#decomp vibes
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In The Flesh
Five Hargreeves / Reader Insert
Imagine that Five wasn't alone the entire time he was in the apocalypse...
-This is a special reader request for an extended scene from my Five Centric fanfic 'The Anti Hero's Pitfall of Arrogance.' Set during the apocalypse and Five is only 21.
-This request is a bit of a spoiler alert to the story that inspired it. It's written with a non-descript female character with no name, only referred to as she or her, so it's sort of a reader insert/you sort of vibe, or you can think of it as simply someone that Five loved. Think of it as you or someone else, either way, it's sad. 😭
Heed the warnings and click the link in the summary to read the full story if you want to get the full picture of what led up to this very sad moment for our favorite guy.
Warning: possible triggers, suicidal thoughts/behavior issues, alcohol abuse/excessive drinking, extreme grief/loss, graphic description of death/corpse, we get some Dolores in this, meant to be very sad, this fic this is based on is not all gloom and doom but it's clearly not all pretty either.
(5312 words)
In The Flesh
The funny thing about rock bottom is I’d thought I’d hit it many times before she saved me but really there is no depth far enough down to describe where I was after finding her body and where I would be for a very long time after that.
Like I’d done every day since I saw her favorite baseball cap bobbing on that partially submerged branch stuck out in the depths of the churning flood waters, I was out looking for her. On my endless searches, I would yell her name, over and over, till my voice was nothing more than a pained screech of air.
It was as I was scouring a new area that the water had receded that I went to shout her name again but stopped with only the first faint syllable.
The moment I saw her distinctly colorful sandal and what appeared to be the discolored fragments of flesh still clinging to the bones trapped in it, the wind shifted, and my nostrils were filled with a pungent, sickeningly sweet, earthy odor.
That is what the smell of death is like if a body has been exposed to the elements for ten days or more. The anatomy and physiology decomposition literature states, a body exposed to the elements begins to decompose within less than 1 hour postmortem. That rate is accelerated if the tissues are exposed to other factors such blunt force trauma or heat and moisture.
She had been exposed to all of it.
I could still hear the ominous sound of the huge trees snapping and boulders grinding over things in the swift current as I walked along the road, just hours after she’d gone, only then, I didn’t know she wasn’t coming back. I didn’t know what was being done to her.
Now her body was there, under the hardened soil, but her foot was the only part of her that was visible other than her twisted tangle of hair wrapped around a river beaten branch.
For the last week I’d been lying to myself, trying to hang on to the idea that she was still out there, that she was just too mad at me to come home. But really, in that time, she’d been first submerged in the torrents of flood water decimating that landscape, and then after, (not long based on the murky pool of muck and the very small cracks in the clay at my feet), she’d been there, encased in the ground.
I cried out her name.
I dropped the stick I’d been using to poke and prod the underbrush, my body instantly disappearing for a fraction of a second into the snapping vacuum of my portal. Stepping out of it a few yards away, I fell to my knees, my trembling hands not knowing what to do or what was safe to touch. I moved to her foot, then pulled back as the tiny black flies that were startled by my presence flew up in an angry swarm.
The temperature since the day she disappeared had been colder but that had done nothing to prevent her rapid decay.
Entomology and Body Decomp 101: A decomposing body will attract all manner of life forms within 24 after death. If allowed access, scavengers are ruthless in their pursuit of the flesh of the dead.
Having been well read prior to my time in the apocalypse and being well acquainted with death in the years before this, I was still not prepared for what I saw or had to go through over the next several hours it took to free her.
Her body was no longer her anymore, but I couldn't accept that. My mind told me she was under there and she was so scared.
Frantically, I started digging with my bare hands. No matter how careful I was clawing at the clay that had molded her in the ground, anytime my fingers came close to her, they crushed her slick, wet remnants of flesh, tearing it through.
At this point, she had surpassed the early stages of decomposition. Gone was the bloating. The gases and liquids had mostly expelled, and her skeleton was letting go of her skin, though in some areas it remained in denser sections that were identifiable but mostly because her clothes had embedded in her. Her jean shorts made clear where her abdomen was, what was left of her chest was now part of her t-shirt.
What I was seeing and touching and smelling made my stomach heave over and over but still I had to save her.
She had needed me, and I wasn’t there.
Stage 4 post-decay lacks some of the first levels of putridity, but even though I had seen hundreds of thousands of faces of death, seeing hers will always represent the loss of everything; even more so than the day I’d foolishly ran into the future, lost my family, and found I couldn’t get back.
“No, no, no,” I sobbed, my filthy, bloodied fingertips inching along her face, or what should have been her face. “I am so sorry… Please! No! God, please!”
The mouth I had cherished was gaping, her once perfect teeth were more exposed than they should have been due to the skin around them receding or simply just not being there at all.
Her eyes…
Where once someone had looked back at me with so much love and endless understanding, now there was horror, both mine and hers.
Sickness took me again.
Dizzy, I frantically scrambled back, away from where I had unearthed most of her, my stomach emptied, but nothing but acid spilled onto the scattering of broken foliage off to my side.
My ears were filled with the evil buzzing sound of insects that were warming themselves in the open area around us as the sun relentlessly beat down.
I couldn’t take it.
A feral sound of pure agony crawled out of my chest, getting eaten away by all the nothingness.
“Please, I am so sorry… Please forgive me, I never meant for…”
She wouldn’t except my words and I couldn’t blame her.
My broken cries were lost in my delirium. On hands and knees, I came back to her, lifting her to me even though I shouldn’t have.
The gruesome sound of parts of her stickily pulling free from the ground and the sight of the parts of her that remained in the soil were enough to fracture what was left of my sanity.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you, we can go home now,” I shushed her, in my head believing I had the ability to soothe her pain.
She still said nothing, and I told myself it was because she was just too weak.
