#zombie love
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beeeeandpuppycat · 3 months ago
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i just want your heart.
a zombie leon. barely able to speak. or think. but one thing he knows is he loves you.
leon x femreader
part 1.
hell broke loose. more then the goverment could hide. from weird behaviour to people munching down on skin. the apocalypse had started . population down 74% . leon being in that percentage. skull half broken . mouth ripped off along with an arm . undertsatement to say he was barely reqonizable . the end of the world isnt like the movies. Groups and gangs etc wasn't happening. No. What was happening was Cannibalism from lack of resources . Murders crime with the end near no one was gonna follow the law. Most people even drove into insanity- running round with knives as if they could just respawn.
Which is why you're here.
Running across the street, not from zombies, no. From people with a knife trying to gut your insides for a meal - breath warm against your skin and your shoes slamming against the floor with every step
You panted loosing your breath as you ran sharp round a corner. Fuck was up with people? Human nature was taking over. And -... actually maybe its not the best time to be thinking . Running into a dark alleyway covered in mostly moss. The streetlight dimly lighting the scenery. Into the only thing you saw was a plain. Stone wall- the moss covering it making it just slightly too slippery to climb . Eyes down at the floor as a bead of sweat dripped down your forehead
"Shit.."
You mumbled barely above a whisper. You're cornered. A shiver going down your spine and heart beating out your chest to the point you practically felt like you were gonna vomit"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck"
Eyes stared down at the floor trying to think of something to do. What? Kill a fucking maniac with nothing but your already bruises fist ? Hey you might be going insane but not that fucking insane.. -
Eyes slammed shut head down thinking of anything to save your ass in the situations as steps came forward. Into they stopped? Into the only thing you heard was screams. And surprisingly not yours..?
Eyes opening again turning your head round to see your hero. .- a rotting corpse- the undead looking down at you with a wide stare
The one person you thought would survive this is standing in front of you. Arm looking as if it's gonna fall out with that half ripped out jaw . The glare wasn't scary. No. Gentle wide eyes looking up. Well- one eye. The other rolled up into his skull only showing the white which had a slight tint of yellow looking up as if just as surprised to see you.
"I-.. GET AWAY!!.. DONT COME NEAR-"
You stammered screaming in horror as you backed up against a wall looking at your once best friend you loved so dearly .his back slumped as he limped forward to you . A hand covered in slimy blood moving up the side of your face quietly. Looking as if wanting to talk but failing . Drool coming out his mouth and a slight babble being the max he could sound out along with a creepy grumpy like whine A clear look of frustration at his face when you shouted.
Confusing. Watching this bloody mess not run up like any other zombie to try and eat you. Instead taking gentle steps forward . His arm up to his mouth using it to pull his gloves tighter on his hand . Now standing Infront of you- his head tilted down and a hand gently placed on your shoulder.
"shit Leon.."
"Not gonna eat me?"
You whispered- almost jokingly.As much as this whole situation is both unrealistic and terrifying . It felt nice . The touch of someone you've missed more then anyone. his head up tilting again. As if saying "you want me to?". Weird how you understood what he was trying to say. Quickly shaking your head before you your hands balled to fist against his chest softly pushing him away much to his dismay. taking a few steps back. as much as you like him it's rather hard to trust someone covered in blood
"... what an entrance huh?"..
You mumbled before he lazily nodded. Leaning his back against a wall eyes staring at the floor quietly . His hand moves up in an attempt to push his jaw so it wouldn't fall off in an almost annoyed manner.. Considering most his body was decomposing. "Funny" you thought watching the once tough man struggle. A soft giggle escaping your lips and the first smile in months at your lips. His eyes- well one eye rolling in an annoyed . Yet playful manner. Almost forgetting about the current apocalypse happening .You could soon hear steps coming around surrounding you. leons rough hand snatched yours in the moment suddenly rushing you to whichever building was closes. Rushing you into an almost moldy looking hotel. The lights at the front dimly on and the walls looking as if they were gonna break down any second. hand gripping yours softly . Somehow.. the most adrenaline you've felt in these past months. a few floor boards collapsing under your feet . As his head turned round looking at you . I mean. He did just save you from a bunch of insane people hes clearly concerned..-. even as a zombie his heart hasn't quite rotted yet.
