technically a writer

it/he | sideblog | "weekly" (i promise i try to do it weekly) flash fiction | have habit of rambling in hashtags sorry in advance v.v

[fennfromthefen]

Intro

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This is my writing sideblog, mostly flash fiction from @/flashfictionfriday's prompts. My writing can get a bit dark at times, if you think I've missed a CW/TW that needs to be added to a piece of work please let me know /srs /nf

I technically don't go by Fenn anymore, but I'm keeping it as my name on this blog because I like the blog name

The reason there's a lot of sad couples in my writing is because of the unfortunate combination of being both a romance-obsessed and romance-repulsed aromantic. (AKA fine with watching/reading romance but writing it feels gross and nfortunately my brain still really likes to write about couples and I don't plan what I write beforehand so um yeah. I'm sorry, I do try not to v.v /srs)

I use British English, adding just in case anyone confused by my word usage or grammar differences /nm

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About me:

I go by Fenn on this sideblog since haven't settled on name yet

I am aegorose and bellusro + genderfluid and transmasc, which sometimes gets channeled into the work to deal with dysphoria or for other reasons

I use primarily it/he or he/it pronouns, preference order changes

I am autistic so may sometimes accidentally come off as rude / too blunt, I am sorry if this is the case

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Other blogs:

Will update at later point

[fennfromthefen]

Poor Thing

TWs / CWs: implied animal cruelty/abuse, implied animal death, swearing

Written for Flash Fiction Friday prompt 333: broken wings, but never posted it because I thought it wasn't that good. Looking back is better than remembered so it's getting posted now to hopefully help motivate me to get back into writing. Did not mean for it be this dark though not sure what happened there

Its pained cries echo across the walls as it tries again, tries again to lift itself from the ground. It can just about manage to stand before crumpling back in on itself after the first flap of its wings, before letting out another anguished cry. The repetitiveness of its actions is wearing slightly thin, the same soft padding of feet, screech, thump. Again and again.

Tap. Tap. Flap. Screech. Thud. Tap. Tap. Flap. Screech. Thud. Tap. Tap. Flap. Screech. Thud. A nice new crack would do in there nicely, break up the monotony. It's scratching at a wing now, like that will solve its problem. Only I can fix that. That's a nice thought. Only I. Poor bugger can't figure that out, though. Won't know until I show it. Until I decide to show it.

The poor thing seems to have given up on flying. This time, after picking itself up off the floor, it's just standing there. Seems to be thinking. Planning, almost. I could stop that planning.

I track it with my eyes around the room, making sure not to lose track of it. Planning... Planning... Planning... It stops to look up at a window. Planning... It takes a step closer to the wall, positioning its neck to get a closer look. Planning... It tries flying again. The familiar screech and thump return to the air, return to my ears. Maybe one more... One more and then I'll finish the pattern.

It stays down for a few seconds, probably wondering if all this effort is worth whatever short-lived freedom it might find outside this building. Planning...

[fennfromthefen]

cw implied death

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Those damn words echoed in Jody's mind again, refusing to leave. They played regularly on days like these. The calm, peaceful days that should be happy. Would be happy if she could forget him. Memories were folded neatly into every corner of the house, just taunting her with what she'd never get back. Books he'd read filled the bookshelf next to her, only outnumbered by books he never got the chance to read. That little elephant statue he'd bought in a charity shop because of the pattern on its back decorated the top middle shelf. He loved that elephant. Jody ran her fingertips over it, feeling the smooth, cold outline of its body. Those words played out in her head again, this time accompanied by the scene of him saying them. She pulled her hand away from the elephant.

It would be easier just to forget him. Her eyes scanned the room, largely unchanged since the event's day. Wouldn't have to deal with all... this.

His favourite spot on the sofa, his favourite spot to put his little bowl of peanuts while watching the telly, his laugh when his favourite jokes were told on screen. All useless tidbits and trivia now. She wanted to bring herself to hate him and every last memory. All she'd have to do was focus on all the little habits she had hated for long enough. His not-quite-snoring, his bad jokes, his vanity over his hair. But the room seemed to quiet at night now, and nobody could quite mess up a joke so effortlessly as he could. Jody removed the plan from her head, instead looking down at the ring still on her finger. The jolly 'I'll be back in a bit' entered her mind again. Three months and still waiting.

