antih3roine

[antih3roine]

VERON

EPISODE 1: Rust Rain

Her hair, once black, was tinged a rusty sort of brown and fell in ringlets around her smudged cheeks. Pulling her sweater over her head, she scooted to the little doorway, peeking out at the street. A broken grate lay by the side of a low window in the red brick wall.

Odd, really.

It had been there for years. A drop of rain splashed on her cheek, making a path through the dust on her face as it raced to the ground. Pulling her hands up in her sleeves, she glanced at the sky. Dark clouds hung low over the distant business district, shrouding the skyscrapers in an eerie haze. They would soon roll over her home in the alleys, bringing the cold rain with them.

She coughed, trying not to hack too much.

“I just hope it won't be a child,” she whispered.

Hugging her chest, she rested her head on her knees and imagined the day when they’d find her, crumpled and cold, soaked in the blood she'd coughed to her death.

Looking around, she shook her head. Her home was much like a game of Jenga, made out of discarded boxes and a roll of duct tape she stole from the back of an electrician’s truck.

People tossed greasy foil wrappers behind the hot dog stand all the time, and well, they had seemed decent enough to pile together for a bed. They provided some buffer between her and the filthy asphalt of the alley. But, she had nothing for a roof. Cardboard only did so much before it soaked right through.

It wouldn’t do.

Perhaps a couple of years ago, she could have weathered it. She was stronger then. She had meat on her bones back in those days.

But now? She wasn’t at all well.

A wisp of a woman: thinner than the shadow of a walking skeleton.

Veron watched as the alley grew dark and grey, lightning streaking across the sky in angry flashes. “Not this time,” she whispered, a shudder rippling down her spine from the deafening peals of thunder. It would be a bad one this time; she couldn’t sleep in the rain again. She wanted to die, but not by storm.

Pulling herself to her feet, she staggered forward, trying to stay upright on legs she feared would snap if she took a step. That grate had covered a catchment surrounding a low basement window. The building had long been deserted, and no one seemed to ever go inside.

Putting one halting foot in front of the other, she managed to make it to the wall, where she leaned her head as her breaths came in ragged gasps. A year ago, she’d had a fat ass and a nice figure to boot. She’d never fit through a window like that. Now, she could probably jump right on through without so much as a scratch.

Veron wished she could ask how it came to this, but, in all fairness, it was the dumbest of questions: she knew the answer better than anyone.

With a glance over her shoulder, she crouched beside the catchment and jumped down onto the gravel bed. She tugged at the window latch. It should have been light work, but in her condition, it was a wonder the jump alone hadn’t crippled her. It creaked and groaned for a good few minutes before finally lifting upwards, and with that, she pushed the glass open and lowered herself down into the darkness.

She had no idea what awaited her there, but anything had to be better than sleeping in the pouring rain.

Episode 2 is coming June 13th

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[antih3roine]

Dark Fiction Masterlist ♧

Welcome to the wrong side of my brain.

This blog isn't for chart interpretations or starry-eyed synastry rambles (like @helslastangel is). This is the drawer I keep slightly ajar. Where the fiction lives. The stories that woke me up at 3:06 AM. The ones I wish I could forget, but didn’t.

I write fiction with dark edges. Mystery, obsession, unsolved wounds, bad decisions, and worse timing. The kind of stories that feel like a punch and a whisper at the same time. My characters rarely do the right thing. I rarely give them peace. If you're looking for clean resolutions or happy endings, get off at the next stop, sweetheart.

I write about strange girls with sharper minds than morals. Men who don't know if they're the villain, the hero, or something worse. Secrets with teeth. Love that limps. And things that knock once and never leave.

I post inconsistently, obsessively, and out of order. Think of it like a haunted house: there’s no map, just rooms.

Most of them, unfinished. Unpolished. All of it? Unhinged. If you’re still here, welcome to the descent.

Antih3roine 🐅🌹

📜 HOUSE RULES

❖ This is a dark fiction blog. Themes may include death, obsession, betrayal, and unhealthy coping mechanisms wrapped in velvet and silk.

❖ I will tag heavy content as much as possible, but this entire blog is Scorpio-coded and born from the depths of Pluto, so consider this your primary warning. Proceed cautiously.

❖ I post at weird hours and respond to messages slower than a watched pot boils. Don’t take it personally. I’m either writing, dissociating, or under my bed listening to Chase Atlantic on repeat.

❖ Comment, reblog, scream in the tags. We listen and do not judge here. Let's suffer together.

❖ Don’t steal my work or repost it anywhere else without credit. I WILL haunt you.

That’s it. Enjoy your descent.🕯️

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📜 Hexed Favorites

My recommendations list or fave fic writing tumblr peeps.

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Ongoing serials or darker long-form fiction

Veron - Episode 1: Rust Rain

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Abandoned drafts, WIPs, or teasers

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Writing experiments, character studies, snips

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Most emotional, NSFW, or twisted pieces

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