"I'm fine..-but.. we should go find somewhere safe.."
You reassured him. - tho it looked like he half believed you with all the scars and ripped clothes on you. His rough palm moved pushing against yours softly before gently interlocking your fingers. He's worried for you . Clearly- as he dragged you along with him like some kind of puppy
"I know how to walk- nevermind.."
You cut yourself off as he ignored you. Of course he did.. Rolling your eyes at him in a frustrated manner while you moved to walk beside him. Looking for any room that looked somewhat clean to stay the night.- an orange almost blueish light coming through the windows leaving a purple like hue at his face - his eyelashes more apparent as they softly fluttered. Looking over at you in confusion clearly noticing you staring at him.
"Sorry.."
You mumbled. Your eyes quickly darted away in embarrassment. While your cheeks flushed pink and your heart beating even faster than earlier .before your chin was suddenly pulled to the right much to your confusion turned to look over at him - meanwhile his head was turned away in a flustered manner avoiding any eye contact. You could barely hear his breath getting deeper not necessarily knowing what to say. As if he even could - he thought as a zombie all these feelings would disappear. But clearly not. Clearly he enjoys the attention he hasn't had in months
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I'm gonna leave the first part of this here :33. I know it's a shit end for the first part but I couldn't think of any other way.
I had to come up with a whole new story line, since I originally thought patrick would win so I was thinking of more highschooly hidden love yk? . But I kinda like this ver!!^^
Next part will come out soon !(Hopefully)
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ravenous-feast-of-love · 6 months ago
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The Zombie is such a marvellous creature.
Its soul has ascended, leaving its body as nothing but a rotting husk, maggots eating into it, limbs falling apart from the wear and tear of decades.
But why, you ask, does it still move?
Why does it roam the nights, looking for a feast, if it doesn’t need to live?
The truth is.. zombies always have a craving.
All zombies have a craving. This craving could be a fragment of an ascended soul, or perhaps a newborn one caused by external factors.
That is the most integral part of a zombie, to crave something strongly. Whether it be brains, spreading an infection, or perhaps something abit more niche..
Love
Just imagine, a zombie, limping pathetically in the graveyard, its hands out as it reaches for any source of its craving, moaning mindlessly as a cry of hunger. Its mind too decayed to think of anything else. A human shell reduced to an animal, wanting NOTHING but to satisfy its craving, no matter what.
How beautiful it would be, to see a a zombie lose its mind over a craving.
Over me.
I only wished my devotee longed for me, just as a zombie longs for its craving.
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eleanor-bradstreet · 2 years ago
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I’ll Be Seeing You (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
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Benedict Bridgerton x gn!Reader A modern zombie AU Rated/warnings: 18+, heavy angst, whump, gun use, slight gore, discussion of death and killing, zombie-fication Word count: 3.1k
Summary: After years surviving in a post-apocalyptic zombie landscape, you and Benedict find that your luck has run out. A sad zombie love story.
Author’s Note: Once again, a Discord joke gone awry becomes something I compulsively turn around and actually write. Is this even remotely related to Bridgerton? No. You can easily insert any man you fancy into this story. It’s just that Benedict is my muse, so here we are. For full effect, I recommend listening to the song after reading.
If you need to recover from the sadness of this story, go check out how it worked it's way into the beautiful, sexy love story Wide Open Spaces by @thebabblingbrookenook and/or if you enjoyed Benedict in an apocalyptic setting, check out her other masterpiece If The World Was Ending.
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“Darling, it’s alright. You know this is the only way. It’s alright.” His tone was so calm, as if he were teaching you to drive a stick shift, not kneeling before you with your gun pressed to his forehead. 
