Challenge #00922-B191: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
http://thentheresthisspazz.tumblr.com/post/123284811011/mythological-creature-aus
Keep going!
[AN: OK for future reference and my current incompetence, I’m using a checklist.
[ ] (In/Suc)cubus
[X] Siren
[X] Werewolf
[ ] Cursed animal
[X] Dragon
[X] Frog
[ ] Vampire
thank you for your patience with me. Oh, and haimaee? Here’s more]
He always came with the smell of smoke. Sharp and acrid. “Good morning, Princess.”
Emily automatically began making is Grande Soy Latte with a shot of chilli and three shots of caramel. “Is there any way I can convince you to quit the smokes? I don’t want to be treating your ass when I’m a doctor.”
“I promise, your highness, that I do not smoke and I have no plans to start.”
“Yeah? Really. You reek of smoke. Every day. Second-hand stuff is just as bad as the first-hand shit. Probably worse. I have graphs and icky photos to back me up on this.”
Tony laughed. “I have no doubt. But don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Dude…” Emily began.
Tony looked around the shop. It was close to closing and nobody else was there. In a ripple of light, there was no longer a human standing in the shop and grinning, but a rather large green Dragon taking up a majority of the free space. “The only smoking I do is one hundred percent natural. I’m fine.”
And just like that, he was regular Tony again.
Emily handed over his coffee. “I’m guessing Dragons are fine with theobromine, too?”
“Dramn straight,” He gave her a 40% tip. “Though I should probably cut down on all the sugar. Thanks, Princess.”
[Muse food remaining: 8. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00921-B190: Heavenly Harmonies
http://thentheresthisspazz.tumblr.com/post/123284811011/mythological-creature-aus
Pick another one!
[AN: OK for future reference and my current incompetence, I’m using a checklist.
[ ] (In/Suc)cubus
[X] Siren
[X] Werewolf
[ ] Cursed animal
[ ] Dragon
[X] Frog
[ ] Vampire
thank you for your patience with me. Oyeah. And it’s not going to be Tailor Swift.]
“It’s all goooooooooooooooooooooooone to ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust…” Amy leaned her head back to rinse out the lather. “The mall shop’s a derelict skeleton, the disco’s dead and the hop is done. The raves are flickering out–”
WHUD!
Amy stopped singing to shriek and cover her private areas. “What the fuck, guys?”
No answer. Just the sounds of fighting going on, outside the bathroom.
She rinsed off in a hurry and emerged from the steam in just a bathrobe.
“Command us,” said Bob.
“We will do your bidding,” said Quentin.
And there were some of her neighbours, outside the window. Pounding ineffectively on the glass.
Shit. Fuck. She’d forgotten again.
Singing along was a bad idea when you were a siren. Stupid fucking little shop that was never there again. She’d just wanted to sing well. Not that well.
Another fine morning interrupted by telling everyone in her sphere of influence to ‘snap out of it’. Again.
Amy wondered if making her boss so understanding about it was cheating.
[Muse food remaining: 9. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00920-B189: Awkward Re-union
A weightier prompt than usual - MSA Lewis meeting his family again post-mansion. (If relevant, assume the long awkward conversations and explanations are done and the trio+dog are mystery buddies again.)
[AN: I have decided to name Mr and Mrs Pepper “Bel” and “Cayenne” for no real reason other than shits and giggles.]
Vivi awkwardly polished a cracked heart locket with her hands as Arthur drew all the curtains closed. “We… have some news…” Vivi began. She was tense. On edge. Sitting very stiff and formal on the couch where she once lounged on lazy Sundays to pummel Lewis at video games.
“This is one of your supernatural things, isn’t it?” Cayenne, always quicker off the mark than her husband, had never taken her gaze away from the locket as it turned and tumbled in Vivi’s hands.
Bel put it together when Arthur turned off the lights. “Oh, I think it is… And I think it might be Lewis.”
