#sci-fi writing

[calliecwrites]

Attraction

Humans are weird. You don’t need me to tell you that. They’re stuck in one fixed form, their bodies get sick and age against their will, and physical damage disrupts them so much they stop existing. They’re made of meat. But the weirdest part is this ‘love’ thing they always talk about. I’ve read about it in books – I’ve read about it in lots of books – but I still don’t get it. How does it happen? What does it feel like? What does it feel like to be on the receiving end? Could a lump of meat ever love a blob of goo that can turn into anything?

It was my friend’s idea. She doesn’t see why I find this so interesting, but she’s always one to come up with a plan: try it. Find a human I like, take on a form and persona I think they might like, and see what happens. Repeat.

So I did. But there are rules for this kind of thing, and the most important is: never go back to the same human twice.

You can see where this is going.

See, I got hooked. It was pure luck that I found her. She was a world. She was many worlds. Her eyes lit up with the stories she told. She learned to shapeshift in her dreams, because the real world didn’t give her that option. I wished I could join her there, see what she saw. She was a shifter at heart – fluid as the ocean, wild as the wind – even more than I was. And the beauty and the tragedy of it, that she was born in flesh, but dared to dream anyway – how could I stay away?

Oh, I followed all the other rules. I followed them to a tee. I even tried other humans, at least to start with. But they weren’t her. So I went back, again and again, as the extroverted girl, as the quiet boy, as the older woman who’d seen the world, even as a stray cat living in her neighbourhood. And every time, when things started to happen, I did what I was supposed to do: I left, quietly and gently, before we got so close that leaving would hurt her. It’s not you, it’s me. If only she knew.

But rules are there for a reason. She started to think there was something wrong with her – why, whenever she got close to someone, did they always leave? What was I to do? Going back would hurt her more. Staying away was tearing me apart.

So I broke the biggest rule of all. I told her everything. I showed her what I was. Humans don’t like shifters – we learn that early on. But she laughed and cried and hugged me, and said she should have known, somehow – how had she not seen it, she said. It didn’t matter to her that I was goo, not meat. She chose me.

And me? I’m… comfortable. Is that love? It doesn’t sound like love as the humans describe it: the romance, the butterflies (butterflies?) – most of that is still a mystery to me. But I won’t be leaving her again.

Still, every time I change form, every time I turn fluid, she watches and smiles. She wishes she could join me. Is that possible? Can a human become a shifter? She gave me the gift of acceptance – could I give this gift to her? No one I ask knows. But the legends say it’s true. And the humans have a saying: that love conquers all. If anyone can find a way, we will. And through good or bad, rain or shine, we’ll do it together.

Also on Reddit, on Instagram.

[ofdinosanddais1]

Trying to think how mobility aids would look with different alien species because mobility aids look different for different animals than they do humans. A prosthetic for a dolphin's fin is not going to have a human foot. A dog wheelchair does not look like a human wheelchair or operate like a human wheelchair. So, with this knowledge, how would mobility aids look different with alien species that have different limbs or body structures?

A squid-type alien isn't going to use a human wheelchair like a human would. Aliens might need different canes if their legs are different. Like imagine a squid alien trying to use a human cane, they would trip over it like a billion times.

An alien like an elcor from Mass Effect isn't going to use a walker like a human does. A hanar from Mass Effect isn't going to use leg or arm braces like a human would. Hearing aids on an alien with a gelatin-like head wouldn't really work.

Instead of trying to create sci-fi worlds where disabilities just don't exist, where are all these cool ideas for alien mobility aids???

Like, with advanced technology, I could see something as serious as cancer become something more like a bacterial infectiom due to improved treatment or understanding of cancer as a category of diseases instead of just one singular disease.

But you're gonna tell me that the future is going to "cure disability"? Fuck no. Disability will always exist and I wanna see a sci-fi setting that recognizes disability as a natural part of life instead of something that is miraculously cured thanks to magnificent spacefaring age technology.

[ivandra-winters]

I love you, ‘time travel used as a tool in the narrative’. I love you, ‘using time travel to actively change the present whilst the characters are experiencing it’. I love you, ‘characters making snap decisions that they tell their future selves to remember so that it can benefit them in the present’.

[the-sun-and-the-craftsman]

The Sun and the Craftsman - Chapter 1

Content warnings for this chapter are at the bottom and tagged!

For more info, read the pinned post here.

Darius sits in a box. 

Well, that’s a bit misleading. He sits in a chair. The chair is in the middle of his house, which, as it happens, is rather shaped like a box. But it is not the box; in the house, in the chair, sits Darius, who is in the box. 

The box is internal. The box keeps him from anything outside the box. And that is why the box is necessary. 

Occasionally, he’ll get the sense that something is happening. The crack of thunder, the creak of growing trees, the raspy, ragged sound of a human voice screaming—or an inhuman voice. But he has since learned to drown all of that out. 

Sometimes, the door to his house opens, and his body will shiver in the cold—if it happens to be a rare cold day. But he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t notice the small, barefoot figure tracing a beeline to him, sitting down in front of him, backed by a cloak as white as pure sunlight. 

