whoop whoop zombies

There are three cardinal rules for survival. One: Avoid large groups. They will get you killed, one way or another. Two: know your surroundings and be as quiet as you can. And three: there’s a chance you can die today. So always, ALWAYS, watch your back.

a zombie apocalypse mix. ( made for outbreak: the zombie groupverse. )


the beginning * john murphy.  /  the 2nd law * muse.  /  stranger in a strange land * 30 seconds to mars.  /  half the man * methodic doubt.  /  battlefield 4 theme * battlefield 4.  /  welcome to lunar industries * clint maswell.  /  is there anyone out there * delta rae.  /  eyes wide open * gotye.  /  harder to breathe * maroon 5.  /  silhouettes * avicii.  /  night of the hunter * 30 seconds to mars.  /  omen * the prodigy.  /  get out alive * 3 days grace.  /  all we have * anberlin.  /  skulls * bastille.  /  lose your soul * dead man’s bones.  /  come away to the water * maroon 5.  /  hurricane * 30 seconds to mars.  /  oh death * noah gundersen.  /  in the house * john murphy.  /  sleep paralysis * gabriel bruce.  /  gleypa okkur * olafur arnalds.  /  the parting glass * ???

                                    ╳  LISTEN .

wrap your arm around me - a parivan fanfic

it’s 11 pm and i’m supposed to do my homework but here i am, whoop whoop.

summary: zombie is feeling a little insecure about himself - thank god cassie sullivan exists in his life.

it was one of those days when he  feels like he should’ve died in the first wave. he sighs, knowing that that was such a weak thing to say. why didn’t he die in the first wave anyway? what did he do to deserve being here – when there are probably much more stronger people out there – who are probably dead now anyway but nevertheless are stronger than ben parish himself.

he looks around him. ringer. she deserves to be here – she’s strong, she doesn’t care about what anybody else thinks, she’s true to herself (he was just another high school boy trying to please everyone but himself). teacup. she’s young but she’s strong in a way ben really can’t explain. dumbo.(everybody needs to be like dumbo, why would anyone be like ben?)

sam. he smiles softly as he stares at the young brunette boy who’s currently in the middle of a dream. how did he manage to survive being in the squad when he knew his sister was out there looking for him – being targeted by a lot of people? how did he manage to still smile even when everything’s dull?

and him. ben parish.

what’s so special about ben parish anyway? nothing.

that’s why he’s dead now, he says bitterly to himself. ben parish is dead. i’m zombie now. (an improved version of ben parish – except he doesn’t care. he doesn’t have anyone to please now, except for these little people in his life.)


zombie turns around, finding a cassie sullivan smiling at him like he’s the entire world.

“hey,” he smiles back a little, trying to lift himself up to a sitting position. cassie smiles again, sitting next to him. “why are you still up?”

“eh, i don’t know. i’m not really used to sleeping together like this,” she answers timidly, smiling at him with her soft smile. “why are you still up?” she nudges him with her shoulder.

he shrugs. he really doesn’t know. “wondering why i’m still here now,” he says. he doesn’t expect cassie to understand, but something about cassie sullivan soothes him and he feels like he could tell her anything.

“because you’re strong,” cassie responds smoothly, scooting closer to him as she speaks. “why are you asking yourself that kind of question?”

“i don’t know,” he mutters. “it’s like – what am i good at? i feel like i don’t belong here, cass. like, there are probably people out there – dead by now, but they’re probably the ones who deserved to be here. not me.”

“ben parish,” cassie shakes her head and she laughs. she fucking laughs at him. zombie looks at her in astonishment. “you are one of the stupidest people i’ve ever known in my life.”

“wait – what?” he’s too speechless to say anything.

“you really think that you don’t deserve to be here?” she says softly. he nods and she laughs again at him. “well i have one thing to say, ben parish. bullshit.” he gaps at her, and before he could make up a sentence, cassie beats him to it.

“like i said, you’re probably one of the most strongest people here, ben. you practically lost everyone you care about but you didn’t break. in fact, you got stronger. i don’t hink i could do that if sam left me as well,” cassie laughs bitterly. “look, maybe you don’t feel like you matter but you know someone who knows that you do?”

“who?” he asks again. he doesn’t trust his voice when his stomach is making all these flips that he doesn’t need.

“me,” cassie turns back, not really meeting his eyes as she continues, “i already know that ever since the beginning.”

he doesn’t know what to say. he really doesn’t. his stomach is making really weird flips and his face is warm. everything suddenly feels warmer, and he’s glad that it’s all because of cassie sullivan.

without saying a word, he reaches out for her shoulders, and pull her closer to him. he shocks himself when he starts to wrap both his arms around her. it had been a while since he last hugged someone, and it feels nice to do it again to someone he cares about. “thanks,” he mutters close to her ears.

“you’re welcome,” cassie says back. he doesn’t need to move to know that she’s smiling right now. she’s warm, so instead of pulling away, he pulls her closer than before, and she melts against him, knowing it’s okay to and that he wouldn’t mind.

(he really doesn’t mind. in fact, he could’ve stay in that same position all day if he could)

“hey cassie?”

“yeah ben?” they’re still hugging each other – none of them looking like they’re going to make a move and pull away any second now.

“i’m glad.”

“for what?”

“i’m glad that i survived. or else i wouldn’t be here hugging you like this.” and he’s also glad and thankful for the beautiful sound that’s coming out of her mouth after he said it.

p.s sorry for the terrible grammar i hope you enjoyed this

Faberry Week

  • Day two: Zombie Apocalypse 

Quinn’s back is turned from her. It ridiculous how cliche it is, really. If she tried really hard, she could hear the friend group all huddled around the one big bowl of butterscotch popcorn calling at the T.V screen, at her, not to do it. But from the corner of her eye, she can see her hand raising, as if by it’s own accord. It almost makes her laugh because it reminded her of a Youtube video that Santana had shown her; Alien Hand Syndrome or something of the like. It was rather humorous. And completely irrelevant. It was a time before now, a time before the greater East coast had been ravished by the KFS-8 virus.

“Quinn…?" No answer. Was she expecting one? 

Her hand is almost level with Quinn’s shoulder, a fingertips breath away. Of course the electricity has never gone away, it’s still there, even in the lightless times they live in now - there is always that connection. It comforted her, that something remained, even in amongst the rubble of their former lives. Dread is a heavy emotion, it’s an obese leprechaun that sits directly on your chest and does a little jig. It’s uncomfortable and it makes her palms sweaty. Quinn shifts a little, her shoulders clench inwardly, as if she were trying to hold in a sneeze.

Her fingers graze the soft red material of Quinn’s cheerios uniform, it was darker shade than she remembered. In another world, Rachel would have ran. She would have pushed Quinn forward, giving her enough time to… To what? Prolong the inevitable, maybe. In another world, the virus would have been contained. Heck, in another world the virus wouldn’t have existed. In an ideal world, Quinn’s mother wouldn’t have met with her beau from the Upper East Side at Leaping Lima Motel, they wouldn’t have have fornicated in the cockroach infested building, she wouldn’t have had to hold him as he came down with the first symptoms of KFS-8; shivering, bloodshot eyes, vomiting. Quinn’s mother wouldn’t have hit her with the tasting spoon she had just licked the cake mix from. Second wave of symptom: aggression, restlessness, profuse sweating. Quinn wouldn’t have obtained the cut on her cheek. Quinn would have…

It was surprising how tenderly Quinn bit into her. Se sobbed as she did so. Not outwardly, but her eyes, that weren’t really her eyes, they screamed pain. The nails that tore down her front stung, but she knew that Quinn was holding back - even then, even has the virus pumped viciously through her veins she was fighting. Who knew a zombie could be gentle, who knew a zombie could…no, not love. That was too human. Who knew a zombie could care. In another world Rachel would have ran, but in that world, she wouldn’t have been with Quinn. And even if she were a fleshing eating shadow of her former self, no greater pain would it be than to live in a world without Quinn.