Good news, everyone!
I went through all my prompts and recounted them and… man o boy howdy, I am BAD at keeping track.
I have a sum total of 45 prompts. Including the five new ones I got since yesterday.
So we can all relax for a while.
Challenge #00637 - A272: But the Cat Came Back…
…and the cat is still not allowed into the tea room because he’s convinced that somewhere there is catnip if he can only destroy enough to get at it.
“Whsk!” Pattie aimed a spray at the incoming Skitty. “Ffffft! HSSSSS!”
“Ma'am,” said Officer Marken. “I’m afraid it’s against station regulations to interfere with a Skitty’s duties.” She already had the digipad out and was taking notes.
“I know,” said Pattie. “But it’s the tea. They keep smashing the containers. They keep smashing the crockery! We can’t afford the Reboundables… not with all the breakages… Our only hope is keeping the cats out…”
“They’re hunting for vermin, Miss Newtrio.”
“They’re hunting for catnip, Officer Marken… and we don’t have any. We never had any. If I let them do what they want… we’re ruined…”
Lyr Marken sighed. “I’ll see if I can arrange something with the Britanian and the Xin'hua embassies. Neither of those empires want to see tea going to waste.”
[Muse food remaining: UNCOUNTED. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
I write free stories for you. Daily.
Please reblog this whenever you see it. Let’s get the word around.
Every day, [except Christmas] I write stories based on prompts submitted by readers like you.
Every day, at the very bottom of the story you’ll see a little information thing that looks like this:
[Muse food remaining: 9. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
As you can see by the ^ number here. I’m currently running low.
I use prompts on a FIFO basis - First In, First Out. Basically so I can keep track of the little things. So if someone prompt-spam’s me, you’re going to see a plethora of posts prompted by one person for a while.
I DO NOT PLAY FAVOURITES. I just process prompts this way because I possess the organisational skills of a diseased whelk.
ANY PROMPT IS A GOOD PROMPT. You may not get what you are expecting out of me [and indeed, I make a practice of thinking, “Hm, this person wants me to do X. I shall proceed with Y” ] but you will get a story.
Unless the prompt you submit feels more like a question, in which case you will get an answer.
NO SUBMISSION IS IGNORED! Never. Ever. Will I ignore a prompt.
I HAVE EVEN OPENED UP ANON.
Have at me. Submit a prompt. Anything goes.
Challenge #00636 - A271:
They’ll get along like a house on fire, in the sense that there will be significant property damage and possible casualties.
He was looking for allies and none of the bigger interests had any interests in his interests. And his Lizard guide wasn’t much help.
“You may try Ambassador for Nineteen Eighty-Six, Shayde Pitt. I predict you will get along like a house on fire.”
“I’ll teach ya how to talk proper yet,” he grinned. These lizards tended to take everything way too literally. He put on his best smile and sauntered over to the alien-looking lady.
He didn’t like the way she was sizing him up. Like she could see right through him in a cold second.
He felt like he had parsley in his ears.
Sparkle, sparkle. He ramped up his outward congeniality and tried to look handsome.
Then he said the one thing guaranteed to grab her ire. “Hey there, little lady…”
*
“I tried to warn him,” said Ju'shek. “I said he and you would get along like a house on fire.”
“Flames, screaming, and property damage, aye,” said Shayde. “Maybe ye should'nae use metaphors, ye ken.”
Ju'shek wrung her hands. “Many, many apologies…”
[Muse food remaining: 9. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Double celebrations!
Amity is now in the editing cycle and tomorrow… you all get a free story to celebrate both my birthday and All Hallows Read.
Party on, my excellent followers!
Challenge #00635 - A270: The Horrors of Attempted Time Travel
“Your body is your temple. Plunder it.”
Three pieces of good news.
One: He was smarter than the people who had sent him here. And there was no way in hell that he was going to U-turn around into a suicide mission.
Two: The planet that read as habitable actually was habitable.
Three: The people who sent him on this wild flight to meddle with the course of history had sent along all kinds of laboratory equipment and information in order to deal with every situation.
Including a clone lab and brain-pattern recorder.
The bad news? He was the only genetic sample.
The really bad news? Earth was calling to find out what had gone wrong with the mission.
He sabotaged his ship enough to make it look like he’d crashed and failed and set to work. He had a world to build. Starting with a small community made of him.
And the ultimate bad news… all the protein on this planet was toxic.
Which meant he had to eat cultured tissue. And he was the only genetic sample that he had.
*
“We eat of the Allfather and remember. We owe our existence to one monumental act of unlistening, unrelenting, wilful ignorance.”
“Think all things through,” said the clones. Almost-clones. The Alllfather had done his best with what he had, but genetic variance could only go so far. All of them, women and men, could not breed in what other cogniscents call the ‘traditional way’.
“And remember, also, the words we are to deliver to the Unthinkers.”
Now the multitude at the remembrance ceremony shouted at the top of their lungs, “ERICH VON DÄNIKEN CAN SUCK IT!”
“Three thousand years ago, the Allfather was sent out to create a better world. He knew that the Unthinkers sent him to his death.”
