RAW: The World Changes Quickly

Title: The World Changes Quickly
Author: Harper Kingsley


I woke to the sounds of shouts and screams; boots thundered in the hallway. It was with a sense of confusion that I stumbled to the apartment door and peered out the peephole.

Soldiers in full tactical gear were herding my neighbors out of their apartments. I saw Mrs. Hernandez struggling with all the strength of her aging body. She was brutally backhanded and her limp body was carried toward the elevator.

Everyone else was being rounded up and shackled into lines of five people. The first two lines were prodded until they began walking toward the stairs.

My view was abruptly blocked by a broad chest. The man had to be a giant. There was a patch across his left breast that had what looked like a shooting star stitched out of red and gold.

I backed away from the door and looked around my small apartment. I didn’t know what was going on, but I needed a weapon. Something to protect myself from these invaders.

There was a whirring sound and a low Pop!

The lock fell out of the door and the door swung wide open.

The soldier tromped in–it was like something out of a nightmare. Heavy boots thumped against carpeting worn thin by use. The red glow of optics focused on me out of the featureless round helmet.


Into the drowny deep they’d gone

Into the drowny deep they’d gone, far past the places other men had dared to travel. Past arching cities and seemingly endless green jungle, they’d set sail from the farthest edge of the Last Isle of Men, intent on seeing all the world had to offer.

They reached the edge of the world after two years of sailing. As the sun was setting, they finally reached the place where the world ended and the curving blackness of space began.

They traveled along the invisible barrier until they found the Door. Then they left the world behind and traveled the multiverse, experiencing things they’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

Thinking things; Excerpt of The Flameburst masturbating

There is a kind of “Cabin In the Woods”-type horror scenario happening in “American Dad” S12E07: “Ninety North, Zero West”.

They fail to stop the Santa archtype from returning the Titan’s eyes, and the Endbringer wakes up.

In its weakened state, angry!Steve runs into it with the train, popping its eyes out of its head. But if he hadn’t done that …

“What is even happening?” He struggled to pull his right glove on, wishing once again that he’d ordered those new uniforms. But this is what he had – something leftover from ’02 and smelling just a bit dingy – and he’d make the best of it. He always did.

“I don’t know, Dad. They’re just telling us all to get out of town.” Ashley wore her uniform and looked so much like her old self that it ached, but he could tell by the uncertainty in her voice that she was still scrambled eggs.

“We’ll help with the evacuation, but we’ll keep moving toward the [exit] points,” he decided. She had no place being in a fire fight, and she wasn’t leaving his side. So he’d just have to stick clear of whatever disaster was rocking the town. “Grab our Go Bags. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Evan strode down the short hallway to his favorite bathroom and locked himself inside. He was trembling and sweating and he didn’t know why.

Except she’d been dead. There’d been a funeral. She’d been out of his life for so long that he was beginning to get over her loss. The pain had never left, but he’d been putting his life back together. Then she was back again.

He’d been through an emotional yoyo-fucking. Like he’d been strapped down and the Safe Word was unpronouncable and the fear was just starting to get overwhelming. He was shaking, on the edge of tears.

They should already be leaving the apartment. But he needed a few minutes to pull himself together. A little self-care now would mean better effectiveness later on.

He set the timer on his phone, then stripped out of his clothes. He stood in front of the mirror naked. Stared into his own eyes as he took five deep breaths.

Then he reached into the medicine cabinet and took two pumps of lube from the bottle and closed the mirror.

Evan held the cool jelly-like glob of lube in his hand and stared into his own reflected eyes.

He saw the flame burning in the blackness. Pupil and iris, gradually swallowed up by flame until he stared into pits of beckoning flame, tendrils reaching out like lashes. Ghostly echoes of hands and figures, indulging in pornographic acts.

He stared into those flaming depths, gorgeous sea anemone of beckoning flame, blues flickering ghostlike across the oranges and yellows. He imagined pressing himself into those wavering appendages and letting himself be pulled inside.