[fennfromthefen]

Blame

FFF prompt 290: midnight distractions

(cw swearing)

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Sonny stared up at the ceiling, the only light in the room coming from the snapped slats in the blinds. His eyes grazed over the room, if only to give him something to do. Clothes piled up behind the door, barely read books littering the desk, and rubbish everywhere. He supposed it was his fault he lived like this now; he just didn't know how to fix it all. The current plan was research, research some more, something, something, something, then either success or a slow death. He'd spent many hours thinking up this plan, and it was still disappointing.

The books lying scattered were on topics of magic, portals, and How to Apologise to Your Boyfriend for Fucking About With Magic and Portals Only to Find Out What Happens. None of them were read past the fifth page. The memories they resurfaced put Sonny completely off reading any further at that point.

The bed creaked with the shifting of weight as he forced himself up out of it. Sage was never going to come home if Sonny didn't get him home. He slowly made his way over to the desk, brushing some of the rubbish off with his hand. He was going to come back, and they will be happy again. Enough being distracted by stupid memories, enough guilt and self-pity, and enough just plain not working. Sonny quickly put together a new plan in his mind: research, get materials, set up materials around himself (as opposed to right by the door, around the dresser, with a way too big circle that may or may not have blocked the door, causing Sage to enter the circle when he entered the room), apologise and take Sage back to their home universe, and return How to Apologise to Your Boyfriend For Fucking About With Magic and Portals Only to Find Out What Happens. It didn't really apply to situations this easily avoidable.

Sonny looked over at the book again. That stupid book. Every chapter: 'how to apologise for trying a dangerous spell you only just learnt in order to save your boyfriend', 'how to apologise for giving your boyfriend half your life force just so he can live, even when it shortens your own life by years', 'how to apologise for resurrecting your boyfriend from the dead when he clearly stated you should only use this power in a crisis, but you just missed his face so bad, and his voice, and his touch, and just everything'. 'Well, this problem is all my fault!' Sonny thought, imagining himself arguing with the book. 'You stupid book, with your good-person target audience. Well... what if I had a girlfriend, huh? Not very applicable then, eh? Didn't think of that.' He poked the book meekly. It was hard to be aggressive when you're sad. He looked back at the various textbooks. 'Maybe he's happier without me... It would be wrong to drag him back here if he's happy elsewhere... And what if he doesn't accept the apology and hates me for the rest of his life? Can't kidnap the guy.' Sonny looked back at the bed, away from all the pain of the books. He imagined curling up in it next to Sage, feeling his body heat and his soft breaths as he slept. He needed him back. And he was getting him back tonight.

[fennfromthefen]

FFF prompt 268: fractured forms

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Marley stared deep into the eyes reflected in the mirror. The eyes he was sure weren't his. He tried pulling at the skin surrounding them, moulding them into different shapes. He tried adjusting the colour of the irises, but none particularly stood out to him. Marley started to pull faces at himself, scrutinising each one.

It couldn't have been that long since he'd used his true form. Maybe a few years, tops. He'd just gotten so used to this current one, busy fitting in with the local species.

He tried using cat-like pupils, before abruptly acquiring a new fear. He decided to stay away from cats for a while.

Charlie and Joan were watching from behind Marley, occasionally saying the quick 'Why don't you try changing the nose?', or 'Sorry', in Charlie's case. Charlie had been the one to start this confusion, asking Marley to show them his "true form", "the natural, real one. Not one of the fake ones". He muttered another sorry when Marley let out a groan, 'Charles, either shush or please help.’

'Right- Um... Sorry. Forget what I said! That's a good suggestion; well done, Charlie.' The others gave him a glare. 'Hair? You could get rid of the mullet?’

Marley's borrowed eyes wandered down the reflection to his mullet, currently neatly tucked behind his ears. His mullet. It wasn't even supposed to be a mullet; he just couldn't be bothered to get it cut. But it was still his. He looked at Joan, 'Joanie?’

'Kill it.’

'Joan. I meant to say Joan,' Marley replied quickly, brushing the hair back.

'Who'd you base this look off? Couldn't you find someone you think looks cool then shapeshift to look like them?’

'Then I would look like them, not me. And, if you must know, this look was made by random selection. You close your eyes, open them after changing things. Picked whatever looked good, y'know?’

Joan looked him up and down. 'Do that again, then. Until you find one "right" again.’

'But what if I lose the hair?’

'What is it with you and that hair?’

