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#fiction

but on a wednesday in a cafe (I watched it begin again) 

by iknowplaces

summary:

Her pleasant appreciation of the coffee shop grows when sure enough, a girl makes her way onto the stage, carrying an acoustic guitar, settling onto the stool placed on the stage. A small smile slides onto her face as she adjusts her glasses and looks out onto the audience, “Hi, I’m Quinn, and if you don’t mind, I’m gonna play you a few songs,” she says, shifting her hands into a playing position on her guitar, “this is Someone New by Hozier.”

or

Rachel Berry happens upon a coffee shop and enjoys a performance from none other than Quinn Fabray

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(A 5k commission done for https://pandaioh.tumblr.com/
Thank you so much for your support!)

“Can’t believe this. Can’t even bloody believe this. Thought I was dating the smartest girl in the world, and here I come t’find out she doesn’t even know what ‘vacation’ means.” Junkrat wrinkled his nose, already smeared in sunscreen and dented by his oversized sunglasses. “Well here’s what it means, love. It means fucking off! We’ve fucked off from Overwatch and finally got time all to us here in Oz. It means we got weeks of leave for our very own pleasure, and we’re supposed to spend it drinking, rooting, or at the beach. It’s supposed to be those four things!”

“That’s three things,” Mei’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

“And here I am, ready for bonding at Bondi and this is how you do me! I’ve already got all our things- towels, blankets, umbrella, esky. Even got my trunks and hat and thong on—”

“Your what on?”

“My shoe, Mei! You know, pluggers, flip-flop shoes. I mean, with the peg I only have the one. Did you think I meant the other kind of thong? Because ‘strewth, I’ll go put one of those on too, if it’ll get you to come to the beach with me!”

“Please do not!” She made no move to come out from the screen and seemed unmoved by his fits. “Besides, I told you I wanted to do other things than just lounge at the beach all day. I got the idea when we were out walking the other night and I think this might be really good for me. And I think you’ll change your tune when I tell you the rest of my plans.”

“What’s to tell? You snuck out and got a bloody job while we’re on vacation at the shore! Got this nice vacay cabin all to ourselves, just steps away from the surf and sand, and you’re not gonna appreciate it. My very fave girl is on holiday with me, and she wants to spend it working?! And they say I’m the mad one?”

Keep reading

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Awww too cute 😍😍

Ilima’s wedding kiss 💋

“We are all here before God…” You weren’t listening to the priest, too much stressed by all the ceremony. With Ilima, you had prepared everything together, from the wedding rings to the dragée’s color. You soon-to-be husband was outstanding. Before him, you were as speechless as breathless. “Deep breath, love” Ilima murmured sweetly to you, squeezing both of your hands to catch your attention. “This is a happy day, no need to stress” he said to your ear, not really paying attention to the priest either, only gazing at you, his beautiful, marvelous, gorgeous bride.

“Ilima, do you swear to love and protect this young lady here, in illness and health, in wealth and poverty ?” The most beautiful smile took place on his face, lightening every part of his soul. “I do…” he claimed to each and everyone in the crowd. The trial captain wanted to scream his love for you.

“My love, I swear to love you forever, to protect you, help you, support you until death should part us. You are my one and only, and mean the world to me.” You were both waiting for the priest to give you the final sign and, before the applause of all your loved ones, you gave each other the first kiss of this brand new life. The most passionate, loving and sweet kiss you ever gave to each other. “I love you, Ilima. I’m the luckiest woman alive…”

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Originally posted by sunglasses-kitaro

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Fast & Short is a flash fiction collaboration between eight Literate Ape writers. Each was tasked with authoring one piece of flash fiction that would be combined to create a single short story. The writers’ flash fiction needed to serve two purposes: 1. Stand alone as a unique piece of flash fiction and 2. Serve as a vehicle for building a larger story and driving that story forward. Over the next two weeks, Literate Ape will publish all eight flash fiction stories individually with a link to the growing compilation. We hope you enjoy this literary experiment.

—DH2 , co-editors


By Brett Dworski

“THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS—SPYING ON ME AGAIN,” I said.

