Hey, I just noticed that the guy who runs the askblog had Miss Harshwhinny get Nightmarized for a few days after getting fed up with all the imperfect Games out there. "Nightmare Victory" is okay, I suppose, but I think we could do better for a name than that. I propose "Nightmare Sternness".

Also I want cool ideas for Nightmare armor for Nightmare Harshwhinny. I was thinking like black armored shorts with little stripes on them to evoke decathletes of the 1970's.

Just as a warning, you will all have to be convincing enough to become my new headcanon, otherwise your opinions are going to be disregarded and then I will find you by Googling your Facebook and spit on your oatmeal when you aren't looking. Serves you right for proposing bad ideas.

2141832
Just FYI, that blog is by Skywriter.

2141836
Yeah, it sounds like his writing. That guy sucks.

2141832 Wait, would she have a horde of sentient medicine balls? Is she after eternal night or like worldwide fitness or anything? The bootyshorts are a good idea, though. Her training whistle could summon the thunder and shit. And she needs a valkyrie helmet, since she's all about the eternal glory. Or was that someone else?

2141832 She could wear a tracksuit, and when attacked, she pulls it off to reveal her astounding glory to all; thus she gets to witness the moment when those who defy her lose the very last of their hope...

2142845 A tracksuit? Oh, sure, and I'll bet she squats and makes everyone eat potatoes.

Jeez, he said good ideas, not stupid internet memes.

Some people.

2141832
why are you tyring to come up with names better thaN" harshwhinyy" anyway???

'nightmare harshiwnny' is the best name

OMG WHO SPIT IN MY OATMAEL

2146020
Please direct commentary of this nature to the breakfast cereals thread. As there is no breakfast cereals thread, you will have to whip one up yourself.

2146012
Yes, but you have to change your name when you become a Nightmare.

2146953
rarity didn't

2146955
Okay, so, ONE Nightmare didn't change her name.

2146957
Dude, that's like, fifty percent of all extant Nightmares.

2146953
She could change her name to 'Susan', it's a pretty scary name. OR, she could just stay 'Harshwhinny, Mistress of All'. Either way works really.

As for armor, she already has her Jacket of Unbiased Inspection and her Ascot of Firm Judging, not to mention her Earrings of Cougarness.

I guess, what I'm really saying is: Why improve upon perfection? She's already a Mare of the Night.

2146962
Thirty-three percent. When Rocky fell under the Nightmare's sway, he changed his name to Tom.

2148551
I'd like to judge her firm ascot, if you know what I mean.

2151728
Really? Because I'd think it would be more awesome to inspect her unbiased jacket.

2151730 2148551
Dibs on cougaring her earrings of missing adjectives!

2151728
Oh, I know what you mean. I know.

2151736
How precisely does one go about 'cougaring'? Are you going to yowl in the dark from mountainsides, stalk elk and musk upon evergreens?

2152992
Actually, I was going to transform the earrings into Felis concolors, and then go out on a triple-date with them and Miss Harshwhinny. The HW is, of course, the sexiest creature in the known universe, but I also have something of a large cat fetish.

2156480
Aww! How romantic. I can picture it now …

Just after twilight, as the stars begin to creep across the sky. The delicate fragrance of an ocean breeze. A fancy restaurant in the Seychelles. A small table in a dark alcove. Harshwhinny turns her withering gaze upon the unlit candle until it spontaneously bursts into flames out of sheer terror.

The waiter scrambles over. 0.3 seconds late. Harshwhinny renders judgment! This restaurant is imperfect and unacceptable. You're crushed for a moment, until she consoles you that it's the least imperfect restaurant she's seen this month, and really, you made a good try of it, and she'll give you a chance to continue, out of a mixture of abject pity and the dark amusement of watching yet another trainwreck of a first date unfold.

Meanwhile, the cougars have snuck away, brought down one of the other patrons, and retreated under the table of a nearby booth to tear apart their bloody repast in peace and solitude.

