Most everyone- the survivors- has splintered off into groups. There’s no evidence of anyone still living here (admittedly it’s not like you’ve taken the time to check every room, but there are signs when a house is inhabited), but you luck out that the cabinets haven’t been picked over. 

It’s been entirely too long since your last meal, and it takes a good amount of restraint to not devour the can of ravioli too quickly. 

As much as you’re tempted, you know there’s a fine line between what will and won’t have you immediately throwing up in the sink- grazing seems to keep the worst of the upset down.

There’s no hospitals to jaunt off to if you end up dehydrated. Excessive vomiting is not ideal post end of days.

If you were in your right mind- not frightened, isolated, starving, cold- and not focusing on how the unheated chef boyardee might as well be a five star michelin meal for all you can think right now, you might have been paying more attention.

The sound of a safety clicking off behind you freezes your blood far more than the cold. That sound is deliberate. Whoever’s behind you- gun pointed at you- wants you to know they got the jump on you.

“Hands where I can see them,” the order is gruffly barked at you.

You feel stupid. Of course all of this was too convenient for you to simply be catching a break. It wasn’t exactly well lit and designed to draw you in- but you’re an animal caught in a trap regardless.

The fork clatters against the counter next to the can as you go to comply.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You’re not much of a threat in your current condition. That much is obvious.

Time stopped having any sort of tangible meaning a while ago. You should know how many weeks you are, but the days run together fending for yourself and you just know that you’re close. There’s no hiding the swell of your belly.

The man at the doorway looks as gruff as he sounds. Your mind spins like a tire in mud to process everything in front of you in the poor moonlight. Military, that much is obvious. You’re not actually sure if that’s a good thing. Handsome from what you can see, though historically your type has been men who don’t have a weapon leveled at you.

The taciturn expression on his face falters when he spots your bump, but you’ve learned by now to not expect any sort of special treatment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I-I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll leave, I swear.” 

He looks at you another moment before a look of resignation washes over him.

“Turn back around. Keep your hands up.” Oh God. Your mind immediately goes to the worst- That this man, for whatever reason, has decided that your infraction has signed your death warrant. That he can’t quite bring himself to fire on a pregnant woman staring him in the eyes, so the last thing you’re ever going to see is some tacky wallpaper and ugly cabinets.

You yelp when one of his hands finds the pistol on your hip. Holy shit you didn’t even hear him cross the room.

“Easy, love,” he soothes as he starts to frisk you for more weapons. “Not gonna hurt you. You have anything else on you?”

“A knife in my back pocket.” It doesn’t even occur to you to lie; putting yourself in his good graces is your only option and you can’t do that by lying.

His hands slip under your jacket, the hem oversized and hanging even with your arms up, making a wrong guess at the first pocket he checks before grabbing the knife out of the second one.

“Anyone going to come sniffing around looking for you?” A fair question, but one that sticks like a knife between your ribs.

The “No,” that escapes you is softer than you meant it to be, voice warbling as you try not to cry.

Hormones would have had you on the verge of tears at any given point, and that would have been before the end of the world and before your group abandoned you. You’re well entitled to your tears, you think, but try to stuff them back down anyway.

“You’re out here alone,” he grouses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you. The like this? is implied.

Your arms are still up, and they’re getting tired. Everything tires you out these days.

Like he can read your mind, he releases you with a “you can set your arms down now, love.”

“Thank you,” you’re in full fawn mode, turning to face him. While he’s clearly decided against killing you, you’ve been scared and alone for the past few days and you really don’t want to be separated from the only person who will give you the time of day right now. 

“Is there anyone else here? Other soldiers?” Your fate is sealed and lies in the soldier’s hands regardless of his answer.

Nothing with change, no matter what he says, but you think you’re less intimidated if it’s just the two of you. 

The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and yet you’ll never forget watching 28 days later when the line I promised them women was dropped.

“Got separated from my team.”

He turns away from you, gesturing to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He’s limping.

You haven’t seen him move until now. You’re more an expert on busted hardware than busted body parts, you can’t tell if it’s a fresh injury that’s still healing, or an old one that’s set in place.

“They left you.” They left me, too.

“They didn’t leave me for dead, they think I am dead. Gonna take a bit more than that to get the job done, though.” 

You have no reason not to believe him. Despite having just met him, the man is like a living manifestation of everything masculinity is supposed to be- down to the surly attitude despite him herding you further into the house. It doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s tough as nails and sure why not flirt in death’s face that her last attempt wasn’t good enough?

You sit on the couch he points to, as he settles into the leather chair across from you.

“Christ what’d I’d do for a fucking smoke right now,” he mumbles, pawing at his chest absent mindedly on reflex.

You mean to sit stiff as a board, but your body is tired and the couch is surprisingly comfortable.

The soldier, however, sits like he owns the house. “And now for the question of what to do with you.”

[gatitties]

Half dead

─Task Force 141 x young!reader

─Summary: trapped after a mission, not everything seems to be going well for you, a deadly virus attacks the world and it seems that your provisional team is not very smart

─Warnings: blood, mentions of dismemberments, descriptive scenes¿, bad words, cliché, death, typical CoD violence

Part One / Part Two

I consider this as something special for Halloween¿¿, anyway I wanted to write a zombie!reader, if you have more ideas related don't be shy to request 😗

It was a hot day, too hot to be able to last more hours in the combat suit, as if that were not enough, you had been assigned with other officers for this specific mission, you did not have enough confidence to make jokes or sing a small part of that song stuck in your mind, it was the most boring day of your life but work was work.

Everything went well, maybe too well, and of course everything that ends well always has to have some setback since nothing and no one is perfect, but what you expected was that some enemy had escaped, some threat of death or things like that, however, you did not expect a virus spreading globally.

You were pretty screwed, all communication with the base was cut off, all the information was left with infected people that you had to avoid at all costs until you reached a safe and decontaminated area. You feared the worst and it seems like you're always right when you do since you were living through a fucking zombie apocalypse, it wasn't a big surprise to encounter several walking corpses on your way to the base after you were given specific orders to kill anyone who looked rotten.

What kind of time had you grown up in? It wasn't enough with a global pandemic that now you have to face a fucking apocalypse, you would prefer to have been born in the Middle Ages, at least they could have condemned you to death by burning at the stake or some far-fetched torture, it sounded more interesting and horrifying than simply a bacterial contagion.

The arrival at the base was complicated when you found a large horde, you supported the idea of surrounding the zombies but apparently the two assigned captains decided to play to see who had the biggest dick and see who could kill the most undead, they were orders from captain and you couldn't just go back to your boys until this stupid situation was over.

Apparently the only thing they managed to do was attract half of the infected city to your position, which ended in you having to separate and fight on your own. In turn, your luck wasn't smiling on you today Does that ever happen anyway? It didn't matter anymore because you were officially infected, the bite on your forearm made you bite your tongue when you saw the color of the blood mixed with yellow spittle, you were too slow and cowardly to cut off another arm at, yes, they had to bite you on your only good arm, you were so lucky.

From that moment on the infected lost interest in you, they nipped you a little and found one of your companions who was fleeing from another horde more delicious, well, screw life, at least you were able to enjoy everything you could, a shame that you can no longer continue bothering the boys with your presence.

You lay on the ground, looking at the scorching sun, your hand moved to your belt, grabbing a small radio that connected you to the central base, your pulse was unstable and your whole body began to shake, the heat became unbearable and you thought that you were experiencing hyperhidrosis. You pressed the button and brought the device closer to your mouth with the little strength you had.

"Hello… hello here “nibbles” the mission was a success, I guess you know that, but we had some complications on the way home, that virus, those stupid zombies" your breathing accelerated and for a moment you almost vomited right there "ugh… it doesn't matter, I- I don't think I'm going to make it in one piece even though I'm already missing an arm and I'm not 'in one piece' per se but…"

Even in a situation like this you couldn't help but make jokes, you continued your little talk until you felt like your consciousness was finally fading.

"I'm sorry, what I wanted to say is that I will miss you and that I will save you a special seat in hell, I don't know if we will see each other again but if we do I hope you have a bullet reserved in my name before I cause more problems , bye bye you idiots…"

You didn't want to seem too sentimental, but all the emotions and memories tightened your chest, you let the message be sent as you closed your eyes smiling at the sky, your body began to cool, suffocating the previous feeling of extreme heat.

You expected it, you expected to wake up, see the world in a different color, growl, search for meat, you know all that zombies do, however when you woke up a headache was what bothered you the most, the moon was shining in all its splendor, even though you didn't know if you'd slept a whole day or more, your whole body still felt strange and numb, like you'd taken a beating and couldn't feel anything.

But the thing was that apart from a strange feeling of being very hungry and the numbness of your body, everything remained the same, the bite mark disappeared, your wounds healed… you thought that maybe you were the cliché character who had antibodies against the zombie virus, but seeing how some of the living dead walked past you, ignoring you, made you think that it wasn't like that.

