#clawing my way back to alertness like a zombie...

[intertexts]

ohh god post warm summer afternoon nap malaise.

[thiawen]

I had a thought that I will most likely include in one of my fics but I wanted to share it in case anyone else might like to use it.

So when Jason came back to life, it’s often questioned why Bruce didn’t notice. Lots of possible answers but in a DPxDC verse here is what I propose.

The GIW, in their hunt for ecto-entities, have set up scanners in what they consider high risk places. Gotham cemeteries are one such place. I’m thinking it’s because of Grundy. If you know a zombie has popped up there before, you’re going to be on the lookout for more.

So they get an alert when Jason claws his way out.

They are the ones who cover up the evidence that Jason’s grave was disturbed. And they track him to the hospital. Even though he is impaired, Jason obviously gets away. And the GIW covers up the records there, too. Maybe they just bribe and threaten people, maybe they actually silence them in a more permanent fashion.

So the GIW know that Jason has come back and are actively hunting him. The League just finds him first.

The way I’m going to use this is different but I thought it opened up a lot of other possibilities that you guys might want to play with.

What if the GIW did catch him? Then or later? What if Bruce discovers Jason is alive because he finds the file in the GIW’s servers? What if they come after him after Bruce has him declared alive again? What happens when Bruce realizes he would have found his son if not for their interference?

I’m sure there are a lot of other ways this could be used that I’m not thinking of. Have fun with it.

[quirkle2]

oh nooo that's quite a bummer :( but i'm very glad that i helped brightening up your day :") tbh your writing brightens up my day too (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

AND WAIT I'VE BEEN ACTUALLY QUITE THINKING ABOUT WHETHER ZOMBIE MOB HAS FOUGHT OFF A ZOMBIE WHEN I ASKED IF HE HAS EVER BITTEN SOMEONE and since you brought it up, well, would be okay to ask about the details of how it went 👁️👁️ (also him fighting off a fellow zombie to protect tome got me sobbing)

- 🪻

aww im glad my silly little words brighten ur day!! ur so sweet :]

and yes, it went horribly <3! tome prolly wasn't paying attention as closely as she should've been and got herself surrounded by a crowd. to be clear, that's not Always dangerous, since zombies arent like,, after ur brains in this constantly. but these zombies did look quite hungry, and human or not, she looked like a good meal,,

she had wandered off a bit from mob n ritsu, but mob heard the commotion first. tome has a big fucking baseball bat in this au that she likes to swing around, but a baseball bat can only get u so far in terms of self defense. she thins the horde but there's simply too many of them

mob lets exactly One zombie grab her and yank her toward them before he goes ballistic

watching zombies fight is a lot closer to watching wild animals fight than anything else, and it gets quite horrid sometimes. since their bites aren't rly "dangerous" to each other beyond the typical Oh No a Chunk of Flesh is Gone (not even painful for them, since their nerves r.. less than functional), the fight is a lot more close up and gruesome than a fight against a zombie and a human would be. humans usually back away from zombies immediately and try not to touch them at all in fear of getting bitten; zombies don't need to care abt that

most of the horde realizes that this meal isn't going to be easy and they wander off, but a few more hungry, more desperate ones try to rip into mob's throat at the first sign of defiance. it's not exactly a fair fight; it's like 1 against 4, so he's sorta bound to lose

thankfully ritsu shows up and shoots two of them down (he's Terrified of shooting mob by accident, but either way he'll probably die, so) and tome gets the last one with a good swing to the head. ritsu rushes to mob and is horrified by the amount of blood dripping from his neck and his arm; tome is equally as shocked, but she's mostly thinking, "ive Never seen a zombie defend a human before"

mob's neck is thankfully mostly just scraped up and clawed, but there Is some gruesome punctures where canines sank in and tugged. it's a lot worse along his arm that's bitten and gouged beyond belief. he loses a lot of blood here, but the whole nerves-no-longer-work thing is a blessing in disguise atm; he'd be in a lot of pain otherwise. while ritsu and tome are patching him up w shaky hands he simply glares beyond their shoulders like he thinks he's still in danger, even when they tighten the bandages. it's like he barely notices what they’re doing

his strangely alert behavior makes them think abt the possibility that maybe mob Knows he could've easily been shredded apart there, and he's a little scared and worked up abt it. the only reason he managed to fight as long as he did without dying is prolly bc the other zombies weren't as well-fed as mob—they were kinda weak and shaky from days of no food, but mob has humans taking care of him and keeping him fed 24/7

they're all shaken up by it pretty good.. tome is still reeling from the fact that mob defended her so valiantly, and ritsu is quietly horrified by the idea of another zombie killing mob instead of a human. he doesn't know which is worse

[tellthatbrokebitch]

birthday present! snippet from the next chapter of the zombie apocalypse au - this time with ACTUAL zombies!

They’re almost out of there when they hear it.

First is the groaning, a sound they’ve all - Steve and Will, that is - been conditioned to respond to with a dip in the stomach, a feeling of overarching dread. Next is the shuffle of feet, dragging listlessly on the ground. And finally, the most dreaded noise of them all: the uptick in activity, the snorts and snarls that signify their presence has been noticed.

Erica is less familiar with it, as she was only occasionally allowed to join Lucas on scouting missions, but after several seconds the sounds seem to register and she freezes in place. Mabel, however - Mabel is new.

Without looking up, she says, too loud too loud, “Should I grab these, too? They don’t-”

Someone reaches out and grabs her - Will isn’t sure who, because he’s already lunging for the door stupid stupid, he didn’t make sure it was closed, and the only thing that saves them is the fact that the door has partially closed itself, already halfway to shut when Will slams into it and pushes it the rest of the way. A filthy hand manages to slip through, trying to scratch and claw for them with its dark, blood-stained talons. But Will is nothing if not determined, and he pulls back minutely to slam against the door again, and again, putting all of his weight into the motion. A second later, someone comes up on his left to lend their weight too, and someone else bashes the hand with something club-like, and finally the door crashes shut.

“Fuck,” Erica says; she’s the one on his left, now sagged against the door and breathing just as heavily as Will. “How are we going to get past those smelly undead assholes? There’s only one door!”

Steve drops the trophy and lifts both hands to rake through his hair. “Shit! Shit, we can’t - Will, did you see how many were out there?”

“No, I was kinda busy! Judging by the noise, though-” because the zombies were still there, raking their nails against the door and slamming against it and howling and snarling with hunger and rage- “too many!”

“So what are we going to do?” Erica asks again, staring right at Steve. “You’re the experts! What do you usually do in these situations?”

“We don’t get into these situations, Erica, there is no usually! We have no plan!”

“Okay, if we survive this, you can be damn sure I’m going to kill you myself! You thought my mom was scary, you haven’t seen nothing. Count your days, Harrington-”

Will looks away as they bicker, over to the corner where he expects Mabel to still be frozen in shock. She isn’t paying them any attention; instead, she’s fumbling for something by the window, the lift cord, and as he watches she tugs on it, raising the blinds. “Mabel?” he calls out, and when she glances back at him, eyes wide and startled but blessedly alert, he continues, “Do you have an idea?”

“Oh, I - I think I saw, before we came in - the roof-”

As soon as her words register, Will rushes over to her side, peering out of the window she’s just hastily opened. The roof is indeed right below the window, and he gives a soft whoop. “Good eye, Mabel! Okay, I’m gonna go first, okay? Make sure there’s a way down safely.”

He makes sure his pack is secure on his back before swinging through the narrow window, awkwardly straddling the window pane for a moment before swinging the other leg over. From further inside the room, there’s the ear-splitting sound of breaking wood, but when he sticks his head back inside, Mabel pushes him back out - gently, but with enough force to get the point across. “Go!” she hisses, which at least tells him that she’s learned her lesson about speaking too loudly, even if it’s sort of a moot point at this stage. “Steve’s got it, just go!”

[ogdoadfates]

It was only a cough: Ch #8 Killbox

Warning! I do try my best to describe the zombies so this chapter has descriptions of rotting corpses and gore!

Also I am so so sorry this chapter took forever!! I had a hard time writing it sadly even if I was excited too. ( ao3 link )

He told them , he fuckin told them. Grog was pissed, angry, enraged, whatever you wished to call it as he stared up into the slightly deflated eyes of the foul smelling zombie he’s struggling with. Grog grunts, he can feel the blood running free from his flesh where the living corpse had scratched him. He told everyone they shouldn’t have split up but they did anyway and look where that got them. With one last hefty shove he overpowers the zombie, its squirming flesh leaving a residue of grime, blood, and gods know what else on Grogs hands and body.

With a swift motion Grog grabs his sledgehammer from the floor where it’d fallen and with one quick swing, lobbed it onto the wretched things already dilapidated skull. With a resounding crack and thunk gray matter and gore flings about the tiles of the room Grogs in. He stands still and listens for a moment, he knows he’s rather deep within the hospital which means the others are too most likely. 

For a couple moments all he can hear is the moans and groans of the other zombies infesting this horrorshow of a building and just before he decides to go back to what he’d been doing he hears it. 

A blood curdling scream rings out like a beacon to summon death, the zombies in the halls responding in a rushed yet faltering sprint to wherever the sound originated. Like the undead Grog responds but unlike them, his muscles work and his determination comes from something else other than hunger. Grog runs, swinging his hammer around to clear a path, he’ll be littered with cuts due to how reckless he’s being. Fucking hell he can easily get bit by running through a hoard like this, but by the gods it’d be worth it if he can prevent a member of his family from dying by one of these wretched things.

Grog already had a hard time thinking of this place as a hospital and not just a glorified meat bag when he was sneaking around but now as he runs he can’t help but think of how it looks like a never ending hallway made of wriggling, worm infested, rotted flesh as everything blurs together.

As he rounds a corner his blood runs cold before relighting with fury. Vex was hunched behind Pike, clutching her side as blood seeped through her fingers. They're surrounded by zombies and no way in hell was Grog not going to change that. With a roar to rival that of a dragon he charges in, knocking the head off of one of the zombies closest to his friends, spraying blood and muscle around the room.

They needed to get out of this hell hole, now!

Vex is terrified. Everything had been going so well, as well as it can be in a hospital full of cannibalistic undead that is, they found quite a fair bit of meds and other supplies but of course something had to go wrong. It wouldn’t be them if it went without a hitch.

She should have been paying more attention, hell she should have brought Trinket with her instead of leaving him in the car with the others and now she got clawed by a zombie, screamed bloody mary alerting every single undead fucker in the area to her and Pike’s location, Grog’s rushed over to them and heavens know if his thoughtless run to them got him bit or not and she doesn’t know where the hell her brother is because he decided to be a dick and sneak off first chance he got.

Vex clutched at her side, it wasn’t a huge cut but enough to spill a fair amount of blood but she kept her hand pressed to the wound. Wouldn’t do them any favors if it got infected. She can hear the near silent choir of okays that release themselves from Pike’s mouth as she tries her best to keep any of the festering undead that haven’t gone after Grog away from them.

“Shit!” Pike shouts, swinging her wooden bat wide to whack a zombie that had been sneaking up on them away, a sickening crack signaling the crushing of the corpse’s ribs as well as notifying them of the bat's withering condition rattles the room. “Buddies, we need to find Vax and leave! Now!” The white haired woman shouts. Vex can feel her panic rising, like Pike said they need to leave but where the fuck did her brother go?!

Vex’s vision is swimming from panic and all she can hear is what she could only describe as a crusade of death, gnashing teeth, blood splattering onto the walls and floors, shattering of bone and the sickening gurgle of death finally claiming the bodies of the undead just like it did the souls before. 

It takes some time but eventually they are running, completely forgoing stealth they shout and yell for their missing member. Only takes a few unanswered calls to cause the dam to break, tears rain down Vex’s face with vengeance. She can not lose her brother, if she loses him she loses herself. They are two halves to a whole, not one without the other. 

Her calls more so resemble the shrill shriek of a mother who’s lost trace of her child at this point, yet she keeps at it. It takes what feels like ages but finally they get an answer, though not necessarily in the way she’d like.

Vax crashes through one of the windows of a room, quickly scampering up and proceeds to run to join them. Rotting hands emerge from the window trying to crawl their way out, only to get caught and impaired on the shards of class still attached to the window, like a sick experiment of rats climbing on the corpses of their kin they flop over onto the other side.

Which leads them now to their current problem. This entire time they’ve been running further into the hospital and now they have to run back, where a hoard of zombies have amassed. Vex clutches onto her brother’s arm, who does much the same to her. They’re all hurt and crazed and Vex just wishes they make it out of here alive.

With one quick glance at each other and a nod, they run.

[xasha777]

Under the eerie glow of a crescent moon, the neighborhood lay quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the brisk night breeze. But within the walls of a decrepit old shed at the edge of town, an uncanny glow shone through the slats of a broken window blind.

This shed was home to Mr. Whiskers, a cat with fur as striped as the shadows cast by the moonlight and eyes like molten gold. Abandoned years ago, the shed had become Mr. Whiskers' domain, a place where oddities did not seem so out of place.

On this peculiar night, Mr. Whiskers sat poised on the windowsill, his gaze intense, fixated on something beyond the corrugated metal walls. Two cans of "Catnip Delight" — a rare treat — lay beside him, and from his mouth dangled a cigarette, an affectation left behind by the shed's previous owner.

But the true horror lurked in the darkness outside, where the dead had begun to stir. The town's cemetery, overgrown and long forgotten, pulsed with an unholy life as the earth shuddered and moaned. Corpses, their limbs twisted and gnarled by decay, clawed their way to the surface. The night air filled with the groans of the undead — zombies emerging from their graves with a ravenous hunger for the living.

The townsfolk, deep in slumber, remained oblivious to the nightmare unfurling just beyond their doorsteps. But not Mr. Whiskers. His heightened senses had alerted him to the approaching danger long before the first rotting hand had broken through the soil.

What was a mere house cat to do against such a supernatural threat? Yet, there was more to Mr. Whiskers than met the eye. His ancestors were not of this world, and Mr. Whiskers had inherited certain... abilities. The glowing eyes were but a hint of the arcane power he possessed.