“Yeah. It’s me.” There was no elaborate lead in. He appeared out of the darkness with his pink pompadour aflame. In the same black suit they’d buried his body in. “I’m sorry, Mom. Dad. I couldn’t leave. And… I still don’t want to.”
The most horrifying thing, Arthur would say later, was that Cayenne was crying and Bel looked furious. When the Peppers reacted, it was usually the other way around.
“You’re sorry,” said Bel. “You’re sorry?”
“Dad… I…”
“After all we went through, you’re sorry?“
“…daddy…”
Bel Pepper launched himself across the room and landed in a hug. “Never be sorry! Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever be sorry!“
Cayenne followed him, wrapping herself around them both. “You’re here. You came back. O my baby, my baby…”
Slightly irritated, yet relieved and accepting, “Mom…” Lewis returned the hug. “I’m still sorry I’m cold.”
The Peppers chorused a unanimous, “We don’t care.”
Vivi relaxed. “He’s tied to the locket. Currently. We’re… we’re still working on ways to help him corporealise.”
And it was only after a near-marathon catch-up session that the Peppers noticed that Arthur remained oddly silent. And spent most of his time clinging to Mystery.
But they knew that Arthur blamed himself for Lewis’ death. They would later find out that Lewis did the same.
[Muse food remaining: 10. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00919-B188: Here’s to the Parents
a quote from historian Will Durant as I remember it. “Let me give tribute to all those Mothers, who over time dragged their children kicking and screaming through centuries of Civilization.” I presume he means the good Mums. Have fun.
“Say-shun! Say-shun!” Sprout ricocheted around the cabin, enjoying the free-fall before docking. “SAY-SHUN!”
Gavin fielded her on the fifth pass. “Settle down. Sprout. We gotta remember Rule One when we dock. What’s Rule One?”
“S'ay close.”
“That’s right. Good girl. We stay close. Now. Who do we stay close to?”
Sprout pointed at him.
“Yes! We stay close to each other. Now Papap has to talk to some boring people, so the first thing you’re gonna do is have an adventure in the kindergarten.”
Sprout frowned. “Rule one. S’ay close.”
“Well, Papap figured you wouldn’t like being in a boring room with boring grownups talking. Right?”
Sprout sucked her thumb as she thought this over. Eventually, she nodded.
“Right. It’s way more fun at kindergarten. There’s lots of toys, and lots of other children, and there’s fun big toys like see-saw’s and slippery slides and swings. If you’re lucky, there might even be a sand pit.”
Sprout looked skeptical. And no wonder. She’d spent almost her entire life aboard The Rusty Rustler. Big toys were unknown territory.
“And when we’re done, you can help Papap spend all his profits. I know you will. We’re gonna get new clothes, and good food. And we’re gonna put flowers on Momma’s grave. And if things go right? We’re gonna buy a place to live on the Station. Papap’s going to find some stay-in work. Won’t that be good?”
Sprout shook her head. “Wanna ‘vencha.”
“I know, darlin’. But adventuring on a solo scavenger ship is not good for a little Sprout. You need people to talk to other than your old Papap.”
She was three years old. And it hurt to see tears in her eyes. “Papap s'ay close. Don’ go ‘way.”
He’d told her that her Momma had ‘had to go away’ after she’d died. The only time Sprout remembered being on a station was when someone died and her short life changed forever. Gavin hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “Papap’s gonna try his hardest, sweetie.”
*
“Her real name’s Sequoia, but I call her Sprout,” Papap told the strange lady. She wore a brown knit suit the colour of poops and smelled like flowers. It was a sticky, intense smell. The belt around her middle was hung with a variety of shiny, interesting objects that rattled whenever she moved.
Sprout clung resolutely to Papap’s leg. Her knuckles gone white. Papap’s hand was warm on top of her head. Comforting.
The stranger knelt. “Hello Sequoia? Will you let me call you ‘Sprout’ too?”
Sprout shook her head. She didn’t trust this stranger. She didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t even trust that the three bracelets on both ankles and one arm were going to keep her safe. She wanted Papap to stay close.
