//------------------------------// // Time To Dance // Story: Thnks Fr Th Mmrs // by Inspiration //------------------------------// *POV change inbound* we first-person nao You are Patrick Stump. And you are FURIOUS. Brendon Urie thinks that he can just waltz up on stage and steal your show. YOUR show. You were only a few minutes late for the concert! The nerve of this guy! You still have the rainbow pony from last chapter in your hands, and it's still as confused as ever. Out of anger, you toss the rainbow pony on the stage like a ragdoll, lift the TARDIS from its resting place on the stage with one arm, rip open a portal that leads straight into the time vortex with your free arm, and hurl the blue box in. The portal seals shut with a blinding flash of white light. The crowd doesn't even notice. They didn't notice when you materialized out of thin air in the TARDIS. They didn't notice when you swaggered out of the double doors, carrying a confused Rainbow Dash in your arms. They didn't notice that this was supposed to be Fall Out Boy's show. They didn't notice that this wasn't supposed to be another Panic! At The Disco concert. They didn't notice the blinding light as you tore a rift right into the heart of time. One thing held their attention. A man. No, a god among men. No, a god. Brendon Urie. He stands there in front of a microphone. Strumming an acoustic guitar. (cue music http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zouSojyIi94) He starts singing. If all our life is but a dream, Fantastic posing greed, Then we should feed our jewelery to the sea. For diamonds do appear to be, Just like broken glass to me. You think to yourself, "Ha! That's not even a good song, Urie. Golden was much more emotional. Score one for Fall Out Boy." It's a blatant lie. You know this. You know that even Golden is utter shit compared to the class of Northern Downpour. You know that your band could never compete with this music. It hurts so much. You scoop up the rainbow pony that you discarded a few minutes earlier and sling it over your shoulder. Urie just keeps singing. Refusing to acknowledge your presence. You glare at him, but the glare quickly softens. And softens. And softens. And you smile. Damn it! You shake your head to snap yourself out of the daze. You should have known that Brendon would try to melt your mind with his hotter-than-the-sun hotness. You're going to kill his ass. That fine ass. So shapely. So smooth... boner pls stahp stahp STAHP SNAP OUT OF IT! You jolt yourself out of the trance. It's Pete Wentz's fault that Urie is famous. It's Pete Wentz's fault that Urie is better than you. It's Pete Wentz's fault for giving Urie a chance. It's Pete Wentz's fault for- Speak of the devil. Pete shuffles up to you. "Stump, where the hell have you been?! You missed the concert! You've messed it all up! All of our practice is for nothing!" You sigh. Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Mr. Emo-tron. "Pete, I was in magical pony land. I just couldn't make it to the concert in time. Besides, it's your fault that Brendon is famous and better than us." Wentz's expression goes from one of annoyance to one of disbelief. "You... you CAN'T be blaming me for all of this! How arrogant can you be, Stump? Do you think that you're the alpha dog and o-o-omegalomania-ah-ac here? You screwed the entire show up, don't you DARE blame anyone else for-" "Shut up, Pete." You grab the rainbow pony that you carried on your shoulder, hold it by the tail, and swing it straight at Wentz's head. CRACK! It hits the mark. Wentz's body falls to the floor, limp. He's dead. Oh well, it's not like he had a real role in the band anyway. You can easily add songwriting to your list of tasks. You return the pony to your shoulder, do a 180 and swagger off the stage. You pay no attention to Urie's singing, nor the captivated crowd. You have one thought on your mind: Revenge. A motto from a cool game comes to mind, "Revenge solves everything" It's time to strike back. It's time to stop being second-best to Brendon Urie. It's Time To Dance. ...and you also have to figure out what you're going to do with this pony. You are Princess Twilight Sparkle. And your johnnies are jangled something fierce. This alien came to your home. He put the entire planet in a state of disarray. He clunked you over the head with a rock when you were but a lowly unicorn peasant. He foalnapped Rainbow Dash. He also offed Princess Celestia, if that even matters. You had been plotting to relive Sunbutt of her duites for months, so YOU could become the princess that everyone bows down to. Stump only did you a favor. Now that you've ascended to alicorn status, you are the BOMB. Woooh, no rules. You basically run all of Equestria, because Luna is useless and no one really cares about her. Even though you were planning Celestia's demise, her death was a major shock to you. She had been your teacher. You had put everything you could give into making her proud. And now... She was gone. You sit in your throne, and watch as a small group of ponies enter through the throne room's gigantic double doors. You see Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy (lol so original and shy), and Pinkie Pie approach your throne and kneel. "Arise, chickun, arise." You say, and the ponies rise to their hooves. You take a few moments more to study the four ponies that stand in front of your throne. Their eyes are bloodshot. They haven't slept in days. They've neglected all of their duties. Even Pinkie Pie wasn't her usual self. She stood there with a deflated mane, on the verge of tears. It's time to act like you care. "Alright peasants, you all know why I've called you here. A terrible act of treason has been commited against Equestria. As subjects of the Twilight Sparkle Empire, this disastrous act is your concern." They all seem to keep quiet, which is good. You've finally trained them to speak only when given permission. "As you know, our late Guardian of the Sun, Princess Celestia, has been