#tootfic — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #tootfic, aggregated by home.social.
-
@Unixbigot hits the robot with an EM Pulse and strips it of anything useful. 🤣
-
"It's a robot, get it!"
"My pronouns are she/her, thank you"
"I don't care what you call yourself pervert!"
"Oh, have you been using the internet. Please let me explain"
"Explain what, vikker?"
"The three laws of privacy. A robot may not record video of individuals not wearing a privacy preferences beacon. A robot must delete recordings within one hour of a privacy revocation. A robot may not share video without a digital signature from all pictured parties."
"Whatever, WRECK IT, boys!"
"You may notice I said nothing about not harming humans..."
"Ooof, you hit me when I wasn't looking!"
"You want to watch the next one coming?"
-
Weena: A #TimeTravelingGhost Side Story (Part 1)
FanFic #HGWells #TheTimeMachine
#Wss366 Acrid #TimeTravelAuthors Whatever**[Note: this is a side story, with the original Hurburth not our protag.]
Weena woke with a start. The uneasy dreams that had haunted her since setting out for the Jade Pavilion had disturbed her slumber. In them, she heard the Mourloks snuffling, and when she looked for Hurburth, he was nowhere to be found.
Waking wasn’t much better. She knew the Things From Below were just out of sight in the forest trees that crowded round. They’d been hunting them ever since nightfall. But Hurburth was here. He’d driven them off every time the Deep Spawn attacked.
She wrapped herself around him. He made her feel safe, and she could tell he cared when he touched her. None of her kin had ever been like that. Once they met their needs, they lost interest. But not Hurburth. He was different.
The blaze he’d made was dwindling, and the night chill was setting in. She wasn’t used to fire. The kin didn’t have it. Instead, they huddled together to sleep, a cozy “society” waiting for the Golden God to arrive again. But there were no kin around to keep her warm.
She hugged her mate tightly. He was enough.
Her attention returned to the fire when an ember popped. Mourloks feared fire. It was too bad her kin didn’t use it. But who would tend the blaze all night the way Hurburth did? He was strange. Once he locked onto something, he kept with it. He would stay interested in the same thing for hours, maybe even longer.
She sniffed, detecting an #acrid scent. It was the odor of death: the smell of the Deep Spawn.
She sat up. The fire was almost out, and beyond it she saw glittering eyes.
Death had come!
[Continued Tomorrow]
-
#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. (It totally did Morning Glory.) 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.]
#author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#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. (It totally did Morning Glory.) 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.]
#author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#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. (It totally did Morning Glory.) 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.]
#author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#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. (It totally did Morning Glory.) 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.]
#author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
#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. (It totally did Morning Glory.) 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.]
#author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
62 Years ago, Mother of All, Horsebreeder Clan lands
Joy had fifteen summers to her name. The following year she would be expected to commit to a path of learning. One that would lead to the sort of life she wished to live. Most of her friends would continue in the Horsebreeder Clan.
Far above, she could feel Dives Swiftly. She had spotted a large waterbird. It would make a fine dinner for the family. And a good feed for Dives Swiftly as well. Joy sent approval, and the hunting bird, true to her name, dove on the unsuspecting bird, breaking its neck with the impact, and then steered the limp body to the ground near Joyful Finder.
"Good strike" Joy said, as Dives looked at her. She took out her knife, and neatly cut the belly of the bird open, and Dives started to feed.
"I am thinking of leaving."
Dives paused, and looked at her, whistling a query.
"Next year a Scout will visit. I think I will go with them."
Dives whistled again.
"There probably will be little chance to hunt."
Another whistle.
"I know better than to try and talk you out of it."
Dives went back to eating.
"Now I have to tell Dad and Father."After Dives finished her meal, Joy finished bleeding the bird, and then carried it home, sending an image of a roast ahead.
She felt Father's excitement at the idea.At dinner, late that evening, her parents paused in their eating, and looked at her. Dad spoke first "Joy, is there something on your mind? You feel, well, a bit off."
Joy sighed.
"It isn't that Copper Digger kid again is it?"
"No, Dad, it isn't that. I think she's learned her lesson."
"Then what?"
"I know what I need to do."
"Great!" her Dad exclaimed.
"What is it, Joy?" asked her Father.Joy poked her plate.
"Oh no! She wants to join the Sailmakers! Shipping will be doomed!" her Father cried out. Joy's lack of skill with a needle and thread was infamous, even now.
"No", Joy smiled sadly, "But you might wish it was."
Her Father grew serious "What then?"
Dad spoke up "You know that we will always support you. No matter what."
"I intend to go with the Scout that will visit next year."There was a stunned silence.
Her Dad reacted first "You mean to go to the stars?"
"Yes. I want to be what Lorn was. To learn the ways of the Stars, so we can be enough to end the Raiders for good."
"You will have to tell the Council."
Joy nodded "But they cannot deny me."
"No, they cannot. The treaty says as much."
"We will miss you, Joy" her Father said softly.
"And I'll miss everyone here. Except Dives."
Both her parents looked surprised at this, and she shrugged. "Dives inists that she'll come along."
Shaking his head, her Father gave a wry smile "I swear, she thinks you are chick that still needs to fledge."
"Maybe she's right, if this is what Joy means to do" Dad replied.The following day, her parents started to make arrangements to take a message to the Council. And showed Joy how to read Lorn's diaries.
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
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.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
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.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
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.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
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.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
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.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory -
“First time on a planet?”
“Is it obvious?”
“Who told you to wear the metal foil on your head?”
“Tour guide said there was the chance of an electron storm”
“They were having a lend of you, luv.”
“Oh. They told me to ask for a respirator because the atmosphere is being shut off for repair tonight, was that a joke, too?”
“Yes, darl. It’s true about the sunscreen, though.”
-
Mother of All, Divesen Station, ten minutes after Athena's docking.
