#and if you do i can't imagine you would actually read it

[perf3ct-everything]

January 6th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I finished re-reading The Odyssey- the Lattimore translation. The original Greek still gives me a headache, it seems. I'll have to get some more practice in. Still, there's something refreshing about returning to the barest classics. There was war and monsters and fear in Homer's time, and there still is now, thousands of years later. It's oddly comforting. I think I'll read some Shakespeare tomorrow- or maybe I'll go through some old mythology. Norse, maybe, although I do think a comedy would be nice. I will have to keep up with my Greek studies eventually, though, headaches won't do.

-

January 7th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I ended up going with Shakespeare. I feel a little guilty- but what a classic Shakespeare is! I read through Much Ado About Nothing and A Midsummer Night's Dream, of course, but there's also a little humor to be found in tragedies like Macbeth. Saying the name of the play Macbeth used to be bad luck, if I remember that old biography correctly- maybe I'll dig that out soon. What section...

Yes, here it is- they "referred to it as 'The Scottish Play', for fear of a curse descending upon the production". It's funny, clearly irrational behavior, but I can't say I don't understand being a little superstitious, ha! All that history, all the productions, it makes sense why actors were so superstitious. Shakespeare truly changed the world. What a visionary!

-

January 10th, 2185 86

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

Time seems to have slipped away from me a bit. Nothing of importance has happened, anyway- I think I went through some history, nonfiction. Then read some Tolstoy. Fairy tales. Nonfiction again. It's funny, I can't seem to get immersed in anything today. Maybe some more history- ancient Rome, perhaps?

-

January 10th, 2146

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

Ancient Rome was a great choice! I'm feeling much better. I'd forgotten about the contributions of Caesar, it's been so long...

Maybe I should read more nonfiction.

-

Januaryy 1

I am the last librarian on Earth. I am the last The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of he humanity humanity in a hidden vault. I wait insde for the day they are ready open the door. I wait inside for the day they open the door. I waiting I wai

-

January 24th, 2186

Nonfiction was a fantastic choice! Although, I have to admit I'm missing some of the comforts of fantasy. Currently, I'm reading a book surrounding a famous band, The Beatles. It's rather fascinating. The author notes some of the controversy surrounding them and the longstanding impact on pop culture, as well as some of the more understated aspects of their music. What a life, I imagine! To have a career so short and a legacy so long... Truly fascinating. Did you know they recorded nearly two-hundred original songs? Incredible!

-

January 25th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I seem to have forgotten my instructions in the last entry- maybe that explains my nightmare last night. I think I should move to some lighter fiction today.

Maybe I'll put on an old DVD, actually. Yes, that sounds nice. I think there's some chocolate in the back of the storeroom.

-

January 26th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I finally went back and read my last few entries. I should have caught myself when I wrote the year '46. Oh well.

I looked through the computer, as well. It seems I read halfway through one of the books on the list on the 12th. I don't have any memory of that. Those warnings are useless if I'm not seeing them- maybe there's a way I could make them more obvious?

I had a good day yesterday, though. I haven't watched any movies in a while, but I think it was good to go to that section... maybe I should have saved the cake for my next important birthday, though, ha.

Thank goodness I wrote down some of the more helpful psychology books. Let's put this behind us.

-

Jan 2186 3 I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door. I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door. I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door. I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door. I am the last librarian on

-

February 11th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I don't want to write today.

-

February 13th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

Tomorrow is Valentine's day. In preparation, I've decided to go through some of the great romances! It's been difficult to choose. I think I have to include some Jane Austen, right? Hm. Classics are so dry sometimes.

Perhaps I could throw in one of my old favorites- It'd be disrespectful to label an entire genre as childish simply because of its accessibility, and as the last librarian I have a duty to-

Oh, who am I kidding. Why not be a little self indulgent, anyways? I don't have to defend myself. There's no one here to judge me.

-

February 14th, 2186

I ended up reading Frankenstein today. Ironic, isn't it? I really enjoyed it, though. That and what I dug out of an old box yesterday. Cutesy, magical, fairies and things, you know. I'm almost embarrassed- at myself, I mean, I shouldn't be ashamed to read something that makes me happy. And holding one of my personal copies of something felt nice, even if they're a little worn.

I don't think I've actually gone after anything that I used to love in a long, long time. It can be a little painful, so I understand why. I wonder if it'd be helpful, though.

Or maybe it'd just make things worse.

I'm glad I read Frankenstein today instead of a romance. Mary Shelley is truly an admirable author.

-

February 16, 2185

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I decided to put on an old nature documentary today. Soothing, calming. Yesterday I read through a surprisingly thorough book on turtles. It sent me on a rabbit hole- I even read some old theses. I remember being in college. Best years of my life! Although I am grateful I don't have to deal with Professor Goldson anymore.

So I've just been reading everything I can get my hands on regarding turtles! They're adorable, I'd nearly forgotten what they looked like. Did you know seawater and freshwater turtles are less related by a common ancestor than dogs and wolves? By an incredible margin, too. Fascinating! They're such fun creatures.

-

February 17th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

Shipment from the outside today. I wonder if they still remember what it's for? Maybe it's just a list to them, now. It's been such a long time...

Ah, I should stop that. Let's see- I finally did go back and do some studying of ancient Greek! I did stumble across some Egyptian, though, and it took me ten minutes to parse it... I'll have to add it to my to-do list, I guess. Haha.

-

February 19th 18th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

Studying languages has been exhausting. I haven't gotten any sleep. Maybe that's the reason the Korean I'm reading is looking blurry?

-

February 19th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I seem to have written the date wrong yesterday. I went back and corrected it. Today's the nineteenth, of course. I think I was just tired. I'm reading Korean fine now.

You know, it's funny, I don't actually think I remember what my first language is. Not English, that's certain, I remember learning that well enough. But I can't seem to recall what my original language was.

I mean, I must have been three at the time. Of course I don't remember. My entire childhood was just a constant bombardment of languages, after all. Maybe I shouldn't hav

-

February 20th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

I am the last

I'm hallucinating again. I think. Yes, I am, right, I don't think I'm going to remember where the desk is tomorrow. Sorry.

-

There's something there please I can't do this anymore you have to stop take me back I can't I can't you have to listen to me what are you doing stop you're not there what am I

-

February 25th, 2186

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

...Well. That was... Something. I need to stop reading horror before bed, haha. I get so scared! It's such a silly fear. A hundred years, you'd think I'd have grown out of it.

I think I need to read some contemporary fiction again! Oh, or maybe some manuals. I should go through the computer again.

-

February 29th

Ah, contemporary fiction was... Not the best choice. Maybe I need to go back to the classics. Something refreshingly old. The Odyssey, maybe? I did go back and study some Ancient Greek a while ago.

-

March 8th

Keeping up this pretense is tiring. Who am I even doing it for? I'm the only one who reads these. I sound so obnoxious in all of them, too.

I wish I could talk to someone again.

-

I'm so tired. I can't remember where the desk is. I've just been carrying this with me, but I

-

Get out of my head.

-

I think I'm hallucinating. I don't know. Where did I put my headphones? I can't remember. It's hurting my ears.

-

How could I forget the most important part? I've got to remember it. My instructions. Remember. Why do you keep writing without them. Don't you find comfort in them. Don't you know that's why you write in the first place. Write the damn words, you moron, do you want to go insane? Here, in case you don't remember later, because of course you won't:

I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. I wait inside for the day they are ready to open the door.

And the date is April 21st, 2186. This should be easy.

-

"Are you sure this thing works?"

"If it didn't, I'd have failed at a part of my job. Keeping everything in good working order is-"

"-Right, right. Sorry."

A hand pushes the cover out of the way.

There are two people looking at the camera. One has short brown hair, haphazardly cut, and a scrunched brow. The other is checking the settings, frowning- his hair is black, long and a little too thin. He has a white button-up with a history of wrinkles.

The one with black hair turns to the other, "Alright. Thanks for agreeing to this. I know it's all a bit irrational-"

"No, I don't mind," the short-haired one looks like he is going to say something more, but then he doesn't. He smiles.

"Alright," the other man brushes some hair out of his face. He takes in a breath, straightening-

"The date is June first, twenty-one eighty-six. Today, I am one-hundred and twenty-seven years old."

"It's your birthday? I didn't know that."

"Oh, I... Didn't think it was important to mention. I mean, I only really celebrate on the tens and fives, now."

"That's sad, though!" The other man frowns. "Wait, you're one-hundred and-"

"-Moving on," The man clears his throat.

"...Okay, but we're celebrating after this." The other mutters quietly, "one-hundred and twenty-seven..."

"If you insist," He straightens again, nearly coughing when he clears his throat for the second time.

"Where was I- right. A couple of days ago, I made this entry in my journal: 'I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. Today, someone knocked on the door- and they brought a book.'"

"That's me," The other chimes in, leaning further into frame.

The librarian swats him away, feigning annoyance.

"Yes, yes. That's you. So, anyways, I think that journal entry is a fairly good way to start things off."

The other man smiles cheekily. He has dark brown skin and dimples when he smiles.

The librarian continues, "For the past ninety-eight years, I've been alone. I had thought that humanity had long since descended into archaic, illiterate anarchy. It's what I was taught. However, it seems that I was mistaken."

"More than that. They should have come back for you, Keith. I can't believe-" he frowns.

"It can't be helped. They did what they thought was best," The librarian crosses his arms, closing his eyes.

The other man turns to the camera, face blank. "This place was created as a copy of all humanity's knowledge, in case the upcoming cataclysm completely destroyed society. They haven't managed to yet, though, and nobody thought to check on Kieth- who, by the way, is still a human being who wasn't meant to-"

"The chance of civilization continuing to the degree it did was approximately 0.01 percent!" The librarian crosses his arms. "And I was supposed to be able to handle much longer-"

"It was still messed up!"

The librarian takes a breath. He purses his lips.

"I spent a couple years collecting recipes from normal, everyday people. My grandma thought I should try and contribute it to the Alexandria Vault. I didn't realize there was a submission process-"

"It hasn't worked in years."

"-Which is why I ended up coming inside." He finishes. "I'm Bailey Knight, for the record."

"You're skipping over a ton of details."

"Are they that important?"

"...Not really," Keith sighs. "We can always add them later."

"You're so particular."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't-" Bailey stops. He closes his eyes, sighing, and then opens them again.

Keith collects himself, taking in a breath. "I'm going to be in and out of the Vault, now. I figured it'd be important to have an explanation recorded, just in case someone stumbled upon it."

"And for your Almighty Record," Bailey grins.

"It's important! Writing things down is important. How else am I supposed to keep track of-"

"Hey. You're not alone anymore."

The librarian blinks.

"Right, well- anyways, it's important-"

"-Of course."

"And that's the end of the recording. Thanks again, sorry."

"Again, no problem. What do you want to eat tonight? Wait, that's right, we're celebrating- do you like cake?"

The librarian smiles. His teeth are all straight, except the front two, which are crooked. "I've got a request, actually-"

The video ends.

"I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. Today, someone knocked on the door—and they brought a book."

[etherealrin]

꩜ .ᐟ blue.

summer 2006.

you know, you and satoru both do, that you're not supposed to be enjoying it this much. this whole beach trip in okinawa, all of this sightseeing—none of it was really for your pleasure nor enjoyment.

riko amanai looks at you thoughtfully. "something up?"

"nope! let's keep going!" you fake a smile, dragging her back towards the shoreline where the ocean was ravaging the sand.

"eek! it's cold!" the black haired girl cries, cringing at the sensation. you'd have to agree, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

out of the blue, you're both rudely splashed by a truckload of the frigid water.

"SATORU!" you exclaim, turning to stare at the white haired male, currently sniggering with glee. suguru stands next to him, an obvious accomplice by the sight of the huge dragon which had caused the wave.

"you'll never get us, losers!" the two boys had run too far along the seashore for you and riko to have any hope of catching—and even if you did, satoru would surely turn on his infinity.

not that he'd turned it off since leaving riko's school. you can sense it in his eyes, how they're just a little bit duller. he must be dead exhausted underneath that facade, you know it.

his gaze catches yours, and as if by fate's intention, suguru and riko are called away by kuroi, leaving the two of you alone. you walk to him, sand shuffling under bare toes. satoru is oddly quiet, eyes never leaving you for even a second.

"you gonna stop staring? it's a bit awkward for me, y'know?" you lightly punch his arm when you finally reach him, sighing.

"it's weird, isn't it? to feel this normal. gives me a bad premonition, actually." his fingers are fidgeting at nothing in the air, now looking up at the blueness of the sky.

you're standing shoulder to shoulder but it feels like there's an impossible distance between you two. he seems distant, lost in the world of his own thoughts somewhere far away.

"what are you thinking about?" you question softly. "i know you might believe you have to handle everything by yourself, because you're the strongest or whatever, but that's just your superiority complex talking." that gets a chuckle out of him. but he still doesn't feel like the satoru you know.

"what i'm thinking about, huh?" he falters, pale hair ruffled by the salty breeze of air. you swear you can hear both his and your heartbeats, drumming in sync. "i'm thinking—well, imagining, that we fell in love on a day just like this, by the ocean."

when the words leave his lips, you suddenly see it. everything he imagines, you want to believe so badly.

"is that what you wish for? that we were regular humans?"

"sometimes." it's a confession from the strongest. "but mostly no. i'd hate to be weak," he feigns disgust in an attempt to joke.

you can't stop the smile from spreading across your face, reaching both hands out to capture one of his. satoru stiffens immediately, impossibly blue eyes widening.

so he did turn off his infinity for you.

"it's alright. like you said, you're the strongest, right?"

the glimmer of the ocean's waves reflect across his face, painting him aquamarine. the moment is so blue, in both emotion and color.

if you could have said it then, you would have told him instead that he could leave his heart with you. you'd keep it safe for him, and your love wouldn't ever falter. that the universe would always bring you two back together.

but you don't. you can't, knowing that if something ever happened to the either of you it would only hurt even more.

instead, you allow him to rest his head against you, quietly praying to a higher that everything would be okay, listening to the soft splashes of the water.

a/n: this is the beach scene in hidden inventory yes! gojo art is by @ shachi0515 on yt!

ılılılılılılı now playing: blue by yung kai, blue by keshi (do we sense a theme here?)

masterlist. can be read as a continuation of this fic!

[tiramissyoucake]

omgg i love how reader is trying to postpone having kids trying to act all casual while panicking from the inside so smart but now i’m curious about mark and reader having an actual kid!!

how mark would be as a father? especially during pregnancy and labour, i just know that reader will be mortified rip😭😭 i also imagine a kiddo being an absolute carbon copy of mark lol like reader is basically just a printer so baby and their dad are basically just twins (same eyes, nose and everything) OR WHAT ABOUT ACTUAL TWINS?? omg imagine having not one but two lil copies of mark running around i would’ve lost my mind fr

love ur works<33 i started watching invincible after reading one of your works about mark:)

anon is referring to this post ! thank you !! i appreciate it <3 Probably raises them in a way that doesn't shield them from the truth of Viltrum origins or nature. if he could, he wants as many as possible. he wants a legacy, most of them being close in age given he can't keep his hands off you especially after the first child, you gave him heirs, you may as well be his god. I imagine being pregnant with a Viltrumite of all things would be... yikes, luckily his word is law so you're catered to all the time, he stays with you way more. he could hear about you almost tripping and would go straight home from a business trip. you don't know if its genetics or anything of the sort but the child's powers kick in faster than expected, the baby you used to cradle and presume was just as helpless as you when it came to Mark now stands at the same pedestal as their father, Mark knows you'd feel left out so he plans a lot of family related things, bringing you to safe barren planets for flying practice or general training and letting you watch (he knows Viltrumite strength and resilience is high but he doesn't want to hurt them, he knows his own strength so he would hold back). I do agree that they would look more like Mark than reader, if those genetics make the powers appear faster then DEF they'd look more like him. Your child can't help but notice how sad you are, whenever you thought no one was looking, whenever you thought you were alone, there's a distant look in your eye that wanted something else. it always seeps away too quickly the moment you take note of someone else's presence, especially Mark's as for the amount of children, twins is such a good idea!! but I am thinking of an eldest son -> twins (idk gender yet) -> first daughter -> second son. as always, don't hesitate to tell me what ya'll think

[wyervan]

I love your slasher boys, it's so cute that people put their y/ns and ocs into your au, it also makes me laugh a lot. Like an idea the boys have the while gang of various people and non human beings being on their side. Like a little support group, and boys are do confused that so many people not only accepted them, but kinda? Hides them from the police? Gives them a reading from tarot? Gives them info about another rulebreaker? Kinda just chills with them? I love this universum lol

But I got a little confused and can't find the answers so If you would tell me I would be so happy! Because of how many ocs were added by people to au, what is canon after all? Is there some canon Y/n for slasher boys? Love you!

I don’t blame you at all for being confused 😆 Maybe I should put smth on the masterpost about it. Gotta update that thing anyway.

I think @/sinister-sincerely put it concisely as “DCA Slasher AU multiverse” which made me laugh but it’s accurate to how I conceptualize the AU now.

When I first started sharing art and blurbs, it was a very simple one y/n kinda situation. Y/N was also more of a “blank-slate” type, at least in personality. When I posted their character sheet on the first yapathon about the AU, I also threw out there that I would love to see other people’s versions of “Final Girl y/n,” not having any idea how much people would actually fly with it 🤩.

And they didn’t just create reskins of my y/n—people were making or adapting y/ns and ocs with a whole host of unique characteristics and backgrounds. AND adding details like locations or other characters to the world of the AU! Really adopting the slasher AU as their own. Still makes me giddy to think about 🖤.

All the creativity inspired me to go back and flesh out my y/n character “Star.” I thought to myself “well, everybody else is making such distinctive characters, why don’t I have fun with it too?” I wrote a little more about them here but still have plenty more yet to share publicly. For the purposes of any future long-form story I write, Star will be the one and only y/n character. To answer your question directly, in my version of the AU (the original dca slasherverse naught I guess lololol 😝) the “canon” y/n is Star.

BUT! I like to play around! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I like to draw other people’s characters with Smoon, imagine scenarios where the arcade has a whole cast of personalities. It’s so much fun to explore all the different dynamics, the what-ifs, and see how things play out! And I continue to encourage people to do the same! This AU is a sandbox for people to play in (a visual friend @/happysaddca has put in my head multiple times). I just put the sand there ☺️.

[luli-lads]

World Underneath — Fractal Library Q&A: Breakdown and Theories

This story raised so many questions for me... I felt the need to do an analysis. So, let's go! (Long post ahead)

Preface

It's important to note that when Infold released this update, it came with a corresponding social media post, of which I will just show the part relating to this story:

As you can see, it's stated that this story is related to Zayne. It's important to keep this in mind as he himself isn't mentioned by name in it.

Although, we still could've known it was about him by a few things, it's good to have certain confirmation.

Also, it's helpful to have read The Foreseer's myth, Master of Fate's myth and Dawnbreaker's anecdote before continuing, because although I will give reminders about key elements, the full picture is lost if you don't know what I'm talking about.

What is the Fractal Library?

It's not actually a library in the strict sense, because it doesn't necessarily have books. Let's explore this.

I think the concept of 'fractal' wasn't explained neatly enough in the story, so let me provide more on that. Taking this definition from google:

A fractal is a shape that when you take the shape apart into pieces, the pieces are the same or similar to the whole.

You know a good example of a fractal? A snowflake. (Yeah... Yeah.) Snowflakes have this shape -> ❄️. And guess what it looks like when you put it under a microscope. You get many tiny ❄️ put together. A meta-shape.

Now, back to the library itself. It's not clear what the things in the library are, because they're almost Schrodinger's books in the sense that sometimes they are books, and sometimes they're not. As the administrator tells a kid,

"A lot of the things here aren't what you'd call books, but let's call them 'books' for the sake of convenience. [...] When you want to read them, they'll take on a form that's easy for you to understand. Books are the ideal medium. But if you prefer cartoons, that works too."

Sorry, admin, but I don't think 'books' is the best term for them. They're more like windows. Windows to a different universe, a parallel universe, that can appear as books.

So, what's fractal about these 'books'? As they explain, every book is an entire universe. Except, all the books are the same universe, with slight changes. If you put every book together, you'd get every single possibility that could occur in the universe; what if you took the train? what if you went by foot? what if you didn't go at all? Each its own universe. Stories growing upon themselves with each little decision, like fractals, stories inside stories.

Do you recall any other books in the game that let you experience a parallel universe in a non-book-restricted way? That's right, the books in the Tower of Thorns. They teleported MC inside them and let her experience the contents for herself.

And this is just the beginning of the connections with The Foreseer.

I can't imagine how big the Library must be, to contain all of that (except I can, and we have pictures).

Read the image's alt text <3

Who is the Library's administrator?

That is, the person telling us all of the information about it in the story. I have a wild theory about this one.

First, we can deduce that this person might be on the older side (older, not meaning 'old') since they've gone through more than 6 jobs "over the years" before settling as the administrator. They also used to travel a lot.

Much like Zayne, they also like sweets. This could be a mere coincidence, but it's strange that they pointed that out. I think it was done as a way to further emphasize their connection to Zayne. However, their personality is much more cheerful and open.

I would have to get feedback from people who can read this in other languages, but there is no mention to their gender.

Right. So, putting all of this together, who do I think it is?

Jas. Or, at least, the version of Jas in the current timeline.

If you remember, in the Foreseer's myth there's a sentient ice cluster named Jas, who mainly stays in the library to help her and Zayne reach the higher rows of books by lifting them in ice platforms.

When MC asks about its origin, Zayne confirms that he didn't create it. Jas simply exists.

So Jas is its own entity that simply looks after the library inside the Tower of Thorns (among other things). And the administrator is their own person that simply looks after the Fractal Library.

This one is more speculation than anything, but it would be nice to see Jas again, wouldn't it?

Who is the person on the other side of the telephone?

Some of you are going to get stupidly giddy about my theory here.

We have to note a few things:

— They have impeccable timing, calling every day at 10 AM, and as described by the admin,

"No one manages time as precisely as that caller."

— They're not the owner of the place, but they gave the administrator their position and they seem to look after it.

— They write books. Let's assume the ones in the library.

— They're the one who gave the administrator the order to wait for a specific man to walk in, who would be the owner.

— They have strange powers(?) (I don't know what else to call them), because first of all, how did they know to ring the Library at the right time when the administrator walked in if it was abandoned? And the admin said,

"I approached the counter and answered the phone as if beckoned by an unseen force."

Not only that, but the fact that they can write these 'books' at all??

— They're trying to create a specific 'book'. At the end of the story we hear the admin say into the phone,

"...By the way, how did that new book of yours turn out? When can I read it? Oh... It failed again?"

What does 'it failed' mean? Can't you just write whatever you want if it's your 'book'? Admin also stated earlier,

"If these stories are someone's reality, if their worlds truly exist or once did... Could they have been just experimental playgrounds for some god's whim? Bits and pieces thrown together without a second thought, proportions guided by mood, one failure after another."

We can also guess with this that the admin doesn't know the true nature of the person on the other side of the phone, even if they know they write books.

— They're impatient for the owner to arrive, we can tell by the constant checking in on the matter despite the fact that it will apparently happen on a specific date.

So, putting all these pieces together.

A creator of worlds. A god. Not an all-powerful god, since their worlds keep failing. They're waiting for the owner of the Library, that is, the owner of these books. The owner of these universes. The protagonist in these universes. Zayne (why it's him, further down).

Oh golly gee, what kind of god could have an interest in Zayne, we all put our hands to our heads in unison as realization dawns, that's right baby, Astra.

Listen, take this with a BIG grain of salt, okay? Plus, in this story, if that were Astra, he seems... Nice? It could be a different god altogether! Maybe Astra's opposite, even.

I'll leave this idea here, and we can move on to the next question.

Who's the true owner of the library?

As I said before, it's clearly Zayne, but I'll explain why.

Before anything, let me say that I don't think Zayne knows he is the owner. It's a Matrix situation, Neo isn't the chosen one until Trinity falls in love with him, Zayne isn't the owner of the Library until he steps through its doors. He isn't aware of its existence BUT he might know the admin because they said:

"When the moment arrives, I'm sure he'll come looking for me. [...] And if he doesn't show up, well, we know exactly where to find him, right?"

It's unclear.

Also that last line might be a reference to the fact that they're acutely aware that the stories are about him, so they know where the most probable place to find him is, based on all the existing universes.

So, onto why it's him.

The admin says,

I know an atheist will step through these doors one day. That person is the library's true owner.

God is a reoccurring theme in Zayne's lore. Starting with The Foreseer, who is directly affected by Astra (we could also mention Dawnbreaker here, since he's connected directly by the jasmine flower), Master of Fate, who is a God himself though doesn't really act like one, and finally main!timeline Zayne, where the theming is a bit more subtle.

— The Foreseer: He's not an atheist because he doesn't have a choice (💀) however, let me go a little deeper into his relationship with Astra. He's very vague about his feelings towards the God, but every word is measured as to not offend Him. Although, it also seems like, since he already has the God's favor, he doesn't need to praise him or regard him in a positive light necessarily. A kind of learned helplessness. There is one instance of explicit emotion towards Him...

"Astra's will has presented itself, and the Foreseer's indifferent facade reveals a hint of indignation as he too is imprisoned by the prophecy."

— Master of Fate: As a God himself, he also doesn't have much of a choice in his beliefs XD. However, he doesn't really care about his godhood (in the sense that, he just acts like a normal person and treats humans as equals).

— Dawnbreaker: I couldn't find any mentions of any god in his anecdote. (If I missed any, feel free to correct me). Still, since he's one of the characters in the stories mentioned by the admin, we can count him out.

— Dr. Zayne: If my memory doesn't fail me, quite a few people around Zayne have brought up the existence of a God. Yet he himself hasn't really shown an opinion. Carter asks him directly if he believes in God, and he ignores the question and instead calls Carter crazy.

Now, with Zayne's logical and methodical approach to anything, I don't think he even questions the existence of a god altogether because for him, it's always just been people. People helping and people harming. Things around him, tangible things. He might let himself play around with concepts like fate just because he's in love with MC, but at the end of the day, he's a man who blames things on people (positively and negatively speaking). And that stems from the fact that he carries every mistake he's ever made with him, as things that are his fault. No one else's. So from his point of view, it must be true for everyone else as well. No higher power. People die, people live, that's on him, that's his job.

Dr. Zayne is the only one who they could be referring to as 'an atheist'. But not only that! Since I already established the connection between the Library and The Foreseer's library, I believe there's a narrative order: Zayne enters the library and is designated its owner -> The person behind the phone makes themselves known -> ??? -> Zayne gains Astra's favor and becomes his emissary (gaining immortality) -> Time passes, Earth becomes Philos, the Library turns into the Tower of Thorns -> The Foreseer's myth.

Thus Dr. Zayne ends up as The Foreseer, memories of his past long forgotten by centuries of ice, loneliness, torture, and Astra's meddling.

It would also explain why Astra can't be a character in one of the 'books', and is interfering directly with Zayne in The Foreseer's myth — He got tired of trying to write a successful universe and instead attempted to force a narrative himself, punishing Zayne if he walked out of the path He wanted. Fate.

What are the books about?

Like I said earlier, they're universes. But let's look into them.

The administrator says one thing about them: They're all science fiction. So, the events in them aren't what's happening in the current world. But we know it's the present time since the admin says they're in Linkon City.

The admin also recounts a story they read in those books. It's strange, because they seem like two separate stories, but they say it's only one. I don't know how to interpret this incongruence entirely. A summary:

A world where they look into your genetics at birth and determine your whole life based on them, on what's most efficient. But a man bioengineered a baby with 'perfect' genes, who did whatever he wanted because he could, even if it was wrong. This caused an imbalance in society and a rebellion against the system, the rebels on the losing side. The story ends there, weirdly abruptly?

A dying world. It's better if I paraphrase the beginning:

Everyone but "him" had fallen victim to a virus that stripped away the human form and humanity. It turned people into an energy that would perish along with the planet.

"He" spent his life killing these infected individuals, until there were none left. He was the only living person remaining. Only when the world died, so did he.

I wonder why the admin put these two stories together as one. Obviously the second one is reminiscent of Dawnbreaker's anecdote. Perhaps his end. But the first one...? I hesitate to say it could be one of Zayne's future myths, but is it that far-fetched? After all, these stories seem to be all about Zayne (the "owner"), so why not? It's a failed attempt, there's no real reason why Zayne couldn't have ended up being the bad guy of the story.

Then again... What would be the successful attempt? Maybe it's not even a 'happy ending'. We don't know what the 'writer' is trying to achieve.

I'm gonna be honest here, I was really surprised when the admin let a child come in to read them, considering they're all 'failed attempts', I can't imagine a happy kids book in there 😭

Don't get me wrong, there's the possibility that not all the books are about Zayne. I'm only saying that since Infold made it clear that this World Underneath chapter was about him, and since he's the owner of these worlds, it would make sense if all the stories had to do with him. It seems like we'll get more lore about this place in the future, seeing as the last part is titled 'To Be Continued' so we'll have to wait and see.

Remaining questions...

This weird line:

"I'm in Linkon City now, so I have to stick to the schedule here."

Made me think,

— Is the admin normally somewhere else?

— Is the Library... a moving thing? A travelling library, going from place to place?

— Is the admin used to a different passage of time?

If Astra isn't the 'writer' of those books, and is, in fact, a character in them, who is the writer? A higher level god? They wrote Zayne as a God in Master of Fate, which means they have the power to create gods.

And why the fixation on Zayne? Can Zayne do something for this writer that they can't do themselves? Because, as we've stated, they aren't all-powerful.

It also raises the question, why are they so certain that there's a 'successful version'? How do they know the others are 'failed'? Simply because they're unhappy endings? Maybe I'm thinking too much about this. But if they know they can 'write' a successful world, are they simply a Laplace's Demon entertaining themselves?

There's also the fact that it was highlighted that they're very timely. In the admin's words,

"No one manages time as precisely as that caller."

Could it be a time god instead of a fate god? Just, who are they?

Another thing that's nagging me is that every chapter except the last is supposed to be a Q&A in the Library's guestbook. So, as a text that's supposed to be read by anyone, it would be normal for the admin to lie or hide some things. We can only truly judge their character in the last part. There's a part that further reinforces my belief of unreliable narrating:

P.S. Dear readers, I hope you'll spare some time in this ever-changing world to read, explore times and places beyond your experience, and discover all that lies hidden within the pages.

It might be a reach on my part, but it almost seems like a nudge? A wink?

The whole conversation at the start of the final chapter was odd.

"We'll know the truth soon enough." -> About what? About whether Zayne will arrive on that specific date?

[Talking about books.] "The one I'm working on now is long, so there's still hope." -> Is the admin a writer as well? Or do they simply review the writer's work in search of that 'successful attempt'?

At the end of the story, the admin talks to us directly. This specific line stood out to me:

"I might not meet all your expectations, [...]"

Does that mean we should have expectations? Should we know something about the admin already? If they're not Jas, are they not a new character?

To conclude

They didn't say this in the guestbook Q&A. This was a direct fourth wall break. Why say this to us?

Edit: Added some theories about the kid that walks into the library here.

Okay. Whew. I think that's all I wanted to say.

Excuse my ramblings, I've read this story a lot of times for this analysis and I keep coming up with borderline nonsensical theories. Feel absolutely free to ignore these or make your own.

I've probably read TOO much into it. I just got excited!!! I'm not sure what exactly about this story pulled me so strongly, but damn, I can't wait to know more!

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think, if you want! <3

But that's just a theory, a hampter theory ;)

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lvi - I'M STILL MAD

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

buy me coffee ?

wc : 1.4k

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

You could have never imagined that your friend would be integrated with the people you had known to be gods. You had... thoughts because initially, you figured it would happen one way or the other because Mingi was such a big part of your life and you were working with Jongho so it was bound to happen. Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that Mingi was actually originally in their friend group and that you were the one being integrated.

On top of that, never would you have imagined that the boys could get even more rowdy.

Splayed before you was Mingi in Wooyoung's chokehold while San was tangling his legs with Mingi as Yeosang pretended to be a wrestling referee. Yunho was filming Mingi's "punishment" while cackling while Seonghwa was trying to make sure (begging) that they didn't break anything while regretting hosting Mingi's first "birthday" back. While the chaos ensued, Hongjoong and Jongho stood by the sides, nursing their drinks in their hands. Well, more so Jongho than Hongjoong who was goading the boys, telling Wooyoung that Mingi was slipping or telling San to use his ridiculously sturdy build to stop Mingi from squirming.

All in all, you expect Seonghwa to receive a noise complaint from the police in the morning.

To evade the chaos, you silently excused yourself to the kitchen, getting yourself another glass of soda. The kitchen was slightly deeper in the house but you could still see (and hear clearly) what was going on through the door. Despite how loud they were being, you couldn't help but be amused and perhaps slightly happy that they were finally together again. Sure, it was no fault of your own, but you felt that your involvement had had an effect so when your involvement got them together (in a way), you were even more happy.

"Can't stand the noise?"

You looked to the side to see Jongho coming in with his glass still full of his drink.

It was kind of embarrassing that he caught you as you were attempting to get the cookie Seonghwa hid from San and Wooyoung on top of his fridge. You underestimated the hiding spot and Jongho got front row seat to you absolutely embarrassing yourself.

With a raised eyebrow, Jongho leaned on the counter and nonchalantly poked at you, "What are you doing there, little raccoon?" You scoffed and immediately dropped to normal position, pretending that you hadn't been caught doing something embarassing. "Who are you calling raccoon? I was just... checking something," you muttered, choosing to open the fridge to get some ice for your drink (and maybe for you to dunk your face in because yowza).

Amused, Jongho chuckled as he rounded for the fridge, placing his glass on the counter before easily grabbing the cookie jar and plopping it next to you. "Should he ask, we'll blame this on Wooyoung hyung," he winked.

Had it not been for the cookie distracting you, you would have squealed at how Jongho was winking at you. But alas, you had your priorities straight.

"Hey," you called out mid-bite, "I've been going over your stuff for the past... God knows how long, and I just remembered that I wanted to ask you about that fox guardian guy? Jun something? Kyujun? Minjun? The flirt I met a while back." Jongho furrowed his eyebrow and took a moment to think as he grabbed a cookie for himself, "What, Yeonjun hyung? What about him?" "I think we should go back to him sometimes soon because I've been reading about lore books and one of them said that foxes are sly and cunning and they have special abilities and I know that you've been trying to find the reincarnation of someone from your past but that got me thinking about several theories and one of them is that Yeonjun actually knows who it is but he just can't give away such information freely. Like Hongjoong and Mingi and me, you know? Maybe he was... Pressured to keep silent or something, and unless you actually get him to talk, he might just keep things to himself. So, I just- why are you looking at me like that?"

Jongho didn't realize that he had been staring at you as you rambled through your theory to him, even his cookie was abandoned half-bitten in his hand.

Shrugging, Jongho smiled and cleared his throat, "It's just... Amusing seeing you so invested in my situation." Confused, you chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him, "Because your situation is very facinating? I've been telling for quite some time now Mr. Choi, you are a VERY interesting man with a VERY interesting life," then your eyes dropped to your hand and you hesitated, "And... I also feel kind of bad for being so... Self-absorbed, to say the least, for some time now and I just... I wanna help you as best as I could right now."

The moment you said those endearing words, Jongho felt like his chest was about to burst with giddiness. Inside, he was feeling butterflies punching his stomach, shaking his lungs, and playing his ribs like a marimba. But on the outside, he was keeping his cool by sipping on his drink to cover the blooming grin.

"You don't even have to think about helping me, (y/n)," Jongho stated, subconsciously stepping closer to you, "ou had just gone through something rough and frankly I was happy that you were able to trust me enough with this. But are you okay? I know incorporating Mingi hyung must be..." you cut Jongho off with a deadpanned look on your face, "Creepy? Illogical? Batshit crazy?" Jongho snorted at your choice of words, "I was gonna go with weird, but sure, let's go with your options." You cracked a grin at him and shook your head, "I mean yeah, it's crazy, unfathomable even. But... I'm actually fine, I'm happy to have Mingi back in my life and though chaos ensued outside," your words got cut off by the sound of Mingi yelping loudly and Hongjoong exclaiming 'my croissant!' just outside, "I'm truly glad the worst is finally over." You paused for a moment, hesitating to say another thing but Jongho, due to living with you for quite some time now, noticed that you still weren't done with your words. So almost casually, Jongho reached a hand forward and placed it on top of yours, gently caressing the skin on the back. He took the initiative by opening himself first, "And I'm glad you're fine now," he smiled. His genuine words made you feel warm and you took the initiative to just say what you wanted to say, "I'm only fine because of you, Jongho," without wasting a moment to hesitate, you leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on his cheek, taking him by surprise. A delightful surprise of course, but he still couldn't help but move very slowly, processing what you just did.

Realizing that Jongho was not moving, you flustered and scrambled to leave, muttering an excuse about needing to make sure that Mingi was fine.

Just as you were about to slip away, Jongho took a hold of your hand, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You halted and stared at him, confused as to why he was stopping you.

"You can always trust me, (y/n). I promise," he stated and surprisingly, he lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, "Go save Mingi hyung from torture, I'll join you in a bit after I put the cookie jar away, okay?" He smiled.

You could only nod and follow his instruction, your brain too foggy with the affection Jongho had shown. So much so, that you completely missed the way Jongho slid down behind the counter, clutching his beating heart tightly with a stupid smile on his face.

He was down bad.

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[lilly-of-the-vale]

Just binged your Suguru and I’m clawing at the walls!! Where have you been all my life??? He’s so…. I will be devoting all my night time imagining to your Suguru.

So… speaking as a type A, “i can do it myself”, type of person, would you be able to expand a little on doting Suguru? Like, how does he react to a reader that can care for others but believes in “walking it off”— someone who is all smiles and “don’t worry about me”s and tells little lies so that the people around her don’t worry.

If you’d like to🫣🤗

Hello darling!!!! Im so so so so so sooooo happy that reading from my blog made this happy. Truly i can't explain how much love i have for you for giving me a chance 🥹🥹

I wish you only the sweetest of dreams after you doze off from your nightly sugu day dream session my dear 🩷🩷

Im so so so so so happy you said this omg you should've seen the evil ass grin on my face when i finished reading 😭😭 bcuz this is actually me in a nutshell and my obsession with the the doting suguru agenda stems from exactly that.

Let me start of by saying that suguru understands your need to care for others, and he LOVES this quality about you. He admires you to no end, he's so so so so so so so fond of sweet helpful people, and honestly i believe he would find it much easier to trust and open up to someone like this bcuz he can relate to them a lot better.

That being said, suguru will absolutely not be falling for any of that bullshit 💀 you're little attempts to brush your discomfort under the rug will not go unnoticed by him, he knows you like the back of his hand, one look at your face is enough to see that you are indeed not ok.

As previously mentioned he loves you for who you are but he will definitely be trying to change it 😭😭 he will absolutely NOT stand for his baby hurting themselves for the sake of others (especially if it's cult!suguru oh my god that man has no regard for anything that isn't you) so you WILL be having that uncomfortable conversation he knows you are trying to avoid (maybe I'm projecting here), he can be very direct when he recognizes that you need something, he knows how hard it is to change the way you perceive others and how you act around them, but he knows you need this so he'll do it for you, anything suguru does is for your own good don't forget that!!!! And ok, fine, call him selfish, but what if he thinks the time you spend taking care of others is better spent being taken care of by him?? You're not helping by refusing to let him help you either. He will actually lose his mind if you continue to torture him like this 😭😭 of course he would be a lot more insistent when you both begin to officially date. Pre-relationship suguru knows he can only intervene so much. His ass is chewing the bars of his cage like a feral dog 💀

Anyway!! If speaking to you doesn't work, he's going to resort to inserting himself in literally everything you do until you eventually learn to just expect him to be there. He's cooking for you, hand feeding you, tieing your show laces, doing your skin care bathing you, brushing your hair, making your coffee in the morning, doing your laundry, before you can do any of it, you could be in the middle of something and he just...STOPS YOU AND TAKES OVER!!! the whole mother package pretty much, he basically drops you head first into domesticity (borderline codependency 😭😭 ) and you have no say in the matter.