That is why Darius is in the box. 

Darius is a sensible man. He’s a Louisianan, and he knows how things work there, but he’s also adept enough to have learned how things work here on the Isle of Ascent, which, as he can tell, is a whole world away from Louisiana. It is a place much like some of the places he’s visited on Earth. There’s a tropical, humid air, and the plants spread themselves wide and shiny green to accommodate themselves to that. They know that sunlight is plentiful. Sometimes, sunlight stays longer than it is welcome. There are fruits that vaguely resemble the stone and citrus fruits of the south, where Darius had grown up. There are people like him, some from places he knows, some from places he knows of, and some from places that, were he still in Louisiana, in the United States, on Earth, he would scoff at the mere existence of. 

But Darius is sensible. He knows that the impossible can become possible, and his mind is flexible enough to accommodate that. What he cannot do is manifest a possibility out of the impossible. And, all things considered, the situation he was in was impossible. 

He doesn’t remember it now. The box keeps it out. 

But the box can still crack. 

An image of the past will slip through—a body lying on a wooden table, dark blood smeared across tanned skin, dirt torn up by frenzied roots as the sunlight drives the world to grow, grow, grow. 

And Darius won’t react. He will feel, yes—he will feel the panic all over again, the desperation, the pain, the searing pain, and worse, the fear of it. A tiny hand clasped around his wrist, skin the color of sun-soaked clay on top of his dusty, dark brown skin. The box does not allow for reaction, and with each expression, the confines of it grow tighter and tighter in an attempt to shut out the outside world. 

And sometimes, Darius will be moved. 

Like he is now. 

The world seems to shatter around him as a hand grasps his wrist—that must’ve been why that image just came. He looks down to see sand-colored skin. His air catches in his throat, his vocal cords pained from the sudden, intrusive use after so long of being shelved away. 

“Stop!” 

The hand lets go. 

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake!” 

Darius blinks his dry eyes and looks up at Marco, who, while not a welcome sight, is not the worst thing he could’ve laid eyes upon. 

Marco’s a strange character. He claims to be from Earth, but it’s an Earth he’s never known. For one, the country he’s from is called Pasdidio, which Darius has never heard of. And Marco makes a living as a painter, and his boyfriend—apparently, it’s ‘easier’ for those of the same sex to pair up on his world—his boyfriend lives as a hermit prophet in the woods. Marco’s always had a crazy streak about him, and as Darius glances over him—his frizzy, unkempt hair, his dirty skin, his loose ‘overalls’ that shine with splotches of wet paint—he sees that really, nothing has changed about him. Well, except for the smile on his face, notably absent before. 

“What are you doing?!” Darius growls, then pauses to cough, his aching chest heaving. “Did Ashur send you?!” he manages to choke out. 

“Yes,” Marco says, as if it’s the answer that Darius would be hoping for. 

“What?!” 

“He did,” Marco says. “Darius, a lot has happened—Ashur—he—he's not the same as before!” 

Of course he’s not the same as before. Ashur changed the day that Darius found him with Lafayette’s body—but the flood of memories sends a spark of pain through Darius’ chest, and he works to fit all of it back beyond the confines of his box. 

“He fell,” Marco says. “He hit his head. He doesn’t remember a lot. He knows that we’re not from his world, so he wants to send us all back!” 

It’s too good to be true. Darius bites his tongue. 

“It’s a trick,” he says. “I know you’re not that smart, but I thought you were smarter than that, Marco.” 

“It’s not a trick,” Marco says with nothing but pure jubilance in his voice. “He’s already sending people home. I came back to get you—he's already got a lot of people home. Tlingi, Ofor, Sara, Julbane—they're all home already!” 

Darius doesn’t know what to think. But he knows what to do. 

Darius pushes himself off the ground and throws Marco against the nearest wall, which plumes dust out from the foundations of his house. He presses against Marco, then fumbles with his coat, looking for anything that could burn him—does he still have his matches? His flint? His gun? 

No. His coat is empty. 

“I’m not Ashur,” Marco whines, which comes out as a little wheeze. “Please don’t try to prove it, okay?” 

Darius sighs. He knows that Ashur wouldn’t let himself look that pathetic. He eases off of Marco, stumbling back—his legs ache from disuse, just like the rest of him. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” Marco says. “But I really need you to...or else you’re gonna miss out.” 

Darius weighs his options. Either he goes with Marco or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, he’ll save himself any pain, but he’ll miss out on the chance to actually go home, if that’s what it is. If he goes, it’s a toss-up between this being another of Ashur’s tricks, or actually being his chance to leave this God-forsaken world he’s been spirited away to. 

“Fine,” he says. “Lead the way.” 

Marco’s eyes light up, almost like a kid’s. He turns and heads out of the open door, stepping into the sunlight. 

