Zombie Au
Original post
TRIGGER WARNING! There’s some blood on the drawing, very little and no injuries, but thought I’d put a warning anyways
I’ve been playing around with a half zombie!Danny, didn’t think I’d love this idea so much but it’s really fun! This is the design I’ve thought of for Danny, and I plan on at least making a reference page for the designs of the human!ancients. Clockwork, pandora and frostbite and guaranteed to have a new design planned for them, I might also do others like ember, and kitty, Johnny and shadow :)
My plans for them so far are: clockwork as a cryptic man who used to work in a clock shop, pandora as a Greek woman who is a martial artist expert, frostbite and his tribe as a group of scientists who were around the earlier tests of the virus but maybe left for ethical concerns (might change), ember as a punk artist traveling around and sharing her music, and kitty and Johnny as a motorcyclist couple who adopted a docile zombie dog. I’d like to continue world building on this, hopefully my energy allows it :)
Original idea by @phanboyo
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punkflower where miles is usually holding back when he fights; he normally uses 20-30% of his full power but when he gets REALLY mad his eyes glow dark blue and lightning crackles between his fingers.
it's terrifying.
hobie also finds it incredibly hot.
// mild blood + injury, miles going god mode
Hobie swung himself around the corner just in time to avoid the slab of concrete crashing down on where he’d been two seconds ago, hissing as he gripped his side. “Bugger,” he muttered, panting as he slid down the wall.
There was a piece of glass sticking out of his gut. It wasn’t bleeding too badly, but then again, how much blood was too much blood? His vest scraped unpleasantly against the brick as he yanked his mask off and tried to figure out how he was going to do this. From the way it felt it was, what, four? Five inches long? He giggled weakly.
Maybe he was approaching too much blood territory.
He sobered up and forced his back straight, gritting his teeth as he pinched the shard with blood-slick fingers; it made a horrible wet sound as he pulled it out slowly, a pained noise cracking out of his throat as he slumped against the wall and tossed it aside.
Fuck, that stung. He dug the heels of his palms into the cold, hard ground, blinking hard as his vision swam, vaguely aware of the fight still going on around him—
“—obie!”
Right. Miles was still out there—
His boyfriend dropped down from above, sticking the landing neatly and yanking his mask off.
…Or not.
Miles’s face was dirt-smudged, hair a mess as he knelt down to press his palms to Hobie’s wound. “This is a lot of blood.”
“S’fine, love.” Shit, was he slurring? “Nothin’ I ain’t handled before.” Hobie offered a shaky grin and got an arched brow in return.
“Stay here,” Miles said, unimpressed as he grabbed Hobie’s hand to replace his own. “I’m gonna finish this.”
“Wh— Come off it, I can still fight!”
That might have been a lie, actually; it would be absolutely pathetic to get taken out by a literal piece of glass and his healing factor was good, but there was—he looked down—a frankly concerning amount of blood on his clothes.
“You are going to stay the hell down before you pass out.”
Hobie swallowed as Miles leveled him with a cool gaze, the hints of something luminescent deep in his irises. His boyfriend stood gracefully and he gave up on protesting, getting comfortable against the wall. “Go easy on ‘em,” he muttered, lips curling up as electricity sparked between Miles’s fingers, snapping like hungry hunting dogs.
“Nah,” Miles replied, absolutely nonchalant, and it just made Hobie grin wider. “I was already getting annoyed. Now you’re hurt—” he pulled his mask down, the smell of ozone seeping into the air. “And now I’m pissed.”
Hobie smirked as he watched Miles sling a web and jump back into the chaos. This was gonna be over so quick.
As Spider-People, they were used to pulling their punches— if they lost control of their strength they could cause some serious damage, but Miles?
Miles was something else entirely.
He rarely ever used more than a third of the power he had, and the one time he’d tried amping it up at HQ he had practically obliterated the training room. Even now as Hobie peeked around the corner, he could almost taste it on his tongue; Miles didn’t do this often, hardly ever got mad or got serious, because there simply wasn't a need to. But when he did?
Ooh, boy.
The silver-blue sparks crackling over Miles’s suit were the only thing that belied his calm countenance. Hobie knew that if he were to pull off his mask, his eyes would be glowing; a dark, deep blue, threaded through with white like lightning forking across a night sky.
What little surviving street lights around them flickered and dimmed as Miles tapped their energy, charging himself up like a battery, drinking it in until it webbed across his body like ley lines glowing blinding against his skin.
For a fraction of a second it all went pitch black.
And then someone flipped the switch back on, and Hobie shielded his eyes as Miles exploded like a star.
*
It was dead silent, save for Hobie’s laboured breathing; he could feel his wound knitting together but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, Christ. He tipped his head back against the brick as Miles landed in front of him with a thwip, mask already off, eyes wild with the remnants of lightning and adrenaline. Hobie whistled, teeth gleaming. “Well ain’t that a pretty sight.”
“Shut up,” Miles groaned, shaking his head good-naturedly as he folded himself to the ground, settling against Hobie’s uninjured side. “...You gonna be okay?”
“Y’know I will, love.” He pressed a kiss to Miles’s forehead, still overly-warm, tasted the sour salt of electricity metallic on his skin. “All wrapped up?”
“Mm,” Miles hummed quietly, sinking closer with a tired sigh. “They’re all out cold, dropped Miguel a text. Dios, I’m starving.” He tilted his head to look up at Hobie, gently lacing their fingers together. “Stay for dinner? My mama’s making arroz con gandules.”
Hobie made an affronted noise. “I’d never give up a chance to have your mother’s cooking. A god, that woman is.” He laughed when Miles laughed, letting the other boy’s warmth burn away the ache in his side. “‘Course I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Miles murmured, soft and sure, cheek pressing into Hobie’s shoulder as he curled into the arm Hobie wrapped around his waist.
And when Hobie kissed him, he tasted like static; like lightning in his blood, racing over his scalp, white-hot electric against his tongue and all the way down his spine, a fleeting lick of flint against steel.
Fuck, it never got old.
Hobie had a feeling he’d spend the rest of his life chasing that spark, and he didn’t mind one bit.
fin.
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