Alaine was shutting down the systems, when an STC broadcast came in. He monitored it, and then called out "Captain? You'll want to hear this!"
Engel twitched a little, and then gestured to Alaine, who rewound the message and played it back over a speaker.
"Bright Sky, Bright Sky, we have new approach data for you. Proceed to planetary coordinates attached, and make planetfall. Flight patch attached, you are cleared to enter restricted airspace."
Then came the reply "Divesen Control, please confirm planetfall."
"Bright Sky, confirmed. Rerouting ordered by Scout Commander Finder."
At that, Seeker, who had also been listening, gasped.
Engel turned "Seeker?"
"Uh, Captain, that is my grandmother. Only she retired from the Scouts over forty years ago. And she was just an ordinary Scout."
"Do you know why Bright Sky is being ordered planetside?"
"No, no idea at all."
"Sir?" Alaine cut in.
"Alaine?"
"Sir, I've heard of this before, surely you have too?"
"What do you -" he paused "Reactivation? Of course, but Scout Commander? They only -"
Alaine finished his sentence "are found at Scout bases. So they have a base here now."
Seeker took over "But that means the treaty has been rewritten. Scouts were forbidden to be on planet unless they were part of a clan. What..." and she broke off.
"Seeker?" Alaine looked worried.
"Uh, I have been summoned to the Council Chambers. We all have. Now." Seeker reached for the intercom.
"Hold!" Engel commanded.
Seeker stopped and looked at him.
"I am, apparently, the Captain."
"Sorry Captain. Permission to summon the crew?"
Engel shook his head and stepped over, taking the intercom "All hands, secure your stations, and proceed to the bridge immediately."
Seeker nodded.
A few minutes later everyone aboard was in the bridge.
"Right, we are being summoned to the Council. Best behaviour. Meantime the Captain is heading planetside," Engel announced, "Dyani, lock safe?"
"Inner and outer green, sir!" she replied.
"Very good, break seals."The crew moved out into the station. There was no-one waiting.
Seeker took the lead "Follow me.""
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
Mother of All, Divesen Station, ten minutes after Athena's docking.
Alaine was shutting down the systems, when an STC broadcast came in. He monitored it, and then called out "Captain? You'll want to hear this!"
Engel twitched a little, and then gestured to Alaine, who rewound the message and played it back over a speaker.
"Bright Sky, Bright Sky, we have new approach data for you. Proceed to planetary coordinates attached, and make planetfall. Flight patch attached, you are cleared to enter restricted airspace."
Then came the reply "Divesen Control, please confirm planetfall."
"Bright Sky, confirmed. Rerouting ordered by Scout Commander Finder."
At that, Seeker, who had also been listening, gasped.
Engel turned "Seeker?"
"Uh, Captain, that is my grandmother. Only she retired from the Scouts over forty years ago. And she was just an ordinary Scout."
"Do you know why Bright Sky is being ordered planetside?"
"No, no idea at all."
"Sir?" Alaine cut in.
"Alaine?"
"Sir, I've heard of this before, surely you have too?"
"What do you -" he paused "Reactivation? Of course, but Scout Commander? They only -"
Alaine finished his sentence "are found at Scout bases. So they have a base here now."
Seeker took over "But that means the treaty has been rewritten. Scouts were forbidden to be on planet unless they were part of a clan. What..." and she broke off.
"Seeker?" Alaine looked worried.
"Uh, I have been summoned to the Council Chambers. We all have. Now." Seeker reached for the intercom.
"Hold!" Engel commanded.
Seeker stopped and looked at him.
"I am, apparently, the Captain."
"Sorry Captain. Permission to summon the crew?"
Engel shook his head and stepped over, taking the intercom "All hands, secure your stations, and proceed to the bridge immediately."
Seeker nodded.
A few minutes later everyone aboard was in the bridge.
"Right, we are being summoned to the Council. Best behaviour. Meantime the Captain is heading planetside," Engel announced, "Dyani, lock safe?"
"Inner and outer green, sir!" she replied.
"Very good, break seals."The crew moved out into the station. There was no-one waiting.
Seeker took the lead "Follow me.""
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
Mother of All, Divesen Station, ten minutes after Athena's docking.
Alaine was shutting down the systems, when an STC broadcast came in. He monitored it, and then called out "Captain? You'll want to hear this!"
Engel twitched a little, and then gestured to Alaine, who rewound the message and played it back over a speaker.
"Bright Sky, Bright Sky, we have new approach data for you. Proceed to planetary coordinates attached, and make planetfall. Flight patch attached, you are cleared to enter restricted airspace."
Then came the reply "Divesen Control, please confirm planetfall."
"Bright Sky, confirmed. Rerouting ordered by Scout Commander Finder."
At that, Seeker, who had also been listening, gasped.
Engel turned "Seeker?"
"Uh, Captain, that is my grandmother. Only she retired from the Scouts over forty years ago. And she was just an ordinary Scout."
"Do you know why Bright Sky is being ordered planetside?"
"No, no idea at all."
"Sir?" Alaine cut in.
"Alaine?"
"Sir, I've heard of this before, surely you have too?"
"What do you -" he paused "Reactivation? Of course, but Scout Commander? They only -"
Alaine finished his sentence "are found at Scout bases. So they have a base here now."
Seeker took over "But that means the treaty has been rewritten. Scouts were forbidden to be on planet unless they were part of a clan. What..." and she broke off.
"Seeker?" Alaine looked worried.
"Uh, I have been summoned to the Council Chambers. We all have. Now." Seeker reached for the intercom.
"Hold!" Engel commanded.
Seeker stopped and looked at him.
"I am, apparently, the Captain."
"Sorry Captain. Permission to summon the crew?"
Engel shook his head and stepped over, taking the intercom "All hands, secure your stations, and proceed to the bridge immediately."
Seeker nodded.
A few minutes later everyone aboard was in the bridge.