His hips rolled forward as he thrust into his right hand, his left palm pressing against the counter edge as his fingers desperately flexed and held on. He kept his lips pressed tight together and breathed in and out through his nose, huffing puffs and grunts that he consciously tried to slow down.

He was thrusting faster and faster. Those flames were eeling out of the darkness inside that other-him’s head. Flames were spooling out in writhing tentacles that slipped and slithered down his chest, around his thighs, and wrapped around both legs and feet. He was enshrouded in living flames.

He was caressed by the flames. They stroked across his shoulders, down his arms, prickling a trail of goosepimples. He shivered and flexed.

Tendrils looped around his chest, passing over and in his belly button before looping down between his legs and back up. It made him slide his bare feet apart and lean into the counter, arching his back as he thrust helplessly.

Evan was lost.

He knew he was.

But where else was he supposed to go?

Retirement or not, he was still the Flameburst.

He still loved the flames.

And they were taking him over now. He could feel it and he loved it, even as he hated the person he would become.

He’d do anything to protect Ashley. Even this.

He was fucked faster, harder. He was making a pitched whining sound that he tried to stop but couldn’t. His body was out of his control. He was being engulfed by the flames.

His hips thrust faster and faster. He was gripping the counter with desperate strength, his shoulders hunching forward as he jerked off.

He was focused on his groin. His breath was hitching and breaking as he whined/gasped, his bare toes flexing and lifting him up and down. He was close, he could feel it. He was so close.

So close, so close – a tear trickled unnoticed down his cheek as he desperately tried to reach that precipice. His thighs were trembling and he was stroking faster and faster, his hand slidng in a mix of lube and precome.

He could feel himself being opened up. Even as he fucked his fist, the flames were reaching around and up inside. And some part of him – the still stodgily straight part – wanted to protest what was about to happen. But the rest of him remembered that it felt so good to come.

He hadn’t been able to masturbate without the flames for years. And sex with normals had become a no-go when he’d nearly burnt that woman. Plus he thought flamelets dripping from his dick was a sign that his body wasn’t safe for sex with others.

He’d forgotten how good letting go felt. And how gorgeous his mirror-self was.

Flames licked over his body, urging him faster and faster. He was close. So close. So… close…

A fist of flame punching up into his body. That’s what it felt like. But instead of pain, there was a flooding warmth that arced through his whole body – bowing his back and zipping down to his fingers and toes – before recirculating around to pool in his groin.

He came so hard that he blacked out.


The Flameburst left the bathroom. He’d showered and done what he could to fix the old uniform. It had been saved in a box as a memento of the Good Old Days, and he’d gained a couple of pounds since then.

He moved his arms and legs up and down as he walked into the living room. He was going to need to stretch some of the stiffness out if he hoped to be combat effective.

He smiled at Ashley when he found her wearing a dark green peacoat with the bags and supplies arrayed around her. She was ready and waiting to go. “Good job, sport.”

She smiled at him a little uncertainly. “Okay.”

He stared at her for a moment. Without her memory, she didn’t know about his little swaps. She wouldn’t remember the warnings signs and avoid his triggers.

Evan would be angry if Ashley burned up. The Flameburst would probably feel regretful about it later too. Especially if Evan refused to swap with him anymore.

Everything was so beautiful and bright. Everything burned and he could make the whole world dance. But he had to hold himself back. Had to remember consequences and reasons why burning the world wasn’t allowed.

“Let’s get out of here, kiddo,” he said, trying to sound as jolly and Dad-like as he assumed Evan would. He hadn’t paid much attention to Evan’s interactions with amnesiac-Ashley, but he wasn’t capable of feeling fear.

The Flameburst pulled a parka over his uniform to cover it and to protect him from the icy weather outside. He zipped the coat up under his chin and flipped the hood over his head before putting on the backpack.

He wobbled a little as he adjusted to the weight, silently cursing his out of shape body. Then he grinned at the challenge.

He felt the flames flare around his heart: a burst of heat and pleasure rippled through his blood to engulf his limbs and groin. He flexed his buttocks and thighs to keep from thrusting forward.

It felt so strong.

Evan hadn’t been feeding his flames enough.