murdered by an alien that calls himself the 'King of Punk Pop.'" "Obviously, the title is false and self-proclaimed, because it is common knowledge that Brendon Urie is the one and only King of Punk Pop. No, wait... let's just call Urie the God of Punk Pop. Let Stump be the King of Punk Pop. God > King > Unicorn > Pegasi > Earth Pony." "Your beautiful and pure princess has developed a sure-fire plan to bring this cold-hearted killer to justice and to also reclaim our stolen "friend," Rainbow Dash." You have their full attention now. "We are going to open a portal to the human world and knock the stuffing out of this inferior King of Punk Pop. Do you lowly plebeians agree with this plan? Not that it matters, you really don't have a choice." One by one, the ponies nod their heads in approval of your horrible plan. "Sounds simple as apples 'ta me" says Applejack "Okie dokie lokie! Whatever you say, Princess Tyrant Sparkle!" says Pinkie Pie, her mane re-bubbling itself as she hops around in circles a few times. "don't tease me guise im shy xDDD" says Fluttershy (lol so original and shy). "Faaaab-ulous!" Rarity adds. You perk up at the wave of agreement, and you almost feel like you could sincerely call these inferior ponies your friends. Better purge that feeling ASAP. "It is settled then. We set hoof for the human world in the morning." You are Patrick Stump. Again. You've settled down in your house after a long evening of trying to figure out what to do with your newly acquired pony. You've tried everything. You used the pony to swat a fly. You used it as a towel after your evening shower. You used it to keep a nice stack of papers in place. You caught a glance... back there... and came to the conclusion that it was a she. The pony didn't seem to serve a real purpose though. All she did was complain about how your hands are "too cold" and how you are a "freaky alien from another planet" and how you "didn't have the right to foalnap her." You would simply tell her "I don't care what you think, as long as it's about me. The best of us can find happiness in miii-iii-iiisery." You sigh, set down your evening newspaper, and look at the pony that is sitting two seats away from you on the sofa. "What do you normally do? You don't seem to have any purpose." She huffs and glares at you. "I do all sortsa awesome stuff! I'm the fastest flier in all of Equestria, and I control the weather in Ponyville! The only reason that I'm not being awesome is because YOU," she jabs an accusing hoof at you "are using me to do not-awesome things!" You sigh for literally the trillionth time today. "I just thought that you would make a good paperweight, that's all. Look, I'm sorry for kidnapping you and stuff. I just wanted to have a pony of my own." You've given up on being really cool for the mostpart. Now you're just wallowing in self-pity. Talking to this equine is helping a bit, however. She sniffs. "Y-yeah, whatever... don't mention it." You sigh for the trillionth + 1 time today. This pony seems pretty bro. Maybe she could help you get back at Urie for stealing your show. "Hey, pony..." "The name's Rainbow Dash." "Right, well... Rainbow Dash, would you like to help me do something awesome?" Her ears perk up at the last word. "How awesome?" "I want you to help me fight... a god... THE God." This elicts a small squeal from the pegasi that is seated next to you, but she puts on an unconcerned expression to hide it. "Sorry creepy alien guy, but I don't know if that's awesome enough for yours truly." "What if I told you that this god that I speak of is the very essence of awesomeness, and coolness, and radicalness, and overall badassery? What if I told you that if he were to be... relieved of his power, you would officially become the coolest pony EVER to live?" "T-that doesn't sound too bad... I guess I could help you out. Soon as I hear the plan, of course." "So you're a possible candidate?" She grins at this. "You betcha, Mr. Creepy Alien Guy!" "Just... call me Patrick." "Sure thing, Patrick!" You hold out your fist, and the pegasi throws herself into the fist-to-hoof-bump. Patrick Stump, master of making friends. Silver-tongued charmer. Pony pimp. Awwwww yeah. You are Brendon Urie. And it is thursday. Positive Hardcore Thursday, to be specific. You point a camera at your face, shake your floppy hair, and scream. "OHHHHHH YEAHHHHHH BEEN PRETTY HEALTHY MY WHOLE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE" That should hold your 400,000 Twitter followers over for a few more days. You know that you're better than these people. You know that you don't have to bother entertaining them. But you do it anyway. Because you actually care about your fans, unlike 99.9% of celebrities. Because you're an awesome guy. You set the camera down and sigh. "Well, it's time to get back to the studio, I guess." Just as you go to grab your car keys, you notice another car pull up to your house. From the sheer awesomeness radiating from it, you identify it as your friend Patrick's car. He steps out, carrying a colorful pony. What is he even doing with that thing? Flying ponies are such a handful! He walks up to your door and raps on it a few times. Hah, raps. You could be a rapper if you wanted to. "Come in!" He opens the door, enters with pony in arms, and leaves the door wide open. You chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn doo-" You're cut off by the pony, who is all flying up in your face now. Uncool, man. "Alright, who's flank are we kickin'?! Is it YOU?!" "F-flank? Uh, I don't know what you're even talking about. Who's kicking who?" You look at Stump, who is glaring daggers at you. "You've stolen my show for the last time, Brendon. I've come to claim my rightful title. No longer will I be but a king of punk pop, but the God of Punk Pop." such tension much challenge wow As a light flashes outside of your house and a small handful of ponies appear, neither you nor Patrick are aware that this confrontation is just the Calm Before The Storm. CONTINUED