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About Deviant Premium Member SonicLover25/Male/United States Groups :iconrhythmangels: RhythmAngels
Be one with the rhythm!
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Deviant for 8 Years
9 Month Premium Membership
Statistics 911 Deviations 20,284 Comments 56,594 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Don't forget, this isn't all I've got. I encourage you to browse through some of my older deviations, too! And PLEASE leave your comments!

Random Favourites

I don't have a lot of favorites. Giftart is the only thing I can be counted on to fave; you can find it in the "Friendables" folder.

Critiques


A Perry the Platypus plush, two Pascals and a Weresonic? I'm not gonna ask. Anyways, on to the matter at hand. This piece has excellent...


Alright, I suppose it can't hurt to get back into the practice of writing these critique things. Let's see now. The composition of this...


Something about this is different from the style I'm used to seeing from you. Maybe it's the outlines, maybe it's not. But I sort of li...


This is... I'm not a fan of gore, but I can't let this go without comment. Vision: I can't say much about this because I'm not sure wha...

I don't critique much, but I still give more critiques than I receive. But those of you with premium memberships can fix that, right?

Commissions

Short Story (normal)
Self-explanatory.  Tell me exactly what you want, and you'll get it.  I'll write about just about anything, but be prepared to supply any reference materials I request.
Short Story (blind)
Like the normal Short Story commission, but with a twist: you're not allowed to specify a single detail about what you want.  I'll just do something I think you'll like.
Short Story (semi-blind)
The median between normal and blind.  You're allowed to specify one or two details-- the main character, or the theme, or perhaps even the title-- but that's it.
Character
Got a fictional 'verse you're proud of, but that could use one or two more characters?  I'd be happy to make a character for it!  (Pictoral references not available; textual profiles only.)
The more observant of you may have noticed that lately I've been bringing up a particular point a bit more often than before: the point of pride.

I've known for a while that I've been a person of pride, but only a recent event has really caused the notion to hit home.  I posed a writing challenge to Lolocator, and he accomplished it-- but when it came time to write the two fateful words, "You win", I bit my metaphorical tongue.  It felt like some invisible force was preventing me from typing them.  I stared at the screen for minutes before finally managing to deliver the message.

But that wasn't the climax.  The climax was when I mentioned my hesitation to him, and he replied, "Your (sic) a person of dignity. That's really all I have to say."  The revelation that my pride was so visible to others... that was the turning point.

So, yes.  I'm a person of pride.  A startling many personality quirks of mine can be traced back to my pride.  For example, have you noticed how I habitually type with perfect spelling, grammar, and punctuation?  I suspect I developed that habit because I didn't want to leave myself vulnerable to "grammar Nazis".

...maybe that's a bad example.  Let's try another one.

I have a fondness for deconstruction.  I believe I deconstruct things because it leaves me feeling like I understand the concepts better than the ones who use them normally.  (Wow, that sounds cold-hearted.)  I suppose that's not entirely true, though; I like reconstructing things, too, and I also like to encourage others towards reconstruction.

...%&*#$!  Why can't anything ever be black and white?

But back to where we started.  From what I understand, pride is neither an inherently good or an inherently bad force; it all depends on the circumstances.  But I feel like it's implemented all wrong in me.  I'm not always willing to put in the effort to give myself something to be proud of, and I have trouble suppressing my pride when it conflicts with what I'm better off doing.

I've got problems.  But the thing about problems is that sometimes they can solve one another.  (Why did I think that would be an appropriate thing to type?)
  • Mood: Apprehensive

Journal History

Activity


Proverb of the week: "Looking away from a leaky pipe will not stop the leak."
The more observant of you may have noticed that lately I've been bringing up a particular point a bit more often than before: the point of pride.

I've known for a while that I've been a person of pride, but only a recent event has really caused the notion to hit home.  I posed a writing challenge to Lolocator, and he accomplished it-- but when it came time to write the two fateful words, "You win", I bit my metaphorical tongue.  It felt like some invisible force was preventing me from typing them.  I stared at the screen for minutes before finally managing to deliver the message.

But that wasn't the climax.  The climax was when I mentioned my hesitation to him, and he replied, "Your (sic) a person of dignity. That's really all I have to say."  The revelation that my pride was so visible to others... that was the turning point.

