So I got PlotBit…
And now I’m writing a M*A*S*H-SPG crossover.
As well as a novel. And editing two other novels. And that collection of last year’s instant stories.
It’s like I’m possessed by the idea or something.
…and my Dark Side definitely got out by a shit-ton…
So it’s dark. And grousome. And probably as triggering as fuck. There’s a lot of sad and I haven’t even got to the murders, yet.
….yyyyyyyeeeaaaahhh.
Murders. Plural.
Just a heads’ up. Because my head is evidently a very strange place to live.
Sorry.
Seana and I are walking to get our badges for Comic-Con 2013 when a guy dressed like The Spine from Steam Powered Giraffe walks by.
Seana (staring openly): Is that…?
Me (also staring rudely): Nooo, it’s got to be a cosplayer…
The Spine ( as he passes us with his liquid gold voice): No, it’s me.
Us: （ ﾟ Дﾟ） （゜◇゜）
This pic reminds me of a plotbunny I’ve had rattling around in my back-brain.
Remember how Scooby Doo had guest stars? They even shared an episode with the Addams Family. Ergo, for SPG to be around for a century and more, they pretty much HAD to have had a spot on an episode of Scooby Doo.
Basic plot: the Scooby gang run across The Spine and either Hatchy or The Jon (The Jon fits continuity, Hatchy is easier to access…) who hitch a ride to the nearest spooky place du jour. Naturally, they encounter the Ghost Grinder (song cue) and a headless sheet ghost. Hijinks happen until they unmask the Ghost Grinder - a Becile employee/descendant who had the goal of stealing and reprogramming SPG for profit, claiming that he already “got one”. Velma reveals the other ghost as Rabbit’s body, and they subsequently find her head somewhere funny.
The Spine: “I told you that you’d lose your head if it wasn’t bolted on.”
Cue happy ending.
I have other stuff going on, so someone take this and run with it?
(Source: freelance-adventure, via carpet-bags-and-flying-bunn-blog)
[AN: Hooray. More reading list. I’m still ploughing through Allomancy on a paragraph-a-day basis]
(#00281)
Sarah thought she was done for, this time. The Criptid creature had been inches away from having her head for a snack. But then, something invisible turned the tables in a more permanent eye-for-an-eye fashion by literally bashing its head off with a big stick.
Sarah recovered her weapon and dealt with the last few stragglers.
The invisible thing faded into view.
“All bad guys dead?”
The figure had aqua skin and a really horrible olive-khaki swimsuit and matching utility belt and shoes. The short brown hair could have belonged to any gender, but this being somehow still read as feminine.
“Yeah…?” Sarah kept her weapon ready. “What are you?”
“Mostly harmless, I swear,” the aqua girl did something to her metal staff that reduced it to the size of a can of soda. “Sara Louise Adrien. Unfortunately feeling the chill. In a minute or two I’ll go into survival mode and my higher capacities will shut down completely. I apologise in advance for the singing.”
“Singing,” Sarah repeated. If things couldn’t get weirder, then she was a wasp in the body of a human and fighting members of her own kind to stop them eating humanity. Oh wait.
“One of my directives. When in doubt. Sing. My compatriots can track me down by my, and I quote, ‘weirdo dinosaur music’.” A deep breath. A stretch. A sigh. “Okay. Objective, eliminate bad guys. Done. Orientation. Uhm…” The sky was overcast. The trees were covered in goo, not moss, and everywhere looked like everywhere else.
“Downhill and downstream?” suggested Sarah.
“I have an app for this!”
Hooray. She had an iPhone.
{dodoonk!}
“Siri. Show me the way to go home.”
It took them three hills before she started singing the rest of the song. By then, Sarah had found out about the third O (orders: don’t die) which contained an essence of useless utility.
“Time for a different song?” Sarah begged. The cold was getting to her. “One written this century?”
“Who am I? Who am I? But a sound. Of. Tomorrow!”
Technically correct. Pity Sarah had no real love of steampunk. Soon, the allies would find them.
Please, merciful Universe, let it be soon.
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Challenge #00279: Welcome Walter’s Metal Men
Steam Powered Giraffe are in the x-verse, only they’re really mechanical men (made by someone with Forge-like skill) or living-metal mutants (similar to Colossus). Your choice.
