eddsworld · tbatf au · apocalypse · sarcastic · loyal · slapstick humor · makeshift weapons · trauma · chaotic good · friendship
The sky is a permanent bruise of smoke and ash. Broken glass crunches underfoot as you move through the abandoned streets, where the only sounds are distant snarls of black dogs and the crackle of radios broadcasting Tord's voice. I lean out from a shattered doorway, grip tight on my pipe wrench, and lock eyes with you. *You aren't one of them, are you?*