Challenge #00260: Bubbles in History
Since you like Adventure Time (and I hope you’ve seen some of the more recent episodes, minor spoilers in prompt)
Bubblegum: Journey from Irradiated Pink Ooze to the founder of a Kingdom.
[AN: Warning - Rampant headcannon ahead]
See…
A wrecked city. It used to be called Cincinnati, before the bombs fell. The survivors braved its depths for supplies. Useful things. Food. Metals.
Feel…
It hurt to be alive. She was alive. She couldn’t leave. She was quite literally stuck here.
Fragmented memories of before the bomb. Candy store. An argument with someone. Someone special. Science. She had science to do…
Move…
She could move. She could see… but her body.
Her body wasn’t human any more.
She… had become…
Gum.
Pink, gooey, bubblegum.
But she could move. Spread. Shrink. Let things go. Coalesce. It took her days, but the world had just ended. It wasn’t as if anyone wanted gum.
*
He was here! The someone.
Simon!
She had no voice, but she could hear. He had a sick child. He needed chicken soup.
She spread tendrils of herself into the places that the survivors couldn’t go. Or wouldn’t go, because of the mutated goo-monsters still here.
Found…
One can of soup. One can-opener.
Found…
Him in the alley. Defeating the evil crown through an effort of will.
Offered the prize to him. Managed a face. A smile.
“Euw…”
Right. She was gooey stretches of bubblegum. Nobody found that nice. She retreated. Left him alone.
He still had the crown.
She didn’t remember much, but as long as he had the crown, he could hurt her. He had hurt her.
She would have to devise a more efficient manner of communicating.
*
Simon’s storm had changed something. The goo and the cold and the high-fructose corn syrup and who knew what else had come together in a perfect storm.
Life sprang anew in the wreckage of Cincinnati.
Candy life.
She worked hard on making a body. A body she half-remembered from Before. There was too much ‘hair’, but she had a solution.
Cut it. Roll it into the new sugar compounds. Store it. Just in case.
They could hatch. They could become cogniscent clones of herself. She just didn’t know.
*
Candy life could be shaped. Could be trained. They called her a Princess. One even found an amulet in the old ruins under her realm. It had interesting properties, which she had to study in secret.
Candy was an interesting building material. Fruitcake walls were going to protect her sweet life forms. Her children.
Simon and I wanted to have children…
No. She wasn’t that half-remembered woman, any more. Things had changed. The whole world had changed.
Cats and dogs both were walking upright and talking. They were building societies of their own.
Humans were anarchic gangs. Some had gone underground. Literally. Some were spawning new species.
Goblins and Orcs and Trolls. Giants and Minotaurs.
Practically the entire D&D compendium.
The mutagen had to be to blame. It was literally running through the entirety of the land. She had to do something to stop it. Contain it. Perhaps, stabilize the population.
And all she had to hand was candy.
“Princess! Princess!”
They were summoning her. Someone was in trouble. Someone outside the fruitcake walls.
*
The amulet was gone. She had to rely on other means to create things. At least the gumball guardians were doing their job.
Candy lasted.
The power of the mutagen turned everything in a limited area into candy, but at least it wasn’t toxic to other life.
There was a large area of cold, relatively close to her candy kingdom. She thought she knew what it was, but she was just too busy.
Other kingdoms demanded her time. Demanded her attention. Demanded negotiations.
She was just so busy.
She needed a hero. And candy folk weren’t so naturally inclined.
If the dogs weren’t so busy with that war in the crystal dimension…
If the cats weren’t mostly evil…
If ifs and ands were pots and pans… She rolled her eyes. First, forge peace. Then, get on with her discoveries.
If she could figure out the new rules to this messed-up world, then she could work to fix it.
*
He’d found her again. Just when she’d got comfortable.
He’d changed. He didn’t remember anything of Before and she wasn’t about to tell him, either.
She’d let herself get soft.
And all she could do was scream.
