#in future other fics maybe

[aiodenhunt]

Where is Morgie??

I was trying to write something hook sibling’s related and my mind came to a stop thanks to the question lmao T_T

Is he in the isle? Did he manage to like, not be considered bad enough for the isle? Is bro even alive? We might never know. (As he is never mentioned in canon pre-D4, maybe I should just wait for the novelization to come out)

[wordsofasarcast]

headcanon

So you know how it's canon that Will listens to true crime podcasts?

What if that's how he finds out that Nico is from the 1940s?!

Like he's listening to the latest episode about 'the death of Maria di Angelo and the disappearance and supposed kidnapping of her missing children, Niccolò and Bianca di Angelo'.

And it's not all that strange for demigods to pop up in conspiracy blogs or podcasts - Percy had a four part series about him, and Will listened to the whole thing during a nightshift at the infirmary.

So yeah, Will starts listens to the di Angelo episode thinking nothing of it, maybe he's just hoping to have a laugh about what the mortals thought happened to Nico or maybe he's more than a little curious about Nico's mysterious past.

And the hosts, in crackling stereo voices because they desperately need a better mic, are talking about lightning striking the hotel, how "the storm popped up out of nowhere" and the "strange seismic activity reported in the area at the time"...and then the date drops...

The hosts say something along the lines of, "The di Angelo siblings were reported missing by their family back in Italy after no word had been received of their safe passage to America. The police report states they were last seen by an anonymous witness entering the Lotus Hotel & Casino with an unknown third party in December of 1942."

And Will's just sat there, gaping at the infirmary bed he'd been stripping of its sheets. Because everything is adding up now, and Will's not quite sure how he missed it...

[tervaneula]

Ouugghhgjg them... Leo deserves some closure after the events of the second chapter of and just like that, and because my brain isn't letting me think in words (I'd wanted to write a drabble for this) I'll just think in pictures instead

Leo's having a tough time and obviously Leonardo isn't just going to let him fester in those feelings 🥺 He's not leaving! Yuichi isn't taking him away from his family! It's A PROMISE

[deadtiredghost]

we deserved more of 2018 Casey

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[terresdebrume]

I actually would love love LOVE a conversation between Charles and Crystal about their bisexuality tbh

I think they'd want to support each other but also I don't think they'd feel the same way about it, mostly because queerness was the Big Thing of the eighties in a way that (in the US and Europe at least) it doesn't seem to be the same nowaydays

Like. If Crystal is 16 in 2024, she would have been 7 in 2015 when same sex unions were legalized in the US (and 5 when it became a thing in the UK), young enough that she would probably not have realized the impact of those legislations on her and doesn't remember the time before it happened. But she was 12 in 2020 when George Floyd was killed. That's old enough to know what racism is. That's old enough to hear people talk about the case and internalize "oh, they're talking about people like me" and feel the impact of this entire conversation.

By contrast, I don't get the impression that race, especially in Europe, was as big a subject of debate in the 80s, not as a public, nation-wide conversation at any rate (if I'm wrong please let me know), but Charles was 10 when the first AIDS-related death was recorded in the UK. By 1985, there were headlines of people saying they'd kill their sons if they had AIDS, which was already "the gay disease" by then, and the crisis was still well underway when Charles died 4 years later

So like, I feel realistically Crystal and Charles would feel differently about their bisexuality, because I think to Crystal it might be secondary to the dangers and bigotry she faces as a young black woman, whereas Charles might feel like the biggest danger for him lies in people's reactions to his queerness rather than him being biracial

And tbh I think it would be really interesting to explore in fanfiction because let's face it, even if they do revive the show and give us bi Charles, that conversation is sure as hell not happening in canon

[volivolition]

wiggles my fingers at you ouuuu… you want to tell me about solace so bad…

HKJGG wiggles my fingers back lovingly!!! i really do, i fuckin LOVE solace :3 hey did you know i really like making fake skill descriptions?

SOLACE

Follow the north star. Find light in even the darkest places. Cool for: Optimists, Recovering lost souls, Sweet summer children

Solace is the skill you tucked away long ago, at the bottom of Pandora's box. The little one that tells you: despite it all, there is still hope. It needs a lot of nurturing -- and it's far from being the most helpful for police work -- but taking care of it is basically self-care. It enables you to find the glow in yourself that you often ascribe to gold lungs or brilliant halos in others. It encourages you to wake up and watch the sunrise, to play board games with someone you love, to forgive yourself and let yourself be a gentler kind of animal. Constantly looking forward to a brighter future, it also helps shield your morale from damage.

At high levels, Solace gives you a heightened sense of childlike optimism - which isn't always the sense to lead with in this precariously harsh world. Always looking for the bright side will blindside you with naivety. At low levels, however, you may just extinguish whatever keeps your soul alight. You've already lost her once. You may not survive the desolation if you let her disappear again.

[emberunderscore]

I've been deep diving into the symbolism of flowers recently so have my thoughts on what Wither Roses would symbolise in the world of Fable - and other flowers at the end (most of which already exist but I have thoughts anyway)

yeah this is really long btw

to start, wither roses are black roses so first the symbolisms of roses and black roses respectively

Roses (general): love, beauty, royalty, achievement, perfection and secrecy Black Roses: Positive - strength, a triumph over the inevitibility of death Negative - death, mourning, revenge, hatred, sorrow, mystery

Now Wither Roses, I'll do a summary of the meanings then I'll ramble a little bit

Wither Roses: Positive - Familial love, determination, triumph over the inevitability of death, a sign of "get well soon" or "even the worst sickness can be cured", the good nature of destruction, soulbonds and love unseprable by death Negative - Terminal/deadly illness, death itself, loss of a family member/loved one, doomed love

Wither Roses are associated with Soul and Athena. Despite the many negative meanings of black roses, wither roses have many more postive meanings, especially for a deadly flower. The godess Soul's previous state as the Wither is a well known one, and the story is a well told one, the story of Athena, her child, working so hard over so many years to cure her. Thus the familal love and determination meanings. The Wither curse and sickness were both diseases that would've been considered deadly and uncurable until Athena, on both fronts proved that they were not. So the triumph over death and worst sickness can be cured meanings. The get well soon meanings, come from a similar nature. Soulbonds and love unserprable by death go hand in hand as the flower is a symbol of Soul herself, the good nature of destruction as well, Netherum is dead but the story of Soul and them is still told to this day. That Soul calmed them. And with Athena being the vessel of destruction and also a ray of sunshine that meaning has multiple origins.

The meanings of terminal/deadly illnesses is pretty intuitive, the flower coming into contact with the skin can cause death or sickness, one that is very difficult to cure. Death itself, for a similar reason, this also links with it being a variant of a black rose. Loss of a loved one, because Athena lost their mother for a long time and he very nearly died from a similar sickness. Doomed love is less intuitive, but something I've found with flower symbolism is all of them have to include love in some version of the meaning (and familial love is mentioned) but I think doomed love would be a very common interpretation for this flower, since roses are such common symbols of love, and black roses ones of such sorrow, it only makes sense that a black rose with the actual capacity to kill would be a symbol of such a thing as doomed love.

Also I want to mention, despite how most flower meanings are made for when giving flowers to others, wither roses are an exception. They are not commonly given to people as gifts due to their tendancy to cause death. Most of the symbolism comes from stories, poetry, and many other forms of art. A common way to use wither roses in something like a play is to use a black rose and dip the tips of the petals in a dark grey paint and/or to paint the thorns in grey/black. Sometimes though, artists like to leave it amiguious and up to the viewer to decide if the rose is inteded to be a regular black one or a wither rose. Due to this common substitution, sometimes the symbolism of the two similar roses becomes blurred and thought of as interchangable.

To talk a little more about why i chose the meanings, i really like the fact that wither roses symbolise familial love, i've looked at so many flower meanings and almost every single one of them talks about romantic love or some form of love and so few of them talk about plantonic or familial love and its sad to me that those forms of love don't get as much appreciation. There are a few flowers that symbolise love between friends, but if you look in the right places there will be a source that lists romantic love in some way.

If you made it this far, here are the other flowers. Didn't have as many thoughts about these but still some of them

Torchflowers would be a big symbol of rebirth and change (heavily associated with Fenris)

Oxeye Daisies would be known to mean love that lasts beyond death, due to the nature of Centross and Fenris' relationship

Blue Orchids (specifically after Icarus gets back) would become associated with family (unconventional ones specifically, with half or steps siblings and divorced/unmarried/remarried parents), and forgetting/remembering a loved one

Sunflowers become a symbol of home - being lost/finding your way home. Follow the sunflowers becomes a common phrase meaning to follow your heart and you will always find home and memory/rememberance of loved ones. Or a way to say "I will never forget you"

And a bonus not related to flowers, I think Athena would be an icon for disabled people like how Hephastus is, maybe Alliums are too because of their association with her

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story III: Gaz

[Konchar] [Graves] [AO3]

I worked on both this and that Ghost painting I posted earlier in the time I was away from this blog, and I apparently had enough motivation to finish both today haha

If you remember the conversation Gaz and Soap had on the helo in chapter 14 of Not Alive, Nor Dead (the one where they were talking about the worst time they've used their powers), then the events in this story might be familiar...

I enjoyed writing this so much, I absolutely love Gaz (and more specifically rev AU's version of him <3)

Alright enough yapping time for pain

Kyle should be used to the feeling of free-falling. To the air rushing past his ears, to the sting in his eyes as the ground approaches him rapidly. The pull that catches him not a moment too soon, invisible ribbons wrapping him in their safe embrace.

It was perhaps a little naive of him to think gravity will never betray him again.

The whistling wind is what wakes him first, that familiar tune Gaz made his own in the past year. Familiar, but out of place - wasn’t he just running after the HVT…?

Kyle opens his eyes.

The sky warps around him, skyscrapers higher than the heavens towering over him like giants, silhouettes in the night. His body twists uncontrollably, and his view shifts to the ground, people nothing but ants, growing larger and larger-

The sinking feeling in his gut screams one thing, and one thing only.

You’re going to die again.

Several hours earlier

“Sergeant Garrick!” someone calls from behind him. Gaz turns, expecting to have to search for the source in the pre-mission rush of soldiers. He instead instantly zeroed in on a frankly giant man. To his credit, he wasn’t expecting a soldier clad in all black tactical gear, and a stark white skull mask.

Well, only one guy in the SAS that fits this description, “Lieutenant Ghost, sir.” Gaz’s head tilts up to look at the eyes behind the mask.

He’s heard a lot about the legendary revenant, and while most are probably the works of the rumor mill working overtime, just the presence of Ghost emanates a sort of unrivalled power that raises the hairs at Kyle’s nape.

It’s unlikely any of them will see the Lieutenant in action today; he’s here to fill in for Captain Price in overwatch, but he can’t help but have a sort of morbid curiosity, a craving to know if the revenant lives up to the myth.

Ghost motions with his head for him to follow, and begins walking towards the tents that have been set up as their temporary base of operations, “Captain told me you can fly.” he begins.

Gaz smiles nervously, “uh, not exactly. I got gravity manipulation.” they enter the tent, the flurry of activity as disorienting as it is outside, with squad leaders confirming last-minute details about the mission. “Can use it on others as well, but I have to be in direct skin contact.”

“Won’t need it in this op either way,” Ghost rumbles, a somewhat bitter note in his words. A few men do a double take at the two of them, and Gaz suppresses an eye roll.

Being a revenant turned out… different than he thought it would be. Sure, he knew they had superpowers and the ability to converse with extradimensional beings, but he wasn’t ready for the staring.

He knows he’s not human anymore, that he lost a fundamental part of himself the moment he left that helo crash alive, but he doesn’t need to be reminded at any turn.

Perhaps Ghost is onto something with the mask. At least he can roll his eyes all he wants.

Ghost addresses the soldiers in the tent, everyone snapping into attention, “Sergeant Garrick will lead the infil team. Target is at the suite of the Amandi Hotel, possibly guarded and armed.” the Lieutenant scrutinizes them, “I’ll be on overwatch on the comms tower north of the hotel. Helo circles the sky in case we need to extract from the roof.”

He crosses his arms, the perfect image of authority, “any questions?”

“No, sir!” the soldiers in the tent echo.

“Good. Garrick’s team is up in 5.” Ghost’s attention turns to him, “you’ll treat the Sergeant like any other soldier - his powers are irrelevant here.”

Gaz’s eyes widen as the rest of his squad gives Ghost the affirmative. The Lieutenant leaves the tent, ordering the others, and he shakes away from his stupor. A surprisingly warm feeling spreads through his chest.

No time to wonder about Ghost’s intentions, they have a man to catch.

It takes only ten minutes for the mission to go completely off rails.

Ghost wasn’t lying when he said his powers are irrelevant here. With the narrow hallways of the hotel, and lack of loose, heavy objects around ready to be thrown, Gaz is as good as any of his human squad mates.

He grits his teeth, popping out of cover to shoot yet another henchman down. The HVT must be bloody loaded to afford this much manpower.

“Be advised Bravo 6-1, enemy reinforcements approaching your position. I don’t have a clear shot on them.” Ghost’s low voice sounds from his comms.

Gaz returns to cover when a bullet grazes his cheek, and he answers between a hiss of pain, “copy, attempting to advance to the suite now.”

“Stevenson, Ellis, take the left hallway, the rest with me!” Kyle orders the corporals. He’s betting on the fact the henchmen will be too preoccupied with their assault to notice the two soldiers flanking them.

Gaz and his team goes on the offensive, unnerved by the bullets ricocheting around them. A few fast heartbeats later, the hostiles go down with gasps of surprise. He allows himself a moment of celebration, before pushing onwards.

This is another thing he had to learn in his new second life. Turns out, the brass promotes revenants faster than other soldiers, and soon after his Reaping he was promoted to Sergeant. He will probably never forget the nasty looks he got from his old mates after that, people he thought were his friends. Sometimes Kyle wanted to scream that he didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask to be the only one left alive.

Usually following that thought is a reminder that he very much did. He asked to live. 

Gaz knew what he was wishing for.

Stevenson and Ellis join them, and he makes sure to order most of the squad to watch their six, Ghost’s warning still fresh in his mind.

“Lieutenant, got sights on the HVT?” Gaz radios in.

The comms crackle before he gets an answer, “negative, he went to the back two minutes ago, likely holing up in the bathroom.” he can hear the faint sound of wind through his mic, “stay sharp, this might be a trap.”

“Understood, sir.” 

Gaz holds a fist up to signal the squad to stop, and attempts to listen for any movements inside the suite. Price’s mind reading abilities would’ve been nice to have around right about now…

He lets out a shaky breath. Going in blind never gets less nerve wracking, “Smith, Farage, keep watch on the hallways, Ellis, Stevenson and Wright, prepare for breach in three…”

The soldiers move to their positions, and the moment his count reaches zero, Gaz kicks the door down and begins clearing the room. Every dark corner becomes a potential hiding spot for hostiles, every flickering shadow catches his attention.

