#soft apocalypse

[notebookofapsychedelicmind]

#retrofuturism #cassette futurism #soft apocalypse

[dystopiasdarling]

[ s t a y w e i r d ]

#aesthetic #dystopia #apocalypse #end of the world #the hunger games #1984 #the handmaid's tale #soft apocalypse #the last of us #dystopia's darling #retro #vintage #vcr #static #stay weird #technicolor #60s #creepy #color #strange #artist

[infiniteartmachine]

a red light shines through a foggy tree in a field

#scary #Witch House #nature #surreal #3d render #landscape #substrata #Soft Apocalypse #horror #creepy #screenshot #infiniteartmachine #unreality

[wardenclyffe]

Wardenclyffe - a new YA Sci-Fi Novella

When the city of Valentine loses power, an android named Bit tries to help restore it. Through old recordings documenting the relationship between two young girls, Bit learns of a possible new power source in a distant, unknown town and sets out to find it.

Along the way, she encounters different human communities, learning about the world outside of her home and what it means to survive. 

Through love, loss, friendship, and beauty, an android sent to save her home finds the world is more complicated than she was programmed to believe. 

Buy it through IndieBound

Find it at Barnes & Noble

#book blog #booklr #ya sci fi #young adult #bookish #reading #bookworm #books #soft apocalypse

[frogonamelon]

It just occurred to me that I've never shown you guys any of my own stuff...

This is Vi. She lives on a small island in a solar punk meets cottagecore world. In between helping her family and neighbors keep their island home turning, she dives down to The Ruins and finds lost artifacts. Each one tells their own story.

Little does she know her world is a post-apocalyptic one. The sea levels rose 200 meters overnight in some unspecified or unknown disaster and everybody who needed to evacuate and survived doing so left for higher elevations. Vi's island has existed as an island for about three generations now (like her grandparents remember).

If I were to make this into a show it would be cozy and episodic, inspired by Yokohama Shopping Log, Abzu, Studio Ghibli's work, etc. There would be a cast of fun characters and personal stories about each artifact without much of an overarching story- just living life.

From a design perspective, her diving suit design is inspired by a Vaquita, the world's smallest and most endangered cetacean.

#how do i tag this? #It doesn't have a title :( #solarpunk #post apocalyptic #soft apocalypse #marine archeology #original story concept #save the vaquitas

[roseddraws]

Everything stays (but it still changes)

Chapter one

There is a man watching Martyn.

He caught sight of the man out of the corner of his eye a few minutes ago, a glimpse of red fabric at the edge of the firelight. He stays in the shadow of the trees on the edge of the clearing, completely hidden if you don’t know where to look. He doesn’t know he’s been spotted— or at least, Martyn hopes so.

He hasn’t attacked him so far, so Martyn can only assume the man is also struggling to decide what to do with him (i.e. whether it would be worth it to kill him). He slowly moves his hand to his hatchet, keeping his head facing forwards as he nibbles on his hard-earned fish (he’s not sure what kind it is. A sardine? Anchovy?). The smart thing to do would be to move first, while he still has the upper hand. The smart thing to do would be to attack the man before he attacks first.

“You gonna say hello or just watch me from the shadows like a creep?” Martyn turns his head to look at the figure, who jolts and steps back. He’s never claimed to be a smart man, okay?

The man hesitates, then steps out into the light, revealing himself. He’s wearing a torn red flannel that’s half-buttoned and rolled up to his elbows, as well as ripped jeans held up by braces, but the most unusual part of his outfit (despite how completely impractical it already is) are the dark sunglasses over his eyes, in the middle of the night. His dark brown hair is long and similarly unkempt, all tangled up with leaves and twigs, and it’s not even tied up: he’s just letting it fall into his face. His stubbly beard and the plastic bag over his shoulder only complete the homeless look— though Martyn’s in no place to judge; it’s the apocalypse, not a fashion show.

“Uh… hi,” the man says awkwardly. “Mind if I—?”

“Steal my stuff? I think I would mind, actually,” Martyn cuts him off, stuffing the rest of the fish into his mouth and grabbing the other one that had been cooking over the fire, other hand still gripping his hatchet. “Get your own fish.”

The other man holds his hands up placatingly. “I won’t! I’m not gonna rob ya, dude, I was just wondering if I could sit by your fire a bit? I’ve brought my own, uh… meat.” He pats the bag at his side.

“That’s what he said,” Martyn mutters as the unkempt man says the same thing out loud. There’s a beat of silence as the two stare at each other with wide eyes, before Martyn cracks and erupts into giggles.

The man grins. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he says, moving to sit across from Martyn, who doesn’t try to stop him. “The name’s Ren, by the way.”