2156558
oh god yes cougars

DO YOU TAKE COMMISSIONS

PLEASE TELL ME YOU TAKE COMMISSIONS

I WILL PAY YOU FIFTY DOLLARS TO CONTINUE THIS STORY

2156566 Deal!

The waiter returns, humbly crawling back to your table with a drink tray on his back. He sobs at Harshwhinny's hooves, begging for forgiveness, and hesitantly suggests that the restaurant has authorized him to bring over some cocktails on the house. Harshwhinny checks the Official IERC List of Approved Material Compensation and nods curtly. He leaps to his feet and slides a White Russian across the table to her, bowing at the perfect fifty-six degree angle that maximizes the multiplicative product of obeisance and dignity.

Harshwhinny stands, a magnificent rage darkening her features. She braces her hooves under the table and effortlessly upends it. Silverware flies everywhere, killing two other patrons. The cougars' night has now gone from entrée to buffet line.

You behold the full glory of her wrath. Her luscious lips are pulled back, exposing perfectly aligned teeth, whiter than Celestia's coat and glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. One corner of her muzzle is curled slightly further downward than the other. Her pupils have shrank, and the whites of her eyes reflect the candlelight, now a cheerful blaze as the carelessly lofted candle lands upon one of the heavy velvet curtains and sets it instantly afire.

"WERE YOU NOT AWARE," she thunders, and the heavens themselves echo with her voice, "THAT I AM LACTOSE INTOLERANT?"

Her voice is even more beautiful in the slightly accented Seychellois Creole she effortlessly switches to in order to berate the hapless staff. You had no idea she even spoke it, but how could she not? Of course she learns every single language of every unnamed corner of every continent; how else to approach perfect comprehension and ranking of the world she so disdains?

At that moment, the infatuation you were stricken with long before your birth blazes out into the fiery passion of love; a love, alas, doomed to remain forever unrequited, for she could only love perfection itself, but in that perfection you have found a new goal worthy of lifelong aspiration. To be the very best. Like no one ever was. And suddenly, you know what you must do.

With a single bound, you leap across the room to where the cougars are now chasing stampeding herds of restaurant patrons, indiscriminately killing with vicious bites to the neck. You grab the female. She yowls and spits, vicious claws blading through the trembling air, teeth lashing and snapping. She thrashes in your grip. The moment of your doom approaches. Right up until, with a mighty heave inspired by your newfound dedication, you suplex her straight through a nearby table.

While the cougar lies stunned for a moment, you grab an empty glass with one hand, and the teats on her belly with another. With two mighty pulls, rich, life-giving fluid bursts forth. You seize a boomerang decorating a nearby wall and hurl it into the night with all your strength. Moments later, having warped time and space at your behest, it returns to you, rotating around an upended bottle of Grey Goose Magnum, the last of which sloshes into your glass before the bottle smashes against a wall, further stoking the now-roaring blaze which six fire departments are straining ineffectually to quench. You snatch some coffee beans spilled across a nearby table, and squeeze them in one trembling fist, screaming to the heavens as you summon all of your might, until the beans themselves weep in agony and a thin dark liquid courses from your hand to complete the drink.

You prostrate yourself before Harshwhinny's imperious form, all thoughts of the dignity/obeisance balance gone, for does the attempt at perfection not carry its own dignity far surpassing any mortal vanity? "No mere cattle byproduct," you declare, "could ever hope to fuel your elegance. I ask only that you consider my humble offering; and, in the consideration, that you may temper the steel of my imperfect adoration."

She takes a sip. "Hm," she says. Then, again, "Hm."

You tremble, not daring to look at her, eyes fixed on a spot on the ground just shy of her hooves.

The corners of her lips slowly crinkle upward. "Your suplex form was abominable."

You weep. To merely be the object of her attention is so transcendent that there are no sufficient words.

"I shall practice it for years," you say, "just on the off chance that I might one day demonstrate it again for you."

"I have a better idea," she says. Before you realize what's happening, her hooves are wrapped around you. "I think you might benefit from some personal training."

She drags you into a back room.

Five minutes later, you are so spent that you can barely crawl back out into the towering inferno of the restaurant. Her mane is slightly mussed.

The cougars hold up number cards.

She, of course, scores a 10.

