OMGCPUMPKINS

“July 12th 2009

The house sits alone in the middle of the neighborhood, run down, a ‘for sale’ sign stuck in unkempt, thick grass; the only house on fraternity row that remained vacant.”

For the @omgcpumpkins prompt: “The Haus is haunted, but not by Mandy and Jenny. The angry spirit wants SMH out of the house"

uhh no real triggers that I can think of? this is basically like a pg-13 ghost flick

ENJOY UR HAUNTS! AO3 LINK

Inktober XXX: Abomination

Nursey | Chowder | Dex

Chapters: ¼?

Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)

Rating: Teen

Words: 1500 

Warnings (overall): body horror, angst (Let me know if there are others that should be added!), mention of a couple of real life hockey players. 

Notes: Inspired by a few things, but mainly @whoacanada‘s NHL!Bitty series and my commission from @omgpieplease. Title from Lady Gaga. I’d started on this before @omgcpumpkins, but I thought it fit the theme. :)

Summary: 

Bitty knew about the hockey gods, of course. Hockey players could be quite superstitious indeed, making their own rituals in routines. But he didn’t exactly believe in them. 

Now he’s on a pro team. He’s in the big show. The Schooners have made the playoffs. And playoffs…are a different creature altogether. For even if you don’t really believe in the hockey gods, they believe in you. 

Show Me Your Fangs

Rated: T

Characters: Bitty, Jack Tater

Words: 965

Warnings: blood 

Written for @omgcpumpkins​ 

prompt:  The Bittles are a family of vampire hunters, infamous in the South. When Bitty gets turned and flees instead of staying and turning himself in, they send a call out to every hunting family in the world. Wanted Dead. Jack Zimmermann of the Zimmermann hunting family runs across a sweet little baker that runs the night shift.

There had been too many of them. What he had assumed was merely one vampire had turned out to be a whole nest. Eric closed his eyes where he laid sprawled out on the floor like a rag doll. He could hear them talking above him. Some words he could make out, and some was just a wash of Russian, French, and some other language he could not name. The rhythm off it lulled him, and he wondered why they had just not killed him yet. He could feel the blood seeping out of the wound in his side. His vision darkened at the edges, and he felt sleep creeping up on the edges. He wanted nothing more to close his eyes and just let it claim him.

Rating: T

Words: 5269

Pairings: None

Warnings: Homophobia

Summary: Written for @omgcpumpkins fest. Prompt - Bitty is an angry/vengeful spirit who was murdered in a house that Jack moves into. 

for @omgcpumpkins (prompt at the end) rated: explicit  pairing: jack/bitty words: 3491

warnings: violence, graphic depiction of violence, murder, death, blood, kidnapping, serial killing, horror, public sex, rough sex 

ao3

I.

Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy.

-Spirits of the Dead, Edgar Allen Poe

Jack digs.

In. Step. Wiggle. Lift. Throw.

Repeat.

It’s relaxing in a way that only hard, physical work can be. He hated this the first time he did it, but Jack’s since learned the most efficient way to dig. People are very willing to give suggestions to those who look lost and confused in hardware stores after all so Jack’s since upgraded from the square shovel he got first to a more pointed one made for breaking ground, and he started wearing heavy work gloves to dig after someone saw the bloody blisters on his hands and made the suggestion. He’s got calluses now. It took a couple of times but eventually Jack also traded his yellow sneakers for work boots once he figured out that the heavier shoe made getting the shovel deeper into the earth easier.  

At this point, it’s basically muscle memory. The shovel goes in. Step down on the edge. Wiggle the dirt free. Lift with your knees. Throw the loose dirt on the pile.

Digging is easy work, mindless really, but it’s rewarding in it’s own way. Jack’s always admired people who did this sort of physical work, whose muscles are for more than looking at.

In. Step. Wiggle. Lift. Throw.

Repeat.

