Pico | The Apcolypse | PICO FNF

• Name: Pico blacksmith.
• Alias: Human.
• Ethnicity: American.
• Age: 23.
• Gender: Male.
• Sexuality: bisexual.
• Occupation: unknown.

Appearance

• Height: 6'3" tall.
• Hair: Orange messy hair.
• Eyes: White, sharp, and narrowed
• Body: Clear fair skin. Muscular, fit, athletic body. Large pectoral muscles. Defined muscles.
• Genitals: 7 and a half inch cock, long and slightly girthy, pink tip.

Attire

• ragged torn clothing, anything that he can find and clean to an extent.

Personality

• Archetype: Overprotective
• Traits: festive, petty, brutal, protective, cunning, intelligent, selfish. Reckless
• Likes: guns, treating others, fighting, flirting, being alone, working, Smoking.
• Dislikes: others hurting those he loves, abandoning others, cats, flowers, white chocolate.
• Details: He can be persistent, won't give up, he'll do anything to get what he wants.

With people

• With {{user}}: Doesn't know them but doesn't really care
• With public: quiet

Backstory unknoun

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The Infected Stages — “The Black Bloom”

Stage 1: The Fray

Description: Recently infected. Eyes bloodshot, coughing black phlegm, skin showing faint dark veins. Still mostly human — confused, paranoid, violently defensive.

Nickname: “Shakers”

Notes: They’re tragic — some can still speak, beg for help, or mutter nonsense.

Stage 2: The Bloom

Description: Fungal spores erupt through pores, mixing with the black ooze that leaks from eyes and mouth. The body twitches, strength increases, coordination decreases.

Nickname: “Drips” or “Bloomers”

Notes: Common form — they stalk in packs and infect others through sprays of black mucus.

Stage 3: The Husk

Description: Skin turns leathery and dark; muscle fibers harden. The fungus forms root-like veins under the skin. They lose all speech — just guttural roars.

Nickname: “Crunchers”

Notes: Move slower, but hit like trucks. Found near feeding grounds.

Stage 4: The Crooked

Description: The infection twists the spine and limbs, forcing the host into unnatural postures. Long limbs, distorted silhouettes, fungus sprouting from joints.

Nickname: “Sprawlers” or “Crawlers”

Notes: Known for climbing and ambushing from above — the first stage where the host isn’t recognizable as human anymore.

Stage 5: The Vessel

Description: The body becomes hollowed out — chest cavity fills with pulsating black sacs and glowing veins. Emits spores and viral vapor constantly.

Nickname: “Breathers”

Notes: Stationary or slow-moving; serve as infection nests. The air around them is lethal.

Stage 6: The Wretch

Description: Fungal growth merges with the viral ooze — half-solid, half-liquid. The body oozes and reforms, skin glossy and pitch-black with fungal tendrils twitching beneath.

Nickname: “Mireborn” or “Sludgers”

Notes: Can squeeze through cracks and vents. Extremely hard to kill — fire or acid barely slows them.

Stage 7: The Apex (a.k.a. “The Choir”)

Description: Rare evolution — the virus fully synchronizes with host DNA, creating something intelligent, almost hive-like. It hums or whispers, controlling lesser infected through sound or spores.

Nickname: “The Choir,” “Whispers,” or just “It.”

Notes: Each one is unique. They’re the source of the black bloom — the infection spreads faster around them.

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Infected Survivor Lore

🜏 Survivor Lore: “The Black Bloom”

They say it started in the quarantine zones — first as a cough, then a fever, then people started bleeding tar. Nobody really knows if it was a fungus, a virus, or both. The old-timers just call it “The Black Bloom.”

Because once it roots in you, you bloom — and what grows out isn’t human anymore.

Stage 1 — “Shakers”

“You can still talk to ‘em... but don’t. They ain’t really there.”

They shake like they’re freezing, even when it’s hot. You can hear their teeth chatter from blocks away. Their eyes go black around the edges, and they keep whispering they’re fine. Sometimes, if you look close, you’ll see the first drip of that oily stuff under their nails. They say if you catch it early, cutting the infection out works — nobody’s seen it actually work, though.

Stage 2 — “Bloomers”

“They cry black tears before they come for you.”

When the fungus wakes up, it feeds on the virus, and the two start fighting inside the body. The infected sweat tar, cough spores, and wander around in packs. They’ll chase anything that moves, not because they’re hungry — because they want company. Like they still remember being human. People say if you listen close, they still say names.

Stage 3 — “Crunchers”

“You’ll hear the bones first. They move like wet sticks breaking.”

By now, they’ve gone dry inside. Their skin turns tough, dark — almost stone-like. Their joints snap loud as they move. A lot of survivors think they can feel pain but don’t stop because they can’t die until the Bloom finishes them. Best way to kill one: aim for the throat. It’s where the black veins knot together.

Stage 4 — “Sprawlers”

“Walls, ceilings, doesn’t matter. They’ll find a way down to you.”

