#disco zombies

[ask-disco-zombie]

I LOVE YOUR HAIR

Why thank you!

[developerideabin]

DnD Encounter Idea

The group gets a quest to stop an evil necromancer who's trying to raise the dead in a graveyard by using a pearl which has been said to put the dead into a trance. The group heads out and eventually finds the necromancer in the graveyard, but they are to late.

The dead have already risen and the necromancer is only one step away from completing his nefarious plan. He hoists the large orb up into the air. The orb looks odd, like a thousand sided die with mirrors on each side. As he has fastned the orb in place, he casts "Dancing Lights" and the enitre graveyard lights up. The graveyard turn into a disco, with the unded being hypnotised and dancing to the beat.

It turns out our cast misheard the questgiver, and that they were supposed to stop the "Necrodancer" in the "Raveyard"

[peachesofteal]

Ghoap x reader zombie apocalypse AU? 👀 just gonna leave that here...

Ooh anon you got me with this. Thought about it all night. A full fic of this dynamic in an apocalypse setting would be so good. Sadly, I don't have it in me to write an entire fic for this but I scratched it out as a dead disco au down below on my phone (I took bits and pieces of zombie media and smashed them together as I like):

18+ MDNI / angst, death

It was an accident.

All you had wanted to do was try to find some mushrooms. You knew this part of the woods usually had a fair amount to forage, and you were pretty good at distinguishing the good ones from the not so good ones. You hadn't meant to get distracted.

You knelt down to the forest floor, picking at a piece of bark on a downed log when you heard the rustling, the suspect sound of something moving through the brush near you.

You expected one of the slow ones. The ones that usually found themselves this far from the city, wandering aimlessly, looking for the next meal. Decaying and rotting flesh hanging from their limbs, a sign they had been long infected, the decomposition marking them as something easily escapable.

You did not expect a runner.

You screamed- a huge no no, as Simon had been drilling into your head- when you saw it, far too late, tripping over yourself to try to get away, your hunting knife pressed into the palm of your hand.

You stood little chance against a runner. They were fresh, muscles still intact, lactic acid burning through their bodies, movements fast and sharp, able to take down an entire human in one fell swoop. They even looked like you, still holding their pallor, their posture, their fine motor skills.

Only their minds were gone. Addled by the infection, brains turned to hot mush inside their skulls.

They had one objective.

Eat.

You managed to clear the log, sprinting as fast as you possibly could, trying to take long, deep breaths through your nose just as Johnny taught you.

"More oxygen that way, love. It'll help your endurance, keep you runnin' longer."

They were always doing that now, equipping you for survival. Trying to train you like a solider, teaching you the finer points they thought you should know.

"We're gonna make it, together." Simon had said, the morning they showed up in the middle being away for work, clad in full tactical gear, guns in hand. "As a family."

"Ye have to listen to everything we say, alright darling? Everything's goin' to be okay." Johnny promised at the same time as you tried to pack some essentials into your backpack with trembling fingers.

They were obsessed with trying to instill as much of their knowledge into as possible, trying to prepare you, help you, listing off rules they thought were key, ensuring you knew to follow them.

One being: don't get distracted.

You curse yourself, feet flying underneath your body and heart thrumming in your chest with panic. You're too slow, and you can hear it behind you, sprinting just as fast as you are, preparing to launch and take down it's next meal.

You don't see the snare of brambles until you're in them, nearly slamming to a stop, thorns scratching against your skin as you fight against the thicket. It's too dense, slowing your ability to get away... and the runner is still hot on your heels, working its way through the mess, snapping its jaw like a shark.

Simon comes out of nowhere. One second you're hacking away at the branches and the next, there's a massive, solid warmth at your back, standing between you and the snarling monster. He's facing away from you, brandishing a knife, engaged in a full fight with the runner, taking it to the ground in an attempt to get the blade into its temple. You watch mouth wide, frozen, holding your breath until the job is done, and Simon is hauling himself upwards, pulling you into his arms before stepping back to look you over.

You burst into tears. You've always told them, you're not for this kind of world. You're too gentle, too sensitive. You're a painter, for fucks sake. Not a killer. You're too soft to survive.

They say it doesn't matter. That you can be as soft as you want, because you have them, and they'll be the killers. They'll be the hard ones.

