The Parable of the Two ArtisansOnce upon a time there was a travelling merchant. He was an esteemed gentleman who enjoyed many quality things. He knew what he wanted and he knew what they were worth. Today he was searching for ornate ceramic pots, ones that were aesthetically pleasurable as well as structurally sound. He came to a village which, despite its small size, held two artisans. He ordered a pot from each of them. Whoever had come closer to his vision would obtain his permanent service. He would judge their pots in three days.The Parable of the Two Artisans2 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The two artisans had different ways of making their craft. The first artisan had studied for many years, honing his craft. Each of his pots were sturdy and proved their function, yet they weren't much to look at. The second artisan came about his own techniques. He chanced designs and structures that the first artisan dared to try. Some of his pots crumbled under their own weight, but others became the envy of the town. The two artisans didn't like each other, or each other's work. Th
5 Qualities Readers Want in Your Story's Villain5 Qualities Readers Want to See in Your Story's Villain5 Qualities Readers Want in Your Story's Villain2 weeks ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
A story is only as good as its villain. And while the antagonist of your story does not have to be a “villain,” they do have to live up to certain reader expectations if you want your story to be of any merit. So here are the top 5 qualities that readers want and need to see in your story's villain.
Quality 1: Your villain should be a dynamic, true-to-life character.
Remember, we are talking villains here, not monsters. And unlike a monster, a villain should be a person. This means that no matter what race, gender, or even species, your audience should be able to empathize on a certain level with them. Doing so makes the story feel real, and creates complex emotions for the audience as well as the hero.
Quality 2: Your villain should be more powerful than the hero.
This does not mean that you villain has to be stronger in every way. I means that the villain should have something that gives them a distinct edge over the
Step-Dad (Tony StarkXReader)Tony StarkXReaderStep-Dad (Tony StarkXReader)1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Good morning everyone.” I walk through the elevator doors to the penthouse floor of Stark Tower. The Avengers have a meeting this morning, so I had to come. We hold the meetings at Stark’s because we all know he’s not going to come unless we invade his house. “Joseph go watch TV till I’m done here, with my meeting.”
“What’s with the kid sweetheart?”
“Mrs. McCall, the old lady next door, had a doctor’s appointment today so she couldn’t babysit.”
“Why do you have him with you anyway?”
“He’s my son Tony.” I look at him with a straight face, and can’t believe he is asking me this.
“Wow, didn’t know you were married, let alone that you have a kid.”
“I’m not married. Joseph is from an ex-boyfriend. He left me when he found out I was pregnant. Now, can we get on with the meeting?”
“Of course Agent (Last).” Fu
Do not fall in love with a writer.Do not fall in love with a writer.Do not fall in love with a writer.1 month ago in Emotional More Like This
They can paint with colors that you have never heard of before, and create new worlds with one strong emotion. They have a heart that outstrips any fuel source, and is full of butterflies and frustration. They come alive in the early hours of morning, when the only noise they can perceive is the one coming from your sleeping form; they sleep when the sunlight isn't quite in the shape they need to work their magic. They can conjure up the most simplest of cliches, and leave you in a burning wake of words, singeing your arms and eyes with embers of passion and misnomers. They have moments of weakness, and brief seconds of strength, and the only thing they will keep to themselves is how many times they said, "You can do better than that". They've fallen in love with the impossible, and wept over the improbable. Their wishes comprise of fanatical love tales, and the harmonizing of fates that were almost lost to the dusty shelves of old book s
My Life Story Isn't A Poem This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall.My Life Story Isn't A Poem1 month ago in Philosophical More Like This
You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON'T GET TO FALL.
And somewhere between waiting the incoming of a knight in a white horse and the utter destruction of a gale force hurricane, you vomit pills and anesthetize your heartbeat in a locked bathroom, you are a sinking ship with polished medals and you are a callused writer with in
Judy's 'Heaven of Food' - Part 1Judy’s “Heaven of Food”Judy's 'Heaven of Food' - Part 12 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
Part 1 of 2
WARNING!!! This story is about feederism, intentional weight gain and extreme obesity!
Don't like that? Don't read that!
