Fan Fiction
It takes soup.
As a toddler, little Miss Honey had to find ways to cope with her dad’s absence. She was way too young to understand death. But she understood feelings very well. In her mind, she knew that her Aunt Trunchbull was mean. Because of that, she wanted to do anything she could to reduce that meanness.
Ashley MackeyPublished 3 years ago in FictionCookie's Bakery
Bruce Bogtrotter Jr. was a freshman at Wormwood University. After his first day of classes, he worked up an appetite. While on his way to the cafeteria, he passed by the school’s bakery. His first instinct was to slither like a serpent and eat the entire confection. But he himself was no sneak thief. So, he ignored the sweet scents and proceeded to go and get lunch.
Ashley MackeyPublished 3 years ago in FictionSay It Again Part 3
When we land, Reid and I hop into one of the black SUVs provided for us. I drive, and Reid fills the silence in the car with random facts about World War I until I turn the radio on. I flip through the stations looking for a good one. Country station, country station, country station. Finally, I find a nice one that plays a nice mix of music.
Silent Screams
They weren’t expecting much of a fight from the twenty-nine year old college student and activist they had been sent to kidnap; who was mostly deaf, barely verbal, and rarely wore her hearing aids. The two men knew all this because they had been watching her for days. She was currently loading a box of supplies and handmade rally signs next to the now empty cooler in the hatchback trunk of her car.
Haddessah Anne BricePublished 3 years ago in FictionRetirement Party
Agent Miles , also known as 27 , sat at the little desk in his hotel room , looking into the mirror at the face he had known all his life , for one last time , His sky blue eyes , he had often received compliments on those , especially from the ladies , his slightly crooked nose , It had been broken three times ... no four .
Edwin RosengrenPublished 3 years ago in FictionFree
So I’m making my boyfriend this really rich chocolate cake. I’m making it from scratch even though I have no fucking clue What I’m doing. And I’m thinking about how his beautiful blue eyes gets red and wide, his mouth turns into a solid line, trembling and the tears flow down his cheek. I’m mixing in the real cocoa powder, and my heart is trembling, thinking of my sweetheart having another anxiety attack. God, I can’t stand it when Tweek is upset, it kills me so bad, I cry sometimes. Then, when I cry, Tweek cries louder. If I had a genie and had only one wish, I’d wish for Tweek to be free of anxiety forever.
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 3 years ago in FictionHow do make de chocolate cake with the Swedish Chef
The Swedish Chef stood behind the prep table to his rather large kitchen chasing a headless chicken around with a meat cleaver, he had gotten as far as decapitating the chicken, but forgot to take into consideration that the nervous system of a chicken was such that they could still move around for a while after they were decapitated.
Timothy E JonesPublished 3 years ago in FictionDynasty: A Batman Tale - Part 10
NOW At first glance, the Antarctica appeared to be a huge glacier protruding from Gotham Harbor. Commonly referred to as The Iceberg, at just over six hundred feet in length, it was the largest yacht in the world. Sheathed with three inch thick mirrored bulletproof glass and powered by a small army, the yacht was an impenetrable fortress and home to Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Chester as he preferred to be called, was known for being a ’Gentleman Criminal’ with a fondness for wearing formal tuxedos earning him the nickname ‘Penguin’.
Jarad MannPublished 3 years ago in FictionDynasty: A Batman Tale - Part 8
NOW “Riddle me this!” Edward Nigma said with a chuckle. “What happens when you mix one thousand pounds of c-4 explosives and the most sinister mind of the present era?” Edward Nigma couldn’t resist throwing in an appropriate riddle if the situation called for one. The years had been kind to his mind. No longer was every thought scrambled, though he visualized the mystery in everything, at least now he was able to communicate without speaking in riddles. Nicknamed ‘The Riddler’ by the Gotham Gazette, Edward Nigma captured the headlines after committing a series of murders in which his victims were unable to answer his riddles.
Jarad MannPublished 3 years ago in FictionDynasty: A Batman Tale - Part 7
NOW As always Bruce kept the conversation short and to the point, but unlike any other time when Bruce’s voice would command confidence, Dick heard uncertainty. They seldom spoke since Dick had moved to Blüdhaven. Bruce had refused to believe that Dick was ready to go out on his own, and it took quite some time for him to admit being wrong. Blüdhaven was seventy-five miles southwest of Gotham, but for as different as the city was from Gotham it could have been on the other side of the country. Dick arrived in the city coincidentally at the same time the mysterious figure known as Nightwing started patrolling the rooftops. Much smaller than Gotham, Blüdhaven had its share of corruption bleeding through the streets and Dick made quick work of cleaning up the city. Blüdhaven had an average sized criminal population, but as for organized crime the city had none.
Jarad MannPublished 3 years ago in FictionApophenia: Part I
This is Fanlore for The Elder Scrolls! I hope for these texts to fit over the original lore like a comfortable, yet optional, glove. There are 20k words more, though I am currently undecided as to where/how to share it.
Just Kids Playing
Part 2 of one longer story written for the Summer Challenge. Scott goes to the Fair The excitement at school the next day was tangible for the four friends and lessons couldn't pass quickly enough for any of them. Where they really wanted to be was back in the abandoned barn in Godolphin Woods. Scott and myself shared our lessons but Charlie and David were one year below us and were educated in a different part of the building. The strange thing was that whilst at school, Scott and I weren't really best buddies and didn't even sit close to each other yet when the school end bell rang it was like we connected. Maybe it was because we lived just a few doors apart and had known each other for pretty much all of our lives.
Keith VickerstaffePublished 3 years ago in Fiction