"Right, we are being summoned to the Council. Best behaviour. Meantime the Captain is heading planetside," Engel announced, "Dyani, lock safe?"
"Inner and outer green, sir!" she replied.
"Very good, break seals."The crew moved out into the station. There was no-one waiting.
Seeker took the lead "Follow me.""
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
Mother of All, Divesen Station, ten minutes after Athena's docking.
Alaine was shutting down the systems, when an STC broadcast came in. He monitored it, and then called out "Captain? You'll want to hear this!"
Engel twitched a little, and then gestured to Alaine, who rewound the message and played it back over a speaker.
"Bright Sky, Bright Sky, we have new approach data for you. Proceed to planetary coordinates attached, and make planetfall. Flight patch attached, you are cleared to enter restricted airspace."
Then came the reply "Divesen Control, please confirm planetfall."
"Bright Sky, confirmed. Rerouting ordered by Scout Commander Finder."
At that, Seeker, who had also been listening, gasped.
Engel turned "Seeker?"
"Uh, Captain, that is my grandmother. Only she retired from the Scouts over forty years ago. And she was just an ordinary Scout."
"Do you know why Bright Sky is being ordered planetside?"
"No, no idea at all."
"Sir?" Alaine cut in.
"Alaine?"
"Sir, I've heard of this before, surely you have too?"
"What do you -" he paused "Reactivation? Of course, but Scout Commander? They only -"
Alaine finished his sentence "are found at Scout bases. So they have a base here now."
Seeker took over "But that means the treaty has been rewritten. Scouts were forbidden to be on planet unless they were part of a clan. What..." and she broke off.
"Seeker?" Alaine looked worried.
"Uh, I have been summoned to the Council Chambers. We all have. Now." Seeker reached for the intercom.
"Hold!" Engel commanded.
Seeker stopped and looked at him.
"I am, apparently, the Captain."
"Sorry Captain. Permission to summon the crew?"
Engel shook his head and stepped over, taking the intercom "All hands, secure your stations, and proceed to the bridge immediately."
Seeker nodded.
A few minutes later everyone aboard was in the bridge.
"Right, we are being summoned to the Council. Best behaviour. Meantime the Captain is heading planetside," Engel announced, "Dyani, lock safe?"
"Inner and outer green, sir!" she replied.
"Very good, break seals."The crew moved out into the station. There was no-one waiting.
Seeker took the lead "Follow me.""
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
Mother of All, Divesen Station, ten minutes after Athena's docking.
Alaine was shutting down the systems, when an STC broadcast came in. He monitored it, and then called out "Captain? You'll want to hear this!"
Engel twitched a little, and then gestured to Alaine, who rewound the message and played it back over a speaker.
"Bright Sky, Bright Sky, we have new approach data for you. Proceed to planetary coordinates attached, and make planetfall. Flight patch attached, you are cleared to enter restricted airspace."
Then came the reply "Divesen Control, please confirm planetfall."
"Bright Sky, confirmed. Rerouting ordered by Scout Commander Finder."
At that, Seeker, who had also been listening, gasped.
Engel turned "Seeker?"
"Uh, Captain, that is my grandmother. Only she retired from the Scouts over forty years ago. And she was just an ordinary Scout."
"Do you know why Bright Sky is being ordered planetside?"
"No, no idea at all."
"Sir?" Alaine cut in.
"Alaine?"
"Sir, I've heard of this before, surely you have too?"
"What do you -" he paused "Reactivation? Of course, but Scout Commander? They only -"
Alaine finished his sentence "are found at Scout bases. So they have a base here now."
Seeker took over "But that means the treaty has been rewritten. Scouts were forbidden to be on planet unless they were part of a clan. What..." and she broke off.
"Seeker?" Alaine looked worried.
"Uh, I have been summoned to the Council Chambers. We all have. Now." Seeker reached for the intercom.
"Hold!" Engel commanded.
Seeker stopped and looked at him.
"I am, apparently, the Captain."
"Sorry Captain. Permission to summon the crew?"
Engel shook his head and stepped over, taking the intercom "All hands, secure your stations, and proceed to the bridge immediately."
Seeker nodded.
A few minutes later everyone aboard was in the bridge.
"Right, we are being summoned to the Council. Best behaviour. Meantime the Captain is heading planetside," Engel announced, "Dyani, lock safe?"
"Inner and outer green, sir!" she replied.
"Very good, break seals."The crew moved out into the station. There was no-one waiting.
Seeker took the lead "Follow me.""
#SF #SciFi #SFF #SpaceOpera #microfic #tootfic #MicroFiction #ShamanSpace #IAmWriting
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow
The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.
Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”
I nodded, and we started toward the woods.
The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.
I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.
It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.
The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.
That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.
Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow
The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.
Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”
I nodded, and we started toward the woods.
The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.
I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.
It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.
The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.
That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.
Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow
The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.
Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”
I nodded, and we started toward the woods.
The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.
I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.
It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.
The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.
That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.
Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow
The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.
Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”
I nodded, and we started toward the woods.
The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.
I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.
It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.
The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.
That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.
Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 12: Post 130, 1,802,701 CE, Middlesex, UK
#Wss366 Tall #TimeTravelAuthors 09/5. Plant Grow
The fairy dance ended as suddenly as it had started. One flute cut off mid-verse, and the other trailed off right afterwards. No one seemed alarmed or surprised. Most stopped in their tracks, while a few continued prancing for a few moments more before joining the rest and slipped away.
Weena tugged on my arm and gestured at the building behind the trees. “Coome. Hoomee. Eeat.”
I nodded, and we started toward the woods.
The whole way, my new friend held my hand and babbled to me in a mixture of melodic syllables and fractured English. After asking a few questions, I realized I wouldn’t learn anything useful. She either didn’t know the answers, couldn’t communicate them, or I failed to make myself understood. As such, I retreated into my thoughts.
