#pennedpossibilities — Public Fediverse posts

#PennedPossibilities 1125: SC POV: Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is and explain why you chose that name.

1/2
Lichfield actually does have a couple of alternative names The etymology of the name Lichfield is interesting, South of the city,there was a Romano-British village, Letocetum, a Common Brittonic place-name meaning, Grey wood, grey perhaps referring to varieties of tree prominent in the landscape, such as ash and elm. In the post-Roman period, Letocetum developed into Old Welsh Luitcoyt.

The earliest record of the name in English describes Chad moving from York to Lichfield in 669 when he was made Bishop of the Mercians was given a place at Lichfield, Onlicitfelda. The prefix, on, indicates the place given to Chad by Wilfrid was, in Lichfield, meaning the name applied to the general region. Bede says Chad acquired Licidfelth as his episcopal seat.

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#PennedPossibilities 1125: SC POV: Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is and explain why you chose that name.

Pigeon the Pilferer would say:

Home City? I'd choose Misery. Not a place where dreams come to be crushed underfoot so much as where they can't spout because if some people, or many people, don't like how you look, sound… you smell, they'll steal even your dirt, they'll beat you, for the fun of it, and they'll leave you bleeding on bare stone, stone where your seeds of hope will shrivel from the heat of hate only to be ground to meager powder, to be blown away in the slightest breeze.

Well, that's way more eloquent than usual for him! The day angel got bullied and picked on growing up. Don't know why. I imagine the metallic blue, green, and purple sheen to his otherwise grey feathers had something to do with it. He grew up to be a punk gangster with a bad attitude and a miserable disposition, ready to fight at the merest slight. He's Bolt's lesser antagonist.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1125

SC POV: Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is and explain why you chose that name.

Boredom
Pop. 85
Elev. 3201

"In the middle of the desert, five streets, a general store, a small diner, a scrapyard, a regional school, nothing else. Perfectly suited for a covert Army operation."

EDIT
(Had read the question as "MC" first.
MY BAD!🤗)

#PennedPossibilities 1125: SC POV: Give your city (or town or region) a new name that reflects what type of place it is and explain why you chose that name.

Grigga: *snort-laugh* As corny as it might be, let’s call it Trouble Town. Everything seems to happen in Marelance, both good and bad. And believe me, the brigands love showing up and causing trouble.

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#PennedPossibilities 1122: SC favourite meal?

(Legit going to pass on this one. There's probably something at home their parents made semi-regularly that they liked, but I've no idea what, am bad for incorporating food anyway, and don't see it being relevant since they're not at home.)

#PennedPossibilities 1124: MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

I always wonder why, when expressing a fear or phobia that you have to endure (like going to the dentist), other people in that situation often ask, "are you okay?" "No. I mentioned that I'm terrified out of my mind. Why would you think I'd be okay?"

#PennedPossibilities 1124
MC POV: What stupid question,...

I am going to answer for me as an author. Many people think "where do you get your ideas from?" and "which is better, being a plotter or a pantser" are *stupid* questions. They are honest attempts by someone less experienced than you to ask a "expert". You may find them trite, be frightened of showing yourself up, or .hate the intellectual effort of answering them.

I answer these with grace and gratitude.

#reading #writing #books

#PennedPossibilities 1124
MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

'I'm sorry, but questions are rarely stupid. They might be uninformed, ill-conceived, half-digested or perhaps even malicious. But plain stupid rarely ask questions. Stupid is content with what little they know. Asking a question shows, in most cases and to some extent, a will to expand one's horizons, and I am loath to attribute that to stupidity.'

#PennedPossibilities 1121: MC personal strengths?

Carrie would likely mention her open mindedness, and ability to think on the fly. Perhaps also stubborn resolve, hesitating as to whether that's a strength.

Others would agree. They might also mention honesty, but that's more because she's not great at lying.

#PennedPossibilities 1124
MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

Maggie: "Too damn many. But, no, I'm not supposed to say that. I've been told I can be too prickly. Unapproachable. 'There are no stupid questions.' That's my mantra. Answer these morons with a smile."

1124. MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

Bella says, "People sometimes are ignorant about things. Then their questions seem stupid. I'm as guilty of that as most people. My teacher taught me that the purpose of questions is to learn things so you aren't ignorant any longer. Ergo: no stupid questions.

"But I disagree. I've had bullies ask me questions to get a rise out of me. These are the really stupid ones."

#PennedPossibilities

#PennedPossibilities 1124

MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

Kessy:
"Not a question, but [her girlfriend] Rosa's aunt has once stated that a lesbian can't get pregnant because she will never have her period. This is so mind boggling stupid I will never be able to wrap my head around that."

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.09.09 — ~Share something you've been working on this month.

"Share" to me means #excerpt. Really, all I've done is revision. Apropos to Gloria Stienem passing, I worked on this decidedly feminist passage, a small part of which showed up in #pennedPossibilities 1120 last Sunday. The WIP takes place in a female-centric society where people chose their own names. Morning Glory is an upstart male who's become a diva actor and Steamed Milk and Sugar [nickname Shugh (short for Sugar)] is their society's version of trans-fem. Lightning Bolt (dba Good Eye), the MC POV narrator is… Well, she's… sexist? I'll let this unfold. CW: Casting couch reference. Your comments are welcome.

Nodding, the actor stood and asked, "[Shugh]. That name you chose, you chose it because you had problems as a journalist? Your [clothes]? That ribbon in your hair—?"

Red. Satin. Decidedly not masculine.

"I chose Steamed Milk and Sugar because I wanted to blend in amongst the other women. Journalists are women, at least in the capital, but my name turned out suggestive of the assignments I got—tea runner, typing pool—and it was the jobs I did until a few days ago, when I asked a favor of Good Eye."

I grinned. "Me."

"Because of asking then, today I landed this [magazine] interview."