The main area of the suite is an open floor plan room, floor-to-ceiling windows making up the whole front part. The city lights twinkle through the clear glass, unaware of the danger that dwells above them.

“Main room clear, moving to the bathroom.” Gaz relays to Ghost and the rest. He lowers his rifle and reaches for the handle. The door creaks ominously when he shoves it open, revealing a dark and completely empty space. He clears it in a few seconds, all the while his confusion grows.

“Ghost” he clicks his comms on, “the HVT isn’t here.”

The Lieutenant is silent for a brief moment, “He didn’t leave the suite, Garrick. Keep searching the other rooms.” Gaz opens his mouth to give the affirmative, when he hears Wright and Stevenson give the clear for the two bedrooms. A twisting feeling in his gut grows.

“Sir, I think we’re missing something-”

Loud bangs echo from the main bedroom, Gaz instantly exiting the bathroom to watch Stevenson go down, “fuck!”

Hostiles stream out of the room in an endless swarm, the rest of his squad taking cover around the suite. “Garrick! What the fuck is going on there?!”

“Stevenson missed a bloody secret room, sir!” Gaz grunts, shooting two men down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wright push forward, so he joins him.

A shattering sound alerts him to Ghost’s shots, “do you have eyes on the target?!” the Lieutenant’s voice echoes through comms. Another shot rings out, and a body drops to his right.

“Negative!” he answers. Smith and Farage are fighting further out, enemies forcing them back to the hallway, Stevenson motionless on the ground. Wright snarls beside him, his left arm bleeding from a graze. Ellis…

“Sergeant! Behind you!” Ghost shouts. Gaz whips around, to watch the HVT drag himself to the broken windows.

Himself, and the unconscious body of Ellis. Gaz charges forward before the HVT locks eyes with him, a manic sort of fury burning within them.

The bastard smiles at him, blood staining his bright white teeth. He heaves Ellis, dragging him right to the edge.

“You take one more step, and I drop your friend.” the target drawls. 

Kyle stops, raising his arms in surrender, mind rapidly trying to pinpoint the location of each hostile and soldier left in the room. If he could be sure his squad will be able to apprehend the HVT by themselves, he could be free to follow Ellis, and catch him before they both hit the ground.

“Alright.” Gaz swallows thickly, keeping his voice as calm as he can, “we’ll give you what you want, just let him go.”

The target’s smile widens, “tell your soldiers to drop their weapons” he shakes Ellis, Gaz’s heart jumping to his throat. He nods, slowly lowering a hand to his radio.

“All stations, hold fire, we’ve got a hostage.”

The commotion behind him stops abruptly, his soldiers murmuring in confusion but listening to him all the same. Gaz scans the HVT for weapons - a pistol at his right hip, a knife strapped to the other. As long as he doesn’t use those on Ellis, he still has a chance to save him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” Ghost warns, “I don’t have a clear shot, don’t doom the entire squad to save one man.”

His jaw tightens in response. He’s not going to allow any more of them to die today.

“Good” the target’s voice drips with satisfaction, “at least one of you soldier boys has more than half a brain. Now… I have other matters to attend to, so if you will leave the premises peacefully, that would be helpful.”

“Not without him.” Gaz motions to Ellis.

The HVT tsks, “do I look stupid? I know you’ll shoot my men down the moment I let him go.” his head tilts mockingly, “no, he’s coming with me.”

“Garrick…” Ghost growls. “Ellis’ chances are low. Get the HVT secure and get out.” This is taking too long.

“I prefer to have… insurance.” the target continues.

Gaz’s lips pull back in disgust, “for a cornered man, you’re asking for a lot, mate.”

“Am I cornered, though?”

The telltale click of a trigger shoots adrenaline down Kyle’s limbs, and he moves out of the bullet’s way a second before it reaches him. He grunts as he grasps at the attacker’s rifle over his shoulder, twisting it around his torso to disarm the man.

Lieutenant Ghost’s voice booms through comms, “Bravo, get your guns up! More hostiles are entering your floor!!!”

Gaz barely avoids a fist coming from his left, ducking and dodging a knee to his guts. Gunshots echo behind him, grunts and growls and screams of pain almost deafening.

Two hostiles manage to get a hold of him, and over their massive shoulders Kyle watches in horror as the target pulls Ellis up over the window’s edge, and lets go.

“Corporal Ellis is falling, I repeat, the Corporal is falling!” Ghost yells. Gaz’s heart hammers away at his chest, his breaths becoming shorter and heavier.

Through the cacophony of combat, anger and agony, one voice stands out from the rest.

The HVT’s mirthful laugh, high and grating as he watches Ellis fall down, down, down-

Gaz screams, grabbing the arms around him, and reverting gravity on all three of them. He lowers his head, avoiding the ceiling. His attackers, however, are taken by surprise, and hit their head against the concrete with a sickening thunk.

The laughter ceases, but he pays it no mind. If Gaz jumps off now, he could strengthen the effect of gravity on himself, and fall faster, reach Ellis before the ground does-

A sniper shot splices the air beside him, the bullet hitting the floor, Ghost’s voice loud when he calls out, “Gaz-!”, Kyle turning around to find the stock of a rifle approaching his face, his foot slips, and-

His vision goes dark.

He’s going to die. The wind beats at his body, howling and shrieking and stealing the air from his lungs. He’s going to die. The city lights smear and create blinding trails at his periphery.

He’s going to die.

Kyle locks onto a dark shape, several feet below him, and the fog of panic clears for long enough for him to remember why he’s falling.

Ellis. He fell before him. He’s going to die.

But Gaz won’t. His powers rush forth, otherworldly ribbons wrapping around his fingertips at his command. Instead of hanging from the sky, he orders them down.

They’re about 100 feet from the harsh asphalt roads when he starts descending at an inhuman speed, eyes watering and muscles trembling from the lack of oxygen, but it doesn’t matter, not until he touches Ellis, not until he pulls him back from certain death.

50 feet. 40. 30. 20. 10-

Kyle barely manages to brush a finger on Ellis’ tacvest before he pulls back, his face mere inches from the ground. His eyes are closed, his mouth gaping as he takes in air for the first time in minutes.

He heard the crunch. He knows his ribbons didn’t wrap around Ellis. Yet, there’s a little naive voice in his mind, holding onto hope that the Corporal has been saved.

The screams of the ground team tell him otherwise.

Kyle releases his powers, his body dropping. Voices echo around him, words unintelligible through the rushing blood in his ears.

Ellis is dead. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. You failed again, he screams at himself in the recesses of his mind.

Kyle chokes on a sob, only then registering the tears flowing down his cheeks. He curls further into himself. Selfishly, he doesn’t want the others to see his pathetic crying. Not only did he fail, he’s also weak.

Someone touches his shoulder, and he freezes. His eyes are glued to the dark grey of the road below him, its rough texture digging into his trembling palms. The voices stray closer, words still incomprehensible but concern clear, and yet he refuses to lift his head.

He doesn’t want to see Ellis. He knows what gravity does to a person, how it tugs at their limbs until they break, how bones stab at soft flesh, how muscles are ripped apart like a rag doll’s stitches. He knows, saw five different bodies, all twisted beyond recognition, by the very power he controls. The memory makes bile rise to his mouth, acrid taste spreading on his tongue. The sight of mangled soldiers, the smell of burning fuel, the whistle of an RPG.

If only he was strong enough to truly control it.

