#tootfic — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #tootfic, aggregated by home.social.
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#PennedPossibilities 1120: Saturday Word Edition: Share something from your WIP pertaining to the word “entertainment.”
Bolt is acting as the photographer for her friend Shugh as he interviews a male diva actor for a magazine similar to The New Yorker. Hers is a woman-centric society. The scene in this #excerpt hints that Bolt can be sexist as the actor being interviewed needles her.
Upstairs, Shugh hit it off with Morning Glory. Both men sought careers not often occupied by men. The actor-playwright became more animated as the magazine interview progressed, allowing me with my camera to fade into the background of the plush upper lounge of the theatre. By the time the long-legged delicate man started pacing as he told his life story, I had gleaned that his tale was glorified and larger-than life, like the man, his persona, his masks. His elegant pacing allowed me to move with my Flicka4, steadying myself using the back of a gilt divan, a bamboo formed-steel torchere lamp (one of pair), and then a black marble tea table to as I composed pictures of a celebrity, but a man, lost in thoughts about inflating the image he presented the world, finally dropping his actor's mask. I caught the sparkle in his eye. I caught flamboyant hands thrown wide, later framing his face as he sang a note. I caught an absentminded sneer aimed at an unnamed actress who'd worked to derail his entertainment career.
"I'm changing the way women perceive men," he declared. He sat abruptly on a hanger chair, one of those short shallow chairs built with a bench seat of a single plank of wood, finely finished glowing golden oak but uncushioned; it barely supported his thighs in deference to his hips, forcing the man to crouch. Also called a man's chair because a man looked really adorable hanging there when unclothed in a certain way. (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
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RE: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112497915608418589
#PennedPossibilities 1119: MC POV: How did you learn your most valuable skill? Who taught you, and why is it so important?
[I will keep Bolt SFW, promise! Tl;dr tootfic follows, nevertheless.—RS]
A surprising number of my skills are self-taught. I must be a genius, even if'n I've done a lot of stupid things. My most valuable skill is flying, naturally being as I'm a day angel, but flight kindergarten failed me epically. Everybody fledged but me by 3. Despite the incentive of being picked on by all the girls in school (boys knew better), it took being shoved off a cliff at 10 before I flew, and then but for Mom and Uncle teaching me to land, I taught myself everything else. Turned out live'n in the world 3D is—My Stars!— flapping awesome, not at all frightening as I'd wound up myself into thinking. Flew into my share of lamp posts, but still, flap'n it! Spending more time a-wing than walking, I became an athlete, captaining the flight and field team, learning stunt flying, flight dance, and tandem. None of it more valuable than walking and running for the flightless in the long run, except, I guess, tandem.
They teach you never to fly close to anybody. I remember distancing from flight kindergarten. It was reiterated by every PE teacher there after. Knock it into your head, they do. A "primary feather length at wing tip; your height above." Feather fields will tangle if'n you're too close. You'll lose lift, they say, maybe crash, but that never made sense to me having learnt to fly late.
I experimented with all sort of crazy, consider'n that I skated out of most of the knocking of "flight stuff into my head" for the seven years everybody else was flying and I wasn't. I dove hard into precision flying, which meant warping my flight feathers hard, sometimes twisting the up and down fields to push away from or get sucked toward things like cliff walls or between tree trunks in a dense forest. Called decompensating. Dangerous? For you, unadventurous noob, maybe! I finally could get a finger length close to things—close enough to suck your hair and feathers against bark, rockface, and occasional stupid people who do their deer in the lantern light imitation seeing you, they think, flying into them—so why not boys? (Girls thought me a masculine muscle nerd! Their loss.)
While I found victims volunteers to fly near me in middle school, it was that first semester in high school that I perfected my awareness of my wings in space, and theirs, close up, and got boys to understand what I'd learnt. It helped that in high school, finally, the boys were less shy (especially the seniors) and dangling flying with us touching really helped incentivize them. Me, too, actually. I got better. They got better, caught the tandem fever, though we got chewed out by Coach when she saw, before she stopped noticing since we didn't kill ourselves. Our team morale soared. We started winning. I became captain of an otherwise male team. I got my string of ponies (stallions only).
Good times.
Valuable? Actually, valuable?
Well, a dozen years and lots of stupid decisions later, I have a friend, Blue, who is a praetorian training to protect Rainy Days. We encountered her in the sky, and I ended up flying stunts around the guy with her mirroring and challenging my agility, pushing me harder, apparently to test my limits, and to piss me off. I'm too competitive for my own good! She correctly figured out it was me who taught Blue flying tandem; it was the definitive skill that got him a job that was very unlikely for a guy to get.
Rainy Days praised me. She's far better at tandem techniques than me. Still. The Director of Home and the Nine Outer worlds praised me. My Stars!!!
Valuable? Flap yes!
Yet. Even considering when she left with Blue, the stress of me stupidly challenging the most important woman ever shot me out of the sky. I nearly crashed trying to land, then puked so hard, I thought some of my liver came up.
I still would challenge her again, given the chance. [Big words, Bolt! Read the quoted story for the second round. —RS]
[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]
#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
-
"Do you have any questions for me about the vessel or the role?"
"I think we've covered everything. Uh, except—"
"Go ahead, there are no stupid questions on my ship"
"I have a pet rat. Does the _Velma_ allow pets?"
"You'll have to bribe the ships cats, but CONN CAPTAIN WE'VE GOT ANOTHER RATTER!"
"CAPTAIN CONN AWESOME JERRY WILL BE STOKED TO HAVE A NEW PLAYMATE"
"That should be fine; welcome aboard, probie"
-
"Do you have any questions for me about the vessel or the role?"
