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 Are4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Let Happy Digimon LieLet Happy Digimon Lie4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The box said to put the popcorn in for two to four minutes. It never specified that putting it in for two minutes meant it didn't pop at all, and putting it in for four mean it came out like charcoal, stinking out the entire apartment, and halting, rather impressively, the plans Eva and Tom had for the evening.
It was the first time, in days, there hadn't been a Digimon attack, and the first time in days neither of them had been exhausted and wanted to go to bed early, or had already made plans to do something. They had kept the evening free. Eva finished work early, and Tom completed the errands he needed to do, and he was able to pick her up from the bakery.
They'd rented a couple of movies that hadn't been able to see yet, and Tom bought a couple of packets of 'do-it-yourself' popcorn. One had already been demolished by Irbimon and Poemon, and the other Tom had left in Eva's care while he'd set up the DVD. It had filled the apartment with the smell of burning, and Eva's face had fal
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: Thunderstorm4 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
Captive Hearts Chapter 3Captive Hearts Chapter 34 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
France and CleverbotFrance: Oh hon hon~~! Bonjour!France and Cleverbot4 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
Night Chaser02:37am 22nd July - depart from London by commercial jet, business class.Night Chaser4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
00:53am 22nd July - arrive in New York an acceptable 7 minutes behind schedule.
Slaying an archangel is hard work. It takes a great deal of study, picking your mark, separating fact from legend, learning your target's tells and vulnerabilities. Even if you succeed, and when I tore Gabriel's crystal heart from his open chest I became one of the precious few who have, there is still the matter of retribution. Angels never forget the death of one of their own, and a legion of these creatures now wait to descend and deliver their vengeance. My only sanctuary is the night. Angels can only exist in light of the sun and as such I owe my continued existence to the wonders of modern technology, which is capable of sending man half way around the globe faster than the approach of the morning sunrise.
I chase the night. Or at least I chase the processed luminance of airports and rail terminals.
I've got an hour and
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 Gears3 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
How to turn a hater to a BronySend them a link to something that's peripherally related to the subject you wish them to become enamored with. Like a funny image macro or meme, something they can find funny and understand on some level while leaving them ever so slightly confused about its connection to ponies. Maybe even something innocently silly they will enjoy.How to turn a hater to a Brony5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
And then you wait. It might take a while but the idea is spreading, taking over their psyche. They will begin to recognize ponies here and there; the images and videos will keep replaying in their heads. And at some point they will wonder: "What is it about those ponies?"
And then they will ask you, you who first brought it up. This is critical, don't oversell it; they've let their guard down, they've accepted that maybe, just maybe, there may be something about those ponies. Nothing that's, you know, girly and stuff but something funny, something interesting. They're curious, like a little squirrel slowly approaching a human who's offering food. Don't ma
It Began With Ashes - Prologue.It Began With Ashes - Prologue.3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Are we being followed, father?"
"No, Astartes, we are not being followed."
"How can you be sure? You didn't even look!" Astartes whined. Struggling to turn in the saddle behind his father, Astartes craned his neck to look back through the night. The dirt track meandered this way and that, winding through the Emberfen Forest. The path was hard to make out amongst the muddy browns of the woodland, made all the more difficult by the thick canopy obscuring the glow of the stars and moon overhead.
Nicolas shook his head, scratching idly at his flame-red moustache. "Don't let your eyes play tricks on you, son there's nothing out there."
Beneath them, the horse continued its steady walk as if it were plodding around the yard back at the family home. 'If an animal doesn't seem bothered, then why can't I shake the feeling that something isn't right?' Astartes scolded himself.
Trees stood to attention as far as the eye could see in the night, which wasn
The Last SongDo you think we'll get a last song?The Last Song3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I'm not sure. This diary I'm writing in is full of holes. It's sopping like a wet sponge. It reeks, but what doesn't in the filth and the mess?
Storm's passing. Not like I've ever seen here. Even the explosive storms of my youth; running in the fields, the junkyards, the rust-ravaged train tracks of old wasn't quite like this.
Something's exploded against the skyline. Orange is reflecting off the glass; the spider-striped, near shattered glass I kicked two weeks ago while mowing the grass.
