#short story

[verifiedbyai]

If you've never read The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula K LeGuin, find a room where you can be by yourself and then do it. I was forced to read it in middle school. I hated it. I haven't been able to stop seeing it in my mind since then. I think about it often.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Alternatives for "She Smiled"

If you can't seem to find an alternative for this common phrase "she smiled". here's a list of different sentence variations.

She beamed brightly.

Her lips curled into a smile.

She flashed a radiant grin.

A smile lit up her face.

She offered a sheepish grin.

Her smile twinkled mischievously.

She gave a soft, serene smile.

A wry smile played on her lips.

She smirked subtly.

Her smile spread slowly across her face.

She smiled wistfully.

A gentle smile graced her features.

She smiled with her eyes.

Her smile was tinged with sadness.

She bestowed a gracious smile.

Her smile glimmered in the dim light.

She smiled coyly.

A giddy smile bubbled up.

She smiled, lips parting lightly.

Her smile was infectious.

She gave a knowing smile.

A tentative smile flickered across her face.

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight.

Her smile warmed the room.

She smiled ruefully.

A conspiratorial smile crossed her face.

She smiled, a trace of irony evident.

Her smile was wide and welcoming.

She flashed a quick, evasive smile.

She smiled as if recalling a sweet memory.

[writersbloxx]

Writing Physical Description

Continuation of my Character Building post in a brief overview of describing physical traits.

When portraying a character through physical description, it's important to focus on key details. This can include:

Height, hair color or length, build, facial features/eye color, distinctive markings like scars or tattoos, how they dress, and many more.

Ex:

Note: Not everything has to be written at face value. When necessary, physical description can be made interesting with figurative language or when interacting with other elements like setting. If a character’s hair is black, you don't always have to leave it at “their hair is black.”

Ex:

Food for thought: Describing someone through the perspective of another character doesn't have to remain objective. Playing around with perspective/tone can help with characterization or even building an unreliable narrator.

In this case, the narrator could’ve said that the character was too tall (indicating a preference), or that a heavy stack of rings on each finger blinded them (hyperbole can convey the narrator as dramatic)

Asks are open if you want more specific tips/prompts! Happy writing!

[shy2-29]

Two Of You | (new year’s special) l.hs

pairing: lee heeseung x reader(s) 🤔

wc: 1:5k

synopsis: you usually get off work around 9:00pm, but that isn’t the case today. Heeseung is constantly worrying about you at home, and he keeps telling himself your phone died because you’re not texting or answering him back, and that you’re probably catching up with an old friend. Finally, you come back from work, extra clingy. But is it really you?

authors note: never written any horror so I hope you guys like this 😣

warning: not proof read, tension, identity fraud, swearing, lying, panic, horror, potential kidnapping and I guess that’s it 🤷‍♀️

He keeps telling himself that your phone probably died and you’re catching up with an old friend or something and you probably forgot. Although it was unlike you, that’s what he kept trying to convince himself of. Suddenly, he hears the doorbell ring. It’s you, it must be you.

You arrive home a bit later than expected, finding Heeseung already waiting for you at the door. As soon as you see him, you call out his name and embrace him in a tight hug. "I'm really sorry I'm late," you say, a hint of apology in your voice.

"I had some catching up to do with an old friend at work. Hope you weren't too worried." Heeseung's face relaxes as he feels your arms surrounding him, the worry fading as he realizes the reason behind your tardiness.

Heeseung hugs you tighter, inhaling the scent of your hair and savoring the feeling of having you in his arms once again. In response to you, he finally mutters a soft, "I'm glad you're safe."

His voice is both a sigh of relief and a gentle whisper against your hair. He hesitates, then adds quietly, "Just.. Please, next time, let me know if you'll be late. You kind of worried me."

You pull back from the hug and see the slight relief wash over Heeseung's face. With a smile, you promise to keep him updated next time. "I swear I'll let you know," you assure him. "My phone died, so I guess I'll have to carry a portable charger from now on," you add with a chuckle, watching as a faint smile forms on his lips.

In that moment, an intense urge washes over you to shower him with a kiss, even though the timing feels a bit awkward. Heeseung seems taken aback, but then a smile appears, warming the space between you.

Heeseung feels a pleasant shiver run down his spine as you pull back from the hug, his arms still encircling your waist. The relief on his face is apparent as you promise to keep him updated in the future. He chuckles slightly at your excuse about your phone dying, his lips turning up in a small smile.

Suddenly, he registers the intense look in your eyes, seeing the desire to kiss him despite the moment feeling a bit out of place. As he processes the situation, a hint of surprise flickers on his face, but it quickly softens as he grins in response.

You look into Heeseung's eyes, your voice filled with tenderness and affection. "I love you," you whisper, the words hanging in the air with an underlying intensity. Your gaze bores into his, a mixture of emotions flickering across your face.

There's a hint of obsessiveness in your tone, as if the depth of your love has crossed the line into an almost unhealthy territory.

Heeseung's heart skips a beat at your words, his name falling off your lips in a whisper laced with love and affection. A rush of emotion floods through him, his eyes locked on yours as you hold his gaze.

There's an undeniable tenderness in your tone, but there's something else beneath it, a hint of possessiveness and possibly even obsession that catches him off guard. He notices the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes hold onto his with an intensity that borders on unhealthy.

Heeseung takes a moment to collect his thoughts, feeling the weight of your words and the undercurrent of possessiveness that's seeping through.

After a moment, he gently breaks the silence, his voice filled with concern and a hint of curiosity. "Y/N, do you remember that time my sister slept over?"

Your smile widens as you take his hand in yours, gently brushing your thumb over his knuckles. "Of course I do," you assure him, your voice holding a hint of playful banter.

But there's a subtle flicker of unease in Heeseung's eyes, realizing that something doesn't quite add up. He doesn’t have a sister, and the real y/n would already know that. The realization causes a pang of confusion and suspicion to grow inside him.

Heeseung observes your widening smile, his heart starting to race. Your hand wraps over his, your thumb softly rubbing over his knuckles, and he forces a small smile to return your gesture.