Judy was angry. “Why do they do that?” She was sitting in front of her TV with a bag of potato chips in her hand. “They should be happy to be like that!” She shook the bag and the last potato crumbs fell into her mouth. “It is not fair! They don´t deserve such a body!” She was watching a commercial of the latest dieting-drink and saw a lot of skin-and-bone-girls holding up pictures of themselves ,which showed them when they were fatter, saying stuff like ‘Thank God, I´m thin now! It´s like a new life!’ “
Creepypasta: Bleedingman (Original)Drip.Creepypasta: Bleedingman (Original)1 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Shit.” A blonde teen climbed down from a tree he was picking apples from. He had scratched himself on the bark and hadn’t noticed. He left the basket of apples he had collected next to the tree and rushed inside. His icy blue eyes snaked around the room searching for another life form. When he deemed it safe he calmly walked to the bathroom.
Inside the medicine cabinet there were epipens designed especially for him. He injected himself with it and sat by the sink holding a towel to his dripping scrape. Now this boy was special, special in a way he would rather not be. He was a hemophiliac meaning that these minor cuts and scrapes he acquired could kill him. His body had an inability to create the white blood cells he needed fast enough to cause clotting. This restricted most of his outside activities. It even left him an orphan.
His parents were told of his condition after one doctor visit because he wouldn’t stop bleeding after his tooth fell
But It's Too Late For RegretsI wish it was you, darling.But It's Too Late For Regrets2 weeks ago in Emotional More Like This
Deprived.[Tadashi Hamada.]Deprived.[Tadashi Hamada.]3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
You watched him work, his eyes drooping and sliding shut every once and while as he kicked into the extra energy he had stored, which in itself, wasn’t a whole lot. He’d been doing this to himself for a couple of weeks now, and you decided it was time for you to go spend time with him at his lab because he wasn’t making it home and it was getting you worried. He told you that he was sleeping in the lab, and you didn’t doubt that. You noticed when you first walked in, that there was indeed a mattress sitting snug in the corner, along with a couple of pillows and blankets. Despite the comfy looking conditions, he looked like a bus had ran over him a thousand times. Sitting up in your chair, you grabbed your wallet and said to him gently, “I’m going to get a tea, want me to get you o—-”
“Can you get me a coffee?” He muttered, picking up a tiny screw before setting it down where it needed to go. Humming gently, you stood beh
Birthday (Sebastian RocheXReader)Birthday (Sebastian RocheXReader)2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
You had been working on the hot TV show Supernatural for just over 3 months and so far you loved it. You're character was a run away angel that, like Balthazar, faked her own death during the war. Meaning you had most your scenes with Sebastian Roché which you were extremely thankful for. During your time on the set you'd grown fond of him you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on the French actor. Currently you were talking to Misha while taking a break between scenes.
"So doing anything interesting for your b-day tonight sis?" He asked with a small grin.
"Stay in watch Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones. You?" You shrugged glancing at your twin.
"You are not staying in! We only turn 35 once! We're having a small party here on set go home, change then come back or I'll drag you here myself" Misha replied putting his phone back in his pocket.
"If I agree to come will you buy me a puppy?" You asked.
"Not after the last one (Y/n)" Misha shook his head.
"It's hardly my fault
And then, a quiet explosionTrees, full of green vitality, swayed, shivered in the cool, early morning breeze. Butterflies floated, caressed flowers of all colours. Birds, they soared, danced and sung in the heavens. And below, hand in hand, the pair walked up a grassy hill without saying a word. None were needed. A non-awkward silence, smiles and laughs, were more than enough, precious. Time together, with their black and tan dog, full of heart, sniffing, playing, exploring about their feet – perfect.And then, a quiet explosion1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The three reached the summit, sat, close, bathed in the warmth of each other’s love and followed the sun’s birth into a crystal clear sky, washing the world with yellows, oranges and reds, with life. They embraced, tightly, with affection, friendship, and with wide eyes, in the distance, saw a star, pure, white, burst into the atmosphere. For seconds, to the Earth's concerto, it fell beautiful, terrible.
The dog barked.
The pair kissed.
And then, a quiet explosion.
A blinding light.
Hobo Heart Stitches CreepypastaHobo Heart Stitches Creepypasta2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
Hobo Heart - Stitches
It was a winter afternoon. Like most winter afternoons it was overcast, cloudy with a bit of rain, the wind blew and the leaves rustled on the sidewalk as C.C. and her friend Elizabeth walked home from school.
