Just The Way You Are A blanket of snow met Viximon as she made her way outside the dorms. It had taken her a lot of effort to get this far, especially opening the various doors in the way, but she had her reasons. She was in the process of leaving for the Digital world without her partner, a decision she had made early that morning when she woke up beside him. She’d slept beside him the previous night like she had since their ordeal with the black cloud, but this morning had been… different. She’d been in a bit of a slump ever since their fight the previous day, and her long-awaited Digivolution to the Champion level. Except when it had happened, her Champion form wasn’t what anyone had been expecting. She and Greg had been going around for months explaining how she would digivolve to Kyuubimon, but they’d been wrong, and she felt embarrassed by that fact. Instead of the large yelloJust The Way You Are2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Birds in the Storm“…Mum?”Birds in the Storm1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Somewhere in the darkness a candle coughed and flickered to life—the power was out again, and even if it hadn’t been electric lights weren’t allowed due to the recent rash of bombings. Lillian Grey cradled the little flame with a cupped hand to keep it from going out as she picked her way to a room down the hall. Once there she found a small, tearfully frightened face peeping out from under the shelter of a bedspread. Something that wasn’t thunder rumbled in the distance and the face abruptly disappeared behind the safety of the covers. Somewhere nearby a mechanical banshee began to wail.
“They’re back, mum.” mumbled a snuffling voice.
Lillian carefully set the candle on the bedside table where it wouldn’t spill over and moved to sit on the bed, carefully peeling back the blankets to reveal the little boy who promptly clung to her. “I know, love. They woke me u
Captive Hearts Chapter 3Captive Hearts Chapter 32 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Weeks passed since then. Time seemed to drag on and on, everyone's spirits had since been doused. No one was chipped anymore. Except for Gregory d'Quincy, that is. However, Xavier had long since formed the idea that they would never escape. It had been several months since he was captured by is old Master; weeks since Jason was also taken No one was coming to get them. It was all an empty hope He had thought several times over about just ending it all. But he simply couldn't bring himself to do so. Not because he wasn't strong enough to do it. No, no. But because of his one special person.
Every time the thought of suicide crossed his mind, every time he told himself he was going to do it, Jason always stopped him. However, the purple-haired male wasn't even aware he was doing anything. All Xavier had to do was look at him, or think of him, or hear his voice, and it would take all of his power not to burst into tears and apologize over and over for even thin
The Belly of a WhaleThe belly of a whale is cleaner than you'd think. It's the seashore on a wet day: a red beach with red clouds and red sand. And the voice of the whale is the voice of God.The Belly of a Whale2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
God sings, "You were delicious."
"Spit me out." I'm on my knees, though my god cannot see inside itself to find my supplication satisfying. "I'm a wicked man. You don't want to devour wickedness, oh Lord. You'll be disgusted when you know you've devoured such a polluted thing."
"I will not," sings God.
"I've murdered a man."
"So have I."
"I've murdered a woman, too."
"So have I."
"She was pregnant."
God laughs. "The ship I sank held hundreds."
This calls for humility. I prostrate myself in the direction of God's mouth. "Oh Lord," I cry. "I can't compete with you. Truly you are a great tyrant, fearful and merciless. Had I only been given your bulk, oh Lord, I might have devoured whole ships as you have done."
God lurches. God rolls. God grumbles and coughs and hurls. I fly from his mouth in one heaving mess of kelp an
Carnivorous“I’m not one of them” she said.Carnivorous11 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
He didn't reply. He only looked at her in a disdainful way, a branch of celery hanging from his mouth. Far from making the atmosphere lighter, the comical image of him crunching on vegetables while insulting her with his stare made her cringe.
“I’m not!” she said again.
“You know” he started - then took at moment to swallow his bite of celery - “I really don’t see why you’re trying to make excuses up.”
“Because you tied me to a chair!”
Her wrists hurt, and the plastic thread was cutting into her skin. She had been there for two hours, watching him eat celery, and trying to attract his attention to the fact she was not one of them.
