Somebody stop me drawing these guys already
“Mr. Reed? It happened again…”
I’m pretty sure The Spine’s voice must register a 7-9 on the Richter Scale.
…
10 on the lowest notes.
For some reason, I want to do this now :)
Boiler Boobs!
*SHRILL FANGIRL SCREAMING*
the screws are awesome!
looking good ;)
How can you be this adorable?
(via nilasjunkart)
ok blog for the babies let’s see how long this takes to crash and burn
I have half a filk to the tune of _Look at my Horse_…
Pete I: Look at my kids, my kids are amazing. Rabbit, don’t lick!
Rabbit: Oooh! They taste like raisins
…and somehow it ends in a water tank catching fire.
Take it, someone
(Source: cosmignon, via spgworld-blog)
 | "Photographic Memories PROTOTYPE" by David Michael Bennett |
Here. Take my heart. It’s a bit broken, but I clearly don’t need it any more. ::slinks off to cry in a corner while listening to this ten bajillion times:: (via nilasjunkart) | |
everyone please draw the spine finding a tiny baby horsie owl
I can’t draw, but I can write.
Stand back - there may be feels.
*
After the dark and stormy night was the bright and wreckage-strewn morning. In the absence of the usual automated systems - knocked out by the city-wide blackout - the robots were the ones doing the heavy lifting.
Mostly doing the heavy lifting, anyway. Rabbit and Hatchworth were erroneously attempting to build a treehouse out of real trees. The Spine didn’t have the heart to tell them they were really building an inexpertly thatched hut. Not yet.
He’d let it go until something or someone caught fire.
The Spine lifted yet another branch and balanced it on his shoulder, but he didn’t take it to the shredder, because something small fell out of it.
Something small, pale, fluffy and wriggling.
Hardly wriggling at that.
The Spine bought up his emergency medical database and, fighting down the flashbacks from the wars accessed the veterinary data on avians. This specimen was a hatchling. Species - owl. It would need to be warm and secure.
The Spine scooped up the tiny fluff-ball in his other hand. Cradled it against his chest, where he was the warmest.
“Stay strong, little fella,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
*
Mixing up the special blend of baby owl food had been… gross… At least he’d had the sense to use a blender (after checking five times that Rabbit wasn’t around) for it, but handling all the raw materials was something he’d rather forget.
And he would tell Rabbit, later, about what happened to her third-best feather boa. And explain to Pete VI about why he’d suddenly needed so many socks. Or a calibratable infra-red lamp.
At least the cardboard box, in which the improvised nest and the little owl sat, was unclaimed by anyone for anything special. He’d set the whole thing up in the high, safe places of the Hall of Wires, where Marshmallow could never reach. There, he carefully fed the owlet with a pipette - yet another tool he’d appropriated and steam cleaned - and cooed encouragingly to the ravenous little creature.
He felt a warmth inside him that could not be traced physically. Love? He didn’t know. “You’re going to need a name, little fella.”
The owlet, annoyed that food was currently not forthcoming, let out a screech that was almost like a whinny.
The Spine smiled and fed him more food. “All right, pard'ner. Your name is Horsey. Good Horsey.”
Horsey the owl was just happy to gulp down blended mouse bits.
I’M FINALLY DONE.
You can read more about it on the DA Page.
I made this 11.7”x17” at 300 dpi so this could actually be posters. I might do a giveaway someday.
i would so buy this as a poster
Rabbit has a sad look somehow :/
Of course Rabbit’s sad. Look closer. She’s wearing the uniform of a paratrooper.
They drop her out of airplanes at the enemy.
Very possibly not factoring in the extra weight of her mechanical body and giving her a standard parachute.
So every mission comes along with the risk of breaking her.
They drop her out of an airplane with a standard parachute and expect her to fire on people as she goes down, because there’s a high probability of her breaking to bits when she finally lands.
And she knew this.
That’s why they couldn’t get her to look happy for the recruitment poster.
She’s essentially free-falling ordinance. With a high probability of shrapnel.
You can NOT be happy about being that.
(via nilasjunkart)
Random Steam Powered Giraffe headcannon
The robots are not anatomically correct.
[IMO this allows them to love more purely]
by | |
Quick. Everyone reblog this with eargasm reaction pix (via nilasjunkart) | |
etnequaquamultrainterficietur:
Broken leg or not… have reputation to keep!
Very determined kitty
cat’s like…”We. Do not. CLOSE DOORS. In this house”
If a kitten with a cast can squeeze *under* a door, Marshmallow can get around Walter Mansion, no problems.
(Source: bored-no-more, via carpet-bags-and-flying-bunn-blog)
I swear, one of these days I’m going to show up to the zoo with a pair of pruning shears and get those stupid bushes under control.
Wow, 160 notes on my silly post about bushes? Oh right, it’s not about the bushes.
Bunny has extremely rebloggable legs.
Mmmm. Mmm. Mmm. Love those new pants.
Just gonna leave this here for everyone that hates them. Every pelvic thrust and hip gyration is me thinking of you and taunting you.
Try and get them off me.This post is still going around? And it just hit 1,900 notes? I’d say I was surprised, but…you know. I’m not. Everyone loves posts about bushes.
bushes :D
Headcannon: Shrubbery adores Rabbit’s legs and accidentally keeps photobombing her.
(via bee-whistler)