(WP) Under the new law passed orcs have assimi…


Who’s Coming to Dinner? Orc Edition, Part One

“You’re scaring me, you know,” The orc sitting at the table says, grinning wryly around her tusks. She’s so tall her head comes level with one of the coffeehouse windows, and her tusks are dyed a bright, cheery blue that brings to mind clear summer skies. “What’s got you so riled up? Here, let me buy you a drink.” She stands, and her companion, a human, waves her off impatiently, pacing a hole through the floor, head bowed.

Despite this, her girlfriend strides up to the counter, ordering a spiced chai latte and a blueberry muffin hot out of the oven. Perhaps the poor thing’s nerves would settle after some food, even something small. She’d been trying to get an answer out of Fiona for the last twenty minutes, to no avail. She kept shaking her head and stuttering, an anxious ball of undirected energy. It wasn’t typically in an orc’s nature to be tender, but Rulfim Ghorza was different, and the new orc laws made it all too easy to intermingle with humans. She waited for the food, glancing over her shoulder back to Fiona.

By now, she was sitting at the table, hands bouncing on the tabletop lightly. Fiona sported thick glasses, vintage ones with something called tortoiseshell frames? All Rulf could picture was actually plucking the shell off of a tortoise, which struck her as barbaric, even as an orc. Her brown hair was in two long braids, and she wore a sundress that was green with a pattern of smiling peaches all over it. Rulf loved Fiona’s clothes; she was like a walking, grinning sunbeam, and it was just so different from her own culture.

Rulf was broken from her thoughts by the barista sliding a bag and a steaming paper cup across the counter. She looked at Rulf, brows knitted as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. She smiled in thanks and then walked back to the table. Fiona looked up at her and frowned. “You didn’t have to do that,” She said, tugging on the end of her braid. “I’m fine–”

“I do wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” Rulf sighed in reply, the words thick around those bright tusks that stuck out of her mouth in stubs. She used to file them to look less intimidating, but she’d put a stop to it once she realized that pretty much nothing would make her less so. She was green and ten feet tall. “Will you please eat some food and then tell me what’s going on? It can’t be that bad.”

Fiona shook her head glumly, but she picked up the latte and took a cautious sip. Finding it satisfactory, she set it down and peeled the skirt off of the muffin. “ItoldmyparentsI’dbringyouoverfordinnertonight.” The sentence came out in one big, breathless rush, and Rulf frowned, not sure she’d heard her correctly. “Say again?” She asked, feeling her cheeks warm. Her girlfriend was so distraught, and she didn’t want to make it worse. But maybe some of the anxiety was rubbing off.

Fiona groaned. “I told my parents I’d invite you to dinner tonight. We’ve been together for almost two years now, and they want to meet you.” The words filled the space between the two women, and Rulf bit her lip, unable to hold back a sigh. They’d talked about it a lot, with anxiety coming from both sides. But she supposed it was time. They’d both been delaying the inevitable for a long time.

“Okay,” Rulf relented, and Fiona blinked. She hadn’t been expecting so little resistance.

“Really? Just like that? Aren’t you nervous?”

“Of course, Fi. They’re your parents. I want to make a good impression.”

My latest writing prompt response, feedback of any kind would be greatly appreciated! Thanks guys! <3 <3 <3

Image Prompt Response: Birds’ Eye Slum


The girl gazes out at the vast emptiness below her, the wreckage of the city standing out to her like broken, studded teeth. A cold breeze brushed her, blowing the hood back from her face. Her dirty blonde hair moves in faint wisps about her face, brushing her cheeks, and she brings a hand to the florescent light tubes that hang from one of her beltloops, curling her fingers around the warmth they provide.

All around her, the slum buzzes with life, reminding her of an entry she’d read in a textbook about honeybees, the hive mind, the queen and workers. Of course, due to the nuclear war, honeybees are extinct. She chalks it up to yet another tally on how the human race had decimated everything–including themselves–on the planet. Daily she’s torn between hoping for more for humanity and wanting to destroy it. It is one of the reasons she was leaving the slum, despite the all too persistent fear that she will die out in that barren wasteland of the unknown. It has been the only home she’s ever known. But her wanderlust is stronger than her desire to stay. It’s not like she has much here to begin with, anyway.

She forces herself to push away from the ledge and begins the long walk home, her crude sandals clanging against the netted mesh walkway. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her shorts, flicking a switch and activating the antique music player she’d found in her old neighborhood. Tinny music played through the speakers, into the earbuds she’d kept tucked behind her ears. She wasn’t really listening to it; it was a mere soundtrack to her thoughts. Muscle memory took over as she heads away from The Bird’s Eye, toward the tiny shantytown that contained the house she shared with her older brothers and sisters. There were five of them in all, all crowded into a tiny metal shack their parents had built before the war. The girl could barely remember the man and woman who’d raised them; being the youngest, she’d only been four years old before they’d been conscripted into the army to fight The Wave. She remembers the scent of her mother’s cheap perfume, her father’s rough lips brushing her forehead. Then they stepped through the doorway, toward the ship that would fly them out to the battlefield.

