#chapter1

[tuffbabyboy]

BREATHE 🚬 THE OUTSIDERS

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CHAPTER 1

The first time Johnny Cade saw Dallas Winston, he walked into the Curtis household to see him bleeding out on the kitchen counter.

12 year old Johnny is on a walk on a bright Saturday afternoon, the summer sun is high in the sky and beating down as he makes his way to his friend Sodapop's house. He had met him at the beginning of the previous school year and had been introduced to Soda's best friend Steve and his friend Keith, whom they called Two-Bit since the kid never stopped cracking jokes, and eventually to his brothers Darrel and Ponyboy.

They all had a love for looking tuff, rough housing, and Mickey Mouse. Over the course of the school year they had all gotten really close and were a tight knit group, always hanging around the Curtis house after school and sharing chocolate cake and watching Mickey or hanging out at the park and causing a little chaos.

The summer for them so far had been lots of fun but unfortunately, Mr.Curtis had recently lost his job and they had fallen on hard times so they decided they had to sell Sodapop's horse, Mickey Mouse. He had him for two years and had placed in the top 3 of every barrel race they competed in together, Soda loved and cared for his horse like no other but he was just too expensive to keep taking care of.

That morning the whole Curtis family had headed down to the rodeo auction house to sell him. Sodapop had understandably been upset all week about losing Mickey, so the guys had gotten together and decided they would meet up at the house that afternoon to surprise him and keep him in good spirits. Johnny was a little late after some trouble at home had kept him for a while, but he had a pep in his step as he hurried on through the front gate, excited to spend time with his friends.

He had just stepped through the front door and he heard a couple of laughs that sounded like Two-Bit and maybe Steve and a shout of "Hold still Dallas!" that definitely came from Mrs.Curtis. As he stepped through the doorway he saw Two-Bit laughing louder as he jumped away from a dusty boot clad foot and then Johnny was staring into a bloody face he didn't recognize.

[sickficspeedrun]

Chapter 1: The start [Next]

Ao3 link

Warnings: Sick character, implied self-harm (its there just not explicit) and blood.

He feels empty.

And sad.

Can those two be together? Can you feel something and not feel, at the same time?

There’s nothing particularly special about today. No big adventures, no anxious runs. He’s just resting, something that he couldn’t do for (what feels like) ages.

There’s nothing special about today, and he can’t even have that, can he?

No.

Something always must ruin it. His beloved peace can never be left as it is.

His main worry has always been the multiversal threats; Error, Nightma-his brother, the many glitched he cannot name, and even Ink. Who at some point in history has turned his back to the AU’s, to save those he favours. Forgetting about his duties as the Protector. Yes, centuries have passed since then, but what assures him that it won’t happen again? Ink is unpredictable.

And if one is not bothering the AU’s, then another is. They cause destruction whenever they go, killing thousands upon thousands in a matter of hours. Shall they be left to do as they wish, of course.

His job, as the guardian of positivity, is to stop them from doing so. To protect the multiverse and its people, and that’s what he’s set to do vigorously.

And if by some miracle, all those multiversal threats chose to not cause him trouble one single day, he must administrate the safe haven of the multiverse. Keep his people safe from each other. Before him was Ink, but the soulless god cannot for the life of him, concentrate in any kind of meeting related to the Omega Timeline. Political or not.

The scientists of the Omega city could be considered threats to the multiverse if Dream had his way.

But today?

Nothing.

His brother had kept himself away from view, going about his business without attacking any AU’s. His boys following his way. Dust was spotted at a fell universe, simply hanging out with the Sans. Cross was at EpicTale. Killer was reported to have been annoying a royal guard of his.  And a particular volatile glitch had been given a month’s worth of Chocolate and a new season of Undernovella. Even Ink kept himself away from troublesome AU’s and hasn’t left the doodlesphere all day.

Nothing’s gone wrong today.

Nothing’s wrong.

And maybe that’s what’s wrong…

And maybe Dream is just dramatic, he might be overreacting, because nothing is wrong. His head just can’t work without emergency.

He’s…he is just tired. And is 2 am. He cannot sleep. He can’t even move; he just doesn’t have the energy for it. For anything really. For how long he must be tired for to seek somebody to be with? How tired to seek support? He won’t know. There’s no energy left on his body, there’s nothing in his head but mean words. He cannot slap them away, like he would with mosquitoes. And he’s tired, and now he’s crying. He doesn’t even understand why! Nothing’s wrong! He wants to shout. Only a whine is heard. And then hiccups. He’s alone, and the room is so cold he’s sweating.

