Challenge #00465 - A090: The Importance of Love
http://anastasiyacemetery.tumblr.com/post/76249084163/not-sorry-for-my-english
Text reads: “Don’t forget to give a little love to beings which nobody loves”
[AN: Sorry about the brief one. I can’t brain today]
It was perfect love. But, physically speaking, they never went further than hugs and kisses.
Temptrotica never stopped being amazed at the feeling of it. Love. It was new and amazing and almost overwhelming. And every time she tried to explain it to Mythologics Anonymous, she got the same thing.
“You’re a succubus! You get people loving you every day.”
It was hard, indeed, to explain the difference between making love… and receiving it.
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Challenge #00464 - A089: The Trouble With ELFs
It sounds like Uplifts have a bit of a stigma attached to them- their origins were illegal, so they themselves are considered sort of dodgy. Some further exploration of that, please? After this long, they can’t be the only people to have experienced origins/modification for the use of others and had to fight their way up to ‘people’ status afterwards (super-soldier attempts, etc). Perhaps there’s a ‘Lab-breds of the Galaxy Unite!’ sort of club for mutual support.
From the Wikipedia Galactica: ELF/E.L.F.: Engineered Life Form. A creature or being engineered to specifications and produced as merchandise. Examples include Skitties™, Cleaners, and antiseptic phage virii. Some cogniscent entities are also ELFs, such as the Faiize, Uplifts, and numerous attempts at the Enlisted Man.
Uplift: A domesticated animal uplifted to the level of cognisance, usually by means of genetic engineering. Uplifting, the practice of making an Uplift, is illegal in the Galactic Alliance. Uplifted beings, the products of uplifting, are not.
Shayde watched Rael land on his seat at the bar of Unsuitable Food and order a deep-fried platter -beignet style- with a side of chocolate sauce.
“Bad day at the office?” she guessed.
“Literally,” he grumped. “I made the mistake of offering my services to the Cogniscent Rights Committee.”
She winced. “Eeee. Ge’ him a hot chocolate on me. All th’ trimmins.”
“Four Hours. Four hours in a booth, sorting paperwork. There’s an entire planet where five sixths of the population are Uplifts. An entire world of Uplifted slaves. Do you know how many of them are called Spot?”
“At an uneducated guess?” Shayde propped herself up on the counter in the manner of all cogniscents prepared to be there a long time. “A full metric fookton.”
“HA! Twice that and then some.”
“Extra marshmallows,” said Shayde to the Gyiik serving at the bar.
“Thanks.” He sighed. “And there was a two-hour conference about what to do in the case of duplicate names. Not a lot of those poor animals can handle change…” a soft sound into his hands that was almost a sob. “…we had to use numbers. Numbers! They’ll never escape being things and I had a hand in it…”
“D'ye need a hug?”
“…‘nkoo…”
She wrapped her arms around him and soothed his simulated hair. “There na… I dinnae think any of 'em would blame ye. Desperate times and all…”
“Some of them were designed… to have just enough intelligence to read directions and take orders…” A definite sob. “I don’t think I could look any of them in the eye…”
The Galactic Alliance doesn’t hate Uplifts. It hates what it has to do because Uplifts exist.
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Challenge #00463 - A088: The Death of Gendered Clothing
http://beltaguise.tumblr.com/post/76801104188/fantasy-lizard-people-where-the-females-dont-have
Found another one
Tom Katt sidled up to the lizard lady at the bar. He thought he could tell by her buxom figure and elegantly-styled dress in Botanic Greens.
“Hey, there, beautiful,” he smoothed. “Can I buy a lovely lady such as yourself a drink? What’s your pleasure?”
The lizard, towering over him by some five inches, glared down at him. “I’m a male,” he iced.
“But… you.. uh…” Tom gestured at his own chest. Miming invisible mammaries.
The lizard sighed and opened his robe to reveal G-cup sized heating pads inside a healthily-fortified brassiere. “Not every species adheres to your own sexual dimorphism, human. And for your education, males have six crest-ridges–” they passed for eyebrows “–not four.”
Tom paid for the gentleman’s time. “Thanks for the information.”
“Thanks for the absence of slurs.”
Tom, as well as many other humans in bars all over the Galactic Alliance, was quickly learning to assume nothing.
