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Continued thread

2503.14 28/31 — Veil #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

The day the Decath pressured Marisela's grandfather into denouncing her mother's achievements for Mars, announcing he was a hostage with a knife to his throat, Mari had wanted to announce she was pregnant. Her synthsilk hid little by the time the NADS Secretary of State delivered his ultimatum, but Mari put it off again. Because of her part in "Suiting up the Nisei," then with her father's help, convincing people that women could perform increasingly unoccupied men's jobs, she earned recognition for marshaling people to causes. On vid from Herschel, having helped win a vote to build the martian-designed cargo vessels the Onēsanue championed, her mother stopped mid-conversation, pointing.

Mari hadn't known how to interpret her shocked expression. "I chose Rufus."

"I'm going to be a grandma?"

May Ri worked at it, volunteering crèche duty with Rufus since critical work took Mari all over the globe and her makers and designing didn't require travel or set meeting hours. Mari's second, a boy, was thanks to Rachel, who turned out to be biologically male to some people's chagrin, but not entirely to Mari who'd wondered about her attraction to the girl—which went out the airlock when she later found herself attracted to other women. The nisei often slept in pods, and no martian cared about biological correctness the way Earthers did. Regardless, it was a cute rando on one of the old asteroid ships (best she could calculate) who accounted for her third sansei, fulfilling her colonial duty early. Like her father, like most male imports, she visited her family a week every couple months.

May Ri missed her eldest despite the grandkids.

Manette, her second, filled the void, joining May Ri's engineering echo group as a trainee, taking after her mother. Both homebodies, they often worked together in the same dome, Mani helping iterate May Ri's railgun development before May Ri's departure, this despite having her first girl by a podmate. That meant nursing, which she was especially well built for. She became a wet nurse when she decided she liked it. Her mother thought her weird, but at 18 she was a grownup. A book plate let Mani work both jobs effectively.

May Ri's unplanned for 5th daughter, Moria, found a special place in her heart. Unlike her mother, her quiet loner girl got the luxury of doing what she wanted from the start: paint—which meant murals. The 13-year-old's rainbow-colored abstracts increasingly filled hallways and entire domes with joy, with rolling melting circles and ellipses, or fractal explosions, or… was that daisies? Auntie Reina found ways for her to travel between dome crèches, to spread her visual happiness wider.

Maureen and Miriam, the twins, turned into stalkers at puberty, startling their mother, suddenly anywhere she might be. Worse, they finished each other's sentences; they were fraternal, one with sandy and the other with dark hair, which ruined the effect. Soon they finished May Ri's sentences, often predicting what their mother would say to colleagues, or want, bringing her that. The uncanny pair studied everything, but especially liked vehicles—helios, rovers, shuttles, gunships. Not building them, but fixing and maintaining them. The mechanics loved living in no-grav and suits, but kept returning to their mother's construction unit, to "care" for her, because they of all May Ri's daughters understood their mother's demons.

The twins gathered their siblings and their father, Rufus and Raquel, Reina and her pod, the week before the Earther fleet encounter, celebrating their mother's birthday with Chicken Three Ways (eggs, soup, and fried spicy) cooked by Mani, eggy-fluffy golden challah fresh-baked by Raquel and Mari, and chocolate cake baked by Mani decorated by Moria. Even the sansei grandkids attended, kept strategically occupied and fed by Mani.

Ten days later, NADS nuked Herschel, where Big Sister worked as vice-director. The family never saw Marisela again. Reina remarked that at least after Hiroshima—nuked by NADS's secular precursor state—survivors had air to breathe.

The twins characterized it as a veil lowering across their mother's heart. The years of preparation, the building, the launching, the trips to 16 Psyche, the provisioning—it went from protecting Mother Mars to revenge at all costs, even if it cost of her life.

Nobody could guarantee success, regardless of vehemence. More importantly, their mother had taught them emotion interfered with getting the job done.

The twins won their berth on the SS Bradbury by merit, and kept it over May Ri's objections because the Onēsanue insisted. They hoped it would give the mission commander a reason to live. #RSMarsNeededWomen 28

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

Continued thread

The third story in my Sherlock Holmes series has arrived.

Here's my Holmes, if you're curious: agoodtuckering.tumblr.com/tagg

Following the events of the night prior, Sherlock Holmes makes a decision to call upon Miss Adler. There's no denying the truth of it all. The pair have already made their confessions.

