It ain’t much, but I like it

Also yes, I now have a Derpibooru account. Yeet.

Not sure how good I did but here she is.

“Geez, it’s dark out here… how long have we been in there for?”

Undead Bez followed Dante, holding her head with a hoof. “I don’t really wanna think about it, honestly. I just wanna get the buck home…”

“Yeah… me too… besides, it’s kinda creepy out here.”

Undead Bez froze upon seeing the old bridge that crossed the river.

“…What?”

“Nothing! Can you… go first?”

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“…you okay there, Bezzy? Are you not that hungry?”

She looked up. “Er… I’m alright, Dante. What about you? Are you having a good time at least?”

Dante swallowed his bite of eclair. “The best! I’ve never had this much fun of a weekend since… well, I don’t even know!”

Undead Bez smiled at him; that was all that mattered to her. “Heh… glad to hear. You think we take the rest of this home?”

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Dante lay in the hospital bed, breathing shakily as his CPAP mask helped him just bring air into his lungs. He really didn’t know how much longer he had to stay here. “...damn it…”

He was… kind of scared.

The slow rise and fall of his chest was the only thing keeping him sane at this point. Even though he thought his ribs would be completely crushed, the only thing he was having to worry about so far was his lungs...somehow, his ribs turned out alright. 

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Undead in space. They don't need to worry about life support. Pressurization, radiation, or sublimation.
Oh hey, what a coincidence.

No, it's not going to be happening anytime soon. It's a sequel idea bouncing around that won't be started until after I finish writing several centuries down the timeline, and there really isn't much of a plot built yet besides zombies in space. The only thing I have for it right now is a tentative title: "Haunted Sky"

Undead Bez opened her eyes, pushing her tangled mane out of her face and sitting up. Dante was right by her side, presumably having been watching her the whole time.

She blinked, blushing a bit. “Oh, hey… what are you doing?”

Dante blinked his bright red eyes, and as he realized what a trance he’d been in, his face began to glow the same color. “O-Oh, ehm….”

“…How’s your leg doing?”

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Alrighty, so here’s the guidelines and submissions thread for the third book of “Principal Celestia Hunts the Undead,” to-be an anthology of reader-submitted chapter ideas, written by me as a thank-you for coming along on this journey.

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Bezier grit her teeth as she walked outside the building, seating herself down on the sidewalk and folding her forelegs.

“Yeesh. Laser Tag didn’t go so well?”

“Not this time.”

Undead Bez looked over. “What happened? Were you the first one out again?”

“Mhm. And Griff won the game again.”

“That’s... nice?”

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A commission paid and approved by FimFiction's RuneSoldierDan of the Hunt the Undead stories.

https://www.deviantart.com/thewolfjarl/art/Hunt-the-Undead-Not-Responsible-Adults-862808623

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“Now where did Pharynx put the acrylics?” Bezier muttered as she rummaged through the shelves. “I swear, if he left any of them wide open, I’m not gonna be paying for them this time.”

“Check the bottom shelf.”

“Okay, sure, let me just—” Bezier froze, blinking. That was not Pharynx. At all. “Wait a minute...”

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“Hmph. I see this ‘Griff’ thinks he’s so smart, always smug when he gets his moment of victory. Geez.”

Undead Bez grumbled as she trotted through Griff’s home. Bezier said she’d be here. I have no clue why she’d even wanna...

She looked around.

“Where are they anyway?” She wondered aloud. “Which room is this anyway?”

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“I just found a place where they make the best eclairs.”

“Ooh, really? Where is it?”

“Not too far from here! We just need to cross that bridge over there!”

“A… bridge? Um… which bridge?”

“That large one a couple feet away from us. I know there’s quite a few bridges in Ponyville, but—”

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You're probably wondering why a lich, of all things, would decide to write fanfiction. I have two reasons: 1. I like the show, and 2. After fighting off hordes of adventurers abound, you need something to work off the stress. And since I was a writer in life, I chose to return to writing in undeath.

We decided to make more of these two.

“…and here is my condo!”

Undead Bez trotted in, taking a moment to gaze around the room. “Woah… it’s nice in here.”

“It’s a shared space. Luckily my bros won’t be home until maybe tomorrow. They’re out partying. Without me. Again.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“…why do they do that?”

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“Thanks for bringing me to the apartment, Bezzy… I don’t think I’d make back it in even a year.”

“It’s no problem, buddy...” she responded, in the midst of wrapping up Dante’s back leg; the one he scratched against the wooden boards when he nearly fell through the bridge.

“…Are you still upset?”

“About what?”

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Undead Bez and Dante sat under a tree, the latter eating a box of Pocky Sticks. Strawberry-flavored ones.

“Me and Bezzy always had a bad history with Pocky Sticks, ya know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Long story, but it involved two changelings and a phone…”

“So, how have you been the past few days?”

“I dunno, honestly... it feels like I’ve been shot in the chest multiple times.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. I’m not able to describe it properly, but... let’s say I also feel like I’ve been nothing but a punching bag.”

“...okay then.”

“...You wanna head to that restaurant we went to, like a month ago?”

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Doing research for my story, Visitation, I've been reading a lot about Aztec culture, particularly centered around death. It's very interesting, though I may have to fudge a little in order to make the story work. Specifically, only women who died in childbirth tended to return as ghosts, which... does not work given the scenario I need to set. There are a few other Aztec legends to work off of, but this story is one that deserves care and effort, particularly as the Aztecs were a

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“…Dante?”

The taller changeling looked over with a canted brow, sitting up and rubbing his head. 

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“I-I guess I’m alright…Wha…what happened…?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain. You had some sort of panic attack…”

“O-Oh…oh no…”

Undead Bez bit her lip, afraid she might have said something wrong. “W-What?”

“I-It happened, didn’t it…? W-Where’s my gun?” He began frantically patting himself down. 

“Gun? Oh… did you leave it at the table?”

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