July 31, 2014

Challenge #00581 - A206: At the Other End of a Tunnel Through Snornia

(( You did say to stop the promptspam when you hit like 70, I think the plan was to try and keep things at a steady level of around 20 instead of spamming all at once and then waiting for things to drop off ))

Prompt: Hatchworth and Fluttershy in Equestria

[AN: The amount of prompts is an ongoing problem. Too many and my readers get bored waiting for any of theirs to turn up. Too few and I start fretting about having enough prompts. ANY clue for a nice stable number would be nice.]

Hatchworth had initially been in Kazooland to visit Upgrade in Snornia. Only to find that the pink dragon-robot-princess was hibernating in order to accelerate her transformation.

He’d left her some more plastic costume jewellery [pink, of course] and went exploring.

And promptly got lost.

*

Fluttershy turned back to reassure Spike, having marvelled at seeing Peewee the baby Phoenix take wing and rejoin his family.

Her comforting words died in her throat when she realised that there was a third… individual… in the clearing.

It stood tall, on two legs like Discord. And it seemed to be made almost entirely out of bronze. It steamed. And ticked.

And smiled.

"Oh…" it murmured. "That was beau-ti-ful."

Spike said, “What the heck are *you*?”

It raised a red-and-black gloved hand to tip its entire head to them. “My name’s Hatch-worth. I am  one of Colo-nel Wal-ter’s Steam Po-wered Au-ton-o-mous Au-tom-a-tons.” He leaned down to murmur, “I’m in the band, now.”

"Oh my goodness," said Fluttershy.

He grinned at her. “Hel-lo, ma’am,” another tip of his head. “May I ex-plore here? This land looks like so much fun.”

*

It was later. Mayhem had evidently ensued in the form of sandwiches over every level surface. And spiders.

There was a sobbing bronze automaton in the middle of it.

"There, there," cooed Fluttershy. "It’s all right…"

"…i only wanted to help…" bawled Hatchworth.

Twilight Sparkle vented a noise somewhere between a sigh and a howl to the heavens that life was unfair. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said. “It’s just that lots of ponies don’t like spiders like you do. And maybe every pony would be happier - including the spiders - if all the spiders went… somewhere… else?”

Only Discord thought this was hilarious. They were all still working on his sense of humour.

A steam-filled sigh. “Nobody liked spiders like I do,” he pouted. Then pulled a mandolin and started playing a catchy little tune.

It was like watching Pinkie Pie round up all the Parasprites. The spiders just… danced their way back into the machine’s hatch.

And when he was done singing the Tickly Spider Dance… he put away the mandolin and firmly closed his hatch. “My sand-wich-es are still de-lic-ious.”

"…celestia help me…" Twilight groaned.

"Of course they are!" Pinkie Pie bounced into the scene. "I’ve got everything I need to hold the biggest, bestest sandwich party for the whole town!"

"Yaaaaay!" Hatchworth cheered.

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July 31, 2014   66,950 notes

(Source: fellowes, via meefling)

July 30, 2014   65,589 notes

figsandtea:

niiicethings:

“Noun is a playful artist’s book about words and their definitions. It is like an exquisite corpse with words.

Starting with 27 real English words, each word and its definition has been divided into two parts. By turning the pages, you get to mix and match the word halves to create humorous and nonsensical new words and meanings.

With over 700 different combinations, this book is the perfect item for bibiophiles, lexicographers, writers, and any lover of words.

Here are a few examples of words and definitions you can put together:

whisper + umbrella = whisbrella: A low sibilan utterance for sheltering one from rain and sun.
banana + onomatopoeia = bananpoeia: A large herbaceous perennial tropical plant that bears fruit imitating the sound of the thing or action signified.
muffin + tyrant = muffrant: A quick bread made of batter unrestrained by law or constitution.
nomenclature + ancestry = nomencestry: A system or set of names for things derived from, or possessed by, an ancestor or ancestors.”

I’M SORRY BUT 

muffin + tyrant = muffrant: A quick bread made of batter unrestrained by law or constitution.

THIS IS THE PINNACLE OF HUMAN INNOVATION ALL OTHER PLAYERS GO HOME.

I want it yesterday.

