Zombie Au - Blog Posts

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@fandomsareyay, here's the pictures from our wonderous zombie apocalypse AU! Our most thrilling story yet!!

Yeeeeeees~! Our most intense and emotional story ever! So many highs and lows and just many touches of tropes! Beautiful art as always!

@fandomsareyay, here's the pictures from our wonderous zombie apocalypse AU! Our most thrilling story yet!!

HIII THIS IS A ZOMBIE AU ME AND MY FRIEND @spookytoasteroven MADE SMILES AR YOU ALL I WANNA MAKE NARANCIAS SOOOOON BUT THIS IS WHAT I THJNK FUGO WOULD LOOK LIKE AND WHAT HED HAVE

Zombie Apocalypse AU (Eustass Kidd)

Summary:

Modern AU in which Kidd is more or less happily married. Content warning includes HEAVY SPOILERS so enter at your own risk: Heavy cursing, zombies, impending doom, people dying, angst, horror, grief, murdering your loved ones, explicit violence, violence towards small children, death, typical zombie apocalypse stuff. That said I think as far as zombie apocalypses go this is some pretty vanilla stuff. But then again I literally do not consume any zombie media whatsoever, so what do I know.

"Seriously, you never listen to me. You're suppposed to pick Stevie up from kindergarden today." 

"Babe, I told you, I'm working late today. I gotta finish up today's job, the client's been all over my ass for this, he's been hounding me for the past week non-stop." 

"How is your job more important than our ONLY son?!"

"That's not what I'm saying! But I'll run into big trouble with my boss if I just ditch work today!" 

"It's not what you're saying, but actions speak louder than words. You spend every single day at that damn garage. Do you even know what your son looks like anymore?"

The conversation replays in Kidd's head over and over on his drive to work. Of course he cares for Stevie. Of course he does. His wife Becka just doesn't realize how hard he works every single damn day to pay the bills for both of them. Not like she knows what that's like, she's been staying at home to care for Stevie for the past few years. Which honestly, he resents her for a bit. He'd rather get to spend some time off of work and in the company of his son too. She's right. He knows what his son looks like of course, but he feels so damn estranged from him that it makes him want to punch something. Shitty fucking money and the need to earn it. 

It's not even that he dislikes his job. He loves being a mechanic, but his boss is a proper asshole. Kidd's been dreaming about opening up his own mechanic workshop for years. The "Damned Garage", he'd call it. That way all the wussy clients would be scared off by the name alone and he wouldn't get as many idiots coming to his garage. That was the idea at least. 

During his work day, he manages to forget about the argument by throwing himself into his work. Usually his lunch break is around 1pm, but he puts it off by two hours, having felt the need to make sure that he finish one particularly stubborn piece of repairs first. He grabs his lunch and phone, sitting down in the workers' room at the table, biting into his sandwhich heartily as he turns on his phone to check for anything new happening. 

A sharp feeling of guilt stabs through him when he sees five missed calls from Becka. Shit. What if something had happened?

Without bothering to read his messages first, he calls her immediately. It takes painfully long for her to pick up and boy does she sound pissed when she does. 

"Kidd. Why the fuck didn't you respond?!" 

"Becka. I'm so sorry, I only just saw. What's wrong?" 

"Everything is wrong. Stevie is sick. I called you to pick him up. But of course you didn't fucking answer." 

"Sick? What do you mean, he's sick? What's he got?"

"I don't know! I'm at the doctor's. His breathing is really shallow." Her harsh tone finally mellows as a choked sob comes through the phone. "I'm scared, Kidd. He collapsed at kindergarden today and he's barely conscious. I don't know what the hell is going on. He seemed fine this morning. The caretaker said he sounded like he was choking on something before he collapsed." 

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Which doctor? I'm on my way." Kidd leaves everything where it is, grabbing his car keys and making his way to his car. He'll explain this to his boss tomorrow. 

Becka gives him the address of the children's doctor she's at. When he sits down in his car, it won't start. 

Why won't it start? He's a mechanic, he regularly checks over his car, almost religiously. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Start up you damn bitch!", he yells and slams his fist against the dashboard. Somehow, that makes the engine splutter to life. Sounds like it's got some issue, but that's the last of his worries right now. He needs to get to Becka and Stevie. The car damn well better hold out til then or he'll hijack any that he comes across. He doesn't fucking care right now. He grew up as a lowly street thug and he's not shy about using that knowledge when it counts. 

The streets feel oddly crowded for a tuesday afternoon. It shouldn't be rush hour yet, yet he gets stuck in one jam after the other. He clenches his fist so tightly that his nails start digging into the palm of his hand painfully, leaving angry, red marks. The pain distracts him from his worries at least a little. Just collapsed. Why would Stevie just collapse? If he was choking on something, maybe it was an allergy or some shit? Not that he was aware of Stevie having any. Then again, it was usually Becka, who prepared the meals for both of them, who knew this kind of shit. 

His fingers drum against the steering wheel impatiently. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If only he had his bike here, he'd be able to weave through the traffic without having to wait so damn long. 

It takes him what feels like hours to get even just two blocks further. That's when he sees a couple on a motorbike on the lane to his right. This is his chance. 

He gets out of his car, ignoring the incessant honking that follows him as he makes his way over. Before either of the two notices what's happening, he's pushed them off their bike. 

"Sorry, emergency!", he yells, but he doesn't feel very sorry as he revs up the bike and starts on his journey towards the doctor's address. 

He leaves his car standing there in the middle of traffic. Fuck if he cares, he just needs to make sure that Stevie's okay right now. The police'll be all up his ass over this later anyways, it won't be any issue returning this bike. It's a good bike, he reckons, nice bit of horsepower below him. 

The couple had been some idiot goody two-shoes anyways, respecting the traffic rules to much to weave in between the jammed cars to get to their destination. He definitely deserved it more right now. 

When he finally gets to the doctor, it feels like something out of a nightmare. People are screaming as they're running out of the building. 

"What the fuck is going on?!", he yells at the passers-by, but none of them are willing to answer. He curses once more, running into the building, calling up Becka's number once again. 

Fuck. "Cell phone service not available", his screen reads. Then why the fuck is he paying them a damn fortune for his contract every month?!  

Inside the house it's chaos too. Everyone seems to be trying to get out all at once, making Kidd need to punch his way inside. 

He gets yelled at for this plenty but he's easily able to block off any punches and kicks that come his way in retaliation. None of these people actually know how to fight, unlike him. 

"BECKA?! BECKA!", he screams once he's inside. "BECKA, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

But he's not sure that she'd be able to hear him over the chaos all around in the first place. He keeps shoving people out of his way as he makes his way to the first floor. Something in his gut tells him that if Becka isn't one of the people running outside - and he hasn't seen her amongst those, at least - then she'll be at the epicenter of whatever the fuck is going on right now. 

She'd be slowed down anyways, having to carry their son. He's sure he would have spotted them if they'd been part of the crowd rushing past him seeing as his tall frame is towering over most of the panicked individuals, but he can't be perfectly sure. 

Most of the people seem to already have cleared out of the first floor when he finally makes his way up there. He tries again. "BECKA?! BABE, ARE YOU HERE?"

He doesn't hear anything in response, but what he can hear is what sounds like the pounding of fists against a wall and muffled sobs. 

He makes his way towards the source of the location, his gut churning with worry. This feels like a damn fever dream and not reality. 

When Kidd gets to the room the noises are coming from, he stops dead in his tracks. There seem to be a half-naked man and child pounding against a door? 

"Oi, what the fuck are you-", Kidd starts up, but stops as they turn around when they hear his voice. 

Their faces are all but covered in ugly green pustules, red around the edges and oozing something that's either blood or pus, he's too disgusted to want to look closely. 

Yet he can't bring himself to actually look away either. They just stand there, staring at him, not replying, not responding in any way and Kidd's pretty sure that this is the eeriest thing he's ever experienced. 

His face falls on the young boy. Must be around Stevie's age, though it's hard to make out any of the boy's features granted there's a giant, welting pustule right above his left eye, covering all of it and even some of his skin below, amidst a face that looks almost burnt in how red and wet the skin looks. 

Kidd's just barely able to keep down the retching motion that his throat wants to make at the sight. He's seen some shit - especially during his time on the streets - but never something quite as disgusting as this. 

"Daaaaa.... ddy?" The boy suddenly says. Kidd freezes in his tracks. The voice sounded so slurred, so wrong, like the words had been forced out with great strength. But he'd recognize that voice anywhere. 

"S-Stevie? Is that..." He can't bring himself to finish the sentence. It can't be. This must be some kind of really fucked up nightmare. It can't be true. 