"Did it get you? Let me see, c'mon-" He checks your arms, your neck, the tear on your shirt but finds nothing. "Alright, you're alright." He's telling you, and himself, relief exhaling from his body with each syllable. "You're alright, darling. I've got ya. Come here." He holds you tight, rubbing your back, kissing your cheek, your forehead until you're calm, breathing deeply and wiping your face.

You believe the worst has passed, until you blink up at him, and see the blood on his neck.

The bite.

"We need to make a plan."

"We're nae makin' a bloody plan." Johnny hisses, and Simon closes his eyes like he's tired. "We keep goin'. We'll make it to the rendezvous with Price and they'll have a solution. We dinnae even know how fast it spreads."

Simon lets loose a sigh, heavy with exhaustion. With the toll that this life has become. With the weight, of everything. He tucks you into his body, wrapping his other arm around Johnny, and holds the two of you close. Tightly. Tighter than he ever has before.

"Alright."

The next morning, everything is different.

You woke up last, fire still barely smoldering, little energy bar on the ground next to you. The guys sleeping bags were already rolled up, stacked neatly with Simon's pack, and the long gun that Johnny carries.

But they were nowhere to be found.

Confused, you slid free, stretching with a silent groan, scanning your surroundings until you spot them on the edge of the woods, locked together on their feet, Johnny's face mashed against Simon's neck, strong arms holding him close.

"What's going on?" The question comes out confused when you get close, and Johnny pulls away with wet eyes, hands shaking. What's happening? Why are they both crying? Fear screams through your body, red alert systems firing up as your brain struggles to put all the pieces together.

"Simon-" Johnny begins, but stops abruptly, eyes slamming shut, lips pressed together in agony.

"'m not feelin' too well." Simon explains gently. "You and Johnny are gon’ start on ahead, and 'm gonna stay here for a while." Something, something logical, something smart, is shouting at you from the back of your mind but you shove it away, opting for delusion instead.

"Okay, you're going to catch up though, right? You said. We'll find-" You frowned, looking from him to Johnny as a sick feeling grew in your stomach. "Johnny?"

“Look at me.” Simon combs through your hair with trembling fingers, unsteady for the first time in your entire existence. “I love you, darling. I love you so, so much.”

“S-stop, we're supposed to stay together, you- you said-“

“You have to go with Johnny now, okay? He’s gonna take care of you.” He jerks you forward, closed mouth pressing against your forehead. "I love you."

“No, Si.” You sob, fingers curled in his vest. “You have to come with us. You have to, we’ll fi-find a cure, they’ll be help, somewhere.”

“Johnny.” He chokes, and a strong arm wraps around your waist, Johnny’s heavy, tearful breathing echoing just above your ear. Someone works your fingers free, pulling your hand away but not letting go, holding onto you like a lifeline.

You look up between him, to his face, to Simon’s and realize. They’ve already said goodbye.

Simon strokes the back of his fingers down Johnny’s cheek, tears dripping down his own.

“I love you both, more than anything. More than life.” He squeezes your hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of your knuckles, and then steps away, pulling the handgun from the holster on his thigh. "Take care of each other."

"NO!" you scream, but Johnny is dragging you backwards like a rag doll, away from where Simon stands in clearing, gaze never breaking from the two of you, face wet with tears. "Johnny!"

"Darling-" he chokes out amidst a sob. "Shhh, please. Please." He begs you to be quiet, to hush, but you can't, you can't stop screaming, or fighting him, trying to get back to Simon, to reunite your family, to stay together. You scream and scream until Johnny’s hand claps over your mouth, his own words clogged by his cries, pleading and begging until he's cutting off your oxygen with a desperate apology and lifting you over his shoulder like dead weight.

The last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is the sound of a gunshot.

[bethesdaglitch]

[swamp-cryptids]

the fact that the moralintern views mutually assured destruction as a surefire way to maintain peace. just unquestioningly. and dolores dei (the imperialism one) supposedly made this such a cornerstone of her legacy that it persists to the present. despite revachol itself having no military or self-determination at all to counteract that. with the knowledge that shivers knows a nuke is gonna be dropped on revachol in the near future. and the fact that archer will be the one to drop those nukes.

