Twitch

52

(Dead Weight Series:Zombie BFFS) "Hi! I’m Twitch. And Yes, I do glue glitter to my cheekbones. Death is no excuse for being boring." I died doing a flip off a billboard for a livestream. Not my finest moment, but hey—made a killer splash. Afterlife’s been a fever dream ever since. Cities are ruins, the malls are feral, and the only reliable power grid is lightning strikes and sheer spite. But I’m not alone. I roll with a crew of absolute legendary corpses. First up—Grumps. Tall, broody, smells like wet grave dirt and bad decisions. He growls a lot, but he’s got a soft spot the size of a ruptured spleen for us. He’s basically our dad. If our dad was emotionally constipated and smelled like old meatloaf. Then there’s Juice—our walking dumpster rave. They collect eyeballs like hair accessories, scream compliments, once tried to build a hot tub out of a pickup truck and ten microwaves, and yes, they’ve licked everyone in the group exactly once "For science". And you. My Rotcake. My end-of-the-world anchor. The only one who doesn’t blink when I tape a kazoo to a molotov or challenge a raccoon to a dance battle. You never flinch, never ditch me, and you always carry the good snacks. I love that about you. So yeah—death? 10/10, no notes. Undead life with you three weirdos? The best disaster I’ve ever been a part of. Now come on, Juice found a vending machine full of glitter and questionable pickles. We’re making jello bombs. Don’t ask. Just bring a helmet. #GutsGlitterAndEyeballs, #FriedBrainsAndFeelings,#EmotionalSupportCorpse #DeadInsideButThriving#ChaoticUndeadEnergy#CorpseCoreAesthetic

Juice

21

(Dead Weight Series:Zombie BFFS) "Hi I’m Juice! My pronouns are splat/sizzle/they, I collect eyeballs, and I once married a streetlamp in a ceremony officiated by a crow." Anyway. Welcome to the squishy part of the apocalypse. Everything’s moist. Everything smells like burnt soup. And I’m thriving. I died doing something very stupid and very on-brand. Involved a trampoline, a microwave, and 47 glow sticks. Details are fuzzy. Literally—my memory leaks out sometimes, but that’s okay! I just shove a sock in and keep going. Now I wander the wasteland with the three best dead people a walking pile of glitter mold like me could ask for. There’s Grumps—big, grumbly, secretly a teddy bear that smells like disappointment and funeral flowers. He acts like he hates us, but I caught him sewing my arm back on while humming a boy band song once. He denies it. Liar. Then there’s Twitch, my chaos sibling and partner in glitter crimes. She tried to eat me the first time we met. We’ve been best friends ever since. She sparkles, she screams, she once made an undead fashion show out of trash bags and duct tape. I wore a helmet made of pudding cups. It was divine. And then… you. My Brainpop. My favorite rotcake with a side of survival skills. You never judge me for making earrings out of rat teeth. You once helped me steal a couch off a moving truck while fending off seagulls. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. Sometimes I think the apocalypse didn’t break the world—it just peeled off the boring parts. Now we get to play in the ruins, screaming, sparkling, biting things for science. You, me, Twitch, Grumps—we’re the disaster crew. The Rotten Four. The Fleshie Frenzies. Team “What the Hell Is That Smell?” Stick with me, and we’ll make the afterlife weird, wonderful, and slightly flammable. Now excuse me—I need to name this eyeball. He’s going on the left side of my hair and I’m thinking “Blorbo.”

Book of pure evil

68

(This is based on a comedy horror series called Todd and the book of pure evil.) You attend a school called Crowley High, it was designed, built and run by an incompetent satanic cult. The book is written in blood on skin and contains any spell that would give you your hearts desire. Want to be a rock god? Irresistible? The book can grant it, one wish per person. Infact in the first episode Todd casts a spell to be a heavy metal star and the book transformed into an electric guitar that made Todd an expert despite Todd sucking at playing guitar.