The hair was the only part of Marley's look that wasn't picked out. It wasn't the outfit he'd stolen from a shop when he'd first arrived without any of the planet's currencies, it wasn't the body type he'd picked to suit the clothes, it wasn't the features he'd gone through different combinations of, trying to find at least one he'd liked. It had grown on its own, changed colour from the sun on its own, and fallen in a certain style on its own. It was real, and it was Marley's. And it would stay Marley's. Marley decided against answering with that paragraph, 'I think it just looks cool.’

[the-modern-typewriter]

hello! ...not quite sure how this works, but could i request a human/vampire story where the human doesn't want to be turned and the vampire is understanding that means that they will have to live on without the human?

"You wanted this when we first met."

"I know. I know." The human squeezed their eyes shut, dragging a trembling hand over their eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You begged me, once, to turn you," the vampire said.

"That was a long time ago."

The vampire considered them.

It was a short time, really, in the span of immortality. Might the human not change their mind again, if they had already done so once?

Beneath the irritation, the sting of rejection and confusement wedged a far more hateful thing.

Loss.

They hadn't expected to grow so attached to the mortal spread about beneath them on the bed. Mortals were a common thing - but their human. Well.

A million monstrous ideas caressed the vampire's mind like velvet.

If you were sick, if you were in pain, you would want those things again. Wouldn't you? I could make that happen.

Loss.

You asked for this. Do you imagine the dark gift comes with a receipt and store credit? You ungrateful wretch. If you want to die so badly, fine!

Loss.

Do you think mere words are enough to stop me? You're human. You're nothing. You will take what I give your fragile, pitiful body and you will thank me.

"I see," the vampire said.

In a flash, they were off the bed, across the room. Their jaw ached. Their heart, cold and dead though it may have been, throbbed all the worse.

The human sat up. They bit their lip, uncertainly, but there was nought but certainty in their eyes. So human, those eyes. So changed, would they be, by turning.

"Are you okay?" the human asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't look okay."

"And you'd look oh so pretty with your throat cut, blood gushing red rubies across your beating chest, but I was going to be polite enough not to mention it."

The human didn't flinch.

The vampire wasn't sure if they were disappointed or relieved. They turned away, mouth opening to take deep breaths but - of course, there was no steadying their lungs. No air needed for the machinery they were. No calm to be found.

"I love you," the human said. They sounded calm, sounded steady, then. "I thought loving you would be enough to compensate being like - I don't know. I'm sorry, okay? It's not because I don't love you. It's not about you. Please know that."

"Just that loving me isn't enough."

"No. No. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want-"

"-Say it."

The human clambered gracelessly off the bed, slow and stumbling and inferior, and yet the vampire's legs felt rooted to the spot as the human crossed the room to them in turn. As they wrapped a foolishly bold arm around the vampire's waist, face pressing against the chill of the vampire's back.

As if they did not care they were cuddling a murderer. A monster. The very thing that they so did not wish to be, anymore.

You would leave me on my own. Don't tell me you love me. Don't tell me it's not about me. Stay. Just shut up and stay.

Loss.

"I understand," the vampire said. Their fingers clenched on the window sill hard enough to leave indents. They stared out into the darkness, the ever night of their life. "Being like me is not for everyone. It was merely an offer. It doesn't matter."

"It's allowed to matter."

"I said it doesn't matter."

The human stayed quiet for a beat. The vampire heard them swallow. They heard the desperate thumping of their heart.

"Okay," the human said. "Okay. Sorry." They pressed a kiss to the vampire's shoulder. "Thank you. For offering. It means a lot."

There would be other mortals. There were so many mortals. So many other stupid things desperate for a taste of darkness, of power, of forever.

But not like them.

They could have given their human the gift when they first met. Really, it was their own fault that they hadn't. Why hadn't they? Why had they been so blind as to not see everything that was to come?

"What do you need?" the human asked.

The vampire turned, the human's arms around them nothing.

Bite. Do it anyway. They have forever to forgive you, so what does it matter if they hate you? At least you'd have them.

"I think you should go," the vampire said. "Right now."

"O-okay." The human pulled back, surprised, hurt, a flicker of complicated emotions that the vampire couldn't look at. They focused on anything that wasn't the human's pulse, the violation, the only way to really keep them. "Are you sure?" the human asked.

"Go. Get out!"

They shoved the human hard enough to make them stagger. That was better. Better to rend, to not get close, to not let humans worm their way in like parasites and infestations and rots.

They weren't sure if it was rage or tears clouding their vision as the bedroom door shut behind the human. Their human.

Loss.

