#neonbomb

[elysiumxii]

cont from here w/ @neonbomb ft cherry, claud and a random npc friend i'm adding

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” 

Turning a little to glance back, a small, inquisitive smile is already curling at Cherry’s plump pink lips as his hazel eyes gaze over two men sat not far away at a tall table by the bar. 

“Oh shit-” one of the men, with his back a little to him, quickly covers his mouth to stifle a laugh as he leans forward over the table and splutters as he struggles to hold it back. He’d been asking his buddy Claud who he’d smash or pass in the bar for the last 15 minutes when this cutie walked up and been the last query, and now it looks as if his answer had been a little too loud, along with his lingering stare. How the hell is Claud going to get himself out of this one! 

The sports bar was quite loud and rowdy, with American hockey playing on several TVs around the joint - apparently it was some big match, Cherry’s friend was into it so he’d agreed to accompany here to watch it, soak up the real experience and, despite the way he looks, Cherry quite enjoys beer. With bouncy locks of pink curls, pinned back at the temples by little butterfly clips, he’d dressed inconspicuously for the occasion in a large hockey jersey of his friend’s team and his usual slim jeans, he thought he was doing quite well at blending in, until he heard the voice around him and felt eyes on him. 

When he’d turned, however, Cherry wasn’t expecting to find such a handsome man sat on a stool not far away and for their eyes to meet. Was he in front of a TV? Was that the problem? Cherry blinks a little as the guys friend seems beside himself with the giggles and having glanced over at him, he decides that probably what they were saying, was less than kind. A little crest fallen he quickly turns back to the bar to order his Budweiser. 

[yallcray]

@neonbomb​: “Every time i start to feel like things are getting quieter and I can feel safe,  something bad always happens.” ( meme )

Years ago, before Infected swarmed the country, Keith and he had talked about the future. They had grand plans of running for president, because there were many things that America needed seeing to. When Ellis realised it wasn't possible, his plans dwindled down to running a local watering hole adjacent to his garage business, 'cause he hadn't seen one that combined the two and wanted to be the first on the map. 

Keeping one gig afloat was a lot harder than Ellis had anticipated, and Keith just kept getting into those damn accidents with that automatic overhead door, so Ellis decided to set his mind to being the best dang mechanic Savannah's ever seen.

The Green Flu had just about ruined every long-time plan of his. With the zombie apocalypse just on the horizon, Ellis learns that there's no such thing as consistency. Cars run out of gas, people eat their way through rations and fight for morsels. What he takes for granted today, running water for example, can be something he'll cherish like a dream tomorrow. 

So Ellis knows what Claud is saying is the truth. At first, Ellis doesn't really know what to say to that, unsure if it's an answer or reassurance Claud is seeking. Claud's shoulders, strong and broad like a bull's, are tensed when he speaks. Ellis grips the meat of them and kneads, the surety in his hands determined to soothe. 

“Yeah, but, we're livin' out the zombie apocalypse, man,” Ellis says, gentle. “Bad stuff kinda has to happen all the time, tah keep us up an' goin'.” Ellis must know he sounds like a cliche, so he slings an arm around his buddy and mashes his cheek against his. “Y'know Aah'm always here with yew anyway. Hardly a moment's peace when Aah'm around.” 

[elysiumxii]

shippy starter w/@neonbomb ft kijung & claude  SC  

“ i know we’re not, friends or anything, but… “ 

Leaning against the door frame of his apartment, Kijung stands with his arms folded, tucked up warm in his bath robe, the ends of his hair damp from a shower not long ago, plastered to his neck as he looks back at the familiar face at his door. He knew him from the bar, the bar that was now closed and in this context, he really shouldn’t be here. 

“Well, you’re in luck” the bar owner snarks lightly, letting his gaze drift down the man one last time before he gives in with a sigh. “I happen to have a weakness for large lumps of men with the look of kicked puppies about them” he hums before pushing off from the door frame, and gestures for Claude to follow him inside. It was dark and cold and Kijung couldn’t, in good conscience, just send him off into the night with no where to go. So no, they weren’t friends, Kijung didn’t know much about him other than his drink of choice and he saw Claude more as a large shadow propping up the end of his bar than an actual conversationalist, but... here he is. @lugoboi​

[grimesucker]

“  what the hell did you do?  ” | nice and multi-purpose, from @neonbomb

53N73NC3 574R73R5 .

