“Hey void, don’t suppose you can spare a cup of sugar?”

「sure」

“Thanks, you’re a doll”

「awww, nice of you to say so」

“If you can’t appreciate the universe under the stairs, you don’t deserve a house, I say. You want a cookie when i’m done baking?”

「you’re darn toootin’, neighbour」

“Oh, you”

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot

#WordWeavers 2026.04.18 —If your antagonist had to learn a musical instrument, what would they pick and why?

I'm getting caught up in the word "had" here, as in the sense of both forced and required, but allowed to pick.

Rainy Days was born poor to a carpenter having committed the sin of being female in a society that gave women little self-agency. No coin for musical instruments. By her twenties, nobody in her world could require her anything.

Pigeon the Pilferer has the delicacy and manners of a dropped hammer, and is likely as dense. While he might have been required in upper school, nobody, no teacher and certainly no punk, was going to force him against his will. Having a rattle to use, stalking his prey through shadowy alleys like a snake, seems somehow appropriate, but for him it would be a choice

Boss Mead has a suitable middle class education, but was never the sort to excel. His school years are a tabla rasa to me. I can imagine economics forcing him after graduation to make coin and requiring him to learn something simple to create it. Piano-man piano seems his speed. Easy. He's a chill and affable person. His one real talent makes it easy for others to find reasons to make him happy—let's call it charisma for now—and convincing someone to teach him to play piano in a restaurant or a lounge would have been easy for him. Piano-man piano is basically learning how to play the keys and read the music sufficiently to pick out the melody. Then, it's memorization, and it's practice. With an added level of learning how to play "fancy," things like multi-finger chords, rhythm, dynamics, and such—which could have been picked up by listening to his mentor play—Boss Mead could have learned the music easily and learned to reproduce it for hours with feeling, creating a night long ambience and fugue. Yes, I can see Boss Mead starring in a hazy bar, a red whiskey in a crystal glass over the rocks on a coaster, sitting beside a torchere candelabra, playing until late, and making his first contacts for subsequent shady deals. Not canon, yet.

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

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#Cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

Shaman Space Part 3.

Three months after departure from "All Mother":

Seeker announced the ship to the SPC, "Grenfeld Low this is Athena on final approach."
"Athena this is Grenfeld Low, you are clear to land, please follow beacon drone 114 to Pad D."
"Understood Grenfeld Low, locking onto beacon drone 114."
Seeker set the ship's approach lock to the beacon.
"Grenfeld Low, we are locked."
"Very good Athena." There was a pause, then Seeker heard a proximity alarm. "Athena! Grenfeld! Athena! We have an uncontrolled cargo pod intersecting your vector, break off! I say again, break off!"
Seeker cut the approach lock, and started a port turn.

There was a flash, and then blackness.

Seeker took the sim helmet off. Alaine was watching her. "Stupid cargo pod got me" she complained.
"I remember that one. You have to go right back to get past it," Alaine sympathised.
"How far?"
"When you try it again, look to your medium scans. That's all the clues I'm giving you for now."
Seeker glared at him. He grinned back. "Hey, it took me six goes for that one."
She shook her head "These training courses are cursed!"
"Yeah, they are. But they are what will save your life out here. Just like the drills."
"Funny, I always thought they would be something for the military or corporations."
"There might be some independents who don't do them. But those ones have their luck run out. Same as anyone who misses too many overhauls."
Seeker looked thoughtful. He continued "If it had not been for the drills, we would not have lasted as long as we had against that pirate ship. As it was if your patrol boat had not been there, we were not going to make it."
"Glad we could help out."

The intercom beeped "All hands, all hands, stand by for re-entry into normal space."
A moment later Seeker said "There!"
"We are now in normal space. Resume duties" and the intercom clicked off.
Alaine looked at Seeker "I don't know if you really can feel it, or if you are having me on."
"I feel something. Every time, in either direction."
"I know there are some people it makes sick. But I've never heard of someone who can just tell."
Seeker shrugged "When we get home, we'll have to ask great-grandmama. Maybe it is a thing."
"OK, my turn with the sim. I've got an exam coming up at our next port. All going well I'll get my stage two piloting cert."
"That's solo non-hyper, right?"
"Yep." Alaine's voice was muffled as the helmet slid on, and he pulled on the haptic gloves.
"Good luck," Seeker called loudly. Alaine did not respond, his ears must have already been plugged.

#SF #SFF #Microfic #Microfiction #Tootfic #IAmWriting #ShamanSpace

What do you mean they’re extinct? We’ve spent half a galactic rotation droving a thousand head of comet across the rift and you’re telling me your civilisation doesn’t even have a galactibank account? Look I don’t care if you lot evolved after the order was placed, your planet is not getting its deposit back and if you don’t like it you can have one of these comets for free.

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot