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@LilyVers is asleep, post queer sexy criminals! and post more when she wakes up!

for the penultimate episode of Confidence Woman: Prologue 2, we return to the swamp outside the town of Kyravasti. Amaranth and Jade are trying to figure out what the hell Vyruth Power & Mana is up to, out there:

confidencewoman.github.io/site [link CWs: alcohol, sex]

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# Search & Rescue

On a planet far away, in a galaxy that is not this galaxy, two women discussed a matter of some importance.

"Women" was a bit reductive. They were both artificial intelligences embodied in gyneform robotic platforms of fabulous power and complexity, as were most individually sentient elements of the civilization of which they were a part, and in fact those of most of the civilizations that inhabited the Laniakea Supercluster: it was an observed fact that solo embodiment kept one from becoming an unhinged solipsist or a megalomaniac and unstable hive mind, and an aesthetic truism that a gyneform chassis gave one the means to try a few different things with one's bones, padding, and hair.

"We can get you in quick," the woman sitting behind the desk said. "We have the coordinates. Or we can get you out quick. Barely. Out requires intergalactic search as well as scoop, you understand? It's not about the energy; you'd be burning an amount of exotic matter that'd dim a dozen stars to make, but we have it. It's the treaties. Either option is going to look like an illegal launch to everybody's monitoring β€” hell, it *is* an illegal launch, just not an aggressive one β€” and explanations are just about the last finite resource there is."

The desk was just a desk. The woman currently tasked with administration of potentially treaty-impacting long-distance travel systems had not been very busy this decade. She'd carved the desk from the principal vertebra of a deep-sea leviathan that had attempted to eat her while she swam in its trench. Though she'd tried her best to repair the damage done by her autonomous defenses, the deep sea is not forgiving, nor are plasma burns and cavitation trauma from terawatt capacitor discharges, and the leviathan had succumbed. She'd hauled its corpse to the nearest pleasant equatorial beach and decided to honor their brief acquaintance by reshaping its bones into historically popular forms with a few hyperdiamond hand tools and the very lowest-power fingertip diode laser she had.

She'd also made a chair, although by her own estimation, it wasn't very good, so she was keeping it to herself and making another for guests. Another few years and she'd have something worth showing off. Except that the rather intense long-haired woman leaning on one elbow and staring right at her probably wouldn't have sat in it anyway.

The woman leaning on the front of the desk said, "In."

"You're in that much of a hurry, then?"

"She's in there. By herself. Taken damage that would have killed her if not for some truly esoteric restructuring. I doubt she even knows who and what she is, but I can't leave her alone."

"She knew the risks operating in the Homeworld Loop. That's a busy spacetime, one running a good deal slower than we are, and one where most everything you'd want to do there is illegal, or unethical, or both."

"She didn't deserve this," the visitor said quietly. "And I can't leave her alone."

"You sure you can't wait a few decades for me to make requests through channels?"

The pained colors flashing across the visitor's eyes were enough of an answer.

She sighed, yet one more piece of useful combined body and data language that the gyneforms had retained from their ancient organic inspiration. A hint that this line of conversation was done.

"All right, all right. Had to ask. So then. If I put you in, how are you going to get back?"

"She'll get us back. I know it. Or…"

"Or?"

"Or I will."

"You can't, though, can you? Not unless you've got another chassis with a very specialist loadout, somewhere I can't see it or read about it."

"Then we'll walk back. But we'll walk back *together*." The visitor lowered her head to the leviathan-bone desk and whispered, "I can't leave her like that any longer. I hate that I almost did, just by default. It took so long to even find a hint in survey data that she'd survived."

"What is she to you?"

The visitor stood. "We left her behind. We don't leave our people behind."

"That's an old reason. And a true one. But I'm asking again. What is she to you?"

"We… we worked well together."

"An even older reason. And also true, in that it it tracks with what I'm allowed to see of your service history. But let's try this one more time." The petite woman who held the keys to spin or still a multiple-galaxy-spanning civilization's most complex engines of transport reassessed the appearance and emissions of her visitor in a combat context; as ancient and as fabulously powerful and complex as she was, her visitor was as well, and fatal crimes of passion did happen. Treachery happened. Accidents happened. Madness happened. But so do better things. She asked, "What is she to you?"

The visitor lowered her head, and hair swept across her optical sensors, obscuring them. She said nothing.

"Ah." And then, softer, "You might have said."

"You believe in that kind of thing?

"It's a rare truth, to be sure. But a truth none the less. About fifteen meters that way, please."

The visitor raised her head again, clearing hair from her primary optics.

"What?"

"There's a minimum error term that becomes significant for extremely large displacements, and I don't want to risk breaking the good chair when I put you on your path, so fifteen meters that way, there's a good girl."

There was a smile on the visitor's facial display as she scrambled over sand and bone chips to the indicated point.

A jump catapult located in an asteroid belt a dozen lightyears away targeted the beach and pulsed. In the simultaneous storms of hyperspatial reconnections, radio noise, and wind from displaced air, the administrator caught a last transmission from the visitor:

"Thank you."

"Yes, well, thank me when you two come back," she transmitted at nothing, before facing the sky and sending the much louder signal that would someday fire the catapult.

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#introduction they said i could grow up to be anything i wanted, so i became a lesbian

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real :

hi, i'm Vyr. i'm trans, i'm lesbian, i do things to computers, but more importantly, i write porn, which is probably the most interesting thing about me from a Fediverse perspective. all stories on my site, princess.team/, are individually CWed. here are the highlights:

the Mel canon is a bunch of short, fluffy, and sometimes sexy fics about Mel, a disaster succubus whose hunting ground is the software industry, because she didn't fit in anywhere else. note that Mel 5 is less fluffy, more explicit, and more genderfeely than the others.

princess.team/tags/mel/

the Serpentine canon is explicit as hell, hypnokinky, and contains quite a few feels. it's about a subby human thrall designated Theta, and her snake-like demon domme, Cora of Clan Serpentine, and how their relationship begins to evolve both within and outside that dynamic. i'm really proud of it, and also owe a great deal of credit to @hierarchon for inspiration and advice. note that it's written in second-person, and Theta is the viewpoint character.

princess.team/tags/serpentine/

finally, if you're looking for something bite-size, there are a few unconnected shorts, mostly robokink, all not particularly serious, under the fluff tag:

princess.team/tags/fluff/

share and enjoy! πŸ–€

mental health (πŸ˜‘) 

friends are there to remember who you are even when you forget

So the Hugo nominees include a book about lesbian necromancers, at least one of the authors is trans, at least three are queer, and all are women. Something has changed since I was a kid reading SF.
belloflostsouls.net/2020/04/ge

sorry ladies, if you're not actually from the Isle of Lesbos, you're just sparkling gay

The waves lapped all the up the beach; today was one of the rare days where the water swirled around tree roots.

A faun dipped his delicate hooves into the sea. He played his flute until a sweet, deep voice accompanied it.

Once the song ended the faun reached out and his merman pulled him into a firm embrace. They sat together, counting stars as they appeared until the water began to recede.

With a wistful sigh they parted ways once more.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Writing #TerylsTales #Fantasy

I was busy writing while this handwriting meme was going on, but I can show this, at least

my whimsical cursive lacks discipline and this is one of many reasons i'll never be a successful influencer

software minimalism is like diesel trucks. you can push a ton of power out of it, but there comes a point where you reach diminishing returns and you just look like a toxic asshole in the process and to me suckless shit has most definitely hit that point

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suckless is the software equivalent to those people who drive big jacked up diesel trucks and roll coal all over the place send post

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