[mrtequilasunset]

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of a PaleMetal subculture and what it would be like and one thing thats common in most metal (specifically black metal) circles I've experienced has been this idea of Edgy Pissing Contests. Like, everyone trying to be more hard-core than everyone else, so that makes me think maybe the way this manifests is these groups of people that hang out too close to porch collapses for the sake of being seen as cool, and it ends up just making them fucking weird. And there's whole like little clusters of them near the pale because they go to be edgy and then fall into shit like what we saw with Tiago where it just kinda rewires their brain and they dont leave.

The music itself probably sounds something between atmospheric black metal and sludge, like distorted vocals and droney sounds recorded on the worst mic available. And of course if you tell someone you listen to palemetal but you don't actually show signs of palesickness they'll call you a poser lol

[inkeyjay]

Clickitty clack

[hiphopcherrrypop]

55! My lucky number

lalalalala i like u!

this one uhmmmm.. halloween even tho it's december josuyasu 👍

except i realized too late that i was thinking of lovey dovey mv LOL.. but whatever they can be roly poly too i guess

[cusn0]

But does anything matter if you're already dead?

*zombie au*

close up:

(the resolution is bad, but yes, there *are* tears in Kim's eyes.)

[totallyradicalmucky]

[knightofleo]

Awkward Zombie

[ask-disco-zombie]

can you you teach m how to Dance?

Absolutely! I teach personal lessons multiple times a week 🕺🏻

[the1sammie]

listen I already really like the narratives in DE so I don't really mess around too much with AUs, but I've been a sucker for a zombie apocalypse AU for some months now because I think that'd be fucking metal

[peachesofteal]

please.. i beg for one ounce of happiness. zombie au was just cruel

Alternative to this, and inspired by this, what if you had been in Simon's place? 18+ MDNI / angst, killing, zombies - dead disco au / this is a little fucked up but it's also cute-ish? Maybe?

They had only let you out of their sight for a few moments.

Your skill with the hunting knife had grown, considerably, impressing both of them, allowing them to relax bit by bit, taking comfort in knowing that if something were to happen, you'd have a fighting chance.

You hated how they hovered all the time, anyway.

"I can do things on my own, you know. Look for berries, mushrooms. I can contribute."

Johnny was more keen to let you wander during the day, to let you exercise some freedom. He didn't want you to feel like they were keeping you on a leash, even though Simon couldn't stand to let you get more than a few feet away, always trying to keep you crowded between him and Johnny, snuggled between a protective barrier, holding you close. Even during travel, he walked in front, Johnny walked behind, and you stayed in the middle, backpack hiked up on your hips, knife cinched in your belt.

At night, they tucked you between their bodies, just like at home, making sure your sleeping bag was zipped tight to ward off a chill... or a wandering set of teeth.

They needed to keep you safe. Protect you. They clung to it, your softness, your gentle spirit. This world was not made for you, but they would be damned if they let it take you away from them.

But they couldn't suffocate you. They both knew that. Johnny knew, you needed room to let your emotions breathe.

So, he didn't protest too much when you wanted to go forage for mushrooms. He made sure you had your knife, pressed his lips to your forehead and told you be careful, to stay close. Keep an eye out.

He wishes he had said no instead.

Johnny's blood turned to ice when he heard you scream. It rang out through the forest like a siren, both he and Simon taking off into a sprint towards you, crashing through the brush without caring how loud it was. You were crying, shouting, getting louder and louder until they came across where you were pinned beneath a runner, blade jammed into it's face, your body shaking beneath its weight.

"Shhh." He hushed your hysterical cries as Simon rolled the zombie away from you, both of them frantically checking you over for their worst fear.

A bite.

"Breathe, darling. Just breathe." Simon coached you, pulling up your shirt where it was torn to check your belly, big hand smoothing over your skin slowly, feeling for something, anything that would indicate you'd been infected. "We're here. Right here."

"M-my neck." You sobbed, and Johnny's stomach flipped, terror ricocheting through his bones, fingers tracing over the torn skin beneath your jaw.

"No." He croaked. "No- no, oh god no... please." You cried harder, reality sinking in, realization sharp across the three of them.

"It's alright, shhh." Simon soothed you, one of his hands clamping down on Johnny's shoulder. He was shaking, looking at Johnny with a command in his eyes.

Get it together. Stay calm. For her.