[Morning Glory] nodded. "You're like I was: A kid, barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. It earned me parts when others got none, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing. I am an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums."

Shugh chuckled, looking askance. "Paid attention, yes, but preferred blending in, being supportive. Minimized riding."

Morning Glory nodded. "It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dismissively. Dismissively, I decided, because I'd stolen his point and was a woman. Undoubtedly annoying, but he fleshed out the idea, pacing again.

I sighed and faded into the background with my camera. Far safer, anyway.

I can't say I liked recognizing that except for my dream-crushing incident at the Haulers guild where my gender proved poisonous, I definitely benefited from being a woman and I liked that more and more when I had to listen to what Shugh and Morning Glory dealt with. Couldn't change that I was female—I wasn't Shugh, who seemed to be trying to be accepted as… not male—and no, I couldn't feel guilty about it.

This interview Shugh's big chance. I had no chance to better my life and I didn't want to impinge on his chance. Neither guy's for that matter…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.09.09 — ~Share something you've been working on this month.

"Share" to me means #excerpt. Really, all I've done is revision. Apropos to Gloria Stienem passing, I worked on this decidedly feminist passage, a small part of which showed up in #pennedPossibilities 1120 last Sunday. The WIP takes place in a female-centric society where people chose their own names. Morning Glory is an upstart male who's become a diva actor and Steamed Milk and Sugar [nickname Shugh (short for Sugar)] is their society's version of trans-fem. Lightning Bolt (dba Good Eye), the MC POV narrator is… Well, she's… sexist? I'll let this unfold. CW: Casting couch reference. Your comments are welcome.

Nodding, the actor stood and asked, "[Shugh]. That name you chose, you chose it because you had problems as a journalist? Your [clothes]? That ribbon in your hair—?"

Red. Satin. Decidedly not masculine.

"I chose Steamed Milk and Sugar because I wanted to blend in amongst the other women. Journalists are women, at least in the capital, but my name turned out suggestive of the assignments I got—tea runner, typing pool—and it was the jobs I did until a few days ago, when I asked a favor of Good Eye."

I grinned. "Me."

"Because of asking then, today I landed this [magazine] interview."

[Morning Glory] nodded. "You're like I was: A kid, barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. It earned me parts when others got none, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing. I am an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums."

Shugh chuckled, looking askance. "Paid attention, yes, but preferred blending in, being supportive. Minimized riding."

Morning Glory nodded. "It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dismissively. Dismissively, I decided, because I'd stolen his point and was a woman. Undoubtedly annoying, but he fleshed out the idea, pacing again.

I sighed and faded into the background with my camera. Far safer, anyway.

I can't say I liked recognizing that except for my dream-crushing incident at the Haulers guild where my gender proved poisonous, I definitely benefited from being a woman and I liked that more and more when I had to listen to what Shugh and Morning Glory dealt with. Couldn't change that I was female—I wasn't Shugh, who seemed to be trying to be accepted as… not male—and no, I couldn't feel guilty about it.

This interview Shugh's big chance. I had no chance to better my life and I didn't want to impinge on his chance. Neither guy's for that matter…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.09.09 — ~Share something you've been working on this month.

"Share" to me means #excerpt. Really, all I've done is revision. Apropos to Gloria Stienem passing, I worked on this decidedly feminist passage, a small part of which showed up in #pennedPossibilities 1120 last Sunday. The WIP takes place in a female-centric society where people chose their own names. Morning Glory is an upstart male who's become a diva actor and Steamed Milk and Sugar [nickname Shugh (short for Sugar)] is their society's version of trans-fem. Lightning Bolt (dba Good Eye), the MC POV narrator is… Well, she's… sexist? I'll let this unfold. CW: Casting couch reference. Your comments are welcome.

Nodding, the actor stood and asked, "[Shugh]. That name you chose, you chose it because you had problems as a journalist? Your [clothes]? That ribbon in your hair—?"

Red. Satin. Decidedly not masculine.

"I chose Steamed Milk and Sugar because I wanted to blend in amongst the other women. Journalists are women, at least in the capital, but my name turned out suggestive of the assignments I got—tea runner, typing pool—and it was the jobs I did until a few days ago, when I asked a favor of Good Eye."

I grinned. "Me."

"Because of asking then, today I landed this [magazine] interview."

[Morning Glory] nodded. "You're like I was: A kid, barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. It earned me parts when others got none, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing. I am an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums."

Shugh chuckled, looking askance. "Paid attention, yes, but preferred blending in, being supportive. Minimized riding."

Morning Glory nodded. "It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dismissively. Dismissively, I decided, because I'd stolen his point and was a woman. Undoubtedly annoying, but he fleshed out the idea, pacing again.

I sighed and faded into the background with my camera. Far safer, anyway.

I can't say I liked recognizing that except for my dream-crushing incident at the Haulers guild where my gender proved poisonous, I definitely benefited from being a woman and I liked that more and more when I had to listen to what Shugh and Morning Glory dealt with. Couldn't change that I was female—I wasn't Shugh, who seemed to be trying to be accepted as… not male—and no, I couldn't feel guilty about it.

This interview Shugh's big chance. I had no chance to better my life and I didn't want to impinge on his chance. Neither guy's for that matter…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.09.09 — ~Share something you've been working on this month.

"Share" to me means #excerpt. Really, all I've done is revision. Apropos to Gloria Stienem passing, I worked on this decidedly feminist passage, a small part of which showed up in #pennedPossibilities 1120 last Sunday. The WIP takes place in a female-centric society where people chose their own names. Morning Glory is an upstart male who's become a diva actor and Steamed Milk and Sugar [nickname Shugh (short for Sugar)] is their society's version of trans-fem. Lightning Bolt (dba Good Eye), the MC POV narrator is… Well, she's… sexist? I'll let this unfold. CW: Casting couch reference. Your comments are welcome.

