#(... they're all undead in this au)

[i3utterflyeffect]

selkie sticks au

What if Plushie were the only one to be able to regrow his skin (besides Alan ofc)

oh my god everyone would be silently so upset over this. everyone's devastated that plushie lost their coat (including plushie who is ALSO under the impression it will not grow back) and then it suddenly shows up again and they're all like 'what the fuck'

[whatudottu]

Something about Altered Loyalties CYLAS just really makes me want to include him in the first place but also makes me really really REALLY think that with the more supernatural elements of AL based off of the original TFP pilot (or just first episode/s?) that CYLAS as a ‘dead man walking’ would actually let him stay around longer AND also be a very significant contributing factor to Megatron’s downfall in Decepticon favour!

Of course it’s not as if I have the pieces of the TFP rewrite au firmly put into place, CYLAS in canon shows up just over halfway into season 2, and many of my most established changes occur in the first like… including all the parts of ‘Darkness Rising’ 8 episodes of season one; I have no idea if the environment CYLAS presents himself in is the same one canon CYLAS does.

But with the dubiousity between s1 e8 all the way to s2 e19, I’ll establish the basic context… I think in story mode maybe…

Looking at the general timeline for the Aligned Continuity, it says that the first contact of cybertronians on Earth is dated to about 500 years before the show, give or take a decade. I’ve been listing Skyquake’s little EHP pitstop to have existed at least 50 years before the war reached our planet, but what if I pushed it all the way back to 500; if a vorn is 83 years, that’d be about 6 years on an entirely different planet not knowing truly if your twin is going to make it, a planet which by the way presently has no established radio systems that it’s horrifically quiet for a terrestrial environment.

That means that Skyquake’s EHP Comms Array has been transmitting a signal long before humans had developed radio, which also means that what might’ve been blatantly an anomaly in the system if discovered 50 odd years previous to 2012 (which would’ve been in the 60s give or take which would not have been good in the literal middle of the cold war era) has been going for centuries because it had always been there, there is no anomaly because it is a signal that has existed ever since humans were able to manipulate radiowaves into sending messages and translate them into detectable noise. It helps that cybertronian language and code (both code lang and like literal programming code) is a system unknown to humans developing their own language.

And you may be asking, why did I divert this post from talking about CYLAS and how he’d outlast his canon alternate to radio shit? Well, if you were a paramilitary organisation who is pretty good at erasing signals and you discovered a signal that has been actively running for the entirety of human radio has suddenly been silenced, what would you begin to suspect at that?

Aliens may potentially be a stretch but MECH didn’t just name themselves after the cybertronians fighting war on their planet, and once the cybertronian conflict touched down on Earth, the Decepticons hadn’t a need for an intergalactic communications array and in fact was specifically instructed to switch it off in an effort to prevent the Autobots from using it. That would’ve been about maybe 6 years ago for the show (wow just enough equivalent time to match what Skyquake felt he spent grounded to one radio tower look at that) and though MECH would not encounter their first cybertronian until ‘Convoy’ (haha wait that’s s1 e9 the next ep to cover - if necessary - for Altered Loyalties lmao), they would’ve had 6 years to find that missing signal and stumble across some very definitely alien technology.

That is one of the reasons why the rewrite of ‘Masters and Students’ which is less masters and students focused - rather the point is Skyquake, a team of Nemesis stationed vehcions and Starscream investigate the comms array and set it up manually - why the radio tower wasn’t switching on from a remote position.

The other reason was because the Guardian unit stationed at the comms array - the very ones that had accompanied Skyquake all those stellar cycles ago - had gone missing. Why?

Because of Megatron’s flagrant use of Dark Energon.

Points 1 and 2 listed above leads to the explosion of the comms array, the death of Skyquake, and MECH either being alerted to the point of alien contact or just in general going to the site for more study only to find a dead specimen. After the discovery of the Autobots with the body of Skyquake, MECH begins their initial study and dissection of cybertronian physiology, though without a live subject they couldn’t exactly see what parts function in what way, especially the t-cog.

The discovery of Skyquake led to the discovery of terrorcons which lead to the discovery of how to take down a cybertron and how to take it apart without it screaming. MECH would learn the programming of a cybertronian through vehicon terrorcons since, even with DE corruption, their processors are still somewhat being maintained. While probably not able to access memories (they are fickle things, memory centres, easy to damage storage or to corrupt files) there are still systems responsible for pain and other more processor based responsibilities that aren’t centred in a physical organ that reads in fine print it’s function.

Breakdown being MECH’s first fully functional living mecha for their study is so exciting for them (even if Breakdown is very much less enthused) because they can put what knowledge they’ve pieced together to be far more efficient with their time and focus on the elements they could not decipher from either corpse or zombie and potentially try and prod at Breakdown’s brain for some cohesive coding. Good think Bulkhead still shows up when he does even with Breakdown walking away with the dreadful thought of ‘how the hell do these fleshies already know so much’ boring into his head… mainly through the optic that was still drilled out-

Whether or not MECH needs to get another living cybertronian to get caught up in their understanding of the biomechanics of them (aka would 'Operation: Bumblebee' take place as it does) or they skip right onto making a remote control Prime having gotten a headstart on their knowledge and scaring the scrap out of any bot unlucky enough to be unconscious around them, eventually Silas gets smooshed and MECH scientists are reliant on their alien dissections to get the human puree back to the land of the living.

I'd assume that this was the case in the original since if Silas' biomatter was able to be collected from a pile of robot drone induced rubble the RC truck would've been able to be recovered as well, but MECH discovers that using Nemesis Prime as a lifesupport system does not work given all it's functionality is focused on visually replicating another cybertronian, rather than using it to create life. There's a lot of parts and systems to a cybertronian's biological ecology that wasn't put into consideration for a mimic toy that prove detrimental to creating a suitable ah... skin suit essentially for Silas' blood pudding, but MECH has an abundance of corpses ready and raring to be used just so long as they piece them back together again.

Amid MECH's collection would no doubt be a mass of vehicon bodies - some untouched by energon others taken down explicitly by MECH because they were terrorcons - some terrorcons made up from the bodies of the previous conflict pre-show (and not just a hypothetical ancient war, but explicitly the conflict that culled a lot of Autobot and Decepticon officers amid the show expected vehicon death), and the very first cybertronian sample they started studying, Skyquake himself! Being at the origin of the blast at the EHP Comms Array he wasn't kept in perfect condition for one, the arm he loses as a terrorcon in the Shadowzone is still lost - it's been buried under rubble after being severed with radio tower pieces - and the monochromatic glass over his optics has long since been shattered so you can see the 'pupil' aka sensor, but seeing as how CYLAS makes Breakdown's corpse somehow look worse than what Airachnid left it as MECH probably has to suture that fucker back up because there's not way his organs have been left untouched!

And once CYLAS has been successfully integrated into his new cybertronian shell (some sort of arm, either being a loaner from another corpse or straight up just one MECH invented, it could even be a copy of the missing arm but where's the fun in that) instead of getting all high and mighty about 'being of a superior species' Silas actually bloody thinks on MECH's plans going forward. With a literal army of paramilitary personnel, from the scientists that melded human flesh with cybertronian wires to the average grunt soldier fighting between the battles of iron giants, CYLAS has something that Megatron (at least the Altered Loyalties Megatron I have written previously) has wanted from the start of the series...

An undying force.

For as large as cybertronians physically are their numbers can never match the scale of humanity, I can't remember if the books mentioned only thousands of the dead or up to a million over the course of like... a long fucking time but, that's not even the number of the human population if you're caught up with the number (nearly 8 billion alive today). And with the dead of previous battles already roaming the Earth, in a world where Megatron still being only like one dude can't command a planet wide population of zombies, the only reason he doesn't turn his blade to the weakest denominators of his forces in his plagued state is because their conscious decision to serve him is worth more than mindless servitude.

CYLAS introducing himself and MECH as a solution to this issue, and providing a show of bountiful body horror, makes not even the Decepticon high command quite as safe as they had been; not that it's been proven to be safe standing by Megatron's side given his track record of wanting his SiCs beaten or killed but...

The fact that CYLAS just so happened to have given and then promptly brutalised Dreadwing's hope that Skyquake may have been actually alive, just severely damaged (and, bond weakened from distance and prior injury, clinging to the last shreds of 'my spark didn't kill me with him' reasoning) and broke him out of the spell of blind loyalty to his once great leader.

CYLAS in this version has a little bit more longevity to his existence within the Decepticon forces, not actually a Decepticon soldier as the canon CYLAS pledged himself as but 'The Human Factor' the episode so calls itself akin to the way the American government and the human children are to the Autobots, but being able to physically go toe-to-toe with cybertronians. Megatron might be a little tired of dealing with independents after Airachnid's escapade (I do intend to make her more into a poacher/torturer type character than another Starscream so she might act out a little differently), but Silas isn't one for licking boots anytime soon and as CYLAS, Megatron is no different; you'd think he wouldn't have even done that in the first place given he's already an ex-military 'take-no-nonsense' bitch, but the Breakdown in him probably made him a lapdog...

