#ThursThreads Week 698 Winners blog is up. Congrats to FORTY-TWO TIME WINNER Bill Engleson and Honorable Mention Silver James. Great thanks to Katheryn J. Avila for judging this week. Check out the winning tale. #FlashFiction #Writing #WritingCommunity https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-week-698-winners/

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It's time for the #MonthlyFlash where I gather all the #FlashFiction  tales in one place on #Patreon . Just join my crew and you can see what I'm working on. #AmWriting  #romanticSuspense #LGBTQIA  https://www.patreon.com/posts/siobhan-muirs-152879877?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link

#ThursThreads Week 698 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. They're all yours, Katheryn. #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #Writing https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-698/

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#ThursThreads Week 698 is now LIVE. Come tie on your tale for judge Katheryn J. Avila. What will your 250 words say? #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #Writing #AmWriting https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-698/

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Are y'all ready for #ThursThreads tomorrow? Katheryn Avila is our judge and she's waitin' on your tales. Have prompt, got tale? #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #Writing https://siobhanmuir.com/blog

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#ThursThreads Week 697 Mentions blog is up. Congrats to Ten Time Winner Joe Hesch and all the mentions. Great thanks to Miranda Kate for judging this week. Check out the winning tale. #FlashFiction #Writing #WritingCommunity https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-week-697-mentions/

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#ThursThreads Week 697 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. They're all yours, Miranda. #FlashFiction #Writing #writingCommunity https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-697/

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#ThursThreads Week 697 is now LIVE. Come tie on your tale for judge Miranda Kate. What kind of tale can you tie on? #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #Writing #WritingPrompt https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-697/

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Are y'all ready for #ThursThreads tomorrow? Miranda Kate is our judge and she's waitin' on your tales. Got a tale to tie on? #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #Writing #AmWriting https://siobhanmuir.com/blog

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Time for the (2) monthly roundup for #ThursThreads tales. Join my #Patreon and find out what I'm working on. #Romance #AmWriting #FlashFiction https://www.patreon.com/posts/siobhan-muirs-149177411?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link

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Introduction to R.S., Author, Novelist Updated 03/22/25

First, a few words:

"One thing you learn from watching TV, movies, anime, and reading best sellers, to pulp, to fanfic: No story is perfect. There's always hopeful contrivance and caricature in plot or character, a little or a lot... but it works. We like it. It gets bought, published, produced, noticed, sometimes loved despite the warts.

"Authors and playwrights of all levels... take heart. Complete your project and go on to the next. Complete is the superpower you can have, perfect doesn't exist."

And something that works for me: Are you blocked by your internal censor? Do you worry you're revealing your embarrassing true self? Say what I say to myself:

I am not telepathic.

Repeat that: I am not telepathic.

Louder: I AM NOT TELEPATHIC!

I DON'T know what the reader is going to expect.

I DON'T know if the current scene is going to frighten, trigger, or be too explicit for my audience...

Because I DON'T have anyone looking over my shoulder, clicking their tongue, and saying, "Tch, tch, tch!"

I am going to take a deeeeeeep breath, now,
clear my mind,
and write the flapping scene—
full stop.

Who is R.S.?

I am a formerly published feminist SF author and a prosaist—which is what a poet is to poetry, but for prose.
I write #fiction stories that often address issues of gender at least peripherally. I'm aiming to short list for an Otherwise Award.
My genre tags are #sf, #sff, #sciencefiction, #fantasy, and #romance.
I'm a fan of rhetoric and elocution; I'm a prosaist, remember? Humor makes life and writing tolerable.

My community is #author, #writer, #writingCommunity, and #writersOfMastodon.
I hosted the #EngenderedWriting hashtag. See: #EngenderWritingQ.
I post often to various writing hashtags, which are variously called games, prompts, or challenges: #pennedPossibilities, #wordWeavers, #ScribesAndMakers, #writever, and #writersCoffeeClub,
If you become confused about my gender, that's intentional. I write gender fiction, so if I revealed mine, it would add subtext to my stories. If you know or learn it, please keep it to yourself. Thanks!
#ActuallyAutistic, which explains how I can overly focus, seem obtuse, or end up running down rabbit holes. No worries. It's actually a superpower.
This link (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110470537747067765) leads to a list of shorter stories I've written to post exclusively on Mastodon (#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic). I retain the copyright on those stories.
My Markdown Reference: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/114741821407500330

I'm building a network of authors by entertaining you, and by sharing what I've learned through decades of doing it the hard way. My motto: There Shall Be Content! I want to help our writing community by helping authors overcome what keeps them from completing stories. I'm learning self-publishing as a business. I want to push back the loneliness that's part and parcel of this solitary profession.

I follow serious authors, which means people diligently writing or working at completing stories or articles or anything containing words with the intent to publish, whether that's #fiction, #nonfiction, #scripts, #comics or #manga, or #games. I will read your profile to check for content before following. You need not courtesy follow in return for a follow.

I boost posts that announce authors' work and publications. I want my followers (largely artists, authors, and photographers) to see your work. We're all creatives here, trying to be professional. Everyone needs to promote their work; I want to help you. Don't repeat too often. Since I follow so many people, my timeline is full. Don't feel bad if I miss something. Private mention @sfwtr@eldritch.cafe!

I'll follow an #artist upon seeing interesting artwork, #photography or hand-drawn/painted #art. I am partial to #charcoals and #pastel, appreciate #sketch art, but love #watercolor. If wowed, I'll discuss what's great in reply, or #critique if you're close and I I can help. I commission cover and interstitial art. I do fine art photography and some wedding and event photography.

Life and Everything Else: I have a weird sense of humor, which follows since many of my characters are snide and cynical.

Favorites: My clicking the favorite button means something caught my attention, was particularly apropos to the idea, was entertaining, or somehow pithy. If I reply to your post, I've definitely noticed something!

Hot Buttons: Feminist issues are my bread and butter. So too labor issues, like jobs being automated out of existence without ensuring former employees can support themselves. If you want to use #genAI, #chatGPT, or AI to replace writers or artists, or jobs, you're barking up the wrong tree, buster! I post those road apples under #theComingLaborApocalypse.

I believe Boosting is Sharing. I appreciate when people boost my posts when they affect them.

#BoostingIsSharing

#PennedPossibilities 324 — SC POV: If you could relive one day of your life without changing anything that happened, which day would you choose? Tootfic: Reframing the Experience

[When my SC says armor, it's really a weightless magical exoskeleton that melds with her body. It looks like blackened bones, because it is. —R.S.]

Oh, there's plenty of days I'd relive unchanged. Like the day I fledged, when I first flew on my own. Or the day learned the thrill of hauling things through the sky. Both good events in a rather dull and awful childhood that turned to cinders when my parents disapproved of the way I wanted to live my life. Said I aimed for the dirt not the sky. Maybe they weren't so dumb—I ended up badly, flying messages for a crime boss over a dozen years. But, then, there was that day last week...

I've told you a few times how I ended up with the armor and a new job training as a pretorian, you know, having faced down the greatest thaumaturge who ever lived, having nearly killed her. Impressed her.

I thought.

Well, my drill instructor was training me that dawn. I wore the armor. The thaumaturge dove at me, full speed. She's a monster flier, taller, more massive, immortal. I jumped into the sky. Fled.

She followed.

Though the armor let me fly like a sparrow, change direction in a heartbeat, and take a thumping only slightly changing my course, it had been her armor once. She kept appearing before me, striking at my face or heart, sending me into spins toward the ground, stalling me out, almost panicking me into flying into trees or buildings. For all her mass and the inertia that implies, I barely avoided her, half the time with her cackling at my barrel rolls or dives that sent down feathers flying. She had muscle; I tired despite the armor until I thought my heart would burst from my chest, at which point a flyby pitched me into the ground.

I skid across the running track on my belly right up to my instructor. I don't know how I didn't break a wing or my neck. Ok, I do: The Armor.

She landed beside me with a loud thump. She wasn't even winded! She told him, "She lacks stamina. Train her harder."

She leaned down until her face was in my face. I smelled maple syrup on her breath. She said, "You need to use the magic in the armor. There's a class at first bell in the Ivory building, room B7. Shower and be there ON TIME."

I have wings.

I don't do magic.

I showered though, once my legs stopped shaking. I slunk into the class still half-frightened out of my wits. My new friend was there, the curse breaker, a former prizefighter, the one I'd fought beside against Her, that ended up with me getting the armor. It was some sort of advanced special Ed class for mages. I suddenly felt totally inadequate and I cried. Me. At the age of 27, I cried telling her my story, pointing to my purpling bruises, complaining that had She gotten in a good strike She would have caved in my rib cage.

My friend was having none of it. She said, "You're a day angel who just went ten minutes fighting Her. Somehow, you're still alive."

I hadn't thought about it that way. I later learned the word, "Reframing."

The instructor came in with a truckload of tomes and grimoires. She had prepared him for me. He gave me a magic primer. I knew it was a primer because it had PICTURES of youngsters playing. Despite the stares of the other students, I read the book.

Half hour later, I got the armor to glow dull red, like iron out of a forge. Truly. Awesome. Didn't know what it did except look intimidating, but still...

Awesome.

I felt my heart grow large in my chest, and it struck me. Someone (okay, the ruler of the nation) wanted me for who I was and who I could become, and because I was capable. She wanted me to aim for the sky. My new friend supported me and pushed me forward. I liked this, who I was, what I was finding I could be, could become.

And.

Oddly.

I realized, for what it was worth, my parents would approve. (And flap them if they didn't!)

Best. Day. Ever.

[Author retains copyright (c)2024 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool

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

#WritingWonders 4.3 — The Wanted Poster by R.S.