2156739
Why is this not already at the top of the feature box on this site?

2158355
Better question: Why isn't at the top of of every feature box on every site that has a feature box?

2156739
Hey, 2156480 said he wanted a triple date with the Harsh and the cougars. The cats were merely accessories, window dressing even! You call yourself an author?

2159690
Those cats got a fantastic date out it! What's your problem?

2159693
What do you mean?

I don't have a problem.

2159696
The cougars got taken to a fancy restaurant, ate well above their payscale, and one of them got frisked to the point of milking herself! I believe that counts as a good date in anyone's book.

10/10 would clop again.

2159709
I don't want to get dragged into a matter that's properly between 2156558 and 2156566 — it's her commission, after all — but I'm with 2159690 on this one. The cougars did get a good time out of the narrator, I guess, but they didn't get to tremble at Harshwhinny's majesty at all. It's not really a triple date if he's hogging the HW all to himself.

2161966
I suppose you and 2159690 have got a point, but as far as I'm concerned that was still totally worth the fifty bucks.

Hey 2156739, it's okay if I pay you with my membership ticket to Harshcon, right? I'm a little short of cash at the moment.

2158355
It's not at the top of the featurebox because it's only 966 words! I can't submit it. I even tried adding "And then they f*cked." to the end, but that only raised it to 970.

2161979
Which Harshcon? The one that Skywriter organized that didn't happen, or the one that's being put on by time travellers that gets paid for through the magical power of compound interest?

2156739
This is pretty good. Any thoughts of opening it up into a story universe?

2158355
2192663
A story universe is a pretty sweet idea! With one major flaw.

As far as I can tell, the process of creating a "verse" out of stories involves 1) a catchy name, 2) posting a timeline for the associated stories, and 3) creating a FIMFiction group for its worship.

1) is simple. "The Cougarverse." Done!

2) is pretty simple too:

TUESDAY - The events of "You, Ms. Harshwhinny, And A Pair Of Cougars Go On A Double Date" occur.

The sticking point is #3. If I created a new group for The Cougarverse, it would pretty much be All Harshworship, All The Time, and that would put me in direct competition with "Miss Harshwhinny Is Best Pony."

Clearly the solution is for everyone here to write Cougarverse side stories and flash fiction and omake and AUs (like one where you and Miss Harshwhinny and two mountain lions go on a date), and then we can create a new folder for Harshcougar shipping and a whole new thread in the forum and everything.

2193863
Okay, I was following along with you up until you mentioned the mountain-lion Cougarverse AU. Let's have some standards.

Pumas maybe I could see, if she was slumming, but mountain lions are right out.

2193871
Panthers would make a better AU choice, if said AU takes place in Neighpon or Zebrica.

Or, go with Jaguars if you like an Aztec feel to your AU.

2194445 2193871
What about civets? That way, they could even be involved in the coffee-making process for the White Russian.

hey 2197928 civets aren't even cats. they're viverrids, not felids.

2197939
Don't cat-shame.

2197939
They have the right to be cats if they want to be. This is America.

2203374
I was a cat once.

It was horrible.

2204018
Stop lying!

2204020
It's true! I was a cat, very temporarily of course.

2204024
No, not that. Stop lying about it being horrible.

2204027

2204018

You said you were Australian. So by 2203374's logic, you can't have been a cat. You have to be a kangaroo, or something!

I'm sorry 2204521, but not for the first time, you are sadly mistaken. While I was once a cat, I have never been Australian. Besides the cat episode and the time in Wisconsin, I have always been a proud 'MERICAN Cuttlefish.

2204809
Um …

So I looked back through the other forum threads because I clearly remember you mentioning Australia. But I can't find the reference.

This "being wrong" thing is weird and confusing. I'm not comfortable with it. I would appreciate it if you would move to Australia in order to correct this.

2206299
Hmmm... it is summer there right now. I suppose that wouldn't be too bad.

I'll pack my bags. Be a doll and transfer my utilities to a little house in Sydney for me.

2208650
Sure, that's the least I can do.

And since you're moving to Australia, that means you can't be a cat any more. You're okay with that, right? Dingoes are pretty cute.

2209578
I've always wanted to try out being a wallaby. I know that sounds dreadfully tourist of me, but it's true.