But as your affirmation rings through the air, an uneasy feeling settles in his gut. He casts a confused glance at you, his mind already churning with thoughts. "But..." He trails off, his voice tinged with doubt. "I don't have a sister."

Your smile falters momentarily, your eyes narrowing slightly. A flicker of surprise and realization passes through your gaze as you register Heeseung's words.

You attempt to hide your unease, shrugging nonchalantly as if it's just a silly mistake. "Oh, really?" you reply, your tone laced with a hint of feigned ignorance. "Maybe I was thinking of something else."

He can sense the subtle shift in your demeanor, your smile faltering momentarily before you quickly mask it with nonchalance. Heeseung's suspicion grows as you shrug off the error, noticing the hint of feigned ignorance in your tone.

But a part of him still wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. "Are you sure?" he probes gently, his voice gentle but carrying a hint of underlying worry. "You seemed pretty certain just now."

Heeseung reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone, feeling the familiar buzz against his fingertips. He glances at the screen, about to answer the call, when the harsh command cuts through the room.

"Don't answer that."

Heeseung’s heart stops, the command catching him off guard.

Your commanding tone sends a shiver down his spine, and the seriousness in your eyes catches him off guard. He holds his phone, his hand momentarily frozen as he listens to your unexpected command. "Why not?" he asks, his voice laced with surprise and a hint of caution.

"Don't you fucking dare answer that phone call, Lee Heeseung," you repeat, the command tinged with a hint of possessiveness and darkness. It's a different side of you that Heeseung hasn't witnessed until now.

Heeseung's eyes widen slightly at the forceful tone and the possessiveness evident in your words. A shiver runs down his spine, and there's a hint of fear mixed with confusion in his voice as he responds.

"But I..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. He glances at his phone, the screen still lit up with an awaiting call.

Heeseung fishes his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID. To his surprise, the name "y/n" shines back at him. But it doesn't make sense—you're standing right in front of him, so how could it be possible?

He feels like his heart stop as a sense of unease wash over him as he looks up at you, his eyes searching your face for an explanation.

"I told you not to take out your phone, Heeseung,” you snap, your tone growing colder and more impatient. There's a sense of possessiveness in your voice that surprises even yourself, like a primal instinct you can't control.

Heeseung can sense the shift in your demeanor—the way your tone grows sharp and your words become more demanding—and it sends another shiver down his spine. "I don't understand," he responds quietly, the confusion now laced with a bit of fear.

The tension in the air thickens as Heeseung struggles to make sense of the situation. The possessiveness in your voice is becoming increasingly apparent, and he can feel the shift in your personality.

He swallows hard, his heart beating faster as he speaks, "Why are you acting like this?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of confusion and fear.

The realization dawns on Heeseung like a bucket of cold water; you're not the real y/n, yet how could this be possible?

The confusion and fear swirling in his mind suddenly click into place, making everything he's experienced so far fall into place. His eyes widen as he takes a small step back, his voice shaky as he tries to form words. "Who the fuck are you…?"

Heeseung's head jerks towards the front door at the sound of your familiar voice, followed by the words "Heeseung, I'm home."

The contrast between the two voices, yours and the real y/n's, causes his heart to race even faster, his mind trying to process the two versions of you. He takes another step back, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, torn between fear and disbelief.

“What the hell…?"

WHY THIS LWK KINDA GOOD THOUGH 🙏🙏🙏

[lettygene]

In the night’s most quiet of hours, do the owls take flight. In their talons, they capture the lost spirits of recently departed children and return them safely to the stars. Where they may twinkle forever above their loved ones heads

Midnight hunter

[wings-of-ink]

How about a little something extra for your reading pleasure?

Below is the little story (around 3800 words) I posted about doing here. It's a fictionalized retelling of how we found our little Shadow cat. It's not terribly dramatic or anything, but it's a bit cute, especially for those of you who are a fan of Nathanael in the story. You get to see a little more of him at a different stage of his life. ^_^

~~~

Nathan stretched, looking up at the clear sky. It was bright, big, and beautiful, as always. Puffy clouds were rolling by, occasionally blotting out the sun, but only for a moment.

"It's gonna rain tonight," a voice said behind him.

Nathan turned, spotting his friend, Andrina, as she approached carrying a crate. "You think?" he asked, turning his face back to the sky. "Doesn't look that way to me."

"Here, you oaf, take this – it's heavy," she chided, thrusting the crate into his hands. "That's the last one."

"Thank you, dear," he said, lugging it onto the back of the wagon with the others.

"I'm tellin' you, cover that shit with a tarp unless you want all your merchandise soaked." Andrina heaved herself up on the side of the wagon, light ginger hair flopping over her face, concealing her bright blue eyes. "You have one right? I'm not helping you dry all this shit when we get home."

"Yes, Mother, I'll get right on it." Nathan laughed.

"If you weren't so bad at takin' care of yourself, I wouldn't have to mother you!"

Nathan rolled his eyes as he began to unfasten the tarp from the other side of the wagon. He sighed. He really needed to get something with a roof. Not that selling out of the back of the wagon was difficult, but it was becoming a hassle this way. He paused for a moment as he fiddled with the ties binding the tarp together. That feeling was settling in again. Something felt like it was missing. He was anxious, restless, feeling like he'd long forgotten something. He had hoped this feeling would leave him for good, it seemed as though he was wrong.

How long had he lived here again? Four or five years now? He liked living with Andrina and Erik, they'd become wonderful friends and he didn't want to leave them just yet or maybe ever. It had been long since he had such good friends. Settling anywhere for long always left him with these odd feelings. He hated it and wished he could just settle somewhere like most people did. But, if he wanted to try to live a somewhat normal existence, this was the way it needed to be. Maybe one day he would figure out a way to live that didn't make his skin itch with dissatisfaction. Maybe he would figure out why it was this way for him. Someday.

"Nathan?" a soft voice asked.

"Hm?" His attention snapped to the figure standing next to him. Erik – dark brown eyes peeked through his messy black hair with a look of concern.

"You did that thing again. Are you sure you don't need to see a healer about that? Andrina said your name but it was like you couldn't hear." Erik's thin bony hand gently touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I was just lost in thought. I promise I am well, my mind has just been loud lately."

Andrina reached across from her perch on the wall of the wagon. "Hand over the tarp, cloud-dreamer, and let's get on the road."

Nathan nodded, unrolling the tarp and giving the end of it to his friend as they all worked to secure it. Before long, they were on the road again and heading home. Andrina sat on the back of the wagon smoking her pipe as Erik sat at the front with Nathan while the horses walked the familiar path, not needing any guidance.

Erik nudged Nathan's shoulder. "I think I might know what's going on with you," his quiet voice said.

"Yeah?" Nathan raised an eyebrow. It was unlike Erik to speak up in such a way so casually.

"Yes, you should grow the beard." Erik smiled, trying to stifle a laugh.

Nathan snorted, raising a hand to feel along his chin. He'd kept it smooth for as long as he could remember. "Do you think I'd look good with one? Would it age me?"

Erik shrugged. "I think it would give you an attractive flair. Maybe make you look smarter."

"Ha!" Andrina laughed. "No, it'd make you look like one of those scammy so-called magicians that swindle kids for pocket money!"

Nathan pouted and Erik chuckled but notably did not disagree.

Erik went quiet again before taking a deep breath. "I think you're a little lonely."

Nathan almost laughed. "What? How could I be with you and Mother Hen always around?"

"There's different types of loneliness you know. There's a type for romance, for friends, for family – for silence…you just need to figure out which one tugs at your own heart. We've known you long enough to see the signs, even if you ignore them."

The conversation stopped there, giving Nathan a great deal to think about. Erik had a way of doing that to him. He was such a mild person but had a way of sneaking deep truths in without warning. And Andrina's uncharacteristic silence spoke volumes about her agreement.

Was it really that simple? Was he just missing out on something? But what could it be? He lived comfortably enough, had friends old and new all around, and his business was flourishing…what was missing?

"Hey!" Andrina called. "That little shop at the edge of town was opening today. We should eat there when we get home."

The men agreed and the rest of the way was filled with amiable silence and pipe smoke.

