Fan Fiction

MHOS Part 29: Fashion for the Hunt. Content Warning.
Gwendolynne Hanuse 13:26 (0 minutes ago) to me Part 29: Husk walks me to the front door and pulls me in possessively before kissing me good bye and it makes me just a little bit sad. I can't deal with him, or Alastor, or think about hunting. I need to get lost doing other things.
By Her Ellaness♿️3 months ago in Fiction
My Neighbor Left Me a Key With One Strange Warning. AI-Generated.
Old Mr. Henderson was the kind of neighbor who kept his lawn immaculate and his interactions brief. For six years, our relationship consisted entirely of polite nods over the fence and the occasional wave while taking out the trash. So when he knocked on my door on a rainy Tuesday evening, holding a heavy silver brass key, I was completely caught off guard.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
Every Night at 2:17, Someone Knocked on My Door. AI-Generated.
The first time it happened, I brushed it off as a half-asleep delusion. It was a cold, sharp Thursday in mid-November, and the wind outside was howling through the bare oak branches in my front yard. I woke up abruptly to three heavy, rhythmic knocks on my front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. I rolled over, blinked at the glowing red digits on my alarm clock— 2:17 AM —and assumed it was a lost neighbor or a confused delivery driver. But when I pulled back the window curtain, the porch was empty. The street lay dead silent under the amber glow of a single streetlight.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
“Stay inside longer”
Grim took a look at Gnarly’s new one bedroom apartment. It was clean, small and comfortable. Minimal furniture and no mess. Not like how they were used to living. They usually lived together in different places with a vagabond type of environment wherein nothing was ever really homey, secure or even close to being cozy.
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 months ago in Fiction
MORGAN BLACKHAND: THE MAN WHO OUTLIVED THE LEGEND
2077. Night City remembered Morgan Blackhand badly. That suited Morgan just fine. Most famous Solos eventually became drinks at the Afterlife. Their names survived because their bodies didn’t. Stories became bigger than the people inside them. Details changed. Witnesses lied. Drunks improved the endings.
By Alejandro Arango3 months ago in Fiction
How Silence Helped Me Reclaim My Life. AI-Generated.
The quiet hours of the early morning have a distinct way of stripping away the noise of the world. Long before the city wakes, before the rush of traffic and the relentless ping of notifications take over, there is a sacred pause. I sat by the narrow window of my apartment, watching the dark sky slowly soften into shades of muted violet and pale gold. In my hand, a mug of coffee grew cold as I stared at the blank page in front of me.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
One Missed Call. AI-Generated.
It was a calm evening in Shanuou, a small town. Sarah , a young college student, sat at her desk, studying for her final exams. Her apartment felt cozy as she flipped through her textbooks.
By M.Fiaz3 months ago in Fiction
A Tale of Knighthood
This story is set in the world of Warhammer Fantasy, and is a joint endeavor between Neal Litherland and Sam Furlano. They called this place the Swamp of Sorrow. A sucking mire of standing water and grasping mud, skeletal trees spread their bony branches wide to blot out the sky, and their snarling roots sought to snare any who would try to wade past. Black, biting flies filled the air, droning as they swarmed anything with hot blood pumping through its veins. Scaled creatures moved in the darkness, cutting through the water with quiet splashes that left nothing but ripples in their wakes.
By Neal Litherland3 months ago in Fiction
Three Shots. Runner-Up in Last Call Challenge. Content Warning.
Content warning for: murder-for-hire, suicidal themes, abuse, animal death, alcohol usage, adult language …etc. David sits alone in a dark corner of the bar, right leg jumping, fingers drumming endlessly on the grimy metal table, regardless of the beat of whatever tune blares around him. He doesn’t even notice the bustle of the rest of the night owls who continue lingering as the hours dwindle. His phone rests inches away on the unsavory, sticky table surface - when he isn't constantly checking the otherwise blank screen. He picks absently at the scabbed, split skin on his right thumb from a knife cut he got the week prior.
By Megan Baker (@thegothofsawpit)(@shadowsitheghoststrikebwr)3 months ago in Fiction
“Come here”
“Come here,” Pim whispered. Charlie felt frozen. “What?” ”Come here, now,” Pim said with a passionate look. Charlie gulped. “Fuck. Okay.”
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 months ago in Fiction
TERMINATOR: DEAD SIGNAL
The first thing Skynet heard was music. Not a coded transmission. Not a targeting pulse. Not the encrypted machine language that moved invisibly between satellites, factories, and autonomous battalions.
By Alejandro Arango3 months ago in Fiction
You've Got A Friend In Me
Woody was old and that was one of the things Andy loved most about him. His earliest memory was of his mom pulling out the doll and filling Andy's desperate hands with his weight. His big head rested in the palms of his hands and his limp fabric body draped gently across his knees. From that day on, they had been inseparable. Andy's bedroom walls were a shrine to the cowboys aesthetic. The wallpaper was patterned with horseshoes, a brown felt cowboy hat hung gently over the bedpost, and Woody slept right beside Andy's cheek every night on a stitched patch work quilt. Life was good, in fact, Woody didn't think it could get any better.
By Sara Wilson3 months ago in Fiction