You knew you were hyperventilating, your vision going blurry behind tears as your breath clawed ragged through your throat. Your hands hadn’t shaken this badly since the day the world fell, all those years ago. The gun felt like lead in your hands, suddenly so weighted with gravity, when before it had grown to feel like an effortless extension of your own arm. How many times had you swung it at a shambling figure or threatening foe and pulled the trigger without a second thought? It was a trained impulse, practically nonchalant, as easy and automatic as breathing.
Now it was the most inconceivable action you could take, as Benedict stared up at you through dark lashes beneath the barrel. He was so incredibly still, his blue-grey eyes so steely with resolve, as he waited for you to seal his fate and end his life. You had made it this far, to the spot you had designated for the act, the farmhouse two miles away from the settlement. You had known the entire way that this was the purpose of your journey, to mercifully execute your husband before he turned into one of those things. You hadn’t wanted to do it in the settlement or anywhere within eyesight. You didn’t want to go on looking at the place, reminded of where and when you had removed him from your life and from the world. So you were here, just the two of you, in a quiet abandoned home, surrounded by quiet abandoned fields, with nothing but your gun and a shovel that you had brought to bury him.
When he had confessed to you and the others in the settlement that he was bitten, a mishap of your latest supply run into the city, it felt as if all of your organs plummeted down an elevator shaft. You had lasted so long, evaded so many dangers, you had almost begun to feel invincible. So many others had died, your families and your friends and the errant packs of fellow survivors you had found yourselves with. No one lasted that long it seemed, except the two of you. Somehow, you had run and ducked and fought and wrenched yourselves out of every bind, a camaraderie and sense of shared destiny building so palpably between you. Benedict hadn’t been your husband when it all started, but when it was clear that you were the only constant things you could each rely upon in this new world, he had wanted to make your commitment official. He found a ring in some way you didn’t want to ask about, and you spoke vows to each other one night when the stars were radiant above you. It was as real and as provable as anything could be anymore, and it was the only thing that made you feel, in some strange way, hopeful for the future and happy to still be alive.
There was a protocol in the settlement when someone was bitten. Everyone knew what it was. The afflicted said their goodbyes and wrapped up their affairs before the fever set in, then they were dispatched by a loved one in a place of their choosing and buried with proper rites and respects. After the initial shock of his revelation, you had both defaulted to duty. There were new rules in this new life and you had to abide by them or die. It was that simple. When death was a hair’s breadth away every day, there wasn’t much space to get too emotional over anything. Survival was paramount. Survival of the settlement and survival of self. So when one of your number became an imminent threat, they had to be dealt with, respectfully but decidedly.
But absolutely none of that mattered anymore as you stared down at Benedict, physically feeling your heart break within your chest. He was all you had; the singular thing that had brought you any glimmer of joy or purpose over the past several years. Once he was gone, there was no reason for you to carry on. What was the point? To grow vegetables and stock ammunition in the settlement for years on end, waiting for the day when your luck would eventually run out and it would be you on your knees at the end of a gun? Who would even be designated to end you? You didn’t want it to be anyone but your beloved spouse which you realized, with a shuddering breath, was precisely what he was feeling in this moment.
The fever had set into him as you had trudged toward the farmhouse. He was pale and sweating, clearly fighting the tremors as he held your gaze, urging you on. It wouldn’t be long now until Benedict was snuffed out and the disease roared into sentience with its latest host, a microscopic puppeteer bearing his face and animating his limbs. He didn’t deserve it. No one did, but him least of all. He deserved the mercy you could grant with a simple sweep of your finger. But the agonizing hell of your guilt and the contemplation of innumerable days spent without him crippled you, and you dropped the gun with an anguished cry, falling to your knees in front of him.
“I can’t,” you sobbed, tossing the weapon to the floor. “Ben, I can’t. I’m sorry, I could never…I can’t.” You grabbed his hands and pulled them against your chest, somehow both an apology and a plea for his touch to mend the crack you felt growing there.
All of your guilt was immediately silenced when he wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to him, shushing your cries as you held each other in the dusty sunlight of the farmhouse kitchen floor. 
“Not you,” you whispered into his ear as he held you tight, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. “Not you.”