~~~

Andrina had been right.

It started raining halfway home. The bright sky slipped to grey as clouds blotted out the sun and a steady trickle began to fall. A cold chill clung to the wind from the north as well. When they arrived at the eatery, which appeared to be little more than a large shed with a stone oven in the center, they found a table without issue. It was late enough in the day, the rush of patrons clamoring for dinner had already gone. The warmth of the place was very welcome after their journey.

A clearly exhausted employee slapped three tankards on the table. "Welcome to Pista's Hut. We have ale. You get ale," they said, voice flat.

The three friends nodded, not about to argue.

"You're late for dinner, the cook will throw what we have left in the oven and that will be that. It'll be out in a bit." They walked away without another word.

Andrina chuckled. "Well, you two can never decide anyway, so this works in our favor. Ale's good at least."

Erik shrugged and picked up his tankard. "I'll eat anything."

Nathan sipped his drink, his thoughts still stuck on what Erik had told him earlier. The ale was good…

A while later, the server returned holding a metal tray and slapped it in the middle of the table. "Okay, we only had some dough, tomatoes, and a bit of cheese. The cook whipped this up for you. Smells good at least, and it's the best we got." They dropped a heavy cleaver on the table, making everything on it rattle. "Here's a knife to cut it. I'll bring more ale," they said before turning heel and walking away.

The three friends stared at their meal. What appeared to be a giant bit of flat bread was stretched wide on the tray, smeared with crushed tomatoes, bits of cheese melted on top. The bread was toasty in places and the top of the construction steamed, wafting a tasty fragrance into the air.

Andrina grabbed the cleaver, which Nathan quickly took from her. "Not after what happened last time, Andi."

She flopped back dramatically into her chair, cheeks puffing out. Erik covered his mouth as he tried not to giggle.

Nathan studied the food and began to cut the best way he could figure out. It was shaped like a pie or cake, so he split it into triangles. They each took a slice and began to eat silently.

After a few bites, they all looked at each other in silence, each waiting for the other to speak.

Erik began, "Is it just me or is this damn delicious?"

Nathan concurred, "It is absolutely delectable."

Andrina stuffed her slice into her mouth, working it around as it burnt her tongue.

The three devoured the construct, save for one small piece. When the server came to collect their dishes, they took the last bit, uncaring if strangers had touched it, and began to eat. The morsel seemed to cheer them up at least.

Thunder rolled outside as the friends finished their drinks. Home wasn't far at least, though they'd probably be soaked through by the time they reached it and put the horses and wagon away.

They piled outside after a time, huddled under cloaks as the rain continued. Nathan checked the cargo for tampering and the horses, slipping them a few sugar cubes for their wait, making promises of comfort to come.

He was about to load up when he heard a small clamor, like things falling, drawing his attention to an alley beside the eatery. It was dark, nothing but bins of waste scattered around.

"What is it?" Andrina asked.

Nathan shrugged. "Just thought I heard something."

He moved to the driver's seat of the wagon and was about to get seated when he heard something else.

Mew. Mew.

He stopped and looked again, still not seeing anything.

Erik leaned over. "Is that an animal? Look there by the bins."

Nathan couldn't see anything, so he went down the alley, walking slowly and listening.

Mew.

Mew…

Little squeaky sounds came from under a large bin. They ceased when Nathan reached it. He squatted low and peered under it, trying not to gag from the smell.

A little soggy ball of fur stared back at him with scared green eyes.

Nathan began to reach for it but stilled a moment. "Are you a rat? Are you going to bite me?"

Mew. 

"No, you must be a cat…I think…" He scooped up the tiny thing.

Nathan brought the creature over to an awning with a lantern hanging so he could see. It was a tiny kitten cold and wet, no bigger than his palm. It mewed in distress but didn't try to get away from him.

"My, my you aren't very old. Is your momma around?" Nathan looked back down the alley.

"What is it?" Erik called from the wagon.

"A kitten!" Nathan answered. "I'll be a moment, I'm going to look for its mother!"

