gen z dumbass with a blog

28yo | she/they | INFJ-T | ♓︎ ♋︎ ♎︎︎ disabled artist | twitch streamer | spicy creator

[tiffwithatea]

*mic check* is this thing still on?

i haven’t been here since the pandemic.

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Person A: “Permission to rip these fuckers, apart?”

Person B: “Permission enthusiastically granted.”

[tiffwithatea]

My idea for a story revolving around this prompt:

Rodriguez and I push on through the station. Not a single source of life was pinging on the radar. Not a single survivor. What happened here? As we continue onwards, it becomes apparent that something had forced its way in - the airlock doors were busted to hell, and the way the chairs were strewn about the floor made it clear that the soldiers here were fleeing. From what?

Rodriguez gestures towards a hole in the air vents in the ceiling. “What the hell do you think took these guys out?” I don’t answer. I really have no idea. Station 152 was, until now, part of a cluster of colonies protected by the Herald Protectorate. Whatever happened here...well, let’s just say we’re down one colony.

We approach a closed door - but it looks like someone forced it closed. According to my holomap, the room is Storage. I look for a console to open the door, but the screens all seem damaged from gunfire and blunt force. My only way of getting that door open at this point is to remotely activate it with our HCD. “Hey, cover me, will ya? I’m gonna try popping the door open. Sit tight.” I activate the manual override, and it estimates about 15 minutes. Rodriguez and I sit in silence, listening for any sign of what caused this destruction. We don’t hear anything except the creaking of pressure on the station, and what sounds like mice. Finally, the door opens after being forced back on the tracks holding it there. I look at Rod and he gives me a nod, so we aim down our sights and push forward. Nothing but darkness and the light from our flashlights reflecting off the disturbed dust. We pass several packages and crates, when we something in the dark, barely. It’s …hunched over. In front of something. We get a bit closer and realize it’s eating something. I shine my light at the thing in front of us and it’s covered in blood. The thing at its feet is one of our soldiers. Oh, my god...Rodriguez must have noticed it at the same time as me, giving me a similar expression as what’s on my face now. We start to back up to recover but I bump a crate. The thing looks up at me and calls out a eardrum-shredding cry. Within seconds, hundreds of those things crawl from deeper within storage. We start to run, but we get bottlenecked in the entrance to the station.

Rodriguez looks at me with a worried but determined expression. “Permission to rip these fuckers apart?”

Permission enthusiastically granted”. Time to fight for our lives.

[tiffwithatea]

Prologue

My skin had burnt to a crisp long ago, and I am no longer recognizable as a human. My vision is fading in and out, but I still look around to find myself in a wasteland of ash and fire. What was grass at some point is no longer existent. Only ash is left in its place. There is nothing of value as far as the eye can see; a burnt valley of ash and fire. Cries of some god-forsaken creature echo from a distance far from myself, thank the gods. Something other than myself seems to be willing me to continue forward. I lay amongst my dead brethren, signs of some massive battle I can’t seem to remember. There are burnt trees and lava spewing out of holes in the ground all around me. The sky is blacker than night, yet dotted with orange bursts of light...or fire? I hear what sounds like burnt wood crunching under heavy weight, the sound getting louder every moment I lay. I taste the ash in my mouth, a bitter, potent taste I would not wish for others to experience.As I lay, I ponder what brought me here to begin with. What was my mission, my goal, what was I trying to obtain?

- TS