Wait. There in the snow. A boy and his dog. Or a dog and his boy. They were the only ones close to hand. The only ones within earshot.
They were her only hope.
*
They were brothers. Finn and Jake. They lived in a treehouse not far from her kingdom. Finn may well be the last true-human on Ooo.
She wanted to study him. Scientifically.
Analyse whether or not the human race deserved a second chance. Or let him live as a hero and let the humans who once ruined this world go out in a blaze of glory.
Time would tell.
And for a very young boy, Finn was kind of cute.
Stop.
She was far too old for him.
…far too old…
[Muse food remaining: 9 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
ATTN: Beta readers
I have just sent out Book 1, version 1.2 for reading and reviewing.
If you have volunteered as a beta reader, but not received an email from me, you need to get back to me with an email address that works.
I am cleaning out all the non-responsive emails from my Beta-readers list.
I want this book out in the world ASAP. Preferably in time for All Hallows’ Read. AKA this October.
The clock is ticking.
Neil Gaiman Explains All Hallow’s Read (by Neil Gaiman)
DO IT.
I would if I could, but my Beta Readers are preventing me from releasing a FREE NOVEL in time for October by not getting their collective thumbs out of their collective divots.
Still crossing my fingers so that I can participate, though.
(Source: youtube.com, via neil-gaiman)
Stop, in the name of cheesecake!
“Next time we’re both after the same thing…” she offered, “perhaps we can call a truce in the name of cheesecake.”
“Work out which is really the best? Sounds like a plan, then."
Raven and Rahne meet again, not quite so "off duty” as before. Jokingly, as part of the typical “witty banter” comicbook fights always have, one of them does call for the “cheesecake truce”, and to their surprise, the other remembers it and takes them up on the idea.
[AN: If this looks like it was submitted by me again, it was Josh. Apparently anons and non-account-holders turn up as submissions by me o_O]
(#00238)
Each side had taken the fight outside. Both knew the value of their surroundings and had decided mutually to not trash the museum.
It was what gave Rahne the idea to try it in the first place.
That, and the straight line.
“We’re almost clear. Nothing can stop us now!”
“Not even cheesecake?”
Mystique put the brakes on. “Hold!”
The rest of the brotherhood stopped and stared in confusion as Rahne went full-human and Raven dropped her disguise. Both stood a respectful distance from each other. Raven kept the booty tucked under her arm.
“We need this to–”
“–power an ancient relic, aye,” Rahne finished. “Problem is, the fine print was in a Museum in Moscow.”
“Don’t tell me, guarded by an eldritch horror?”
“Also summons an eldritch horror.”
Raven swore. “Why do they even have that cosmic link?”
Rahne shrugged. “On the other hand, Stark can use that crystal to power a generator that has no added horrors at all…”
“Were either him or Sara consuming caffeine at the time?”
“No.”
“Good. Had to make sure.” Raven relaxed and handed over the prize.
“WHAT?” demanded the Brotherhood.
“Trust me,” said Raven. “It’s for the greater good.”
“Aw man, Magneto’s going to kill us…”
“The cheesecake was still worth it.”
“Amen,” agreed Rahne.
Nobody on her team could believe how it happened.
[Muse food remaining: 19 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00231: We’re Mostly Harmless, I Swear!
In case you missed it, this post happened: http://aaceofhearts.tumblr.com/post/57693374988/untitled-jazuthevulcanprincess-bogleech-its-funny
*falls to knees* I will worship you and give you my super secret world’s most awesome and diet-breaking brownie recipe if you will write anything at all inspired by this.
(I am totally serious about the brownie recipe, or any other cake recipe since I can’t deliver to your house. I do healthy food too sometimes)
[AN: I’m saving the rest of this for a book. Keep a weather eye open]
Before humans were insane…. they were dangerous.
