Kobold King

Hmm. What's Vapor's pony code? This must be rectified. You're just jealous because Calamity didn't give you the same power, aren't you? Edge, can you rectify this in your fanfic?

You could always include a cameo from the ship you forgot last time.

"all ur base r belong to me," Defwish shouted. he pulled out a gun and started shuting every1. then vondra burst in with a machene gun and yelled "stand back, iem here to kick butt and chu bubble gum, and i'm all out of bubble gum." and he beat up Defwish and married autumn Glass. Ze end. How's that? (Thanks. )

My parents always joked that the dinosaurs went extinct because God went to the bathroom, and when he came back he found all the dinosaurs dead and He had to start the earth over with all the leftover mammals.

Am I the only one thinking that seeing male!Nighthound and female!Nighthound trying desperately to out-creep one another would be terrifyingly hilarious?

Thanks. Vondra and Panda posts later, I hope. I'm also still working out the Deathwish/OC collab with McKeedee, but the writing is pretty much finished and it should be posted ere long. So we live in the Cokeverse after all. Be sure to keep a bottle on hand, in case a certain greasy-haired biker tries to get touchy with you.

Merciful Domi, but my dialogue is awkward today. Backtrack and Glamour posts up, if y'all don't mind a day of terrible prose.

Explosions. Things exploding. Booms. Backtrack prided himself on his composure, but the sudden chain of explosions in the distance made him squeak in spite of himself and hunker down to the pavement, where he sat shaking for a minute as the flashes of lightning continued. He shook for a moment, surprisingly not being blown to smithereens, and started to regain control of himself. He stood back up, chuckling nervously as MV gave him the same look his mother used to give him when she caught him eating candy off the floor. As with his mother, it was a peculiar cross between protectiveness, exasperation, and maybe a little bit of disgust. "I was just, uh, checking our bearings," he started to lie, before MV took him softly by the hand and looked at him urgently. "Come on, we need to get out of here before we get blown up," she told him seriously. "Can you find one of the Epics from the city?" "Yes," he said immediately, relieved. "Absolutely. No problem. Let's do that." He turned away from her, trying to examine the dark surroundings. Now, uh, how do I find one? Fortunately, a small squad of armed men was trooping down the streets, slower than was to be expected with explosions and Epic fights all over the city. They were probably on patrol, as was evidenced by their purposeful marching and suspicious glances at the two hand-holding Epics. Sucking in as much confidence as he could muster, Backtrack patted MV's hand and smiled. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll handle this." With a determined stride, he walked towards the soldiers and opened his mouth, ready to explain to them exactly what they needed. "Hi, I--" "What are you doing out?" a guard snapped bluntly, not stopping as they passed him by. "It's still dangerous out here. Go back to your homes and stay indoors." "Yes sir," Backtrack squeaked, walking backwards away from them. "I didn't mean--uh, wait. We actually don't have homes." The head guard stopped, eyeing them suspiciously. "Newcomers?" he asked curtly. Backtrack nodded his head hesitantly. "Kind of. We just got here this afternoon. Could you maybe tell us where Ms. Glass is? She was nice. I bet she could help." "She's probably asleep," the guard responded flatly. "Um... Dr. Game?" "Probably busy with the wounded," the guard said, exasperated. "Besides which, he doesn't have any authority over newcomers. Tell me what specifically you need and I'll tell you who to talk to." Backtrack frowned, and then gulped. "Um... we need someone in charge. It's important. It's about a missing person." "There are a lot of missing people today, son. You'll just have to file a report like everyone else." "It's a missing Epic." The guard's eyes widened. "Well in that case, you'll need to talk to Arsenal. He was at Game's clinic last I heard. You know where that is?" "Yes sir," Backtrack answered truthfully. "We, uh, just spent the last hour walking up from there." Instead of replying, the guard reached to his side and pulled out a radio, speaking into it with authority. "Samson? We have a pair of civilians who require escort to the Game clinic. They're at the junction between 6th and Pentland street. Pick them up." The guard at the other end affirmed the order, and the radio was put away. "Stay put until your escort arrives," he told Backtrack solemnly. "Don't run off." "We won't," Backtrack promised. "Thanks for--" He trailed off, as the guard was already back in the truck and the convoy was in motion. He shuffled back over to where MV was standing, and managed to flash her an awkward smile. "Totally nailed it," he boasted. "Told you I could take care of it." "I guess I should come clean, since you've been so nice to me and all," said Taylor Swift, pop star extraordinaire. "The truth is, I guess I am an epic, though I don't really use my powers much. They aren't really all that useful anyways, and they totally mess with my emotions, which kills my song-writing ability. I've had to use them a couple times, out on the road, to get by, you know, or other times when I haven't been able to control them, but other than that I've been avoiding them." The woman wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the cold. "I've heard about the Dalles, it's the only place I know of where epics and humans are living together." Glamour nodded in understanding. If the furious drive to slaughter hordes of sentient panda bears counted as 'messing with emotions,' then Calamity had given him the same problem. "I actually came here with someone," the pop icon went on. "A friend, and he's... he doesn't have any powers or anything. We figured the Dalles might be a safe place for us. We got separated though. Do you know where I might find him?" Glamour beamed, projecting a little flash of light from his teeth as he did so. "Miss, I'm your man." With a flourish he clapped his hands over the pavement, and warped the moonlight into a luminous map of The Dalles spread out over the sidewalk. "We're here," he explained, marking a street with a green arrow. "Your friend might have been assigned to our public housing here or here. If he was injured or looking for someone in charge, he'd have wound up in HQ here or in Game's clinic here." As a final touch he formed glowing lines along the streets of his projected map, showing the routes she could take to any of them. "Personally though, I'd recommend getting yourself some quarters and getting some sleep. If he's in town looking for you, he'll still be here in the morning when it'll be easier to find him."

