#zomboye

[cruelety-a]

i love (1) lex

is it lex l/uthor* :/

*edit:   joke credit goes to @weightedheart

[eatpanic]

injury meme | @zomboye asked:   “   that’s… a lot of blood.   ”

“   oh,   really?    you think?   ”   it’s getting ridiculous now.    how blood makes a painting out of his face;    brush strokes of red from his nose,     down his chin and wrist where he pressed his fingers to his nose.    the wetness soaking the front of his once very white shirt.   in the sink,    along with the crumbled up,    soaked red paper towels.    even some on the boys’ bathroom floor.    that’s a lot of blood.

           all he remembers before this is staring into the mirror as he sucked in panicked breaths,    and seeing someone else in a body that doesn’t feel like it belongs to him.    not who am i;   who are we? 

he tips his head back,     eyes squinting at the ceiling as he tries to stop the flow.    “   ---- could you get me some more paper towels?   please?   ”  

[adatrox]

it’s all she marshalled to keep the cruel line of her mouth flat.  no mistake for this , all crisp and bitter scent of dead.   oh dear.   ‘   you stink.   ’   »   @zomboye.

[aliasinvestigate]

@zomboye​  |  sc.

she  wonders  if  she looked like this when she was his age  (  she knows she didn’t            jessica jones at sixteen was sallow, sour milk skin, greasy black hair,  &  a scowl slashed across her features in permanent ink  ).  but there’s something about being young.  the wide-eyed  fear  of the unknown, the boundless possibilities...  

it makes her stomach twist in a pitted knot.  she doesn’t want him around this mess. 

this isn’t a world with a lush future  ;  it isn’t a universe where promises  &  dreams get to flourish  &  bloom.  not when she has yet another missing person’s case tacked onto her workload among the cuckolded husbands, the cheaters, the asshole who’s three months behind on his child support.   

❛                    stay out of this one, kid.  go home, fuck around on an xbox or whatever.  it’s not worth getting your ass handed to you.  ❜ 

[cruelety-a]

“     lunch time.    ”      corpse is tossed to the ground with as much apathy as you’d had when you killed him,    blood smearing all that he’s touched.    it’s messier than usual,    throat and chest split open,    crotch shot,    but you figure the boy has no room to complain.    better than starving.     “     kind of mutilated him,    but he wanted to sleep with dakota,    and it pissed me the fuck off.    got carried away.     ”      /      @zomboye

[cruelety-a]

“    you seriously eat this shit raw?   i mean,   i’m not complaining.   saves me the clean up.   but fuck.   ”    /    @zomboye

[breedsmisery]

zomboye replied to your post

take a shot every time spencer disassociates AND every time her family treats her like crap. go big or go home

if you wanna go big take a shot every time her life is ruined in some way shape or form 

[renascenced]

          statued  maiden,   sat  motionless  within  verdant  patch  opposite  unfamiliar  high  school  for  hours,   save  for  the  idle  ash  of  fresh  cigarette  or  swat  at  the  fat  bodies  of  flies  drawn  to  her  distinctive  bouquet  of  death  and  decomposition.   she  watches  silhouetted  forms  flooding  the  hallways  during  class  changes,   watches  those  rebels  who  dare  skid  out  of  the  parking  lot  during  lunch,   watches  sun  drift  tauntingly  across  brutally  clear  sky.   it’s  all  unexceptional,   normal,   ordinary   ------   another  day  like  the  one  before  in  bumfuck  wherever  they  are.   it  reminds  her  all  too  much  of  home,   and  it  is  during  this  musing  that  the  distant  thrum  of  dismissal  bell  rings,   loosing  students  onto  the  sidewalks.

          she  doesn’t  know  what  her  plan  is,   doesn’t  even  know  if  he’s  in  school  today,   doesn’t  even  know  exactly  who  he  is.   (   just  a  name,   a  quick  description  from  a  deity  who  could  have  been  lying  to  her  anyway.   )   nacreous  gaze  scans  swarming  faces  as  if  she  knows  who  she’s  looking  for,   loose  limbs  giving  rise  as  she  tosses  nearly - finished  smoke  onto  the  blacktop  of  the  street  she  crosses.   there’s  a  moment  where  she  considers  leaving.   maybe  it’s  best  not  to  meet  someone  else  like  her.   (   see:   rotting  from  the  inside  out,   sickening  and  putrid,   death  embodied!   )   

          but  then  she  sees  him,   and  just  like  she  didn’t  know  her  plan,   she  doesn’t  know  how  she  knows  it’s  him  either.   maybe  it’s  the  idle  tug  in  her  gut,   the  tap,   tap,   tap!   at  her  bones.   maybe  it’s  divine  intervention.   maybe  she  just  has  a  knack  for  spotting  the  preternatural  now  that  she  has  spent  so  much  time  in  its  midst.   narrowed  regard,   wrinkled  nose.   he  doesn’t  look  that  bad.   he  doesn’t  look  great,   but  he  doesn’t  look  as  fall - off - the - bone  as  she  had  been  expecting.   if  she  hadn’t  sought  him  out  specifically,   she  never  would  have  given  him  a  second  glance,   but   ------  

          ❛   hey   ------   !   hey,   shaun  of  the  dead!   yeah,   you  got  a  minute?  ❜

@zomboye