Challenge #01024-B292: Don't Let Them Breed
Sara versus Sherlock. Truly a nightmare for Lestrade.
Challenge #00979-B248: One Crowded Hour in a BBC Studio
First forum prompt! Yay!
Request by melovu-longtime. I actually finished the gear painting so I get a treat… drawing some fun fan art… before I go on to try and render a nest full of shinies. I kept it simple because my tablet has been lagging pretty badly.
You didn’t specify how you wanted Rabbit to play with Beemo, so my take is that she and the others got separated when they wandered into a snowy region (Ice King asks whether Rabbit is a princess. She says ya better believe it. He tries something, she melts his palace) and she found this little house after seeing a whole bunch of people made out of candy. So she casually breaks in and sees a weird looking console with just a joystick fer cryin’ out loud and makes herself at home playing it.
Beemo thinks Rabbit is now his girlfriend. She likes him but still hasn’t forgotten the toaster incident…
Bee knows what I want. Yaaas.
WHOO success! Y’know, now that I read it over, it makes me think of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, only Rabbit in the land of Ooo would be like Goldilocks on a catastrophic scale… She melts the Ice King’s palace, she licks the candy people, she plays Beemo until he maxes out his top level and shorts out (oh, that just sounded filthy). That sofa’s gonna break next and Finn will come home to find his swords bent and his sleeping bag popped at the seams. And Rabbit curled up in stasis in Jake’s box.
Once upon a time in the magical land of Ooo…
“Stoopid b-b-brothers an’ their d-detachable heads, why I aughta…” Rabbit kicked a penguin as she stomped through the snow. The only bright side was that there was plenty of water for her boiler.
The downside was that she tended to sink to ground level. And the snow here was deep in most places.
As a direct result, Rabbit marched through the Ice Kingdom via a rabbit-shaped tunnel of her own making. Well, sort of queued, really. She did have to wait for the snow and ice ahead of her to melt from the heat of her boiler.
And to top it all off, she had to melt her way around a really big rock. This was so not fair. Standing around with only ice and granite to stare at while her stupid brothers and their stupid detachable heads got to have a stupid adventure in a stupid cave without her. At least there weren’t any snow-piranhas.
The space above her head increased as she queued her way around the gigantic rock. Rabbit ignored it. This was stupid and boring and it would serve her ro-bros right if they needed a flamethrower and didn’t have it because she wasn’t stupid there.
Stupid caves.
Who needed them? She could make her own in the stupid ice.
Rabbit was almost back on to the invisible track she had plotted for herself when -surprise, surprise- there was another stupid big stupid rock in her way.
This was beyond enough. She screamed fire at the damned rock and cussed at it with words she had saved up through thousands of years and uncountable wars. And it made it worse that all that that did for her was make more water and an ominous cracking noise overhead.
Uh oh…
Someone screamed as they fell. Rabbit caught them, of course, because some programming lasts beyond lifetimes. There was blue. And a lot of hair. And a crown. COOL!
“Who put that cavern there?” demanded the man.
“Y-y-y-you okay, m-m-mis-mister?”
He appeared to notice her. “Wow. You’re really hot.” A sharp-toothed grin. “And beautiful, too.”
Rabbit grinned back. Even with last century’s wig, she was pretty darn awesome. “Flat-t-t-tery might g-g-g-get you everywhe-where.”
“Are you a princess?” said the strange dude. “Please be a princess?”
“P-p-p-please. I have been a q-q-q-queen.”
And that was just where the trouble began.
When Hatchworth and The Spine finally caught up with her, Rabbit had melted the Ice King’s mountain fortress, and half of the Ice Kingdom, licked every last citizen of the Candy Kingdom and devoured the best part of three houses and a toffee car, destroyed the hearing of most of Ooo by jamming with Marceline and finally began a very interesting love affair with Beemo.
“B-B-BEST. QUINCEÑERA. EVER!“
“I knew it was a bad idea to leave you to your own devices,” sighed The Spine as he dragged her away.
