#Zombie Story

[bioniclechronicles]

I started redrawing that little page I sketched last night of Maxence and Mikhail but I'm getting tired so I think this is where I'll leave it for today

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Day Eighteen: Beloved Pet or Object Turned Human

‘No way,’ Isaac said, looking between Ava and the excitable man currently examining how he could hold a pencil.

‘Apparently so,’ Ava said, though there was a hint of exasperation in her voice. ‘You’d think he’d be calmer, given Will’s approaching old age in dog years.’

Isaac scoffed despite himself. The idea of the man, who had quickly dropped the pencil and was instead looking at his own reflection once more, being Ava’s Siberian Husky Will was baffling. And yet, there was something about his eyes, about the way he occasionally glanced back to Ava as if checking he was doing an OK thing, that made him believe it.

‘This isn’t funny, Zac,’ she complained, rubbing her temple idly. ‘I can already feel a headache coming.’

Isaac offered her a small smile. He just hoped they might be able to figure out what was going on, and how to undo it, before any more animals turned human.

Ava arriving at Isaac’s front door was never unexpected, and yet when she arrives with an unknown man in toe, alarm bells start ringing. The explanation offered doesn’t exactly help matters, least of all when the man himself agrees: he’s Will, Ava’s family pet that has mysteriously turned human and none of them can figure out why.

It's not unusual for someone to grow an emotional attatchment to an animal or an inanimate object. What would your ocs beloved pet or object say if they turned human and could speak your ocs langauge?

[mrmonster459]

The Sound of the Infected

Location: the city formerly known as Austin, Texas

Time: 2024, one year post outbreak

Back when the outbreak began, Austin was ordered to evacuate, as all major cities were. Almost everyone complied, and those who weren’t were rounded up and forced to by the military. Everyone the government had on record was accounted for and pushed out of the city, whether they wanted to or not; but no one stopped to check to make sure that I, the blind homeless man living in an alley between a hotel and a convenience store, ever complied with the evacuation orders.

_____

I woke up in my shelter (a former hotel room), and my first feeling was the same one I felt every morning; hunger. So I put my braille copy of To Kill a Mockingbird back on my shelf (I had a bad habit of reading myself to sleep), and decided to go check on my traps, hoping I’d caught something to eat. If I was lucky I’d get a racoon or a possum, but if nothing else I was sure there’d be a rat or a pigeon.

I grabbed my mobility cane, strapped on my utility belt, and carefully opened the door to my room. I poked my head out, carefully listening to anything that might have been an infected. I hadn’t heard or smelled an infected in weeks, but you could never be too careful.

I didn’t hear anything, so I continued walking. Even though I had muscle memorized my way out of the building, I still held onto my wire just in case. I had long set up a series of wires in the building to always lead me back to my room if I got lost.

I unlocked the building’s front door, and once again listened for the infected. I heard nothing, so I pressed on. I could tell just by the feeling of heat on my skin that it was daytime, so I knew there’d be less infected wandering the streets. The infected preferred to be out at night, they only wandered during the day if they were really hungry.

I learned early on that if I stuck with the same buildings each time, animals would stop falling my traps after like, a week or so. But after a month or so, the wildlife would forget, and I’d be free to set up traps there again. So, I tried to change my locations at least every 3 or 4 days, and not use the same buildings for at least four weeks. Today the start of a new set up.

As I was approaching the building (I memorized how many steps it took to get there), I heard the one sound I wanted to hear the least; the low pitched snarl of an infected. And even if I couldn’t hear him, I could definitely smell him approaching. Most infected start to smell after a while, but this one was particularly rancid.

From the sound of it, it was alone. I waited for it to get closer, and could still only hear one footstep at a time, so I felt a bit lucky that it was a loner.

I drew my revolver, and waited for the infected to get closer. As he did, I isolated the sound of his growling; once I had a lock on his head, I aimed, and pulled the trigger.

I then checked to make sure I didn’t miss. I put away my gun and drew my machete, ready to fight it off if it was still alive. It wasn’t; I felt it’s lifeless body with my mobility cane, I knew it was dead.

I then continued towards the building where I laid my traps. Once inside, I ran my cane along the wall, checking the snares I laid out.

