Potentially kindasorta NSFW prompt…
Humans are encountered by a race who has cyclical breeding seasons rather than humanlike sex-at-anytime urges. Both are baffled by the other’s views on sexuality.
I imagine the human idea of sex being something that is always a possibility, a low level cultural background radiation, would be insane for a race that had naturally-regimented behavior where such urges are only really a noteworthy thing for a few weeks a year (though during that time, it’s a BIG deal).
It’d make gender discussions across species interesting if they did have actual, honest to god, biologically-preset responses around sex and gender. “No, I’m not being vulgar, she will literally lose her mind and have sex with anyone. So will I, eventually, it’s just something we deal with now and then. How your kind can handle the constant wanting for it, I can’t even imagine.”
(#00818-B087)
“Pear-mer!” The human held her hands up in a gesture of peace and welcoming. “I haven’t seen you in a whille. All is well?”
“Of course all is well,” Piar’mir. “It was not travel season.”
“Oh…” Ri’ki put her arms down. “This is a culture thing? You go home for the gods?”
“No,” said Piar’mir. “Biology. We need to be at home.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “Mating season.”
“Aw. I wish you’d warned me,” sighed Ri’ki. “I got three month’s shipments of Kor’exxi gone to seed, now.”
“Three… months…” Piar’mir boggled. “You did not have mating season?”
The human displayed her teeth. “Human mating season is whenever, wherever.” Ri’ki shrugged. “Most of pairing up is finding out if the other person is into you.”
“Sounds… needlessly complicated,” Piar’mir confessed. “But I shall do you a favour, my friend. That rotted Kor’exxi has its uses in the fields. If you ferment it with a special yeast, not only do you get a powerful liquor, but the spent mash is an excellent fertiliser.”
“Way ahead of you on the fermenting part,” Ri’ki grinned. “I got local yeast because I know the Terran varieties are -ah- aggressive.”
It was then that Piar’mir had to wonder exactly what this creature had been up to during those three months.
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Challenge #00817-B086: Something of a Gift
“..The warmest place by the fire was reserved for the Storyteller.” You might recognize this from the opening of the Jim Henson series (beautiful!). See what you can do with it.
They called her a foul shade. And, having finally seen what she had for a face, now, Katie could believe it. They thought she was a demon. They had her in shackles that even the best of her knowledge couldn’t crack. Not even her secret gift could do anything to it.
She could see that the wizard held the secret to undoing the silver hoops about her wrists. If he told her to be silent, then she would remain so until such time that he freed her to speak.
She only had one person on her side. The wiry, scrawny boy of a Squire, who could barely lift each piece of the Paladin’s armor on his own. They called him Carbuncle, and he was so incessantly chatty and full of wonder that the Wizard had absently instructed Katie to ‘keep him occupied’.
So she told stories.
Fairy tales, the thousand and one nights, retellings of movies, books, and comics that she knew and loved. Legends and lore from her travels. Even stories from television.
Carbuncle was enraptured.
Currently, she was up to Star Trek.
“And then what happened?”
“Tha’s it. That’s the end o’ that story. The bad guy got exac’ly what he deserved. The end.”
“Yes, but… what happened to Harcourt Fenton Mudd?”
“I must nae be doin’ me job if’n ye carin’ aboot him…”
Carbuncle looked down and away. “Before I was a squire… I was in the service of a man like Mudd. I had no other family an’ he was better to me than most would’a been. He never hit me.”
Katie winced. Damned with the faintest of praise, indeed. “Aye?”
“I keep wondering. Since Sir Podrik bought me off him… if he ever gets a happy ending.”
“Ah, there’s no shame in wantin’ what’s best fer those ye love,” she soothed. “Th’ trouble wi’ Mudd is, his current happy endin’ means sorrow fer those around him. The best happy endings are the ones tha’ help loads o’ people be happy, ye ken. Not just one or two.”
“Oh,” cooed Carbuncle. “So how could Mudd do that?”
“Through redemption o’ course. That’d have tae happen by carin’ fer someone other than hisself. Maybe he wriggles his way intae what he thinks he wants, yeah? An’ after a while it starts feelin’ empty. Ye can have all the things you wanted, but if there’s no-one tae be happy with… it’s all hollow.”
“The beast speaks nonsense,” said Sir Podrik. “Of course the goal in life is to gain wealth. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“Ah, let me tell ye ‘bout King Midas…”
[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00816-B085: Infectious Craze
The Birdy dance, aka the Chicken dance. Turn it loose somewhere, have fun.