(Source: bee-whistler, via seaofdreams-moved)
Challenge #00903-B172: One Thing in Common
Francoeur and Sweetie Belle
Her big sister had a really big visitor. He was immense enough to make a full-grown dragon wary. All black and sharp spikes and luminous red eyes…
…and a gentle, almost foal-like way of investigating the world with all four hands.
Sweetie Belle thought she was well-hidden until he offered her a rose and cooed, “…joli petit poney…”
“Oh, don’t be frightened, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity singsonged. “Francoeur is as gentle as a lamb. More gentle than a lamb, really… um. More like… gentler than Fluttershy.”
Sweetie came out of hiding. “That’s possible?”
Three hands started playing with her mane. Francoeur cooed and chittered, but he seemed happy.
Sweetie started humming a little tune that seemed to go with his melody. Which made the monster-sized creature sing along with her.
Words came out of him that she couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. They had the music between them. It was all that they needed.
Francoeur never spoke much. He preferred melody. And when he got his hands on a guitar… she could see why. Or rather, hear why.
The guitar spoke more eloquently than he ever could.
[Muse food remaining: 13. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00901-B170: Strange Creatures
Alternate universe prompt: The X - Mares
[AN: Of course I instantly thought of MLP:FiM]
Things went very quickly bad when the entirety of Ponyville discovered that Fluttershy’s strange friend was stranger than they had believed possible.
His glowing eyes almost bugged out of his head. He smiled with sharp, sharp teeth. He vanished in a puff of sulphur. He didn’t have hooves. He had paws. And his tail… was more like a dragon’s than a pony’s.
And everywhere he ran, he caused panic. Running and screaming. Most of it away from him. He bounced off things like Pinkie Pie. But he was not as fast as Rainbow Dash.
Not… all the time.
He was half-concussed when Applejack finally lassoed him. And… crying?
Fluttershy couldn’t be heard about the many voices raised in fear and anger. Things were looking very bad for the monster in their midst.
_Stop!_
It was a command obeyed by muscle more than mind. Nightcrawler squirmed in his rope prison like his insect namesake before the pony responsible appeared. He was a unicorn, and his hindquarters were supported by a wheeled device. “There’s no need for violence,” soothed the bald stranger. “Nightcrawler is more scared of you than you are of him.”
“Thank you,” breathed Fluttershy. The only one besides Nightcrawler who still had the power to move. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell everyone since this mess started.“
Nightcrawler, meanwhile, struggled free of his bonds. “Dankeschoen…” he tried to hide where he was standing and failed immensely. “If I may ask… who are you?”
“My students,” he nodded towards the ponies on either side of him, “Call me Professor X. Phoenix, Cyclops, Icemare, Beast and Wolverine… all call themselves the X-mares.” A quirk of a smile. “I find it a little ridiculous, but they do have a snappy turn of phrase.”
Nightcrawler couldn’t help but notice that almost all of these ponies looked… normal.
“I can teach you how to use your gifts, Nightcrawler. How to make them your own.”
“Would you teach me… to be normal?”
“That’s… a little beyond my abilities.”
“Good,” said Nightcrawler. “I’ve seen what normal can do in bad circumstances. I’d much rather be all me.”
That earned him big grins from the X-mares.
“Will he be safe?” asked Fluttershy.
“I can’t promise safety, either,” said Professor X. “I can promise that he will be well-prepared for danger.”
“It… seems to find us,” allowed Cyclops.
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00565 - A190: One Fine Evening in a Festival of Masques
A duet between Francouer and The Spine.
On the plus side, the makeup was working. On the minus side, everyone was giving him the stink-eye because he’d decided to test it during an extended costume party all over Paris.
The Spine considered it a point of merit that he had to buy a cheap mask…
Challenge #00795-B064: Come to Scenic Gravity Falls
Mabel Pines and Francouer.