And nothing’s gone wrong…

It’s just him.

He can’t keep up with his spiralling mind.

The mirror doesn’t help. It mocks him. Shows him all the scars scattering his naked body. He feels vulnerable, disgusted. The fact that they littered his entire body, from his toes to his neck, angered him. He feels like a used park bench. He shouldn’t have so many scars. He’s the guardian of positivity for fucks sake. No matter how many times people told him, how many times he told others how “scars means that you survived”, he hated his own with a burning passion. He’s a fraud. A hypocrite.

For him, scars are just reminders, marks on a calendar. He vividly remembers each one. He remembers each bastard that managed to hurt him, that managed to make such a stain in his head that even with his full intent, the scars will not leave. He hates it. He hates it with all his soul. He hates how they made him bleed, cry, and plead. He hates that the scar is inherently tied to a horrible memory. Memories he can’t simply forget and hide away. If he could only replace it…

…

~

Morning is worst.

Everything feels foggy. His body heavy. He collapses on to his knees as soon as he’s able to drag himself from bed.

He needs a shower. He decides, as sweat makes his shirt and shorts stick awkwardly to his bones. The sweat is usually no bother to him, as he doesn’t expel odours that will usually cause discomfort to a third party. It could’ve been a problem if any of his furniture were made of marble. Harder to grab and dance around the trash decorating his floor. His attempt of reaching the on-suite bathroom is accomplished even with the exhausting headache. There’s a trembling feeling on his fake throat.

He's disconnected from his arms as he tries to open the door with what should’ve been ease. They fumble around, as if they weren’t his own. When he does manage to open the door; he groans out loud, since when does he own so many boots? A discarded replica of his uniform hangs just under the bathtub.

He promptly ignores the dusty blood surrounding the drain. Just like the broken mirror, and the shards decorating the floor and sink. His hands tremble under their itch. The cold water does alleviate some of the ache. It compensates from the fog it produces, as it hits his burning bones. Time goes slow as he frees himself from the sweat. The soap he rubs against the gashing wounds makes the time go even slower. Perfect lines all over his bones.

He has no excuse. He knows that cutting lines won’t do any good. He knows that this is just another cry for attention he does. Thinking that if someone- I don’t know… catches him? They might realize…… That he’s more? He doesn’t know. It’s a mess. He just wants someone to care what happens to him. To care for him. He’s tired of being the one that does the caring.

It’s hard to simply turn off his brain. Make everything, just, go away. And the lines make the mess in his head go away, for a little while anyways.

He turns off the shower. His body isn’t as sluggish as it was, so he’s able to walk out of the bathroom without much help. He manages to reach his wardrobe with minimal tripping. The headache has subdued, he worries for almost a minute when the throwing up feeling doesn’t leave as easy. Hopefully, he’ll be able to manage himself throughout the meetings unscratched.

Meetings with the scientific board always become headache on their own. And when politics are included, it’s even worse. This time isn’t as different as expected.

“You are cutting our funding?!”

“You cannot do this to us!”

“We’ve worked in this for so long! And for what?”

“This is outrageous!”

“We have spent several months on this; many resources and equipment would be wasted if we stop now,”

And the shouts go on. Dream has barely any mind left to actually listen to their shameless cries. He frowns, all this yelling is cutting his already thin patience in half. Squinting at the folders before him, he purposely ignores the academics in the room. The table is rather large, given that Fell Gaster always insists on bringing his whole team to these meetings. The seats alternate in white coats and moss green jackets, the room is filled, scientists cramped in their places. The seats to his sides have been pushes away from him. At his request, of course, he prefers to not be yelled at so closely.

He understands where they come from, but there are more important matters at hand. They can’t work on a future if they don’t have a present to make a future of. And experimenting with radioactivity and potentially chemical weapons won’t do the city any good. Thanks to a few strayed experiments related to a research machine, which was meant to detect early stages of Erupting Magic, he has been forced to cancel the whole project. For more helpful it might have been, he can’t allow it to continue any longer, it would put the whole city at risk.

“My lord, it’s 9:35.” A husk voice calls from behind him. He scribbles on his clipboard quickly before handing it out to the man. Tiding up the papers in front of him before taking the folder offered.