I considered what I’d learned. I knew a fair amount about this world, or at least H.G. Wells’s theories. Meeting the fairies, for that is what I still thought of them as, had been fortunate. If I had followed the path, I might have run into the Morlocks. But about myself, I remained ignorant except for what short flashbacks had shown me.
It was beyond frustrating that I remembered a “fictional” book more clearly than my own history.
The woods soon ended, and we emerged into a wide glen with an enormous ruined mansion in the center. Lichen grew thick on its walls, and time had shattered its #tall stained-glass windows. The remaining geometric panes had slumped like wax candles left in the sun. I doubted the fairies had built it. Instead, some forgotten civilization must have done so.
That thought offered a glimmer of hope. Remnants of that race could still exist. If I found them, I might learn more.
Returning to my survey, I noted #plants heavy with berries, small fruits, and pea-like pods growing throughout the glen. There was no sense of their being planted by the fairy folk. The herbage sprouted in random swatches or alone, just as the wind had scattered their seeds. Amidst this lush abundance, a wide variety of melon vines snaked along the ground. Here too was an untended bounty of yellow, green, and dappled gourds. At the forest's edge grew trees laden with red, purple, and topaz globes. It was no surprise that the protagonist of H.G. Wells’s story had mistaken this for a utopia at first.
#TootFic #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Sapphic #Slowburn
-
It was too late when we realised what the AI grift's endgame entailed.
After everyone settled that using copyrighted material as training input without compensation was a crime, the IP cartels came for the bedtime stories and the illegal learning centres. I was a kindergarten teacher before the jihad. Still am, just more heavily armed now.. Keep your head down! You wanna end up in readers prison?
-
"Thank you, but no"
"Ksjrhgh fnrgle"
"Sir you are very drunk, you smell unpleasant, and I am not interested"
"Ghvn drmk wm"
"I do not want your drink. I have a botfriend"
"BLRGL WRGNX"
"Ah, KX16, I was just about to page you. Please see this gentleman out, force level six. Use your judgement but perhaps break some fingers on his left hand, the one he groped me with."
-
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch
Himeji Castle (Airisu POV): Post 63
#Wss366 Treble #TimeTravelAuthors 9/4 WhateverInside the passage hung a feline odor, strong enough to wilt feathers, and paw prints littered the dusty floor. We turned left in the direction most of them led.
“It’s walking on its hind feet,” Sumika said after a few meters and pointed to where the marks of the forepaws ceased, leaving only the rear ones.
“Indeed, that’s because it’s a nekomata. Be glad this passage is wood, not stone,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because your ‘cute’ kitty can spit fireballs. I doubt it wants to burn its mistress’s home down.”
“Oh!”
“It could be worse. We might have run into a gotokuneko. They’re about #treble the strength.”
“Treble? What kind of word is that? Just say three times.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“Whatever. And what about ‘gotokuneko?’ You’re not making that stuff up, are you?” Mistress asked.
“Moi? Me? Make stuff up? I’m wounded. No, I studied this kind of thing when I was a woman.”
“You know you’re a lot more human-like than when we first met. You almost talk normally, barring words like ‘treble.’”
“Awk, chicka, cawa! Pay attention, there are lights ahead,” I cawed, irratated.
“How could Glinda-chan say such a thing? Hmph! Just when I was thinking she had more than one brain cell, she says utter rubbish. But no, she’s nothing more than a three-toed sloth.”
#TootFic #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #Serial #SlowBurn #Sapphic #Folklore
-
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch
Himeji Castle (Airisu POV): Post 63
#Wss366 Treble #TimeTravelAuthors 9/4 WhateverInside the passage hung a feline odor, strong enough to wilt feathers, and paw prints littered the dusty floor. We turned left in the direction most of them led.
“It’s walking on its hind feet,” Sumika said after a few meters and pointed to where the marks of the forepaws ceased, leaving only the rear ones.
“Indeed, that’s because it’s a nekomata. Be glad this passage is wood, not stone,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because your ‘cute’ kitty can spit fireballs. I doubt it wants to burn its mistress’s home down.”
“Oh!”
“It could be worse. We might have run into a gotokuneko. They’re about #treble the strength.”
“Treble? What kind of word is that? Just say three times.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“Whatever. And what about ‘gotokuneko?’ You’re not making that stuff up, are you?” Mistress asked.
“Moi? Me? Make stuff up? I’m wounded. No, I studied this kind of thing when I was a woman.”
“You know you’re a lot more human-like than when we first met. You almost talk normally, barring words like ‘treble.’”
“Awk, chicka, cawa! Pay attention, there are lights ahead,” I cawed, irratated.
“How could Glinda-chan say such a thing? Hmph! Just when I was thinking she had more than one brain cell, she says utter rubbish. But no, she’s nothing more than a three-toed sloth.”
#TootFic #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #Serial #SlowBurn #Sapphic #Folklore
-
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch
Himeji Castle (Airisu POV): Post 63
#Wss366 Treble #TimeTravelAuthors 9/4 WhateverInside the passage hung a feline odor, strong enough to wilt feathers, and paw prints littered the dusty floor. We turned left in the direction most of them led.
“It’s walking on its hind feet,” Sumika said after a few meters and pointed to where the marks of the forepaws ceased, leaving only the rear ones.
“Indeed, that’s because it’s a nekomata. Be glad this passage is wood, not stone,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because your ‘cute’ kitty can spit fireballs. I doubt it wants to burn its mistress’s home down.”
“Oh!”
“It could be worse. We might have run into a gotokuneko. They’re about #treble the strength.”
“Treble? What kind of word is that? Just say three times.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“Whatever. And what about ‘gotokuneko?’ You’re not making that stuff up, are you?” Mistress asked.
“Moi? Me? Make stuff up? I’m wounded. No, I studied this kind of thing when I was a woman.”