Why, yes. Yes it does. Good at riddles, are you?

Thanks. I figured out how to write it without a description, but it's good to have one anyway.

Indeed it is. I'm doing a Deathwish response right now; I'll probably send it to you so you can post it as a collab, along with the Orange Crush segment you've already written. What does Lieutenant Fawkes look like, by the way? I need to know because reasons.

And has been held up by yours truly. Today I'm finally finishing up some of the work that's been occupying my time and mind, do I'll try to post for a character or two.

How did the wedding go? Did you have fun? Did anyone dramatically burst into the church at the last moment, shouting "As a matter of fact, I object to this union?"

Spoilers: Well that's one thing I didn't know existed. I suspect fake fire exists for the simple reason that society and technology are changing too quickly for the culture to accept. In almost all public settings, a real hearth and fireplace have been long rendered obsolete by mechanical heating techniques. There's no need for fire, but our culture still associates the dry prickly warmth a fire gives with comfort and safety. So we make fake, harmless versions of the thing that warmed all of our ancestors. We can't go back to the comforts and securities of the past, but by golly, with a bit of plastic and electricity we can try our best to imitate it. That's my take on it, at any rate.

In seriousness, I like the look of this trailer. My one fear is that the fast-paced, cinematic way it's presented is hinting at another season like Season 8, which I wasn't quite fond of, but I'm not afraid to be optimistic. I mean, Missy is coming back. How bad could it be? Who do you think the girl at the end of the trailer was? My bet is Susan from the First Doctor's run.

I'll get back to you when I figure out which of those two sentences is more unsettling.

Well that's fascinating. I've never met anyone who wasn't interesting before.

Just had some authentic Turkish Delight, shipped from Turkey by a grateful customer. This is the first time I have ever sympathized with Edmund Pevensie.

I was born with a clubfoot, which was fortunately remedied by a cast I had to wear for a few weeks after birth. One foot is still shorter than the other though, and only one of my soles touches the ground completely. It's made picking out shoes difficult on occasion. I once prayed that I'd be able to see a praying mantis, as I'd never seen one before but was fascinated by them. The very next day I found a huge mantis sitting out in the open on a tree branch. I saw a beautiful white tiger at the zoo once--apparently this particular animal was famous for being part of a travelling exhibit. A few years later I read a news article about a white tiger in a travelling exhibit that had turned on its keeper and eaten him. I felt mildly uncomfortable. I used to be a bit of a smart alec. I still am, but I used to be one too. Although I was born in Oklahoma, my parents were determined that their firstborn son should be born over Texas soil. So they kept an old sour cream container full of dirt from their old Texas home under the bed when I was born, so technically I was born over Texas soil. I was once part of a trio of sci-fi worldbuilders known locally as the Pantheon, and was rather well-known on an obscure corner of Wikia. Not one single person who wasn't a part of that obscure corner of Wikia cares. I once had a beetle craw up my ear canal and assault my ear drum while I was sleeping. Early in the morning I had to be rushed to a clinic where a woman used a pair of exceptionally thin and sharp tweezers to pull it out. This happened only a couple of years ago. One of my direct ancestors was a smuggler who sold guns to both sides during the Civil War. I also have a distant cousin who's a baron in Belgium. I am not in line for the barony however, as pretty much everyone in Belgium is more closely related to him than I am. And finally, I am the king of the kobolds.

You're about to attend a friend's wedding, right? Maybe you'll catch the bouquet of flowers the bride throws out, and then the preacher (a tall man with glasses and a goatee) will give you a subtle wink.

Perhaps too much, some might say.

Calamity sample prologue spoilers:

I thought he already did that whenever he sees a Kindergartener draw Superman with a sheet of paper and crayon.

Oh, it was definitely a self-insert. It's a satirical fiction about Twilight criticizing Rainbow Dash's fanfiction. The green earth pony they both swoon over passes through the room right after Twilight critiques Rainbow's "Rainbow Flash" OC that Daring Do swoons over. Have waffles? Go to the nearest pug sanctuary? Track down a certain bagpipe-playing unicyclist? Stand in the street and yell "Repent ye sinners, for Obliteration is coming to Oregon"?

I think you mean Empirical proof. But yes. You're right.