He opens it. “My decision is final;” the room falls quiet, a low tsk is heard, Dream pays it no mind, “if you wish to defy me, you can send a written complain to the General board.”

With so many paperwork these days, it will be months before he hears anything about it from the board.

“In the meantime, guards will begin to oversee that every research paper and machinery is properly discarded, and that no suspicious activity is happening in our labs.” He struggles to not make eye contact with the main scientist of the weapons department. Before anyone can make any more complains he teleports away with “Meeting dismissed.”

He throws up as soon as he arrives in his office.

With his head on his trashcan is how Blue finds him. It’s fair to say that the training session of that day is cancelled.

~

He has befriended 3 alternatives from the UnderSwap universe; Swap, Blue and Berry. More than a decade ago, there were long streaks of attacks on the original UnderSwap, and he ended up fighting his twin brother with Swap by his side.

It hadn’t been their first meeting, far from it. They’ve met before, seen each other enough times to recognize the other easily. It had been quite funny, as both of them had tried to protect the other during the battle. Often, they got in the other’s way. It wasn’t until he, as inexperience with his magic as he was, threw a powerful blast of positivity that shook the whole universe that Swap finally followed his moves by his side.

When the battle was over, he’d turned to thank the mortal, but in turn found he had bent the knee. Swap vowed to be of service to the guardian from that day on. Some solid arguments he gave at the young guardian’s hesitation, or maybe Dream just missed having someone around.

The same thing happened with Blue, although, this time he was only able to save the people against Error. Berry’s universe in the other hand… He was just out of middle school when both Error and Nightmare came after his universe. And for more that he and Swap tried, they couldn’t save them, the duo couldn’t hold their own against the combination of the Bad guys and Error.

Swap and Blue were the ones to step up and help Berry through his loss. While Dream didn’t give more than his sympathies before hiding himself in his work. It was his fault after all, that Berry couldn’t even say goodbye to his brother and friends. He thought extremely unlikely that Berry would want to see him. But see him is all Berry seems to want to do these days. As he continues his studies in the local High School, he always manages to evade guards during his free periods to reach his office. Barging in like he owned the place. It has been very difficult for the school administration and of the palace to say no to him, as he always had:

“The cutest face!” he snorts, pointing to the blue spots under his eyes. “Come on! Don’t you agree?” pouting as he gets no response from Dream. The sound of paper against pen loud between the small room.

Dream stops. Berry’s starry eyes focus solely on his movements. He leaves his pen feather and grabs a pencil, writes a few numbers in a throwaway notebook and picks up his feather once more. Berry resists the whine he wants to let out.

“I do agree.” Blue calls from behind him as he re-enters the office. More folders in hand.

“Thank you!” Berry laughs as Blue switches one of them with the one Dream just finished.

He groans in turn. Letting his face fall onto his desk for a bit. “Wont this be faster and easier in a computer?” He hears Berry ask. Looking up at him as the teen offers a slice of orange. He’s unfazed when Dream declines.

“Dream has a vendetta with technology ever since he forgot to click save,” Blue chuckles as his friend mumbles angrily under his breath.

“Malditas computadoras…” Dream grumbles. Cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Can’t believe you find it funny; we ended up almost a week behind schedule…” he grumpily says. He rechecks the numbers he’s writing, he feels his head heat up even more as the duo laughs.

“We all saw Swap show you the save button like- a thousand times,” Berry reminds him, “How did you forgot?” he snickers, Dream’s hands tremble a bit too long to not be noticed, “like, come on, it was one time, you can’t still be afraid, can you?” Berry presses on. “Old fart.” He adds.

“I’m not afraid of a stupid machine!” Dream bares his teeth roughly. Berry’s smirk is infuriating. “I just- I can’t handle a mistake right now, not one as big as that. Theres so many things happening right now, I need to focus.” He defends himself. Rechecking the numbers he’s supposed to write.

The Royal Guard called. The Guard in East side are need of new training grounds, they also have a shortage of training weapons and beds. And the human version of Guards; police, demands more territory to protect. And there has been a rise in altercations between Monsters and humans in the north-west of the city. And a school in the same area has-

“DREAM!” he jolts. The gurgling feeling in his fake throat hitting him full force. “Hey- whoa- trashcan! Trashcan!” Blue teleports the trashcan underneath his feet as he doubles over. Stars- his head hurts.