My first three snares were nothing. This was expected, not every single one could be a winner. But as I approached my fourth snare, I smelled something, so I knew I must have caught something. I felt it to take sure it had died; it did. So I put my plastic gloves on, and bent down to feel what it was; it was a racoon. I then put it in a plastic bag, tied it to my belt, and then moved on.

While I continued searching, I heard something else walk into the building. Then, I heard the growls, and knew it must have been infected. But it wasn’t just one this time, I could hear at least three growling mouths. And they were getting closer.

I couldn’t fight all three at once; there was no way I could isolate their sounds quickly enough to shoot with accuracy, and trying to fight them off with my machete would’ve been hopeless. So instead, I ran.

I found a door. I opened it. I then closed it behind me. But this wasn’t going to help me for long; the infected weren’t very smart, but they usually remembered enough of their old lives to do basic tasks like flipping light switches and opening doors.

While they stumbled towards the door, I wandered the room more. I found a staircase; this must have been the emergency stairwell. I started walking up, hoping I could lose the infected on another floor.

But then, as I was approaching the top floor, I could hear a loud pounding coming from above. Something was stumbling down the steps.

I drew my gun, and waited. I could only hear one snarl, so it must have been another loner. Once I isolated his sound, I fired, and could tell just by the sudden thud on the ground that I landed another shot.

But I didn’t have time to even catch my breath, because the other three infected were coming. I dashed up the steps, hoping to escape them.

I got to the next floor, and felt the walls until I found the door. I opened it, dashed past, and slammed it behind me. I then started feeling for a piece of furniture I could use to barricade the door.

I didn’t find anything, and I could hear the infected approaching. One of them opened the door, but before any could enter, I threw my entire body weight against it. I could tell something was caught in the door, probably an arm or a leg. While still pressed against the door, I pulled my machete, and started flailing. I must have hit something, because one of them screamed in pain and recoiled.

I quickly realized how futile it would be to try to hold them back much longer, so I sheathed my machete, drew my gun, and took a few steps backward. The moment I heard the door swing open, I opened fire. It would have been pointless to try to shoot them back in the lobby, but in a tight doorway where all three would be stumbling over themselves to push past, I knew I’d have to hit something.

I fired my four remaining shots as best I could, and then took off running. I had no idea how many I killed, and had no intent of waiting to find out the hard way.

The explosive sounds of the gunshots gave me temporary tinnitus. When it wore off, I could hear one set of footsteps and one snarling mouth stumbling after me.

I didn’t have time to reload my gun, and could tell by my cane that I reached the end of the hallway and had no idea where else to run. So I drew my machete and got ready for a fight.

As the infected got closer, I started flailing my machete. Most infected are smart enough to not run face first into a blade. It would instead circle me, hoping to catch me off guard.

I swung at it, but missed, and it grabbed my arm. This was bad, but not the end; it would be if it bit me, but a scratch wouldn’t infect me.

It then tried to pull me in close, probably to land a bite, but I quickly slashed it with my machete, and cut its arm clean off. It then howled in pain; that was good, it’s howl let me know exactly what it was. I then raised my machete and threw out one last slash, one that buried my blade in its skull.

I then paused and listened for any more infected. I heard none. I reloaded my gun, just to be safe, but still, I heard nothing.

With all that madness out of the way, I breathed a sigh of relief, checked to make sure my racoon was still where I left it, and started making my way back out. This was the hardest part of my new life; anytime I lost track of where I am, it’s a struggle to get back to a landmark. But thankfully, all I had to do was follow the hallway to the end and go back down the stairs to end up back in the lobby where I started.

I don’t know how long I’m going to make it living day by day in the ruins of my city. But at that moment, all I needed to know was that I was about to have dinner.

[mysticalwolf]

Hunger (a short story for Dead Flower)

This short story is based on AU of mine, hope you guys like the story.

It was a cold night in the city, 10 pm actually. Everyone is at home, expect from Gab. As a life-changing event came upon her many nights ago, she couldn't return home. Not what she becomes, a monster. Plant-like pericytes cling to her body, two indigo roses and green vines connecting the two.