“Sara… What the hell?”
“Dun ma'e me smi'e…” Sara said, drawing on her face with metallic paint. She was wearing, amongst other things, a corset, a frilly skirt, striped stockings, and accessories apparently made of gears.
“You know you can just program your holographic emitter to do whatever, don’t you?” criticized Jean.
“Or train myself to make my skin do all the makeup work, yes,” said Sara. “But that’s cheating.”
Jean rolled her eyes and groaned.
“This, on the other hand, is art.” She changed brushes from bronze makeup to silver makeup. There was also verdigris greens and blues, black, and assorted powders. And also some mysterious plastic parts and theatrical glue. “I have a white coat and a blue wig if you want to come along…”
“As…?”
“A Walter Girl. Minimal makeup involvement. Most freshman fans turn up as Walter Girls and Boys.”
“Fans of what?”
“Steam Powered Giraffe, of course.”
Jean almost broke a synapse trying to figure out what reality Sara was speaking from. “I’m coming along, but only to keep an eye on you.”
“Funny, that’s just what Mr Logan said…”
*
“LA DA DA DA DA! LA DA DA DA DA!”
Logan had already installed his own earplugs. The fact that he already owned a vintage outfit was only slightly disturbing in comparison to the fact that the ‘robots’ on the stage were actually metal people.
They’d put a lot of work into seeming to be people dressed up as robots, but they had no telepathic presence.
They were things.
True, actual, vintage robots.
Whoever Colonel Walter was, he was a Forge-level genius.
Jean barely had any advance warning of the attempted robbers, and was just able to warn every organic life-form in the room to duck.
Bullets ricochetted harmlessly off of the three robots on stage.
“That wasn’t very nice,” said Rabbit.
“That wasn’t very nice at all,” agreed Hatchworth.
“Shall I -uh- take 'em down, gentlebots?” offered The Spine.
“Let’s get 'em together,” said Hatchworth.
“One,” said The Spine.
“Two,” added Hatchworth.
“Threeeeeee!” Rabbit cackled.
Their website story had said they also contained weapons. That was not a lie. For all their technological seniority, they had precision aim and deliberately fired to incapacitate.
The crowd went wild.
Jean boggled. “You knew?”
“Of course we knew. They only pretend to be organic for the newbies in the audience.” Sara smiled. “Guess who had a hand in making them their flesh suits?”
Of course. The only mutant in the room with experience in shedding her own skin. “So you’re the one who made Bunny a girl?”
“No, she specifically requested it. She’s always been a girl. It’s just that she hasn’t had her chassis upgraded yet. Or is it returned to original specs? There’s a long story involving a theft of the original plans and trying to raise the funds to go find them. These 'bots are still paying off their refurbishment by Waltercorp.”
“That’s a real thing?”
“Ask Tony Stark. Or Forge.” Sara twirled away to dance with the other 'fanbots’ in the audience.
The night was only starting to get weird.
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Lots of .. Adventure Times
Someone do a freeze-frame of these? My timing sucks and I keep getting the Asterix one.
[AN: I had to do some research to get the basics on this one. Feel free to flame me when I get it wrong]
(#00207)
Emp tried not to sob. This was the fifty-umpth time she’d been hog-tied and thrown into a dank, dark dungeon. Or similarly dungeonesque oubliette to keep her out of the way while the Vil’s did whatever Vil’s usually did during their cunning plans.
Someone else was in here with her.
[The following dialogue has been translated from GagInMouth garble, denoted <thusly>.]
“<Hello?>” Emp managed. “<It’s all right. Help’s bound to be on its way.>”
“<If it’s anything like you, I’d rather pass,>” said the slim figure in the shadows. There was an intermittent grinding noise. “<Those bastards stole my Bo.>”
“<Your Beau? You have someone?>”
“<No, dear, the weapon Bo. Essentially, a big stick.>” Grind grind grind…
“<What is that grinding noise?>”
“<Me. I’m chewing through the gag.>”
“<That’s possible?>” Emp boggled at the shadowy figure.
“<You can theoretically bite through a human finger, the only thing stopping you is your own brain.>” Grind grind grind…
“<Really? I never tried that before…>” She worked the gag further into her mouth so she could chew the ends. Gag was the right word. It was a horrible experience.