The boy walks towards him slowly, dragging his feet, one of his arms spasming uncontrollably at his side. Fuck. What the hell kind of disease was this? Where was Becka? 

If only he'd had his fucking phone turned on. He should have been here so much sooner.

And who the fuck was the man whose shirt was torn apart at the front, standing beside this monstrosity that bore Stevie's voice? 

The man still hadn't said anything. He tries to now, but all that comes out is a weird, indecipherable gurgle. Kidd wants to run, run as far as he can and leave this shitshow behind. 

But what if that is in fact Stevie? He can't just leave his baby boy behind. Not when he's clearly suffering from whatever kind of fuck-ass disease this is. 

Kidd crouches down, trying to not appear as disgusted as he feels. "Stevie, baby. Where's mommy?" 

"Daaaaaaaaddy." Again, the creepy, slurred voice. Stevie can talk full sentences, so what the hell is this about? Is the disease affecting his brain in some way. 

"Yes, baby, it's me." He nearly has to throw up as he accidentally breathes in too deeply, the rotten scent filling up his senses and making him dizzy with disgust. 

"Kidd?", a female voice suddenly sounds, slightly muffled. It sounds like it's coming from behind the door that Stevie and the man had been pounding against. 

Kidd feels like he can suddenly breathe a little easier. "Becka? Shit, is that you?"

"Yeah. Be careful. The doctor attacked me." 

"Wait, that fuckass dude is a doctor?", Kidd asks. 

Just then, the man tries to speak again, but it's a weak gurgle once more. Even Kidd's kid can speak better while afflicted by whatever the fuck this is. 

Kidd tries to ignore him, focusing on Stevie. "Baby. We'll take you to the hospital, okay? 's gonna be alright. Please don't be scared." 

But taking his focus off of the man seems to have been a mistake. As Kidd is still crouching down in front of Stevie the man seems to undergo some sort of change, his entire body convulsing seemingly at random where he stands, odd, disturbing noises coming out of him. 

Before Kidd can really react the man's suddenly flung himself at Kidd. Thanks to his well-honed reflexes, Kidd manages to let himself fall backwards to do a roll and get out of the man's reach just in time. "What the fuck is your problem, dude?!", he yells at the apparent doctor. 

But when he sees the doctor's face, a cold shiver runs down his spine. His eyes are turned so far back in his head that only the white can be seen anymore and he's coming for Kidd yet again. Kidd lunges for the stool standing in the middle of the room, needing something to defend himself with so as he won't get in direct touch with the disgusting pustules covering all of the man's face and upper torso. 

When the man lunges for him once again he crashes the stool into him, the flimsy wooden construction breaking apart and leaving Kidd with nothing but its two legs in hand. "Fuck!", he curses once again. 

The man seems momentarily paralyzed but goes for Kidd again immediately after recovering his bearings. 

"I'm gonna hurt you if you don't stop this shit!" Kidd's warning feels redundant at this point, but part of him still wants this shitshow to just stop, for the man to calm down and everything to return to normal. 

Kidd parries the man's uncoordinated yet strong attacks by smashing his two sticks against the man's attacking arms. He doesn't even make any sounds of pain, doesn't seem to react much to what must be brutal bruises forming on his arms, he just unrelentingly tries to attack Kidd further. 

A part of Kidd that isn't focused on the fight right now but on protecting Stevie is devastated that his little boy needs to see this shit, but it can't be helped. 

When the man simply refuses to abate in his attacks, Kidd starts bringing down the stool legs on his head repeatedly, jumping out of the man's reach any time he tries to grab him, desperate not to want to get in touch with whatever this fucking disease is. After countless brutal hits and the man's head actively starting to be deformed, he finally goes down. Kidd's arms are hurting from how much power he had to exert as he stands there panting, a disgusting mix of blood and whatever else was coming out of the man and his pustules on his makeshift weapons. 

He lets them fall to the floor as he then turns to open the door that Becka had been hiding behind. Becka jumps into his arms, holding onto him and sobbing desperately, clearly having been terrified out of her mind. 

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.", she keeps repeating, trembling wildly. 

"Is okay. I've got you.", Kidd reassures her, holding her in his strong yet exhausted arms. "I'll always protect you." 

Becka takes a while to calm down in his arms, but he needs that time nearly as much as she does. This is certainly not how he'd expected a visit at the doctor's with Stevie to go. But if Stevie had the same thing that the doctor had...

He can barely finish that thought as Becka suddenly gasps in pain. 

"Becka?!" Panic floods him within seconds. Becka stares down in horror, looking at her leg, which Stevie had bitten into with all of his might. 

He was so small and yet he seemed to have exerted so much force that he'd not only bitten through the fabric of her trousers, but into the skin underneath as well, drawing blood. 

"OW!", Becka yowls, kicking her leg to try and throw Stevie off in panic, but to no avail, he's latching on like a rabid dog. 

"FUCK; KID!", Kidd yells and grabs Stevie, trying not to get in touch with the disgusting stuff covering his body but unable to avoid it entirely in how much force he needs to exert to drag Stevie off of Becka. Even then he needs to grab his mouth and pry it apart to get Stevie to stop biting into his mother. 

He throws Stevie off, positioning himself in front of Becka in case Stevie tries to go for her again. Why the hell does he need to fight his own kid? What the fuck? 

Becka hisses in pain, trying to inspect her leg. 

Normally Kidd would never speak to his child like this, but he's so angry and overwhelmed that he can't keep his cool. "What the fuck, Stevie? How could you attack Becka!" 

Stevia doesn't seem particularly dazed at having been thrown off, getting back up, his one visible eye rolled back, only the white visible. "Mommyyyyyyy...... hurts....." 

Kidd can't help the tears welling up in his eyes at seeing his son in this condition. He'd hurt him. He'd hurt his beloved Stevie. But he had to defend Becka. What choice did he have in this impossible situation? 

"Becka, are you alright?", he asks over his shoulder, trying to keep an eye on Stevie even as he checks in with her at the same time. 

"Hurts like a damn bitch, but I'll live.", is the quick reply. 

"The fuck do we do?", Kidd asks her. What could they even do? 

"We need to lock him in somewhere and get help. I don't know what's happening to him. I don't know how to help him." 

Kidd can't see Becka's face either, but by the tone of her voice, she's definitely crying too. 

"Fuck.", he curses. "Stevie, do you understand what I'm saying?" 

He pushes Becka backwards a bit behind him as Stevie keeps approaching them again. "Huuuuuuurts....", the little kid groans. 

He doesn't know how to do this. If he grabs Stevie there's a good chance he'll be bitten too. With the doctor from here already on the ground unconscious - or in the worst case, dead - it might be a while before they were able to get help again. He needs to make sure he'll stay as uninjured as possible to take proper care of Becka, who might already struggle to walk with her leg now. 

So he picks up one of the stool legs again, a grim expression on his face. 

Becka nearly chokes on her spit as she sees this. "Kidd. Kidd, oh god, no. You can't hurt him!" 

"He's not going to listen to us right now, babe. I need to protect you." 

"That's our baby!", Becka pleads desperately, grabbing the back of his shirt to shake him. 

"I'll be careful.", Kidd replies gravely, shaking her off. 

Stevie tries to lunge for him but because of Becka's location being right behind him he can't dodge, so he has to block the attack with the stool leg. Part of him crumples and dies at having to hurt his own flesh and blood by beating against his wildly flailing arms and legs like this, but his survival mode lets him focus on the fight at hand first of all. 

Kidd goes on to take the initiative, pushing Stevie back towards the room Becka had previously been in with a flurry of feigned and real attacks. 

Stevie doesn't respond to the feigned attacks at all, not flinching back from them at all as one normally would have based on their reflexes. 

Kidd has already seen enough to know that something's seriously fucking wrong, but that's the nail in the coffin for him. 

He can only push Stevie back into the room by actively hitting him. Normally his little boy had been so weak, never one for being super sporty and preferring to draw and sing when the other kids ran around yelling and having fun, so he has no idea where all of this strength is even coming from. 

He can't bring himself to think about how much he's injuring the poor little child's frail bones, how much this will hurt Stevie when he's back to normal. 

Finally, he manages to slam the door shut right in front of Stevie's face, turning the keys over quickly. 

He hadn't even really noticed it during the fight itself, but now he realizes that tears are streaming down his face, actively blurring his vision. 

Kidd turns back around to Becka, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, but she backs away hobbling from him when he gets closer. "You monster! How could you attack our little boy! You filthy, filthy pig! You bastard!" 

She keeps screaming, hurling insult after insult at him. 

Kidd just stands there and takes it. It hurts him deeply to see his wife saying such hurtful things to him, but he can't blame her. God if he doesn't hate himself for doing what he's done just now as well. 