You were dead, at least, half dead, your body seemed capable enough to withstand the virus, but only half of the antibodies seemed to work on it so you were in a kind of limbo. You didn't have the need to specifically eat human meat, you still had rational thoughts (to a certain extent because you were still you), but you didn't feel your body, your skin changed its tone to a more yellowish one? you were definitely rotting, besides…

"Is this some kind of punishment for all that dark humor? I guess that's fair."

Was what you muttered to you between grunts, something else, it seemed like you weren't going to be able to speak properly since your throat seemed damaged. When you got up, one of your eyes fell out of its socket, it was hanging from the nerve, you did your best to put it in its place. You checked that your whole body responded to your movements and it did, so now you didn't know what to do. Should you go back to base? Would they kill you now that you know you're a zombie? You didn't have much to lose anyway, maybe you could say goodbye to the boys properly.

At dawn you found yourself banging on the armored doors, you were greeted by a bunch of clipped shotguns and AKs that completely lowered themselves when they recognized you, you underwent certain decontamination chambers and they let you pass. No suspicion? You looked like a terminally ill person, what kind of security was this? You couldn't complain either.

"Oh God look, where the hell were you!? and why did that message come yesterday!?"

As soon as you set foot in the meeting room where some soldiers dragged you away, Price's angry voice hit you like a slap.

"Not even a hello? How was your mission?"

You smiled swallowing your nerves, for once you felt intimidated because everyone was there watching as if you were a prey, you could see that their intentions were to look for any type of bite, although again, no one noticed that you looked like a decomposing body? Did you look that bad normally? Hard blow to your morale.

"We were worried about you, you seem sick, did you spend the night out because of that? You have the voice of a sailor with a cold."

Soap approached you but you backed away unconsciously when he reached for your arm, Gaz and Price shared a stunned look while Ghost's eyes darkened.

"Eh… I'm sorry, I think you shouldn't touch me, I think- I think-" you didn't have the courage to say it out loud, despite all the inside jokes you had made with yourself about being a walking corpse, you felt like it was too much worse to tell them because they would have to be the ones to kill you, the ones to kill their own partner, but it would be easier and less dangerous for them, right? "I'm infected."

The room fell silent, you avoided any kind of eye contact while they seemed to argue silently, Gaz was the one who stepped forward to Soap's side, a step closer to you.

"Maybe you're being paranoid, you just look sick, it's not the first time we've seen you with a fever, the last time you thought you were Spiderman and you hung from a lamp, remember?"

As much as you wanted to laugh at that memory you slowly denied, they didn't believe you in the slightest due to your constant jokes, thinking that you joked even in a situation like this (which isn't a lie if you weren't already a zombie), you swallowed dryly when this time it was Ghost that approached you, you knew that you wouldn't be able to dodge him if he tried to grab your arm, not like Soap, and so it was, you didn't feel his grip on your non-prosthetic arm but you saw it clearly, his look was slowly killing you.

"Prove it, if you are infected, prove it."

"Only if you promise to kill me."

And inevitably everyone tensed up because of the seriousness with which you said that, they didn't see that confidence in your words very often, and your determined look… they didn't want to think what they were thinking, they didn't want to accept that you had really become one of those walking rotten things, you were there, you could talk ─with a little difficulty─ but you seemed as normal as ever, how was it possible that you were infected if you didn't look like a monster?

Ironically they had to believe it by force, since you couldn't feel, you didn't notice that Ghost hadn't let go of your arm, the grip was stronger than you thought and it resulted in you turning around and taking a couple of steps to go to the cells, your arm came off your shoulder, at first they thought it was simply your prosthetic arm, but it wasn't like that.

"Oh fuck…"

Gaz leaned on Soap, Price sat in the nearest chair while Ghost looked in detail at how the bone in your arm protruded from the detached appendage as well as some veins that looked like small threads clinging to the rest of your body since they had not detached completely. You smiled embarrassed at the ignorance that you were now a Playmobil, as if that were not enough, your eye fell out of its socket again at that precise moment.

"Uh- oh, I think there you have your evidences, do you need me to start smelling like rotten meat or…?"

Ghost put your arm back in its place slowly, taking a step back, although it fell again and you had to use a handkerchief to make it stay in its place, you put your eye back in its socket, it slipped a couple of times because it was now wet due to some stubborn tears.

"Hey, hey, we're not going to kill you, I'm not going to-"

Soap had the intention of calming you down, trying to reach you although both Gaz and Ghost stopped him before he could get close to you, seeing this was like having a thorn stuck in your heart.

"No, it's fine, really, I came here so you could finish me off, one less threat on the battlefield."

You intended the joke to be funny, but all you earned were silent stares, right now you felt completely out of place, in an awkward silence between you and your team.

"No, no, you haven't thought about this have you? We can't kill you idiot." Price's insult and his usual scolding tone was the only thing that made you feel back on earth, everyone looked at him, he seemed to be fuming from his ears while the gears in his head turned "From the little we know, all the zombies have been aggressive and driven by impulses towards all kinds of life, but you're here having a normal conversation and being the dumbass you usually are on a normal day, don't you understand? We can't kill you, they can't kill you, you're different."

Oh that part came, you're different from the rest, you lived your whole life to be told that, man, were you in a fanfic? At least you hoped it wasn't one of those where they decided to put photos of outfits instead of describing the clothes or one of those where they gave you an overly detailed look.

"Does that mean I can stay half alive?"

"For the moment, anyway, no one else has to know."

Clicking your tongue as if finding out that you would still be alive was bad news, returning to your natural state of humor everyone looked at you disapprovingly, everyone seemed to sigh in relief at Price's comment, Soap and Gaz were the first to approach knowing that you wouldn't do anything, although Ghost insisted on putting a muzzle on you just in case.

For the moment they could keep you hidden from the rest of the soldiers inside the base, but it wouldn't take long for your skin to rot completely, and the smell of death was something that wasn't so easy to hide, they were playing against time until someone found you and inform it, seeing your unusual behavior as a zombie would surely draw the attention of the scientists and these guys wouldn't be willing to have you tortured in the name of science and then not get a shitty cure, they weren't risking that for you.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter one

of rage and ruin series

chapter one

series masterlist | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, torture, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, gore, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), death, murder of innocent people, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, no y/n, reader is able-bodied and afab with no specific descriptions, viewer discretion is advised

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

This is a werewolf omegaverse fic that uses traditional and non-traditional elements of the genres. It largely ignores TLOU canon.

DISCLAIMER: A plotline of this story involves unethical medical care and human experimentation re: vaccines. It may give anti-vax vibes. This is NOT an anti-vax story and I do not want any related discourse please and thank you. This is about FEDRA being the absolute worst, not about the real world in any way.

In a rare moment of lucidity, he thinks he used to be human, once. 

He’s partially transformed more often than not. Almost never fully, unless he’s under the sway of the moon. His real keeper. 

These raiders may think they own him, but he knows the truth. 

But lucidity is rare, and most of the time, Joel Miller is more beast than man. 

Most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s Joel Miller.

No matter what, though, he’s a nearly uncontrollable force of nature. 

That’s why they keep a shock collar around his neck and tasers at their waists. That’s why they never turn their backs or leave him unrestrained. He fought like hell for a long time until he broke. 

No shame in it, he knows. Everyone breaks eventually. 

As the years have gone on, though, he’s been getting restless and snippy, less cooperative. And the pain doesn’t really matter anymore. 

Nothin’ really does when you’ve given up.

On the last new moon, when the wolf was quiet and the man was loud, he’d tried to refuse. He sat, buck-ass naked, on the gritty wood floor of the house they were raiding. 

He did not sniff out treasure like some fucking metal detector. He did not tear the humans limb from limb. He did not feast. 

He paid for that night and had the receipts to prove it, laid into his back from the silver-tipped whip. 

He should have tried harder to die at the start. 

He hadn’t understood right away, when they took him. It, frankly, didn’t even cross his mind that they’d know. Laura, the woman in the woods, had been so sure it was secret. 

He got it when they shot him in the leg with a BB gun, though, and the silver shrapnel burned. They were prepared. Silver-coated chains and cuffs, silver-tipped batons and whips and knives. Cattle prods and electric collars. 

They’d been hunting him. 

They tried to break him easy, first. They were looking for a wolf; didn’t know they’d find Joel Miller. They left him chained in an abandoned suburb, giving him just the minimum food and water to keep him alive. 

It worked to weaken him, but they didn’t want him weak forever. Not a very good guard dog or weapon if he can’t lift his head. So when that didn’t work, when he didn’t beg and plead or bend the knee, they gave up and bulked him back up slowly. 

So they tried pain next. 

He came to know the healing as a curse. They avoided the silver, at least at first, since it’d leave damage. But when they found out they could break his bones over and over and over?