Nodding, the actor stood and asked, "[Shugh]. That name you chose, you chose it because you had problems as a journalist? Your [clothes]? That ribbon in your hair—?"

Red. Satin. Decidedly not masculine.

"I chose Steamed Milk and Sugar because I wanted to blend in amongst the other women. Journalists are women, at least in the capital, but my name turned out suggestive of the assignments I got—tea runner, typing pool—and it was the jobs I did until a few days ago, when I asked a favor of Good Eye."

I grinned. "Me."

"Because of asking then, today I landed this [magazine] interview."

[Morning Glory] nodded. "You're like I was: A kid, barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. It earned me parts when others got none, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing. I am an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums."

Shugh chuckled, looking askance. "Paid attention, yes, but preferred blending in, being supportive. Minimized riding."

Morning Glory nodded. "It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dismissively. Dismissively, I decided, because I'd stolen his point and was a woman. Undoubtedly annoying, but he fleshed out the idea, pacing again.

I sighed and faded into the background with my camera. Far safer, anyway.

I can't say I liked recognizing that except for my dream-crushing incident at the Haulers guild where my gender proved poisonous, I definitely benefited from being a woman and I liked that more and more when I had to listen to what Shugh and Morning Glory dealt with. Couldn't change that I was female—I wasn't Shugh, who seemed to be trying to be accepted as… not male—and no, I couldn't feel guilty about it.

This interview Shugh's big chance. I had no chance to better my life and I didn't want to impinge on his chance. Neither guy's for that matter…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.09.09 — ~Share something you've been working on this month.

"Share" to me means #excerpt. Really, all I've done is revision. Apropos to Gloria Stienem passing, I worked on this decidedly feminist passage, a small part of which showed up in #pennedPossibilities 1120 last Sunday. The WIP takes place in a female-centric society where people chose their own names. Morning Glory is an upstart male who's become a diva actor and Steamed Milk and Sugar [nickname Shugh (short for Sugar)] is their society's version of trans-fem. Lightning Bolt (dba Good Eye), the MC POV narrator is… Well, she's… sexist? I'll let this unfold. CW: Casting couch reference. Your comments are welcome.

Nodding, the actor stood and asked, "[Shugh]. That name you chose, you chose it because you had problems as a journalist? Your [clothes]? That ribbon in your hair—?"

Red. Satin. Decidedly not masculine.

"I chose Steamed Milk and Sugar because I wanted to blend in amongst the other women. Journalists are women, at least in the capital, but my name turned out suggestive of the assignments I got—tea runner, typing pool—and it was the jobs I did until a few days ago, when I asked a favor of Good Eye."

I grinned. "Me."

"Because of asking then, today I landed this [magazine] interview."

[Morning Glory] nodded. "You're like I was: A kid, barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. It earned me parts when others got none, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing. I am an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums."

Shugh chuckled, looking askance. "Paid attention, yes, but preferred blending in, being supportive. Minimized riding."

Morning Glory nodded. "It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dismissively. Dismissively, I decided, because I'd stolen his point and was a woman. Undoubtedly annoying, but he fleshed out the idea, pacing again.

I sighed and faded into the background with my camera. Far safer, anyway.

I can't say I liked recognizing that except for my dream-crushing incident at the Haulers guild where my gender proved poisonous, I definitely benefited from being a woman and I liked that more and more when I had to listen to what Shugh and Morning Glory dealt with. Couldn't change that I was female—I wasn't Shugh, who seemed to be trying to be accepted as… not male—and no, I couldn't feel guilty about it.

This interview Shugh's big chance. I had no chance to better my life and I didn't want to impinge on his chance. Neither guy's for that matter…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#gender #fiction #writer #author
photographer chef cooking
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#PennedPossibilities 1124: MC POV: What stupid question have you heard someone ask (or asked yourself)?

Elric: I myself have asked many, surely. And I've heard even more from the mouths of others. But then again, all questions might just seem idiotic to the right (or wrong) ears. I can’t recall the last question I asked that someone else deemed beneath my intelligence level. By the way, just so you’re aware, I’m also rolling my eyes as we speak. And laughing, of course.

#WritingCommunity #WritersOfMastodon #TheScarletMirror #FatedByFire #CozyFantasy #Fantasy #SwordAndSorcery #Romance

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

Jormandr would prefer that all stories be about him. And if others won't tell them, he tells them himself. He also feels strongly that the more amazing he seems in the story the more 100% factual it must be.

#PennedPossibilities 1123
What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told?

The Mansion is populated by staff that are working hard, they don't gossip. And they don't tell a lot of stories, the one exception is the Librarian but they tell stories about everything.

There is a strong oral tradition, the Mansion staff doesn't read much despite having access to a miraculously large library and a huge archive.

Again, it feels like I've misunderstood the question.

#PennedPossibilities 1123
What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told?

Funnily enough, members of the magical community talk about the same things as people without magic.

You know, magic wielders; AKA wizards; witches; warlocks; and so on, even though they use the term practitioner to describe themselves.

They love taking the piss out fictional magicians and, whatever you do, don’t get them started on sorcerers.

#WritersOfMastodon #TalesFrom… #SecretLife… #HowtoSucceed… #Author #Novel

#PennedPossibilities 1123: "What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? (...)"

There are quite a few. Queen Arnegunde of Ripa, founder of the kingdom (to be imagined at about the time of Clovis I.), is hugely popular, and there is also a Viking heroine called Herja the Strong. In one story, it is mentioned that there are wild tales about "Thiudareiks" (= Dietrich von Bern, a heavily fictionalized version of Theodoric the Great featuring prominently in medieval German literature).