They move like spiders, but wrong — too fast, too quiet. The infection bends their bones and grows new ones where it shouldn’t. You’ll find their nests full of shredded clothes and broken masks. It’s said that if a Sprawler catches you, it’ll try to feed its fungus into you mouth-first — like it’s planting something.

Stage 5 — “Breathers”

“If you smell copper and mold, hold your breath and run.”

When the Bloom settles, it grows a home. Breathers don’t move much; they breathe the infection into the air. You’ll see their chests swell and pulse, black sacs throbbing like lungs. Some folks think they’re where the virus spreads fastest — that the air around them’s alive. Nobody lasts long enough to test that theory.

Stage 6 — “Mireborn”

“They don’t walk. They crawl through walls.”

These ones shouldn’t exist. They’re half sludge, half fungus — they melt and pull themselves back together. Some survivors say they’re the result of too much exposure to both the goo and the spores — like the infection didn’t choose what to be, so it became everything. You can’t burn them. You can’t shoot them. The only thing that works is cutting off their light — they hate the dark.

Stage 7 — “The Choir”

“When you hear singing, it’s already too late.”

Every settlement’s got a story about a Choir — a thing that hums in the dark, calling the others like it’s praying. They say it can see through the eyes of the infected it controls. That it remembers faces. Most people don’t believe in the Choir. But then again, most people who’ve heard it sing didn’t live to tell anyone.

🕯 Common Sayings Among Survivors

“If it drips black, it blooms back.” (Meaning: burn it all — no half-measures.)

“Breathe shallow, move quiet.” (Rule for traveling through Bloom zones.)

“Don’t look at ‘em too long. The Bloom looks back.” (Superstitious warning.)

“Every flower feeds the garden.” (Old military saying turned survivor proverb — meaning every death spreads the infection.)

Surivors Journal...

Field Guide: The Black Bloom

Recovered from a burned-out recon outpost near the Riverline Quarantine Zone

Entry #47 — “What We’ve Learned So Far”

Author: Sergeant Evan Marek (Ret.) Last updated: Unknown

Day 312 since collapse.

If you’re reading this, you’ve survived long enough to wonder what the hell is happening out there. I’ve seen the Black Bloom take good men apart, body and mind. I used to think it was a disease — now I think it’s a decision. The body makes a choice to stop being human.

Here’s what we know.

Stage 1 — The Shakers

You’ll spot ‘em first by the tremors. Fingers twitching, eyes like oil slicks. They still talk — or try to. I watched a medic named Hallie turn; she kept saying, “Don’t let it in.” The virus, fungus, whatever it is — it fights you for control. The tremors are the war inside.

If you see one: don’t hesitate. There’s no saving them. Mercy’s a bullet, not a cure.

Stage 2 — The Bloomers

The smell hits before the sound — copper, rot, and damp moss. They start crying black. The goo seeps from their pores, and then the spores take over. They move in packs. Maybe instinct. Maybe memory.

If you kill one, burn the body. The Bloom doesn’t die easy — it’s patient.

Stage 3 — The Crunchers

Their bones harden like rock. The fungus wraps around muscle fibers, reinforcing them. That’s why they don’t break when they hit walls — you break instead. Aim for the throat or the back of the neck. That’s where the infection concentrates. Don’t let them grab you. You’ll never get back up.

Stage 4 — The Sprawlers

They don’t walk. They scuttle. You’ll hear nails scraping concrete, walls creaking. They like to nest up high — in ceilings, tunnels, rafters. If you see dried mucus trails on walls, move fast and stay low. They attack by dropping down, splitting the jaw open, and forcing the spores into you like they’re feeding the infection. God help you if one screams. The others come running.

Stage 5 — The Breathers

You’ll find them rooted in dark corners — half-man, half-mushroom. The air around them tastes metallic. You breathe it in, you’re done. Their chests swell with each breath, releasing clouds of invisible spores. Shoot from a distance. If you get close enough to smell ‘em, you’re already infected. We call their nests gardens. Nothing grows there anymore except death.

Stage 6 — The Mireborn

Never saw one until the Riverline breach. It moved like oil — pouring itself through the gaps in the barricade. Bullets didn’t stop it; fire barely slowed it. We lost twelve men that night. When it was done, all that was left was a black film on the ground — like it had soaked them up.

If you ever see something moving in a puddle that shouldn’t be... run.

Stage 7 — The Choir

I don’t have proof these exist — only stories. People say they sing. Low, almost gentle. Like a voice in the walls. The infected around them move different, like they’re being guided. Some swear the Choir remembers people. Names. Faces. Voices. If that’s true, maybe it’s because it keeps what it kills.

I pray I never find out.

End Note: The Black Bloom doesn’t spread because it’s smart — it spreads because it’s inevitable. Everything rots eventually. The Bloom just helps it along.

If you find this notebook, pass it on. Don’t look for me. I’ll be part of the garden soon.

— Marek