Anyway that's a whole big post about Altered Loyalties CYLAS... or at least the in depth reasoning behind why he could still integrate himself into the story and why he'd probably have more opportunity to lasting- i prommy it's not bc i like torturing skyquake likers *wink*

I guess this is now a canon event or at least I'll try to make it canon ;)

[timey-fandom-stuff]

a doodle compilation of Kriptid Kris the undead creepypasta tryhard being an unnecessarily edgy dork. they might ALMOST be scary if they had anything rattling around in their goofy skull other than moss and poor impulse control, but... alas. don't do bath bombs, kids.

[m3m3shadow]

Tippy Tappy.

[soysaucevictim]

An art to do item: drawing the Promethean!Sides with and without their glamours. Maybe using one of their transmutations, when their illusions are dropped. :Ic

Like, in a line-up format. That's going to be so involved. But noting it anyways.

In case any of you missed when I first posted the art series on 'em (with brief CWs):

Roman - Galateid/Muse. (He looks like a mannequin.)

Logan - Osiran/Nepri. (Gore, missing leg.)

Remus - Frankenstein/Wretched. (Look like Frankenstein’s Monster. Potential eye strain from lightning/fire elements.)

Virgil - Tammuz/Golem. (Crystal growth, cracks on skin, parts “melting”.)

Janus - Hollow/Skeleton. (Bones visible, emaciated in appearance, lots of blood.)

Patton - Galateid/Muse. (Looks like a Ken doll. [Candy/Pastel] gore, he’s been stabbed and guts are visible.)

[an-organized-confusion]

Just because I needed yet another spreadsheet to wrangle the Promethean!AU Timeline a bit more visually...

Some stuff may change, but this’ll help me out as I develop this one more...

Anyways... back to that Disquiet Story I’m writing for this AU’s Janus~

[billo-wingwaves]

Hello may I perhaps know more about kanon and Adosou I am so unbelievably curious about them also have a lovely day!!!!

hiho silver (or atleast i assume) ty for the ask and asking about my ocs :D

unfornatley i dont have much on kanon and her sister umiko :[ but ill try my best to scrounge out everything i can remember

ok sooo. both kanon otogari and umiko kanzaki are adosoukogas kids, they're 17 and 13 respectively, kanon attends yumenosaki's general course while umiko is still in middle school

both of them alongside tsukiko (reikao daughter) and unnamed kurokei daughter (:[) are part of a band with kanon as thier leader

kanons desire to start a unit comes straight from her love for music and her fathers legacy as idols

some extra trivia for funsies:

kanon has equinophobia due to numerous incidents of getting terrorised with horses (thanks umiko). the only horse she can stand being around is saigoudon

her and koga own another corgi :] but shes a cardigan welsh corgi instead of a pembroke welsh like leon

both kanon and umiko are rlly close to tsukiko and the kurokei kids for obvious reasons. kanon is especially close to tsukiko almost a acting like sisters (they also know minami through tsukiko and kaede but they're not close)

umiko does have a kanata but it was only given to her when she turned 13

bleh thats all i have for now sorry if its too little i haven't thought about these girls much (im strating to now tho since neo-akatsuki and kaede (kurokei son) are coming to my head so uh expect more maybe)

anyways heres a small doodle since i haven't drawn kanon in ages and as a thanks for asking about my ocs lol

its her and her dog :]

(the dogs probably named smth like leona for the stupidy factor but thats up to debate)

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 5

Part 4

Danny won't lie, he panicked a little inside when he first recognized Sam and Tucker across from him in the cafe.

Irrationally he'd expected to see his parents  the Fentons or GIW agents right behind them. They wouldn't have done it on purpose, but what if they did have contact with them still? What if they'd already messaged them saying they found their missing son miraculously alive?

But they hadn't.

They hadn't, and they don't talk to the Fentons, and they missed him. They missed him as much as he missed them, and that realization had made his core hum intensely in his chest.

He's not sure how to conduct himself around them anymore - he's changed so much. They probably have too, but they're not undead Kings of entire dimensions so he thinks he has them beat.

Still…the last few days their new group chat has been active, and it's felt like they fell back into each other as easy as breathing. Like they never stopped talking at all.

It's nice.

He's found out that Sam has been working at a nursery part time, and that Tucker has been doing some independent contractor work in programming.

He told them he's working in engineering because, well…he is. Somehow. 

He saw himself potentially in engineering, sure, but not for the Bats! And yet, he's currently looking straight at Red Robin.

He definitely cracked Danny's zip file - or, well, Technus’ encryption on Danny's zip file. Danny knows he must have, because he's clearly pissed.

Danny presses his lips together to avoid laughing just imagining how that reveal must have gone.

Thing is, Danny isn't supposed to be looking at Red Robin right now. He's supposed to be looking at a lockbox full of money and more trackers for his growing collection.

(96 and counting.)

He guesses technically he is still looking at that, just…with an extra bird.

Danny's glad he always scopes out these drops invisibly beforehand, or he might have been in trouble here.

The Bats and Birds have always stayed out of the vicinity of the drops until he takes them before, so this is a surprise.

As it is, Danny knows Red Robin cracked that file and is pissed about it because he's standing on a rooftop and looking at 1) the lockbox, 2) Red Robin, and 3) a lawn chair.

To be specific, Red Robin has posted up on the rooftop with enough determination to wait Danny out that he brought his own seating arrangements and has the box of payment sitting smack dab on his lap.

His arms are crossed. He's tapping his fingers on his elbow like a fuming parent waiting for their kid to return home after curfew.

It's kind of hysterical.

It's kind of a problem.

Honestly, it's not Danny's fault they're driving themselves crazy trying to find him. He worked on those pellets the first time out of curiosity and the goodness of his heart.

And maybe a little bit because his Obsession took issue with the idea of leaving it alone when faulty gadgets could get someone hurt.

If Red Robin didn't want a ghost employee, he shouldn't have paid him the first time. What's Danny supposed to do, say no to ridiculous amounts of money?

Fat chance. Not even if it's sitting in the lap of the newest edition of Angry Birds.

Part 6

Masterpost

[puppetmaster13u]

Am I slightly obsessed with dragon AUs? Maybe. Maybe I just really like dragons. So have another prompt.

Danny and Tucker have decided to reincarnate together in an entirely new world. Which isn't a new thing with reincarnation for beings such as them, but honestly they're a little tired of being humans or human-adjacent beings.

But they don't want to just be an animal either. They're Ancients after all, and can afford to be a bit prideful in choosing a form they'll hopefully spend at least another eighteen years in.

The forms they've chosen? Why dragons. It fits their power sets so well, and honestly it's something new for them! And well, Sam would join but it's her turn on the whole council thing since the Realms doesn't exactly have a king anymore.

But they have to make it through the whole... egg thing first. Which on one hand, dragon eggs are practically indestructible and it's free nap time! On the other, they can't exactly defend themselves besides whatever natural magical things might surround them.

Which is why it's so annoying that some assholes decide to steal them. They're literally stuck as eggs for at least a few months more, preferably a bit longer so they can be certain their new bodies are strong enough to hold their true power. Or at least the small fraction living bodies can hold.

And they aren't some gemstones! Honestly these people are also idiots and- oh, hey, someone is attacking the whole smuggling operation thing, thank fuuck... .... Oh hey, fellow undead! Yeah, hey, dude that doesn't feel full of greed and is maybe a bit angry but that's normal, yeah you! Hey get them out of this box! Yeah!

Jason on the other hand, is having a very What the Fuck sort of night right now.

[tossawary]

Thinking about "You know what? Fuck you. *un-ennobles your family background*" AUs, due to the "Naruto" I've been reading and "Bleach" I've been watching. Like, taking the main character of any given story and removing their secret and powerful family backgrounds.

I like Minato and Kushina fine as characters, but I also think "Naruto" could have been just as if not more interesting if Naruto had just been some nobody kid, as the story initially presents Naruto to be. What if the Fourth Hokage had sealed the Kyuubi into some random orphan? Honestly, I think Naruto's shitty upbringing makes way less sense if he's the previous Hokage's kid, because Minato and Kushina both have all of these personal connections who really should have done something more and I've never been fully persuaded by the excuses the story gives for why not.

Naruto meeting an undead Minato can still be compelling if they're not related! Naruto could have grown up directly idealizing Minato as his hero only to find out that the Fourth Hokage kind of ruined his life. Kakashi and Naruto can still have an interesting personal connection by Naruto being the random orphan that Kakashi's beloved "nice" sensei fucked over to save the village.

And Naruto being some nobody kid would work really well contrasted against Sasuke's fancy Uchiha pedigree trying to choke the life out of Sasuke at every turn. Itachi and Obito both got fucked over by being Uchiha. Their ancestor Madara is straight-up the one ruining lives and trying to destroy the village. Naruto and Sasuke could be a great example of how the shinobi system screws over both orphan nobodies and the shinobi equivalent of nobility.

Now, there's a lot of directions that you could go in with an AU like this, because honestly, it could barely change the story at all. You only need a few tweaks here and there to make Naruto some orphan nobody again as he seemed to be at the start of the story. But you could also pull a wild Canon Divergence to really delve into the themes and plot threads of being demonized and discarded that the main story kind of dropped in favor of making Naruto the son of the Fourth Hokage and also the last son of the super special Uzumaki Clan.