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

Ethereal is a story-heavy nation, mostly through oral narration and books. Since the global amnesia over a generation ago, people have been frantically trying to reestablish the narratives to know who they are. The context, the status, the parts of the stories and family histories that were lost, it can all still be felt. After the realignment, hero worship was big, obsessive, and downright dangerous. Which created an opportunity for nasty folks to take advantage of this longing for stories. Legends were made up, persona were invented, and for most of those, it became rather clear that it was all bullshit. But one of the newly invented heroes was general Seth. (Lazarus and Damien's father, but not Freya's) He was shoved into his position mostly because he looked the part. Tall, blond, handsome, strong man with a naturally commanding presence. It was mere coincidence that he was actually a nice guy. He commandeered Qinos' army of deadly weirdos, and fought for people indiscriminately. His heartbreakingly gruesome death shocked the entire nation, broke Ophelia's heart, and lead her to decide to create Freya. So, Freya's entire life, she's followed around by his legacy, while not actually being his child, unlike her brothers.

#writing

#PennedPossibilities 1120: "entertainment"

*
Jenny couldn’t see Heather’s expression, but wondered if the other girl was frowning. When Heather spun around though, her face was neutral.

“Point. Sorry. Thank you. And Frank, thanks for listening. If you have any theories, I’ll even listen to them. Could be entertaining. Bye now.” She turned away again.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Frank said. “And Carrie, thanks for keeping me in the loop. I was starting to wonder what had happened to you.”

#PennedPossibilities 1123
What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told?

This depends on the region & timeline. The most popular legendary figures in the north are Alamander Rey, the last mage king. Also Queen Jade, the most famous Dragon Age monarch. Rowena Rey is a Modern Era hero who brought magery back.

All around the eastern hemisphere, legends told of Jezmian, maker of dragons. And the Librarian, who might steal your soul.

1123. What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

Before magic--even talking about magic--was banned in one of the realms, everyone would tell stories and sing songs about brave Lady Linden, a heroine who saved her world together with the River King, there was a lot of magic involved.

Now, tales and songs mostly focus on Good Queen Ravenhold, and her victories in the war.

Books, scrolls, songs, telling tales around the fire. Theater not so much. There would be plays to amuse the queen, haven't given this much thought.

#PennedPossibilities

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

There are books, newspapers, and theatre as well cinema akin to the silent film era. Theirs is a civilization powered by human labor and something else that isn't electricity. I don't know a heck of a lot about the stories they favor or tell, but I do know a character who's deeply into romance and gothic novels, who frighteningly takes some guidance from them in real life. Stories are serialized in newspapers like Dickens were. As for the types of stories in theatre, one actor playwright in this #excerpt talks about a trope popular in this strongly woman-centric society. CW: Casting couch reference.

[Morning Glory said, "You're] like I was: A kid barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. I got parts when others didn't, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing, likely at first because I was an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums. It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," …

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

There are books, newspapers, and theatre as well cinema akin to the silent film era. Theirs is a civilization powered by human labor and something else that isn't electricity. I don't know a heck of a lot about the stories they favor or tell, but I do know a character who's deeply into romance and gothic novels, who frighteningly takes some guidance from them in real life. Stories are serialized in newspapers like Dickens were. As for the types of stories in theatre, one actor playwright in this #excerpt talks about a trope popular in this strongly woman-centric society. CW: Casting couch reference.

[Morning Glory said, "You're] like I was: A kid barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. I got parts when others didn't, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing, likely at first because I was an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums. It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," …

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

There are books, newspapers, and theatre as well cinema akin to the silent film era. Theirs is a civilization powered by human labor and something else that isn't electricity. I don't know a heck of a lot about the stories they favor or tell, but I do know a character who's deeply into romance and gothic novels, who frighteningly takes some guidance from them in real life. Stories are serialized in newspapers like Dickens were. As for the types of stories in theatre, one actor playwright in this #excerpt talks about a trope popular in this strongly woman-centric society. CW: Casting couch reference.

[Morning Glory said, "You're] like I was: A kid barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. I got parts when others didn't, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing, likely at first because I was an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums. It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," …

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

There are books, newspapers, and theatre as well cinema akin to the silent film era. Theirs is a civilization powered by human labor and something else that isn't electricity. I don't know a heck of a lot about the stories they favor or tell, but I do know a character who's deeply into romance and gothic novels, who frighteningly takes some guidance from them in real life. Stories are serialized in newspapers like Dickens were. As for the types of stories in theatre, one actor playwright in this #excerpt talks about a trope popular in this strongly woman-centric society. CW: Casting couch reference.

[Morning Glory said, "You're] like I was: A kid barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. I got parts when others didn't, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing, likely at first because I was an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums. It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," …

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

There are books, newspapers, and theatre as well cinema akin to the silent film era. Theirs is a civilization powered by human labor and something else that isn't electricity. I don't know a heck of a lot about the stories they favor or tell, but I do know a character who's deeply into romance and gothic novels, who frighteningly takes some guidance from them in real life. Stories are serialized in newspapers like Dickens were. As for the types of stories in theatre, one actor playwright in this #excerpt talks about a trope popular in this strongly woman-centric society. CW: Casting couch reference.

[Morning Glory said, "You're] like I was: A kid barely old enough to be adult, who every woman wanted to ride whether I was in a local actors' group or later in a traveling theatre troupe. I got parts when others didn't, bit parts definitely, sharp looking window dressing, likely at first because I was an expert ride; I paid attention in Men's Studies in school, especially the practicums. It took years to change from being cast as the conniving man who uses the woman and comes to a tragic end, to writing plays where I helped the woman succeed against her competition because of my conniving ways—" He sighed. "—and together we'd fight—"

"For equality?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," …

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1119: How did you learn your most valuable skill?

CARRIE: Initially? Chartreuse taught me. Then Glen. From that point on, it's mostly been self taught. Like, I'm assuming we're talking about my ability to walk through time. If you mean my ability to paradox too, kind of the whole point there it's by instinct in the moment.

#PennedPossibilities 1123: What figure do people most commonly tell stories about? How are these stories told (books, plays, television, spoken word, broadcast, etc.)?