The world has changed a lot. Darius had cleared the space around his house when he first built it, but this place doesn’t work the same way as on Earth. On Earth, you could clear a spot of trees and plants, and it’d stay like that for a while. Slowly, tiny weeds would grow back and blanket the soil and clear the way for bigger plants to grow. Sprouts and shrubs would push themselves up after only a few years, and after that, trees would take over, growing across decades. Here, the plant life rushes into and fills every niche all at once. Suffice to say, in this waning summer heat, Darius’ house has been crowded. In fact, it’s probably only the crisscrossing ivy on the outside that’s kept the whole structure together. 

“How long have I been...” Darius struggles to find the word. “...away?” 

“A few years,” Marco says. “From what I know, Ashur kept checking on you. He’d say he was going to visit you, then leave for...oh, a few days at a time.” 

Darius shudders. Marco laughs. 

“Yeah,” Marco continues, “we were glad to have him off of our backs. Sorry for whatever he did to you.” 

“It’s okay,” Darius sighs. “I don’t remember.” 

The two of them pick their way through the forest, Darius following behind Marco. As they draw closer to their destination, the trees grow larger and thicker, and he starts to see more apple trees—a strange type of apple tree that grows in this humid climate. The fruit that grows from them does resemble apples, and Ashur calls them apples, so Darius doesn’t question it. But it’s a sign that they’re getting close; Ashur’s fond of surrounding himself with what he calls his orchard, despite the clear lack of organization that would constitute a normal orchard. 

Eventually, they come through the forest to the base of a gargantuan tree. This is Ashur’s tree; this is where he lives. Darius gazes up into the endless canopy, a massive, twisting, towering structure comprised of millions of tiny leaves attached to millions of tiny branches, something that shouldn’t feasibly be able to let light through, and yet, dappled flecks of sun still beat down on them as the wind brushes aside the leaves in oscillating waves. 

Marco steps into the darkness beneath one of the great arcing, twisting roots. Darius follows, a rich, earthy, clean scent filling his nostrils. They head through a narrow room, the root’s growth bending down and scooping around them in an unnatural formation; the formation that Ashur had twisted it to thousands of years ago, when he was still shaping what would become his home. The floor is dirt, but soon, they come across a natural wooden ramp that leads up into the tree. 

There’s chattering inside. Darius follows Marco through a few winding hallways; nothing in this place is inorganic, the walls curving, the doorways sloping, all part of the tree, all designed in a labyrinthine way. They just follow the noise until they emerge into an interior room filled with desks and tables, the walls coated in built-in drawers, the middle area cleared to reveal the dusty marks of a sigil circle. 

Ashur’s talking with Lafayette. He’s looking up at her, grasping her pale hands in his tan ones, cloak-less, his hair matted down and flecked with gold. The same gold that had bled out of him long ago, when Darius had put a bullet in his chest as his jaws had sunk into Lafayette’s neck.

CW: mentions of torture, guns, gun violence, and cannibalism. depictions of dissociation and physical assault.

Next chapter ->

[crippledgiraff]

Hey! Are you a filthy fantasy/ sci-fi nerd? Do you want to develop the skills necessary to use your squishy human brain to bring your imagination to life? Well I've got good news! My friend is running an online weekend writing workshop! You need to sign up!

[cat-appreciator]

I’m thinking some more about my fanfic idea and I’ve come to a decision and a realisation:

Firstly, for what I want from the original idea - essentially a blue-and-orange-morality weird goth-adjacent scientist girl with a hammerspace full of monstrous extra limbs - her abilities in four-space have to be intentionally limited by design (watsonian-ly, the design of the hyperintelligent hyperdimensional swarm of space bees; doylistically, by me). She’s not capable of much movement in the fourth dimension, and she can’t see in the fourth dimension at all.

This still makes her “superpowers” (actually “being grafted to a hyperdimensional space bee’s modified auxiliary drone”) rather ridiculous. She has:

- An arbitrary number of insectile grasping appendages and/or tentacles, all of which can scale in size at will (because if her abilities are intentionally designed for operation in three-space I can do the “hypercone” thing)

- An arbitrary number of eyes which can probably see in just about every wavelength. She can’t use them to see through walls directly but because they’re not connected to her directly in three-space she *can* move them through four-space until they’re on the other side of a wall, drop them back down to three-space, and now she can see whatever’s on the other side of the wall just fine

- If she can do that with her eyes and limbs there’s no reason she can’t do that with her actual human body (/grafted appendage), essentially granting her a short-range teleporting ability which doesn’t depend on line of sight

- She likely has *some* form of fourth-dimensional senses (proprioception?) so she doesn’t telefrag her parts by rotating them back into three-space into an unseen obstacle.

- She can hide by retracting all her limbs and body into four-space, which could be useful for avoiding inconvenient massive explosions

- If she can teleport her human body and her clothes come with her (which is not a given in BnHA) she can use the fourth dimension as a *regular* hammerspace

- She can probably “hover” her human body in three dimensions - after all, her additional limbs are already doing this and her human body is technically an additional limb

- This is still a ridiculously powerful and versatile set of superpowers but I’m proud of how it’s all tied together.