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Challenge #00462 - A087: Portents of Doom
“I’ve got an idea! It’s crazy, it defies all logic, it’s illegal in 16 solar systems and my mother would most assuredly not approve, but it just might work!”
Ax'and'l froze, fighting the primitive desire to burrow under a layer of dirt and conceal himself from predators that no longer existed. Humans had Fight or Flight. His kind had Dig and Ditch. “Hwell,” he murmured in a calm and soothing tone that most definitely did not match his new-found inner turmoil. “What did we agree about what to do when you have that kind of idea?”
“Warn you first,” Hwell intoned. He looked bored. And there is nothing in the universe as dangerous as a bored human. “This is me. Warning you about it. Look. I know we’re blockaded in and all that, but have you checked the scanners? We wouldn’t exactly be running a blockade. Just… slipping through the planet-sized hole they obviously left there for anyone who doesn’t want to be involved. Like us.”
“It would also involve deceiving a planetary population new to space travel, defying local laws, and a certain amount of fraud. Tell me, just how were you planning to gain access to our ship?”
Hwell grinned that nervous grin of his. “Ah. Heh. That’s where the ‘crazy’ and 'defies all logic’ part comes in. With a side order of my mother not approving.”
“No.” Ax'and'l waved the digit of authority at him. “Absolutely not. We do not want a repeat of the Argo Incident. Do you understand?”
Mumbled, “That planet’s stick up its anus has a stick up its anus with a stick up its anus…”
“Do you understand?”
Hwell took the sort of deep breath and sigh that incorporated almost all parts of his body. “Fine. Yes. I understand. I’ll stay on my leash like a good mammal.”
“Good mammal,” Ax'and'l cooed.
“…woof…” Hwell muttered.
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Challenge #00461 - A086: True Mens’ Rights
A Men’s Rights Activist who isn’t a jerk, but has genuine grievance and wish to live in a world where female rapists aren’t lauded and institutionalized rape isn’t assumed to be a standard feature of incarceration. Possibly working to start and/or save a battered-men’s shelter.
“Save the men’s shelter?” Nobody was taking Lee’s pamphlets. Nobody was putting a coin in his tin. “Save the men’s shelter?”
Someone stopped. “Why do men need a shelter?”
“Men who’ve been battered or raped need a safe space,” Lee began his pitch. Offering the pamphlet so it could be read whilst in his hands. Not forcing it on the passer-by who may have been schooled to accept an offering because of the patriarchal norm. “They need somewhere they can speak out without fear of reprisals from society. Where they are allowed to be weak, until they get their strength back.”
“I thought male rape only happened in prison,” she said. “Or with gay gangs.”
“That’s a common misconception,” he said, glad that she wasn’t hurling slurs or invective. “Most gay rapes are perpetuated by homosexual men attempting to ‘teach someone a lesson’. And prison rape is far less common than -say- rape in the back of a car. Or in a classroom or study environment. This shelter is the last in our city where men can feel safe, speaking up about rape, abuse and sexual molestation.”
“Men can’t be abused… They’re bigger and stronger. They can fight back.”
“That’s also a common misconception. Men and boys are being abused as we speak. What’s wrong is that society tells them that they should be strong, and never admit to such weakness. One in twelve male rape survivors never admit to being raped. That number is far worse in cases of abuse or sexual molestation. Men need to be allowed to speak up.”
She took the paper and read it. All men’s issues. All in easily-digestable paragraphs with reference links.
“So you want to end rape, domestic abuse, sexual molestation, and the restrictive gender roles in our society?”
“Yes. Every little bit helps,” Lee rattled the donations tin meaningfully.
She folded up a large bill for it. “Sweetie, I hate to tell you this, but you’re not really a Men’s Rights Activist.”
“I’m not?”
“You’re a Feminist. I was on my way to my group. We’re holding a bake sale for the same darn shelter.” She slotted her money into the tin. “Want to come along?”
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Challenge #00460 - A085: Like Humans Do
In terms of romance, compared to humans, all other sentient species are incredibly awkward, stumbling over words, blurting nonsensical sentences, accidentally changing colour, releasing/commenting on pheromones, and/or bluntly stating their piece in a deadpan manner.
Conversely, compared to everyone else the most nervous and awkward of humans is a veritable poet.
She had been trying to speak to the idol of her heart for a Standard Month, now. They came to the same places at that she did. Showed evident likes of similar things.
And was beautiful beyond measure.
And every day, every time. All she could manage was limp, lacklustre things like, “Hi,” or “Cool,” or “How’s it been?” She knew, now, why they called it small talk. Small words. Inconsequential. Ineffective. Invisible.
And she knew the human couldn’t possibly pick up on her own mating displays. They just didn’t register.
Meanwhile, humans everywhere were diving headlong into cross-species relationships with the grace and style known to no other kind.
It took her that entire month to work out what to say. All day to work up the courage to say it. And even then, she stumbled.
“Yah-you make my higher synapses misfire and I want more. Are you ameh..(gulp) amenable?”
The human smiled and changed colour. “Well aren’t you smooth as fuck?”
“K… Kerrit. Is my name. My name is Kerrit.”
A laugh. “You can breathe, Kerrit. I’m Dani. And I am very pleased to become your acquaintance.”
How did they do it?
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Love will find a way…
It’s a pity that things like true love and soulmates and finding that special someone aren’t more obvious in their identification and verifying - would be so much easier if there were a special personal sort of dim glow or subtle sound or faint scent or somesuch to point out the one we’re destined to be with the rest of our lives. Far less troublesome or confusing than all this dragging-on about dating and courtship and marriage and divorce and all that other rubbish - just spot someone across the room or street or whatever, the signals match up, and happyjoy forever. Sounds good to me, anyway. Would save tons of folks so much pain and heartbreak and jealousy and such when they found that the one they thought was “the one” turned out not to be, not for them anyway… this way, it’s clear - no signal-match, no true love. It would kinda ruin all the slow building-up of the drama and tension in all those romantic films, however… Ah well. Nothing’s perfect, I guess.
(#00459 - A084)
They called it TruHartz and it swept the world so thoroughly that it overtook the whole planet in a whirlwind.
A subcutaneous chip, installed in the nape of the neck, would record the likes and dislikes of its host and, thanks to nanotechnology growing in close to the skull plates, manifest a holographic heart in the air when the user was within fifty feet of their true love.
Upgrades included helpful arrows.
Those cost extra.
Society adjusted, of course, to various people stopping the flow of traffic to meet with the person who was going to be the love of their life.
It never stopped casual sex. Nothing in the world could stop casual sex. In fact, it multiplied it. Thousands were desperate to have their wild fling before settling down with that special someone.
Or someones.
The news that there could be plural true loves was the death knell of the conservative movement. And the scandal rags. Which also made the world a better place.
And it disrupted all the pedophiles when they discovered that their TruHartz completely failed to lead them to any minors. They either had to re-define what love meant to them - or reach heady new heights of denial in the face of evidence to the contrary.
And there were few, a rare and almost shunned few, who elected not to get their TruHartz installed. Like Remi.
She saw no point to it. She felt she had little to offer any partner, since she saw no point in relationships, romance, or sex. Friendship was just fine for her.
Which worked right up until she met Kev.
The first Remi knew about it was the gaudy holographic heart jumping up and down in the air at her like an excited puppy. Doing the heart equivalent of the international pee-pee dance. With arrows and little ‘doot doot’ noises.
“I am so sorry,” apologised a voice like chocolate presented in velvet.
She was dressed plainly in comfortable clothes and had her hair done up in that style Remi always called I don’t give a shit. She was also blushing up a storm.
“My mom made me have the damn thing installed on me, and…” a sigh as she joined Remi at her table. The holographic heart ceased its infernal dooting in a shower of twinkling, smaller hearts. “I was kind of hoping this would never happen. Prove her wrong.”
“I never had mine installed,” said Remi. “Seemed like too much expense for something that only works once.”
“I’m Kev,” said Kev. “Short for Kevrannah. But I always thought that was pretentious.”
“Remi,” said Remi.
They shook hands. It would have been nice to say that there were sparks, that something tugged at heart-strings and made beautiful music, but love doesn’t always work that way.
It took them both five weeks to realise that they were, in fact, soul mates. Even though love meant very little to either of them. There was no hand-holding. No flowers. No dating.
Just serial hanging-out and companionable leanings. And that was enough. And mutual understanding. That was more than enough.
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Challenge #00457 - A082: San Check
If you meet Yog-Sothoth, you’ve gone too far on the axis of comprehension; back up slowly and call for reality assistance. – RecklessPrudence
Ow. It had happened again. OW! It wasn’t getting any better with experience.