The transition might be weird and awkward, and you might try to fight him but all you'll be getting back is a sickening sweet coo, "awh baby....just let me take care of you" while enveloping your entire body with his arms in one of his suffocating bear hugs then leaves you with a kiss on the top of your head to go back to cooking <- evil man with terrible intentions of making you depend on him forever.

[al1x00]

Guess who's back🫣 HII KATY HOW ARE YOU MY LOVE?😚 ALSO A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU?!?! HELL YEAH

Ngl I read the first lines before anything else and I was prepared for the worst LMAO glad that Yuri's so comprehensive tho (love her sm)

"After our trip to the beach, I know it's his" GIRL?🫣OOP🤭

"And as for the guitar, he put a sticker of your face right on the crack and the mortherfucker kisses it before every show for good luck" WAITT THAT'S SO CUTE :((

I feel like Hobie would for sure take the responsibility if an accidental pregnancy happened, he's not the type of person to leave it all behind. ALSO, I feel like he'd be a huge ass girl dad (and also a huge misandrist LMAO)

Damn James you got a great timing to go piss huh😒

HELPPP YURI AND NED DRINKING AWAY THE EXHASPERATION BYE I'M DEAD

They're like "pass me the wine, I need to get drunk and forget about this" HAHAHA

KATY HOW TF DID YOU MANAGE TO WRITE THE UNDEAD TO BE THAT TERRIFYING MY GODD I HAD CHILLS ALL OVER. That scene where the horde starts to get in the house is written SO WELL ISTG, I can picture it perfectly in my mind.

You can literally feel the anxiety, the chaos of it all, the ABSOLUTE HORROR OF IT KATY YOU'RE A GENIUS YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY GODDAMN TIME

The fact that Hobie immediately thought of what to do if him and R got somehow separated:( He's too loving for his own good

The burning house is giving the start of TLOU ngl

NOOO NOT THE FUCKING TRUCK AND HORDE THEY GOT SEPARATED BWAJFJSKOFF MY BABIESSS😭😭😭

Okay so the infection is like- instant. Once you're bitten you become one of them, right?

TWO FUCKING MONTHS HAVE PASSED?! GOOD GOD THAT'S SO MUCH TIME.

THEY CAN'T EVEN DIE?? Imagine how scared Hobie was when he was just taking a bath and he feels a hand around his ankle- I'd never set foot in any body of water ever again, no matter the size of it.

The voicemails :( I'm not even halfway throught it and I'm already starting to sob KATY YOU OWE ME A THERAPIST

OH HELL NAH PLEASE TELL ME HOBIE IS OKAY AND HE DIDN'T TURN INTO A SEA CREATURE

"It feels like your heart is out of your body, missing somewhere else" I'M SOBBINGG THEY LONG FOR EACH OTHER SM😭😭😭

"Looks like you already took the load" JAMES😨- YOU LITTLE SHIT OMG

My heart literally jumped out of my chest when R almost jumped from the bridge- for a second you had me thinking she was about to die (but then I remembered it's a Katy Special tm)

"The PG version please" HELPP I'M CRYING

"Mudwood Manor" BDAS REFERENCE BDAS REFERENCE BDAS REFERENCEEEEE

AAAAAAA

HOBIE'S ALRIGHT THANK GODDD MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED

Aww poor Hobie :( the way the situation remembers him of when he was younger actually breaks him. That and how he's already acclimate with how dangerous and difficult the whole situation is. He deserves all the hugs in the world.

The way R for a second didn't even realise it could be Hobie on the other side of the door or how she thought she was just going crazy and imagining it all

NOOO JAMESS GODDAMN IT :((

NOT R CRADLING HIS HEAD IN HER LAP AND FIXING HIS HAIR KATYY STOP MAKING ME SOB.

UGHH THE ENDING IS SO BITTERSWEET I LOVE IT SM. The life among the death, the gore and the blood and Hobie's hug just makes me want to bawl my eyes out of their sockets I swear.

KATYY I MISSED READING YOUR FICS SM AND COMING BACK TO THIS WAS SUCH A NICE EXPERIENCE SO THANK YOU SM. I know I've said it before but I SWEAR I'll get around to read IPOB because I'm so damn curios abt it🤭🤭. But this was such a great read, it's got me in a chokehold now ngl.

End of Beginning

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 18.7k

Synopsis: When the world seems to come to an end, life starts. Death looms and a virus has taken over. Life as you know it has ended and all you ever want is to see him again.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW pregnancy, vomit mention, TW blood and gore, CW injury, TW violence, CW death, CW guns, suggestive content, zombie apocalypse AU, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst.

Navigation

You stare intensely at the two little red lines on the plastic stick. Heart beating out of your body while the muffled sounds of the party rattles the locked bathroom door. Your breath hitches in your throat, mouth dry and hands shaking from the mere sight of the three pregnancy tests having the same result— positive. There's no doubt about it as the double lines are as clear as day.

“Fuck.” Yuri says the exact same word you have in mind.

“F–Fuck.” You breathlessly say, voice trembling while you haven't moved an inch from where you're standing in front of the sink.

“What're you gonna do?” Yuri asks beside you, hand placed right on your shoulder as you start wobbling in place, afraid that you might keel over on the harsh tiles. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“I–I’m not sure.” You roll the simple silver band around your pinky finger. One that was given to you by Hobie a long time ago.

Finally lifting up your eyes, you stare at yourself in front of the mirror. You look disheveled, hair a mess from the concert. Your clothes still smell faintly like bile and the floor of a pub. The eyeliner around your eyes is smudged, and lips bare from all the wiping you had to do after getting sick all over James’ parents’ bathroom. You feel like a bloody mess.

It was Yuri's idea to run to the chemist's and buy different packs of tests for you after she walked in on you heaving out your dinner. Damn Yuri and her smart ass.

“I thought it was food poisoning from the shawarma we ate.” You deflate, tears threatening to spill over as you sit on the toilet.

“That place near the post office?” Yuri sighs, leaning against the cold tiles as her voice echoes around the bathroom that's as big as your living room.

You rub your palms all over your face, elbows placed atop of your knees as your body folds over itself in an attempt to calm down. There's a rock in the pit of your stomach, face clammy and lips wobbling. The soles of your feet feel numb, ebbing up to your legs and further towards your chest until it reaches your shaking hands. Your leg keeps bouncing up and down, as if it has a life of its own. You don't hear your best friend calling your name as blood rushes in your ears.

“Hey,” she kneels down in front of you, bare knees freezing from the tiles but seemingly not caring for the sensation as her kind eyes stay on you. Her leather skirt pools around her, a blob of black framing under her. “You okay?”

“Y–yeah, it's that place near the post office.” a tear slides down your cheek, and you're quick to wipe it away.

Yuri holds onto your knee, stopping the bouncing of your legs as she cups it with her palm gently and looks into your eyes. “Please don't tell me it's James'”

You pause, staring straight at her with a glare. “Bitch.”

She laughs, the sound bouncing all over the walls. “Mate,” her hand grasps your own, fondly rubbing at your sweaty palm. “You and Hobie have been together since the dawn of time. trust me, after our trip to the beach, I know it's his.”

You crumple in place, a smile slowly appearing on your lips as you hide your face. “God, you'll never let us live that down.”

“Seriously, we had to wear our noise cancelling headphones.”

“Stop!” Chuckling, you feel a bit lighter from her teasing. Just a tiny bit.

Yuri mirrors your smile, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “What are you worried about, hm?”

You sigh, “you know what I'm worried about, Yuri.”

She shrugs and makes a face. “No, I don't, so don't waste both our time and just tell your best mate.”

Rubbing your eyes with your index finger, your entire body starts feeling the pin pricks all around you. “I just—” she patiently waits for you to gather your words. “What if he doesn't want it? That he'll leave me all because of…” you wildly gesture around your stomach.

“Are the hormones getting in your head already?” You give her a stern glare. “Babes, remember the time you accidentally broke his favourite vinyl?” You nod, wincing at the memory. “And that one time you dropped his guitar while attempting to clean it?”

“Please don't remind me, I have nightmares of breaking more shit.”

“Well, you might not remember that he never got mad at you.” Yuri smiles, taking your clenched hands and holding it in place. “He even placed the vinyl in a frame and made it look fucking cooler than before with its shattered pieces. And as for the guitar, he put a sticker of your face right on the crack and the motherfucker kisses it before every show for good luck.”

You chuckle, tears sticking to your lashes.

“All I'm saying is, he's not gonna fucking leave you because of this.” She beams at you, eyes shining from the bright light of the bathroom. “If he does, then I'm gonna help you raise that kid. But before that I have to bury him and you're gonna help me find a quiet and secluded place for him.”

You laugh, head falling down on Yuri's shoulder. “You really think so?” Your voice is small as she rubs your back.

“I know so, babes. Besides, this is his fault too.” You sniff and she holds onto you tighter. “And I know Hobie, he takes responsibility for shit he does. The one thing he truly loves in this world besides his guitar is you.” She whispers, love rolling off of her as she comforts you. “I've seen the way he looks at you, and that's not the look a man gives to someone he's ready to up and leave because of a baby.”

Your heart steadies in place as your mind flickers back to his face. Yuri's right, all those years of being in love with him, and the many years of being together would tell you that he won't bolt away from the product of all those years of loving each other. But there's that one thing you're worried about too.

“But—” you start and Yuri lifts your head up, scrunching your face in her hands.

“No buts!”

“Yuri,” you say, despite your squished lips and cheeks. “The band is just gaining traction, what if this—”

“I'm going to stop you right there.” She stands up, boots thumping on the tiles as she helps you stand up from the toilet and grabs a tissue to clean up your tear stained cheeks and messy mascara. “This won't stop us, and we'll learn to juggle it with you.” Gently patting your eyes, she smiles softly. “Don't forget, you're part of this band too.”

A smile manages to wiggle itself on your face with Yuri's bright encouragement. She does have a point, and you can't help but imagine Hobie kissing your baby's chubby cheeks, or the baby having his smile and his eyes. And the thought of him cradling them to sleep while the baby’s little lashes flutter close. He'll be a good dad, but at the same time you don't want to spring this huge news on him when his career is just starting to propel him and the band. You don't want to be the one to hold him back. Yes, you have options, but this is the product of your love, *years of that love. Maybe you'll be a good mother, for now, you have to be brave and tell him.

“I just manage the gigs, you guys can live without me.”

“Tell that to our lead guitarist.” Nudging your shoulder, she places you in front of the mirror. “We've got your back, alright? Do you think a baby will stop him from making music?”

“I don't know, Yuri. But thank you.” You nod appreciatively, swallowing thickly at the woman standing in the mirror. Will you still look like this in nine months? Will you be happy with your decision in nine months?

“Just tell him, or he'll be able to sniff it out like his surprise birthday party last year.” She gently shakes you in place, trying to get a smile out of you.

“I'll tell him, don't worry. He deserves to know.” You whisper as someone knocks on the bathroom door, their muffled words telling you to hurry up.

“Good, because it's his fault.” Yuri grabs another tissue and wraps all the tests and places it in your palm.

“Not entirely.” You chuckle out, and she makes a disgusted face.

“Augh, I swear you two are like fucking rabbits.”

You snort as you pocket the pregnancy tests. It feels vaguely heavy inside the front pocket of your jeans.

“You ready? Or do you need one more hug?” Yuri opens her arms, expecting for you to wave her away, but instead you step into her arms, embracing her. She hugs back wholeheartedly.

“Thank you, Yuri.”

“Anytime, lovely.” She kisses your temple, wiping away the kiss mark. “I can't wait to buy baby shit for whatever spawns out of you.”

“I can already tell you'll be a great aunt.” You say with a hint of sarcasm.

She scoffs, “of course I will be!” Wrenching the door open, you're met with James’ disgruntled face. “Jeez, do you need to pee that bad, Jameson?”

“Yes! Move!” He pushes Yuri out of the way and she shields you away from his elbow. “Why do girls always go to the loo together!”

The two of you shuffle away immediately before you get a sight of something that will surely make you hurl once again.

“Christ, it's because of all those beers he's been chugging.” Yuri walks next to you, eyes roaming around for the familiar punk’s back to bring you back to him.

“And to think that he has an army of groupies.” You find that your hand unconsciously meets with your stomach, protecting it from the rambunctious party goers.

The party is in full swing as you and Yuri go down the long winding stairs of James’ parents' mansion. Drinks are passed around, amber liquid sloshing out of the glasses and cans. Speakers play one of the band's songs, a loud punk anthem that adds fuel to the already on fire party. Expensive Arabian carpets now smell of beer and piss, crisps crunching down on your shoes, impossible to step around it when the place is packed with sweaty and dancing bodies. It's a miracle that nothing is broken or else James will never see the sun again after his parents see the aftermath of their million euro home.

“There's Ned!” Yuri guides you towards the makeshift bar which is actually the kitchen's island where bottles upon bottles of liquor sits on its previously pristine marble.

“Where the fuck have you two been? Hobie's practically going insane looking for you!” Ned exclaims as he pours you and Yuri a glass of gin.

You scrunch your face at the drink, stomach churning from the smell alone, and Yuri saves you by taking both glasses and chugging each of them without gagging or missing a beat.

“Whew!” The glasses clinks as she places it both down. “Thanks, Ned, I was getting thirsty!”

Ned blinks, and looks impressed at the feat. He sighs, ponting at you. “That was for her, I'll just pour you another one.”

“No!” You and Yuri collectively gasp.

“I mean—” you start, “I've been feeling sick lately, remember? I don't think drinking will help my stomach.” Yuri nods her head enthusiastically, agreeing with you.

“Right, I did tell Hobie that the shawarma place near the post office had a health violation last year.” Ned looks at something behind you, or someone.

A familiar arm loops over your shoulder, the comforting weight keeps your stomach from doing flips and hurling what's left of it onto the marble kitchen. His front is right behind you while his free hand has managed to wiggle itself into your backpocket.

“They said they're under new management, Ned.” Hobie chuckles out, warmth seeping through you.

You look over your shoulder, only to be met with his amber eyes that look almost golden under the light. He smells faintly of after concert musk and your own perfume that he keeps saying is his lucky charm. Smiling, he cups your chin with his palm, giving you a chaste kiss.

He scrunches his nose, smiling at you. “Did you brush your teeth?” His face then morphs into concern, brows furrowed and hands squeezing your side, fingers grazing your stomach. “We can go home if you feel too sick.”

“I did, don't worry I didn't use anyone's toothbrush, I just used my finger like a caveman. And please don't be a worry wart, it's nothing I can't handle, Hobs.” You lean against his shoulder, feeling infinitely better now that you're in his arms. Now that you're looking at him as he gazes at you with so much affection, you start to think that your worries feel silly.

“I don't think they had toothpaste back in the stone age, love.” He nuzzles your temple, nose tickling your hairline.

“Archeologists beg to differ.”

“Yeah? You an archaeologist now?” He flirts back, palm still cupping the back of your neck and thumb rubbing along your jaw. His rings are cold against your warm skin, comforting you further.

Yuri and Ned roll their eyes and tries to ignore the public display of affection while mixing in drinks and then downing it in one go. Like a couple of exasperated parents.

“I could be if I wasn't too busy being your manager.” You hold his hand as he kisses the tip of your nose. “And fluoride existed during the olden times, y’know.”

Hobie leans back, brows knitting together before a smile etches on his handsome face. “Really?” He says with a lilt in his tone. “This your way of sayin’ bye to the band?”

“Nope, someone's gonna miss me too much.” You whisper against his cheek, kissing him lovingly.

“I'm sure Ned will live.” Hobie laughs, embracing you as he sways you to the music.

“Don't bring me into this, bruv.” You and Hobie laugh at the look on Ned’s face.

Yuri stares at you and smiles, wordlessly telling you to tell Hobie the news. With a deep inhale, you twist around to cup Hobie's face and look at him with a serious expression. The glint of your ring urges you to continue.

“Can we go somewhere quiet? I need to tell you something, Hobie—”

“Oi, have the lot of you seen this?” James comes running in, flip phone in hand as he shoves the screen in each of your faces until Hobie takes it.

“That you finally washed your hands after taking a piss?” Yuri crosses her arms over her chest as she closes the distance and peeks over your shoulder.

A shaky and grimey video plays a scene of someone blowing out their birthday candles inside a restaurant. The celebrant claps while the guests cheer for them. It's all normal and happy at first then the camera zooms in on the background, right on the window where a man who looks like he's drunk, staggers and limps towards the restaurant window. Then a sound of an oncoming car skids to a halt but too late to stop in time. It hits the man dead on as he flips and flies over the car until his face meets and grinds on the asphalt, leaving a blood trail. Chaos ensues as the shaking of the camera moves towards the streets while onlookers yell and try to call for help.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, what did I tell you about showing us these kinds of videos.” Ned groans then leaves to go tend to the makeshift bar again.

“No, no, just watch!” James pleads, shoving the screen in front of the band's faces but Ned just shakes his head. “It's bonkers!”

“C’mon, bruv, you can't jus’ show us shit like this.” Hobie moves the phone away from you, but you chase the screen with your eyes as you see the last bit of the video showing the man standing up like nothing happened.

Hobie tries to close the phone to save you from the sight but James snatches it and continues to show it to everyone else. Hobie tries to manoeuvre you away but with James' increasing insistence, Yuri takes one for the team and yanks it out of his hand and pockets it.

“No phone for you until you shut the fuck up about it!”

“Yuri! That's bullshit! That's mine.” James reaches for his phone but Yuri dodges him. “You're not my mum!”

“You tried to show us some live leak shit! No, absolutely not.” They fight like siblings while Yuri swats his roaming hands away.

“The bloke stood up like normal and his eyeball was hanging out of his sockets!” Their arguing falls into the background as Hobie leads you towards the corner of the kitchen.

“You alright, love? Not too queasy?” Hobie rubs your stomach, still unbeknownst to the growing life inside of you.

Taking his hand, you let it rest on your belly. “I'm fine, nothing I can't handle.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand and chuckling. “That's my girl, always so bloody tough, eh?”

“Yeah, that's me, tough as nails.” You nervously chuckle as if you weren't about to burst into tears a few minutes ago.

“Now, what were you about to tell me?”

“I—” you're suddenly out of words. “Can we go somewhere quiet first?” The raging bass of the music is starting to give you a headache, shaking through your skull.

“This serious then?” Worry flickers in his mind, and you know that he's trying to remember if he did something bad. “Did I do somethin'?” And you were right.

You shake your head, palms splayed over his chest whilst you lay down the lapels of his spiked denim jacket. “You didn't do anything wrong.” Your voice is gentle yet it wavers a bit from your own worries.

What if you don't do good for this kid? What if being a mother isn't for you? What if— your attention flits over to a staggering figure appearing from the hill. The shadow gets closer towards the house as you see them through the ceiling to floor windows of James' home, the glass is just situated behind Hobie. Everyone seems to not notice the person as it sprints on the grass. Their head dips back, as if the speed they're running at has their own head lolling backwards from the momentum.

“Is this because of me accidentally leavin' puddin’ on the table and having ants…”

Hobie's voice fades in your ears as your eyes stay on the figure that's coming towards you.

They're quickly gaining speed.

“Love?”