Secondly, the “hyperdimensional hyperintelligent swarm of space bees”. I had a whole thing I’d thought up about how the “bees” were a distributed intelligence across the swarm, how they communicated/thought in bursts of light, how that would mean that there’s no difference *between* communication and thought for them. Creating an independent subsidiary to come up with novel scientific ideas would require them to engineer a subset of bees who were blind to communication on the regular wavelength of light and used a different wavelength to communicate.

The idea of individuality would be pretty alien to them. Compare this swarm, which has “neurons” made of individual bees and which can see every thought as it’s happening, to humans, who run on electrical signals in discrete bone containers holding approximately 1 litre of warm meat mush; those electrical signals give rise to the epiphenomenon called consciousness; the human decides to say something and emits a coded signal (language) via manipulation of its oxygen-exchange mechanism (lungs) to create a series of pressure differential vibrations in the air; specialised organs in other humans detect these vibrations, the brain decodes them, and a concept is transmitted. It’s possible that they don’t know how/if humans are communicating at all, let alone if they’re conscious!

Then I realised that I was making things too complicated/thinking like a flatlander. There’s no reason for them to use bursts of light to communicate at all, because *obviously* any “swarm” is merely the four-space expression of the appendages of an entity in *five*-dimensional space, appearing separate much as my oc’s multifarious limbs do in three-dimensional space, because one cannot see “below the surface” to where they’re all connected.

They’re a hive mind not because they’re all constantly seeing what everyone else is thinking, but because *they are different appendages of the same entity*. The “modified auxiliary drone” I was going to stitch to my oc to give her all her limbs? Is *just a different sort of appendage*.

I may still use the “distributed AI drones create hive mind based on laser signalling” thing elsewhere, though, it seems like a not-bad sci-fi idea. They could also be cuttlefish.

[silvereyedowl]

Grk'fll knew of at least eighty-six universes that had been irreversibly overrun by humans. It was a real problem for the Life Management department.

Xe weren't sure who exactly had invented the design, but the human design was well-suited for becoming a pest. It was incredibly difficult to eradicate them once they had gotten a foothold, and in fifty-nine other universes Grk'fll had supervised, the humans were currently being contained, with difficulty.

At least the one thing xer department knew for certain was how humans were created. That, they could prevent. If no one was being careless.

It was always important for good universe management to avoid creating humans, or at least try to eradicate them before they gained a foothold.

—

Jn'vrrr was somewhat new to the universe managing thing, but like everyone else there, he'd been given the standard briefings about how to avoid creating humans.

Jn'vrrr was talented, but had a troubling tendency towards carelessness. So what Grk'fll found when xe arrived to inspect Team 59Y's current universe was not as surprising as xe hoped.

"Jn'vrrr's edits here used a substantial amount of carbon, but there was an excess left over. Where's it gone?"

Jn'vrrr looked awkward, shuffling around on his appendages.

Team leader Mwq'dss grew concerned. "Did you mishandle the carbon?"

Finally, Jn'vrrr responded. "I... uh... left it in sector 449.663 for later retrieval."

Grk'fll was not impressed. "This is, what, the third time you've left building materials in a space that isn't a verified storage dump!"

Mwq'dss pulled up a map of the sector and scanned it for where the carbon could have been abandoned. She grimaced. "Oh no."

Grk'fll oozed around to take a look, and xey were just as dismayed, before rounding on Jn'vrrr. "Look at this."

Mwq'dss zoomed in on the spot where the carbon had been left. It was a solid planet. A watery one. The rest of the team was shocked as well, especially since the universe hadn't been paused or put on a slower timescale.

Grk'fll turned to address the team as if xey were teaching a class, while also speaking directly to Jn'vrrr.

"You left your excess carbon in a wet environment."

"Yessir."

"And you let it bake by a star."

"...Yessir." Jn'vrrr responded more quietly this time.

"Come on, man! You know that's how you get humans!"

"...yessir." Jn'vrrr's reply was nearly inaudible.

Grk'fll turned to the rest of xer audience. "Do you want humans?"

"NO!" roared the rest of Team 59Y.

"Exactly! They're an annoying infestation! Given the amount of time that's probably already passed in this universe, they're probably already inventing reality TV as we speak."

Grk'fll turned to Mwq'dss. "Go and take care of it."

Turning to Jn'vrrr, xe said "You're fired. I don't care if you're the big boss's son. You are fired for being this stupid."

—

This transcript was found amongst the files of the so-called "Universe Construction, LLC" during the first-ever multiversal expedition of exploration. The veracity of the files has been debated ever since, as certain schools of thought suggest they may have been a prank left behind by earlier multiversal explorers.

“You left your excess carbon in a wet environment and let it bake by a star? Come on man… you know that’s how you get humans! Do you want humans? They’re probably already inventing Reality TV at this point. Go take care of it.”

[ufohio]

[yuri-spike-pit]

quick fix

@kabrox18 doodled a lovely little thing of andromeda holding her wife's hand. i wrote a companion piece to accompany it as thanks; it's about andromeda fixing a kink in silva's hand and sharing an easy moment together in the fabrication lab.

content tags: short fiction, original fiction, sapphic characters, robotics, engineering, repairs

word count: 1.4k

⋆｡°•☁︎ quick fix☁︎•°｡⋆

A firm knock at the doorway pulled Andromeda from her soldering job with a sharp inhale of acrid flux. It wasn't an impatient knock, nor a timid one. But it was a familiarly measured one, which happened when a more casual knock had not managed to get her attention.