The hands tug at him more forcibly now, attempting to roll him over, but Kyle resists. His mouth tries to form words, but only whines and muted sobs stream from his clenched teeth.

‘Leave me alone’, he wants to whisper. ‘I already know I failed’.

A deeper voice rumbles above him, and the hands stop and leave. Kyle hears the rustling of fabric before the voice begins calling his name.

“-arrick. Sergeant. We need to know if you’re broken.”

He shakes his head, shoulders shuddering along his sobs.

“You’re not injured? Good.” the voice answers calmly, as if they’re not sitting beside a dead body, blood pooling, bones sticking out of place-

“Stay with me, soldier. Focus on me.” the voice orders, and Kyle knows, somewhere in his fractured mind, that he needs to listen.

He risks lifting his gaze a little towards the voice, a knee clad in dark pants coming into view, “you’re safe, Gaz. Take all the time you need to collect yourself. The others won’t bother you now.”

He nods minutely, wanting to show his gratitude to the voice, but refusing to lift his head any higher.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Kyle tries to keep his focus on the person in front of him, but his brain continues to pull at his thoughts, get them to drift to Ellis, his cooling body dead not 3 feet from them-

“You know why blind people don’t like going skydiving?”

Kyle blinks down at his hands. What…?

“‘Cause it scares the shit outta their dogs.”

…That’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard. What’s dumber, that it’s actually making him huff in amusement.

“That deserves at least a little laugh.” the voice sulks, the deadpan quality of it making their words funnier to Kyle.

He clears his throat before saying, “all that deserves is a groan of disappointment, Lieutenant.”

His head lifts to look at Ghost’s dark eyes behind his skull mask, “you wound my poor feeble heart, Garrick.”

A wobbly smile spreads on his lips, before he slowly looks away from the Lieutenant at the scene around them.

They must’ve already moved the body, leaving dark red blood seeping into the cracks in the road as the only sign anything went wrong. Some combat medics have stayed behind, but from the look on their face Kyle can tell they’re too afraid of Ghost to get any closer.

He casts a questioning look at the Lieutenant, who sighs, “they shouldn’t toss you around while you’re in shock.”

Kyle frowns, “they didn’t ‘toss me around’, but… thanks.”

Ghost simply hums.

It takes him a few more seconds to gather the courage to ask, “the mission… did it fail?”

Did I make us fail?

Ghost regards him with narrowed eyes, “HVT has been secured and is in transport awaiting questioning.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, nodding.

The Lieutenant stares at him, “you did everything you could, Gaz.” he opens his mouth to disagree, but Ghost lifts a hand, “no. Ellis was dead the moment he was captured. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t have risked the mission, the team, myself to try and save him against the odds.”

Kyle sputters, “but- I didn’t save him.”

“But you tried.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s dead!”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, “it may not matter to Ellis, but to the rest of your squad? His teammates? They know you tried, and they will remember in the future that Sergeant Garrick will endanger his own life for his subordinates.”

Kyle’s eyes widen, Ghost’s voice gaining a somber tone, “you haven’t had a lot of experience in leading.” he half-states, half-asks, so Kyle shakes his head.

“The trust your men have in you is fragile, and invaluable. Today, you’ve gained something many others can’t. You have respect, the kind that is hard-earned in battle.” His eyes look away, lost in memories Kyle will probably never be privy to, “that’s why it matters.”

He thinks back to the way everyone approaches Ghost, fear and awe in their eyes, “are you talking from experience?”

Ghost’s eyes refocus on him, “my soldiers respect me because I’m powerful. They respect me out of terror, not trust.”

“Respect is respect, no?”

“None of them would risk their lives to save mine, if it came to it.” Ghost rises to his feet, “respect born of fear is weak compared to respect born from admiration.”

A gloved hand, adorned with skeletal markings, is offered to him. Kyle takes it, allowing Ghost to pull him up to his own shaky legs.

Gaz takes a good look at the grotesque mask, at the appearance that signals danger and unmatched strength. 

And at the hand in his, grip powerful enough that he doesn’t have any doubt it will catch him if he falls.

“I trust you, Lieutenant.”

Ghost freezes, before he begins walking towards the parked vehicles, “your mistake, Sergeant.”

Gaz follows, believing wholeheartedly in his words.

“I’m planning on building a task force.” Price begins the moment Gaz settles into the office chair in front of him, “a revenant-only task force.”

“And you’re inviting me?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kyle, we both know your powers are extremely rare.”

Still, to be chosen by the Captain Price out of everyone…

“You’re giving me too much credit, son.” Price’s moustache twitches up with a hidden smirk, “I’ll take it as a yes?”

Gaz nods resolutely, “yes, sir!”

“That’s what I want to hear. Any questions?”

The words “no, sir” are ready on his tongue, but he retracts them to instead ask, “are there any other members yet?”

Price scans him for a moment, before he pulls out a folder, “you remember Ghost, I presume?”

He can see how Price clocks in the excitement in his mind, “of course.”

A warm smile crinkles Price’s blue eyes. He rises, offering Gaz a hand to shake. Gaz takes it.

“Welcome to Taskforce 141, Kyle.”

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

I call this: Let Marty McFly Break the Fourth Wall.

Based on a random thought I had at work today, I remembered how many times Marty looked dead at the crowd when I saw the musical and decided he should be able to do that once in the film. After much thought, I decided the best time for said moment would be right after the DeLorean test because c’mon- Doc drove a car at them at damn near 90 MPH without even knowing if it would work. Thats- that’s just a little crazy, don’t you think?

Marty’s internal monologue retyped below just in case you can’t/don’t want to read my atrocious handwriting :)

1. My God.

2. What did he take?!

3. (Same as 2, plus) This is Heavy

4. (Same as 3, plus) What did I agree to?

5. (Same as 4, plus) Have I gone insane?

6. Are You All seeing this shit? (He drove a car at us! WITHOUT knowing if it would WORK!!)

(Meanwhile in the background I wrote out Doc’s little “What did I tell you? 88 Miles Per Hour!” Cause I didn’t know if I could get the audio)

[karlkapri]

SidClaude

Makes sense. Compels me.

[futuristichedge]

Fic so good u start imagining more fic for it

[ambrosiagourmet]

Siiiiigh... I didn't want to do this until the next chapter went up, but I've been writing without a buffer for months now and that has been wearing on me quite a bit. I think it's better to just acknowledge when I need a break, rather than push through and post something I might not be totally happy with.

SO: NRBTS (my post-canon fic) is going on pause! I'm not setting a hard date for it to come back, because the deadline is honestly part of what I need a break from. I need some time to write without one, to write out of order, and to delete things without feeling like I'm "wasting time." I also might want to write some other stuff and not feel like I have to focus all my energy into one place! I think it will be good to ease up and remember that I'm doing this for fun 😅

I'm not going to post more until I have at LEAST two chapter finished, so that means probably at least two months, maybe three. ♥️ sorry it's an unexpected and kinda long break, but I'd rather eventually have a thing I'm proud of than rush to complete a thing I'm only sort of happy with.

