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Flash Fiction Two: Fanfiction

<p>Content warning: sex<br /> The doctor is kneeling on top of the Tardis. They raise one of their hands; floating through the rings of a gas giant—imagine Saturn but lavender—particles twist around their sixth digit. They remember a quote from a Futurama episode: “The ship stays where it is, and the engine moves the universe around it.” </p>

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Image by Ilsa Harun


YOUR WHOLESOME STORIES AND TEENAGE EROTICA OF 100 WORDS AND UNDER

 

REGENERATION

The doctor is kneeling on top of the Tardis. They raise one of their hands; floating through the rings of a gas giant—imagine Saturn but lavender—particles twist around their sixth digit. They remember a quote from a Futurama episode: “The ship stays where it is, and the engine moves the universe around it.” Then—“That’s a complete load…” The planet is big enough for the doctor to appreciate its size—and their own—without swallowing the view of other galaxies. They click their mandibles and crawl back into the control room. This phenotype is new: still gangly on surfaces. They wrr slightly, reacclimatising to the interior, put the kettle on and day-dream of free-radicals. The tea chimes and the doctor drinks with care, flexing their wings.

BY JOCELYN DEANE


HARRY STYLES HAS A NEW ALBUM

HEAAP SO R
HIA CHETA
AND HIW DACEC
OMF
AMO HAVE
I LOBE HIM
AUCK
I ATXJINT INEVEREUA
I CSR.
ONYEEVIEES
OKF
INYERVIEVWE
INTERVIEWS
OKF
OMF
HE IS SOS HOR
HE IS SO HOR
Harry I
Is
How
T
Hot
So drink

BY NO1_HOT_STUFF_2002


ED PUB OFFICER CONOR AND MANDOLIN: A LOVE STORY

He ran his hands up her long neck while fingering her strings ever so softly… gently caressing the subtle curvature of her body. He knew the maple tones of her sleek body so very well, every groove and scratch from years of playing together… She enchanted him with her sharp, twangy tones, until he finally fell asleep, craddling her in his arms.

BY ASHLEIGH MORRIS


A VERY CRUNCHY CHRISTMAS

Pink slimey moist nipples caress my foot as my arm reaches into Santa’s sack of granola.

Christmas is cumming.

BY WALTER HOBBS


“LOOK, MISTLETOE”

Harry blushed furiously as he licked Hedwig’s feather off Ron’s cheek. It was cold in The Owlery and from the window they could see Hagrid taking Madame Maxime from behind.

In the wintertime you need the body heat of a thousand owls, or just one sweaty red-headed Gryffindor.

Christmas is here.

BY RITA SKEETER


A SIP OF MILO

Shit. He looked so hot in real life. What a daddy. Sweating in line at a ComicCon meet and greet is not a good look. Especially when I’m meeting Milo Ventimiglia.

“Meet me in the bathroom out back in twenty,” he said in his sexy, sexy voice.

Crammed together naked in a grotty cubicle, we were living out all my fantasies. His stubble scraped my skin as we kissed. Milo looked me straight in the eye as I unzipped his jeans.

He was behind me now, and I groaned as I felt him sliding into me.

BY BRENT HO


EMILIA FART IS AN ICON

I walked into the building. The shops were busy but strangely no-one was in the hallways. “Why won’t people leave the shops?” I thought, “This is strange.”

I continued walking among the fake plants under the shopping centre lights until—wAIT! I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. It couldn’t be, it wouldn’t be, surely it isn’t… Is that Emilia Fart? Wow isn’t she from Montréal? What’s she doing in Eastland??

Would I? Could I? I couldn’t possibly call out to her, I’ll just hide behind this plant. Wow she is incredible.

BY SYLVIE GODWIN


SEND US YOUR TINY WORDS: EDITION FOUR’S PROMPT IS FANTASY AND FABLES.

Send your 100-word-and-under myths and rewritten fables to editors@farragomagazine.com

 
Farrago's magazine cover - Edition One 2024

EDITION ONE 2024 'INDIE SLEAZE' AVAILABLE NOW!

It’s 2012 and you have just opened Tumblr. A photo pops up of MGMT in skinny jeans, teashade sunglasses and mismatching blazers that are reminiscent of carpets and ‘60s curtains. Alexa Chung and Alex Turner have just broken up. His love letter has been leaked and Tumblr is raving about it—”my mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it.” Poetry at its peak: romance is alive.

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