She just needed my help. She was just mad. She was just…
“You are safe now,” I said, my hand sinking into her, her spinal column hitting my palm not even enough to shock me back into reality.
After cradling her for far too long, I said, “I am not leaving you here.”
Lightly as possible, I let my shaking hand touch her hair, seeing but not acknowledging that it was starting to detach from her scalp. Without thinking, I forced the massive amounts of energy I needed for a jump, the blue power expanding from my hands, then around us.
I only took us across the drying riverbed, up the steep embankment and up the hill to where the road hadn’t been washed out, and that was far, but it was not even close to getting us back to our cabin. For that, I had planned to teleport again and again, as many times as it took but when my feet smacked the ground the force of it made the tendons holding her right thigh to her hip give way and the length of her leg landed at my feet.
“Fuck!” I screamed, slamming to my knees to grab her.
Like a madman, I could at least put together that she was falling apart and that this wasn’t going to work. Even jumping with her was too much. She was so fragile; she’d always said she wasn’t, but she was…
“I am so-ssss-sorry,” my voice cracked as I carefully laid her down again.
The sight of those tiny black bugs as they fought to get a piece of the woman I loved, caused me to feel the burn of violent anger and that almost brought me to my senses, but even that too, I washed away with another imaginary idea, that if I just covered her, somehow all the severed openings that were now more her than anything else, would be spared from further ruin.
In a frenzy, I stripped off my shirt, covering her with it the best I could. The moment I was able to get to my feet again, I swayed, the world spun, but when it came back into focus, I could see again like lightning struck my head, brightening the gray world around me, making the colors of her bright sandals and her hair and the tattered remains of her clothing stand out in stark contrast to the deep darkened purple of her rotting body.
My filthy hand came up, rubbing my face and my blurred eyes, then my fingers tore back as I painfully yanked at my hair.
I had done this to her.
Sniffling and on the verge of a full screaming fit of rage, I turned and started making my way up the road, a few steps away, my hands coming together, my fingers like claws, I tried to gather the light in my hands to blink again, but instead I was met with the impotence of the faintest swirls of azure static crackling to life then fizzling out.
Turning back to the motionless pile on the ground, I again assured her I’d be back. Then in a haze, like a zombie on empty, I mindlessly made my way back, my mud-covered boots trudging up the steep hill, my balance faltering over and over as I’d tripped over the uneven surface.
If you ask me what I was thinking during that walk, I couldn't tell you. All I knew was that I was empty and that a horrible numbness was taking hold.
Even still, I came back fast, like I’d promised. First, I placed her in a thick blanket, sure to get every bit that was her that was there, anything that wasn’t, I never found.
“There,” I breathed, positioning her leg that had been torn off at the hip in such a way that looked less painful. Then flapping away any visible bugs from her, I covered her completely. Knowing that she was in the later stages of decomposition but that it was far from over and she was seeping fluids, I lifted her, and laid the cocoon of wool on top of a tarp.
I could have carried her the whole way but not wanting to hurt her or break her apart more than she already was, I only carried her to the cart I’d brought back with me, then I carefully laid her in.
Though she didn’t answer no matter how much I wanted her to, I spoke to her the whole way as I tugged the wagon with her in it up the hill.
Getting back to our home, the mud encrusted wheels clattered to a stop in the yard right next to the chair I had been sitting in the day we had gotten into our fight. It was dead silent and getting so dark by that point that the stars were coming out but as if in a time loop in hell, I could still hear the cruel things I’d said to her on that sunny morning.
Looking down at the small mound of blanket with her in it, I said, “You have to forgive me. I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t want to live with-”
My heart was racing, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt a new tightness where before, since the hours after she’d gone and not come back, I’d only felt the stabbing pain of regret and fear, now it was like an aching void as if there were an actual hole inside me.
I stood there blankly staring at the door, then back to her, my mind not working at all but somehow still functioning enough to make the start of a string of very bad decisions.
Taking her up in my arms, we went inside. “We’re back. You're not alone anymore. I never meant to leave you out there like that. I tried so hard to find you,” I said, smothering my words against her wrap. “It’s okay now…we are okay…”
I kicked the door closed then I moved straight for our bed, and I would have laid her down in it and climbed right in if not for the fact that Dolores was sitting in the chair next to it, staring at me looking horrified.
‘No, Five, don’t!’
Saying nothing, I spun around to instead place the bundle in my arms on the couch in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t lit and it needed to be. That’s what she and I did at night. That was our other special place.
Memories of sitting there together, her behind me, reaching around to place my fingers correctly to play the chords she was trying to teach me filled my head. I could almost trick myself into thinking I could hear her beautiful playing and that I could hear her laugh at me every time I’d try to get out of my lessons.
“This is okay. I’ll fix this. We are going to be okay,” I said, as I started to unwrap her.
Dolores panicked at the sight in front of us. ‘Five, no. She’s gone. This isn’t right. What are you doing?”
I stopped, leaving her under wraps but I ignored Dolores’ s warning and started to light the fire.
Again, Dolores asked, ‘Five, what are you doing? She is dead. You can’t do this to yourself.’
“She’s not dead!” I shrieked, my eyes filling with welling tears as I clenched my hands, my broken fingernails slicing half-moons into the flesh of my dirty palms.
‘I am sorry, Five, but she is. You knew that after she didn’t come back.”
My head turned back and forth as I shook away a flood of tears threatening to come out and drown me like the water had done to all that I loved. I pinched my eyes shut, a broken whimper squeaking out of my throat.
‘Look at yourself, Five… You are not okay. That is why she can’t stay here. I love her too, but she is gone.’
I opened my eyes and looked at myself. I had no shirt on, my body was covered in mud and death.
The smell of me…
The smell of her poor body…
‘You need to bury her. She wouldn’t want this.’