(if you don’t watch Gravity Falls a. Do it and b. this is now a free prompt day)
[AN: I do watch, I’m just not into the decoding stuff because I’m daft. I let everyone else do that.]
“I’ll show you all! I’ll summon a monster from ages past to destroy you all! Destroy you all! Destroy you all! Destroy you all!”
“Uh…” said Dipper. “Was it necessary to say it that many times?” And then he threw the onion.
It bounced with the kind of precision he’d learned trying to win that dumb duck thing and Wendy’s heart. It had to be precisely timed to the second, so as to cut off his last word.
The villain du jour did his obligatory scoff while Dipper pretended that it had gone wrong… and proceeded to perform his ritual while the onion continued to careen around the room.
Just as the lights flared from his chalk circle, and he uttered the words, “…a giant—” the onion hit him and knocked him out cold.
It would have been fine if it wasn’t for Mabel.
She swung through the spell circle on that dumb grappling hook of hers and said, “FLEE for your lives from Pirate Captain Mabel, aaaaarrrr…”
There wasn’t a facepalm big enough.
Smoke fountained up. The spell was complete.
And in the middle of the altar was… a nine foot tall… man? In a zoot suit and a mask? Holding a guitar.
"Brrrp?” he said. Then he said, “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” in an amazingly high voice.
Dipper vented a noise of anguish. “Mabel. What did you DO?”
“I was saving the day,” said Mabel, she’d put a bedazzled skull and crossbones on her medical eyepatch. “You’re welcome.”
“…ou est Lucille?” asked the giant.
Mabel came over all giggles. “Ooo, par-lay voo France-says mon sewer…”
Querying chitters. “…c’est n’est pas Français…”
Giggle giggle giggle giggle flirt. “You could talk to me all day… PLEASE DO!”
Dipper rolled his eyes as he got out the black light. “Well, in order to send him back to where he came from, we have to defeat him with his own skill. Uh. Okay. Show us what you got, big guy.”
Coos of glee as the giant picked up an abandoned guitar and doffed his coat.
He had four arms.
Oh. Giant flea. Of course. Mabel had completed the spell.
And damn, but he was good at guitar. And a very good singer. Mabel was practically floating on a cloud of cartoon hearts by the time he was done.
“Great, this is impossible.”
*
His name was Francoeur, and he didn’t talk much, which Grunkle Stan appreciated. He was also becoming a fast draw for the Mystery Shack, which Granule Stan loved.
Every guitarist for miles around would come, take a tour, and then pony up the fifty bucks to try and defeat the insectoid master of the guitar.
Mabel, Candy and Grenda had swooning seats in the front row, but none of them had an impact on Francoeur.
Then the steam-powered stranger came.
Dipper didn’t know who she was fooling with that fake moustache, but everyone else seemed to go with it and call her ‘sir’ and act like ordering hot water and machine oil at the diner was an everyday happenstance. She spoke with a stutter and made machine noises in her absent moments. And, were it not for the verdigris copper of her skin and the red stripes in her outfit, she could have easily passed for one of Gravity Falls elder goths.
She, too, took the tour and paid the fifty bucks to go on the stage against Francoeur. That was when she took off her moustache and announced, “My name is Rabbit, and I was b-b-built back in eighteen ninety six. Y-y-you know, when it was sti-still illegal for women to read, and all the men dressed like Mister Peanut.”
“What’s going on?” wailed Mabel.
“…music history,” whispered Robbie. He immediately started recording on his phone.
Rabbit brought out a Keytar and plugged it in to a speaker. “Sorry, Honeybee. I g-g-gotta defeat ya ‘cause of all them wonderful years in Paris.”
Francoeur merely cooed agreement and tipped his hat.
And then they Played. Not against each other, but together. Tunes and harmony so excellent that there was not a dry eye in the house. And with a spectacular light show and a fizzle of steam, Francoeur was gone.
Rabbit sighed and whispered, “So long, Honeybee…” There was a fresh trail of oily tears down her copper cheeks. “We always did make b-b-b-beautiful music together…”
Robbie spent the rest of that night info-dumping about Colonel Walter’s steam-powered automatons and their incredibly lengthy history as musical machines. But Rabbit left without any trace. Not even an oil spot.
[Muse food remaining: 16. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Still in South Park
Kurt and Todd, still in South Park. The “184th” line has pretty much become their soundtrack. Todd is rolling with the weirdness, but Kurt is nearing a breakdown (shot at by Jimbo and Ned, witnessing Kenny die multiple times, constantly stalked by geneticist Dr, Mephisto). They’re walking down the street discussing this, when they see Jesus and Satan at a cafe having coffee. Cue freak-out.
(#00787 - B056)
“…so hungry…”
“Yo, hungry’s your default state, Fuzzy.”
“It takes calories to teleport, freund. And I’ve needed to teleport a lot.”
“Speakin’ of. Shotgun nutso’s, eight o'clock.”
Kurt leaped before the distant, “IT’S COMIN’ RIGHT FOR US!” could echo against the buildings, and was out of sight before they could get a bead.
Todd had taken a very long time to figure out why Fuzzy was so great at dodging people with guns. Now that he had it confirmed, he felt compelled to take Fuzzy’s side.
Thus, he crossed the street with his fists primed and his het up. “Whassa problem wit’ y'all? Why you gotta shoot at my friend? Y'r assholes, you know that?”
Ned raised his device to his throat. “Nnnnn… we’re-just-trying-to-make-a-living.”
“Son, we’re running a very important local cable show and your pet is the hundred and eighty-fourth weirdest thing in South Park.”
“Nnnnn… He’s-on-our-list.”
“He’s not an animal, yo! He’s a human being!”
“Well he sure as shit don’t look like one,” retorted Jimbo.
Todd sighed. He was getting really sick of these lunatics taking pot-shots at the closest thing he had to a friend on this crazy journey. “Look. I don’t want you killin’ my friend, awright? Y'all never done catch and release?”
“Nnnnn… That’s-for-pussies.”
“You could interview him. Have him on your show and then - done. No more need to shoot him.”
Jimbo glared at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Somewhere down the street, Kurt screamed. Todd flipped the hunters a double-barreled-one-finger-salute, and literally leaped down the street.
There, at the local cafe, Satan was sipping coffee with Jesus and amicably chatting about relationships. Or they had been before Kurt broke down sobbing in the streets.
Todd hustled him off the road. “Dude, what the hell?”
“It’s okay,” he said, wide-eyed. “I have faith. I shall be reborn like that little boy who keeps gettink killed, ja? And this time, I shall have ze body on an angel…”
Jesus said, “Yae, I am not going that far.”
Kurt giggled. It wasn’t the giggle of someone having a good time. It was the giggle of someone who had stared too long at the Elder Gods and was failing their sanity check.
“Could'ja go as far as -Idunno- GETTING US THE FUCK OUTTA HERE? This place ain’t no good fo’ his health, yo.”
“Um….” said Jesus. He looked pleadingly to Satan.
Satan sighed. “All right, just this once I’ll be the good guy.”
Todd had to drag Kurt through the whirling vortex.
[Muse food remaining: 16. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
(#00785 - B054)
[AN: I already have a much longer one in progress here, so I’ll pretend it doesn’t exist in my continuity just for you. (Seriously, keeping a continuity is vastly important to me and registers on my OCD) You’re welcome]
1912
There was a small dirigible docked with the Eiffel Tower, which some Parisians still called “the tragic coat hanger”. But even they had to admit that it did come in handy as a dock for dirigibles, a lighthouse, and a radio tower.
The peculiar family that disembarked… was something Paris had never seen before.
Two of the men, one older than the other, looked like they’d stepped out of a photograph. Supremely pale of skin and black of hair. Another young man was almost identical to the photograph-boy in everything but colour. He was blonde and a comparative picture of health. The boys’ mother was so unremarkable as to almost vanish from sight. Though she wore demure green, she blended into the scenery until the elder of the photographs caught her up in an enthusiastic hug and kissed her passionately.
