• Published 3rd Nov 2011
  • 3,407 Views, 171 Comments

Tangled Up in Blues - The Descendant

Blues tells of the big heartbreaks and little joys of his life, and how a bluespony made it happen.

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Chapter 7: "The Friendship Blues"

Tangled Up in Blues

Written by The Descendant

Chapter 7: "The Friendship Blues"

I awoke alone. With small panic I leapt up and quickly went sprawling to the ground as my legs began to feel the multitude of pin pricks which indicated their protest at having to support me as I slept sitting on the floor. My back too disliked having slept against the bed, and it protested in loud terms. None of these hurts though could match the pain that was flying through my heart at the idea that she had left me…

Painted blue.

I was able to soothe one of those complaints as I lurched into the sitting room. There a small note met me, one in her perfect little hoofwriting.

"Had to go pick up Penny. We'll both be back tonight."

"Yes!" I cried, throwing my hooves into the air. At once my legs and back, frustrated at being ignored, launched another attack that sent me flailing and screaming into my coffee table.

Even when I'm happy, painted blue.

I asked you before, Moody if you knew where I am as I'm making this mental note to you. Of course you know, but if you had guessed at the club doing that servicepony's benefit you'd be wrong.

I would like to tell you what happened there though…

That night the club was alive with ponies. Soldiers of the brigade that was stationed in the camp above Carousel Boutique filled both the tents we had set up and the old hall itself. They mixed with our regular customers as their proud flags flew from rafters, the colors adding excitement to our party.

Penny and I smiled at one another, and I lifted her onto the stage. "You ready kiddo?" I asked as her mother looked on in surprise. "Yup!" she answered, lifting her little sax to her mouth.

"Ladies and gentlecolts," I cried, "In honor of our guests the serviceponies, I present for your patriotic consideration Miss Penny's Worth, in her world debut, playing 'Beneath Sun and Moon'!"

As I slid off the stage so she could look at me and concentrate the soldiers and Ponyville civilians alike applauded. I looked to Penny, she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"Beneath Sun and Moon", as you know Moody, isn't Equestria's national anthem, but it is dear to the hearts of all Equestrians. It's song about our good land, and how we all are one ponydom despite being three races. It's about how the Sister Sovereigns guide us, watch over us, love us. So it was that even as it wobbled from a child's saxophone it caused ponies to remove their hats and helmets, and more than a few misty eyes were seen.

I felt Taffy leaning against me, the beautiful light frame resting easy alongside mine and the engaging scent of the mare washing away all the others in the room. I laid my head against hers. It was at that moment when, barely a few chords into the song, Penny saw us.

As she looked at us, Moody, her whole expression changed. I swear, Moody, the kid became lighter, her whole countenance fell away and was replaced by a being made of "Zap!" and fireworks.

She had seen us, the two of us, Taffy and I, leaning into each other…the love between us now evident to her.

In her little world something fell into place, something that had not been meshing properly came together. At once all of those concerns, the worries that had dogged her, parted ways and she focused on her song…

…her song, Moody!

At once life burst from that saxophone. It was incredible. "Beneath Sun and Moon" came alive, and the crowd was awed by it, overwhelmed by it.

Her song ended, and in that still sudden second between when it ended and when the crowd could begin to cheer something amazing happened.

There was a sound like a falling star sliding across a frozen lake, and a look went over Penny's face like somepony had poured quicksilver down her flank. She looked down, her face went wide, and she turned to us with the most perfect expression on her face that I'd ever seen.

If I could have bottled that expression, Moody, I could have sold it for ten bits a pop on the street.

"Mom!" she called out, her voice still the only one in the room as the crowd looked on unspeaking, still awestruck, "My cutie mark!"

At once the crowd burst out into cheers, the whole of the dance hall, the entire assembly that had gathered around the open windows as the song progressed, cheered wildly.

They all cheered again as Penny leapt from the stage into her mother's forelegs, they rocked the structure with their cheers so much that ancient dust bunnies we hadn't thought to clean out came down from atop the rafters.

So loud was it that the flags overhead vibrated with it. I noticed all of this as I climbed back up onto the stage. As I did I felt a little tug and looked down into her face, the little wonderful face.

"Let's see that mark!" I said, gathering her up, tickling her as I lifted her around.

It was a gumball machine. At first I was startled, was Penny destined for a life of automated food distribution maintenance?

No, I realized, think about how she got it, stupid. She had gotten it because she had focused on us. She had received clarity, a deeper understanding of the mechanics of her world. Because we loved each other she no longer had those worries, those fears, those permeating concerns that clouded her little world.

Now, to her, it was all clear blue skies.

The gumballs in the machine all exist, but they come out one at a time…you put in your money and out comes your…penny's worth. Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhhh!

Hers was the gift of clarity, of focus. Celestia alone knew what she could do with such a powerful mark…how her song would come out in the end.

"Up, up!" she called, and I lifted her high above me and spun her around, and she fell into my forelegs as we wheeled down to the floor, her mother looking up to us with tears in her eyes and her hoof over her mouth as the crowd continued to cheer.

I don't hate Penny's biological father, Moody. I don't hate anypony or anything.