As the zombies shambled closer, Mr. Whiskers' eyes blazed with an otherworldly fire. With a flick of his tail, the two cans of "Catnip Delight" spun into the air, swirling with a spectral energy. They transformed into glowing orbs, pulsating with eldritch light, and began to orbit around Mr. Whiskers as he prepared to defend his territory.

With a thunderous hiss that shattered the silence of the night, Mr. Whiskers leaped from the window, the orbs spinning faster, casting a protective barrier around him. The zombies, mindless and driven by hunger, stumbled towards the glowing feline, only to be repelled by the force of his arcane might.

One by one, the undead creatures were flung back to the dark recesses from whence they came, their bodies dissolving into the earth as Mr. Whiskers' powers purified the tainted soil.

By the break of dawn, the zombies were no more, and the town remained blissfully ignorant of how close they had come to doom. Mr. Whiskers, his duty fulfilled, returned to his perch, the cigarette still hanging from his mouth — a symbol of his vigilance and a warning to any who dared disturb the peace of his reign.

And so, the legend of the guardian cat, Mr. Whiskers, spread in hushed tones among the few who witnessed the night's eerie events. But whether they believed it to be a horror story or a fantastical tale, none could deny that in the quiet shed at the edge of town, there lurked a creature not to be trifled with — a sentinel between the living and the damned.

[awoogayanderes]

YOU’RE DELUSIONAL TO THINK THAT YOU WOULD SURVIVE WITHOUT ME…

➪ pairing : lawrence x reader

➪ warnings : yandere behavior, domestic violence, yelling, imprisonment, manipulation.

i gaze into his empty eyes. they felt so hollow yet so full of life. god i hate him, i hate what he did for me and i hate what he’s doing now. he proclaims he loves me but this isn’t love, yet i can’t help but feel some warmth from him.

“y/n,” lawrence’s voice called for me, forcing me to exit my thoughts. his face had a small charming smile. “i’m going out for a bit, i won’t take long i promise,” he says ruffling my hair making it messy before i smoothed it out again. as he was almost about to leave, he grabs my face and cradles it. “be good for me, okay?” he leans in and gives me a peck as i try to move back a bit. “yeah i know,” i respond to his statement.

i hear his footsteps drift away and then i hear the metal door opening and shutting. like normal he locked it. maybe there's some other way out of here besides the door, who am i kidding, it’s a basement. i wish he let me die like the others. i’m so tired of seeing the same place and getting no sunlight. i’m going insane slowly and he knows it. i fucking hate this.

i have to get out of here, no matter what. i could figure out a way to go to the safe zone. i just don’t want to be with him or near him. i’m getting out of here, as soon as he gets back, i’ll take my chance. it didn’t work the first time i did it but desperation calls for needs. even if i die from a zombie or turn into one, it would be better than living with lawrence.

i stand up and walk to the door waiting for him to get back. as soon as he gets here i push his head against the wall and run. i slightly smile for the first time in months. suddenly, i hear faint footsteps coming towards the door. i let out a shaky breath and i prepare myself. i can hear the lock twist and then the door creaks open. i slightly hide behind the door not trying to make him alert right away.

as he steps in completely, he turns sideways and sees me. he eyes widen and i push him against the wall aggressively before pushing him to the ground. i run outside the basement, using all my energy and stamina. “y/n! you get back here!” i hear lawrence scream in anger. i dont listen and i keep dashing until i get out of the school. i take a breath of air before running again.

my side starts hurting unsurprisingly due to the lack of exercise. its harder to breathe, more painful in fact. i stopped in pain, holding myself against a wall, hearing my heavy breaths until i hear some footsteps behind me. before i could turn around i feel my head being slammed into the brick wall. before i could scream i felt a hand go around my mouth. i see lawrence in front of me.

he had a gaze i had never seen before. his eyes were no longer empty, his eyes were full of fury. he opens his mouth ready to say something but he closed it a few seconds later. suddenly, he pulls me forward then grasps my hair tightly. i let out a yelp in pain taken aback from him. “stop let me go, you’re hurting me!” i say as water starts collecting in my eyes. “shut up,” he says to me, grabbing my hair even tighter.

as he drags me back to the basement, he shoves me to the ground and he shuts the door, locking it. “i’m sorry lawrence,” i try to plead. “shut the fuck up,” he says, his voice low as his eyes connect with my eyes. “i’m sorry, i was getting desperate and i took it out on you,” i get up and say starting to get scared of the situation.

“what were you thinking?!” he screams at me stepping closer to me. “you could have gotten hurt or-” “or what? get to the safe zone? get away from you and your fucking obsession?!” i scream at him and he slaps me across the face. i hit him back trying to claw at his face but he stops me and kicks my shin. i scream in pain and fall to the ground.

he crouches down to my height and says “you’re weak. you aren’t mentally or physically strong, trust me i can tell. you’re delusional to think that you would survive without me,” he says to me, slowly going to caress the cheek he slapped a few seconds ago. “i’m sorry darling,” his face softens. i sniff and try to crawl away from him. instead, he lifts me into his arms.

“i promise you, i’m a good boyfriend, you just have to believe me.” lawrence says as he sets me down on the makeshift bed. he gives me a kiss on my forehead and walks away with balled up fists. “i hate you,” i mumble underneath my breath. maybe i was delusional but part of me is telling me that i’m right about his obsession. i wish this would all end.

a/n : wow this was really rough, i haven’t written in such a long time. maybe i’ll write some more later, apologies for this mess.

[shushiyuii]

Oh my beloved that was very pog-

Gib another part for the zombie apocalypse one pwease :3?

Anything for my Dear Smoggy, Love you!

if you wish for a part three you may, but you're gonna have to give me an idea :3

Warnings: Zombies (Which will contain death and some heavy subjects, be warned), Soft vore.

Words: 1.7K+

It was obvious that the growl wasn’t human, the tone sounded so inhuman that it scared Tommy, not only that but his eyes, they screamed pure anger. Despite the small time of knowing Wilbur, he’d honestly grown quite attached to the man fairly quickly. Wilbur being the only one to treat him with proper kindness since the outbreak.

Three months without anybody he loved, three months of torture, three months without touch…

He didn’t love Wilbur but, he believed he could. He knew no ordinary survivor would protect him like Wilbur was now, so it made him think. ‘Maybe Wilbur grew attached too?’.

…

Wilbur’s mind was fuelled by panic, he couldn’t think straight. His urges are too strong. Hunger demanding satisfaction. But not for humans. For the deaths of the zombies, his mind screamed at him to protect the boy.

He didn’t know how he had grown so attached, perhaps it was that he was lonely for so long? He felt pity for the boy. He couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, what emotion was screaming at him. He just knew that whatever was left of his lungs breathed with anger and his ‘heart’ raced.

…

“STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled and pushed Tommy behind him, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?!” Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs. What on earth was this idiot trying to get killed?!

“I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!”. Wilbur’s voice was no longer that soft and soothing voice, rather a distorted, alien-like voice. As if a drainpipe was trying to talk. Wilbur took a step back as the zombies came in closer to them.

“Tommy, get to the back end to the alley. Now!”. Wilbur’s voice was desperate. Tommy ran to the back as fast as possible, his lungs screaming and his chest aching, tears stung his eyes. He was scared, he didn’t know what to do. There was no way out of the alley, and they were surrounded.

The sounds of the zombies gave him a headache, what was he supposed to do?! He couldn’t do anything; he wouldn’t even be here right now if Wilbur hadn’t saved him.

…

Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, angering the zombies further into attacking the two, Tommy screamed at him to get back, Wilbur could hear the teenager’s fear for their safety. It scared Wilbur to hear such a tone from a normally happy kid.

It was probably apparent to Tommy by now that he wasn’t inheritably normal, but Tommy still reached out to him. So, the kid had grown attached himself, the hard and closed off one of the two had grown attached.

The kid had been lonely, scared. Without anybody but himself to care about. Wilbur couldn’t really blame him for such things. He was just a kid after all.

…

Tommy stared in horror as Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, he yelled out. He was scared, he didn’t know what was going to happen or what the fuck was going on…

And that fear only increased and Wilbur fell to the ground on his knees.

…

His knees gave out from under him as he fell to the ground in pain, his muscles ached. He couldn’t say it was hell though, he’d grown used to it after a while of doing so.

He noticed his once human-looking hands quickly turning into sharp claws, sharp enough to tear through flesh. Normal teeth turning too sharp like canines, one bite sharp enough to easily kill. His size grew.

…

Tommy didn’t know how much emotion he could handle in a day, but he was sure he was way past his limits, if he wasn’t horrified before he definitely was now. Wilbur once a normal size, turned gigantic. As tall as the buildings.

He could see his teeth, claws. His beanie had fallen off during his transformation, exposing the part of his head where he had an exposed skull. It was obvious to Tommy now, how Wilbur easily evaded those Zombies, the puzzle pieces fitting together. He was a Zombie himself.

As much as his mind screamed to hide from Wilbur, he knew it was a death wish. Not only that but if Wilbur was capable of communication and compassion. He wasn’t a normal Zombie or the fact that he had mentioned he was trying to protect Tommy.

So, Tommy had befriended a Zombie, funny.

…

Wilbur turned to look back at Tommy, he could see the pure fear in the boy’s eyes. He wanted to apologize for scaring him but there wasn’t much Wilbur could do at the current moment. He needed to quickly keep them safe.

He knelt down over to Tommy, the boy stepped back on instinct. He reached out his claw, carefully embracing Tommy in a fist, giving a small squeeze to reassure the boy but all he got were his screams and cries.

Wilbur felt the Zombies trying to crawl onto his legs, he stood up and immediately stomped down, killing whatever Zombies were once there. Tommy screamed again in fear, he brought the boy to his chest protectively. Hoping that this was enough to comfort the boy for a minute as he continued to destroy them.

…

There were way too many Zombies than Wilbur expected, every Stomp only brought, even more, to deal with, it was getting annoying. Every growl just made Tommy cling to his chest further than before, he wanted nothing but to comfort the boy, but his focus was just on killing and killing.

He realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to win this battle as the Zombies kept on increasing. His instinct screamed at him to roar but he held back that instinct, for Tommy and for the case of not luring anymore Zombies than he already had.

As his mind raced for a plan, he came to a conclusion.

Run.

He ran past the Zombies, the ground shaking under him with every step. Rubble of buildings falling as he passed. Normally he was careful, but he had nothing to lose, besides the small human currently in his arms.

He was probably halfway across the city when he finally got away from the Zombies. The boy in his arms crying his heart out. Once he realized, they were safe, he stopped. Taking a second to finally breathe after everything that had happened.

He scanned around for Zombies and found none so he finally sat down, his body slumping against the building behind him, it was uncomfortable, but it would do as he was tired as hell.

…

Tommy stopped crying as the loud sounds had stopped somewhat, he didn’t realize how tightly he had clung onto Wilbur. All he could hear were the sounds of birds and Wilbur’s breathes, maybe even a heartbeat?

After a moment, he let go of the hold he had on Wilbur’s clothes and looked back at the claws holding him. He could tell they were sharp, Wilbur could just easily kill him, but he didn’t, and the fact he was being held in a way that the claws would bring no harm to him.

He looked up at Wilbur, whose eyes were closed. But it was obvious to Tommy he was still awake, you had to be during an apocalypse and especially what had just happened.

…

“W-Wilbur?”, his eyes opened to look down at the boy in his claw, Tommy seemed to shrink down at the sight of his eyes, he couldn’t blame the boy for being scared. “Yes Tommy?”, his voice still distorted but softer and calmer.

“A-Are you a Zombie?”. Tommy shrunk back even further into his hand. Wilbur took in a deep breath and after a moment answered. “Yeah, I am. A weird one at that”.

Tommy’s face turned to slight curiosity, “H-how’d you become one?”, “Dunno, I don’t remember.”. “How are you able to grow gigantic?", “The same answer, it just came naturally I guess”.

The boy stopped talking but the fear slightly lifted from the boy’s face much to Wilbur’s relief. “Are you okay?”, he asked with concern. “F-fine, just scared”. Wilbur hummed in reply.

“You don’t have to be scared; I’ll protect you”. He squeezed Tommy gently, in reassurance. Tommy picked up on it this time. He could see a small smile plaster the boy’s features.

…

Night soon came, as it was apparent that the two were really tired. Wilbur could feel the boy slip in and out of consciousness in his hand. “Tired, Gremlin?”. He got a half sleepish, ‘Mhm’.

Wilbur hummed and picked up the boy, bringing him closer to his mouth. He opened his mouth and breathed out. Warm breath brought the boy out of his sleepish state and went to alert as he saw Wilbur’s mouth coming ever so closer.

“W-Wilbur!? What are you doing?!”. He screamed out, Wilbur closed his mouth and stared down at Tommy in confusion. “I thought you were tired?”, “Course I’m fucking tired but what the fuck are you trying to do?!”.

“Eat you?...”, “EAT ME?!”. He yelled out, “What do you mean eat me?!”. “Uh, do humans not at each other?”, “OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!”.

“Oh…”. Wilbur stumbled, confused. Since when did humans not eat each other? He thought since he could do it himself it was also a human trait. Turns out it wasn’t. Turns out humans’ control quite control their stomach acids as Tommy explained.

“Well-“ Wilbur coughed, “You still need to sleep Tommy”. He then opened his mouth and gently placed Tommy in much to his complaints. He licked the boy, tasting dirt and other things. “Wilbur!”, Tommy yelled out but got no response as Wilbur tilted his head back and swallowed.

…

Tommy felt as he couldn’t breathe as muscles pushed against him, he had no room to move, it didn’t help his claustrophobia. Not only that but Tommy was terrified, his mind raced with panic. He knew Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him, but his mind yelled at him anyways.

He soon fell into a larger space, his stomach. He pounded at the walls, begging to be let out but the walls only pressed against him, a soft rumbling of Wilbur’s body around him. Wilbur’s purring. Not only that but there were soft reassurances from Wilbur.

Well, maybe it wasn’t too bad, he was honestly really tired. He leaned against the wall, which was warm. Something he hasn’t quite have for a while, it was oddly comforting. He yawned and fell into a deep sleep, mumbling a goodnight.

…

Wilbur smiled as he finally felt the boy sleep, Tommy had been through a lot and needed the rest. Now Wilbur had to figure out what was going to happen next…

Summary:

Wilbur: You need sleep Tommy.

Tommy: No

Wilbur: Yes *nom*

Tommy : AAAAAAA

Also Tommy: *Sleeps*

[thunder-at-dawn]

7 with eternalduo? lee!eret perhaps?? idk -paper anon

i loved writing this one so much oh my god thank you for this galaxy brain prompt paper anon

word count: 1,805

prompt list can be found here!

prompt 7: "i happen to know a weakness of yours."

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don't read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

The Red Banquet was an event that shook the land. Everyone who attended left with something in mind. Whether it be hope for the future or a feeling of dread, it was a night that no one would forget.

For Eret, they were reminded that they needed to be more alert.

They nearly died that night. They were almost sacrificed, and had no way of defending themselves. While royalty normally had knights in shining armor and didn’t have to ever defend themselves, Eret decided that would no longer be the case. The monarch had never really been the fighting type, and hopefully, would never have to be. They just decided that it was time to practice some skills.

One of the things that Eret did was set up an archery range. It was behind their castle, and had a small variety of targets to shoot at, all different lengths away from the starting line. They often spent quite a bit of time there, regularly practicing their aim and making sure to hit as many targets as they could.

Today was a relaxing day, a cool breeze flowing through the air with a slight overcast in the sky. Eret drew back their bow, taking a deep breath. The only noises around were just the chirps of bird and the wind passing through. Eret calmed their mind, focusing only on the target.

PING!

They unclenched their hand, watching the bow zip towards it’s target. It landed right in the center. A perfect bullseye.

“Woo!”

Eret paused, knowing that cheer didn’t come out of their own mouth. When they heard clapping, they turned around to see an old friend applauding for them.

“A bullseye! Bravo, old pal! Bravo!” Foolish clapped his hands together as he walked towards Eret. The monarch smiled and took bow, both of them now laughing at the antic.

“How’s your day been?” Eret asked, walking over to the targets to collect the arrows they had shot around.

“Eh, it’s been alright.” Foolish shrugged, crossing his arms and resting them on the fence post that acted as the shooting line. “Just been building stuff like usual, and I was in the area, so of course I had to pay a visit to my old pal! And you were exactly where I’d thought you be.”

“My castle?” Eret asked, pulling an arrow out of the target they had previously shot at.

“No, the archery range behind your castle. You’ve been spending a lot of time here for the past month or so, I’ve noticed.”

“Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” Eret nodded, stepping behind the fence and loading an arrow in their bow. As Foolish nodded in agreement to Eret’s statement, the monarch pulled back the drawstring, taking a deep breath and focusing on the target in front of them. They released the string, watching the arrow fly straight out towards the target and landing in the center. Another bullseye.

“WOO! Man, you’re good at this! I feel like… you’re just unstoppable! You’re a force of nature, nothing can take you down!” Foolish said in awe before pausing, a small smile on his face. “Well, actually, there is one thing.”

“The wind.” Eret answered with a small chuckle. “It’s definitely made things a lot harder out here than they normally are.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking of something else.” The totem-shark stepped closer to his friend, now grinning widely. “I happen to know a weakness of yours.”

“Oh really now? And what would that be?” Eret pulled back the drawstring to the bow, focusing and making sure the arrow would hit the target. They took a deep breath, ready to fire. However, right as they let go of the drawstring, they felt two hands suddenly squeeze at their side. The bow’s aim was suddenly shifted down, and the arrow landed right in front of the target, in the grass instead of on the target itself. Eret whipped around, only to be greeted by a grinning Foolish.

“The fact that you’re stupidly ticklish.” Foolish smirked as he looked as his friend, who scoffed with a grin on their face.

“Betrayal.” They mumbled, although they couldn’t help but laugh a bit to themselves.

“Oh, come on. It provides a fun challenge, doesn’t it? You try to shoot bullseyes into the targets, while I try to not make that happen. It’ll help you improve your skills!” Foolish suggested.

They looked at their old friend, chuckling as they loaded another arrow into the string. “Alright, challenge accepted.” They nodded, Foolish clapping his hands with excitement and standing behind Eret.

Eret stood in place, pulling back the drawstring once again. Everything was calm and peaceful until they started to feel one-finger pokes across their torso.

“Heyyyy, Eret! Are you gonna shoot that? Are you gonna shoot the arrow?” Foolish asked as he prodded around the monarch’s sides and stomach.

“Ihi’m trying to focus.” Eret said, a giggle slipping out.

“Oh? Was that a giggle? I thought I heard something, I guess I’ll have to prod a little more to get it out of ya, huh?” Foolish started to poke at the right side of Eret’s body with two rapid fingers. They tried to keep their laughter in and focus on the target, but they eventually broke into giggles, stumbling away from Foolish and letting go of the arrow. It flew out and landed on one of the white rings of the target.

“Looks like you gotta get some more practice in, huh?” Foolish teased. Eret rolled their eyes, moving to a target that was closer to them. They drew back an arrow, taking a breath and holding it steady. However, things wouldn’t be peaceful for long. Foolish quickly shot his hands up into Eret’s underarms, surprising the monarch and causing them to accidentally let go of the arrow. It shot upwards in the air, landing somewhere on the blue ring, above the bullseye.

“Foolish!” Eret whined lightheartedly.

“What?! You agreed to this!” Foolish shot back. Technically, he was right, but whatever. A challenge was a challenge.

Eret made their way to other targets on the shooting range, wanting to shoot a bullseye, but Foolish would be there to thwart their plans every time. He would poke at one spot repeatedly, taser them in the sides, blow light air onto their neck, and everything else imaginable to throw them off guard. It would work every time, as Eret was unable to hit a single bullseye.

The monarch set their sights on the furthest target away from the shooting line. This would be the last arrow Eret would shoot until they had to go and retrieve the arrows back from the targets. They drew back the string of the bow, holding it steady and waiting for Foolish to try to distract them. They let go, the arrow flying and landing on the blue ring.

“You didn’t do anything that time.” Eret acknowledged out loud, turning towards their friend.

“That’s right!” Foolish commented, not adding anything else.

Eret wouldn’t lie, they were a little bit suspicious. They watched Foolish closely, but shrugged it off when it seemed like they had no mischievous intent.

“…Alright.” Eret set the bow on the ground, turning their back to Foolish. “I’m going to go get the other arr- AH!”

Oh, how wrong they were to think that Foolish was going to let them off so easily. The demigod had tackled them to the ground, and he held Eret’s wrists so that they couldn’t try to escape.

“What? I had to catch you off guard somehow! You know, you gotta be aware of your surroundings when you’re shooting arrows, old pal! You never know when a monster could sneak up from behind and attack you! You could get blown up by a creeper, shot by a skeleton, your brain could get eaten by a zombie, or in this case…” Foolish grinned, letting go of Eret’s wrists and forming his hands into claw shapes. “You could get snuck up on by a tickle monster!”

Eret nervously tried to squirm away, but their friend was quick to shoot his hands down, clawing at the monarch’s stomachs with both hands. They tried to keep their laughter hidden inside of them, but quickly broke after a few seconds.

“Fohohoolihish, nohoHOho!” They giggled, weakly trying to push his hands away.

“Eret, I’m serious, you should be more careful! Tickle monsters can be very dangerous!” Foolish playfully warned his friend, skittering fingers all over their torso. “They hide in plain sight, just waiting for you to be caught off guard, and then they pounce! And after they attack, their victims can get really tired out, and leave them to be more prone to being attacked by other monsters!”

He spidered his fingers up and down Eret’s sides, relishing in every bit of laughter that came out of their mouth. They tried pushing his hands away, but had no success, their arms likely tired out from pulling back strings and arrows all day. Foolish moved his fingers up his friend’s body, dancing over their hips now.

“They’re extremely dangerous, my friend. They have a variety of strategies that they use, and no singular monster is alike any other. So if you get attacked by one, it’s attack will be very different from the second one you encounter!” Foolish squeezed at their hips, watching as Eret wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore, only laughing their head off.

“Eret! I’m trying to warn you and be serious, why are you laughing at me?! This is no laughing matter, old pal!” He shook his head, moving his hands up to scratch and scribble up and down their ribcage. Eret’s laughter quickly escalated in pitch, squirming around and weakly trying to fight Foolish off.

“NoHOHO- FOHOHOOLIHISH! YOHOU- YOHOU’RE-” The monarch attempted to talk back, but was interrupted by frequent squeaks and laughter flowing out of their mouth.

“I don’t get what’s so funny, Eret! This is very serious!” Foolish tried to stay straight-faced, but couldn’t help but smile when he saw his friend’s face. Eret’s sunglasses were starting to tilt off of their face, their hair was disheveled from so much thrashing, and a stupidly wide grin graced their face as high-pitched giggles came from their mouth.

“You still hanging in there?” Foolish asked as he slowed down the movements of his fingers to a stop. Eret nodded, still giggling as they adjusted their glasses and put them back properly on their face. The demigod reached out a hand, helping Eret off of the ground.

“Gotta be more careful next time, old pal! You never know when a monster might attack.”

“Oh, shut up.” Eret shoved his friend lightly. The two friends looked at each other, smiles on their faces as happy laughter filled the fields.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hermit Rivals: Skizz and Logic

this is a bunch of short scenes put together based on the tiny amount of Skizz/Logic content we got in twitch rivals: hermit raiders :D they don’t really blend together very well but i couldn’t figure out how to do it so enjoy anyway lol

…

Waiting in the lobby for the competition to start, LogicalGeekBoy is talking strategy with his team when he feels something poking him in the back. He turns and finds himself face to face with a grinning Skizzleman. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Logic chuckles. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna beat you,” says Skizz. “I can’t beat Impulse cuz he’s on my team so you’re next on my list of friends I wanna beat.”

“Oho, fighting talk, huh?” teases Logic.

“You bet! You may be one of the smartest people I know but I bet my team can beat you in a fighting-based competition.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re on.” Logic grins. “Forget first place; my only goal is to beat your team.”

Skizz grins back. “Oh, you are ON! You’re not gonna know what hit you!”

Logic laughs as he watches Skizz bound off back to his team. “So easy to wind up.”

“We better beat their team now,” remarks Doc.

Logic nods. “Oh yeah, losing is NOT an option. If he beats me, I’m not gonna hear the end of it for weeks. Maybe the rest of my life.”

On the other side of the lobby, Skizz bounces up to his teammates. “GUYS. We gotta beat Team Doc!”

“Okay, why them, specifically?” False asks.

“Because if I don’t beat Logic now, he’s gonna lord it over me for the rest of my life.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of yourself?” asks Impulse teasingly.

“Shut up, I hate you.”

…

“Uh, guys?” Doc’s voice comes over their team comms line. “I don’t want to alarm anyone but I’m currently being attacked by iJevin.”

“What?!” Logic yelps.

“Oh, this is the hermit mob round,” says Xisuma, sounding unfazed. “The waves this time are mobs retextured to look like the players in the event.”

“Well, THAT’s not disturbing at all,” Doc responds wryly.

Logic quickly slices down a mob version of fWhip, before darting around a house to find a lone mob he can see highlighted behind it.

But he stops dead as he registers the mob standing there.

“Oh no…!”

Mob-Skizz immediately starts moving towards him, arms up, trying to reach him to attack. Its movement is clearly that of a zombie but Logic is still frozen, his sword hanging limply in his grip. He doesn’t want to attack his friend.

“Skizz, please, I…! I don’t wanna hurt you…!”

As he backs away, trying to think of something else he can do, he feels his heel catch something and he topples backwards. He looks up to find Mob-Skizz advancing on him, within a few blocks of attacking. His sword is within reach but…

Logic’s rational mind knows this is just a mindless zombie made to look like his friend but he can’t bring himself to strike something that looks like Skizz, even when said thing is attacking him. He strains against Mob-Skizz as it starts raking its claws down his arms and trying to bite him.

Then he hears the sound of a mob taking damage and the pressure is lifted from his arms. Logic barely has time to breathe before he’s grabbed by the hand and hauled to his feet.

“Logic, FOCUS,” Doc scolds him. “We can’t afford to waste time dying!”

Logic watches Doc run back into the fray before taking a moment to inspect his arms. Several long red welts stare back at him.

He grimaces. Come on, Logic… It’s not the real Skizz attacking you. You think Skizz would hesitate to kill a mob looking like you? Get a grip.

…

“Oh no, all the mobs are hermits!” yelps Impulse, almost toppling off the roof of the house he’s perched on. “Skizz, get them towards the pit!”

Skizz immediately takes off running but as he’s luring the hermit-mobs towards the lava pit, something catches his eye. Out of all the hermit-mobs swarming towards him, one particular one causes his stomach to lurch.

“Skizz, let’s GO,” False’s impatient voice snaps.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Skizz dodges around Mob-Logic and leads a whole group of them carefully to the lava pit they’ve made. He jumps over and turns back to check it’s working.

And it is; the mobs try to follow Skizz over the opened trapdoors and fall straight into the lava below.

Skizz cheers. “Woo, look at that! It’s working!”

But his grin quickly falls as he spots THAT mob again, falling into the lava pit. He has to catch himself before he yells Logic’s name, as if it’s his real friend sinking into the lava. Mob-Logic is staring up at him with wide eyes, Logic’s eyes, as it dies a fiery death.

Unable to bear it any longer, Skizz takes off running and shuts himself in one of the houses, breathing deeply in and out to quell the nausea threatening to spill out of him.

“Skizz, where did you go?” comes False’s voice over the comms.

“I-I need a moment...!”