“No,” I whispered as my body trembled and I stared blankly at the floor. “No,” I said again, then screamed, “Stop!!!! Just stop! Don’t you fucking talk to me! I didn’t ask for your help! It didn’t ask for any of this!”
Refusing to look up and see the hurt on Dolores’s face, I looked to the motionless pile of fleece blanket.
“I am not putting you out there all alone again, sweetheart.”
With that affirmation, and me placing a kiss to her covered face, the night did not get better.
In the light of the fire, I sat there on the floor in front of the couch as close to her as I could be without touching her. I wanted to protect her. I needed to keep my promise that I wasn’t going to leave her.
So many times, she and I had discussed the possibility of me being able to jump back in time and the fact that doing so with her was going to make it all the harder for me to pull off. Even with the right math, and just me, the energy needed to do it was something I hadn’t figured out how to achieve. Even though she had said that me getting back was all that mattered, I refused to consider leaving without her.
I couldn’t leave her, not then and not now; that was what I kept telling myself.
Sometime late into the night, slumped against the plaid couch, my head resting near hers though she remained covered, my demented and wrong train of thoughts slipped away, and sleep took me but in it l found no solace.
~~~
As I came to in the early hours of the next morning with my body crumbled on the cold floor, I knew instantly that everything I wanted to believe was okay was not.
The dimly lit cabin smelled of death and I was graced with the buzzing sound of a half a dozen or more flies that had found their way in somehow in the tiniest of cracks.
The decay had been clinging to me since I found her, but I refused to acknowledge it even as the putrid odor only added to my ongoing nausea. I clumsily reached for the stale glass of water I’d left at some point on the end table. Drinking it burned my cracked lips and the taste of it felt laced with a bitter acid. I wanted to retch but managed to refrain.
Then, wanting to remain living in the land of make believe, I got up, went to our small kitchen area, and proceeded to grab several bottles of liquor.
Dropping down next to her again, I twisted a cap, sloshing the clear liquid as I tipped it back, dumping the alcohol down my raw throat.
It was awful but that was not the only time I’d drank to forget, or that I’d drank things that were questionable in their quality.
“Remember when we found that stash of cheap wine with the seals broken,” I quietly asked.
I took a long pull at the bottle, then another as I peered over my shoulder at her laying there on under her favorite blanket.
“Smarter than me as always, you refused to drink any of it, but not me… Stupid as always, I gave it a try and boy did I pay for it. You had to baby me for the entire next day. God, I am such a lightweight. I’d be dead if not for you.”
I laughed, the sound of it thick with irony.
“You were always so good to me…”
Eyeing the dried mud and smears of her flesh on my pants, my eyes blurred.
“I didn’t deserve you and you didn’t deserve this.”
I started to cry. Then I started to hyperventilate, my breaths coming too fast and my head spinning.
Shuddering, I drank more and more but I could never turn the image of my girl’s face staring back at me from that riverbed into the beautiful living version I wanted so badly to believe was still with me.
Hours later, I was disturbingly drunk.
One minute I was musing to myself about our better times, talking out loud like a maniac about something so wonderful, like one night that she and I were out scavenging too far to come back, and we’d camped out under the stars. I’d told her the names of all the constellations I knew and there were many. She’d quietly listened, cuddled up next to me, both of us just happy to be in love and together even if our world was a landscape of tragedy.
Together, we could have done anything. We were going to save the world.
Now she was gone.
I had nothing.
She’d been everything and now I had no one again.
With the room spinning, I abruptly got to my feet, stumbling towards the window above the sink basin. The flies zipped and buzzed in front of me, landing in the vomit I had left there after I’d finished the first bottle of liquor. Knowing that those same dirty insects were landing on my beautiful girl made me quake with not just sickness but unmeasurable self-hatred.
I was a fucking mess, and I wasn’t doing right by her.
Dolores was right.
Glancing back to where I had abandoned Dolores almost two days prior, the room tilted in my vision. I dizzily turned back, clutching the white cast iron basin.
The light outside was fading. I wanted to go along with it. I wanted all the horrible pain and debilitating heartache to stop.
Laying on the butcher block counter space where we prepared our meals, was a sharp kitchen blade. With where my head was at, seeing it, I immediately thought of my gun and other times of morbid desperation.
My tears burned down my cheeks.
I hated myself so much for what I had caused. If I had not yelled at her, and if I could only have seen through my arrogance and own my deficiencies, she would still be here. I didn’t and instead did what I’d always done and blamed anyone but myself for my problems.
I’d taken out everything on her, again…
If I’d only learned from my mistakes, things that weren’t okay never would have been said. She never would have felt the need to be away from me. She never would have gone for that walk, and if she had, I would have been by her side. If I had just agreed with her to go to the city to try something new, I may not have had the breakthrough we needed so badly but at least she’d be there.
Feeling on the verge of vomiting again, I wanted to disappear into an alcohol induced coma.
I pushed off the sink, staggering like a drunken idiot the whole way back to the dresser that was next to my side of the bed. In a blur, I saw Dolores sitting there on her chair, but she didn’t say anything. She looked every bit the inanimate object she was.
It was as if I’d killed her too.
I yanked the top drawer open, my hand tearing through the clothes to find the heavy black metal object that my fucked-up mind craved.
My fingers grazed the cold instrument of death. I could feel the barrel of the pistol sticking down my throat, the oiled slickness of it slipping past my parting lips.
Just the thought made me gag but with sick fascination, and I didn't’ stop thinking about it.
All it would take is one second and my finger on the trigger and no more guilt. My brain would be a splatter of nothing, painting the bedspread behind me. The place we’d slept and loved would be ruined just like we were.
Images of us, heated tangled flesh, together in those same blankets filled my mind.