“I swear to anything holy to you” she said, trying to move her hands – not because she hoped she could wriggle free, but because she needed to find a less painful position for them - “I am not one of them.”
For My DaughterDear daughter-I-do-not-have-yet,For My Daughter2 years ago in Letters More Like This
You will be my perfect. You will be my proudest moments in one small person. You will be made in love, or maybe anger, or maybe even desperation. But that won't matter. What matters is what you will be made into.
You will have Daddy's hair and his nose, and my eyes and my smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy. But you will have your very own heart and will be full of all the things that give you your you-ness. Whether you sing in the bath or make Valentines for everyone in your class or give your last homemade chocolate chip cookie to the boy sitting alone at recess.
I will write you poems and stories about how you are my miracle. I will read them to you sometimes, just to remind you. As you grow, not a day will go by that I'm not thankful for everything you are. You will be dazzling and beautiful and brilliant and compassionate and playful and curious and all of the things
DW: Thunderstorm It was a gloomy morning. The dark belly of the sky was heavy with moisture. It spewed out rain in bitter waves, soaking everything in its foul temper. Water poured off of the rooftops and crashed into deep puddles below. Thin yellow grass bent underneath the opposing storm, trembling slightly in the downpour. The sidewalk was caked in fog, unable to escape the seeping coldness of the rain. Even the trees stooped to avoid enraged cracks of lightning that streaked across the sky, and easily snapped and scorched whatever stood against it. The streetlights remained an eerie warmth in the otherwise despairing scene. A few soaked moths clung hopelessly to the lamps, and would occasionally give up and drop into the flood below.DW: Thunderstorm2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A group of children in brightly colored raincoats congregated around a gray bus stop sign. They chattered and laughed and howled like chimps. They were completely oblivious to the fierce downpour, save f
And a Sixpence in her ShoeSomething Old.And a Sixpence in her Shoe2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The first time we meet I am letting a cat out of my bag and you are skipping rocks and skipping school. At first glance I can tell you are broken, with your tired eyes and quivering smirk, and at second glance I realize you are beautiful.
As the cat runs off, a black streak melting into an oil portrait of the woodsy lake, you notice me and tell me your name. In return I tell you a secret.
Secrets, we soon find out, are the oldest tricks in the book.
After we meet each other we find ourselves together time and time again. At the ice cream parlor, the Cineplex, and the animal rescue center. I am busy picking up more cats to free, you are busy trying to stop me.
By that point our fates are inseparable, our secrets are inseparable, and we are inseparable.
You slip a worn diamond on my finger months later, a blatant promise. I accept it with a kiss, and though you may be broken and I may have compulsive cat-liberation tendencies, we marry weeks later.
The ChalkboardWe had a chalkboard on the back wall of our kitchen. It was green with a wood trim and big like a front door. It did more harm than good I think.The Chalkboard1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I was nine and my big sister seventeen. Every morning we ate breakfast together across from each other and it was usually the only time I saw her.
Every morning mom wrote a new word from the dictionary on it. Winsome. Subliminal. Inept. The word in red chalk and the definition in cursive white. Every morning a new word was there, under the Maxim — a short, pithy statement expressing a general truth or rule of conduct — mom made up and taped onto the top of the board.
The Early Learner Bird Gets The Word.
Between bites we said the word and the definition, over and over. Dad liked to say we sounded like broken record players. Mom said we were learning by Rote — mechanical or habitual repetition of something to be learned. After I said it ten times I could ask to be excused from the table.
It’ll let you express yourself b
How to TrollHow to Troll: A Pocket Guide to Ruling the InternetHow to Troll4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Trolling the internet can be a demanding task. It takes skill and a lot of hard work to bully people from the safety of your computer, and this guide was designed to make your life easier.
The golden rule of trolling is to remember that you are awesome; you are always right, and everyone else is always inferior. That is precisely why you should be the one to dominate the internet, instead of those pesky moderators.