The ministers at the grill began to hand out sliders to the multitude with, “Flesh of the Allfather…”
“When they come to ask of their better world we shall say unto them,”
They all chorused, “We made it here.”
Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold. For Adam Fydeus, that revenge was about to be served at below zero degrees Kelvin.
[Muse food remaining: 10. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00634 - A269: Space Madness
“Kitty, fire starboard weapons”
“Miaou”
“No Kitty, don’t play with the yarn, fire the weapons”
From the Wikipedia Galactica: Space Madness, as it is commonly known, is not, in fact, a mental imbalance caused by being in space. It is well known that cogniscents of all kinds need certain things in order to prosper, both physically and mentally. The isolation of solo missions does, of course, engender ramifications…
“Status report, Lieutenant Tibbles.”
The black-and-white cat, known officially as merely Tibbles, looked up from her basket and made a “mrrrrrrrrp?” noise.
Blakely checked the indicator board in passing to feed the cat. “Safe sound and secure. Words I like to hear, Lieutenant. There’ll be a commendation on your record.”
The cat didn’t care about commendations. She fell on her food like she’d been starved in the six hours since she’d last eaten.
“Yes, it looks like smooth—” Another indicator light started flashing. “Incoming! We have an incoming bogey vector five zero niner by four foxtrot tango. Man the guns!”
Tibbles, being a cat, began playing with a loose cable.
“OFFICER! Man your station!”
Tibbles ran for the closest hidey-hole.
“INSUBORDINATION! MUTINY! I’LL SEE YOU HANG FROM THE HIGHEST YARDARM!”
Doctor Dobelina paused the security playback. She kept her voice low and comforting. “Do you remember this incident, Miss Blakely?”
“Yes… but… not like that. My pickup ship was the enemy. Tibbles was… I think she was a Meeyahndan or… or some kind of humanoid Cat. Is she okay?”
“Tibbles is being spoiled rotten by your family.”
Blakely visibly relaxed. “Oh good. I was afraid I’d hurt her. There were dreams… they were so real…”
“The nature of reality is often subjective,” soothed Doctor Dobelina. “However, most of us prefer the version confirmed by others.”
“I’m never going out alone again, am I?”
“It… wouldn’t be advisable,” allowed the doctor.
[Muse food remaining: 11. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00633 - A268: Boundless Realms of Ignorance
To sing when anti-science protestors of whatever stripe are around:
Ev’ry banana you eat / has been genetically engineered / and is a radioactive clone.
There were simultaneous protests outside the administrative building. Some protestors, with a foot in each camp, had evolved revolving signs.
“Bible bashers,” Sylvia shook her head. One side of a sign she was watching quoted the bible about natural foods, and the other screamed about teaching creationism. She had a wicked idea and ducked into her laboratory greenhouse.
Edna followed her. “What are you up to? You’re not going to bomb them with dyed smoke again, are you?”
“No. I’m just going to give them a material lesson… Ah! There they are.”
It was a green oblong that looked much like a cucumber with warts. Sylvia cackled like a true mad scientist as she made her way outside to the protestors.
“Sylvia…” Edna warned. “That’s not a new sample, is it?”
“No, no, no. It’s old as dirt. Promise.” It took her five minutes to force her face into Press Conference Formality, at which point she strode out to the protestor with the revolving sign.
“Stay away from me, you ungodly harlot!”
“Well at least I’m not wearing blended fabrics or eating ham,” she retorted. “Here’s a banana as God intended them.” She handed over the knobbly green thing. “Fresh from my garden.”
The protestor stared at it in disgust.
“Yum yum yum,” cooed Sylvia.
Alas, it didn’t work. People opposed to science are naturally inclined to disbelieve anyone in a white coat.
[Muse food remaining: 12. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00632 - A267: Respect It
To quote Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 3, Line 87: No!
“Geez, why do you have to be such a bitch about it?”
Ugh. “Maybe because I had to tell you thirty times before you even heard a real ‘no’? Maybe because my wants and needs aren’t relevant to you? Maybe because the first thing that came out of your mouth when I told you I was bisexual was ‘threesome’? Maybe it’s because you’re as aesthetically pleasing as month-old mozzarella that’s been left in the sun for three months? Maybe it’s because you smell like that, too? But really, when you get down to it? It’s because you don’t fucking listen.”
He stared at her in piggy incomprehension. “You know, if you’re on your rag, just tell me.”
“It’s men like you who give men a bad reputation, did you know that?”
“Come on. It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me or something… Just a coffee.”
“The closest we’re getting to going to get a coffee is if I throw some of mine in your face. I don’t want you breathing my air. Go away.” She re-enforced her point with her stun gun.
“Jesus. Who told you I was interested? I was just trying to compliment your fat ugly ass. Bulldyke.”
Jessica sighed in relief and continued on her way to meet her girlfriend. The sooner they had a tag-and-release system for those pathetic specimens, the better.
[Muse food remaining: 13. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Beloved give it a makeover.
FINALLY found a font I’m satisfied with. Switched up the wheel so that it looks more unworldly, added a gradient, smacked on a border, and boom - customer interest.
Releasing this Saturday!