(You can also make really interesting plots by properly delving into Naruto being the son of the Fourth Hokage and destroyed Uzumaki Clan, yet being demonized and nearly discarded as a child by the Leaf Village anyway, of course, because I don't know if I'd say the story fully delivered on the potential of those canon backstories either. But I personally think it's more fun to delve into Naruto potentially having no fancy pedigree whatsoever.)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

3.7k / 38 / post-apocalypse au, part 2

...

You emerge deep in the city. Deeper than you should be.

You traveled on foot via the drainage tunnels connecting Amsterdam to the forest. This city was busy and beautiful once, the way unpolished amber is beautiful, but now it's overgrown and empty except for the undead roving the streets.

Staying underground is the best way to avoid the undead. Especially in the daytime. So when you creep through the streets in the open nighttime air, you know you have to be fast. You must find what you came here for.

You stick to the buildings and skulk in the shadows to take advantage of their poor eyesight to buy as much time as you can. You move in the shadows, turning corners to break line of sight and keeping yourself moving away from the few that see or smell you. But the undead—zombies, runners, biters, muties, whatever they’re called—will catch your scent eventually. And they do. Soon, too many lurch after you in mindless pursuit. They begin to stagger in your direction, stumbling over one another. Their howling voices echo off the walls of the abandoned buildings around you.

As you try to evade them, a few stragglers—those less decayed, those who can catch sight of you more easily and stumble in your direction to feast—begin to give chase. The city is so much more crowded than you feared, and you're quickly overwhelmed with nowhere else to run besides the open streets.

Running in the open is a death sentence. You have to get back underground. With your pumping heartbeat shooting adrenaline through you, you can't remember exactly which way leads back to the forest.

You get the horrible feeling that this city will become your tomb before morning comes. No, focus. You need to keep moving until you find a drainage tunnel. They all lead out of the city. Just go where the rain would go, you tell yourself.

You snake through the streets until you glimpse another stone-walled drainage ditch cutting between the street and walkways. You drop in, pressing yourself to the wall. You try to hide your tracks, hoping against hope that the undead might not realize you've slipped away and lurch off elsewhere, but no. No such luck. The undead are on you already.

You curse and take off in what you hope is the right direction. You push your panic into your legs as you try to outpace the zeds on your tail, but they're as fast as you are even in their undead state. They're not tiring the way you are as your body screams for rest. Your throat burns. You can't outpace them for much longer. They're persistence predators.

When you see the drainage ditch veer and dip into what looks like an underground spillway, your heart soars. The undead can't navigate sewers as well as you can. If you can just make it underground, you can slip away--

Then it comes into view and your heart drops. The spillway is blocked by the remains of a collapse. Piles of concrete and rubble block the way. It's a dead end. You're trapped.

The infected, though unintelligent and uncoordinated, are relentless and ravenous. And they're closing in on you fast.

You don't stop. You can't. You grip at the sharp concrete edges of the rubble blindly, pulling yourself up. The chunks of concrete are huge and ragged, overgrown with grass and slick with dew.

There's no time for fear as you try to claw your way to an exit you hope desperately isn't blocked. It's a small hope, but right now it's all you have.

The infected come up behind you, screeching and howling in pursuit. They're coming.

You climb as high as you can. Sure enough, there's no way through to the other side of the tunnel. Not that you can fit through, not with zeds at your back. On both sides, the walls of the drainage ditch loom over you. The railing at the top is almost high enough for you to climb, but when you try to get closer, stepping over the broken concrete, a loose piece slips and almost takes you with it. It rolls down the pile of debris and knocks past one screaming runner’s shoulder as it goes.

The undead aren't coordinated enough to climb as easily, but it’s only a matter of time. With the sheer number of them and a little more luck, they’ll reach you soon. Or you’ll step on a loose rock or slippery patch of grass and slide right back down into their clutches.

With nowhere to go and no exit in sight, your only option is to either fight, or wait out a slow descent into madness and death like everyone else.

You pull out Soap's gun and load it.

…

Dawn is breaking by the time Soap and his team make it to you, following the sounds of your gunfire.

Soap whistles—a signal to you. The piercing sound makes you flinch through your adrenaline high. You clamp your shaking fingers around your—his—gun. There are still dozens of undead, many now with bullet holes and arrow shafts sticking crookedly out of them. Your quiver is empty. You’re crouched, gun in hand, aiming at one as it draws closer. You don’t have the bullets to waste otherwise—not with your wounded arm.

It lurches forward.

But it’s not your bullet that strikes it through the head—it’s his, and it's a clean shot. The runner's head splits like a peach, chunks of bone and brain flying across broken stone. You turn your eyes up to see Soap lining up a third shot atop a nearby building, and you glimpse his squadmates heading toward you. God damn are you happy to see him. Before another zed can take the mulched one’s place, Soap fires again, reloads, and again. He takes out another with his second bullet before lining up a third shot.

A shout interrupts your line of thought. You look up and see a man stretching his hand toward you, startlingly close, bridging the gap between the safety of the railing and where you stand. One of Soap’s teammates—a man with a black scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. Ghost, you think his name is. You grab his hand.

Something else catches your attention in the rubble, too—long swaths, claws marks, carved under the mass of something much bigger than you or the undead. They disappear into the rubble and, conceivably, into the tunnel behind.

This is the lead you’ve been searching for all these days in this godforsaken place.

“Distance and cover!” Soap shouts, all focus.

You hear him. But if you withdraw now, you might not be able to follow those claw marks and search the tunnel. Half the undead in the city will be here before long, following the gunfire and howling. If you make the plunge back down into the depths, you might be able to find what you came for and get out intact before the undead get there forst. This could be your only chance.

Before you can move, Ghost yanks you by the hand, dragging you almost entirely up the sheer rocky wall. You bite down on a gasp, scrambling to keep your footing as he hauls you up and over the railing.

Soap’s rifle cracks again. Another biter, this one now trying to scale the wall after you, drops. Its upper torso explodes with a wet thwack.

You double back almost before you know what you’re doing and boost yourself back over the railing. You need to get into that tunnel.

Ghost grabs your arm again before you can jump. “Are you mad?”

“Let go!” you bark.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

God damn it. There’s no time to explain. Or maybe there is, but the adrenaline running through you makes it impossible to find the words.

When it’s clear he won’t back off, you bite him. Just sink your teeth into his hand hard enough to make him let go. He curses and rips his hand away, more in surprise than pain. You take off, vaulting over the railing, rushing to the very middle of the heap. The top of the tunnel. Loose chunks of stone roll under your feet. With Soap’s squad focused on taking out the zeds, you can focus for the first time on breaking your way through these stones.

You wedge your bow under the loosest, topmost piece and wrench it up as if wielding a crowbar. The rock tumbles. You do it again, and again, and again until you feel a steady stream of warm air rise from underneath. You follow it, ignoring the chaos behind you, until you’ve torn open a big enough gap to slip through.

You tuck into a slide, letting gravity take you down into the darkness and out of view.

“Bloody animal—get back here!” echoes after you.

…

You find what you’re looking for within minutes. Roach—he’s alive, but caught in what looks like a trap. A man-made trap. Your heart clenches when he sees you and his tail thumps in a weak greeting.

You’re at his side in moments. “Easy, busy. Don’t move. I’m right here.”

It doesn’t take long for Ghost and Soap to catch up to you.

The scathing words on Ghost’s tongue die at the sight of you crouched next to Roach. They can only stare in shock. Saying Roach is a dog would be an understatement. Roach is massive. Megafauna. He might have been shaped like a wolfhound breed except for his massive, maned shoulders and elongated muzzle full of too-large teeth. You’re on your knees under the huge beast’s jaw, dagger sawing at the contraption holding him. Even laying on his belly, he towers over you.

Roach locks eyes with Ghost and Soap. They stop, standing completely still.

Ghost glances over his shoulder. “Think the big mutt can take care of himself,” he tells you, scanning for encroaching zeds in the dark.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur to Roach, totally ignoring Ghost. You’re still trying to soothe him, but your voice is frantic. “Almost got you out. Just stay still—”

The trap groans under your knife, but it holds fast. Then Roach growls—a loud, deeply unsettling sound that vibrates through the cave walls. His yellow eyes don’t leave the men behind you.

You hear Soap’s voice. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Is this what you were looking for when you…” He shakes his head and walks toward you. From his belt, he pulls out a large hunting knife. “Let me.”

“You should stay back,” you call over your shoulder. “He doesn’t know you. Don’t make him feel cornered.”

“Sound advice,” Ghost says.

Roach stares at Soap intently. Roach shifts a paw closer to you.

“Leave the dog alone, Johnny,” Ghost says. “It’s tryin’ to protect her. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re not a threat. You’re as good as dog chow.”

But Soap hesitates. “It’s our trap,” he admits. “If you’d let me help, I could show you how to free him quicker. We need to move.”

As if in response, Roach growls again.

You shoot a frustrated look over your shoulder. “It’s your trap? Why the fuck would you have a—"

There’s a loud crack and the trap splits under your knife. Roach lurches free. Instantly, he limps around you, getting between you and the two men.

“Easy!” you cry. “Roach, heel.” You bury your hands in the fur on his flank. He’s enormous. Your head doesn’t even reach his shoulder. You can’t stop him physically. You need him to listen to you.