He’d been a dangerous explosive walking amongst unknowing people. The wrong word or gesture could have had him lash out with dangerous consequences. It was a careless disregard for safety.

Which said a lot about Evan’s mental state.

The Flameburst breathed in and out, a flame flickering at the back of his throat as he retaught his body control. He couldn’t allow any accidents.

“Let’s go.” He let Ashley open the door, but he stepped out first. He would keep her safe.



WIP: That Time I Told You (working title)

This is a rawfeed story, which means that it’s coming direct from my brain to the computer screen. There may be word usage errors and editing problems.

by Sol Crafter

They met for the first time in the lunchroom when they were 10 years old. It wasn’t an instant connection–it took two weeks of sharing a table before they got to talking–but they became best friends after that.

To Conrad, meeting Jamie was the first time he felt alive. It was as though color flooded into an otherwise empty world.

It had never been great at home. His parents were always fighting, always yelling, always looking at him with resentful eyes as though to say “It’s your fault all our dreams are dead”. Going to school was his chance to get away from the tension and the loneliness. He did okay in his classes.

Until Jamie came, he only went to school to get away from home. The other kids were just the kids he played with at school–he wouldn’t call any of them a best friend.

Jamie was his best friend.

And so, because Jamie played the guitar, Conrad learned to play the bass. Because Jamie loved singing and music, Conrad learned to carry a tune and even started writing songs in a spiral bound notebook.

He would spend the night at Jamie’s house with Jamie’s doting mom who always tried to get Jamie whatever he wanted, even though she was a single parent without much money. He might have been jealous if she hadn’t been so nice to him, welcoming him into her home as though he were another son.

He became part of their family.


“We should start our own band.”

They were in Jamie’s room, each taking up an opposite end of the bed as they flipped through magazines and listened to music. Jamie had a tendency to flail his feet with the music, so Conrad had thrown a pillow across his ankles and had his arm propped on top.

“Huh?” he asked, looking away from the glossy pictures of pocket monsters fighting a guy in mecha armor.

“I said,” Jamie raised his voice with a mock-serious frown that turned into a smile, “we should start a band. What do you think?”

Conrad looked at him. He seemed serious, or at least determined to have his way. They were already playing instruments together. It didn’t bear much consideration. “Okay.”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah! We are gonna be rockstars.”

“$85 Dry Cleaning Bill”

Title: $85 Dry Cleaning Bill
Author: Harper Kingsley

PROMPT: I need to wash my blanket. It smells like dirty girl.

FILL: I need to wash my blankie, Holden thought, wrinkling her nose.

The dark cream colored rectangle of fake fur smelled of dirty girl and rancid powdered Corpse. Her own familiar smell had been completely wiped away by her cousin. Her terrible, terrible cousin. The would-be necromancer and part-time necrophile.

Her blanket felt tainted now. And the smell made her want to gag. If she didn’t love that scrap of fabric so much she would have thrown it away. As it was, she’d have to take it to the Dry Cleaners and hope they could save it.

Holden bundled the blanket into a garbage bag and tied it shut. She tossed the bag in the backseat of her car and drove to a coffee shop where she enjoyed a black coffee sweetened by two sugars and a croissant sandwich for lunch. While she was there she ran a quick Internet search for highly rated Dry Cleaners.

She chose and saved the directions to Happy Harry’s onto her phone. She ignored the notification that said she’d had five missed calls (This is my day) and finished her coffee. Then she drove to the Dry Cleaners, who told her it was going to cost $85 to save her blanket.

By the time she was home getting ready for the evening’s Entertainment, she was simmering over the amount of the bill. Her cousin hadn’t even apologized when she’d made such a big mess at Thanksgiving. (That selfish bitch. She only thinks about herself. She didn’t even look sorry when she got Uncle Raymond’s fingers chopped off. It was all about her. Never mind our family.) She’d swooped in, dropped angry criminals on them all, killed a bunch of people, then flew back east. She’d turned their family into a spectacle. And she’d never truly apologized.