(via mahanawhonahan)

July 30, 2014   13 notes

Challenge #00580 - A205: Hug-a-bunch

Thomas’s very first run in with The Spine’s sleepy stranglehold

Somewhere in San Diego, there is a mansion with no doors. Well. Technically, it has two, but they’re in nonstandard locations. Theoretically, there is absolutely nothing to stop friend or foe from just wandering in and doing what they pleased.

That is, until you know what Walter Manor contains.

Thomas, a sleek silver robot made in the 1990’s, had no idea what he was getting into when he wandered inside the gothic edifice to surprise the silver robot made in the 1890’s. Better known to all as The Spine.

Almost immediately, he found a conga party containing, amongst other outlandish impossibilities, a monster, a small metal giraffe, and some… thing… with black-and-white markings and impossible eyelashes.

Rabbit was in the lead.

"Hey hey it’s c-c-c-c-captain sparkle pants!"

"Er," said the French robot. "Où est la Spine?"

"He just had a tune-up," Rabbit sang, dancing to the rhythm. "He’s nap-pin’ in the li-b’ry."

"Merci," Thomas moved away from the impromptu party, but not before someone - or something - added a sombrero to his polished head.

It was telling that he was getting used to these levels of nonsense.

The library, like everything else in Walter Manor, was immense. A time and space-bending labyrinth of shelves, reading nooks and… yes!

One slumbering The Spine draped quasi-artistically across a chaise lounge.

Sparkling and looking good as new.

Thomas nudged him. “Mon antique…” he cooed. “Surpristé…”

The Spine mumbled something unintelligible, but did not rise from his stupor.

Evidently, the Walter technicians had rearranged his workings and, metaphorically speaking, taken a lot out of him. Thomas moved some lanky kegs out of his way and sat beside him.

Then he made the mistake of draping The sleeping Spine’s arm across his shoulders.

"Mnnnnff…" The Spine complained and dragged Thomas wholesale into a tight and slightly uncomfortable embrace.

An also unbreakable embrace.

An inescapable embrace.

"Dieu…" Thomas muttered. The sombrero fell to the floor. He supposed it was only a matter of time before someone checked in on them.

Any minute, now. Someone would come in and press a few buttons.

Any minute…. now.

*

Hours had passed. The only thing that had happened so far was  The Spine shifting himself about to get more comfortable. But not to make Thomas more comfortable.

Thomas drummed his fingers against The Spine’s encompassing and immobile arm. “Anybody?” he tried once more. “M’aidez?”

"Sweet! Free sombrero!"

It was the little yarn doppelgänger of Steve Negrete, part-time Dragon.

"Aide, peu Steve, je suis pris au piège!"

"Sorry, dude. No parlay Frenchie." The yarn doll got himself under the sombrero and scurried away with it.

Thomas sighed and went back to drumming his fingers.

Worst. Date. Ever.

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July 29, 2014   9 notes

Challenge #00579 - A204: Imp-ossible Lover

Sorry, it’s just too cute

http://ofools.tumblr.com/post/88653271705/a-mass-photoset-for-all-your-giant-demon-bf-and

Sometimes, G’xyf’l did not know what was wrong with him. Maybe he’d been on Earth too long. Maybe seeing what humans could do in comparison to demonic lack of imagination had jaded him to the usual temptations.

Either way, he found himself looking off a bridge at the rocky canyon below and not thinking of anything very much, at all.

Then She walked into his life and said, “Long way down.”

"Yeah." Not that it would do anything but temporarily inconvenience him. She didn’t know that. He had his glamour on and looked like a slightly huge businessman with salt-and-pepper hair and matching beard.

"Take a header into that lot, it’s certain death," she said conversationally. Also propping herself up on the railing. She had a rubenesque figure that was sadly out of fashion according to the modern standards.

G’xyf’l could just kick some other demons for encouraging the invention of fashion and body standards.

"Yup," he agreed.

"I wonder if it’s true," she said.

"What?"

"That jumpers figure out the solution to all their problems on the way down." A sigh that spoke of a life of sorrow. "Well. Let’s find out." And she leaped over the railing.

From a standing start.

There was no time. He broke the rules in more than a hundred ways and summoned a Miracle. It was a camouflaged net under the bridge to catch jumpers like herself.

