Bruh
when you and your bff are hyped about space and someone tells you to calm down
My first thought when I saw that pic: Steam Powered Gothic
(Source: salamander-shaming, via kinshisetsunai)
Challenge #00860-B129: Cue Maniacal Laugh
“Oh no, he’s won! Now the mad genius is going to destroy the world!”
“What? No. Why would I destroy the world? I like the world. It is where I keep all my stuff.”
“But– You’re going to destroy the infrastructure. The economy. The Pax Consumerist!”
“Nonsense,” sad Mad Doctor Valerie. “I’m just destroying the part of it that keeps people down. Translation, I’m unseating you and all your upper-class ilk by distributing all wealth evenly.”
It was such a small button, but the evidence was plain on the screens. All money, everywhere, went briefly into a centralised account, and then went spinning off into even portions into every single back account in the world. Even Mad Doctor Valerie’s.
“And just so the stock market doesn’t go do-lally, it’s now owned by nobody. Any profits get shared out evenly too. Any company with enough shares has them doled out evenly… but there’s no company with that many shares, yet. Call it a contingency plan.”
“You’re insane!”
“Probably,” Valerie grinned. “But now everyone starts of with a truly even footing. The people with the real work ethic will rise. Those without will fall. A real meritocracy. Nobody is handed anything on a platter.”
“…no…” Andrew Hilton whispered. “…my empire…”
“Not yours. Not anyone’s. Earth belongs to those who want to work for it.” Valerie grinned like a shark. “Ready to flip some burgers… sweetie?”
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Challenge #00857-B126: Wake up and Smell the Progress
‘We had a perfectly good slow rolling apocalypse going on before you decided to get involved, you know.’ they said, after a long pause.
‘Now you have a fast apocalypse. Rejoice; progress has come to you.’
She didn’t struggle very hard when they dragged her down into the catacombs. And she really shouldn’t have been surprised that all the members of the Secret Cabal were all chairmembers of various Big Corporate Entities.
“Lord Monsando. Does this belong to you?”
“Whatever are you Insinuating, Lord Dau? That’s not one of mine.”
All eyes turned towards Bee Pi. Who said, “Who? Me?”
“Explain yourself,” menaced Lord Disley.
“I knew I wouldn’t get your attention by trying to stop you,” said Agness. She let the cold fires of fury keep her calm. She was exactly where she wanted to be. “Everyone’s already doing that. So I decided to help.”
“Your ‘help’ was unnecessary,” iced Lord Eckson. “We had a lovely Frog Soup Apocalypse going on. Very profitable.”
“And now it’s headed away in the handbasket so much faster,” Agness grinned, and activated the little device on her belt. On its own, it wouldn’t attract the notice of any of the goons who checked her for weapons. But now that it was active? It turned her entire, significant body mass into a fission bomb. “And now the entire world will be able to stop it because they will notice.”
They stared at her as the machine warmed up. “How are you going to make money off of that?”
“Who said I wanted to make money?” said Agness. She had just enough time to savour the looks on their piggy faces before the entire Cabal died in white fire.
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Challenge #00847-B116: The Diving War
This battle would be much more intense if both sides weren’t trying to lose.
“If we do not win for the glory of the emperor, we will be executed as criminals.”
“But we can’t win! The odds are stacked against us.”
“Have no fear! I have bribed the other general to lose to us. All we have to do is make sure that we don’t hurt his men.”
Meanwhile, in the other camp…
“The emperor told us to conquer his own army. That’s insane!”
“I know. I have secured assurances that if we don’t hurt his men, the general will appear to fight and fail.”
The next day…
The emperor watched in confusion from the hilltop. Both armies, supposedly fighting for his honour and his birthday, were doing a lot of shouting and swinging. But not an awful lot of killing.
“I’d heard that pitched battles such as this had the rivers flowing red with human blood,” complained the emperor.
“A poetic exaggeration,” said his advisor. He was sweating.
There were men falling. The emperor could see that. What was lacking was any kind of injury.
“Is it normally like this?” said the fourteen-year-old emperor.
“I couldn’t say,” hedged the advisor. “There’s no such thing as a ‘normal’ battle, sire.”
“Are they not sufficiently motivated? One had thought that the threat of death would inspire any man.”
The advisor smiled a nervous smile. “Most other renowned holders of the crown offered… much more generous rewards.”
The emperor stood. Cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “TEN YEARS’ SALARY FOR THE FIRST MAN TO REALLY DIE!”
“Sire… you don’t pay them,” said the advisor, a little too loudly.
And that was how the revolution started.
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00842-B111: Complaints Department
Person who brought the bomb: ‘You’re genuinely offended by the fact that we didn’t bring big enough bombs?’
Person they were trying to blow up: ‘I’m offended by any job poorly done, but that’s not the prime issue.’
“You call that an explosion,” griped the target. Lord Bottomsbury. “You call that an explosion?”
“Er,” said Kieth, would-be assassin. “I thought it’d work?”
“Honestly. This is not the death I paid for.”
“I’m sorry, it’s my first day. I didn’t realise– wait. What?”
Lord Bottomsbury sighed. “It’s like this. I’m sick. I’m dying. And I’d very much like to do so whilst still leaving something to my favourite grandchild.“
“Er,” said Kieth. One half-hearted arm gesture indicated the estate, the gardens, the free-range peafowl, and a small flock of luxury cars.
“Do you have any idea how much it costs to die slowly in this country? It’d all be in hock. I wanted a quick, clean, painless death with a minimum of fuss and bother and you blew up the butler!“
“…sorryaboutthat.”
“I’ll write his family into the will. I ask you, what’s wrong with a little poison? I hear Antifreeze is rather sweet. You could dope my sherry with a lethal dose.”
“I didn’t know you liked sherry…”
Lord Bottomsbury glared at Keith. “Did I or did I not send you an information packet containing the numerous ways you could kill me?”
“Er,” said Keith. “Too long. Didn’t read.”
Moral: Never hire the cheapest contractor. No matter what the job.
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]