“Why don’t we have a look together? If you don’t like the looks of this place… I’m pretty sure the boring people won’t mind you colouring in a corner.”
Papap let her hang tight to him as they entered…
…a rainbow wonderland of play. Other brown-suited grownups stood watching or played with many other children. Some were her size. Some bigger. And some were smaller. They were all laughing and having fun. They were loud. It wasn’t the wrong kind of loud, the loud that made Papap put her in the pod until he took care of things. This was… fun loud. Like games of Tig or Sing As Loud As You Can Nights.
And they had an entire tub of tinkertoys!
Sprout let go of Papap’s hand.
“You wanna stay?”
Nod.
“Papap has to go and be boring. You gonna be okay?”
Nod. This was just like Papap’s EVA, when he went out the danger door to fix this. The only difference was that she didn’t have a comm link to hear his voice. But then, no comm link she knew of could combat the noise of so many children having fun.
Papap kissed her and let her kiss him back. “Stay safe, Sprout.”
“S’ay safe, Papap.”
*
Okay. Good news - this trip of urgency had been profitable enough for them to move on to the station. And there were enough low-risk jobs to pick from once Sprout and himself picked out a place, he could pick one of the dozens nearby.
And if he sold The Rusty Rustler… He’d have himself some good funds to help Sprout out.
One of the red-shirted Child Supervisors was waiting for him at the door. “O thank the Powers you’re here.”
Abject terror. “Something happen to Sprout?”
“Not… exactly…” She had made a terrifying mask out of play dough and scared some of the little ones. Drawn alarming pictures that had the novice Supervisors concerned until they learned that Sprout spent most of her life in space. Would not share the food she had made at cooking skills with the others because it was ‘for Papap’. Built an enclosure around herself and the foodstuffs with tinkertoys and threatened anyone who came close with a pair of craft scissors.
Gavin entered the playground to see Sprout huddled defensively in her tinkertoy cage. She’d been smart about it, anchoring parts into the larger structure of the play gym, and was ready to make a permanent mark with safety scissors.
“Sprout,” he sighed. “This is not playing nice.”
Now she cried. Between sobs, sounds that could have aligned with, “They wan’ed ‘a ead id all…” escaped her.
He took one, to calm her down and show that Papap got the food she made. Then he declared it so yummy that he just had to share it with everyone. Thus satisfying the needs of the curriculum.
Only after all feathers were settled and all messes tidied, did Sprout get the lecture about playing nice and being good. She would have to wait one day more for ice cream at Unsuitable Food Eat, and had to stick with Papap during the second part of the boring stuff. Sitting in a corner. Being quiet.
A sentence worse than death, according to Sprout. She spent a good ten minutes in that corner crying. He let her have three more in silence before he declared it was all right to sit on his lap.
Station Administration was understanding, at least. And the advised daily visits with a counsellor until Sprout was ready to socialise. And in the meantime, Gavin was going to make sure Sprout learned how to deal with their neighbours.
He hoped they were ready for her.
[Muse food remaining: 11. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00918-B187: Hidden Treasure
Going to the antiques roadshow and finding out the thing you meant to bring is junk… but what’s that hiding in the tissue paper? That little piece of junk that fell in the box is actually…
“But it’s been in my family for generations. My great-great-great-great-great grandmother paid three guineas for it.”
“I’m sorry, but your great-great-great-great-great grandmother was duped. This is a genuine fake. It was forged at the time she purchased it. See this shade of green? You just couldn’t get that shade of green in Malasian pottery at that time.” The appraiser began rearranging the paper around it. “Some collectors will buy a genuine fake of this era, but… I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”
A clatter as a little gewgaw fell from the newsprint.
“Oh hello,” said the appraiser. It looked like old bronze. The jewellery inside the fining was a cameo portrait in stone.
“Oh that? That’s just some carved Jasper. It usually winds up in the kid’s jewellery.”
The appraiser started giggling. “Do you know who this is a cameo of?”