"Becks...", he starts up but is quickly shut up by her screaming at him again. 

He can tell that she's starting to work herself into a state of hysteria so eventually he can't take it any longer, walks up and wraps his arms around her in a hug, even as she starts pounding her fists against his chest, still screaming at him for being such a horrible monster. 

She continues for quite some minutes before finally calming down, her screaming quieting down into miserable sobs. 

"I'll always protect you.", he mumbles into her hair, breathing in the scent desperately to try and calm himself, to find some semblance of normaly in this fucked up situation. 

He hadn't wanted any of this. He hadn't wanted his promise of protection to turn against the very product of their love, their only child. 

He surpresses his sobs, only allowing his tears to stream down freely as he holds Becka with all of his remaining strength. She needs him right now, more than she's ever needed him before, more than she ever would have needed him in a normal life without this kind of fucked up situation. 

Soo Marcy aus! I don't know who made the expression sheets, but lets get into the aus! (See info below the cut on the aus!) ((also, if you have an au in this and don't want it, tell me and I can scribble/remove it out if you want!!))

A1, F1 and F7 (Orginal, Calamity (She go Blep!) and Adult) are all from the original show.

B1 (marky) is from the Fandom, while E7 (Darcy) is heavily inspired from the fandom.

C1, A7, and F2 aus, (Left behind, God and Cursed respectively) were designed by my friend. Left behind is well, being left in Amphibia. God is being a god and Cursed is based off my other expression sheet draw here.

E2 (fantasy au) was created by the lovely @tinydragontoons! Thank you for letting me draw her and lovely Mars! Def. go check them out. They got lots of art!!

E1 (True calamity) was inspired by a youtube video: THIS By the lovely Rezmei Seno!!

A2 (medieval) was not directly from someone but was heavily inspired by many people. There are so many medieval aus I couldn't just choose one!

B2 (PJO aka Percy Jackson Au) is VERY inspired (and also from) the amazing @raqueliie 's au!! I highly recommend checking it out if you have not. Their art is also AMAZING!

C2 and B4 (Good ending and Bad ending) are both from my mini-series "what if"? comics I like to doodle in my sketchbook. Also D4 (beyond Amphibia) is another, (newer) part to my "What If-?" mini series. Its where the trio stay in amphibian and go to the new continent previously undiscovered.

D2 (amphibia as a child) is also very widely popular and I love it.

A3 and B7 (Swap!Sasha and Swap!Anne) are designed by me, but there are bunches out there and its really fun to see what could have happened!

B3 (only Human au) was orginally inspired by one of @themissakat aus. I don't originally recall which one started this particular au, but I do know that if you want to find more aus, go to their page and you will have aus for YEARS! Its beautiful.

C3 is obviously my au. (Lost au) If you want to know more, you can go here. Summary is, its a corruption au but worse. And in context for this, Marcy isn't fully corrupted yet.

D3 (superhero au) and C4 (fairytale au) are also aus of one of my friends. The super hero, they got powers. In fairy tale, I really have no clue where its going, but all I know is that it's pretty gay.

E3 (owl house swap), B5 (Hogwarts) and A6 (UA - MHA/My Hero Academia au) are all fandom swaps and I just adore fandom swaps.

F3 (Ghost au) is also very fandom what if. Probably one of my favorite au ideas, and its certainly fun to mess with. There are lots of people who have added to this au.

A4 (Zombie au) and A5 (Soulmates au, and yes that is Sashannarcy my beloved) are very popular au ideas so I just had to add them. Any people to point to? No, but once again, The Missa Kat does have a zombie au!

E4 (Gender swap) is special. The reason why the gender swap is facing away (not just bc that was in the expression sheet) was kinda just, because they look the same XD. I have no known knowledge of any current aus of that, but maybe there is some that I'm just previously unaware of!

F4 (Power of Three au!!) is one of my LONG TIME FAVORITE aus. I have been a huge fan of this one. Its one of @honneibun 's aus and its so AMAZING! I highly recommend just looking at it. Its beautiful and It will always live rent free in my brain.

C5 (streamer/YT au) is from a fic I read a long time ago which never finished. If anyone can tell me who and where it is, I will be glad and my life will finally be complete. D5 (Author au, NOT COMIC BOOK AUTHOR) is heavily inspired by the time skip and the above (C5) streamer/YT au. As far as I am aware, there are no current aus with this.

E5 (Oversimplified), well. I think you guys can probably guess. On YT there is a Simplified or Oversimplified series (idk maybe its called "So this is basically _____ "or something and I thought, Amphibia should be included!) and so.. yeah!

B6 (opposite au), I.. really do not like that one and will probably or def change it. Idk what was going through my head as I drew/edited it.

C6 (Never went to Amphibia au) is another popular one that I just HAD to include.

D6 is apart of my SCP aus that I also have. If you don't know what SCP is, then.. there's a website. Basically it stands for Sucure, Contain and Protect and it holds all the supernatural and dangerous creatures. (Its not real guys!)

E6 (newt au) is basically swapped Amphibia au. Very popular and I sometimes wished that there were more of them.

F6 (roommates au) however was HEAILY inspired and particially from I think @kyoryu 's au on twitter? I think its the same one. If its wrong than I can change it, but I'm pretty sure I'm right?

C7 (Animal au) I've seen everywhere and soo... I added it. No known (main) aus on it.

Finally, D7 (Alien au) Another one of my various multifandom aus that sit in my BIG BOOK OF AUS in the corner of my work area. Its always fun like that!!

If any of these are wrong or you think that I didn't give any credit to _____, just let me know and I shall change it.

also wow, you read it too here! Impressive!

On top of the building he was standing under there was a kid. He seemed to be Don’s age but the weird thing wasn’t the fact he was sitting on the ledge of a twenty-foot drop, but that he was singing at the top of his lungs. Off-tune and accompanied by a cat yowling along, the bleach-blonde boy was kicking his feet and dropping rotten meat into the crowd. He was feeding the infected like an old lady with birds. What the fuck?

The kid looked down and locked eyes with Donny. They both froze and stared at each other for a moment before Don slowly, oh-so-slowly, lifted a single hand and waved. The kid’s face shifted a bit, his flat expression scrunched slightly in confusion and he cocked his head, even as he returned the gesture. He stood abruptly and the cat jumped from his back. He gestured for Don to follow him before walking off to the side of the building.

(Almost a year since I last posted a fanfic/ fanfic update- im excited to get back into writing :))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55596028/chapters/161302870

CW: GORE AND EXTREME VIOLENCE

Smoke curled around the building he set on fire, where Mikey relaxed on the roof, contemplating if it was his last moment or a sick ass escape.His headphones played a lively tune it in favor of the tortured screams clawing out from the locked roof access, bodies slamming against the metal again and again. He kicked his feet back and forth over the ledge with Icy the cat curled up on his lap.

He bopped his head along the bouncy beat, his curls twisting in and out of his vision. Icy hissed at the door behind him slammed down and the overwhelming smell of rotting, burning flesh permeated the air. Mikey hopped up with a spin, almost falling off the ledge with a hysterical laugh. Icy clung onto his shoulder like the angel she was, complete faith in her pops.

Shuffling towards him was a massive, burning, screaming horde of rotting monsters. Mikey thought he saw someone he once knew in there, he couldn’t be sure over the bubbling flesh and conjoined melted limbs.

This is the first time I’m posting abt my fanfics on here 💀

But I’ve got a shit ton written so if u find this interesting think abt checking out my other works :))

Inktober Day 2

Prompt: Patton + Brainless

inktober masterpost: https://alwaysdamfangirling.tumblr.com/post/188070519351/inktober-masterpost

Since my freedom ends today (paramedic major goes brrr) I wanted to say thank you to all great artists who were feeding my hiperfixation with a trainwreck which is maxley. It sounds dump, but your fanarts and one fanfiction I’m still reading („Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes” by adropintime and InkyBoo) helped me ease the nerves after long days in ambulance and ER.

Here’s also a little collection I did during this vacation (wow 2-3 months and STILL can’t draw them)

Again thank you everyone who was here and participated in this chaos. This summer wouldn’t be the same without you, I’m afraid I couldn’t even lift a pencil if not you THANK YOU❤️🖤❤️🖤

@etubie Zombie AU which you should check out (as well as their other AU’s. Dude is throwing ideas at us and we’re seating in silence) because I like my mutuals and my brainrot a normal amount

Again my reoccurring problem - no idea which one is better so maybe you’ll help me?

«Even at the end of the world, you won't spare me a glance?»

Ouch...

Sketches down below!

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, gore, kidnappings, threats of murder, feelings, and others.