Impulse clearly hears the emotion in Skizz’s voice, and he’s known Skizz long enough to realise immediately what’s affecting his best friend. “Skizz, it’s not real,” he says reassuringly. “I know it’s hard but you have to see them as the mobs they are, not our friends.”

“You don’t understand,” whispers Skizz.

He opens his mouth again but he can’t find the right words. How is he supposed to explain how awful the churning in his stomach at the sight of his close friend dying in lava was? The way Logic’s eyes looked back at him as if asking “why would you do this to me…?” How agonising it was to fight against every instinct in his body screaming at him to jump into the lava pit and save his friend?

After a moment, he sighs. Come on, Skizz. Logic’s probably got no problem with killing a mob that looks like you. Get a grip.

…

In the lobby at the end of the round, False is looking at her team captains’ communication line. “Looks like Team Doc’s round is bugged,” she reports.

Skizz is immediately alert; that’s Logic’s team. “Are they okay?”

False nods. “Yeah, apparently the game seems to think there’s two raid guys left but they can’t see anything highlighted and it says zero of seventy-five on the side of their screen.”

“Oh, you’re right,” says Impulse, seeing 0/75 written next to Team Doc’s name on his screen. “It’s stuck on zero. What are they gonna do?”

“Just let the round end naturally, apparently.”

“Aw man,” mutters Skizz. He hopes Logic’s doing okay; he knows his friend has a thing about bugs and glitches.

But down in the village, Logic just wants this round to end. Exhausted from searching for the final two raid mobs their screen says still exist, Logic is morosely gathering up the hay bales from around the village. They had been doing so well. Sure, they weren’t on track to win or anything. But they may have at least gotten fourth or fifth, but now they’ll be sixth by default. All thanks to the stupid glitch. That’s points thrown away that they can’t afford to lose.

“The admins say they’re gonna put us down joint fifth with Team False,” Doc reports after a while. “Two points.”

“Better than one,” Xisuma mutters.

This actually helps Logic feel better. He knows their team can’t win but it would be nice to beat Skizz’s team.

…

Wandering around the lobby, listening to Doc and Xisuma argue strategies over their team comms line, Logic spots a dandelion lying on the floor. He picks it up and, after a quick scan of the area to find a specific person, trots over to the corner of the lobby where Team False are having a meeting.

“-why whatever we face next will be-.” False breaks off as she spots him approaching. “Hey! Logic! Get outta here!”

“Team meeting, man, c’mon,” Skizz, who is sitting with his back to the wall, adds. “Get outta here. Can't be stealing our strategies, dude.”

Logic silently places the flower on Skizz’s knee and takes a few steps back.

As he registers what the item is, Skizz glances up sheepishly. “Oh. Thanks, buddy.”

Logic just smiles. He and Skizz both know he tends to not speak much in social situations involving people he isn’t fully comfortable with.

“Yeah yeah, great, now get outta here,” False says brusquely. “This is our meeting place.”

In response, Logic sits down next to Skizz, looking expectantly up at False.

Impulse and Skizz both snicker at False’s exasperated eye-roll. “Skizz, make your friend go away.”

Skizz nudges Logic in the side. “You heard the captain, bro. We gotta talk strategy.”

Logic’s sad frown almost makes Skizz change his mind on the spot. He gives a chuckle and pats him on the shoulder. “Bro, you know I love you, but you’re not on our team. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

After a moment, Logic nods, stands up, and starts walking away.

Skizz watches him go, then jumps to his feet. “Hold on, be right back,” he says quickly to his teammates.

He rushes after Logic and catches him just turning the corner. “Wait a sec, Logic.”

Logic turns, smiling at his friend. “What’s up?”

Skizz hesitates, then clasps Logic’s hands and presses a small item into them. “Stay safe, buddy,” he says earnestly, before turning and rushing back to his team.

Logic stares after him for a moment before opening his hands to check the item Skizz gave him.

It’s a totem of undying.

…

Logic is perched atop the sky island, firing down on the ghasts from above. Far down on the ground, he can see the figures of Doc and Xisuma taking on the ground mobs. Even though he’s not great at fighting, Logic is far better with a bow than a sword.

A ghast screech behind him causes him to spin round. To his horror, he finds a ghast staring directly at him from less than a hundred blocks away, a fireball already flying towards him. He swings his axe back, ready to try and hit it back at the flying mob, but he mis-hits and the fireball knocks him clean off the island. And it’s only now that he realises he forgot to grab the elytra from the chest.

Logic can’t help a scream as he plummets, hands fumbling for anything he can use to save himself. But he has no hay bales, no buckets of water, no elytra. Nothing except…

His fingers close around the totem of undying JUST before he hits the ground. The loud explosion-like sound and spray of green sparkles lets him know the totem worked. He hurriedly scrambles into the nearest house and shuts the door, breathing heavily.

“Logic, you okay?” comes Xisuma’s voice over the radio.

“Y-Yeah, all good,” replies Logic shakily. “Gimme a second.”

He checks himself down. No injuries anywhere.

A smile spreads over his face. “Thanks for looking out for me, Skizz,” he murmurs.

…

Skizz sits on the stairs leading up to the seating area, absently twirling the flower in his hand. As is the same after every event, his mind is occupied by racing thoughts and ideas of how he could have done better.

“Penny for ‘em?” comes a friendly voice.

Skizz glances up to find Logic coming up the stairs towards him. “Hey, buddy. Nah, you don’t wanna hear about my stupid thoughts.”

Logic sits down next to Skizz. “Try me.”

After a moment, Skizz sighs. “I dunno, I just can’t help feeling that I held my team back. We came last overall and… it was probably my fault.”

“No, dude, I can assure you it wasn’t,” responds Logic kindly. “Nobody held their team back. You’re always gonna feel like that on a team with two hermits.”

“Did you feel like that?”

“Yeah, I did. I always do when I’m in the presence of hermits. It’s only natural, really. You feel like an imposter almost, like you shouldn’t be playing with such esteemed people. Like even your best will pale in comparison to their average. Like…”

As Logic trails off, Skizz glances sideways at him and finds him staring numbly into thin air. “You okay…?”

Logic blinks himself out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Anyway, my point is don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“It’s hard not to be,” responds Skizz morosely. “I don’t think I can name a single useful thing I did that wasn’t what False or Impulse told me to do.”

“I can,” Logic says immediately.

Skizz raises an eyebrow. “How would you know? What can I have done that you would know about?”

“You gave me the totem of undying,” replies Logic pointedly.

Skizz stares at him for a moment. “Wait… really…?”

Logic nods. “I fell off the top island in the fourth round. No elytra, no water, nothing. That totem you gave me saved my life. Even if that was the only useful thing you did unprompted in the whole game, which I doubt, it was worth it to me.”

“Aww…” Skizz puts his arm over Logic’s shoulder. “I’m glad I could help you out, brother.”

The two fall silent for a moment.

Then Logic clears his throat. “So… those mobs that looked like us…”

“Creepy as hell.”

“Extremely creepy,” agrees Logic. “It was cool at first but when a mob that looked like you was trying to bite my face off, it wasn’t quite as cool.”

Skizz blinks. “Oh jeez, that sounds terrifying.”

“And painful too,” Logic says, holding up his hands to show off the red claw marks down his arms.

“Wait, wait, what?!” Skizz stares at the wounds in shock. “That was mob-me?!”

“Yeah, it was vicious. Nearly killed me.”

“Oh gosh…” Skizz shivers. “I’m so sorry.”

Logic laughs. “Skizz, it was a zombie retextured to look like you! You have no reason to apologise.”

After a moment, Skizz nods. “I guess. And hey, I had to watch a mob that looked like you get burned alive in lava, so…”

“All in all, a very good round for nightmares, then.”

“You’re telling me.”

Another pause follows this, punctuated by Skizz rising to his feet and stretching. “Man, I’m worn out. Wanna go hang out with the gang before we go home? Say goodbye to everyone?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d be very good company,” Logic responds. “I’m pretty tired and there wouldn’t be much point in me being there if I don’t talk anyway.”

“You’re always good company to me, brother,” says Skizz warmly. “Even when you don’t talk.”

Logic can’t help a smile. “Thanks. Okay then, I’ll come along.”

“Awesome!”

As the two head down the stairs, Logic adds, “And you usually do a pretty good job at interpreting for me, anyway.”

“Usually?” Skizz pretends to be affronted. “Uh, I’m AMAZING at reading your thoughts, thank you very much.”

Logic chuckles. “Uh huh, sure. You know what you're NOT amazing at?"

"What?" asks Skizz warily.

"Beating me in a fighting-based competition."

"OKAY LISTEN-."

[unholyplumpprincess]

Group Camp Out (Full Version)

A continuation and full fic for my drabble. Commissioned of me to basically finish it, so here we are with sex scene included! I’ve also taken the past drabble and added it here so it’s a full fic so ya don’t need to go back and read the other half, bc it’s all here babey!

Summary:  You save an alpha licker from an injury, you're not sure why your foolish empathetic brain does it, but now you have a pack of lickers who follow you like you're their royalty. It's all fun and games until you get horny!

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit Like :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Resident Evil

Relationship: Group of lickers/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, monster fucking involved obviously, double penetration happens so stuff like ass play is involved, and mentions of normal zombie apocalyptic stuff!

Words: 3.4k

_______________

When the world went to shit, you didn’t expect this to all be the cause of a harmless sounding virus named after a letter. It had all seemed fine, one day you were grocery shopping and whining to your friend about how you wanted chocolate, the next you were covering your mouth to stop your sobs as moans and groans entered the city like a stampede of brainwashed cattle.  

You had no training with a gun, the only weapon you really knew how to use was a pitchfork- and that was the lamest thing you had going for you at this point in time. Running a farm? That’s something you could do. Shooting a gun? That...was something you probably should have learned how to do.  

But how were you supposed to know a zombie apocalypse was going to happen?!  

Apparently, your farming skills and way with animals- or animal-like creatures, would come very in handy in your survival.  

~Rest under the cut~

It had started with one of the creatures. It looked like...an inside out human. Absolutely terrifying with its sharp teeth, sticky flesh and its brain matter completely exposed. Its long tongue maybe the length of its own body when you watched it zip around a nearby rabbit and drag it towards its terrifying  chompers . Its hands were no longer hands, five large claws dug into the ground with each step as it turned its head this way and that. It was blind. It couldn’t see you. So, you had stayed still, shaking before you caught sight of its limp.  

On its hind right leg, it was bleeding, it made such a sad sound as it jerked the dead weight forward, turning its head towards the pain. There was something...so sad and human about the reaction that your instincts told you to comfort, to reach out and inspect the pain.  

It could have gotten you killed the way you had reached out, but through desperate pleading and begging after being near leapt upon by the giant beast and made dinner, you were given a chance.  

And now? Now you had five of these inside out creatures following you around like you were the royalty of their pack.  

~Rest under the cut~

It certainly had taken you quite a bit to get used to it. How beastly they were, yet so very human. How deep the virus ran in them, you weren’t sure. They could not speak to you, they hissed, growled, huffed, and grunted, but otherwise your languages did not mesh. Names were not given, you didn’t try to ask either, it seemed like whatever of their past they had was erased.  

What you did know is that like this? You were safe. The one with the injury now had a permanent limp but with some gauze and bra hooks you made a makeshift sling and they could walk on it better. This one also brought you food, its tongue rolled up around canned foods that comically rolled out of their mouth with little bits of saliva and them cocking their head towards your direction waiting for your thanks.  

Another liked to stay near you at all times, pressed to your side near constantly and making small sounds in reply to your chatter. These days you talked a lot, quietly at least as you’d tell them where you were from, what you were before all this happened. You’d even been able to go back to your old farm, heart breaking at the destruction of the fences, but at least your home had been mostly intact. Bodies of the infected littered parts of the yard, but with your pack around you none of the alive ones dared come close.  

Your home became a home again. With five beasts that liked to climb on the walls and steal what you guessed smelled like you. You find one with a shirt over their head, crooning and rolling about in it. You find another nosing at your blankets with its mouth parted as if scenting it. Another finds your underwear drawer.  

Tonight, you’re quietly in your room. You’ve gathered blankets and other mattresses around the house to make a nest on the floor for everyone to gather onto. You’re sure they have no need to sleep, but you have a need for comfort.  

The one with a limp is curled at your side, their skin smooth as they rub their face at the crook of your neck. It would have grossed you out in the past, but now you don’t really think about it.  

Another lounges across your body at your thighs, perched with arms crossed underneath its body like a big cat protecting its pride.  

You’re mildly drifting, not really thinking when you feel the sharpness of teeth brush your throat and your entire body stiffens. Your yelp of mild terror sets off everyone in the room, everyone on high alert. You hear two different hisses, another making this almost chirrup sound, the one on your lap noses at your thigh in confusion and the one at your neck has frozen completely.  

“Did you just bite me?!” You breathe out, anxiety flaring up- did the virus pass in bites?! Was it just the smoke that caused the changes? If you got bitten what happens? You’re on high alert yourself, seeing the others come and inspect you as you push lightly at the one at your side so you can raise a hand to your neck and jerk it into your view to inspect your palm.  

No blood. And you didn’t feel a mark. It must have just been a scrape is all. As your anxiety dies down, so do all of theirs, everyone going back to their posts. You lie back again, shakily exhaling and gently reaching for the licker that had been at your neck. They croon immediately, almost like an apology as they go back to your neck.  

It takes five minutes for it to happen again, a light scrape, and you pass it off as an accidental thing. You stiffen ever so gently, but a large arm over your chest gives an almost gentle squeeze, as if telling you it’s alright. It’s just the smallest motion, the tiniest, but it eases you. Enough that when it happens again, you shudder this time and recline your neck to the opposite side to give them more room.  

Their hips adjust at the side of your waist and you hear curious noises around you. You don’t pay it really any mind until their hips adjust again and you feel something almost slimy brush your side. Another scrape of teeth, a low whine, a nudge-  

Your eyebrows knit together, flexing your fingers around their side and making a murmured ‘huh?’ back at them curiously. Another adjust- a hump? And you figure out rather quickly why and what is happening.    