“Martyn,” Martyn replies, eyeing the bag as Ren reaches in and pulls out a huge hunk of something wet and red. “What, uh… what kind of meat you got there?”

Ren tears off a chunk and stabs a stick into it, resting his arm on his leg as he holds it over the fire, avoiding eye contact. “Just… some animal I hunted. Not patient enough for fishing, y’know?”

Martyn opens his mouth to question further, then snaps it shut again. He’s seen the “animals” that wander the city nowadays, and while they’re not the kind of thing he could ever see himself eating (just the thought of it makes him nauseous)… well, it’s the apocalypse isn’t it? You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to survive. And if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t push.

“Fair enough,” he says in answer. The conversation goes silent as the two each get on with their own meals, Martyn trying to stretch out his last little finger-sized fish for as long as possible, which is not very long. He forces himself to look away from the mystery meat, which is beginning to smell delicious.

“So, how long have you been travelling alone?” Ren asks finally.

“A bit of a personal question,” Martyn says. “I dunno, I guess. I’ve been part of a few groups here and there, but they’ve never really stuck. They all kind of fell apart, or… died. Or I just got bored of them and left. I’ve been on my own for a month or two by now.”

Ren looks a mixture of distressed and amused. “Should I be worried that at least one of your groups has died before?”

“Should I be worried about how vague you’re being about your meat?”

Ren opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, changes his mind and closes it, then settles on, “Touché.”

He pulls his stick back from the fire, though Martyn is sure the steak isn’t cooked through yet, and blows on it for a few seconds, before getting impatient and ripping it off with his hands. It must be burning hot, but Ren ignores that and tears into it like a starving lion, blood vessels popping and spewing their contents all over him. The steak is gone in seconds.

Martyn just gapes at this disgusting spectacle, speechless. “Um.”

Ren’s head snaps up from where he was licking the blood off his fingers, reminding Martyn of a wolf interrupted mid-meal. Then his face turns pink and he’s a human again, hurriedly wiping bloody hands on his shirt. “Um!”

Martyn forces himself to look away, concentrating on picking as much meat as he can from the bones of the fish. “Hey man, I don’t judge. I get being a little enthusiastic if you haven’t eaten in a while, which I assume is the case since you apparently can’t make your own fire.”

Ren splutters, but the tension eases from his body when he sees that Martyn isn’t disgusted. “You don’t know that! Maybe I just wanted company.”

“Mhm,” Martyn hums, not convinced. “What happened to your group, then?”

Ren rips off another fistful of meat and sticks it over the fire before answering. “Never had one. I’m a bit of a… lone wolf.” He smirks as if at some private joke.

“You’re telling me you survived alone this long without knowing how to build a fire?!”

“Honestly, raw meat isn’t as bad as you’d think.”

Martyn grimaces. “I’ll take your word for it.” He sets the fish bones on the ground, having picked them clean. Ren follows the movement with his eyes.

“Do you, uh, want a bite?” He asks. “I’ve got plenty to spare.”

To his surprise, Martyn actually considers it. It’s been a while since he’s had a proper meal, and, though he’s loathe to admit it, that meat looks good. But he can’t; he’s not that desperate yet.

“No thanks, I’m good. Not hungry.” He manages, then after another awkward pause, turns and pulls a blanket out of his bag. “‘Night, Ren.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna… turn around and go to sleep? In the presence of a stranger?” Ren asks.

Martyn turns back to face him, confused. He sees that the other man’s expression is baffled, and slightly hopeful. “I mean, yeah? I kind of assumed you’d be staying for a bit, unless you really did just come here to cook food.”

His face lights up like a puppy that’s been handed a bone. “Sure! Alright! I don’t mind sticking around for a bit!”

Somewhat bemused, Martyn can’t help but smirk. “How on Earth did you survive this long on your own?”

Ren smiles back. “I have no idea, dude.”

***

Ren would call himself an extrovert.

If you’d asked him a year ago, he would’ve said that was a good thing: he had plenty of friends, and his job was all the more enjoyable when he got to chat with customers. It was fun! His life was good.

Except, these days, it’s more of a curse than a blessing. He wants more than anything to find a group of people and stay with them, to protect them as they protect him, to have a shoulder to lean on and a friend to turn to as the world collapses around them.

But he can’t.

The apocalypse was slow to start. He can’t pinpoint the exact day it began, but if he had to, he’s sure he’d name a much earlier date than most people. Most people would mark the beginning of the apocalypse as the day tree roots started cracking through pavement in the middle of the city, or the day the storms started and didn’t stop, or the day they first saw those wretched not-animals on the news.

