Social Outcast Novels & Stories

Which only made me worried about the rest of my family. Unlike most rogues, we had actually formed a rogue pack. Over the years, we had run into other like-minded individuals. Outcasts that had been deemed a rogue from circumstances beyond their control. For example, Charlie was in a way, our pack doctor. He found us shortly after he had been cast out of the Midnight Shadow pack.

The scars of being ostracized and belittled for circumstances beyond his control remained etched in his memory, an indelible mark on his psyche that haunted him even within the confines of his prison cell. The pain of being an outcast, the anguish of feeling inadequate, and the despair of being the constant target of ridicule weighed heavily on Ejay's soul. His upbringing in poverty had shaped his perspective, fueling an unrelenting drive for success, an ambition born from the ashes of his past struggles.

Lyla collapsed, her face ashen. "You dared deceive me!" Lukas was consumed by rage. He kicked her aside. "You made me believe I would have a pureblood heir!" "Lukas, please..." Lyla crawled toward him, trying to grab his leg. "I love you... I just wanted a child..." "Love?" Lukas shoved her away in disgust. "What would a filthy creature like you know of love?" He turned to the crowd and announced in a voice of cold fury: "From this moment on, this... thing... is no longer my mate! She is an outcast! A rogue! I'm sending her to the orc mines to live out the rest of her filthy existence!"

In fits and starts, I wrote about the quiet bitterness of those on the margins of society and the moments they were made to feel invisible. One day, I typed out, "In that lavish estate, all the applause and spotlight belonged to them. I was nothing more than a superfluous ornament—fit only to stand in the shadows and watch in silence." That post went viral without any warning. Within moments, tens of thousands of comments flooded in. Countless people wrote that my words mirrored their own feelings of being abandoned by their family. As I read those comments, I suddenly felt like crying. It wasn't because the post had gone viral, but because I finally realized just how many people out there w

I ask, my servant-bot slowly hovering at the base of my staircases. “Unstoppable had been beaten,” my servant-bot starts,” The OutCasts had defeated him and now, he is begin held in a maximum-security prison cell at IronWall Prison.” “I guess Unstoppable wasn’t so unstoppable after all,” I say, my eyes still focus on the hundreds and hundreds of screens in front of me. As I keep on watching, I see so many people walking around, doing whatever it is want. I see them speeding through the streets. I see them throw their trash everywhere. I see them act like uncaged animals.

They found comfort in me after losing Claire, and I had my rebirth thanks to their pity. Maybe this was for the best. When it was time to leave, it would actually feel like freedom. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks. Julian would stop by occasionally, but never for more than a few minutes. Lucian called me only once. After that, I saw pictures of him and Claire together all over social media. Soon, Julian started showing up at their parties too. They all looked so happy in the photos, like the world was a better place without me. The day I was discharged, my phone rang as soon as I stepped outside.

I will make sure that there is no lycan meat on her plate, no matter how much she craves it! "The outcast is here! Kill here too!" One of the healers shouted as soon as they recognized me. Well, who would not recognize me because I am the only healer that was kicked out of our territory—the only one disgraceful in their eyes. "Bitches! I'll kill you all!" I yelled back. I was getting close to the barrier, and since it would break anyway, I punched the barrier, causing it to shatter, which caused the healer to be surprised. I take this chance to kill as much as I can. I pierced the pole at the neck of the nearest healer I could reach and snatched the spear it was holding.

Moreover, they held similar stoic looks. “It clearly seems, they don’t want you anymore, your out of their life now, you got to move on without them. This house, is what it is..” “What do you mean?” “We were all cast out, by family, by friends, by Love ones. And here we’re. We grow stronger. And deal with everyone who dealt with us. Revenge it is for us.” Elina looked at him, with the tears streaming down her face, she didn’t bother, wiping them off. But just let it flow.

The particular stillness of people who were not easily moved by anything. Sloane had grown up in the kind of neighborhoods where you learned quickly how to read a room. This room was saying: outsider. This room was saying: be careful. But underneath that, underneath the testosterone and the faint smell of motor oil and spilled whiskey, there was something else. A kind of order. Like everyone in this space knew exactly where they stood and no one was confused about the rules.

At the start of graduation season, my boyfriend took more than two hundred photos of Madison Vale. Chase Whitman was president of Westbridge University’s photography club. He knew how to find flattering light and how to coax people out of stiff smiles. Madison stood beneath the maples outside the library in a white dress, her graduation cap tucked under one arm. “Am I taking up too much of your time?” she asked. Chase checked the last few shots and smiled. “You make my job easy.” When it was finally my turn, he barely looked at me. “Stand by the tree.” He clicked the shutter twice and lowered the camera. “Done.” I stared at him. “That’s it?” He turned the screen toward me. In one photo my ey