That’s when he started to wish he was dead. What was the point, anyway? He couldn’t go back to Boston. Couldn’t risk himself around Tommy and Tess. 

Couldn’t kill himself if he tried, but they could, with their arsenal. 

Didn’t matter what he wanted in the end; his brain wouldn’t give in. It overrode his silent pleas, and it fought and fought and fought.

So they took him on a raid. Starving, chained under the full moon, and they waited. He couldn’t go far, but he didn’t have to. 

They brought the food to him.

“You’ve no control over it, huh?” Cheryl said after, leering into his “room.” They send her to play nice, but he knows she’s the worst of them all. They just think he’ll smell pussy and roll over. “We didn’t need you to kill them. You just need to scare them and help us find what we’re lookin’ for.”

They had him. He knows, he knows, he knows. He’d have done anything to stop it from happening again. From devouring tied-up families who dared to say “no” to Jim and his crew. From throwing up blood and bones and bows. 

He can’t kill himself. They won’t kill him. He had no choice. 

He broke.

This new moon, they don’t take him out to scavenge. No, instead, they drag him outside and spray him down with the hose. This, in itself, is not unusual. But when they force the muzzle over his snapping teeth to scrub at his skin with precious lye soap and a rag, he starts to get concerned. 

His suspicions are confirmed when they take him back inside. 

The only time he’s left unbound is here, in his room. Well. It meets the vague requirements for a room, but it’s also reinforced with silver-plated steel and concrete. Cheaply so, but enough to mute his senses and hopes. 

Usually, they wait until the grate is shut to unclip the lead. They wait until he kneels and offers his hands to unlock the shackles. When he’s been good, of course. 

But not today. Today, they chain him tight to the wall at the far end of the room. 

They’ve had this theory that he hates to admit is not without merit. Looking for another way to control him, they’ve tried to find him an omega. 

The first few times, they just forced him on them out wherever they’ve raided. Usually, he’s too out of control, and they don’t survive the encounter. 

The most recent time, they dumped one in his cell. But the poor thing still smelled of his alpha, having only lost them hours earlier. 

Joel didn’t react well. 

They’re trying something new, now. 

That he’s here while they clean his room is deliberate. He knows this. They’re purging all his scent from it, and they want him to watch, want him unsettled.

He growls when they remove his mattress completely. It’s a pathetically small, thin, hole-ridden thing, but it’s his. 

Before they drag in a new one, a flat pack of grated metal is tossed in the corner. Two of his captors go to work on assembling the contraption, and another leaves for a while, only to return with a sawed-off portion of his mattress. 

It fits neatly inside the cage. For that’s what they’ve constructed. It’s silver-coated, of course, but pathetically weak otherwise. If he truly desired, he could snap the bars as easily as bone. 

He’s not keen on having burnt hands, though. 

Just inside the front of the cage, they clip up a bit of cloth. He doesn’t need to be told what it is, knowing immediately after it’s extracted from the airtight glass Tupperware. 

They tell him anyway. “Got a new toy for you to try, if you’re good. For now, this is all you get.”

The heady scent of omega soaked into the panties permeates his room. 

He’s salivating a little by the time they finally release him, but he waits until the heavy footfalls echo from down the hall to give in. 

They smell divine. He can’t resist tasting, lapping at the tiniest hint of musk and omega under his elongated tongue. 

“Told ya he would have shredded her,” Jim says to Cheryl when they come in the morning with his breakfast. Joel’s in his mind enough to feel a little shame, back of his neck burning, when they see the tattered fabric. 

It’s clear they anticipated it because, along with his tray, he’s given a new pair. 

They’re not so appealing this time. The sweet scent is cut by acidic fear like vinegar through molasses. He ignores them in favor of his meal. 

He eats better here than he ever did out there. He’s worth more rations to the raiders than to FEDRA. Robust meals full of meat and eggs and potatoes. 

They need him strong, after all. 

It’s not until a few hours later that he’s drawn back in by the underwear. It’s not so acrid anymore. Or maybe it is, and he’s just in the mood. Either way, he buries his face in them while he strokes his cock and uses them to catch his cum when he finishes. 

There. That’s better. The mix of him with… whoever you are. 

When they bring him lunch, they make him put the panties on his old tray before pushing it out to them. He doesn’t burn with shame this time; no, he almost feels proud. Like a peacock fluffing out its feathers. They know now. They must. 

Whoever you are, you’re his. 

The next day, they bring back the same pair. He wolfs out a little at the fresh layer of you over his cum. It’s all fear and tears and disgust, but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all, not to him, not to the wolf. 

All that matters is how his head fills with static when he licks across the gusset and howls. 

Cheryl’s looking pretty smug on the other side of the door, but for all that she’s pleased with the results; they still threaten to turn on the collar if he doesn’t eat quickly.  

He’s nearly fully wolf, gobbling down the food and returning to his treasure. He snarls as he strokes his cock, the head angry and purple as he tugs. He doesn’t spill onto the panties this time, not wanting to cover up the perfect combination of your scents. In the end, they’re shredded anyway, as his fingers stretch and break into claws. 

In his full glory, his senses are even sharper. Sharp enough that he can hear a faint sobbing across the building and Cheryl’s sharp laughter. 

“I don’t know,” she’s drawling when he tunes in. “He sounds pretty excited to meet you.”

The soft sobbing turns raw and cracked. He can smell the salt and phlegm, can practically taste it in the air. He’s aware of Cheryl, but nothing is louder than the way your heart is tripping over itself.

When Cheryl’s words sink in, when he realizes he might actually get to have whatever delicious creature they’ve gotten him, he howls again, a long, aching sound that creeps down your bones like frost.

Later, when he’s a little more present, he realizes they didn’t shock him either time he howled. It’s usually a guarantee. 

Whatever game they’re playing, it doesn’t bode well for you.

Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He wasn’t even worried when it happened. They’d been heading back to the QZ, him and Tommy and Tess, when a wild dog attacked them. 

Or, well. A wolf. 

Tommy had gotten a bullet in its head, but it had Joel’s arm in its jaw at the time. Its teeth had rent through his jacket like a spoon in a banana split. 

FEDRA would shoot him without a second thought, so they doubled back to the little cabin and hunkered down. Figured they’d lay low long enough for it to be hideable before sneaking back in. 

Tommy went out at daybreak for the carcass—it’d be leagues better than what they had in their bags. When he came back, he was faint and empty-handed. 

“...don’t make any sense,” he kept muttering, pacing the tiny kitchenette. 

Joel and Tess exchanged a glance. 

“Probably a bear took it,” she suggested.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair, shook his head, and did it again. When he looked up at them, it was through wild, unpredictable eyes. “Wasn’t a wolf. It was a man.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Joel said.

“C’mon.”

They followed him through the thicket, and sure as shit, in the same place the wolf’s corpse had lain was a man with a bullet through his skull. He was completely nude. 

“Gotta be a coincidence,” Joel muttered.

Tommy turned to him, eyes wide and hands shaking. “What kind of fucking coincidence is this?” 

There was a rustle, and they all turned, guns raised, as a woman peeked from behind a tree. 

She put her hands up and waited. Tess jerked her head to one side, and they lowered but did not stow their weapons. 

The woman was in a ratty cotton dress with no shoes; autumn leaves crunching underfoot. 

“That’s, um. That’s my husband,” she said softly. 

“Apologies, ma’am,” Tommy said, his face soft and sad. “But—I think he attacked us.”

Her green eyes grew wide, pupils dilating and breath catching in her chest. “Did you get bit?” 

Tommy and Tess instinctually looked at Joel. 

“What’s it to ya?” he said.

“Did you get bit?” she repeated.

“Was he Infected?”

“Not with cordyceps, no,” she says. She avoids looking at the body but flinches when she brushes a foot against a blood-soaked leaf. 

“What does that mean?” Tommy said. 

“I think it’s best we go someplace and talk.”

Against better judgment, they follow her through the words to her home. She claims to have two kids alone there, four years and six months. 

It turns out to be true. She gets them both down for a nap and serves hot stew. They try to refuse, but she insists. 

Tommy feels a little sick eating the food of a man he killed. They all listen, rapt, as she begins to speak.

“It happened a year ago. But it wasn’t an accident.”

When the full moon is two days away, Joel is nearing the furthest from himself. Same shit, different month, but his reactions to your scent are getting, well, feral. 

They’re bringing him strips of cloth, now. He gets a new one with each meal. He doesn’t destroy them anymore. Oh, no. When he’s clearer, he wishes he did. 

But no. He smells and licks and then jerks off with them. If only that were the worst of it. He’ll come to be mortified during the waning, but he starts to add them to the cage. It’s fairly saturated with the smell of him from his old mattress, but it pleases the beast within to line it with the sweet mixture soaked into the torn sheets. 

You’ll understand, then, the wolf thinks. You’ll know it’s safe for you. Somewhere he’s made, a den all your own where he can keep you. 