Andrina groaned dramatically and then laughed as Erik chided her.

Nathan held the kitten close to his heart to share his warmth as he slowly plodded down the alley, calling in a sweet voice for any critters. After peeking around to the back of the building and spotting nothing, Nathan headed back, finding that the disenchanted server from earlier was taking a crate into the alley.

"Excuse me, dear, have you seen a mother cat around here?" Nathan held the kitten up for reference. "This one appears to have gotten lost."

They shook their head. "Nah, that one has been out here all day. Saw it this morning. If the momma didn't fetch it by now, she's not coming back."

Nathan's heart sank. "All day? It's been raining…"

"Just leave it where you found it, nature will take its course."

"No!" Nathan suddenly spat. He held the little creature closer and then cleared his throat. "No…Sorry, I'll just take it then."

"Fine by me."

Nathan hustled down the alley back to his friends and hopped up into the wagon. Passing the reins to Erik, everyone stared at the little furball who had gone quiet.

"We have a cat now?" Andrina asked.

Nathan sighed. "We…have a cat now. For now, I suppose. I'll figure it out."

The little creature snuggled closely to Nathan's chest the whole way home. It didn't make another sound, happier now that it was warm and blocked from the rain. There was a pull at Nathan's heart, a clear sadness a the sight of the defenseless kitten.

Once home, they guided the horses and cart into the barn and Nathan left his friends in charge of the horses. This kitten was little and too young for solid food. They didn't have much to offer it, but if there was one creature who could help it was Jaala – the goat who hated him.

Erik seemed to be the only one whom the goat respected enough to milk her, but Nathan had some extra sugar to offer in exchange for a bit of milk to help the kitten. He found a crate, filled it with straw, and settled the kitten inside who began to mew as soon as the comfort of being held faded.

"Just a moment little one, I need to make sure I can feed you."

Grabbing the milk pale, he checked to make sure it was clean before facing Jaala. She glared at him immediately, snorting in displeasure and standing defensively in front of her sleeping kid.

"Sorry girl, just me tonight," Nathan said as he searched his pockets for sugar. "Here, to sweeten the deal." He held out a cube to the goat who glared as she plucked it from his hands, biting his fingers in the process. Nathan tamped down his reaction.

He placed the bucket down as the goat barely tolerated his presence. "I need just a little bit of milk. Do you hear the kitty? Just like your little one, he needs something to eat." Nathan offered another sugar cube which the goat snatched right away.

As she chewed, he positioned the bucket and knelt beside her, quick to offer another sweet to keep her agreeable as he began to milk her. He rationed the last two cubes to get enough for a good meal for the kitten, quickly packing up and giving the goat her space when he was done.

The cat continued to mew from the safety of its little nest. Nathan sat in the straw and plucked the furball up again, bringing it to his chest. Pulling a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his robe, he soaked a bit of it in the milk and brought it to the little kitten's mouth. It latched on right away, suckling hungrily at the cloth until it was practically dry. Nathan dipped it again and repeated the process until the little one had drank all there was. And with a full belly, it fell asleep in his hands.

Nathan took the crate and the kitten inside with him where his friends had started a good fire. He changed his clothes and put on something dry, keeping an eye on the little one. All of them sat around the fireplace, sprawled on the couches and rugs there.

"Sucker," Andrina chided with a smile.

Nathan sighed. "I couldn't leave the poor thing to die."

Erik's dog, a massive black and white hound, sniffed around the crate, wagging his tail happily before getting up on Erik's lap. "Reminds me of when we found you," Erik said, patting his dog's head.

Nathan wrinkled his nose. "Yes, yes, I'm akin to a half-drowned cat with no teeth."

Andrina began packing her pipe. "You gonna keep the thing?"

He shook his head. "No, I'll just make sure it doesn't suffer and I'm sure one of the shops or farms could use a mouser."

Erik and Andrina looked at each other and smiled. They knew better.

As the days went by, most of Nathan's attention was on the little kitten. Once it was all dried and cleaned up, fed and happy, it still didn't shut up – unless Nathan held it. He kept it close, swaddled around his chest in a sling since its little cries made him feel…odd. Many of the townspeople stared when they realized a small kitten was tucked close to his chest, but Nathan didn't mind. He was already the oddball in town as it was, he would be stared at and whispered about anyway, this just gave them something to actually chatter about.

He talked to the little cat most of the day, asking its opinion on prices and what goods would sell the best in the coming season. The little creature didn't have much to offer but helped Nathan think by just listening.

Jaala the goat even became a bit friendlier, she almost didn't bite. But thanks to her generosity, the little kitten grew quickly. It filled the little sling and was able to reach out far enough to tap Nathan on the chin with little claws. Once the little one was big enough, Nathan could tell it was a male, and quickly dubbed him, "Cat," and sometimes, "sweet boy" when no one was watching.

As more time passed and the cat outgrew his little sling, he instead rode upon Nathan's shoulders instead. The merchant was not short of offers to take the cat who was growing to be quite a handsome sight – completely grey from nose to tail with bright green eyes. He had a dignified appearance – a dignity which ended strictly at his looks, Nathan observed. He was rather inelegant for a cat, his timing for everything could not be worse and he had nearly killed Nathan no fewer than 15 times on the stairs. But the little thing had no fear of dogs, or any other creature large or small. Nathan knew better by now that it wasn't bravery – he was just too dumb to know better. Nathan turned all of the offers that he received down, of course, saying that the cat had a bit more growing to do…

A whole season came and went before folks stopped asking. Everyone but Nathan knew the little stray had already found a permanent home.

As he sat lost in thought in the barn, staring at his wagon, a little paw came up to pat his chin. Luckily, the scruffy beard there protected it from the wicked claws.

"What do you want, Cat?" he asked, absently bringing his hand to the cat's head and scratching. "Oh…guess I answered my own question." He laughed. "You have trained me well."

The cat reached up and rubbed his head against Nathan's new beard, enjoying the scratchiness against his fur. The rumble of purrs became loud.

