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#sci fi stories
aidellylover · 5 days
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OMG, this movie was absolutely brilliant and Sam was absolutely phenomenal. This was a great one man show.
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travelingcamera95 · 2 years
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I haven't stopped my revisions for The Woman of Steel and Scars, but I've been putting out chapters of a sci-fi novella I wrote a while ago. Metanoia is set in a dystopic world where humanity has gone underground to escape mechs possessed by spirits after society collapsed. If you're a fan of Dune and iRobot, you might enjoy this. There are 4 chapters out on Kindle Vella.
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cafeleningrad · 11 months
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Looks like so many US media outlets are currently in a frenzy about the potential existence of UFOs and aliens. I remain skeptical on how hellbent some of the editorials are about the idea of “aliens being kept away from us”. Not only because of the potential of conspiracy theories but also because find it weird that aliens should land only land in the USA of all places as if there aren’t other places on earth suitable to land an UFO unnoticed. Like, imagine the aliens would land somewhere in the Gobi desert and they go absolutely wild about camels or wild ass, and find at every corner a cool fossil. The first people they meet aren’t men in black but some paleontologists. Or they land in Siberia, no humans to be seen for hours. But then they finally do they get stuffed with the best baked goods and booze, and are pushed into a sauna, and then into a freezing lake, rinse and repeat. Local authorities just think their neighbours are at their usual. Or aliens landing in Columbia, and all the local grannies are rushing to make sure these guys get as much good food because after this long journey they must be starving...! The aliens don’t get to ask “bring us to your leader” questions because they either have their nutrition insertion body part full or get asked thousands of questions about their personal life first. Or aliens landing somewhere in in the Swiss alps but the local police would fine the hell out of them because they didn’t not properly park their vehicle, and by the way that vehicle is parked in a nature conservation zone, extra fine. The right wing parties get furious about foreigners now even coming from outer space.
If you’ve any fiction story about the aliens landing anywhere else but modern day USA feel, I’m all reading eyes.
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emlinden · 1 year
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A new sci-fi flashfic, Purple Lightning, is now available to read for free over on my website! Follow Siri, a space warrior fighting to overthrow the evil Ryxarri empire, as she does what she does best...
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squidtroject · 1 year
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I feel like sci-fi shows having white protagonists or other side characters be part of the fictional sci-fi underclass getting into altercations with poc in the fictional sci-fi ruling class is not always or often as subversive or interesting as the show tries to make it seem.
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humanoidhistory · 7 months
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Albert Magarian cartoon for Amazing Stories, December 1941.
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saint-vagrant · 4 months
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Sab stops running.
mine, he/him
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i know we're all sick to death of hearing about duck penises but it is genuinely so important to me that you know: male ducks regrow their penis every mating season! that is all
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forgottenthreads · 27 days
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Alien Ambassador: so I've just been to Sol, met with the Humans, and we have a problem.
Alien politician: what sort of problem?
Ambassador: remember a while back we ran into that insectoid species?
Politician: yeah there were like what 60 million of them in delta P right, such a headache trying to negotiate voting rights for them, their population was out of control.... An order of magnitude more than any other race we've encountered, Wait there's not 60 million humans right?
Ambassador: um no... There's not 60 million humans
Politician: thank the stars, those humans are a mess, I heard what they did to their system, global warming, nuclear war, then Mars... Just crazy...
Ambassador: they passed 60 Million humans before the nuclear war, in fact they passed 600 Million humans before their nuclear war.... They had 6 Billion when their global warming was first identified
Politician: oh.... Oh no...
Ambassador: the insectoids had one mother laying eggs, about half the humans are mothers, they can double in population every 2-3 years if they want, though typically they double every 30 to 50 years
Politician: so that's ...
Ambassador: they're coming up on a trillion
Politician: ... A problem. Wait how does even two planets support that many of them?
Ambassador: well they don't just live on Earth, Luna, Venus and Mars anymore, someone had the idea to turn space debris into 'space stations' and farmland... They predict their system can support 10,000x the population before running out of easily accessible materials.