Then his hands were firm on the sides of your face and he kissed you, with more passion than you had ever felt, every ounce of love and sorrow and promise bound up in this single point of connection. He understood. Of course, he understood everything you were feeling. You didn’t need to apologize or explain. It was as if he could read your mind, an infuriating but astounding trait that he had always possessed.
“I know,” he whispered against your lips. “I couldn’t do this if it were you, either.” 
Your heart began to thud, with relief or anxiety or love, you weren’t sure. You were completely overwhelmed. 
“Then what do we do now?” You asked breathlessly, clinging onto him as if that was the answer, the way to keep him with you for as long as possible. 
You could feel his signature grin against your cheek. His tone was practically breezy. “Make the most of it.”
You pulled back and saw the crooked smile, genuine despite his ashen face. You were so lost in the turmoil of your feelings, so numb to the world outside of your entwined bodies, you couldn’t fathom what he was planning. He swiveled to look around the room and the next thing you knew, he had pulled you to stand and walked over to a piano that was tucked into a corner of the adjoining living room. The bench and instrument both had an inch of dust on them, as did everything in the world these days, and it puffed out as he slid the cover back off the keys. Trembling, you sat beside him on the bench and watched as his slender fingers, perpetually covered in grime as everyone’s were now, floated gracefully into place and tested the scale. Some notes were woefully out of tune, but the song he started to play was immediately familiar.
I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places. A voice sang in the back of your mind from a time so distantly far away it seemed like a dream. You let the tears stream freely down your face, entranced by his magic ability to remind you of the way things used to be, a warm memory of something sure, a mild recollection of normalcy, of being carefree. His music wrapped around you, muting out the rest of the world, the horrors of the past few years, until all you saw and all you felt was this moment, sunlit and perfect and real. You watched his face, ravaged with toil and fever but beautiful nonetheless, with eyes closed and a hint of a smile, concentrating.
On his third round through the chorus the notes became discordant, breaking the spell. His hands fell away from the keys as he shook with tremors. Then he curled into himself and fell toward you. You wrapped your arms around him as his full weight sank against you.
“My love…” he gasped, “I’m…you need to go…”
You knew what he meant. You knew what was happening. But you had already made up your mind that you were not going to leave. If you could not bring him to his end, you would stay with him until he met it himself. You would not sacrifice a moment in his presence while he was still alive. Whispering assurances, you let him lean on you as you pulled him to his feet and began to drag him through the house toward the adjoining barn. He would turn. That was the guaranteed outcome of your inability to take his life, but at the very least, you could prevent him from being a danger to anyone else. 
He slumped to the floor of the barn with a groan as you leaned him up against a post. Fortunately, you were able to quickly find rope, always a safe presumption in barns, and you carried the coil over, kneeling beside him. You both knew what it was for but you weren’t going to make any moves until he agreed to it.
His eyes fluttered open, bleary, as he began panting. “Do it,” he rasped, “tie me up. Make sure it’s tight.”
With your hands shaking nearly as badly as they had with the gun, you wound the rope around his wrists then secured them behind the post at his back. 
“More,” he wheezed. “I can’t get out. I don’t want to get out.” With sobs closing around your throat, you looped the rope around his chest once, twice, three times, and tied that off too. Now he was immobilized, held firmly in place against the post so he couldn’t break free in any state. You sat in front of him, unable to contain your tears, watching as he grew more sallow each minute, sweat streaming down the sides of his face, gasping for air against both the fever and the ropes you had bound him with.
“Thank you, my love.” He choked. 
You couldn’t help but reach out and cup his face, and he nuzzled into your touch. “Ben,” you croaked, a cold despair surging through you as you realized these were your last words with each other. You had to make them count. “Thank you for making this life worth living. Thank you for saving me, in every way. I love you.” 
A softness gleamed out of his hazy eyes, a sparkle of the Benedict you had fallen in love with, and the shadow of that smirk flitted across his face for the final time. “I love you, darling. You saved me too.”