To get away from the hurt that memory caused, I looked up, the weapon in my hand but my eyes aimed at the small dresser mirror. It was as if a stranger was looking back at me. My stomach felt like it was trying to crawl out of my mouth and my vision was closing in with blackness threatening to pull me under.
I was seeing things and hearing things.
The loud pop of the bullet; the sound of my body hitting the floor.
I saw bugs crawling out of the jagged rotting hole in my skull.
Then I saw her face, only not the destroyed one that was hidden under the blankets on the couch.
That was when I finally came back to myself.
“Don’t you fucking do it,” I furiously screamed at myself, throwing the gun back down in the drawer.
My ears were ringing from my own terrified voice reverberating in them, then a few seconds later, the silence of death and that room returned.
It was just me, the mannequin and the body.
Dolores was right, I needed to let her go.
I had to bury her.
~~~
Over the next several hours, through the task of digging a hole in the ground, I sobered up significantly. Having done that, I re-entered the dank, horrid smelling cabin, removing the small pile of remains that had been the love of my life.
I was still covered in layers of filth and knowing that even if Dolores wouldn’t speak to me, she’d loved her as much as me and she’d want to be there to say goodbye, I quickly washed myself outside under the spout attached to the spring fed line that was rigged to the house. Splashing my face with a mix of soap and water, I cleaned my battered hands, and my arms, and I removed my soiled pants, tossing them in the woods.
The water streaming down my body was ice cold and disgusting. My fleshly cleaned and very pale skin ran under my fingers, standing in stark contrast to the filth that I was and the sight of it only furthered the much-needed reality check I'd only recently found.
Once I’d made myself somewhat more presentable, I redressed, then silently approached Dolores.
My voice cracked from being burned by stomach acid so many times and by my screams and lack of simply drinking or eating appropriately for days, but I had the strength and weakness to ask her for something I didn't deserve.
“Please come with me…I don’t want to do this alone.”
When Dolores responded with her softly spoken words of devotion, ‘You are never alone, Five. You will always have me,’ I was nearly beside myself with emotion. I’d thought I’d lost her along with everything else.
“Oh, my God, thank you,” I sobbed as I lifted Dolores up and carried her outside into the yard.
We approached the hole I’d dug. It wasn’t that deep, and it wasn’t that big, but it didn’t need to be. It was in front of an ancient but long dead ash tree that she had once told me had to have been something truly beautiful at one point in time when it was alive.
It was just like her.
The burial was silent, save for the sound of the blade of my shovel slicing through the softened pile of dirt I had removed and then replaced.
The sky was getting dark, the woods full of shadows of monstrous things that looked like they could come out of the night and pull you away forever.
I sat, folded in on myself at the base of the old ash tree, the disturbed soil at my feet as I looked up to the highest branches of the barren tree. Its flesh had been taken. Remanence of its bark were scattered all around me. It would someday be nothing but dust.
We all would be, but it was not my time-yet.
Burying my head in my hands, I kept telling myself that.
~~~
In the days that came after that, it rained and rained. My mind tormented me constantly with the flawed idea that she was trapped out there in the crushing wet ground. One second, I’d be haunted by images of her so scared and trying to breath and break free as then dirty water filled her lungs, and then the next, I’d come back to the dimly lit room I was in; Dolores worriedly watching me as I slowly organized things and cleaned up my many messes.
We couldn't stay there, but I couldn't bring myself to leave either, not when everything I had that she'd ever touched was right there. All around me were parts of her life that she’d shared with me. I’d clung to every trinket; every item of fabric that bore her scent.
Lying in bed at night, I’d break down into sobbing fits of anguish with my face buried in her pillow. I could stay like that for hours on end, fading in and out, tricking my mind and heart into thinking I hadn't lost her and that she was right there in bed next to me. But it would never last because the damp coldness of the empty space around me that had once been warmed by everything that was her was an inescapable reminder that I had failed the woman I loved and who had saved me.
It was in a notion during one of these times of despair that I realized the only thing I could do to redeem what I had done was to fix this like I'd always promised her I would. Out there somewhere in time there was a place where the world was still alive, and she was in it and everyone I ever cared about was still flesh and blood and filled with life.
I had to get back.
The pain that happened here was real and always would be but somewhere out there, there was a chance of better things.
There was a chance of seeing her again.
That idea of saving her and my family was the only way, and it was my reason for breathing again.
Broken, but somehow still standing, my heart though not the same was still beating. The flesh covering my hand could still feel hers in it and it was while cherishing that feeling that I made the decision that it was time to go.
On our final day, I got up like every day since I’d put her in the ground under that tree. I came outside, picking up the wildflowers I had left for her the day before, then I went for a short walk, talking to her in my mind the entire time, making my usual promises while I worked through ideas and math and things that gave me hope. Then I’d come back, refill her favorite vase with new water and place the colorful blooms there above her.
Alone, the sun shone down on me, my shadow stretching across the earth above her, giving the illusion that we were laying there together.
“I love you,” I whispered, my eyes blinking back the enormous weight I felt from her loss and would always feel.
I liked to think I heard her say she loved me back, but I knew she didn’t; it was just a memory of her words tickling my ear as her lips gently kissed along my neck.
I shivered from head to toe as I felt the ghost of her touch but not in a bad way.
I smiled, sniffing like a baby as I rubbed my eyes.
Then, making one last promise I said, “You will be okay. I’ll fix this.”
Going back in the house, with Dolores watching all the while, obedient and loyal and loving with words of encouragement, I packed my final things.
I left our cabin spotless and set up as if we were coming back to it. It was as if I could see us in there again, spending our nights in front of that fireplace, laughing and endlessly teasing each other; our bed ready for us to lay down in and explore each other in new and exciting ways that only made our love stronger. I saw all that but in the back of my head I knew I was never going to come back to that place because it was gone, and if I did return, I may never leave her.