Politician: ... Well the fecal matter is certainly going to hit the circulation unit when the news gets out... They have no self control... Wait a second wasn't Venus that Acid world... What the... How are they living there?
Ambassador: I figured it was better not to ask.
Politician: I think I'd better get to work, please write up a full report for .... Everyone .... everyone will want to know... *Sigh* it's gonna be a long Decade.
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hezzabeth · 5 months
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There was someone singing in the greenhouse, someone with a pitch-perfect deep voice. Revati closed her eyes, pressing her ear against the glass door.
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In a field where the paper daisies grow,
Underneath the sun's harsh glow,
I wander through, light and free.
Paper daisies, pink and white,
Your petals so bright.
I sing to you as the world beyond burns.
The smoke coils in the sky far above,
But your petals still dance around me.
Don’t be afraid; soon the rains will come.
Everything lost will grow again.
Paper daisies, pink and white,
Your petals so bright.
I sing to you as the world beyond burns.
The stars begin to rise,
My hands scooping your seeds.
Soon you will take flight
Towards the soft moonlight.
There was an old, prop piano in the abandoned Holly Bush Tavern. The only person who could play it properly was Mr. Gupta. During holiday festivals, he would coax melodies out of the sticky keys while Mrs. Gupta sang in a nasal voice. This was different. The singer’s voice filled Revati in a place she didn’t know was empty. The singing stopped abruptly as Revati’s weight caused the door to creak. Of course, the door creaked. The greenhouse was a wobbling claptrap box made out of welded-together old windows. Miss Grassroots, a tourist who had been dead for almost six years, had built it. Inside lay the heart of Baker Street. The heart had begun as a rose garden. Nanni was the one who began picking up the fallen red petals, drying them, and turning them into tea.
Revati only had vague memories of the first day of the invasion. Mrs. Grasston and Dusk had invaded the kitchens and gift shops. Together they managed to pool together seeds and cuttings in order to grow a small food supply. There was a wall of tomato vines, grown from several seeds found in old slices left in the bin. There were the garden beds where the potatoes and carrots grew. In fact, the potatoes were what kept Baker Street from starving to death. Next to one of the largest windows, the herb and weed boxes grew. Revati’s father was the one who ripped open gourmet tea bags in their home, discovering dried seeds inside. Bridgadeiro Bun was sitting under the lemon tree. “You’re a pretty good singer,” Revati said gruffly. “I was just trying to cheer up Deshia; she’s been feeling a bit depressed lately,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree's trunk. “Who’s Deshia?” Revati asked, faintly confused. “The lemon tree, of course! She said nobody's chatted with her for years,” Bridgadeiro said. Suddenly, the tree shook its branches, causing a fresh lemon to fall into Bridgadeiro’s lap. “Thank you for the gift, sweetheart,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree again. Revati stared at the lemon tree, not quite sure what to think. Could a tree really be depressed? It would explain why the lemons were so withered and small.
“All Buns speak plant; it's the same gene that causes our pink hair," he said. Revati glanced around, her eyes briefly falling on the giant pumpkin vine near the door.
"Are the plants talking right now?" Revati asked curiously.
"Most of them fell asleep hours ago. When they were awake, they just kept jabbering on about a golden lady," Bridgadeiro remarked.
"So, the lemon tree is depressed? I could get Aurora to come in here and read to her," Revati conceded.
"It's more than that. She misses the lady who planted her; she doesn't understand why she vanished and never came back," Bridgadeiro remarked. Revati found her hands stroking the book of fairy tales nervously.
"If she's talking about Mrs. Grassroots, she died," Revati replied flatly. Six years ago. Six years ago, there were over a hundred tourists living on Baker Street. Nanni, who had spent years living with mother, insisted on moving into an abandoned hat shop near the edge of the park.
The day the tornado hit was the same day Nanni decided to tell Revati all about her family history.
"I always carry the death stone in my handbag, along with everything else I'd ever need in an invasion," Nanni pointed out. Technically that was true; Nanni's giant handbag was filled with almost anything.