A small teaser:

“He wasn’t wrong,” she added. “You /are/ a man, after all. And I am a woman.”

His head tilted, mind elsewhere as he said, “You aren’t /a woman/, Irene. You are /the Woman/.”

Read "A Private Affair" here: archiveofourown.org/works/6422

@strangeseawolf @Firlefanz @paulk @QuokkaMocha @therivercrow @aperfectsong @zorrobandito

Meta Secretly Trained Its AI on a Notorious Piracy Database

Databasen heter LibGen. Där kan man uppenbarligen hitta piratuppladdningar av enorma mängder e-böcker.

Bland annat mina böcker.

På dessa piratsamlade böcker har Meta, med Mark Zuckerbergs goda minne, övat sin generativa AI. Man tyckte visst inte tid att göra det på lagligare sätt.

Läs mer i skärmklippen.

Länkar till källor för mina skärmklipp:

https://www.wired.com/story/new-documents-unredacted-meta-copyright-ai-lawsuit/

https://forfatterforbundet.no/2025/03/21/meta-har-trent-sin-ki-pa-millioner-av-litteraere-verk/

https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2025/03/search-libgen-data-set/682094/

#författare #writing #writer #ai #meta #böcker #books #pixelbooks #pixelböcker #booksky #bookstagram

I wrote The Big Bang Theory a few years ago when I worked at the Big Aircraft Company in the Pacific Northwest. It's funny—check it out!

www.BOOKFORGE.online Look in the Shop for the digital download or the physical copy of The Big Bang Boat Theory!

#PennedPossibilities 627 — How does your MC have their home decorated?

Thorn Rose lives in a neighborhood on the "wrong side of the tracks." She's a daemon living in a day angel aerie. That's a tree house, btw, archeculturely known as a village tree. It's an acacia species that resembles dozens of dozens of giant ficus grown together. Day angels can fly to the chamber-like homes grown like bonsai on a gigantic scale, but she has to climb roots and bark steps grown for purposely for people born lacking wings.

Since a lot of action takes place in her bedroom, I recently described that and how Streak enters through her squeaky casement windows. It's got a desk that's a wide flattened branch like a woodear mushroom. Leatherback books fill spiraling branchlet shelves. Pictures hung by red ribbons decorate what passes as walls and include especially "cute" hero shot photos taken of Streak acting uniquely male. Some air rackets now hang from peg-like pruned suckers since she joined that high school athletic club at Rainy Day's request. The ceiling is leaves. Sprites orbit whenever she's home, providing light for her and the ceiling. She's nerdy, so maybe there's a poster showing an exploded view detailing the shells of the crystal spheres, or a new one with the evolution of daemonically driven steam locomotives since she recently got to "disassemble" a sabotaged 2-8-2. Her bed is more of a hammock hung between upright branches than a futon despite the padding. Streak likes it better than his own. They both like her cotton sheets that wick away sweat, light blue, and she's thankful her mother is at least not overly frugal when it comes to sleep comfort. She does have a nice bronze tablecloth over the stump nightstand stacked with lit class reading.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#mystery #thriller #romance #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

#WordWeavers 2503.27 — What small precious memento does a character keep on their person? What makes it precious?

When the devil-girl ran away, she had the choice of taking a picture of her dead mother. She instead took a paperback-sized grimoire, which she sleeps with, the cover stained with sweat and drool. It smells of her. Her mother's voice she can hear from time to time in restaurants in the background. She was an international musical theatre star. She leaves because she doesn't like to cry. Nothing will bring her back. With the 500 year old priceless grimoire, the margins of which is filled with her notes in teeny-tiny colored pen, she can learn to warp reality. She's happy with her choice because it helps her remember a big goal. Revenging her mother's death.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#mystery #thriller #romance #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

Continued thread

2503.27 /31 — Voice #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

May Ri's daughter Marisela barged into her book plate on a priority director level key. "One of the warships reignited its torch!"

May Ri had been caught in the gym, running. Her sweat cooled immediately. "Not happening!"

Reina camped on. "We've gotten a channel 16 distress call:" A man's voice, warbly due to filters, cried, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the NADSS Bonhomme Richard attempting Mars orbit with forward ship section lost. I require…" Reina added, "LOS."

"Still boosting," Mari confirmed.

May Ri buried her face in terrycloth. "Spinlaunchers?"