It hurt to think that the family had welcomed her into their homes and she’d treated them so shabbily. Holden had made a fool of herself welcoming her new famous cousin. She’d shown her around and introduced her to all of her friends. And what had she gotten in return? A bloodbath in her backyard. A pile of bloody clothes and makeshift medical supplies in her room. A bunch of sexually assaulted family members–male and female, old and young-young–that she could barely look at without feeling like crying. And an 85-frakking-dollar Dry Cleaning bill because her cousin’s “friend”/hitman/lackey had taken a nap on her bed without her permission.

Holden’s cousin’s whirlwind visit had been a series of horrifying events that their family might never fully recover from. There were so many emotional scars forming that she found it too selfish to mention her financial concerns to any of them. They’d been through so much.

She felt too guilty to complain about her badly damaged rental house.

So to keep her creditors off her back, she’d gotten the kind of job she’d promised herself she’d never do. But what real choice did she have?

It was either pay the bills or end up in Debtors’ Prison. Or worse.

She could end up on the Auction Block. Where she would regret being so wholesome and pretty (I’d get full body tattoos and hack my hair off before my sale date. I’d rather be a Menial than Property) when she was sold for Entertainment.

I have to get some money, Holden thought. I have to fix this somehow.


Don’t forget to bring a towel to the end of the world

Octavia remembered the way they’d looked at her pile of blankets. Half a dozen scraps of cloth in various fabric types. “Those synthetic fabrics don’t breathe” they would cry, as though she was committing some great sin.

They didn’t understand that that was the point. They didn’t breathe.

Blankets, towels, heaps of fabric–they may have been something to keep her warm and dry back during the old days, but they developed hundreds of uses after the end of the world.

She could wave a white towel to show she gave up. She could clog a drain with a microbial, moisture wicking blanket lining.

She could hold onto the soft comfort of the velour blanket someone had gifted to her. She couldn’t even remember his name, just the fact that he’d been a truly nice guy and not a predator in drag (Kang-soo*, that dirtbag). Blanket-guy had bought her the camel colored blanket while they were at some outside venue. He’d gotten her a coffee too, and the way he’d looked at her had made her start thinking that he was falling in love with her.

She couldn’t remember his name and his face was a blur, but his kindness had remained with her for all the years after the end of the world. He’d become one of her sweetest memories of her life before.

She wondered what he would be like now if he had survived. The thought had entered her mind with a Terminator fanfic, one where Clair Dane’s character from the original timeline never ended up locked in a bunker with John Connor.

She ended up falling in love with him because she didn’t meet him again until after the end of her world. She’d met him at the lowest point of her life and he’d entered her world like a miraculous hurricane, saving her from the machines and her own misery. She hadn’t watched him grow from acne covered young boy into humanity’s messiah. He hadn’t been there to save her, and she’d lived through all the years of machine rule.

Meeting him after she’d seen misery meant that she’d had time to lose some of her idealism and wake up to reality. She grew up to love him as the memory of a sweet boy that liked her and as the amazing man he’d become, scrabbling in the dirt without her.

Together they became a great team. And then, at the end of the story, John makes the decision to send someone back to protect her… and incidentally ensure that young-her and young-him ended up together. It had seemed like a happier ending after all of the hardships she lived through, but then the epilogue had shown a future-her and John that had fallen out of love and barely tolerated each other. “Happy ending?” had been the last words.

Octavia didn’t believe that her time travel boyfriend was out there, but she occasionally imagined a scenario where Blanket-guy had survived the apocalypse. She liked to imagine him growing up strong and sure, gaining valuable survival skills. He would pass through the area for some reason and they would see each other. He would be single and a bit lonely. They would find a life together.

Until then, she had her velour blanket and her mounds of fleece and cotton. She had the house she lived in and the struggle laid out in front of her.

* * *

*Kang-soo, the street name for the indomitable Lord Brummel Beausby, a lady hiding from the Golden Emperor’s justice. She has been accused of killing her twin brother Sebastian. She’d heard their orders were to kill her on sight. She’d had no choice but to run. To give up everthing from her previous life.