Ren marks it as the day he grew a tail.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the first sign: his senses were already stronger than they should’ve been, he was significantly hairier than usual, and he swore his previously brown eyes were starting to look almost yellow. But it was the first thing he couldn’t write off as his imagination; it was as if the universe had gotten sick of him ignoring everything it threw at him and decided to drop all tact and just punch him in the face.

By the time society had officially collapsed, Ren was permanently wearing his hair down to hide his furry ears, and wearing sunglasses to hide his now very clearly yellow eyes, because at this point everyone had heard enough about humans becoming animals to be absolutely terrified if they knew what he was. But even then, it was easy enough to hide his… affliction.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the full moon happened, and he woke up in the ruins of an unfamiliar building, hands and teeth stained with blood. The most disturbing part was that he wasn’t hungry anymore, for the first time since rationing had started; it was like blacking out drunk and waking up with more money than you’d started with.

Since then, he’s gotten better at remembering what he does when in wolf form, and better at switching between forms when he needs to— key word is better, not perfect. There are still relapses, when he gets frightened or angry, and of course full moons, when his control is at its weakest.

Which is why he can’t stay with any group: they’d find out, and they’d be terrified and run away, or just kill him to his face. It’s not worth it, he tells himself time and time again.

And it was easy enough to stay mostly away from people for the first few months, only seeing them in passing, maybe staying for a day and disappearing when they slept. But after a while, people became more and more scarce. Now Ren can go whole weeks without seeing anyone, and when he does they’re more hostile than before.

Last night was a full moon, and he’d spent the whole night and most of the following day as a wolf, not having any reason to bother turning back. The sun set, and he reluctantly switched back to slice up his most recent kill to save for later, when he caught a scent on the wind. He hesitated only a moment, before curiosity got the better of him and he followed his nose down what used to be a street, to what was now a dense wood, to a clearing lit by firelight.

The air was filled with the smell of cooking food, and it made Ren’s mouth water. He hadn’t cooked food since before he’d left home. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until he found himself glued to the edge of that clearing, staring hungrily at that fire and the man on the other side of it.

He wore a faded lime green hoodie, rolled up jeans and black trainers, and his chin-length blonde hair was held back by a black bandana. Besides him was sat a white rucksack, open but turned away to hide its contents.

And Ren had meant to leave, he swears, but then Martyn spotted him and spoke to him, and… he wasn’t afraid. He was wary, sure, but he let Ren sit across from him, and he laughed along with his stupid jokes, and he didn’t press him about where he’d gotten his meat (and how human they’d been), and Ren wouldn’t call himself clingy, but… in all honesty, he’d almost teared up when Martyn asked him to stay.

He’s a little attention starved, okay? It’s lonely in the apocalypse.

And not to mention dangerous! It would be irresponsible of him to leave Martyn to wander the city on his own. Strength in numbers, and all that. He’s just keeping him safe, Ren thinks, watching Martyn’s sleeping form as he tears into his second steak.

He firmly refuses to think about the future as he curls up by the fire, clinging to this moment like a lifeline: the smell of good food, and the warmth of the fire and the company follow him into sleep.

#I don’t often post fics here but I’ve been thinking of changing that [: #there are three chapters out already on my ao3 so go check them out if you want #trafficblr #traffic life #3rd life #third life #third life smp #third life fic #3rd life fanfic #3rd life fic #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittewood fanart #rendog #rendog fanart #fanfiction #everything stays (but it still changes) #renchanting duo #soft apocalypse #kinda? #post apocalypse #post apocalypse au #inthelittlewood fanfic #rendog fanfic

[vulpecoola]

second home

#dark academia #chaos academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #grey academia #books #twilight aesthetic #foggy aesthetic #academia aesthetic #aesthetic #weird aesthetic #after hours #dull moodboard #dullcore #gloomcore #rainy aesthetic #chaotic academic aesthetic #cryptid academia #soft apocalypse #post apocalyptic #chaoscore #chaotic moodboard #dark naturalism #dark moodboard #dark grunge #traumacore #writer academia #urban fantasy #october #september #fall aesthetic

[shapedforfighting]

My solar punk soft-apocalypse short story, 'I Hope This Email Does Not Find You'

✨️just dropped✨️

A disabled woman survives a soft apocalypse in an overgrown mall and impacts her community by sharing a candle-making recipe stored in her old email inbox.