Shayde was wearing the patched muumuu. Which meant that her ‘street’ act, today, was something she called Stump the Frump. Which was ironic, because he knew for a fact that she’d spent an entire hour making certain that she looked like she didn’t care.
The act was, people would bring her musical instruments and, if she couldn’t wrangle a tune out of it, the person or persons with the instrument won the pot.
So far, it was four enormous glass bowls filled to the brim with enough Minutes to pay for half a Month. And she was working on a fifth.
Nobody else had yet noticed that Shayde was paying for new bowls out of her own cash.
Nevertheless, competition was getting intense. And then someone handed her an accordion.
“Aw yer kiddin’ me… noooo… No’ that…”
Laughter.
“I can only play one tune on this. Yer goin’ tae regret it.”
The laughter stopped.
“Uh… do you play badly?” risked the accordion owner.
“Worse. I play infectiously.” And then she began. Two notes, at first. At increasing speed. The bystanders thought it was hilarious. And then they realized that it was just the preamble to the actual tune.
The rhythm was relentless. The tune simple and repetitive. The actions of the dance… very silly indeed. An increasing number of people moved their hands like beaks, then flapped their elbows like wings, then waggled their rumps like… Rael did not know what. The refrain graceful enough that random pairs attempted ballroom dancing in the halls.
It was the kind of tune that drilled a hole into the central nervous system and made a permanent home there. Even Rael found himself coming into sync with the ridiculous gyrations of the crowd. At least before he realized what he was doing and forced himself into rigid stillness with the help of a handy column.
She had the entire hallway doing it by the time she finished the number.
Shayde handed it back. “Lor’ forgive me, I bought back th’ Duck Dance. Yer goin’ tae be a year gettin’ it oot a’ the music halls. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s such a good song,” said the accordion-owner.
“Try tellin’ me that in three months, when yer proper sick of it.”
[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00815-B084: Inappropriate Love Gifts
There were a line of little heads on the mat near the bed, just the heads. The damn cat had been at it again!
Sandra drew her toes up again and hid them under her comforter. It wasn’t a straight line. More of a curve. All those dead, bloodied little heads. Arranged in something of a semicircle in a kind of post-mortem worship of her bed.
And in came the cat. Black, sleek and proud. Smirking at his fine achievement. Tail held high. And that damned trilby perched on his head.
“I have slain your enemies, m’lady.”
Eugh. Gross. “I would have preferred them fully disposed of?” she squeaked. “I can’t get out of bed with those there.”
“All the better for me,” smirked the cat. He made to move in to the bed with her.
Sandra sighed. That ex who programmed her otherwise perfectly fine Augment kitten in a fit of revenge was going to pay. And pay dearly. “If I have to stay in bed, you don’t get new Kitty Nomnoms, today.”
The look of absolute dread on his face was priceless. And, in a matter of minutes, the heads were gone. Just sad little spots of blood where they had once rested.
Clear enough for an agoraphobic automisophobe to skip awkwardly past on her way to feed the cat. Followed by her usual three-hour shower before her nice, clean day of info-wrangling in the translation streams. And, for lunch, she could resume her complaint against Daniel.
Programming her cat to be a complete dudebro. What a bitch.
[Muse food remaining: 19. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00815-B084: No Connection
Challenge: Write a story using only one half of a dialogue
Chase: I need you (Sent 1:15PM)
Chase: Like really important (Sent 1:23PM)
Chase: I can see you’re online (Sent 1:27PM)
Chase: Please don’t ignore? (Sent 1:32PM)
Chase: I’m sorry about everything, ever. Promise (Sent 1:36PM)
Chase: Something blew up and I’m stuck in the rubble (Sent 1:37PM)
Chase: For reals (Sent 1:41PM)
Chase: I’m not fooling here (Sent 1:41PM)
[Picture of broken building parts and one half of a leg, wrapped in jeans. The corner of a shoe is visible, as is some blood] (Sent 1:43PM)
Chase: It’s okay. Really. The bleeding stopped and I can breathe (Sent 1:44PM)
Chase: It’s just really cold RN (Sent 1:45PM)
Chase: Using phone to keep warm in small areas (Sent 1:46PM)
Chase: Not working v well :( (Sent 1:47PM)
Chase: Down to 25% batt. Will wait as long as poss b4 trying again (Sent 1:51PM)
Chase: Still here. Singing for something to do. Hope someone hears me (Sent 3:23PM)
Chase: Still alive (Sent 4:28PM)
Chase: No matter what happens, I love you (Sent 5:57PM)
Chase: Where R U? (Sent 6:34PM)
Chase: So quiet here. Can hear some1 else getting messages. Lucky dog (Sent 7:38PM)
Chase: 20% batt. Trying 2 call u (Sent 8:24PM)
Chase: OMG I’m so sorry. It’s your phone I can hear. Pls b alive. Pls pls pls pls pls b alive (Sent 8:31PM)
Chase: I’m so sorry I ever fought w u (Sent 8:32PM)
Chase: U were right NEway (Sent 8:32PM)
[Muse food remaining: 14. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00814-B083: He Said/He Said
Challenge: Write a story using only dialogue
[AN: I’M BAAA-AAAAAACK! Taking this carefully and slowly so I don’t wind up with another four weeks of convalescence]
“This is all your fault.”