Stories make the world what it is. There are so many things to talk about. I have a good example of this. Individuals commonly tell stories about various different mystics (AKA wizards, witches, or warlocks). They have such a rich history as a people. We begin to learn about that pretty early on with Elric. And yes, it’s usually through spoken word or books. Again, this is a fantasy universe, so of course televisions and radios don’t exist.

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#PennedPossibilities 1122: SC POV: Do you have a favorite meal? Who makes it for you?

Kelvin: "Any meal in cap'n's quarters. It's never poisoned, but fun ta see 'em sweat. One could say that poor sucker makes it fer me."

#PennedPossibilities 1121: What would your MC say their personal strengths are? Would other characters agree?

Bullshitting. And yes, the crew would agree.

#PennedPossibilities 1122 "SC POV: Do you have a favourite meal? Who makes it for you?"

Tail: I wish. If I could cook, I would make myself a pot of steamed dumplings. They smell amazing. But Jormandr controls the food we eat, and he says dumpling dough gets caught between his teeth.

#PennedPossibilities 1121: What would your MC say their personal strengths are? Would other characters agree?

Nathan and Vicky would both agree their greatest strength is the way they work so well together as a team.

Indeed, they’re fortunate most of their friends and acquaintances they work with from time to time seem have gotten teamwork down to perfection.

They know they’ve all got each other’s backs.

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#PennedPossibilities 1122 "SC POV: Do you have a favourite meal? Who makes it for you?"

'Darling, chocolate solves anything,' the goddess of Desire purrs. 'Don't underestimate the power of a rich, dark fudge or a steaming brownie. I don't care who makes it fore, me. Just give me the chocolate.'

#PennedPossibilities 1118: A catastrophic event in your world?

One could argue Carrie's birth was a catastrophic event. Or possibly the awakening of her powers, when she almost blew up the solar system.

Most of the world doesn't know about those things though. Not yet. Plus it all stems from the alien artifact in the future, so perhaps that's the true catastrophe.

#PennedPossibilities 1122: SC POV: Do you have a favourite meal? Who makes it for you?

I would find it difficult to choose between Beef Wellington, Steak and Kidney Pudding, Black Pudding, Pork Tomahawk, and BBQ Spareribs.

Uh oh, this list is in danger of going on for ever.

The first two I leave to the professionals, the rest I can do myself. In fact I do all the cooking at home for Mrs Author and me.

You probably wouldn’t be surprised to learn nearly all my novels include the odd reference to culinary delights.
So much so, one of my characters comments on how she thinks she’s going to end up putting on weight if she keeps on accompanying Nathan and Vicky given their tendency to stop off for coffee and cake whenever the become stumped for ideas.

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#PennedPossibilities 1122: SC POV: Do you have a favorite meal? Who makes it for you?

[Okay, is it possible for me to NOT turn these things into little stories? Apparently, not! Here the devil-girl, an SC in the current WIP, gets to talk about her insanely rigorous academic training as a child. —RS]

Appreciating cuisines was always part of my upbringing—before I ran away. Generally, I'll eat anything; the months I lived homeless, I even dumpster dove. I had to approach food like my other studies—like maths, warcraft, and defensive martial arts—learning how food was grown and prepared, how to identify the ingredients once cooked including origins of wines and vegetables to judge their quality, plating, kitchen techniques… Of course, I got tested! Writing essays always makes the diner better enjoy the meal. Am I right?

Attempts to teach me to cook turned out disastrous. I nearly burnt down a wing of the mansion. Twice. Not intentionally! Really! The rumor that I poisoned my tutor is overblown. Nevertheless, after the incident, said tutor wisely decided that a woman who hosts state dinners really doesn't necessarily need to know how to cook said meals. Okay, I'll admit it: cooking was my worst subject, beating out boring history.

I rarely got to appreciate a whole meal, except when I practiced hosting. Even then, I was too busy to take more than a bite of each plate or a sip of each soup or wine whilst keeping up witty pithy conversations with guests two and three times my age. (Yes, I had a tutor in witty conversation; glad you asked! I even had to write after action reports on the hidden agendas each practice guest was told to be bringing up subliminally or indirectly.)

Ended up preferring to grab a loaf of bread stuffed with cold butter, before rushing off to my next training or practice.

Eating for me was another academic, like everything else in my life, including sleeping—I learned and practiced lucid dreaming, naturally. Mealtime became a blur of textures, scents, and mouth feels that required thought and evaluation. So… No favorites, but you guessed that. I do know good food when I see, smell, and taste it. I even appreciate and will seek it out, but I have… let's call it a "refueling mentality."

I don't really care.

Except…

Practicing my defensive arts at twelve years old, I'd sometimes sneak into the servants' wing when they slept. On one sortie, I discovered butter pumpkin peasant bread. Gingerbread scents with the depth of luscious nutty real-churned cow butter, vegatably with a coarse chewy crumb, not very sweet, caramelized and crusty short of starting to burn. I could discuss the temperature related changes to each ingredient to explain how it fit together to make a synergistic whole, but I'll instead admit that I would not understand my physical reaction until years later when I had sex.

Ate the whole loaf.

I could barely keep from thinking about it the following days when my tutors started downgrading me, and until my guardian gave me the talk about being distracted.

I finally snuck over again, hoping no mouse traps were set to catch a rodent thief. Found a loaf on the main table under glass. Each subsequent stealthy sortie to servant's quarters, I'd always find a loaf hidden. In some cabinet, sometimes in an oven or a cast iron pot—until I realized why and confessed to folk I had raided. Their simple "cuisine," I liked it. I began sharing random meals with them midafternoon, when I could finagle a free unsupervised study period—until my guardian realized why my interest in cuisine class waned more than usual. He put a kibosh on it.

No servant was permanently fired because, well, I started setting things on fire, saying I could fire things, too.