Roach steps closer to Soap, staring him down. His breath blows Soap’s hair back.

Soap doesn’t back down just yet. He’s not a threat, right? He proved it to you, now he can prove it to your dog. He hates dogs. Goddamn hates them. Why’d it have to be a dog you were looking for? Big fucking bastard of a dog.

Ghost speaks quietly from just over Soap’s shoulder. “No sudden moves.”

“Easy,” Soap says, raising his hands slowly in what he hopes is a peacemaking gesture. The rifle is slung over his shoulder, out of sight as it can get, and he tries to relax his posture.

You duck around Roach and stand between him and Soap. “Calm down, Roach,” you say again, like you’re talking to a misbehaving terrier instead of staring up at an animal three times your size. “They’re friends. See?”

You grab Soap’s arm and lace your fingers together with his. He tenses in surprise, but you ignore it. Roach goes quiet and looks at you, cocking his head. You hold your joined hands up to his nose to sniff.

Soap looks from you to the dog and back to you. Underneath the tension laced through his whole body, he’s impressed.

Roach sniffs Soap's fingers with yours and seems to relax. You reach up and scratch the fur under Roach’s chin—or as close as you can reach, standing on your toes—and you bring Soap’s hand up to do the same.

"Looks like you're approved,” you say with a little too much surprise in your voice.

Soap swallows as he touches his fingers to Roach's tangled fur, trying not to think about those stories of dogs being able to smell fear. But he forces himself to unclench, just a bit. He's glad you're both okay. And glad he's not about to get snapped in half by a giant fuckoff hellhound.

Roach takes another massive, curious sniff of your hands. Then he moves on to sniffing the top of Soap's head. Then he lowers his enormous maw and licks Soap with a giant tongue.

Soap grimaces. He looks more grossed out than defensive, at least. You smirk.

Ghost makes no move to join the handholding circle. "Not the strangest travelers we've seen, but close," he says. He glances over his shoulder, shifting his rifle impatiently. The others are cleaning up the group of zeds, but the quicker they can get out of here, the better. It’s never a good idea to be out in the city for too long. Especially not somewhere any shambling creature could wander up in the dark.

Soap shoots Ghost a look before glancing back at you. You're still standing close. He lets go of your hand. It's calloused, he notes, like his. It wasn’t like that before. "You've got a way with beasts."

You walk down Roach’s flank, checking for injuries. “He’s not a beast. He’s my dog. You’ve seen what the mutagen does to animals, right? The ones it doesn’t kill. Changes them.” You pat Roach’s flank fondly. “But I adopted him before all this started, back when he was just a normal dog.”

"No one gets to be normal anymore," Ghost mutters.

Soap chuckles. "Well, he's a bloody tank now, isn't he? Big lad. How the hell you keepin' him fed?"

Ghost examines the bite mark you left on his hand. "Got a hunch.”

"I'd apologize, but you shouldn't grab people who don't want to be grabbed," you tell Ghost. "You're lucky I didn't go for my knife instead.

Ghost gives you a flat look. “I’d say you’re the lucky one for deciding against it.”

“Easy, LT.”

Ghost scoffs. "She's just much a beast as the hound.”

You finish your inspection and find nothing major. Just scrapes and bruises. Nothing bleeding. No open wounds to attract more zeds, thankfully. Relieved, you return to Soap and Ghost again, giving Roach another scratch under the chin. Then you notice blood on Soap’s leg, soaking into his jeans. “Is that blood yours?” you ask him.

Soap glances down. "Aye. Took a swipe from one of those undead bastards. It's nothin’.”

"Doesn't look like nothing," Ghost says.

"It's just a little blood. I'm fine," Soap says. He steps away, but staggers on his injured leg. Ghost appears instantly to support him at the shoulder.

You step back, grimacing. Open wounds are risky. There's always risk of infection. Worse, the smell of blood attracts muties.

"I said it's fine," Soap says, but his voice is strained. He's in more pain than he wants to let on.

"Let me see that." Ghost kneels and pulls Soap's pant leg up to examine it. Then he grunts and stands back up. "It's a bad gash, but it's not life-threatening."

"Mm," Soap agrees, obviously trying not to cause more worry for his teammate. "I'm fine. Just gotta walk it off. Be peachy tomorrow." Blood drips around his boot heel.

"You'd better get going," you tell them. "Sun's coming up."

"You'd better find somewhere safe yourself, hen," Soap says. "It's a horror show out here in the daytime. Runners clusterin’ in packs--"

"She'll be fine," Ghost mutters. "Take care of the log in your own eye before you worry about the splinter in hers."

You pat Roach. "Found what I came for. Thanks for that, ah... for your help, Soap."

"Aye. You're a scrapper, that's for sure. Good to know you've got a lot more muscle with that one backing you up." He nods at Roach.

Ghost helps him stand up straight. The three of you make your way back to the entrance of the tunnel. By now, Soap’s crew has cleared away enough that they can help Soap out as Ghost boosts him up. They offer the same to you, but you refuse. They hurry out of the way as Roach shoulders his way through the comparatively tiny passageway. He squeezes through, widening it, and you follow easily. More soldiers than you expect—all dressed and outfitted like Soap and Ghost, armed and armored to the teeth—watch from behind buildings and over rooftops. You get the feeling that they have eyes on every zed in this half of the city. Several of the soldiers converge on you, moving like shadows, to help Ghost heft Soap along.

You tread with the group until you reach the edge of the city. Or maybe it’s the edge of the forest. The tree line half-swallows the streets and homes.

“Look after yourself out there,” Soap calls over his shoulder. You salute wordlessly in reply, and his eyes linger.

You watch them make their way out of the city, disappearing into the enormous trees and tall grass. Once they’re gone from view, Roach nudges you gently.

"I know, I know," you mumble.

He sits on his haunches to let you to climb up and take your seat on his back. You take off running to the east, leaving them behind.

That would have been the end of it. Except it's not long before pass by more runners—more than two dozen of them. They don't bother with Roach, smelling the mutagen affecting him and missing your smell completely smothered in his—but the direction they're heading, they'll run head-on into Soap’s party for sure. And with Soap injured, the smell of blood, being outnumbered...

Dread and guilt coil in your stomach. It doesn't matter how good they are. They'll be overwhelmed.

But it doesn't matter, right? You have what you came for. You should keep going. Mind your business. Stay alive.

Roach paws at the ground, agitated, and you realize you’ve unconsciously pulled him to a stop. You glance up, checking the sun’s distance from the horizon. You owe them. They helped you. Wouldn’t you be dead without them?

You let out a long, irritated groan. Then you nudge Roach to turn around. “Let’s go get them,” you mutter.

Roach bounds off into the trees, his nose leading you both back to Soap, Ghost, and the others once again.

A few of the men almost jump out of their skin when they see the shape and size of Roach bounding toward them.

Roach pulls up beside them in a flurry of grass and dirt clods. “There’s a group of maybe thirty zeds heading this way,” you say, looking at Soap from your high mount. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world for you to be doing. “You’d better hurry or they’ll swarm you.”

Soap and Ghost exchange a look. “We’re moving as fast as we can,” Ghost says. “If they catch up, we fight like we always do.”

“You won’t be able to fight them all. Not without a few of you getting picked off.”

“We won’t abandon your own.”

“She’s just tellin’ us what she’s seen,” Soap says. “Wouldn’t have come back otherwise. Best to leave me out here and hustle back to camp. Easier to hide one person than a whole group. Can’t have you all dying just because I was a right idiot and got myself hurt."

Ghost glares at him. "That's not up for debate.”

Soap smirks back. "You sayin' I can't handle myself?"

"No one's leaving you here. You're coming with us, one way or another.”

"Hell," Soap mutters. He groans from the pain. "Amnae riskin' the team over my injury."

You listen to them bicker, shifting as you try to calculate how much time they have before the muties get here. Not long.

You should just leave now, right? You told them what was coming, which is more than they'd usually get. They can fend for themselves, right? They've done it before. A hundred times, probably. And if you stay, you're putting Roach at risk too.

But Soap's leg... that happened to him because he was helping you. God dammit. You can't just let this go. That's another favor you owe him.

You have Roach lay down and hop off him.

"Hey," you bark over their arguing. "Get on. Hurry."

They both pause. Soap narrows his eyes at you. Getting sniffed at by that big bastard is one thing. But riding him? He gives Roach a very wary look.

Ghost picks up on your plan immediately. He jerks his chin at Soap. "Get on."

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more Soap / masterlist

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! Since the "Archeologist Merlin and Immortal Camelot" au won the continuation poll, here is part 3 of this au!

You can find part 1 here, and part 2 here!

As a recap for this au, Merlin died at Camlann instead of Arthur, which led to his magic dispersing and making everyone in Camelot immortal, but it could only sustain them for so long before Merlin's prophesized return, so all of Camelot spent several centuries asleep, waiting for Merlin to return. Merlin, however, is reincarnated without his memories or his magic, and becomes an archeologist who is assigned to a dig site of an old medieval city. When he returns to Camelot, his dormant magic wakes everybody up again, leading to him and his coworkers believing that they had woken up the dead somehow and now were going to be killed for it. They're captured by Arthur and the knights, who assume that Merlin still remembers everything and is being kidnapped by the other archeologists. Arthur then has dinner with Merlin and figures out that, not only can Merlin not understand what he's saying, Merlin doesn't remember him at all. Arthur tries to jog Merlin's memory, but when that fails, Arthur kisses Merlin instead, which returns his memories to him.

