1. Member Since 17th Apr, 2012
  2. offline for 3h, 14m

Jade Ring

I'm just a humble writer wth some stories to tell.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Total Words: 156,192
Estimated Reading: 10 hours, 24 minutes

Blog Posts95

  • Tuesday
    Updates, Updates, We Love Updates...

    -Guess who has two papers to write in two weeks and that's why nothing's been posted? THIS GUY.

    -The next chapter of 'Changelings' ('Where the Heart Is') is fairly short, but has been surprisingly difficult to write. I hope the rest of the chapters involving events in Canterlot aren't so hard to complete. I've also decided to add a small tag at the end of the chapter to reintroduce a certain librarian (that will also pay tribute to one of my favorite films of all time, the 1988 remake of "the Blob.")

    -In my haste and zeal to complete 'Victory Lap,' I've realized that the... ahem, main event is really too long to be one chapter. So, there'll be two instead. The upcoming chapter will feature the Equestria Girls themselves while the second will feature the special guests.

    -Obviously I loved "Bloom and Gloom" for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that it ended with the CMC in a shared dreamscape thanks to a certain Princess of the Night. (Singing: We're the DREAM WARRIORS, not gonna dream no more...)

    -There really is no feeling comparable to seeing your name in print...

    -How are you, my faithful friends and followers? Doing well?

    -To wrap things up, here's the first of a new tradition; a weekly trivia question. Post your answers below. Get ten right, and you win a prize.

    1. As they aged and began to figure out the intricacies of romance, the CMC naturally used the clubhouse as a hideaway for secret get-togethers with their special someponies. Scootaloo tried to get her Cutie Mark in, erm, procreation within those walls with young master Pipsqueak. It was in that forested fortress that Sweetie Belle learned how sweet a constant diet of candy made Peppermint Twist's kisses (though Sweetie Belle never did bring her beloved Button up that tree.) Even Applebloom said farewell to her fillyhood one hot summer night with the rambunctious Rumble in the tree-house she had personally restored.

    But they weren't the first...

    Your question, my followers, is this; which two couples were the first to use the CMC's headquarters as a love shack?

    10 comments · 65 views
  • 3w, 1d
    The (Real) Announcement

    My April Fools gag this year fooled apparently no one. Ah well, I was bound to strike out at some point.

    I am not retiring from fanfiction. Yet.

    I've taken my three accepted stories as a sign that it's time to finally knuckle down and start writing my book. Starting May 15th, I'm setting aside one hour a day, every day, to work on my first fully original piece longer than 3000 words. My goal is to have a first draft, ready to show to publishers, done no later than Christmas.

    What does this mean for you?

    Not much. Right now.

    I'll be sticking to the Continuity (and the occasional sporadic one shot) from this point on. This sadly means that 'For Ages and Ages More' is on the shelf for the time being. 'Victory Lap' will still be finished (probably very soon) but as to 'Good Girls...' well, who knows.

    So there. Nothing earth-shaking, but still a pretty big development for me.

    Your continued support is always appreciated, my friends.

    (Returns to writing next chapter of 'Changelings.')

    3 comments · 52 views
  • 3w, 3d
    The Announcement

    8 comments · 129 views
  • 3w, 5d
    NPR: 'Masks'

    This story came about from a discussion between myself and one of my best friends. He had recently started dabbling in metal-working and was showing off some Batman-esque weaponry. I commented that if he kept it up, I would have to become a super-villain just to oppose him. He thought it was funny, and added the the stipulation that there would be no fighting on Tuesdays. On Tuesdays, we'd just hang out.


    “You sure he’s coming, boss?”

    The black trench-coat clad figure stiffened at the tone in his lackey’s voice. “Are you doubting me, Rocko?”

    Rocko shook his head hurriedly. “No, boss. But it’s getting late.”


    “Steve says his wife’s making lasagna.”

    The silence that followed was palpable.

    Rocko’s employer turned, and took great pleasure in the fear in his henchman’s eyes at seeing his masked face. His bald head gleamed in the fluorescent bulbs of the abandoned warehouse’s overhead lights. The lower half of his face was covered in a shining silver mask crafted to resemble the lower half of a leering human skull. One blazing eye stared a hole through Rocko, the other long gone and replaced by a black eye-patch.

    “Boss?” Rocko stammered.

    “Which one is Steve?” the villain known as the Silver Skull asked in his lightly British accent.

    “Uh… the ginger.” Rocko motioned at the pair of henchmen loading crates full of the crew’s loot into a waiting truck.

    The Silver Skull peered over at the red-haired man as he bent to grab another box. “Steve!”

    Steve whirled at his boss’ voice, accidently dropping the box he’d just hefted onto the foot of his fellow worker. “Yes sir?”

    “Is your wife’s lasagna any good?”

    Steve smiled, ignoring the various curses being lobbed in his direction by the injured man beside him. “The best.”

    The Silver Skull’s one eye narrowed as he drew a large pistol-shaped weapon from his black trench-coat. “Then I’ll be sure to sample some when I inform her of your termination.” Before Steve could protest, the Skull flipped a switch on the weapon’s side and pulled the trigger. A metallic dart whizzed across the room and discharged a massive amount of electricity into the unassuming henchman.

    Steve fell to the ground like a ragdoll, still twitching from the charge.

    The Silver Skull pointed his weapon at the remaining henchman. “And you? Does your wife have something delicious and Italian waiting for you at home as well?”

    Before he could answer, a voice rang out from the darkness. “It’s you boy’s lucky day; I hear tomorrow is pizza day at Wertham State Penitentiary,”

    The three criminals looked up as a form dropped from the darkened ceiling, his specially designed cape floating behind him like a pair of wings. He landed next to Steve’s body, checked for a pulse, and stood. He wore a specially made Kevlar uniform that had dutifully been painted a stark bronze. Hanging from his golden belt were a number of home-made hand-to-hand weapons. The top half of his face was hidden behind a bandana, holes cut for his eyes and a ponytail, carefully dyed the same color as his outfit.

    The Silver Skull chuckled. “Finally you’ve arrived, my color-coordinated canker sore.”

    The Bronze Condor struck a defiant pose. “Surrender, Skull. It’s over.”

    “Oh, you have no idea how over it is.” He snapped his fingers and made to reload his weapon. “Boys, do me a favor and pluck this bird.”

    Rocko and the other henchman rushed the Condor with simultaneous battle-cries.

    Not missing a beat, the Condor pulled a pair of long metal poles from his belt and connected them into a fighting staff in one swift motion. He spun the weapon over-head…

    …immediately knocking out the rushing henchmen.

    Trying not to laugh, the Condor struck another pose but found the Skull pointing his freshly loaded weapon at him.

    The two bitter adversaries stared at each other.

    It was the Bronze Condor who broke the silence. “Dude… that’s it?”

    The Silver Skull rolled his eyes and returned his weapon to its holster in his jacket. “No. There were three of those dumb-asses to start with. They were supposed to distract you long enough for me to monologue about the poison gas in those crates.” He dropped the accent completely as he yanked off his mask. “You took too long and I got bored.”

    The Condor poked the electrocuted lackey with his staff. “So you tried to kill one of your henchmen? Ray, haven’t you heard of something called a phone?”

    Ray removed his eye patch and rolled both of his good eyes. “I didn’t try to kill him. Just a cattle Taser dart. He’ll be up and at ‘em in no time.”

    “And the poison gas?”

    “Fog juice.”

    The Bronze Condor nodded. “Nice.”

    Ray took a sip of water from the bottle he kept in his jacket. “Seriously, Clint; what took you so long today? Was my riddle really that good?”

    Clint nodded. “It was one of your better ones, but that’s not why I’m late. The answer confused me.”

    Ray raised an eyebrow. “Question; ’What’s the safest place to hide in a world gone mad?’ Answer; ‘In Sanity.’” He motioned for his friend to carry on. “Please explain to me how it wasn’t obviously the abandoned warehouse on San City Boulevard?”

    “I checked Shadybrook.” Clint muttered fiddling with his cape.

    “The asylum?” Ray gaped. “Oh you poor dunderhead…” The sound of sirens broke his train of thought. He checked his watch. “Looks like they got my package. That’s your cue, hero.”

    Clint nodded and made for the warehouse’s entryway. “Where’d you find these guys?”

    Ray toed the unconscious Rocko. “Rocko and the big guy are street hoods with a couple drug offenses.”

    “And the redhead?”

    Ray smiled down at the shocked lackey. “Never seen him before. Tell the cops he turned on me and helped you fight the other two. Make sure he gets home to his wife.”

    “Right.” A final thought popped into his head. “You hungry?”

    Ray nodded, pulling his mask back over his face. “Starving. I’m craving Italian for some reason…”

    Clint shook his head. “Not really feeling it. Denny’s?”

    “You buying?”

    “Since neither of us really won this time, let’s just split the bill.”

    The Silver Skull laughed as he straightened his eye-patch. “Some hero you are. Give me half an hour.”

    “You got it.” The Bronze Condor replied, but his arch-nemesis and best friend had already vanished into the shadows.

    An hour (along with a small bit of police business and some perfectly serviceable diner food) later, the two friends laughed uproariously at the night’s events.

    “You should have seen the guy’s face when I pulled the gun.” Ray laughed, taking another bite of his hash browns. “Did he pee himself?”

    Clint swallowed his last bite of steak and chased it with a swig of cola. “No, but he was still a bit twitchy.”

    Ray shook his head. “I hope that kid learned a lesson. The next time he thinks about getting into something illegal, maybe he’ll think twice.”

    “Is that why you do it?” Clint asked, reclining in the booth with a contented sigh. “To keep your fellow man on the straight and narrow?”

    “Nothing so noble.” Ray scoffed. He offered a wicked smirk. “I do it for one reason and one reason alone.”

    “Which is?”

    Ray winked. “It’s fun to be the bad guy.”

    A few minutes later, after the meals had been paid for, Clint looked out the window. “We’re still sticking to the rules, right?”

    Ray polished off the last of his drink and looked at his friend in confusion. “What do you mean?”

    “Nobody gets killed.” Clint started to count off the rules the pair had long ago established on his fingers. “Nobody gets hurt, except for the petty criminals you trick into working for you. Property damage is kept to a minimum. No acts of mass panic.”

    “And no hitting each other unless absolutely necessary.” Ray tipped his empty glass. “I never did apologize for tasing you last week.”

    Clint waved it off. “I’m just concerned.”


    “Because this was the first time you had chemicals.”

    Ray stared at him incredulously. “Fog juice. Which I purchased from Wal-Mart.”

    “The cops still called in the guys in the hazmat suits.”

    Suddenly understanding, Ray lowered his gaze to the table. “Are they after me?”

    Clint shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve still got them convinced that you’ve just got a grudge against me. They won’t start gunning for you unless you do something that makes them thing you’re…”

    “An actual criminal.” Ray stared at his reflection in his spoon and could have sworn he caught a glimpse of his masked visage staring back. “I’m no criminal. I’m just a lumpy guy with above average intelligence, too much time on his hands, and aspirations of being a supervillain.”

    Clint laughed. “Where would we be if we hadn’t found each other?”

    “Probably Shadybrook.”

    The friends laughed and headed outside. Clint straddled his motorcycle and looked back. “What have you got on tap for next week?”

    Ray smiled. “Made this nifty program that can scramble codes without doing any major damage. No spoilers, but I’d be close to the First National Bank at some point next week if I were you.”

    Clint nodded and pulled on his helmet. “I’m sure it’s nothing the Bronze Condor can’t handle.” He gunned the engine and started to ride off.

    “You haven’t seen the last of the Silver Skull!” Ray shouted after him, shaking his fist in mock rage. When his best friend and arch-enemy was gone, Matt sat in his own car and started the engine. He smiled at his mask on the passenger seat, tuned his IPod to his ‘Villain Mix,’ and started for home.

    3 comments · 43 views
  • 4w, 4d
    NPR: 'Violet Flames'

    The biggest inspirations here were the works of Matheson and Bradbury; a classic, cyclical science fiction story. Those who've read it had compared it to classic Twilight Zone.


    Twenty seven years after the most frightening moment of his young life, Reginald Parker stood at the console that would make all his dreams come true.

    “Dr. Parker?”

    Reginald turned to his assistant, Allison Chambers, and smiled. “Yes?” he asked in his clipped British accent.

    “We’re ready to begin.”

    Reginald nodded and turned his full attention to the assembled press. He watched as they set their cameras to recording and pointed their microphones in his direction. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to take this opportunity before our demonstration to fully reveal to you all the true origins of the Perpetual Motion Generator.”

    “True origins?” One of the reporters asked. “Are you saying you didn’t come up with the design yourself?”

    Reginald shook his head. “Not exactly. There aren’t very many memories from my early childhood that I can remember vividly. Rare is the person who can remember with crystal clarity those bygone days when the brain is still forming and shaping itself. But there is one memory that stands out. It was the most terrifying moment of my life, and also the most important.” He reached into his lab jacket’s pocket and rubbed the familiar rough surface of the item he’d carried ever since that awful day. “When I was but a lad, maybe three or four years old, my mother and father took me to the playground. As I sat in the sandbox, I was suddenly accosted by a man on fire.”

    One of the reporters almost dropped her microphone in surprise. “Did he attack you?”

    “Why was he on fire?” Another asked.

    “I don’t know if he was trying to attack me, and I have no idea why he was on fire. It wasn’t a normal fire, you understand.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “It was the loveliest shade of violet.” He paused, unsure why he’d chosen such an adjective to describe the flames that were surely causing his aggressor so much agony. “In any case, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.”

    “Did he say anything?”

    “He seemed to be trying, but he had no mouth. It seemed that even he realized this fact before long and he simply stopped trying to communicate. Instead, he reached into his pocket and shoved a burning piece of paper into my hand.” He paused for dramatic effect then pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket. He reveled in the collective gasps and various expressions of wonder. “This piece of paper, in fact.”

    One of the cameramen squinted, trying to make out what was written. “What is that? Some kinda code?”

    Reginald chuckled. “That’s what I thought at first. All these random symbols and numbers… made even worse by the fact that half the paper is burned away. I devoted my entire life to solving what it all meant and I believe that I have finally done so. This code is an equation. And not just any equation. This is the equation for perpetual motion. For endless energy!” The assembled journalists broke into applause as Reginald took a bow and returned the paper to his pocket. “And now, without any further ado…”

    “Dr. Parker?”


    “What happened to him? The man?”

    Reginald’s smile faded as he recalled. “My father whacked him with his cane and he fell to the ground. Thirty seconds or so later, the flames reduced him to a pile of ashes.”

    “Who do you think he was?”

    Reginald shrugged. “Probably no one of consequence. In any case, whoever he might have been, I wanted his role in this momentous occasion to be a matter of public record.” He turned to Allison, standing by the control panel of the massive machine. “Is everything ready?”

    She nodded and walked past him, back towards the journalists. “The last button is yours, sir.”

    Reginald took a deep breath, strode forward with all the confidence he could muster, and pressed the large green button with every bit of conviction in his rail-thin body.

    The machine whined and sputtered to life. Sparks began to fly from the great cylinder’s surface.

    Violet sparks.

    Before Reginald could react, the machine’s surface belched a massive gout of violet flames. They washed over him, lighting on his clothes and hair, and it was only the reflexive movement of his arm that saved his eyes. He screamed as his flesh began to burn and he whirled in place to beg for help.

    He was outside.

    The sun shined brightly overhead and the birds sang as Reginald screamed and ran for the nearest person; a small boy playing in a sandbox. The boy saw him coming and screamed as Reginald grasped his tiny shoulders and shook him violently. He tried begging for help, but the flames had already fused his lips together.

    In one of Reginald’s last coherent thoughts, he finally understood.

    Not thinking, he reached into his pocket and shoved the smoking piece of paper into the boy’s hand. He wanted to tell him so badly what the code really was, to try and prevent this from happening again…

    A great weight struck the back of his head and he fell backwards onto the grass, his vision full of dancing violet flames and shining stars. His last conscious thought was remarking how lovely the flames were, even as they consumed him and reduced his flesh to ashes.

    Twenty seven years after the most frightening moment of his young life, Reginald Parker stood at the console that would make all his dreams come true.

    2 comments · 36 views
Viewing 21 - 28 of 28 stories
  • ...

The morning after a wild wedding reception, a number of couples awaken and must face the paths life has set them on.

Originally published in February of 2012 on the Pony Fiction Archive, after over two years... it's finally finished.

First Published
11th Nov 2012
Last Modified
6th Aug 2014
  • ...

Collected here are the interviews and impressions of Jade Ring as he sought out the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony to gather their recollections of the day that Princess Luna rose to power.

Originally written in script format, I've restructured the story into a narrative that I hope still captures the essence of my original work. Additionally, new details have been added revealing the ultimate fate of certain charcters. I hope my readers will enjoy this revised look at one of my personal favorite works.

First Published
5th Nov 2012
Last Modified
5th Nov 2012
  • ...

Something evil has found Ponyville. The town's children are disappearing, each disappearance preceded by a dream of an impossibly thin stallion.

When somepony she loves is the next to vanish, one young farmer must venture into the forest to find her. Once there, she will encounter an ancient force. It is powerful. It is terrifying.

It is hungry.

Amazing cover-art by the equally amazing Swirling Line. (She's also doing a stellar comic adaptation. Stay tuned!)

Cool bit of fan art by Timey-Wimey

First Published
29th Oct 2012
Last Modified
29th Oct 2012
  • ...

This story is a sequel to Dear Sweetie Belle

Years after the events of 'Dear Sweetie Belle,' Rarity convinces herself that her not-so-little-anymore girl is stealing her beauty. What lengths will Rarity go to in order to take back what is rightfully hers?

NOW WITH A NEWLY UPDATED (and hopefully less confusing) ENDING!

Fantastic cover art by SwirlingLine. YOU ROCK!

First Published
26th Oct 2012
Last Modified
26th Oct 2012
  • ...

Applejack has put up with Rarity's barbs and insults for years. When the seamstress finally crosses the line, what lengths will the young farmer go to in order to set things right?

Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's masterpiece of terror 'the Cask of Amontillado.'

Wonderful cover art by XRainbow-ChocoboX

A stellar live reading by TheLostNarrator

First Published
24th Oct 2012
Last Modified
24th Oct 2012
  • ...

This story is a sequel to Dear Sweetie Belle

Following Rarity's example, Applejack writes her little sister a letter. While Rarity's letter revealed the truth of Sweetie Belle's origins, Applejack's letter will shed light on the greatest unanswered mystery of the Apple family; what happened to Applebloom's parents?

Beautiful cover art by AcrylicDawn. Her DeviantArt. Check it out.

First Published
19th Oct 2012
Last Modified
19th Oct 2012
  • ...

After an accident robs them of their parents, Rarity writes Sweetie Belle a letter laying bare a secret kept all the little unicorn's life.

"It's fascinating the level of depth this story takes. Just the part alone about why Rarity represents generosity is enough to bring tears to even the toughest critics. This is an amazing story in every way. Mature in some of its themes and true to life, yet not graphic or exploitive, 'Dear Sweetie Belle' is a must for My Little Pony fans who need a great, sad story to tide them over."

-Obake, Pony Fiction Archive

Beautiful cover-art by AcrylicDawn

A fantastic bit of fan-art from my dear friend Kaitlyn Warner.

A live reading by the Doom Pie Network Right Here

First Published
19th Oct 2012
Last Modified
19th Oct 2012
  • ...

There's a strange, powerful attraction between Canterlot Castle's captain of the guard and a certain princess of the night. What will happen when the two give in and lose themselves to the power of lust?

Cover art is a cool piece of fan-art by LA Crow.

First Published
17th Oct 2012
Last Modified
17th Oct 2012