H3H3H3H3H3

daveapocalypse:

terezipocalypse:

Unfortunately for Dave, Terezi had found the craft aisle long ago. She didn’t need food. Only chalk. And Skittles. This was obviously part of a balanced diet and no one should really question her, because stopping her would honestly just be a bad idea. In the meantime, she’d also managed to acquire quite a few new outfits, the majority louder than a gunshot. 

Hearing Dave’s voice down one of the halls, she popped her head out from the middle of a display where she had been busy sorting all the red chalk from the rest of the boxes. Grinning, she shrugged a new backpack over her shoulder, and clambered her way out.

“OV3R H3R3, D4V3!” She bounded down towards the end of the hall, moving to the sound of his voice.

Upon seeing his only remaining companion’s face indeed covered in art supplies (really, it looked more like a coke addict had a very unfortunate run in with a red magic marker or something, but he wasn’t judging), Dave couldn’t help the way he became just that much more concerned for their situation. He knew the trolls could handle themselves to at least some degree, but there were zombies outside and Terezi was covered in chalk.

Hopefully he’d be able to relax once he saw how she reacted to the threat outside.

“Hurry it up, Tz. We’ve gotta meet up with Rose, Bro, and La- …” Dave trailed off awkwardly, and if his throat had clenched just a little, well, Terezi didn’t need to know that.

“The others are waiting for us at a nearby mall, and - unsurprisingly - they need our help, so we should probably get the hell over there before anything else happens,” he said, already making his way towards where they’d come into the building earlier.

One of his hands clutched at the backpack he’d transferred all of his findings to, while his other tightened around the sword he’d brought with him. Ideally, he would have grabbed something long range like a gun, but the familiar weight of a sword in his hand was a comfort.

“Let’s do this.”

And without another warning, the teen swung open the doors of the warehouse. The black van really wasn’t all that far, but there were at least a dozen infected former-humans swarming the parking lot, every single one of them turning to see where the smell of food was coming from.

“1 4M F1N3 D4V3, C4LM DOWN— WH4T 4BOUT L4LOND3?” She twisted her mouth a bit and raised an eyebrow, even though she knew damn well she wasn’t getting an answer. In times like these, however, there really were only two options. You were either alive, or… well, that was that then.

Biting a little more fervidly at her chalk, she shoved her backpack a little more on her shoulders, holding on to her cane. The knives were sticking out of the side pockets, just in case she needed to slow one down. She’d managed to grab a handgun, too— just one. Just in case. Terezi shooting was honestly more dangerous than the zombies; it was only for point-blank, last-resort options.

As soon as the door swung open, Terezi grinned, gripping both ends of her cane. “L3TS GO, COOLK1D. 1 HOP3 YOU H4V3N’T LOST YOUR ST3P.”

(via daveapocalypse-deactivated20120)