CoD MW2/3

Simon 'Ghost' Riley 💀

Echoes of Salvation. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x afab reader (zombie AU)

Ongoing series

Part I Part II Part III

Ghost x undercover!reader - Head Cannons

(little mention of female characteristics in parts IV and V; it can be read as neutral reader: parts I, II and III)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Husband!Ghost x teacher!reader HC

Part I Part II

Works that I will write in the future

Ghost x afab reader (Old Guard AU)

spirit!Ghost x witch!reader (forest spirit monster AU)

Echoes of Salvation: Negotiations (Part II). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader

Part I

Warnings: none, really, just some casual fluff and domestic stuff, maybe some grammar error and misspellings.

Enjoy!

The story starts after the dash.

-

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.           

-

Once you get back inside you notice the little girl fast asleep on the couch a peaceful look on her face. Bellamy keeps closely to your side not letting you move without following. The masked brute stands a few paces away at the other end of the sofa, his eyes carefully scanning over his sleeping daughter. Once satisfied that she is comfortable he turns to you and gestures towards the kitchen and for you to follow him. You wait a few seconds and keep a healthy distance once you start following him. Once inside he points at the door and you shut it. You look around searching for a safe place for you to sit now that you’re trapped in here with him. You decide to sit on one of the chairs the one with your back to the wall. Bellamy lays at your feet eyes glued to him.

He leans against the wall opposite from you, arms crossed over his chest. He watches you, studies your face for a while. You try to appear nonchalant at his cold fixating glare, but your hair stands up, goose bumps forming on your skin. He clears his throat ‘I have a few more questions for you’ he says voice just as gruffy as before. ‘Like wise’ you quip from your seated position.

'Have you had run-ins with the infected?'

‘I haven't seen any for the past few months. and even before that they are rare and far in between. And to my knowledge there isn't any other person alive around this area.’ You answer as truthfully as you can.

'You're pretty isolated out here. No neighbours within a decent radius?'

‘Only the Johnsons, Neil and Margaret, they used to live about a half a mile down the lake bank. They were a retired couple.’ You reply a little sad.

'Used to?' he asks intrigued.

'Yeah. They died soon after the infection started spreading' you shudder, the image of Neil coming back to you in full force.

'How did they die?' his head lens to the side as if to take a better look at you.

‘I found Margaret dead in their garage throat ripped out. I'm guessing that Neil got infected when he went to the market in the nearby town. When he got home, he must have turned and killed his wife.’ You fumble with your hands picking at your nails and avoiding his sharp gaze.

'What about the husband? What happened to him?'

You dreaded this question. You take a deep breath to steady your quick heart and face downward in shame. 'I Killed him...' you say after some consideration. 'He attacked me and Bellamy and.... I had to...' you mumble your words not wanting to remember anymore of that terrible day.

He watches you intently, there's no sign of surprise on his face. 'You did what you had to do. There's no need to look shameful.' He seems understanding, but something about his look causes a chill to run down your spine. 'How did you do it?' He adds softly.

'The hatchet. I was out cutting wood for the stove.' you keep mumbling, a distant look on your face as you focus your eyes on spot on the table cloth.

'I see.' He says without any kind of judgment in his tone. You find it hard to look at him at this moment. 'You didn't hesitate.' He adds.

'I did. I acted out in fear more than anything.' you say lowly rubbing the back of your neck trying to rid yourself from the cold sweat taking over you.

He continues to observe you calmly, as if trying to understand you on a more fundamental level.

His expression changes slightly, becoming softer, less intimidating. 'Was it hard? Taking a life?'

'Yes.' You say looking straight into his eyes tone genuine. 'But I'll do it again if I have to.' you admit to him hinting that you are not as weak as he thinks you to be. You did manage to survive all this time alone and it wasn't all luck. You worked hard to build and improve the defence around your house and make it sustainable for a long period.

He notices your determination, and for a brief moment, he seems to respect it. 'I believe that you would, I’m counting on it' he says, voice still low. 'How did you survive on your own for so long?' he changes the subject having made his opinion of you on that matter.

'I learned how to farm. When I first move here six and a half years ago, I bought books on how grow vegetables and some medicinal herbs. Margaret was kind enough to show me how to grow chickens, I have a few in a coup behind the house' you motion with your head in that direction. 'In the back, there is a small plot of land with an orchard. Apples and cherries. I also invested in solar panels. I still have electricity and running water. Though on cloudy days the batteries half charge. I have to keep an eye on consumption.

He nods slowly, taking in the information you have shared with him. He seems to be taking mental notes of your capabilities as a homesteader. He speaks again, ’What did do before shit hit the fan?'

‘I am a licensed architect so it was easy to design everything around here, the doing was the harder part' you say proud of what you managed to achieve.

'An architect', he repeats in a low, amused voice, 'and you chose to live in the middle of nowhere?'

He pauses. 'What made you come this far out?'

'I wanted peace and a quiet place surrounded by nature. Cities were to crowded for my liking. I never felt at home there. But here' you look around you, 'here is perfect.'

You hear him let out a breath, seemingly agreeing with your statement and your choice of location.

He studies you for a few seconds, then says, 'You don’t have anyone else? Family? Parents?'

'No.' the answer is short and a far away look takes over you. that is a story from another time. 'Where did you come from?' you turn the attention on him rather than giving anymore information about yourself.

He hesitates for a moment as if deciding whether or not he should share anything about himself.

'I'm ex-military.' comes the final answer, spoken in his usual blunt manner.

'That much I figured' you nod towards his uniform. 'Is she your daughter?'

He nods without saying anything further. There's a strange tension coming from his body language. He seems to be on high alert. He clears his throat as if he needs a change of subject. 'You said you are an architect?' you raise an eyebrow at that 'Yes, why?'

'Are you any good?' He presses, not beating around the bush and being direct with his question.

'Um... as good as they come, I guess!?' you tell him not trying to appear humble.

'So, what is your specialty? Residential? Commercial? Industrial?' he asks very specific.

'Residencial, but I do have some knowledge of the rest. Why do you ask? You try to understand were the sudden interest in your carrier choices come from.

'Just curious.' He says casually, but something in his eyes suggests that he's interested in finding out more. 'And that cottage you're living in.' he points at your house. 'You designed it?'

'Yes' you say eying him suspiciously. His questions were awfully precise. But once again he changes the direction of your conversation wanting to know more about your house. He asks you about the house, the structure and the layout, how you keep warm, where do you get wood for the fireplace.

'You're pretty self-sufficient.’ He concludes.  ‘How often do you have to go out for supplies?' his question catches you by surprise. Ever since you saw the news about the outbreak you haven’t ventured anywhere close to civilization, afraid that you’d encounter infected and be ripped apart.  

'I haven't really left the property in the past year. The further I go is the lake for fishing. Most of what I own comes from the time when things were delivered to your door or post office. I used to buy items in bulk.' you shrug, it made more sense to you that way. ‘There was no reason for me to leave. Plus, there is a lot of work to do around here, animals to feed. Which reminds me of something…’ you say fixing him with a hard stare mirroring his own. He waits for you to continue.

'You'll have to pull your weight around here. Food and accommodation are not for free.' You set clear boundaries. You may be kind enough to let them stay, considering the threats he’d flung your way earlier, but you won’t be taking advantage of.

He sighs almost offended by what you said, ' I don't plan on freeloading.' He assures you. 'Good' you intend to hold him to his words. He grunts in acknowledgement before going on to speak, 'I hunt regularly, and I know my way around a gun. I'm capable of offering protection.' He says in a serious tone, almost like a pledge. His military training is showing.

'There is not much fighting to do around here, but I'll keep in mind.' you say with a chuckle. It'll be fun seeing him do household chores. You wonder if he'll keep the mask on while feeding the chickens or picking apples.

'I do have one last question.' He says, suddenly sounding more unsure of how to phrase it. You nod at him to go one whipping the smirk on your face and

'If our partnership is to work…’ he pauses seriousness taking over him like a heavy veil, ‘you will have to abide to my one rule.' You sit up a little straighter, your attention fully on him.

'My girl comes first. In a survival situation, every decision I make will rely on her safety. No negotiation.'

You nod your head in agreement. 'Got it. I'll try my best not to get in your way.' You promise tone filled with sincerity.

'Good.' That seems to conclude the interrogation. He seems to relax a bit, and his demeanour is less hostile than before. He rises to his feet and turns to walk to where his daughter lies on the sofa. You watch as he drops his gun and knife on the table and sits on the armchair guarding the sleeping girl.

You let them settle in while you busy yourself with chores. you go out to feed the livestock you keep, collect any fresh eggs, and tend to your garden. The sky begins to darken, wind picks up. you can faintly hear thunder cracks in the distance. It's going to rain tonight, you muse to yourself. You quickly finish your work outside making your way inside. Once in your living room you notice the absence of masked stranger. He is nowhere in the house. You put down the basket you filled with fresh vegetables on the kitchen table and approach the sofa. The little girl stirs awake and looks curiously at you.