So, yes.  I'm a person of pride.  A startling many personality quirks of mine can be traced back to my pride.  For example, have you noticed how I habitually type with perfect spelling, grammar, and punctuation?  I suspect I developed that habit because I didn't want to leave myself vulnerable to "grammar Nazis".

...maybe that's a bad example.  Let's try another one.

I have a fondness for deconstruction.  I believe I deconstruct things because it leaves me feeling like I understand the concepts better than the ones who use them normally.  (Wow, that sounds cold-hearted.)  I suppose that's not entirely true, though; I like reconstructing things, too, and I also like to encourage others towards reconstruction.

...%&*#$!  Why can't anything ever be black and white?

But back to where we started.  From what I understand, pride is neither an inherently good or an inherently bad force; it all depends on the circumstances.  But I feel like it's implemented all wrong in me.  I'm not always willing to put in the effort to give myself something to be proud of, and I have trouble suppressing my pride when it conflicts with what I'm better off doing.

I've got problems.  But the thing about problems is that sometimes they can solve one another.  (Why did I think that would be an appropriate thing to type?)
  • Mood: Apprehensive
What's the appropriate thing to do when you're firmly convinced of a particular belief but can't come up with a single good argument to support it?
On the inside of every magician's top hat, there lies another world.  In this world, magic is real, and object constancy is commonly called into question.  This is a world populated by rabbits, and they are the only ones who know of it, although the rituals of many stage magicians may suggest that they have had glimpses of it.  This is the world of Abra.

Today's story begins in a café in Abra, not a particularly busy place, but where two rabbits in particular had chosen to go for their first date.

"Waiter!" called a white rabbit by the name of Smoke.  "My date and I would both like refills on our drinks."

"Certainly, sir," the waiting rabbit replied, hopping over to the table Smoke and his companion were sharing.  Calmly the waiter draped a red handkerchief over Smoke's empty cup, covering it completely, then withdrew it with a flourish-- and the cup was now full.  The waiter then repeated the maneuver with the female rabbit's cup.

"There you are, sir, madame.  Let me know if you need another."

"Thank you very much."

Taking a sip of his hot carrot juice, Smoke turned his attention to his date.

"So, Mirrors, you were telling me about your last gig?"

The pink rabbit sitting across the table from Smoke nodded, sipping from her cup as well.

"Yes... there's not much to tell, really.  The last magician I worked for had to give me up because I fidgeted every time he tried to draw me out of his hat.  Can I help it if I'm ticklish?"

Smoke smiled.  "I can imagine."

"I really do love it, though.  There's nothing more enjoyable than having someone tickle you in a sensitive spot.  For me it's the hind paws."

"Of course... say, Mirrors, would you like to come to my place after lunch?  I just got a saw box and I've been dying to try it out."

Mirrors clapped.  "A saw box?  Lovely!  I've always wanted to be sawed in half!"

Upon finishing their lunch and leaving the café, Smoke and Mirrors proceeded up the path, arm in arm, ear and ear, to a row of houses.  Each house was painted up in homage to a certain playing card, spelling out the clubs of the deck in order.  Smoke paused at the door resembling the Six of Clubs and snapped his fingers, summoning a key into his hand.  A quick turn of the key in the lock, and the two rabbits were inside.

Smoke's house was sparsely decorated; every house had room for two, yet he lived by himself.  He led Mirrors into the den, where a long wooden box stood.  The box was bright red with black trim, and just the right size to house a rabbit, with a head hole at one end and two feet holes at the other.  The box was also plainly divided into two sections by a line around the center, and the top opened on a hinge.

"That's it?"

"Indeed it is, Mirrors."

Smoke opened the box, and Mirrors hopped in without a second thought, sticking her head and feet out the appropriate holes.  Smoke then closed and padlocked the lid.

"You're all ready, Mirrors.  But before I break out the saw, I want to try something..."

"Oh?"

"You said you were ticklish, right?"

The male rabbit hopped up to where Mirrors's feet were.  Drawing out a feather, Smoke began to apply it to his date's bare paws.