It might be the gas works. Or the chemical sheds. Weyrdstorms do this, you know. That's what the warnings said. Electricity and chaos and hellish atomic confusion mixed into an atmospheric slurry and let to rage. I ask the question because music's the one thing I'm yearning for right now. It settles me, helps me think. Always has, though keeping my sister's sniveling furthest from my head might be an ulterior motive.
Do I think I'm escaping this plac
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)4 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 cedar 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 the wood, and the entire workshop smelled strongly of cedar.
It was almost done, and the c
The Stick PeopleIn a town called Rushing Water, there lived a woodcarver with no face.The Stick People3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When we were small, my brothers and I, Daddy would sometimes take us to visit her. We would sit there at her kitchen table, amazed, as this woman with no eyes – and indeed no nose or mouth – would pour out our tea without spilling a drop.
I was frightened of her because she looked so strange, so grotesque. All the other days of my life, I encountered people with faces – square faces, oval faces, faces round and smiling like the moon with slanted eyes or big dark ones or little beady bird eyes. Snub noses, Romans or long, thin, birdlike ones like mine. Yet here was a woman with none of that or any of the faculties that come with those organs.
As a little girl, I dreaded our visits to the faceless woodcarver. But now that I've grown up I miss most all the memories of my childhood, even the somewhat unpleasant ones, so I sometimes let them wander through my mind even when they aren't invited. So I remember the woodcarv
Beauty Sleep"Avast ye foul lizard! Crawl out from that hidey-hole on your belly so I may stain my blade with your impure blood!"Beauty Sleep6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He stood outside the dragon's den, a gallant figure clad from head to toe in gleaming metal. Shield and sword were poised, and the crimson plume adorning his helmet flapped in the sputtering breeze.
"You may have terrorized many a kingdom and slaughtered many a valiant knight, but not I! For I come bearing my family's ancestral sword, a bright woe-bringer to all the creatures of darkness which hide in their fetid pits! Enjoy your next breaths, dragon, for they shall be your last."
Deep down in the depths of the dragon's den, a pair of bleary eyes cracked open.
Oh please not ANOTHER one.
The Dragon yawned and stretched on its hoard; a wretched fuzzy taste had settled into his mouth overnight, and a dreadful scratch lingered in the back of his throat. An inordinate amount of gagging and hacking ensued as a modest glob of mucus was expelled from his lungs. That was d
Legend of the Verrulfr: -G-Legend of the Verrulfr: -G-5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The legend of the Verrulfr
Many millennia ago, the earth was a much different place. It was a world so cold that ice suffocated most of the globe making it a frigid icebox from where no one could escape the white hell. Only the strongest and the fittest survived in this environment and the strongest was man. It took a special breed of man to live in such a place, and they had to be cunning in order to get their food.
One day a Man tribe was out in the tundra checking their traps. Sadly, there was not even a Rabbit footprint anywhere near the trap. They went to reset the trap when they heard a loud howl from the top of the bluff. Two men elected to go investigate the commotion, which when they climbed the bluff, they found a pack of furry creatures with broad muzzles and they looked fearsome. They had taken down a fresh caribou, and the two men lowered themselves to just a head peeking up over the crest of the bluff. They had never seen anything like these creatures be
Mrs. LubonekNobody knew how old the Luboneks were, but they’d lived at the top of Pecan Hill since before Cumberland was built, and the town grew up around them. Mr. Lubonek had a voice like gravel and always smelled of engine grease, sweat, and the gritty scent of someone whose friends were machines and whose family were the tools he kept in the shed. Mrs. Lubonek was airy as a bird and every bit as flighty, yet there was a sharp, witty glint in her eye that you only caught if you were looking for it.Mrs. Lubonek3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Luboneks lived a simple, dusty life atop Pecan Hill. Mr. Lubonek ran a small mechanic shop out of his garage and Mrs. Lubonek sold baked goods. Despite their humble background they were moderately successful in Cumberland, but you could never tell. Most people said they hid all their income in a ratty black doctor’s bag Mr. Lubonek kept just inside the front door. Or maybe the bag held Mrs. Lubonek’s pie recipes. Or maybe it held a treasure map or a severed hand or the secret t
Footnote To The ApocalypseThe day after the apocalypse, I read.Footnote To The Apocalypse5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I find a bookshop, one of the only buildings that hasn't been destroyed by the blast. The door is locked, but the front window has a hole in it , and my shirt-wrapped fingers manage to break away enough of the splinters to create some sort of entrance. For the first time in my life, I am thankful for being small.