'How are you feeling, darling?' you ask in a warm tone smiling gently at her. The little girl rubs her eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep in them. She then looks up at you once again with her adorable big eyes. ‘A bit tired’ she says before yawning.

'It's understandable, you went through a lot out there. What happened to you?' you ask pointing at her bandaged arm The little girl looks at you for a moment as if thinking what to tell you. 'I got hurt by a bad guy's dog...It bit me.' She tries to sound brave but you hear the quiver in her voice.

'Oh... that's awful. Would you let me take a look at it?' you say softly siting down on the couch next to her. ‘Yeah…’ she nods. She holds out her arm for you to take a look at.

On her arm, you can see the puncture marks. They don't look like a human bite mark and that makes you sigh in relief. They were telling the truth. But what worries you is the yellowish liquid oozing out of it. That and the fever indicate that the wound got infected. 'How long ago did that dog bite you?'

‘About three days ago...’ She says quietly. ‘...It hurts now more than before.’ her soft, innocent eyes are filled with concern, fear and worry. ‘...I feel hot...’ she added. 'Let's clean it and rebandage it, okay?'

'Okay' she says with a small, relieved smile. You fetch a med-kit and some disinfectant and begin to clean the wound. It's a bit irritated from the infection. She seems to be in good spirits despite the pain.

You try to comfort her by keeping her mind occupied with conversation while treating her wound.

'How old are you?' you ask her as you wipe her arm with some alcohol blowing a little over it to ease the burn. 'Nine!' she answers earnestly with a toothy smile as she looks up at you, still enduring the sting of the disinfectant. 'What's your name?' you ask remembering that you haven’t been properly introduced so far. 'Olivia' she says with a soft, cute smile. 'What's your name?'

You tell her. 'I haven't met anyone else with that name before' she says pensively. 'Well, we don't really meet many people anyway. Just infected.' she says with a sad sigh. 'Yeah, me either.'

You finish treating her wound and re-bandage it. A shiver runs through her little body causing her to tremble. ‘Are you cold?’ you ask, reaching your palm to her forehead. She is indeed a little feverish. ‘...A bit.’ She mumbles with a small shiver.

You stand up making your way toward a small closet where you keep some blankets. You pick a fluffy one and hand it to Olivia. 'Here you go, sweety'. She smiles brightly as she accepts the extra layer and buries herself in it. 'I'll go grab some firewood to get a fire started.' You announce heading for the door. Just as you reach for the door handle, the door opens and there stands the tall dark figure of the man, his hands full of firewood. 'Oh...' you say in surprise as you step aside making way for him to enter. Outside rain is pouring. He puts the wood in the fireplace and starts working on the fire. You close the door and watch in silence as he works. In no time a well-built fire heats the small house casting a warm glow from the fireplace. The shadows flicker on his face, the white mask adding a level of horror to the otherwise cozy scene.

‘Thanks,’ The little girl says softly to him, to which he only grunts in acknowledgement.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Bellamy lays on the kitchen floor quietly supervising the two strangers in your house through the open door. The dinner you had in mind this morning included fish but you were rudely interrupted, so you'll have to settle on chicken with a side of veggies. You work quietly and efficiently, casting a glance once every few minutes in the living room. You see Olivia tiredly saying something to the masked man and him leaning back, the chair reclined, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching you prepare dinner. Soon, everything is ready, and three plates of steaming food lay neatly on the kitchen table. You walk into the living room to invite your involuntary guests to dinner.

The tall man is sitting on the comfortable armchair, the little girl lays on the sofa next to him, propped up by the pillows. As you enter, they quiet down and stare at you. He slowly stands up, holding out a hand to the girl, but she swats at it and raises by herself with a huff. He says nothing and he follows you two the kitchen. For how big he is he his movements are fluid, calm and quiet. You can barely hear his footfalls.

The little girl sits next to her father and digs into her plate burning herself in the process. 'Take it easy, kid.' he gently admonishes her. It's a weird scene seeing him at the other end of your small table, still in full gear watching the two of you eat in silence. Earlier he was threatening to kill you, now he sits in your kitchen hands rested on his knees watching like a hawk and frozen like a statue. You cast a few glances at him wondering if he'll take the mask of to eat but he remains unmoving. Perhaps later when I’m not around you think to yourself.

You try subtly glancing at the masked man, now that you sit in awkward silence. The little girl eats hungrily, she seems to love the food. Her blue eyes are focused on her plate, but you notice that she also seems to sneak in a few glances at her father while she chews. They look at each other as if communicating solely with their eyes. Perhaps they could, after spending so much time together in situations that require keeping quiet and nonverbal communication. You’ve notice so far that he prefers gestures instead of words. Once she’s finished eating the girl turns to look at you 'Is there any dessert?' her question is followed by a small burp and a quiet laugh. Her father pumps his knee audibly into hers under the table and throws her a pointed look. ‘What?’ she feigns innocence. You chuckle at their antics watching them bicker.

'I have some cherry jam if you're interested.' you offer with a smile.

'A bit, please.' she replies. Olivia’s eyes are sparkling while her father looks as unimpressed as ever, while you prepare a few slices of homemade bread and spread jam on it. She sits closer to him whispering something in his ear. He bands down and you watch as he whispers back.

She seems to be a very attached child, and you wonder if that is a consequence of all the trauma she has gone through. His manners on the other hand seem a bit less harsh, slightly more relaxed, although his dark gaze still lingers on you as if his prepared for you to rush him or something.

After you finish eating you collect yours and Olivia's plates and dump them in the sink to wash them later. You then turn towards Olivia 'How about we get you out of those dirty clothes and give you a warm shower? you ask motioning upstairs were your bedroom and personal bathroom are. She looks at her father with a look of silent plea.

'Go on.' he says quietly with a nod. She gets up, excited to get a warm shower, the prospect of getting cleaned and changing clothes is too much for her to resist. Olivia runs up the stairs followed quickly by you, leaving the man alone to eat.

A few moments after you are out of sight, Simon takes off his balaclava and puts it on the chair where his daughter sat. he grabs the cutlery and just as he’s a bout to start cutting into the chicken he stops, feeling eyes on him. He casts his eyes at the door where your dog watches him curiously head tilted to the side and years pointed up. ‘What?’ he grunts in annoyance, and the dog gets up and leaves the room. With a sigh Simon starts eating, he can’t remember his last proper meal that didn’t involve expired cans of beans.

-   

Once in the bathroom, you turn on the shower and set the necessary water temperature before stepping out to wait for her. You go inside your bedroom searching for some clothes that will fit her better than what she has. Her soiled clothes go straight to the bin. They’ll need a proper wash for sure. You wait by the door for her to finish. You can hear her saying something to you through the cracked door.

'I don't remember the last time we had warm water' she says from behind the shower curtain. 'Were you on the road for a long time?' you inquire curious to know more about them, and now taking your chances with Olivia who is chattier than her father.

'Yeah...We've been on the move and camping for a while now in abandoned houses.' she replies as she turns off the shower and steps out. She is wrapped in the towel, her wet hair sticking to her forehead and with a shy, bashful look on her face to which you can't help but smile at.

'Come' you motion for her to go inside your bedroom 'let's get you dry.' She happily obliges and you both step into the bedroom.

You help her dry her hair and then you give her some privacy for her to change into the new clothes. By the time you are done, she is completely dry and wrapped in a cozy sweater and shorts. She looks really pretty now that she’s clean, her pixie cut framing her round face perfectly.

She smiles at you and then starts looking around the room. Your bed is made, covered in cream linen bedsheets, your bedside table is nicely decorated with some flowers from your garden, and your desk is neatly organized.

A few books and magazines laying at the corner of the desk that catch her attention. She walks closer looking at the covers curiously. You notice her looking at a particular magazine cover, it shows a woman holding some gardening tools and a child playing nearby.

'Do you like gardening?' you ask her.

She shrugs. 'I don't know', she answers sincerely. Right, if they were moving from place to place, they didn't have time for that. Probably didn’t have time for many other things. The realization dawns on you. Growing on the run in a world full of monsters must’ve been rough on her, not really being able to be a child, always on high alert.

'Maybe you can help me tomorrow in the garden if you feel better.' you offer kindly. 'That would be nice.' she replies earnestly, her warm smile lighting up her adorable face, making her look like a normal kid.

'Okay, for now, let's get you settled in the bedroom downstairs.'