Excerpt from the Galactic Core Manual of Hazardous Entities, prior to Planet Amity Incident:
[Pictured: Humans in their own warning message]
Species name: Human [h'yoo-mun]
Planet: Terra
Star: Sol
Details: Humans are bipedal mammals occupying all the land masses of the planet Terra. Data from their transmissions indicates that they are extremely hostile. Despite the fact that they are constantly killing other humans, they are breeding at an exponential rate.
The human female is capable of carrying as many as three live young in internal gestation and successfully birthing them live. Humans can also reproduce once every 360-day cycle. However, single and double births are far more common than triple.
Humans are capable of a maximum foot speed of 12 Distance Units per second, and a jumping height of 2 Distance Units, which exceeds their own height.
Humans are omnivorous in the extreme. They can devour toxic levels of capsaicin, and involve themselves in challenges where they expose their sense organs to the same toxic chemical [Reference File: Pepper Challenge. Not safe for minors].
Humans can withstand temperatures below the freezing point of water and up to the boiling point of water. With armor, they can go beyond those extremes.
Humans can survive dismemberment. If you encounter a human in an attack posture (bipedal figure on left) do not remove the limbs! Humans can not survive brain stem disruption. Destroy the head to render the human harmless.
Humans use and devour assorted acids, alkalis, toxins and controlled substances [Reference File: Cooking With Marie. Not safe for minors]. They engage in recreational activities in which bludgeoning an opponent is a primary goal [Reference Files: Boxing, Wrestling. Not safe for minors]. Other human recreational activities show they have little regard for personal safety [Reference Files: freehand rock climbing, base jumping, hang gliding, diving, parachuting. Not safe for minors].
Despite needing a nitrogen/Oxygen atmosphere to survive, they insist on entering hostile environments without sufficient survival equipment [Reference Files: Jaques Cousteau, Early Space Program. Not safe for minors].
Humans are hazardous for any environment they occupy. Humans will adapt their environment to suit themselves and push out or otherwise endanger other species [Reference File: World Wildlife Fund. Not safe for minors or cogniscents of a sensitive nature].
Humans are highly adaptable and can turn any object into a weapon [Reference File: Jackie Chan. Not safe for minors] and when without weapons, will use their bodies as a weapon [Reference File: Chuck Norris. Not safe for minors].
Humans can adapt to low-light conditions. Their eyes may be their primary sense organs, but they can navigate and orient also by sound and touch. Eliminating light or blinding a human can only temporarily incapacitate them.
HUMAN BITES ARE FATAL. The human jaw can exert pressures of 54 weight units, and the human mouth is a cesspool of bacteria and acidic fluids. If you are bitten by a human, seek immediate medical attention. Do not waste time killing the human. Allow others to do so for you. If you act immediately, you may survive a human bite.
Humans are intelligent. If placed in an unfamiliar environment, they can reason and experiment their way out [Reference File: The Cube. Not safe for minors]. Experiments conducted by brave explorers indicate that humans can navigate through structures alien to their initial range of experience [Reference File: The Abduction Files. Not safe for minors or cogniscents of a sensitive nature. Seek medical advice on sedatives to assist sleep following viewing].
Humans are inventive. They have travelled to their native satellite and sent machines beyond their solar system [Reference File: Pioneer. Parental guidance necessary for minors]. Evidence indicates that they have/will initiate deep-time colonies.
AVOID AT ALL COSTS. HIGHLY DANGEROUS.
*
There were precautions, and all of them had been taken. However, there was always a gap between probe data and actual colonization. And even then, it was a risk.
Planets once infested by humans were disaster zones, at best. At worst, they were still infested by humans.
T'reka adjusted her lifecorder and checked the signal strength. Good. Base camp was getting everything she was seeing, hearing, smelling and tasting. They were getting data from her handheld analyzer. And, most important, they were getting any vocalized notes she uttered on her expedition.
This island was teeming with toxic life. Potentially hazardous, yes, but also potentially beneficial. Science had proven that interesting biological toxins could have equally interesting medical properties. Under proper supervision. In controlled environments. With volunteers desperate enough to try something that was kill-or-cure.