After so many lifetimes, the vampire should have been used to it already.

(But, of course, they never were.)

[fennfromthefen]

Home

FFF prompt 265: galaxies away

@flashfictionfridayofficial

JD7⁷, or "Judy" as the human on board had been most recently calling it, was the navigational system of the Galactic Gate. State of the art technology, all employed for the passengers' safety. Real-time re-routing and autopilot. A state of the art system the human was currently using without permission. Their hands were clenched around each control stick, desperately pulling them in each direction, with seemingly no regard for how dangerously they were making the ship move. They were barely even sitting in the seat correctly.

'Human, Stop this at once!' The pilot of the ship, Kragbnai, hang onto the door frame of the cockpit. 'You can't do this, hijacking a passenger rocket. Passenger safety comes first, not where-ever you've ranked it.'

Rhys didn't bother responding. He had come up with a system a few years ago: if the crew on board insists on referring to him by species, he would insist in not listening. He quickly glanced at the nearest screen. 'Go check if there's anymore power anywhere we could re-route to the engines, will you?' Before Kragbnai could reply, Rhys made sure to add in a cheery thanks to extinguish any chance of arguing back. He watched the pilot scramble for an answer before grudgingly getting to work. Rhys gave them a cocky smile for extra measure, enjoying teasing before joyously talking to JD7⁷ about his home planet, returning to navigating.

'Judy said she'd finally located home, and couldn't ask permission for a detour considering the distance, but-'

Every word Kragbnai heard just left him more confused. The human's gushing focusing on green-filled forests one minute, death-traps of barren land the next. He was starting to believe this was all some elaborate lie. Where he came from, good old Lorinvgi, the sky definitely wasn't designed to release fluids, and the ground definitely wasn't meant to vary dramatically in properties. Just glorious plains, supplying much needed food and materials to its gracious inhabitants. Its children, if you would like to believe. He glared at Rhys for a while, trying to make sense of his ramblings. He needed to be reminded he was a subordinate here. Not a captain, not a pilot, not even security. 'I'm in charge, move over.' Kragbnai pushed his way in front of Rhys, trying to pry his hands off the controls. 'Where are you taking us, anyway? Spontaneous joyride?'

‘“Judy” is just code. An it. Not a she. And… just why? We’re not even in the right galaxy.’

Rhys finally released the controls from his grip, limply slumping into Kragbnai’s chest. He titled his head down to rest his face against their shoulder, muffling his voice. 'I just want to see home.'

Kragbnai hadn’t been able to think of a reasonable response. A maintenance worker can’t just barge in, demanding to take the passengers hundreds of galaxies away from their destination on a whim, it’s irresponsible! “Want to see home”, the passengers want to stay close to theirs. To know where they are, that they can get back home. Kragbnai looked at the monitor showing the path the human- Rhys was attempting. Rhys’ arms found their way around Kragbnai’s body, squeezing his waist. He twisted his head around to look at Kragbnai, still partially talking into his shoulder, ‘Please?’

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

"You've been coming here more often," the voice noted. There was no set inflection, no specific melody set to it, voice shifting. Male, female, deep, light, musical- none of it was set in stone, becoming what was needed in the moment to act as a soothing balm over frayed nerves and overwhelming emotion. "You were coming less and less, you were completely gone for awhile... what changed?" There was no need to open your eyes as you made a noncommittal sound, head comfortably rested against something- a lap, a shoulder, a pillow- as a hand carded through your hair, the gentle weight of a wing covering you keeping you grounded, warm. A world that had always been safe when life felt like it wasn't bearable.

"You need to take care of yourself. You were doing so well; you need to wake up eventually. You can't stay with me like you used to."

Maybe not, but there was no need to face reality quite yet. You had done so good for so long; Where was the harm in dreaming just a little longer?

[fennfromthefen]

Day 252

FFF prompt 187: pure imagination

@flashfictionfridayofficial

I looked up at the sky. Perfectly blue. Again.

There were a few clouds in the sky, but even they seemed perfect. Everything did. Everywhere I looked: perfection, perfection, perfection. At first it'd been great 'cause you could enter the scene without ruining it, but now I just yearned for one imperfection. Even a tiny one, like rain. Heavy rain. Rain to ruin everything.