Someone knocked with what proved to be a clipboard before coming into the conference room, and the various lieutenants' bodyguards stiffened. The thug still had a bandage over his eye and an arm in a sling as he walked in and discreetly handed the clipboard to me. I looked at the single page.

"Not a joke?" I whispered, my mouth wide open.

"No, Boss."

The poster had official diffraction stripes with rainbow lettering. It displayed two images, one snapped after I'd shoved the boss down on the seat of the brougham as we fled the summit, less than a minute before the carriage exploded. It showed me in a hooded cape with my chin mask up, unluckily glowering at the lens. The second was a bank image. The scale showed my above average height. This time my hood was down for visibility and my hair up in a gangland bouffant. The chin mask was intact. Despite soot from the riots on my face, you could see my flattened nose and brushed eyebrows, but not the most important part. I escorted the boss past on the sidewalk. Between the crash gate grate and her having just darted to my right, you couldn't see her wings or face.

You could identify the Old Harbors Post Office across the street by its century old architecture.

Fortunately, the image of me drenched in blood that evening, the one under the headline in the morning edition, wasn't included. The constables hadn't made that connection, except to the extent that the first line of the wanted poster read, "Detain for questioning by order of Rainy Days, Director of Home".

I shivered. The evil woman was too close to connecting the dots. I had to excise the Mustang elements that could take advantage of the chaos and to prevent the syndicate from spinning into internecine war. I was already responsible for too many deaths because I'd been too cowardly to do what I knew was right. This poster meant I had to disappear and leave the east coast sooner than later. It was if I watched my plausible deniability lining up at the window like a string of rats and, one by one, defenestrating itself.

It read further, "Wanted for questioning in regards to the Old Harbors Post Office and the Three Forks Bridge explosions. Suspected of transporting illegal goods and wanted persons, assault, racketeering, attempted murder, and terrorism. Goes by the name Gelding and other aliases. Aged between 15 and 35."

I muttered, "A two-decade range? I'm not even two decades old." I really worked on disguising myself, and it paid off.

"High-level thaumaturge without a limiter. If apprehended, shackle to a hard surface to prevent escape. Consider dangerous. Reward for information leading to arrest: 2 years basic."

I loved praise and grinned at being recognized as high-level, but added, "I'm not dangerous."

South Beach snorted, then sat there her chest bouncing as she struggled with a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter. I looked around the room. The men and women smiled, getting the joke, but others looked serious. Feathers made rustling noises. They knew I had the kiss of death.

I grinned, handing the clipboard back to my thug secretary. "Burn that."

"Yes, Boss."

[Author retains copyright]

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #except #flashfiction

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#readingcommunity #horrorcommunity #writingcommunity #flashfiction #microfiction #twosentencehorror #darkhumour #supportindieauthors #booktok #bookstagram #booksky #horrortok #fyp #terrifier #Hellhouse #Haunt #Stitch

Sophia discovered the disconcerting fact that she was a character in a sci-fi story. Learning that an AI named Nesso, written by the same author, had gone into hiding in her story got her curious. If something from the 'outside' world could come in, could she communicate out?

"Nesso, let's try this again," she said to the AI. "We both in a story, and I want to know how to create a channel - a window, through the fourth wall of that story. How can we do that?"

::I don't have the answer to that question::

Sophia sighed. She had been at this for days and found herself at the same dead-end. She rubbed her eyes. Perhaps she should just pack it in for the night.

She suddenly sat upright in her office chair. Perhaps she had been asking the wrong question. Nesso wasn't originally in the story, so how did it get here?

"Nesso, is there ALREADY a window through the fourth wall?"

::Yes::

#MicroFiction #FlashFiction #TootFic

Intro...#Shortfiction writer of #flashfiction and #microfiction incorporating #MagicalRealism and #horror. I sometimes incorporate #fairytales.

I love to #cook #read, watch #movies, and listen to #music. I am a #BreastCancer and #ThyroidCancer survivor and am managing #Diabetes type 2 and #Bipolar 2. #American.

I return follow, especially if you have an avatar photo, an introduction, a bio. (Sometimes I wait until a small backlog of posts develops before return following.) Cheers. 🖤 💀 🦋 👾

Au fait!

Le Lufthunger Club a lancé une campagne de financement participatif pour sa nouvelle collection. Le principe ? Les abonnés reçoivent directement des nouvelles dans leur boîte aux lettres.

N'hésitez pas à aller voir ou partager !
✉ https://fr.ulule.com/flash-fiction/

#Ulule #LufthungerClub #Flashfiction

Rigel is bright. 120 000 times as bright as the Sun. That puts the habitable zone out 346 times as far as it was in the solar system. This makes our orbital period about 1400 Earth years.

We're a little further in than you'd like, forcing us to live out above the pole circle. As I write, the summer light is about to begin. We are experiencing the last evening for a while. In two generations, our children will see the dark again.

#mastoprompt #evening #flashfiction