Shrug. “Some girl?”
“This is a cameo of the princess Elisabeth Tudor. Collectors would go bonkers just to touch this. Someone gave it a lacquer coat between now and the time it was made. That’s what makes the gold look like bronze. They might have done so to disguise its value… and I can see it’s been effective. Semi-precious gemstones, especially layered ones like jasper, were common media for cameos like this. You get this cleaned and you could be looking at a half a million, easy. Better keep it out of the toy cupboard, eh?”
The woman who had brought in the china vase had fainted.
“…oops…”
[Muse food remaining: 11. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00917-B186: Hoaders Impossible
A chatty dragon with a hoard full of technically worthless things with amazing stories attached.
“You collect trash,” said the visiting Princess.
“Not… quite,” allowed the Dragon Freasha. “Pick out something. Go ahead. Just -ah- mind where it came from so it can go back?”
It was a very ratty teddy-bear. Much abused and on the verge of falling apart.
“Ah. That belonged to my first princess. Father made me kidnap her. She was four and very scared. I told him I ate her, but I kept her safe in my lair and let her build a soft nest in-between my wings. When the knights came to rescue her, I sneaked her out of a side-cavern. Her name was Petunia. Ah. She let me keep the bear when she left. Said it would keep the nightmares away.”
“Okay,” said Princess Sunflower. She put the bear back and took out a rusting old mirror, made of copper. “What about this?”
“I was just a baby. I got lost and found my way to a little village. It’s gone, now. Nothing but old ruins and moss. But there was this beautiful lady brushing her hair. It was the colour of night. I asked her when she would put stars in her hair. And she said that it was day time, so flowers would have to do. I spent the rest of the day finding star-like flowers for her. It made her laugh. She put some into a crown for me and let me keep her mirror.”
“You don’t collect trash,” giggled Sunflower, putting the mirror carefully away. “You collect stories.”
“Very smart. Some of my visitors demand as many as twenty stories before they catch on.” Freasha smiled, showing many of her sharp fangs. “I do like smart princesses. They often bring their own stories.”
Sunflower laughed. “And father sent me up here to get storytelling out of my system…”
“Fathers don’t always know a lot,” Freasha admitted. She nestled down around Sunflower. “How many stories have you got?”
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Challenge #00916-B185: Hoarders Unimaginable
I couldn’t resist.
A Dragon (note capital) being told her hoard is worthless.
“Avaunt, foul beast!”
The Dragon Shashannash groaned as she opened an eye. “I was trying to sleep,” she yawned. “I don’t have any princesses… What do you want?”
The knight seemed a little nonplussed. “I have come to fight for the vast wealth you are draining from my lands… er… foul beast.”
“Enough with the ‘foul beast’ I keep very clean, thank you.” She had to stretch. And yawn again. “And since you’re after my hoard, you can have all you can carry. I don’t really care to fight.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She vacated her bed. “And try to hurry up. I want to get back to sleep as soon as I can.”
The knight began digging out what he thought were the biggest gemstones. At least until he dropped on and it shattered.
“This is… glass?”
“Beach glass. I like it. It’s very pretty.”
“I quested all this way for beach glass? This is worthless dross! Dragons are supposed to nest on mountains of gold!”
“Yes. And look what happened to the Dragons who did. I consider myself much smarter.”
“Yes? How does that work?”
“I trade with the Dwarfs further down my cave. One hour’s Dragon-fire buys a lot of legitimate cattle. They make excellent Dragon-steel, by the by.” Shashannash yawned and crawled back onto her hoard. “Have fun. Try not to kill too many Dwarfs, I’m rather fond of them.”
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Challenge #00915-B184: Wheeeeeeeeee!
Rolling down a hill is a valid use of your time.
Rael reached the top of the hill. There were not enough sweet treats in the human lexicon to pay for this much ‘just wanderin’ to his mind.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ve reached the top of the hill. Now what?”
“We lie down,” said Shayde.