“Oh!” You exclaim, your tone flustered, and that gathers everyone’s attention. The one on your lap peeks to see what’s happening, and you can hardly see them until you feel a nudge at your crotch that makes your cheeks flare red.  Another swarms your other side, nosing at your warmed cheek and cooing until another joins.  

You realize quickly you’re surrounded by horny lickers.  

And wouldn’t it be rude to not gladly accept it?  

--

You note that two of them do not come and join. They linger off to the side and seem to be enjoying the rest on the far side of the combined mattresses. You don’t mind in the slightest, not when you have three beasts curiously poking at different sides of you.

The one across your lap, the leader of the pack, has now nudged your legs open. Fitting between your spread thighs as huge claws hook into the fabric of your panties and yank. The sharpness of its claws are aimed upwards, avoiding your flesh and effectively shredding the fabric. You’d only been in a tanktop and panties anyhow, not many clothes on your body to begin with, but it still makes you feel...exposed.

The one who’d been at your neck and humping your side is growled at by the leader, causing them to chuff and move upwards more towards your head instead. The third of them nudges one of your arms to go up until you take the hint, raising your hands above your head and allowing the one near up above your head to press your wrists down with its massive claws.

“H-hey-” You whine out when you feel the curious nosing at your crotch. You’re shamefully wet, your hips lifting upwards when warm breath fans across your cunt. Your face flushes when you peek down, seeing the alpha of the pack nosing at your crotch and making such sweet little sounds as it inhaled you.

That’s when its long tongue comes sliding out, slick and long, maybe two and a half fingers in thickness much like a vine. At first it just slides over your entire cunt before slipping between your lower lips, lapping at you heavily with only a short amount of the entire length of its tongue. At first you sigh softly, tipping your head back in pleasure. Which must be an invitation for the one at your side just watching, for it takes this opportunity to lets its tongue loll out and lick over your cheek.

The wet sensation makes you wince with a soft, surprised sound. Causing all three to erupt in little concerned noises. Even the alpha between your legs popping its head up as they wait for you to say something. “N-no! No, no, it’s okay, it’s alright. Just- surprised, is all?” You speak in a shaky voice, but your tone must be satisfactory.

The alpha quickly goes back to lapping at you. Massive claws curling under your thighs as if it’d done this before. And maybe, maybe they had? Maybe they remembered some sort of their past ministrations like this? As is they were starting to learn certain phrases or keywords you were saying. Maybe memories of actions could come to their minds?

You’re immediately thrown from your thoughts when the alpha’s tongue presses into you, being so mindful of its teeth when they rest their face closer to your cunt. Practically letting you hump their face to get dual stimulation on your clit as a whine exits your lips. And once more you feel the tongue on your cheek, licking over towards your neck before coming up to your mouth.  

When you part your lips to allow entry, you’re nearly choked by the eagerness of the tongue. Your body lurches slightly, but you hear a growl overhead and a harder press to your wrists that keeps you still underneath them all.

You can’t move.

You’re like a toy.

That’s how it feels, but you know one sudden jerk or noise of discontent from you and they’d all stop. It’s what keeps you relaxed now when you feel the alpha’s tongue slithering further into you, folding in on itself to appear thicker as it plunges into you with quickness. It felt like a really wet, slippery cock. Filling you out and ensuring it didn’t snag or cause any discomfort from how wet it was.  

Moans spill from your throat that seem to delight the one with its tongue in your mouth. It curls its tongue around yours, feeling over your non-threatening teeth and even sometimes dipping more towards your throat as if it was fucking your mouth. It never chokes you, as if testing your gag reflex with small, little brushes and dips.

The one holding you down makes these pleased little sounds in reply to your own noises, occasionally dipping down to nose at your hair or bop your forehead with its face. It’s affectionate in its own little way, and you’d respond, if you didn’t have a tongue down your throat or fucking into your pussy right now. Instead you can only flex your fingers, squeezing onto one of its claws in each hand to try and reciprocate the affection.

Judging by how it makes this soft little chirrup sound, you can only hope that means they understood.

A nuzzle at your crotch only sends warmth throughout your body. You feel a twist inside of you, as if the alpha is trying to make its tongue bigger, fatter, to stretch you out further. You whine out, just in time for the one to your side to retract its tongue from your mouth and move overtop you. You let out a soft sound of confusion as its legs straddle you, its back facing your head and its own head dipping to check out what the alpha is doing. It obscures your view, but even more so, you see its cock hanging heavily for you.

Their dicks, as you are just now coming to find out, do not look like a normal human’s. Instead, they look like almost long tapered tentacles. At least this one was long. Looking maybe seven or eight inches in length, it matches its wet skin tone, yet it still had balls hanging where they normally should be. Just that its cock was long, a little thin like you could wrap your fingers around it with ease and touch fingertips, and was tapered rather than thick and rounded with a head. And that it seemed sentient in a way with how it could wiggle and jerk on its own, now that you’re watching it.

Odd, but definitely workable.

You watch its cock with interest hovering near your head, but not close enough. You can only feel how the large claws circling your thighs move to rest under your thighs instead, pushing up until you’re almost folded in half despite the other licker, who you are fondly calling ‘omega’ in your head. You make a soft sound, already having been achingly close to cumming, but the new angle provides a better press upwards into you.

Then you feel another tongue joining, licking down where the other tongue was in a slow fashion until it finds your ass. Your face flushes red, a moan dropping from your throat at the thin, slippery penetration. Shamefully it makes you cum near immediately, your body jerking into an arch as best as it could in this position. Despite the fact your body is shaking as you cum with soft cries, you quickly realize why you’re in such an odd position.

Because with your arms held above your head, and a beast’s pressure atop your body, and one holding you in half from below; You can’t move.

You’re over sensitive when the alpha keeps licking at your cunt. Twisting its tongue and pulling it out halfway where you can hear the audible panting and swallowing. When its face consistently keeps nuzzling at your engorged, sensitive clit, you sob outwardly and squeeze tight onto the claws keeping your arms down. Again, the affectionate gesture from the one who you are deeming ‘Beta’ holding you down, is offered with a gently forehead press to your own. It distracts you briefly from the wiggling into your ass, knowing that there was no ‘end’ like there was in your pussy.

Oh, you could only hope that the omega realized that.

Now you have two tongues folded into you. The one in your ass seems to be a good way in, nothing overbearing, but that must be because they’ve folded their tongue in a twisting motion to feel thicker. It stretches you open, the stimulus between their tongues both pumping in and out of you in tandem near eye watering. You think you’re whining yourself hoarse, your throat clenching as you grunt when over sensitivity turns into blinding pleasure.

Your second orgasm comes with your heart pounding and practically no sound leaving you. Your insides clench and flutter, only seeming to make both lickers make happy and delighted chittering sounds. Even being able to blearily see the omega’s cock jerk in front of you, seeming to almost curl on itself and dribbling a thin, white, sticky fluid down onto your chest in a way you can only assume is it being aroused.

You can’t find words, tossing your head back to bare your throat and cry out when their tongues keep going. The beta above you leans down to nose at your throat, bending itself in half to coo near your ear and make soft little noises as if to ease you. Even as you tense your entire body and tears pour down your face from too much stimulation.

The third orgasm you have is your brief release from their grasps. You’re moved around onto almost all fours, feeling like you’re made of goo from how limp your body is. Your arms are pulled forward, above your head, held by the same beta who seemed more interested in keeping you still than joining himself. You’ve got your head in their lap, resting your cheek on one of its thighs as you quiver with anticipation.

You hear the coos and growls behind you and can only assume that they’re moving around. You’re not sure who is who, unable to look behind you, but you feel one of them slide under you onto its back. Feeling sharp teeth skim across your exposed chest with interest but not piercing flesh. Large claws hold onto your thighs to sink you downwards onto their cock with ease making your breath hitch as it sinks into your pussy.

It’s not thick or large, but the fact that it seems to be...almost curling and moving on its own? That adds to the sensation. Then you feel another join on your back, almost mounting you like a canine might with a few humps missing before you feel its cock slip into your ass.

There’s really no mercy in their movements. Animalistic, the one on your back starts fucking you raw without abandon, the one underneath you clawing at your hips to hold you still despite the fact the one above you is rocking your body. You feel occasionally nudges and licks at your nipples, brushes of sharp teeth and curiously pleasured chitters coming from above and below you. You’re so fucked out you can’t even think, your throat hurts from your moaning, and all you can do is press your face into the beta’s lap and hold on tight for the ride.

“Fuck-” You sob out when the one mounting you starts pounding their hips harder against you. The wet slap of flesh on flesh and the curling inside of your body making your fingers clench into fists underneath the large claws holding your hands. That seems to only make the ones fucking you more excited, feeling like you’re being pounded near in sync, split apart from below.

When you cum for your last time, you’re so weak from it that you almost blackout. You can vaguely hear the animalistic noises above and below you, feeling the one beneath you stilling before you feel something almost...rounder plunge into your body?

Did...

Did they have KNOTS?!

They must have appeared after they were moving inside you, because it’s about as thick as three fingers, girthy and plunging into you. You sob out at the over filled feeling when the second does the same to your ass, sticky wet warmth filling your body with no hope of escape until either would move.

You feel a lick at the back of your neck after a moment, then a nuzzle at your chest, then a gentle bonk on the back of your head from a face. You can’t help the tired laugh that buzzes from you, rolling your hips to feel the resistance of the ones inside you. “Y-yeah- yeah, you guys are welcome. Just...Just make sure I don’t fall asleep, kay?”

You hear a soft noise from the beta gently nuzzling at the back of your head, but the knots don’t seem to stay very long inside you. After a few moments the one mounting you manages to tug itself out with a bit of a grunt from you, feeling the warmth spilling out of you and down onto the licker beneath you. It doesn’t seem to mind too much, not until it’s wiggling to get itself out from under you and popping its own knot out.

By the time you’re released, you can hardly tell who’s who trying to move you around. Like a limp noodle, you let them manipulate your overworked, naked body back to lying down. Finding yourself with one tucked to your side, another across your lap in a way, and the other by your head in a little nesting pile.

Briefly, before you fall asleep, you wonder if you should worry about future zombie babies.

[buckleysjareau]

wish i could keep you in amber, safe from the outside

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place.

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too.

or

In which Eddie and Buck are struggling after the shooting and they finally have a much needed talk.

Content warning - very non descriptive depictions of war, mentions of blood, suicide statistics and past suicidal thoughts!

(Read on AO3)

Incoming! 

Break, break, break! We’re pinned down and we’re taking fire, two clicks north of our last reported position. 

Prepare for— 

Boom! 

Norwahl, stand down! You gotta get out! What the hell is wrong with you? Norwahl! 

Pain. 

Major 6-4, what’s your ETA? 

Dust off, 47. ETA six minutes. 

We don’t have six minutes. 

Diaz, keep low. Don’t stop. 

Wake up! 

Diaz! I’m black on ammo! 

Go! Go! Go! 

Diaz, he’s dead! 

Diaz, you okay? 

He’s screaming. 

He’s out of ammo— he’s got no other moves left in him. The pain is excruciating. 

Shannon. Christopher. 

I’m sorry… 

He clutches his Saint Christopher medal and he can’t stop the tears. 

Pain. 

Shannon. 

To protect you, to keep you safe. 

–

Eddie shoots up, arms flailing and screaming out something he’s not even sure is comprehensible. His heart is beating out of his chest, won’t stop, and he can’t seem to catch his breath. 

Then his surroundings start to filter in and his eyes land on his son—wait, Christopher?! 

“Chris?” He chokes out, the all consuming fear he couldn’t shake from the nightmare making words hard to speak. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Christopher asks as he reaches forward to cup his face, wiping away a tear. Eddie almost breaks. He didn’t deserve this kid. 

“Yeah, bud, I did.” He admits with a crack in his voice. 

He’d had that nightmare almost nightly for three weeks after he’d woken up in a hospital bed, his shoulder hurting the way it had when he woke in Afghanistan—Buck by his side being the one thing that stopped him from thinking he was back there. 

It’s been almost two months since that day, and Eddie kept telling himself—and everyone else— that he was fine. That he was talking about it, facing it so he could heal from it. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, he was talking about it with Frank. He just wasn’t exactly facing it as much as Frank is trying to get him to and—he wasn’t exactly fine. 

His heart races whenever he’s outside, subconsciously scanning his surroundings for anything suspicious. He’s constantly alert to everything going on around him—sights, sounds, smells. 

The nightmares started to happen less and less, though, and he could move his shoulder without wincing, the pain down to a dull ache. He was cleared to return to work by his doctors and by Frank. He was ready to go back. 

Or so he thought, until their first call. They were called to a car wreck on Twelfth Street and he hadn’t realized just where that was until the truck pulled up. He’d felt Buck tense up next to him, Eddie’s own muscles tensing right after him. 

Despite Bobby saying he could sit this call out, Eddie declined and pushed past the pounding in his heart, the tightness in his chest and the instinct to duck under the truck when a car backfired near them to do his job. 

He managed to keep it together the rest of his shift. He kept it together on the car ride home, which he has Buck to thank for that. He kept it together through dinner with Carla, Christopher and Buck. 

He kept it together until his head hit his pillow and he could finally break down a little. He’d perfected the silent tears a long time ago, when he was still under his parents’ roof and was taught that crying made him weak. 

He cries until his heart is tired and his eyes flutter shut, no energy to fight the sleep that he knows won’t be peaceful. 

That’s what leads to where he finds himself now, grasping to stay in touch with this reality as his son wipes away the tears in his eyes, soothing him. 

“You’re going to be okay, dad.” He whispers and Eddie chokes out a laugh. 

“When did you get so grown up?” He sniffles before opening his arms wide. “What do you say, you want to stay the night here with me? It’s been a while since you’ve slept in here.” 

Which he’s grateful for because that means Christopher hasn’t been subjected to a nightmare in a long time. But the nights Christopher crawled into his bed after a nightmare didn’t just only help his kid. 

Chris settles in next to him and rests his head on his shoulder, and for the first time in so long, Eddie feels calm. Peaceful. 

