geekhyena asked: Loving O'Ranges SO MUCH! :3
So am I.
He’s an almost 7’ tall, huge, muscular, part wolf… utter MARSHMALLOW.
In my head, he wears parachute pants and some variety of X-chest bandolier-pocket thing with his towel-cape. And he may be one of those people the other cogniscents of the Galactic Alliance just write the rules around.
eg: “If the honoured Ambassador O’Ranges is happy being HitcherWolf, then we’re letting him be HitchWolf. Yes, even at trade negotiations.”
Challenge #00441 - A066: Going With What Works
They shouldn’t’ve been surprised that there were neurodivergent Uplifted on Nufurria.
(Can we please see an Uplifted sentient on the autistic spectrum? Because neurodiversity occurs in nonhuman species as well (ie, not trying for unfortunate implications here, but rather, any animal with the underpinnings of sentience is capable of the diversity of neural wiring experienced by humans))
O’Ranges wasn’t much for words. He seemed to piece together what was happening from the world around him and worked on a set of pre-written instructions like there was a manual in his head.
And whenever he was upset - which was a lot - repetitive games like Tetris helped him to calm down.
O’Ranges was sensitive to noise. Huggy to the extreme point of having a ludicrously huge stuffed bear in nauseous purple to keep him company whenever Aelki needed to do anything at all.
He had separation anxiety, obviously. Security issues in general. A love of patterns and regularity in day-to-day life that extended right down to what sort of meals he had on which days. When he spoke, his inflections were very hard to hear.
And, for a creature bound for the arena, he was literally the biggest softie in the known universe. He wouldn’t harm a fly. He certainly cried for his fleas as Aelki combed special formulas through his thick fur to get rid of them.
"They drink your blood," she explained again and again and again. With each treatment. "And you need your blood for you. Doesn’t it feel better to have them out and not itch any more?"
"Poor fleas," O’Ranges whined. "Smells."
"Do you want itches, or smells?"
And O’Ranges would pout about that for the rest of the day.
On one hand, the Cogniscent Rights Committee would get a fire under their collective asses about maltreatment of the neurodiverse. On the other hand, it was going to make the next Ambassadorial meet extremely interesting, to say the least. And she’d be his assistant/helper, for her sins.
Hitchhikers always found one form of rest or another. She’d hoped for the kind with a nice plot under an alien sky… but her kind heart had found the more rewarding form of permanence.
Maybe if she treated O’Ranges with a scent-nullifyer, afterwards. And then let him pick how he wanted to smell. Out of a range of relatively inoffensive scents, of course. Aelki was fairly certain that nobody would want to sit near the Ambassador who smelled of old meat and fresh dung.
She’d clothed him properly in comfortable pants (with egress for his tail) and whatever variety of top she could find to fit his bulk. Yet he insisted on wearing the Big Towel like a superhero’s cape. And in his play-mutterings, he styled himself as HitcherWolf. The hitch-hiking hero and rescuer of the downtrodden and forgotten. Just like his new human.
Aelki had traded an outlandish story for weighted cape fasteners, just to preserve what there was of his tops. And she dreaded the day that she’d convince him that Ambassador O’Ranges was HitcherWolf’s secret identity. It would either get out of hand or get upsetting for her poor, big, little pup.
And it would be happening, soon.
She almost had enough to get them the hell off Nufurria.
[Muse food remaining: 57. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
When a British teacher asks you to do something, sometimes it leads to adventures!
Let’s go adventuring!
Oooh! I like adventure! I wonder how this will turn out in the training?
Well, it just hit Australia in three reblogs
Why Matter Master David Doesn’t Wear Fedoras In Walter Manor
Matt manages to somehow plate it in metal in an attempt to make a new type of cymbal.
[prompt given by i-clash-with-everything]
Today was a rehearsal day, and Michael, Steve, and Matt came over early to help set up the rehearsal room and get the robots all ready for the long day of song programming and re-running they’d be having. Walter Girls Paige and Carolina also stepped in just in case the bots would be having any breakdowns, and I tagged along just in case.
As a joke, I wore a metallic fedora for the occasion!