“Who’s spying on you?” Sarah asked.

Ignoring her, I hustled to the freezer and grabbed the Swedish meatballs. Not thirty seconds later I was chucking the beef spheres at the drones out the window like a man possessed.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Sarah asked. “That’s our dinner for the next week!”

I didn’t care. I was in the zone. I always wondered when my two years of junior-varsity baseball would pay off, and that time was now. I was blazing guns… meatball after meatball, chuck after chuck. I imagined I was Sandy Koufax in the ’65 World Series—obviously not the game he bailed because of Hanukkah… or was it Passover?—striking out batter after batter.

Oh yeah, baby. You eat those meatballs, you fucking drones! Eat them! Eat them good!, I thought.

The drones fell to the ground and exploded on impact. I jumped around the apartment and raised my arms like Rocky Balboa atop the Philly Art Museum.

This was the most alive I’d felt in years. More than when I met Sarah. More than when we adopted Maggie. More than when I received the negative herpes test in college. 

“Hey!”

I heard Sarah’s voice and was instantly back in the kitchen. The frozen milk was thawing. Maggie was barking at the drones outside the window.

“Huh?” I said.

I opened the freezer. The Swedish meatballs were there.

“You all right?” Sarah asked. “Thought I lost you for a sec. Who’s spying on who?”

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Christina Morton: Character Bio

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Name: Christina Morton

Age: 22

Height: 5′5

Species: Human

Personality: Friendly, caring, creative

Orientation: Lesbian

Occupation: Artist

History

Christina Morton was born in the Commonwealth Wasteland. Her parents worked as painters. When she was growing up, she found an old camera a junkyard. This lead to her developing an interest in photography. She would begin taking photos of things that she has encountered in her travels in the wastes. She would in her free time, make drawings of what she has taken pictures of. Eventually, she would make paintings of them and sell them. These paintings were often sold to people who were looking to decorate their homes. She would also sell pictures of animals to scientists and anyone interested in them. At times, she would even work as an illustrator.

Eventually, she would save up the money she earned and work full time as an artist. She would work as a photographer and an illustrator. She usually does not earn much money, so she would often wander around, looking for jobs. Sometimes she might do jobs that did not relate to photography or art.

Personality

Christina is friendly and outgoing. She has interests in nature, drawing, and photography. Sometimes, she may read books. The books she would read are those about art and its history. She also enjoys going on nature walks and takes a lot of pictures of them.

Skills and Abilities

  • Photography: She knows how to take high quality pictures.
  • Drawing: She has a lot of experience drawing and can draw a variety of things.

Appearance

Christina is 5′5 in height, has reddish brown hair, and green eyes.

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Standing in the doorway of the master bath, she offers herself to him untying the knot in the satin belt of her red robe and letting the soft material caress her skin as it flutters into a pile on the floor at her feet. She waits, leaving him to make the next move.

From the foot of the bed, he takes a step closer running his eyes up and down her body slowly, perusing every inch of her. Then, returning to her face to search. He is not sure what he wants, but knowing there is no way he can have her just once.

She wills herself not to move under the hard scrutiny of his gaze as he stops to stare at her plump breasts, the soft triangle between her legs, making each tingle with anticipation at the hunger that grows in his grin and near black pupils.

He takes another step, reaching out to run a hand up her arm. He feels her shiver, so he continues the slow torturing up and down sweeps of the tip of his fingers.

She closes the distance separating them, enjoying the feel of his rough cotton shirt against her flesh but wanting more. She reaches for the top button of his shirt—the one she thinks brings out the color of his eyes—watching them as his whole body freezes. Reaching the last button empowers her to slide her hands in between the two sides. Slowly, her fingertips travel up his torso to his chest, where she plays in the soft-matted hair, to his shoulders. She pushes the shirt down his arms raking her nails along the soft flesh of his biceps and forearms.

He moans low in his throat. This is pure torture, but he is loving every minute. Her chest presses erotically against his and every time she breaths her taught nipples rake up and down his chest. He is in heaven. He can stand here like this all night and he has not tasted any part of her yet. With his arms now free, he leisurely moves his fingers in circles on her spine sending shivers all over her body and starting a fire deep inside her.