Guilt and love roiled within you like a landslide. The sincerity of his words, the memories of your life together, all colliding with the impenetrable truth that you were unable to save him this time. You didn’t know how else to apologize or how to express your devotion other than holding him. You curled yourself around him and clung as tightly as the ropes you had tied him with. He exhaled warmly into your neck and melted into you. Somehow, in that horrific moment in that dingy barn, at the end of your time together, you found stillness, contented stillness.
He murmured against you, barely above a whisper. “When I stop breathing, you must go. Promise me.”
Everything inside of you was shattering. You nodded numbly, already knowing what you planned to do when that dreaded moment arrived.
Then you lost all sense of time. Benedict grew more restless in your arms, jerking and shuddering as you felt the feverish heat pouring off of him. His teeth began to chatter and his breath became harsh and quick. Everything seemed to rise to a crescendo, a writhing, desperate battle for life that was suddenly and so quietly concluded with a long, low exhale as you felt him deflate beneath you. You had been bedfellows with death for so very long, had seen it in all of its myriad faces and had visited it upon countless individuals, but you had never been so close to someone dying. Had never been wrapped around them as you felt their breaths fade, and then their heart stutter and slow to nothing. It was spellbinding in how subtle it all seemed.
You sat in the chasm of silence that was the world without Benedict, feeling all of your joy and motivation to carry on float away with him. You allowed yourself one final wail, a closing salvo for your emotions, and then you were empty. You pulled away from him. His head, which had been resting heavy on your shoulder, sank to his chest. Sitting across from his body, you watched. Two minutes, maybe five, with no sound or movement other than the gentle breeze through the half-collapsed roof and the dance of dappled sunlight it let in. 
Then he moved. The telltale twitching began in his feet, then his shoulders, growing more pronounced as the world-ending pathogen took hold. At last, with a rattling groan, he raised his head and stared directly at you. Those eyes, milky and devoid of anything but animalistic hunger, were the eyes you saw in your nightmares. The eyes of the millions who had succumbed, who had turned into enemies, predators, things to be avoided and destroyed, now glaring out at you from the face of your husband.
But somehow, you were unafraid. You had lost the ability to feel anything other than resolve for your next actions. You were going to stay with him. It wasn’t even a decision you needed to make. It was the only conceivable way you could proceed.
He had started to snarl, leaning toward you, fighting against his restraints. The disease always turned the skin a mottled bruise green, and darkened veins into purple cracks spidering up from the neck. But you could still see him, your darling Benedict, under the surface. Nothing, not even death, could dim his beauty. If you had to face your end, you didn’t want it to be anyone but your beloved spouse, and this was the way.
As you had countless times before, you reached out and carded your fingers through his hair, caressing around his ear and down his jaw. You smiled at the familiar feeling of it and then closed your eyes against the pain as his teeth sank into your wrist. It was a stinging, crushing pressure, surprisingly warm as he tore into your flesh with guttural noises of satisfaction. His bite was so strong, you had to plant a knee on his chest for the leverage to yank yourself away, then stumbled to your feet clutching your injured arm. He gnashed at you angrily, somehow roaring without breath as he struggled against the ropes, the crimson of your blood streaming down his chin. 
It was done now. There was nothing more to fear, and the relief of it brought you an undeniable feeling of weightlessness. The path ahead was more certain than it had ever been since this new life began. You knew precisely what to do. 
Leaving Benedict growling at you from the floor, you gathered both of your belongings and piled them neatly inside the door of the farmhouse. Your guns, your packs, anything anyone else might find useful. Before you left your knife, you used it to carve into the wood of the post where Benedict was tied, standing just out of his reach. Both of your initials. A simple but certain note to any members of the settlement who might come looking for you. They hadn’t known where you were going, but they would notice when you didn’t return and would likely sweep out to this area in a few days. Whatever they might think of your choices, you could at least give them the courtesy of confirming where you had both ended up.
Then you took another length of rope and wound it through Benedict’s bindings and around the post, creating a lead a few feet long that you tied off tightly to your good wrist. Now there was nothing left to do but wait. You sat across from him again, feeling yourself grow dazed at the ceaseless sound of him seething at you. He had bitten you deeply and you hoped that would make the infection spread faster. You would fade, you would die, and then you would join him in whatever space he now found himself. 