So, it was with that in mind, late in the morning, I loaded Dolores with our supplies, setting her next to the hard black guitar case that held her cherished Christmas present I'd given her and so many other things I couldn’t let go. I pulled a blanket around Dolores and the case, as if the instrument inside it had become something in a way of being the woman I’d lost, so much the way Dolores was a real thing that needed my care and love.
I walked to the old, grayed ash tree, its wind worn and smooth branches shone in the warm sun as I looked down at the ground where I’d left a piece of my heart. I could almost hear the sound of her playing my favorite sone and I knew that when I plucked those strings, a piece of my heart would break a little more with each strum, but I’d be back with her.
My lower lip trembled, and my nose burned with the same heat as my eyes.
“Until we meet again, my love…”
Thank you for your support , this special cover art was made just for this and for you.💞 @groovydazephantom
Master List Post for my Five Centric Stories and art
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nubbins fluffy headcannons???
yay more nubbins!! my guy <3 sorry it took me forever to do this... gulp
Nubbins Sawyer x Reader (Fluff)
olay just gonna start with this
HE LOVES TAKING PICTURES OF YOU
he has like thousands of you just all over his room
sometimes if you guys sleep together
you end up on the floor cause he CANT stay still at all
like he kicks and pushes sm it's crazy
you probably wake up with brushes and scratches from him bro omg 💀
ofc he apologizes BUT STILL 😭😭
if he can't sleep that night or you look especially pretty
then he takes a picture or two of you sleeping
ALSO
he just gives me bear hug vibes
I rlly feel like he just pops up outta nowhere and like hugs you so tight
like you gotta tap him and be like 'bby I can't breath pls let me go...'
idk I feel like he's lanky but also kinda strong???
just me?? idk
you also go hitchhiking with him SOMETIMES
if you don't then like you probably take care of him when he gets home
CAUSE DAMN bro your sweaty, bloody, and probably abt to asphyxiate???
but you still love your little greasy creature 🫶
he also probably bites you to get your attention
like okay not full on CHOMP but like small pinches here and there js to get your attention
I also kinda feel like he brings you along whenever he goes with chop or bubba
just brings you along to help
because he HAS to be around you
he starts tweaking if he's not...
also at night or when your cuddling for some reason he just starts telling you about random facts
like the stages of decomp or something like that
bro I love you but pls let me sleep... 😣
#x reader#fanfiction#texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw massacre x reader#nubbins x reader#nubbins sawyer#nubbins sawyer x reader
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Biohazard.
Strade / Billie Jean (OC)
I don't write often but. Wanted to do a Billie Jean @ Strade's basement thots thing
CW: insect mentions, dirty/gross environmental vibes,
☆☆☆
It wasn't polished concrete.
The floor, cold and porous, scraped lightly against your skin with every shift. If it was polished, it wouldn't be stained so.
It made your skin itch. It made you want to claw it off every time you thought of it; blood, old and soaked long into the stony floor, staining it with spatters and streaks of countless others from countless times.
In your brain, it was a biohazard. It was decomp. It was crawling into your skin like the maggots you've scraped away from floors, from walls, from furniture carefully carved away.
Even now as your eye drifted along the floor and the cabinets of tools used against your skin and bone, you could visualize the ethereal glow of luminol covering every inch of the room, brighter than Cherenkov radiation. The foam of enzyme solutions so plentiful it would seem like the ocean itself clawed through these walls in desperation for freedom.
Just like you.
You thought of the cabinets and the tools he had used on you, on others, both large and small, each having to be meticulously cut away and taken apart.
Separate the bio from the clean. The red and the black.
Separate the rot. You can't, anymore. It was becoming part of you. Burrowing into you like maggots.
Just like him.
#btd#btd strade#strade#ykmet#ykmet strade#tpof#tpof strade#btd oc#tpof oc#ykmet oc#my art#bj twirling her hair and batting her eyes: haha your basement is sooo fuckin nasty haha
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more zombie posting!!! because i'm unhinged and a level of stupid not previously seen!!
me and my friend got started talking about decomps, like. feral zombies in mimzie's world? and i dunno they're just. weirdly fun to think about?
the only known way of turning into a decomp zombie (as far as walkers are aware) is going an egregious amount of time without any food, and by "food" i mean. human flesh yknow. regular food doesn't cut it but it's a good way to hide things
anyways in the early stages of decomp progression it can be easily reversed, but it just gets harder as it goes on. if it gets to the point where they can't tell the difference between human and zombie and just go for it? that's when you know there's no hope of bringing em back.
decomps are also harder to kill then walkers. walkers at least are fully intact and mostly look human, so they go down the normal zombie method of a bullet to the brain. decomps however are essentially devoid of anything that makes them human, basically the classic interpretation of zombies of the shambling corpse type. but this also means a lot of their internal organs are just. kinda mush. brain is hangin on by a thread kinda vibes. how to take these fuckers down is a good ol beheading, or just disconnecting whatever nerves is keeping the body moving (mimzie found this out the fun way by snapping the neck of her old teacher who became a decomp after gettin lost out in a swamp)
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Hi Maxi 🥺
👉👈
sorry for picturing you covered in blood it will happen again 🥺
Maxi, for the record, is politely uncertain how to go about this.
"Well, I don't know why you feel the need to apologize, to be fair to you," he says, with a slightly confused smile. "It's not like that doesn't happen, in my line of work? That's why normally I'm wearin' scrubs and a splashguard when I embalm -- saves me a load on laundry, I'm tellin' you. Things get messy, when you're not careful with it. Plus, with the harder decomps, you can never be totally sure what all's gonna leak on you when you--"
"They mean in a hot way, dumbass," Hector pipes up, not even bothering to look up from scrolling through his phone.
"...Oh." Maxi looks between Hector and you again, this only just seeming seeming to occur to him. "Oh! Um. Well, in that case." He pauses, seeming to consider this. "I... thank you, I think? I'm flattered?" He frowns slightly, thinking through logistics. "I mean, I am flattered, that's very... kind of you, but we'd need a hell of a lot of bleach afterwards, and--"
"Stop talking, bro," Hector sighs. "You're killing the vibe."
Maxi shoots Hector a dark look, but gives you another smile. "Thank you anyway, darlin'. It's the thought that counts."
#nice people#nonny!!#maxi vibes#maximilian vincent morvant#maxi morvant#hector morvant-casares#hex morvant-casares#daniel brühl fc#diego luna fc#slasher ocs#medium oc#morvant mortuary#(I used to get super duper in my head about this kind of ask to the point of forgetting to answer; I'm trying to be better this year!!)
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rotmantic > misericordae
url change! it’s in reference to the medieval daggers that were used to deliver the killing blow on enemies.
#bird text#wasn't feeling the decomp vibes of my previous url as much#and i like the specialized dagger and how lovely the word sounds
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Continued from this I just got tired of doing reblogs
And back to Detective Comics 526. 500th appearance of Batman! …in Detective Comics only, but hey. Any excuse to celebrate, right? That does mean I suspect there’ll be a lack of Jason yet again.
Is that Talia? She looks so good in pink
Love Riddler and Catman just chilling on the floor. Very “on a field trip waiting for the bus” vibes.
Awwww I like her crossbow. But yeah I love pre-morrison Talia.
Mails this panel to Morrison. Also this has become a Talia love post, no more Jason, sorry!
Practicing for when he adopts Jason and Dick I see….
So yeah, Joker calls all the villains together to stop Croc from killing the Batman (so they can do it), Talia and Catwoman go against it because the Joker still invited them, because he doesn’t get any Bitches and assumes that Batman is the same way. I am still wondering why there’s so little Jason in this but for now I am quenched by seeing Talia.
Babs and Dick meet up to talk, Babs reveals she knows their identities, and Bruce and his girls go to find the villains hideout; There’s some nice moments of everyone squabbling, it’s also fun to see villains fight with each other in my opinion, especially over stupid shit.
After a short fight, we cut back to Jason, who FINALLY gets a scene where he actually does something.
That something is find the batcave.
Seriously, guys. Locks? Have you heard of them? At least Jason being nosy is pretty consistent.
Bruce keeping his costumes on a normal hanger instead of those fancy cases is EXTREMELY funny to me. I know times change but it's just. On there like a normal sweater.
If you don’t want her then move outta the way, batboy, cuz Im gonna get me some batpussy--
And then years later, Damian would behead this poor guy…..
We make fun of condiment man, kite man, calendar man… but what about signalman?????
Gordons being pretty harsh but… he is kinda right. Also, I’ve seen what a croc can do to a person, those bones should be picked clean and scattered because of how they eat.
(...I studied death and decomp in University)
That is not how you use a gun, Dick! But yeah he’s pretty torn up over their death.
Jason continues to be nosy and finds some of Dick’s old costumes; I do wonder if they were going to go with this design and people didn’t like it, or if he was always supposed to receive the classic one later.
Jason reverse kidnaps himself, while Bruce does something to figure out a map they were given without street names, a problem you definitely would not need to go all the way home for nowadays.
This guy is cool, they should use him more. Gentleman Ghost is a great name.
Anyways, Talia, Selina, and Bruce get captured, so it’s up to Jason as Robin to save them! Pretty standard fare, and more in-fighting from the villains, with the Joker playing both sides as he often does.
Yeah, get it right Croc! That’s Ducard and his daughter’s name!!
They sure call the joker harlequin a lot; obvs never do nowadays because of Harley. Interesting.
Poor Jay ):
*is hold*
Also they started giving Jason his lil curly bangs. No more bowl cut for him, he’s a real teenager now! Also either Jason is a really tall 12 year old, or Dick is short as hell.
Again, Talia looks so good in pink. Also she has an actual different skin tone from Selina and Bruce, something they struggle with these days.
It;s very unlikely they woulda let Dick adopt Jason, but I do sometimes wonder what things woulda been like had they…
Huh, so Jason did (potentially, he could be joking) take Dick’s old room, like in RHATO… which is silly, because it’s a mansion, he can have a different room.
And that’s it! For an opening arc about Jason becoming Robin… well, it’s really only half that; there’s a bigger focus on Croc, honestly, and Jason’s parents than Jason himself, so we end up not learning much about him. I definitely think Tim’s intro and first outing as Robin is much stronger, or even Jason’s later intro. But overall it wasn’t a bad read, just a little unfocused at times.
SO, A small collection of facts from this arc and two other issues:
Batman 357
-Waldo the clown - knows Dick from Haley’s circus, good with kids.
-Dick makes mention of Cleveland Brand, twin brother of Deadman Boston Brand
-before meeting Jason, bruce took down a spy ring run by ‘The Squid’ and a drug ring run by mobster Tony Falco
Detective Comics 524
-Trina and Joseph are the original names of Catherine and Willis, Jason’s parents. Could reuse for grandparent names or middle names.
-Leslie Thompson didn’t exist yet, so they mention Doctor Dundee, an old friend of Thomas Wayne, who helps with Bruce’s injuries
-Bruce was seeing Vicki Vale at the time
-The Gotham River Aquarium is established--it was built in the 1930s and used to be rather popular, but these days is used more for gimmicky villains to hide out in.
-Killer Croc is much more intelligent than he’s usually portrayed, being much less monstrous and even shown using a sniper rifle and using it well. He also looks like Mr. X from the Resident Evil 2 remake.