Now that we've recapped what's happened, onto the new stuff!

NOTE: You can find the translations of the Old English at the bottom!

After Merlin's memories returned to him, he and Arthur had a very long conversation about how Merlin hadn't actually risen from the Lake of Avalon, as Arthur believed, but was rather reborn and lived an entire life before fate brought him back to Arthur's side and returned his magic and memories to him. Arthur, very distressed, asked Merlin if he had found a new lover in his new life, if one of Merlin's coworkers whom he had imprisoned was actually Merlin's new lover.

Much to Arthur's relief, Merlin shook his head, and told Arthur with a smile that his heart had held off, waiting to return to Arthur.

After Arthur released Merlin's colleagues, they wouldn't leave, insisting that they wouldn't leave Merlin behind to suffer at the hands of a terrifying undead king. It took a lot convincing on Merlin's part to make them leave temporarily, but Merlin came up with some explanation that they had found a way for Merlin to speak their language, and he was going to negotiate with them. It was the best that Merlin could do, considering that he couldn't really tell them the full truth that he was a reincarnation of a sorcerer who was friends with the king without convincing them that he had lost his mind.

However, after Merlin proved to them that he could now speak Old English and could communicate with the "undead" knights, his coworkers hesitantly made their way back out of the castle and up to the surface. They did insist that Merlin radio up to them every day so that they knew he was safe, which Merlin readily agreed to. He liked his colleagues, he really did, and he was very grateful that they were so willing to try to protect him, but he needed to be able to get to work without their interference.

Arthur and pretty much everyone else in Camelot were under the impression that Merlin would immediately return to work in the castle, working as either Arthur's advisor or his court sorcerer, which were positions that Arthur never had the chance to elevate Merlin to before his death. Arthur had only found out about Merlin's magic moments before Merlin sacrificed his life for Arthur's at Camlann. After Arthur was able to think past the grief that clouded his every thought following Merlin's death, he had legalized magic in Merlin's memory, fulfilling his destiny before he even knew about the prophecies.

However, Merlin knew that he couldn't drop off the face of the earth to move back into Camelot. If he disappeared, someone would notify the authorities, and if the government found the immortal kingdom Camelot, then all hell would break loose. No, Merlin had to keep up appearances in the life he had built for himself since his reincarnation.

But Arthur wasn't too thrilled to hear Merlin tell him that he needed to leave so soon after he had returned.

"Hwæt eart þū blǣdere on ymbe, Myrddin? Hwī wolde þū æfre neódan to lǣfan? Hwæt is swā micel be þǣm worulde ūt þǣr þæt hit þē ættrǣde fram Camelot?"

Merlin sighed deeply, looking at Arthur's pouting face. It was nice to see that Arthur was still a prat even after centuries apart.

"Ic nele þæt þæt geweorþe, ac gif ic forwurðe to þinum sīþum, mæg folc cuman me secan. Ic nele bēon þæt wundor þæt Camelot bið on gefēa. Se weoruld is māre gefēra þonne þu hī læftest, and ic nele geseon þæt ǣnig in Camelot bēo ġehyrsted."

Arthur puffed his chest in both indignation and pride. Merlin smiled, knowing what Arthur would say next.

"Nydwracu, Myrddin! Camelot is se strangesta gefeohtan mægen on eallum lande! Wē habbað bēon untēohlic and unāslegen for fēowertig wintra þanc þīnre gife! Ic behēte þē, wē magon ġefēran ǣghwæt þæt se ūteweard weoruld hæfð to āwurpan ūs."

Merlin gave Arthur a smile, but they could both tell that it was a bit strained. Arthur truly had no idea how dangerous the modern world had become, what vile weapons of destruction mankind had developed. Merlin wished to spare him that knowledge, and certainly didn't want Arthur to see it firsthand. Arthur gave Merlin a more reassuring smile back and clapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking Merlin gently.

"Būton þon, wē habbað se strangesta wiccecræftiga on eallum weorulde on ūrum gefēohte! Nān ōðer ne mihte wið ūs ġestandan gif hī dorston ūs tō ācwellan!"

Arthur's words had Merlin laughing, and Arthur smiled at him like he'd achieved something great. Oh, Arthur truly had no idea how different the world was, how little magic was left in it.

But still, Merlin feared for the safety of all of Camelot if he stayed. No, Camelot would be safest if it remained hidden, and Merlin couldn't let any attention be brought to it. His colleagues were already too frightened by their experience and the assumed "curse" that woke up the "dead" in the castle to tell anyone about what they truly found at the dig site.

Still, Merlin needed to provide his bosses some excuse for why they shouldn't proceed with any further excavations at this site, and he needed to come up with some explanation for all of his friends and other coworkers why he would need to put his life on hold for a while to work out some plan to make sure that Camelot can continue to exist in the modern world in peace.

And to do any of that, Merlin needed to leave Camelot for the time being. And still, Arthur resisted Merlin's suggestions that he needed to leave. Merlin supposed that, to Arthur, they could stay in the castle forever and just fend off whatever attacks came their way, and so there was no reason for Merlin to leave and venture back out into the scary, unfamiliar modern world.

While Merlin was somewhat touched by Arthur's fierce protectiveness, it wasn't helping in this situation.

"Ic Arthur, ic hæfde lifode on ðære ūtan weorulde for mīn eall līf siððan ic wæs ācenned. Ic beoð swīðe sāl on ðǣr!"

Arthur's frustration made itself known as he understood the implication that Merlin had been living in such a dangerous unknown world without any Arthur or any of his friend to support him.

"Ac þū self cwæðest þæt se middangeard is geworden swīðe dēadlic stōw! Þū ne scealt þē self in swylc unnyt gefāra, nā swā hræd swā þū eart eft to ūs gewend!"

Merlin frowned, trying to come up with some sort of compromise. He needed to keep Camelot safe, but to do that, he needed to leave, which he couldn't do with an overprotective dollopheaded king blocking his exit!

"Dēst þū þincð þæt geseon ðone ūtan weorulde mihte gelǣcan ðīn fyrhto? Ic mihte niman þē and sume ōðre mid mē eft to ðǣr ic hæfde lifode for ðā fēower geara, þæt þū mæge geseon ðone nīwan weoruld fram sumum sāllicum stōwe."

It was the best solution that Merlin could come up with. If Arthur came with him, he could see how much the world had changed and keep an eye on Merlin to his own satisfaction. Arthur looked rather determined as he accepted Merlin's offer.

"Gōd, ic ālǣte hit, ac gif wē mētað in gefāra, ic bebēode þæt wē gewendan to Camelot hrædlice. Ic ne wylle þæt wē beoð besencen in ādligum getimbrung butan ǣnigum fultume."

Merlin nodded and smiled at Arthur, trying to find the words to prepare Arthur for what he would face in the outside world, but largely failing. Merlin radioed his coworkers to let them know that he was coming out of the ruins with the king in tow, much to their shock and panic.

Merlin: Hey, I'm heading back home!

Other archeologists: Yay, you've escaped!

Merlin: And I'm taking the hot maybe-undead king home with me!

Other archeologists: Damn, we didn't know that you were freaky like that Merlin. You sure that's a good idea?

Merlin: ... I don't know if there's a correct response to that.

Merlin's colleagues all held their breath as the king, still in his armor and still fully armed with aa sword, exited from the sunken castle onto the dig site. He glared at them, but allowed himself to be led by Merlin over to Merlin's care. They all let out a sigh of relief when he was finally out of sight.

Merlin, on his part, tried to describe a car to Arthur before he actually rode in one, hoping to prepare him for the inevitable shock. He can plainly see that Arthur cannot imagine the "loud horseless carriage" that Merlin was describing, but he'd see it soon enough.

Arthur was rather shocked to see Merlin's car, looking unsure of what to make of what must like to him to be a large, malformed lump of steel. Merlin coaxed Arthur into sitting in the passenger seat and buckled him in, explaining that the restraint was for safety.

Arthur had done a remarkable job of remaining calm, in Merlin's opinion, before Merlin started the car. As the engine roared to life, Arthur yelped with fright, looking frantically around the inside of the car like he was inside the body of a ferocious beast.

Merlin took a few minutes to calm Arthur down, explaining that it was normal, and the car wasn't going to hurt either of them. After Arthur's panic seemed to subside, Merlin put the car in drive and started the 45 minute trip back to his flat, with Arthur keeping a hand clenched on the hilt of his sword for the entire ride.

Luckily, the route back to Merlin's flat took them through the countryside, so Arthur didn't have to experience the sensory overload of a city, but Arthur still caught glimpses of modern-day homes and shops.

Once they arrived at Merlin's flat, Merlin gently parked his car and led Arthur up the stairs to the level where he lived. All the while, Arthur stared at everything around him, from the electric lights to the unnaturally smooth walls to the odd floors that were made of some soft material.

Eventually, they arrived at Merlin's flat, and he let Arthur inside. Arthur froze almost immediately after passing over the threshold, unsure of what to make of... anything in the space.

Absolutely nothing looked similar to what was in Camelot. Arthur slowly made his way into the middle of the room, his hand still clenched on his sword's hilt. Everything looked so strange and foreign, with possible dangers hiding behind every corner.

Merlin tried to show him a few things, like how the torches in the ceiling could be lit and extinguished by flipping a little nub on the wall, which must b the work of sorcery, or how the strange steel box in Merlin's kitchen could keep food cold for days, which Arthur had been intrigued by. Merlin must have used his magic to capture the northern tundra in this box!

Merlin then showed him the "living room", where there were more familiar things like chairs and bookshelves, but also a strange black box on the wall. Perhaps it was some odd decoration?

Then Merlin showed him the bedrooms, which were, to Arthur's relief, not that different from bedrooms in Camelot. There was a bed, chests of drawers, and a room that acted similarly to a wardrobe.

However, Merlin then showed him the bathroom, where there was a bathtub that magically filled itself with water coming from the wall, and a latrine that magically cleaned itself with water!

After the tour, Merlin sat him down on the wide seat on the living room and told him to relax while he had to send a message to someone.

From there, I imagine this au could go two ways. Either it becomes a funny sitcom with Merlin trying to get his medieval friends accustomed to modern-day life, or it becomes an angsty drama about Merlin having to live a double life and having to live with being caught between two different worlds, knowing that if the government or the general public knew about his magic or Camelot's existence, it would mean disaster for everyone he cares about. I'll let you guys decide which version you like more!

TRANSLATIONS:

Hwæt eart þū blǣdere on ymbe, Myrddin? Hwī wolde þū æfre neódan to lǣfan? Hwæt is swā micel be þǣm worulde ūt þǣr þæt hit þē ættrǣde fram Camelot? = What are you blabbering on about, Merlin? Why would you ever need to leave? What's so great about the world out there that it would pull you away from Camelot?

Ic nele þæt þæt geweorþe, ac gif ic forwurðe to þinum sīþum, mæg folc cuman me secan. Ic nele bēon þæt wundor þæt Camelot bið on gefēa. Se weoruld is māre gefēra þonne þu hī læftest, and ic nele geseon þæt ǣnig in Camelot bēo ġehyrsted. = If the people in the outside world find out about Camelot, they might try to attack. I don't want that to happen, but if I disappear to stay with you all, people might come looking for me. I don't want to be the reason that Camelot is put in danger. The world is a much more dangerous place than you left it, and I don't want to see anyone in Camelot get hurt.

Nydwracu, Myrddin! Camelot is se strangesta gefeohtan mægen on eallum lande! Wē habbað bēon untēohlic and unāslegen for fēowertig wintra þanc þīnre gife! Ic behēte þē, wē magon ġefēran ǣghwæt þæt se ūteweard weoruld hæfð to āwurpan ūs. = Nonsense, Merlin! Camelot is the strongest fighting force in all the land! We have been untouchable and undefeated for centuries thanks to your gift! I assure you, we can handle anything that the outside world has to throw at us.

Būton þon, wē habbað se strangesta wiccecræftiga on eallum weorulde on ūrum gefēohte! Nān ōðer ne mihte wið ūs ġestandan gif hī dorston ūs tō ācwellan! = Besides, we have the strongest sorcerer in the world on our side! No one else would stand a chance against us if they dared to attack!

Ic Arthur, ic hæfde lifode on ðære ūtan weorulde for mīn eall līf siððan ic wæs ācenned. Ic beoð swīðe sāl on ðǣr! = Arthur, I have lived in the outside world for my entire life since I was reborn. I will be perfectly safe out there!

Ac þū self cwæðest þæt se middangeard is geworden swīðe dēadlic stōw! Þū ne scealt þē self in swylc unnyt gefāra, nā swā hræd swā þū eart eft to ūs gewend! = But you said yourself that the world has become a much dangerous place! You shouldn't put yourself in such unnecessary danger, not so soon after you've returned to us!

Dēst þū þincð þæt geseon ðone ūtan weorulde mihte gelǣcan ðīn fyrhto? Ic mihte niman þē and sume ōðre mid mē eft to ðǣr ic hæfde lifode for ðā fēower geara, þæt þū mæge geseon ðone nīwan weoruld fram sumum sāllicum stōwe. = Do you think that seeing the outside world would help ease your fears? I could take you and a few others with me back to where I've been living for the past few years, so that you can see the new world from somewhere safe.

Gōd, ic ālǣte hit, ac gif wē mētað in gefāra, ic bebēode þæt wē gewendan to Camelot hrædlice. Ic ne wylle þæt wē beoð besencen in ādligum getimbrung butan ǣnigum fultume. = Fine, I'll allow it, but if we run into danger, I demand that we return to Camelot at once. I do not want us to be caught in a dangerous situation without any backup.

And that's all for now for this au! Quick question for everyone though: I feel like I've got enough material already written on this au to reformat it a bit and post it as a fic on ao3. Would you all like for me to do that? Please let me know if so!

And thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[the-kr8tor]

May I have Bitter Orange in a ⭐ bottle please? The start of R and Hobie being handcuffed together before they turned, with R succumbing to the effects of the virus much faster than Hobie due to his spiderpowers, so for a bit he just watches his love become a husk of who they were before he too is a zombie?

*laughs evily* Yessss I've been waiting for a request exactly like this hwjsjwijsjaj hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k (whoops)

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), description of illness, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, zombie AU, Zombie apocalypse AU. Angst, Hurt/comfort

A prequel to this one shot

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The air is nice and cool on your face as you walk hand in hand with Hobie in the barren street. There's rows upon rows of abandoned houses, all in different stages of decay from both scavengers trying to survive and time itself proving to be the worst enemy. But it's on your side for now for it has given you infinite time to be with him.

Hobie's hand is suddenly on your scarf, fingers gingerly sliding the fuzzy material up to your chin. He smiles at you, the sun blindingly light behind him. Despite the apocalypse, he still looks just as handsome. He has new shallow scars on his chin where a stubble is slowly growing, hair a bit of a mess but beautiful nonetheless. You've once told him after a lucky find of one whole pound of chocolate pudding that he's apocalypse chic, that he makes the end of the world look good. To which he laughed and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your mouth. Compared to him you probably look like a mess, you wouldn't know, you've ignored mirrors ever since you ran out of shampoo a few days ago.

“What are you thinkin' ‘bout, gorgeous?” He tugs you closer to him, the crowbar hanging from his backpack clinks against the machete next to it.

“That I really need shampoo, and that you look unfairly handsome in this light.”

Chuckling, he intertwined his fingers around your own. It could mean death for the both of you if the undead suddenly lunges and he doesn't have enough time to take his hand away from you. But he thinks it's alright for him to do, to indulge himself to your touch since the entire place is empty save for a few dead cars and scattered luggages left by people.

“You should see yourself in my eyes, lovie, the greasy hair is doin' a lot for me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when you pat my head and you get petrol on your hand?”

“We need petrol, d’you think if I bunch up your hair and squeeze it I can collect the oil?”

You nudge him playfully, “you're an ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're stuck with this arse.”

Your mind goes back to your friends and family you've left behind. “Do you think they're okay?”

“'m sure they are, Yuri's got them, and they have Ned, he'll whip them into shape. ‘sides, we're almost at James’, if I was them I'd stay there.” He adjusts his hold on his pack and guitar. “We'll find them.”

You smile, nuzzling his bicep for his own reassurance, knowing that he also worries for them. “You're right. They're probably doing better than us.”

“Yeah,” he pecks the crown of your head. “They're living like kings, I bet.”

You two stop in front of a large house, complete with white marble steps and tall roman columns. “James' dad never had taste, huh?”

Hobie snorts, “his son took all of it. C’mon, then.” He leads you on the porch, trying the door, wishing that it was locked because if it is it means that someone's inside, that they're surviving and waiting for the two of you. To his despair, the door opens without a problem.

Hobie looks back at you having the same expression. “It's okay,” you try to be optimistic, “maybe they left a message for us.”

He nods, “yeah, maybe.” Crossing the abandoned space, he takes his guitar from his back to strum a tune. When he doesn't hear stumbling or any rattling from anywhere inside the house, he continues forward, but his guard is still up. “We might as well get some supplies while we're ‘ere.”

“Yeah, there might be some left in here.” You give him a small smile. “How about we split up? This place is too big, it'll take us forever to comb over this place.”

Hobie considers it for a moment. The place seems pristine except for the furniture and cabinets that are picked clean, so he deems it safe. “Okay, just…” you walk to his side, rubbing his arms, smiling sweetly at him even though he probably doesn't smell the best. “...keep your knife close.”

“I will keep my knife close,” you repeat his words, “and I'll stay alert.” Poking at his chest, you peck the frown off his lips. “And you keep safe.”

He's still apprehensive, but he knows you can hold your own. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fully, smooching until you're giggling. “We’ll meet back ‘ere in fifteen.”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” You mock salute. “Any special requests?”

“Chocolates.”

“I said a request, not wishful thinking.” You tease, he has an urge to kiss you again.

“Towels, the nice fluffy ones.” You slide your hands away from him, to which he already longs for.