Still, the only food I'd call a favorite isn't really a meal. To this day, it is still that butter pumpkin bread. My nose will pull me into a shop before I'll even realize it is one of the rare rustic bakeries that bake it.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1120: Saturday Word Edition: Share something from your WIP pertaining to the word “entertainment.”

Bolt is acting as the photographer for her friend Shugh as he interviews a male diva actor for a magazine similar to The New Yorker. Hers is a woman-centric society. The scene in this #excerpt hints that Bolt can be sexist as the actor being interviewed needles her.

Upstairs, Shugh hit it off with Morning Glory. Both men sought careers not often occupied by men. The actor-playwright became more animated as the magazine interview progressed, allowing me with my camera to fade into the background of the plush upper lounge of the theatre. By the time the long-legged delicate man started pacing as he told his life story, I had gleaned that his tale was glorified and larger-than life, like the man, his persona, his masks. His elegant pacing allowed me to move with my Flicka4, steadying myself using the back of a gilt divan, a bamboo formed-steel torchere lamp (one of pair), and then a black marble tea table to as I composed pictures of a celebrity, but a man, lost in thoughts about inflating the image he presented the world, finally dropping his actor's mask. I caught the sparkle in his eye. I caught flamboyant hands thrown wide, later framing his face as he sang a note. I caught an absentminded sneer aimed at an unnamed actress who'd worked to derail his entertainment career.

"I'm changing the way women perceive men," he declared. He sat abruptly on a hanger chair, one of those short shallow chairs built with a bench seat of a single plank of wood, finely finished glowing golden oak but uncushioned; it barely supported his thighs in deference to his hips, forcing the man to crouch. Also called a man's chair because a man looked really adorable hanging there when unclothed in a certain way. (Totally worked for Morning Glory; made me look.) That it made men shorter than any women in a room seemed like a plus, but then I was female. These days, especially in the city, I'd seen men leave a room in disgust if they saw one. Not Morning Glory! Probably furnished it here himself, stage managing, to spike the drama. Legs wide, crouching—his hands above his knees, framing his crotch—eyes narrowed and on me, his body language firmed up my perception of him.

Performatively male, sure of his good looks.

Aggressive.

Dominant.

He addressed Shugh still meeting my gaze. "Steamed Milk and Sugar—can I call you Milk? How does it feel working as her protégé? Do we live in progressive times?"

Hint, hint! I am a #gender #fiction #writer. If you think a hanger chair in this Basic Instincts scene is peculiar, realize that it is a male-oriented gender domination device analogous to what stiletto heels achieve physically with women in our society. Like many women today, Morning Glory is "owning" it (trying anyway) and changing the device's meaning.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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RE: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112497915608418589

#PennedPossibilities 1119: MC POV: How did you learn your most valuable skill? Who taught you, and why is it so important?

[I will keep Bolt SFW, promise! Tl;dr tootfic follows, nevertheless.—RS]

A surprising number of my skills are self-taught. I must be a genius, even if'n I've done a lot of stupid things. My most valuable skill is flying, naturally being as I'm a day angel, but flight kindergarten failed me epically. Everybody fledged but me by 3. Despite the incentive of being picked on by all the girls in school (boys knew better), it took being shoved off a cliff at 10 before I flew, and then but for Mom and Uncle teaching me to land, I taught myself everything else. Turned out live'n in the world 3D is—My Stars!— flapping awesome, not at all frightening as I'd wound up myself into thinking. Flew into my share of lamp posts, but still, flap'n it! Spending more time a-wing than walking, I became an athlete, captaining the flight and field team, learning stunt flying, flight dance, and tandem. None of it more valuable than walking and running for the flightless in the long run, except, I guess, tandem.

They teach you never to fly close to anybody. I remember distancing from flight kindergarten. It was reiterated by every PE teacher there after. Knock it into your head, they do. A "primary feather length at wing tip; your height above." Feather fields will tangle if'n you're too close. You'll lose lift, they say, maybe crash, but that never made sense to me having learnt to fly late.

I experimented with all sort of crazy, consider'n that I skated out of most of the knocking of "flight stuff into my head" for the seven years everybody else was flying and I wasn't. I dove hard into precision flying, which meant warping my flight feathers hard, sometimes twisting the up and down fields to push away from or get sucked toward things like cliff walls or between tree trunks in a dense forest. Called decompensating. Dangerous? For you, unadventurous noob, maybe! I finally could get a finger length close to things—close enough to suck your hair and feathers against bark, rockface, and occasional stupid people who do their deer in the lantern light imitation seeing you, they think, flying into them—so why not boys? (Girls thought me a masculine muscle nerd! Their loss.)

While I found victims volunteers to fly near me in middle school, it was that first semester in high school that I perfected my awareness of my wings in space, and theirs, close up, and got boys to understand what I'd learnt. It helped that in high school, finally, the boys were less shy (especially the seniors) and dangling flying with us touching really helped incentivize them. Me, too, actually. I got better. They got better, caught the tandem fever, though we got chewed out by Coach when she saw, before she stopped noticing since we didn't kill ourselves. Our team morale soared. We started winning. I became captain of an otherwise male team. I got my string of ponies (stallions only).

Good times.

Valuable? Actually, valuable?

Well, a dozen years and lots of stupid decisions later, I have a friend, Blue, who is a praetorian training to protect Rainy Days. We encountered her in the sky, and I ended up flying stunts around the guy with her mirroring and challenging my agility, pushing me harder, apparently to test my limits, and to piss me off. I'm too competitive for my own good! She correctly figured out it was me who taught Blue flying tandem; it was the definitive skill that got him a job that was very unlikely for a guy to get.

Rainy Days praised me. She's far better at tandem techniques than me. Still. The Director of Home and the Nine Outer worlds praised me. My Stars!!!

Valuable? Flap yes!