Katie looked up from her pained huddle, halfway expecting somebody yelling at her to ‘avaunt’ and calling her names. One more time. One more time, she swore, and she would start calling herself a foul shayde from out the blackest pit.
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said the glowing entity before her. He stood like a pompous martinet, like a man who knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him doing whatever he wanted to do to her. And liked it that way. “It’s not as if you’re really… yourself, any more.”
And all this time, she thought she’d never meet anyone slimier than Hackmeyer. Katie levered herself into a sitting position and failed to make the world stop spinning. “Why’re you talkin’ English?”
“What?” he scoffed, “No, 'where am I’? No 'who are you’? I’m disappointed.”
“Na, I already learned there’s nae point in askin’. The grass wasn’t real. She could feel that it wasn’t real. She could also feel its reality. Having two sets of senses at once was a real pain in the arse, sometimes.
Through the True Lights, she could see a virtual leash around her neck. The other end wrapped negligently around this too-perfect man’s wrist. The glow meant something else, too. So did the flashes and flickers of something… sinister.
Something… Lovecraftian.
The truth behind this being was horrifying. And he was strong enough to block that from her awarenesses.
"Well, go on, then,” she challenged. “Introduce yerself.” She pretended a weakness that was, in reality, fading rapidly. Let her fear show through and hid her growing fury.
“I control your fate,” he said, enjoying her cowering. “I’m the one who plucked you from the edge of death to send you on your… missions… across the multiverse. I’m the one who made you what you are.”
“We apologise for the inconvenience?” she quoted.
And eye-roll that was almost camp. “And some… other associates. Honestly, their mercy is pulling me down.” A tisk and a tut. “But enough about them. You can call me God.”
Which started a hate-hate relationship that would last ten, too-long years. “Not bluidly likely,” she growled.
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Challenge #00457 - A082: Beautiful Hostile
http://cnvvj.tumblr.com/post/76196333269/sharped0-gobigorgoextinct-steve-irwin-in-a
That is all.
[AN: Out of respect for the Irwin family, I’m making a very Steve-like character]
“Damn crazy Australians,” muttered Pentecost.
The team for Beautiful Hostile had arrived. Jaeger, pilot and… co-pilot. If such a term could be used for a crocodile that Harry Banks sort of kept as a pet.
That was part of the winning strategy for Beautiful Hostile. It beat the Kaiju by literally fighting like an animal. Some joked that Harry Banks understood animals so deeply that he’d become drift compatible with all of them.
Especially the dangerous ones native to Australia.
Pentecost stayed very still as they approached, lest the crocodile think he was tasty.
“No worries, mate,” breezed Harry. “He’s had his chickens. Full as a goog[1]. Wouldn’t bite, even if it’s to find out what you taste like.”
“Haha,” he smiled dutifully and shook his hand. “Welcome to the team, Harry… and…”
“Paul,” supplied Harry.
Paul the Crocodile rumbled.
Harry laughed. “You’ll get used to ‘im, no worries. He’s a big softie, to be honest. Though I found it helps the fight to make sure he gets his chicken, after.”
Crazy Australians.
It was no real surprise that, while Pentecost was out searching for other pilots, Harry and Paul took on a Kaiju and achieved mutually assured destruction. It was also no shock that the last transmission from Beautiful Hostile was, “Crikey, what a ripper!” in a tone of enthusiastic awe.
[1] egg.
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Challenge #00454 - A079: This Always Happens…
“I leave you guys for ten seconds and you all become rabbits? Why does this happen to almost everyone I know?”
“Uhm,” said Twyll. Who currently resembled a tortie lop.“We’re… not… rabbits.”
“Twyll… when’d you become a liar?” he asked, confused. “You’re like Little Miss Truth…”
“Jor…” said the angry-looking white bunny with amazing eyeliner game. That had to be Bob. “Did you raid the tupperware in the back of the fridge labelled, ‘Experimental! Do not eat under any circumstances. No, not even to see what it tastes like. No, not even if you’re really hungry. This means you Jor’?”
“…uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhmmmm…” Jor looked down at his hands. Paws. Shit. “Mmmmmmmmmaaaaaayyyybe?”
Bob rolled her eyes. “I’ll sit on him, you call the ambulance. Papa bun-bun’s going to have a real fun adventure in the detox ward.”
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