dusk [Schlattbur Oneshots]

Revenge.

TW: Blood, Murder, just overall crazy shit

also, i fucking suck writing in second perspective, as this is my first time writing it. i will edit this later bc im super fucking tired and spelled a buncha shit wrong hhhhhhh

Your name is Schlatt, and you have blood on your hands.

What's even worse? It isn't yours.

You didn't expect yourself to fuck up this bad. Wilbur should've known to stay away, though. You told him what was wrong with you. You told him about the crazy, physcotic thoughts you have daily about killing people. About plunging a blade into their skin, pulling it out to see the blood drip down, coating your hands in some dark red liquid that you can't help but smile everytime you see.

Okay, maybe this hasn't been your first time fantasizing about killing someone.

However, its been your first time killing someone. It's strange, however, because you actually liked them. Love? who knows. You don't think you're able to comprehend feelings like that. You can feel sadness and anger, but anything else? That's like jumping into a black void, expecting to find something else besides the dark depths of comeplete nothingness.

It's funny, though. On one hand, you're super regretful because oh my god I just killed someone I actually liked but on the other you're like holy shit I just killed someone I actually liked and didn't pussy out.

You look up from the blood-soaked corpse on the pavement and think you should probably clean this up before someone notices.

_____________________________________________

Your name is Wilbur, and you have just been murdered.

What's even worse? It was your boyfriend who did it.

Oh, you're also a ghost now.

You should've seen this happening, though. You know a lot about Schlatt. He's told you about his intrusive thoughts where he's burnig people alive or shooting people in the head. You've heard it all.

He's tried to get help, too. You've sent him to a mental hospital multiple times. You've sat there, holding his hand as he cried about wishing how he was a normal fucking person.

You almost find it laughable that you thought he was getting better.

You have sat through and listened to every single lie Schlatt has told you.

So? It's time for some fucking payback.

_____________________________________________

Your name is Schlatt, and dumping a body into a ditch is much more harder than you've imagined.

You'd think a middle-aged man dragging a black trashbag down the road must have been at least a bit mysterious or suspicious to someone. Well, today must've been your lucky day because absolutely nobody payed any sense of intriguement or attention to you. In a way, you're kind of begging to be caught.

Sitting on the cement drain pipe, you think for a minute.

Was it really worth it?

Sure, you got to expierience the pure joy of seeing Wilbur's panic-stricken face as you forcefully impaled the sharp blade into his gut. You got to enjoy the thick liquid pouring out of his wound that filled your nostrils with a dirty metalic smell.

But, you cant help but get ancy at the thought of how you will never escape being caught. You'll definitley be thrown into jail, or even worse, entered into some fucking phsyceward.

As you get up, you kick the trashbag in the drain pipe once more before walking back to your apartment.

____________________________________________

Your name is Wilbur, and you regret ever dating that sick bastard of a man.

hello, sorry this is a bit short. this is just a small idea of a story i may write by itself. id also like to apoligize for being long for a long time. id rather not dive into personal issues, but i will like to say im back and will get to everyone's requests soon!