But you won’t know, because what you know is very little. 

When FEDRA started asking for volunteers to test vaccines, you didn’t hesitate. You knew the risks. And the rewards—room and rations for the length of the observation period, anywhere up to a year in length. You knew there would be a catch—probably many, but given that you rarely had a room or rations, it wasn’t a hard choice.

But this was the end of the world, and “informed consent” was not something that survived the outbreak. 

They worked in batches. A truckload of live bodies at a time. Sterilizing showers with the barest trace of privacy, dressed in stiff starchy scrubs, and led into little cubicles where nurses with needles sat in wait. 

A quick jab to the upper arm, and then you were off. The hospital was an old correctional facility, but again, for someone who hadn’t had a bed on a reliable basis, you felt only relief. 

Until the deaths started.

They didn’t even try to hide it. Within 24 hours of arrival, a fourth of your group was gone. Carted out in black bags marked with β and nothing more said. You watched through your window like everyone else. 

Someone came around the next day and drew blood from every remaining subject, and the tagging began after that. You could see the symbols on other’s doors, but not your own. α or Ω. What they meant, you couldn’t begin to guess. 

It started not long after. 

The changes.

At first it was so subtle, you may not have noticed, but a nurse came by each day to ask you a series of increasingly embarrassing questions. 

What do you smell? What do I smell like? What does your sweat smell like? How sensitive are your breasts? Describe your vaginal discharge. How aroused are you on a scale of 1-10? 

They began weekly tests. Blood draws once a week and daily urine samples, of course, but also hearing and vision. They made you run on a treadmill hooked up to wires. 

And then, one day, after six months of intensive observation, they moved you.

Or. They tried to.

You were exhibiting a specific set of side effects, they said. You were to be transferred to another facility for subjects with the same side effects for further observation. 

Raiders took out the truck halfway through the ten-hour journey. It was… it was a bloodbath, actually. For the FEDRA officers, anyway. 

When they had you all lined up, grippy socks soaking in the ankle-deep mud, well, that was when you all learned which symbol was on your door. They couldn’t keep the word out of their mouths. Omega. 

Not that it fucking explained anything.

One by one, a short blonde with a bob went down the line of you and shoved something up to each omega’s face. That’s it. It seemed to have no greater purpose.

But for some reason, when she pressed the cloth against your nose and mouth, she smiled. And they separated you.

Whatever that was had a deep, oaky musk, like the illicit brewery operating out of the warehouse you often slept in before the trials. 

They tell you nothing.

They make you sleep on strips of cloth, so you roll around in the pile as you toss and turn, rubbing your sweat and slick and pheromones all over. 

They don’t bring you anything of his, but you catch faint whiffs of him (him, always him, they never call him by a name), of those aged, liquor-soaked barrels, but all it does is make you nauseous. You don’t understand how you know it’s him; you still don’t understand any of it. 

You learn very quickly not to ask questions. 

They take him out on the night the moon is full and bloated, hanging over him like a searchlight. See, it whispers, I can find you anywhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. If it didn’t, the wolf would find it anyway. 

He is not himself.

He is his truest self.

He is two or one; neither yet both. A monster movie mashup of fur and teeth and roughshod science experiments conducted by a doctor who wasn’t a doctor at all. He’s the monster’s victim. He’s the monsters’ monster. 

He’s the wolf and the wolf is him. 

He��s The Wolf and he’s swallowed Joel down. 

He’s the man, the weak link, buried so deep he can’t see the light of his celestial mistress 

He’s Joel Miller. Sometimes, sometimes. 

Tonight, he is gone. There is only the Wolf. 

And the Wolf knows. As soon as they cross the threshold, he knows. 

Dawn is rising, the hunt is over, but he’ll be the wolf for a while longer. And he knows that fuckin’ smell. 

It’s the saccharine sour mix of you. Heavy on your sweet apple undertones, and oh, he knows. 

You’re in the cage.

next chapter

*title from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

😬 I've been working on this baby for a long, long time, so I will be drinking your likes and comments desperately. thank you for reading and i love you.

[maxwellatoms]

What kind of video games do you like to play Mr. Atoms?

So many! Assuming there's time. These days there's generally not, so I've been bingeing Vampire Survivors in half-hour doses.

Above is a gif from Noita, my top game of the pandemic. It's an old-school "Metroidvania", but every pixel is simulated and you're a witch who can manipulate her spells (and thereby the world) in a seemingly infinite number of ways. Here, I've built magical "buzzsaws" around myself, which blinded me to the shadow amoeba. In Noita, almost every death is due to hubris, and I think I love that pendulum swing. If you're lucky and skilled, you can become a walking whirlwind of destruction, but you're always your own worst enemy. Bonus: You can turn your vomit into rats.

I'm currently on a break in the midst of my Baldur's Gate 3 run, with a party consisting of my BG2 character's daughter, Karlatch, Lazelle, and Shadowheart. Ladies' Night!

I'm also playing a bit of Shadows of Doubt. I'm not sure it'll hold up long-term, but it's got a lot of potential.

I don't really limit myself by genre or platform, but I'd say that I primarily play indie PC games. The games in my Steam library that I keep going back to again and again?

Cities: Skylines: A chill City Building Simulator. Lots of fun mods.

Darkest Dungeon: This thing is a classic strategy game IMO.

Death Road to Canada: A light, fast Project Zomboid. Dogs with guns!

Dwarf Fortress: For me, it's the ultimate fantasy sim. I love it so much. Looking forward to Adventure Mode finally appearing on Steam.

Project Zomboid: The ultimate lonely 2D zombie apocalypse survival game. Or non-survival game, I suppose.

Total War: Warhammer: For when I'm in a strategy-y mood. Like a lot of people, I'm a bit soured on the modern DLC scene, so I'm still waiting on #3 even though I'm a Chaos stan.

Not on Steam? I do play some Star Citizen from time to time. I backed it a decade ago. I used to joke that it was the game I was going to retire into, but more and more that's looking less and less like a joke. Still, it's made some good progress in the last couple of years and I'm hopeful that repair and engineering turn out to be fun.

The game I'm looking forward to most would be the next Elder Scrolls. I know it's still a ways off. Ever since my Nereverine landed in Morrowind with the intention of becoming a just and righteous cleric and instead found herself an unwitting villain and colonizer, I fell in love with the Elder Scrolls and it's deep, gray lore. It is (for me) a great way to really get into a character's head. Roleplaying... go figure.

Since Morrowind (and a backtrack into Daggerfall), I only allow myself one canon playthrough. My rule is to "let it ride", so that aside from death, if I screw up or if something unexpected happens I don't save-scum. All of my characters are related, either by quest or bloodline. I already know that my next character will be Aventus Aretino (the kid you catch summoning the Dark Brotherhood). My Skyrim character (above) had adopted him and then left him in the hands of a vampire, so I should be covered even if there's a big time jump. Now I just have to wait six more years for the game. And then maybe two for mods. God I'm so old.

I need to spend more time with Dave the Diver.

Anything current I'm missing out on?

[aita-blorbos]

(Warning this one for ant-swarm related horror)

AITA for ruling over an ant torture domain in the apocalypse?

I know this sounds bad. I almost definitely am the asshole. But you don't understand, it wasn't my choice. The ants were torturing me, too. They wouldn't stop, there were so many, they were everywhere no matter ho— that's not. That's not relevant. You just need to know that it was the worst thing I could imagine. Several times worse than the worst thing I could imagine. I thought I'd never get out. But before the world ended, there'd been this guy, I helped him with his worm problems. I used to work in pest control, so that was kind of my job, but he'd been really freaked out about it, so I went out of my way to make sure he knew they were definitely gone. It turns out he had some sort of... god-like power? He was able to get me out of the ants. You know what they say, be kind to everyone because you never know who will be the antichrist, and maybe if you give them some worm ashes they'll spare you, heh. But I couldn't just be free from the ants. It didn't work that way, apparently. I had to be in charge of this ant domain, be complicit in the way everyone else was suffering, or I had to go back. And I couldn't. I couldn't go back to that. The ants were everywhere you don't understand I couldn't go back. And it's not like my being tortured by ants was going to prevent anyone else from being in there! It wouldn't help anybody else no matter what I did, I wasn't actively hurting anyone. I was just... complicit. I was complicit in the suffering of every other person whose worst fears involved ants. If anyone who was there is reading this, I'm so sorry.

I probably am the asshole, but here we are. I might as well ask for an unbiased opinion, right?

[anneapocalypse]

They’re all pretty related, so in case you want to merge or skip some: I’m curious about 9, 20, 21, and 22 for 🔥 choose violence 🔥

For the 🔥choose violence 🔥 ask game!

Disclaimer: provocative name aside, I am not actually trying to be mean here, these are just my opinions offered for Entertainment Purposes™️, and I’m not mad at anyone who has a different opinion.