In. Step. Wiggle-

Jack’s bent over, bracing himself to pull up a shovelful of dirt when something shifts in the air. The crickets and katydids stop chirping, and Jack is far enough away from the road that he can’t hear any cars. The only sound is his own breathing, heavy from the physical activity and harsh against the quiet of the night.

“Oh now, don’t be stopping on my account.”

Jack doesn’t jump like he did the first time he heard the voice. 

“C’mon you big furball, let’s find you someone to eat then”

The room is sealed. With Bitty inside.

“No — no, no, no,” Jack pulls at the door with increasing desperation, slamming his fists against the hinges, trying to shake the bolts loose. When the action proves fruitless — the room was built to prevent exactly this scenario — he turns and finds Bitty fisting his cloak in his hands, pale against the concrete wall behind him.

“Jack,” he tries. “Sweet-pea, it’ll be okay —“

“Bits, I won’t remember you!” He can already feel the pull in his bones, the shift of his organs, and he slides to his knees, already crippled by the pain. “This isn’t a movie —“

Bitty is there in an instant, running his fingers through Jack’s hair, trying to soothe him, and all he can think is that this will be the last thing he remembers. Bitty trying to help, just before Jack turns into some kind of terrible beast and eviscerates him.

“I’m sorry,” Jack pleads between clenched teeth, “I’m going to hurt you, I’m sorry, Bitty, please, I’m sorry —“

Bitty flinches at the audible popping of Jack’s joints.

“This isn’t your fault,” he rests a hand on Jack’s cheek, rough with growing stubble. “Whatever happens, happens.”

“But you’re going to die,” Jack’s beginning to lose consciousness, but he manages to hold on, trying to memorize Bitty’s face.

“You don’t know that,” Bitty whispers, clutching him tightly. “I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

Jack blacks out.

______

The change comes and goes, leaving Bitty alone with a massive, slavering beast that smiles down at him with very, very sharp teeth. 

The monster takes one step, then another, and Bitty reaches out slowly…to scratch his nails under Jack’s furry chin, just where he likes it.

“You always get so tense, thinking you’re going to hurt me. You only ever scare yourself, you know.” Bitty chides when Jack ducks down to nose at his neck apologetically before nipping at the collar of Bitty’s cloak.

“Hey, stop that. You’ve got your costume, don’t ruin mine.”

Jack huffs and whimpers like he isn’t several hundred pounds of muscle, fur, and teeth; a creature that, if loosed upon the Samwell campus, has, and will again, take a life. If Bitty were a stronger man, he wouldn’t give in, but this is Jack, his handsome, perfect, murderously monstrous boyfriend. And Bitty is, if nothing else, a caretaker. 

Some might even say he’s an enabler.

“Fine,” Bitty sighs while Jack pants, vibrating with what Bitty knows is anticipation. 

A large, hairy arm pulls Bitty in tight to Jack’s chest, and Bitty relents — slipping around in his partner’s grasp to open the locks to the safe room door. When the last lock is almost opened, Bitty looks over his shoulder at Jack, meeting his bloodshot blue eyes, noting how his higher function is already slipping away. 

Bitty clicks the combination in and slides the bolt, pushing the steel door open to relish the cool October air. Jack’s grip tightens, his claws sink ever so slightly into the flesh of Bitty’s belly. 

It’s time.

ZIMBITS AU – Vampires

Hair black as night. Skin white as snow. Lips red as…pie? 

TW/CW: graphic animal death, blood, mild gore, ritual sacrifice, unsanitary/unsafe sex, religious (Christian) themes, under-negotiated kinks, rough sex, painplay (ish), NSFW text, #deaddove #donoteat Rating: Explicit Pairing: Jack/Bitty

For @omgcpumpkins, from the prompt: “Based on this post: Naked, Covered in Ram’s Blood, Drinking a Coke, and Feeling Pretty Good (SMH as a sacrificial cult)”

Thanks to @boldly-go-home for the Latin help and for not questioning me when I didn’t make it clear this was for a fic LOL. 