Gab isn't the only one, but they're still not a lot of others that are like her. A Dead Flower, but that doesn't happen to everyone. The pericytes need to see if the body can be used as a host, but not all the time. Others who can't become a host, just become another meal. Their blood becomes the nutrients that they need.

Because of the recent attacks at night that have been happening to the city, the city has made a mandatory curfew where everyone needs to be at home when it is Night, police have been the only ones who are allowed to be out. But of course, some citizens don't listen to the city. Some for not wanting to listen, some were accidental, and some for pure curiosity. Gab has been trying to avoid everyone, even other Dead Flowers. She has seen her face on missing posters and on the news, but she can't show herself to anyone, for the fear that they might get hurt by her.

Gab clenched her hurting stomach, she was just so, hungry. She tried to avoid these pains by eating normal food, like how she used to. But it’s not working, every time she tries to eat normal food. It always comes back up, she is just in pure agony. The roses demand nutrients, she knows what they want, but Gab doesn't want to submit to their demands.

She needs to prove to herself that she is not a monster, she is still the same Gab. She is lucky she can fight the urges, but for how long? When will it be the night when she can't take it anymore and just, go with it? As Gab's stomach growls, she just sits in the dark ally. The roses keep talking inside her head, saying “Feed, you need to survive.”.

“I don't want to, you stupid pericytes.” Gab mumbled to herself, she had been talking to them since she first became like this.

“You need to feed, you also need a pack, very alone that you are right now.” They said to Gab that she was alone, and that she could be with other Dead Flowers, but the ones she met were very hostile or very controlling in their groups. She wishes she could talk to anyone, but she is too afraid of what could happen.

“Please don't starve yourself, you must feed to survive.” They cried out to her, but she knew it was for them, not for her. Gab growls and stands up, holding her head.

Before Gab could argue with them, her thoughts soon were blocked out by the sound of someone walking, she carefully sneaked out of the ally and peeked over the building wall. She sees someone walking by, and she quickly hides in the shadows, still watching the person go by. As this figure passes her, she smells something. They smelled, nice. Tasty actually. What! No! No, don't think that Gab! As she shakes her head, tears run down her one eye, while the oil runs down her rose eye. She couldn't help but drool, disgusting, she thought to herself.

Gab was breathing hard, she needed to fight this. But as she kept watching the figure walk away, she thought to herself. After a minute of thinking, she walks out of the alley and follows the figure from the distance. Tears, oil, and drool ran down her face. She follows the figure into the dark, and both disappear into the shadow of the city. Not knowing what their destiny will lead to.

[sparkyboo]

Cali

She survived the zombie apocalypse.

[cursedbanalities]

Zechariah 14:12-13 (A Horror Story)

Index

CW: Blood and gore

“And the Lord will send a plague on all the nations that fought against Jerusalem. Their people will become like walking corpses, their flesh rotting away. Their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths. On that day people will be stricken by the Lord with great panic. They will seize each other by the hand and attack one another.”

“...What the hell?”

Ethan flips the note around to look at the fake five dollar bill he’s been given as a tip. He should’ve known that it was a fake tip; it feels like cheap printer paper, but he was trying to hold onto hope that driving this far into the country to deliver a pizza would’ve given him some sort of restitution.

“I guess not.” he thinks, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the back seat of his car. People have been so edgy lately. As Ethan drives away from his subpar delivery, he thinks of the recent news stories covering a new virus that appeared in Singapore, and with that, the constant speculation that it’s going to be the next Covid. However, since Singapore’s government hasn’t said anything more about it, a nervous note has hung in the air ever since the announcement. It’s no wonder the religious nuts are being extra crazy, Ethan thinks. Always trying to find some way to say the apocalypse is just right around the corner. Having lived through Covid and not getting sick, Ethan can’t help but not care that much. At least he’ll get a couple of weeks off from his college classes if it does come to the United States. Ethan turns up his car radio and bobs his head to his favorite song, Add it Up, immediately forgetting about the fake bill and possible viruses, and mimicking the ways that Gordon Gano sings— nasally, and full of angst:

“Don’t shoot, shoot, shoot, that thing at me,

“You know you got my sym-pa-thy

“But don’t shoot, shoot, shoot that thing at me!”

Ethan speeds down the country road, aiming to make it back to the restaurant before it gets any later. Thankfully, it wasn’t a busy day. His delivery to the bible thumper was the first they had in a while, but he wasn’t looking to stay for any longer than he needed to. He drives past a large open field, where twinkling lights from the only airport in the county lights up the sky.

A 747 lands on the tarmac just as another takes off. It's weird how slow it’s been, especially for the summer. The town Ethan delivers in is on the coast, and is the biggest in the area. While it’s a small town, the summer tends to inflate the area with tourists and rich people in their summer homes. That being said, Ethan doesn’t mind a slow day every once in a while. It gives them a breather from having to bust their asses every single night.

Ethan speeds up, accelerating until he sees red and blue lights flashing ahead of him. He brakes, not trying to get a ticket. As he drives by, he sees three police cruisers with their lights on parked in the driveway of a farmhouse. A group of them are walking towards the house with their hands on their guns, illuminated by the headlights of the police cruisers.

Huh, weird, Ethan thinks as he passes the farm, speeding up now that he’s safe from being pulled over. He’s never seen that many cops in one place around here. Usually it’s so slow they “call in backup” just to waste time, so having three cars indicates a serious crime. Oh well, not my problem, he thinks.

Ethan comes up on a curve, taking it fast. A little too fast, from the way that his old Ford Focus starts shaking, but that was quickly forgotten when, up ahead, he sees a woman walking along the side of the road.

Well, walking was a nice way to put it. She was stumbling, barely able to stay on her feet. As Ethan got closer, the headlights illuminated more of the her: she was filthy, wearing a pink shirt and running shorts with short dyed red hair. She walks into the path of his car, and before he could react, Ethan runs into her.

The woman’s head smacks against the hood with a loud ka-thunk! She rolls over top of the car and crashes onto the pavement hard. Ethan’s eyes widen with shock and he slams on the brakes, screeching to a halt. He sits in his car, panicking. What the fuck is wrong with her? Is she drunk, or high on something? Oh god, did he just kill her?

He looks in the rearview mirror and sees that she’s up again, walking towards his car. Well, she’s definitely on something, he thinks. That’s gotta be some crazy shit if she’s back up already. He throws his car into park and steps out, leaving the door open. Ethan flings his arms up and yells at the woman.

“HEY! What the fuck were you thinking?”

The woman just walks towards him.

“HELLO? Are you listening to me? What’s your problem?”

The woman continues walking towards him, his car’s tail lights illuminating her. A spattering of blood covers her chest and mouth. Her blood-covered teeth glow a dark red as she bares her teeth at Ethan. She also has what Ethan thinks is a large gash in the shape of a crescent on her neck, just above her shoulder. Her eyes are bulging, as though she’s either trying to contain herself, or she’s in horrible pain. The woman groans at Ethan.

“Oh shit,” he mutters, taking a step back. She’s way worse off from getting hit than he expected. He puts his hands up and says, “Are you okay? I... uhm-- I gotta get back to work, but I can drive you to the hospital or some shit. That looks really bad. Seriously, I ca--”

The woman lets out a scream. The kind of scream that’s full of phlegm and tears at her vocal chords; animal-like in its nature. As she screams, she pushes her chest up and arches her back, standing on her toes with her hands pulled close to her chest and a stream of spit and blood dripping from her mouth; it's like she was having a standing seizure. Finally, she stops, and, after a beat of silence, launches herself at Ethan, her bloody mouth flicking strings of red spit. He flinches, and tries to move out of the way, using his hands to redirect the charging woman. He’s too slow, and moves his hands a little too high as she connects with him, almost knocking him to the ground. His hands push at her face, trying to get the woman away from him, and she sinks her teeth into the webbing of his hand- just between his thumb and index finger. Ethan lets out a yelp, and immediately slams his fist into the side of her head. She breaks free from his hand and falls to the ground, bouncing her head off of the asphalt.

“WHAT THE FUCK LADY?” Ethan screeches, holding his bitten hand. “You bit me, you bitch!” One of her teeth got deep enough for blood to start oozing out of the gash. He runs back to his car and speeds off, covering the wound with an extra napkin he brought from the restaurant. He sees in his rearview mirror that the woman was back up and sprinting towards his car, but he didn’t care. He accelerated, trying to get back to his workplace as soon as he possibly could.

Ethan gets closer to town and stops at an intersection. His heart is beating hard enough he can feel it in his throat. He looks around. There’s nobody on the streets, and it looks like he lost that "crackhead" back there. Ethan pulls out his phone to call 911, holding his bleeding hand against his thigh to help staunch the bleeding. The call goes through, and Ethan’s greeted with a busy line.

“Ugh, fuckers. Of course.” Ethan mumbles under his breath. He steps on the gas, and beelines towards Eugene’s Pizza.

***

Pulling into the delivery driver’s parking lot of Eugene’s Pizza, a square brick building with two large windows in the front of the store, Ethan rushes to the backdoor of the building. The napkin is starting to bleed through, and he wants to get to the first aid kit as soon as possible. Walking around to the back door, he sees two of his co-workers sitting on metal folding chairs and sharing a joint. The first one, a tall, blonde man with shoulder-length hair named Andy, takes a couple of puffs and passes the joint to his friend; a shorter man with olive toned skin and a goatee named Cameron. Cameron has his phone out while he takes a few hits. He's telling Andy about a new gun he bought.

“Yeah man, she’s a real beauty,” he says, showing Andy a picture. “See that grip? I had that shit custom made. You gotta see it in real life though. And shooting it, man?” He does a chef’s kiss, and smiles.

“Daaaayum. Yeah, bro!” Andy says, taking another hit, and letting out a slight cough. “You free this weekend? I’d love to take that bad boy out to the range.”

“Hey, maybe! I only have a clip’s worth of bullets right now, but once I get some more... we’re gonna have some fun, baby!” Andy and Cameron both laugh, and give each other a fist bump.

Ethan pushes by them and throws the back door open, and some of the smoke starts to seep inside of the restaurant.

“Hey man, what the hell!” Cameron exclaims, “I don’t want the inside smelling like a skunk’s ass!” Ethan ignores him.

He walks past the kitchen, his manager for the night was running around cleaning up the toppings area while tending to the couple orders they still have. He’s about 45 years old, and is wider than he is tall. Greasy black hair shines from underneath his hat, and the smell of menthol cigarettes waft from him. A hand-tossed pizza reaches the end of the conveyor-belt on the pizza oven, and he cuts it into slices with a large, machete-looking pizza slicer. He looks up at Ethan as he walks by.

“Hey! Can you please get those two dipshits inside? I know it’s slow, but I’m tired of doin’ everythin’ back ‘ere.” He says with a gravelly voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, man.” Ethan says, only really half listening as he finally makes it to the first-aid station-- or rather, a white metal box fastened to the wall. He starts pulling out gauze and antibiotic cream and setting it on a nearby metal table. His friend, another delivery driver named Hunter, is scraping the sides of Eugene’s Pizza’s deep dish pans.

“Damn, what the hell happened on that delivery?” He asks Ethan as he scrapes.

“Some fucking crackhead bit me.” Ethan spits, focusing on dressing his wound.

“What the fuck? Are you serious?” Hunter lets out a stifled laugh, “Hope she didn’t give you AIDs or something.”

“She didn’t give me AIDs.” Ethan chuckled, despite himself. “If she did, though, I’ll pass it on to you! I’ll bite you or some shit.”

“Yeeeah, whatever man.” Hunter laughs. “Like I’d let you bite me.”

Ethan shrugs and nods. Hunter’s easily half a foot taller than Ethan, and weighs a bit more than him too. If they were to get into a fight, Hunter would 100% destroy him. Johnny comes out of the kitchen and sees Ethan bandaging himself up.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” Johnny asks, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Oh, you know, I got bi--”

“Some lady gave him AIDs.” Hunter said, cutting Ethan off. Jonny laughs.

“Yeah man, what he said. I think I have to go to the hospital. I might as well get checked out, right?” Ethan says, and Johnny comes up to get a closer look at the gash the woman’s tooth left behind.

