#bulletdrop

[viralimmune]

there are many simple luxuries in the new world order; hot water, clean water, ample resources to cover the basic necessities — all of which she is more than grateful for and all of which made it somewhat easier to procure bananas, of all fruits, before they went completely bad. she's not going to reveal how far she had to go and what she had to trade to get them; only that she's a little proud that she was able to get them and bring them back, whole and un-squished, to bake into a delicious treat. cloth-covered loaf tucks safely under her arm, her free hand rapping against the door to his abode among the rest of the city. ❛ open up! ❜

a birthday starter for @bulletdrop !

[usota]

#slingshot #bean #toon #fastenyourseatbelt #marksman 🎯 #parabelflight #bulletdrop #launch #wip #app #illustration #2c

[roseguided-arch]

@bulletdrop ASKED, ❛ 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆. ❜ @ 𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 pleasant, but this one seemed particularly bad & it’s all because of ellie’s clumsiness. god forbid she decide to take in some pretty scenery, to take one wrong step, to tumble down a small hill & make a cut on her arm ! luckily, however, she had been with tommy. luckily, the infected had been cleared from that section a day or two prior or she would’ve been in worse shape. what was target practice with a rifle, turned into tommy playing doctor back at the lodge. ; ellie tries not to tense, she tries not to look, but his warning makes her all the more anxious for whatever pain follows. ❛ oh, fuck. fuck, fuck, ❜ is whispered almost under her breath, eyes screwing themselves closed tightly. then, she feels the cold sting of alcohol onto her cut & a strangled, pain filled noise comes from clenched teeth. ❛ god damn it , ow ! ow ! ❜ head gives a shake as the sharp pain seems to dissipate a little. eyes return to tommy only briefly as they move down to her arm: ❛ remind me never to admire anything every again. ❜ huffs ellie.

[viralimmune]

your name: tommy your age: extinct... or well, supposed to be i guess. your perfect date: involves food, drink, a little dancin', and a little singin' make out in private or in public?: depends on where the mood hits ;) do you like to cuddle?: sure do. tell me something about you: i can tune a guitar and an engine ! why do you want to be my valentine?: i just saw an application and filled it out. whos this for?

❛  one of the kids found an old tape of some cheesy dating game show from the 70s and thought it would be funny to recreate it for friday night entertainment, so we're taking applications. jury's out on whether or not you'll make the cut.  ❜

[cordecept]

the  night  cries  out  like  all  truly  damned  things  do ;  silently ,  without  hope  for  help  or  reprieve.  it  is  a  cry  that  is  killed  before  it  can  reach  the  conception  of  the  throat.   a  cry  that  does  not  exist  anywhere  except  in  a  better  place.   a  kinder  place.   but  not  here,  never  here . . . not  in  a  place  where  cries  only  exist  as  a  calling.  a  beckoning.   an  invitation  to  the  altar  from  the  lamb  to  the  knife  ;  from  the  throat  to  the  teeth.  and  so  the  night  sits  quiet  under  their  gaze.  too quiet. the silence is broken  only  by  the  sounds  of  bugs  on  the  bayou  and  the  rustle  of  joel’s  jacket  as  he  shifts. the night watch has been uneventful but that doesn't bring any relief. only a restless tension that rolls through his shoulders like a storm that has brewed past the point of bursting. antsy or anxious ? he isn't sure. not anymore. just that there's an unpleasant itch under his skin.

the  rhythmic  footfalls  of  a  familiar  gait  settle  over  him  like  a  shroud.  as  tommy  settles  in  next  to  him ,   joel  releases  a  breath  he  hadn't  even realized  he  was  holding. it  feels  like  his  ribs  are  yawning  open  to  welcome  back  one  of  their  own. like he'll never be able to breathe correctly without tommy in his sight. he has been his brother's keeper from the first & he'll be it until his last.

then  tommy  breaks  the  silence , continuing  an  earlier ' discussion '  without  the  weight  of  prying  eyes  and  greedy  ears.   ❝ survivin'  isn't  livin' ❞   tommy  says without preamble ,  and  joel  wishes  he  wouldn't. he wishes he could clutch the words in his fist and pull them from the fragile memory of the air ; to crush them under the heel of his boot as easily as the head of a snake.

he  scoffs  ,  something  bitter  in  his  throat.  it  feels  like  he's  leading  the  breath  free from  his  lungs  on  a  tangled  string  of  barbed  wire.   his  tongue  tastes  of  blood  and  rust.   of  anger  and  something he doesn't want to name. something that could almost taste like fear. that kind of attitude is more dangerous than any old bastard's bullet. tommy is holding his hand in the fire and thanking it for the warmth even as the skin melts from his bones. he's looking for the good , too goddamn blind to see that it's been gone long enough for them all to go cold. that he's clutching at the comfort of corpses. making wishes on falling stars without realizing that all the lights are just the smoldering ash of everything they used to love. the days of living are over. they died in his shaking hands outside austin. there's only survival . . . that is , there's only survival until there's not.

❝     you  don't  get  to  pick  and  choose.     ❞   he  glowers ,  tone  carved  from  something  granitic  with the coldest of tools. he's harsh. harsher than he means. just another beast weaned on the brine of desperation. a dog with a nervous bite. he wants to grip tommy by the shoulders , to meet his eyes and show him the truth in his own. that this is a road of misery and grief. a road with only one end & a short horizon. if he keeps talking like this , the sun will be bleaching both of their bones by next sundown.

𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 : @bulletdrop 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 : days gone sentence starters

[harrisoned]

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GIRL YOU ONCE WERE?           the reminder of the night amy,   mermaid fanatic with permanent flushed cheeks   &   childlike heart,   turned into survivor,   dark circles beneath her eyes   &   the light inside her knocked out   &   dirt stained nails,   flood into her memory like a punctuating knife.   causes shoulders to tense   &   lift sheepishly,   yellow teeth digging into the flesh of cracked lips.   "   the world ended.   "   amy says,   indistinctively   &   vaguely teasing as her brow lifts.   then she sighs,   gives in.    "   i was with survivors at first.   my sister,   too.   we had a camp.   but uh   ━   it got overrun.   i ran without thinking.   i didn’t   (   don’t.   )   know how to defend myself very well,   so i figured i’d run.   and i did.   i ran,   ran,   and ran.   before i knew it,   i was lost.   like..   who knew how many trees looked so similar,   right?   "   humorless laugh leaves her canvas,   shaking her head.   “   i found my way back and they were gone.   i found other people awhile later but...   "   she leaves it empty because really:   it’s what always happens nowadays.   lips part,    blues lifting at the figure before her.   “    i guess shit just happens,    right?   “

"can i ask... what happened?" @bulletdrop​