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Hooray for Boobies & Other Fat Lady Tales

✏ 38 year old cis female ✏ Fat ✏ Married ✏ Crazy Cat Lady ✏ Opinionated ✏ Swear-ey ✏ All caps silliness ✏ occasional pretendy writer ✏ LJ immigrant ✏ Journaling since 2006 ✏ Ex chatroom /forum role player ✏ Now on Tumblr ✏
elf_fu: (Default)
"In the summer time," he said, putting his hands behind his head. His knuckles grazed the still warm from the sun windshield. "--it's an inviting black. Like the shadows that crawl along a lover's face in the morning. You know the contours, the fact it's in darkness doesn't alarm you.

"Then, all these little pinpoints wink in one by one." His finger traced them as they blinked sleepily down at the both of them and I was unable to look away from him. He was telling me about how he saw the stars and had no idea how I was seeing him at that moment.

"Can you imagine?" He half turned to me, sprawled out on the hood of my car on a blanket. The corners of his eyes wrinkled up in an amused smile. He'd caught me staring.

I blushed. "Uh--imagine what?"

"Could you imagine what would've happened thousands of years ago, just creeping out of the caves at night--if we hadn't looked up? We'd never known about the stars--what they are, what they were, what they can be."

Feeling the tips of my ears burn with embarrassment, I mumbled something I thought appropriate and looked down at my fingers in my lap.

"Look, there goes one now."
"One what?" Confused, I looked up at the sky. He put his thumb below my eyelid.
"Falling star," he said, grinning, looking right in my eyes.

I snorted, gave him a small shove and rolled my eyes despite the fact I thought my face had blossomed fire.

"Dork," I accused him.

But I never forgot what he said, how he said it. I carried that moment and the thing which he had said to me everyday and I thanked whatever deity that could here me for whomever it was, that decided all those thousands of years ago, to look up.
elf_fu: (Default)
The first was the law against football. Government said it was too violent. Eventually, every other sport was banned.

No one was surprised that, when they cancelled the Tic-Tac-Toe world Championship for fears of inciting violence, the riots there in after were the worst ever in history. Chalk, ink, blood and paper covered the entire city.


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Too short to cross post!
Today's Flash Fiction challenge was to write a story in 55 words. 55 words exactly. I think I did?
CONGRATULATIONS fellow FFM writers on surviving the first week!
elf_fu: (hoooooo thunder cats)
Beneath her feet, the cool metal plates of the ship hummed with steady life. Life of the generators, the engines, the oxygen filtration systems which happily churned out the air needed for them to breath in and breath out. Haydee, of course, was very sure that should the oxygen ever falter, she'd be the first to go while he--the captain of this ship (and how he hated it when she called him that and only stared when she arrrrrrr'ed at him) would find some way with his mystic powers to continue on.

She contemplated these things as she did terrible, horrible acts of...

[[Read the rest of the story here, at my writing Journal?]]


_______________________

This is a fan fiction with Star Wars and Anime. Yep. You read that right.
Word count: 710
elf_fu: (Zaraki :D)
Dellurat was a city of hope and despair walking hand in hand. Towering spires that had long since crumbled into the mists of time and weather, blackened by rival wizard's fire, blasted apart by geomagics, or simply abandoned due to the occupants not being able to afford them anymore dotted the landscape. To Sheya, they were like her Grandmum's broken teeth, a jagged reminder of the hardships of life here in an otherwise still-beautiful face. Beside the empty, the broken and the run down towers arose the gleaming, prestigious and often gold-capped whole. They jut proudly into the sky like triumphant fingers. Great banners hand-sewn by the wizards, or by the wizard's servants decorated the multi-colored brick, splashing Dellurat with a cacophany of brilliant colors.

Each morning on her way to school as a much younger child,Read the rest here on my personal journal because I just want to put in one place today? )
elf_fu: (vadar presents)
Mrs. Bopple was my fifth grade teacher. Our class room was a white-washed, stamped-out replica of every other classroom in our school. We had desks, plastic and metal, we had a chalk board that ate up one entire wall behind Mrs. Bobble's entirely-devoid-of-joy, squatting brown desk. The desk reminded me of a story my mother once told me, of a dragon...

[[Read the rest of my Flash Fiction short story over here?]]

The prompt: "My fifth grade teacher was a troll."
Word count: 1366 -- I went over. Oops.

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May 2017

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