“You know you’re a lot more human-like than when we first met. You almost talk normally, barring words like ‘treble.’”
“Awk, chicka, cawa! Pay attention, there are lights ahead,” I cawed, irratated.
“How could Glinda-chan say such a thing? Hmph! Just when I was thinking she had more than one brain cell, she says utter rubbish. But no, she’s nothing more than a three-toed sloth.”
#TootFic #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #Serial #SlowBurn #Sapphic #Folklore
-
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch
Himeji Castle (Airisu POV): Post 63
#Wss366 Treble #TimeTravelAuthors 9/4 WhateverInside the passage hung a feline odor, strong enough to wilt feathers, and paw prints littered the dusty floor. We turned left in the direction most of them led.
“It’s walking on its hind feet,” Sumika said after a few meters and pointed to where the marks of the forepaws ceased, leaving only the rear ones.
“Indeed, that’s because it’s a nekomata. Be glad this passage is wood, not stone,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because your ‘cute’ kitty can spit fireballs. I doubt it wants to burn its mistress’s home down.”
“Oh!”
“It could be worse. We might have run into a gotokuneko. They’re about #treble the strength.”
“Treble? What kind of word is that? Just say three times.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“Whatever. And what about ‘gotokuneko?’ You’re not making that stuff up, are you?” Mistress asked.
“Moi? Me? Make stuff up? I’m wounded. No, I studied this kind of thing when I was a woman.”
“You know you’re a lot more human-like than when we first met. You almost talk normally, barring words like ‘treble.’”
“Awk, chicka, cawa! Pay attention, there are lights ahead,” I cawed, irratated.
“How could Glinda-chan say such a thing? Hmph! Just when I was thinking she had more than one brain cell, she says utter rubbish. But no, she’s nothing more than a three-toed sloth.”
#TootFic #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #Serial #SlowBurn #Sapphic #Folklore
-
#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch
Himeji Castle (Airisu POV): Post 63
#Wss366 Treble #TimeTravelAuthors 9/4 WhateverInside the passage hung a feline odor, strong enough to wilt feathers, and paw prints littered the dusty floor. We turned left in the direction most of them led.
“It’s walking on its hind feet,” Sumika said after a few meters and pointed to where the marks of the forepaws ceased, leaving only the rear ones.
“Indeed, that’s because it’s a nekomata. Be glad this passage is wood, not stone,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because your ‘cute’ kitty can spit fireballs. I doubt it wants to burn its mistress’s home down.”
“Oh!”
“It could be worse. We might have run into a gotokuneko. They’re about #treble the strength.”
“Treble? What kind of word is that? Just say three times.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“Whatever. And what about ‘gotokuneko?’ You’re not making that stuff up, are you?” Mistress asked.
“Moi? Me? Make stuff up? I’m wounded. No, I studied this kind of thing when I was a woman.”
“You know you’re a lot more human-like than when we first met. You almost talk normally, barring words like ‘treble.’”
“Awk, chicka, cawa! Pay attention, there are lights ahead,” I cawed, irratated.
“How could Glinda-chan say such a thing? Hmph! Just when I was thinking she had more than one brain cell, she says utter rubbish. But no, she’s nothing more than a three-toed sloth.”
#TootFic #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #TimeTravel #Serial #SlowBurn #Sapphic #Folklore
-
Imperative
'Rest assured, sir, that my carriage will bring your daughter back here before midnight.'
'Midnight matters not,' replied count Emil Scarlat, sipping on his glass. 'It *is* imperative that she be home before dawn, but she knows that.'
#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction
-
Imperative
'Rest assured, sir, that my carriage will bring your daughter back here before midnight.'
'Midnight matters not,' replied count Emil Scarlat, sipping on his glass. 'It *is* imperative that she be home before dawn, but she knows that.'
#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction
-
Imperative
'Rest assured, sir, that my carriage will bring your daughter back here before midnight.'
'Midnight matters not,' replied count Emil Scarlat, sipping on his glass. 'It *is* imperative that she be home before dawn, but she knows that.'
#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction
-
Imperative
'Rest assured, sir, that my carriage will bring your daughter back here before midnight.'
'Midnight matters not,' replied count Emil Scarlat, sipping on his glass. 'It *is* imperative that she be home before dawn, but she knows that.'
#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction
-
3 Months ago, Council Offices, Divesen Station.
Joy looked across her desk at the Scout. They were not human, but one of the many species that had been derived from Earth-species stock in the distant, distant past. Probably by the same unknown race that delivered Joy's ancestors to Mother of All.
"Well Scout Instructor you certainly are an unexpected reply to my request."
The vocoder on the Scout's chest translated the burst of colours that surged across their skin. "Arriving with the answer seemed an efficient solution to the restrictions limitations of travel times."
"You did cause something of a stir when you emerged. The biggest thing we've seen here before was a depot ship, and that was back in Lorn's day."
"Are apologies compensations regrets required?"
Joy smiled, and made a complex sign with her fingers, indicating a matter of little import "No, just a surprise."
"We sign now?"
"Yes, I have been authorised by the Council of Elders to sign this modification of the treaty."The Scout Instructor picked up the papers with one tentacle and looked through them. "All is in order correct." And it took a small box out of a harness, pressed the tip of a free tentacle into it, and then at the bottom of each page.
Joy took them back, and pressed her inked thumb against each page, and then signed her name.
A sign indicating an important query, "Are the lands territories properties clear for us to land arrive?"
"Yes, and airspace restrictions have been agreed to."
"Good pleasing efficient."
"It is for our benefit that we asked you to establish a Scout school here. Will the Maui be here long?"
"Apologies error, we understood thought you had knowledge. The Maui is permanently assigned to this station. In case of dramatic major intervention."Joy sat back in surprise. "They've assigned us a Frontier Class cruiser? In case we need to do a full interdiction?"
"Correct."
"I see. Well, thank-you instructor, I'll let you return to your ship and your duties."