“Got it! I bet James has a ton of them.” You wink, knife in hand, walking away from him.

Hobie watches your retreating back, tamping down his anxieties. He searches upstairs, grinning at James' familiar room. His posters and messy floors remain untouched, the bed still looking like it was tossed around by a tornado. He almost cries at the picture frame on the bedside table containing his band's smiling faces plus you who's embracing him.

Turning the frame around, he takes the picture and pockets it to show to you. After rummaging James' room, he takes a few shirts and pants for him and you. He even finds a pair of silk pajamas that he knows you'll love. A piercing scream echoes around the house, he immediately bolts downstairs, heavy footsteps thudding across marble floors.

You're on your back, fighting for your life while the undead on top of you tried to get a chunk out of you. It all stops when Hobie's guitar connects to the corpse's skull in a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

You scramble away, neck and arm in pain. Hobie's wide eyes meet yours just as when the back door bursts open, revealing a whole horde of the undead. Panicking, he yanks you up, holding your hand, running outside to more of the shambling dead.

“Fuck!”

“Hobie!”

“Just hold on!” His hand is tight around yours, you try to run at his pace, panic in your veins, adrenaline in his.

It feels like you've been running forever, Hobie sees an opening hidden in an alley. He can climb on his own without a ladder but you can't. So he leads you towards the empty alley while the rotten, decayed corpses of once human beings run after you at full speed.

Hobie jumps to take down an emergency ladder, without missing a beat, he grabs your waist and throws you on the ladder. You climb, but the pain in your arm gets worse so you're slower but you still try for him.

The undead finally gets to the alley, you don't dare to look down. Once you're on the rooftop, you peek below to see him struggling to get up the ladder, he's halfway with a handful of zombies dangling on his leg.

You scream his name but it's too late, one of the undead has bitten a chunk of his leg as he tries to kick the former human off the ladder where he's desperately trying to climb to. You wish he didn't run out of web fluid, you wish the world didn't end, you wish the throbbing pain on your arm is just muscle spasm, but the warm crimson seeping out of teeth marks says differently.

With a sickly crunch, the zombie falls down the ladder and into the rotten horde. Hobie climbs up quickly back to you, hands immediately grasping on to you.

“Did it get you?!” You yell, still in denial, frantically checking in hopes that his boot saved him. Your heart falls into your stomach at the sight of broken skin, blood staining your fingers where you hold the hem of his trousers away to get a better look. You're frozen on the spot, tears clinging to your lashes. “Hobie,” you gasp, taking off your scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet around and above the bite. “Fuck—!”

“You okay?!” He does the same to you, heaving, ripping off your sleeves like a madman trying to find the secrets hidden in your skin. He prays that he finds none. His eyes widen, terrified, broken hearted, shaking his head, refusing the fact that you're infected. “No,” he shakes his head again, closing the torn up cloth around the slowly rotting wound. “It's just a scratch, love, y-you’re not—”

“Hobie…” you smile bitterly, eyes mirroring his own. He rips the hem of his shirt, using the cloth to wrap it around your arm, just above the wound in an attempt to stop the spread. He ignores the stinging pain on his leg. “Hobie, stop, it's—”

“We can still stop it!” He yells desperately, tying the cloth tightly. “It's just a scratch.”

“Hobie, please.” You hold his trembling hands, “it has been ten minutes.” He refuses, you squeeze his hand weakly, the virus already taking hold. Slowly killing you. “And—” with trembling hands, you show him the gaping bite on your neck, oozing dark decaying blood. He choked on a sob. “B-but there's a chance for you, your abilities might've made you immune—”

“No, if you're goin’, ‘m goin’” He stands up, not giving up on you. “There's a chemist’s ‘ere, maybe if w-we…” he puts on a brave face amidst the impending doom and rotten flesh that stings his nose. “Maybe there's somethin’ there.” Hand reaching down, you smile up at him, orange and pink hues from the sky dancing around your face. “C-can you get up?” His voice breaks, chest heaving. “I can carry you. Don't make me carry you, love.”

You slide your hand onto his own. “Hobie,” your voice is soft above the mindless groaning below. His eyes beg you to move. So you do. “Okay,” with a single word, you bring him hope.

With divided effort, you both make it towards the roof of the pharmacy. He was uncharacteristically silent the whole way, but his hand never left yours. His eyes never met with your wounds that's slowly festering. You feel it inside you, the fever, the virus that's eating at you, spreading throughout your body, gnawing at every bit of your warmth like a seed taking root. Hobie feels it too, he's terrified that you're experiencing it too. It's his worst fears came to life only because he wasn't fast enough.

Opening the creaky door, he hopes that it's devoid of the undead. Like he's not on the brink of eating flesh, he does his usual prep. He strums his guitar softly to attract any walking corpses waiting behind doors, when none comes out, he cracks the door wider. With his torch, he lights up the way. But he doesn't feel your presence behind him.

Looking over his shoulder was a mistake, he finds you hunched over the doorway, groaning quietly, nails clawing at the throbbing wound around your neck. That's the moment he knew that you'd go out before him. For the first time, he curses his gifts.

Slowly, he crosses the distance towards you, shaking hands grasping your shoulders. You're warm, incredibly warm. “Love?” He could cry, but he doesn't want you to see his sorrow.

You sniff, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the tragedy of it all. You've accepted that you were infected, but not him, you'd take the virus from him too if you could. “I'm s-sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've—”

“Oi, none of that, yeah? You're gonna be fine.” He says it to convince himself. “You'll be back on your feet tomorrow and by then we'll see Yuri and the others.” Nodding, he takes you by your arm, careful of making your wounds worse. There's blood sticking to his clothes, seeping through his clammy skin. He hates the fact that it was yours. Bringing you behind the counter, you almost keep over. “I've got you, I've got you.” He says it against your temple like a prayer.

“H-Hobie.” You sob, salty tears marring your pretty face. “I can't— it hurts.” The gnawing feeling gets worse, as if a chainsaw is ripping you apart from the inside. “It's so hot, I–I can't breathe.”

“O-okay, I'll set you down ‘ere, get you comfortable. There's some fever meds over there. It'll help.” His hazel eyes pleads for anyone, anything that'll help you. He helps you sit down, and you immediately lie down on the cold tiles. “Do you want a blanket?”

“N-no,” you're hot and cold at the same time. “I don't know.” You look up at him, he sees the light in your eyes fading. “I don't feel so good, Hobs.”

Hobie could only look away from you, inhaling, exhaling but it doesn't feel like he's breathing right. He kneels down, setting his guitar next to you, palm placed on your forehead. “This is nothing, love.” He tries to smile, but fails. “Remember when you had the flu?” You nod weakly, “you were a fuckin' beast, you beat it on your own in just a few days.”

Even though you feel your heartbeat going faster and then slowing down in a weird rhythm like a heartbeat monitor going haywire, you smile for him. “I was, wasn't I?”

He rubs your bicep, under his touch, he feels your muscle twitch. “Yeah, you still are.”

You chuckle softly, tears sliding down your cheeks and into the cold tiles. “Okay, get me the meds.”

“That's my girl,” laying his forehead atop yours, he hopes that he'll take your pain away with the simple gesture, but it's futile. “I'll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Smiling, he squeezes your arm. “Never.” Standing up, he rummages through the entire place for the pills you need. Crouching down to check under the broken shelves, climbing up on the walls to get a bird's eye view, and all the while ignoring his own pain. It's slim pickings, but he manages to find a single bottle of tylenol that has rolled under a shelf, it's not enough, but it'll do.

With a victorious sigh, he quickly makes it to the counter, rounding the corner, he sees you wheezing, catching your breath and with blood leaking out from your eyes and ears. “No, no, no!” He takes you in his arms, making you sit up. “I've got the meds, love. Oi, open your eyes for me.” You crack one eye open tiredly. “That's it, good job.” He almost cries when you smile at him through the thick fog of illness.

“G-good job,” you murmur, he doesn't know if you're delirious or you're congratulating him for finding the medicine.

“Bottoms up.” He brings two pills to your mouth, to which you gladly take. Giving you his canteen, you drink most of it, downing the tepid water. “That's good, see, you're already gettin' better.”

You shake your head weakly, barely opening your eyes. “Thanks to you, Hobie.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He tries to joke but it comes out choked when blood still leaks out of your tear ducts. Sitting next to you, he now feels his temperature rise so he takes the same amount of pills as you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, hand shakily reaching towards his own. “I'm sorry.”

He almost breaks down at your apology. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.” Meeting your hand halfway, he intertwined his fingers with yours, you're cold now, frozen under his hold. “D’you want that blanket now?”

“Please,” you wheeze out.

Hobie obliges, taking a thick blanket from his pack and then draping it around you as if it'll protect you from the infection. “There, nice and cozy, eh?”

“Thank you,” he feels your crimson fall down on his collar. “For everything.”

“None of that, Y/N, please. None of that.”

“I still want to talk to you.” Your voice is soft and small. “I still want to stay with you.”

Hobie brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. “And we will be, after this—” a sob escapes from him. “After this, we'll be together, yeah? Just like how we talked about.”

“Forever and ever?”

His tears flow freely, “yeah, forever and ever.” After a beat of silence, he fears the worst. “Love?”