'Alright… but can I ask you something?'' she looks up at you scuffling her feet, the wool socks you gave her sliding and pooling at her ankles. 'Sure thing.' You turn towards her and wait for her to voice her question. There's a brief pause in which she mulls over, seemingly struggling to form the right words.

Finally, she speaks, 'Why did you accept us in your house? She takes you by surprise. You pause, looking around, giving yourself time to think before you answer. 'It was the right thing to do. You needed help.' You say conviction in your tone.

She nods a little bit, still unsure. 'But you don't know us...you could have just closed the door on our faces. It happened before. People keep their things for themselves out there.' She arguments.

Your heart falls a little, your hopes in humanity crumbling. You knew people could be selfish at times, but now they really turned borderline savage and hysteric. 'People can be like that when they feel threatened.' you admit.

'But you aren't?' she follows up your statement with a question. You hesitate a bit, her eyes are focused solely on you, their innocence and naïveté are so endearing it somehow breaks your heart.

'I try not to be.' Your answer seems to have raised even more questions. She is curious to know more. 'Why? Why do you try not to be like the others?' she tilts her head as if trying to solve you like one does a riddle. 'I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to me. I think people should be kind or at the very least not violent with one another.' Your philosophical reply is met with more confusion. '..So why did you let us in?' she asks earnestly. She doesn't understand why someone like you would extend a warm generosity to perfect strangers who have nothing to offer when the same kindness is so scarce.

'Well, your father did threaten me with a gun.' you give her a more appropriate answer, something she understands better: violence. She sighs. Her adorable little face drops as she realizes that her father's actions might have put you in danger. 'Oh.' She remembers your earlier encounter, her father's less-than-friendly approach to strangers seems nothing new to her. ‘Right…. He's protective, he has to be.' she promptly excuses his actions, her expression a little troubled but at the same time, she seems to understand. 'But he's not a bad person' she quickly adds.

'I didn't say he was.' you remind her. She nods her head a little, still thinking about it all.

She is very smart, it is evident that she is much more aware of her surroundings than the average kid her age, you wonder what she would grow up to be, and what kind of adult she would turn out to be in such a harsh world. You imagine she will be a spitting image of her father, cold and ruthless.

You gently lead her down the stairs and to the guest bedroom ending your conversation. Once you reach downstairs you notice that her father is missing yet again. 'He's probably outside smoking. He never does it when I'm around though. He says it's bad for the lungs. But I don't understand why he keeps doing it' she confesses. She sounds more like an adult than a child. She has probably matured fast due to the circumstances, but that doesn't change the fact that she is still so young.

She still needs guidance, she still needs help figuring things out. Even as she speaks of his flaws, she is quick to excuse him and defend him, she loves him and looks up to him so much. It's almost like she sees him as two different people, one good and one not-so-good. You wonder if that is just her way of trying to cope with his actions.

'It's a bad habit people tend to have when they are stressed' you tell her. You remember your college years going to bars with colleagues and smoking a few cigarettes from your friends. But you never bought a packet.

'Do you get stressed?' she asks you, seemingly trying to see if you are the same as her father.

You take a few seconds to think it over, but her innocent, naïve gaze is hard to lie to.

'I do.' you confess, '…Sometimes. But I do other things to relieve the stress.'

She looks at you curiously, you can tell that she is looking to you for advice on how to deal with stress or she’s just looking for options for her father. 'What kind of things?' she asks, her voice filled with childlike wonder and curiosity.

'Well, gardening is a good way. Bellamy likes to help.' at the mention of her name, your companion leaves her guarding post by the fireplace and approaches the two of you. Olivia hides a little behind you at the sight of the dog. 'Don't worry, she won't bite you, I promise. She's really friendly with people. Look...' You crouch next to her and stretch your palm towards her nose. Bellamy starts wagging her tail eager to be petted.

Olivia watches you cautiously, but then sees how Bellamy loves to be petted and she can't help herself from being curious. She cautiously puts her soft little hand forward, hesitantly touching Bellamy on the cheek. The dog allows it, and soon Olivia warms up to her and starts petting her.

She smiles at you as she does that, then she speaks. '...Does she like me?' she whispers loudly as if the dog might understand her. 'I think she does' you playfully match her tone.

Olivia smiles even more, petting Bellamy even more enthusiastically. 'What kind is she?' she asks, showing a bit more enthusiasm in her voice. 'She's a Border Collie. She is a dog meant to herd sheep and keep guard from other animals.' '…She must be very smart.' Olivia says as she continues petting her, her voice is full of curiosity and admiration as she says that. 'She is' you say with a tone of love for your sole companion. ‘Dad told me that the dog that bite me was German Hepard. A guard dog.’ She informs you the way children do to prove they are just as knowledgeable as adults. ‘Shepherd. German Shepherd.’ You correct her with a small laugh. ‘That’s what I said.’ She counters with an incredulous look on her face at you for not taking her seriously.  

Olivia slowly yawns her eyes hooded with exhaustion. 'Let's get you in bed' You guide her towards the bed pulling the covers and allowing her to get in. Once she settles comfortably you put the back of your hand on her forehead checking for any signs of increased temperature. to your relief, her fever went down a little. It means that the pills still have an effect even after all these years. 'Good night' you whisper to her as her eyes flutter closed. She nods, tired from the day's events, and slowly closes her eyes as the sleep starts to take over her. '..Good night..' she whispers to you with a sleepy voice before she falls asleep.

You quietly sneak out of the room, closing her door softly behind you. You can still hear her soft snoring coming from inside the room, and a little smile forms on your face. You know she feels safe with you, and that warms your heart a little. You then head towards the kitchen, Bellamy in tow, only to discover that there are freshly washed dishes on the drying rack. You hum to yourself in appreciation. He may be a hulking terrifying military man but he has manners. You chuckle at the thought, despite the cold and aloof vibe he gives off, he still manages to surprise you with small gestures like these. It's clear that no matter how rough he seems, he does have a softer side to him.

Bellamy follows you next, and the two of you make your way outside. The rain has stopped, but there is still no sign of the man. He seems to like to disappear like a ghost. you scan the area around your garden, which is now damp with the fresh rain. Further outside, from the fence to the outside world, the darkness envelops everything. The light from your house is not strong enough to penetrate outside your garden. You take a deep breath the air humid and refreshing. The clouds hide the stars, you wish the sky was clear so you could map out the constellations with your finger, a favourite pastime of yours during the summer nights when the air is too stuffy for you to fall asleep.

After a while, the gate opens, and the masked man walks in, rifle slung on his shoulder, strap gripped tightly in his hand. The white skull on his face is the only thing that reflects enough light for you to make it out. A shiver runs down your back at his frightening attire. No wonder other people turned them down. He looks more like a serial killer from a horror movie than a human being. As he comes towards you, you can't help but wonder out loud 'Why the mask?' you watch him as he approaches you.

He doesn't respond to your question. Instead, he looks you up and down, studying you for a moment before he speaks with a firm voice. '..To hide my face.' He states in an obvious manner.

You stare at him dumbfounded the look on your face most likely betraying your confusion at his answer. He walks past you a small chuckle audible enough for you to catch it. He goes inside without another word. He's such a hardass... you think to yourself but you follow after him locking the door behind you. He looks around, most likely looking for his daughter. 'Olivia is asleep in the guestroom.' you point your thumb over your shoulder at the door. He stares at you silently which makes you really uncomfortable. 'You can make yourself comfortable here. My bedroom is upstairs...' you inform him awkwardly.

He stands there, not uttering a word, not even moving an inch, just looking at you, his eyes searching your skin and face, analysing your body and appearance with a prodding, cold, and distant gaze.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally utters a few words in response to you. '..That'll do..' he dismisses you with his usual monotonous and stern voice.

You nod and go up the stairs. once inside the room, you lock the door and sit on your bed. You stay like that for a while trying to comprehend today's events. You're unsure how things will play out between you and the masked man downstairs. You only hope that it won't interfere with the peaceful life you've built for yourself here. After what feels like hours have passed, you rise and start digging in your closet for pyjamas and a towel. You'll take a shower, hoping it will wash away the unease that seems to overtake you.

As you strip away your clothes and step into the shower, the warmth of the water fills your body as it washes away the cold. You let the hot water run over you for a while, allowing yourself to relax and forget the tension still lingering around you. After a few minutes, you step out and dry off by sliding your towel along your wet skin. Feeling refreshed and cleaner, you pull on a comfy set of pyjamas before returning to bed.

Once under the sheets, you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. Unlike Bellamy who snores peacefully on the rug next to your bed, you don't have such luck. You stare at the wooden ceiling above you. The house is dead quiet and you try to focus your hearing in hopes you'll catch something from outside your room. A few minutes pass when you can distinctly hear the faucet of the downstairs bathroom sink. You keep listening trying to imagine what he's doing. He's probably washing up, you think. The house creeks as the wind outside starts to blow. Soon after the rain starts once again, the sound of raindrops hitting your window finally lulls you to sleep.