The first step of asserting this dominance is to pick a victim. This is perhaps the easiest part of the process; if you modify your technique accordingly, nearly anyone can be trolled. However, the easiest way is to troll those who are polite, kind to others and who take criticism well.
Once you have selected your victim(s), there are a few basic techniques that you should remember:
· Even if you are wrong to begin an argument, as soon as the other person responds to you, they are in the wrong. So remember to be
Bob's Tattoo and GroceryGraveyard shift sucks. That's it, it sucks, no two ways about it, no making lemonade from those lemons, graveyard shift is a soul-sucking, mind-sapping experience that only the rare person who gets off on misery can enjoy. Naturally, it was the only type of work I could find for my summer vacation.Bob's Tattoo and Grocery3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The local grocery store, Bob's Discount Tattoo and Grocery, had decided to start offering twenty-four hour service to the strange folk who need to buy a gallon of milk or a carton of cigarettes at 3 o'clock in the morning. They needed brave young men and women to man the front lines of the night shift, and, needing a reason to get out of the house during the summer, I applied and was fortunate enough to be hired. It didn't take me long to realize that work sucks almost as bad as being unemployed.
You see, for the earlier part of the evening, we have a few people here and there who come in for the aforementioned odd item, people who for whatever reason just couldn't wait until daylight to pur
Shy!Reader x Hetalia - New Girl (CRACK ending)Shy!Reader x Hetalia - New Girl (CRACK ending)2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You felt weird, tentacle- like arms holding onto your body, pulling you back. You turned your head around to see what was hugging you. It was a giant octopus! Out of nowhere, Arthur jumped out and kicked the octopus in the head (A/N: Double-O-Ninja!). The octopus let go of you and then Francis magically appeared and started hitting the octopus repeatedly in the head with a stick. 'This is really weird ' you thought to yourself.
"Don't worry; the Hero will save you!!!" Alfred came charging down the hall clad in a Captain America costume and hit the octopus on the head with his shield until it passed out. All three of the blondes came up to you.
"Thanks I guess " you awkwardly said.
"Oh, by the way, you're pregnant now!" Francis cheerfully said before he picked you up and spun you around. Arthur and Alfred just smiled as they watched you.
Then there were TARDIS noises. The time travelling machine slowly appeared and David Tennant walked out doing the Gangnam Style dance.
France and CleverbotFrance: Oh hon hon~~! Bonjour!France and Cleverbot2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cleverbot: Where is our house located?
France: In Paris, mon cher~ Would you care to visit? We can play some games~...
Cleverbot: I'm playing to World of Warcraft.
France: Really? e3e.
Cleverbot: Don't you want to love me?
France: I love everyone~! Oh hon hon~.
Cleverbot: What is your wife wearing right now?
France: I have no wife~ I love many people, I don't know who to choose to be mine forever~ <3.
Cleverbot: I cannot divulge that information. Sorry!
France: Oh hon~ that is quite alright mon cher~.
Cleverbot: I did no such thing.
France: So how are you? *holds your hand*.
Cleverbot: *looks at his eyes*.
France: *smiles and squeezes hand lightly*.
France: How are you, my dear~?
Cleverbot: I'm fine, how are you?
France: *winks* I'm doing wonderful, with you by my side~.
France: Would you care to go on a walk with me~?
Cleverbot: I don't think it's the right season for that.
