This fic is sponsored and commissioned by Megumi. Thank you so much! <3
TW: body horror
SPINDLE, SPIRE - 
Bonnibel’s arm stops bleeding when the sky’s gone the color of overripe bananas between the breaks in the canopy outside. By full dark her pulse is a slow, sludgy lurch in her chest, her breathing so faint Marceline huddles up close to her more than once to make sure it’s still there, her ear pressed to Bonnibel’s soft slack mouth.
“C’mon, Bonni,” she says. “C’mon, you got this.” Then she feels stupid and bad because what’s she gunning for, huh? Bonnibel to hurry up and die already? Marceline’s centuries-old experience with zombie bites and the virus tells her there’s only one way Bonni’s coming out of this. She’s gonna die, then turn, and Marceline will have to either leave her to shamble or kill her if she’s got the stomach for it. Tough luck. Serving size: two.