“For the last time, I am not engaging in extreme haptic communication with you.”
“I’m no’ askin’ ye to,” she said. “We lie down. Then we roll down.”
“…for what reason?” he prompted.
She was already down and propped herself back up on an elbow. “It’s fun, o’ course. Why else would ye do anythin’?”
“No,” he said. “This sounds too much like one of the old training tortures.”
“Ye can skid down on a carpet if that’s what’s botherin’ ye. I don’t mind. But I’m rollin’.”
“This is not a productive or valid use of time.”
“Pft. Says you. Ye need tae learn how tae have fun, ye ken. All work an’ no play leads tae Jack’s early grave an’ all.”
He sat, just to be on an eye-line with her. “I’m sure you’re mixing your metaphors.”
“I’m tryin’ tae make a point. You need fun in yer life. I’m startin’ wi’ th’ simple ones.”
“Fun,” he said, “doesn’t feed me.“
“There’s a greasy spoon down th’ lane at t’ bottom of the hill. They’ll deep fry anything ye got.”
Curse these humans and their capacity for unsuitable food. “Give me the powers-damned carpet.”
[Muse food remaining: 14. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00914-B183: Cautious Eaters
Some species evolved without certain chemicals in their background, or with them causing no effect. Therefore they never evolved a receptor for it. Meanwhile others had to identify toxins or marker chemicals immediately and are highly sensitive even if it’s unnecessary -ie bitter vegetables -. This leads to nonplussed galactic citizens wondering why the deathworlder took a bite of that boring stuff and immediately gagged or refused it entirely because it smelled like pure evil.
Food unites. Meals shared tend to lessen tensions amongst the participants. Excluding, of course, the occasional tension caused by differing definitions of ‘table manners’[1].
The Aphemii had put on a feast of their own native foods. They had been extremely careful in selecting the dishes that would cause the least amount of trouble to the most amount of visitors. Everything in the buffet was entirely digestable by every visitor.
And yet…
Gauz couldn’t help but notice how the humans gave the Helgoq-leaf wraps a wide berth. She could see each and every one of them shy away from the display as if it burned them.
As host, it was her duty to find out what offended. She sidled up to an Ambassador known for her honesty and murmured, “My pardon, Ambassador Shayde… what is the error in our menu? I have witnessed all humans avoiding the Helgoq-leaf…”
Caught in a huddle of fellow plus-one’s, her nigh-perpetual companion Rael urgently made no-no motions at Shayde.
“Th’ green sausage things?” she pointed. “Aye. Yeah. Uh… To be real honest… they smell like satan’s arsehole after a bad curry night.”
Rael smacked his own forehead.
Gauz took that to mean that the scent was highly offensive and resulted in instinctual revulsion. Interesting.
[1] Manners in the Galactic Scene are so wide and varied that, in a multicultural arena, they have to be ignored. So long as another cogniscent is not getting their nutrient content on anyone or anything else, then you have no real reason to complain.
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Challenge #00913-B182: The Challenge of Challenging
So capsaicin is dangerous, and even the species that can eat it recreationally recognise the effects as painful. Mint, on the other hand, even in high doses, causes no such thing. (L-Carvone (spearmint) at least appears totally harmless). Safe fun food for everyone?
Humans are insane. No other species makes a game out of painful ingredients in otherwise harmless things. No other species combines schadenfreude and friendship, and expects the friendship to continue.
And no other species can convince otherwise sane cogniscents that this is fun.
However, some things had to change…
“All right, so they made a safe version of a game about suicide.“
“Correct,” said the ambassador.
“Involving chocolate. And capsaicin.”
“Correct again.”
“And when they were introduced to Galactic Society, they made it safer for other species by swapping to mint.”
“Almost criminally strong levels of mint,“ corrected the ambassador.
“Which, although not deadly, is still enough to cause pain.”
“And they have supplied varying antidotes for the frail of tongue.”
“And they think this is fun?“
“Yes.”
“Remind me again why they’re classed as mostly harmless?”
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