"Very good yes Scout Commander."
"What?"A burst of bright colours washed across the sophonts skin and it handed an envelope to Joy "Your orders Scout Commander. You have been reactivated."
Before she could answer, it flowed out of her office.After a few minutes, Joy opened the envelope. Inside was a new Scout ID card, and her orders to establish a new Scout Base on Mother of All. Starting with a locally-based school.
So much for retiring.
#ShamanSpace #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
-
3 Months ago, Council Offices, Divesen Station.
Joy looked across her desk at the Scout. They were not human, but one of the many species that had been derived from Earth-species stock in the distant, distant past. Probably by the same unknown race that delivered Joy's ancestors to Mother of All.
"Well Scout Instructor you certainly are an unexpected reply to my request."
The vocoder on the Scout's chest translated the burst of colours that surged across their skin. "Arriving with the answer seemed an efficient solution to the restrictions limitations of travel times."
"You did cause something of a stir when you emerged. The biggest thing we've seen here before was a depot ship, and that was back in Lorn's day."
"Are apologies compensations regrets required?"
Joy smiled, and made a complex sign with her fingers, indicating a matter of little import "No, just a surprise."
"We sign now?"
"Yes, I have been authorised by the Council of Elders to sign this modification of the treaty."The Scout Instructor picked up the papers with one tentacle and looked through them. "All is in order correct." And it took a small box out of a harness, pressed the tip of a free tentacle into it, and then at the bottom of each page.
Joy took them back, and pressed her inked thumb against each page, and then signed her name.
A sign indicating an important query, "Are the lands territories properties clear for us to land arrive?"
"Yes, and airspace restrictions have been agreed to."
"Good pleasing efficient."
"It is for our benefit that we asked you to establish a Scout school here. Will the Maui be here long?"
"Apologies error, we understood thought you had knowledge. The Maui is permanently assigned to this station. In case of dramatic major intervention."Joy sat back in surprise. "They've assigned us a Frontier Class cruiser? In case we need to do a full interdiction?"
"Correct."
"I see. Well, thank-you instructor, I'll let you return to your ship and your duties."
"Very good yes Scout Commander."
"What?"A burst of bright colours washed across the sophonts skin and it handed an envelope to Joy "Your orders Scout Commander. You have been reactivated."
Before she could answer, it flowed out of her office.After a few minutes, Joy opened the envelope. Inside was a new Scout ID card, and her orders to establish a new Scout Base on Mother of All. Starting with a locally-based school.
So much for retiring.
#ShamanSpace #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
-
3 Months ago, Council Offices, Divesen Station.
Joy looked across her desk at the Scout. They were not human, but one of the many species that had been derived from Earth-species stock in the distant, distant past. Probably by the same unknown race that delivered Joy's ancestors to Mother of All.
"Well Scout Instructor you certainly are an unexpected reply to my request."
The vocoder on the Scout's chest translated the burst of colours that surged across their skin. "Arriving with the answer seemed an efficient solution to the restrictions limitations of travel times."
"You did cause something of a stir when you emerged. The biggest thing we've seen here before was a depot ship, and that was back in Lorn's day."
"Are apologies compensations regrets required?"
Joy smiled, and made a complex sign with her fingers, indicating a matter of little import "No, just a surprise."
"We sign now?"
"Yes, I have been authorised by the Council of Elders to sign this modification of the treaty."The Scout Instructor picked up the papers with one tentacle and looked through them. "All is in order correct." And it took a small box out of a harness, pressed the tip of a free tentacle into it, and then at the bottom of each page.
Joy took them back, and pressed her inked thumb against each page, and then signed her name.
A sign indicating an important query, "Are the lands territories properties clear for us to land arrive?"
"Yes, and airspace restrictions have been agreed to."
"Good pleasing efficient."
"It is for our benefit that we asked you to establish a Scout school here. Will the Maui be here long?"
"Apologies error, we understood thought you had knowledge. The Maui is permanently assigned to this station. In case of dramatic major intervention."Joy sat back in surprise. "They've assigned us a Frontier Class cruiser? In case we need to do a full interdiction?"
"Correct."
"I see. Well, thank-you instructor, I'll let you return to your ship and your duties."
"Very good yes Scout Commander."
"What?"A burst of bright colours washed across the sophonts skin and it handed an envelope to Joy "Your orders Scout Commander. You have been reactivated."
Before she could answer, it flowed out of her office.After a few minutes, Joy opened the envelope. Inside was a new Scout ID card, and her orders to establish a new Scout Base on Mother of All. Starting with a locally-based school.
So much for retiring.
#ShamanSpace #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
-
3 Months ago, Council Offices, Divesen Station.
Joy looked across her desk at the Scout. They were not human, but one of the many species that had been derived from Earth-species stock in the distant, distant past. Probably by the same unknown race that delivered Joy's ancestors to Mother of All.
"Well Scout Instructor you certainly are an unexpected reply to my request."
The vocoder on the Scout's chest translated the burst of colours that surged across their skin. "Arriving with the answer seemed an efficient solution to the restrictions limitations of travel times."
"You did cause something of a stir when you emerged. The biggest thing we've seen here before was a depot ship, and that was back in Lorn's day."
"Are apologies compensations regrets required?"
Joy smiled, and made a complex sign with her fingers, indicating a matter of little import "No, just a surprise."
"We sign now?"
"Yes, I have been authorised by the Council of Elders to sign this modification of the treaty."The Scout Instructor picked up the papers with one tentacle and looked through them. "All is in order correct." And it took a small box out of a harness, pressed the tip of a free tentacle into it, and then at the bottom of each page.
Joy took them back, and pressed her inked thumb against each page, and then signed her name.
A sign indicating an important query, "Are the lands territories properties clear for us to land arrive?"
"Yes, and airspace restrictions have been agreed to."
"Good pleasing efficient."