9. worst part of canon

The lack of forethought about representation when the series began. The first game was like, "Seven skin tints! The dark ones looks Bad in our engine! Your family is white no matter what! Brown people are from Over There somewhere! Asians????" Since then, I think the games have each improved on that situation, with increasingly better character creators, more diverse companions, and a more diverse world generally. But I think that there's still a lot lacking, and part of that is because the first installment laid a pretty weak foundation, so all subsequent canon is having to correct for better representation rather than building on a strong start. A few big things I would love to see in DA:D are a better variety of hair textures and styles, a better variety of Asian features in the CC, and more Asian (coded) characters in the world generally since that's an area where it's really been lacking. (Lighting that doesn't wash out medium skin tones to ghosts wouldn't hurt either 😉 but when it comes to video game lighting I assume that we'll just be trading one problem for another. I look forward to experiencing a New Problem.)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Inquisition's Too Many Collectibles. I don't mind collectibles, especially when there's an actual reward for collecting them, but Inquisition just has too many. Was it really necessary for us to discover landmarks and regions? Like, could those not have been the same thing? It's fun to treasure hunt and everything but did we need to hunt for astrariums and shards and mosaic tiles and bottles? None of those things are bad on their own, but there's such a thing as Too Much, and I think Inquisition crosses that line somewhere.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Marrying Alistair to become Queen! Like, that's fine if that's the ending you want. Me, I've romanced Alistair multiple times and I've never felt like becoming Queen Cousland was like, the Ultimate Ending to that story. My first ever Warden, Jolene, was a Cousland who romanced Alistair, and while I'd watched Mr. Apocalypse play parts of the game, I was unspoiled for the romance, so I wasn't gunning for any particular ending, and because Alistair clearly didn't want to be king and because he seemed so uncertain of what would happen to their relationship (despite her being a perfectly valid candidate for queen), Jo ended up deciding to let Anora keep the throne and ride off into the sunset with Alistair. I wanted a happy ending for that first run and to me, that seemed the happiest for both of them.

Since then I've also done a tragic Alistair romance with an Aeducan, who starts out a real asshole and has kind of a redemption arc as a Warden, culminating in her giving Alistair the throne because she believes it's his destiny, and sacrificing herself to kill the archdemon because she knows she can never be his queen. I loved that one too! It was so juicy.

I'm not opposed to Queen Cousland or anything, I just remember a time when it was so venerated as the ending for Origins. Really, I just don't think of any outcome in an RPG that way. What I enjoy is exploring all the possibilities.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Once again, consider "everyone" to be a bit hyperbolic, but I am really, really interested in the politics of the setting, something I think maybe a lot of fans consider to be boring or "not that deep." 😂 Dragon Age does not always handle its power and oppression narratives perfectly, for sure, but I also think a lot of the worldbuilding shows a level of understanding of structural power that it maybe doesn't always get credit for. When a group is marginalized in this setting we can identify actual systemic barriers to social advancement for that group, not just "people being mean" on an individual level like you sometimes see in lazier narratives. Orlais isn't just fancier and snootier than Ferelden; it actually has more barriers to upward mobility in place! Society is more stratified, and power is more concentrated, even though both nations are monarchies.

I love the fantasy politics--of people in day to day life, of factions, of nations, of religion. I love it because, at its best, Dragon Age does have some interesting things to say about the nature of power. It's easy to say "Chantry bad" or "nobility bad," but to me it's much more interesting to explore why these institutions function the way they do, the ways in which they concentrate power, and the means they employ to keep it. And controversial statement, maybe, but you can't effectively explore the politics of revolution and social change without understanding the structures you're trying to change. Sera's right about one thing: it's not as simple as just lopping off the top.

[angelsdean]

Okay, so I genuinely tried to see Sam as one of Jack's parental figures but... I can't? I mean Cas and Dean, yeah, 100%, but Sam doesn't give me any parental vibes for Jack, no matter what Jack and Rowena say in the show (and how some people are angry at "sam's erasure by destiel shippers"). I don't see him as one of Jack's parents. If you do, can you explain me why please??? I'm so confused.

personally i don't either, which yea, some people get upset about and cite "erasure by destiel shippers" but for me it's not even about destiel but more so that i just do not see sam as someone who actually wants to be a father. (which is why i'm also massively side-eyeing that whole finale where he gets the "white picket fence apple pie life" and dean jr. that kid is Not real to me !!!)

i think early on, during stanford especially and for some years after, sam thought that's the life he wanted. i think if jess hadn't died and he hadn't gotten swept back into hunting and become obsessed like john w/ killing azazel and everything that followed, he would've married jess and he would have tried to have that perfect life, but i think he'd still be living a lie and keeping everything about hunting from jess, like he seems to do w/ blurry wife and dean jr. so, what kind of life is that really?? It's not a real partnership if you're lying about everything. Just like Dean couldn't really make it work in the end with Lisa and Ben (and he was more open with them about everything) it's like, for Dean and Sam it's never going to work with someone who isn't in the life. But until Eileen (and Rowena) Sam tends to go for the option of "pretend hunting doesn't exist and have a fake perfect life", like with Amelia in s8. All this to say, this "white picket fence American Dream" he keeps going after isn't sustainable and isn't realistic. To me it reads very much as a dissociating technique, a coping mechanism. He tries to escape the reality of his life, bury his head in the sand, but at the end of the day, these things are just pipe dreams. His relationship with Amelia reminded me so much of Dean and fake El Sol Carmen from his Djinn dream, even down to the fake-happy over saturation.

Anyways, that's a lot of words to say, his most real (and imo healthiest) relationships are the ones with people who know about hunting (Eileen, Rowena). And when he's honest about who he is, the life he leads, and what he actually wants (helping people, studying magic w/ Rowena, being a loreboy lol, etc etc) I don't really think he sees being a father as part of those dreams / desires. Also, Dean has always been the one shown as relating to kids more and being good with kids. Dean has always been in a more nurturing / caretaker role since he himself was a child. That's not to say Sam couldn't be a dad or learn how to do these things, but I'm just saying it doesn't seem to come naturally to him the way it does for Dean, so I think that's another part of why a lot of people see Dean + Cas as Jack's parent figures more than Sam.

However !!! I think Sam makes a great mentor + teacher (and Uncle figure). I think he really enjoys teaching and guiding people. He's a great leader to the Apocalypse World hunters and he seems to really enjoy that mentorship role. And with Jack, early on, he stepped up and became a mentor and teacher to help him learn how to use and control his powers. I think Sam cares deeply for Jack, and Jack is family, and Jack himself considers Sam as one of his "dads" and Jack is their collective "kid" but I think there is a noted difference between the way Dean + Cas interact with Jack and the way Sam does. Even when Dean is at his worst, there's still this very "he's a child, I'm the parent" dynamic between him and Jack. Whereas I think Sam tries to treat Jack as more of an equal who's still learning (and i think that's also in part due to Sam growing up being "the baby", like he gets it and so he approaches Jack differently than Dean does).

[tenok]

The point (one of them) is that both Aziraphale and Crowley actually think they the smartest one in any given situation. And since I relate to Aziraphale much more today I get fixated on his brand of superiority. He starts his journey with rebellion from pretty tame "I don't get why they makes this desisions and it's look horrible on surface evel but I'm sure that they get best ineterests of everyone involved in their hearts and it's probably me the one that didn't get some oblivious detail" to "oh okay I'm sure it's some kind of misundestanding and we can all talk it out as adults because we there work on same goals" to frustrated "they won't ever listen to me and I will get in trouble for arguing and it will be better for everyone if I will make my desisions in secret and go behind their backs because I just can't let THEM make desisions that will destroy everything". It's not straightforward, I'm 30 and still circulate sometimes between "what if it's me the one that wrong aout everything" and "god HOW people can be THAT stupid", but I remember going throught this stages first as good and obedient kid with really stupid parents making stupid desisions and later with school, govermnet, activist spaces etc.

And the problem is, I was the smartest person in the room enough time to develop issues, and Aziraphale lives like his for 6000 years at least. I can only imagine how many times he thought "if only Starmaker listen to me and didn't Fall", "if only God listened to me and didn't make an Apocalypse happen", "if only Heavens listened to me and didn't did this or that that thing", "if only Crowley listen to me and understand in what kind of danger we can get", "if only that human listened to me and haven't dig the body", etc etc. It's awful, to be the one who always gets to say "I told you so", especially when there's such awful consequenses you can't even feel satisfaction, and you will be the one to clen this mess up (and Aziraphae will clean, or better try to prevent). Now, it's of course leads to issues. BIG issues.