She has waited so long for this moment, feeling it build inside her every time she feasted her eyes upon him. She can wait no longer and she flicks her tongue out licking the skin on his collarbone. The tiny growl that escapes him vibrates the tip of her tongue but runs through her to her toes.

He cups her face in his hands and lowers his forehead to hers. A breath away from her lips, he stops, gazing deep into her eyes, just breathing in her scent.

She flicks her tongue out again. This time sliding it along his bottom lip.

That is when he captures her mouth. Slowly at first, brushing his thumb across her cheek, nibbling her bottom lip. Then, because he can feel the need building, he deepens the kiss, devouring her mouth: his desire to taste every inch of her to discover every crevice in her mouth.

She gives herself to his kiss. But at the same time, she demands from him, sliding her tongue passed his, savoring him. She reaches for the fly of his jeans and the strained zipper she plans to release.

He stills her hand, guiding her to the four-post Victorian bed that they tumble onto. He props her up on the mounds of throw pillows covering the head of the bed and rests beside her. Trailing his index finger up and down the valley between her breasts, he watches them rise and fall frantically with each breath she takes.

She knew their being together would cause fireworks. Now, she is experiencing them first hand. A trail of fire lights on her chest, following the path his finger are laying out. Her body trembles as his hand travels lower, circling her belly button, and then lower still. She gasps as he reaches her coarse locks and cups her femininity in his hand.

He watches her whole body cover in beads of sweat and goose bumps as his fingers push into her. She’s very wet, proof that he is not alone in this. He plunges two fingers into her, finding her sweet spot. She moans and grabs the white down comforter. He moves his fingers slowly, at first, until her hips start meeting his palm thrust for thrust. He quickens the pace watching her head thrash from side to side as she climbs higher.

She knows he is watching her every move, but she can’t care. The pleasure rising inside of her, causing her insides to contract and release, is all she can focus on. Her hands tighten on the bed covers as every muscle in her body seems to constrict and she screams out in pleasure. Her body relaxes back onto the bed, sated and content.

He watches her eyes glaze over as the pleasure spreads throughout her body. When he is sure she has relaxed completely, he starts to move his fingers again.

She reaches for him this time, pulling him on top of her, dislodging his fingers. She reaches for his zipper again and this time he can’t stop her. He is naked within seconds save the condom she slowly slips on him.

They are poised on the bed.

She pins him. She is on her knees above him, daring him to move as her fingers slid down his chest and abdomen to his rock hard cock. She holds him steady with one hand, making sure they are aligned perfectly, before she sinks slowly down him.

He moans as he watches himself enter her completely, leaving no space between them.

She starts to rise slowly, letting him slide out of her to the tip. Then she plunges back down on him, tossing her head back and moaning at the sensation.

He props himself up on his elbows to grant himself better access. He feels the angle change as she leans into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He nibbles down her neck to her collarbone and then her hardened nipples. He sucks one of them into his mouth and nips lightly.

She moans pressing into him with her whole body. Her fingers twine into his hair tugging lightly at his scalp pulling his mouth away, but pushing him into her, all at the same time.

He rolls them over so he is on top. His mouth finds her other breast and he lavishes it with the same treatment.

She pulls his head to hers. Their mouths meet, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock. She speaks for the first time since she entered the room. A plea which is lost in his mouth, but he understands. He starts moving faster, their mouths still joined in a soul-searing kiss. She wraps her legs around him, allowing him better access as well as applying more pressure. She breaks the kiss as her head starts to thrash. Her nails bit into his shoulders and a scream escapes her.

He feels her pulsing around him and it pushes him over the edge. His scream mingles with hers and their voices fill the room. He collapses on top of her, both of them sated. Finally, sated, but not satisfied. He doesn’t think he will ever be satisfied, that he will ever get his fill of her. He slides off her and goes to the bathroom to clean himself.

She doesn’t want to move. Her muscles protest as she pushes the majority of the pillows off the bed and climbs under the covers. She feels his weight and the cold as he lifts the covers and climbs under with her.

He pulls her close, cuddling her, claiming her as they both drift off to sleep.