My hands are bleeding when I get inside. My shoulder is too - there's a sliver of glass buried in it too deep to dig out - and the gashes on my chest have opened up again, but there isn't much I can do about those. I don't want to bleed on the books, that's all.
I don't have any bandages, so I cut up the rest of my sleeves and wrap my fingers in the fabric: not perfect, but it will stop the worst of the staining. Then, I hunt.
It isn't a targeted pursuit - I'm after anything that's unburned, unbroken, and with all the pages intact - but somehow a pattern starts to emerge in the pile I make under the kneehole of the desk (animal
Birds in the Storm“…Mum?”Birds in the Storm3 years 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
Train Under WaterBrother,Train Under Water7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm writing to tell you I'm dropping out of college; I haven't told anyone. I'm twitching, Michael. The hunger came back a few weeks ago, and I'm not sure it ever left. Regardless, it's crying now, and I need to go. I need to keep moving on. I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow. My train takes off in the afternoon, and when I get there, I'll leave again. I want to go somewhere new, Michael.
I want to go somewhere I have never seen before.
Now, I know you have to be worried, but don't, Brother. Don't you be afraid. I'll write to you wherever I go. I won't leave a return address, please don't try to follow me. You can't, Michael, you're too smart. Your place is here among these people; and mine is out there. You're meant for your books; I'm meant for my trees. I want to roar from the woods with a pen mightier than He
Dark Side of the Moon CH.3Dark Side of the Moon CH.36 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I smelled the werewolves before I saw or even heard them. Crap! I pressed against the closest wall, letting the shadows cover me as a fresh wave of adrenaline pumped through me. I could tell straight away who they were, and I knew they were after me. Pack. The familiar scent of them whirled around me and caused conflict between me and my wolf, making me feel safe and full of rage at the same time. Godammit! They had caught up to me faster than I'd expected. If I had been in wolf form I probably would have struggled to decide whether or not to wag my tail or growl menacingly with my teeth bared. But I had my human brain running right now, and I knew they weren't really my pack anymore, despite the slight calming effect their scents still had on me. The human part of me had never felt safe in the pack, and that's what helped me push away that urge to rejoin them. I hadn't ever been close to the two wolves that were outside the door- too large to fit through the dog flap lik
Comet DreamsMidnight. Far removed from the hostile lights of the city, we drove out into the dark countryside. Shadowy tendrils of night grabbed out at out Jeep even as they were blasted away by the headlights. We were all bundled in warm winter clothing, sheilding us from the bite of the cold November season. Outside, the night pressed in, looking for a way to pierce our defenses. It didn't have to wait long - far enough away now from the bright glare of the city, the Jeep came to a slow and we heard the crunch of gravel under the tires as we pulled to the side of the road, looking for a good place to stop. The only light now came from the stars, and from the occasional orange streetlight along the stretch of road. Stopping completely, we all clambered out - myself, my brother, my mother, and my father.Comet Dreams7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The cold we were stepping into seemed that much more freezing compared to the warmth we were leaving behind. But it would be worth it for the show we would have tonight. Turning out faces to the s
The Cake TheoryThe Cake Theory4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Cake Theory
"Baby Cakes," the latest episode for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, evolved our understanding of the Equestrian world in more ways than one. Now, thanks to pony genes, we're able to see how two Earth ponies can give birth to a Pegasus and Unicorn without any immediate relations to ether race. Answer: Recessive traits. Thank you 8th grade biology! However, there are some questions that still need answering. I personally have a theory that pertains to each Cake baby, so let's slice right in!
Now, we're all familiar with Twilight Sparkle's struggle to learn and advance in magic as a young filly. In the episode 23 of season 1 - "The Cutie Mark Chronicles" - where we see her struggle to even turn a page with magic. And that's with the enormous amount of studying she puts in. So why then is it so hard for Twilight Sparkle - Celestia's prime student and the Element of Magic - to learn what she needed to and got to where she
Senseless...purposeless...lifeTears, joy, pleasure, happiness, anguish, fear, loneliness...feelings one holds as memories or upcoming events that come and go...with death all vanishes making everything purposeless. Why living at all? Does it make...sense?Senseless...purposeless...life5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Happy the miserables...with death they're released from their pathless journey...or shall I say...the happy ones?