australasiahalfhourponies:

Hello, and welcome to-

VINYL AND TAVI’S HALF HOUR EXTRAVAGANZA!

Vinyl, I thought we agreed upon Octavia and Lady Vinyls half hour chalenges?

Decided on a ‘new direction’ something less oh, lame.

You are completely insufferable!

And you’re cute!

Not NOW vinyl.

Let’s just get on with it.

You’re the boss cutie bootie! WELCOME TO-

They know the name already Vinyl, just get on with it.

Right! Here at our little challenge shack, it’s our solemn swear bring half hour art challenges to the fair folks of Australasia! Too often they are left out of other half hour challenges cause they are asleep or at work! That’s why we’re making challenges that suit their time frame and their needs! Needs like Tavi in bondage.

That’s right Vinyl! We are hon-

HEY?!

So get drawing you pervs, and remember to submit all pictures to vinyltheultimate@haymail.com!

Vinyl….

A new half hour art challenge blog appears! feel free to follow and participate even if you do not live in the australasia area.

Firstly, welcome all my new followers, I know a lot of you followed because this is my main account and have seen me out and about the comunity. Donno what posessed you to follow this blog, but thank you for being interested in my works.

onto buisiness then. As my more astute followers can venture, my last proper update to this blog was back in november last year, why is this? it’s not exactly because i havn’t been writing, it’s because i havn’t been editing. Editing is a bit of a daunting job cause of you know, having to point out all your own mistakes and trying to fix them, so I think I can be forgiven for being sluggish to do that. the other main reason has been a loss of interest in the story I’ve wanted to tell, mainly over the characters I’m using. Don’t worry about that though because I’ve found a way to revamp the story in a way that will both satisfy me and the reader I think.

this will mean a shift in focus of character, no I’m not going to restart the whole story, some characters will just becoming less important and some characters yet to be introduced will be more important. it’ll make a mess, but my concern is to put out quality writing, that doesn’t nessasarily need all the previous updates read to understand (this has been my goal with the revamped blog from the start, a more ‘tumblr friendly’ writing blog for todays high speed media intake).

This post isn’t a promise for more update or more frequent updates, for all I know it’ll be another six months before I begin any of this. No this is more of a formality and a gauge to all my followers as to where my head is.

So heres to the future everyone.

perryparanoia:

Oh me and fritter are going to have loads of fun, he’s only sleeping for the momment, but when he wakes up…smiles for miles.

Theres a new project of mine using my insane pony OC perry noya, check it out of you like grimdark/horror stories, it’ll be almost exclusively audio driven, I’m hoping to go the distance with this one!

quillreplies:

Pose stolen borrowed from naomi.

For City.

I’d like to point out again, i will only take single pony requests, this was a exception.

I’m not dead.

post-crusade:

[Click Here for Full Resolution]

Welp. After deciding to pick this up again (and restarting it), I finally finished the follower pic.

It’s still shocking to me that this ol’ blog got so many followers. It’s amazing and I thank you all, and I mean every one of you. Without you guys, PC would’ve never gotten to where it is now. *giant hugs for everyone*

Blogs depicted:

• askpiratedash
• samroseiswatchingyou (pregnantscootaloo)
• jordan-the-griffin (hipsterloo)
• mini-scootaloo
• two-coloured (the Tuba Pie)
• sturmtruppen
• sweetiebotreplies / youobviouslyloveoctavia
• askscootabot
• someponyshardlife
• broken-pen
• discordsparkle
• carrotquill / sosweetiebelle
• alsohat (also known as Webby; the Globe)
• naterrang (@deviantart)

ask-pony-kirby:

Oh no! What cruel fate has befallen our hero!? Has Quill killed Kirby in a fit of jealous rage over me being a totally more awesomer person than him?! Tune in next week to find out!

He’s really just playing dead.

quillreplies:

His hoofsteps were uneasy and he could feel his center of balance shift drasticly with every plopped movement of his leg. He weakly smiled, barely able to keep the action without it waivering, the hyperdermic needle still stuck in his neck.

“I j-just want to be y-your F-F-FRIEND” croaked out a obviously struggling Perry as he advanced on the frantic nurse “We could p-play do-DOCTOR HEHEHAHAHAHAHA”

“St-stay back!” warned the nurse feeling the handle of the closet door behind her “leave me alone!”

“Come now it w-wont hurt m-meh-muh….” Perry finnaly fell over in a heap, his head hitting the concret floor with a stomoch churning “THWACK” that insane smile still plasterd on his face. the nurse slumped to the ground just staring at the hypdermic in Perry’s neck, she’d never seen such a small framed pony take that long to feel the effects of a sedative, she slowly got up and weakly called out “D-DOCTOR, COME QUICKLY”

A little flash fiction, I’m really sorry for not having a update for you guys in so long, I’ve been having some trouble convincing myself to write. Regardless this little gem features Perry, a yet to be introduced character.

the following picture was done by PPDK mod, you should commision him:

Just listen.

|If you like the art, commision the artist yourself! Dhui open for commisions here|

I am a writer. I’m not a good writer, or even that competent. In fact if there was a scale I may be below average, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop. Writing to me means creating worlds, and people (or ponies) to inhabit it. It means personalities and flaws. I am a writer, not because of necessity or because of want. Rather I am a writer because of choice.

I write for myself, these characters that I love, some who are me, others extensions, and some who were not mine to begin with. These characters are as much myself as they are my friends, they help me cope with sadness, work out my frustrations, stretch my creative arm in all ways imaginable. I’m not always kind to them, and I’m not always doing things in their best interest, but I think if they could talk beyond the words I give them they would understand.

I am a writer. I am Carrot Quill. I am Editor. I am Sweetie. And there’s no one I’d rather be then this.

|Story by Carrot Quill|Editing by Editor Omnibus|Art provided by Thesomewhatevil|

|Original concept from Jade Meteor|Original concept|google doc link|

(Filler story I wrote awhile back for Jade after being inspired by their update.)

A young filly stood in the centre of her room, propped against her cello awkwardly holding the bow across the strings. She gently pulled back and stopped with a cringe, she had accidentally played a note higher then she meant to. Again she tried, pulling the bow along the strings in rhythm, this time hitting the notes just right. After ten seconds of perfect playing another screech sounded and she stopped, disgust plastered across her tiny face. She growled and started again from the beginning, she only got 3 notes in this time before hitting another sour note. “ARGH this is impossible!” She roared tossing her bow to the ground in disgust, staring at the offending object with malice in her eye. “I give up,” she huffed dropping on all fours with a pout. She slowly turned her gaze out the window with a heavy sigh.

-

A few days passed, the house had fallen silent of the young fillies attempts, her mother paced the living room with a worried look. “She had he heart set on becoming a cellist,” she sighed “I blame myself, I pushed her too hard.”
“now dear,” the filly’s father intervened looking from over his newspaper, “It is not your fault that Octavia has lost hope, it is merely the evolution of an artist, they must realise for themselves what it means to do their craft.” He said, puffing on his pipe.
“I know, I know,” sighed Octavia’s mother stopping her pacing, “I wish there was just a way to show her that.”
“Well.” said the father popping up from his seat, “Perhaps there is a way, I know for a fact there is a concert tonight. Perhaps we should take little Octavia, show her what she could become.”
The mother sat on the ground with a huff, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.”
“Then it’s settled, I will ready myself.” Said the father heading upstairs to change.

-

That evening Octavia found herself in the crowded concert hall, the most elite of Canterlot were there to enjoy the show. As the maestro entered the stage and tapped his baton against the pedestal everyone fell silent. And then it began, the heavy soaring music of a masters work, every instrument playing it’s role, every note struck in perfection. Except…there were mistakes, Octavia could hear them clearly, but no one stopped, noticed, or cared. And what she noticed more then the horrible sound of missed and ill struck notes, was the blessed sound of imperfection, she was not hearing something stagnant, she was hearing something ever changing, something not afraid of its own beauty, or in fact it’s own ugliness. It embraced that which made it great and that which humbled it all the same. Her eyes sparkled and her smile grew as she listened, her heart was pounding with excitement, ‘That’s it.’ She thought, ‘That’s what I’m missing.’

-

Latter in the night Octavia stood at her cello, bow in hand. She took a deep breath and looked over her sheet music, then closed her eyes, and played. Every few notes was either wrong or missed, but she did not stop, she continued to play, and as she played her heart swelled. She understood now, beauty is nothing without ugliness, they were two heads of the same coin, and the ugliness only made the beauty so much more pleasing. Like a rose and its thorns proudly displayed, Octavia played.
Her flank began to glow, and in an instant there it sat, a treble-cleft. From then on Octavia knew her special talent, and she could not have been any happier about it.