He glances down at his son, who’s already asleep once again, and he can’t stop the tears that build in his eyes at the thought that he’d almost left him—again. 

Diaz, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital? 

Yeah, that’d be gr—

His son had already lost his mom, and because of someone with a stupid vengeance, a really close call almost took his father away from him too. 

His emotions are strangling him not for the first time that night. He refuses to wake his son twice in one night, but he feels like he’ll suffocate from the lump in his throat if he doesn’t let it out, so he carefully stands up from the bed without moving his son too much. 

He moves to the bathroom out in the hall, shutting the door behind him before he catches his reflection in the mirror. The bags and dark circles under his eyes make him look like a zombie, brown eyes tearful and dull. The look is familiar to the one he wore for months after he got home from Afghanistan. 

Greggs is dead. 

The others aren’t, thanks to you. 

Greggs...died on impact. 

And you pulled him out anyway. You got them all out, Staff Sergeant Diaz. 

You did good, Diaz. 

Doesn’t feel like enough. 

Splashing his face with water does its job to bring him back to the present but does little to help the lifelessness behind his eyes. 

“Eddie!” 

At the frightened call of his name, Eddie is suddenly ready and alert for any incoming danger. 

He stands with his hand on the handle to the bathroom door, standing still, listening out for the call again. 

“Eddie! No!” 

He’s off without a second thought, fast but quietly running towards the living room where he knows Buck is sleeping. 

“Let me go! Eddie!” 

Eddie’s heart is in his throat at the agony in his best friend’s cries and the sight of him thrashing so bad he’s started to move the couch. 

A sob erupts from Buck’s lip and that’s what kicks Eddie into action. He’s in front of the couch on the coffee table, not too close to crowd him but close enough to reach out if needed. 

“Buck, wake up, it’s okay. I’m okay, you just have to wake up. It’s just a dream.” 

He tries to reach him with words but nothing seems to be getting through, so he reaches forward and shakes him, his name on his lips, and braces for the impact of flailing arms and kicking legs. Nothing comes. 

Except the broken sob around Eddie’s name. 

The tears well up behind his eyes once again but this time, he pushes them back. The first thing Buck sees when he’s shaken out of his nightmare should not be Eddie crying. 

He squeezes down on his shoulder once more and that’s what seems to do the trick. Buck shoots up on the couch, Eddie’s name leaving his lips on a scream, hands clawing at the blankets in front of him—clawing at the blankets like he’d clawed to get away from Mehta to get to Eddie. 

“Eddie!” 

“Buck, Buck, it’s okay, I’m okay. I’m right here. It was just a dream. Buck, look at me!” 

Eddie, look at me! Look at me, man, come on. Stay awake! 

Buck freezes when his eyes finally land on him, but before Eddie can let out a sigh of relief that he’d gotten through to him, Buck is gripping his shirt just over where the bullet went through and the tremors going through Buck go straight through Eddie from the contact. 

“We need to stop the bleeding!” He croaks out. “You’re losing so much blood. There’s so much blood.” 

Shit. Buck might be awake, but his mind isn’t there with the rest of him yet. 

“Hey, Buck, there’s no blood. Okay? There’s no blood. I’m fine, I’m all patched up—” 

He pulls the bottom of his shirt up as much as he can and uses his other hand to move Buck’s hand from the grip on his shirt to the scar just under his shoulder. 

“—see? You helped stop the bleeding. I’m okay, Buck, because you saved me. We’re not back there. You’re here with me in my living room and I’m with you.” 

The fog is slowly starting to clear from his eyes as he traces the scar. “You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay.” He assures. 

Eddie thinks they might be in the clear until Buck looks down at his trembling hands and his breathing picks up, more and more until he’s hyperventilating. 

“Get it off—it needs to—make it go away. Get it off of me. It’s all over.” He sobs and Eddie has to clasp both of Buck’s hands in between his own when he starts to roughly rub at his face. 

Eddie needed to calm himself down. He needs to stay grounded in this moment because Buck was in front of him, but so far away and needed Eddie to bring him back. 

So he takes a deep breath and thinks about how Buck helped him through one of his flashbacks he’d experienced a couple of days after waking up in the hospital. 

“Buck, I think you’re having a flashback right now. That’s okay though, because I’m gonna help get you through it, just like you did for me in the hospital.” 

Buck whimpers. “The blood—get it off.” 

“There is no blood, Buck. Do you hear me? Listen to my voice. It’s Eddie, we’re both safe and okay at my house right now, there’s no blood. If you can hear me, squeeze my hands.” 

Eddie relaxes the slightest when there’s a light squeeze around his fingers. 

“Good, that’s really good. Do you think you can lift your head for a second?” He smiles at him when he lifts his head and meets his eye. “Look around the room. Describe your surroundings.” 

Buck’s grip on Eddie’s hand gets tighter. 

“Okay, how about this—” Eddie pauses and looks around the room, finding the object thrown just a little bit across the room and leans forward to grab it. “Take this, Buck. Can you tell me about it? The details? The feeling? Describe it in great detail for me.” 

Buck pulls his hands away from Eddie’s and grips the blanket in front of him. 

It was a weighted blanket Adriana had given Eddie for his birthday one year, that was however taken by Buck whenever he’d stay over. That weighted blanket was used for comfort by Buck, no matter the mood he was in. It stays at Eddie’s house because Buck is there more often than not, but make no mistake, it was now Buck’s. 

Hopefully this helps. 

“It’s–It’s weighted.” Buck stutters out. 

“Good, good. What else about it?” 

“It’s gray…and plaid…”

–

“I’m sorry that I woke you up.” Buck whispers into the quiet kitchen. 

Eddie sighs. “You didn’t wake me, I was already up.” He admits. 

“Oh. Are you okay?” 

He’s already tensing up, like Eddie’s been hiding that something’s been wrong the entire time, like Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling Buck he was. 

Which, technically would have been a lie if he’d been talking about his mental health—but he was reassuring Buck that he was in good physical health, so, nothing to hide. 

Eddie still hesitates. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He continues when Buck raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Physically, I’m okay, I promise. Just had a nightmare.” 

It’s completely silent aside from a sharp intake of breath from Buck. 

“You’re still having nightmares?” Is what Buck finally asks, voice wavering and quiet. 

“You’re having nightmares?” Eddie asks, deflecting but also asking out of concern. 

Silence follows after. Buck won’t look up from where his eyes are trained on the mug of tea Eddie had placed in front of him with a look that he’d hoped read I care about you. The heat of his stare could probably heat up the tea on its own, but the look doesn’t deter him, it only makes him more concerned. 

Buck, for the most part, was open about how he was feeling. It’s a quality that Eddie adored and often envied. He liked to—had to—talk his feelings out until he could make sense of them. If he didn’t, it would build and fester and eat away at him until he snapped. The lawsuit was one example of what happens when Buck doesn’t talk out how he’s feeling. 

He knows he has Doctor Copeland and maybe he’s been talking about it to her, but Eddie can’t get rid of the feeling that this is something that has festered over two months and if that’s the case—

Well, he’s terrified of what Buck will do when he finally snaps. 

Up to fifty-four percent of suicides in people with PTSD are attributed to PTSD. 

He swallows the lump in his throat as a statistic he’d read in the book Frank had given him about PTSD makes its way to the forefront of his mind. He has to stop himself from physically flinching away from the thought. 

It was something he brought up with Frank after he’d read the book at his insistence. The statistic had struck something in him then and the question that followed from Frank had given him a lot to think about. 

“Have you recently thought about ending your life?”

It wasn’t a recent thing but it had been an almost consistent thought after he’d gotten back from Afghanistan when his PTSD was at its worst and he hadn’t seen an end to his suffering in sight. 

What if Buck has been feeling the same way? 

What if one day his trauma gets too much and he— what if he—

No. That’s not going to happen, not if Eddie has anything to say about it. 

He breaks the silence. 

“Have you talked to Doctor Copeland about how much you’re struggling?” 

Still refusing to look at him, Buck mumbles, “I’m not struggling.” 

Eddie scoffs. “I believe that.” 

“You should.” Buck huffs out. 

“You’re allowed to struggle with this, Buck. What happened was—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cuts Eddie off abruptly, his voice choked. 

Eddie crosses the room, pulls out the chair next to Buck from under the table and turns to face it directly at him before sitting down. 

“Well, I’m sorry, but we’re going to talk about it.” He says matter-of-factly. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, his tone a warning.

“Buck.” He counters in the same tone. 

Buck looks like he’s about to bolt— he knows him well enough to know he won’t, but he still reaches out and gently squeezes Buck’s forearm, not letting go. He can feel how much he’s still shaking and squeezes again in an effort to comfort him—and comfort himself, keep himself and Buck grounded in the present. He’s feeling so on edge himself, so he can’t imagine how Buck must feel after that flashback. 

“We haven’t talked about that day. It’s been almost two months and we haven’t talked about what happened.” He swallows. “Have you talked about it to anyone?” 

The breath Buck takes in is shaky. 

“Why are you so insistent about my struggles when you’re struggling yourself?” His tone is defensive but it has Eddie nodding. 

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then meets Buck’s eyes. “I am. Struggling.” 

It’s the first time Eddie has admitted to anyone outright that he was struggling. He’d talked to Frank, but he only ever said the bare minimum of what he was feeling and he admits he had no plans to continue his sessions with Frank now that it’s not mandatory. 

The uncomfortable feeling that always comes with being this vulnerable, even with Buck, starts to buzz under his skin but he continues. 

“It’s not something I ever like to admit, you know this...but yeah, Buck, I’m really struggling.” 

At the break in his voice, Buck’s hand is suddenly resting on top of the hand that’s holding onto Buck’s forearm. He remains quiet but he gives Eddie a look that said he was listening if he wanted to talk more. 

He’s not surprised to find that he does want to talk about it more because talking to Buck has always been easy, no matter how hard the topic was to talk about. 

“I was really bad when I came home from Afghanistan after I was given a Silver Star. I was being called a hero by everyone when all I could think was that I didn’t do good enough because Greggs still died, still left three daughters behind.” 

Eddie pauses to take a much needed deep breath and turns his hand that’s under Buck’s palm up and grasps onto Buck’s the second their hands connect. Buck squeezing back is enough to get the next words out of his mouth. 

“I’m really scared that I’m gonna get that bad again, man.” Eddie whispers his greatest fear. “There have been days where I’ve been terrified to leave the house, thinking that they didn’t actually catch the sniper and I’ll be back there again. I can’t go back there again.” 

Buck squeezed his hand again in comfort. 

“I’m always going to be here for you, Eds. I won’t let you go back there.” Buck’s voice is no more than a whisper but the sentiment is so loud. 

He knows Buck will always be there for him, it’s not a surprise, but the simple promise from his best friend was exactly what he needed to loosen the tightness in his chest for the time being. A sob bubbles past his throat and that’s all it takes for Buck to pull him into his arms and give Eddie the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever received. 

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place. 

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too. 

“And I’m always going to be here for you,” Eddie whispers against Buck’s neck after a while. 

He feels the moment Buck tenses. He expects him to pull away, to try to convince Eddie he’s not struggling, but instead, Buck sucks in a breath and grips the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

“You almost weren’t.” 

The choked whisper has Eddie tightening his arms around Buck. “But I’m here now and that’s because of you, okay? You kept me alive.” 

He doesn’t just mean the way Buck had gotten him into the safety of the 133’s truck, or the way he did all he could to make sure he hadn’t lost any more blood. 

He fought to come home to Christopher, and he fought to come home to Buck. He held on for those two and those two only. 

Not Ana, who he should have thought of but she wasn’t who he loved. 

It’s a good thing that he hadn’t fought to come back to her, too, because the moment Eddie shut down… she left. He couldn’t blame her, he’d been a wreck when he first came home and his mental health was not on her. 

But Buck was there. Buck never left, has never left, will never leave. If Eddie is sure of anything, it’s Buck’s permanency in his life. 

He’s going to make damn sure he’s a permanent in Buck’s by fighting to come home to him, too. 

“I froze, Eddie. I didn’t do anything.” 

“You did everything you could do in the situation and you saved me, Buck. Don’t you get that? You kept me hanging on, you got me back to my son.” 

He feels Buck shake his head as he starts to burrow his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He doesn’t respond, just shakes in his arms. A sob escapes Buck’s lips. 

Eddie holds him tighter, using his good arm to rub his hand up and down Buck’s back in an attempt to soothe him. 

“Talk to me, Buck.” He pleads. Eddie is still crying himself—hasn't been able to get himself to stop. 

“There was so much—” He starts off before pushing away from Eddie’s embrace and puts a hand near his throat, rubbing at his skin as if he was scrubbing something off. “So much blood.” 

Yeah, that’d be gr—

—gunfire. 

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory from the forefront of his mind. 

“Yo–you–you reached for me, and I cou–couldn’t get to you. Then your eyes closed and oh my God, Eddie, there was so much blood.” 

Buck is pretty much wailing at this point and he can’t help but wonder how Christopher hasn’t been woken up yet from the noise they’ve both made. He doesn’t think he can take the pain in his heart at the anguish in his best friend’s cries and he vows to himself to never cause this pain again. 

He’s still rubbing at his neck, staring directly at Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie doesn’t like the way his stare starts to become distant. He reaches for Buck’s hand and lets out a sigh of relief when he lets him pull it away from his throat. 

“Stay with me, Buck.” 

Stay with me, Eddie! 

Breathe. 

“Shit—fuck—shit, I’m so sorry.” Buck chokes out and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise—confusion, disbelief… 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, man.” 

“No, no, I do. I’m not the one who got shot, I shouldn’t be��I shouldn’t be struggling like this… and you got shot, you’re dealing with your own feelings about that, you shouldn’t have to listen to me.” 

Eddie ducks down to try to meet Buck’s eye. “Hey, no, it’s not a competition here—who had it more traumatic—no. You were covered in my blood, you were being targeted in active shooter situation—”

“Actually, I wasn’t.” He cuts him off sharply. 

“He was targeting firefighters.” 

“I was in my civies. He wasn’t after me, he was targeting the 133 and you.” The guilt in his statement cuts right through Eddie’s heart. 

“You’re allowed to be struggling, Buck. You’ve got every right to be and I hate that you haven’t talked to anyone about this— it’s been two months. Why?” 

“Because I’m not the one who got shot and because I just freeze like I did then when it’s brought up. I couldn’t get myself to talk about it but now that I have it’s all coming out and fuck, Eds, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You were still involved in a completely fucked up situation and anyone who has would struggle. I get it, though. You’re the first person outside of Frank that I’ve talked to about how it’s messed me up. But shit, Buck, I know from experience how much worse I’d be if I didn’t talk about it.” He takes in a deep breath and lets out a humorless laugh. “When did we switch places here?” 

He continues when Buck gives him a bewildered look. 

“You have to talk your problems out to process them and I have never liked talking about my problems. When did you become the one in this relationship to hold it all in and when did I become the one that actually talked about it so I could heal from it?” 

“When I almost lost you.” Buck whispers, his voice wet. “I’m proud of you, though. I’m glad you’re talking to Frank. I hope he’s helped.” 

“Well you didn’t lose me. I’m right here, so talk to me. Come to me when you get like this. We went through the same hellish trauma together so I promise you I won’t get tired of you talking about your feelings from it—about anything.” 

He knows that Buck feeling like a burden is part of his reluctance to talk, it always was whenever Buck came to him to talk about his struggles. 

Buck sighs, tension deflating from his body little by little before he folds over and rests his forehead on Eddie’s chest. Eddie takes his hand that’s not holding Buck’s and cards it through his hair. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll try, on one condition.” 

“Anything.” Eddie means it. 

“You come to me, too.” 

“Deal.” Eddie smiles. “Maybe you can do something for me though?” 

“Anything.” Buck whispers. 

“The second her office opens, set up an appointment with Doctor Copeland.” Eddie almost pleads. “I’m going to book one with Frank.” 

He hadn’t planned on going back to him after the sessions stopped being mandatory but this talk has made him realize a few things, and one of them was that therapy had helped. The difference between Eddie’s return from Afghanistan and the aftermath of being shot was just that—therapy. 

And if it got his best friend to actually talk about it and start healing, too,  that’s a positive bonus. 

“Yeah, o—” A loud yawn escapes Buck that cuts him off. 

Eddie yawns right after him, followed by a snort. “We should probably get some sleep.” 

“I can’t—I don’t want to have another nightmare.” 

Eddie moves the hand in Buck’s hair to his cheek and lightly taps him. He smiles at Buck as their eyes meet. “I’ve got an idea. C’mon, get up, follow me.” 

Buck never makes a move to let go of Eddie’s hand as they walk and neither does he. He goes over to the couch and grabs Buck’s weighted blanket with his free hand and leads him to his room. 

“Eddie?” Buck stops him before he can open the door. 

“Stay with me tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“It would be for me, too.” Eddie squeezes his hand. “Though I should warn you—” He opens his door to reveal Christopher sound asleep in his bed. “I should have said stay with us tonight.” 

“Eddie.” 

“I’m absolutely positive I want you with us tonight.” He answers the unasked question on Buck’s tongue. 

He lifts the blanket and gestures for Buck to get in first but Buck shakes his head. “You can go there.” 

The bed stirs as he gets in. 

“Dad?” Christopher mumbles sleepily. “Buck?” 

“Yeah, bud, Buck’s here. He also had a bad dream, do you mind if he sleeps with us?” Eddie asks, already knowing his son’s answer would be yes. 

Christopher nods with a sleepy smile. 

When Buck slides in next to him, Christopher leans over and cups Buck’s face the way he had cupped his not two hours ago. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.” 

Tears appear in Buck’s eyes but he gives Christopher a wet smile and nods. “Yeah. I think I will be.” 

His son really was the greatest. 

Buck’s insistence that Eddie got into bed before him starts to make sense after Buck starts to fall asleep. He subconsciously slots himself against Eddie’s back and pulls him closer, leaving his arm around him, resting over his heart. 

He wanted to protect him. He’d wanted to protect Eddie from all of the dangers that could come through that door. 

In that moment, Eddie has never felt safer. 

His safe place.

[radioactive-synth]

WIP SUNDAY:

tagged a long time ago by @aviatorfics thanks!

taggin: @theartofblossoming , @the-laridian , @portergage , @just-another-wasteland-merc , and whoever wants to do it!

little something as i started to replay FO1...im not intending to write a whole novel for my Vault Dweller, but my mind is kinda set on this little ancient game <3

She cannot lie, she was scared, but in the same time, fascinated. All her life she knew, it was cold metal, yet the artificial warmth was never missing. Recirculated air and recycled water, never missing. And food grown from the laboratory, and only on special occasions, the stash that was given by the long gone ancestors was opened, serving pork and beans, sugar bombs, canned meat and even boiled chicken eggs preserved in boxes.

But now? She seen crops that she never seen before, yet they taste the same as the one in the Vault. People who wear other clothes than the same boring, but comforting blue vault suit, with the number branded on the back. And people who reuse the junk left by ancestors in different ways, either building walls to protect their cities, or redone as weapons.

But nothing could had compare to the feeling of the rays from the Sun on her face, when she got out the cave.

more under the cut CAUSE I DIDNT EXPECTED TO WRITE THAT LONG

Noné Smith had received coordinates for the Hub, where there could be more chances to find what she needs. Or at least, to buy some fresh water for the Vault. She doesn’t have much... caps on her, but she is not afraid to get her hands dirty. All she hopes is that she doesn’t need to kill another human being...

She felt her legs giving out any time, but she pushed further. As she could see from afar, another city seems to arise. She stops a bit, looking through her backpack and retrieve her pip-boy. The machine shows a location, but she cannot make it much. She closes the screen and puts it back.

She felt pain struck her left leg. That damn oversized scorpion managed to pinch her with its claw, but she was determined to take them all out. Only when she got back to Shady Sands, she noticed the blood soaking her vault suit. She received help and shelter for a few days, until she healed enough to move again. But the doctor warned her to take breaks in her travels.

But where to take a break in this wasteland? she wondered. Only dead trees, junks that were once transportation machines, and... bones she hoped that were of animal origins. She took another few steps, and felt her leg give out. She groans in pain, and limped to the nearest pile of metal. Not much of a shelter, but her back can be protected. 

She put her backpack besides her, her gun loaded, and let her back rest against the cold metal. She had thought to use a stimpack, but she only has two left. Only in emergencies....

__________________

‘’Tis the way, to Hub. Told ya I will get you there!’ the raspy voice echoed through the valley.

‘Sure, sure, just alert any other scorpions and rats, while you are at it!’ another coarse voice warned them.

She just glances at them, but paid them no mind, as she pulls the robe from a brahmin, to make her move faster. They have been on the road for days. Or weeks. Libby no longer had kept count of the days, or the years, ever since her face changed, just like how it happened to the other three... colleagues? Friends? 

She cannot really decide how to call them. They were the only ones who didn’t shot her on sight, decades ago. One of the men is a veteran, who has his theories on who launched the bombs first, but is an excellent fighter, the other man was a teacher, who has good survival and communication skills, and the other person, another woman, who was a tailor, and still can create clothes from almost anything. And about her? Her knowledge of pharmaceutical products made her fit for fullfilling the role of the medic/chemist of the group. She always thinks she is not a medic, like her son... is... but she had helped and saved the lives of other people on many occasions.

She looks through her jacket, and pulls out one of her salvaged photography. The one that depicts her son, Vaughn Aleksandros Zander, and her nephew, Vincent Nathaniel Hudson. The boys she raised and loved them a lot. One of them was long gone even before the bombs, went down as a hero, in the war. The other one... she still thinks he is still alive, in the Vault, or at least her grandson Shaun had also survived and thrives now. She gently runs her thumb over the photography, before putting it back in her jacket.

Libby then looks over, but the road seems clear, except for some dead trees and burned carcasses of the cars. But then her attention is drawn to something else. Or someone...

‘Hey, think there’s someone at that truck.’ she calls for attention at her group.

The other three looked where she pointed out.

‘Huh, another corpse fresh from the Vault-Tec.’

‘Pretty sure it ain’t dead.’

‘Not for long. Now come on, the Hub is over there. Y’all better cover up yer mugs, or get again shot at.’

‘And you really will leave them out there?’ Libby asked, her tone a bit firm.

‘Libby, don’t fuckin’ do it again! We can’t help any stray out there!’

‘That “stray” is also a human, like us.’

‘Then it better use your face as practice shooting!’

‘Go fuck yourself. I catch you up later.’ Libby said, and went to the truck’s direction.

She figured it out that the... vaultie is not dead, but she noticed their stained suit. They seemed to rest, as they had their head on their knees.

‘Hey. Are you alright? Do you need help, darling?’ she said in her usual motherly tone.

___________________

She stirred from her sleep, feeling her back stiff. She heard the coarse, but very gentle voice. As she could sworn she heard her grandmother talking. But.. she was long gone.

‘Huh? What? Hey, I don’t want trouble!’ Noné said, looking up. But before her, there stands a person that seemed to be a burnt victim, yet she has a very unusual warm smile. She yelps a bit, and gets up, pointing her gun to the intruder. ‘What the fuck? Are you a zombie? Get out!’ her voice is trembling, as her finger on the trigger.

She heard the... person sighing, and sees that they raise their hands a bit.

‘Look, darling, I know I look repulsive, but I don’t mean any harm. I seen you there, and thought you need help.’

‘Wh-why? What? What are you? You look horrible! Why you don’t have your nose?’

The person shakes their head. 

‘Darling, I’m your first ghoul, right?’

The look on her face had gave the stranger the answer they expected.

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

dings a rinky triangle right next to your head Hi guys, it's fic time! I actually put this up last night but I'm telling you right now. It's had a few hours to cool, like a pie out of the oven, but made of words. This chapter will actually contain mentions of ssssself harm, so viewer beware, i guess.

His world stays dark, even though he knows he’s opened his eyes. He tries to understand that, brain feeling foggy. He must be somewhere dark. He’s laying on his back. He can hear muffled voices, maybe, over him? He’s under something. He lays there, listening, but he’s too tired to even try to understand, and the voices are too muffled to be anything recognizable. Maybe, if he really strains, he can hear a familiar voice, or someone who sounds like his baby sister, but the only word he manages to understand is “invisible.”

He falls back into a restless sleep.

The next time he’s able to shake exhaustion from his mind, he tries to sit up. It’s easier than he thought it might be. This time, more aware of himself, his body feeling less destroyed, he actually tries to understand where he is. It feels like he’s laying in dirt, or under dirt, in a mountain of it, the usual soft scent of freshly turned earth overpowering. It still hurts to move, but he forces himself to, clawing upwards, through the dirt, until he reaches a wooden plank, which he goes through, like he’s not even there.

It’s a box, containing something foul smelling. A coffin… he’s inside a coffin. Juno buried him below a pine box, in someone else’s grave. The inside of it stinks, like decay and chemicals, and he doesn’t stop to take in whoever this used to be, just pushes up, and out, until he emerges from the ground like a zombie, like Night of the Living Dead. The ground around him is grown over with grass, and he grabs at it, using it as much as he can, as he crawls from someone’s grave, until finally, he pulls himself free from the earth, and lays there, taking breaths he doesn’t need, to clear the smell of the body from his nose. His suit and trench coat are filthy, but that barely registers, at this point. There are more important things to worry about, like getting home- He sits up, catches sight of the gravestone.

Emily Deetz Devoted Wife, Beloved Mother “Whom Most We Love Reach First the Golden Gate, Leaving Us Desolate”

He stares at the etching on the stone, and feels something in his mind snap, like a rubber band stretched too tight. He’s seeing the world through a fisheye lens, his vision distorted, blurry, as he tries to understand exactly what just happened. Juno made him crawl out of his own mother’s grave. The body he still reeks of was Emily’s. He sits there, a long time, not feeling much of anything, only able to stare, replaying that memory, over and over, and the only thing that makes him move is the sudden realization of what grass over a grave could mean. Emily’s been buried long enough for it to grow. How long has it been since he’s been home? He does his best to push this fun new trauma down, as far as it will go. He’s got to get back to his family. What’s left of it, he thinks, humorlessly.

He stands, off balance, and wipes some of the dust and dirt from his face, and finds that, annoyingly, his glamour has slipped, and it refuses to reapply. Maybe he’s too drained, though he’s not sure how he’s going to get back home, clearly looking as deranged as he must. He’s too exhausted to teleport, and he wanders around the cemetery, avoiding the few people there as much as he can, as the sun dips low, and vanishes. At least by that point he can force his teeth and ears to resemble normal human’s. The moss and eyes, well, he’s too worn down to care. So he’ll look like an extra grubby hobo, he thinks. That’ll have to be his new look, for now.

He reaches a gate, and leans on it, and then falls through it, and blinks, confused. He’s never been intangible by accident, before. Usually it takes concentration to make his solid form incorporeal. He stands, straightens out his suit collar, adjusts his sleeves, fiddles with his tie, as he thinks. There’s got to be someone around here who can call his family for him, or at the very least, a cab. The cemetery is growing darker, and his attention is drawn to the far off flicker of candles. He feels a pull, and he approaches, taking in what he sees.

It’s a group of five teenagers with an Ouija board. Predictable. He snorts, and expects that sound to alert the kids to his presence, but they don’t even turn to see what the noise could be. He steps closer, until he’s fully illuminated by the glowing ring of candles around them, and he tries to be friendly. “Hey, just a normal livin’ adult human man, in a cemetery, at night, approachin’ a group of children. You kids wanna be helpful an’ call me a cab?” BJ tries, but he’s ignored. The kids don’t even look in his direction. He remembers being a snot nosed teen, but this is a bit much. His blood boils, and he leans down, claps his hands in one of the teen’s faces, and she responds to that, but not in the way he wants. “I think I just felt a cold spot!” she tells her friends. “In front of my face, just now!” “Calm down with that,” a red haired girl shoots her a look. “We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already having a spiritual experience. Yeah, right.” “No you guys, really!”