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Training pups isn’t easy. On a good day, what we do is dangerous. Every other, it’s suicidal. Taking in a new shiver is never a happy experience. While it might seem awful to convince a group of children that throwing away their lives for banditry and violence is the way to go, there really isn’t much of an alternative. Any life on this planet is already thrown away, at least now they get to do it on their own terms.

This planet only exports two things. Spice, and hopelessness. We take advantage of both. 

With only a few minutes before the drop, I stared at the unshaven, weary, dark-eyed man in front of me. I would have felt sorry for him, had I not known I was staring at a reflection. I rubbed my eyes and left the washroom, and was immediately assailed by a small group of pups. Caught in their way, they almost knocked me over as they excitedly ran past. Usually, I’d have angrily demanded order, but with only a few minutes left to prep, I figured I’d save the lecture for after we returned. 

As the bright red countdown decreased, eventually everyone found their way into the egress bay. Packed in on the long bench were twenty-something bright, childish pairs of eyes. They were excited, and that was a good thing. Adrenaline is what keeps you alive out there. After a minor briefing, they knew all they needed to know. In truth, the hit was meant to be simple. Small size trading skiff, relatively unguarded, on a quiet stretch of sand. As ideal as conditions can be. 

One by one, they stood and claimed their boards and equipment from their lockers, performed final maintenance checks, and then lined up along the launch rails. 

We have three rules. One, your board. Your board is your lifeline, it’s your way in, and your way out. Without it, you’re as good as dead.

Once all of the pups were in position, I strode to the center and set up my own board. As my feet locked into the cuffs, the red countdown appeared along the top of the bay door. 

Two, your buddies. The desert is lethal, no one survives alone. Your cohorts are your lifeline. Without them, you’re as good as dead.

With one minute remaining on the clock, the room creaked, and the bay door slid open. I signaled to the pups, and slid my goggles over my eyes, and my mask over my face. I watched as they did the same. 

Three, the sand. Don’t ever touch the sand. If you do, you’re as good as dead.

I signaled to the pups again, and rose my back foot, slamming it down, priming the ignition against the rail, and watched them do the same. 

In truth though, these rules have little value. The entirety of what we call a “training course” has little value. We can teach you to ride a board, we can teach you to fight, we can even teach you to steal. But, nothing we can ever teach you compares to your first ignition.

The countdown hit zero, and I felt the fresh heat of twenty-some-odd flames at my back, propelling us from the mothership. As we breached the open air, I pulled ahead of the pack to guide them, and began the descent. It wasn’t long until the skiff was in view, a small brown blemish, hovering silently over the bone-white sand. I looked back to confirm that all was in order, then began the final approach. 

I drew my gun, and descended upon the pilots cabin. The pups all spread throughout the ship, as ordered, armed and ready to deal with any personnel. I hovered alongside the port window, and looked inside to find an untouched helm. I slid around onto the deck, and unlatched myself from the board. A breach into the quarters showed no signs of a human occupant. After a brief search, I returned to the deck. One by one, the pups returned, all with the same news. The ship was empty, devoid of life.

It was at that very moment that I should have called off the hit. Automated skiffs weren’t unheard of maybe ten, twenty years ago. But now? It’s like they were asking to be robbed. Regardless, I set the pups to work gathering the spice from the cargo hold. There couldn’t have been more than a kilogram, but even a gram was enough to feed a mouth for a day. Once all the spice bags were collected and distributed, we found ourselves with one, large, untouched wooden crate. No one would ship anything valuable on a spice skiff, too high risk. So, what was it doing here? My curiosity piqued, I levered open the top, and peered inside. It took a moment for what I was looking at to truly register, or at least, I think it did. In truth, the time of the ordeal is sort of a blur. I yelled to the children to abandon ship, and they did, to the best of their ability. I managed to get back to my board, and lift off the deck. I couldn’t have been more than fifty meters from the ship when it erupted into a blaze. The hull shattered from the force of the explosion, and as heat ran over my back, I turned behind me. 

I counted eleven boards in the air. 

They were asking to be robbed, and I obliged happily. 