"Most report 'Regenerating.'"

"Whatever's ready, target it."

Reina said, "We need to attempt a rescue."

"Bad idea." Very nisei.

"They're transmitting on the deep space network."

"They're staging this. Worse idea."

"Take precautions?"

May Ri remembered a broken condom over 20 years ago…

The cargo ship sported a railgun and a docked tug. She didn't pilot. The NADS warship had achieved a highly elliptical orbit as if aimed by eye, and would soon thunder past Mars. No-grav had delighted her once, but the thumping feeling of pooling blood made her stomach clench, heightening her worry.

She'd failed to make the Earth fleet disappear without a trace from Earth's POV. She recalled who'd murdered Raymond and her father as she studied the truncated stack of cylinders, strap-on tanks and cargo trucks, above a reactor plate and a badly dented engine bell.

As reported. Truthful.

The railgun hummed through the ship superstructure. Unnecessary, but May Ri had made it a feature to ensure people knew they held a sword. Deadly force was a game to men, never to women.

She'd convinced Reina anything could be recorded, rebroadcast, and used against them. If they had radar or a lens, Earth would see a vid of a Sorority "warship" approaching, backlit by the growing disk of the planet of war. Couldn't be helped. May Ri shivered, despite the warm enviro suit. Her fingers on the board, constantly readjusting the targeting, literally itched. They ached to push Launch. Aware she watched a wounded wolf, her heart raced.

So easy to end her misery.

"Go, Helen," she instructed over laser comms.

"Ack." The blocky silver tug retroed toward the kilometers-distant threat.

Later: "Not sure how anyone survived that. Must be an engineering pod with the lit portals. Infrared shows it's not cooling to ambient. Ask?"

"Ask."

"Bonhomme, this is Search and Rescue. Can we assist?" rang over channel 16. "Wait, what's that?"

"What's what?" May Ri cried.

Her vid feed lit up. Doors on the strap-on trucks jettisoned, tumbling away from the hulk, a tiny cloud of sparkles (bolts) reflected ruddy light. More doors sprung away.

Her ship shuddered seemingly before she pressed the button. The recoiless action pounded metal and her joints. An electric Thwat! resounded through her magnetic boots. Again and again.

The view of the warship receded at high-gee as Helen retroed away. Small black spring-loaded missiles, smaller tactical short-range types, lit up even as steel bars tore through bulkheads and ripped cargo trucks, bashing off twisted debris, jerking and rattling sections of the hulk. May Ri saw the lit engineering section's portals explode outward. Little comfort, that.

Later she'd think she'd screamed inarticulately, but she hadn't. The pilot reported seeing spittle spraying her visor.

Targeting solutions against stealth missiles flashed past her eyes; she accepted repeatedly. The high tech machine-gun fired manically, vibrating her flesh, rattling her teeth, as it heated rapidly toward mechanical failure whilst her ship rotated toward the planet.

She swatted poison needles flung into the face of Mars. Debris of a missile shot past her ship unnoticed.

— 2 —

Marisela froze when her mother's voice shouted over the speakers. "They've launched missiles. Take cover!"

Raquel, who worked Alt Comm also, dragged her from her workstation chair, scraping open her arm against a corner. She shoved her down a hall filling with people running for the bomb shelters. Her mother had been so confident, but she'd always thought her Earther cynicism overblown, so not nisei. When Raquel dragged her past a bleeding man who'd been shoved against a wall, she flashed on her spacesuited father stabbed and bleeding onto the red martian sands outside Elysium. This time, all she could do was run.

Run faster.

Run farther.

Run deeper.

The deep thud made her stop. It traveled faster through rock than through the compartmentalized air of a domed city built of regolith concrete and archecultured schoom brick. She never felt the heat blast.

— 3 —

"Two got through. They nuked Herschel." #RSMarsNeededWomen 27

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#ScribesAndMakers 2503.27 — Were you ever discouraged by great art of someone else?

Only a practicing artist, author, or crafter would ask such an insightful question, from experience; okay, maybe a psychologist would. I believe it is human to compare oneself and one's creations to those who teach us, whether they know they're our teachers or not. We've learned to simulate in our heads the parents or teachers we've grown up with, who mean well or not, who critique without encouraging, who don't emphasize and collaborate with us on next steps, too. We've learned to hear echoes of their voices.