                                                   “ HOLD ON ----                                                   who said it’s MY fault ???”

---likely all the evidence pointing to HIM ; HE IS, AFTER ALL, THE ONE WITH THE BAD ATTITUDE & SHARP TONGUE, so WHO ELSE would be at fault for the two of them finding necessity in BOLTING & subsequently HIDING from the raged-up slumrats who took offense to how dox described the similarities between their FACES & their ASSES---

                                 “ I’M not the one who can’t handle the TRUTH--- ”

[yallcray]

Ellis talks to Claud ( @neonbomb ) about someone he loves.

Their truck crawls along the dirt path, past a homestead that looks like it’s been abandoned since Halloween. Black and orange themed decorations dot the property. One half of a scarecrow swings from a tree, scattering straw everywhere. Ellis averts his gaze. It unlocks a memory.

“Didja ever tell ya ‘bout the nightmares with hanged men in the barn? I was uh, ten? And I had them for a month straight. They called them night terrors. Nothin' helped. Nobody, not even the doc at tha med centre knew what caused it. Until one night, mah momma squeezed in bed an’ talked ‘bout a large pumpkin patch with pumpkins tha size of the moon. Said it was our happy place. Worked a treat. I slept like a baby all night.” 

Ellis smiles wanly, looking down at his hands splayed across the steering wheel. “Man, these days I’ve been thinkin' real hard 'bout those pumpkins. We don’t have any raaght now, because the zombies kint stop draggin' themselves through here and diggin’ up the ground. But when this blows over, I’m gonna try growin’ one as big as mah house, so when my momma’s back, she’ll have a happy place to come back to.” 

Reaching over Claud, Ellis pulls the glovebox open to reveal... sachets of vegetable seeds, the kinds you would find at a farmer’s market stand. Pumpkin. Bittergourd. Strawberries. Ellis collects seed sachets the way some guys would collect baseball cards. “If she doesn’t make it back,” Ellis has to swallows hard to dislodge the stone forming in his throat. “Whaddya think ‘bout settlin’ down somewhere and growin’ a garden or somethin’?” 

BE MY VALENTINE

[solvikare]

@neonbomb​ from x

“Sorry.” Although the exaggeration that lingers out at the end of the word conveys that he’s not really that apologetic at all.

“You could stand to lighten up you know.”

[yallcray]

@neonbomb 

He’d stepped into the convenience store with bated breath, feeling like a fly drawn to a lamp, expecting it to be some kind of elaborately planned trap, for spikes to impale his flesh, but nothing happens. The door dings, the bored-looking teenager behind the counter barely lifts his head, and his eyes stay glued to the screen in front of him. Maybe the green flu hasn’t hit this town yet, maybe he’s still dreaming.  

Ellis makes a beeline into the frozen meals section, sure that crisps and coke can never fill the empty cavern of his stomach. Months ago, Ellis would balk at the idea of having an instant meal, when he had the farmer’s market and his mama’s cooking, but when you’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, where food is scarce and you have to fight for it, you can’t really afford to be picky. 

His hand hovers over the bricks of lasagne congealing in their trays, the frozen meals shrink wrapped into colourful plastic islands… and he selects a sandwich with slab of meat in the middle. Sandwiches were made daily, weren’t they— so they had to be fresh. Ellis grabs a soda en route to the counter and pays in coins and a crumpled note. The shopkeeper hands him his change without so much as glancing up. Ellis thanks him anyway.  

He heads to the seating area, where he knows he’ll have a clear view of his truck and a few moments of respite before he has to breathe in its stale air again. There’s a stranger hunched over his meal, expression unreadable. He doesn’t look like he’s from around here, but then again, nobody does. They’re way out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he wants company, maybe he doesn’t. 

Ellis slides into the seat next to his anyway and, ever the opportunistic idle talker, swivels around to look at him. “No offence, but uh… that doesn’t look good meal tah me.”