“Meeh, it doesn’t look that bad,” Johnny says, ignoring the blood pooling out of Ethan’s hand. “An’ even if you do have AIDs, there’s nothin’ you can do about it now. I think you’re fine to finish closin’ up.” Ethan opens his mouth to say something, but Johnny turns and walks back toward the kitchen. Muttering under his breath about how maybe he’ll bite him instead, Ethan finishes wrapping up the bite and puts the first-aid supplies away. While he was focusing on treating his wound, he didn’t even realize that they were down a driver.

“Hey, where the hell’s Mason?” he asks.

“Yeah, some asshat called in a delivery while you were gone. He left before you got back.” Hunter replies, and Ethan groans. “At least it’s not busy, right? We should be out of here in no time.”

“Yeah,” Ethan says with a shrug. “Let’s hope so.”

He and Hunter start cleaning the back of Eugene’s Pizza. Hunter finishes scraping the pans and pours ladles full of corn oil into each of them. Once he’s done, Ethan douses the table with a foul smelling degreaser that makes him cough, wipes it up, and starts sweeping the floors. Andy and Cameron run to the back to grab some cleaning supplies and, much like Johnny, their eyes widen at the sight of Ethan’s bandage.

“Yooo, what the fuck happened to you man? Cameron says, chuckling with a relaxed smile on his face and squinted eyes.

“I got bit by someone on my last delivery.” Ethan says, showing them his bandaged hand and scratching at it. “According to Hunter, she gave me an STD or some shit.” Ethan digs his nails into his hand, turning the area around the bandage red.

“I dunno man, from the way you’re scratching at it it’s prolly a super STD or some shit.” They all laugh. “Seriously though, did you call the cops?”

Ethan cocks his head and squints at Andy, confused. “Whaddya mean?”

“Bro, some bitch bit you and you didn’t call the cops?”

“Well, right before that I saw a bunch of cops with their lights on outside of a farm, or something,” Ethan says, shrugging. “I kinda just figured they were after her. Besides, when I called them all I got was a busy line. I figured they had bigger issues to deal with or something.”

“Wait, you said the line was busy?” Hunter asked. “That’s fucking weird. You'd think they'd be able to answer. Noting ever happens here.”

“Man, between that shit in Singapore and Ethan getting bit, maybe people are just getting spooked,” Cameron scratches his goatee shrugs. “Maybe they think there’s a zombie outbreak or some shit.”

“I did get some freaky ass bible quote instead of a tip.” Ethan says in response. “I can totally fucking see that.” Everybody laughs and makes remarks about Ethan’s misfortunes of the night before dispersing and continuing to clean up the store. Hunter finishes the final dishes of the night, wiping out the walls of the dish sink. Andy and Cameron join Johnny out in the kitchen cleaning the counters and sweeping the floors. Ethan’s sweeping too, finishing up the back of Eugene’s Pizza.

As Ethan sweeps the floors, he scratches at his wound. For whatever reason, his hand is tingling. It’s almost like he was slowly getting his feeling back after his arm went numb. Pins and needles poke at every nerve in his hand, especially around the bite, making it unbearably itchy. No matter how much flexing or scratching he does, it doesn’t go away. If anything, it gets worse. He suddenly feels dizzy, and his stomach growls loudly.

“Damn, you hungry? I know I could go for something.” Hunter asks, looking up from the dishwashing sink. Ethan didn’t expect him to hear his stomach growling, and looked up with a start. He was pretty hungry.

“N-Nah, I think I just have to use the bathroom.” He says instead. He wants to look at his wound without hearing any more comments from the rest of the staff; plus the pins and needles are gradually moving up his arm.

“Alright man, have fun.” Hunter says, turning his attention back to the dishes.

Ethan quickly walks towards the back door, and Mason walks in-- A shorter man, with a skinny build and freckles. Short, ginger hair peeps out from underneath his Eugene’s Pizza hat. He starts to ask about Ethan’s delivery, but Ethan pushes past him as he rushes to the employee bathroom. The itch is getting worse. It's starting to burn.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Ethan rips his bandage off and digs his nails into the back of his hand and forearm, searching for the sweet release from the horrible itching from his wound. He looks down at the bite mark. The skin around it is a bright red, with deep cuts from his nails covering the back of his hand and forearm. Blood oozes from the self-inflicted gashes, and Ethan stares at them as they flow like crimson rivers down his arm and onto the floor.