The party goers don't seem to notice the guy, continuing to dance and drink about all merrily. Your body freezes in place, mind going haywire, electricity running down your fingertips and stomach flipping upside down. It's as if your senses warn you of the figure, as if your innate fear response is acting upon itself.

Hobie cups your cheek gently just as the man gets closer, barefooted, shoulder bent at a harsh angle and blood dripping from his eyes.

Then more appear right on the hill, running like they've injured themselves, moon shining down behind them, bathing their shadows in silver light. They look like regular people, except for limbs that flail around, and mouths agape— the blood smeared all over them has your senses telling you to run.

Your breathing stops.

In a blink, there's a horde of them coming your way.

“Oi, you alright? You gonna be sick?”

“Run—!” As you say it, a loud smash can be heard as the first figure you saw comes crashing inside the house. People scream and dodge broken glass.

“Shit!” Hobie shields you away immediately, arms enveloping around you.

“What the fuck?!” James yells, trainers stepping on glass. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

Everyone looks at the body laying on the floor, around him lays plastic cups and crisps. He bleeds slowly into the marble floor, staining it with a puddle of warm crimson. You swear you saw smoke appear from within.

“Someone call an ambulance!” An acquaintance of the band yells as everyone else pauses to stare wide eyed at the still body.

“F–Fuck!” Yuri curses as she takes out her phone from her pocket, fumbling with it in a panic that causes the phone to slip from her grasp and onto the puddle of blood. “Shit.”

She takes a step closer to take it back, and you quickly yank her away. Everyone's attention is on the lone body, but yours are on the oncoming crowd that are running down the hill.

Yuri and Hobie follow your line of sight, gasping in place as they see a dozen or so figures running at breakneck speed.

The rest follows as the guttural groans get louder.

“What the fuck—!” Just as Ned says it, the lone body twitches on the floor and lifts his head up, revealing a grotesque slashed face with shards of glass embedded in his rotting flesh. Blood dribbles from his mouth, strings of drool and crimson leaving his cut lip. His veins pop out, black and blue. “What the fuck!”

You grab a knife from the bar, and you tug Hobie away. “Everyone, run!”

Glass smashes underfoot as everyone rushes to get to the exit.

Yuri holds onto your arm whilst Hobie takes the front. He holds onto your hand in a tight grip, shoulder smashing into the panicking crowd to get you out of there.

Bodies are packed into the doorway as people try to get out. Screams ring out behind you, screams that will haunt your dreams as tearing flesh accompanies the horrific sound.

“Fuckin’ move!” Hobie squeezes himself out in between panicking bodies, hand still grasping around yours. He yells your name, eyes set in a panic as blood splashes across the walls and expensive paintings.

You don't dare look back at the carnage as you manage to get out while your hand is around your stomach protectively.

“C’mon!” Hobie yanks you away, no time for gentleness as he leads you towards the car. “Fuck!”

The two of you run on the yard, the street filled with cries as people funnel out of the house. Neighbours come out of their houses, porch lights flickering on.

You notice the lack of hands around you as you look back at the house. “Yuri!”

Hobie pauses for a second, looking for the rest of his band in the midst of chaos and screams. Faces whizz by, but none of them look like them. With his heart plummeting down to his stomach, he continues to run and snatch you out of your worried stupor.

You stagger on your feet, the cold February air nipping at your cheeks. “What about the others?!” You cry out as Hobie unlocks the car and practically shoves you inside the passenger's side. Face unreadable. “Hobie!” He slams the door shut and goes around the hood to get inside.

He takes a breath for a second, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and eyes wild as he stares at the rearview mirror.

You grasp his hand, fingers trembling around his palm. “We need to wait for them.”

Swallowing thickly and with a shaking hand, he inserts the key in the ignition and starts the car.

“Hobie, we can't fucking leave them here!” You cry out, head turning towards the house where you see limping and bloodied bodies exit the place.

More and more come out, all covered in crimson, eyes eerily wide, and jaws permanently set ajar, mouths frothing and dripping with blood. They sniff the air as a few of them pick apart the stragglers left writhing on the grass.

“What—What the fuck are they?” Hobie watches as they rip and tear into bodies like they're wet paper. Limbs fly about, severed arms and legs fling out before landing on the former pristine grass.

“I—I don't know.” Your hand grips the knife tightly. “Do you see them?” You whisper, afraid of being heard by the creatures.

Hobie roams his eyes around, frantically looking for the band. He licks at his lips, sweat dribbling down the back of his neck. “...no, do you—?!” A fist bangs against the window, the face belonging to it seems familiar, whoever it was, they break his window with ease after a couple of punches. The tattered arm reaches inside, trying to grab at Hobie. “Fuck!”

You scream, and Hobie, in his panic, steps on the gas.

“Hobie!” The car speeds off into the suburban streets but whatever or whoever it was they still hold onto the side of the window, groaning, eyes bleeding and trying to bite at him with his golden teeth. “Fuck off!” You yell, holding onto the grab handles above to propel your legs over Hobie and kick them out of the car.

They fly away, body rag dolling, skidding into the asphalt and leaving a trail of blood.

You huff, heaving back into your seat as Hobie glances worriedly at you. “Are you okay?” You ask, adrenaline filtering through your veins.

He checks himself over, and finds nothing of note. “Yeah,” he reaches for you, palm cupping your cheek. “You?”

“I–I think so.” You look down at your shoes, finding specks of blood staining your trainers. The hula girl on the dashboard dances to the hum of the car, completely unbothered.

“What the fuck is happening?” Hobie asks as his attention turns back towards the road, carefully steering in through the neighborhood.

“I think what James showed us…” you try to catch your breath, hand placed on your stomach. “...is that— it's happening here too.”

“Love.” He exhales shakily, trying to even out his breathing and expel out the panic. “I think that was the pub owner.”

“What?” You look back, only to see the grand houses fading away. “Who?”

“The fuckin' guy who tried to grab me.” He gestures behind him.

Your face morphs into horror as realization flits over you. “What the fuck.” Looking back again, you only see the dark road. “That can't— he was at the party with us!”

“Do you think it's contagious?”

“What?”

“They looked like they were sick, like fuckin'— like rabies.” He waves his hand wildly.

“Rabies?”

“I don't know— all I know is that he was bloody fine the last I saw him.”

“If it is contagious, we need to know how you get it so we can avoid it.” You sit back down, hand still holding onto the small knife you grabbed from the bar. He nods, eyeing you from his peripheral.

The car grows quiet for a minute as you and Hobie ride towards the city.

“We left them there.” You say solemnly, eyes staring straight at the buildings in front of you.

“They're alright.” Hobie says matter-of-factly, hands clenching around the wheel.

“Hobie.” You say his name with tears in your eyes.

“I know they are.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it three times before letting go. Another minute passes in heavy silence. “If…” Hobie starts, heart heavy. “...If we get separated—”

“Hobie—”

“Jus’ in case, love.” He pats your thigh lovingly. “Jus’ in case, we meet back at the houseboat. And if that doesn't work or you can't get there…” he inhales shakily, afraid of losing you in the chaos. “D’you remember that cabin we rented out last year for our anniversary?” You nod, hand reaching for his elbow. “We'll meet there, right? Tell me you understand, love.”

“I understand.” You say with haste. The frantic look in his eyes has you reaching for him, hand placed in between the headrest and the back of his neck as he leans against your touch. “We'll be okay, Hobie.”

He swallows thickly, fists tightening around the steering wheel. “You come first, remember that, y–yeah?” His voice cracks as he runs a rough palm over his face. “Whatever happens, we stay together.”

Just as the words escape his lips, the car passes by a burning building on the side of the road. The embers flicker in and out, flames illuminating the darkened road in its yellow glow. The fire devours the whole place, warmth felt through the windshield, kissing your cheeks. You and Hobie share a heavy look, recognizing the place as the same diner you two had your first date together. It doesn't bode well, and it doesn't help with your churning stomach.

“Love.” He calls you softy, grasping at your hand that rests on your stomach.

You didn't even notice you were holding onto your belly until he touched you. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

Hobie turns the car further into the highway as you two come across more cars than before, all leaving the city unlike you and Hobie.

“Y–Yeah.” You lie through your teeth, eyes watching as an ambulance whizzes past you towards the city. “What’s your plan?”

“We need to go home and then sail on the houseboat. I bet whatever those things were can't bloody swim.”

“Hobie, the houseboat can't handle waves from the sea.” You say as you instinctively knead at his nape.

“I know, love, we'll stay close to the rivers—” He abruptly stops talking, eyes following an empty bus stopped on the road. It looked normal at first, but when you stare into it longer, the bloody handprints on the windows make your skin rise. “We'll be fine.” His tone says that he's not just reassuring you but also himself.

A helicopter passes by above you, blades whirring and fading away as it goes out of the city. The familiar streets are filled with people, all lugging bags and their children carried on their backs as they try to leave the place. Your palm curls around your shirt, a pit in your stomach weighing heavily.

“I think we should turn back.”

“Back to where?” Hobie doesn't mean for his tone to be harsher than it was. “There's nowhere else.”

You almost jump in place when a jet plane whooses past, leaving behind a trail in the clouds. “Somewhere that isn't crowded.”

“We're in London, love, everywhere is crowded.” Hobie stops the car as you two hit traffic. “The world is endin’ and there's still fuckin' traffic.” He honks the horn in frustration, muscles straining under the harsh push.

The sound rings in your ears as you look around you. Pedestrians have a solemn look in their eyes, clutching at themselves. A few limp in place, ankle swollen or leg bleeding from the worst day in their lives. Your mind wanders back to Yuri and the others, wondering if they're alright, or if they're injured and limping like the strangers around you.

Hobie turns on the radio, flipping through the usual music channels to get to the news. The sound of the emergency broadcast has you and Hobie covering your ears from the shrill sound. He lowers the volume down from the last music jam you two had on your way to James'.

The radio cackles for a moment, signal fading in and out as static cackles. “Stay….home…danger…bite.”

“Useless piece of shit!” He punches the radio, suddenly, instead of the broadcaster's voice, an ear piercing boom can be heard from your right. The knick-knacks on the dashboard fall on the floor. “Fuck!” Hobie instinctively puts his arms around your head, shielding you.

The explosion reverberates, shockwave echoing through the city as it hits the car and breaks all the windows and windshields. Glass shatters around you whilst screams erupt all around the streets.

“What was that?!” Your ears ring, a piercing sound deep inside your ears. Hobie says something, mouth opening and closing but you don't hear him through the shrill deaf tone. “What?!”

He grasps at your face, pointing at the black smoke billowing from the distance. You follow his finger, seeing fire and brimstone, the heat from it searing your cheeks. “—we need to go!”

You stare back at him, eyes wide at an oncoming truck heading your way. It runs through cars like butter, flipping metal and ripping flesh. You don't have time to run, so you embrace him— The only way you know how to protect him.

—

Hobie wakes up with a flaring pain on his temple. Skin aflame as gashes and scratches mar his flesh. His vision fades in and out, and his throat dry as he swings upside down in his seat.

Panic sets in immediately, blood rushing to his head. The car is a mess, trinkets that were on the dashboard are now strewn across the car's ceiling. Glass shards littered around, and metal folded and creaking as he moves. He yells your name, throat stinging, chest heavy as he looks beside him.

He only sees a splash of crimson on the seat.

“Love!” He cries out, rough and bloodied hands trying to push away several metal rods piercing in between him and the passenger's seat, fencing him out. It almost split the car in half.

“F–Fuck! C’mon!” Looking through the cracks, he spots an opening before him and a trail of blood. That's probably where you must've gone.

His hand trembles as he feels through the seatbelt and releases it with a click. He falls down harshly, body folded against himself. Breath wheezing, he inhales through the pain.

The thought of you injured and alone was enough fuel for him to squeeze himself out of the window and into the street. Glass nicks his body, scraping against his skin. He bites his tongue, hands scruffed and bleeding.

Hobie falls knees first into the asphalt, body aching and various cuts bleeding on the cold grey ground.

With a deep inhale, he pushes himself up, palms splayed, and feet boosting himself up. His muscles scream in protest as blood dribbles from his brow down to his lashes. He finally makes it up, standing on unsteady feet.

Hobie goes back to the car, arms reaching towards the backseat where his guitar case lies. His fingertips brush along its rough leather until he manages to get a hold of it. He yanks it out of the back, a miracle that it's even intact after the crash. There's no care when he takes it out of the car, case smashing loudly against the broken shards of glass and banging on the metal door. As long as he has it back, he doesn't care about the damage.

There's a sudden animalistic groan in the distance.

On trembling legs, he turns around. His whole body freezes as he sees piles upon piles of cars littered around. Death lingers in the place, rotten flesh and drying blood wafting over his nose.

You have to be alive. You have to be.

As he starts to stagger around the car to climb over the debris and over to you— he falls back on the hood from the sharp pain stinging on his cranium; hip hitting hard on the metal. The sound bounces off the concrete street, and he hears the sudden shuffling of feet, then running footsteps.

Hobie lifts his head up, seeing a crowd— no, a horde sprinting towards him as they appear behind the flipped and broken down cars. All gnashing teeth and bloodied fingers trying to rip him apart.

Without a choice, he bolts away in the different direction you might've gone.

—

Warmth kisses your skin as you lay on the soft mattress. Face squished on the pillow as arms wrap around your body.

“Morning, Hobie.” It was all a bad dream then, nothing but a nightmare fuelled from watching a horror movie before bed. You run your knuckles over his cheek, he still doesn't stirr. “I know you're awake, Hobs.”

You take his cheek, palm resting along his jawline. He feels cold. “Hobie? You okay?” Sitting up, you try to shake him awake. “Hobie? Are you sick?”

His body immediately flings up, sheets flying off his body as his hands wrap tightly around your neck. The amber eyes you love are now a pair of bloodied rubies in his eye sockets. Blood drips from his lips, skin bubbling and melting off his skull. Blue and red veins snake along his flesh, curling around his eyes and lips.

“H–Hobie!” You claw at his hands, ripping away his skin, feeling it crust under your nails.

He chokes you firmly, and you gasp awake.

Your eyes meet with carnage, fire and smoke hitting your face as a breeze passes by. The once normal London streets look like a car junkyard. A throbbing ache spreads through you as you see the hula girl on the floor, crimson splashed on her ukelele.

“Holy shit, you're finally awake!” The least likely person you thought you'd meet up with taps your cheek. James' face is drenched in sweat and blood, shirt caked in drying blood as he shakes you awake once again.

“J–James? How?”

“I need to unclip you, okay? You're gonna fall.” Before you could say something or even wait for your mind to wake up fully, he cuts your seatbelt off with a knife and you fall headfirst into the car's ceiling. Pain blooms on the back of your neck as you feel aches and pains all over. “There, we need to fucking move, Y/N.”

“No, where's—!?” You twist in your seat, sitting up and weakly pushing him away as you turn towards the driver's side. Hobie is still strapped in his seat, sitting upside down, arms dangling from his sides. He's unconscious but breathing.

“Hobie.” You try to squeeze your hands in between the metal crammed in the car that divides your side from his. The beloved car has seen better days. “H–Hobie, fucking wake up!” The tips of your fingers brush along his shoulder, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Please!”

James yells your name, tugging you away. “We'll get him out! But we need to hurry, they're coming!”

“Who?” A low rumbling groan echoes out from the chaos. In your headache, you finally remember what happened.

“You need to get out of the car and I'll try to get him out. You won't go far with your leg.”

“My leg?” You look down, gasping as a large gash runs down your hind leg. Blood trickles from the wound as shards of sharp glass sticks out of it. “Oh f–fuck!” Immediately, pain shoots up. A blinding pain that has you grasping at James’ shoulders and biting down your lip.

“Yeah, I know, calm down.” James pats your back and brandishes the same knife you took from his house. “I'm going to jump over the cars and cut him loose, okay? Stay here.”

You nod, biting down your yelps of agony. Your hand wanders down to your stomach out of fear for the life inside.

James leaves your side, grunting and grasping at his bleeding arm. You watch him carefully as he tries to find a foothold on a side mirror attached to something that doesn't even look like a vehicle anymore with its crushed metal and shattered glass. Ageing blood drifts in the air, clotted and drying while screams and screeches echo all around the city. There's a low rumble of helicopter blades somewhere, and sirens fading in and out.

James still struggles to climb up over the pile of cars. You turn your head, glancing at Hobie in hopes of him waking up from his dreamless sleep. There's drying blood trickling on his temple, lips split and bloodied. Adrenaline makes your hand shake, his words echo in your mind— “you come first.” He'd want for you to not just sit there wait for him to wake up, so with a determination to survive in your eyes, you reach upwards to grab a scarf you know you've placed inside the console. Things tumble out as you open it, polaroids, keys, guitar picks and the blue scarf you've been looking for.

You hear James' grunts as you gingerly pick up a picture of you and Hobie on a random day at the beach. That day was freezing cold with the waters nipping at your skin, but you two didn't care as you chased each other on the frozen sand. With trembling fingers, you hide the picture inside your jacket pocket.

“F–Fuck.” You bite your tongue as you take out pieces of glass out of your leg. A tear slides down your cheek as you remove the last one that was buried deep inside your muscle. Inhaling, you flick your eyes towards James who's halfway up the pileup. “Okay.” Cinching the cloth tighter and tighter around your leg, you breathe in through your nose, mouth clamped shut to prevent a shrill cry from coming out. Tying it neatly, you finally take a deep exhale of air.

“Shit!” James yells, foot slipping off a bloodied hood of a car as he tumbles down on the hard ground. He groans, sitting up and cradling his behind.

“You okay?” You ask, swallowing down your fear as you quickly glance at Hobie, who's still unconscious. If you take too long to get him out, the blood rushing to his head won't be good. “James.”

“I'm good— fuck!” An arm suddenly reaches from within a crushed car, skin mangled, black blood oozing from the wounds. James crawls backwards into a car, the loud bump and his screech could wake up the whole city.

“James— shit!” You clamber out of the car, leg immediately shooting up a wave of pain that has you almost curling against yourself. With another look at Hobie, you limp towards James and help him up. “We need to get Hobie out!”

“Yeah—” his eyes turn wide at something behind you. “Fuck me.”

As you look over your shoulder, you see a wave of people clambering out of the destroyed cars and appearing from the side streets. The moon gazes behind them, a spotlight on their shambling bodies and shadows dancing on the pavement as their hands open and close, trying to grasp at you.

With your heart stuck in your throat, you grab a piece of metal laying at your feet. Its sharp edges sting your palms as the smell of the rusted iron meets with your nose. You look at Hobie, eyes tearing up at him sitting there alone and defenseless. You murmur an apology before smacking the metal against the hood of a car.

“Over here!” You scream, throat burning and legs inching towards an opening towards the alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” James tries to grab you, but you nudge him away.

“Getting them away from him!” You hammer away at the cars around you while you limp towards the alley. “James, come on!”

The rotting corpses follow you as you and James shimmy in between a downed car and a truck. Their running footsteps thud in tandem with your heart, metal pokes and scratch you but you carry on with gritted teeth.

You make it out of the pileup, immediately turning around to grab James by the collar before one of the shamblers takes a hold of him. Their fingers graze his back, almost ripping his shirt apart.

“Come on, you fuckers!” You yell, banging the metal rod around the walls whilst James guides you backwards.

The corpses struggle to get out of the small space, pushing at each other as bodies quickly pile up over the cars and spill over the cramped alleyway. A few hit the ground in a crunching noise, but the rest pay them no heed as they jump over their heads, stampeding over them while they desperately try to get to you.

“We need to run!” James grabs your arm, quickly looping it over his shoulder to help you bolt away. “I've got an idea!”

Before you could fully turn away, you see a glimpse of Hobie in between the piles of bodies and metal. He sits there, undisturbed and safe.

“Go!” With tears in your eyes, you sprint away despite the searing pain in your leg.

—

Hobie quickens his sprinting, wind whizzing past him as he almost tumbles towards the docks. Wood creaks under him, heavy boots thumping against the old wood and water logged planks.