Outside, Revati could hear her father trying to roll down metal shutters. There was the sudden horrible roar, and Nanni's wall exploded in a cloud of rubble.
"A lot of people died," Revati finished, her voice trailing off. First came the tornado that caused a gap in the mirror walls. Then the trickle of automatic vegetable cleaners who decided to exploit the crack. Finally, the battle on Mansfield Park between the cleaners and a group of tourists.
"The lady that planted this tree was actually a member of the Lost Princess rebel army; she convinced a bunch of tourists to fight with her," Revati remarked, shaking her head. Then she firmly opened the book of fairy tales.
"It looks like some people survived," Bridgadeiro replied.
"I don't want to talk about it; I just want to read! Here, you can read with me; you might like this story," Revati replied.
Once long ago, in a lost village near the foot of Mount Raya, there lived a special little girl. She was known for her kindness and her deep love for nature. Everyone in the village called her Naisha. Naisha had a special gift; she could talk to plants. The villagers often saw her whispering to the flowers; they adored her magical gift.
One day, Naisha learned about a legendary tree called the Kalpavriksha. The old ladies in the village whispered that it had the ability to grant any wish. Drought, fearsome and terrible, had swept through the land. Flowers withered, no longer able to whisper. Trees forgot their songs. Naisha decided she must seek out the tree and wish for one thing alone: rain.
"Wake up," a voice screeched, and Revati's eyes snapped open, the book of fairy tales tumbling onto the ground. Aurora was standing above her, the bright morning sunlight making her hair glow.
"Morning," Revati yawned and then jumped when she realized Bridgadeiro was asleep next to her.
Bridgadeiro slowly awoke, smacking his lips together.
"Juniper said you were in here; she never mentioned the boy," Aurora remarked coldly as Revati slowly stood up.
"Anna made him sleep in here; I must have passed out while reading," Revati said.
It was then that Revati realized Aurora was holding a tray filled with fresh strawberries.
"Hmph," Aurora said, shooting Bridgadeiro a suspicious look as he also stood up, patting the tree trunk.
"Let me guess, Queen Victoria sent these with an apology?" Revati asked.
"Yes, and a request to fill her vodka order," Aurora said, placing the tray on the ground.
"If she was really sorry, she'd give us a strawberry plant," Revati pointed out.
"Oh, you don't need one of those! You have the fruit," Bridgadeiro remarked.
"You can't just shove a strawberry in the ground and hope for the best; it rots," Revati replied. Bridgadeiro merely leaned down, examining the strawberries. After a few moments of careful examination, he picked up the biggest, brightest berry.
"You can; you just need the right formula," he said. He vaguely walked towards one of the empty garden beds that was going to be turned into an onion patch. Carefully, he dug a small hole and placed the strawberry inside before covering it in earth. Then, he reached into his massive jumpsuit pocket and this time pulled out a small vial of portable perfume.
"One pump should do it," Bridgadeiro remarked before pumping a cloud of perfume onto the soil. The earth began to twitch and vibrate, and Revati gasped as greenery sprouted from the soil. The plants quivered and then twisted as white flowers bloomed. The petals then shriveled and fell off as the center of the flowers grew into green berries. A few seconds later, the berries blossomed into a deep red.
"They shouldn't be doing that! Strawberries take two weeks to grow," Aurora gasped.
"I suppose they would in the wild, but I just gave them a pump of my Gene Grow fusion serum!" Bridgadeiro said, leaning down to examine the strawberries.
"They should produce fruit every day, but only if you talk to them nicely," Bridgadeiro added as he picked a strawberry and handed it to Revati.
Revati sniffed it suspiciously before taking a tiny bite. It tasted just like a strawberry.
"Does that stuff work on all plants?" Revati asked curiously.
"It tends to go a bit haywire when you spray it on legumes; you end up with giant beans that have no nutrients," Bridgadeiro said.
"I saved your life; think it's only fair you spray all the plants in here," Revati said firmly.
"It would be better if I planted their seeds outside and created new crops; otherwise, the rapidly growing plants could burst outside the walls," Bridgadeiro replied. Revati nodded crisply.