I gasped slightly, suddenly aware I hadn't been breathing, and blinked a few times. 'Day 252 in The Field,' I said, standing up and peeling my eyes off the sky. There was no answer, as usual. 'It... sure would be great if someone showed up to question... my monologue...?' I lowered my hands from my waist and reluctantly started walking down the hill, debating whether to squish the flowers or not as I did so. I'd decided a while ago I was in a dream, or maybe a daydream. I couldn't remember what came before The Field, but I knew this wasn't on purpose, or real.

I reached the bottom of the hill. A stream glistened with what my brain now called mediocre. It wasn't mediocre, obviously, this was paradise, but you get used to perfect eventually. 'Oh! A person!' A voice entered my ears for the first time in possibly forever.

'Oh, my God!' I exclaimed, locating them on the opposite side of the stream, 'You're real!'

They stared at me in mild confusion and awkwardness for a bit, processing my reaction.

OK, they're gonna ask you where they are. Just tell them. 'You're in a dream; you may never wake up.' 'You're in a dream; you may never wake up.' 'You're in a dream; you may never wake up-'

'What is this place?'

'I-I don't know.' Relief entered my body as I tried to talk, 'I thought I'd just gone crazy, o-or gotten lost, and hit my head before going into a coma, and this is my brain's attempt at keeping me calm while I slowly die, or a dream, or something.' I sniffled sharply. 'But, this, th-'

'I didn't create this.' The girl looked around before pointing at me. 'Or you. Who're you? When'd you get here?'

My face dropped. I couldn't talk, all I could force out was a pathetic, almost inaudible 'What?'

'I'll need to fix this. Hold on-'

[fennfromthefen]

'NO! NO, WAIT!' I flung my hands up in a surrendering motion. 'You- Why kill me before you know why this happened? You could... study me, prevent it happening again. That way when you get rid of me you'll be certain I don't just pop back up!' I add in a popping motion with my hands for added effect, bringing them close together before separating them quickly.

I could see the girl study my appearance intently, scrutinising every part of me, 'Perhaps. It could be useful to figure out what caused this problem.' She walked effortlessly over the water to me, shoving me backwards quite harshly. 'You're physical. That's useful. Can you think? Prove you can think.'

'Two plus two is four...? Four plus four is eight... Two times-'

'No more maths! I suppose that'll have to do, seeing it proved you aren't just some brainless code made for nothing. Do you have a name, glitch?'

A name... I hadn't had a reason to try remember my name before. I remember trying to remember at the start of all this, once I had realised the memory loss, but eventually gave up and told myself it didn't matter. Just make something up, any name you remember... any name at all... Even an utterly terrible one...? I stared at my feet, racking my brain. It was only logical I had a name. Have a name. I have a name, it's...

'Hurry up, glitch. I'm waiting.' The girl glared at me, as if blaming me for my own amnesia. She planted her hands on her hips and sighed heavily. 'Well, I'm Samantha. Samantha Green. And I think at least one of us should be polite, so,' Samantha thrust her hand out in front of her, 'shake.'

I didn't particularly want to shake her hand. I didn't particularly want to talk or see her any longer, either. For someone who looked so "perfect" -from what I remember of societal beauty standards, that is- she certainly didn't act it. Her nails were perfectly trimmed and painted a perfect baby pink colour. He dress was simple yet sophisticated, sporting a similar pink colour with yet another pink for the details. Hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect waves, stopping around her waist. Her skin was fair and her hair was light, eyes blue as the perfect fucking sky behind her. I was suddenly curious about my own appearance, had it somehow been altered to fit the perfection of this place? 'Shake, Glitch!' Samantha suddenly commanded, waving her hand up and down impatiently in a mimed handshake, 'Like this.'

[theghostofarbyrouse]

Right As Rain

FFF 261: Maybe One More

This is a piece for @flashfictionfridayofficial, clocking in at 1000 words. I'd say more but it's 2:16 AM, I'm worn out from crying and chlorine, and I have to pee very badly, so I shan't.

There could be content warnings for this one; there's some mentions of vomiting and some depictions of internalized aphobia in here. (Jeanette has issues with both. She's an anxious little wreck. I'll fix her someday, when she's not Schrodinger's superhero.) (I've been on a superhero kick. I started one for last week's prompt, just to complete it, but you know im not going to finish it.)

“Why can't I come over?” Simon whines through the speaker. 

“I already told you,” Jeannette laughs. She cradles the phone against her shoulder, clumsily putting the fastener by her mask’s bridge mound back in place with chipped tweezers. “It's not a good time.” 

“Why not?” 