It looks like he outran the corpses, but he can still hear them heaving out a throaty groan like they're in pain. He's not taking any chances as he quickly makes time and jumps over the side of his houseboat the second he sees its well loved façade.

“Shit, shit, shit.” His knees hit the deck and an almost blinding pain lights his joints on fire.

He grasps at his knees, body laying against the cold wood. Despite the pain, he unties the rope tether from the dock, using his muscle memory and ignoring the fear to quickly untie it. The ropes fall down into the waters, sinking down into the depths.

With a deep inhale, he crawls towards the welcome mat that he still remembers you got for him as a housewarming gift. That was before you were dating, but he already loved you back then— still does, a lot more now. Turning it over, he grabs the spare key and climbs back up, using the doorknob as leverage.

With his hands shaking, he opens the door in hopes of seeing you waiting for him patiently inside.

The door creaks open, and he's only met with dead air and darkness.

Hobie bites the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down as he makes his way upwards and towards the steering wheel. The framed pictures of you two and the band whizzes past him in the dark, all smiles and laughter etched in each photograph. He makes it up to the wheel, immediately inserting the key in the ignition as the whole boat lights up like a damn Christmas tree.

The bloodied and bloated corpses appear from the street, shrieking as they see him standing in the boat before racing towards him.

Hobie doesn't steer the boat just yet, eyes roaming around the docks, hoping, wishing that he would see you sprinting towards the houseboat you two shared.

But with every inch the dead comes close to him, he has no choice but to sail away without you.

He promises to find you, even if it kills him.

—

Your lungs burn from the running, feet sore and feeling like you're sprinting on hot coals. It's torture, pair it up with your nausea and your various wounds, you feel like you're better off as the dead’s meal. And yet, you still run with James leading you towards a pub.

His shoulder hits the double doors, bursting it open and pulling you through it and locking the doors with a propped up chair all in quick succession.

You stand in the middle of the room with a wild look in your eyes as you see a handful of people peeking out of the bar.

“Get out!” One whisper yells at you, and James finally joins your side.

“Absolutely not, mate.” He shakes his head, taking your hand, he leads you towards the back of the place. “I own this bloody place.”

You whip your head towards him with shock. “What?”

“Technically my dad does.” He whispers to you as he continues to lead you to an office while the survivors follow you with their heavy gaze.

“And here I thought JJJ only had that radio show.” You say as you close the door behind you to shut off the stares.

James rummages through the desk, trying to find something as you roam your eyes around the sparse room with a few accolades framed to the walls and its business permit. Behind the oak table lies a large cabinet with a lock on it. And to the other side of the wall is the back exit. There's not even a framed picture of his family in it, not even of James.

“One thing about my dad is that he loves yapping, drinking, and…” he grins, showing you a ring of keys. “Guns.”

“Guns? That's—”

“Hard to get here? Yeah, he had to pull some strings.” He immediately turns around, crouching down to unlock the cabinet. “The real deal is at our house, and you already know what happened there, this is just a small part of his collection.” A muffled curse escapes from his lips as he tries to find the right key in the dozen or so keys.

You look at the window from the office, seeing the survivors beginning to stand up and staring at you with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you close the blinds with a quick tug. You can't risk it, not when you've seen too many apocalypse movies with Hobie. Fuck, Hobie, your heart squeezes at the thought of him. You should get back to him using those guns, saving him like in the movies.

“How'd you find us, James— shit, have you seen Yuri and Ned?” You lean against the table as a wave of pain ebbs through you. Your hand grasps at your stomach, trying to calm yourself down.

His hands pauses, “...no, no I haven't. We got separated too. We all ran out towards another house to get help but when I looked back they were both gone. Then I jacked a car to get to the city— to my mum and dad, hopefully. That's when I saw the pileup and your car.” He clears his throat, sniffing and wiping his face with his sleeve. “I'm sure they're fine though, this is Yuri and Ned we're talking about.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I'm sure your parents are fine too.” That means Hobie is all alone out there. “James, we need to get back to Hobie.”

“I know, boss.” He says your nickname that he dubbed to you when you took on the mantle of being their manager. “No man left behind, I promise.” The cabinet finally unlocks, revealing a pump action shotgun and a pistol. “Thanks dad.” James grabs the backpack next to the gun, filling it up with as much ammo as he could put inside. “Help me with this.”

You nod, quickly kneeling down to shovel in ammo. Your leg hinders you to fold it, but despite the stabbing pain, you still crouch. “After we get Hobie, we'll hop onto the houseboat then we'll go out and find Yuri and Ned.” The boxes of bullets rattle as you shove it inside.

“Solid plan.” He takes the shotgun and loads it in with shells. You gawk at his expert movements. He shrugs, “of course he taught us how to use these things.”

“Perks of being friends with the royal family I guess?”

James makes a face, nose scrunched up. “Never went to their hunts, dad said I would've pointed it at them instead.”

You chuckle, “that's probably true.”

He smiles, handing you the pistol. “You know how to use it?”

“Uh, point and shoot?” You take the weighted gun in your hand.

James takes the gun and shows you the safety, “right means pew pew, left means no pew pew.” He then takes a cartridge and loads up the pistol and shows you how to load it yourself. “Just pull this back right after and you're good.”

“What if it jams?” You ask as he gives it back to you.

“Like in the movies, huh?” It's your turn to shrug. “That rarely happens with a gun like this. But if it does, you run like hell, okay?”

“Okay.” You inhale, letting your hand acclimate to the weight. “I never thought that there's this side of you, James.”

“I was really into watching doomsday preppers when I was younger. I guess the doom mongering kinda stuck with me.”

You chuckle, “we're kinda stuck together until we find them. How do you feel about that?”

“Fucking lucky that I got the fittest member in the band.” James jokes, nudging you as he puts on the backpack. He stands up, giving you a helping hand that you take.

“Not going to be fit for much longer.” You groan as your knees creak from under you.

“C’mon, you're not that old.”

“I don't mean it like that.” You inhale, “I'm pregnant, James.”

“Shit, is Yuri the father?”

You push him playfully. “Fucker.”

“Congrats? Shit timing though.”

You shake your head with a small smile. You feel lighter now that you've told someone else. “The worst fucking timing. I haven't told him yet— I was about to but then you know.”

“Yeah, the fucking dead rises again.” He walks over to the backdoor, unlocking it.

“Should we help them?” You gesture towards the window and the bar.

James sighs then nods. “Yeah, actually we should—!” The door opens and out comes a stumbling wall of decaying flesh. He immediately fires at it head on, blood and guts spraying at you and the walls as your ears ring from the loud shot.

You take James by the back of his collar, tugging him backwards into the bar as the loud shot has brought more visitors to funnel into the office.

You yell ‘run,’ but you can't hear your own voice.

James points the barrel behind you as more and more appear. You quickly open the pub entrance, flinging away the chair as chaos ensues inside.

Your hearing comes back just as the screams start.

James tries his best to help, shooting at anyone who comes close to the survivors but he can't protect himself and them at the same time. He's backed against a table as he reloads. Fountains of crimson splashes out of the bodies as the corpses rip and tear into their insides.

A few escape, pushing past you to get out into the streets. But most fall into the jaws of death.

Soon, the oaken floorboards and marble bar is covered in guts and bone.

“James, we need to go!”

James struggles to reload with his shaking fingers, with a deep inhale, you point and shoot at a corpse who came too close to him. He cradles his ear, wincing at the sound as he retreats towards you. The body staggers back, but your bullet missed the head, ear no longer there.

You take the opportunity to pull him out just in time as bodies pile up and spring over to you, you see a glimpse of one of the survivors with a huge chunk taken out of their face, twitching and writhing on the floor before they stand up and bite at the air with their bloodied teeth.

You don't have time to ponder what you saw as you and James run towards the docks.

Your leg aches but you carry on with the pain, you feel blood seeping through the measly bandage while you run. James holds onto your elbow, making sure you don't lag behind as you blindly shoot behind you.

James leads you back to where he found you and Hobie, his feet skids to a stop but when he looks inside the driver's side, Hobie's gone.

You almost cry at the sight. But you hold onto hope. “The docks!” James immediately understands as he lets you lead this time.

Muscle memory guides you towards the side streets where you and Hobie use as shortcuts to get home faster. Shoes thudding against the pavement, shots echoing in the dark as smoke and fire billows all over the city you call home.

The smell of the river has you running faster.

Muscles screaming to stop, you heave as you bolt over to the houseboat. Only to be met with nothing in its place.

“What the fuck?!” You scream, gun tightly around your hand. “Where—?!” Turning around, you roam your frantic eyes across the familiar dock, but the red paint of the houseboat is nowhere to be seen, only the rope that was tied around it is left floating on the water.

“Where is it?!” James yells, reloading his gun before making quick work of the corpses that fall down with a bloodied thud.

With a heavy heart, you pull James away and back into the streets. “It's not here!”

You're half relieved and afraid of what might've happened to him. Hobie might've woken up and went to the houseboat in hopes of meeting you there. But he had to leave, you know he wouldn't have any other choice in the matter if he chose that. But another half of you thinks that he perished along the way, that the houseboat is now floating along the Thames with its captain writhing and stumbling inside the very place you both cherished.

You shake the thought away, focusing on surviving for him and for the life inside you. He's alive, you know he is.

“Over here!” James pushes himself inside a broken metal fence, helping you squeeze inside as the horde catches up to you. You feel the heat of their bodies against your back as they desperately try to wrap their rotted fingers around you.

He pulls you, shooting at any stragglers as your destination gets near. A tall building stands before you with its shiny windows that reach high into the sky, and rotating doors that remind you of a fancy hotel.

“Keep running!” He yells, arm still holding onto you for dear life.

“Fuck, my leg!” You almost stumble, but James comes back to you and grabs your arm and places it around his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, we're almost there!” He yells, panicking as he bares half of your weight for you.

The two of you pass by a pub that's filled with screams of terror echoing out instead of the sound of music that you're used to. The windows are painted in crimson, splotches of blood marr the historical walls inside like spider lilies spread across the glass. There's still people in there, fighting for their lives as you see a flash of light and hear a loud bang that has your teeth rattling inside your mouth.

The horde splits off towards the sound, leaving you with a dozen corpses heading your way.

Your adrenaline filled heart flips as you see the name of the pub, and it's the same one you were in just mere hours ago with Hobie.

“In here!” James pulls you back into the present, pushing you towards the rotating doors and into the empty lobby.

You make it inside just in time before the dead get to you. James grabs the metal rod in your hand, using it to lock the rotating doors by placing it in-between the glass.

“It's not gonna hold on for long, we need to go up!” James grabs your hand, yanking you towards the stairs. “Seventh floor!”

You don't have enough time to gaze upon the expansive lobby with its marble floors and crystal chandelier. It seems as though the place lies untouched by the calamity outside.

Your mind goes on survival mode, running, dodging bared teeth, climbing up the stairs, shooting, kicking a corpse away from your ankle. And then sprinting upwards towards the winding stairs.

James couldn't risk it with the elevators, knowing that it could get stuck in between floors or worse, the dead lurk and wait inside.

The condo door is in sight, just when James trips and falls face first into the harsh ground. You look at the crawling corpse, who's rotting hand is wrapped around his ankle.

Without wasting time, you take your foot up, stomping down on their skull in a sickening crunch of brain matter and bone.

Eyeing down your deed, with its mess marked on the once pristine floors, James pulls you away and towards the door. Within a second, he inputs the code on the panel and the door clicks open. He pushes you inside and shuts the door with haste.

There's banging outside the door, and you're left standing in the hallway with James pushing a bookshelf towards it as a barricade.

You don't notice him calling your name as you stare at your bloodied shoe with brain matter sticking to its heel.

“Hey.” James grasps your arm, panting and eyes wide awake. “I need help with the door.”

With a firm nod, you take your mind off of what you have done, and whilst you push shelves against the door, you could only wish that Hobie's alright and he made it to the boat in one piece.

—

Hobie's stuck alone in his boat. With nothing but the waters and the fish to keep him company for two months, he sails towards the north where the cabin, the designated meeting place, lies. His hand tightens around the wheel, lips chapped, scruff scratching him, and bags dark under his brown eyes. He feels as if he's going sea crazy out here. Hundreds of worries have appeared in his mind, and most of it consists of you and your whereabouts.

Without the knowledge of you being alive and breathing, he keeps seeing you in his dreams. The last two months have been a nightmare for him. And it has gotten worse with every day that passes without you by his side. Now he knows why Yuri and the others always joke that they shouldn't separate the two of you lest the other won't function or go stir crazy. He only hopes that you're doing better than he is.

His eyes seem to circle around the sticker of your face on his guitar, right where you accidentally scruffed it. You two always talked about sailing the whole world on the houseboat, ignoring the fact that the boat can't withstand the harsh waves of the ocean. But it was a good dream nonetheless. If only you could be here with him, it's not sailing around the world, but the water at night would be a sight to behold for you.

The waters around the country have gone wilder by the week, he sticks to the beaches and the coast where he can control the houseboat better. Where the water isn't too rough around the old ship.

The boat isn't built for seafaring, or even long journeys. If the houseboat collapses against the rough waves before he could get to the small fishing town you two stayed in, his hope would dwindle, but he'll stay determined for you.

He can already feel your arms around him when the reunion happens. Or is that his mind playing tricks on him once again?

At least he has enough provisions to last him a few more weeks out in the open. But in time, he has to go dock the boat and scavenge for food. He doesn't need to load up with gasoline when the houseboat runs on solar. Thank fuck he built that before shit hit the fan.

The virus seems to have wrapped its teeth around the world. Marks of death lay waste to every city he sails by. Piles and piles of bodies, half burned by the very people who once knew them, afraid of the walking death that could savage them too. Cities now lay empty or crowded by snarling corpses. Some were lucky enough to build walls around a small commune, but it was obvious that they didn't want newcomers with the mounted guns and patrolling armed forces around it.

With every port and dock he passes, he looks for you and your familiar face. He hopes that with every wave and tide he conquers, you're getting closer to him. But whenever he passes by a coastal town, or a beach he once visited with you, he could only see the dead awaiting for him on the sand, like old friends waiting to be reunited with him. Their eyes are long gone, white scleras and crimson irises staring him down with their maws agape, biting at air and inhaling through their rotten lungs.

The shamblers, he calls it, or them, the former humans that were sadly infected, can't swim, but they also can't drown. So swimming in the water poses a risk of getting bitten by one of them that are treading the sea floor. Hobie doesn't risk getting into the sea after a limp hand wrapped around his ankle when he decided to take a quick dip.

In the past two months since then, he misses you, misses the way he would wake up to your face, arms wrapped around him and protecting him from the harsh morning cold. He misses the way you would smile and laugh. He misses the sound of your footsteps walking around the boat, sometimes he hears it at night when he's in between sleep and the waking world. Missing you was an understatement, he longs for you, longs for you to be alive and back beside him. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but no one told him that the ache would be unbearable.

Hobie once hated the mundanity of life. The way he plays his loud music in the speakers, now he can't even turn on the stereo when every sound could bring the dead to him. Even the radio that he has taken for granted, one that you would always turn on in the morning without fail, now only plays static. Or the repeating sounds of the emergency broadcast over and over again. He sometimes wants to chuck it out of the boat and into the depths, but he remembers how much you loved the old radio and how you would sway to the music. So now he lets it play static, the sound keeping him company throughout the night instead of you.

The information pamphlet that the government tossed from an airplane glares at him from where he taped it on the side of the controls. Hobie still remembers the whirr of the engine above while the papers drift down like snow.

The drawings remind him of the ones in airplanes where they tell you what to do in case of a plane crash or how to put on your seatbelt. He feels like he's in a never ending plane crash heading to nowhere. The words ‘body fluids,’ ‘infected,’ ‘bites,’ and ‘ten seconds’ are engraved in his mind.

He once tried to call your phone in hopes of you answering it but he only heard your voicemail. In the rocky waters and the solemn sky, your voice echoes and presence felt through the speakers. He kept calling you after that just to hear your voice again and again until cell services stopped working.

He's utterly alone.

With a sigh, he steers the houseboat towards an empty dock. The wood creaks as he steps out, bag slung over his shoulder and rope itching against his palms. After taking a quick look around for danger, he ties the rope around the dock, securing his home before grabbing his hammer from his belt.

He stretches his arms and legs as if he's about to run a marathon, he probably would be after he tried to restock for supplies a few days ago. He can still smell the stench of rotten flesh and blood in his nose when a horde chased after him.

Like always he tries to find the evacuation area where you might be, or where other people might be. He would steer away from other survivors, but if there's doctors and a lot of people around, he's sure that they can be trusted. A gathering of people in the apocalypse could spell danger, but it could also be hope.

He treks along the empty street, nothing left but dusty shops, and abandoned cars on the road. There's no stench of death that lingers around the place, or blood splattered along the shop walls. Hobie guesses this town was one of the lucky ones to be evacuated before the virus got to them.

His hypothesis seems to be right when he spots a military vehicle abandoned on the side of the road. Peeking behind it, he doesn't find anything, not even a shambler waiting to bite at him behind the tarpaulin. He wonders what happened to this place.

Every place he encounters has him asking the same question, could you be here?

As he enters the large stadium, it's evident that it's long been abandoned.

Scattered boxes and tents lay where its occupants last left it. Needles and bloodied bandages are strewn across the painted floor and on the court seats. Hobie stands where the general seats would be, right in the middle of everything and with him having a good vantage point of the whole place. A breeze passes by, and papers fly ahead of him.

It’s completely empty, even if he scavenge for supplies in here he won't find anything.

Just as he's about to leave, he hears a clunking sound from the middle of the stadium. His hands hold onto the railings as he narrows his eyes towards the movement from behind the tents.

There, a couple of black clad strangers emerge from within, all holding onto their own blades.

Hobie immediately ducks down, hiding behind the wall and railings.

“This place is shit, there's nothin’ left!” One says, voice echoing.

“Keep your bloody voice down unless you want to wake the dead.”

“How fucking poetic of you.”

Hobie has managed to avoid the dead and the living, the dead a lot easier, but people are harder to get away from. He hasn't killed or maimed anyone, unlike the apocalyptic movies he had watched with you and the band. He tries to avoid it, staying away from staining his hands with red. The shamblers used to be human too, under all the rotten flesh and dead eyes, they once had a life, a family, someone that cared for them. So as much as he can, he only stuns them.

He has never encountered other people before, on his ship, the only faces he has seen are the ones in photographs. He always wondered where everyone went, if there's a huge ship somewhere carrying the whole world behind its metal back. Finding the strangers is comforting in a way, a way that he wasn't left behind to rot and survive on his own. That there are still people out there, living and breathing ones.

But it's clear that you're not here.

With a thudding heart, he slowly crawls on the dusty floor, gloved hand and knees dirtied by the muck and grime.

Hobie tries to not make any noise above the whistling wind and rustling trees. He avoids fallen bottles, and scattered paper plates. The voices fade behind him, the doors where he came from just in his line of sight.

He shifts left and right, crawling as he adjusts his belt. Your voice telling him that he needed a new one rather than the barely holding on rope echoes in his ears. He curses himself for not listening as he keeps adjusting the falling thing.

His breath quickens, pulse palpitating as he makes it to the door. His palm reaches for the doorknob, still kneeling down. But as he stretches himself, the hammer hanging from his belt falls.

Hobie gasps, fingertips brushing along its handle, trying to catch it. It falls down loudly on the floor, metallic clanging sounding like a death knell.

“What was that?!”

“Fuck.” Hobie, without wasting time, grabs the hammer and runs for his life.

The door swings open, the warmth of the sun greeting him. His boots thump loudly on the pavement, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

“Get back here!” They gain speed as their footsteps get louder, a cacophony of breaths and blades unsheathing. “He has supplies, get him!”

Hobie turns a corner, his destination still too far from him to see. His legs are starting to ache, chest aflame as he navigates the town that he thought would be empty.