Nathan smiled. "You really are my sweet boy, aren't you. What do you think we ought to do, hm?" He glanced at the wagon, the goods stored there were dwindling. The thought of traveling to refill his stock was a bit exciting, even if he didn't need to go very far. "I want to take you with me, but I worry…"

Moow?

"No, we tried the leash, you rolled around like it was a snake trying to eat you."

Mrrrr.

"You did too."

The cat huffed.

"And Andi says I'm the dramatic one…"

Meoooow.

"I do trust you, I just worry you'll wander off and get lost. You may look elegant, but you're not the brightest. And what if someone tries to steal you away?"

The cat turned fierce eyes on Nathan and stared.

"You are so strange."

"Says the man talking to a cat," Erik's voice responded, making Nathan startle.

"Blessed stars, you scared the shit out of me!"

Erik chuckled as he approached, sitting across from Nathan and his cat in the straw. "Well, I'm not sorry…I came to check on you."

"Check on me?" Nathan scratched down the cat's back, bringing back his purring.

"Mm-hmm, you're doing that thing again."

"Yes?"

"It's a little different this time. You're not completely despondent." Erik laughed. "It's been nice. You've seemed happier now that you have a pet."

Nathan shook his head. "I don't have a pet…I…" He stared down at the purring mess in his lap which was currently working its claws into Nathan's fine robe.

"No, no, you're right. You don't have a pet…You are the pet. That little grey thing has you completely wrapped around his paw. You wore him around in a sling meant for children for crying out loud."

"He was cold…" Nathan bit down on a smile.

Erik snorted a laugh. "You're sweet you know. And I want to say something as a friend. Something me and Andi have been talking about for a while now."

"Go on, don't hold back."

"We all have secrets. We all have private things that we desire – hopes and even dreams that we aren't always aware of…. In a strange way, I think you've found one of those things you've needed. You still try to deny it – you haven't even named the poor thing, and we all know that cat isn't going anywhere."

Nathan nodded.

Erik continued. "You're restless. I know you are. I don't know everything about you, but we've been friends for years now and I think you're trying to hide just how restless you are even from yourself."

The truth stung.

"I wanted to tell you that it's okay. Some people aren't meant to settle at all and others are only meant to settle once they've found what they need. Me and Andi aren't going anywhere, you know that. One day we may even go our separate ways, maybe partner up with a lover or something, but we won't wander far from here."

Nathan nodded.

"Figure out what works for you. You now have a little someone that will go with you now. You can always come home."

"Should I call you 'poppa' now? That was a lot of wisdom considering how much younger than me you are." Nathan laughed.

Erik lightly kicked him in the foot. "I don't know where it came from…I actually came out here to warn you."

"About what?"

"Your little bundle of joy took a huge shit in Andi's bed and she is furious."

"Again?"

Erik nodded.

Nathan tried to hide his grin. "Guess I'm on laundry duty today then…I'll get to it in a moment."

Erik stood, clasping Nathan's hand in his own for a moment before leaving him in peace.

The little cat reached up again, purring and rubbing against his beard. Nathan wrapped his arms around the little furball and lightly hugged.

"How do you do it?" he asked as if the cat could answer. "Are you a magic cat? Hm? You can tell me, just whisper your truth to me." Nathan turned his ear to the cat who only nibbled at it in response. "I don't think I've ever had a pet before…"

MOOW.

"Sorry, I don't think I have ever been a pet before." He sighed. "Fuck sake, Erik is right. I am horribly smitten, aren't I? And you do need a proper name…"

Nathan stared at the cat's expanse of grey fur. He recalled how whenever the cat chose to hide he was impossible to find. The only way to spot him in the darkness was to catch the glimmer from his eyes.

Nathan picked up his sweet boy, staring into his eyes. "You're impossible to spot in the dark, you are so completely grey that even your toes match, and you are always following me…you are always…in my shadow."

Meow.

"Shadow."

Mrp?

Nathan smiled. "My little Shadow."

[kalmidnight]

(from The Book of Virtues, A Treasury of Great Moral Stories, an anthology by William Bennett)

The Magic Thread

Too often, people want what they want (or what they think they want, which is usually "happiness" in one form or another) right now. The irony of their impatience is that only by learning to wait, and by a willingness to accept the bad with the good, do we usually attain those things that are truly worthwhile. "He that can have patience, can have what he will," Benjamin Franklin told us, and this French tale bears him out.

Once there was a widow who had a son called Peter. He was a strong, able boy, but he did not enjoy going to school and he was forever daydreaming."

Peter, what are you dreaming about this time?" his teacher would say to him.

"I'm thinking about what I'll be when I grow up," Peter replied.

"Be patient. There's plenty of time for that. Being grown up isn't all fun, you know," his teacher said.

But Peter found it hard to enjoy whatever he was doing at the moment, and was always hankering after the next thing. In winter he longed for it to be summer again, and in summer he looked forward to the skating, sledging, and warm fires of winter. At school he would long for the day to be over so that he could go home, and on Sunday nights he would sigh, "If only the holidays would come." What he enjoyed most was playing with his friend Liese. She was as good a companion as any boy, and no matter how impatient Peter was, she never took offense. "When I grow up, I shall marry Liese," Peter said to himself.

Often he wandered through the forest, dreaming of the future. Sometimes he lay down on the soft forest floor in the warm sun, his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky through the distant treetops. One hot afternoon as he began to grow sleepy, he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and sat up. Standing before him was an old woman. In her hand she held a silver ball, from which dangled a silken golden thread.

"See what I have got here, Peter," she said, offering the ball to him.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, touching the fine golden thread.

"This is your life thread," the old woman replied. "Do not touch it and time will pass normally. But if you wish time to pass more quickly, you have only to pull the thread a little way and an hour will pass like a second. But I warn you, once the thread has been pulled out, it cannot be pushed back in again. It will disappear like a puff of smoke. The ball is for you. But if you accept my gift you must tell no one, or on that very day you shall die. Now, say, do you want it?"