“<From the way they were talking, I’d have thought you’d be learning everything there is to know about escapology.>” Grind grind snap! Th-poo. “Oh, that’s better. I go by the code-name Chameleon.“
”<Empowered,>“ said Emp, still chewing on her own gag. It was tough going. If this stranger could do it, so could she. ”<I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve heard of you.>“
"You wouldn’t have. I’m not from this dimension.” Squirm squirm squirm. She’d been wriggling for some time, too.
Gnaw gnaw gnaw, “<The vil’s are pretty good with knots. I should know, I get tied up a lot.>”
“I have a friend named Kurt, and he has an uncle Wolfgang who would disagree with you.” Squirm. “Of course it helps (oof) to be (ow) double-jointed.“ Krak snap pop. “HA!” Wriggle! And suddenly she was standing up and striding over. “A little persistence never hurt anyone.“ The stranger was female, but her physique made her read as male.
It wasn’t as though she could hide anything in that abbreviated khaki swimsuit.
Chameleon removed the gag and started working on the knots. “If you’re so awful at being heroic, why do you insist on being a hero.”
“It’s… something I need to do. The suit… it’s self-repairing if I’m confident enough, (ordosomeotherthingsbutIdon’treallyswingthatwayandwejustmet) but it’s so embarrassing…”
“Dear, if I had a body like yours I would not be embarrassed by it.”
“The hypermembrane does give me powers, but it’s really fragile. What does yours do?”
Chameleon grinned and faded out of visibility. The eyes and the smile remained, just like the cheshire cat. “Biomimetic fabric. It blends with me, and it grows with me. There’s the promise of it covering more acreage when I stop growing, but…" she faded back so Emp could see the shrug. “My lineage is tall.“
The ropes loosened. Emp quickly got up and stretched all the kinks out. “Oh! Thank you for that. You have no idea what it’s like to be hog-tied until someone decides you’re worth rescuing.”
“That would suggest you work towards rescuing yourself in future,” said Chameleon. “Or is it your life purpose to be the decorative damsel in distress?“
Emp blushed. “I can’t help it. The suit bonded to me but it really has its limits and I can’t be confident when every flaw shows and—” the sob she fought down bubbled up.
Chameleon’s dark eyes flicked over her, then her green face softened. “It’s all right, dear. I know some tricks that might help…"
*
All the villains were hog-tied. Professionally so, meaning that if they struggled, their bonds grew tighter. Empowered sat, in full costume for a change, on the pile of loot like the cherry on top of the sundae.
“Hi guys,” she chirped. “What took you so long?“
"What?” demanded Sistah Spooky. “How the hell did you—?“
Empowered held her eyes with murder in the back of her mind. “For shame, sister. I thought you had a vested interest in a fellow female cape getting stronger and more confident…”
“…goddamn bland blonde bitch…” muttered Sistah Spooky.
“I could always dye it if my hair makes you uncomfortable,” Empowered offered. “Which would you prefer? Red? Brown? Brunette?“
The issue closed on Sistah Spooky’s angry face. Sara closed it carefully and tucked the comic under her arm with a whispered, “Well done.”
“You’re still buying Empowered?” sneered a spotty, fat gentleman next to her. “It’s not nearly as much fun since she became such a bitch.
“You mean, a lady who is not there for your purile entertainment?” suggested Sara. “There’s still plenty of T and A per issue, if that’s your primary concern.“
"It stopped being fun when she stopped getting tied up.”
“Well, if it’s bondage you’re after, Super Strangle Hentai would—”
“You’re a girl. What would you know?”
“And you’re single for life. Your point?”
He slunk off muttering about bitches.
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can firebenders bend hot people
18k notes and i still havent got a simple “yes/no” i fucking hate this website
yes
I WANT THIS ON A SHIRT
I WOULD BUY THAT SHIRT
I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE
TAKE MY MONEY
(Source: shalrath, via the-gay-is-over9000)
Plotbunnies Come From WTF…
Can’t get rid of this one, so I thought I’d give it to the aether:
Pinkie Pie and the Brain.
Pinkie Pie finds an ancient cryo-storage tube in some old ruins underneath the Everfree Forest. Naturally, she pushes the big, red button that no-one should touch and releases the most machiavellian megalomaniac mouse ever known to mankind - Brain.
