#massivecore13

After tears his eyes from his book in disbelief. He stares at B like he has two heads. "You can't seriously think I'd believe that, right? Do you want me to bring along Bloody Mary? How about Beetlejuice?" He shuts his book and uses it to point at B. "Hell, let's invite mothman and the Loch Ness Monster while we're at it, huh?"

Someone is unhappy now. "Honestly, B, I'm not scared of--"

"BOO!"

"AH!"

Umbral pops up from behind After's chair. Surprise! Out of shock, After accidentally slams his book into Umbral's head, knocking him to the floor.

"Oh, crap..."

(Hello, your trauma is back <3)

   His next breath caught in his throat. 

   The door, prized open with metal teeth, barely clung to its hinges—leaving only the open air between himself and this scared, disheveled visage that only vaguely resembled the person he once knew as B.

His hands wrapped around the handle of the axe, a single word prickled up his spine when he meet the wild eyed man’s gaze— ‘deranged’

The inertia of the moment brought everything to a screeching halt, no longer able to consider the possibility of him being dead.  

      “ Oh, God. ”      The thought formed somewhere out of reach of his tongue but his hand came to his mouth as though there was sound to hold back.

   Tangential awareness of the events that transpired in his absence became full-bodied tangibility, vivid and definitive, the aftermath standing in front of him. The evidence of time was suddenly so unobscured, it was overwhelming to process in the seconds the past was all coming into collision with the present. This wasn’t simply the person who he had known as his roommate with several years more life lived, this person wasn't merely a few scars away from who he once knew —this was an escaped convict with a definite body count.

Shaking fingers came away from his face.

His delicate blue eyes could not look away from the vicious scaring across the bridge of the man’s nose. Choking on the impetus to devise his next action, he was struck still and silent.

He wanted desperately to stop imagining what it might have been like when the flames crawled across his face.

The gleamer of light off the blade caught his eyes, the heavy head of the axe in B’s hand, not yet had he considered the possibility that he could be in danger of being struck with it…

The accusation rattled somewhere under the bruising and cuts that did not heal— you must be indebted to fate for all those attempts to escape destiny through death. " ... I-i-" He stammered, trying to form a thought between clash of fright and latent compassion- Finally, outmaneuvered, his foiled attempt to flee and escape this confrontation had left him without explanation for his unexpected appearance, his return and revival, he let the words die in the silence between them.

".. oh, B....

Yes, the government is useless. Yes, there’s a fuckload of people in a crammed tiny island infecting each other at an insane rate. Yes, those two together makes the UK the first nation to be under martial law because of the crisis, immediately bringing everything into chaos. No, there are no guns available practically anywhere so getting rid of the infected is a headache. However, Matt immediately has a destination in mind so he’s got that going on for himself, which is nice.

Getting to Winchester from Manchester is a headache. The motorway is blocked from all the angles, and although almost hilariously Matt thinks that people may have turned into better drivers after not following any road rules, the hilariousness stops once he has to stab a walking dead on the jugular while it tries to climb into his car.

Their blood stinks, and the smell is now stuck on his driver's seat.

The rest of the road trip, Matt takes the side roads. Technically that should mean it will take him longer. Practically he’s not stuck still in an arguably moving prison, being a target to both the desperate non-infected as well as the zombies. 

When he finally sees the graffiti’d but still standing fences of Wammy’s house, he downs his saved celebratory warm beer (from the safety of his car, thank you very much) in one go before sprinting to the main gate, crossing his fingers that the door code is both a) working and b) still the same than it was when he last hacked into the Wammy’s online system.

28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds...

That’s how long She’d gone without an incident: No revivals. no regenerating...and no sprouting of those horrific screaming Tumors trying to take her place....

It was both nice and stressful, like filling a balloon with air until it popped, She wasn’t foolish enough to think she wouldn’t be Dying, this was a matter of when not if and with the feeling of being watched and the footsteps matching hers too well to be unintentional. 

How annoying she liked this dress... She huffed and stopped, spinning to search the dark for whoever was on her tail, arms crossed and an annoyed frown marring her face.

“well?”

“I heard you wished for something electric… Hope you enjoyed the tailored chair I made for you!”

"Hmm," Light hums, stroking his chin. "It looks nice, but do you have it in red? Red velour fabric padding? Oh, and we can't forget ornate gold legs and arms and trim on the headrest."

“....I’m afraid to ask why....but why, choose your answer wisely or I’m getting my snail spritzer and spraying you like a horny cat that won’t stop presenting.”

Saturn is no stranger to pain. Being one of the more reserved higher rankings had its perks, but it also had, what at least felt like, even more adversities. He had always been a quieter child, making him a quick target. The quiet child was also known to have a bit of a snarky wit, which unfortunately can make the angry bulls go blind.

An altercation broke out during physical education. A point lost by his own hand earns a berating and swift kick to the gut by Hazardous. What Saturn spits back is what then upgrades it to a kick to the face.

Curly brunet hair messily shadows his face as he stares down at his feet while walking back inside. One wrist is held to his nose while his other arm supports his gut from a slouched stature. His only goal now is to get from here back to his room where he can lay down.

“Why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood?”

Mother of fuck.