Berry jumps down. Leaving the desk behind as Blue whispers reassurances. He grabs his water bottle. 

“I’m so sorry-” Dream mutters out. Another wave hitting him before he can say more. A skeletal hand pats his back. He really must look pathetic, eh?

“Don’t be.” Blue says lowly as he hands him a handkerchief. Which he uses to clean his mouth.

“Here,” Berry says behind him, handing his water bottle. The cold metal feels good, even through his gloves. “No need to uncap it.” He adds even as Dream does just that.

“Can’t let you catch whatever guardian virus I have.”

“Maybe I’ll get superpowers.” Berry jokes, a growing smirk. “Or I’ll be infected zombie style, can a guardian infect others with their guardian-ness?” He cackles at the side-eye Dream gives him.

“Dream,”

He doesn’t like that tone.

“Yes?”

“Don’t bite my head off,” Berry snorts. They both ignore him. “You need to take a break.”

“I don’t-” he angrily starts.

“You do- just, take a break before the renewal. This week even.” He interrupts, “Take this week off, come back the next one energized and well, believe me you’ll feel better if you do.” The air was suffocating them all. Warming their blood. The windows are wide open, but no wind is felt.

“I’m a guardian, Blue. You should already know that guardians-” He gives back the water bottle. “-don’t need to ‘rest’. Do you truly expect me to simply abandon my duties? While the Monsters and Humans of the city are constantly at each other’s throats?” he spits out, Blue stiffens, his hands behind his back and head down, “While riots from humans against humans are on all time rise, while damned fighting rings are being discovered every week?” His words touch a nerve on Berry, he knows, he sees him flinch. Why doesn’t he care? “Do you think that Nightmare wouldn’t take the opportunity to finally break through the Omega timeline’s defences? Haven’t you paid enough attention? I don’t believe you would be the one to slack during the assembles, Blue.”

There’s also another issue with the Human guard. They aren’t happy with having to share patrols with the royal guard. They want Monsters to have their space and they theirs. He can’t allow that; more segregation will only cause more problems.

Should he go down to the training grounds and check the state himself? That feels practical to do. But could be seen as if he doesn’t trust the new head of the royal guard. Can’t make it seem like he doesn’t trust the guard’s new leader. He needs to publicly put her in that position of power.

The east guard gets new equipment every year. He should send beds, mortals can take turns using equipment, but not beds.

“He’s not Swap” Berry cuts in, a deep frown on his cold face, “You can’t yell at him just because you two aren’t talking.”

[localcryptidryn]

Pg 39

(End chapter 1)

[chaggie-supporter]

Sunday special:

|PT.1: THE ARRIVAL & NEWS|

"Latest earth news, brought to you by Voxtec! Just recently 3 children in a family were brutally murdered!"

Since when could hell get news of what happens on earth?

"2 children, aged 9 and 10 were shot in the heart and head by their older brother of the age 16!"

Who is the box Head spitting out all this stuff? And is it about me, or am I going insane?

"The teen was then stabbed in the gut, bead and finely the neck by his own father!"

Yep, definitely sounds like me.

"We are expecting the teen to end up right here in hell, as for the dad, we can only assume he's facing heavy jailtime!

That is all for tonight folks! Goodnight from us here at Voxtec!"

And with that, the screens in the window of what I can only assume is a tec shop, shut off. I stand in the crowd that was watching these screens. After a moment of silence, I could hear their whispers and murmurs about what they had heard. Surely it couldn't be that shocking to them, I mean, we're in hell, right? There's bound to be worse things done down here.

I walk off from the crowd, sticking my hands in the pockets of the trousers I was now wearing. I walk down the streets, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that looks safe if even for only a night. I nearly walk into what I assume are multiple people, but everything looks different here. It looks so weird. The people all have horns, wings or demon tails, or some looking like deers and apparently pretty happy, others some sad looking cats. Some look, afraid, almost. As if this was the worst thing that ever happened to them, which it probably is. Others look happy that they're here. They look dangerous, scary and some even crazy or insane. They look like they intentionally give themselves eternal damnation. These are the people I don't ever want to cross, for fear of what they might do to me and what's left of my soul. There's people who look like werewolves, tigers, and even some everyday household items suck as a toaster-man, with a red toaster as a head. His black and purple eyes stare coldly into the soul of a man who had a clock as a head and a black suit, sharp claws, long tail and evil smile.