Centrifical, by Sol Crafter – Chapter One

Rereading some old stuff. I really do have a fondness for this story. There may be some Marty/Jim shorts in the future.

* * *

Title: Centrifical
Author: Sol Crafter
Pairing: Marty Sheer/Jim Sheppard
Genre: mm, contemporary, rockstar, movie star
Rating: mature

Summary: Marty is one of the stars of a cheesy sci-fi show. Jim is a rock superstar. They’ve been friends forever, though now it’s turned to something more.


He was sitting on a bench with a paperback spread open on his lap, the spine strained to breaking. He’d come to the park with the idea that he was finally going to finish reading his mystery novel. Except the sun was warm on his skin and he was distracted by the sounds of distant laughter and the elusive scent of barbecue.

Finally he gave up even the pretense and folded the book closed, shoving it into the pocket of his navy blue hoodie. He just sat with his head tipped back and enjoyed the light on his closed eyelids and the way fingers of breeze stroked through his hair.
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ORIGINAL FIC: Faizel II: Chapter One

Title: Faizel II
Author: Harper Kingsley
World: Faizel
Characters: Faizel/Charlemagne, Ewing, Isadore, Ives, Jenny Deacon
Genre: vampires, mm, slash
Rating: mature
Summary: Picks up where Faizel left off. Faizel is fitting into his new world like a shark with lasers on its head. There’s blood in the water. He’s closing in.


Sometimes Ewing wondered if they had invited a devil into their midst. Because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Charlemagne was possessed. And the devil was named Faizel. Charlemagne’s darling love. The mysterious vampire that had appeared from nowhere to steal Charlemagne’s heart and rearrange the natural order of the world.

Ewing personally thought of Faizel as a booty call gone wrong, though he would never say it aloud. He valued his life too much.

Charlemagne wanted to keep Faizel secret, and Ewing was willing to go along with it. Because honestly, how could he even explain someone like Faizel? The guy scared the ever living fuck out of him, and that was no lie.
Continue reading

“Fierce” by Harper Kingsley [mm, Simon Peters, Trigger Warning]

Series: Simon Peters
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm
Rating: Mature (past-noncon)

There were moments in the stillness when Simon found himself afraid. He would close his eyes only to have to open them again, his every sense quivering alert, sure the boogeyman was going to get him. Again.

He hated being scared all the time. He hated that there were marks on him he couldn’t see. He hated that someone as sick and twisted as Damien Prince had left such a permanent scar on his mind.

There were some days when all he felt was hate: for the man that hurt him, the world that watched, and for his own weakness. It seemed there were some weeks when he had more bad days than good and no matter how hard he tried it was a battle even pretending to smile. His mind was a tangled mass of dark emotion.
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EXCERPT: Mad Dahl [sci-fi thug mm]

Title: Mad Dahl (tentative title)
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: science fiction, action/adventure, thug, mm

Raised on the streets after leaving the orphanage at fourteen–the legal age on Helphion 5–he had learned how to survive. Even still, there had been the occasional setback, the occasional gropey handed predator that had stolen his innocence a bit at a time.

He was driven to survive–it was his nature, genetically scribed on his very bones. He learned to trust his survival instinct, to fall into that primitive mindset of “I will survive through everything.”
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EXCERPT: Faizel 02 (mm vampire urban fantasy) Faizel/Charlemagne + BFF Ewing

Title: Faizel 02 (excerpt)
Author: Harper Kingsley
Pairing: Charlemagne/Faizel
Characters: Faizel, Charlemagne, Ewing, Isadore, Jenny Deacon, Tamlin, Benton Lamoux, Felix, Prince Lucian, Paris, Gladys.
Genre: mm vampire urban fantasy

Summary: Picks up soon after Faizel 01. The actual start of the story.

* * *

Sometimes Ewing wondered if they had invited a devil into their midst. Because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Charlemagne was possessed. And the devil was named Faizel. Charlemagne’s darling love. The mysterious vampire that had appeared from nowhere to steal Charlemagne’s heart and rearrange the natural order of the world.