1) It's really hard to stop being plotting and maciavellian and communicate things properly when you expect that person will at best argue with you, at worst punish you and double down on their stupid desisons and you will clean this mess up. It also really hard to stop trying to control everything because you already accepted that everything is your responsibility and everyone else would just make things worse. (as someone that relates to Aziraphale I think he did so much progress there, the levels or trust he shows Crowley are amazing for two beings that probably last time heard of psychotherapy when Freud was alive. but such trust is fragile thing, one misstep and you back on your "it will be better if I do everything alone" bullshit. I'm not saying it's good. I'm also not saying that it's bad. it's just how things work)

2) It makes you overstep other people authonomy, because, again, it would be better for everyone if they did what you think best for them. It works funny wih Aziraphale because yes he's all for free choices for humanity!! NOW GO AND DO SMART CHOICES DAMN YOU!!! WHY YOU DON'T PICK THE THING THAT WOULD BE SMART TO PICK I HATE YOU ALL. That's where me and Aziraphale difer a little because at least I somewhat good at stepping into other people shoes and understand why they do what they do. But angel there is autistic (or bad at this specific thing for other reasons), so I think when people he consider reasonable doesn't agree with him for their own reasons he ge's really baffled, like, there arE correct opinion and it's mine, WHY are you being difficult?? to spite me?? And I'm sure that half of the reason why Aziraphale's so comfortable with Crowley is that he perfectly happy to let him buly or manipulate him into doing things Aziraphale picks as right. Usually Crowley know where pick his battles and how to play long game to make Aziraphale agree for really important stuff he wants from him, but otherwise? Sure he will complain how he hates Hamlet but they will watch Hamlet, and Aziraphale will be very pleased with himself. (and than there goes final fifteen and we back at "but WHY won't ypu agree with thing I pick or us IT'S GOOD AND RESONABLE THING" and we should be happy that consent is something that imporant for our angel ok? he would be angry with Crowley for picking wrong but he won't make him do what he doesn't want. they respect each other like that.)

3) It makes you really really tired and tense. You control everything, unfortunately the longer you do it the more things starts really depedend on you, you can't let go, you don't know anyone that can share this burden with you because first they should prove that they won't blow his up and for this you should share at least something with them, but what is they would blow it up? Better be safe than sorry. And look when it's my problems it's credit cards and doctor appointmens and with Aziraphale we talk about people dying. Crowley dying. Now, as I said, he actually shows Crowley so. much. trust. for someone with such issues. Because Crowley was there for 6000 years, and he proved himself capable enough times. But still there's areas where let go and not worry would be impossible for Aziraphale, Crowley's safety being one of such things (you see, you can risk with your life when you deal with your problems because whatever you will clean shit up if needed, but if someone close to you hurt themself?? it's YOUR problem too but it will be SO MUCH HARDER to clean. I think when Aziraphale points to Crowley that hell would be harder on him than he can expect heavens to punish him, it's partially because he believes it's true and partially because he knows how to minimize harm when heavens angry with him but HOW can he do this for Crowley??). Anyway. Lol. The more I think about it the more I sure that Crowley without Aziraphale would be a miserable angry dick, and Aziraphale wihout Crowley would be dead, because it was the one person that kept him one tiny slip away from total burn out.

So yeah there's a lot of posts about how angry heartbroken etc Crowley will be with Aziraphale (I don't agree but that's for other post), less posts about how sad and heartbroken will be Aziraphale, but I hope to see Azyraphale being angry too (it they will be angry with each other at all). Not only for not picking him or leaving or making everything messy and emotional and wasting their first kiss at their fight etc, but also because Aziraphale was trusting him! Trusting that he get another resonable adult in team with him! Someone who he can trust to make resonable desisions and see his ideas as clever and him as capable and being willing to go to the end of the world with him with mild complaints and than!! When he did trust him to understand!! He was like everyone else!! Unresonable and emotional and angry with him and why he asked him at all he should've do it secretly and alone as always and it would've be as usual and it wouldn't hurt but it was Crowley that taught him to trust and to ask him for help!! Breaking his perfectly fine coping mechanisms!! It's all his faut if you think about it huh?? (but of course he's already forgiven. but also Aziraphale would do what he needs to do alone this time, as one and only capable adult in the world.)

Anyway it's not a meta it's just some late night thoughts. And it's in no way whole analizis there's so much more problems inside this angel. It's just something in particular that resonated with me today. Also it's not in any way critisizm of him, mind you, because a) he does really the smartest person in the room most of the time and b) I LOVE how fucked up in the head he is!!! I think he needs to become even more fucked up actually!!! and Crowley should love him for that and I will cheer for him from sidelines!!!

[invisiblegarters]

The End of the World With You EP 1

That is a long title, no? 

I have to admit, I was a little distracted the first few minutes because I am shallow and I will always sit up for a nice pair of legs. 

Besides that, I already knew the premise, having been looking forward to this show for a while, so I feel like I can ignore the initial set up of meteorite being about to hit earth and destroy it for legs. 

My worst nightmare is loss of internet. I would not do well in an apocalypse for this reason. The last time my internet went out for a few hours I was not fun to deal with.

Although I have to admit there is something extremely relatable about Masumi deciding to finish his time in the library. This dude is my kind of dude. 

“Life as a student is all about exploring the unknown.” Ah, pretty boy is one of those. I like his whole look though, with the rings and the earring and the leather jacket and the wallet chain. It’s a whole vibe. 

Oh, this poor little virgin is gonna get his heart smashed into smithereens, isn’t he? You can see it coming. You can feel it coming, too, which for me is worse.

Well, I do respect Ritsu getting right down to it. 

These are the types of guys you need to stay well away from unless you know what you’re doing. And Masumi...very clearly does not. 

I’m cautiously optimistic. I only know one of these actors, and frankly, I disliked the drama I know him from, so that worries me. However, the story intrigues me and I like that there’s no shying away from the intimate stuff. I’m not insta-hooked but I’m intrigued. 

[mamahersh]

Time for Tim's perspective from that AU I mentioned earlier:

Tim had heard in passing through some of the pre-Eyepocalypse avatars he had fallen in with after his Becoming that there was a way to get some of their aggression out in a legally acceptable way. It didn’t surprise him that they were looking for that, as having all the power in the world suddenly removed and turned mortal in a moment would of course aggrieve the kind of people who were brought under the auspices of the Lightless Flame. Tim himself, after the Reversal, had been making due through a gym membership and reconnecting with Sasha. However, that part of him that he had tried to bury after the apocalypse reared its ugly head and whispered how nice it would be to properly cause someone pain again.

Well, he ignored the voice. Of course he did, he wasn’t a monster (not anymore at least). But the curiosity that drew him to the Institute in search of answers still wanted more info. After all, it wasn’t everyday you’d hear that the government had legalised something horrific. Not to say it hadn’t turned a blind eye to what happened to avatars after the Reversal (part of the reason Tim kept to himself and Sasha as much as he could nowadays), but more to say it hadn’t actively discriminated against people for what they did during the end of the world. It was very much, “don’t ask, don’t tell” on that front, and so long as you didn’t go around trying to be a sick freak while people were pulling their lives together, then no one made assumptions. Now, if you had had a large domain with plenty of people suffering in it who knew who you were and what kind of person you were, then there was always the possibility you’d find yourself battling off an angry mob ready to tear you apart. However, since Tim’s domain had been relatively small, and taken to tormenting anyone with fears related to losing their vast assets and reputation, he hadn’t seen anyone afterwards and he would assume that being placed in a world where their worst fears were a reality but not nearly as bad as they had feared, maybe they were content to just live and let live. Afterall, it wasn’t his fault the world ended. He just happened to personally know the guy who did.

Which brought him back around to this secret way of stress relief, which he finally got off a former Slaughter avatar he could never remember the name of. Apparently, within a month of the Reversal, it had gotten out that Jonathan Sims was the one who ended the world, and it was the combined effort of Martin, Basira, Melanie, and Georgie who stopped him from doing “worse” and instead kicked off the Reversal. What “worse” was, no one seemed to know, but it was the consensus amongst anyone who did know Jon’s fate that the government had done its job right for once. Apparently, Jon had been sentenced to “jail” for 3 years. While it had been hotly debated whether he should be given the death penalty or life-time behind bars; Martin had stepped in and made a convincing case for Jon’s innocence. Thus, between Martin and the judge, it had been decided that Jon would serve 3 years in prison. There was a caveat to the deal though, that in basically any other circumstance would have infringed on every humanitarian effort conceivable and caused a massive outcry, and that Martin was apparently uninformed on. This caveat was that Jon would be legally allowed to be tortured by the general public and the prison guards during his stay behind bars. So long as he didn’t die, the rumour went, you could basically do anything you wanted as long as you told the guards ahead of time.

Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about that, all he knew was that he would not breathe a word of it to Sasha. Besides, it wasn’t technically public knowledge and most people that knew about it were people who would be more likely to act on it. He would have suspected the Web was involved if he wasn’t already certain that the Fears were no longer tied to their reality. As it stood, all he knew was that whatever his coworker had done, ending the world might just justify 3 years of torture. (Many years later, Jon would later tell Tim in that soft voice he had taken to speaking in, and with a thoughtful frown he so often wore even before they were estranged, that even the Fears themselves could not have set up so perfect a punishment for ending the world. Tim would ask if it was the torture, and Jon would merely shake his head, allow himself a wry grin, and silently stare into the middle distance. (What Jon never told anyone but his therapist, was that living free after the fact, to learn how to be a person again, was more painful than a lifetime of torture before an ignominious end, and far more mercy than he had deserved.))

-

The first thing Tim noticed about Jon was that his hair was shorter than he remembered. Not that it really surprised him, seeing as he was in jail, but more that a part of him had been expecting it to have been even longer than before his Becoming. The second thing he noticed threw him off completely. Carved into Jon’s forehead, and seemingly almost on display, was a scarification tattoo in the shape of an eye that had been X’d out. He wanted to ask, but he had promised to be silent till Martin re-introduced them, and he had a feeling this too was a part of the infamous deal that was keeping Jon alive and not buried 2 metres down via angry mob.

[spongebobafettywap]

Oh man there's a lot more panels/pages which make no sense the more you look at them believe me. Like the one where they show Azazel taking over if Kurt doesn't exist to stop him and all of Destiny and Mystique's plan

Firstly, the bamfs are there... Azazel only has them once he gets to Hell.... He only gets to Hell when Kurt dies and goes to Heaven... Kurt can only die and go to Heaven if he existed in the first place. Also Azazel goes for the Bamfs AFTER Kurt defeated him a first time. So like that's a big plothole

Secondly, yo how tall is Azazel did he get a growth spurt or something cuz he looks taller than Apocalypse even when he's sitting down

Thirdly, in the pile of bodies you see infront of Azazel's throne, there's Storm, Magneto, Jean Grey and the Avengers but also... Doctor Doom. I've said enou- No actually there's more. There's maybe real Angels in the background and the description says "Irene had beheld the obnoxious old fiend bestriding the cosmos" which makes things even funnier because Azazel is now stronger than literal beings made by God and whatever cosmic entities exist in the far beyond... But still gets defeated by someone who now "just looks like him" and doesn't even know MAGIC

"Unless a child was born that he would assume was his own [...] Unless his preoccupation with his heirs would allow for the boy to sabotage his big stupid ambitions -- not once but many times." = (This is why the editors on the wiki pages are going crazy) There's a lot of things wrong about this part, mainly that Azazel can't just assume.

The only people he is able to mind-control have been shown to be related to him, his very children, which is how he got Nightcrawler to his island in the first place. No one else. Really the second you say Kurt isn't related to him you unwillingly lead to the logical assumption that Azazel has mind control powers that work on anyone... Which is false. Next Azazel's Heaven take-over could only happen because Nightcrawler was his anchor there. Nightcrawler was his anchor there because they're blood related. If Azazel has been assuming Kurt was his kid when he wasn't, does that mean Azazel has had the ability to yeet himself to Heaven and never knew (is his jojo stand the actual stairway to heaven or something) ? Does that mean anyone can seal Azazel on Earth even when they're not blood related ? Because that's what Kurt had to do and it was his most selfless sacrifice. Are you saying he didn't need to sacrifice his Afterlife this whole time and anyone else could have just done it because being biologically related to the guy wasn't both his strength and weakness ?

There was really two ways to stop Azazel when he was still going around and having kids (even tho he was stuck in a loop of doing it until he got exactly what he wanted, that being Kurt): Kill all of his kids/stop him from having them or just kill/stop Nightcrawler from existing (cuz he really needed someone related to him with his exact abilities).

There was even one way for things to have never gotten as far as they did and it was literally stopping Margali Szardos from getting into contact with Azazel and getting him to Earth in the first place because Azazel was in his dimension for thousands and thousands of years without once managing to get out until then

... Coincidentally Destiny talked to Margali at some point. (+ 1 plothole)

The writer only refers to Azazel as a monster/fiend (which he is morally) but he pretty much means it as like the magical kind... When Azazel is a mutant and has been on Krakoa for three whole years with other mutants now. He even went through the gates that only let mutants pass. He didn't even cause trouble on the island during that time. Mystique knows he's on the island, Destiny surely knows he's on the island. So why did they let him there if he's not one of them and "Irene had seen that he'd become the worst of [the vaudeville monsters]" ? It's counterproductive don't you think ?

Lastly, I really like how Mystique is saying all of this when she managed to hire Azazel to work for her the last time they met. And he did everything she told him no problem back then too. The contrast is so jarring like the only way to stop this massive warlord and universe conquerer guy is to either have him "think he's a dad" so he plays favourites or give him an actual job

(Another thing I can't unsee because of many friends but Azazel is dressed like mad max fury road character or like he's part of the beast pirates from one piece)

I love the way you wrote this anon. Don't you know Azazel is apparently this all powerful giant being but also is able to be thwarted by his son who is just a weaker version of himself? Oh wait scratch that its only his son by a smaller percentage but still the point stands Azazel is the most powerful mutant except for when he isn't when the story calls for it. Technically all beings are made by God but I get what you mean, he's apparently able to defeat immortal beings created by God like its nothing. I honestly don't understand this writer, its not like he seems to think things through in terms of biology or story but then i guess I don't really understand the majority of X-men fans because they seem to think this is peak story telling even though now the narrative is far more confused and they've upgraded Azazel powerwise and had to ignore recent stories involving him.

[art-of-manliness]

Podcast #902: How to Survive Any Worst Case Scenario

When people think about survival and preparedness, they tend to think of dealing with an end-of-the-world kind of scenario. But lots of bad things can happen, and are more likely to happen, that fall short of the apocalypse. My guest can help you prepare for any worst case scenario, whether it’s the worst thing to happen to mankind or just the worst thing to happen to you this year. His name is Mike Glover, and he’s a former Green Beret, the founder of Fieldcraft Survival, and the author of Prepared. Today on the show, Mike and I first talk about the softer skills of preparedness. We discuss how to create plans using military concepts like war gaming and the PACE methodology, build your tolerance to stress, and develop your situational awareness so you don’t freeze in a crisis or let one catch you by surprise. In the second half of our conversation, we discuss the harder skills of preparing for worst case scenarios. Mike outlines what capabilities every man should develop. He shares his own EDC and what he recommends you carry and wear on a day-to-day basis. We talk about how to stock your home and car for emergencies and more. Related Resources From AoM’s Extensive Survival and Preparedness Archives * Podcast #820: Escape the Safety Trap * How to Make a Bug Out Bag: Your 72-Hour Emergency Evacuation Survival Kit * How to Bug-In: What You Need to Know to Survive a Grid-Down Disaster * What Every Man Should Keep in His Car * A Beginner’s Guide to EDC * How to Use a Tourniquet to Control Major Bleeding * A Complete Guide to Home Fire Prevention and Safety * How to Develop Situational Awareness * The Complete Guide to Making a DIY First Aid Kit * Podcast #610: Who Lives in Survival Situations, Who Dies, and Why * A Complete Guide to Home Security Connect With Mike Glover * Mike on IG * Fieldcraft Survival Website * Fieldcraft Survival YouTube Channel * Fieldcraft Survival Podcast Listen to the Podcast! (And don’t forget to leave us a review!) Listen to the episode on a separate page. Download this episode. Subscribe to the podcast in the media player of your choice. Listen ad-free on Stitcher Premium; get a free month when you use code “manliness” at checkout. Podcast Sponsors Click here to see a full list of our podcast sponsors. Transcript Coming Soon   The post Podcast #902: How to Survive Any Worst Case Scenario appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/SqJfgk

[shootingstar-scuderia]

🐑 alrighty i'm coming back at you with one and i'm going to try and make it equally chaotic haha

#there's only one bed #rooster #rivals to lovers #cherry cola and #apocalypse!au

ty ty for sending this in!!! i'm not typically an apocalypse girly, it's usually my hard stop, there's a lot of bits in there that makes me too existential and freaks me out but there also are some things that i find very compelling about it and ngl i like of the way this went...

anyways this got realllllly long so more under the cut!

fake fic ask game

okay so rooster makes me think of a top gun maverick sooo maybe a top gun type au where the world is on the verge of apocalypse and they're (max, charles, lando, oscar, george, alex) all training to be fighters pilots. some of the olders (danny, seb, carlos, lewis, etc) are their teachers.

and not to rip straight from top gun but maybe one of their call signs is rooster. idk who it'd be but there's probably some kind of big dick jokes related to it

it's typical boyish shenanigans, they're competitive and fit and young and the world is actively falling apart even though no one tires to think about it too hard so they're really trying to do a lot of fucking and sucking. there's an obligatory shirtless beach scene, they might have a barbecue, there's probably some cherry coke (more on that later)

and there's also a whole lot of haha let's not think about how we are most definitely fighting to our death and the fact that this war is meaningless because as time marches forward it's more and more obvious that we are going to be sent out to fight for nothing and there is no solution to this war.