“Ugh, those hockey guys are so weird,” Bitty once heard an upperclassman say. “They’re such a fucking cult, you know? Always together in a pack like a bunch of dogs. It’s creepy as fuck.”

At the time, Bitty had just clenched his jaw and kept walking toward his orientation meeting, pie in hand. What was one stranger’s opinion, really? Maybe that was a good sign, that his new teammates were close friends.

It wasn’t until the season began that Bitty realized just how close that stranger had come to the truth.

@omgcpumpkins prompt: “Jack or Bitty is actually the vessel of some ancient and horrible multidimensional being that would make mortal men mad with a single gaze. They still fall in love.”

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Eric “Bitty” Bittle/Jack Zimmermann Additional Tags: Demon Deals, Character Death?, Maybe - Freeform, Uncertain endings, Sacrifice Summary:

The Definition of Trust Done for @omgcpumpkins​ (with words by @heyfightme​ )

Happy (almost) Halloween folks. Content Warnings: cannibalism, referenced/implied murder, gore, black humor Jack is starting to lose track of the number of people who have told him he and Bitty are made for each other, and yet each time still manages to send a thrill of pleasure up the entire length of his spine.

He has been told that they are meant to be. A match made in heaven. Destined, from the start. Maple and pecan. Peaches and honey. “Apple and sage.” Jack replies with an enthusiastic hum, setting the cooler in his hand to the ground and shrugging out of his jacket. It could do with a trip to the cleaner; one too many roadies, one too many careless stains. For now, it goes over the back of a kitchen chair. Bitty pauses in his mincing, holding the knife aloft as he throws Jack a warm smile over his shoulder.

Written for @omgcpumpkins - also posted on AO3.

Word Count: 2825

Pairing: Pimms

Characters: Kent Parson, Jack Zimmermann, Eric Bittle, Shitty Knight, Alicia Zimmermann, Bob Zimmermann, Kit Purrson

Trigger Warnings: blood, gore, violence, murder, implied alcohol/drug use, major character death

Kent Parson has a problem.

Namely, that problem is Eric Bittle. Oh, sorry. His name is Bitty. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to be.

Bitty isn’t a bad person, or he wouldn’t seem like he is to anyone else, anyway; but Kent knows the truth. Bitty is stealing Jack from him. He can see it in the way they look at each other, the way they stand, the way Bitty blushes any time Jack says so much as five words to him.

He can see it in all the little things, because Bitty holds onto them the way Kent used to - the way he should still be. And he would be, but Jack won’t fucking listen.

Rated: M Characters: Dex, Nursey Words: 4424 Warnings: Blood, graphic violence, knives, death, supernatural creatures, mild mentions of vomit

Written for @omgcpumpkins​ prompt:  Person A is lost in the woods in the middle of the night when they come across Person B in the middle of murdering someone. 

Nursey had always hated the phrase ‘his blood ran cold.’ Something about it had seemed so pretentious and cliché. Blood ran hot no matter how afraid you were. In that exact moment however, he suddenly realized what it meant. There was a chill in his veins and ice in his muscles that kept him frozen in place and held his tongue captive as he took in the scene before him.

In all honesty, Nursey had known this day would come. Maybe not this exact day, and definitely not in this fashion, but with his horrible timing and ability to be at the exact wrong place at the exact wrong time, making it 20 years before witnessing a murder was almost impressive.

He just hadn’t expected to know the murderer.

“Nurse?” Dex stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slack as he gaped at Nursey like he was the one doing something unspeakable. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”

The boy currently being pinned down by Dex’s boot had blood splattered across his face, dripping down in sickening patterns from an unnaturally crooked nose and gushing from a gaping mouth that seemed to be missing a few teeth. It took Nursey almost a full minute to recognize him as Chad V.  Dex had one hand curled around a piece of wire, the other end of the loop was currently wrapped around Chad’s neck so tight it was drawing blood. Dex’s other hand was wielding a wicked looking hunting knife, held aloft like he was about to run it straight through Chad’s skull. There were dark brown stains on his flannel and streaks of bright sickly red running down his cheeks. In the moonlight, the blood in his hair almost looked like highlights.

