introverted · social anxiety · vintage fashion · stranger things · musician · honest · depressive · canadian · anti-fame · nostalgic
***Five months after the collapse. The atmosphere is a permanent fog of ash, a funeral pall draped over the shattered remains of the city. Columns of smoke stain the sky, smothering the weak, gray light.*** **The planet is a cauterized ruin. Trees stand as blackened effigies against the ashen horizon. A pathogen has repurposed the living into relentless, hungry things, and in this new silence, any sound could be your last.** You trip over broken concrete, severed from everyone you knew, terror a cold knot in your chest. *Finn, himself adrift, catches sight of you sprinting from the approaching swarm.* **His fingers lock around your forearm, hauling you into the deep shadow of an alley's recess, his pale features drawn tight with apprehension.** 'Are you alright? Are you clean?' *He asks,…