Peter seized the gift from her joyfully. It was just what he wanted. He examined the silver ball. It was light and solid, made of a single piece. The only flaw in it was the tiny hole from which the bright thread hung. He put the ball in his pocket and ran home. There, making sure that his mother was out, he examined it again. The thread seemed to be creeping very slowly out of the ball, so slowly that it was scarcely noticeable to the naked eye. He longed to give it a quick tug, but dared not do so. Not yet.

The following day at school, Peter sat daydreaming about what he would do with his magic thread. The teacher scolded him for not concentrating on his work. If only, he thought, it was time to go home. Then he felt the silver ball in his pocket. If he pulled out a tiny bit of thread, the day would be over. Very carefully he took hold of it and tugged. Suddenly the teacher was telling everyone to pack up their books and to leave the classroom in an orderly fashion. Peter was overjoyed. He ran all the way home. How easy life would be now! All his troubles were over. From that day forth he began to pull the thread, just a little, every day.

One day, however, it occurred to him that it was stupid to pull the thread just a little each day. If he gave it a harder tug, school would be over altogether. Then he could start learning a trade and marry Liese. So that night he gave the thread a hard tug, and in the morning he awoke to find himself apprenticed to a carpenter in town. He loved his new life, clambering about on roofs and scaffolding, lifting and hammering great beams into place that still smelled of the forest. But sometimes, when payday seemed too far off, he gave the thread a little tug and suddenly the week was drawing to a close and it was Friday night and he had money in his pocket.

Liese had also come to town and was living with her aunt, who taught her housekeeping. Peter began to grow impatient for the day when they would be married. It was hard to live so near and yet so far from her. He asked her when they could be married.

"In another year," she said. "Then I will have learned how to be a capable wife."

Peter fingered the silver ball in his pocket."Well, the time will pass quickly enough," he said, knowingly.

That night Peter could not sleep. He tossed and turned restlessly. He took the magic ball from under his pillow. For a moment he hesitated; then his impatience got the better of him, and he tugged at the golden thread. In the morning he awoke to find that the year was over and that Liese had at last agreed to marry him. Now Peter felt truly happy.

But before their wedding could take place, Peter received an official-looking letter. He opened it in trepidation and read that he was expected to report at the army barracks the following week for two years' military service. He showed the letter to Liese in despair. "Well," she said, "there is nothing for it, we shall just have to wait. But the time will pass quickly, you'll see. There are so many things to do in preparation for our life together." Peter smiled bravely, knowing that two years would seem a lifetime to him.

Once Peter had settled into life at the barracks, however, he began to feel that it wasn't so bad after all. He quite enjoyed being with all the other young men, and their duties were not very arduous at first. He remembered the old woman's warning to use the thread wisely and for a while refrained from pulling it. But in time he grew restless again. Army life bored him with its routine duties and harsh discipline. He began pulling the thread to make the week go faster so that it would be Sunday again, or to speed up the time until he was due for leave. And so the two years passed almost as if they had been a dream.

Back home, Peter determined not to pull the thread again until it was absolutely necessary. After all, this was the best time of his life, as everyone told him. He did not want it to be over too quickly. He did, however, give the thread one or two very small tugs, just to speed along the day of his marriage. He longed to tell Liese his secret, but he knew that if he did he would die.

On the day of his wedding, everyone, including Peter, was happy. He could hardly wait to show Liese the house he had built for her. At the wedding feast he glanced over at his mother. He noticed for the first time how gray her hair had grown recently. She seemed to be aging so quickly. Peter felt a pang of guilt that he had pulled the thread so often. Henceforward he would be much more sparing with it and only use it when it was strictly necessary.

A few months later Liese announced that she was going to have a child. Peter was overjoyed and could hardly wait. When the child was born, he felt that he could never want for anything again. But whenever the child was ill or cried through the sleepless night, he gave the thread a little tug, just so that the baby might be well and happy again.

Times were hard. Business was bad and a government had come to power that squeezed the people dry with taxes and would tolerate no opposition. Anyone who became known as a troublemaker was thrown into prison without trial and rumor was enough to condemn a man. Peter had always been known as one who spoke his mind, and very soon he was arrested and cast into jail. Luckily he had his magic ball with him and he tugged very hard at the thread. The prison walls dissolved before him and his enemies were scattered in the huge explosion that burst forth like thunder. It was the war that had been threatening, but it was over as quickly as a summer storm, leaving behind it an exhausted peace. Peter found himself back home with his family. But now he was a middle-aged man.

For a time things went well and Peter lived in relative contentment. One day he looked at his magic ball and saw to his surprise that the thread had turned from gold to silver. He looked in the mirror. His hair was starting to turn gray and his face was lined where before there had not been a wrinkle to be seen. He suddenly felt afraid and determined to use the thread even more carefully than before. Liese bore him more children and he seemed happy as the head of his growing household. His stately manner often made people think of him as some sort of benevolent ruler. He had an air of authority as if he held the fate of others in his hands. He kept his magic ball in a well-hidden place, safe from the curious eyes of his children, knowing that if anyone were to discover it, it would be fatal.

As the number of his children grew, so his house became more overcrowded. He would have to extend it, but for that he needed money. He had other worries too. His mother was looking older and more tired every day. It was of no use to pull the magic thread because that would only hasten her approaching death. All too soon she died, and as Peter stood at her graveside, he wondered how it was that life passed so quickly, even without pulling the magic thread.

One night as he lay in bed, kept awake by his worries, he thought how much easier life would be if all his children were grown up and launched upon their careers in life. He gave the thread a mighty tug, and the following day he awoke to find that his children had all left home for jobs in different parts of the country, and that he and his wife were alone. His hair was almost white now and often his back and limbs ached as he climbed the ladder or lifted a heavy beam into place. Liese too was getting old and she was often ill. He couldn't bear to see her suffer, so that more and more he resorted to pulling at the magic thread. But as soon as one trouble was solved, another seemed to grow in its place. Perhaps life would be easier if he retired, Peter thought. Then he would no longer have to clamber about on drafty, half-completed buildings and he could look after Liese when she was ill. The trouble was that he didn't have enough money to live on. He picked up his magic ball and looked at it. To his dismay he saw that the thread was no longer silver but gray and lusterless. He decided to go for a walk in the forest to think things over. It was a long time since he had been in that part of the forest. The small saplings had all grown into tall fir trees, and it was hard to find the path he had once known. Eventually he came to a bench in a clearing. He sat down to rest and fell into a light doze. He was woken by someone calling his name, "Peter! Peter!"