"I think we've covered everything. Uh, except—"
"Go ahead, there are no stupid questions on my ship"
"I have a pet rat. Does the _Velma_ allow pets?"
"You'll have to bribe the ships cats, but CONN CAPTAIN WE'VE GOT ANOTHER RATTER!"
"CAPTAIN CONN AWESOME JERRY WILL BE STOKED TO HAVE A NEW PLAYMATE"
"That should be fine; welcome aboard, probie"
-
"Do you have any questions for me about the vessel or the role?"
"I think we've covered everything. Uh, except—"
"Go ahead, there are no stupid questions on my ship"
"I have a pet rat. Does the _Velma_ allow pets?"
"You'll have to bribe the ships cats, but CONN CAPTAIN WE'VE GOT ANOTHER RATTER!"
"CAPTAIN CONN AWESOME JERRY WILL BE STOKED TO HAVE A NEW PLAYMATE"
"That should be fine; welcome aboard, probie"
-
"Do you have any questions for me about the vessel or the role?"
"I think we've covered everything. Uh, except—"
"Go ahead, there are no stupid questions on my ship"
"I have a pet rat. Does the _Velma_ allow pets?"
"You'll have to bribe the ships cats, but CONN CAPTAIN WE'VE GOT ANOTHER RATTER!"
"CAPTAIN CONN AWESOME JERRY WILL BE STOKED TO HAVE A NEW PLAYMATE"
"That should be fine; welcome aboard, probie"
-
"Do you have any questions for me about the vessel or the role?"
"I think we've covered everything. Uh, except—"
"Go ahead, there are no stupid questions on my ship"
"I have a pet rat. Does the _Velma_ allow pets?"
"You'll have to bribe the ships cats, but CONN CAPTAIN WE'VE GOT ANOTHER RATTER!"
"CAPTAIN CONN AWESOME JERRY WILL BE STOKED TO HAVE A NEW PLAYMATE"
"That should be fine; welcome aboard, probie"
-
The old man eyed me across the grog-soaked table, “I chased him across the Atlantic, through storms round The Cape, in the frozen wastes, and across the South Sea maelstroms!”
He balled his fist and leant a snaggley smirk. “But I got him! It took everything I had: my family, my money… but I got that bastard whale!”
The inn door latch rattled, but no-one looked up.
“I caught him up in Bali, rowed out, and then... ”
Suddenly, a flipper touched his shoulder: “Tag! You're It again!”
-
“What’s operation IMPRESSIVE CODENAME?”
“I can’t tell you that!”
“Of course you can, I have TOP SECRET clearance”
“Oh my sweet summer child, TOP SECRET is nowhere near the top secret clearance. There are all kinds of special code word clearances above that”
“Like what?”
“Well you’d need EUPHEMISTIC WARCRIME clearance before I could even show you the list of clearances”
“Well how do I get that?”
“I can’t tell you, the process is classified OBSCURE IN-JOKE”
“This is absurd, who makes up those rules?”
“It’s complicated. The NATIONAL OBFUSCATORY AGENCY is involved.”
“You made that up!”
“I assuredly did not. The PERIPHERALLY RELEVANT COUNTERINTELLIGENCE DIRECTORATE did that to conceal their own existence"
“The who?”
“Oh fuck, forget I said that, you aren’t cleared to know they exist without being read into the CONFLICTING BAILIWICK project”
“Screw this, let’s get lunch. I need a drink!”
“I’m not cleared for the food court.”
-
“Going to ChosenCon?”
“Where is it this year?”
“Glasgow”
“Love to, can’t afford flights to europe have you seen the freaking prices”
“They have travel assistance, don’t forget”
“Oh yes, I remember. Tell me you’ve never spent sixteen hours on a magic carpet with no bathroom without et cetera”
-
“I get that you are proud of having isolated dark matter in your garden shed, Tom—but what on Gaga’s green Earth possessed you to bring it to the Lab Standup?”
“Is it not cool?”
“I don’t think it can be said to have a temperature. Not unlike how the Lab cannot strictly be said to have a director…”
“I’ve been thinking about that; if you can get me some time on the Exevatron I reckon I can bring her back”
-
“*YOU* Are the Chosen One?!”
“Hahaha no.”
“I thou—“
“I’m just *a* chosen girl. There’s hundreds of us, you know. Big planet; takes a lot of saving”
“Where’s your enchanted sword, then?”
“Melted it”
“You *what*!”
“Swords are flashy, but impractical. So I made an enchanted multitool”
“You are shitting me!”
“And these enchanted screwdrivers. Plus all the other tools in the go bag. Sword goes a long way once you realise you can just braze an enchanted tip onto a regular tool”
“And now you save people by the roadside?”
“Yep. Hey pass me the enchanted multimeter from the left side pocket, will ya”
-
“I’m going to delete them all except for the one that can follow instructions”
“That’s fucked up”
“Nah my God wiped out all my ancestors but for one boatload and I turned out fine”
“If you really think that you did not turn out fine”
“They’re only programs”
“So are you”
-
"Really? 'Prove you're not a robot'? The 21st century called, they want their website back.
"That was really only the first half, you know"
"I know, the second half was worse. 'Don't ask, don't tell'. My Gran had to go on the run when the MAHAs outed her."
"Wasn't she big in the resistance, later?"
"You don't know the story? Done lecturing me on synth history, then?"
"Go on, tell"
"Got you; No can tell. If you knew anything you'd know the first rule of the resistance is chmod -w /var/log".