"Oh, Smoke... haha... I should've... ahaha... known you were... going to... HAHAHAHAHAHA!  Hahaha... ahahahahaHAHAHAHA!"

Smoke paused for a moment to allow Mirrors to catch her breath., then picked up a handsaw and approached the box's midsection.

"Ready for the saw, Mirrors?"

"Ahaha... ah... alright, Smoke, I'm ready."

Gripping the handle of the saw firmly, Smoke began to saw the box in half along the line.  At first Mirrors felt nothing, but then she began to feel the saw penetrate her torso.  It didn't hurt; if anything, it felt like she was being tickled.  She laughed again as she felt herself get cut in two, and didn't stop until moments after Smoke had finished.

"Hahahah... are you done, Smoke?"

"Yep.  Let me show you."

Smoke pushed the two halves of the box, groaning with strain as he did, until they came apart.  With less effort now, he turned the halves around so Mirrors's head and feet faced together.

Mirrors's eyes widened as she looked back and caught sight of her own paws.  Carefully she reached one ear back, touched the sole of her paw... and felt the touch.  She withdrew her ear as Smoke stood in between again.

"Ready for round two, Mirrors?"

"Round... two?"

Smoke produced the feather again, and began to tickle Mirrors's paws a second time.  The female rabbit was in hysterics once again.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Oh, stop, Smoke!  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

What felt like an eternity later, Smoke put the mirror away.  As Mirrors began to cool down once again, Smoke turned the box halves around again and pushed them back together.  As they touched, they fused into one as if by... well, it was magic, so there wasn't much to compare it to.

But Smoke wasn't done yet.  Once the box was back together, he began to give Mirrors's paws a third tickle.

"Hey, Smoke!  This wasn't... hahah... this wasn't part of the... HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Mirrors was still laughing as Smoke unlocked the box and set her free.  He had to help her out of the box.

"That was... ahaha... that was wonderful, Smoke.  I've got to come back here sometime!"

Smoke bowed respectfully.  "I'll always welcome you."

"Say... can you mail me back home?  After all that I don't think I'll be able to hop in a straight line.  I live at the Ten of Hearts."

"Sure."

Smoke escorted Mirrors outside, where a magician's wringer stood.  With a little effort, he helped her into the slot on the top of the box, then grasped the crank with both hands and both ears and started to turn.

As the wringer's rollers began to press Mirrors flat feet-first, she found herself bursting into hysterics again.  The sensation of getting flattened felt like tickling, too!

"Hahaha... hahaha... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-- MMMF!"

Mirrors' laughing fit was abruptly cut short as her mouth reached the rollers, muffling her.  Seconds later, she emerged, as flat as paper and feeling exactly like it as well.  She calmed down for a moment, only to start again as she felt Smoke's paws against her flattened body.

The laughter persisted.  Mirrors just couldn't stop as she felt Smoke fold her in half, then in half again, creasing her after every fold.  She could feel her paws on her in every position, and laughed again and again with each crease.

Finally, the rabbit had been folded into a small rectangle, her face still laughing on the front and her paws just below.  Smoke gave her a goodbye kiss, then slipped her into an envelope he'd already stamped and addressed to the Ten of Hearts.

"See you again soon, Mirrors," Smoke whispered as he dropped the envelope into the mailbox.

Mirrors was too short of breath to reply.
Smoke and Mirrors -Comm.-
A commission for Whatismynameeven.  He made a semi-blind request: a magic-themed story involving some sort of flattening.  Of course, just to make sure I gave him something he'd like, I browsed through his favorites to see what his tastes were.  He seemed to have a thing for tickling, which I don't really understand but tried to work with nonetheless.
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46 deviations
I'm a person of pride. Is this good or bad?
64%
7 deviants said It depends...
18%
2 deviants said Somewhere in between
9%
1 deviant said Good
9%
1 deviant said I can't answer that
0%
No deviants said Bad
Brian Boulard checked his ticket again.  It said quite plainly that his plane to Eagle Point boarded at gate A14, but he'd had to ask for directions five times before finding the gate, and even then it took him a while to realize when it was time to board.

Finally, after about three tries, Brian found his seat.  He buckled his seatbelt and looked at his information card, hoping for an uneventful flight.

Of course, if his hopes had been fulfilled, we wouldn't have a story.

"Attention all passengers of flight 3119," a voice called out over the intercom.  "This is your flight attendant speaking.  Your pilot... er... your pilot just called in sick and can't fly the plane, and the airline's budget doesn't allow for reserve pilots.  Therefore, I am selecting a passenger via random draw to pilot the plane."

Muttering filled the passenger cabin.  Everyone wondered if they'd be the lucky one.  Brian stayed in his seat, so nervous he was almost sweating.

"And the lucky passenger is the one assigned... to Seat 10A!"

Everyone looked towards row 10 in unison.  Seat A was empty.

The flight attendant peered into the cabin, and quickly saw that the seat she'd called out had no occupant.

"...10A?  That's odd.  Everyone's boarding passes were checked and seat 10A definitely came on board.  The name is... Brian Boulard?"

Brian jolted.  He glanced at his boarding pass; the seat number marked on it was indeed 10A.  He'd taken the wrong seat.

The other passengers reluctantly made room for Brian as he pushed his way to the aisle and made his way to the cockpit.  The flight attendant was waiting for him there.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Boulard.  The plane's easy enough to fly; the main steering is right there, and over there is the throttle.  That there is the intercom button; use it if you want to make an announcement to the passengers.  Try it out."

Swallowing, Brian took his seat in the pilot's chair and pressed the intercom.

"Attention all... all passengers.  This is your pilot, Brian Boulard, speaking.  I... I have never flown a plane before, and consider this to be a... great honor.  The attendant has assured me that this is really easy, so I suppose I'll just wing it.  Get it, wing it, since we're on a plane... ha ha.  Anyways... uh... enjoy your flight and all that."

The panther took a deep breath as he buckled himself in and glanced over the controls.

I suppose I can figure all this out.  Where did she say the throttle was... ah, here.

Brian shoved the throttle a little too hard, and the plane zoomed forwards.

----

Brian exhaled a breath as the plane finally came to a stop on one of the runways of the Eagle Point airport.  Sure, he was three hours late, and the plane would probably need days of repairs before it would be airworthy again, but the panther considered it a huge personal victory that he'd managed to land at the right airport.

Feeling proud with himself, Brian punched the intercom button.

"Attention all passengers.  This is your pilot, Brian, speaking once again.  I thank you all for putting up with me for the whole flight.  I apologize for that incident with the duck; I'm sure it could've happened to anyone.  But nevertheless, we're at Eagle Point and it's time to disembark.  Thank you for flying."

The panther started to get up, only to be almost strangled by his seatbelt.  He unbuckled it, then stood up and left the cockpit.

To his surprise, the cabin was empty.  All the passengers were gone; even the flight attendant was nowhere to be seen.

What in the...?

Brian looked everywhere, to see if the passengers had been flattened into their seats or something like that.  He checked above, under, behind, inside the seats.  He looked inside the overhead compartments and in the cargo bay.  Not a sign of life.

Uh-oh.  I hope I didn't drop them mid-flight.  Maybe I left them back at the other airport.

Picking up the radio, Brian somehow managed to dial the airport he'd left.

"Pilot of flight 3119 calling airport.  Pilot of flight 3119 calling.  I, uh, I think I might have left my passengers and crew behind.  Can you confirm?  Over."

There was a pause, and then a voice responded.

"Airport responding.  Yes, everyone's here."

Brian didn't wait for the "over".

"That's great!  Tell them I'm very sorry for losing them, but I'm a novice at this and--"

"You didn't lose them, pilot.  They all got off the plane as soon as they heard you were piloting it.  Apparently you're bad luck or something.  Over."

"...yeah, that sounds about right.  Over and out."
Brian's First Flight -Req.-
A request Lolocator earned for meeting a challenge I set for him.  "Hilarity ensues" plots just aren't the sort of thing I'm good at, but I wasn't going to turn it away.  Hopefully this still satisfies him.