Mayhem, of course, ensues.
Send me the results, I’d love to see how it turns out.
Raising Enigma
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My sorta/kinda crossover between MLP FiM and DS9
Challenge #00171: Ideosyncratic Biology
Prompt: Kurt and/or Sara, or another of the interesting-reactions-to-medications group, meet the infamous Dr. House. (Optional: Dr. McCoy and House in the same room)
It was a discrete, free clinic for mutants. So discrete that you had to know it was there to find it. And that was mostly because of the anti-mutant vitriol regularly flooding the organization’s inbox.
It had been a set of flats in a previous life, but now it held a surgery, two small patient wards, a mutant daycare facility, a tiny examination room, crowded with equipment, and an equally tiny interview/examination room.
The waiting room was a combination of the hallway and the stairs up.
It was always busy.
It was always crowded.
And it was never boring.
Greg was in his element. In rare, free moments, he caught up on every medical journal there was on mutants and their extreme diversity and medical needs. Of course, everyone here knew him by a different name.
“Doctor Mykopf,” said the green thing who was the closest they could get to a second doctor. Sara. “You’re break’s getting cut short again, I’m sorry. We have a rash in Two that I need a consult on.”
“How bad is this rash?”
“It includes purple mucous.”
Greg smiled. “Hot damn!” and left his paperwork in the claustrophobic break room. He did, however, take his coffee. This place ran on coffee, chocolate, and lots of sugar.
The little girl with the afro puffs was what the clinic was quickly nicknaming ‘amphibi-esque’. There were also mammalian, avian and lizardine mutations. Piscine was plausible, but still hadn’t been spotted.
“Oooh,” Greg winced. “Someone has the big ow’s…” He lowered himself to look into the kid’s teary eyes. “Do they burn?”
“…they ache,” said the kid.
“Cleaning has proved anti-efficacious,” said Sara. “Even with saline.”
And saline washes were the medical norm, here.
Gloves on, Greg gathered the purple mucous and tried gently spreading it on a rash patch. “Does this make it better?”
Nod nod nod. A grin so big it nearly paid for everything. She even let go of her Teddy so she could spread it all over herself.
Mom was making a face. “Oh, that’s just nasty. How’m I supposed to keep her clean with that muck on her?”
“Child services?” prompted Sara.
Mom’s face said it all. It said that the over-reaching arm of the government was far too over-reaching in her general direction.
“Child services.” Greg shook his head. “We’ll do an epidermal scan to be certain, but it looks like we need this 'muck’ for a healthy skin.”
“Would you like me to explain the details, or would you prefer it from Homer?” offered Sara.
Loser got to break out the Macroscope from storage. This time, the loser was Sara.
Greg kept to the G-rated areas of Little Thelize’s skin. “Mutants react to our environment in different ways. In this case, we have a skin that creates a healing goo that counter-acts all the toxins in the environment. I’m guessing you live in one of the Projects?”
“Cheap-ass flat in a fallin’-down building that ain’t had a renovation since it was built,” said Mom.
“We’re going to give you a free asbestos test kit. Along with the usual water-borne antagonists. Once we’ve cleared or outed the usual suspects, you might have to pay for a full-spectrum kit, but we have multiple payment plans if money’s a problem.”
“But that ain’t clean,” protested Mom.
Thelize sighed with relief. “It doesn’t burn, Mama.”
“We can write a note explaining Thelize’s mutant reaction to environmental factors beyond your control. And we have a lawyer willing to support your case.”
“Serious?”
“Pro Bono,” said Greg.
Sara came back, “Macroscope’s up in room five,” she said. She also had a paper. “This is the standard blather for special circumstances kids, all full legalese for the red tape crew. It’ll do the job in the interim if the case worker shows up before we can do the rest of the tests.”
“All right,” said Greg. “Let’s go take a look at your skin.”
The rash was fading as she moved. Social views on cleanliness versus this kid’s reactive skin was going to cause… friction.
“Gonna sell Xavier’s to them?” he murmured to Sara.
“Of course I am. 'Homer Mykopf’.” Which meant she knew. Of course she knew. Sara had ways.
It was why he was so happy, now. Mutants were always interesting. Even their mundane problems were interesting.
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