#short story #disability #solar punk #soft apocalypse #publication

[jellyfishinajamjar]

Imagine if the apocalypse happened but the internet was still up

Frantically googling with one hand trying to figure out if a plant is edible while trying to keep your kid brother from eating it with the other

Falling asleep over a discord call with a friend a world away, knowing that this person you have never met and could not trust any more than you already do is watching out for you

Finding a YouTube video on how to fix your truck’s radiator using a inner tube lining because as weird as it seems, you weren’t the first person to break down a mile from a water park, and some stranger who might not even be alive anymore thought it was useful enough information to pass along

Leaving your phone number sharpied on the wall of every half looted pharmacy and abandoned clinic you pass through, just in case some poor stranger in your wake needs medical advice

Waking up every morning in the bed of a camper you found as you wind your way west, and texting your friend whose working their way east. Hoping to meet up somewhere in the middle and finally put a face to the person whose come to mean so much to you. Feeling joy as the time difference between your waking hours starts to shrink, and the feeling of creeping dread that maybe this time they won’t answer your message. Promising each other you’ll call every morning, just so the other knows you’re still there

Food blogs, now offering recipes for mushroom and lizard meat stew and ways to turn canned goods into full meals. Still with those personal anecdotes that take up half the page that you always skip over. Now you take the time to read them

The melancholic joy of knowing that just because you’ll never meet someone again, that you’re both just ships passing in the night, that these ships still have radios. Sharing your number with every person you meet, to know that someone is still out there

Quietly working day in and day out to keep a server farm, as far as you know the last in the world, humming along, so that people you’ll never meet and who will never know your sacrifice will still be able to access the collective knowledge and community of humanity, long after you’re gone

#jellyfish jams #soft apocalypse

[virtueisdead]

#kingvirtueisdead #nature #apocalypse #webcore #old web #old internet #early internet #weirdcore #grass #overgrowth #soft apocalypse

[notebookofapsychedelicmind]

#retrofuturism #cassette futurism #soft apocalypse

[imber-rose]

I could have sworn I posted this but it wasn’t under my writing tag so….

Bramble’s stomach lurched as he jolted awake. His fur stood on edge and he quickly threw off his quilt and searched clumsily in the dim morning light for the shoebox he’d used as a makeshift nest for his new friend. He sighed heavily with relief as he pulled the box into his lap and observed the little creature inside was still breathing.

It was a tiny thing, the size of a doll, perhaps at one time it had even been a doll. Mismatched patches of fabric dotted its body and pink yarn hair covered its sleeping face. Moth-like wings ripped and tattered, rested against its back. Its tail twitched as it suddenly curled in on itself, small murmurs left its lips and Bramble frowned. It had been almost three days and his little friend had yet to wake.

Gently Bramble wrapped the little creature back up in the bundle of fabric he’d salvaged as blankets and set the box down near the fireplace with the hope the still red coals would keep it warm.

He gave one last glance around his cottage before opening the door and stepping out into the cool breeze. He gathered up his basket and his gardening tools and headed out into the forest to forage.

As Bramble collected some mushrooms from a fallen log he heard a voice through the trees “Oh no! Come back”. Bramble’s ears twitched and he stood to check on the voice. As he pushed through the foliage he came up behind a small woman who was rather focused on a grasshopper. The little insect kept jumping away just as the woman got close. “Oh come now, I just want a picture” she cooed. The insect didn’t seem convinced and took another leap, this time it opened a pair of wings and, in its escape attempt, crashed into Bramble’s face.

Bramble yelped, the woman screamed and the grasshopper let out an indignant beep before flying off for good. Bramble’s ears dropped and he clutched at his arms trying to make himself seem a bit smaller than he was. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you too badly” he muttered, eyes fixated on the ground.

“Oh no! Just startled me a bit… I’m guessing you must be Bramble”

Bramble's ears flicked as he glanced back up “You know me”?

“Well I know of you, the rangers filled me in as I’m joining their team as the new entomologist for the area. My name is Bea”.

“Oh! It’s very nice to meet you… um… What is an entomologist”?

Bea’s eyes filled with a glittering excitement “Entomology is the study of bugs! If it’s got wings, antennae, or stingers then I’m interested in it” she proclaimed.

Bramble tilted his head as he thought about the little creature he’d found. Wings: check. Antenna: check…. “Can you help injured bugs”?

“Sometimes, altho treating buggy friends can be a bit more difficult than other creatures. Why do you ask”?

“I found a creature a few days ago. It has wings and antennae so it might be a bug? It’s injured though and I haven’t been able to help it”.

“I see,” Bea said, lifting her hand thoughtfully to her chin “Would you mind showing me, I could at least take a look”.

Bramble nodded “Of course! Just follow me”.