Then… she glowed.
Following her onto the tower were four metal people. Giants like the eldest Photograph man, and taller than him with it. They were all dressed sharply in black and red. Copper, silver, brass and bronze.
The copper one played hopscotch on the gantry and, once across, wheeled to face the other metal men.
“See d-dummins? It’s all safe!”
The brass one somehow glided across the gantry. Then the bronze one was the living embodiment of perfect posture and marching form.
Leaving the silver one whimpering and beeping uncertainly on the dirigible.
There was some evident debate held between the metal men by means of birdsong before the copper one stomped all the way back and carried his silver brother to join his metal family.
The Walter family had arrived in Paris.
When they arrived at L’Oiseau Rare, they were given special seating (the automatons had to sit on the stairs since no chair in Paris was robust enough to hold them) and champagne and the show of a lifetime.
They stayed to interview Francoeur, Lucille, Raoul and the Professor about the giant flea who sang.
And it was the robots, bickering in binary, who got Francoeur to talk. After a fashion.
Soon, all five of them were chittering eagerly amongst themselves and jamming with the orchestra’s instruments and generally laying a soundtrack to the humans’ conversations.
And when it was revealed that the Walters were in Paris for Iris’ birthday… well… she got an impromptu concert the likes of which no-one had ever seen.
[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
The Travelogue Continues
After leaving Francoeur behind, Kurt and Todd find themselves in South Park, bizarre animation and all. How will they cope with being the 184th strangest thing to happen to the town?.
(#00766 - B035)
It had been another typical morning at the bus stop. The usual debate had come around to the subject of mothers.
“Mmf F mmmf mf Mmmmmmm'f mmf mf f mmmmf,” said Kenny.
“You take that back, you sonofabitch,” Cartman challenged.
“Get over it, Cartman,” sighed Kyle. “Everyone knows your mom slept with everyone in town.”
Everyone else but Cartman laughed.
“So… pissed… off…. right now…”
“Mmmf, mmm'f mmmf f mmf mmf mmmf mmmf mmf mmf.”
“PEOPLE DON’T FALL OUT OF THE SKY, KENNY!”
{Pop!}
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
{FLUMPF!}
“Git offa me ya fuzzy– hey kids!” An extremely ugly teenager grinned at them. “You didn’t see nuttin’, amiright?”
Also climbing out of the snow was a blue, fuzzy demon with glowing yellow eyes. He looked supremely bored.
“San Francisco is that way ya fuckin’ gays,” said Cartman.
“Cartman’s mom’s house is that way if you have a dollar,” said Stan.
Everyone except Cartman laughed.
The ugly one searched his pockets while the demon covered and uncovered one eye.
“I dunno. Does she take last century’s Francs?”
“Mmm'f mmmf mmmf mmmmmmm'f mmmf.”
More laughter.
“GOD DAMMIT KENNY! I’LL KILL YOU!”
“Todd,” said the demon.
“What?” said Todd, the ugly one.
“You notice anysink veird about ziss place?”
“Mf mmmmmf mmmf f mmmmmmf. Mmmmf mf mmmf mmmmf mmmf mmmf mmf.”
Even more laughter. Cartman turned violently red.
“I think I’m glad I can’t hear zat kid,” said the demon. “Excuse me, kinder… is there a reason you don’t find mien appearance alarming?”
“Eh,” said Stan.
“You guys are like the 184th-weirdest thing to happen in this town.”
“Ooooohhh…. kay.” The demon stood up out of the snow. He had weird legs and a tail. “Anyvon hiring, or must ve do ze street theatre?”
At that moment, the bus pulled up. Chef looked at the mutants. The mutants smiled nervously at Chef.
“This has got to be the 184th weirdest thing to happen in this town.”
[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]