"I'll be sending someone to check on your efforts later today; I'll be far too busy working," Revati replied with as much dignity as she could muster in a sleep shirt before marching out of the greenhouse. The book of fairy tales lay abandoned on the ground.
Revati carefully changed into her work uniform. When she was a child, her wardrobe consisted of souvenir t-shirts from the gift shop fashioned into dresses. Now that she was almost an adult, Revati had to get creative.
Most of the gift shop sweatshirts had been swiped long ago. Instead, Revati put on the top half of the cafe's old uniform. It consisted of a magenta and purple striped waistcoat with a navy blue blouse covered in tiny clocks. The bottom half should have been a matching bustle skirt. Revati switched it with the men's purple trousers. Revati then carefully redid her braid and applied some more soot lipstick. Aurora, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, was waiting for her in the kitchen.
"You're wearing your second best outfit," Aurora remarked.
"I suppose I am," Revati replied as she grabbed her coat.
"I thought you said you were done with romance after that whole mess with Little Hardi last summer," Aurora said, and Revati stopped walking.
"I am!" she protested, and Aurora pressed her thin lips into a disapproving frown.
"You were sleeping with him."
"God forbid I fall asleep next to another human being," Revati said as she marched through the cafe past Nanni, who was sewing something.
"You kept him! You gave him a job," Aurora added knowingly.
"I didn't keep him! He's not a feral child; he can leave whenever he wants," Revati snapped as they stepped outside, and she put on her sunglasses. Olde Landon was always at its worst in the morning. Like all major tourist attractions and cities, Old Landon had an atmospheric blanket high above the park's surface. It meant that nobody in the park froze to death at night, but it also meant the morning light was far too bright.
"Is that Little Hardi and Queen Victoria standing next to the fountain?" Revati sighed wearily.
"They both arrived at sunrise; I told them you were busy, so your mother made them breakfast," Aurora remarked.
"Sunrise; of course, they sacrificed sleep so they could get here first," Revati remarked, marching towards the two other leaders. Queen Victoria was wearing one of the park's costumes, a stained white lace wedding dress. Little Hardi, on the other hand, was wearing a deep blue doublet with a ruff collar and matching tights.
"Little Hardi, is your brother still unconscious?" Revati greeted him.
"We took a vote last night, and he played Macduff," Little Hardi replied.
Revati, who knew fully well what that meant, had to stop herself from flinching.
"You killed him? That's a little harsh," Revati pointed out.
"It was for the best; we need a strong leader during a time of invasion," Little Hardi remarked practically.
"Time of invasion? Isn't that a little dramatic?" Revati had to ask.
"There must be another crack in the wall; thank Jane, it's probably not too big! You two would be far too young to remember the vegetable cleaner invasion," remarked Queen Victoria.
"I was twelve," Revati said dryly.
"I was fourteen; the tornado destroyed the Hamlet's haunted castle ride, and the appliances killed the actor playing Ophelia," Little Hardi pointed out.
"You're both still tiny children as far as I'm concerned; I can't believe this is who I have to work with," Queen Victoria replied, and Revati brushed past her with annoyance, heading to the dress shop across the street.
The shelves of the dress shop had long ago been stripped bare. All that remained were the three Penny Farthing Bicycles that had been part of the shop's window display. Revati wheeled her Penny Farthing outside only to see Queen Victoria having a heated discussion with Aurora.
"What do you mean she's going to ride to the wall by herself? All representatives from all towns should go!" Queen Victoria was screeching, slapping Aurora's shoulder with her fan.
Revati parked her bicycle and marched towards Queen Victoria, grabbing her hand.
"Slap my assistant again, and I'll break your fingers; you know I can do it," Revati growled.
Little Hardi, who was now sitting by the fountain, laughed.
"I was just speaking the truth! We have a treaty; during times of crisis, we unify," Queen Victoria said, her voice tight and a little frightened.
"I don't see Lady Morganna here," Revati pointed out, referring to the ruler of Medieval faire.