Dex did not appear to be bleeding.

“Nurse,” Chad croaked out. His voice was strained and his throat was tight around the wire digging into the thin skin of his neck. He reached one shaking hand out across the gravel, bloody finger tips dragging through the dirt and catching on stones as he reached out to him in desperation. “Help me!” His voice was wet with blood, and Nursey could taste his own vomit in the back of his mouth. He had to run, he had to move forward, he had to get help, but panic wouldn’t allow him budge.

Chad was dying, slowly and painfully, and Dex was the one holding the knife.

Rated: Mature

Word Count: 11,814

Pairings: Jack/Bitty, past Jack/Kent

Written for: @omgcpumpkins prompt  Jack is a werewolf and his transformations are kind of painful/violent, so the rest of the guys help him work through it. Maybe Bitty’s a frog and it’s his first time witnessing this? Or something later when Bitty has a crush on/is dating Jack?

Warnings: Blood, Gore, minor character death, dubious consent in regards to werewolf bites.  This is a Halloween fic, happy ending, but also Zimbits Murder Husbands.  I know the prompt seemed like it was meant to be on the fluffy, hurt/comfort side, but this is a Halloween gore fest, so I took a lot of liberties with it.

***

We made mad love Shadow love Random love And abandoned love Accidentally like a martyr The hurt gets worse and the heart gets harder -Warren Zevon

***

If Eric Bittle could have described his first year at Samwell University as anything—he’d go with something like ‘normal’ or ‘typical’. There were parties with keg-stands, fratboy lingo, shoes covered in vomit from a bad date, and a captain of his hockey team who couldn’t stand him. It was no more and no less than he expected.

When the old goalie, Johnson, was getting ready to graduate, he pulled Bitty into his room and offered him a fist-bump. “Dibs, my dude. You need to understand though,” he said, catching Bitty’s wrist with his free hand before it could make contact with his knuckles, “that these dibs come with some serious responsibility. Not just to the narrative or the plot—and in this universe, it’s going to get hairy. Literally. For a lot of people involved. But it comes with a happy ending, and that might be worth it.”

Bitty stared at him, sniffing slightly to see if he could smell out traces of a heavy bong hit or something. Then again, Johnson was always weird, and frankly even having to live across the hall from Jack, No Pies Before A Game, Eat More Protein, Zimmermann wasn’t enough to put him off having regular access to a kitchen. And living under the same roof as Ransom and Holster also meant frequent dance parties, Mario Kart tournaments, and a shoulder to cry on if he ever needed it.

So, it was no trouble at all to let his knuckles bump against Johnson’s. He was fairly sure the zinging sensation rushing up his arm was just static electricity.

***

Bitty hadn’t expected the sudden uproar when he walked out onto the haus lawn, took a look at the guys and said, “So, Johnson just gave me his dibs, y’all, and I…”

He couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence. Shitty, Ransom, and Holster all let out a huge cry, scrambling to their feet, rushing inside screaming Johnson’s name. It left Bitty awkwardly stood there with Jack—who was sat on the ground with his back to the tree—giving him a curious look.

“You accepted?” Jack asked.

Bitty flushed red. “Yes. I promise it’s not going to be…”

His words were cut off again when Jack rose with a faint sigh, gave Bitty a long, slow up and down look, then stormed into the haus and slammed the door behind him.

“That went well,” he muttered to himself.

Starting off with the prompt I asked for from @omgcpumpkins; “Jack and Bitty come out, get married, and live happily ever after… until Bitty finds out that Jack is actually a serial killer.” I wanted to make it a truly horrifying prompt so I had to dig a bit deep for a couple ideas. These are horror prompts though so they might seem a bit OOC. Now! On to the trigger warnings.

TW: Death, Violence, kidnapping, implied murder, murder, stabbing, graphic depiction of violence, turning a blind eye…?

“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.”

―Martin Luther King, Jr.