Ewing personally thought of Faizel as a booty call gone wrong, though he would never say it aloud. He valued his life too much.

Charlemagne wanted to keep Faizel secret, and Ewing was willing to go along with it. Because honestly, how could he even explain someone like Faizel? The guy scared the ever living fuck out of him, and that was no lie.

“Are you certain this is how you want to do things?” Deacon asked in her “I’m a complete hard as nails Law Officer” voice.
Continue reading

EDITS: Idlewile, by Harper Kingsley – Chapter One

I thought I would show the difference between a Raw Feed chapter and one that I’ve performed first edits on. This is what’s published to Kimichee if you need the refresher: Idlewile – Chapter One. That’s straight from my brain to the screen.

If you’d like to download a copy to see what it looks like with the Track Changes on (there’s a LOT of red, just saying) here’s the link: TrackChangeSample-IdlewileCh1. It’s a Word Doc.

Otherwise, here’s how the chapter looks cleaned up:

I know some writers write a first draft, mark it up a bit, then retype the whole thing. I’m not that cool. As you can see, I don’t do the traditional rewrites. I just get the words on the page, then go through and clean up the mess I’ve made.

This edited chapter is for display purposes only. I usually make a copy of my originals to leave in my backup folder, then I make changes directly to the story itself. I didn’t realize how many changes I tend to make until I saw the chapter with Track Changes on. I was just a little surprised.

Anyways, this has been a part of my writing process. I hope that you’ve enjoyed seeing my brain at work. And please don’t be surprised if a Kimichee story looks very different in its finished form than what first appears here.

EXCERPT: Ruefully Rude [mf contemporary romance]

Title: Ruefully Rude
Author: Harper Kingsley
Pairing: Charity Reese/Kurt Carpenter
Genre: contemporary romance, mf
Rating: teen+
Summary: Kurt Carpenter finds himself in a sticky situation when the guys he’s working with are rude to the wrong group of women.

Getting in to see the illustrious Nadine DelMacchiano involved making an appointment two days in advance and waiting on a couch for twenty minutes before he was called into her office. Kurt felt like he was walking straight into the lion’s den, but there wasn’t much choice, not if he wanted to get his life back.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly. She was lounging behind the big glass and chrome monstrosity that pretended to be a desk. Her dark hair framed her pretty face in soft curls that did nothing to lighten her confrontational expression or the disdain in her cold brown eyes as she looked him up and down.

Kurt fought not to shift uncomfortably. There was something about her that made him feel stripped bare and he didn’t like it. He felt out of place in her fancy office, his jeans and charcoal sweater suddenly shabby and maybe a bit shameful. Continue reading

Rocking Hard 01

EXCERPT: Centrifical, by Sol Crafter

Rocking Hard 01-smallerRocking Hard, Volume 1 is an anthology published by Less Than Three Press.
Word count: 104,000
Pairing: M/M, F/F
Content: Contains some explicit content.

Stories of rock stars and their loves.

Buy links: Astore, Amazon, Smashwords, Bookstrand, All Romance.

Title: Centrifical
Author: Sol Crafter
Genre: mm romance

Summary: Marty is the star of a B-rated sci-fi show. Jim is a rock god. They grew up as nerds together. Now Jim is coming home.

Blurb: “Marty Sheer, one of the stars of a B-rated sci-fi show “Centrifical,” receives a phone call letting him know that his old friend Jim Sheppard, who left years ago and has since become an acclaimed rock star, has bought a new home close by. Renewing their friendships is easy—becoming something more is a challenge that makes fame look easy.”

Read the EXCERPT.

Title: Fringe Benefits
Author: Diana Sheridan
Genre: mm romance

Summary: Depressed after the death of his lover, and having lost his job at the same time, Dale distracts himself by going to see one of his favorite rockers. But a simple concert and trip backstage lands him an unexpected job as her new assistant, and brings him into the path of her intriguing, appealing make-up artist and hair dresser, Luis. But if there’s one thing that Dale has learned, it’s that life is never easy and love doesn’t always last.