"It's not that deep, darling. Not that deep. Ye'll be alright." It was a lie, a bold faced one, but Simon nodded in encouragement, looking back down to you with a tense smile.

"Let's get you back to camp and cleaned up."

They held you that night through your cries, assuring you that everything was going to be alright, that you were going to be okay, that they would always take care of you. Love you. Forever. They clutched you to them tightly as your body temperature rose, and your crying subsided, eyes slipping shut with sleep even as they stayed awake, watching you with vigilance. Watching for any changes, waiting for it to begin.

By the morning, they had made a decision.

They would stay true to their vow to you, their promise. They would take care of you, would love you, protect you. They would keep you safe, keep you with them, for as long as they were alive.

This world wasn't sane anymore, why should they be?

The first few days were the hardest. You were still lucid, in some ways. Still knew who you were, still knew them. You would cry uncontrollably if they left your sight for a moment, the outbursts ensuring one of them was with you at all times, soothing you, keeping you calm. You couldn't speak to them, only able to slur a few words here and there, but they didn't need your words to understand you. They knew your moods, your base line, your needs. Time passed, and those things didn't change. Even as your mind slipped away, they still believed you recognized them. They felt as if you did know them.

And you did things that solidified that belief. You would scent them, sniffing them at night, pressing your nose into their skin, snorting against them like their smell pleased you. When they spoke to you, you would stare at them, like you were hanging on every word. If they separated, you would groan, staggering in their direction, confused, distressed about splitting up. You would whine like an animal if either of them got too far away during travel.

You let Johnny fix your hair, let them both wipe you clean with water from the river. You'd grunt and grumble if he tugged a little too tight, but you still responded to his soothing, letting him gentle you when you got too worked up.

"Shhh, darling. 's alright." He'd coo as he fixed the makeshift mask up over your jaw and mouth, securing it tight so that you couldn't bite either of them in their sleep.

At night, they zipped you into your sleeping bag, arms down by your sides so you couldn't crawl out, and then tucked you alongside of their bodies, snuggled between them just as they always did.

They still knew you. You still knew them.

And they knew you were hungry.

It was the one thing that Johnny did not want to do, was hunt for you. He opted to stay behind, let Simon procure your meals instead, waited for his return when he would fetch you and bring you to the woods, keeping your line long so that when you came across your food, you'd have enough of a lead you could easily eat without him getting too close.

Simon didn't mind hunting living people for you, bringing them back and tying them up so they would be an easy meal. He couldn't risk them harming you, after all.

They would cry and beg him to let them go, ask him why he was doing this- didn't they understand?

He had to take care of you.

They'd do anything for you. Besides, it was only for a little while, you'd be back to normal once they caught up to Price and started towards the secure site, where they were sure there would be a cure.

They'd fix you, they had no doubt. You would be okay, just as soon as they got there.

Price was gobsmacked. Kyle was staring at them like they lost their damn minds.

"Boys, you- you can't-"

"She cannae bite, captain." Johnny protested, motioning to where your mouth had been covered with a mask, something tough they had fashioned out of velcro and a piece of his tac vest. "She's harmless." His hand clenched around the rope that had been tied around your waist, looped around your wrists. Your head lolled on your neck for a moment, before snapping upwards, nose in the air.

You had become accustomed to their scents, but not Price or Kyle's, and your eyes gleamed with hunger.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whispered.

"She's not in there anymore, son. You've got a zombie on a leash!" He spat, incredulous.

He didn't understand. You were still in there, still their darling, still with them. You were just sick.

You groaned, and Kyle flinched, staring at you in horror, and disgust. Johnny moved instinctively to block you from sight, protecting you from their terrified eyes, body vibrating with tension.

Simon took his hand, giving a squeeze, and a long look.

If they wouldn't accept you, they'd just find a way on their own.

[naturetapeser2000]

Inspired by the dirkjake and junedave edits to the song far more love than sound i saw on my fyp a while ago. And also june!

I think Dave Strider would lobe testosterone and June would like WAIPMOT cuz it's silly. Maybe Dirk would like Best Beast Ever idk! What if trolldrian made like Perestroika hate where he talks about his silly Lithuanian kismesis or something, crazy!

[maskedraven456]

Deee-Lite World Disco

The disco trio