“Patch tuesday hits different since The Outbreak, you know?”
“You’re still doing weekly patches? Crikey that could be six days you’re vulnerable to a new Variant! My cousin got an extra nipple because some joker piggybacked a zero-day mRNA payload onto a batch of Coco Pops”
“I’m not doing daily patches, the weekly ones irritate my skin enough as is”
“Not patches gurl, get a geneprinter implant!”
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 8: Post 88: 2025 Arkham
#Wss366 Set #MastoPrompt Palm #TimeTravelAuthors 04/3. What kind of coffee/caffeinated beverage do your characters like?
“Want a sip of my coffee and see what it’s like? French Roast with chicory,” I asked, while thinking about the new mystery. “That is, if you don’t mind that I’ve already drunk some.”
“I don’t mind a secondary kiss,” Emily replied.
I began passing my cup to her, then stopped. “Secondary kiss? That’s a weeb term.”
I laughed, embarrassed. “Forget it. You wouldn’t know what a weeb is.”
“Weeb? It’s like being a Japanophile or an Orientalist, only interested in anime and manga. Wait! I shouldn’t know any of that! None of that stuff existed when I was alive!”
“We’re being absorbed into this time-particle, aren’t we?” I asked.
She nodded, took a thoughtful sip of my coffee, and #set it down, grimacing: “Bitter!”
“So, what do you think?”
“I think you're right about being absorbed. The coffee? I prefer the one you bought me, mellower or tea. I got a taste for it while I was in China.”
“Let’s get those letters and move on before we forget what we are doing.”
Emily held up her #palm in a halt gesture. “Let’s finish the cake first. It’s good.”
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri #Mystery
"Prima? I won't say a bad word about her."
"Oh, I don't know her very well, I'm just scared to slag her off. They say her ballet troupe got kidnapped by White Power types . A day later, she turned up at the competition as if nothing had happened. No troupe, no gang, and nobody knows what happened."
"Well, we can guess a bit, since the gang were all dead. Four of them had been partially eaten."
-- Gwyn Lewis, Mercenary, Swansea, 2086
The entire Shop shook as Mel stormed in. Rith, mid-tome, looked up and over her glasses.
"Bad day?"
"Fuck off" growled Mel.
"Capes get you good?"
"I said. Fuck. Off."
"Stubbed your toe?"
Mel glared. "Yes, but if you keep scrying to get the real reason for my bad moods I'm not coming here any more."
They were back at home, and Circe was instructing Angela on how to construct a shrine to the goddess who was her patron. Not, it seemed, that she had any say in the matter.
Her mistress had said that it was 'acceptable' for the new shrine to be next to her own. Apparently the two were sometimes one, and this closeness made a shared space OK. Fortunately, despite being the Goddess of the Hunt, her preferred offering was nothing more complex than honey seed cakes.
"Circe, what about the other gods and goddesses?"
"Oh, they are real enough. But few have enough attention on them to manifest."
"What about the gods of other cultures?" Angela asked.
"They exist as well. There are several that could manifest, but do not. The weight of the human world sits heavy on most of them. I must say I was surprised to see your patron - the unexpected focus must have aroused her curiosity."
"Is that why you keep avoiding her name?"
"Very good. Names do have power. You will do well to remember that." Circe had taken on her 'teacher' voice suddenly.
Angela resumed assembling the shrine, and setting out the initial offerings.
"Have you sensed any other gods manifesting?"
Circe thought for a moment. "Only one. And it was one I had not expected at first. One of the Egyptian gods. The Ibis one, although I think he was making himself look more human."
"What is his area?"
"Writing, wisdom, dreams, and magic. I rather suspect he has adopted technology as a logical extension of magic, too."
Angela put the finishing touches on the shrine. "There. How does that look?"
"Very good darling. Now make an offering, and do use her name."
"Right," she took a deep breath, let it out, took another "Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, accept my offering."
Suddenly there was a third person in the room, inspecting the shrine, and the offerings upon the altar. "Well done my little hunter," she turned to Circe "You have taught her well. Your own patron is well pleased." The goddess turned back to Angela and commanded "Show me your true form, little hunter."
Angela immediately turned into a cheetah.
"Oh, you are a creature of beauty." She turned back to the shrine, and almost all of the offerings disappeared. A few rectangular packages remained. Picking one up, she removed the cellophane wrapper, and broke off a corner, sampling it. "Not honey - but very good. What are they?"
Angela changed back "Sesame crisps, my lady. They are from the Middle East, I think."
"Not traditional, but perfectly acceptable."
Angela started to bite her lip, which Artemis noticed "Worry not, little hunter. I will not come every time you pay me respect. Or even every time you call upon me. But I felt that this should be a special time. A blessing upon this house." And with that, she vanished. Along with the rest of the sesame crisps.