“Shit!” He makes the mistake of looking back, finding three people now running after him. Wait, three?

A shambler joins the chase, eyes bloodied, arms trying to grasp at the couple.

“Behind you!” Hobie tries to help as they're too focused on trying to catch him.

Just as the man wielding a fire axe turns to look behind him, the shambler catches up and grabs him by the neck, taking a chunk out of his face.

His screams of agony would bring Hobie nightmares, but the guttural yell of grief from his companion would be etched in his mind forever.

“Wilson, no!” He cries, trying to help the other as blood sprays the pavement below.

The dead doesn't let go, maw properly set into his skin.

His pursuer cranes his neck towards the frozen Hobie, eyes pleading with him for help.

Hobie should help, could help. His mind is in scrambles as screams echo around the small town, waking the dead that hides in the forgotten homes. He swallows thickly just as the sound of running footsteps roar from further within the town. So he turns around, running away from the scene as more and more join in, hearing the screams of terror ebb out like a dinner bell.

He doesn't sleep that night, the faces of those strangers are painted behind his eyelids, faces contorted into pure fear. And yet he left them, had to leave them or he might've been caught with them. Died with them, died with strangers who tried to take his things and perhaps his life.

Hobie doesn't want to die amongst strangers, nor be forgotten and lost within the numbers of the dead. To be left for dead is his greatest fear, losing you was the closest he got to feeling that fear. If It's his time, he wants it to be with people he knows, people he loves, not wasting as a husk of himself in a place he doesn't know.

He lays awake in the same bed you once shared, the pillows still smell like your shampoo, and the room has lingering scents of your perfume. His eyes are heavy and lashes sticking to one another. The chipping paint of the ceiling morphs into shapes, the pub he played at, the band's faces, and you, smiling at him like always.

Closing his eyes tightly, he wretches the vision from his mind. He needs to stay sane. As he stands up from the bed, mattress creaking from his weight, he wraps your cardigan around himself, clinging onto it like a child's toy.

The ship rocks back and forth to the calm waves. Stars dotted along the sky while the moonlight stretches across the shining waters. Hobie sits on the deck, where you two would usually drink morning tea at, and where you'd be sitting when you're waiting for him to come home from a gig.

Everything reminds him of you, there's no escaping it, even if he doesn't want to. He doesn't know if it’s the only thing keeping him sane all alone, or the thing that's slowly making him bonkers. Either way, the memory of you keeps him company in the end of the world.

He brings his knees to his chest, chin propped up on it as his eyes follow a dot in the horizon. The moonlight shines on it whilst it moves on the water.

Fear grips him as it continues to move closer to his boat. The shadow moves from side to side, at the mercy of the waves.

Hobie stands up, putting on your cardigan as he makes his way up to the wheel. He steers the boat away from its way, now seeing it as a large cruise ship that's aimlessly floating on the water.

There's no light nor voices coming from it, only the familiar scent of decomposing flesh, and the sound of low groans.

He steers clear of it as he sees a face peeking from the side, eyes unblinking, red almost shining in the light of the moon. He swears he saw it grin at him.

As he swivels the wheel, he lets the ship pass quietly, letting it carry the dead on its empty voyage.

Hobie decides to get back into bed then, eyes too heavy, body too tired. His head lands on the pillow, sleep taking him into its calm arms.

—

Hobie wakes up to your thumb brushing along his jaw. He cracks an eye open, and your smile beams at him.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, me.” A smile spreads across his cheeks, your familiar warmth and scent felt through his bones. His eyes feel so heavy, and you're so warm that he could fall right back to sleep.

“You’re loopy today.” The pads of your fingertips graze along his stubble. “Are you tired, Hobie?”

“Yeah, love.” He breathlessly says, smile etched on his lips as the sun shines behind you, bathing you in warm light. “Where have you been?”

“I was waiting for you.” You tilt your head with a smile. “You sleep like the dead.”

He chuckles, hand grasping on your waist. “I was lookin’ for you in my dream.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle above the sound of wind chimes. “Did you find me in your dream?”

“I haven't, not yet.” He sniffs, and yet can't smell your shampoo or perfume.

“Maybe you should wake up then, continue your search?” You whisper, voice gentle as your hands cup his cheeks.

Hobie grins tiredly, eyes half lidded. “You're already in front of me, what is there left to find?”

“You have to wake up, Hobie.” Your fingers pinch his skin, nails digging into his cheeks as the sun is replaced by darkness. And the warmth in your eyes turn stark white.

“Ow, what?”

“Wake the fuck up!”

Hobie jumps off the bed, head hitting the hard wall of the houseboat as thunder rips through the wood while lightning flashes outside. He can still hear the last echoes of your scream in his ears.

“Fuck!” The whole boat shifts to the side, dangerously close to tipping. His things are knocked from their place, glass shattering and making a mess of the bedroom. If he doesn't get up to the wheel, the waves might break the boat in half.

He panics, grabbing his windbreaker, and boots in the other. As he climbs up the steps, he puts it on awkwardly over your cardigan and as best as he can with his shoelaces loose.

Rain battens down on the houseboat, wind howling outside. Hobie zips his jacket on, taking a breath before opening the door.

The water smacks him right on his face, sharp rain drops stinging his cheeks. He slams the door closed, bracing the wind as he shields himself with his arm.

“Shit!” The slippery floors made it hard for him to find a foothold while the waves shook and turn the boat all over like he's in a blender.

Hobie grips the side wall, trying to keep his balance to get up the steps to the controls. The waves splash and slap his body around, completely drenching him from inside and out.

The winds howl a dreaded tune, one that sailors would run away in fear. Dark waves loom overhead, sea salt on his lips, and seafoam spreading by his feet. All he could do is brace for impact.

—

The city in front of you is still burning. Skyscrapers that used to reach the heavens are now nothing but flaming metal and acrid dark smoke. James had warned you not to stay too long on the balcony when the air outside leaves less to be desired, especially in your condition. James has been pleasant company, but the life growing inside you has made it extra difficult to stay in a good mood. Especially when the one person you want to be next to you is missing.

It feels like your heart is out of your body, missing somewhere else.

Your eyes glance over to the Thames, the water is dark and glimmering under the embers of the city and the moonlight. Despite the crackling of fire and low groans of the dead in the streets, the city is quiet, dead quiet.

You long for the days when the sound of a guitar rips through the morning hours of sleep. Hobie would always apologize with a smile, but you know he has taken the position of your personal alarm clock whenever he would wake up earlier than you. Nowadays you would wake up to James trying to pick up a signal from a CB radio he found during his runs through the building. He said it's to contact the rest of the band, but you can always hear him trying to call for his parents when you're in bed and alone with only the polaroid of him, and your baby to keep you company.

It's been two months since you found out, two months without Hobie. You try not to worry too much, telling yourself that he's alright and probably faring better than you and James. But you only do it for the baby, you know all that worrying would bear down on them. Even the prenatal vitamins James found for you from one of his neighbours wouldn't help if you kept on crying through the night with your chest sore while mumbling Hobie's name.

According to the pregnancy book you found, something that was probably owned by James’ mother, your baby is as big as a raspberry now. You already feel bloated and you dread trying to run away from the dead when your belly gets bigger with time. It also said that in three months the baby will be the size of a lemon, the thought makes you realize how long it has been since you've held fresh produce.

James' parents' condo is big, too big for just two people. You've been stuck within the four walls for months now when you can't step out of the building without the city's horde lunging at you. James and you decided to wait out the dead after you read in the government pamphlet that they like to travel in hordes and they tend to leave when there’s no one left to infect or eat. You've seen that the infected are beginning to thin out, but not fast enough.

The place isn't uncomfortable at all; it's probably the best place you could wait it all out in. It's all pristine white walls and modern furniture that must've been worth more than your houseboat. You've taken the guest room with its king sized bed and hundred thread count sheets. It has its own bathroom, and a bathtub to boot. And yet your mind keeps going back to the houseboat where you and Hobie were happy and content. You hate the fact that he's been missing for two months of your life, two months of the pregnancy where you imagined you two would lean on each other. Not spending it all with James, he's kind and patient, but he's still not your Hobie.

You try not to gaze at the river again, but you keep failing each time. The hot chocolate you made sits abandoned on a small table beside you as the wind blows against your cheeks. The scenery doesn't change, it hasn't changed in two months, but you hope and wish that one day the familiar red paint of the houseboat would appear on the waters with Hobie on it.

With a tight grasp around the binoculars, you take a peek at the waters. Your eyes roam around the same docks where you last saw the houseboat, like before, there's nothing.

James thought that giving you the binoculars would help quell your anxieties, but whenever you look through it, you could only see the faces of the dead staring back at you. You could only hope that you don't— would never see a familiar face among the horde.

The sliding doors to the balcony opens, and out comes James' head peeking through it. He gives you soft smile, blond hair tousled in the wind, and a beard needing a trim. The light from inside the condo spills out into the balcony. You always thought that the city's electric grid would run out within a few weeks, but it's still going strong.

“Hey,” he sighs, gazing at how you grip onto the binoculars and down to your growing stomach. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you inhale, lower back aching and stomach feeling heavier than yesterday. “Just sightseeing.”

He steps out, still wearing his dad's hunting vest, and his mum's silver bracelet. “Anything new?”

You shake your head. “I thought I heard a gunshot from somewhere, but I couldn't find where it came from.”

James sits down next to you with a groan, hand reaching for the binoculars. “Let me try.” You give it to him, hand subconsciously twirling the ring around your pinky. “Where do you think it came from?”

“West, just by the park.” You cradle your stomach, the growing belly still feels alien to you. But at least now the morning sickness is gone, but your feet look bloated inside your socks.

James hums, looking through the binoculars with intensity. He takes it off his eyes after a minute, shaking his head and giving it back to you. “Yeah, nothing, just a few of the infected.”

“Why are you still in your hunting vest? You already got us enough provisions to last us a couple of weeks.”

He looks down at his appearance, “sorry, I can't seem to just shrug it off.” You know what he meant by it, and it's not the vest he's talking about as he cleans off the grime under his fingernails with his thumb nail. “Does it bother you? I'll take it off.”

You stop him from taking the vest off. “No, it's fine, keep it on if you like.”

Nodding, James puts the beige vest back on. “Is your leg still hurting?” he glances at your leg that's perched on the railing.

“Just sore, is all.” You inhale, thumb drawing circles around your belly. “Putting it up helps.”

“If I just knew how to treat it properly before—”

“You did a good job, James.” You reach for him, palm resting on his arm. “If it was just me I would've thought of cutting it off or something.”

He smiles, patting the back of your hand. “How’s Hobie jr?”

“Fine, just like yesterday and the day before that.” You chuckle. “How are you holding up, James? I should be helping you out there.”

Scoffing, James flicks the back of your hand playfully. “You'd just hold me back, preggo.”

“Hey,” you say with a laugh. “All I'm saying is that you need someone to watch your back. Or at least help carry the load.”

He looks at your stomach then over to your face with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Looks like you already took the load.”

“You little shit!” Slapping his arm, he lets out a feigned yelp. “I'm serious, I could really help.”

“If something happens to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself, boss.” James looks at the distance, eyes darting over to the river. “Besides, I can handle it.” He flexes his arm, smacking his bicep.

You sigh, watching him with a strained smile and shining eyes. You blame the hormones. “Okay, but when you move up another floor again, I'm coming with.”

He shakes his head, chuckling and taking your mug of hot chocolate, taking a sip from the lukewarm drink. “Yeah, no.”

“James.” You say sternly, “come on, what if you get trapped up there alone? Ned would kill me if I get his best mate killed.”

“First of all, I'm nobody's best mate. Yuri is yours, and Ned is Hobie's. Second, I have a fucking gun and have been doing this alone for weeks now. I'll be fine.”

Your tone grows soft. “You're my best mate too, James. So is Hobie's, Yuri's and Ned’s. You're our friend, and if it was anybody else in your position, I would offer the same, and fight you just as hard.�� You lean close, arms over the armrest as he stares at you. “I don't want you to fucking die in here alone. Especially when I can still do something to help. Because in a few months I won't be able to.”

“Do you think they're alright out there?”

“Don't change the fucking subject—”

“They have to be okay.” James licks his dry lips, swallowing down the lump in his throat. You've had this conversation before, and it always ends the same way.

You nod, chest heavy and hands shaking. “They are, I know they are. They're tough, our band will hold on.”

He swallows thickly, looking away at you and instead staring at the dark drink. The previous conversation wedges in his mind. “I just— I think I just want to be useful, you know? Because I know this stuff, shooting and shit. So I gotta use it to protect you and the baby because that's all I know.”

You feel tears prick at your lashes. “You've always been useful, James. You're our drummer, the music's shit without you.” He chuckles, sniffing as he gazes at the ruined city. “We're a band, we protect each other. And I've seen you do other shit with expertise, shooting is not all you know.”

He turns to you, smiling gently. “I do make a really good pot of stew.”

“The best.” You smile back, tugging at his hand and holding it fondly.

His face turns solemn, eyes downturned at your intertwined hands. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Can— will you end me if I ever get bitten?”

“James—”

“I've seen them closely, Y/N, I know they're in pain. I don't want to end up like that.” His voice breaks at the end, thumb brushing along the back of your hand, staring down at it. “The pamphlet said you have ten seconds before you turn, that's plenty of time to reload.”

Your lips wobble, head shaking before you inhale deeply. “...Okay. If that's what you want.”

“Y–Yeah, I want that.”

“It won't get to that, I promise.” You don't know that, but you promise him anyway.

“Thank you, boss.”

“Can you promise the same thing for me too—?” Before you could finish your words, the lights shuts off, and you see the wave of darkness ebb through the city. “Shit.”

“I think we need to get to that cabin sooner rather than later.” James utters in the dark.

—

After weeks of waiting and preparing in the darkened condo, with some luck and a miracle, you and James manage to get outside of the condo and even get to ride in his parent's lexus.

You shut your door as quietly as you can, heaving and laden with sweat as you're covered from head to toe in thick winter clothes; so if an infected gets to you, their teeth won't be able to penetrate the cloth. Patting your stomach, the roundness of it is still unusual for you now that you can feel the baby move around.

James mirrors your befuddled look, sweat dripping off his brows and beard sticking to his chin in what could be an uncomfortable feeling. He nods at you, smiling as he grips the steering wheel. All the bags and guns are thrown in the backseat, together with a baby bag that James managed to find in one of the flats.

“We fucking made it.”

“God, I could fucking kiss you right now, James.” You joke, reaching over the center console to briefly hug him.

“I wouldn't say no to that.” He chuckles out, patting your back before turning on the ignition with a shaky hand. “To the cabin we go!”

The engine stirs up immediately, a thrumming sound of victory. James presses a button on a small remote, prompting the automatic garage door to whirr awake.

You laugh, but the sound of running footsteps behind you has your stomach sinking. Looking behind and over the seats, you see a whole horde of them gunning for you and James. It's the building’s residents.

“We need to go!”

“Seat belts!” James revs up the engine and without missing a beat, backs the car towards the bodies as blood sprays all over the windows.

Clicking on your seat belt, you hang on for dear life as James panics and turns the steering wheel around to face the garage doors.

“James!” You yell as more and more clamber their way to the sides. The car jolts, wheels squeaking but not moving as blood and guts fly about.

The sound of the garage door’s metallic clanking has more of the infected join in, the stragglers left by the rest of the city's horde. The sun peeks through the opening, shadows of the stumbling and running crowd managing to squeeze through.

“The wheel's fucking stuck!” James presses down on the pedals, but the car still doesn't move.

You yell when a banging sound erupts from the backseat. Right on the glass, bodies and faces are squished in between it, blood and ripped skin kissing the car's window.

“I need to get out and—” James panics, but before he could grab the shotgun from the backseat, you're already holding onto it. “What—?!”

The loud reverb of the shot stings your ears as the glass of the back window now lay shattered all over your things.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” James yanks the gun away and you surprisingly let him.

You crawl towards the seats, ignoring the broken and bloodied glass, and quickly ripping the bag zipper open as you grab a molotov cocktail from the arsenal you and James prepared exactly for situations like this. You only have a few minutes before your opening closes and before the horde gets back up.

Without questioning you anymore, James helps you by fishing out his lighter, clicking it once until the cloth lit up the whole car.

Just like Hobie taught you, you toss it through the opening you made within a half second.

The bottle flies over the dead, their heads turn towards the heat and light as it lands directly at them with force, shattering the glass and spreading the fire.

The guttural screams would haunt your dreams, but when the car lurches and the infected gather around the warmth and leave the car be, you smile victoriously.

James drives off, car hitting the streets with a metallic slam and wheels smoking. He hoots and hollers, smacking your side ecstatically.

“You absolute beauty, you!” He laughs, fist slamming against the car's ceiling.

Buildings whizz by, grinning back at James. His smile flickers away as his eyes move down to your lap. You suddenly feel a stinging ache on your palms.

With bated breath, you look down, blood pooling all over his mother's mink coat.

“It's probably fine—”

“Stop the car!” You yell as the car skids to a stop near the bridge. Opening the door, you immediately bolt away from James and climb up the wall of the bridge, standing precariously on the ledge as you look down at the Thames.

The sound of the car door opening has you looking back at a concerned James, the gun in his hand means that you both have reached an understanding.

Big Ben looms over the distance, its clock face standing still just like the world has. Just like you have as you count down to ten.

Your laboured breaths rise above the sound of the rushing river below you. It's dark depths calling for you.

Five.

“It's okay, boss, I—I think you're fine.” James utters but the tears in his eyes says that he has the same worries as you. “Ten seconds have already passed.”

Four.

“T–The glass had their blood, James.” You show him your blood drenched palms. “It might take awhile.”

“It won't fucking take you. Get down from there please.”

Three.

“The pamphlet said it transfers through bodily fluids—”

“Get the fuck down.”

Two.

“I can't.”

James slowly inches towards you, gun holstered.

One.

Your breathing rises, blood dripping from your wounds. “I think—” James yanks you away by the coat’s hem, dragging you away from the ledge as you land against his chest. Your cries are muffled by his own coat.

He shushes you gently, holding you in place. “You're good, see? Still alive.”

“I'm sorry, t–that was pathetic.”

“Pathetic? Nah, just melodramatic.” He sighs in relief, leaning away as he holds you at arm's length. Patting your cheek, he sees your left eye twitching briefly before stabilizing. “Let's get the fuck away from here. We have bandages in the car, come on, boss.”

You wipe all your tears, nodding and trying to calm yourself down. “Okay, we have a reunion to go to.”

—

“So, tell me about this cabin?” James asks while a storm brews in the distance, dark clouds looming over the trees on your right. “We have four whole days of travelling, might as well tell me about it.”

“What?” You ask, head still not screwed on tight on your neck after what transpired a few hours ago. The bandage around your palms are rough against your thumbnail, incessantly picking at it anxiously. The ring around your pinky is stained in red, you should clean it later.

“The cabin, tell me about your time there with Hobie. The PG version please.” He chuckles, eyes straight on the road as he carries precious cargo.

Shaking your head, you look over to him while a pair of beaded bracelets dangle from the rearview mirror. “It was nice, we went there for our anniversary.”

“And?”

“And?” You scoff with a smile. “That's it, we spent time lounging around the place and in the morning we would go out to eat and sightsee.”

“You have a way with your words, boss.”

“What do you want from me, James?” You shift in your seat, arms wrapped around your growing belly. “A narration?”

James shakes his head with a growing grin, eyes flicking to you briefly. “No, I'm just making conversation to fucking get you out of there.”

“Out of my seat?”

“No, your fucking head, emo. You've been quiet this entire time.”

“Oh,” you sniff as thunder rumbles from a distance. “Well, thanks.” You can't tell him that his annoyance actually worked and kept you distracted for a little bit, or you'll never hear the end of it. “The cabin was just an hour away from the town. It was pretty, you know, in a cabin in a horror movie type of shit.”