"It was nice walking this way for a change." C.C. said as the two strode along.
Elizabeth smiled "Thanks for joining me this way. I can't believe Britany didn't show again today. She didn't call or anything."
C.C. rolled her eyes "She probably skipped and went to the lake with Glen."
Elizabeth laughed "You're probably right. Alright well I'll see you tomorrow."
The two parted ways and C.C. continued. She had just a few more blocks till she was home.
As she walked along she saw a small scruffy dog pawing at something in the gutter.
"Hey little guy whatcha after?" she crouched down and saw a bone stuck in a crack.
C.C. pried it lose and the dog snatched it up and darted away, toward the alley.
The girl followed "Hey, don't I at least get to pet you?"
(Y/n)'s Theory of Happiness (Child!Axis x Reader)(Y/n)'s Theory of Happiness (Child!Axis x Reader)2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
(Y/n)'s Theory of Happiness
(Child!Axis x Big-Sister!Reader)
WARNING OF THE FEELS
Again those years run on by
My mind filling up with only family
"(Y/n) now's your big sister everyone
"So try and get along with her for me please"
I hurried down the stairs and entered my kitchen. I was so happy! Today was the day my family would expand, but I was a bit worried. I was never a big sister, so I don't know how they will act to me. I snap out of thought when I saw my mother with the front door open. I heard three car door slams which told me that everyone else was outside. Mother smiled at me and put a hand on my head.
"(Y/n), honey, your a big sister now. Try and be a good role model for your new siblings," she stated gentley. I nodded and giggled.
"I'll try my best, Mommy," I said in pride. She chuckled a bit before proceeding in the house. I moved to
I love him nonethelessHe smoked in bed with his spine bent where it shouldn't, slumped across the pillows and with his eyelids half open and if it had been another life time I probably would have been in love with him.I love him nonetheless1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As it was, I watched the cigarette as he brushed his nose with his palm, sniffed to try and retract his emotions and then shakily drew from it again.
He was utterly beautiful, even in wretchedness, and although every inhale was agony in his trachea I could see behind his dulled irises the desire to be better, and I was going to get him there.
I tucked my feet under his duvet and didn't care when our feet touched. He flinched but not at me but because his thoughts had been elsewhere. I took no offence and neither of us moved again.
He took nervous stabs at the ashtray as the loose tobacco fizzled and escaped the paper. It was an instinct. A reflex. If the bed had set alight with both of us in it the only reason either of us would have moved would have been to save the other.
The bed didn't set
Sometimes it's Better to Miss Out on Things Do you remember when you were little? That time when your parents were doing something oh so exciting, but you had to go to bed? You wanted oh so badly to stay awake, and join in on the experience, but couldn't because you had school tomorrow. You were scared to miss out on things.Sometimes it's Better to Miss Out on Things 2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
So as your parents tell you it's bedtime, you reluctantly stop whatever you're doing and change into your pajamas, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed. As your climbing under the covers, your parents turn out the light and whisper goodnight. You try one last time to convince them to let you stay up, but they shake their heads and close the door, engulfing your room in darkness.
Now rendered temporarily blind, you lay there in the dark room as your eyes dart around wildly, trying to make out your surroundings. The first thing that comes into focus is your tall dresser, standing at the foot of your single bed. Then you make out the shapes of your toy
Grub Kankri x ReaderGrub Kankri x Reader3 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
You placed your hands over your ears. The little wriggler would not shut up! He kept trying to talk again and again about who knows what. Don’t kid yourself though. You love the little baby troll. Kankri Vantas just had a way with words, and a lot of them, even as a grub. Although before he mysteriously turned into a young one again, you had to put in earbuds and play music to block him out. It was easy to hide it because he was so distracted in himself, and his long explanation on triggers.
A little leg poked your arm and you looked down to see Kankri. He had finally shut up to see why the heck you weren’t listening to him.
“Kankri, baby, I have no fucking idea what you’re saying. It all sounds like squeaks and squawks,” you tried to explain. He gave you a sad expression. Petting his head, you lifted him up and placed him on your shoulder. “How would you like me to read you a story?” He squeaked in excitement. You picked out a book and Kankri
Restless [Babysitter!Kuroko Tetsuya] [3/10]Restless [Babysitter!Kuroko Tetsuya] [3/10]1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
RULE NUMBER THREE:
"[Name]-chan, please calm down," he said to the little girl who held his hand and jumped excitedly beside him.