Yet. Even considering when she left with Blue, the stress of me stupidly challenging the most important woman ever shot me out of the sky. I nearly crashed trying to land, then puked so hard, I thought some of my liver came up.

I still would challenge her again, given the chance. [Big words, Bolt! Read the quoted story for the second round. —RS]

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1099: SC POV: Describe the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

[Steamed Milk and Sugar aka Shugh:]

I never thought about it, but there are plenty of times I've taken a break on the first floor. There are broad windows to the street where you can see the newspaper printing presses rolling. Now employed here, I can watch from the inside the press room so long as I stay behind the yellow lines. That thunderous rumble! It's amazing. Dynamic. Alive. Mixed with the shouts of the technician managing the paper and the daemons powering the steel beast. The energy defines my dream of becoming a journalist that's slowing coming true. I had thought, in the beginning, that the sounds of dozens of reporters at their typewriters banging away the next edition was it, but no. This is better. The whir for the paper through the rollers. The smell of the ink…

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1096: MC POV: When was the last time you got lost?

Kinda hard when you have these babies since I can fly anywhere above the city. [Bolt flexes her blue-feathered wings, inadvertently knocking a box off a high shelf in her teeny-tiny aerie apartment.] Anyway… When? Probably taking the metro midcity where it's all underground, but I only take it when my companion can't fly cross town with me. When he gets lost… [Scratches the back of her neck, glancing away with a sheepish grin.]

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1094: Saturday Word Edition: Share something from your WIP pertaining to the word “sorrow.” (For @thatwriterellie.)

Maybe if I write how the chapter will end, I'll finally write the rest of the stalled chapter! 🤞Here goes! The POV, Bolt, is a day angel, a human with wings. Warning: 1st draft. #excerpt

We watched the daemon float Molt's last box of books into the baggage compartment of the train in silence, me helping prop Molt up as he was still groggy from having his broken arm mended.

Companionable? Was silence that? Unsaid words felt awkward.

I flipped the porter a silver as my departing neighbor had been so desperate to leave town he hadn't thought of the coin necessary for fare let alone crate space. Another sign he wasn't thinking. He'd been assaulted. Arm broken. Covered in purpling bruises. I imagined not safe repeating over and over in his head.

He reached and wiped a tear from my cheek. Green eyes met mine as he said, "Not your fault," refuting my worry of having earned his hate and resentment.

He was a good man making a mistake. "You're giving up a scholarship—"

"And a friend." He coughed, looked away, maybe afraid of also losing his resolve. "Friends at school, and a neighbor who taught me to apply theory to real life. But…"

"…you must." The toot of train whistle stopped me from begging again, as did the hiss of steam.

He said firmly, "I must… Bolt?"

I was gazing reflexively at a passenger car not him, unaccustomed to my emotion flooding out toward a man. When I looked, he immediately held my chin with his good hand and swiftly kissed me, deeply, like that first time when we'd both given into the fever we felt.

Another toot. A bell, clang-clang-clang.

He said, "You've got to quit that job or run away from whatever crazy you've got yourself messed up with… before it kills you."

My mouth, lips still moist, dropped open as he rushed to the boarding steps where a conductor who I'd earlier discreetly given coin reached and helped him climb, shoes clanking on steel once, twice, thrice.

I didn't see him through the windows. I blinked too much, and it was blurry so not happening, before I stumbled turning away, thumping a few times before realizing I could glide away. I fled the length of the wood platform, not looking back, soon out of sight, breathing hard.

I had been blackmailed to work for the mob. I'd kept that secret. Details, at least.

Today hadn't gone as I'd hoped. Soon silver-sided aerodynamic cars accelerated and whizzed by. Arrow trains lived up to their name. Where I squatted atop the roof of the station, the trailing red lights were lost half a league away in the time I could have held my breath, were I not sobbing.

When I finally found the strength to fly, I flew swiftly home, exhausted already lightheaded from lack of sleep. Nearly a day had passed since I'd returned home anticipating his happy smiles. Now, when I entered my aerie, the first thing I saw was shiny magical gift I'd bought, for him, for us to share, wrapped in green satin, scented with thyme oil, tied with red ribbon, laying on the floor under the desk where I'd tossed it hearing him injured.

I collapsed to my knees. A word popped into my mind from a dodecade ago. I might have previously applied it to myself. Erroneously. All the mistakes I'd made to get myself to Molt being assaulted. Me living blackmailed. That feeling of being inflicted. But. I realized. Then. I could not feel this word, this emotion, unless I could apply it also, at the same time, to another: That would be Molt and myself. I pounded a fist on my sternum.

Is this sorrow?

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1092½ #ImposterToot: Quality time! Your MC/MCs has a day off tomorrow; what do they do?

Bolt's Day Off

May be considered vaguely NSWF.

Bolt has far more time off than you'd expect; it's just not scheduled or reliable. She couriers anonymous sealed blue envelopes around town that display only an address—which makes her part of a criminal conspiracy even if she doesn't know if they contain orders to commit crimes, threats, or past due notices for protection rackets. She prides herself on her stealth and her "sneaky." Nobody has killed the messenger, yet.

Recently her street photography hobby has left her jangling with coin, so Bolt's Day Off will start after sleeping in with a spicy red fish stew ramen bowl at a rooftop day angel food court, then after a nice flight across the city, continue at her gym for a sweaty workout. Afterwards, she would spend midday at the bathhouse, paying a bath attendant for a good scrub to remove said sweat, then enjoying all the baths: cool, hot and sulfury, carbonated, mineralized, and salt, ending with the warm one with lapping waves. Drinking a cold fruit juice, she'd enjoy a good preen and oiling of her feathers—with an attendant, of course, hopefully a nice looking guy!—because when she has coin she knows to spend it before it's taken from her.