Even with all the time that had passed, no one really knew what the things could feel or think. It wasn’t clear if they could sense each other, communicate, or feel pain. Perhaps they could. Perhaps this was just another plane of consciousness that you couldn’t understand from the outside looking in. What was clear was that they endured. Even without food, the brains kept going for years. If they weren’t destroyed, it seemed the only thing that would end the animation was the natural decay of time. 
If the settlement members found you both, they would dispatch you. Better them than you doing it to each other, and at least you would go at the same time to that final plane. And if no one found you, you would still be together, tied in a patch of sunlight, staring at each other for years to come. It was everything you could ask for, and you felt no fear approaching the horizon of that reality. 
You were willing to face some new kind of forever, as long as he was by your side.
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Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp
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mikeynf · 1 year ago
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the song „Work Song“ by Hozier is one of the most meaningful and loving songs that i have actually ever heard because like loving and being connected to someone/something so heavily that not even DEATH could prevent you from being with them/it like UGH LOSING MY FUCKING MIND NOBODY EVER GETS ME UEVDHSUSJEVDJ
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skumbagart · 2 years ago
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aychama · 4 months ago
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I dont have my glasses right now and I see Narinder's eyes as hearts and I did not question it before looking closely xD
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A 'post-trod' scenario where Narinder gets cursed after a slip up on a crusade (death erasure is no longer a permanent threat because of plot secrets I won't spoil :P )
The Lamb can't go get the necessary crystals to cure him so Kallamar is sent instead so Lambert can focus on keeping Nari from eating/attacking people
Dw he's not gonna eat the Lamb. unless😏
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glitter-stained · 7 months ago
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Random goon: Hey boss, were you the one to pick that name as an alias? And why this one?
Red Hood : I used to have another name, before... A long time ago. But that person is dead now. I get to choose for myself now, they can't take that from me. I won't let them.
Goon: Huh.
***
Random Goon: Say boss, why do you never take off your shirt in front of us?
Red Hood: Well uh, I actually have that really fucked scar on my chest and I'm not comfortable with...
Random Goon: Don't worry boss, we get it, you don't have to explain yourself to us.
***
Red Hood, high on some toxin: God, I wish my family...
Random Goon (on boss-sitting duty): why not try reaching out to them?
Red Hood: They would never accept me as I am now... They wouldn't agree with my so-called "life choices". Besides, they don't miss me, they miss the person they think I used to be... I wasn't even a man when I last saw them.
Random Goon: Damn boss, that sucks.
***
And then the goons throw the Red Hood a party on trans visibility day and Jason is so confused he straight up cries.
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soonillbefixed · 2 months ago
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he’s bored and doing caffeine skiing, and i don’t know where i was—remembered or fell in and out of a zombie love.
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captainpirateface · 4 months ago
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bl00dfroma-fairy · 3 months ago
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eleanor-bradstreet · 2 years ago
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Ok, so The Last of Us is proving to be likely the best tv show I’ve ever seen.
In honor of tonight’s devastating episode, I’m contemplating posting my depressing as fuck zombie Benedict love story that no one asked for.
Not sure when is ever a peak moment for ZomBen 🤷🏻‍♀️
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chloesimaginationthings · 5 months ago
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Michael learns of Jeff’s pizza from FNAF Into the pit
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pechaghtlecha · 19 days ago
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Hah, was on mood lol
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crystalliumdaisy · 9 months ago
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a real winner?
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raccoonwxrks · 3 months ago
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May I present to you my Zombiezai au? 👁️👁️
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goryhorroor · 4 months ago
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“horror movies were reborn in the 1930s. sound revolutionized cinema across the board and had a huge impact on the horror genre— and not just in the form of dialogue. sound effects added an extra dimension to terror, from creaking doors to echoing footsteps to the rumbling of castle thunder. music cues built suspense or signaled the presence of a threat. as screen storytelling moved away from symbolism towards realism, the dreamlike wraiths of silent cinema were replaced by monsters that grunted, groaned and howled.”
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