One Shots

Forever is a Long Time to be Alone

((TO BE CLEAR. I am not trying to portray DID or anything similar! This is more along the lines of possession!))

((The first line of this oneshot is the best damn line I've ever written, if you disagree you are wrong))

((Warnings: Major character death, limbo, possession, on screen murder, blood, injuries, lazy writing))

If you'd asked Wilbur where he thought he would be at that moment a few hours prior he would have been enthusiastic to have company. Then he would have told you that he would be where he has been and where he will continue to be. 

Limbo.

But by some odds, some happenstance, some miracle; here he was instead. The feeling of grass beneath his boots was something he couldn't believe that he'd ever taken for granted. He wanted to fall over into it. 

So he did. He let himself fall back and felt the grass shape around his body and limbs. 

He had no idea how long he would be here and he did not intend to let it go to waste. He needed to experience life while he still could, give himself something to think about in all the future years of near-nothingness which were certain to come. 

He curled his fingers into the grass and dirt, pulling some up and dropping it onto himself with a laugh. He could feel last nights rain soaking into the back of his coat. He stared up at the slowly shifting skies.

God it was good to be alive. 

He pushed up from the ground, taking a handful of grass with him and shoving it into his pocket. 

He made his way off the field and found himself on a path that was both familiar and somehow new. He'd walked it dozens of times in the past, and here he was again, walking it again, for the first time in over a dozen years. 

He kicked a small stone off the side, relishing in the impact it made with his boot. Relishing in feeling. He couldn't believe he'd gone so long without it, not that he had any other choice.

He ran down the path, taking in the fresh air. That was the moment he decided with finality. He would not be going back. Whatever it took, he wasn't going back to that stale and empty station.

But it seemed the universe had other plans. 

He collapsed onto the rails without warning, finding himself right back where he was. No, no no no no it couldn't have just been his imagination. He couldn't still be here, he couldn't fucking still be here. He looked over himself, searching for proof that any of that had happened.

He reached into his pocket, finding a few shreds of grass. The bandages were still present from the revival. So why was he dead again?

-

Well... he wasn't dead. Not exactly. His body was perfectly alive and well, running through the streets of the DreamSMP.

Ghostbur sprinted as best he could, not yet accustomed to having a body. He stumbled on legs he didn't quite remember how to use as he desperately searched for somebody, anybody. He wasn't sure what he planned to do once he did find someone, all he knew was that he needed help.

He forced himself faster despite the way that each heaving breath stung his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on nothing other than the way his feet scraped against the path as he ran. He ran and ran and ran until he very suddenly stopped.