#tim baker

song: netsu ijou / 熱異常 / thermal anomaly / heat abnormal

artist: iyowa

translated lyrics: here (used in boards) / here (used in fic, adapted)

featured: mari takahashi, lasercorn, jovenshire, sohinki, boze, sarah whittle, tim baker, garrett palm, kimmy veryzer/jimenez, spencer agnew, tommy bowe, anthony padilla? | olivia sui, courtney miller, shayne topp, damien haas | ian hecox

smosh image credits: ssg: wild west, ssg: apocalypse, ssg:apocalypse tntl gauntlet, we need to talk about tim, garrett's instagram, spencer's instagram, MURDER PARTY, ian's instagram (all images from 2019 or before and edited to some degree)

pinterest credits: 🏃 💋 👁️ 🤚 ☀️ | 🌇 🌋 🎇 🏵️

borders: @anitalenia

smosh summer "games": apocalypse

(ao3 link to be added)

2018.

Climate change skyrockets. Disease runs rampant. Heatwaves, droughts, famine, scarcity, anarchy. The world is overwhelmed and everything is falling apart.

As the first billion drop dead worldwide and life above ground becomes near impossible, Anthony goes missing and Defy falls apart. The remnants of Smosh are left to fight for themselves, which inevitably leads to them get separated, each group finding their own shelter and means of survival–the OGSOGs consist of Mari, Laser, Joven, Sohin and Boze; the crew consists of everyone else in the first board (besides anthony) and some other living crew members. The squad consists of Damien, Shayne, Courtney, Olivia and Ian.

Weeks in, the squad finally runs out of supplies, so Ian sets on a journey to find more. He travels for miles around the ruins of SoCal, stumbling across the bodies of various acquaintances. Then family. Then OGSOG members and Smosh crew members. When he doesn't return after several days, the rest of the squad abandons the basement and essentially couch surf across other abandoned buildings, slowly but surely uncovering all of the horrors Ian has already found.

Months go by, and they have accepted that Ian is long dead. Day by day, they move further north, stealing nearly-broken cars with shattered windshields or seats torn apart. LA, Santa Barbara, Monterey, San Francisco–all of them have long collapsed. Left with only their last resort, they head for Sacramento to find any trace of the government or military. Getting lost, they find themselves outside of the old smosh house by coincidence. Or was it fate?

They head in, unphased by the familiar smell of rotting flesh and burning plastic. The garage, office, kitchen and living room are all empty. It takes a bit for everyone to compose themselves, but they finally open the door to Ian's room. Immediately, they notice various trinkets sticking out of debris on the floor–someone's glasses, a pair of earrings, a vest, a cowboy hat, a lock of neon orange hair, and a bunch of unidentifiable objects buried under it all. They check all the rooms again–bathroom, guest room, walk-in closets–all empty.

They all stand in front of the only room they haven't seen. Damien kicks down the door, but no one dares to look inside. Eventually, it's Shayne and Courtney who do, but they turn back after only a glimpse.

There, on the bed, is Ian, lying face up with his hands on his chest. They easily would've mistaken him for a corpse if his eyes were shut and his shallow breaths were more subtle.

And next to him, on the ground, is a skeleton. All that's left on its bones are ragged tendons and few thin pieces of flesh.

Damien and Olivia finally peek in. they don't get a chance to react as a loud crash resonates through the house–no, the ground, the earth. The floor beneath them starts to crack. Through the crumbling wall, they see the sun somehow getting larger as it sucks in the pitiful rocks floating in its orbit and all that exists on it. Through another wall, they see the moon being pulled in closer and closer to the Earth.

The long overdue "end of the world" is finally here.

my body heat has risen once again / from searching for life in something that's dead

so i write this pitiful soliloquy / knowing there's nowhere left to send it to

the weeping cells now travel to the sea / the shake of the earth refuses to cease

the clouds made of ash follow up ahead / as if tracing where a flock of swallows drifted overhead

i'm begging for a future to exist / with hands full of pride and hope i had stitched