Behind the eleven boards, the corpse of the skiff drifted to the sand, and contacted with a thunderous clap. A single person touching the sand is enough to guarantee their death. Something of this magnitude was near-hopeless. I began ascending, and registered a call to the mothership, telling them of the situation, and that we’d need an emergency pickup. Just as I finished, I felt the low rumble emanate from the sand. The source moved quickly, snaking its way towards the disturbance. Only a moment later, it exploded from the sand, and propelled itself upward with incredible speed for its size. It cleared the apex of it’s jump, and descended through the middle of the pack. When I looked back again, I counted ten. Just then, another wyrm attempted the same maneuver. I watched as it’s titanic body swatted two more, throwing them down to the sand. 

I don’t know how long this continued, but when they seemed to have given up their pursuit, I counted only four boards behind me. The mothership appeared soon after, and we boarded in silence. The survivors stowed their gear, and returned to the bench. Four pairs of eyes, downcast, dark. The total take was a little under two-fifty. Before, it would have been enough to feed all the pups for a week or two. But now, those who remained would eat well for a month. 

On a good day, the life of a Sandshark is dangerous. Every other, it’s suicidal.

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Bree Baker’s A Call for Kelp is a fun and charming cosy with great characters. I like the book but I was a bit disappointed. The mystery storyline was too thin and I wish the plot was less crowded. This is the fourth book in the series but it works as a standalone.

Our protagonist is Everly Swan, owner of a beachside iced tea shop on the picturesque island of Charm. The townspeople are buzzing with excitement because famous Hollywood actress Mitzi Calgon has arrived! She’s working on a beekeeping documentary with Everly’s great-aunts. Everly is looking forward to getting to know Mitzi because she was an old friend of Everly’s late grandmother. However, Mitzi is soon murdered! Everly begins sleuthing to get justice for her grandmother’s dear friend. She juggles dire threats to her life, a lengthy suspect list as well as the mystery of her relationship with Detective Hays who has been distant since their Christmas kiss.

The well-paced plot is interesting and has good suspense and viable suspects. However, the murder mystery sometimes played second fiddle to the subplots. I wish the mystery was better written. There are several interesting suspects and I wish more time was spent developing their characters. The big reveal could have been built up more organically. The killer’s intentions are a bit weak and didn’t make much sense. The ending is also abrupt and could have been stronger.

However, I love Baker’s mature writing. It is so descriptive and lovely that I feel like moving into Charm and never leaving! I also love the well-developed and likeable characters as well as their genuine interactions with each other.

Everly is a great and relatable protagonist. I love reading about all the food and teas she serves in her shop! I like the addition of nosy reporter Ryan and mysterious assistant Denise to the crime-solving team. I wish Everly worked more with these two because their interactions are fun and well-written.

However, there are too many subplots involving the side characters. The storyline with Grady’s in-laws as well as Denise’s budding romance with Everly’s ex-boyfriend could have been trimmed in favour of developing the mystery.

A Call for Kelp is a good and quick cosy read. I love the characters and setting but the mystery plot could have been stronger. However, I love Baker’s writing and this lovely world she has created so I will definitely return to this series!

Thank you to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for this book in exchange for an honest review.



🍯 🍯 🍯 honey pots out of 5!

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from ‘Rosie’

“‘You see,’ he said, ‘we’ve finally met our match. I figure we don’t have a chance; we might as well go for it. We’re supposed to be together. As I see it… we are difficult, weird people and we make each other laugh. We’re very kind to each other, mostly, and we drive each other wild in bed. I wait all day to see you again. You make me so happy, all warm and filled up inside. It’s like other people feel about having Jesus on their side. Is this too mushy?’”

[Anne Lamott]

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New story on apocalypse-kitten:  

https://apocalypse-kitten.tumblr.com/post/619602968350752768/the-dragons-destiny 

Science-Fiction.
Summary: The world is divided into the mortal and the Immortal.  The minds of the Immortals “ride on light” and sometimes hunt humans of the former kind in the bodies of robot-animals.  In this tale, a young man saddles up his dragon to attack a village and learns a valuable lesson about the power of the weak.

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