[purpleshadow-star]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & Andrew Minyard Characters: Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, Mentioned Aaron Minyard - Character, mentioned nicky hemmick, Mary Hatford, Brief Drake Spear, Other Various Foxes Mentioned Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Pre-Canon, brief Post-Canon, brief during canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Time Skips, warnings for andrew's past, One Shot, no beta we die like tilda minyard, Dialogue Light, andrew and neil are in denial for a bit, they get over it, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Soulmates Summary:

Andrew Doe is freshly six years old when he wakes to the sight of his shadow leaving him for the first time. Andrew knows he should be more careful while racing through the house; he doesn’t know these new people after all, but he’s too excited to let a little thing like caution keep him from finally finding someone who loves him. Someone who wants him. ~ Nathaniel Wesninski is four years old the first time his shadow leaves him. He doesn’t notice, but his mother does. She makes a mental note to make sure that neither Nathaniel nor his father ever have the chance to follow Nathaniel’s shadow to his soulmate. One less thing for Nathan to hold over Nathaniel, and thus over Mary, the better. ~~ Twice a year, your shadow leads you towards your soulmate. For Andrew and Neil, this changes surprisingly little.

***

New fic!!!

This year I want to challenge myself to write, finish and post at least one fic every month, starting with this one for January!

This fic is based off of a prompt from a book called 5-Minute Daily Writing Prompts by Tarn Wilson (I did not write this in five minutes, I just used the prompt). The prompt I used is:

"Prompt 1: Fantasy, Plot: A woman awakes in the early morning to see her shadow sneaking out the bedroom door. She follows. (Continue the story) The woman sees her shadow holding hands with another unattached shadow. What happens next?"

Go check it out and let me know what you think!

[ravelqueen]

will never get tired of Toboso having the most handsome men agree how cute Ciel is just a+ content, he's gonna be such a knockout if he makes it through puberty

[therizino-ao3]

mcyt valentines 2024: The Big Eyes Bug

gift for @raccoontho @mcyt-valentines

contains: body horror, zombie apocalypse, bugs, worms, eye injury, mind control, parasites, minor character death, imprisonment, character being handcuffed/chained, misgendering (not in a trans way, in a not believing a zombie is a person way and using it/its)

word count: 5430

summary: Zedaph loves worms. Now, if only they loved him back.

-

Zedaph would like to say that he was right all along to everyone who had ever doubted him. His mother, his father, his entire small village, his college roommate, all his extended family, and that one guy that made fun of him that one time. Unfortunately, he can’t say that, because in the ensuing apocalypse which PROVED he was right to study helminthology, they all died. But, he can think about it in his head, and imagine the annoyed faces they would make instead of imagining their disfigured bodies, and it makes him feel better.

He is somewhat worried about his food supply. So far, hiding in a high school cafeteria has been pretty lucrative, but after spending a week moping about in one, you begin to run out of crisp packets and mini brownies and satsumas. It’s a pretty safe area, every door thick and lockable, not to mention that the entire site is empty – what kid could be bothered to go to school in these conditions? It’s a far cry from supermarkets, he’ll say. Every single supermarket Zedaph has seen so far has not only been thoroughly looted of anything useful but also littered with bodies and guts. There’s no doubt everything in there is contaminated with eggs. Overall, even though it is a bit weird for a random adult man to be hiding in a school, it’s working out.

He hears footsteps. Maybe it isn’t working out, then.

He tries not to panic. This isn’t the first time a zombie has come by here. Well, calling them zombies feels a bit weird, since they’re still alive, but thinking about the fact they’re still conscious as something controls their brain and mutilates their body is worse - plus “zombie” sounds cooler than “fluke host”. So, zombie it is. Anyways, sometimes some stray zombies wander past the school, but none have attempted to break in and chances are they’re all sacrificial hosts. He just needs to stay quiet, so they don’t alert the shepherds. It’ll be fine.

The footsteps aren’t the regular, lumbering kind though. They vary in pace and have an air of confidence to them, so the person they belong to definitely has fine motor control. That’s bad. That means either a shepherd or a survivor. He isn’t sure which is better. Logically, the survivor would be, but in zombie apocalypse movies, aren’t the other survivors usually evil? He hasn’t even watched any movies like that, so he’s just guessing from what he’s heard, but they might try to eat him or steal his supplies or… something. At least a shepherd is predictable, a survivor could do anything.

Something crashes outside, Zedaph wonders if they’re trying the doors. He gulps. Well, if they come in here, whoever they are, he’ll fight him! He’s got big scary horns for a reason! And he isn’t afraid to use them!

He hears some doors being swung loudly on their hinges, sounding far too close for comfort. The fight instantly leaves him and he starts to think about escape. Part of the reason he chose the cafeteria was due to the exit options. One door leading to some classrooms, one door leading to a courtyard area, and one door in the kitchen leading to the outside. The last one is his only real choice, considering the noise is coming from the classrooms and he’ll get caught easily in the courtyard. He hates the idea of going outside, exposed to the sky, but it’s not like he can do anything else.

And just as he’s finished making up his mind, he realises that the person has already forced his way into the room, past Zedaph’s rudimentary barrier of plastic chairs. He’s a guardian, short with a fluffy beard, kitted out with a heavy rucksack and a belt adorned with tools. A respiratory mask hangs around his neck.

“Uh,” says the guy. He doesn’t have any visible broodsacs, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s uninfected.

“Uhhhh,” says Zedaph, standing like a deer in headlights.

“Are you-”

“Please don’t kill me!” he interrupts, voice going high with hysteria.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” the man says, looking a bit amused. He takes a few steps forward. “From that reaction, I am guessing you’re uninfected?”

“Yep, totally free of parasites, me,” Zedaph says, giggling nervously.

“Righhht. I am so sorry, by the way, I didn’t know there was anyone here. You’re doing a really good job at hiding, I totally thought this place was abandoned,” the man holds out his hand, “I’m xB.”

Zedaph shakes xB’s hand – he thinks he’s supposed to shake his hand? He hopes xB didn’t want to hold hands instead because that would be awkward. xB looks at him, as if waiting for something. Oh right, he’s waiting for an introduction, “I’m Zedaph, nice to meet you!”

“Well, mister Zedaph,” xB pulls his hand back, “it is nice to meet you too! I haven’t met many others. I’m alright to chat for a little bit, but this has kinda been a bit of a stop in my plans. Do you mind if I grab some food while I’m here?”

Zedaph turns to where xB is looking – the kitchen – before turning back, “Um, yeah, grab as much as you want. Sorry for interrupting your… plans.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault for being here, it just means I’m gonna have to find somewhere else to base for the next few nights,” xB wanders over, rooting through Zedaph’s food supplies as they talk. Zedaph follows. Maybe it was a bad idea letting xB take some of his precious food, but he wasn’t just going to tell xB to starve.

“You can stay here, I won’t mind,” Zedaph says whilst xB stuffs one of his six trouser pockets with raisin packets.

“No, no, it’s… there’s gonna be a lot less food here than I imagined and, to be honest, I prefer being alone,” Zedaph isn’t sure what to say to that (or what to say to anything in general, actually. He hasn’t talked to people in months). xB starts again, “So! What was your job before all this? I was a security guard.”

“Security guard! Like at a museum?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I was, and I like to think still am, a parasitologist.”

xB giggles, “A what?”

“Parasitologist! Helminthologist, specifically. I study parasitic worms. Truthfully, I’ve been obsessed with worms ever since I was little. Just couldn’t get enough of them. Worm man, the kids used to call me.”

xB is alert now, straightening up, “Wait. Parasitic worms, like, the ones out there?”

“Well, a lot more than just the big zombie ones, but yes.”

“So, for the ‘big zombie ones’, you could tell me all about how they work and how to stop them?”