He chuckles, finally victorious. “Why? Is there a permanent smell of carcass around the place, oh! Or like dolls hanging from the ceiling?”

“That’s fucked up!” You chortle, smacking his bicep playfully while he mirrors your smile. It's nice to be finally out of the damn building you've been stuck on for almost three months. “No, there was none of that, just a bunch of antique furniture that looks older than me and Hobie combined. I remember the guy who owns it described it as, ‘rustic’ and ‘remote.’”

“That place is definitely haunted. Like someone died in there or some fucked up ritual.”

“Oh, you think you can do better?” You jab his side, earning a guffaw from him as he flinches away, stomach ticklish.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Of course you can, rich boy.” You roll your eyes, legs folding to rest on the seat with you, arms wrapped around it as you perch your chin atop your knees. Thunder rolls around, grey clouds now looming over the highway that's littered with abandoned cars and luggage.

“We have a farm further north— a fucking rest house more like.” He sighs, eyes fond as he remembers a memory. “We used to go there every winter with the whole family, go sledding and shit. Until the whole drama happened between my dad and aunt.”

“I'm sorry, James.”

“Nah, don't be. I was a kid, barely remembered the whole tiff they had. I just miss my cousins is all.” He shrugs, clearing his throat as he continues to drive steadily. “There's a huge chance that they might be there, y’know the whole family and stuff.”

“You planning on going there?” You ask, voice turning soft.

“Yeah, I think so— well, after we meet up with Hobie and hopefully the others.”

You smile, hand reaching to grasp reassuringly at his bicep. “Sounds like a good plan, James. We'll come with you, as support and definitely not to test out the hundred rooms you guys probably have. What's the name of the place?”

“Mudwood manor.” You nod, taking note of the name. “Dad's gonna have a heart attack if he ever saw you lot. He's still not over what happened two years ago.” He chuckles, hand patting your own in appreciation. “Thanks, boss, for everything. I think I wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

You shake your head, tears making your vision blurry. You blame the hormones. “That should be my words, not yours.” James mirrors your expression, inhaling deeply to get rid of the lump in his throat. “If your parents ever saw you now, they'd be proud of you. I'm proud of you.”

He subtly wipes away at his eye. “You gonna name the kid after me now?”

Laughing, you pat his arm before letting go. “Maybe, I'm seriously considering it.”

“Shit, really?” He says with disbelief. “James Junior, wow.”

You wince, making a face. “Probably not with the Junior. Ew.”

The two of you laugh as rain now pours over the car, drenching the pavement. The sound reverberates through the metal, and the broken window doesn't help with tamping down the sound.

You look over your shoulder, finding that the tarpaulin that you hastily stuck on the hole is hanging on.

“Hey,” James pats your knee, eyes shining despite the dark clouds and pouring rain outside. “We’ll make it there.”

“I know.”

“Let me worry for the two of you, okay?” He glances at your stomach, your belly button is beginning to protrude through your shirt.

“Careful, you'll have worry lines.”

“Birds find worry lines fit, boss.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pinch his arm. “Focus on the damn road, Jameson.”

—

“Wake up, Hobie.”

Your voice yanks him from deep slumber, hard pebbled rocks digging into his skin as he rises from the coast.

He aches all over, arms throbbing, knees screaming in protest as he kneels down on the rough rocks. His heavy eyes roam around the beach, finding nothing but miles of the rocky coast with its boulders piled up high, edges smooth from years of waves lapping around it.

Rain bears down on him, ears ringing from the sound of rain hitting the hardened ground. His body shivers, eyes straining from the downpour.

A sound of knocking wood from behind takes his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he finds the remains of his houseboat, all shards of wood and glass, memories scattered and floating in the cold dark water.

A scream almost escapes out of him. Hand covering his mouth, as he keels over to the rocks, palm digging harshly into the beach.

It was his home and yours for almost ten years, and it was his only salvation, his safety while he was out treading the waters. And it was his one reminder of you. Everything in it had memories, both fond and somewhat awful, but they were his, and now it lays in the bottom of the sea. Picture frames floating with the seaweeds, shoes and clothes tangled around drifting wood.

But by some miracle, his guitar case floats in between two rocks, knocking against the other, in tune with the waves.

Hobie, with whatever's left of his energy, stands up on wobbly legs. There's scratches all over his skin, all searing pain that almost had him falling back down on his knees. And yet he continues on, legs weak, feet barely moving towards the guitar case.

Salty water hits his feet as he shivers, he treads on until the water reaches his waist. The cold and salt exacerbates his injuries, with clenched teeth and shuddered breath, he reaches for the only thing that's left of his home.

The thick leather brushes along his fingertips, hands wrapped around it as he tugs it closer to his chest. Hobie shakily hugs it, a sob pushing through his carefully built wall as he cries atop it like it's a casket that's about to be buried.

His head lays on top of it while rain pours overhead. And his tears are carried by the salty waves.

—

Hobie lugs around whatever's left of his houseboat. All shoved inside a tattered backpack that was once yours. Your charms still clink against the other, and pins still clinging on the fabric. His hand holds onto the guitar case, afraid of opening it and seeing the damage on his guitar. So he carries it around, a heavy weapon that contains his most precious memory. He can still see the sticker of your face on the guitar, he hopes that it's still intact.

He's drenched from head to toe as the storm persists on his back, as if fate is playing with him.

It's bad enough that he had to trek the rest of the way towards the cabin, but the storm keeps following him, as if it's pursuing him and hindering him from finding you. With each town he passes, he sees less and less of the dead. Some lay withered on the ground, chest cavity opened, guts spilled all over the pavement while they desperately tried to reach him with their skeletal hand.

They seem to be dying out, or the virus can no longer keep them upright, not when the host is already decomposing. And now it desperately seeks a new host, even when their jaws are barely holding on, skin blanched and bones bleached by the sun.

Hobie passes by countless evacuation centres just like the one he saw before, and they all sit there empty just like the others. Medical tents lay fallen on the ground, gurneys broken and beaten beside dirty syringes and bandages. Despite that, he checks all of them thoroughly for a sign from you, anything that would indicate that you passed through. But he has seen none.

He feels like the last man alive.

He scavenges and rests in empty houses, careful not to wake the dead that might be hiding within the deep crevices of the town. Every night, he lights a fire, small enough to warm him and not let out smoke that would signal other people that could hurt him for what little he has. Hobie knows how to survive, he went through it during his teenage years, and he never thought that he had to experience it all over again. The uncertainty of where your next meal would be, the dangers lurking around every corner; and not trusting other people to help you. His old self is rearing his head again, peeking through his flesh that you once affectionately held in your hands.

When he finds you, would you see the same person you loved? Would he see the same person in you again after everything?

Hobie's own mind is his enemy. Back on the boat he only worried about hallucinations or delusions that could plague him in the dark. But out here, where the dead lurk, everything and anything could kill him. Even his own head.

It's been a week of walking, through rain and the dead, he finally makes it to the same woods that he once shared with you.

The gates of the cabin squeak in the wind, metal gates swinging around as the breeze picks up, fluttering his lashes.

There's a walkway leading towards the house made out of pebbles, pebbles that remind him of the coast, the same grey shade as the clouds, all rounded around the edges. He roams his eyes over to the cabin, all oak and dark yellowed windows. A porch sits in front with a rocking chair that gently moves back and forth in the wind. The perfect place to rest at the end of the world.

A wind chime clinks from somewhere, and as he cranes his head to the left, there sits under a pile of strewn out branches and leaves, a car, one with a shattered window at the back and side mirrors ripped from the hinges. Bloodied specks dot around its silver paint, scratches and bullet holes mar what was once pristine.

Hobie swallows thickly as he opens the gate, there right above the squeaking metal, a loud shot can be heard from the inside. He jumps in place, hand tight around the rusty metal. Then a guttural cry, one that sends shivers down his spine.

He runs on the path, stones rolling down as he makes his way towards the cabin. His hand wraps around the doorknob, finding it unlocked.

Pushing it, there's resistance from the other side. And as he stares down, he sees a pool of blood slowly spreading over the floorboards.

Panic sets in, as he pushes hard on the door.

“Get the fuck away!” Another shot echoes around as birds fly away from their perches outside.

Hobie heaves and stares at the bullet hole on the door. It missed his head by a couple of inches.

With wide eyes, he stares through it, body frozen as he sees you in the dark with a gun pointed right at him. For a second he thought that he's dreaming again. But he wouldn't dream of something so horrible as he sees what's in your lap.

“Why won't you just die?!”

Hobie dodges before another shot takes out a chunk of the door. Flinging his body towards cover, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “Love? It's me!” He can barely recognize his own voice.

“Oh god.” You cry, and a smacking sound can be heard. “I'm already going crazy.”

“No, you're not, it's me, love. It's Hobie.” He then calls your name, soft and filled with fondness that it has you dropping the gun on the floor, metal clanging on wood.

“Hobie?” But he can still recognize your voice.

“Yeah, don't shoot.” His whole body shakes with trepidation.

“Hobie!” Your sobs get louder as he opens the door, letting out the pungent smell of blood and letting in sparse sunlight that filters through the dark clouds. “Hobie?” He stands there, hand on the doorknob as he looks down at you and the body laying on your lap. Maybe you are going crazy. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Hobie looks down, staring eye to eye at a dead shambler with a hole right in his head that was blocking the door. Then he gazes back at you with James' head laying right on your lap, eyes closed, blood pooling down the bullet hole in his head and down your legs.

His hand trembles at the sight of his friend, eyes watering, painting you in water colours of blood and gore. Chest sore and stomach in knots, he closes the distance. His eyes land on you, bloodied yet alive. Then he looks down, the familiar ring around your pinky is murky and covered in red, and then he sees it.

“H–He asked me to. James, he— he saved me again.” You stare at him with wild bloodshot eyes, hands drenched in crimson as you tremble and fix the blond locks on his head. “He got bit. I'm so fucking sorry.” There's a huge chunk of his neck missing.

“Are you—?”

“No, it didn't get m–me.” You heave, barely getting your words out as you stare into his eyes.

He kneels down, hand reaching down and towards your stomach. “Are you pregnant?” His hand is warm, and he feels real. You feel real.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I tried to tell you before—”

His arms engulf you, holding you close, breathing you in, death and all.

A/N: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[endofthelinegang]

third req option: angst, specifically hurt/comfort. maybe reader is struggling with depression and executive dysfunction and just beating self up over it and hides it from matt who can tell something is up but not what but he's super busy between cases and being daredevil so can't actually focus on it. and everntually after like two weeks of this it comes to a head and either reader breaks or matt confronts reader about what's going on

i love you so much and if you are going through this i love you even more

The weight had been pressing on you for weeks now—weeks of feeling like you were suffocating under an invisible blanket of exhaustion, of empty days spent barely moving, of pretending everything was fine. The depression was always there, lurking in the background, but now it was in the foreground, all-consuming. You could hardly keep up with work, barely managed to shower, and even getting out of bed felt like a battle you were losing. Every task, even the simplest ones, seemed insurmountable, like the weight of the world was in your limbs, pulling you down. But you wore a mask, plastering on a smile when Matt came home, answering his questions like everything was okay. You didn’t want to burden him—not him, who already carried so much.

But Matt noticed. Of course, he did. Matt had a way of sensing the world in ways most people couldn’t even imagine. His senses were heightened—his sense of hearing, smell, and touch were all sharper than anything you could comprehend. And lately, he had noticed the changes. The silence that lingered between the two of you after he'd come home from patrol. The way you flinched at his touch, the way your responses were slower, quieter.

You thought you were doing a good job of hiding it, but the guilt gnawed at you every time you felt him pull away, trying not to push you too hard. You knew Matt would never demand anything from you, but that’s what made it worse—you didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t give his all to the city. He didn’t deserve that.

The worst part was the shame. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not being able to pull yourself together and be the person you used to be. You would sit there, stuck in your head, beating yourself up about everything. It wasn’t like you were unaware of what was happening. You knew it was depression, you knew about the executive dysfunction that came with it, the inability to get anything done no matter how much you tried to force yourself. But still, that didn’t make it any easier. It felt like a failing, a weakness. And there was no one you could talk to about it. Not even Matt.

Matt came home one night, the familiar sound of his footsteps echoing in the hallway, the soft tap-tap of his cane hitting the floor with each step. His senses had told him you were home, but there was something off. It was the silence, the lack of your usual greeting, the absence of the light chatter that normally accompanied your evenings. It made his stomach tighten in concern.

"Hey, babe?" His voice was warm, calm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it as he walked into the living room. You sat on the couch, tucked into your favorite blanket, a book resting in your lap, but you weren’t reading. The pages were flipped aimlessly, and you hadn’t even marked the page you left off. Your eyes were distant, staring at nothing in particular.

"Hi," you said softly, not lifting your gaze. Matt stood still for a moment, listening to the slight tremor in your voice. Something wasn’t right. He could hear it in your breath, in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Matt knew you too well to think it was just a bad day. There was something deeper, darker, that had taken hold of you. The kind of weight that didn’t just come from one bad day—it came from weeks of wearing a mask and pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

He walked over, sitting next to you, his hand brushing lightly against yours. You didn’t pull away, but the stiff tension in your fingers told him everything. You were shutting him out.

“You okay?” Matt asked gently, his tone quiet and concerned. He had no way of knowing exactly what was going on, but he could feel the subtle shifts in the air, the way you were withdrawing from him.

You hesitated. You wanted to say no, but it felt too hard to admit. It was like the moment you said it out loud, it would be real, and you weren’t ready to face that. So instead, you shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, just... tired.”

Matt’s frown deepened. He knew you better than that. Your silence, your withdrawn energy, it all pointed to something more than exhaustion. But before he could press further, you stood up quickly, moving to put the book away, the movement sharp and jerky.

He stood too, a few steps behind you, just close enough to be present, to offer a safety net without crowding you. “You sure? You’ve been off for a while now. You’ve barely touched your coffee in the morning, and you—” He paused. “You don’t talk to me the way you used to. It’s like you’re not here.”

The words hit harder than he meant them to. You flinched, guilt sinking into your stomach, but you didn’t show it. Not yet. Not to Matt. He was too good, too pure.

“I’m just... stressed, Matt,” you said, but the lie fell flat.

He heard it. Of course, he did. His heart sank, knowing there was more, but not being able to place it.

“I’m not buying it, sweetheart.” His voice was low, the edge of concern creeping in. "You can’t keep pretending you’re okay when I can feel it. It’s like you’re... not here, not really."

You turned to face him then, trying to find something to say, anything to deflect. But it was harder than you thought. The tears you’d been holding back for weeks threatened to spill over, and for the first time, you didn’t have the strength to stop them. You couldn’t keep the mask up any longer.

“I’m not okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve been pretending, but I can’t keep it up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Matt. I can’t... I can’t get anything done, I can’t even get out of bed sometimes, and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m failing you, like I’m failing myself.”

Matt’s hand shot out, catching yours gently, and he guided you to the couch. His touch was firm, reassuring, but it didn’t feel like the usual solid, invincible Matt. This time, he was as fragile as you were. “Hey, hey.” His voice was soft, his senses attuned to your every movement. “You’re not failing anyone, least of all me.”

He sat next to you, pulling you into his chest, not caring about the tension between you, not caring that it had been weeks since you’d let yourself lean on him. “You’re allowed to be broken. You’re allowed to have bad days. Hell, you’re allowed to have bad weeks.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’m here. I’m always here. And you don’t have to be anything for me except you.”

You choked on a sob, the floodgates finally breaking open. “I don’t know how to be me anymore. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix anything,” Matt said, his voice steady, though it was clear how much it cost him to say it. “I’m not here because you’re perfect, (Y/N). I’m here because you’re you. And no matter what’s going on, no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. I’ve got you."

His words felt like the first breath of air after drowning. And, for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms, letting the weight of everything fall away.

You felt Matt’s thumb rubbing across your wrist, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “You’re not alone in this. Not now. Not ever.”

[sevi007]

Hi

I really want to express all my admiration, delight and love for the last chapter, I don't have the words to fully describe what your fanfic has been doing to me for the past year and a half. Watching this story unfold is one of the best things that has happened to me in my life, and this fanfic will forever remain a work of art for me <3

I would also really like to ask one question that has been bothering me the entire chapter, since the topic of Stone's scars and their backstory was raised. Does Stone have a scar from the electric shock from the robot from cube that happened in chapter 3 "The moment I met you"? As far as I remember, it was not a full blow, but it was still strong enough to disable Stone's arm for some time. And if it does exist, was it discovered during that loving, thorough examination of his body, or did it merge with the lightning scar from the 2nd movie, making it hard to notice unless you knew it was there?

I'm just too amused by the fact from "Had to be you" that Robotnik "doesn't remember" all of his first meetings with Stone. And Stone didn't remind him or tell him about this particular one, about a boring meeting that turned into a testing ground for a new prototype.

So Robotnik might not even remember the origin of this scar if he found it? Again, if it even exists xd

(Also, this boring meeting is one of my favorite moments from the initial fanfics of the "Coffee and Mayhem" series, because I love how this difference is traced too much, how Robotnik made Stone the main target of a huge ruthless robot with an electric shock, because he dared to laugh, and now he can't live without the sound of that same laughter. This path... I'm too crazy about it. Seriously, this fanfic has occupied all my thoughts for over a year, and I don't want it to stop, thank you for this and for the emotions you gave me)

A year and a… okay, I'm glad I'm sitting already, because anon I would have to sit down very fast reading that otherwise. Thank you so much? That's so insane to me? I'm truly grateful that you reached out and let me know that. I hope you will like what is to come too! <3

As for your question, that's a very good question! But, I will have to disappoint you there I'm afraid: I didn't picture the hit from "The moment I met you" to leave a scar, since Stone was only grazed by it. It is a VERY good point though, and with the lightning scars from S2 being there too, I would say - if you like it, imagine that it did scar, and did merge with the other ones there. It would actually fit in. Just cause I haven't explicitly written it, doesn't mean it exists ;)

Robotnik is - not face blind, he just deletes everything he didn't deem interesting. Stone, back then, wasn't interesting to him (yet) so he totally shoved that all aside as strange coincidence, and only remembers the bits Stone shoves in his face in "Had to be you". He's an idiot like that XD

(And honestly? The earlier fics are my favorite part to read, these days. I go back and see how much they evolved, how much I evolved, and it makes me really emotional. And, really, sometimes I go back and pick little details out that bothered Robotnik back then, just to make him appreciate it NOW. It's funny to me personally XD

And, anon. Thank you so much. I couldn't have kept going for so long if it wasn't for readers like you, who give me the confidence to keep going.)

[ascendance-bookworm]

Ascendance of a Bookworm Musical

Musical Ascendance of a Bookworm

本好きの下剋上 ～司書になるためには手段を選んでいられません～

The live-action stage musical at Tokyo and Osaka in Fall 2024.

Ascendance of a Bookworm Wiki

Ascendance of a Bookworm Musical Official Website

There were two versions, an A Team and B Team for the double roles for the kids in the play.

Adult Cast is the same for both versions.

Urano Motosu / Myne's inner voice (seiyuu): Yuka Iguchi

Gunther: Yuhi Tanaka, Effa: Yuka Ishibashi, Benno: Tōma Yano, Otto: Yusuke Anazawa

Bezewanst: Koichi Miura, Ferdinand: Kento Tsuji

Ensemble

Sora Fuji, Daiki Saitō, Dai Satō, Kento Tachibana, Chiaki Watanabe, Kana Sakurai, Sakura Nishio, Maisaki Ōkubo, Otowa Koyasu, Yuki Asano, Maho Takemura, Yuhei Iriuchijima

Children

Team A: Aoi Ikemura (Age 8) Matinée Show

Myne: Aoi Ikemura, Lutz: Ayumi Misaki, Tuuli: Sakura Mikami, Freida: Yurika Matsui

Ensemble (children): Otowa Koyasu, Yuki Asano, Mayuka Motoki, Hana Edamura

Team B: Akari Miura (Age 12) Soirée Show

Myne: Akari Miura, Lutz: Seiran Ina, Tuuli: Shimoriha Ikuta, Freida: Seizora Kusumi

Ensemble (children): Maho Takemura, Yuhei Iriuchijima, Kanano Isogawa, Mizuki Konishi

I finally watched both versions of the musical and I thought I would give a little mini-review of my thoughts on both performances. I downloaded the musicals from nyaa.si and I would recommend them to anyone interested, but take note that they clock in at about 3 hours and 15 minutes each, there are about 30 minutes before each play starts and a 15-20 minute intermission in the middle that are simple title markers (this was streamed online and I think that is where the copies were made), but still it is a long watch - and there are two of them! I do recommend both as the different performers brought something a little different to the roles and I think both teams did a great job.