"You know perfectly well Medieval faire cut us all off after the tornado hit! They probably all died off years ago," Queen Victoria snapped back. Queen Victoria was right. Medieval faire was located in the center of a massive fake castle complete with a drawbridge. After the invasion, Lady Morganna had yanked up the bridge and refused to speak to anyone. Anna and Nanni had tried to visit several times with baskets of dried lemons. They were horrified when someone from above threw the contents of their toilets onto the streets.
"My new friend said he saw naked people in the wilderness dancing around a murdered television! Sounds like Lady Morganna to me," Revati merely replied, pointing to Bridgadeiro. Bridgadeiro, who was in the middle of taking several pumpkins out of the greenhouse, waved.
"Could be a coincidence; regardless, you are not going to the wall! We need to have a proper group committee meeting first! Then a vote," Queen Victoria's.
Revati just rolled her eyes and released Queen Victoria's hand, causing her to stumble and fall onto the floor. Revati then reached into her jacket, pulling out her stun gun, shoving it into the queen's stomach. The Queen made a faint whimpering sound as her eyes rolled backward, and she collapsed again. Revati then aimed the gun at Little Hardi, who held his hands up, protesting.
"I'm not going to stop you! I came here to propose marriage," Little Hardi insisted.
"Marriage? To me?" Revati asked dubiously.
"All kings need a consort, and I'm not interested in Big Hardi's husband," Little Hardi said, slowly getting down on one knee.
Revati stared at him and shook her head.
"I'm seventeen," Revati pointed out.
"Well, the wedding wouldn't be for another couple of years," Little Hardi replied.
"I thought we agreed to keep our relationship professional after the handkerchief incident," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi held a hand to his heart.
"I told you dozens of times I had nothing to do with my brother's plot," Little Hardi insisted.
"He accused me of cheating on you using an old prop handkerchief as evidence, and you believed him despite it being the exact same plot of the play Othello," Revati pointed out. The entire incident occurred over a year ago and ended with Revati kidnapped and tied up on the stage in a white fluffy nightgown.
"I'm a very insecure person," Little Hardi pleaded. Dating while trapped in a fun park during the apocalypse was difficult. Before the feral children came along, Revati was the youngest person on Baker Street. All the teenagers in Whistleton were raised to be incredibly prissy. Most of them refused to do anything more than dance or hold hands. Little Hardi had been a fun, age-appropriate choice. Little Hardi was happy to do far more than hold hands.
"No," Revati said firmly.
"No? Really?" he asked, sounding faintly surprised.
"First of all, your legal system involves killing criminals on stage in the middle of plays, which is horrifying," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi shrugged.
"Secondly, I'm not an idiot! You just want to marry me so you can take over our greenhouse," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi gasped as if looking deeply insulted.
"That's not true! If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, but no such roses see I in her cheeks," Little Hardi pleaded as Revati climbed onto the penny farthing.
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whereserpentswalk · 10 days
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People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.
You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.
You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.
You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.
You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.
You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.
You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.
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aidellylover · 23 days
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I would like to write a book. You know, more than just fanfiction.
I have an idea for a science fiction story. And to be honest, the main characters could be inspired by Aidan and Elly/Rachel's character a little bit (and sure Sam and Bryce's looks). Because I love to write about them.
But I still don't know if I should try it or not.
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gebo4482 · 1 month
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THE SPIDER WITHIN: A SPIDER-VERSE STORY | Official Short Film (Full) | Sony Animation
Dir: Jarelle Dampier Star: Brian Tyree Henry / Shameik Moore
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atomic-chronoscaph · 2 months
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Alien: The Illustrated Story - art by Walter Simonson (1979)
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emlinden · 1 year
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After centuries spent in a stasis, Siri Zirel is ready to get back to fighting in the longest war the galaxy has ever known. One question, however, has been nagging at her: Why has she been awoken in the first place? See her find out in today's new flashfic, the Easiest Decision!
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weirdlookindog · 29 days
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"Death seemed indeed to be mistress of the world!" - M. P. Shiel
Lawrence Sterne Stevens - The Purple Cloud
(Famous Fantastic Mysteries - June 1949)
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