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Streetlights in the dark blue

Summary:

Louis Tomlinson is an investigative journalist.

He's spent the better part of his life researching the psyches of serial killers, and publishing articles to provide a deeper understanding into their methodologies. His pen-name, Orion, is well known around the globe. An alter-ego that keeps his pockets lined, and his identity private.

That is, until a letter arrives at his home address. A letter containing a symbol. One dubbed by a serial killer who'd vanished three years prior. The postage stamp? Bainbridge Island.

He'd spent so long peering into the darkness, it should be no surprise to discover that something had been looking back.

The island presents a host of mysteries. It also houses a nosy witch, determined to break down his walls.
And an FBI agent hellbent on shattering his carefully constructed world.

Notes:

Hi my lovelies, it's been a minute!
At long last, an original murder mystery. I drew inspiration from my trip to the island with the GC. Love to Atlas, Dee, Keri, Zil and Mary!
Also, True Detective Season 1 for the vibes x

First and foremost:

I don't own the characters (the boys). This is in no way related to their personal lives (and where similar I try to broach it respectfully) so please do not send it to them or their families - that would be mortifying. None of this is real - besides like serial killers, yeesh.

Please be kind x

POSTING SCHEDULE: ONE CHAPTER A WEEK UNTIL COMPLETION. (who am I kidding? once a week for like four weeks and then all at once, am I right?)

So stay tuned, I guess and enjoy :)

At this point in time I'm not open to translations of my work. I also do not consent to having my work posted elsewhere, so please do not steal it!

All mistakes are no longer, regrettably, my own. Hahaha, I LOVE YOU, ZIL. My sweet friend, my wonderful beta.
You are everything xx

Original work by yours truly, be kind, I'm sensitive.

PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING NOTES FOR TRIGGER-WARNINGS:
I won't always be able to add warnings to the notes at the beginning of each chapter so please read the following info CAREFULLY. I want you all to be safe and comfortable here, okay? Okay.

There are mentions of death in various stages. I'm a descriptive writer so some parts will be GRAPHIC.

I mean at this point, you kind of know what to expect from me, right? So, the usual? Uhm...death and gore and those things. Maybe a little spooky, I guess. Or a lot, it's trippy man idk what to say for myself.

This fic is also a little (a lot) dark and deals with death and loss that both characters experience. I tried to handle that respectfully as well, as we're all aware of the reality xx

I love you all and appreciate your overwhelming support, please (I beg) be safe and cautious :) xx

Ta!

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

There is a movement, an undercurrent, within the natural order of our world. It rolls and seethes beneath the surface, rearing its head to catch a glimpse of that sparkling life that sways and dances like moonlight upon water. It reaches out with shadow-webbed fingers, its sharp talons caressing the light, before shying away. Always curious, always wondering. It twirls and it flows with rich abundance, from one host to another. Crawling in that undulating darkness that shifts between the stars. 

The vast unknown. 

It thrives and grows like an infestation. A devastating disease that slowly poisons the mind. It spreads through action and consequence. It cleaves souls and bleeds anguish until a gaping hole has formed where it can nestle itself comfortably and begin its work. 

What goes against the natural order? The act of causing such irreparable damage that the one it’s inflicted upon carries those scars throughout the course of their lives. Those scars are bred with, and spread. The mind forms around it, a network of possibilities. Through this network, many are connected. They find solace in the darkness, they cultivate it. 

They invite chaos. 

They raise their hands to the horned god. 

They exult in the bloodshed. 

They grin with sharp teeth and throw their heads back in pleasure amidst the screams of torment. 

This is their design.