The musical covers part one of the light novels, and the songs and voice overs are often used to speed thru the material and cover large segments of the story. There were no subtitles, but if you know the story it really isn't difficult to follow along, at least it wasn't for me. It was clearly made for kids and families, so the language is simple. I was actually pleased at how much of the story it covered, not all the characters get as much focus, but all the basics are covered pretty well.

This is typical of the anime to Japanese live-action musicals I've seen before, these are not big productions like a broadway show, they tend to stick to the story and try and adapt it pretty closely, but are definitely done on a budget ^_^

The play is structured with Ferdinand learning about Myne's life thru the mind-reading device as she (Adult Urano) tells him the story of her life as a commoner. I can't help but think that if this was the real Ferdinand, Urano choosing to tell her story thru song would be most annoying to him, lol

Yuka Iguchi, the voice actress for Myne in the anime, does the voice over work. I really like how they captured the various moments, and the voice over aspect really worked well, as so much of the time we are in Myne's head, so including it was a smart choice as her original self's feeling and thoughts are a major part of Urano/Myne's story. I also liked how they displayed the mana powers throughout the show.

Gunther and Effa were just as you would imagine, both well performed. I really liked Effa's voice, and Gunther fits the bold and brash Gunther to a tee.

Benno was fun, I think he was captured pretty well, his song is funny. Mark was appropriately Mark, I like how the actor committed to his closed eye look, lol. Otto was is his cheeky self, I missed Corrina though.

Gustav / Bezewanst is played by the same actor, and he really hammed it up, lol. I kinda like how they go all out on his less than scrupulous 'tastes' as the High Bishop, the actor clearly had fun with his dual roles and Ferdinand's frustration with him is funny.

Ferdinand was appropriately stern, didn't like the wig on him though, felt unflattering to the actor, I don't know the wig was a miss, maybe it was the hair behind the ears. The actor did fine, not much for Ferdinand to do in part one. He is basically used as a frame work to ask questions and receive exposition when needed. He has a few numbers at the end that were fine, but well he is Ferdinand, too subtle to be 'entertaining' at least in this part of the series.

The main difference between the two versions are of course the kid performers: Myne, Lutz, Tulli, and Frieda - everyone else is the same. I don't want to compare the kids too much, but I thought it I should give a few thoughts.

Team A was essentially the Matinée Show, or the one with the younger, less experienced kids. Team B was the Soirée Show, which would be the main show, all the kids in the Soirée show are lightly older and give more 'mature' performances. I feel both have their charms, the younger kids feel more like kids, and the older kids feel more seasoned and professional in their performances, definitely stronger, more confident singers all around too. If the quality of the singing is important to you, then you will prefer the Soirée for the singing.

The main character Myne is played by Aoi Ikemura (Team A, Age 8, perhaps 7 when it was filmed) and she is a real cutie! Honestly, she made for a perfect Myne in age and size, she is so tiny and yet full of gremlin energy that she captures Myne really well in her on stage performance. She did a really good job with the dramatic moments too, you could hear the emotion in her voice. I was really moved by her performance overall, she is obviously so happy to be there (on stage, probably her first lead performance) that it rubs off on you. She is very likable.

Aoi Ikemura feels more raw and natural in her performance, especially as a singer - she goes in and out of tune often, doesn't sound bad, but it is noticeable in that it sounds like a regular kid who hasn't mastered their singing voice. I don't mind her singing, but then again I don't mind a raw singer, especially if it fits the characterization, but if you prefer a more professional sound, Akari's voice is much stronger.

Akari Miura (Team B, Age 12) is also very good, she is a better, more consistent performer, and is the far better singer. She is older and it shows in her more seasoned performance overall. If they were to make a recording of this, her voice work and singing is already record quality. It feels like a CD worthy performance, imho. Honestly the only negative I can come up with is that she feels too old by comparison, but that is not really a knock on her or her performance, but just the reality of any child roles. I liked her performance, but I think I liked Aoi's Myne slightly better, simply because she fit my image of the role so perfectly (I also watched it first, so perhaps that's influenced me too). But hands down, Akari is the stronger performer, she never missed a note and is also likable in the role.

Of course Myne has to carry the entire show, there are few moments where she isn't on stage, but Lutz also plays a pretty big secondary role. Ayumi Misak (Team A) plays Lutz more like how I think of him, a kinda quiet, serious kid. Seira Ina (Team B) has a lot of charisma, the boy can't help letting his charming self shine through, he is a little too smilie, lol (Is that too harsh? he always has a smile on his face :) They both give good performances and handle the emotional parts well.

Tulli didn't get much to do, she didn't even get a solo song, or anything. She is mostly included in the group or family numbers. Both actresses are cute and perform their roles well.

Frieda gets a couple of song and scene highlights, I like the outfit they give her, and both actresses do a fine job.

Overall I really enjoyed watching the musical, even if it was a tad long, lol wish it was subtitled, but I know the story so well that I really didn't have any problems following along with the story. Will there be musicals for any of the other parts? I really can't see how they could pull off the other parts, part one is short and a simple and the easiest to adapt in this format.

It does make me wonder if we will ever get a live-action drama for AoB, would it work or would it eventually need too big a budget to pull off, at least for the later parts? Asking too much?

Anyone else watch these?

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Inertia; Two

Pairing; LADS Caleb x non-mc reader

Word count; 2,359

Themes/warnings; child abuse (because of Ever), angst w/o comfort, semi-detailed descriptions of torture (If you can imagine things as you read, try not to for this?), og mc/Lia-hua and Caleb will finally show up in the 4th drabble

Notes; This one gets a bit rough, I'll be honest. I'm never too confident in my writing, so I can't say if it's too excruciatingly detailed, but I think a warning is necessary for the content involved!

Summary; “The experiments…Who could do this to children? Why would adults inflict this type of pain on the children they were supposed to be protecting?”

Or

The experiments you were subjected to, in detail.

prev || next

—☆— Masterlist —☆—

The first few experiments weren’t that bad. Definitely not as horrible as what Unicorn was experiencing, that’s for sure. All you had to do was crush metallic objects for a few hours out of your day, use your Evol to levitate different metals, detect buried metals and discern what types they were. But after a few tests doing this, Team Lead L/n was growing anxious. Unicorn had already gone up to Phase-3, she was continuously showing growth and even when she wasn’t, she still had the ability to rebirth while you were showing no sense of progress.

She was desperate for results.

It was just another typical Thursday of experiments for you, crushing clocks and slinging copper plates up, down, left, right, and then…A part of the metal wall slides up, like a hidden door, and something steps out.

A metal endoskeleton.

A robot with intricate details and wires lining the neck and arms. A cylindrical object was attached to the ends of its arms and suddenly, its head jerked up. Crimson eyes meet your own and you nervously turn toward the large glass-paned windows on the other side of the room to look at the researchers behind the glass.

Your breath caught in your chest as you watched Researcher L/n’s finger go down to press a button. The robot’s arms lift in your direction and you finally realize what’s actually on the end of its arms.

Gun barrels.

You throw your hands up in a panic at the sound of the first shot. The scent of gunpowder filled the room and you felt a searing pain in your left shoulder. A choked cry slips from your lips as you grab your arm in a blind panic. A warm, sticky liquid immediately coats your hand and you push the thought that it’s your blood aside. You refuse to think about the fact that you just got shot, along with the fact that you’re about to be shot at again.

You hear the click of another bullet being loaded into the chamber and you snap into action. With a flick of your hand, the copper sheet from earlier flies in front of you and a loud twang resounds throughout the room.

The bullet makes a deep dent in the copper and you’re unsure how many more times you can use the sheet for defense until it’s unusable.

You could definitely use your Evol to stop the bullets, you think, but you’ve never had to use your Evol on a moving object before. Especially one moving as fast as a bullet. Maybe you could crush the gun’s barrel to save yourself?

Clang

You can’t waste much more time thinking. After taking five more bullets, the sheet was full of dents. The bullet casings were almost fully penetrating the copper and showed no signs of stopping until you made any form of improvement.

With a deep breath, you toss the sheet to the side and lift your hands up. Try to stop the bullet first and, if that doesn’t work, go for the barrels.

Another shot rings out in the room.

A garbled cry bubbles up from your lips, teeth biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as your eyes wavered on the hole now in your left hand. Thankfully the bullets were relatively small, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but the pain was still blinding.

Crushing the gun barrel it is, then.

Your chest hiccupped as you held back your cries. Focusing your blurry, tearfilled gaze on the gun barrels. You lift your hands, left hand more shaky than your right, once more. Blood drips down your arm, puddling into the floor as you use all of your power on the gun barrels. Taking a deep breath, you firmly close your hands and watch as the metal of the barrels crumpled under the weight of your Evol.

Your left hand screams in pain as your fingers dug into the open wound on your palm, nails sinking into the flesh as your hands stayed closed. Unable to open them as you felt your legs give out from underneath you.

Even though you were badly injured and lost a substantial amount of blood, you counted this as a win. You felt like you really showed them researchers a thing or two. Maybe they’d give you a break from experimenting after this monumental discovery.

With those thoughts on your mind, your vision blurred and you felt your body flop to the floor as you passed out.

The next time you awoke, you were laid on your back on the floor mattress.

The pain was still there, albeit a bit toned down compared to earlier. You had a bandage on your shoulder, along with your hand, and there was a researcher standing by the door, clicking her pen. Lead Researcher L/n.

“Congrats 001. You’re not entirely useless.” She comments, giving your body a once-over. “It seems you subconsciously used your Evol to stop yourself from bleeding out. It’s a shame you didn’t die, but we’ve made some substantial leaps in our research. Now, we can use your Evol for different experiments with this knowledge.” She writes in her clipboard for a few moments, before continuing, “Be ready. You’re scheduled in for Saturday. I expect more progress.”

A day’s break…You’re only getting a day to recover from your injuries. And what does she mean when she said that you “stopped yourself from bleeding out”? How could a metal Evol affect blood?

“Your confusion is almost adorable…Almost.” Researcher L/n crosses her arms over her chest as she leans back against the door. “I’ll only explain this once, so listen up. The Chimera Team is under the assumption that your Evol can affect all metals, this includes the iron in blood and calcium in bones. There’s a surprising amount of naturally occurring metals in the human body, so we’re going to run a few tests on what you can do with your current power level and aim for steady improvements. It’s only uphill from here, 001.”

Then, she leaves the room. Leaving you alone, body still aching from your earlier experimentations as you struggle to sit up on your mattress. Your gaze landed on a thin book laid out on the short table in the center of the room along with a small pack next to it.

Your reward for almost dying was…A measly colouring book and some crayons.

Saturday came sooner than you’d like.

You had already completed your colouring book and resorted to drawing on the backs of each page, though for some pages you wrote down key information —not wanting to forget anything. You wrote down your name, your Evol, what tests you’ve been through so far.

It was almost like a diary, or maybe even a last will. You weren’t sure, you were feeling way too anxious about today’s experimentation. You had a sinking feeling in your chest. Today was definitely not a good day. You had a bad feeling.

Researcher L/n comes to collect you. The moment your door opens, you slam your colouring book shut – terrified that she’d take away the only thing keeping you grounded, but she doesn’t. In fact, it seems like she doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re cooperative.

So you reluctantly get up, but it wasn’t fast enough for her apparently, because she grabs you by your wrist and begins tugging you down the hallway toward those large steel doors.

Maybe one day you could grow strong enough to break them and escape…but you don’t have much time to entertain that thought as the doors slide open and you’re shoved into the room.

Today, there’s a black pleather chair in the center of the room with an armrest on the right side and straps all over the chair — bindings, for you.

The armrest had some kind of mechanism set up to it. One small enough to fit your hand into with five rings, one for each of your fingers. The rings were attached to wires and the wires were fed into another machine. Though, you don't have long to stare at the machine before Researcher L/n drags you over to the chair and quickly straps you into it, settling your right hand into the mechanism. The rings only go up to the bend of your fingers, unable to fit any further down as if it was made to specifically fit there.

As Researcher L/n left the room, you began to feel a bit lightheaded as you imagined what this device could be used for. Your right hand was trapped, wrist strapped down to the armrest as your fingers were caught in rings up to the middle of the joint. The wires running from the rings gave you a sense of foreboding in your gut and you recalled what Researcher L/n had told you two days ago.

That your Evol could possibly control the iron in blood and the calcium in bones.

They weren’t seriously…They wouldn’t torture a child like that, right?

But before you can ponder such useless thoughts any longer, one of the strings snaps backward suddenly and a loud crack resounds throughout the empty room. You flinch back at the noise, but think nothing of it.

That is until you feel an intense pain radiating from your index finger and a shrill scream slips from your lips. Your head jerks toward your hand in the trap and your breath stutters in your chest. Your index finger was swollen, blood was pooling underneath your hand and into the floor, your bone…you could see your bone jutting out from your unnaturally bent finger. You could feel heat rushing toward your head, unable to think straight and your gaze darts toward the large glass window in front of you.

You shoot a pleading look toward the researchers, but the only response you get is Researcher L/n tapping her wrist as if to signify that you had a time limit.

Would another one of your fingers be broken if you couldn’t figure out what to do in time?

Think, Y/n…Think.

They wanted you to…use the calcium in your bones to fuse them back together right? Or did they want you to control the iron in your blood to stop the bleeding?

…The test continued on for a while. You weren’t sure how long, at this point. It could’ve been minutes or even hours, but you weren’t sure. Your throat felt scratchy and raw from screaming so much, your right hand aches in pain, your pulse was going haywire. You had completed the task they gave you, eventually.

You couldn’t fix your index finger until three more bones were broken, but once you did, the others were quick to follow. And once you thought you were done, you finished what they wanted you to do, they broke your fingers again. Over and over until you fine tuned your Evol and had complete control over it. Complete control over the calcium in your bones, the iron in your blood.

But you couldn’t create iron out of nothing, so you still lost a substantial amount of blood and ended up passing out once more.

When you awoke, you had a blood filled IV hooked to your arm and all the wounds you sustained from two days ago were healed. As if the skin was also fused back together. Though, the scars remained.

You also learnt it was Sunday. You were out for a whole day and in just two more days, you’d be right back to testing.

Another gift was placed on your table. This time, it was a pair of wired headphones and a tiny device. You quickly realize that it was some kind of antique music player with music preloaded onto it.

So you spent the next two days writing, drawing, and listening to your music. Refusing to think about the next tests, about what they’d do to you next. You decided that disassociation was your best friend, that’s the only way you’d be able to survive here. If you’d even be able to survive.

On Tuesday, you walked on your own next to Researcher L/n into the testing room.

The room was back to looking rather normal and it gave you hope that maybe it would be a simpler day. There was a biological scanner next to the pleather chair. You were told it was an Evol appraisal machine, and you hoped your Level somehow went up.

But Evol levels weren’t supposed to go up. The level you got was what you were stuck with, so you weren’t sure why these people were so certain you’d be any different, and yet you placed your hand on the machine nonetheless.

Behind the glass, you watch as the scientists squint their eyes before they erupt into cheers.

It seems you somehow went from level B to A. You’re still not sure how it was possible, but you’re not given a moments rest. Instead, Researcher L/n’s voice comes over the intercom, “Don’t celebrate just yet, 001. Testing isn’t over for today. Stand up.”

The next tests were just as fucked up as the last. They ranged from cutting your limbs off and having you reattach them; They’d start off with your fingers first and work their way up to arms and legs. They’d make deep cuts on your arms, legs, wherever they could and your goal was to stop the bleeding; So they could still see the open wound, but with no blood pouring out. Then, next was closing the wounds with the natural metals inside your skin, like zinc and copper. They would eventually give you a break by going back to your usual crushing metals and levitating them, but using bigger objects the stronger you got.

Throughout all these tests, there was only one thing you were wondering. How could they do this to a nine year old? In fact, how could these adults do this to a child?

Someone they were supposed to be protecting, instead of breaking like this?

[dewwshi]

princess of mithral hall

[the-lark-ascending69]

Sick of "Robin wouldn't date her best friend's ex". Get ready for "haha Steve i'm fucking your ex"

[rmbunnie]

I'm reading A Lonely Place of Dying and Alfred latching immediately onto Tim is NASTY work. Tim shows up and is like "I never aimed to be Robin! I mean I did karate my whole life to emulate Robin and just so happen to have sought you out and grabbed this costume in my size out from that case and really you should be calling me Robin just for now and let me come with you as Robin but I never dreamed it would specifically be ME being Robin. You have a lovely house and home btw :) Now go back to being 10." And Dick's understandably like "No I am a grown man now who are you" and Bruce is not here for this one, but later on is like "You aren't Robin, you're some kid dressed up like my dead son." But Alfred?

IMMEDIATELY Alfred is implying Dick was trying to subtly ask Tim to be Robin (simply not true in in NTT 61, when the implication is made, although he changes his mind in Batman 442) and that Bruce should be grateful for this young man's profound bravery and immense natural skill and maybe show him a few pointers or something idk we'll see :) Like let's be clear, the idea that Tim didn't want to be Robin is simply not part of this story outside of like two lines of dialogue where he's like "oh I didn't consider it could be me!" after which he immediately goes "Wow so you ARE gonna let me be Robin right?" the second he sees the opportunity. The guy essentially makes himself Robin once Dick makes it clear he isn't gonna be. Dick tells Tim nobody should be at first (until he changes his mind) but is ignored because Tim doesn't get why and goes with what he understands, his own stance.

I'm of the opinion that the whole "Tim understands that being Robin is an arduous task full of suffering from the start and chooses to bravely yet sadly martyr himself for the cause" thing I see sometimes is strongly disproven, at least in the beginning of his Robin career, by his "Batman NEEDS a Robin (to love and care for and to watch out for him in return :) )" line of reasoning, his subsequent willingness for Anybody to be Robin whether or not it was him (unless he was consciously okay with other children suffering for his benefit which I find really hard to believe,) and his active glee at anything involving being Robin and persistent smiling pursuit of Doing So against Batman's strong disapproval, because he hasn't officially said no (he did several times, but you can't blame a kid for being excited.) Like, I think he said he never dreamed of being Robin just because having a kid come in begging to replace Batman's dead son because it was a personal aspiration would be extraordinarily rude and arrogant and they wanted people to like this one. He was NOT in any way adverse they just couldn't make him THAT presumptuous, and he is by nature of what he's doing already moderately so.

But say it was true, that Tim was actively opposed to being Robin? Alfred would be pushing this shit HARD onto this thirteen year old kid like what the fuck bro. And "From what Master Richard said, he follows your orders." is HEINOUS but let's not get into that.

[whataboutyouisamascot]

I just realized you and buba have started doing the colored heart thing to send love to each other the way me and tonee do and it is the CUTEST thing I have seen in ages, I love seeing another bonded pair on the dash ❤️💛💚💜

Look at that, we make a little rainbow ❤️💛💚💜 (gay)

Bubs has been doing it for a good few months now, and I've started picking up on it recently, as well 💚 I'm glad you find it cute, haha. Just know that the little hearts are like a public facing wall of how cheesy/sappy we can be. Yay for bonded pairs on the dash :))