There are old drug packets, empty needles and many different brands of broken alcohol bottles scattered all over the ground. It seems there's a fire around every corner I turn, and everything is a different shade of red. Dark red roads with cars speeding and crashing down them, smacking straight into other cars or buildings. People arguing and fighting, throwing punches and kicks can be seen down every street, whilst some lurk in alleyways, welding knives and guns, awaiting the curious. Buildings in different colors, mostly red, line each street. Some bursting with activity and sound, others look quite barren and bare; looking dusty and creepy, and practically collapsing. And the smell. The smell is horrible. It's a mix of blood, alcohol, weed, smoke, and of course, rotting corpses.

My ears are filled with angry shouts, terrified and blood-curdling screams as I continue my way down the streets of hell.

Eventually I come across a building that looks like it's seen more than most people down here. It looks old, neglected, and abandoned I walk up to it and push the door open with a loud, 'creeeeaaaaak'. I peer in to see a room, dimly lit by a small window and the light coming in through the door. There's a small bed shaped object in one corner, a desk in the other. And there's a sofa. Each object looks quite old and dusty, and damp. It's absolutely filthy with dirt and a few small stones all over the ground.

But, it will do.

Much better than staying with some creepy, old, pimp anyways.

I close the door before barricading it with the sofa. No way am I letting anyone out there in in the middle of the night. Hell, I don't even know if it's day or night. The sky had been the same shade of red since I got here! But after all the traveling, I am more than ready to sleep for atleast a good few hours. I walk over to the bed in the corner, to see its just an old mattress in a near broken frame, covered in dirt and grime.

Still, it will do.

I flop down lazily onto the mattress. Tomorrow, I explore further. For now, sleep. I am exhausted. After a good bit of tossing and turning, I fall into a light, dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, I move the sofa away from the door, and walk out. I take a look around, and as I'm gathering my surroundings, 2 things catch my eye. Two tall buildings, both in opposite direction. One of them being absolutely massive, with what looks to be over 200 windows, and a red tower with a sign that reads, 'on air'. But the other building is what really peaks my interest. The other building is only slightly smaller, and resembles a clock tower with a count down on it, currently at 113. 113 what? The clocktower is yellow and blue, and appears to be slightly glowing. It has a sand timer in the middle, and a light blue spire on top, with a floating halo on top. What is something so angelic doing in hell? Shouldn't it be, you know, in heaven? I look between the 2 buildings once more, before deciding to go check out the clock tower. So I begin the journey.

[This is a wip, and I'm not sure if I should continue it or not]

[digitalronin]

CH1.01 – The Signal Below

The signal came from deep under the city of Satori — older than any structure still standing. Buried beneath decay and silence, it called to her… a frequency only Kazuka could understand.

“Aku tidak tahu apa yang memanggilku… tapi aku tahu, aku harus menjawab.”

[clunarme]

Chapter 1, Part 2

The Black Smoke Inn/An Unfortunate Youth

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[unpleasantaftermath]

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[TRANSCRIPT ON READ MORE]

0:

Unpleasant Aftermath

Chapter 1: A Fresh Restart

0-1:

CONTENT WARNING!!!

Unpleasant Aftermath contains:

Death, Deities, Existentialism, Mentions of Self-Harm, Disturbing imagery, Eyes, a lot of them and Unreality.

1:

???: Oh… Poor soul

???: No soul should experience such a horrible end…

Sage: Who are you?! How are you inside my head?! Where am I???

???: Poor thing… It can't remember its own fate. Maybe it's better for you to stay that way.

???: As for my identity…

2:

Zyth: Call me Zyth. Mortals call me by several names, but I prefer Zyth

Sage: Are you god?

Zyth: I prefer to be called a deity…

Zyth: Well… Normally I would present you with options on what the rest of your life would be like, but I can see that your mind is already set on one.

Sage: I am…?

3:

Zyth: "You" are. You may not remember it, but you have a promise to fulfill. I'll keep a watch on you.

Zyth: Try tp remember whp you are… Maybe you'll remember her.

Sage: Her? Promise? I… What are you talking about? You didn't even answer my questions!

Zyth: You're a very smart kid, ?. I believe in you. Everything will become more clear with time. I will see you later.

4:

Sage: No! Please! I don't understand! Please just answ-

[lulupen2023]

Ezra and Ella (1/?)