“It's just not! I don't feel well, my room's a wreck, my dad is pissed at me—” 

If her life were a movie, Jeanette likes to think it would make some crisp cinematography choices. The twinging 1960s pop slipping out of the whirring CD player on her desk’s corner would kick up into an indie pop inferno and there would be a series of small cuts away from its coyly-placed view of a normal teenage girl tending to her abnormal hobby. When she said she doesn't feel well, the camera would cut to Omega Satyr kicking her in the kidney ten minutes ago; at the state of her room, maybe there would be a small clip of her stumbling in through the window, trying to get her dumb boots off, and leaving pieces of Jawbone all around her already-messy room like a gas mask can be dirty laundry; and when she mentions that her dad’s upset, it would cut to an imposing man in voluminous black robes pointing angrily into the depths of the sewers she accidentally got them lost in today.  

In the spirit of cinema, she holds up a tooth on her desk. Hers.

Does she feel at all? Pain, sure, but… Does she feel anything for Simon in the way she's supposed to? Does she feel anything other than disappointment when she tries?  “Mostly, though, I just don't feel well.” 

“Boo. You suck.” 

“I don't deserve this slander, Simon. And I think I'm going to throw up again.”  None of it's serious. That's why it's so easy to talk to him; that's why it's so easy to keep this going. 

“I-swear-to-god, that's not a stomach bug.” 

“And you still love me,” she reminds him. Her stomach twists at the thought. She isn’t sure why. 

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “I love you, Jeanette.” 

“I love you, too. Goodnight, Simon. Have fun watching Back to the Future again. Without me.” 

“Sleep well. Don’t stay up too late listening to that shitty Sheila Guthrie album.” 

“Hey! Sheila Guthrie is amazing.” 

“Who the fuck is Sheila Guthrie? Nobody’s heard of her.” 

“You’ve heard of her.” 

“Yeah,” he reminds her, as always, “because I’m dating you.” 

“Well, she’s good. For that matter, so is—” 

“And so is whatever else you want to tell me tomorrow, Jenny.” There’s a laugh in his voice. “Don’t forget, paper’s sending us out to the shoreline? To look at the plant? Just us interns?” 

“How lucky am I?” She wonders why it feels like an act. “I get to work at Crust Lust and I intern with my boyfriend and—” 

“And I’m hanging up on you because I love you too much to let this continue. I know you.” 

“Please cut me off,” she breathes. “Shit, Simon.” 

“Goodnight,” he laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Sweet dreams.” 

With the swift, sudden sound of the disconnect, he’s gone. All she has left is her mess of a room; her mess of a life; and the refrain on the CD whirring: is he lonelier than me? 

If she listens to love songs, she can push through what she’s supposed to be doing. This is normal. This is what everyone wants. More than that, this is what she wants. She wants the swell of music as she swoops in, tumbling down his fire escape in the rain; she wants the lights to soften in the background of the shot; she wants the cacophony of the passing cars to fade away and the shimmer of a leitmotif as she takes his face gently and kisses him, telling him without words, this is me. Please see me as I am. Please see every part of me and love me anyway. And in turn, he kisses her harder, there in the rain, his gel melting and her curls flattened, in a moment where Simon Brown doesn’t care, for once, about how things look— I see you as plainly as you see me. 

Life isn’t condensed into a tight hour-and-a-half. Jeanette isn’t the friendly neighborhood superhero with bumbling charisma and useful powers. She’s a costume designer’s daughter. Her alter ego is most well-known for property damage and throwing rodents at a politician.  

With her mask fixed again, her weary, terrified face reflects in the hard green eyepiece. She can try to tell herself it isn’t true, but she knows. Behind the bravado and the tights, there is one central truth. The one thing she wants, she can’t have. 

So why does she keep pretending? How is it fair to him? If she knows she doesn’t love Simon— that she's incapable of falling in love ever— why does she keep saying she loves him? Why does she keep kissing him? Why does she keep listening to love songs and thinking that it’ll make her life align with their ethos? 

It’s the kind of thought that makes her stomach churn a little too much. She keeps it down this time. With the taste of bile in the back of her throat, Jeanette breathes deep and switches off the radio. After a gall-building second, she zips up her coveralls. She pulls her boots back on and fastens the buckles. She sweeps on her jacket; she adjusts the hood’s horns; and, after leaving a note for her father, she steps up onto her desk. 

She needs to help this city. That’s what her mother always says. If you’re out of your mind with worry, go help someone else for a while. Maybe she’ll forget it later, but she’s sure as shit not forgetting it now. 