She’s so lost in the bittersweet memories that she almost passes their decrepit little shack. But she’s met in the yard by her older brother, Tomas. He stands like a towering tree above her, dark hair waving in the breeze, his clothes dirty, his hands chapped and broken from trying to repair broken machines for some of the richer folks in town. “Finally, you’re back, baby sister. What have you been doing all this time? It’s nearly dinnertime and everyone’s been asking for you.” His voice is a rich, melodious baritone that makes her think of her childhood, cut all too short by the loss of her parents. She will miss it, miss them.

How will she break the news to the only family she has left?

My latest writing prompt response, guys! Hope you enjoy! Any feedback is most welcome! <3 <3

Oh kittens. So cute. Such pains in the ass. Do…

Oh kittens. So cute. Such pains in the ass. Do you have a drawer open? Now it has a kitten in it! We’re those books nicely piled on the table? Not anymore! What about that lamp? Whoops, it fell over! That bowl of water? Filled with dirty toys! This countertop that is much too high for kittens to climb? Nope, it’s just the right height. Are you laying down? Now you have a kitten on you and most likely, a kitten butt is in your face.

It’s the worst most wonderful life.

bookgeekgrrl: cspoe: “P.T. Barnum,” I said ag…



“P.T. Barnum,” I said again. “That’s what this whole thing reminds me of.”
“The circus guy?” Quinn asked.

Because only Sebastian Snow can be involved in murder and mystery that’s reminiscent of the World’s Greatest Showman.

DSP Publications: bit.ly/SWMCDSPP
Amazon: bit.ly/SWMCAMZ1
Kobo: bit.ly/SWMCKobo

i love this series with all my heart. you should read it if you like mysteries, or snarky antiques dealers who know better but can’t stop touching dead things.

This is tales about England like King Arthur, …

This is tales about England like King Arthur, the crusades, it goes all the way up to ad 1300.

nico-incognito: nerdyblackfangirl: asinine-su…




GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority.

(Can someone caption this?)

Classroom full of mostly black and brown students:

Black student: [unintelligible—and then]  …and then throwing everything away beneath it because it doesn’t pertain to you. I’m sorry —

White teacher: —you know what, I’m sorry -I’m sorry…

Black student: —No, no, no…I let you talk -I let you talk, you’re gonna let me talk.

[Other students gasps]

White student: Go ahead. Finish.

Black student: I’m sorry that this is the way that it is. You’re right, it is fucked up. But white people control everything…and that’s not fair. And when anybody, any other minority tries to say anything about it or change it, we’re complaining or we’re ungrateful or all this other stuff because we still have this or that. But then you say something about ‘Oh, I don’t want—there’s too many Latinos and there’s too many—’

White teacher: I didn’t say that—

[Various students disagree]

White teacher: I said I want to control the border!

Black student: You said you don’t want this to turn into a Latin country because there’ll be too many 

White teacher: I did not say that.

[Various students disagree]

Student 2: You said you want to preserve the American culture.

Black student: There is no American culture. American culture is EVERYTHING.

[Various students agree]

Random: Mayonnaise!

[Students laugh]

Black student: And because you are white and so closed-minded, you refuse to accept that, you refuse to accept—

White teacher: Don’t tell me I’m closed-minded—

Black student: Everything you’ve said to me is closed-minded.

White teacher: Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m closed-minded.

Black student: You don’t need to agree—I -I’ve had conversations with people that don’t agree with me, but if they at least listen and try to accept—you’re not accepting the truth.

White teacher: Why do I have to accept what you think is right?

Black student: You need to accept the truth! Not what I think is right, what is actually happening right—

White teacher: Well, let me tell you what I think. You said white people have been in control of everything….who is the president of the United States right now?!

Students: A black man!

*Various sounds of incredulity*


Random: GO OFF 

Other Random: GO OFF–

*The class is in an uproar*


White teacher: Do we have to yell?!

Black student: Yes, because I’m mad.

This is infuriating.

Hello Kels! I'm a young writer, and I hav…

Hello Kels! I'm a young writer, and I have a few questions about writing as a career. How did you get into the professional book reviewer profession? Do you have any advice for getting freelance writing job? Thank you!

Hello actionbell! <3 Thanks for the questions! To be honest, I just kept reviewing until it got someone else’s attention. My family suggested that I start a reviewing blog, and the rest is history! My best advice for a freelance writing job is merely this: just focus on building a portfolio. The more work you do and can show, the more likely someone is going to hire you! It’s not much, but I do hope it helps, and best of luck with your endeavors! My inbox is always open, should you need anything else! <3 <3 <3

Currently Reading: Inkmistress by Audrey Coult…

Currently Reading: Inkmistress by Audrey Coulthurst!

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones Review

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones Review: undefined


It’s my birthday! I’m a dusty old spinster lesbrarian with too many opinions and three cats. I read too much and I definitely eat too many sweets but since I’m a grown ass woman paying my own way in life, I get to do what I want. More cake!