Echoes of Salvation: The Deal (Part I). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader  (Zombie AU)

Part II

The story starts after the dash.

Warnings: some gore, some mistakes, some bad writing (eh… we all have to start somewhere), not proof read, some independent woman surviving on her own without the need of help from men (cause I like self reliant women and people in general, they are a great inspiration to us all, really).

Disclaimer:

Dear readers,

Please be kind. This is my first fanfiction ever that I wrote and posted, so please be kind and overlook any potential inaccuracies, mistakes, grammatical errors as I’m not a professional writer and also English isn’t my native tongue. Though I have studied British English I am sure I haven’t really managed to accurately portray the British way of speaking, so please, feel free to point out anything that might poke you in the eye while reading this.

Also, I would like to tell you that this fan-fic is the love child of my obsession with our favourite masked man Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, and my love for anything zombie apocalypse or world-ending alternate universe or actual universe. Tbh If I wasn’t a poor student I would probably be a prepper, just like Frank from HBO’s TLoU. Most likely will be. I’m a little weird like that, you’ll see more in the future.

To close this little rant, I hope you’ll enjoy it, even if it’s short, I would really like to continue this if you deem it worth it enough. This will probably be a slow-burn kind of romance: 1. because I’m a sucker for the kind of slow-burn strangers/enemies to lovers fanfics, and 2. because it’s more realistic, let’s calm the whore-y instincts and be reasonable people that don’t climb masked 6-feet-tall strangers like trees.

With everything said I do not own the Call of Duty character Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley (*whispers*Though I wish I did*) BUT I do own this piece of fanfic. Please don’t steal it. Repost it but please do give credit to other people’s work. You may notice some similarities to other fanfics, cause duh, I also read a lot of that, (isn’t that one of the incipient stages to becoming a fanfic writer?), but I would really like to give a shout out to the fanfic author that really inspired me to put fingers to keyboard and a fanfic into Tumblr, please, *drum rolls* a round of applause for @nsharks with her lovely fanfic ‘Bleeding Blue’. She’s really wonderful and you should really check her out.

Have fun reading and don’t forget to leave a comment or a heart. I wouldn’t mind suggestions of what to name Simons’ daughter. That would really make my day 😊

P.S. Sorry to all the fishing loving people out there, what I said was based on my impression of the fishing experience and should be taken with a grain of salt.

            Yours truly <3

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.                     

-

The sky is cloudy above but some sunbeams break through to warm the crisp air this fine early spring morning. It’s a good time for fishing now that the water is warmer, they come closer to the bank in search of food. It’s a boring task after you arrange all your tools and launch the line in the water. It’s a game of waiting and watching for any small tugs or movement of the neon-coloured fishing line. You picked up fishing after a couple of months into moving here, when everything was a mess and so many repairs and renovations had to be made around the house. The guy from the tutorials you used to watch on YouTube talked about the calmness and relaxation fishing brought to him. Maybe you weren’t cut out to stand all day on shore and gawk like an idiot for hours at the thin plastic line submerged in the lake water. But you cannot deny the proud feeling catching a fish brought to you when the line finally went taught.

You try and ward off the boredom and instead try to focus on the warmth that spring brings after months of endless cold. The birds are singing in trees, preparing nests for future offspring, and the lake is calm, with bubbles on the surface indicating the abundance of fish. Life is good. Bellamy enjoys sunbathing next to you rolling in a patch of grass. Everything is peaceful. Nothing really happens here anyway. You close your eyes basking in the good feeling that overtakes you.

A branch snapping behind you wakes you from the meditation you have fallen into. You raise and turn from where you are crouched over your equipment. You come face to face with a strange figure.         

‘Show me yer hands’ he tells you in a thick British accent, eyes focused on you and handgun aimed at your chest. He wears all black and a haunting white skull mask. He is tall, at least 6 feet tall, body poised to kill. In his other arm, you can see a little girl hugging his neck.

You slowly raise your hands. At your foot, Bellamy growls baring her teeth at the stranger sensing danger. You shush her grabbing her by the caller to keep her from attacking the armed man. You stand still watching in apprehension as the man studies you. You look at the ground where you left your backpack and your hatchet.

‘Don’t even think about it’ comes the gruff order. You nod trying to convey that you understand the situation. ‘There’s nothing in that bag worth a bullet’ you tell him in an even tone despite fear creeping down your spine. He hums in agreement. ‘And if you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it by now.’ He watches you like a hawk its prey. ‘So…’ you pause carefully measuring your words, ‘what it is that you want from me?’ he gestures you to take a few steps back and you drag Bellamy by her collar.

He kicks at the backpack spilling the contents. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich, a hunting knife, and a rectangular box in which you keep the hooks, lures, fishing lines, and other small fishing equipment. He turns his gaze back at you and nods toward your dog. ‘Put a muzzle on it or I’ll shoot it’. your blood runs cold at the thought of losing your sole companion. You scramble to untie the scarf you keep tied around your wrist that you use to wipe away sweat from your forehead. You wrap the piece of cloth around the dog’s snout tight enough to not slip away. Next, the dark-clad man tells you to pack your fishing gear and collect your backpack, with one hand keeping it outstretched to the side and the other one grabbing at Bellamy’s collar guiding her forward. ‘Move. Eyes forward. Any sudden moves and I drop you.’

He walks a couple paces behind you. For how big he is you can barely hear him walk on the path. You can feel his gaze burning in the back of your head and the gun pointed at your back. As you start down the path you can make out the roof of your small house. Once you get at the gate you stop. ‘open it’ he instructs. ‘The key is in my right pocket’ you say slowly gesturing to said pocket. ‘Mhm,’ you hear him grunt. You slowly release Bellamy and fish for the key in your jacket’s pocket. You slowly take it out and put it in the keyhole turning it and opening the gate.

The familiar sight of your front garden does nothing to appease you in this situation. Bushes full of colourful flowers hug the narrow path toward the house. The wind catcher hung above your porch clinks melodically as a gust of warm wind catches on it. you take a few more steps on the stone path before you and you hear the gate closing behind you. What once was your safe space now traps you in with a stranger ready to shoot you or worse.

‘Tie the dog to that pole’ he orders you again. On your right, there is a small pole stuck in the ground. He throws a roll of paracord next to you. You don’t move at first. You had never tied Bellamy down before. You can’t even remember when you last put a leash on her. She likes to roam free and run around. The click of the gun behind you tells you that you have no choice. You drop the backpack and start to drag her to the pole. She tries to resist but you shush her and urge her to move. Once you finish tying her you turn towards the stranger. He nods towards the house and you start walking hands raised on either side of your head. Once you open the door he urges you inside.

‘Where do you keep the medicine?’ he grumbles urgently. ’Bathroom.’ you nod to the right of your living room. ‘Go get it!’ you don’t wait around you spring toward the white door. After a couple of minutes grabbing most of what you keep in the over-sink cabinet you emerge hands filled with gauze of all sizes and different bottled pills. You return to find the man placing the girl on the couch. She appears to be asleep. You almost forgot about her. She looks about 8-years-old. Brown hair is chopped short in a pixie cut. She’s wearing blue-washed jeans and a dark green hoodie that’s too big on her.

You watch as he peels the hoodie from her limp body. Underneath she wears a striped t-shirt, but what catches your attention is her left upper arm. Red stained gauze is wrapped around. You are still in your approach keeping a safe distance. ‘Was she bit?’ the words rush out in apprehension. From where he kneels next to her his eyes snap at you. ‘No’ he denies the implication of your words. ‘Put that on the table and go sit by the door’ You do as you're told eyes darting between the girl and the man. You drop everything on the coffee table and go sit by the entrance door hugging your knees. You watch as he works on bandaging the kid. Your eyes are glued to the girl’s arm.