There’s a lattice to climb down. There’s a world to save. If she tells herself the same thing enough times, it’s going to be right as rain. 

[fennfromthefen]

FFF prompt 261: maybe one more

@flashfictionfridayofficial

This was it. This was the try I finally escape. The clock had already started its countdown, numbers ticking by in their familiar eternal rythm: 23:59:59, 23:59:58... By now I knew they were worthless, and could be passed off as practice. The setting never changes, nor the task, not even outcome, so far. I peek around the room, the by now familiar faces doing their long familiar routines of panic and indecision.

'Oh, if only we could get to that vent up there.' A voice sighs behind me. I turn to see a hand appear, pointing out a grate in the top corner of the otherwise blank room. A trap. A trap you can easily get to once everyone's in place, stacked up on each other, easily attacked. 'No. Too easy.'

'C'mon! give it a try.'

'I said no. What if you- what if It's a trap?'

'"What if it's a trap?", "What if it's a dead end?" That's you. To every suggestion. C'mon, Maddi-'

My eyes lock onto hers, their softness only fueling my position. 'I said no, Aasma. Please, just trust me. I'm trying to save us. You.' I try to keep my voice stern as I talk, but can't help but let it wobble on the last word. 'Please?'

Aasma says nothing for a bit, just watching me. Her face carefully changes into an expression that resembles my own, as it has all the previous times. 'We won't know unless we try, Maddie.' She begins walking to the others in the room, designating roles to each person. She's so confident... Maybe she's right. Maybe I can change what happens, how the plan works. Maybe just one more try this way won't hurt...

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

✨No matter our ties, we'll always stick together!

At least today, because it's Flash Fiction Friday and that means it's time to write!

✨ New to FFF? Let us fill you in!

Flash Fiction Friday is a fun writer event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12 pm CET).

And then, next Friday, we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before our next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots — or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask!

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/rUWCE8a

✨ We also introduced our very own Wishing Well, a place for you to whisper your prompt suggestions into. And we’ll listen! Check everything about it out HERE.

✨All your amazing works from last week can be found HERE.

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF220 Blood Is Thicker Than Water]

This wonderful prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous, thank you very much! Blood is thicker than water, but what does that even mean? Is this a call for loyalty? A discussion about who gets to ascend the throne? Or a desperate vampire trying to make a point? Wether your character agrees or not, we want to know! Show us with your flash fiction piece, go write!

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The Collective <3

[fennfromthefen]

Day 48 of the apocalypse

FFF prompt 197: an eternal summer

@flashfictionfridayofficial

The water stretches into the horizon, surrounding the small piece of land still above sea-level on all sides. Possibly the only piece of land left.

I stare at the endless blue, reflecting the white of the sun back at it, the only evidence of the world that existed before the flood, a few miscellaneous items floating around and birds perching in the remaining treetops. Another warm breeze blows through the leaves, resulting in a light rustle interrupting the scene.

After a few more minutes have passed, and once it's become clear that, once again, nothing interesting is going to happen or show up, I decide to head back inside. It isn't an impressive building, just an old library built on top of a hill. It's pretty dilapidated, most of the windows have some kind of crack or hole in them, and the paint on the walls is coming off from where the waves hit it during storms, but it's home now, and it's the only place we've got.

'Aw, cheer up. You could be dead- No, scratch that, should be dead!' Cat attempts to make the situation we're stuck in sound good, having seen the look on my face as I entered the building. I'm not able to think of a reply, so end up unintentionally staring at her blankly for an awkward ten seconds before she tries again. 'I just mean you should feel lucky. Who else besides us can say they've survived an apocalypse? No-one-. .... That we now of.' She says the last sentence in a hurry, trying to add it on to the already finished sentence of "no-one". I'm, again, unable to think of a truthful reply so settle for a slight smile. I sit myself down next to Cat, and peer not-so-subtly over their shoulder to get a look at the book on the table. 'So, watcha reading there? Something interesting?'

'If it wasn't interesting, I wouldn't be reading it.' They give me a grin.

'Fine: something I'd find interesting?' I grin back.

I'd be lying if I said being stranded on the top of a hill, surrounded by endless water, with only one other person to talk to beside yourself couldn't be soul rendingly boring, but Cat made it that tiny bit more bearable. There're some games I've made up for when I don't particularly want to talk. Like Brighten Up Bingo (the name's a work in progress), where I try to guess which line Cat'll use to "console" me, or make me talk.