i think when they first get to their training camp (or however it works in the military) there is some kind of mix up and lando and charles were assigned to the same bed cueing the there's only one bed situation. bc both of them are a little to prissy to be sleeping on the floor they end up sleeping top and tail and have a cow about it.

but this then sparks a rivals to lovers arc between max and charles bc charles hates lando like HE was supposed to be the doe-eyed tiny twinky one but lando is doing a pretty good job taking the title from him. and max and lando are friends from whatever little bootcamp you gotta go through to join the military so by extension charles hates max.

and really like max dgaf about the whole situation, he just finds it so funny that charles hates him. like charles is trying so hard to beat him at dogfights and preform better than him but max is just SO good. which makes charles annoyed to the point where even has he and lando start to get along charles is still on his anti-max agenda. the whole time max just gets more and more starry eyed bc this godddamn fool doesn't know when to quit and he likes that determination and persistence

anyways back to the whole cherry coke thing i think it's maybe max f and lando related bc sorry to all the cherry coke lovers it really feels like the most sticky gremlin coded thing. like i think the two of them fought about it a lot pre-apocalypse. maybe lando bought a case of it from the store one day because it was on sale and max was all liek "of course it's on sale you muppet, it's the worst one." anyways they have a lot of cherry coke during the apocalypse bc it is the worst one and even though the world is ending no one wants it. and maybe max is dead, maybe the two of them fought and have parted ways in a way that was really traumatic. anyways the whole cherry coke really makes lando spiral, there's lots of things to work through there.

bonus bit that's not related to any of the tags loll:

i think there'll be some kind of spy or mole or whatever who is on the side of the "anarchist resistance" (they're probably not really anarchist or anything like that but the boys are just a little too blinded by nationalistic loyalty to see past this. but also like it's literally the apocalypse the only side most people are their own). i'm thinking maybe alex mostly bc i think the galex dynamic would be the most fun to play with

like george feels so incredibly loyal, probably the most blindly loyal out of all of them. but he and alex are like brothers, teetering on the edge of something else, in any situation george would save alex first. but when it's revealed that alex is fighting for the oppositions i think george has a little bit of a breakdown. bc it turns out the one person he thought he knew like the back of his hand he didn't really know well at all. and that begins a whole identity crisis for george because alex is in many ways his twin he knows that alex would never deliberately do something bad, he was just mislead, or was he?

fake fic ask game

[greatwyrmgold]

I saw Anna and the Apocalypse. It was...mediocre.

I like what it was trying to do. It's a zombie apocalypse musical which, as far as I can tell, was made by someone who likes both zombies and musicals. It's lighthearted, clearly trying to be Christmas Zombieland with songs. But it feels flat.

The most interesting problem is that most of the songs are barely related to the story. Most of them are basically pop songs where characters express generic emotions that prior scenes established they were feeling.

The worst is "Human Voice," a song which expresses isolation when the characters feel isolated, but it's the wrong kind of isolation. The lyrics express a digital kind of isolation, where you only interact with people through social media or messaging apps or whatever.

The cinematography tries to support this, but it's undermined by the fact that that is not happening in the actual story. The characters say they're lost in the machine, that they need something to hold onto in the static, that they need a human voice, but—they have human voices. The main characters are in a building with four living humans, and the others are in a building with at least a dozen. The problem is that there are zombies outside those buildings, separating them from the people they love, who may or may not be alive. That's a very different kind of isolation from millennial malaise!

The next two and a half songs come the closest to interacting with the story. "Soldier at War" is an I Am song for the jock bully guy, "Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now" is an I Want song for the evil headmaster, "Give Them a Show" is kind of about the confrontation between Anna and the evil headmaster. The problem is that "Soldier at War" and "Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now" are wrong about what the characters are and want.

"Soldier at War" characterizes the jock strongly as someone who does not quite register this as real. He calls it an arcade and talks about getting high scores, for zombie christ's sake. It's not the kind of song you'd expect to hear from someone who—for instance—had to bash his own father's head in with a baseball bat when said father got bitten.

NGSMN characterizes the headmaster as someone driven primarily by spite towards millennials/early Gen Z, "a wasted generation". He claims he's had to bite his tongue as they waste their youths and spread diseases and whatnot, even though at no point in the movie has he actually concealed his disdain for anyone. For the first two acts of the movie, he seemed driven by a lust for petty power—power over students and the school. At the end of act two, he struggles to convince the B-plot survivors to stay in the school where he can claim some power over them. And by the start of act three, he has let zombies into the school and starts acting like a murderous maniac, because...

Well, that's the second problem. The script is bad. The best characters are two-dimensional, the worst are incomprehensible. What character beats I could distinguish were weak. The jock's stands out as the worst. He spends the movie sort of hovering between neutral and dickish; one of the few things he does before the apocalypse is throw something at a girl Anna's talking to and then hit on her.

But we get one scene where he tells us that he had to kill his dad. Then he does what's framed as a heroic sacrifice, distracting a bunch of zombies who are there now while telling Anna to run. But he shows up later, and...he's Anna's love interest now, I think? I don't know how he survived, but I don't know why he sacrificed himself either. The dead dad thing never comes up again, and it didn't influence his actions before he mentioned it, so...??

Props to Anna and the Apocalypse, that's the only fake-out death that happened. And the zombies randomly showing up didn't bother me much either, because they've been doing that all movie. Sometimes the zombies are oblivious to the survivors, even as they crawl between the zombies' legs. Sometimes a whole crowd of them bursts through a door. Zombie threats appear or vanish on a whim.

Zombieland was very silly, but its threats came from somewhere and had to be resolved. And its characters were consistent, clear, with time spent establishing who they were and why they were that way and resolving some of their baggage. Anna and the Apocalypse doesn't have that; it feels less like Zombieland and more like Dead Rising. Specifically a game of Dead Rising played by someone who's finished the normal campaign a couple of times, and just wants to smack some zombies around with comical Christmas ornaments. Which is fine, I guess, but I was hoping for something a bit more substantial.

[tinkerbellwoo]

ATEEZ MTL Survive A Zombie Apocalypse

Most

Yunho

Hongjoong

Jongho

Wooyoung

San

Yeosang

Seonghwa

Mingi

Least

Yunho would be the most likely to survive purely based on his gaming experience, fast reflexes and decision making skills. He’d know how to ration properly and what to prioritise as well as how to make weapons from everyday supplies.

Hongjoong is second because he’s good at thinking outside the box as well as making fast decisions and working under pressure. I firmly believe the key to surviving an apocalypse is based on intelligence and tactics instead of strength, that is why HJ and YH are at the top.

Jongho comes third because he’d remain sensible throughout, although he’d be scared, he knows it’s important to stay in the right frame of mind to make good decisions. He’s also very strong so he’d be able to build things, fight etc.

Wooyoung is fast as fuck, this man ain’t getting caught up in none of this living dead shit. He’s quite strong and super agile, he’s also good at making smart decisions when the time is right. I feel like the thought of using a weapon of some kind would excite him a little... just don't put him in charge if you want to survive.

San has a lot of experience with gaming so I feel like he'd have some kind of idea on what to do in this situation however, I feel like he’d also prefer to just hide away from a long time and only think of collecting supplies when he’s already running critically low and is forced to face the zombies. He’s another one that's fast af and have you seen his fucking flying 360° neck breaker spin kick? Mans moving mad.

Yeosang isn't as high up as the others in terms of intelligence but don't get me wrong, he’d come out with some megamind genius plan when you least expect it, he’d leave it to the others to think of something first though. In terms of strength, this bitch should be at the tippy top, but I believe he wouldn't be that great at fighting. He’d be worried about hurting the zombie even though my guy is in a literal zombie apocalypse and has to fight for his life. He’d be really good at anything strength related though.

Seonghwa is scared, tell him it’s a dream and he can go home because he really doesn't know how much longer he can put up with this. He’d probably be the reason ya’ll almost get killed because he chickens out at the worst moment imaginable... He’d be really good at helping with injuries since he knows a lot about cleanliness and sterilisation which is essential to avoid deadly infections.

Mingi will lose his absolute fucking marbles, is the first to go insane and be tempted to stray from the group because no one will listen to him and he feels he would benefit going his own way to survive... which ultimately, would get him killed pretty damn quick. Have you seen him playing mafia game with the rest of the guys? My boy is stressed, free him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

A/N - I missed my MTL posts so much, I’m sorry this isn't a very original idea but I’m trying to get my brain working so I can come up with some more creative ideas! This is 100% my opinion and should not be taken seriously, this is for entertainment purposes only and nothing is written with intent to upset or offend anyone :3

Tag List - @simphwa @ateezinmymind @multidreams-and-desires @yunhospuppy @jonghoisbabie @224-12 @woowommy