Since Shugh is always maniacally working at the newspaper and Molt is now no longer available, smelling of thyme oil she would fly to the Strand Association to see if she can find her friend Blue to spend the end of the day. She's realistic, though. As a newly hired praetorian, he's rarely free, and when released from duty for a few days, he always helps support the association he's lived in for years. He is something like, yet not like, what we might term a geisha; Bolt gets no discounts, sadly. Likely he's training or paid for this night, so she'd end Bolt's Day Off admiring the hunky scenery in the night club and dance casino part of the complex, if or until she finds someone who catches her eye.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1091 — When not in person, how do people communicate? How has this method of communication affected the society in your world?

A little bit of deep background here, assembled thanks to this question, @floofpaldi, by examining the implications of what I've already written and deducing what might follow. Keep in mind that my day angel MC, Bolt, has wings and is a "private" air courier. Her dream, which was crushed, involved air freight delivery.

From the beginning, or at least since the Singularity, mail allowed people to communicate long distances as well as cross-town. Paper, the printing press, and books had to be re-invented, but that happened early on, well before Rainy Day's birth. (She's the main series antagonist.) Since roughly a third of the population has wings, cross-continental air mail during times of peace has been a thing since the beginning, with delivery within a week possible most anywhere in most eras (think Pony Express without need of horses). While I won't explain how, air delivery of freight exists, too. As a result, cities and regions on Home have never been completely insular or isolated—especially if you are born with wings because angelic humans can fly wherever they want whenever they want—though humans, being human, always find a way to be regional and distrustful.

In more recent times, railroads have increased communication and allowed populations to travel and intermingle. Stuff grown and manufactured soon found more distant markets. Though the civilization depicted in the Reluctance Series doesn't rely on electricity, they have had telegraphy for over five centuries—it developed with the railroads—which provides instant communication when needed and was pointed out as helping start and end a war in one story. Mail, communication, and population and information flow stabilized and enabled persistent laws and made mandatory education possible.

Surprisingly, with the advent of interstellar travel two centuries ago, it wasn't the exploration of new worlds or their colonization that benefited the world most. Instead, it benefited postal delivery. It became quickly obvious that the technology involved made the delivery of mail and small packages between major cities that have ports less expensive than rail. Freight still relies on rail service and lorries. Air mail is more important in more isolated areas, for rural delivery, and for suburban distribution.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1087 — Friday Edition: In honor of a friend (@thatwriterellie), we’re using a word once per week. Write or share something from your WIP pertaining to: “struggle.”

In this newly revised #excerpt from Reluctant Moon, Streak, the MMC, has witnessed the leader of the world, Rainy Days, do the Solomon thing, having made a contentious judgement to place a child in an unexpected person's care, doing what others might think beneath her notice but she felt she must, and in the end it was one too many stressful decisions in this powerful woman's life. He's but a teenager, a potential university student, someone she was showing around. But he's male. He acts instinctively (for his society, anyway). Thorn Rose is the FMC and Streak's, the POV's, lover.

Were she Thorn Rose wound-up worrying, what would I do? I dropped my hands and before Rainy Days could take it as a signal to stand, I looped my arms under hers and crossed them over her upper chest, pulling her into a reverse hug, pressing myself against her back and fluffy furled wings, positioning my chin on her shoulder. This time I took a deep breath. She was substantial, a giant true enough, but womanly. Human.

She took a deep breath. Shuddered. Whispered: "You and Thorn remind me of Raven Caw and I back then. Centuries ago." Breathless. "What next? What should we do... next?"

I struggled for a moment, feeling in my arms for all appearances a young woman barely twenty-five, only a few years older than myself. I tried to push from my head the incomprehensible truth that she was actually ancient, a chimera of daemon, day angel, and nephil who ruled the entire world. A crown of ibex horns touched the top of my head behind my ear held against hers, feathers fluttered nervously beneath my arms, and fur above black hooves rubbed my shin as she squatted in my grasp—attributes that fought any semblance of normalcy, fought to negate that the skin I felt as I embraced her was any more than that of any other woman, as human as any other's, merely that of a woman in desperate need of centering. Much I could do if only I held perspective and tamped down on the overwhelm bubbling up.

And. Breathing slowly. With her… breathing slowly. I did. Hugging her still.

She reiterated, "Tell me."

The two words held no extra meaning. Not anger. Not sarcasm. Not a command. Men's Studies let me recognize surrender. She wanted me to transform her reality—from powerful to vulnerable—though we both understood well that I could not actually perform miracles.

"You consent?" I asked, asking The Question: The only thaumaturgy of which I was capable.

"Thorn Rose trusts you to carry her through the sky without dropping her, so... I shall, also."

Well. Reality did change. Mine. An unexpected sense of power grew thumping loudly in my chest: a fraction of her sovereignty abdicated temporarily to me, for my use as I chose, which she trusted me to borrow.

For how long? To what extent?

I had to wait for these questions to answer themselves because I knew one thing: I was just a man and we both knew what a man's purpose was.

I drew Her to stand and She did. Her whole body seemed relaxed. She had a tentative smile. What could I do? that smile asked. Even if I did nothing more, I knew her perspective had...

Shifted.

For instants maybe only heartbeats, she had not been, was not, in control; for her it screamed revelation, a relief, burdens flung off, leaden chains sundered…

Rainy Days is the main series antagonist, of course. What you think is about to happen will. Rather publicly, in fact.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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#PennedPossibilities 1073 — MC POV: Tell us about a time when your heart raced, either for good or bad reasons.

Well, since I've become less prejudiced, not only do I have more men to choose from since I'm not as picky as to whether they are day angels or not (that is no longer requiring them to have wings), there's the devil-girl. She's both a daemon and not a guy. Her pointy rebar-like tiny horns are exotic, fascinating, challenging—dangerous in a cute way. I really wasn't trying to hook up with her, only to distract her for awhile, but I was being friendly and she interpreted that, well, unexpectedly, unexpectedly nicely, you know, and, well…, you know… racing heart, right? So, why not?

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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