France: Well, we can dress warm
Russia X Reader: Only Girl in All Boy's School To save more money, You decided to enter an All Boys' school near at your house, because you heard that the tuition fee is low, Even though the principal didn't allow you, you still insisted, Good thing that the principal change his mind so he allowed you.Russia X Reader: Only Girl in All Boy's School2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Boys mind to shut up!?" said the teacher
"Woah? It's rare for you to tell us to shut up huh, sir?" said the American
"Not in a day like this"
"Is there something special?" the French asked
"We have a new transfer student..." s
They Say I'm GuiltyOf the nearly eighty female prisoners that had answered my request, I had narrowed my choices down to two of them. The first was a voluptuous, porcelain-skinned brunette that would make my brother drool in seconds. The second was a golden-haired, frail little piece of work, and normally I would have dismissed her during the first round of eliminations, but something kept her there. Maybe it was the way she stared at me with her venomous green eyes, but I couldn't be sure. In any case, I had my two choices set before me, each isolated in separate cells on opposite ends of the jail so that I might observe them more personally.They Say I'm Guilty2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I turned to the prison guard. "What can you tell me about this one?" I was starting with the brunette.
"Number 67," he practically spat. "Don't believe a word she tells you. She's as good a liar as they come."
I wondered at what sort of lies she had told the guard because clearl
carbon monoxideIt had been Javiers idea for the tattoos. "It'll keep you safe, Diego. No one will touch you." On the streets, no one had touched Diego to begin with. In order for Javier to earn the tattoo, he had to steal. When he stole the teenager's purse, she screamed and only chased him for half a block before giving up, but Javier didn't stop running. Back at his friend's apartment, when they opened the Coach bag and dumped out the contents, besides lipstick and a compact mirror, the wallet held cash and credit cards, a little iPod with the headphone cords wrapped around it and most of all, a digital camera. It had been a lucky find, and they'd sold everything but left the camera to Javier, who would use it to take pictures of his brother.carbon monoxide4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Diego agreed. He agreed because Javier scared him at the best of times. "If you don't get this, you'll die, Diego. Someone will get mad and put a bullet in your head," Javier emphasized this, formed his hand and fingers in the shape of a gun and pressed his fi
Changing GearsMy morning oats taste particularly bland this morning. I look outside the clouded windows and see the city across every inch of my vision. Buildings of all shapes and sizes are formed from copper, brass, and iron. At all times of the day, the city's Gears are churning.Changing Gears2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Gears are the machines that run the city, the country, possibly even the entire world. Metals are formed together to form them, robotic men designed to replace our government. Their voices boom over the industrial noises of the factories and drown seem to drown out all individual conversations. We're free, I suppose, but they all say that there was once a time when freedom was all we had.
Across the street, I see Thayoden. He's a boy who works in the aircraft factory, constructing engines and attaching steering wheels and dials to bi-planes. I met him in Industry class when we were both eleven years old. Ever since then, we've grown apart, but I still see him and think of how much I miss being with him. But we're dif
The kidnapingPewdie awoke in a strange place, a place that heThe kidnaping2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
thought he knew but for some reason felt like he
didn't know as well. He slowly sat up, rubbing the side
of his head "w-wha where am i ?". He looked around trying
to guess where he was but it was pitch black. "I can't see a thing" he said
also trying to feel his way around
"huh?, what's this?", he touched something cold, something like metal.
"Could this be a metal door?", pewdie move his hands up the metal
like object until he came to something like a metal cage lock.
"What? Is this a lock ?", finally his eyes adjusted to the darkness
of the room and slightly he could see a light source slowly coming towards him.
"pewdie? Is that you?" said a familiar voice which was coming closer
and closer to him.
"Who's there?", pewdie was now shaking from fear.
Who was it? , who was there?....."pewdie " said a worried Mr.chair who was standing in
front of the metal door hold a lit torch.
"pewdie what happened?",
The Finest Casket (Complete Story)The chandlers, grocers, butchers, clothiers, and every other merchant in Chantsville was yelling in the streets outside the shop where I was studiously working. Their ruckus combined with the bleats and squawks of livestock wandering underfoot, creating a bustling racket that would drive the unfamiliar ear to distraction.The Finest Casket (Complete Story)2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was used to the noise, however, and I was so engrossed in my work that I would have sworn the world was silent save for the sound of my chisel biting into the oak box before me. Delicate curls fell from my worktable, collecting in small drifts upon the dirt floor.
