Gore Oneshots [Any Requests]

Tord - Zombie Infection

Requested by:
N0R5K1_AND_T0M33B34R

TW's & CW's:
-Zombie infection
-Clichè not telling other survivors
-Gore(?)
-Blood
-Self unaliving
-Victim blaming

Fandom:
-Eddsworld

Character(s):
-Tord
-Tom

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The sharp coursing pain spreading throughout Tord's shoulder was enough to considerably send him to his knees screaming, yet.. he refused to. He refused to show he was injured, he had to catch up to the others.
The fabric of his hoodie around his shoulder had been considerably torn and stained a deeper red with his own blood along with the sickening thick goop of what could only be described to be belonging to the zombie's slobbing jaws in which had bit him.

Yet.. he had just bandaged up his shoulder and hoped for the best.

A dumb choice, he knew, yet.. he still refused to tell anyone else. He didn't need them to worry or even.. single him out and possibly put him out of his own damn misery.

Then again..

No, no, you're not doing that Tord. Keep ot together solider.

Tord sighed, a shaky.. out of breath exhale which sounded more like a heavy wheeze than an exhale, yet.. he didn't care. He just kept pushing forward, slowly forcing his way through the abandoned arcade he was in, pushing his way through the agonisingly long walk. Trying his best to avoid moving his damaged arm the best he could.

Yet.. a weak and raspy exhale escaped him, almost a gurgle as he forced himself to step over the supposed dead body of a child on the floor. Throat ripped out clean, blood still spewing out of the wound, eyes wide and mouth open in a seemingly endless scream.

Probably hadn't expected it.

Tord shook it off, trying to move on as he cursed as he felt a hand on his shoulder, the grip tightening as he turned his head, cursing as he met Tom's eyes. "Where the fuck are you going Commie?" The words spat out as if they were poison to the other's mouth.

"Ah.. I.. was simply looking for you all, where.. are the others?"
He weakly rasped out, yet his accent strong, either way, stronger than usual. That alone had caught Tom's attention, not to mention how he felt the other's void-like gaze analysing him until the grip on his shoulder was released.

"What did you do?"
It was spat out, yet again. Though even without any noticeable irises on Tom it was clear the other was mad, irritated even.

"Nothing, nothing at all-"
He raised his hands in defeat yet the other clearly wasn't having it as Tom huffed, gaze glancing over him before the other pointed out a dirtied and blood stained finger towards the bandages on Tord's shoulder.

"Don't bullshit me. What the fuck did you do?" Tom grumbled, watching Tord pause as the Norwegian was clearly searching for a lie before he cursed feeling the other grab onto his shoulder yet again. Regardless of the bandages.
"Tell me the fucking truth."

"Fine! Fine- I.. may haves gotten myself bitten," He murmured, sighing as he did so, watching the other stiffen up before his arm was grabbed and the bandage was unravelled quickly. The fabric twirling to the ground before being stomped into a mess of blood and mud on the ground.
Though the feeling of Tom tightening his grip on his arm and the jumble of curses he heard from the other was enough for himself to begin to actually stop and process it all.

He had been bitten.

He- Tord. Had been bitten.

His own jumble of curses as he groaned. "Fæn, Tom, what do we do?" he murmured before he felt the other push him away, glaring at him.
"We? Who said we were doing this together? You got yourself bitten. This isn't my problem, i- fuck, no. I'm- I'm going back to Matt and Edd. Just.. stay away okay? Don't you dare follow me."
Tom hesitated before soon following through with his words, turning and quickly leaving.

Tord however just shakily took a deep breath, hands resting against his sides as he shook his head lightly.
"Jævla Jehovas vitne,"
He spat, glancing around, nervously looking for the nearest gun he could find. Searching through the mass of dead bodies around the abandoned casino.

Shakily falling to his knees as he desperately searched through the mass of bodies, trying his best to find what he was looking for.
Clambering over the corpse of one of his undercover soldier's.. Patrick Tord gulped back a curse as he rummaged through the other's pockets, finding a couple of handfuls of bullets.
Desperately shovelling them into his own as he managed to push over and roll the body over as he found the other's assault rifle.

Managing to push himself up, sitting up against the wall. Patrick to his side as his eyes glanced over to the corpse again.
"Patrick, jeg er så lei for det.."
He rasped out quietly as he whimpered quietly, shaking his head as he propped up the gun in his hands, managing to pop out the bullet chamber as he refilled it.

He couldn't risk it.

There was no way he was doing this again.

There was no way he was going to turn.

Tord shakily closed up the bullet chamber, propping up the gun to facing him as he sighed.
Closing his eyes as his trembling fingers held onto the trigger, feeling the gun's cold metal raise up to his lips.
Weakly parting his lips as he pushed the barrell further into his mouth, resting against his tongue.

Tord took another deep breath before he slowly pressed down the trigger, the bullet firing as he was dead on an instant. Having fired it at the needed angle for the bullet to meet his brain.

Brain matter, skin and blood splattering and exploding onto the wall behind him as the steaming gun slowly fell from his dead grip, falling aside as his body slumped to the side before promptly collapsing beside Patrick's.

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A/N: Translations if done properly, correct us if not;

Fæn = Fuck

Jævla Jehovas vitne =
Fucking Jehovah's witness.

Patrick, jeg er så lei for det =
Patrick I'm so sorry