Post Finale ‘You 5’ (which means 'Spoilers!' , don't read if you didn't see season 5 yet) Pairing: Joe/Bronte Hello everyone, this is my first attempt in this fandom. I’ve never thought I’d write about it one day, but season 5 totally blew me away, and THAT ship, oh my, oh my!! Usually I'm not a lucky author, my stories are not much appreciated, I hardly get feedback, so I don’t expect anything different this time, I’m just thrilled to try and give my two favourite characters another chance! Warning: this could go in very dark places… but it’s a journey with Joe Goldberg, after all. Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol Uh, another thing: please, be kind, English is not my native language (actually I would need some beta reader’s help), sorry for possible mistakes. Summary:

What if Bronte had second thoughts about what she did to Joe in the final episode? What if she decided their story must have a better ending? What would Joe think about it? Is it really over between them?

Chapter I: You were supposed to shrink Bronte’s POV

Uhm, what’s the thing I used to say about myself just some months ago? Oh, right, that’s it.

I still have no idea who I want to be. But I can't wait to find out

Well actually I found out: I’m a writer. For real.

Maybe you were right about not underestimating my talent. Or maybe it’s just the beginner’s luck, but it looks like my first published book is a best seller. And I didn’t have to resort to anything related to you.

Brand new characters. Brand new countries. Brand new plot. Brand new scenario. A breath of fresh air.

I’ve come a long way from the tidal wave of cum. I’m in the middle of the third chapter of  the second book the Publishing House commissioned to me, when I hear the front door open.

Oh no, why so soon? “Sweetheart, I’m home.” cheers a very familiar voice. It’s Paul Brettfort, my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for like four months and… here I am, living in his house. This is funny and maybe a bit weird, too. Paul, just like Paul Brown, one of the fake identities you used. But that’s the only thing you and this Paul have in common. “Hi, honey!” I walk towards him, in order to give him a kiss. 

I'm a little bit reluctant, if I have to be honest with myself. I just had such a wave of inspiration and I would prefer to keep writing. “Why aren’t you already dressed up? We have that dinner with my friends tonight, don’t you remember?”

I nod, going upstairs. Geez. Not again. Not another fucking boring evening with Paul’s friends: an insurance agent, a broker and a notary. None of them is even remotely close to being an artist. And they wouldn't talk about literature even if they had a gun on their head. Oh wait, gunpoint, this evokes some memories… of that fateful night. Fuck, I’d better hurry up with the dressing and make up instead of racking my brains. --------------------------------------------------- The endless fucking dinner finally ended and Paul and I are home again, which can mean one thing only. Paul’s second name could be ‘Routine’. Here we go, having sex right before sleeping, just like every damn single day since I met him at that grocery store. The same, lame, stupid, banal sex. I hate myself impossibly much, because lately there’s only one way to reach the orgasm with him: thinking of you, replacing you with him, here by my side, right now. But no way, you would never do such boring stuff with me. You used to ignite me in so many ways, you challenged me, you worshipped me. Oh, wait, after what I did to you.. I guess you should find new ways to make me feel that good. Geez, it’s getting late and I’d better sleep just like Paul is already doing. I was so busy pretending that I didn’t even notice he was already satisfied. I guess this frames our ‘passionate’ sexual life. Like I said, I should try to close my eyes, but I already know I’ll spend this night sleepless, like all the other nights in these last months. What the hell is wrong with me? Now I have Paul. Thirty-three years. Beautiful. So athletic. He loves sports. He has a steady job in a bank. He's the kind of guy that when he says he’s going to a place, you can be sure he’s really going there.

No mystery. No bluff. No lies. No deception. And he loves me, so kindly, delicately… normally. I should feel like I hit the jackpot with him! Instead, your soothing, silky voice keeps echoing in my head. Those words you said to me that last night. They keep haunting me. ‘I think some part of you still needs me.’ Fuck, you were right and I’ve been so naive. You were supposed to shrink, instead day after day I miss you, more and more. Did I really do the right thing? For me. For you. Was it really the right ending for our story? I turn my head to Paul who’s still sleeping so serenely. I can see him in the soft moonlight of the window I like to keep open.

‘No one will ever love you like I do. Ever again. ‘ Once again, I’m afraid you were right. Or, even worse, I’ll never love anyone like I loved you. No, Louise, be true at least with yourself. Like I love you, Joe. Still. Despite everything. Despite you’re a serial killer. Despite you took so many lives. Despite you were about to take mine! However, I gave a lot of thoughts about the things you did. Let’s not fool ourselves. This world sucks. People suck. You always had a good reason. Yeah, Beck was a friend of mine, but.. did I really know her so well?

Instead, you did. So you must have seen something wrong in her. Something dark. Just like you saw it in many other people. Clayton. That selfish bastard! I twist and turn in the bed, my eyes still utterly open, my mind with no intention to give me some rest. You turned on me, just because I turned on you. And I stupidly did because I wasn’t able to see you then, the way I see you now. My chaotic good hero, just a little bit evil when it’s necessary.

‘You fixated on me because you couldn't stand being Louise Flannery any longer.’

Shit. This is so fucking true it scares me. Fuck Louise, I miss Bronte, I can still be her and I will.

Bronte was the only one who managed to stop you, Joe, so maybe she could be the only one who could…

This last thought scares the hell out of me, I can’t even bring myself to end it. No, no, no, no, Louise, don’t lose your mind. You can’t screw everything up, just like that. Your new perfect, flawless life. Your rightfulness. Then why am I already packing my things, as silent as I can? Just like a thief, maybe because I’m stealing a life which is not the one I crave.

My rucksack is ready with my laptop, money, some clothes and the basic stuff. I just sit at the dinner table, take a sheet of paper and start writing. ‘Dear Paul, When you wake up I’ll be gone. Yes, I’m leaving you and I chose the most coward way to do so, but I couldn’t stand the sight of your sad eyes. The problem is not you, who are utterly perfect. Perfect. But not for me. I can’t fool you, it wouldn't be fair. Maybe we rushed things too much, maybe if you think about it a little longer you’ll also figure out I’m not the proper girl for you. You deserve someone who can truly love you, to be happy with. And I’m sure you’ll find this girl sooner than you expect. Please, don’t look for me, ever. It’s way better to break up now, before things get too serious. Thank you for anything. I wish you the most wonderful life. Farewell.

Louise’

An hour and half later, I’m on a train, leaving Michigan, which has never truly been my place. New York, here I come! I’m coming home. I’m coming to you.

Joe’s POV What’s the point of waking up, if every day is fucking identical to the previous one and the one that still has to come? All these months and yet they don’t trust me enough, not even to give me a pen to write. They’re afraid I could kill myself with that. And they’re right. I would stab my heart with it, like vampires with wood. Probably I wouldn't explode into a pile of dust, but I would end this pathetical surrogacy of existence. The paradox would be such a book cherisher like me trying to slit his wrists with the page of a book - the papers of all the letters I receive are too soft, they can’t serve any purpose-. Actually I’ve tried once, but they noticed and stopped me before the bleeding could cause any serious damage. And it was with the very first book they allowed me to have, after I finished reading it. It was ‘The Executioner’s song’. Peak of irony. I’m laughing, thinking of that. Yeah, I'm laughing right here, right now. Alone. By now I’m used to doing everything alone. I keep laughing. I sound crazy. Maybe I am. Even more probably, I’ve always been.  

However, after that sad episode - sad because I didn’t manage to perform my ultimate killing: myself. -, the guards told me they wouldn’t give me books anymore, but I begged them not to do so, that it wouldn’t have happened anymore. It was only a moment of weakness and they’ve been merciful. I get three books a week, which is something I’m very grateful for. Otherwise, I would just sit here all alone, staring at the walls. The only thought would kill me… oh, wait, didn’t I wish to die? I’ve said I’m crazy, haven't I? Yes, okay. I’ve made some mistakes. I’ve done some despicable things. Horrible things. But always for a good reason. Do I really deserve all this? Did I really have to lose every fucking thing? My son, my money, Mooney, all my books, my freedom, my purest concept of love? Speaking of… Among all the books I receive, there was even your best seller, Bronte. I expected to find the Huntress and the Magician, instead… I chuckled. A crime novel? Actually, two detectives on the trail of a criminal, who end up falling in love in the process? As a man wounded in his ego, with a broken heart, I should say your book sucks and I hated every page of it; but as an unfazed book reviewer I can’t lie: that was good. A lot. Clean. Essential. Captivating. Such a mature work. I just can’t help wondering, are the righteous detectives me and you? Oh nope, Bronte, I can more easily picture us as the dangerous criminals.

You also used to say it, don’t you remember? Just like Bonnie and Clyde. Oh, it could have been, Bronte, that and so much more… but you preferred fuckin up my entire life… you, ungrateful bitch! And yet I keep thinking of you. Candace. Beck. Love. Marienne. Kate. I loved them all, deeply, intensely, sincerely…but they all faded away from my heart. But not you. Never you. Why? The only woman who managed to fool me twice… and probably could do it again. Oh, Bronte, what would I do if I had you here in front of me now? Strangle you? Kiss you? Both things at once? I don’t know, I really don’t know.

But I keep having so many fantasies about you. Like I did when you were supposed to just stay in the box. Before everything between us started. Before the fire devoured us. Literally. Oh no, wait, it’s just Kate the burnt one. Another chuckle. Oh please, that eager bitch hadn’t even the decency to die, at least let me have some little fun.  

In my fantasies, sometimes I kill you, sometimes you kill me. Sometimes we just make love, in the grass, under millions of stars.

If only you hadn’t run away. If only you could have accepted me. All of me. I lay down the cot and cover my lap with the newest book they gave me. Some guards could be around. My hand slowly goes down, crossing first the elastic band of my awful red trousers and then it slides inside my boxers. Yep, it might be just my hand but as I close my eyes and bite my lips it's you who’s doing that, knowing what pace I like, knowing everything about me. Or maybe not. I grin as I increase the pace. Fresh news, Bronte: you think you shot me there but your aim ain’t that good. You just hit my left groin. It hurt like hell, of course, but at least down there everything still perfectly works. And I’d be very glad to prove it to you. If only…

TBC

[lolitamick14]

Después de mil años por fin termine 🎉

Conociendo a la "rival" 😱

[saladmanthemightys]

Birds chapter 1 (working title) - Birds - Chapter one. (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1538396250-birds-chapter-1-working-title-birds-chapter-one?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=spudlythegrand Chapter one of my first story, Birds (working title), a post apocalyptical story about a world dominated by bird people, This chapter is mainly an introduction to the main character Jay, and his house, though you also have a glimpse of somebody else to begin. I hope you enjoy reading it, its only chapter one so hopefully it isnt too much hassle to read. Please give me constructive criticism! I love to get better at writing. although this chapter is family friendly it could get graphic later on for anybody reading!

[sunsetthievescomic]

1-0

Sunset Thieves Chapter 1 - Title Page

Next>

[sickficspeedrun]

∬Intro post∬

Hi! I'm MarCoral, but you can call me Coral, and this blog is where i post my art and small side-stories of my fanfic over at ao3! my main is @mar-coral

-You can ask me anything about the story! i might answer with a drawing, text post, or a extra scene just for you!

-There will be holiday events where you can ask the characters questions! (same stuff from above but Character POV)

-All questions are to be Sfw

Tags!

Asks will be under #ask 🐸

My art will be under #Speedrun art and #Doodles

Stories will be under #main's side-story

Chapters will be under #main story

You might also see the tag #chapter [number] for easy archiving and placing side stories into the main one (ei. #chapter1 for things related to chap 1, headcanons, scenes off-screen, etc)

Masterlist (so far! Updt: 25/05/2025)

☆ Chapter 1: the start [ao3]

☆ Chapter 2: The patrol [ao3]

☆ Chapter 3: The manor [ao3]

☆ Chapter 4: Setting sun [ao3]

☆ Chapter 5: Puppies and Rain [ao3]

☆ Chapter 6: Sapphire News [ao3]

[fetznerdeathrecords]

Hello Slashers!

Voorhees - Old school death-metal band from France dedicated to old horror movies from the 70's to the 90's

You can order chapters 1-3 here🔽

@voorhees_band_official @serial.metalbums @deathmetalpromotionofficial @athenaeum_of_sin_reviews @dinintunerec @forever_misanthropia

[localcryptidryn]

Page 34

[creative-creatures8]

Tape 1: Nightmare

Brick Mathews found this tape in the Boy's Cabin.

When Alejandro arrived on the island, he found it was more than it seemed. The trees themselves didn't seem pleased to have new quests. The waves bashed violently against his boat. But the strangest thing...

He could swear someone was watching him from the trees.

The other contestants seemed unbothered, almost like they couldn't notice. Oh well...

Oh well...

Tape 1 Acquired! OG post here!

[clunarme]

Chapter 1, Part 4

Shattered Swords and Hopes/A Heart Full of Darkness

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