A gentle reminder to only play hats made by professional instrument-makers :3
Geode Knitting Pattern
This is attempts number two and three at a knitted geode. I would love to spend more time on these, making wonkier shapes, more colour options, just plain bigger versions. At the moment I’d be quite happy to spend the entire year knitting rocks, I’m not sure that the website would keep getting hits if I did though…
Q’d 4 MeMum
Challenge #00439 - A065: Power
You must have a very interesting will.
If by “will” you mean “elaborate post-mortem interactive treasure map on my spare hard drive”, then yes. — RecklessPrudence
"Good Morning!" Mary cheered.
The man who bought her to ‘make his life better’ moaned and turned over in bed.
She no longer had functioning hands to rip the covers off him. Just virtual representations of the hands she used to create art with. So she turned off the heater in his bed, and turned on the chiller. Then she ramped up her volume and got close to his ear. “WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BACIE!”
The got results. Call-me-master-dammit stumbled towards the ablution chamber and growled, “Eggs and bac’n err’y mornin’?”
"A plentiful portion of protein promotes progress pointing to your prime," she chirped. She was enjoying this a little too much for her health. "Today’s word is ‘will’, the power of choosing one’s own actions, or a purpose and determination. Use it in a sentence and you may have a sweetie."
He took a shower straight after flushing the commode. At least she’d taught him to flush immediately, instead of waiting for the miasma to get offensive to do so.
Clean and deodorised, he shuffled into clean clothes and glared at her. “You must have a very interesting will,” he said.
The gum ball dispenser filled with his favourite indulgence dinged and dispensed a single, plastic-coated sphere. “If by ‘will’, you mean ‘elaborate post-mortem interactive treasure map on my spare hard drive’, then, yes. It’s very interesting indeed. Breakfast first!”
He shoved the bacon and eggs inside his maw with one hand - eating utensils were still a bone of contention - and had enough time to stuff most of it into his cheeks before he realised what she’d just said. “D’joo jush shay ‘tweshur map’?”
"Don’t talk with your mouth full."
Watching him gag down a mouth full of breakfast was her daily entertainment. “Did you just say ‘treasure map’?”
"Indeed I did."
"F’r real treasure."
"Like, gold and stuff."
"None o’ that ‘the treasure was friendship bullshit from them movies y’ make me watch?"
"None at all."
"Sadly, I need upgrades to do that. Which means you need to earn a promotion. Which means looking good. Which, of course, means exercise. Chin-ups. Ten. Soon as you can."
He growled and grumbled, but there was treasure in it for him, so he obeyed.
This man was shockingly easy to manipulate.
[Muse food remaining: 58. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Why Matter Master David Doesn’t Wear Fedoras In Walter Manor
today walter boy sam “accidently” spilled oil all over my fedora
[prompt given by ectobreath]
Walter Guy Sam and I did a lot of work in the lab today. It was mostly cleaning of tools, organizing of parts, and other dirty work that had to be done by somebody.
This process also involved refilling oil cans, and I suppose I shouldn’t have picked a light colour for my fedora today…
See also: reasons why only the robots wear hats in Walter Manor…
I saw your answer to an ask about the fic series you’re writing and I can see where you’re coming from, but the thing that makes me uncomfortable is the idea that rabbit just sort of has to deal with that dysphoria for like 100 years? Even tho peter’s eventually going to stop being a dick about it I’m pretty sure the regenderation change only canonically happened in the past few months of this year, so the only way I can imagine this playing out is rabbit having to be misgendered by everyone outside of her immediate family for decades and I’m not comfortable with that thought. I believe you could find this to be a critique, because I still appreciate that you started writing it for me, and you’re very good at writing, but what I said is definitely a problem for me [sorry about submitting this, I didn’t want to cut it up into separate asks]
Yeah, I know. It’s incredibly sad. But then, SPG lore is an incredibly sad fandom. We fill in the blanks with the most heart-wrenching stuff and then ask each other why we’d do that.
It’s a problem for me, too, since I dearly want Rabbit to be happier with herself. Alas, history says otherwise.
I may write an AU in which Rabbit gets to transition in Pappy’s time. Just to cleanse my emotional palette.