His stomach growls again.

God, he’s so hungry.

***

[[Hey guys! Thanks for reading this piece-- I wrote this in early 2023 while I was a delivery driver. Pizza-making is a theme in my works, since most of my career since going to college has involved making those delicious, greasy saucers. There was some contempt I had with some of my co-workers that might've slipped into the piece, but I think I still gave them plenty of time to shine both in this chapter AND those going forward.

[[Hope to see you guys in the next chapter!!]]

[candiedwords]

I'm so salty (no pun intended) that Saltburn used "We're all about to lose our minds." as the tagline because "We're all gonna lose our fucking minds!" would be so perfect for What Follows. 🥺

[izas-journal]

Sorry for not updating recently. I've been trying to have a better layout for the story and the characters. Making this was kind of an impulsive decision, but I've been having fun creating the characters and the story. I hope to update the story soon once I have all my thoughts together. But school started a few weeks ago, which means that its probably going to take a while, so dont get your hopes up too much.

[inkandpaperqwerty]

Well, guys, I’ve done it! Not only am I dealing with spam on Facebook because I got past 1,100 followers, which draws all the scammers, but ALSO, I have suddenly started getting spam on fanfiction.net. I guess I’ve finally made it as a writer.

I wrote the above paragraph yesterday, when my body wasn’t in severe pain and I had high hopes for the productivity I would achieve today. I managed to get everything in order as far as formatting my book goes. Uploaded the final manuscript (which didn’t change other than copyright, dedication, etc.) for all formats on KDP and D2D, and my sister sent me the final covers, so I updated those on all formats/sites, too. I also ordered a proof from D2D (which I am only doing this one time because yikes it’s expensive), which means once I approve that, if no changes need to be made, everything is ready for 09/15/2024! Yaaay!!

Also note that I’m still allowing people to download the ARC, and you don’t have to finish/post your review before the publish date. I just like getting the support and feedback!

I didn’t get as much done on Through the Gate as I wanted, but I am going to do everything I can to get the next chapter posted on Wednesday, 08/28/2024. We’re doing some time jumps to show the highlights of Ed’s stay while they work on a solution to get him home, so it’s not like I can get one idea and run with it for the whole chapter. I’m excited for it though! Especially… October 3rd.

Thanks for reading, guys! I always appreciate the support!

[twobluecows]

‼️Warning for censored blood/gore‼️

the climatic scene in my short story, homoerotic tension comes later

(Find the uncensored versions on my instagrams or read the story on my wattpad)

using castiel as my censor and filling the cas shaped hole in my heart (is this censored enough? I’ve never censored anything before… if it needs to be censored more I’ll take this down and re-upload with better censoring)

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Day Eleven: Ghost AU

‘Bea, you gotta get up,’ Charlie whispered, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. He’d already tried talking to Isaac, but his friend was too consumed with worry about Ava. It made sense, but the unintentional rebuff had hurt nonetheless. Still, Charlie had hoped Beatrice would notice him. ‘Please.’

Following the death of Charlie, his friends seem to break themselves apart. But Charlie can’t move on until he knows they’re OK. Until he knows that they can survive the losses they’ve endured. Even if it kills him – all over again – just a little to think that perhaps they might forget him.

Sometimes when we die, we don't leave. Tell us the unfinished business that keeps your ocs ghost on Earth, who your oc would haunt, how they would haunt, or anything else related to your oc being a ghost!

[onebadnoodle]

frozen yogurt 🍦

[sasha4books]

Christmas Book Countdown 🎄(Day 5)

Title: Anna and the Apocalypse

Author: Katharine Turner

[cursedbanalities]

I love zombie stories so much but it sucks that the genre was so over saturated in the mid 2010s. The Walking Dead inspired sooo many ideas over the years— but now people see zombies and roll their eyes a little. Does anyone else agree?