She giggled, untangling her small hands from his grip. "Hey! Where are we going, Tetsu-nii?"
"We're going to see my team-- [Name]-chan, don't climb that bench, please."
"You're going to get hurt. Get down now."
"Aw! You're no fun, Tetsu-nii!" she whined, climbing down from the park bench.
Kuroko sighed, holding out his hand for the sulking five year old to take, but she shook her head at him. Oh, man. Now he upset her, and didn't even know what to do. Get vanilla milkshakes together? No. He had to get to the school gymnasium for practice as soon as possible so he didn't have any time to waste. Okay, maybe he had a little time to waste. For his [Name]-chan.
"Did you want strawberry milk?" he asked, crouching down in front of her and pointing in the direction of a vending machine as they got on school grounds.
Good? (LaughingJackXChildReader) OneShotGood? (LaughingJackXChildReader) OneShot2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
(F/N) was a regular seven year old. There was absolutely nothing strange or worrisome about her. She went to school every day and got exceptionally good grades. She gave her father and mother upmost respect and love. (F/N) was a good little girl and always did what she was told without question. One could say that (F/N) was the perfect little girl that all parents would wish for.
Jack however was not that. Jack was almost fifteen years older than (F/N). He wore all black and white and had a funny cone nose. The suspenders that he whore were a size to big and his shoes five. He always carried candy around with him to give all the good children. Jack was (F/N)’s imaginary friend.
(F/N) lived in 2410 Mulberry Street, Jack would visit her every day. (F/N), being the good little girl she was, always aloud Jack to choose the game they would play. On most days Jack would decide on playing hide-an-seek or dolls, but one day he decided he was board of
I shouldn't have followed him... Warning: The writer does not own fnaf, and this story features some disturbing content... If you are easily scared, or would get angry at the author... Please don't read.I shouldn't have followed him... 2 weeks ago in Short Stories More Like This
Looking back on the day, it was as if a fog covered the entire area, though it probably wasn't, and I am just being melo dramatic.
I can still hear my mother yelling my name, if only I could remember my name... I can't even remember her face!
Her voice though... Her voice I remember perfectly, it is the one thing I refuse to forget, no matter whatever happens...
during the day, when I am stuck in a dream like state, the memories plays on repeat.
It was a cold November day, but most of all it was my freind's birthday party... I can't remember her name either... All I remember is that she was my best friend.
She was a brunette , and she wasn't much taller than me... But her face was...
No, that didn't make sense... It must just be my memory.
I arrived at the party before her, but not too early before her, a
TimeThere was a terrible accident last year. It was a tragedy that happened at my school. It was still fresh in everyone’s mind after all this time and today was the anniversary. Twenty three members of the entire class met a tragic end. It was just a routine class trip to the museum. It was raining that day but still the buzz of a free day was in everyone’s minds. Everyone got on the bus, our teacher took count and decided to buddy with the odd student and they were on their way. The museum was a town over and on a steep hill but it wasn’t so bad. The rains weren’t that bad. However, no one would predict how the day was going to end. As the bus driver went on his merry way, having been to the museum several times, it was a cinch to get from point A to point B. Even with the detour sign, he knew how to get to the museum. But what he didn’t plan on was seeing a baby stroller passing down the steep hill in front of the bus.Time1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
Instinctively, he slammed on the
Imagine this.Imagine this.1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
In your closet, there is a very small hole in the ceiling about as big around as your thumb, something that you know is there, and have looked at many times. In your small closet, there are many things. Cloths hanging on a bar stretching from one side of the tiny hollow to the other, suspended in order to keep everything neat and tidy. Due to your character and disposition however, you leave clutter strewn about the floor, putting off the chore of cleaning until the unending dread of doing so has left you. Above you clothes hanger, there is a shelf, meant for whatever bits and bobs you wish to set upon it. A place for special things that you wish to keep safe and private. As you've set things on this sacred perch, you come to see the small hole in your ceiling quite a few times.
This is your closet. You know it well. You're going on a trip. A long one, to somewhere far away. Somewhere cold. You understand that this means that you'll need your c