"GOD DAMNIT!"

Oh. Great. She was alive.

"Are you okay?" He clambered over the railing to join her in the netting. "You just went right over and—"

"You’re red. You’ve got a TAIL.”

"Yeah, there’s a little bit of Huldre on my mothers side and—" his brain finally caught up. "CRAP! I let my glamour fade. Look, it’s okay. Demons are just angels that said ‘screw the rules’ right? Does it really matter who does the miracle? And…. well… free will and temptation and… I didn’t want you to die."

She had apparently calmed down. “You must be shitty at your job.”

"No kidding. I’m about to be demoted to Imp."

"A seven-foot-tall imp?"

"Yeah. If this little stunt doesn’t get me exiled.”

"Demons get kicked out of Hell?"

"Where do you think Rush Limbaugh came from?"

She laughed. A real, genuine belly-laugh that bought light to the world. Oh yeah. He was in trouble. And in love. Which was worse for a demon, in the eyes of the upper-class. “Thanks,” she said, crawling closer across the netting. “That’s the first real laugh I’ve had in five years.”

And she kissed him.

To Hell with Hell, he thought. I like it right here.

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July 29, 2014   203,612 notes

yiffkirigiri:

if i mutually follow you it’s a free pass to talk to me whenever you want 

you can literally just send me an ask saying “piss” 10 times

(via steampowered-shenanigans)

July 28, 2014   1 note

Challenge #00578 - A203: You Swallowed What?

As one of the tech review magazines said a few years ago when the first 32 GB micro SD cards came out, “At last it is possible for a single human being to accidentally swallow all of the data collected by the Apollo Program.”

"This is it?" Shayde held aloft a crystal with a metal disk on one end. "All’o the survivin’ media from the twentieth century?"

"And some derivative works, yes," said Rael. "That’s hyper-compressed crystal memory storage. It would take you years to read and view all of it."

"And this bit’s the interface port?" An ebon talon tapped the metal disk.

"Ah… no. That’s the Palmecki Preventer."

"Ye woh?"

"Ensign Palmecki gained galactic infamy when, in order to protect what he believed to be sensitive information, he swallowed a data-crystal containing five hundred quadrillobytes of collected fan fiction and choked to death."

"Ah. Right. Bit of a nong, was ‘e?"

Once again, Shayde’s vocabulary confused and disoriented. “…probably,” Rael allowed.

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July 28, 2014   214 notes
pirateprincess23:

to quote my brother—“Majestic Dumbass”
haha so majestic hatchy centaur

pirateprincess23:

to quote my brother—“Majestic Dumbass”

haha so majestic hatchy centaur

(via spacemuffinz)

July 27, 2014

Amalgam Answers

So most of Earth is category 4, Australia is category 5, the UK must be something like category 2. There is literally nothing deadly here and the worst we have is stinging nettles and sometimes horseflies.

What would actually constitute a category 1 or less, or a non-deathworld? All I can think of would be an entire world of primary producers but there are established predators in Amalgamverse…

Deathworld categories are judged entirely on the surface inhabited by the dominant cogniscent life form.

Since humans make their homes near volcanic cauldera and in known tornado hotspots, Earth ranks a total of 3.8, and most of that is because of Australia.

They also count lifeforms that are hazardous and toxic to the dominant cogniscent life form.

Category One deathworlds mostly have hazardous seasons [for example, killing winters or killing summers, tornadoes, cyclones or flooding monsoons] or a pernicious species that is known to be hazardous or toxic.

Species from Category Five deathworlds are generally avoided [if they survive to make it into space]. Oddly enough, humans are one of the few species who can stop them in their tracks.

Non-deathworlds, by comparison, have stable and sensible food chains and hardly any naturally toxic life forms. Those that are toxic are mildly so, in the order of discouraging a potential attacker from attacking again. The life forms from these worlds are generally far more fragile than deathworlder stock.

Exposure to deathworlders - even careful ones - is enough to sympathetically toughen up non-deathworlder species. Most cogniscents see this as an advantage and court tourists from gradually incremental deathworlds.

July 27, 2014

AFK

I’m off adventuring.

Wish me luck.

And buy my stories. That would be nice of you.