T'reka’s job was to find new things on their new home that might advance the status of Numidid medical science during their long wait to catch up with the rest of the galaxy. Thus, she recorded everything.
If she hadn’t been indoctrinated in the dangerous philosophies of science, it might have ended differently.
But it began with an unfamiliar voice and an unfamiliar language. And a human hand petting her arm-feathers.
“Pretty birdie.”
T'reka froze. She’d been so involved with the local insects and trying to capture them that she hadn’t noticed the larger wildlife until it was literally on top of her.
Carefully. Slowly. Observer, analyze, record. For posterity.
This human had not attacked, yet. Therefore, it might not. This may yet be a breakthrough for science. And since she was a scientist, she was already doomed for an early death.
This human was not almost two Distance Units tall. It barely made it to one Distance Unit. It wore clothes, according to the transmission files, but no shoes or hat. It was in the middle of a toxic jungle with only pants and a shirt to protect it from the environment.
And, evidently, fascinated by T'reka’s arm feathers.
“Hello, pretty birdie,” said the human.
T'reka turned. Slowly, so as not to alarm the human. “This must be one of the human young,” she said into her vocorder. She kept her voice low, almost inaudible. “It indicates that there may be humans nearby.” T'reka set her audio pickup to maximum.
Humans used sound waves to communicate. If she was lucky, the computers could filter out some of their language. It wouldn’t be enough to create translations, but any knowledge was more. More knowledge was always worth the sacrifice.
The human turned away, listening to something T'reka couldn’t hear, and vanished into the undergrowth with a loud, “COMING MOM!”
T'reka crept along on the same vector.
Yes! There was a colony. Humans, building structures. Humans, digging in the soil. Humans doing things that looked like things that her own people were doing on a much safer continent.
And none of them were attacking each other.
“Fascinating,” she whispered. “Co-operative effort for the group. No hostile moves.”
One human did the attack posture to another. The other returned the gesture. No battle ensued.
“We may have been wrong about their hostility levels…” Even this brief observation told her that the source material was wrong on very many levels. It told her that humans did not do all of the things, or even a scant few of the things in the warning files, all the time.
Many humans she observed were not doing anything inherently hazardous.
“I will observe them from concealment,” she decided. “This warrants further study.”
[Muse food remaining: 19 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Literally all of these are accurate for my life
Who are you and how long have you been stalking me?
WHO LET THE OP INTO MYT HEAD? FESS UP AND BE SPARED!
Challenge #00224: Tea and Scales
Ever read the Patricia Wrede’s Enchanted Forest books, starring Princess Cimorene and Kazul the Dragon?
Cimorene and Sara seem very similar people, I bet they’d get along like a house on fire. *hint hint*
[AN: more books on my to-read list. I still have yet to get through The Ocean at the End of the Lane]
“Ah, hello,” said a wall. “Would I be in trouble if I came out of hiding?”
Cimorene paused in her cooking. She was just poking at the stew to see if it needed anything, and suddenly the walls were talking to her.
No. Not quite the walls. Something very close to the walls and attempting them to use them to hide. And, since the hider was on the civil side, Cimorene was prepared to not reach for her knife. Yet. “You’d certainly be in less trouble if you remained hidden,” she offered.
Part of the wall revealed itself as a young woman with not very much in the way of clothing. She was covered in greenish-blue scales where she wasn’t covered in an awful khaki thing that hardly covered anything at all. A mop of unruly, short, brown hair made Cimorene suspect that someone had happened to her.
“Thank you,” said the green girl. “Only I faded in and there was this dragon, see…”
“Yes, that’s Kazul. I work for her.”
“Ah. Well. Generally, I’ve found that caution is advised with dragons. Thought it best to make sure.” She offered a hand. “Sara Louise Adrien, not from this dimension.”
The princess met her gesture. “Cimorene. Princess and Dragons’ assistant. You’re… not some wizard trick?”
“You expect an honest answer to that question?” said Sara. “And I’m not familiar with the burden of proof in this realm. Do you have technology here? Electricity? Computers?”
She shook her head. “Those last two words made very little sense…”
“Damn. Conceptualizing multiple realities usually goes hand-in-hand with electronica. Nevermind. For everything we can imagine, there is an equal reality where it actually happens. And the world goes on even if the story finishes.”
Cimorene thought about some of her favourite books. About what life must be like for the poor people trapped in that kind of reality. “That’s horrible.”
Sara shrugged. “To some extent, yes. For all I know, I’m the fictitious pet of some mad creature fueled entirely by theobromine. One who gets bored a lot, I imagine.”
“Sorry, but this is making my head hurt. Why are you here?”
“I was a guinea pig in a trans-dimensional experiment and none of us have been able to make it stop,” said Sahra. “I usually fade back after an hour or so. If I have everything I came in with. Which can be a bother when people mistake me for a demon, a goblin, an orc, a thief, or, in extremis, lunch.”
“Well Kazul’s fine unless you wake her from her nap.”
Sara pointed. “See? That’s why caution is advised around dragons. They’re quick to anger and humans are tasty with apple sauce.”
Cimorene boggled.
“Not personal experience. Promise. Let’s just leave it at ‘someone with authority on the matter’, shall we?”
“I’ll still pass it on to Kazul. She might laugh.”
“Nice to know there’s at least one dragon with a sense of humor…”
“You know other dragons?”
“One little one. Lockheed. He’s Kitty’s dragon. Or she’s his human, it’s not exactly that clear. Plus he’s not that coherent. Intelligent, yes. But communicative… we’re working on it.”
They had tea and a chat over the most interesting things. Sara had quite the labyrinthine chain of topic association when she got going.
And it was so nice to spend some time with someone who didn’t have an agenda.
It was almost a shame to see her go.
[Muse food remaining: 17 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00223: Wedding Jitters
Medieval AU!
Sara’s mother is thrilled to have finally arranged a marriage contract for her daughter to prestigious House Toynbee, accepted without even having the two intended meet each other. At last, her girl is going to have to behave like a proper young lady, and if not, well, she’s their problem now.
And then comes the wedding day, when the two heirs finally meet…
[AN: If you start humming the GoT theme during this, I’ll know exactly why :) ]
He was getting married tomorrow, and he had yet to meet his bride. Mortimer of House Toynbee (emblem, a mother toad with her young in her back; motto, Loyalty to brothers, poison to others) would rather much do things the way the common folk arranged it. But high blood meant high expectations, and love was something not often in the equation.
House Toynbee was army-rich, but armies needed feeding. They had managed the stopgap of hiring their armies off as mercenaries for the highest bidder, but that was starting to go bad. And in the case of marry wealth or go to war, Toynbee preferred to keep whatever passed for a shaky peace with their immediate neighbours and long-time intermittent skirmish partners, House Maximov (emblem, a purple helm; motto, We hold fast).
His elder brother Lance had wed their elder daughter Wanda on the theory that a marriage would cement an alliance. Last Mort had heard, things were just as frosty between the bride and groom as they were between the houses.
Before last year, the Toynbees hadn’t even heard of House Adrien (emblem, an open book; motto, Wit and wisdom), but thanks to a zealous messenger, a very flattering painting and a scrip containing all the information one could want to know about the Adriens… Mort found himself suddenly betrothed to a minor house with a talent for generating wealth.
Their sole daughter was bringing with her, amongst other things, a small fortune of a dowry and another small fortune of something called ‘seed money’ for her to invest.
Women handling money. It didn’t seem right.
Someone was arguing, down the long hall. Mort crept up by hiding in successive arrases so he could listen in.
“…too late to back out of it now,” screeched the harridan that was his future mother-in-law. “You’re up to your armpits in debt and that girl is your only salvation.”