“Lookit me,” he interrupts them. The children continue to squabble. His gut clenches. “Look at me!” he demands, storming to the center of the circle, and kicking at their stupid board game. His boot goes through it. They don’t react. Why would they, he realizes, sinking to sit on top of the board.

He’s invisible.

He tries to recall everything Juno had said, as he’d struggled to keep conscious, while impaled. Loneliness. Invisibility, being at the command of the living. Being… forgotten. No, no, NO- His impending freak out is stymied when he feels hands go through him, and he shoots up, hovering over the board game, as the teens below him react. “Oh my god, total cold spot! Should we like, make a note of that?” “Come on, come on, let’s start, while there’s still someone or something here!”

The five teens lean forward, each placing fingers on the planchette. “Is there anyone here?” one of them asks.

Betelgeuse stares, and feels a tug, again, clearly coming from the board. He knows some demons use these things to play with their food, before they eat, so he gives it a go, and floats over the game, head down, feet in the air, like he’s diving underwater. Maybe these kids can actually help him. He pushes the planchette with one finger, to land on “Yes.”

“Did you do that?” one boy asks, and the group devolves into the kids blaming each other, and he rakes his hands down his face, and tries to move the planchette, again, but they’re too busy squabbling, they’re not touching it anymore. Fuck, this is frustrating. He’s never wanted a group of teenagers to drop dead as badly as he does right now. Finally, they put their hands back on the pointer, and ask another question. “Are you friendly?”

This time, he pushes the planchette to spell, instead. “S-U-R-E.” “That doesn’t instill a lot of confidence,” the redhead from before mutters. “What do you want?” He nudges the pointer along, painstakingly slow. “H-O-M-E.” “You want to go home?” “YES.”

“For fuck sake, yes,” he groans, and then perks as one asks, “How can we help you?” Well… he’s not actually sure. He squints, trying and failing to recall everything Juno had said. How is he supposed to work with this curse thing, when he doesn’t know the rules? He digs his hands in his pockets, frustrated, and then blinks, because there’s what feels like a business card there, one that he doesn’t remember. He pulls the paper from his pocket, studies it.

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE

He remembers the way Juno had chanted his name, before he’d lost consciousness. That must be it, then. His name is his burden.

“M-Y-N-A-M-E-T-H-R-E-E-T-I-M-E-S”

“Oh, wait, wait, guys, I’ve heard of this,” one of the girls gasps. “Demonic entities, they have you do things in threes, to mock the trinity, you know, father, son, and holy ghost. It’s a demon thing! We might be talking to a non-human spirit!” “That means we can’t trust it, right?” A boy asks, and they all look uneasy. He steers the planchette around the board, desperate. “W-A-N-N-A-H-O-M-E-P-L-Z.” The redhead wrinkles her nose. “Do demons use chat speak?” she asks, glancing around the group.

“O-H-M-Y-G-O-D-U-K-I-D-S-A-R-E-K-I-L-L-I-N-M-E.”

“I’m not afraid. Tell us your name, spirit!” a boy calls, and he gives the planchette a push, intent on spelling it. The pointer doesn’t move. “Come the fuck on!” he growls, but it doesn’t matter how much strength he puts into the action, he can’t move the dinky plastic piece to spell out his name.

“Spirit? You there?”

“F-U-C-K,” he spells out, in a rage, because this is pointless, he’s too exhausted and sore to think of how to make this work, and he just wants to go home, and see what’s left of his family. He growls again, and then snuffs all the candles in the circle, all at once, causing the kids to scream, and scramble, and that, at least, forces a rictus grin from him. He’s always enjoyed the sounds of terror. He leaves the children tripping over themselves in the dark, and decides he’s going to have to make his way home the old fashioned way- floating. At least he doesn’t have to walk, he supposes, tucking his legs under himself, and he floats invisibly out of the cemetery, and down the sidewalk, trying to focus on how good it will be to see Lydia and Charles, and not on how they won’t see him, and especially not on how every part of him, physically, emotionally, mentally, is hurting. read the rest over here~ If you're totally lost, I find starting at the beginning of something often makes the middle of something make better sense. So you can start at the very beginning right HERE

[5hadow-alpha]

In The Moment

So this is really scary because I have never uploaded any of my writing before and I have not written for a long, long, long time. But @psychoseal reassured me that everyone was really nice so I’m taking a leap of faith after this has been sat on my laptop for about two weeks... 

Like my Eos art, this is inspired by @eirabach‘s The Man Comes Around (Which I can’t figure out how to put a link to, sorry!), which was apparently enough to resurrect my zombie muse. I suppose they could tie in together actually! 

Warning: there is a mention of an unnamed serious illness which I didn’t do any research into but I am aware that it can be a sensitive topic for some. I know how hard it can be seeing friends and relatives affected by illness so if it is too personal then drop me a message and I can offer support or take it down. 

I also have the flamethrower nearby if you need to burn your eyes out afterwards because I have no idea if this is awful or not! 

Okay, so I’m just going to leave this here and go and hide in corner... 

“Eos, are you there?”

Decades ago, she would have scoffed at that question. Of course she was there, she was always there. But a long time had passed since she had come to the realisation that sometimes humans needed to ask obvious questions simply to hear the answer spoken out loud. It offered them clarity, confirmation, reassurance.

So her answer was simple, “Yes, John.”

He smiled up at the camera, wrinkles clawing at the corners of his eyes, “Of course you are.” He was silent for a long moment, just staring up at that black lens.

She stared back, waiting.

Patience was one of the hardest lessons she had been forced to learn since she had gained sentience. Her base programming, the code that John had designed as a game, was always urging her to keep moving. The next level constantly promised more excitement, more challenges. There was progress and improvements and adventure to be had at every new stage.

Now, however, she wished she had learned how to be patient a long time ago. If she had, she might have realised that rushing through all of those precious memories without savouring every moment might have just been the biggest mistake she had ever made.

Of course, she could replay those memories – everything she saw was recorded and stored on her hard drives. But they were never quite the same as experiencing them. Living them. Being in the moment. There was nothing that compared to the grateful smiles of the people they saved, or the rush of excitement when they went out into the field. There was nothing like the fond eye-rolls that John would give his stubborn and occasionally annoying brothers.

There was nothing that she could ever imagine feeling as good as watching over everything below them, just her and John amongst the stars.

She had thought that, in the moment, it would last forever.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

 Because amongst the stars was a dangerous place, and the dangers were not always visible. The doctors and her own research concluded that radiation did terrifying, horrendous things to human bodies even when protected by the Earth’s atmosphere. To John, who had spent so much time outside of the planet’s protective bubble…

And in this moment, as she watched him, she wished she hadn’t overlooked that unseen danger. Wished that for all her power and capability she had seen that John wasn’t invincible. Perhaps then, she could have made sure that her creator, her father, had necessary precautions that were so critical for his health.

It was too late for that now, though. That fiery red hair of youth had been extinguished by streaks of white ice. But like winter melting into spring, the ice was melting away, thinning. There couldn’t stop the pang of nostalgia when she saw he was still styling it in the same way he always had. The habits that humans maintained through their lives was something she had always found adorable. Laughter lines etched deep into his face, overlapping with the stress marks, like physical scars that matched the mental ones still lingering even now from all of those difficult rescues over the years. And there had been so, so many. But despite it all, those turquoise eyes still shone bright and alert and full of the cunning intelligence John was known for. Although now they often wandered and lost focus, turning their gaze inwards or to somewhere else entirely.

She hated it when he did that, because it meant he was somewhere that she could not follow.

Now his focus wandered again, but this time it was up to the stars. There were no clouds tonight, and she saw him looking for the constellations hung up in patterns that had always mesmerised him. Her processors tracked a satellite in low orbit, and even though John’s eyesight might not have been as strong as it once was, she could see him following the steady dot of light as it made its way across the horizon.

The sky was still the focus of his attention when he spoke again, “I want to go back home, Eos.”

She had to pause, process. His last round of treatments had been intense, but the preliminary reports were promising, at least for his short-term recovery. “The doctors say you can go back to Tracy Island in-“

“No. I want to go home. To Thunderbird 5.”

She adjusted the camera, refocused. Took a nanosecond to replay the footage and repeat his words. She had heard him correctly.

“John…” She had to be careful, so careful, “I don’t know if they’ll let you.”

He shot her a mischievous smile, that old twinkle sparkling in his eyes. His little brothers used to run a mile when they saw that look, “I’m sure you can do something about that.”

She paused to assess the situation. John’s condition hadn’t deteriorated too rapidly, he was still strong. The lack of gravity would take pressure off his recovering body.

Maybe, just maybe, she could.

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Shantae Headcanons - Main Four

So, with the response to my question being entirely positive, I am in fact going to be writing down some headcanons. I have a LOT, mind you, so I’m going to spread this out over time. Headcanons will be tagged as such (as well as the usual “not a quote” tag) for organization, and also in the event you’re only interested in the quotes.

For this batch of headcanons, I’ll be covering Shantae, Sky, Bolo, and Rottytops! And I’m putting this under a read more because it is LONG.

Shantae:

The fact that Shantae lives in a lighthouse isn’t just to give her a lookout as the protector of Scuttle Town. It does actually function as a lighthouse, albeit a magical one - it gains an orb of light at night on the tip of its roof to guide passing ships. Shantae’s the one who added that functionality, and she’s the one who works and maintains the light when she’s not protecting Scuttle Town!

Scuttlebutt actually pays her more for that then he does for her job as a protector, which irks Shantae to no end, but since she is getting paid at the end of the day she doesn’t complain.

When Shantae can’t fall asleep for whatever reason, her usual way of trying to deal with it is to do some maintenance on the lighthouse, whether it be the structure or the light atop. She can be up doing this for hours if no one stops her. Thankfully, Sky’s trained Wrench to occasionally check in on Shantae during the night so he can alert her if she’s doing this, allowing Sky to step in and drag Shantae back to bed before she overextends herself...even if Sky ends up falling asleep on Shantae’s floor a minute later.

Has quite a bit of mechanical knowledge learned from Uncle Mimic, she just rarely gets to put it to use.

Shantae’s a big fan of seafood...which makes turning into her aquatic forms (and the entirety of Seven Sirens) a bit. Awkward. To say the least. She tries not to think about it.

Sky:

Sky’s named every single bird in her care, and is able to tell them apart at a glance even if they’re near identical. No one’s quite sure how she’s able to do this.

The reason why Sky is so peeved at Rottytops during Seven Sirens, even though their shared experience in Friends to the End should’ve improved their relationship? Well, it’s actually because of their improved relationship that Sky was more snippy with Rottytops there - when Shantae couldn’t find Rottytops, the only logical conclusion Sky could find is that she skipped out on them, which...really hurt, especially since it was just after they’d just started to know each other better, and she did genuinely want to spend time with the zombie. That hurt, combined with the existing stress of the situation, made Sky fall back on old habits, with Rottytops returning the favor.

Thankfully, the misunderstanding is cleared up by Shantae on the way back to Scuttle Town when Sky vents her frustrations to her, leading to a profuse apology on Sky’s part when they touch down on solid ground. Rottytops is surprised, but happily accepts.

While Sky’s passion is raising birds, she’s not a big fan of the fact that she has to raise them solely for combat. She’s tried promoting more domestic uses of her birds, but hasn’t found anything that sticks. Shantae and Bolo have both helped with her endeavors on this front at separate times; their ideas haven’t worked either. Rottytops hasn’t been made aware of this because of Sky’s initial testy relationship with her, but with their interactions being a bit more friendly nowadays, Sky’s considering talking to her about it because she’s running out of ideas.

Bolo:

Bolo does have a close family member he lives with, like Rottytops with her brothers or Sky with her parents (though the latter is debatable). Who is it? His mom, the Squidsmith, otherwise known as Forge when she’s off the clock. Shantae doesn’t know about this - not because Bolo’s trying to hide his relationship with her or something like that, but moreso because he rarely brings up his family in conversations in the first place. He’d be completely fine telling Shantae if she asked. Shantae does know he lives with a single mom and that she works in a forge, but hasn’t quite connected the dots yet.

Bolo’s actually quite skilled with metalworking thanks to some lessons with his mom, having made all his gear himself - in fact, his craftsmanship was what got Techno Baron to hire him in Pirate’s Curse! There is one problem though...he’s terrible with fine details, which is why he screwed up the doorknob and the targeting mechanism for Ammo Baron’s cannon so badly. When he decided to make the Spring Claw, he had Mimic help with the construction so it wouldn’t be subjected to the same fate.

Bolo does do quite a bit of hero work for Scuttle Town - usually when Shantae is out of town chasing down Risky Boots - but is nowhere near as recognized as Shantae is, no matter how hard he tries. It really stings, especially since he’s not even asking for payment like he could (and probably should) be doing, and fuels his insecurities.

Rottytops:

As I’ve mentioned before, Rottytops’ name while she was living was Rachael.

In life, the Cadavers were a mysterious and closed-off lot, deeply intertwined with the supernatural and the darker side of the mystic arts. Unfortunately, this relationship with dark magical forces is ultimately what lead to their demise - but it did bring them back as zombies later on, and the residual knowledge from their mortal lives is why the Cadavers are so skilled with dark magic, even for creatures who can naturally wield it (don’t worry, headcanons involving magic and magical species in the Shantaeverse will have its own post).

What residual knowledge Rottytops does and doesn’t have from her past life can wildly vary. For example, Rachael was a bit of a nerd when it came to the supernatural, which can sometimes translate to Rottytops having random knowledge of an artifact she’s never seen before in her life. On the other hand, she might not remember things like what a vulture is, and those bits of lost knowledge almost inevitably lead to shenanigans abound.

The person Rottytops is closest to besides Shantae is Bolo - she can actually relate to his insecurity quite well, and they’ve had several conversations in private about it. It helps that Bolo has no qualms about zombies.