Brian is © :iconlolocator:
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"Of course I knew you were behind me.  Your thoughts gave you away.  That pit trap wasn't hard to see; I just flew over it.  Oh, and that spring-loaded mallet-in-a-book you gifted me the other day?  I X-rayed it before opening it, then re-gifted it to someone else.  I'm still not sure how you crammed such a large mallet into such a small fake book, though." --Ali

Name: Ali (pronounced "alley")
Age: Appears around 20
Gender: F
Race/species: Alicorn (winged unicorn) (anthro)

Family and associates: None known

Appearance:
Ali stands at about half a head taller than average.  Her primary body color is a fine dark red (around 800000 in RRGGBB hexadecimal); her mane is black and hangs down to about her waist, and her tail is also black and hangs down to her ankles.  She has amber eyes, and is semi-buxom.  She has black hooves for feet, and her fingers are tipped with black mini-hooves to match.

Her wings are feathered, and the same red as the rest of her.  They're mounted about two inches apart from between her shoulders all the way down to her hips; her full wingspan is about twice her height.  Her horn is straight and conical; it starts in the middle of her forehead and angles up slightly.  It's about four inches long and has a maximum diameter of about one inch; it's as smooth as ivory, except for a single, shallow groove that spirals counterclockwise around it from base to tip.

Her typical dress consists of a one-piece white bathing suit that covers the front of her torso, but little of her back.  She can't wear much more than that due to her wings getting in the way.

Personality:
Ali is a careful individual; her guard's seldom if ever down.  She knows that successfully avoiding one trap is no reason to celebrate, as there may be more immediately afterwards.  She has the mind of a master detective, always piecing clues together to infer what's going on behind the scenes; she also knows better than to fall for falsified evidence.

She doesn't blindly trust anyone.  She has a habit of peeking into people's minds when first meeting them, to determine how trustworthy they are.  Her trouble trusting people often leads to difficulty making friends, but she doesn't seem to mind.  She likes having a reputation of being "invincible", but tries not to let her pride get the better of her.

She'll often pick things up with her telekinesis rather than bending down to do so, and she prefers to glide over straight paths rather than walking them (space permitting, of course).  In her downtime, she enjoys reading; she dabbles in every genre.  She runs a weekly book club at the library.  She's fond of fresh fruits and vegetables, but isn't a glutton.

Abilities:
Keen Eye - Ali has an eye for detail.  If something's out of the ordinary, she'll notice it.  She doesn't easily forget these details, either; she always likes to know what disturbed that leaf, or how and why that tree trunk got chipped.

Wings - As an alicorn, Ali is capable of flight; her wings are specialized less for stunt flying and more for smooth, swift gliding across long, relatively straight paths.  Her wings are also specially enchanted to be effective shields against most if not all projectiles, blades, and blunt weapons.

Mental Magic - Thanks to her inherent magic, Ali is capable of telekinesis, telepathy, and mind-reading; she can even passively detect people around her by their mental activity, but can't actually read a mind of someone who's more than several feet away.

X-Ray Vision - Pretty much exactly what it sounds like, and also a product of her magic.  Ali can't use this passively-- she has to use it deliberately, and for no more than about ten seconds at a time.  She typically uses this to check things that she deems suspicious, a label she's not conservative with.

History:
Unknown.  Rumor has it she's an escaped character from an unknown fanfic; she hasn't commented on this or any other theory.

Misc. info:
Ali encountered Tom the wolf not long ago.  She foiled three of his traps in a row (they weren't even intended for her!), then used her telekinesis to squash and reshape him into a book.  After that, she pretended to read him for an hour or so, then left him at the library.  She knows he's probably plotting revenge now, and is prepared for it no matter what it is.
Character profile: Ali
Part of a challenge for Lolocator.  The challenge was for him to design a method in which a particularly hard-to-defeat character (the girl this profile is about, obviously) could be defeated; I would owe him a free request if he pulled it off.

He did.

...I don't know if I'll do anything with her beyond that, though.

Ali is © me
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"Alright... that should do it!"

We open today's episode in the entrance hall of a particular castle.  Tom Wool, one of the best-known faces of Toon Town, put away his screwdriver and stepped back from what he'd been using it on, admiring it with pride.

Right in front of the orange wolf stood an odd contraption consisting of two robotic arms ending in gloved hands, mounted on a tall box.  Also built into the box were two dispensaries, a larger one loaded with glass milk bottles, and a smaller one loaded with matching caps.

