zombie-rott

[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

Brother: Three

Pairing: None.

Synopsis:

“Rain has fallen deep into the clutches of addiction. His life has spiralled out of control, crashing towards a crucial breaking point where he finds himself utterly alone, having pushed the clergy and his kin away. With no one left to turn to and nothing but regret weighing heavily on his heart, Rain is faced with a stark realization - he must confront his demons and seek forgiveness before it’s too late.”

Note:

Yup. Another broken, drug addict story. I have a kink, alright?

There he stood, on the edge of a razor. Feet balanced oh-so delicately along its blade. And if he were to fall, even ever so slightly, there wouldn't be a soul around to save him. He was lost, mind blurry and barely holding it together. Time melted into one string of events, stuck somewhere between consciousness, unconsciousness and complete dissociation. But the one thing that stood still was the need; The persistent and ever-present want for constant nothingness . A dreamless sleep or an endless void. Anything other than the feeling of being utterly and completely numb. 

A thin slither of light caught his eyeline through the bored-up window, spots exploding across his vision. Rain hissed and raised his arm to cover his face. 

For a moment he blinked, taking in the scents and shapes around him. Looking for a clue as to where the hell he was this time. The smell of weed and black tar hit the back of his throat and, suddenly and completely, a stone fell into the pit of his stomach.

Ah. Of course.  

All roads always led him back here. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he even thought otherwise. 

With a huff, Rain rolled over onto his back, tugging the thin blanket with him as he went. He closed his eyes, thinking about the last few months, his heart aching and a burn starting in his throat the deeper he went. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

~ Read Full on A03~

[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

nothing is worse than software that tells people when I’m online or when I read their message or when I’m typing something. I always want to be as unknowable in my silence as god

[zombie-rott]

I feel like someone is standing next to me talking about how I'm dead

[zombie-rott]

Brother: Two.

Pairing: None.

Synopsis:

“Rain has fallen deep into the clutches of addiction. His life has spiralled out of control, crashing towards a crucial breaking point where he finds himself utterly alone, having pushed the clergy and his kin away. With no one left to turn to and nothing but regret weighing heavily on his heart, Rain is faced with a stark realization - he must confront his demons and seek forgiveness before it’s too late.”

Note:

Yup. Another broken, drug addict story. I have a kink, alright?

Twenty-eight days later.  

Rain stumbled to his motel and climbed the stairs up the fourth floor, just beyond the busted ice machine and garbage chute. The place smelt of mould and mildew, and Rain was fairly certain someone had been murdered just two doors down. But it had a decent shower, a mattress to sleep on and somewhere safe to hide. And all for just eighty euros a night. What a steal . 

There was a note taped to the tarnished wood, handwritten in cursive Italian. A reminder to pay for another week of rent, or be out by noon on Friday. Rain groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. This was not the news he needed on a come down with nothing but fucking dust in his pockets.

With a growl, he ripped down the note and stormed into the room, the door slamming behind him. The room was just how he’d left it; bed unmade, floor in disarray and the sickly cloying scent of dope. 

With a shake of his head, Rain dropped his bag onto the floor and sat heavily on one of the dinghy wooden chairs. He doubled over, elbows balanced on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. From his last count, he’d maybe two hundred euros left in his bank account, enough to cover two more nights, but nothing beyond that. Then there was the small, persistent issue of food, cigarettes and drugs. You know, the essentials . Sure he’d managed to exchange a blowjob for a bag of dope behind a dive bar, but that was it. It’s barely enough to get a good high. And how could he expect to try (again) to get clean without one last hurrah? Only then could he rejoin society with no stone unturned. 

Maybe he could dry out and finally find his way back home. 

Stuck somewhere between a twilight high and a comedown, Rain unfurrowed a small bag from his pocket and went about preparing his final (definitely final) hit of heroin. He reached for his kit, kept securely in the inside pocket of his backpack, and tipped the supplies onto the table. The tourniquet was tied around his bicep, the needle sterilised with the flame of his lighter and the dope placed upon a grubby teaspoon, all with expert precision. 

Rain watched hungrily as the black substance began to whittle to nothing but liquid, the sweet smell spilling into the air. His began to shake as he waved the spoon above the flame, eyes focused on the bubbles and mind wandering to the prospect of giving it all up. 

He was miserable when he was sober, and while he was equally as miserable when high, it was masked by a sense of numbness and the fleeting sensation of euphoria. If this really was going to be his last hit (of smack, at least) then he needed to find a way to feel less like topping himself. Or, at the very least, find something less dangerous to snuff those feelings down. 

A burning in his fingers brought him back to reality and he replaced the lighter with his needle. The syringe was dipped carefully into the liquid and drawn up with the plunger before he went about the most awkward part of the whole process; finding a decent vein. He hadn’t many good ones left but his right arm was manageable with some effort. Sadly precision wasn’t something he had in his current condition, and the prick of the needle was jabbed in and out several times before he finally found a vein that was still holding it together. Barely.

~ Read Full on A03~

[zombie-rott]

One of my favorite genres of post

[zombie-rott]

day 1: bury your gays

charlie bradbury, our queen of moondoor and total badass who's still alive and kicking ass <3

[zombie-rott]

chrisschmelke: @radiocomusic A U S T I N @leica_camera #leicanoctilux Amazing show.. thanks for all the love.. ❤️ (x and x)

[zombie-rott]

Bonus: punkrock!Cas AU 

Visit this artist!!!!

http://l-a-m-o-n.deviantart.com/

She is also the one who did the infamous Mark of Cain gif art. Go look… RUN!

[zombie-rott]

robert sheehan in the new interview.

bonus closeup because I love the outfit and the hat:

[zombie-rott]

ROBERT SHEEHAN in Hot Ones Versus.

[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

sorry for thinking it's hot when men are experiencing the worst torment of their life. as if it's my fault

[zombie-rott]

Wake up bitch, its time to sin

[zombie-rott]

A couple of doodles of Klaus from the Umbrella Academy

Left one done in gouache and the right one is watercolors and inks

[zombie-rott]

Brother: One.

Pairing: None.

Synopsis:

"Rain has fallen deep into the clutches of addiction. His life has spiralled out of control, crashing towards a crucial breaking point where he finds himself utterly alone, having pushed the clergy and his kin away. With no one left to turn to and nothing but regret weighing heavily on his heart, Rain is faced with a stark realization - he must confront his demons and seek forgiveness before it's too late."

Note:

Yup. Another broken, drug addict story. I have a kink, alright?

There he stood, on the edge of a razor. Feet balanced oh-so delicately along its blade. And if he were to fall, even ever so slightly, there wouldn't be a soul around to save him. He was lost, mind blurry and barely holding it together. Time melted into one string of events, stuck somewhere between consciousness, unconsciousness and complete dissociation. But the one thing that stood still was the need; The persistent and ever-present want for constant nothingness. A dreamless sleep or an endless void. Anything other than the feeling of being utterly and completely numb. 

A thin slither of light caught his eyeline through the bored-up window, spots exploding across his vision. Rain hissed and raised his arm to cover his face. 

For a moment he blinked, taking in the scents and shapes around him. Looking for a clue as to where the hell he was this time. The smell of weed and black tar hit the back of his throat and, suddenly and completely, a stone fell into the pit of his stomach.

Ah. Of course. 

All roads always led him back here. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he even thought otherwise. 

With a huff, Rain rolled over onto his back, tugging the thin blanket with him as he went. He closed his eyes, thinking about the last few months, his heart aching and a burn starting in his throat the deeper he went. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He thought about the last tour he took with his bandmates. They'd been across America this time with a few new additions in tow. Hell, they’d even even filmed a show in Los Angeles! Imagine that!? Ghouls on the big screen. 

But it was all a blur. 

If Rain was honest with himself, the tour had been the most difficult that he’d ever experienced. He was addicted before then, of course he was. But if you’d have asked, he’d have denied even having a slight substance habit. An addiction? No way! 

In reality, Rain had struggled to maintain even a relative level of sobriety. He smoked more cigarettes than ever just to stay fucking clean. While around him he smelt weed and alcohol and, on more than one occasion, spied cocaine being shared among the roadies. It wasn't uncommon and in fact, it was among them that Rain found himself drawn down the dark path towards what he'd become. And while the rest of the pack were known for their tolerance and even encouragement of substances, none of them had fallen quite like Rain had in the last few months; Head first into the hard stuff, and hell-bent on getting it. 

His first taste was a little over a year ago, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, and suddenly he was waking up on a dirty mattress in a town he didn't quite recognise. 

He sat upright, ignoring the dizziness and nausea. It was a slow shamble to get himself sat upright, and despite rearranging himself several times, comfort kept coming up short. It was too cold, then it was too hot. His bones dug into the floor through the deflated bedding, and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. 

With a groan, he slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. He needed another fix. Just one more little hit to get him back to his motel room. 

One more couldn’t hurt, right? 

An abrupt smash drew Rain out of his intoxicated daydream just enough to lift his head from his palms. Through hooded eyes, he glanced briefly around the room, taking in its stripped walls and rough, wooden floorboards. The wind whistled through the slats across the windows, small fragments of broken glass crashing to the floor. For the first time, Rain realised he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a dusty pair of pants. Not even his feet were covered. 

He tried to think back to what month it was, or at least the time of year. Last he recalled it was the middle of spring, the sun shining. And yet everything around him was shrouded in cold; the building, the blankets, and especially the people. 

~ Read Full on A03~