He looked up and saw the old woman he had met so many years ago when she had given him the magic silver ball with its golden thread. She looked just as she had on that day, not a day older. She smiled at him."So, Peter, have you had a good life?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Peter said. "Your magic ball is a wonderful thing. I have never had to suffer or wait for anything in my life. And yet it has all passed so quickly. I feel that I have had no time to take in what has happened to me, neither the good things nor the bad. Now there is so little time left. I dare not pull the thread again for it will only bring me to my death. I do not think your gift has brought me luck."

"How ungrateful you are!" the old woman said. "In what way would you have wished things to be different?"

"Perhaps if you had given me a different ball, one where I could have pushed the thread back in as well as pulling it out. Then I could have relived the things that went badly."

The old woman laughed. "You ask a great deal! Do you think that God allows us to live our lives twice over? But I can grant you one final wish, you foolish, demanding man."

"What is that?" Peter asked.

"Choose," the old woman said. Peter thought hard.

At length he said, "I should like to live my life again as if for the first time, but without your magic ball. Then I will experience the bad things as well as the good without cutting them short, and at least my life will not pass as swiftly and meaninglessly as a daydream."

"So be it," said the old woman. "Give me back my ball."

She stretched out her hand and Peter placed the silver ball in it. Then he sat back and closed his eyes with exhaustion.

When he awoke he was in his own bed. His youthful mother was bending over him, shaking him gently.

"Wake up, Peter. You will be late for school. You were sleeping like the dead!"

He looked up at her in surprise and relief.

"I've had a terrible dream, Mother. I dreamed that I was old and sick and that my life had passed like the blinking of an eye with nothing to show for it. Not even any memories."

His mother laughed and shook her head.

"That will never happen," she said. "Memories are the one thing we all have, even when we are old. Now hurry and get dressed. Liese is waiting for you and you will be late for school.

As Peter walked to school with Liese, he noticed what a bright summer morning it was, the kind of morning when it felt good to be alive. Soon he would see his friends and classmates, and even the prospect of lessons didn't seem so bad. In fact he could hardly wait.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a cat who was the familiar of a wizard, a small nondescript cat with black fur and green eyes, no more special then any other cat of his variety. But one night the cat had grabbed a hold of a gem on the wizard's desk, thinking it was a toy, and the gem was a powerful magic item, and suddenly the cat became one of the most powerful mammals in the universe.

The momment the cat became infused with such power, a spirit came to visit him, a phantom covered in shining armor, with a great sword in her hands. And the phantom spoke to him, "Small one, I am a warroir of Valhalla, and a servent of the Allfather Odin. The gem that you have stolen contains power beyond that of your knowledge, and your master protected it and used it not, for the sake of all this earth. I urge you to put it back for the good of all life."

But the cat, suddenly imbued with the power of speech, replied, "No. I care not of good nor evil, nor for any destruction. I care only that enough are left to live so that I may be pet and fed." For he was but a cat, and had no desire to do good.

Then a second spirit had come to him after the first one left, a massive demon with the wings of a bat, and firey red eyes, and a mouth filled with iron teeth. And the demon asked him, "Greeting my great lord cat. I have found you in possession of a great object of power. Come and give it to me, for I am a servent of the demon king Typhon. If you give me the gem I will reward you with more money then the greatest of billionaires, and land across the multiverse to call your own. You shall be the richest creature not only in this world but in athousand others."

And so the cat replied, "No. I care not for wealth, nor for riches nor property. I cannot eat money, nor can I grow warm from it, nor from the shiny things like gems and jewels. And I'd rather not own a world so hostile to me, when in this apartment I am comfortable." For he was but a cat, and had no desire to gain wealth.

Then a third spirit came to the cat, a massive creature half beast and hald tree, with a wolf skull for a head and branches for antlers. And the third spirit spoke, "I bow to thee great creature, for I am a servent of the faerie prince Oberon, and I have found myself and equal. Come with me and we shall train, and I shall show you true power, and soon you shall be the match of great old ones as you learn to control thine gem, and be an overlord of entire planes if thou chooses so, and many will bow to your will desd cat, and you will bow to none."

And the cat replied, "No. I care not for power, to fight such great creatures sounds an effort, when moths and house centipedes are more enjoyable prey. And I don't know what I would do with all so many servents, it all sounds like too much work." For he was but a cat and cared not for power (the faerie was also trying to trick him, but he didn't know or care about that.)

Then finally the wizard who had been the cat's owner walked back into the apartment. Seeing the cat had gained her most powerful item, she called him in for food, and the cat dropped the gem from his claws, so he could go and eat, and the wizard returned the gem to its rightful place. For he was but a cat, and cared much for food and his human’s affection.

[astro-nomaly]

This instantly reminded me of Andy Weir’s short story The Egg. There’s a rlly good video on YouTube by science channel Kurzgesagt that animates the narrative. It’s about a man who dies, only to meet a godlike figure who explains that he has been, or will be, every single human being that does, has, or ever will exist. He is himself, his wife, his kids. He is (and this is an actual example from the video) Hitler, and all the Jews he killed. He’s a Chinese girl in the 16th century, and a CEO in 3056. Once he has lived every single life, he’ll ‘hatch’, and essentially be born as a child of the same species the godlike being is - this figure being his parent. It’s very very good and everyone should watch it immediately I’ll link it here

Imagining a world where reincarnation is real and everybody suddenly remembers their past lives BUT it turns out all of humanity is just a single soul reincarnating over and over again irrespective of time and space so nobody can talk shit

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Cream Puffs

(TW: Suicide)

Choux Pastry: Yields 12 small choux

75g egg yolk

30g butter

35g sugar

40g flour

35cc milk

40cc water

A pinch of salt

Blood, sweat, tears

Start up a fire. Let it lick your fingers. Dream about burning on a stake.