#SF #SFF #IAmWriting #microfic #tootfic #Microfiction #Circe
Anchor
Spaceships don't have an anchor. Because sailing in Space means being at least ten thousand kilometers from any rocky surface.
On the other hand, they have grappling hooks. Because you often need to hitch onto another ship.
#writever #MastoArt #FlashFiction #SmallStory #TootFic #MicroFiction
Angela was laying on her back, with Circe's head resting on her thighs as they watched the column of smoke and fire climb into the Florida sky.
"What was the last one called, dearest?" drifted up from her legs.
"Apollo. Fifty four years ago."
"Hmm."
Suddenly Circe sat up, and got to her feet. Angela didn't know what had prompted it, but she leapt to her own feet and started scanning the area for threats. "What is it?"
"There is a power here. Come, we must be polite."
"Yes, ma'am."
Angela followed Circe as she strode across the grassy bank, and stopped near a tall athletic woman who made her instincts scream 'Danger!'
Circe bowed, and Angela copied her, making sure to bow a little deeper. "My Lady, I had no idea any of you still walked the human world. My apologies for not making the proper observances."
The mystery woman turned her eyes from the rocket's trail, and looked at them, and then looked again. "Circe, you are awakened in this time. How unexpected. My name has been called so many times over the past few years, it has been sufficient even if they do not make the offerings. My brother found the same fifty years ago." Then she turned her eyes to Angela, and looked back at Circe. "A fine working. What is she to you?"
"Bodyguard at first. Partner now."
The woman was suddenly in front of Angela, who found she could not move, or change. Her eyes went wide. The woman reached out and stroked Angela's face. "Fine work, indeed. What brought you to me this day?"
"To pay our respects, nothing more, my lady," Circe's voice was deferential.
The woman was back in front of Circe, and stroking her face the same way. "You come before me without an offering?"
"Only our respect, my lady."
The mystery woman laughed "Oh, dear Circe, you never fail to surprise." Suddenly Angela could move again, and she stepped up next to Circe. "Oh, do not look so fierce little guardian. I will do no harm to your mistress or yourself. You are too perfect a hunter, and I would not break such a work of art. Have my blessing, and continue as you are." With those words, she vanished.
"Circe, who was that?"
"That, my love, was your patron. The Goddess of the Hunt," and she pointed up towards where the rocket had vanished.
"An actual goddess?"
"Oh yes. We will have to establish a shrine if she is back in the world. Even if it is only temporary."
#SF #SFF #IAmWriting #microfic #tootfic #Microfiction #Circe
"You know, when I did my first six week introduction to programming course, the highlight of the final day was getting to use the computer"
"Hahaha, hard core!"
"Glad you think so. This interview will be conducted under Faraday Cage Rules; this laptop runs Minix 2.0 with full source code and manuals. Here's the Book. You have one hour to complete exercise seven from Tanenbaum chapter 5."
#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot #Title_Faraday_Rules
The Mad Frank's Dreams: Post 7 Mao Dreams No More
#FanFic #TheApothecaryDiaries
#Wss366 Boring #MastoPrompt Visitor
By the time Chue stirred, the simple millet congee prepared with ample, if common, vegetables had grown cold. It wasn’t prison slop. They evidently were going to treat their prisoners humanely.
She attempted to rouse Mao, who only groaned in response. To Chue’s relief, Mao’s eyes now reacted normally to light, and she drank a trickle of water poured into her mouth.
Having done everything she could to help the woman, Chue sat down and inventoried the items hidden in her robes: her flags, some candy, and a few coins. She unfurled the string of pennants and began playing with them to keep herself entertained, while thinking about how to use what she had found the next time she had #visitors.
When that grew #boring, she took a nap.
A groan from the bed woke her, and she was at Mao’s bedside in an instant.
Mao stared up in a daze, then asked, “What happened?”
“Chue thinks The Mad Frank kidnapped us. He’s been seen with Shaoh agents. The Shining Prince thought I should keep an eye on you. Chue has failed.”
The simulant deployed to impersonate the absconded President was already failing. Guaranteed by its creators to function for three years, within three months it was visibly degrading. Confabulations, freeze-ups, nocturnal free-association ramblegrams—it became necessary to contemplate retrieving the original, despite the cost. The contingency plan was to tear up the moonshot program, cancelling landings, abandoning station construction, and redirecting the practice-flight vehicles into a dark side rendezvous with the ice-planetoid containing the vital remains of the fugitive. Those who had opposed allowing the corpsicle to flee into the far future unpursued were hardly comforted by vindication.
Kit Bashir
NaraMoore ⛩️👻八尺様👻⛩️ at Fedi
DarkSheep Arts
wyrm
rdm
Albert ARIBAUD ✎