"Hey, bee," Andromeda greeted before she turned around. She habitually rolled her neck about with a grunt. "What's up?"

Silva plodded inside in an easy lope. She must've polished herself recently. The black and green accents of her purple paint job were especially glossy as she made her way over to the soldering benches in the lower right of the room, past the robotic arms surrounding the empty building space and under ventilation pipes snaking across the ceiling. The ceiling's the cleanest surface in the shop, and even then, Andromeda could see some smoke stains here, some splotches of lubricant from pressurization fuck-ups there. Silva's pristine job on herself certainly didn't make it look any cleaner.

Andromeda's gaze fell back down over Silva's broad shoulder and towards the doorway. Silva hadn't ducked under it when she came in. She hasn't been ducking for a while, but she did it all the time when she first joined the team's numbers. Something about Tecton's doorways rarely ever accommodating the Bulwarks' mass, despite insisting on having them patrol factories and more secure offices. It was almost as if Bulwarks were anti-tank weaponry and were never intended for urban lifestyles. And the morons kept making them bigger.

"—me out?"

Andromeda blinked. Silva was in front of her now, holding out her right hand. "I—Sorry, I didn't hear anything you just said," she said on a huff of a chuckle. The damp, dingy sponge hissed as she swiped the tip of the iron across it before popping it back into the stand. "What was it?"

Silva's pupils rounded fondly before returning to their usual slits. "It's incredible how quickly you can stop paying attention," she said.

"What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents."

"This is undeniably true. What were you thinking about?"

"Uh…" Andromeda rubbed her chin. "Nothing important. How Tecton keeps making Bulwarks bigger. And how dirty my ceiling is."

Silva cast a bemused glance upward. She always blinked once when she was trying to find a polite way to say something. She didn't used to do that either. Blink. Or be polite. "I'm not sure I understand the association," she admitted after a moment. "A woman of many talents, as you said."

Andromeda grinned and curled her fingers under Silva's extended claws. But as she tugged them down to fold down over her hand, her smile faded and her brow pinched slightly.

"These feel tight."

"You can tell that quickly?"

"Well, yeah. I know what your hand's supposed to feel like."

Her pupils rounded again. This time, they stayed round. "Then I suppose you hardly need me to repeat myself. That's the problem I came to you for. I don't know how exactly it happened, but I closed my hand, and then couldn't get it open without some force. Now I can't close it again. Help would be appreciated if you aren't busy." She shrugged her pauldron towards Andromeda's mess on the workbench.

Andromeda shook her head. "Nah, that's me being bored. Here, let's… take a look… Mind grabbing, let's see… The drill bit with the chisel-shaped end, the battery for the drill, and my screwdriver from my workbench?"

Silva cast a wary glance at the simultaneous morgue, graveyard, and hospital of projects looming in the opposite corner of the room.

"If something falls, that's your fault," she said as she lumbered off.

The dial of the soldering station purred as Andromeda twisted it off. The circuit board she was frankensteining together and holding hostage with a couple of clamps seemed to gleam a little sigh of relief. Silva then returned with the tools (nothing fell, of course, because Silva was far more careful than Andromeda and did not treat her work crudely). Andromeda walked her stool back a little to make more room for her beloved.

"What do you think is wrong?" Silva asked as she set the tools down before Andromeda. The ventilation hummed quietly overhead.

"Mm... Give it here…"

Silva obliged and extended her stiff hand. Andromeda caught her index in the saddle of her thumb and drew her close. As though she were a kite, or a flight of silk, rather than a several thousand-ton war machine, Silva drifted easily to her, even going so far as to kneel at her side. Gently, Andromeda laid her hand palm side up in her lap and tried to curl her claws inward. They didn't budge. She tried again and tilted a pierced, pricked ear towards Silva's hand. No sound of the tiny gears in the micro motors or the actuators, so it probably wasn't the wiring or the electronics, or Silva resisting her…

"Can you try moving them yourself?"

She did with a vague expression of discomfort—narrowed pupils, tightened armor, flatter eyes. Andromeda heard the motors whine, but nothing happened. Okay. Definitely not the electronics.

"Has it been getting tighter over time? Like, past couple weeks or days?"

"Yes, but I was able to manage it." Silva shuffled a bit closer on her knees. Even like this, she was still eye level with Andromeda.

"By upping the torque on your motors?"

Silva paused. Her eyes dimmed into a deeper crimson. A tell-tale sign she was sinking into her diagnostics. They brightened back up a split second before she spoke. "It appears so. I must've been compensating without realizing. "

Andromeda hummed with a bob of her head. "Mm. It happens. I think the screws in your joints got tightened too much. If they're not balanced when I reset them, they can get tightened or loosened naturally over time when you use your hands. So, my bad. But forcing your hand back open is probably what got it stuck."