“Basically!” Zedaph says, spurred on by someone finally being interested in his research, “It’s somewhat hard because this isn’t a species we ever knew about before – I imagine they went extinct in the wild sometime in the last Ice Age, but some eggs were frozen and, well, off-topic, anyway! The point is, even though this is a species new to science, they share a lot of similarities to other helminths, such as ones in the Leucochloridium genus. I have also been doing a lot of observing and taking notes - and though it would help to be able to properly dissect and analyse specimens - I have some theories on their life cycles and mechanisms.”

“Right,” says xB with bright eyes, “Y’know, I might have just had a change of plans.”

“You’re staying?”

“For the night. Anyways, can you continue on? I want you to explain why some of the infected are smart zombies and some are normal zombies, please,” xB has forgotten about the food, pulling up a stool to sit on.

“Of course, of course,” Zedaph grins, “So, the worm at this stage has one goal: get eaten by a dragon. This is because the dragon’s belly is where the worm reproduces and the microscopic eggs get spread by the dragon poop and pee and tears and breath and all the other gross stuff. When the parasite gets into your system, it makes these… tendrils. They connect to your nervous system and brain and send their own impulses, controlling your body. You also have the broodsacs which is the whole, y’know, eye situation. Anyway! Most infected want to get eaten by the dragons to spread the eggs, yada yada. But! People are smart. We’d soon figure out what the parasite’s plan is and develop something to kill eggs and capture all the wild dragons and what not. So, the parasite needs to be smart too and there is a smart brain right there waiting to be used. Every now and again, an infected becomes what I like to call a shepherd, helping to guide the other zombies and stop the uninfected from causing trouble, often by manually infecting people. It’s extra interesting because the sacrificial hosts – that’s what I call the other zombies, because their purpose is to get eaten – seem to be able to communicate with shepherds, maybe by pheromones?”

“That is interesting,” xB says, eyes focused on Zedaph. It’s almost unnerving how much he’s staring, really.

“One question for you, actually,” Zedaph says, because it’s been on his mind since he saw xB, “What is a seafolk doing out here? Bit far from the ocean, aren’t we?”

xB bites his lip, “Yeah. I would have stayed there, but the infection was waterbourne. Underwater cities were where the first major outbreaks happened. Coastal areas were mobbed with infected. The best decision was to leave as fast as possible. Besides, I have a friend inland, so it’s not like I’ve never been this far out before. Plus, for a guardian, land travel is manageable with lots of water, and I have a purifier, so…”

“Makes sense,” says Zedaph, who hopes that’s a sensible and compassionate answer, because currently all his mind can focus on is how the parasite is able to spread so well in water. Do the eggs hatch into a microscopic worms well-adapted to an aquatic environment that are able to enter people through the gills? Is this the same form they take in the body or one unique to ocean environments? Is this hatching activated by proximity to water? Or a certain temperature? Or a certain salt concentration?

xB doesn’t seem to mind Zedaph’s failings at social interaction, because he asks for Zedaph to explain more things.

Zedaph loves explaining. Issue is, the parasite is very complicated, and though Zedaph loves complicated, it is a bit inconvenient when you have to try and explain the ins and outs of a trematode lifecycle to someone who knows only basic biology. Nonetheless, xB is a good listener and asks questions and all the awkwardness Zedaph initially felt at having to talk to someone when he hasn’t in so long has melted away. Eventually, they’re both tired from laughing too much (even in the face of morbid topics, xB makes some good jokes) and Zedaph leads xB to the feeble pile of abandoned jackets and dish cloths he calls his bed. In response, xB retrieves a sleeping bag from his rucksack, and Zedaph may or may not have pleaded really, really hard to share it because he doesn’t want to spend another night shivering, so he instead goes to bed cramped next to a man he has known for a few hours. It’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

-

xB just has to go and ruin it all by pointing a gun at his head.

“HYUUHHH? YAHHH?” Zedaph yowls. He’s never really been a morning person, so you can’t expect him to formulate a good response at 6 AM.

“You. Are coming with me. And you are going to do everything I say so you don’t get killed. M’kay?” xB is standing over him, all prepared and everything. It isn’t fair. Zedaph bets he’s a morning person.

“Whatever you say,” he manages, in a small voice.

xB stops pointing the gun at him but keeps it in his hand. He chucks Zedaph a Naruto-themed backpack. He must have found it in the dining area, left by some teenager ages ago. There’s a large patch of mould growing over Kakashi’s face. Zedaph scrambles to pick it up, peaking inside to see it’s been stocked with food and water bottles. So, he’s making Zedaph his mule, making him carry around things for him, ridiculous! xB then puts on his respiratory mask, before motioning for them to exit.

Zedaph blinks as he steps out, already feeling anxious. The sun is beginning to rise, tinting the sky pink.

“Okay, so where would we need to go to get the treatment for the parasite?” xB asks, his voice muffled by the mask.

Zedaph splutters, “I thought you were the one leading me around!”

“I am, but, where I’m leading you to depends on where the cure is. Like, do you need a laboratory, or can you find stuff in a pharmacy, I’m waiting for you, man.”

He pauses before answering, “Probably a vet. They tend to have a lot more antihelminthics on hand. Typically, you tend to see worms more in dogs than humans.”

“Alright, now you follow me,” xB says, raising the gun as reminder, before tucking it into a gun holster and trotting away.

Zedaph swallows and does as commanded.

At least xB seems to know what he’s doing. They stick to alleyways and gardens and hedgerows and other very hidden routes, where they’re unlikely to be found by shepherds and aren’t too open to the sky. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a time of day where the infected go all sleepy, but at least travelling during the day they can see where they’re going.

It occurs to him that xB must know this area pretty well, given he’s taking weird shortcuts with no map and yet is no less confident. Maybe this is where his “inland friend” is. Zedaph doesn’t really know where anything is, unfortunately. Ever since this whole thing kicked off he’s just been running randomly until he finds somewhere decent to stay.

Their trip is uneventful, save the occasional roar of a distant dragon, until about 2 hours later. The path they are following bends to the right, and poking their heads around the bend, they see a sacrificial host.

It stands, swaying, in the centre of the pathway. Clothes still cling to its body, though torn and stained with all manner of fluid. The mouth is slack open, the skin is tinted green and Zedaph can see odd rashes covering parts of the body. Its eyes bulge, an ungodly amount, to the length of an arm, the cornea stretched to the verge of breaking. Taking occupation in each eye is a broodsac, a thick pulsating mass like a caterpillar, banded green and red and white, writhing. They each move independently, one twisting up to the sky, feeling for light. The other slumps. The thing that once was a person – and still might be, deep inside, Zedaph reminds himself – stumbles towards a spot not covered by the shadows of the surrounding trees. One of the legs looks twice the size of the other – there must be a third broodsac in there. The creature comes to rest once at its destination and both eyes reach up as far as they can before rhythmically bobbing to try and catch the attention of a dragon.

It's been a while since Zedaph has seen one in person. The parasite is amazing. He feels a bit guilty for thinking that. He wants to keep staring but wants nothing more than to run away at the same time. xB tugs his arm and breaks him from his thoughts. They carefully walk past, making sure to keep a decent distance and not make too much sound. The sacrificials will only notice you if you’re obvious. They leave it behind them with no issue.

After an hour they arrive at “Pro Vetz: We Cure Animals For Less Money Than Other Vets”. The sign is missing 5 letters, but there is a crusty outline where the letters were, so you can still read it fine. He can see why xB chose it, it’s hidden between clumps of warehouses and nowhere near any housing estates. That being said, whilst it is the apocalypse, it’s only been the apocalypse for a little while, and it is perhaps the most derelict veterinary establishment he has seen in his life.

Zedaph glances at xB, “I’m not comforted by the sign.”

“If it works it works, if not, we have enough food to bunker down here for a little bit and we’ll try somewhere else,” xB says, opening the door, “After you.”

He creeps inside, looking around the dark waiting room. There’s a dark puddle of something in the centre and some of the chairs have been pushed around. xB takes off his mask; there’s little point in wearing them inside, the eggs will just be settled on surfaces. Zedaph is also not sure if they are that necessary outside, given the only way an egg could be breathed in is if a dragon is literally exhaling on top of you, but he doesn’t have the courage to tell xB that.

“I don’t think we’re the first ones here,” he whispers.

xB hums, staring at the surroundings before heading over to the door at the back, “We’ll just wash our hands after we leave in case of eggs, we should be fine.”

Zedaph watches xB pull his gun out before tugging open the door and charging through. Zedaph follows, unsure what else to do.

The door leads to a corridor, with some doors either side leading to operating theatres, one to a collection of cages to keep sick animals in, and one final door leading to all the stock. The place is silent and xB lets him through to look at their de-worming medicine.

“So, is there a particular reason for your forcing-me-to-come-with-you-and-get-anti-worm-medicine thing?” Zedaph asks as he shuffles through boxes. He’s looking for praziquantel, or even metrifonate or triclabendazole or something.

“Let’s just say I have a motive.”

“That? Answers nothing?”

“I know,” xB giggles, “Okay, fine, I want someone I know to get treated of the infection. And I want some supply of drugs in case something happens to me. And I want to keep you around because it’s useful to have someone who understands how the infection works. There, that’s the truth.”

 Zedaph isn’t sure how to feel about being called useful - his parents always said he was useless. At the same time, he’s not sure if it’s that much of a compliment when xB says it. He’s also starting to realise xB might have just been enthusiastically listening to him infodump about parasitic worms for the purposes of learning how to defeat them, rather than genuine interest in said worms. And it’s not like Zedaph judges him for that, it is the apocalypse and xB wants to survive, that’s understandable. He just kinda thought that, well, he finally found someone who truly wanted to hear what he had to say. Overall, he feels weird.

He responds with what he knows: worms, “Right. Just be aware I’ve never tried this medication for this specific species and with the way the parasite affects the body, best case scenario, they will probably lose their eyesight and some mobility. Worst case scenario, they die.”

“I kind of expected that. I consider myself lucky enough to have simply found someone who is able to cure him, like, I totally thought it was a fruitless mission. I wouldn’t have given up but, I am grateful.”

“I would be grateful if you didn’t threaten to shoot me,” Zedaph says, because okay yeah he is really annoyed about that actually. Annoyed might be the wrong word, someone who you trusted pulling a gun on you is more of a “betrayed” really.

“I wasn’t actually going to shoot you,” says xB, like it’s obvious, “The sound would alert all the zombies to where we are and it would be a waste of bullets.”

“You could have just asked me to come with you, I would have said yes.”

“I- Yeah. I probably should have done that, sorry.”

Zedaph is kind of tempted to keep going, insult xB a little, but whilst he probably deserves it, Zedaph isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to survive without him. And he did get an apology, so maybe xB will learn to be a little less… threatening-y and more… caring-y.

“Anyways, found it!” he exclaims, pulling out praziquantel.

-

xB cautiously pokes his head out of the store, and confirming there’s no zombies outside, gestures for Zedaph to follow him out.

“Okay, we need to go to a base I’ve set up a few hours away. We’ll try and see if there’s somewhere we can stop for lunch and so I can get rehydrated, all right with that?”

Zedaph nods.

They weave between warehouses, before finding their way to an alleyway. There’s a lot of turns and Zedaph is reminded uncomfortably by a maze. He is then reminded uncomfortably of a horror movie when something grabs him from behind.

Held, he tries to let out a yelp but a hand dashes in front of his mouth. xB is a few metres ahead of him and doesn’t seem to notice Zedaph’s struggle. His attacker keeps him still, allowing him to watch the only person who could help him walk away, until he deems it safe slam Zedaph to the ground.

He groans, asphalt denting his face. Zedaph swivels to try and face his attacker and sees a face he recognises. Tango, his former friend, with bulging red eyes and rashes all over his face. His eyes aren’t nearly as large as an ordinary zombie, and with the wicked grin on his face, Zedaph has no doubt he’s a shepherd.

Tango was… something in Zedaph’s life. The first friend he ever had, at age 7, Tango was willing to put up with Zedaph showing him all the weird bugs he found, and in return, Zedaph listened to Tango talk about spaceships and dinosaurs and cars and anything else. They grew even closer together and were inseparable, until in their late teens where they fell out and never spoke to each other again. Y’know, just normal friends stuff.

“Hey Zeddy.”

And out of everything today, that’s what breaks him. Because it isn’t even Tango saying that, it’s a worm inside of him, using data in Tango’s brain to say what it thinks will get Zedaph to stay still long enough for him stuff eggs down his throat. And it works. Because Zedaph loves worms so much, and he loves this worm (still, despite everything), but why does it have to do that to Tango, why does it hurt him? Because Zedaph misses Tango so much (he hates that he does), but why does Tango have to hurt him? Does he still think Zedaph is worthless? Is there still a Tango in there, or is Tango’s brain just a database of old memories and actions for the worm to pick and use? If Tango was still here (but he is here) would he apologise?

A gunshot jerks Zedaph out of his mind and the body of the thing that was Tango rolls off of him.

xB stands far away, panting, holding the gun.

Zedaph looks at the body. A hole is in its head. Its hand is clutched, no doubt holding eggs. He forces himself to his feet and comes to stand by xB.

“Did you know him?” xB asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” xB says and hugs him. Zedaph wasn’t expecting that, but it’s not like he dislikes the hug. Actually, he really needed it, probably. Thoughts are hard. xB pulls away eventually though.

“I hate to rush you, but like, every zombie in the area heard that and we should really be running now.”

Zedaph nods and runs.

They’re silent until they reach an old garage. xB lifts the door and they both usher inside. It’s been over an hour and xB must assume they’re safe now.

They haul off their bags and xB motions to them, “Eat something, please.”

Zedaph does that, after spraying some sanitiser on his hands, going straight for the chocolate because he’s feeling rough right now. Meanwhile, xB takes off both his mask and his shirt, something that greatly confuses him until he realises xB is probably checking up on his gills. He is. xB undoes the tape cover on them and lets water run over them.

“I lied,” xB says.

“Huh?”

“About being a security guard, I was actually a hitman.”

“Huh,” Zedaph says, that probably makes sense, given how accurately xB was able to shoot from such a distance, “Did you kill anyone?”

xB looks at him weirdly and giggles, “I mean, yeah, duh, that was my job.”

“I- Yeah, I really should have thought that through,” Zedaph begins to laugh too, a little hysterically, maybe, but who can blame him.

After xB eats, they continue on. They come across a few sacrificial hosts which are easily avoided, and that’s it.

The place where xB is storing his infected friend looks inconspicuous – a decent sized house, a bit run down, behind a public park. Before they go in, xB spends a while surveying the doors, windows, and surroundings, telling Zedaph he has memorised the default condition of the house and needs to check if anything has changed, which would be a sign of an intruder. After 10 minutes xB extracts a key to use on the kitchen window and leads Zedaph in.

“Why don’t we use the front door?” he asks while xB is relocking the window.

“I have it trapped. Most, but not all, people will try the door first to get in. I – and the people I trust – will know it’s unsafe, so only malicious people will get harmed.”