"It is for our benefit that we asked you to establish a Scout school here. Will the Maui be here long?"
"Apologies error, we understood thought you had knowledge. The Maui is permanently assigned to this station. In case of dramatic major intervention."Joy sat back in surprise. "They've assigned us a Frontier Class cruiser? In case we need to do a full interdiction?"
"Correct."
"I see. Well, thank-you instructor, I'll let you return to your ship and your duties."
"Very good yes Scout Commander."
"What?"A burst of bright colours washed across the sophonts skin and it handed an envelope to Joy "Your orders Scout Commander. You have been reactivated."
Before she could answer, it flowed out of her office.After a few minutes, Joy opened the envelope. Inside was a new Scout ID card, and her orders to establish a new Scout Base on Mother of All. Starting with a locally-based school.
So much for retiring.
#ShamanSpace #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
-
3 Months ago, Council Offices, Divesen Station.
Joy looked across her desk at the Scout. They were not human, but one of the many species that had been derived from Earth-species stock in the distant, distant past. Probably by the same unknown race that delivered Joy's ancestors to Mother of All.
"Well Scout Instructor you certainly are an unexpected reply to my request."
The vocoder on the Scout's chest translated the burst of colours that surged across their skin. "Arriving with the answer seemed an efficient solution to the restrictions limitations of travel times."
"You did cause something of a stir when you emerged. The biggest thing we've seen here before was a depot ship, and that was back in Lorn's day."
"Are apologies compensations regrets required?"
Joy smiled, and made a complex sign with her fingers, indicating a matter of little import "No, just a surprise."
"We sign now?"
"Yes, I have been authorised by the Council of Elders to sign this modification of the treaty."The Scout Instructor picked up the papers with one tentacle and looked through them. "All is in order correct." And it took a small box out of a harness, pressed the tip of a free tentacle into it, and then at the bottom of each page.
Joy took them back, and pressed her inked thumb against each page, and then signed her name.
A sign indicating an important query, "Are the lands territories properties clear for us to land arrive?"
"Yes, and airspace restrictions have been agreed to."
"Good pleasing efficient."
"It is for our benefit that we asked you to establish a Scout school here. Will the Maui be here long?"
"Apologies error, we understood thought you had knowledge. The Maui is permanently assigned to this station. In case of dramatic major intervention."Joy sat back in surprise. "They've assigned us a Frontier Class cruiser? In case we need to do a full interdiction?"
"Correct."
"I see. Well, thank-you instructor, I'll let you return to your ship and your duties."
"Very good yes Scout Commander."
"What?"A burst of bright colours washed across the sophonts skin and it handed an envelope to Joy "Your orders Scout Commander. You have been reactivated."
Before she could answer, it flowed out of her office.After a few minutes, Joy opened the envelope. Inside was a new Scout ID card, and her orders to establish a new Scout Base on Mother of All. Starting with a locally-based school.
So much for retiring.
#ShamanSpace #SF #SFF #SciFi #SpaceOpera #Microfiction #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
-
McGruff's Bridge Part 2 of 3
#Fanfic #WanderingWitch #ThreeBillyGoatsGruff
#Wss366 HobgoblinAn hour passed, and Saya began to drowse. The water of the stream sang her a lullaby, and the sweet smell of grass lulled her senses. The troll had long disappeared from view, its camouflaged skin blending with the stone of the bridge.
“Ah,” she said and pinched herself as a witch with two long blonde braids approached. The gray road dust begrimed her white coat and brown pants. And as the Charcoal Witch had guessed, a cloud of tobacco smoke surrounded the new figure.
“Who’s that crossing my bridge?” the troll bellowed as the woman neared the center of the span. Both of the troll’s hands and a set of horns, like rotting stink horn fungus, appeared over the parapet. A lopsided head with hair like Spanish moss; gigantic, goggling frog eyes; and jagged yellow teeth soon followed.
“I’m Sheila, the Adventurer of Nike, and who wants to know?” the witch replied, blowing blue-gray smoke toward the face.
“Cough, I’m… cough, McGruff the… cough, Troll, and I’m going to eat you, Miss Nike.”
“You’re not my type, big boy,” the witch said and blew another cloud of smoke toward the troll. “But there is a fair maiden close behind me in black robes and a pointy hat, with ashen hair and amethyst eyes. Oh, and she has a witch’s star like this,” and she pointed to one pinned to her coat.
Puff, puff.
“And you might ask, Mr McRuffian, who this person is?” Sheila continued. “It is Elaine, the Ashen Witch.”
[That’s me, the Wandering Witch!]
“Cough, cough. You stink!” the troll gasped.
Shiela readied her wand. “Have at me, big boy!”
“I’ll wait.” Cough. “I’d rather eat a #hobgoblin than you.”
“Humph,” Shiela said and continued on her way. Upon reaching Saya, her eyebrows went up.
Saya waved to a grassy spot downwind of her and said, “Shall we wait and see what Elaine does?”
Shiela nodded and took a seat.
-
#Wss366 Nickle/Nickel
"Nickel not Nickle," screamed the spelling kami. Commas, colons, and semicolons sprayed from their mouth.
"If you look in https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/nickle you will see both spellings are legit," the poster responded.
"Chaos, anarchy, Communism." The prior punctuation had been replaced by em-dashed.
Calling down a #nickle-iron meteor, the heretic was punished.
"Now let's talk about bread farts, or commonly called pumpernickel."
[Pardons to any real people this may sound like, but a good story must be told.]
@asakiyume
@stevendbrewer
@tobadzistsini
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic -
Crabby Crab
#Fanfic #LagoonFire by @asakiyume
#Vss366 Kid / #ChildrensDay #こどもの日Old man Kaduik looked away from his tiles. The game had ground to a draw, and he was bored. He looked out over the park and smiled as he watched the school #kids playing. It was one of the pleasures of being a retired god. Being human wasn’t so bad. The kids were milling around in the shade of the trees, enjoying their break from school.