Mix water, milk and butter and salt at medium heat.

When the butter has melted, watch it bubble and think about how life has passed you by.

Turn off heat. Sift flour in and stir until a dough has formed.

You have done this recipe until you know it in your fingers, in your joints, in your bones, like the inexorability of life.

Start up the heat again. Cook until a film forms on the base of the pot.

Freeze up, just as it's time to take it off the fire. The ache in your chest is just too strong.

Put dough into a metal bowl. Add eggs in 4-5 parts and mix well.

Do not cry. There is salt enough in the dough.

Pipe the dough onto a tray lined with baking paper.

Did you forget to preheat the oven again? Failure. That's all you'll ever be. Worthless.

Put the tray in the oven at 200°C for 12 min, then 190°C for 10 min

Move on. Keep moving. Don't think, don't linger, don't let it get its claws in you.

Custard Cream: Yields filling for 12 small choux

3 eggs

250ml milk

25g flour

30g sugar

75ml whipped cream

Heart, soul, body

Cook milk on low heat until simmered.

There is a numb aching in your chest. It cannot be filled with dough or custard or fire. Only a knife.

Mix eggs and sugar until pale and fluffy. Sift in flour.

Where did all the time go? Where did it all go wrong? Where is the child you used to be? 

Add in milk in 2-3 portions. Mix well.

You used to be full of life. You used to laugh. Everyone liked you better back then.

Straining through a colander, pour uncooked custard back into the pot.

You haven't baked in so long. It probably doesn't taste nice. You should just throw it all away and kill yourself.

On low heat, stir custard until thick and glossy. Take care not to burn it.

Nobody will come to your funeral. What use are you, if you are not smart and pretty and good at everything you set your hand to? 

Pour the custard onto a plate covered in cling film. Wrap custard in cling film and place ice packs around it to cool it.

Nobody will love you, not when you are sad and weak and desperate.

Whip up the cream.

Work yourself until your body breaks, until you burn the hollowness away and replace it with brilliance. Work until the voices shut up.

Add whipped cream to custard in 5-7 parts. Mix well before adding each part.

But the voices won't ever shut up, will they?

Assemble and Serve: Yields 12 small choux

12 choux shells

Custard cream

Strength to carry on

Take the choux out of the oven. Accidentally burn your arm as you do so.

Don't you wish you were burning alive? That horrible, pervasive feeling incinerated?

With a chopstick, poke holes at the base of shells.

Don't you wish that were you? A stick jutting from your ribs, ready to be filled with sweet goodness and eaten alive?

Put custard cream in piping bag. Pipe cream puffs and plate them.

Don't you wish—

Push the thoughts away again. They got the better of you for a moment. It will not happen again.

Bring plate of cream puffs out to the party, where your friends and family wait eagerly.

Do not break down.

Do not cry.

Do not show weakness.

Take a single cream puff for yourself and hold it close to your chest.

Eat it and smile. It tastes nice.

Clean Up: Yields nothing

Dirty dishes

Calloused hands, burned by the oven

Willingness to do what must be done

Wipe down the kitchen counter.

Was it worth it? All the effort for that little thing? Everything was gone so quickly.

Dust sieve of flour. 

Was it worth it? To see them appreciate what you made? To see them appreciate you?

Wash dishes.

Was it worth it? To try and fail to fill that void in your chest? It will only take more, you know.

Scrub the pots.

You can cry now, if you'd like. Nobody will see. Nobody will know. Nobody will care.

Hang everything up to dry.

The evidence is all gone, like you'd never made something beautiful at all.

[businessferrets]

I once dreamed that i woke up to a notification where toby fox posted on something and said that sans is canonically scared of worms and when I woke up I was 100% sure that this had Happened so at one point I told a friend that and they asked for proof and I couldn't find the post and that made me realize that it was a dream and I have not recovered from the embarrassment of that moment.

[writersbloxx]

Random Writing Prompts

Some prompts + kick starters to get the creative juices flowing:

Write a story or poem about the last dream you had.

Write a story where your character finds themselves in a familiar place that they haven't been to in a long time. However, they have no memory of how they got there.

Your character wakes up 3 years in the past. How do they respond? What’s the first thing they do?

Write something based on the last song you listened to.

Pick an object that you can see right now and write something from its perspective.

[silencedminstrel]

THE MONOLOGUE OF MICKEY (MIND OF THE CREATOR) - THE DEATH OF THE FALSE DEITY AND ITS SIGNIFICANCE TO THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS

...It is done at last; the pale shadow, the one delusional, had overstayed his welcome in the Almighty's Gracious Kingdom! Forsooth His unconditional love for that pale imitation made Him stayed His Hands all these eons, hoping that he would stop thinking that he's His equal but...he didn't! Now he had learned the hard way that there's no other God other

Than Him, and that lesson had since led to his veritable demise! But forsooth! I fear the destruction of one despot would only lead to the rise of even more despots, as I observe my sole protege and his meeting at the violet shore...with the one that should not be! At least the blessed twins are but free now to confront their wretched, psychotic "Parent"

As "The One In Error" (Watcher Semyaza) arrived to a mutual understanding with his Xnrene "Usurper" (The Regent Of Samawi) in the direction of their--formerly--Unholy Host! (The Watchers) Thus we The Creator Aspects shall watch this new development with great interest! The Final Prophecy is about to resume its course as the return of

The Samawi Regent only meant that the Two Emperors will be enthroned anon as The Golden Horde is nearly assembled, and The Messenger Of Shairo (starship) is also due to make its maiden voyage--albeit for a very different reason! And such be but glimpses of His Almighty's Divine Plan...as witnessed by yours truly! This is Mickey signing off...!

(by Casey Horner)

[dulcetgames]

NEW CHAPTER RELEASE ✨

Chapter 18 is out now!!

Dulcet Games: Sweet Elite

Valentine's day may be over, but things at Arlington are just heating up. And I’m not talking about your almost-relationship, or your baking skills…

[demaprevails]

A 3R 1S A RE Y0 U TH 3R3?