Batman 358
-Trina calls Bruce ‘dick’s friend’ and dick says she reminds him of his mom
-Trina said she looked up to Dick’s parents ‘as a girl’ and how their deaths affected her, establishing it's definitely been a few years since they died (though likely they died when she was an adult)
-Dick and Bruce are beginning to drift apart, according to dick; Dick is resentful that Bruce has trust issues from Selina and Vicki betraying him, while Bruce struggles to understand why Dick allows himself to get close to people.
-An area of Gotham known as “The Point” is said to be their version of the South Bronx (in the 80s anyways)--troubled and poor.
-Hell’s Point is a location in Gotham, in the far north by “the point”. It gets its name from the currents created by two rivers that converge into the sea to the south. At the time, no one lived there but Croc
Detective Comics 525
-bruce is struggling with his feelings over selina, and vicki at this time
-Jason is originally 12 when he becomes robin
-the sloan circus is said to be set up on the palisade cliffs by the hudson river, putting gotham likely in New Jersey (though NY has some of the cliffs too)
-Upon meeting Robin, Jason asks what wonder girl is like and Dick says Jason has ‘good taste’ LMAO
Batman 359
-Gotham city zoo exists and also is a great place for u and your mob pals to hang out! Is there no security in gotham?
-dick says “lately he’s been like a stranger” when bruce takes his anger out on dick, something bruce regrets; bruce also expresses frustration that normal citizens seem to expect them to deal with everything and wishes more would stand up to villains
-mayor is mayor hill at the time
-Dick calls Jason ‘jase’
Detective comics 526:
-talia says bruce is the one man she won’t go against
-Babs knows who Batman and Robin are by this point--she just didnt let them know she knew
-jason finds the batcave because he’s nosy
-jason describes himself as a ‘nervy kid, but not stupid’
-more gotham lore: they used to have 7 breweries with their own local brands, but most went out of business by the 80s
-addams brewery mentioned, est 1892
-before harley, people called the joker ‘harlequin’ often
-initially, Dick wants to adopt Jason, as he’s about 18 and feels he owes it to the kid
Young justice 44
-jason is 18 in this
-jason dates anita fite
-jason wears a cross that he made himself, and made one for anita
Detective Comics 790
-jason turns 18 after cassandra turns 18, in 2004 (when published)
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But it was the falling satellite that killed him right?
Do you think he'd still have drowning traits or would he immediately wake up after getting decimated... might have burns on his body from a satellite falling from space? Or a huge dent in his body from the impact?
there is the satellite issue, yes. i've considered it. i would like oliver to have satellite-related uh. scars. idk if they count as scars since they wouldn't have technically healed because he's ✨dead✨ but yeah. idk. i just want to also give him a lot of ocean-y decomp vibes because i figure he was in the ocean for a While
#fg's answers#asks#i was thinkin perhaps a burn but also crunchy bones as well. a snap crackle pop kinda guy yknow what im sayin
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What do dead ppl smell like when u cut them open?
You might not enjoy knowing this but embalmed insides smell like certain types of uhhhhh deli turkey lol. I got the roasted turkey & avocado BLT from Panera Bread once and it smelled exactly like the embalmed body i had been dissecting earlier that day. Still ate it tho. (...the sandwich.)
Side note, the smell of embalming fluid makes most people feel very hungry.
Unembalmed, freshly dead bodies smell like they did when they were alive. You may also smell poop, urine, and/or vomit.
Unless you hit a vein when you cut them open, they're not going to bleed a lot, so you'll mostly smell the fat & muscle tissue. Fat & muscle are like a tangy, slightly mildewy, meaty smell. It's not very strong, or else I'm just desensitized to it.
If you do cut a vein, the smell of blood can be very strong. It's heavy, sour, & metallic. An episode of The Magnus Archives described it as something like meat that had been left on the counter and gone a little bit off, and i vibe with that.
Side note #2, achieving productive blood drainage is typically the point where new embalming students tend to pass out.
If you cut open a body later in its decomposition, there is a very good chance you will throw up. If it's in the bloating stage, it might literally pop and ooze grossness everywhere. In school we talked about how like every ~tough guy~ cop loves to head into a decomp scene all confident, then immediately rush back outside to puke.
I've never cut open a decomposing body, but i have popped blisters on bloated arms and, holding my breath, dressed green limbs in plastic sleeves to mask their smell. It only works a little bit. You can smell an even slightly "off" body through a closed (not buried) casket.
"Sickly sweet" is an accurate description, but like i mentioned in an earlier ask, you need to amplify that scent in your mind 1,000 times and add some tang.
#eric#gore#death#per the passing out thing.. it's never bothered me but i have a lil experience dealing with ppl who it does get to#when i was a senior and kinda ''leading'' an embalming with some juniors#once we got our drainage‚ i noticed a student behind me had gone kinda green and wobbly on her feet#and no one else noticed so i had to like Order one of the other juniors to hold her arm while i went to get a chair for her#so she wouldn't crash down onto the lab floor#she was fine after a minute and one of my teachers joked that i ''should be the boss'' since I'd handled it so calmly & quickly#and i was like ok bro#wasn't it your job to keep an eye on your students lol you're welcome
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pov youre a decomp/crime scene cleaner and the guy you met at the bar is giving you weird vibes
strade belongs to @gatobob
#tpof#tpof strade#btd#btd strade#gatobob#billie jean be like thank god i always keep that thang on me (luminol spray)#my art
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Is there a particular scary story someone has told you about bone collecting that's stuck with you? Like someone was in the forest grabbing a fox decomp when they saw something they shouldn't have or something?
Not that I can think of, but I'm not as social as you might think and I don't really talk to other vultures very frequently. I'm REALLY bad with that lol Personally, I've had general creepy "you shouldn't be here" vibes when out exploring before, but I tend to spook myself quite often: especially when I'm out vulturing/herping on my own. If anyone has any creepy tales while vulturing, feel free to add on!