"I see."

"Yeah, same rule of thumb as sex: if something isn't going when it's supposed to go, don't force it."

Silva stuttered out a staticky bleep of a laugh. "Noted."

Andromeda tittered as she pinned the two free-floating strands of hair dangling in her face back with a couple of bobby pins. Then she took up the drill, undid the chuck to slip the bit in, then redid it. With a series of clicks, she twisted the dial to lower the torque on the drill, then flicked the switch to spin the bit anti-clockwise. It sort of felt like a surgeon snapping on their gloves. In a way, it was.

Gently, she guided Silva's hand to lay as flat as she could get it on the workbench. Then she slotted in the bit, and, with the same delicacy a pâtissier placed their final shavings onto their work, squeezed the trigger until the drill began to hum in her hands. A little more, and there was a moment as it twisted against her, but she remained steady, and the screw spun loose. A pneumatic hiss of relief sighed from Silva's shoulders.

"Much better," she hummed.

Andromeda hurried and freed up the rest of her hand, gave it a quick kiss, and then let Silva relax her claws full against the desk. She gratefully curled her fingers up a few times before stilling again. Hm. She had a few nicks on the paint here and there. Her hands were always amongst the first to start showing signs of wear and tear, preceded only by her feet and foreleg.

"Now we just tighten them properly this time," she said. She picked up the screwdriver, and then paused. Then she set down her screwdriver and looked up at Silva. "Since I fucked it up last time, do you—Woah."

Silva was a good foot closer than she was a moment ago and watching her with a shiny-eyed expression.

“Hey, you,” Andromeda smiled crookedly. “Do you wanna do it?”

“No. It’s difficult for me to use tools that small.” She leaned forward and pressed her chevron to the side of Andromeda’s head. “And I prefer to watch you work.”

Andromeda’s smile grew into a beam. “Yes’m. I’ll do ya proud!” “I know you will.”

[calliecwrites]

Self-Sacrifice

TooPowerfulException: program terminated.

I rubbed my eyes again, but the writing wouldn’t go away. It was there even with my eyes closed.

“What do you mean, I broke the system?”

It had all happened so quickly. On a whim, since no god deserved my worship, I’d decided to sacrifice my everything to the only being worthy of it: myself. It was meant to be a joke, really. But I’d felt a sudden rush of something, and seconds later, the world had stopped. Now there were white cracks everywhere, and janitors were sweeping up the rubble.

The one I’d spoken to leaned on his broom. He gave me a look. Those splinters he was sweeping up were the wreckage of my wardrobe. What the rest was, I had no idea. Bits of stone, dirt, something that looked like the arm of a statue – nothing that should have been anywhere near my bedroom. It was a mess in here, and in my pyjamas I didn’t look much better.

He wore dark glasses – they all did – and I could tell, somehow, that there was nothing behind them. Or maybe everything. I don’t even know what that means. But I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, not one bit.

Finally, he spoke.

“Worship is power. You know that, right?” When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “When you sacrifice to someone, your power, and the power of everyone who’s sacrificed to you, gets added to theirs.” He scratched a diagram in the dirt with the toe of his boot: boxes and arrows, all leading in to one point. “When you sacrificed to yourself, it made a loop.” He drew it in, and yes, it did.

“So?” I shrugged.

“So the power goes from you to you to you to you, adding every time! It never stops! The numbers go up and up, until – boom!” He slashed the broom through the picture, destroying everything. “Boom!”

Not to be a smart alec, but: “Shouldn’t you have thought of that?” I said.

“We never thought anyone would do something so stupid! Why would you do that?!” The janitor sighed again, and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s like ‘grass is always greener on the other side’, all over again. You have no idea how long it took to stop that one blowing up in our faces.” He shook his head. “It’s like you humans deliberately try to break things.”

“Wait, what?” I said. “You’re not human?”

He glared. “Neither are you, now, kid.”

“Uh…”

I glanced at the mirror. My reflection was weird. I’d noticed that earlier. It was so blurry I could barely make myself out as a human-shaped blob. There was nothing wrong with the mirror – everything else was sharp. Though I looked normal to my own eyes, clearly something had changed about me.

The cracks were wider now, and the white light coming through them was brighter. Everything else was fading. The janitors spoke among themselves. Eventually mine turned back to me.

“Look, we’re going to have to reset this universe,” he said. “Nothing else for it now. Hop over to another one, and don’t come back, OK? You’ve caused enough trouble in this one already.”

“There are other universes?” I said. “You mean the multiverse is real? But – I can’t just leave, even if I did know how. This is my home.”

He glared again. I think I had just dropped even lower in his estimation, if that was possible.

“You’ve literally become too powerful for this universe to contain,” he said, “you trashed the whole thing getting that way, and you don’t even know—?” He sighed. “Remind me never to try explaining things to a human. Go figure it out.” He turned away.

Powerful? I didn’t care. I wanted a coffee, and a seat, and maybe to wake up and find this was all a bad dream.

I felt something in my hand, and looked down. A cup of coffee. Had I just made that happen? It smelled wonderful, and when I took a sip, it was just right. And I wasn’t in my pyjamas anymore. What was going on?

