#teratophobic

[conspicuousconductor-blog]

teratophobic is trying to board the train!

Oh boy, it seemed there was no end to living beings trying to get on board Viator's train. What in the heck were people doing out so late in the night anyways? Didn't most usually sleep at this hour?

Either way, that didn't stop him from casually walking up behind the other and leaning down to tap his shoulder to get his attention. "Sir, I hate to say it but I don't think this is a train you wish to be on."

[teratophobic]

[sawrunner-blog]

✎ if im not too late omg

[hopelessly--bound]

Friends 'Til The End

The younger tossed the sleeping bag on the floor of the rotten apartment the redhead had brought them to for safety. It had been...it'd been quite a while since the world had gone to shit. They weren't counting the days anymore after the fungal outbreak. The night of the end, David had bust into Simon's room through the window, panting and yelling for him to wake up before throwing some anything useful he could grab into Simon's school bag. He dragged the younger out the door of his home in Kirkville and raced to his car where they drove until the last drop of gas.  "...Hey..Did you eat yet? I'm...I'm kinda hungry..." 

[thedeadarecoming-blog]

He falls back into the apartment, blood stained on his face, his jacket being the only thing that has concealed the blood that rests against his chest.

"It's done."

[thedeadarecoming-blog]

"Can you calm down--?"

[hopelessly--bound]

End of Chapter 11, The Black Day

Time froze that cold night as Simon Henriksson stood up from where he had been crouching on the sidewalk near a injured elderly man.  Caught like a deer in the headlights, quite literally, Simon's body was glued to the spot. This is how it would end. The frosted air blew against his cheeks as he watched in horror and as if stuck in slow motion, covered his face. It would all end, not by his own hand and certainly to no control of his own. After having done so much to try and regain control over his pathetic life, this is how it would really end. In a hit-and-run car crash. The clock ticked once more and Simon was smashed into the brick wall by the speeding silver Mercedes. His head bounced from the wall behind him and on to the hood of the car below. It was all too much at once, as the clock raced forth, the pain ran along with it like roaring flames up from his waist, to his stomach, and into his throat. At that moment, he couldn't think or even scream as he lay against the still firey hood of the car. His whole body was in total shock as blood trickled down from his scalp leaving a warm tingle on down to his forehead. The raven haired boy began to breath erratically, whimpering and struggling to cope with the pain that was now beginning to strangle him.  How did this...How... Why... He blinked a few times and began to cough to copper taste up from his lungs. B-Breathe, Simon... if you hyperventilate like this... you'll never see who did this when you pass out...  Maybe it was adrenaline or maybe he wasn't that badly hurt after all, but Simon's gloved hands pushed against what might be his death bed to get a look at the driver who had just unlocked the door and was stumbling from their seat. He had to know who did this...even if he could never do a thing about it.