#story short

[thewritingofspencerrose]

2 AM Cupcakes

"what are you doing?" his voice asked, making me jump at the sudden intrusion of my silence, the only sound having been the music playing from my phone and the sounds of me rummaging around the kitchen.

"connie, jesus you scared me," i admit, looking up to meet his eyes, finding him leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a lopsided smirk on his face.

"obviously. don't try to dodge my question luce."

"i'm baking, i was thinking cupcakes," i tell, looking back down at the recipe that's laid out in front of me, susannah's neat letters explaining exactly what to do.

i can hear his body shift, his shadow moving to hover over the binder of recipes susannah has collected over the years.

"why are you baking cupcakes at two in the morning?" he asks next, placing his large hand over the words to interrupt my work.

huffing, i look up again, noticing his proximity now, only a few inches from my face, taking the breath from my lungs.

"i- i couldn't sleep. why are you up?"

"i guess i couldn't sleep either," he admits, something sad floating in his eyes before it disappears again.

i smile lightly, leaning the slightest bit forward and kissing his cheek. "I guess that means you can help me with my cupcakes," i respond, backing up and holding out my hands, waiting for him to take his in mine.

he rolls his eyes, shying back for a second before i just take his hands, pulling him around the counter. "that wasn't a request con."

"i'm really not a baker," he tries to argue, although he doesn't try to move away again, only stands to my side as i look back to the recipe.

"then stand there, look pretty, and keep me company."

"you think i'm pretty?" he questions, voice low and a smirk prevalent as i look up, smirking myself.

"i thought i made that clear last summer, c," i respond, spinning away to grab the ingredients, chuckling slightly as i reach around the kitchen i know so well, years spent baking and cooking with susannah.

"right, last summer," he mumbles, still in his spot when i turn back around, arms full. "we haven't had a chance to talk about that yet."

"we haven't had a chance with that girl in the red sox cap hanging on top of you," i respond, voice less joyful than before.

"what?"

"what was her name? nancy? nicole?"

"are you- is lucille mae conklin jealous?" he questions, although i ignore him, taking a bowl and utensils from the cabinet. "luce," he whispers, moving closer to me now.

"con, i came down here to bake," i remind, not wanting to have this conversation ruin my night. "i really don't want to hear about the girl you're into."

"really? cause i really think you'd like her," he jests, only disrupting my mood more.

"conrad, seriously," i request, beginning to measure, trying to focus on the words of lover by taylor swift that float through my phone.

and this is our place, we make the rules

and there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

have i known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

"no, seriously. her favorite things in the world are the feeling of showering after a day of swimming in the ocean, baking, and reading books that only moms would actually like to read," he rambles, my hands slowing in their movements as i crack the eggs into the bowl. "and those books could be the most boring thing in the world, but if you can get her talking about them, then she makes them sound like the most interesting, you could listen for hours."

can i go where you go?

can we always be this close, forever and ever?

and ah, take me out, and take me home

my hearts pounding now, wanting to believe what i'm hearing but not trusting it. "if i didn't know any better conrad, i'd think you were talking about me."

he takes my hands away from where they were holding me up against the counter, turning me to face him. "did it really take you this long to realize that i've liked you since we were ten?"

every inch of me is buzzing. i have to be dreaming.

"you- what?" i question.

he just chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear and taking my breath away for a second time that night. "i like you, luce."

"i- i like you too, con," i admit, a genuine smile gracing his face for one of the first times this summer.

you're my, my, my, my

lover

"i am so glad to hear those words leave your mouth," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine, lips almost pressing my own.

Until the oven bell dings, signaling it's being ready for the desserts.

"oh! the cupcakes!" i exclaim, pushing con back and moving to the bowl, mixing it quickly before scooping them into wrappers in a muffin tin.

"did i just get sidelined for a dessert?" conrad questions, coming up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist, dipping his finger in the batter.

"hey!" i scold, swatting his hand.

"oh, i'm sorry, you wanted some too?" he questions sarcastically, dipping his finger in again and poking my nose with it.

"oh you little-" i begin to grumble, turning in his arms to get him back before the clearing of a throat cuts me off.

"anyone care to explain what the hell is going on down here before steven comes storming down the stairs and punches you straight in the face?" jeremiah's voice asks, him standing on the stairs, arms crossed and eyes directed at his brother.

"um-"

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #original character #lucille conklin #conrad x oc #conrad x lucille #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #blurb #story short

[hexgunhomebase]

Chapel was, and will always be, a bitch. At least, that’s what Nico decided a mere three days after he and Livio were taken from the orphanage. They had already gone through numerous tests, unwanted medical procedures, and odd experiments that made Nico’s skin crawl with the overwhelming feeling of wrongness. But, so that Livio wouldn’t be punished, he followed the guards to the plant room. “It’s good of you to finally join us Nicholas.” Chapel stood in front of the giant bulb, its eerie blue glow the only source of light in the enormous room. Livio was there as well, gaze fixed above Chapel, on the plant inside the bulb.

“What’d ya want?” The man chuckled at the childishly rude question.

“Why Nicholas, I simply wanted to introduce you two to our gracious benefactor.” He gestured upwards, and Nico’s eyes followed the motion. Finally seeing what had his brother so transfixed. That…

That looked more human than he was expecting.

“A beauty isn’t it?” Chapel wasn’t wrong for once. The figure that floated in the tank could only be described as such. More wings than the boy could count stretched out from pale skin, light hair framing a gentle looking face, Nicholas was enraptured, screw whatever they had taught him at church, this was what an angel really looked like. But… he could tell the angel was suffering inside their tank. From the numerous tubes and wires poking out of bruised skin and crumpled feathers, to the pained grimace on their face, Nico and Livio both understood at once, that this angel was Chapel’s victim just like them.