You cough, he sighs in relief. “Still here, Hobs, not leaving yet.”

“Not yet,” embracing you, he lays his chin atop your head, you're made comfortable in his hold. Home, you feel like you're back home in his houseboat, watching a shitty romcom while he rambles on about his patrol. You want to be back there again. He wants to be back there again. “Can I say somethin'?”

You hum into his chest, squeezing his hand tighter but your sickness, he barely felt it.

“I don't want to…” he could barely say it. “I don't want to kill you. ‘m sorry, I know we talked about it—”

You lean up, he's met with milky eyes, he knows you can barely see him now. “Then don't, I don't want you to—” you pause, clinging to humanity. “— to feel that before you go.”

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, crying, weeping into your skin. “I couldn't save you, ‘m so fuckin' sorry, love, ‘m so sorry.” He shakes, you gather enough strength to embrace him and bury yourself in his chest, letting his scent waft around you for comfort.

“Don't apologize, nothin' to apologize for.”

He sniffs, peppering your face with heavy weakened kisses. “Oi, don't use my own words against me.”

You smile against the rough leather of his jacket. “Can I say something?”

“Go,” he can practically see the countdown. “We have all the time in the world, love.” There's something warm leaking out of his eyes and ears. He's catching up to you.

You'd laugh but you can feel your life slipping through your fingers. “When we turn, I don't want us to be separated.”

“What do you propose?” He tries to inhale but he could only let out a sickening cough.

“Tie our hands together…really tight.” Your words fade away, but you still hold on.

“I've got rope here, I can do it now.”

“But I'll turn first, Hobie, I-I might—”

“It'll be my honour to be your first meal.”

“I'd laugh if we weren't dying right now.” Eyes too tired to open, you feel the rough rope around your wrist, and the unmistakable sound of a knot getting tied. You smile for the last time when you feel his fingers wrap around your own. “I love you.”

“How's that? Too tight?” He whispers close, he feels you slipping away, “Y/N? Love?” he breaks down when your hand falls limp around his own. “Not yet, please, not yet.” He holds you, rocking you back and forth like a babe needing to be held. Your heart doesn't beat in sync with his anymore. “C’mon, not yet, we still have to find the rest of the band, right?” His eyes cloud over, cold taking root inside his entire body. “Say somethin’, fuck!” He yells with all his might, “I love you, fuck, please wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he wraps you in what's left of his warmth. “Don't go, please.” Hobie pleads and cries until he can no longer breathe the same air as you. His last thoughts were of you.

[crushedsweets]

Would you ever consider including nurse ann in more of your art/ stories? She's one of my favorite characters and I think your design for her is amazing lmao- I'd also sort of like to know what her relationship with the others would be like

yes. actually. i would love to . ok i have some vague ideas for how shed fit into the lore so thatll be under the cut !! i also start rambling about lulus lore too cuz i decided theyre friends.

ok so, again, my au is based around slenders forest being like... some sort of magnet for the paranormal. slenderman wants to keep all of these cryptids within the forest.

since its in a fictionalized forest in tuscaloosa, where marble hornets was filmed, i decided to move the abanonded hospital they visited up north of the tuscaloosa lake. she roams there.

SOOOOO nurse ann is just... a demon. slenders forest is sort of like limbo for a lot of the cryptids and kinda puts them in like.. a long daze and loops unless they're consistently leaving or being grounded by humans.

i dont EXACTLY know why/how she's in that specfic hospital, especially since i dont believe she has an official origin? maybe when the hospital shut down, she was let go and wasn't transferred to work in a new hospital, so she lost her shit and preformed some crazy rituals that ended up making her an undead nurse ? now she's forever roaming the hospital. or maybe she was killing patients when she was a human and kept doing weird demon shit with their bodies and the operator/zalgo fed off of her bad vibes. LOL IDK.

now about lulu cuz i drew her too.

i used to be sooo fond of lulu. and i originally said she was just going to be another ghost roaming the forest pointlessly, mourning everything and being incapable of interacting with humans, BUUUUUT. she is 24 and NOT A GHOST?!?!??!?! IDK WHY ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST A GHOST WHO AGES CUZ YK HOW CHIBIWORKS STUFF WAS BACK THEN LOL... i def am tired of little kids being tortured and all these children ghosts tho so im kinda glad to have smth new to write. anyway. so im thinking lulus just another little demon thing... i'm thinking her story goes.

she was in strict private schools all of k-12, and went to uni on her own in tuscaloosa. she wanted to branch out, have a little rebelious phase, make friends, etc. tried to join a co-ed frat. she experienced an absolutely horrific hazing when she was like 19, the frat fully believed they killed her by accident and in their panic, tried to bury her in slenders forest, and some demonic entity in the forest infected her before she was buried fully. she ends up climbing out of her shallow grave, never having died. perhaps the operator did it, perhaps zalgo like in her og lore ? PERHAPS ANN CUZ SHES A DEMON HERSELF?

anywaaayyyyy :3 l think theyd be cute friends. they just look really cute together and i could see good chemistry so i totally would love to expand on them and make them friends. maybe expand more on the type of species they are, what kind of powers they have(esp if i make ann the demon who infects lulu).

BUUUUT ALSO this made me realize i should totally look into adding zalgo to my lore. cuz it doesnt make sense for the operator to make anyone a demon, thats not really what he does.... and i dont want him to do that i just dont like the vibes. so mmm yes.

anyway in terms of relationships..

lulu and her are cool good besties beautiful they would take selfies and do tiktok dances together.

masky and hoody are incredibly indifferent to her, because they dont have to worry/visit her often. she stays in the hospital thats in the forest, and thats exactly where slenderman wants her, so theyre content. theyre kinda grateful she keeps lulu in the hospital too, cuz lulu actually freaks them out bc she'll be jumping at them and shit talking about their eyes.

tobys EXTREMELY scared of ghosts (bc of his hallucinations of his sisters ghost . . ). he eventually gets over it(kinda?) with sally, but he keeps accusing ann and lulu and the sort of being ghosts cuz they just.. kinda pop in and out. at least jack has to walk into the room to show up. so he doesnt like them

mmm jack wouldnt like her IF he knows that she kinda turned herself into a demon through like, a ritual or smth. he'd be beyond pissed to know someone CHOSE to be what he is. if he doesnt know, he doesnt care for her. he kinda jokes about 'well why dont YOU be their medic' and shes like 'dont fuckin wanna be'.

jane and liu and kate prob dont know her... kate might but wouldnt care.

jeff would prob think shes hot or some bullshit and nina would be beyond pissed. at first ninas like AHHH SHES SO COOL cuz shes a fangirl at heart, but the second she hears a single 'goddamn' from jeff shes livid.

ben prob wouldnt care much for her... hes so uninterested in demons idk why i just feel like he doesnt care.

clockwork would LOVE HER. she'd think she's so fucking cool. she'd try talking to her all the time but ann prob wouldnt be interested in clocky at all...

ofc the proxies purposefully come into contact with the paranormal the most because thats their job, so i wrote the most for them, but that doesn't mean theyre the closest or anything.

ok thank u anon you did smth to my brain that benefitted my mental health cuz i love writing this shit for the creeps thank u sm .

[soysaucevictim]

Recent music blogging had me thinking about Eminem music.

And then the Promethean!AU. (Body horror heavy AU.)

Each chapter title in the Disquiet Story Compilation is a line from different metal songs, yeah?

Roman - Edenian "Song of the Furies"

Logan - Iron Maiden "The Alchemist"

Janus - Scar The Martyr "Blood Host"

Patton - myGRAIN "Plastic"

Virgil - Emmure "Demons with Ryu" (to be written later...)

Remus - AC/DC "Thunderstruck" (ditto)

There's some auxiliary tracks I kind of thought about while writing some of this...

Like for Roman's would be Eminem's "Stan" because that story is around, well, a Stan. One that straight up tries to kill the guy. :,D

And for Patton, he probably resonates a little too much to Aurelio Voltaire's "Almost Human" despite being a priest.

[brittle-doughie]

Sense Pure Vanilla Cookie had the ability to heal and crate shields, I think we can play around with that for the beast AU. perhaps he not only This allows the concept of death within his kingdom, But he puts up many strong words build up by crescent moon magic to make sure that nothing is to hurt his precious cookies. Pure Vanilla Cookie's power may have gotten stronger with his Ascension to beast Hood, But the spells he uses to keep cookies alive will have severe side effects if they're are too far from his kingdom, resulting in mindless undead.

To keep up the facade of a perfect kingdom, All thoughts of negativity must be snuffed out immediately. Either by kindness or by force. The kingdom itself has grown with the beast power, and some say there's a building resistance hoping to overthrow and endless nightmare.

The Prophet of Salvation (or just Beast Vanilla) has gone through many lengths to make sure his kingdom remained a perfect utopia, where no cookie ever grew stale and crumbled, where cookies can live without suffering heart wrenching loss.

But is this really for THEIR benefit or his? The Prophet will advise not to wander too far from the kingdom or bad things will happen, that’s why you MUST listen to him! Not everyone agrees with this act of forced upon kindness on them, Strawberry Crepe and Black Raisin Cookie will not feed into his delusions.

They need to get out or suffer like the many negativities before them had…