I stopped to wipe sweat from my face. The pause gave me a moment to step back and survey my work.
Yes, the casket was coming along beautifully. I had mitered the joints meticulously. I had planed it smooth as glass before tracing out the panels on each side. I had spent days, chisel in hand, carving the scenes into it.
It was almost done, and the carved scenes on each side looked alive despite the casket's
Reflection Chapter 1Reflection Chapter 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The night air was cool on this late-winter evening. Though it was only seven p.m. the sun had already set, and a blanket of dark had covered the town of Ponyville.
Derpy hooves hovered unsteadily down the street, both of her wings failing to maintain any practical rhythm with the other. This generally caused her to fly diagonally in either direction; she would often switch the direction at random times without precise control.
The Pegasus could in fact fly quite gracefully. For some reason she felt it necessary to do otherwise.
Woozy bats, she had once reasoned, woozy bats like bulls stubborn. Such was the sort of logic she used to contemplate most things.
In the corner of her vision she noticed movement. She looked in the direction of said movement to find a group of birds. "Ants!" She called at them. "Eggs all scrambled and gravel from sand!"
When the flock hit the center of her vision the flock seemed to dissipate. Every time she ever saw a flock of birds they always looked
Hate Me [ England x Child!Reader ] 01England x Child!ReaderHate Me [ England x Child!Reader ] 012 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Throwing the things he was carrying in his arms at the front door, Arthur walked towards his living room. Lying down on the couch, his eyes drifted over to a small little fish bowl, inside the fish bowl a small face stared back at him, sadness imitating from the small body, the beginning of a new country, which had been left alone for an entire week.
Picking himself up from the couch, Arthur made his way towards the small bowl. He could see that water had pooling up in the small fish bowl. So (y_n) had been crying while he was gone? Once he'd stood right in front of your fish bowl, you threw your small hood over your head.
Hiding your brilliant (e_c) from him, the sharp stabbing pain of guilt stabbed at his heart. Leaning down to your level, Arthur gazed into the fish bowl; clear streaks of tears were falling from your eyes filling the bowl even more. Wanting to show you kindness, wanting to show you affection the English man had to
The Stellar Void"Can you kill me, please?"The Stellar Void4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I must have looked startled because her expectant gaze saddened a bit.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Can you kill me?" Her face brightened as she repeated the morbid probe.
Confused, I couldn't help but notice her rather familiar clothes. Faded pink jeans, knock-off Converse shoes. Little black hoodie with a torn right sleeve.
"You just looked a bit angry and I figured you'd be the best person to ask."
I stood next to the bench. My backpack dug into my shoulder and I shrugged it off. It'd be awhile before the next bus came anyway.
She looked down the street. The dim lights barely revealed the closed shops and leaf strewn sidewalks. A short breeze caused the dead landscaping out front to rustle gently but now, it seemed slightly ominous.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Her voice was hollow and even though she was turned away, I could sense the hint of disappointment.
Sighing, I sat on the other side of the bench. Pausing for a minute, I glanced up at the mos
What I've Learned From dAWhat I've Learned From the Staff at dAWhat I've Learned From dA4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
-You have to cough up some cash if you want to actively request helpful Critique
-Your satisfaction and artistic well-being is not as important as gimmicks to make a couple of bucks
-If you want a worth-while royalty from selling your Prints you better hope some shmuck is willing to pay thirty dollars for a 4" x 6" unframed photograph
-Tracing is okay
-Bases are art
-You can steal as many images as you like if the original artist isn't the one reporting you
-Even if the original artist isn't on dA or is dead and so can't report it themselves
-If the picture isn't exactly the same as the original you can keep it up even if the original artist reports it
-But you can't make Stamps with non-original images; THAT is watched for
-Instead of banning a problem user who has several times broken the rules and has had their art removed several times, we'll just give the people who report them a little scolding about playing nice on the interwebs
-And when t