dieing-life

 Reaching for his makeup bag, Arthur began to apply concealer to his cheeks, adding just a dash of blush afterwards in an attempt to bring back their long-gone color. He peered into a small, handheld mirror, murmuring incantations  to himself as he looked over his reflection. To be honest, he had grown quite proud of his makeup skills. Hell, most girls at his school couldn't even do their eye shadow without looking like a tart. But him, hell, he almost looked alive again. "Artie, hurry up, ye pansy! We ain't got all day for ye to put on yer lipstick!" He scooted off the bathroom counter top, shoving the well worn bag into his backpac

How to lose your life in one step: Fall in love. At  least, it was the one step that would completely destroy her life. Completely destroy it within thirty days or less, guaranteed! Not really, but, hey, might as well inject some humor into this. She was in love, simple enough, right? No. Her breath would catch merely hearing his name. Her heart would deadline from simply feeling his touch. It was so much more than that petty happily ever after love. It was... Well, best put, consuming. Consuming her life. Her mind. And, most of all, her heart. It was total head over heels love. Or something close to that. Her breath catching as she l

Reading the invitation, which had so clearly read 'You are invited to the wedding of....,', was probably the first mistake Arthur had made. But, in high hopes, he had opened the elaborately decorated letter, his hopes soon drowning in the words. She... She was getting married? Arthur felt as though his heart was deflating. He had loved her for so long and now.... and now some man he'd never met had come into her life and stolen her! Okay..., okay..., calm down... But, possibly worse yet, was the mistake Arthur had made to attend the wedding. Maybe... Maybe if she saw him again, her mind would change. After all, he'd been there for her whole

 Stumbling through the thick underbrush, _____ ran up to the disheveled house, looking up at the paint chipped walls. Taking a step closer, she felt a slow grin creep onto her face. Exactly the place she need. Dark, broken down, and disgusting, oh, home sweet home. Now, to meet the other creeps. Uh, crap, she couldn't remember them. Slenderman, tall guy, no eyes, Jeff the Killer, big smile, no eyelids, and, uh... the other people. Maybe she should work on her memory. Masky's point of view: New girl... Hm. Nice body. I crept closer to the window of my room, urging another few of the 'creepypastas' over. "Who's that?," Jeff pushed past me, s

2p! America x Reader 2 ____'s point of view: I look up at the taller man, taking in the seemingly familiar details. Almost like I'd seen him before. Crazy, huh? I shrug it off, reaching up to touch his face, my fingertips touching the tear streaks gently, "Why are you crying?" Sitting down beside the grave stone with my legs crossed, I look up at him expectantly. "Uh, well, ya see, my girlfriend died... Was murdered, really...., 'Bout seven years ago.." Al shrugged me off slightly, pushing his shades back to lightly wipe the thin line of tears forming. I fumbled in the pocket of my jacket, pulling out a tissue for him, holding it up in o

Jeff the killer x Reader five _____'s point of view: Sunlight leaking through the curtains, okay, scratch that. Sunlight pounding at my head, I sat up slowly, holding a hand over my eyes, blocking the sunlight. No Jeff, great way to start dating. Getting up, I trudged out of the bedroom. Screw it, I was just gonna head home. He could meet me any other time, but, to be honest, this place is more than a bit of a dump. So, tired and messily dressed, I left him behind a note, pinning it to his mirror- one of many, oddly enough- before leaving to walk home. That is, until I realized I had no idea where he took me. Street signs didn't help any

Cheescake.          Of all things why that? Doesn't even make sense. Well, at least not to her. With those damned tell-tale, crumbs folding into the crevices of her clothing. Oh well. She was screwed. That's all she needed to know. She was way passed screwed even. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, over-reacted images flashing through her mind, cuts and bruises seeming to appear already on her skin.         Though honestly, she could always lie her way out of it. But, damn, he might know. There was no way she was going to risk that. Well, in simple words, she was out. Nope. No, no, and no. She was just going to skip town

Okay. This was not expected. Not at all. Her voice hitched. Her heart pounded. Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump Oh shit. "Hey? You still there?" Oh god. Maybe that wasn't a lie though. She had to believe that. There was no way she would let him break her heart again. Once was one damn time to many. But, oh damn it, she loved him. Somehow. Somehow she still loved him. What an idiot, huh? "I'll just, er, hang up then...." "No wait!" Oh shit. Here it goes. Whoosh. Goodbye pride. Goodbye common sense. Yay. "I still love you. I swear I do..." Well, he was so helping, wasn't he? She was so going to regret her next words. "I love you too. I'm s

Tell me a lie/ Tell me lies "I love you." Goddammit. Goddammit. Goddammit. She couldn't believe she had ever even believed him! With his gorgeous, flashed smiles, and his empty little compliments! She collapsed into herself angrily onto her plaintive bed, unintentional, crushed sobs racking her body. She reached out for her tissue box, dabbing at the tears streaking down her face irritably. There was no way in hell she would ever cry over him. He lied to her. He never loved her. He would never be worth that heartbreak. But then- His kisses, his murmured 'I love you's, they had all felt so real. So true. So valuable. But of course the

Jeff's point of view: "Jeffery? Jeffery? Ya' want to know if I'm ol' Jeffy?," I laced the words with soft sarcasm, leaning in close to her face. She scowled at me, damn, even scowls from this chick are, uh well, actually kinda' cute. "I am." I murmured softly, closing my words with a kiss to her cheek, chuckling inwardly as color floods to her cheeks. "R-Really?," her voice wavered, dammit, "Prove it!" "Fifth grade. You tried to give me "the talk". You couldn't finish it, you were laughing to much. Tenth grade you kissed me before running down the halls, we didn't talk at all for the week after that.. It happened a month before my "oh-so-u