Fan Fiction
THE DOOMSDAY SHIFT
CHAPTER TWO Tom pulled onto the highway heading away from his wife and two sons, he was on his way into the city to get his two daughters. He started thinking how this had all started. He didn't like the idea of leaving his wife behind, but he knew that this was how it had to be.
Darlene DawsonPublished 2 years ago in FictionAugust: 01
This book will be based on the songs "August" and "Betty" from Taylor Swift's "Folklore" Album. Although the story will be based on Taylor Swift's songs, this work will have different elements, however, it still will have the famous love triangle.
Qu3zia V3igaPublished 2 years ago in FictionDreamer - Chapter 37
The ride home had been quiet. Rev had mostly kept his gaze out on the open road. He leaned his right hand against the steering wheel, while his left was held up against the window. The trees whizzed past as if we were racing them towards the house; whoever made it back first, wins. The closer we got towards my home, the fewer cars showed on the road. I'll probably never get used to life in the middle of nowhere; what the hell was my father thinking when he found this place? To break the awkward silence, I just pulled out my phone. Rev said earlier to make this technology-free.. but hey, I make my own choices now.
that one badass mafia boss named Patrick Stump
Y/N was the gorgeous wife of the toughest mafia leader Patrick Stump. He watched over her and made sure she was well looked after in terms of bodyguards around her when she was outside the mansion. He always gave her the finest food and clothes, shoes, jewellery and makeup.
Nell DennewadPublished 2 years ago in FictionTWELVE PRINCESSES
In ancient times, there was a king who had twelve daughters, that is, twelve princesses. What about their beauty? All of them were more than one. Found out that princesses go to dance all night but no one knows where they go.
Best ColleaguePublished 2 years ago in FictionThe Old Fisherman
Our home was across the road from the entry of a well known medical clinic in the city. We lived first floor and leased the higher up rooms to short term patients at the facility. One summer evening, as I was fixing dinner, there was a thump at the entryway. I opened it to see a genuinely horrendous looking man. "He's not really taller than my kid," I thought as I gazed at the stooped, wilted body. In any case, the shocking thing was his face-disproportionate from enlarging, red and crude. However his voice was lovely as he said, "Goodbye. I've come to check whether you have a space for only one evening. I came for a treatment toward the beginning of today from the eastern shore, and there's no transport 'till the morning." He let me know he'd been chasing after a room since early afternoon, yet he had no accomplishment as nobody appeared to have a room. "I get it's my face. I realize it looks horrible, however my PCP says with a couple of more medicines… " Briefly, I delayed, yet his after words persuaded me: "I could rest in this rocker on the yard. My transport leaves promptly in the first part of the day." So I let him know we would think that he is a bed yet to lay on the yard. I headed inside and completed the process of getting dinner. At the point when we were prepared, I inquired as to whether he would go along with us. "No, bless your heart. I have bounty." And he held up an earthy colored paper pack. At the point when I had completed the dishes, I went out on the patio to chat with him for a couple of moments. It didn't take long to see that this more established man had a major heart packed into that little body. He let me know he looked professionally to help his girl, her five youngsters, and her significant other, who was miserably disabled from a back physical issue. He didn't tell it via protest; truth be told, each and every other sentence was introduced with on account of God for a gift. He was appreciative that no aggravation went with his sickness, which was a type of skin disease. He expressed gratitude toward God for giving him the solidarity to continue onward. At sleep time, we put a camp bed in the kids' space for him. At the point when I got up in the first part of the day, the bed materials were flawlessly collapsed, and the little man was out on the patio. He declined breakfast, yet not long before he left for his transport, slowly, as though asking an extraordinary blessing, he said, "Would I be able to kindly returned and remain the following time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a little. I can rest fine in a seat." He stopped a second and afterward added, "Your youngsters caused me to feel at ease. Adults are irritated by my face, yet youngsters don't appear to mind." I let him know he was free to return once more. On his next trip, he showed up a brief time after seven AM. He brought a hotshot and a quart of the biggest shellfish I had at any point considered to be a gift. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be overall quite new. I realized his transport left at 4:00 a.m., and I thought about what time he needed to get up to do this for us. In the years he came to remain for the time being with us, there was never a period that he didn't bring us fish or clams or vegetables from his nursery. Different times we got bundles via the post office, consistently by exceptional conveyance; fish and shellfish stuffed in a crate of new youthful spinach or kale, each leaf painstakingly washed. Realizing that he should walk three miles to mail these and knowing how minimal expenditure he had made the gifts all the more valuable. At the point when I got these little recognitions, I regularly thought about a remark our nearby neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that terrible looking man the previous evening? I dismissed him! You can lose roomers by setting up such individuals!" Perhaps we lost roomers on more than one occasion. In any case, goodness! If by some stroke of good luck they might have known him, maybe their diseases would have been more straightforward to bear. I realize our family will be appreciative all the time to have known him; from him, we figured out how to acknowledge the awful without objection and the great with appreciation. As of late I was visiting a companion who has a nursery. As she showed me her blossoms, we came to the most wonderful one of each of the, a brilliant chrysanthemum, overflowing with sprouts. Be that as it may, to my incredible amazement, it was becoming in an old, imprinted, corroded pail. I contemplated internally, "On the off chance that this were my plant, I'd place it in the loveliest compartment I had!" My companion changed my mind."I ran low on pots," she clarified, "and knowing how excellent this one would be, I figured it wouldn't see any problems with beginning in this old bucket. So it's only for a brief period till I can put it out in the nursery." She probably asked why I snickered so delightedly, yet I envisioned simply such a scene in paradise. "Here is a great one," God may have said when he came to the spirit of the sweet old angler. "He wouldn't fret beginning in this little body
Samruddhi MotePublished 2 years ago in FictionHalloween 1981
October 31st 1981 Sirius Black apparated into the cold wet night with a thundering crack. Godric’s Hollow was eerily silent as he stumbled through the dark village.
jessica moonan daviesPublished 2 years ago in FictionTHE GREAT GATSBY
Francis Scott Fitzgerald is an American author who was able to vividly depict the wealth and carelessness of the 1920s in the United States. The author grew up during the "Jazz Age," when music was at its peak. While those extravagant and quirky times have passed, readers can still enjoy the legacy of his books, which promote a culture of freedom, joy, and hedonism. His most well-known novel is "The Great Gatsby." It was published in 1925, at a period marked by Dry Law, gangster conflicts, lavish parties, and extravagant lives.
An Ode to Fanfiction
"Hey, he's pretty cute" "Wha- Hunk" "Whaaat. Hey I’m just saying he's cute. He's cute." Three young men stand in a flower shop, the two behind a counter engaging in a war of whispers while the third, who walked in wearing a cropped red racer jacket skulks around smelling the flowers.
The Doomsday Shift
CHAPTER ONE. Here I was sitting on our front veranda with my grandson, Buddy and my daughter -in-law Connie. We were watching for anyone who might show up, before the shift started. Most of the other's were already in the bomb shelter. finishing off the last few things that had to be done. My two son's. Bill and Steven, were checking over the greenhouses to make sure nothing was overlooked.
Darlene DawsonPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe Hero's Conundrum/Chapter 15
I am Bansao? All this time I have been fighting Bansao and it was me all this time. I was about to join him and then I found out that I am Bansao. Then I remembered when Bansao told me there was going to come a time when I would want to join him but I wouldn’t be able to, and I have to make that difficult choice . . . become Bansao. Why didn’t I tell myself the truth? That’s it, I need to find myself and tell him the truth so he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. But first I told my new crew that we will take revenge of what happened to their leader, we will look for my other self and the people who did this to them.
Angel DelgadoPublished 2 years ago in FictionNo Excuses
Charlie was on his way to work. He stops at the local coffee shop where he gets his coffee every morning. Today wasn't different from any other day. On his way in he sees a black man that he had never seen before. The man then proceeds to ask Charlie for some spare change. Charlie gives the man five dollars and to his surprise the black man becomes very offended.
Tyrone LivingstonPublished 2 years ago in Fiction