Jem Doe

It was Saturday morning, and Bentinho, sleepy and lying on the floor, Escobar lying beside him and going back and forth between being awake and sleeping, didn't want to go home. Of course, he should go; he knew his mother was waiting for him. But he didn't want to: to be there, sprawled on the floor with Escobar, the morning sunlight gently bathing them both.

Jem Doe

It was as if there were roots in her lungs, taking her flesh, using her blood for nourishment, its long stalk down her throat, finally blooming in her mouth. The metallic taste of blood on his tongue was unpleasant as he picked up the yellow carnations he'd vomited on the grass in the seminary garden. It was a distraction to have to go back to his empty room, where he knew his heart would break even more. Hanahaki disease AU.

Jem Doe

The scene was simple: Escobar in the church, waiting, watching Bentinho.

Ariel F H

Escobar's accident at sea was no accident.

Jem Doe

Slender fingers caught Bentinho's attention, and he wondered - what would they look like in his palm? Would they be warm and soft, affable as Bentinho imagined them to be?

Tiuni-Chan

Capitu, Brás Cubas, Raimundo... These well-known characters of Brazilian realist literature, after their respective ends, found themselves in an unreal Posthumous world of the Earth where they left. In a constant struggle to decide who will be the next posthumous author, these characters will report in a very unrealistic way what they left on Earth.