“What are you thinking?” Nakona asked, following his gaze.
“I was wondering what it would have been like if we had ever been kids: playing in the shallows, catching crabs, teasing the girls.”
“You would have been like that one over there,” she said, pointing to a boy chasing the girls. He was using his hands like pincers, shouting, “Crabby, crab! Crabby, crab!” and laughing when the girls squealed.
As suddenly as the game had started, it stopped with the boy leaning against a tree, panting in the heat.
“Hey, Tamlo,” the retired crab god yelled to the juice vendor. “Give that boy a drink. I’ll pay.”
“No can do, sir. We'd be reported for showing undue interest in him.”
“Then, I’ll buy them all drinks, and you’d better give me a good bulk discount.”
-
New! Improved! Sophia’s Route.
The Party Flag
#FanFiction #MyNextLifeAsAVillainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! (#Bakarina #Hamafura)
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt[CW: Chapter three contains drunken dubious consent. The interpretation is left to the reader.]
“You are not to go to the #buffet without Maria or me accompanying you. I think I can trust Maria.” Keith was giving his sister, Katarina Claes, a last-minute lecture before they entered the Magical Ministry’s New Year’s party. “And under no circumstances are you to be alone with Gerald. If he corners you, faint—wait… No, no, no—only if there are other people around. But absolutely do not faint if you are alone with him!”
Katarina cocked her head, giving Keith a puzzled look. “He’s good-looking, but I don’t think I would faint. My heart sometimes flutters oddly, but no, I won’t faint.”
Keith sighed, thinking, “At least she was listening. No, wait—her heart flutters! That’s not good. Not good at all! Why are you such a dunce about this kind of thing?”
“Just don’t be alone with him. Can you remember that?”
“Of course, dear brother. ‘Don’t be alone with Prince Gerald.’ Got it.”
This being a Ministry party, things were more casual than at castle balls, and they entered without introductions. The Ministry assumed everyone knew each other at these events. They were there to have fun, not to maneuver socially.
That didn’t mean that it was a cheap affair. The buffet instantly drew Katarina’s attention with its mounds of tender roast beef carved by white-clad servants; honey-baked hams; roasted goose; pâtés; salads; exotic and #locally raised fruit; potatoes prepared in a myriad of fashions; and a line of tables groaning under their burden of sweets and pastries. It was the last of these that riveted Katarina’s attention.
Keith sighed again and held his sister’s arm tighter. It was going to be a long evening.
[Continued tomorrow in “Encounter with Gerald”]
-
Market Open
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #SundayLit
The #market had just #opened, and Tina #trembled. This was her first show, a small affair in a neighboring village. There were a few farmers, a bored crafts person, a phone service vendor, one juggler, and a local musician.
Still, she was terrified. What if people thought her work was junk or that her display was sucky? Hopefully, no one from home would visit. That would be awful. She could hear the kids at school whispering about how cringe she was already.
Two old ladies stopped by, saying, “How cute! They’re darling.” Then they left without buying anything. Being treated like a cute kid was embarrassing. She’d worked hard on binding her stories and creating the cover art.
A man wearing a worn suit with leather patches on the elbows, like professors wore, stopped at her table.
He opened a few books, leafed through one, read a few lines to himself, and then looked at her and asked, "Did you make these?”
She nodded, then found her voice. “Yes, sir. I wrote them and bound them in-in-in the best leather-leather. I even made the cover art with old Tandy tools I found in the attic.”
“They’re good, and their prices are too low.”
He looked over her stock and selected five. “I’ll buy these if you give me a 20% discount. I’d like your email address. If they’re well-received, I’ll purchase more. At 20% off your new price. Maybe double at first, you can raise them later.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, wrapping them up.
“Here’s my card,” the man said. She looked at it and saw that it read, “Findle’s Rare and Exotic Books.”
#NMSL #NMV366 #NMPrompts #MicroFiction #TootFic #SliceOfLife
-
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 39c: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/13. Saturday excerpt (optional word: fire)
“As melodramatic as this sounds, listen: Your life may depend on it,” I said to Professor Skully. His face was dubious before I even started. “I need you to pretend that I’m a confused student with an assignment question. It sounds crazy... but I have no idea what you wanted us to do the other day.”
My sudden, nonsensical change of words was because I could see the rabbit standing and listening at the office window. Finished, I mouthed, “Please.”
Skully’s eyes bulged, and his hands were positively twitching. “I don’t know who you think you are, coming into my office with this poppycock, but I’ve had enough.”
I would obviously have to do some fancy dancing.
“If you give me some time, I can explain. I assure you, I thought that’s what you wanted. The equations may be garbled, but I wouldn’t submit an assignment as a joke. I need you to work with me.” I emphasized some words, trying to convey my message.
“Very well, I’ll hear you out, but no more of your poppycock about…”
I cut him off. The cat would be out of the bag if he said “rabbits.” “Of course not, Professor. I thought you would laugh at some nonsense. I didn’t know it would #bug you. You know how I like a little joke now and then.”
“Indeed, you were always a bit of a card.” His tone indicated he was being polite, and he considered me far more than a “card.”
Emily waved at the window, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“#Bless you for playing along. Things are complicated, so you’ll have to take some of this on faith. I am a ghost.” Skully opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a hand gesture.
“I am probably the spirit of Professor Henrietta Dubois, but I’m a little hazy on those details.”
“Okay, I’ve had enough. Whether you’re insane or a joker, the board of regents will be #firing you, tenure or no. I will see to that.”
#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #TimeTravel #NMPrompts #NMTTA #NMV366 #NMMP
-
In the Mountain View trials, it was established that “just following orders to increase engagement” is no defense against charges of systematic assault and violation of autonomy. “Maybe later” is coercion, the precedent clearly states, not a solicitation of consent.