“My fault? My fault? I just landed in here two seconds ago, how could it be my fault?”
“It’s always your fault. How much have you had to drink?”
“Two standard volume units. Of water.”
“Huh. Fire water, belike. I know you too well, human. You reek of it.”
“For your big daft information, I only reek of it because I took it all out of the still–”
“HAH! I KNEW IT!”
“–to sell to the locals as an inexpensive fuel.”
“No ‘samples’ to ‘check the quality’?”
“Don’t give me that look! I only got some on me because of the fight.”
“Ah, there was a fight. Of course. Who was the woman?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Clearly, it was.”
“No. It. Wasn’t.”
“Convince me.”
“…shewashisproperty…”
“Hwel…”
“I know.”
“When we’re operating outside the Galactic Alliance…”
“I know…”
“We have to brace ourselves to face laws and standards that we, as Galactics, view as criminal or even obscene.”
“I KNOW! I know it. I get it. Their customs and laws are not ours but. Damnit…”
“Go on. Let it all out.”
“She was twelve if she was a day. Naked as a jay bird. And he was fingering her right there in front of God and everyone!”
“Really?”
“Powers That Be are my witness. You could even see it on the security tape.”
“I’m surprised at you, Hwell.”
“I know…”
“I’d have killed him.”
“I’m sorry I got us in another– wait. What?”
“I’m proud of you. You’ve shown admirable restraint.”
“Thank you.”
“…for a human.”
“…I think.”
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
“No, try it, it goes good with everything…”
It was once said that “with enough fried onions and mustard people would eat anything.” This has also been proven to apply to the additions of either chocolate or bacon.
Frankly, as it has been quite a long time since humanity first wound up discovering these multipurpose edibles, it’s often considered a great wonder that human civilization has not yet managed to eat itself to death, either by the direct sense of gorging and gluttony, or by the indirect sense of simply running out of other things to apply said universal condiments to and turning on each other in cannibalistic frenzy.The idea that other cogniscents might theoretically have some species-suitable equivalents to these near-addictive culinary wonders, and simply have not yet discovered them, is thus understandably somewhat frightening to many of them.
The sample laid before them looked like brown, square blobs. It did not look appetising. It did not smell appetising. Nik, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed.
“You have to understand it’s a work in progress,” said Nik. “I’ve been working on the theory that certain addictive foods, put together, could become the ultimate super food.”
Rael poked it uncertainly. “Are you certain it’s edible?”
Shayde picked up one and gave in experimental nibble. “It’s got chocolate on it,” she declared. She chewed a little more. “Is that bacon?”
Nik smiled nervously, “It is, it is! It is caramelised onion, on top of a square of bacon, wrapped in chocolate.“
Rael tried a more adventurous bite. The face he made was not the one Nik was hoping for. He could see Nick’s face crumbling in disappointment at Rael’s disgust.
“Did ye fry the bacon in maple syrup?” asked Shayde.
“Of course,” said Nick. “It is expected when making sweets.”
“That’s where you went wrong,” she began to pontificate. “Chocolate goes best with bitter things, ye ken. You’ve got your chocolate coated strawberries, your chocolate fondue, all that noise. You much sweet with bitter, you’re golden.”
“Ah,” Nik began to smile again. “I went wrong by making it all sweet, you say.”
“Aye, that and you left out the cheese.“
Rael began to quietly creep away, these two were dangerous.
[Muse food remaining: 16. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00812-B081: Varied Diet?
After the omlette incident, realising exactly how much human food, like cake or pies or snacks, involve eggs.
Day 3.
Hen eggs declared non-cogniscent food. Also declared sterile. Also declared offensive. Further adjudication necessary.
Day 5.