Title: Courage Wolf Never Sings the Gorram Blues
Author: Talya Andor
Genre: mm romance

Summary: Bailey Kravitz, lead singer of Courage Wolf, is a high-strung, perfectionist diva of a front man. Gunner Lansing, bassist of Courage Wolf, is a laid-back, hang loose ladies’ man who is only serious about guitars and sex. They say opposites attract, but Bailey’s terminal crush on oblivious Gunner is tearing the band apart. Meanwhile, his longtime friend, quiet but intense guitarist Tor Macleod, helps him pick up the pieces yet again. Between annihilating everything they’ve built and reeling from total rejection, there may be a third option Bailey has been overlooking all this time. Problem is, Bailey’s always been more than a little difficult when he’s out to get his way, and that may ruin his prospects after all.

Title: Put You In a Song
Author: Lacie J. Archer
Genre: mm romance

Summary: Ten months ago, on a whirlwind New Year’s Eve, Garrett and Rich enjoyed a wild night together. Back in town for the final performance of his band’s tour, Rich can’t wait to see Garrett again, unable to forget him. But a wild night and a lifetime are two different things, and the first real challenge they face may be more than their fragile new relationship can take.

Title: A Haunted Melody
Author: Angel Propps
Genre: ff romance

Summary: A decades old tragedy, an old guitar, and a bright new star … A struggling musician on the verge of losing her band, Kara spies a guitar in a pawn shop that she can’t resist. One year later she’s on the verge of fame, and meets a woman who not only can help her get there, but introduces Kara to an intriguing, beautiful woman … But bad history is coming back to haunt, and Kara stands to lose not just fame and love, but her life.

Centrifical, by Sol Crafter Continue reading


Excerpt: Slipping Through the Cracks, by Harper Kingsley

Title: Slipping Through the Cracks
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Franz Caulder/Ryan Wilder, Dr. Pamela Werth, Nicole Carson
Genre: mm
Rating: mature
Summary: Kid Nitro went to sleep in his own bed, and woke up on another Earth in the body of an alternate Franz Caulder. It’s a world without metabilities, which is jarring enough, but it’s also a world where Other-Franz is a mental patient grappling with some serious problems.

* * *

Franz went to sleep in his bed.

He woke up to a changed world.

The first thing he noticed, even before he opened his eyes, was that his sheets were strangely scratchy and his mattress was mysteriously hard with more jabby parts than he had ever experienced before. He imagined it was what lying on a bed of nails was like.

Franz sat up with a groan and his eyes widened in shock as he looked around.

The room he was in was painted a glaring white and was sparsely furnished. There was a plain brown dresser against the wall and a cheap framework desk under the barred and uncurtained window.

The bed he was on was a metal frame with a thin futon mattress thrown on it. Uncomfortable and unappealing, it–along with the bars on the windows and and the complete lack of any kind of personality in the room’s decor–gave him his first inkling of where he might be. Continue reading

EXCERPT: Fierce, by Harper Kingsley [mm contemporary]

Title: Fierce
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm contemporary
Rating: teen+
AN: Mentions past non-con and Simon dealing with it.

Summary: There were moments in the stillness where Simon found himself afraid. He would close his eyes only to have to open them again, his every sense quivering alert, sure the Boogeyman was going to get him. Again.

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EXCERPT: The Center, by Harper Kingsley [sci-fi, horror]

"The Center, by Harper Kingsley"

Title: The Center
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: sci-fi, horror
Rating: Adult
Word count: 16,991

Summary: Before he used his psychic gifts to work with the police. Before he became Julian Duncan… He was Julian DeVries, a scared boy held at a secret facility known only as The Center. Abused and experimented on, his only desire was freedom and escape from a terrible future only he could see.

Orphaned violently at 12 years old, Julian has lived at the Center as favored test subject and future breeding stock. He has tried to escape several times, but has always been brought back to the scientists that torment him. There is nowhere else that he can go and no other life that he can live…

Then he receives a horrific vision of his future and he has no choice but to try once again for his dream of freedom.

The upcoming sequel is “Cannot Hold”

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