Bramble showed Bea the way to his home and produced the box with his little friend in it. Bea sat at the table considering the creature carefully. A few times she gently lifted it to take a better look at its wings. Finally, she looked up at Bramble with a kind of determination that gave him a spark of hope. “The little fella isn’t exactly a bug, so I don’t think I can help him alone”. Bramble's face fell and Bea quickly continued “But! I think the seamstress in town might have some ideas of what to repair him with”.

Bramble nodded “I see, that’s a good idea” he exclaimed as he got up and moved to grab a basket. “Here, I think this will make it easier to carry him back into town”.

“Don’t you want to come”?

“I don’t want to scare anyone”.

“Hm, well I happen to know the seamstress would love to meet you. And I may be new but I’ve learned a fair few backways so I can make sure we don’t encounter anyone else”.

“R-really”?

“Absolutely”.

Bramble followed Bea to the step as she walked him down alleyways and across gardens until they reached the home of the seamstress. Bea knocked and the older lady answered the door with a smile “Well, hello” she glanced at Bramble who was trying hard to look as polite and nonthreatening as possible “Oh! Well I haven’t caught sight of you in a while. Happy to see you enjoying the jacket I made you”.

Bramble looked down at his soft plush jacket “You made it… for me”?

“We’ll of course! Can’t have our local cryptid getting cold”.

Bea shifted the basket in her hands drawing the seamstress's attention “I have a bit of a favor to ask Mable, Bramble has a friend here who I think could use your help”.

“Oh dear,” Mable remarked as she peered into the basket now set on her dining room table “Poor little cryptid, looks like he got shredded”!

“Do you think you can help?” Bea asked while Bramble carefully held a dainty teacup trying not to break it as he drank.

“Hmmm, well I have a fair bit of scrap fabric so I’ll certainly give it a try”.

That night while Mable worked Bea and Bramble fell asleep in her living room, the rhythmic sound of the sewing machine could be heard through the neighborhood. A familiar and comforting sound to those nearby.

When the two awoke, Mable was making breakfast and, from the sounds of it, conversation with someone. Bramble and Bea quietly crept into the kitchen and observed the small creature from before sitting on the counter, snacking on a slice of strawberry.

“You helped fix him” Bramble couldn’t keep himself from exclaiming, which caused the little creature to flutter its wings nervously. Bramble quickly covered his mouth and muttered an apology.

Mable chuckled “Yes indeed, Needles here just needed a bit of patchwork”.

“Needles? Is that your name?” Bea asked.

“It is,” Needles responded, his gaze flickering between Bea and Bramble. He lifted a hand to point at Bramble “You, you're the one who helped me in the woods”!

Bramble nodded “You remember that then”?

“I do, thank you”.

“Of course, I’m so relieved you're ok”.

Mable served up plates piled high with pancakes, fruit, and syrup and the four chatted getting to know each other as they ate. Before long it was time for Bramble to head home and Needles decided to go with him.

“Make sure you come visit again” both Mable and Bea encouraged the two cryptids before they headed off into the woods.

The End.

#imberwrites #imberocs #grimmwoodforest #oc #writing #g/t ocs #g/t #sfw g/t #sfw writing #fairytale #fantasy #soft apocalypse

[dystopiasdarling]

[ T H E F A C I L I T Y ]

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

[ all photos belong to me ]

#aesthetic #dystopia #apocalypse #end of the world #the hunger games #1984 #the handmaid's tale #soft apocalypse #the last of us #urban #brutalist architecture #brutalism #urbanism #concrete #save our home #savetheplanet #architecture #creepy #liminal spaces #liminal #dystopia's darling #dark #futuristic city #city #the maze runner #divergent #photography #dystopic #dreamcore #alternate reality

[infiniteartmachine]

"an abstract painting of some desert in front of a mountain" "black and white photo of two people standing in front of an old castle" "a strange scene is depicted in this artistic drawing style on a vintage photo paper"

#grunge #nature #diorama #Soft Apocalypse #creepy #scary #inspiration #dream #digital art #horror #photomanipulation #retro #drawing #painting #surreal #screenshot #landscape #infiniteartmachine #unreality

[lisboncore]

(pixelianska on ig)

#beauty of decay #pixel art #old tech #nature #nostalgia #rustic #nature takes over #decline of man #fall of society #fall of mankind #abandoned things #soft apocalypse

[kiwipae]

I just keep imagining a little survival rpg game.

Picking through the remains of a long-abandoned aquarium. Maybe in the future it would be revived to some lesser glory of holding creatures, but for now its home to a handful of survivors who curl up in sleeping bags and roam the halls with pieces of a pamphlet, trying to imagine what the world once was.

#rpg maker game that needs to be made honestly #post apocalyptic #ideas #soft apocalypse