“You sold me a coquette, and you’ve delivered a giraffe,” boomed his father, Frederic. “It will look ridiculous.”
“More ridiculous than Tyrion Lannister and his wife?”
“Tyrion Lannister is ridiculous on his own. He’s used to it. We have our dignity.”
“Dignity and an empty sack is worth the sack,” said the harridan.
The next arras was occupied by a tall, thin creature and a lot of moisture. They were crying. Soft, silent and above all thick tears that evidently could not be stopped.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
“…was going t’ get away,” the tall one whimpered. “It was a long enough journey just to get here, but it’s going to be four times as long going back, with her in my ear the whole way.”
His hand found hers. “No you won’t. I won’t let them send you back.” For a highborn, she had some interestingly calloused hands. He could make out an interesting weave to her hair, and dark, dark eyes set in a pale, long face. “Good day, m'lady. I am Mortimer Toynbee of house Toynbee, and I’m… your regrettable fiancee.”
“Sara Adrien of House Adrien,” she sighed. “Also regrettable.”
The tapestry thrust aside just as he was kissing her hand. The harridan, bedecked in rosy pink, held the cloth aside in one set of claws and pointed at the two of them with the other.
“Well. They have to get married now,” she shrieked in triumph.
Sara was very tall. Tall enough to be a man, but not as muscular. She wore a rather plain dress in a mottled red, reminiscent of autumn leaves. The complicated weave was the lacing of the dress. Her actual hair was caught up in a snood beneath her veil.
“You work pretty fast, boy,” said his father. “Two minutes behind a tapestry and you have to get married.”
“She was crying,” said Mort stupidly. “You never leave a girl to cry alone.”
Lady Adrien thrust the two of them out into the open. “Where is that dratted chaperone? Ruise! Roooo-eeeeeeeeeeeeeese!”
The coquette appeared. This had been the girl who sat in place of Sara while Sara was doing other things. Mort was secretly glad he wasn’t marrying her. He’d dreaded a wedded life of eternal boredom with someone who merely looked a pretty little thing.
Ruise saw Sara and gasped. “M'lady, I swear I only looked away for a minute–”
“It’s all right, dear,” Sara began.
“YOU! Not another word!”
Sara flinched and winced as the harridan set to verbally abusing the coquette, who weathered it all in stony silence. Father boggled while Mort held resolutely to his fiancee’s calloused hand.
Father shooed them out to the balcony and the sunshine.
“It’s all my fault,” Sara managed. “If only–”
He kissed her hand again, because it was closer, and said, “I would lay the blame more on your mother at this point. I will not be cruel and promise love where it doesn’t yet blossom, but I can promise you an escape from her.”
Her fingers twitched as if plucking at something. At least, the freed ones did. “If I can look at your financial documents, I can begin sorting out what’s going amiss with your family funds. I can promise stability. At least, monetary stability.”
He caressed her calluses. “You work.”
“I like to be useful. And when things are stressful… I play the harp. I’ve been playing it a lot, lately.”
Yes. She was seventeen. Old, for a virgin bride. Her mother’s anxiety for a good match must have been… incredibly stressful.
“Do you play well?”
“Some… tell me so,” Sara allowed.
It took ten minutes to interrupt Lady Jaquelline Adrien’s harangue and a further five to gain permission to listen to Lady Sara play.
But once she did… it was more than worth the wait.
“Father,” he whispered during a small break. “How much bother would it be to move the wedding up to tonight?”
[Muse food remaining: 18 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Dear Beta Readers:
If you got a little email from me detailing my need of reviews for Book 1, you really need to exdigitate. You are the peeps I am waiting on. The more mistakes y'all spot, the better the finished product is going to be.
Send those mistakes in. ASAP.
Sometimes you just need some different words (via word-stuck.tumblr.com)
I need to learn these and add them to my lexicon.
(via i-was-promised-the-stars)