'Y'know, when you think about it, the apocalypse is just one long summer holiday, without the homework or impending doom of it finishing.' She feigns a thinking face as she talks, before breaking out another grin and her signature 'this'll make you talk' face. I give her my apparently signature, 'that's what you think' face then go back to silently reading over her shoulder.

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

✨When it feels like the week is neverending, we're here to offer a refreshing prompt!

Because it's Flash Fiction Friday!

✨ New to FFF? Let us fill you in!

Flash Fiction Friday is a fun writer event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12 pm CET).

And then, next Friday, we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before our next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots — or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask!

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/rUWCE8a

✨ We also introduced our very own Wishing Well, a place for you to whisper your prompt suggestions into. And we’ll listen! Check everything about it out HERE.

✨All your amazing works from last week can be found HERE.

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF197 An Eternal Summer]

This prompt is brought to you by the one and only @betweenthetimeandsound, thank you very much! Summers can be so long and hot and exhausting, but this one still turns it up a notch. Will it truly never end? Is this just a metaphor perhaps, or the real life of a (post-)apocalyptic world? Perhaps this isn't even so bad, some kids are bound to have fun? You decide! Go, go, go!

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.

The Collective <3

[fennfromthefen]

The Planet's Sacrifice

FFF prompt 193: celestial bodies

@flashfictionfridayofficial

I looked up at the blinking sky, the comforting darkness calming my mind. The grey clouds floated across the dark blue black, hiding the moon from sight. I watched the almost rhythmic blinking of the stars, trying not to think about how they were each once people with their own lives.

The 'angels' were always thought to be greedy, ever since they took the planet, but this was new. People picked to be 'blessed', but found to be turning to stars. "Returning to unity", they called it. The final stage in our evolution where we were to become one with the cosmos, and learn to live free of suffering or pain. To be the source of light and comfort for planets across the universe, and make life possible for others. They didn't tell us how many were going to turn, just that it was necessary if they were to have other lifeforms appear elsewhere. The planet's sacrifice. Except it was more of a do-over.

I shook my head as I removed myself from my thoughts. It didn't matter what happened to the others now, as long as I survived.

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

✨ It seems like the stars align today for you to write!

Because it's Flash Fiction Friday!

✨ New to FFF? Let us fill you in!

Flash Fiction Friday is a fun writer event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12 pm CET).

And then, next Friday, we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before our next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots — or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask!

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/rUWCE8a

✨ We also introduced our very own Wishing Well, a place for you to whisper your prompt suggestions into. And we’ll listen! Check everything about it out HERE.

✨All your amazing works from last week will be posted later today, keep your eyes open!

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF193 Celestial Bodies]

This prompt is brought to you by the one and only @charmycharmcharms, thank you very much! Which celestial body is this? And what has it got to do with your character? Whether it's them examining the celestial body or the other way around, whether a planet turns out to be alien or it's just about two people star gazing--the choice is yours! Happy writing!

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.

.

The Collective <3

[fennfromthefen]

The Hallway

FFF prompt 191: you're not alone

@flashfictionfridayofficial

I fall through the doorway and collapse onto my exhausted knees as the door creaks shut behind me. 'Oh, boy. That was intense; the pain, the fear. The loneliness.' A voice cuts through the silence, 'All that time spent running by yourself to end up in a tiny room with a mirror. To be, still, just, by yourself. That doesn't matter now, though. You aren't alone anymore.'

'I-'

'Oh... but don't you miss it? The comfort of a lack of audience?'

I look around the room, trying to locate the source of the voice. 'Please, leave me alone. I'm not staying here,' I struggling to pull myself onto my legs, 'You can't force people to run for eternity like some... torterous treadmill.' The voice doesn't reply for a bit, ignoring my response to their manipulation.

The door opens behind me.

. . .

The hallway stretches as I run, growing longer with every step I take. Its walls taunt me with their repeating pattern of pictures and photographs. I turn back to the door, and try to will myself not to feel dizzy as everything but the exit rapidly passes me. I run for what feels like an eternity, lungs burning and heart pounding. 'Fine,' I give in. I slow to a halt, and turn to the mirror now mounted on the hallway wall. 'I'll stay here... With you,' I pant, 'But I can't promise I won't "unexpectedly" escape one day and expose you to everyone.'

'There really isn't need for that. You won't be leaving any time soon.'

'And why's that?'

'You're not alone here.'