The janitor turned back to me one last time. He pointed an accusing finger.

“Just don’t go trying this again, OK? It’ll take a while for the fix to roll out everywhere. We can’t take the whole multiverse down for maintenance all at once – Customers would notice, and then we’d really be in trouble, you know?”

I didn’t, but what was I going to say to that?

But: figure it out, he’d said. It couldn’t hurt to try. So I reached out with a sense I hadn’t known I had, and there were other universes everywhere. It was so easy I almost laughed. Stepping into any one of them would be as simple as intend, focus, and pull—

Also on Reddit.

[theplotmage]

Principles and Laws of Magic for Fantasy Writers

Fundamental Laws

1. Law of Conservation of Magic- Magic cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed.

3. Law of Equivalent Exchange- To gain something, an equal value must be given.

5. Law of Magical Exhaustion- Using magic drains the user’s energy or life force.

Interaction and Interference

4. Law of Magical Interference- Magic can interfere with other magical effects.

6. Law of Magical Contamination- Magic can have unintended side effects.

8. Law of Magical Inertia- Magical effects continue until stopped by an equal or greater force.

Resonance and Conditions

7. Law of Magical Resonance- Magic resonates with certain materials, places, or times.

9. Law of Magical Secrecy- Magic must be kept secret from the non-magical world.

11. Law of Magical Hierarchy- Different types of magic have different levels of power and difficulty.

Balance and Consequences

10. Law of Magical Balance- Every positive magical effect has a negative consequence.

12. Law of Magical Limitation- Magic has limits and cannot solve every problem.

14. Law of Magical Rebound- Misused magic can backfire on the user.

Special Conditions

13. Law of Magical Conduits- Certain objects or beings can channel magic more effectively.

15. Law of Magical Cycles- Magic may be stronger or weaker depending on cycles (e.g., lunar phases).

17. Law of Magical Awareness- Some beings are more attuned to magic and can sense its presence.

Ethical and Moral Laws

16. Law of Magical Ethics- Magic should be used responsibly and ethically.

18. Law of Magical Consent- Magic should not be used on others without their consent.

20. Law of Magical Oaths- Magical promises or oaths are binding and have severe consequences if broken.

Advanced and Rare Laws

19. Law of Magical Evolution- Magic can evolve and change over time.

20. Law of Magical Singularities- Unique, one-of-a-kind magical phenomena exist and are unpredictable.

Unique and Imaginative Magical Laws

- Law of Temporal Magic- Magic can manipulate time, but with severe consequences. Altering the past can create paradoxes, and using time magic ages the caster rapidly.

- Law of Emotional Resonance- Magic is amplified or diminished by the caster’s emotions. Strong emotions like love or anger can make spells more powerful but harder to control.

- Law of Elemental Harmony- Magic is tied to natural elements (fire, water, earth, air). Using one element excessively can disrupt the balance and cause natural disasters.

- Law of Dream Magic- Magic can be accessed through dreams. Dreamwalkers can enter others’ dreams, but they risk getting trapped in the dream world.

- Law of Ancestral Magic- Magic is inherited through bloodlines. The strength and type of magic depend on the caster’s ancestry, and ancient family feuds can influence magical abilities.

- Law of Symbiotic Magic- Magic requires a symbiotic relationship with magical creatures. The caster and creature share power, but harming one affects the other.

- Law of Forgotten Magic- Ancient spells and rituals are lost to time. Discovering and using forgotten magic can yield great power but also unknown dangers.

- Law of Magical Echoes- Spells leave behind echoes that can be sensed or traced. Powerful spells create stronger echoes that linger longer.

- Law of Arcane Geometry- Magic follows geometric patterns. Spells must be cast within specific shapes or alignments to work correctly.

- Law of Celestial Magic- Magic is influenced by celestial bodies. Spells are stronger during certain astronomical events like eclipses or planetary alignments.

- Law of Sentient Magic- Magic has a will of its own. It can choose to aid or hinder the caster based on its own mysterious motives.

- Law of Shadow Magic- Magic can manipulate shadows and darkness. Shadowcasters can travel through shadows but are vulnerable to light.

- Law of Sympathetic Magic- Magic works through connections. A spell cast on a representation of a person (like a doll or portrait) affects the actual person.

- Law of Magical Artifacts- Certain objects hold immense magical power. These artifacts can only be used by those deemed worthy or who possess specific traits.

- Law of Arcane Paradoxes- Some spells create paradoxes that defy logic. These paradoxes can have unpredictable and often dangerous outcomes.

- Law of Elemental Fusion- Combining different elemental magics creates new, hybrid spells with unique properties and effects.

- Law of Ethereal Magic- Magic can interact with the spirit world. Ethereal mages can communicate with spirits, but prolonged contact can blur the line between life and death.

- Law of Arcane Symbiosis- Magic can bond with technology, creating magical machines or enchanted devices with extraordinary capabilities.

- Law of Dimensional Magic- Magic can open portals to other dimensions. Dimensional travelers can explore alternate realities but risk getting lost or encountering hostile beings.