“This, boys, is called an independent.” The two children tore their gazes away to stare at their tormentor in shock. “It’s stronger than a plant, and it’s the only reason this pathetic little town with your precious orphanage can continue to thrive.” A wicked grin spread across the man’s face. Nico felt the guards grab his shoulders and start pulling him from the room.

“You should be very grateful to it.”

Nicholas D. Wolfwood was only 10 when he first met Vash Saverem.

#hexgun #hexgun a trigun au #trigun #trigun au #story short

[cranberrie07]

“Keepsakes” Soulmates story idea pt.1

Ok story idea, we have a person who has been reincarnated after performing a noble act that lead to thier death in thier past life, to be given another chance, but during the process of being reincarnatied thier sole “broke” apart and thier other half was given to another being to be kept safe.

Aka thier “soulmate”. The realationship between theese two characters can be platonic or romantic or anything really. So when first in countering thier soulmate they would have the classic symptoms of feeling “like you’ve known them for your whole life” or your being pulled words them.

But the catch is they both are completely unaware of this. The reincarnated dosent have any memory of thier past life, and a complete different personality (kinda like avatars from ATLA) and the broken soul piece was just kinda placed next to the soulmates when they were born so they have no idea either.

#story inspo #story inspiration #story short #soulmates #story in english #story ideas #story prompt #story project #story post #writing prompt #love story #friendship story

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

#i can finally share this piece! #this cover was based on a short story called “moon bearer” by celia daniels that features on this issue of the magazine #the character designs are mine #also there's a sale on inprnt again so my prints are cheaper than usual! #illustration #artists on tumblr #illo #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lesbian art #wlw art #sapphic art #queer art #baffling magazine #blue #moon #night sky #queer fantasy

[taeetimee]

Seen

#art #artist #digital art #animation #illustration #oc #artists on tumblr #animator #animators on tumblr #short film #animated short film #animated stories

[strangelittlestories]

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

---

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

#writing #microfiction #short story #flash fiction #wrote this a few years back and finally got round to posting here

[everydaylouie]

the debutante

#blender #3d #inspired by a leonora carrington short story

[reidiot]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

#× reader #fan fiction #tumblr writing community #tumblr writers #fics #fanfic #wattpad #stories #fandom #booklr #reading #fangirling #spencer reid x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #rafe cameron x reader #spencer reid #stiles stilinski #rafe cameron #imagine #short story #one shot #author #ao3 #recommend me stuff #female hysteria #girlblogging #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #girl interrupted #x reader #writers on tumblr

[agirlwiththoughtsandnegativity]

”oh so how did you get into writing?-“ no, writing got into me. Actually it infiltrated my brain, starting with the slow takeover of my room with books to the extremely fast claiming of my notes app and now there’s no way to stop it and no way for me to stop.

#short story #writing #poetry #books #fiction #orginal writing #writer #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing memes #writing humor #writing problems #writer problems #writer stuff #writers life

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

#cw: emotional abuse #cw: gaslighting #cw: animal death #charity - a god whose name was only ever meant to be ironic #i love playing with the concept of religion like this #im not religious at all but i did go to a christian school for twelve years #and i remember learning about the story of abraham. who long story short gets told by god to kill his son to prove his love for god. #and at the veeeery last minute god goes sike! this was a test to see if you'd do it! here's a lamb to slaughter instead #but the whole concept of that exchange in and of itself is so #anyway #one thing i meant to include in the creative notes but i ran out of room for is that charity never calls cunning by his name. #it's just “fox”. which was a small touch to indicate that he never acknowledged cunning's identity outside of being something exploitable. #but for all charity's hidden disdain for cunning #he still stole all his strengths and coveted them. he became known as the fox god. #so maybe some part of cunning survived. despite everything. #“give me your heart.” #“my god. it had always been yours.” #comic art #hearteaters #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics #one more comic to go until im finished with this collection!!

[flowerytale]

Anaïs Nin, from the short story “Elena”, Delta of Venus (published posthumously in 1977)

#anaïs nin #delta of venus #short stories #lit #literature #poetry #love #fragments #typo #*

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

#short story #fantasy writing #narrativia #10k

[and-corn]

#this was the first comic that i made in this style and i think it's still my favorite #comic #comic art #original comic #web comic #webcomic #illustration #illustrated story #relatable #thoughtful #thoughtful comic #thoughtful writing #writing #original story #original poetry #prose poetry #short poem #illustrated prose #original art #illustrative art #storytelling #relatable story #relatable writing #ramblings #random thoughts #comic artist #illustration artist #amateur poet #poetry art #artists of tumblr

[jessepinwheel]

writer survey question time:

inspired by seeing screencaps where the software is offering (terrible) style advice because I haven't used a software that has a grammar checker for my stories in like a decade

if you use multiple applications, pick the one you use most often.

#poll #personally I use scrivener for all my long stories #and deepdwn which is a markdown editor for my short stories #I used to use notepad

[cemeterything]

enough feminist retellings where the princess saves herself from the dragon. we need more feminist retellings where the princess and the dragon are a con artist duo scamming the knights of the realm.

#🐉 #short stories i wish i had time to write: this

[nipuni]

So I watched Good Omens 😊 It is very cute, I really enjoyed the character design!

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #I love their consistent aesthetics through time and their contrasting silhouettes they are very fun to draw #I haven't watched any modern series in years I'm trying to catch up with the times!! it was a very wholesome short story #I'm looking forward to their happily ever after 😊 #my art