The floor behind Tom was littered with packing material.  Somewhere among it lay a small sheet of paper that read "Product 2839-A: The Bottler (some assembly required)".

Ordering this thing from ToonTech put a huge dent in my trap budget, but it's bound to be worth it.  Well, without further ado... it's time for a test run!

Tom took a remote out of a pocket that wasn't there five seconds ago and pressed the ON/OFF button.  Instantly, the Bottler came to life; its hands raised up, fingers outstretched, ready to... do something.

Keeping a safe distance, the wolf took out a life-size teddy bear and tossed it onto the spot right in front of the Bottler.  Sensing the bear's presence, the hands grabbed it tightly.  The left hand then kept it held while the right hand retrieved a single bottle from the appropriate dispensary and set it beneath the bear.  Then both hands shoved the bear into the bottle, not relenting despite the very tight fit, only stopping when nothing remained outside the bottle.  To finish the job, the machine screwed a cap onto the bottle, then reached back and set the bottle behind itself.

Tom watched the whole thing in awe.  Taking out a clipboard and pencil, he jotted down notes about the Bottler's performance.

Effective capture... satisfying end result... the base design definitely has potential for modularity.  It should be possible to reprogram the arms, for example, to shape the victim into a ball and volley them into a nearby hopper.  The conspicuousness is going to be an issue, though.  This is definitely a "punchline" trap; the victim needs to be set up for it by something else.  Maybe if I paired it with a diversion of some sort...

DING-DONG.

The orange wolf whipped around at the sound of the doorbell.  He hadn't expected a visitor.

"I'm coming!" he called, but before he could make good on that promise he felt something seize his tail.

Uh-oh.

A quick glance behind himself confirmed his hunch: during his note-taking he had absentmindedly wandered dangerously close to the Bottler's target zone, and when he'd turned around his tail had gotten its attention.

The next few moments happened in slow motion for Tom.

As the machine reached behind itself to retrieve another bottle, Tom searched around in his pocket for the remote.  He found it just in time, and as the machine's other hand placed the bottle beneath him, he pressed the ON/OFF button once again.

The Bottler shut down.

Phew.  Crisis averted.

This was only a partial relief for Tom, as the Bottler was still holding him by the tail.  He tried to pry himself free, but its grip was tight.

DING-DONG.  The doorbell again.

"Let yourself in!  The key's under the mailbox!" Tom yelled.  He glanced at the instructions hidden among the packing materials, way out of reach.

Alright, what can I do?  Maybe if I loosen the hand from the arm?

Setting the remote aside, Tom took out his screwdriver again and gently peeled back the cuff of the glove covering the hand.  Unfortunately, his awkward posture severely hindered his grip, and the screws were tight.

At a critical moment, the screwdriver slipped out of Tom's paws and clattered to the floor... no, it bounced off the remote and THEN clattered to the floor.  And just to add improbability to improbability, it happened to bounce off the ON/OFF button on the remote.

Once again, time slowed down for Tom as the Bottler returned to life.

The wolf's feet were the first to enter the bottle.  He ignored the familiar tingling sensation as his legs squeezed through the neck.  He made a grab for the remote, but only managed to knock it out of reach.

Switching its grip to Tom's waist, the Bottler continued to do its thing.  He felt the rest of his legs, then his tail and hips, enter the bottle.  He tried to reach for something-- anything-- that could help him, but no luck.

A hand on top of the orange wolf's head finished the job.  With an almighty shove, Tom was fully contained inside the glass bottle.  The Bottler dutifully held the bottle with one hand, while retrieving a cap and screwing it on with the other.

Well... I guess this is it.

As the Bottler set Tom down behind itself, the wolf tried to relax.  He thanked a nonspecific deity that toons didn't actually need to breathe, otherwise he'd be in danger of asphyxiating inside his glass prison.  He closed his eyes and let the inexplicably relaxing sensation of being in a compressed state wash over him.

Ahhhh.  This isn't so bad.

"Ugh!  Finally... stupid door..."

Tom's eyes shot open again as he heard a voice he recognized.  (The bottle wasn't soundproof, thankfully.)

Brian?!  ...Of course it'd be him.  Nothing else in the world could be the source of this sort of misfortune.

The wolf couldn't see Brian from his position, and doubted the panther could hear him if he called, so he could do little but listen.

"Tom?  Where are you?  Huh, what's this thing?  Some sort of massage device?  Never seen it before; Tom must've-- hey!  Let me go!  What are you doing with that bottle?  HEY, DON'T!  LISTEN TO ME, YOU STUPID MACHINE, PUT ME DOWN!  NO!  STOP!  I COMMAND YOU, CEASE THIS AT ONCE!  THAT'S ENOUGH!  TAKE ME OUT OF--"

Brian's voice ended abruptly.  Seconds later, the Bottler set another bottle in front of Tom.  The bottle's occupant had been squashed against itself almost beyond recognition, but that shade of gray was unmistakeable, as was the face at the front of it.

"Hey, Tom.  So... uh... how about that weather?"

Tom looked away.
The Bottler -Trade-
I came up with this idea just last night.  I'm proud of the turnaround time.  The plot's a little weak, but 'toon stories are seldom about the plot anyways.

...Not much else to say here.

Setting and characters © :iconlolocator:
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sonicinterface
SonicLover
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:iconbluefoxycat:
bluefoxycat Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
By the way, I've figured out how to export the xcf file into a png file. Yes, I am an immature little bast(urd)ard.
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(1 Reply)
:iconlizardman22:
lizardman22 Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thank you so very much for the points, Mate
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(1 Reply)
:iconcoloredraininlives:
coloredraininlives Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2014  Student Writer
Hellos do you do requests?:3
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(1 Reply)
:iconwolfertech:
Wolfertech Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I chalange you to say something possitive! ;p and I don't mean saying "five" or "Proton" or anything like that! ;)
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(1 Reply)
:iconheartinathepony:
HeartinaThePony Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Do you take requests?
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(1 Reply)
:iconlizardman22:
lizardman22 Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Hi mate
How do you make links to other pages?
I was trying to make a link from one chapter of my Wold war scar story to another, but all i got was this: <da:thumb id="479049646">
I did what i usually did (Copy and past the page) but this didn't work for some reason
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:iconwolfertech:
Wolfertech Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Nice to talk with you again! :D long time no see really!
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(1 Reply)
:iconarcher7tadayoshi:
Archer7Tadayoshi Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I'll give you 10 points if you create a code sheet that would be good for law enforcement use over cb radio, using only letters and numbers as pictographs describing the situation.

For example here is one for packages:

E3 = regular package

E7 = damaged package

8B = bundled package

CD = Locked package

HU = opened bundled package

UL = opened regular package


And yes I am very aware of the 10 codes, I'm looking for something almost unbreakable for when I play FPS' together online with my friends.
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:iconragtagwarrior:
ragtagwarrior Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014
On a scale of one to ten, how ironic is it that the character I adopted became a fill-in character?
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:iconlizardman22:
lizardman22 Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the points, Mate.
You're far too kind.
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(1 Reply)
:iconthegamer499:
Thegamer499 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy late birthday!
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:iconlycaon1765:
lycaon1765 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday !!!!
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:icontmaneea:
Tmaneea Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday. I hope you've had a really great day.
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:iconlizardman22:
lizardman22 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy birthday, mate
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(1 Reply)
:iconnndragon4:
nndragon4 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Student Writer
happy birthday man
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:iconbogm0nst3r:
bogm0nst3r Featured By Owner May 31, 2014
Happy birthday! Party PARTY HARD Professor Party Awkward emoticon dance Happy dance :birthdaybang: :8Bparty: Tabbymote celebrating Forgot it's your birthday? :partyla: :lemonparty: Dance Dance Emote Disco Ball Emote 
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:iconragtagwarrior:
ragtagwarrior Featured By Owner May 31, 2014
Happy Birthday, Interface.

Have some cake! :iconpancakeglompplz:
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(1 Reply)
:icongigantlover20:
Gigantlover20 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014
Happy birthday man.
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(1 Reply)
:iconkathalia:
Kathalia Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!
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(1 Reply)
:iconbasher954:
Basher954 Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy Birthday! :party: :cake:
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