Even though you lived so far out into the wilderness you saw pictures on the internet of bites from the infected. You read the posts of the survivors and heard the news broadcast on all channels. Then everything went quiet. The cable didn’t work and your phone had no signal. You knew shit hit the fan and that it was serious. Then, a few weeks later you saw your closest neighbour, Neil, an elderly farmer who lived about half a mile further up the river’s bank, growling and stumbling trying to catch Bellamy who was running scared towards you. You tried to talk him out of the trance-like state but to no avail. He kept stalking towards you, ready to take a bite out of you. You tried to tell him to keep his distance and warned him that you would protect yourself. The rest was a blur. You faintly remember grabbing the hatchet that you used to cut down logs for your stove. And then the struggle with the man, Bellamy barking, you crying out pleas for him to stop. In the cacophony of noises, you hit him with the blade right in the neck. The next thing you knew, your neighbour lay in a pool of dark blood hatchet still. It took you a while to register what you have done. You just killed a man. You couldn’t forget the way he lay there, on the gravel, hands stretched outwards bloodshot eyes staring emptily at the sky. That was the first time you encountered an infected. You distinctly remember the fear and adrenaline that took hold of you. The feelings that gripped your heart so tight and that made you take a life take over you as you watch the little girl, possibly infected, unconscious but on her way to the same madness that turned Neil into a savage monster all those years ago.                                                 

'She's feverish. You got meds or something to bring the fever down?' his question brings down from your rising panic at the thought of being stuck inside with a possible infected. ‘There should be some anti-inflammatory pills and some antibiotics. They are out of date but they could still work.' He grabs hold of the med kit you brought. He sorts through the drugs checking the expiration dates. When he comes across the antibiotics, he studies the pack carefully, his eyes darting back and forth from the label to the girl. 'How much can I give her?' he asks with a hint of concern his stern facade crumbling slightly.

You look at him unsure what to say. Those pills have been bought before the start of the outbreak. You doubt expired drugs have any effect anymore. You refrain from saying that though. He is stressed, he might take his anger on you. ‘She’s a kid, you mumble, so, about half of each.’ He carefully considers his next action. ‘She’ll need water to take them, you add from down the floor. And some food…’ He nods in understanding. ‘May I?’ you don’t know why you offer this stranger help. First, he disturbs you from catching dinner, next, he threatens to kill you and your dog, now he takes over your house and medicine. But you can recognize the desperation in his look, the way he fumbles with the packaging. He is a parent trying to save his kid. Even though you don’t have any of your own you recognize the parental instincts, the same ones you exert on Bellamy.

He looks at you unsure of what to do. He surrenders in defeat and nods at you to go on. You rise to your full height, which doesn’t add up to much compared to him. You walk past them all the way to the back of the living room where you disappear behind a white door. After a couple minutes, you reemerge from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of steaming vegetable soup you made this morning. You slowly approach the couch watching him for any sign that you might cross a line. Instead of any aggression he takes a step back and allows you to go closer to the girl. You place the bowl and the glass on the coffee table and kneel next to the couch.

The girl opens her eyes and looks at you with distrust. Like father like daughter… you think to yourself. But you try to smile at her try to reassure her. ‘I brought you some soup, love’ you say in your most sincere and kind voice. ‘You must eat a little and then take some pills that will make you feel better’. You try to persuade her. She stares at you for a minute then at the man. They are suspicious of you and they have all the reason to be. You are a stranger to them as much as they are to you. Funny you are in the position to try and win their trust in your own home. You take the spoon you brought for her and dip it in the bowl. You take a spoonful and hover it close to your face blowing a little over it and then you swallow it. You can’t help the little moan of appreciation for your own cooking skills. ‘See? It’s good.’ You look at her with a small smile.

You don’t know where this came from; you blame it on the 6-foot-tall armored stranger whose stare drives daggers at the back of your head and your desire to keep your head on your shoulders and all your blood in your body. You don’t outright hate kids but you were never good around them. With a sigh, she sits upright and takes the spoon from you. She eats slowly. You keep watching her. She is a pretty kid. She has blue eyes and freckles on her small button nose. You wonder if she looks anything like the man behind you. She is pale and sweat collects on her little forehead most likely from her fever. She eats half of the soup you brought her and then turns her gaze towards the man. He hands her the two halves of the pills. She takes them in her small hand and grabs the glass. She hesitates. ‘It’s okay’ you reassure her and with a nod, she puts the half tablets on her tongue following up with large gulps from the glass. She scrunches her little nose in disgust at the chalky taste. ‘Atta girl’ you hear him utter from behind you. ‘Now lay down and rest.' he says to the girl in a stern yet gentle voice. He watches her nod and lie back on the couch her eyes half-lidded. He sighs, 'Good for now. ' he mutters under his breath. His eyes are fixed on her as he gestures to you. 'Come with me.' You rise from the floor and follow him outside the front door.

He leads you outside. When you cross the threshold, he takes a deep breath and a look of relief washes over his stern features. He gestures for you to sit on the front porch with him. 'We need to talk...' 'Yeah' you say crossing your arms defensively over your chest and standing as far away as the length of your porch allows. you take a moment to study him as he fixes you with a cold stare. You notice the many pockets on his vest and belt. A patch on his chest reads S.A.S. He's ex-military, you muse. His uniform makes much more sense now. But the mask still unnerves you.

He leans against one of the wooden porch support beams right hand hovering on the pistol holster. You think it's an act to intimidate you, to remind you that he is still armed and ready to strike you down in your own home.  You stare at him a little defiantly. You’ll be damned before you let this weirdo intimidate you on your turf. He studies you from head to boots and back up. You sigh and square your shoulders showing him you are not afraid of him. ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He tells you in a matter-of-fact tone. You try to suppress the surprise on your face. You look down at his boots avoiding his icy gaze.

He’s been stalking you, and the realization dawns on you. You didn’t even notice his presence around the house. Stupid, you think to yourself, I’m growing complacent. But not even Bellamy caught his smell and she usually barks when someone or something comes close to the house. But earlier at the lake, he took you both by surprise. He’s good at keeping his presence concealed, you have to give it to him. You nod to yourself in understanding. He probably knows the layout of your house by now, he knows you are alone, and he waited for you to be outside and ambush you. You start imagining all the horrible things he could have done to you. But no, he instead approached you, gun pointed at you, nevertheless, when he could have already killed you and taken over your house by now. You hum and make eye contact with him.

‘Why keep me alive then?’ you ask him without beating around the bush. You study his mannerisms trying to catch something, anything to prove you he’s human. But he’s as unreadable as a statue. His gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking and stoic. You feel him studying you, taking in every detail of your person. He seems intent on reading into your every move.

In an even tone, he answers, 'Because you’re not a threat.’ His response catches you off guard, ego a little bruised at that, but you can’t argue with his logic. If he wanted to, he could have killed you by now, that’s for sure. You remain silent for a moment, processing his response. ‘But that doesn’t mean I trust you.’ He adds kicking off the beam and taking a step closer to you. He looks down at you tilting his head a little like a bird of prey watching a mouse, waiting for it to give chase and make the hunt more fun. You don’t give in to the urge to run inside and hide in your bedroom. Instead, you take a step towards him and look up at him ‘Because you need me’ you speak quietly. You can imagine a raised brow under that mask. You smile in triumph; even though he acts tough he needs help and all the intimidating façade was in a desperate attempt to get it.

‘I get it’ you continue having him figured out. ‘Your kid is sick and out there dangers are lurking at every turn. You need a place to stay until she gets better.’ You finish voicing your theory on why he’s really here having this conversation with you. His eyes closed in defeat. Gotcha, you smile even more widely at your deduction. ‘You can stay, you say as you turn and walk down the three steps of your porch heading towards the gate. ‘On one condition, you add stopping in your track. You turn fully towards him and he watches you curiously as if you’d have any power to demand him anything. ‘No harm comes to me or my dog’ you say remembering his earlier threats of him offing you both. ‘Do we have a deal?’ it’s not unreasonable, though it irks you that you have to bargain for your safety with a stranger. ‘Deal.’ He says in his usual gruff voice nodding to you in sign of respect for your demand.

‘Good’ you say as you stalk off towards where Bellamy lays muzzled and tied like a prisoner of war. You free her and she jumps at you happy to be in your proximity. She must have been worried sick here all alone. Poor thing. You then go to the gate and slide the too-large bolts meant to keep any unwanted guests outside. Or inside in your case. ‘And to think nothing interesting ever happens around her, right, Bell?’ your rhetorical question is met with a bark of agreement.

Hey, I've been really into zombie stuff recently. So I ended up making a small little story for xiaolin showdown about Jack getting stuck in a zombie apocalypse. It will most likely stay a one shot unless anyone really wants the story to continue. I made some art of Jack and the original characters.

Biker Isaac! 

What’s better than a middle aged man in a skin tight suit murdering hordes of alien zombies? A middle aged man in a skin tight suit riding a bike while murdering hordes of earth zombies! (Idk)

(Reference pictures used. I found them on Pinterest, not sure who took them.)

(None of the pictures are mine)

More Herobrine Zombie AU stuff :) this was just a quick sketch

Hero with a❕❕ More brainrot shit from the Last of Us, this is just something quick I whipped up last night, I plan on possibly doing some more soon! Let me know what you guys think! :D

I’ve been watching the Last of Us show and I’ve been brainrotting on possible zombie AU stuff with Hero and some of my other characters. Hope you guys enjoy this small doodle of him!