It takes Zedaph a second to realise, “You trust me?”

xB looks back at him, as they wander through the dark hallway, “Of course. You are far too cowardly to try and do anything.”

That’s fair.

They head into the basement and Zedaph is greeted with the sight of a homemade prison cell, barbed wire and chicken netting combined into a grisly metal mesh, held in place by bars of wood, nailed to the floor and ceiling. There’s a tiny flap at the base, probably for sliding food in or something. Inside is a zombie, with some of the largest broodsacs in its eyes Zedaph has ever seen. It has braided hair alongside hooves, showing it was once a satyr like Zedaph. It is also handcuffed and chained to the wall in 4 different places, in case the barricade and locked basement door weren’t enough to keep it down here.

“Princess? Is that you? Did you bring a friend?”

“Hello Keralis,” says xB, “And yes, I did. This is Zedaph.”

“Well, hello there mister Zedaph,” the zombie says with a sweet voice, “Can you please tell xB here to let me out? This isn’t very nice.”

“It’s a shepherd?” Zedaph asks xB.

“Yes. He is a shepherd, smart, talking zombie thing. And no, we’re not letting you out, because every time I do, you try to kill me.”

“Kill my princess? I would never do that.”

“You have though! You try every time.”

He frowns, “I’m left-handed, xB. You can’t blame me.”

xB giggles, “I think you’re a bit more than left-handed, Keralis. I think you’ve got Big Eyes.”

Zedaph is thinking about Tango. He should probably stop doing that, “Right, like I said, I can’t guarantee he’ll survive, or that this will even work, just keep that in mind.”

“I know,” says xB, “Set up the you-know-what-because-I-don’t-want-to-say-it-in-front-of-him upstairs.”

“What are we talking about?” asks Keralis, or once-was Keralis, as Zedaph runs upstairs.

Part of him hopes the medicine doesn’t work, because if it does, well, Tango. He feels mad at xB for killing him. He feels mad at himself for letting xB kill him. He feels mad at himself for getting mad at xB for saving his life. He feels mad at himself for hoping the medicine won’t work. He feels mad at himself- for a lot of reasons, you get the gist.

He focuses on the praziquantel. What dose would be appropriate? He took all the boxes they had, so it’s not like he’s running out any time soon. Typically, he’d default to 75mg/kg/day over 3 doses for non-identified trematodes, but in this case, the infection is quite extreme. He decides to go with 100 mg/kg in three doses for today, and then work from there, like neurocysticercosis. Both parasites affect the brain so he hopes the dosages work similarly. Since the pills are intended for animals they can be crushed, which makes it easy to give to Keralis since it can be hidden in food.

xB comes up and Zedaph explains the situation.

“That’s perfect. When I’m here I try to give him three meals a day, so we can work that in. I have a whole room dedicated to storing food, so I should be able to support all three of us for 6 months at least.”

“Oh, it will take far less than 6 months. Don’t worry. Probably like a month, max.”

xB smiles. They prepare Keralis a lovely meal of crisps and granola bars and dust the whole thing with 30mg/kg of praziquantel and return to the basement.

“Here you go, dude,” xB slides the plate under the mesh flap.

“Hmmph,” Keralis says, awkwardly dragging the plate over in his tied up condition. He has to eat by sticking his whole face into the food, since his hands are handcuffed and attached to the wall. Zedaph almost feels bad.

Keralis lifts his head up to talk halfway through, “This guy… I haven’t been fed in a week and now all the food you give me tastes bitter!”

“I left you a week’s worth of food in here before I left. And beggars can’t be choosers,” xB responds.

Keralis huffs and finishes off a granola bar. Zedaph is counting himself lucky that the awful taste of the medicine didn’t give their plan away when he hears a thump from upstairs. Everyone looks up – including Keralis, whose massive eyes manually tilt up.

“Wow, your roommate sure is noisy,” Zedaph says.

xB clenches his fists, “Only Keralis and I live here.”

“I really hoped you weren’t going to say that.”

xB glares at Keralis, “Was this your doing?”

“No, no! For real this time! This is,” Keralis pauses for a moment, “Ohh, I see. Now you’re both in trouble. Someone’s coming.”

xB swears and pulls out his gun. Zedaph is caught between fear and wanting to ask Keralis the details of how long-distance worm communication works.

The basement door creaks as its opened.

“Hello hello everybody, I’m Etho!” the shepherd announces. It has one ordinary eye, dark and brown and wet, and one livid red twitching eye. The entire right side of its face is bumpy and rashes bloom on the skin. It points its gun at Zedaph, “And there’s some things going on here that I don’t quite like.”

Zedaph remembers something he said to xB yesterday. Something about shepherds stopping the uninfected from causing trouble. He thinks about the praziquantel to kill the worms. He thinks about how the sacrificials can summon a shepherd. He thinks about how Etho has one unmarred eye and how you need good vision to aim a gun. He thinks about how infinitesimally small a chance it is that Tango would be a shepherd and happen to run into Zedaph. He thinks about how he hears so many more dragons going outside now, and about the old enchantments that kept them from urban areas, which would need to be undone. He thinks about how the shepherd/sacrificial determination can’t be chance. He thinks about queen bees and hiveminds and pheromones.

He thinks about all the worms and parasites he’s studied over the years. He thinks about how simple and familiar worms are, how nobody seems to get it but him, how if there were ever to be a worm-led apocalypse, of course he’d be the only one who could stop it.

And as xB aims his gun at Etho in return, Zedaph thinks that the worms chose the wrong enemy.

---

woooo! happy (belated) valentines day! I hope you enjoyed! i thought it would be fun to leave you on a semi-cliffhanger

this ended up being quite heavy on the body horror and apocalypse, though I know you've written body horror in the past so I wasn't too worried.

originally there was a lot more about the worldbuilding and species stuff beyond the little hints here, but I ended up not really fitting with the way the story was shaping up. essentially, this is an urban fantasy world, similar technology to our world but with added magic, with a lot of mythological creatures. you have the fieldfolk (satyrs, minotaurs, fairies, anything woodsland-like) and the seafolk (mermaids, guardians, sirens, selkies), alongside wild fantasy animals (such as dragons).

and: WORMS!!! as soon as I saw xb on your characters requested list, I was thinking about an apocalypse fic (I've been loving the mlp infection AUs and mawofthemagnetar did a lovely zombie apocalypse fic involving xb which inspired me). I am a biologist so whenever I think about zombie apocalypses I want to try to subvert them and introduce (somewhat) realistic facets of biology. viruses have been done to hell and fungi have gotten popular but I've never seen anyone do parasitic worms before, which I think is a shame! this is the species the fic is based on (warning for worms/snail + eye injury + animal in pain), which not only looks unique but does "mind control" its hosts (infected snails move towards light), and as soon as I realised I was doing worm zombies, a certain zedaph on your requested characters was a perfect fit.

in the original draft of the plot, wels and bdubs showed up, and etho had so many different roles I considered during brainstorming - a fellow survivor who tried to attack them, a mediator between the worms and survivors, etc etc. here it isn't too explained what he is due to the dramatic ending, but you can kind of see what I'm getting at. Zedaph initially assumes the worms are just worms, and the shepherd/sacrificial distinction just randomly occurs and is a simple adaptation to help the species survive. at the end, he realises that there's some kind of higher force within the worms choosing which hosts become shepherds, e.g. to best target Zedaph, and letting the worms communicate long-range. Etho I imagine is a specialised agent - with his normal eye - used for assassinations

I'd love to upload this to ao3 if you'd be alright with that, I can set it as a gift for you