This is one of my personal flaws. Not the comparison part. The part where I judge my effort lacking, never good. Shit. I just experienced it a few days ago on book recommendation day, having encountered an indie writer so good at writing 3rd person that it felt like 1st, whose first chapter compelled me to buy the book.

I compared.

My energy crashed.

I didn't want to write.

But I'm getting better at this, and if you're empathizing (and face it, if'n you're read'n this up to this point, you are), you are learning how to tell your negativity, "Begone!"

I had a chapter to write and publish that day.

I didn't "feel" it. I did it anyway.

I focused on my unique style and how it entertained me. And the story, which surprised me. And that it was practice, regardless.

When I see others self-deprecate, I tell them to stop (or at least tell them notice how poorly they'd treated themselves). Recently I caught a follower deprecate their web-comic. I saw abstraction, minimalism, and a uniquely primitive style and smiled. I think the artist saw themselves as barely able to draw, but their rendering was strong, it set off the dialogue, and had showed motion. Nobody starts off a Rembrandt, and there was only one, ever. Or ever more than one of us. I tell myself this. The first impressionists were ridiculed as lazy. Picasso... Did cubism hit the first day? It's best not to be dear Vincent, tho. Best to strengthen that of which we're capable.

Just write. Just create. If it pleases me, I vow I'll do it better the next time, or I enjoy the thing I've created and move on. Hard. Yes. Persistence? It's key.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool

#gender #fiction #writer #author #photographer #chef #cooking
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion

I wrote a brief piece on how the Fediverse helped me discover new and unusual concepts that reignited my enthusiasm for writing through tech minimalism.

Kudos to @HailsandAles and @denis; without you, this could happen, but not this fast

arnel.bearblog.dev/writing-for

SharanWriting for HumansHow Fediverse made me discover strange new concepts that reignited my excitement for writing through tech minimalism

Saw a "deep lore" dream for possible Grim Dark Fantasy story...I am such wasted space for these daily ideas though. Why can't the countless tales strike someone who actually has the ENERGY to chase them and make them into books like they deserve??

Why me? I can barealy make it through basic life tasks, and making art for others to scrape enough money to pay off debt payments. I am the WORST person to give this power.

#PennedPossibilities 626 — MC POV: Are you afraid of your capabilities?

I tried for the longest time to work the Impossible Miracle. The working feels like contemplating death, which may be the reason people think it impossible. Then, to save my life, I managed it. Once. It felt like I'd aimed a dagger at my heart, yet got the pain not the wound! I found myself in front of a more deadly foe (who apparently was the source revelation I'd gotten to copy to my notebook). My second try flattened me to the ground, exhausted, unable to move. My future boss decided I was stupid after all, and kicked me in the head to put me out of my misery. Am I afraid of my capabilities? Not so much as my inability to predict failure! If I'd only run that day, maybe...?

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#mystery #thriller #romance #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

#WordWeavers 2503.26 — Is there live theater in your world? Do your characters engage with it?

I am a big fan of not stating what is or isn't until it is important in a story, letting the reader assume what should be true from what they're reading. I'm don't aways stick to the plan, which leads to sequels and side stories, but that's the policy. Theatre isn't a thing in most of my stories. It isn't in the Mars web-novel nearing completion. Won't be.

However…

I know that the devil-girl's mother was an internationally renowned opera singer, who also performed popular musical theatre, something on the order of Broadway. Think Julie Andrews, but also a spy†. Her songs are well known, and her daughter hears her dead mother's voice is way too many restaurants, causing her to walk out.

That's a yes.

———
† Oops.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#mystery #thriller #romance #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory

Well, I've now killed my darling (an author term used in reference to characters, so don't freak). Worse, I shifted the POV as I've rarely done in the web-novel to the affected character. Think Hiroshima. Visceral. I think I need something to drink. I suddenly understand why Hemingway liked whiskey. Chapter 27 is now in first draft.

#PennedPossibilities 625 — How physically fit are your characters? Does it factor into your WIP in any way?

For a totally offstage answer: May Ri is a contract Mars colonist imported from Earth. She's keenly aware that in Mars' ⅓ gravity that her appetite and normal activity level would turn her into a balloon. Now she's a gym rat throwing about substantial weights, and does her aerobics in front of a screen as a twofer. As a bonus, her strength helps her with her favorite activity... the one with her husband, Randy. She exhausts him.

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSMarsNeededWomen