Meta, the protagonist of this story, was having absolutely none of this.
What was 'this' you may ask?
'This', was the gigantic wall of purple love death that was rapidly expanding towards him.
"I am having absolutely none of this!" He declared. With an angry glossed black sponge hoof, he pointed to noplace in particular and shouted, "Writer! This is complete horsefeathers!"
So? I'm not the one that wrote your poorly planned out invasion of a superior world power, co-ruled by two equine gods of sun and moon. What do you want me to do about it?
"You're writing this story, aren't you?!" He hurriedly pointed out, the approaching wall of Deus Ex Machina slowed down to a crawl for dramatic comfort.
Yes. And?
"So get me out of here, Mister Wizard!"
Fine. I can't very well have a story if you bite it in the first chapter, now can I?
And with a few taps on the writer's iPhone, Meta the Changeling was poofed to the outskirts of Ponyville. Completely unharmed and with enough love to not immediately break the tags of our story with unwarrented misery and or strife.
"Whew!" Meta exclaimed, wiping non existant sweat from his chitinous forehead. "Sure glad I figured out this was all a written medium before that love-doom semi-sphere hit me."
Very fortunate.
"So what now, Mister Wizard?"
You really shouldn't call me that. People might google search something and come up with the wrong idea.
"Well, I can't go breaking the forth wall in public all the time."
This is true, but we do have the tags for it.
"I'll call you Scribbles!"
... Fine.
"So, Scribbles. What do we do now?"
Well, you're in Ponyville. Usually changelings try to hide, end up getting discovered through incompetence or very astute observation, or just plain revealing themselves to their love interest in a gamble of trust.
"But that's so cliche!"
I know! I was just about to write a similar story when this idea stuck me, praise the dark one.
"The who?"
Don't worry your armored head about it, Meta.
"So if we're going for something new, what do we do?"
Well I'm not going to have you impersonate Zecora, if that rhyme of yours is any attempt. I may write stories, but im nowhere near that literary level of accomplishment.
"So..."
We're going to have you impersonate a pet. Specifically, Owlouicious.
"Twilight's pet library owl?"
Yes, thank you for the exposition.
"What good will that do me?"
Well, you could get into shennanigans with Spike, since he doesn't trust the bird in the first place. Honestly, who expects an Owl to be a changeling?
"But I don't know anything about her library!"
Oh, that is true.
Hmm....
I know, I'll send you there anyway.
"Wait, what? Why?!"
Because of the tags, my dear Meta. The tags dictate all...
------One Poorly Constructed Time Break Later------
"This is rediculous." Hooted Meta the owl.
I know it is. You'll just have to live with it.
"I don't know a thing about this owl. His routines, personality, quirks, nothing!"
Well that's the point, isn't it? This is a Random Comedy story. You're supposed to be delightfully awkful at your job. If you were competent, nopony would know the difference, would they?
With a chirpy grumble, Meta replied, "No... But you'd better not get me killed!"
I can't, Meta. Theres no Sad or Dark or even Tragic tags. Besides, you're much too fun to write out of the story so soon. Being the protagonist of the story has perks to go with the flaws, after all.
"Fine, but I don't enjoy this!"
I could make you enjoy this.
"You said no dark tags!"
Hmph.
Anyway, beginning with the story.
Meta was perched on a branch outside of Twilight Sparkle's Tree-brary home. The studious lavender unicorn mare of repetitive description was still in Canterlot; her story not yet having progressed to join mine at the moment. Her time was very precious, given to all the Fanfiction that was written about her in both Equestria and elsewhere, so she thoroughly enjoyed her free time. She may have spent every waking hour on camera or e-parchment being a studious by-the-book adorkable nerd, but the pressures of... Wait, this doesnt have a Sad tag. Nevermind all that, she's perfectly happy!
Meta was busy trying to figure out how talons work, scratching at the window pane instead of using his beak to open the bloody window like a - there we are - smart changeling.
Flying into the library, he spotted books scattered about in a complete mess. Not knowing how they were supposed to be organised, given the Dewey Decimal system was not yet invented, he decided to put the books pretty much anywhere they would fit on the shelves.
Some time passed, giving Meta the opportunity to look around the library home and discover information about the Element of Story Progression. A horse doll, some books from the first season, alot of Celestia Fanfiction --written by Twilight, of course-- and predictions about a coming apocalypse to be solved with type 2 diabetes contracted from prolonged exposure to weaponised adorableness.
Metalicious found a coat rack, typically absent of coats given that ponies rarely wear clothes, and used it as a perch to wait for the indirectly described star pupil of Celestia to return from her 48 minute plus commercial time adventure in Canterlot.
Having nothing better to do with his time, Meta practiced shifting into various other pets around Ponyville following the picture guide I had given him off the books.
"As long as this doesn't turn into some sappy 'I'm a changeling and hideous by society's standards but you still love me anyway because love isn't skin deep' stories, I'll put up with being your puppet, Scribbles."
Hey, no being angsty. We don't have the tags for that.
"What does the owl say?" Hooted Meta, crushed with boredom from waiting on Twilight to return from Canterlot.
Who?
"Owls. How do they communicate?"
Who?
"Scribbles, i'm serious. Something as small as chirping could get my cover busted. What do I say?"
Who.
Meta glowered at the ceiling, hoping the library would burst into flames in an attempt to injure me somehow.
"Okay, we'll try it this way." Meta cleared his throat with a squeaky cough, puffing his chest out and draping a wing in front of himself like an affronted noble. "What, dear author, is the correct noise for a barn owl to produce when expected?"
Who.
The amount of angry squawking that could be heard may cause those outside to be deeply concerned about a bird torture chamber, or perhaps if our story had the appropriate rating, I would be allowed to translate in depth. In summary, mothers covered the ears of their foals with a deep scowl at Owlouicious' explosion of fury.
----Another Poorly Contructed Time Break----
Metalicious had calmed down, and was preening himself of loose feathers when the library's front door opened suddenly, a conversation in progress.
"... That everything back in Canterlot could've went alot worse. If it hadn't been for Princess Cadance and Shining Armor's love, we would all be in changeling cucoons right now." Twilight observed, shaking off her saddlebags onto the wooden floor next to their kitchen table.
"Come on, Twilight. Everything worked out in the end, so theres no use worrying about it." Spike suggested, reaching into a lower cabinet for ingredients to make his favourite tea; a recipe he had learned from Zecora.
"I know, its just..." Twilight grumbled.
Meta, if you don't act now, they're going to break the tags.
'What do you want me to do? I'm an owl!"
You're the main character, Meta. If I told you what to do all the time it wouldn't be compelling to the reader. Figure something out.
A short pause later, Metalicious took one of his feathers in his beak and flittered over to Twilight, setting the feather in front of her.
Twilight looked up from her hooves at the sound, her previously stressed mood somewhat easing up.
"Hey, Owlouicious. How did taking care of the library go while I was gone?"
A blank stare.
"That bad? Sheesh. I'll be sure to have somepony from town help you out next time I need to go someplace for very long, okay?"
Metalicious nodded, and turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees to look at Spike.
"Hey, could you not? That's really creepy, dude." Spike complained with a shiver, pouring hot water from the tea kettle into a strainer of various leaves.
Meta's expression was blank for a second, before the predatory instincts in his owl form boiled to the surface in a malevolent grin of comprehension.
"Who?" Hooted Meta.
"The head spinning thing. It weirds me out."
"Who?"
Spike groaned, covering his face with a stubby claw. "Nevermind! I thought we were past this."
"Spike, i'm sure Owlouicious is just stressed from us being gone so long, on top of the bad news from Canterlot. Is that right, Owlouicious?" Twilight offered.
Meta could feel concern and affection flowing from Twilight, meant for the real Owlouicious. He took it anyway of course, the emotions sustaining him for a while longer until more powerful alternatives could be found.
Metalicious nodded, earning him a head pat in order to not ruffle his feathers.
"You can take a break for a few days if you want. I know you're tired from working two shifts to cover for us. I really should've asked somepony to help."
Meta rested his beak on Twilights head; his version of a reassuring head pat. Twilight giggled, and Meta was rewarded with another dose of affection with some joy.
"Three cups of Zecora's spicy tea, if you want some Owlouicious." Spike offered, hopping onto a stool and pushing the drinks to their intended owners as well as he could reach.
"Thank you, Spike." Twilight warmly smiled, gripping her teacup in a field of magic. "Do you want any tea, Owlouicious?"
Meta shook his head. Changeling diet was mostly omnivorous, given the conditions in the badlands where any sort of food was scarce. He would've accepted but was unsure if this was a test of his disguise. One slip up; drinking something that would be hated by the real Owlouicious, would have given him away.
"Suit yourself. More tea for me!" Spike cheered, reaching across the table to grab the teacup barely by the handle to drag it over to himself.
"You could've just asked me to give it to you, Spike." Twilight chuckled, sipping her tea.
"Heh, sorry. It's just really good tea. It's a shame that Owlouicious never even wants to give it a try."
'Whew, dodged that trainwreck.' Thought Meta, mentally patting himself on the back. 'I've got to get out of here. They gave me a free pass but sooner or later the real bird is gonna come back.
Giving Twilight an affectionate nuzzle, Metalicious hooted his goodbyes an flew from the library, his cover intact for now.
"Scribbles, are you there?"
I watch your dreams, Meta.
Meta shivered in flight, nearly causing him to fall to the ground.
"Okay, that was creepy. Anyways, what do I do now?"
Meta, I've told you this before. It is up to you to continue the story. If I give you everything then there is no story.
Meta took a moment to roost on a building, observing Ponyville's merchant square. After a moment, his eyes locked onto a particular shop.
"Hey Scribbles, what's the deal with that place?
They sell Quills and Sofas. What of it?
"Come on, seriously? That has to be a front for something hilarious.
It's your call, Meta.
Meta contemplated his options. He could continue to impersonate the pets of ponyville, but that would make the readers lose interest. If they did that, then his plot armor would vanish and he could die. So long as the audience was entertained, he was effectively immortal.
Bright Idea, the golden coated unicorn stallion with silver eyes, orange and yellow striped mane and tail had just trotted into Sofa and Quill. Understandably, the store contained exactly that. Quills in jars and vases of all kinds were placed around the sofas in a marketing attempt to somehow sell both.
"Hello, welcome to Quill and Sofa. Let me know if you need help with anything." Came the voice of some poor soul behind the counter. They were more interested in reading the morning paper than assisting customers; chewing bubblegum with their hind hooves rested on the countertop.
Bright nodded in acknowledgement, before realising that they couldn't see him nod, and probably didn't care. This was his chance to find out some dastardly scheme that the store must be a part of.
He spent the next three straight hours inspecting every nook, cranny, crack, hole (in the walls, don't think dirty) and crevice he could find. Frustrated and upset, he went up to the front desk.
"Excuse me, could you help me find something?" He asked politely, the sides of his lips twitching in aggravation from putting on a false smile.
"Yeah, what do you want?" The disinterested clerk grumbled, forced to set her crossword puzzle aside to deal with the customer.
"I... I can't seem to find the switch." Bright bluffed, hoping this would be easy.
"Switch to where?"
"You know... The meeting place? I wanted to look around and make sure all 'this' wasn't a trap." He waved his hoof at 'this' being the store itself.
Clerk's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who sent you?"
Bright Idea couldn't believe his luck, and did his best to prevent suprise from showing on his face. "The... Sheriff... Yep."
'Oh I hope this works!' He cringed internally.
The clerk sat back down slowly, and object being levitated behind Bright Idea being set on the countertop in front of them by her magic. It was a Blackjack.
"Password?" She challenged.
'Oh for... Feather's sake.'
"Mmm... Quills and Sofas are Quaint and Silly." His front lips scrunched up to avoid revealing his nervousness.
"Aaaand?"
'Oh for the love of the First Mother!'
"We should kidnap a colt and filly?" He nervously squeaked.
Another object floated down from behind his head; a metal cylinder with a trigger and handle with some kind of fuse.
Scratching her chin with the blackjack, Clerk finally nodded before hoofing a button under her desk. With a loud click, a large sofa parted sideways from the floor leading down into a dark cellar.
"Never seen you at any of the meetings. What's your name?" Inquired Clerk.
"B-Bright Idea."
'How is this working?!'
"Well you be sure to let Big Z know you're coming down. Not too many Ponies know about CAPITOA, and I'd hate to remove anypony from our club."
'Capitoa?'
"Have you met the Writer?" Clerk abruptly asked, causing Bright's legs to lock up in fright for a moment.
"I'll take that as a yes. You're only here because he decided that you should."
After minutes of walking through dark corridors and fending off small rats, the two unicorns walked into an expansive underground chamber. The walls were dirt and soil; the ground was rock of all kinds. Banners hung from the ceiling with 'Capitoa' emblazoned across them. There were a few ponies conversing, some setting up Sofas and others were preparing for something with haste.
"So... What is this place?" Bright asked. His cover was already blown, so he might as well go all out.
"This is Capitoa. Causing All Problems In Town Or Abroad." She explained, climbing onto a box and laying down. "How else are we going to keep this town from getting wiped out, if it isn't always having something interesting happening to write about?"
"You cause problems for the sake of it?"
"Think about it, Bright. What happens to the characters after the story is over? If the Writer is kind enough to explain everypony's 'happily ever after', then thats all well and good. If they don't? Then we might as well cease to exist to the Writer or their readers."
'I thought this was supposed to be a comedy...'
'Hello? Scribbles?'
"The Writer cant hear you down here. It's a spell we've worked on called 'Writer's Block'. He or She is busy thinking of how to write the next chapter, and just can't for the life of them figure out what to say."
"So... What now?"
"Since you have a Writer on your tail, we do our job and start Causing All Problems In Town Or Abroad of course!" Clerk cheered.
Bright blinked his disbelief away before asking, "So what is my role in all of this?"
Clerk looked down from her box, having been calling out to other ponies and giving orders. "All you have to do is keep the Writer's attention. They write, readers read, and we stay Immortal for however many chapters."
"Take this, you'll need it for later." A colt underhoof said, a brightly colored potion held in his mouth and offered to Bright Idea.
Deciding to avoid any misconceptions, Bright quickly stepped over the colt who had been his legs and accepted the potion with his magic.
"What's this for?"
"It's called 'Carpal Tunnel'. If you need a break to think things out, it'll stun the writer long enough to send us a message. Only give it a sip, otherwise the story might dramatically change based on the Writer's mood." Clerk explained.
"Well then. Time to make things interesting I guess."