thoriffix:

no thoughts besides inventing new apocalypse domains in my head

domain of the buried that’s a huge city full of people, so full that you’re shoulder-to-shoulder everywhere you go, and all the buildings are full of crowded offices and shoebox apartments and everything’s just too small for the crowds, smoky and polluted by the jam-packed roads and the walkways far too narrow to ever walk comfortably

domain of the stranger where you wander a building full of funhouse mirrors, but instead of distorting you wildly they change just the slightest thing about your appearance, only just enough that you start questioning which one you used to look like? didn’t you always look that way? which of these mirrors is the real you?

domain of the hunt where you’re at a dinner party with friends, indulging in a very 1920s aesthetic, when guests begin to die under mysterious circumstances. a murder mystery is afoot, and you are absolutely convinced that you are the next target, no matter how many people die, you’re next. you can’t trust anybody.

domain of the eye where you star in a reality show, full of petty drama and backstabbing, but in arguments your co-stars begin dropping more and more personal information about you, things you absolutely did not tell the producers. in fact, are there even producers? you’re not sure you remember. where are the cameras in this place? you don’t know. you just know you have no privacy anymore, and everything you do will be televised