Adjudication finished. Human can consume extant eggs, but only in utter privacy and behind offensensitivity shielding. The human must not consume any more eggs or egg-based products while aboard Science Vessel Sigma-Four.
“WHAT?” Sta-see yawped. Humans could get loud. At least she had been trained to not flail her ridiculous, long arms around. “No egg by-products… What the flakk?”
“There is problem?”
“Big problem. Many, many human food having egg for making,” she said in broke GalStand. It was the only language they had in common. “Self will starve. This being much bad.”
Day 17.
Further adjudication finalised. Human will now consume food behind offensensitivity shield for all meals. Further food imports will be syntha-meals only.
Which was why, on her first day on shore leave from serving on the Science Vessel Sigma-Four, Stacy made a beeline for the nearest Unsuitable Food Eat and said, “Gimmie a double death-by-chocolate, battered, deep fried, dipped in more chocolate and covered over in meringue kisses!”
[Muse food remaining: 17. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00811-B080: Horror Cuisine
The unthinking introduction of an omlette to a birdlike alien species.
“What are orbs?” said the assigned Human Watcher. So far, it hadn’t been as dangerous or nasty as she’d been lead to believe. Ri’ki’ki was starting to believe that all the stories were just… stories.
“Eggs,” said the human. Her name was Sta-see. Or something close enough. She was organising her little kitchen according to her own rules.
“You having egg in stasis? They is never hatch.”
“They is never meaning hatch. Is food. Not baby.“
“You eating egg?” Ri’ki’ki yawped.
“Knowing much differing. Baby egg not food. These egg is food. Much differing. Smart ape no eat babies.” Sta-see drew an X over her chest, indicating a vulnerable point. “This egg sterile. No baby. Guaranteed.“
“Who is make?” Ri’ki’ki asked suspiciously.
The human bought out her infopad and pulled out a picture. “This make eggs. Terran bird, stupid bird. Humans keep for make food. Yes?”
It looked almost like one of Ri’ki’ki’s ancient ancestors. Troubling, indeed, how parallel evolution could make things like this happen. The companion footage clearly showed an animal. Not even a cusp-cogniscent being.
Sta-see pulled a pan out of her little oven and transferred the contents to her plate. Then added some irradiated cheese to the top. The product looked and smelled delicious.
Ri’ki’ki knew better than to try untested human food. These deathworlders could happily ingest flesh-eating enzymes and call it a flavour. “What is food?”
Sta-see bit one of her rubbery lips. “Um…” she said. “Please be understand, self is wait much long time. Wait in anticipation, food of home.”
Uh oh. She was apologising already. Which meant that this could be perceived as bad. “Sta-see… why is two place empty in egg pod?”
“Is calling ‘omelette’. Making of egg. And other things. But first, egg.”
And that was how all the rumours started.
[Muse food remaining: 17. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00810-B079: T’yoree the Reckless
Prompt: A Lilo and Stitch-esque scene with numidid and surfing humans.
T’yoree was frequently trotted out as an example as to why scientists should not be allowed to breed. She had, even to the humans, the self-preservation instincts of a concussed whelk.
As a keet, she would ride the larger dogs and invented the concept of Frisbee Dodge-em.
Some said that the natural Deathworlder attitude towards risk had rubbed off on her.
And she was the first Numidid to surf. Of course, for decades, she was the only Numidid to surf, but that wasn’t the point. She ably demonstrated that it was possible.
She began as a fledgeling. Pretty much as soon as she could gain enough air to light on a surfing humans’ shoulders, she shared a ride out into the water. Numidids are not naturally bouyant, so the humans invented a life vest for her.
For a time, she would ride the humans out into the water and, when she felt less than safe, would catch a swimming human back to the shore. Padded-shoulder swimsuits were a natural concept.
Her first day riding a board was February 30th[1], Settlement year 126. For the watching scientists, it was a day of great fascination as T’yoree clung to the shoulders of a human as they stood on the board to ride the waves.
T’yoree soon graduated to riding the board with a human, and then riding a board without any assistance.
The humans quickly fabricated a board more suited to her size and weight.
It took her three months before she began imitating the humans’ stunts. She is known to this day for her wipe-out flights. Whenever she lost control of her board, she would take wing and glide towards the shore. The humans found this amazing. Numidids found it merely sensible.
All efforts to develop a surfing wingsuit ended in failures for the humans. There are just some things they can not do.
[1] For those who have not read The Amity Incident… the Amity year is two full days longer than the Terran one, and the human colonists stuffed the extra days into February. Also - go get the book now.
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