- Law of Arcane Sacrifice- Powerful spells require a sacrifice, such as a cherished memory, a personal item, or even a part of the caster’s soul.

[floral-experiments]

Story introduction

Hello hello! My current online name is Brugmansia, after my favorite flowers, angels trumpets.

I'm an 18 y/o artist and writer who is very into medical science and fantasy. I'm currently working on a story called Project Peony that I plan to involve in a mini writing series that explores experimentation and modern science in an alien world.

Project Peony is very, very, very vaguely based on the modern retellings of Hades and Persephone but if all romance was replaced with dark psychological horror.

It is a story that takes place as part of a larger universe and story I'm working on with my partner called CrossRoads. While Project Peony does not directly affect the main story it is meant to explore my portion of the world that I've been creating for a few years.

That part of the world is a planet called Desil that exists in a completely different dimension from Earth. It is full of many strange humanoid creatures with my main focus being a species called Opusille.

They have a large and complicated world that is a mix of magic and science, but the science is my primary focus in this story.

Project Peony is going to hold many dark subjects such as:

The affects of a fantasy war being fought with magic and science mixing.

The ethics of 'human' experimentation for the greater good

Creating lab born children that are born with the purpose of being soldiers

Extreme psychological abuse

Medical abuse

Torture and body deformity

Age gap relationships with the intention of manipulation

Toxic relationship dynamics

Many mentions of child death

And the largest story point of all, Does artificial life deserve human rights if it's capable of emotion and complex thought

If any of these topics are unappealing or upsetting then don't bother reading this story or looking further into my account.

This story comes in two parts and I will refer to them as Project Peony and Project Peony: Failure to show the different parts.

Most of the story will be told through reports made by scientists with art to follow. I'm not the best at digital so most of it will come in the form of traditional artwork.

Information about me

I am agender and go by all pronouns but I would prefer they/them.

I'm on the aro/ace spectrum and I have a partner of almost 5 years.

I plan to attend college soon to study nursing and later on marine science.

I am autistic and would greatly appreciate the usage of tone indicators when speaking directly to me.

That is all I feel you need to know :).

Boundaries

This list will be updated as often as I feel necessary.

Don't bring your fetishes around my characters.

Don't make disgusting jokes at me or my characters.

If you have an issue with my content the block button exists.

If I am unintentionally making something genuinely offensive please tell me and provide proof so I can apologize and remove it.

[overflowing-glass]

The daydreaming about a funny scenario with aliens to drafting the grammatical rules for a conlang pipeline

[blumineck]

Bows vs Guns: when does it make sense for modern/ sci-fi characters to use guns?

This is just one example! For a longer breakdown (with some bonus history!), check out my YouTube channel.

And don’t forget there are art reference packs now up on Patreon!

[whitherwordswither]

Some Space Fiction, Scene I

"So, w-where do we… do we go from here…?" They asked as the cool timbre of autumn settled in their throat, like a tiny weighted sinker on a fishing line. It was undertoned with unease as they fought for calm, half collapsing as they leaned back against the trunk of the willow they had come to rest beneath on quaint rocky ridge. They were miles from the wreckage of the freighter now, but they still felt eyes on their shoulders. Still struggled with a foreboding they couldn't shake.

The Lacaracel inclined her head, soft ears swiveling like gentle mainsails in the evening breeze. She too looked toward the sky, chartreuse gaze lifting from her companion, following the threads of the hanging branches. She searched the slivered azure as it seemed to flitter among the leaves, vying for attention as the approaching dusk set embers alight across the horizon.

Her lips twitched in to something of a smirk and the large feline-like entity shook her head. Her natural tone was soft, like brushing past sheets of velvet. "We should be only a few more kilos from the port. And then…?" Her sharp eyes dropped to fix on the human again. "Well. I suppose that is where your expertise in persuasion comes in to play, yes? Surely there will be vessels needing crew, eager to depart."

Zil closed their eyes, letting out a breath. "Y-yeah… hopefully. Before the Viuschu send a p-patrol… to find out why the freighter missed… ah… missed its schedule check in."

Mizrith crouched beside them, placing a heavy paw gently on their shoulder. "They are behind is now, Zilla. The roots of our path have found new direction. We are free. We are whole. And the way before us is waiting to be written upon the bark of the Arborima Lux."

They clenched their eyes tight, placing a hand over the cat's, squeezed, then nodded and pushed themself to stand. Miz stood with them. "You're r-right. And the f-further we are on… our path… means further from their reach. Lets… lets go."

Mizrith paused a moment, placing paws and forehead against the willow's trunk in silence. She leaned back, regarding it almost fondly, then turned and caught up to Zil, who had already begun their descent down the rocky slope. With a bit of renewed resolve, and maybe a bit of luck, they would possibly reach the port before full dark.

[nixite117]

The reason I don’t write sci fi is because my default humanoids are either “cat boy dog boy lizard boy” or heavily based off of Minecraft mobs and that one weird video my ex sent me that took me 3 years to realize it was hentai.