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💫💎✨Cosmic Crystal Lynne Kitten last night for DeCOmP 2019: Apotheosis had me feelin that sparkle vibe! 🌟 It was truly an honor & pleasure to get to dance for/ with everyone! 👯♀️ The DJs SLAYED 🎧 performers were EPIC 🔥 Art was AMAZING 🖼 and everyone was BEAUTIFUL 😻 I’ll DEF be marking this on my calendar mewving forward! ✔️ Super TY to everyone who was a part of this and all the peeps that connected w me! 💖 Y’all LIT up my life! ✨💎💫 Snapchat: HeatherMinx . . #HeatherMinx #MinxyLand #Model #Dancer #Artist #Performer #Gemini #Denver #303 #GoGo #DenverDecomp #Burner #Kitten #PhotoShoot #GoGoChronicles #Selfie #GoGoDancer #Alternative #ColoradoModel #DenverModel #Neko #AltGirl #Crystal #CatGirl #Glitter #DenverDecomp19 #Meow #Decomp #BurnerGirls #Colorado https://www.instagram.com/p/B3lRXaMAAfN/?igshid=12xyuv3hletlo
#heatherminx#minxyland#model#dancer#artist#performer#gemini#denver#303#gogo#denverdecomp#burner#kitten#photoshoot#gogochronicles#selfie#gogodancer#alternative#coloradomodel#denvermodel#neko#altgirl#crystal#catgirl#glitter#denverdecomp19#meow#decomp#burnergirls#colorado
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Thashe for the kitchen cooking habits?
Who washes the dishes by hand and who uses the dishwasher?Thog definitely washes dishes by hand and Ashe uses the dishwasher. Though if the dishwasher is in use cause its Ashe's turn to do the dishes. Thog will go right back over it and correct every little thing that should be placed differently.Who cuts vegetables, fruit, etc by hand and who uses the easy to use chopper?Thog by hand and Ashe uses the chopper. Thog swears it gives it more or a home-y vibe to the cooking whereas Ashe uses the chopper cause 'its faster and im hungry now'Who pours the cereal into the bowl first and who pours milk before the cereal?They both pour cereal in the bowl first. No arguments.Who buys/drinks bottle water and who uses/drinks from the tap?Thog will buy bottled water and Ashe'll drink them for convenience sake, but they both refill the bottles with tap water and put them back in the fridge cause Thog reCYCLES.Who hoards disposable containers and who throws them away?Ashe hoards the disposable containers, "we could use them" Thog on the other hand gestures to their nice 20 piece tubberware set.Who buys milk in a paper carton and who buys it in a plastic jug?Thog swears that milk from a paper carton tastes off so they buy the plastic jug. Again no arguments.Who picks paper bags and who picks plastic bags after grocery shopping?Thog is big on paper bags. He uses them for decomp for his garden. Ashe uses plastic.Who HOARDS the plastic bags and who recycles them?In turn!!! Ashe hoards the bags!! She finds ways to use them aroundthe house. Main one is the little trash can in the bathroom. Sometimes its for the catbox. But most of the time they waste up in the cupboard and after a month Thog recycles them cause theyre bound to get more!!Who hoards salt/pepper packs, togo silverware and other togo condiments?Oh my God Ashe. When Thog first moved in with her she only had like... 4 maybe 5 of each silverware... all of which are dirty and in the sink.... and then the drawers are just stocked full with the togo silverwear cause 'its just easier to throw them out afterwards'Who lets the garbage can overflow before throwing it out?Surprisingly neither one lets it overflow and theyre pretty much on top of it. If it gets full they throw it out. Simple as that.Who gets annoyed when someone doesn’t use the clips for the potato chips?They both do!!! They think its because the other is just fuckin with them but really any time Inien is over she never clips the bag therefore Thog and Ashe think its the other one not closing it.Who uses paper plates?Ashe! Again more convenient. Less dishes.Who uses coasters?Thog insists. Dont you dare put that on the wood table. He will stab you.Who licks the spoon/butter knife after they use it?Ashe. After living on her own she forgets its kinda... "gross" to lick the spoon/butter knife cause shes the one who always uses it. Thog has given up on this point. If he gets sick and dies hes blaming Ashe.Who loses the bread ties?Ashe does and Thog always somehow has extras??Who kicks the ice under the fridge when it falls on the ground?They both do. Out of sight out of mind.Who constantly cuts/burns themselves when they cook?Theyre actually really good about not cutting or burning themselves. The only reason Thog burns himself while baking or cooking is because he's stress baking and not paying too much attention. Who organizes the spice rack?Thog.Who uses the microwave more?Ashe.Who stops the microwave one second before time's up?Thog. He hates how loud it gets.
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[tw referencing vulture culture practices] god same. i actually really love the skeletons themselves, but i could never own anything unless it was faux bc i get SUCH bad vibes from the pics and seeing them talk / post pics about the decomp. of the animals makes me want to puke dfghjkl i know to each their own but.. it is Hell for ppl like us, right? www bad vibes all around!!! dfghjkl
right!!!! talking abt is all fine for me, but the pics?? nuh uh no bueno lol. i understand the concept of it and thats all cool for the ppl who do it, but personally it makes me feel so sick to my stomach!!!
i know some ppl do it to respect the animal the bones came from, but sometimes i just get such gross vibes and i can tell the animal is not happy and its astounding that other ppl don’t feel it! like, omg !!!!!
i can talk about bones without getting the feeling but i honestly really can’t talk about hunting omg. i know thats an aspect some ppl get into but it honestly makes me feel so incredibly sick.
i’ve never been able to stomach gore but it seems that since i’ve learned more about empathy, the feelings have just increased exponentially omg. RIP to us and everyone who gets those feelings honestly lol. getting sucker punched by a bone pic is no fun lol ripp. best of luck to all of us
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