In time, I knew, in an effort to be honest with me that Taffy would tell me about him, not wanting to have any secrets from me. I could already guess though how the story would go.

Poor Taffy, alone, seeking shelter from a storm in her life, thinking she'd found a safe harbor.

Oh, Taffy, there were hidden rocks…weren't there? Oh, Taffy.

They aren't real stallions; those who whisper sweet lies, those who play a game with the hearts of mares…they are merely animals spreading their seed.

From a biological perspective, with most stallions off fighting The Wars for all of these generations, I guess it's necessary. There are repercussions to having the streets of these villages and cities filled with a ratio of 3 mares to 1 stallion. Ponies don't come through some magic mirror or through some other ways found in the fables we tell foals to avoid telling them the embarrassing truth.

So…I don't hate him. If he hadn't scratched his itch I'd never have met Penny, and therefore never met Taffy…never fallen in love with both of them.

But, as I sat there on the stage embracing Penny, receiving her kisses over and over as the crowd continued to cheer for her, I couldn't help but think that the bastard was the biggest bloated sack of stupid idiocy to ever trot Equestria for leaving this behind.

I looked down into her face as the band began to play again. "That" I said, resting my head to hers, "Was one killer first recital, kiddo!"

She just giggled as I lead her to her mother's side. There I watched as Taffy's cousin Bon Bon and her green life partner cooed and cuddled and fawned over Penny. Soon more relations were coasting over to them as I looked on amused.

As I did I felt Bluegrass tap me. He lead me aside and to the door to the office. He killed the lights as we looked out through the doorway, over the heads of the throngs of the ponies listening in as Spike burned the place up on the piano.

We gazed for long seconds.

"What am I looking at here?" I asked him after "ridiculous" had firmly set in.

"Look to the third booth down on the far side," indicated the colt subtly with his hoof.

I focused on the table, partly hidden as it was by the moving crowd. As I did I concentrated on it, narrowed my eyes.

"In Celestia's name!" I cried, "I…I don't believe it!"

"I know...how," began Bluegrass.

"They're almost out of toothpicks!" I said, scrambling for the supply cabinet.

Bluegrass smacked his hoof to his forelock, gathered me up (toothpicks in hoof) and pointed me back at the table.

"Look at the stallion," he said in a cloaked whisper, "The band and I were discussing this…we're like 99.999% sure it's Midnight Runner."

Midnight Runner, Moody, I'm sure you know that name. I sure did. There was probably no more successful blues musician alive, Moody, and with your passing he was probably the greatest living one too.

We looked across the way to where Midnight Runner sat among a small crowd in one of the booths, the old grey stallion bobbing his head with the music our young dragon friend was playing.

"You should go talk to him," said Bluegrass.

"Why me?" I asked.

"Hey, you're the boss around here," he added with a shrug.

I was about to snort and make a comment, but as I looked down to Bluegrass I saw that he was staring back out across the way, not a hint of irony on him.

The colts saw me as the boss, Moody. I was in charge, Moody. I was the respectable one, Moody. I was the presentable one, Moody. Celestia help us all, Moody.

We soon had to retake the stage, and as Spike took his bows and ran off, the applause for him turned into a repeated call for Penny to take the stage again. She played one more song, her first, "Marching in the Rain" with us and then was off to bed.

As we wound down the night I determined to see Midnight Runner. As the crowd dispersed though we lost sight of him, and soon the place was empty.

At the next meeting of The New Blue Flag Club, L.L.C., his presence was noted, but I first suggested that we have all of our families here at the club for a massive Blessings Day dinner. "Bring all of them, all that we can fit inside," I motioned.

"Second," called out Short.

"Aye," called one and all.

As the meeting progressed I had the pertinent information that I was now deeply and utterly in love and that I would appreciate the understanding of the gentlecolts in the matter added to the record.

Lucky added to that report that I already owed him two nights of his dinner duty and that would start to accumulate interest if canoodling transpired and he was put in the position of having to do so again.

Recognizing that information as factual I agreed to the terms and we set about planning for Blessings Day.

Two weeks later our families began to arrive, and we put them up at the better hotels like The Seabiscuit. As morning dawned on the feast day they arrived in a constant stream, the older ponies meeting one another, making new acquaintances, and renewing tenuous bonds of familiarity. It turns out that Short's father served with Bluegrass's uncle in one of The Wars, same regiment and everything.

To my delight Taffy and Penny escape unnoticed from a mass gathering of their clan and join us. Penny joins the myriad number of nieces and nephews of the colts as they run around the dance hall, and I introduced Taffy to my parents.

My mother regards Taffy as some Celestia-sent prize for her years of patient waiting. "We aren't married, mom!" I laughed.


The entire staff is there, it takes nine of those long tables to fit them and the families. It takes three more to fit all of the food they've brought, and the kitchen had never been so busy.

As everything comes together I am seated at the head of the u-shaped stretch of tables, Penny and Taffy to my left, and my mother and father to my right, the rest of the committee panning out and down, from Bluegrass and his massive herd of family all the way down to Pink Bunny and his mommy.

I see all eyes on me, Moody, on "the boss", and I realize I'm being called upon to make the Invoke.

As I turn to the stage where the pictures of Luna and Celestia sit among a display of food and gifts the families stand with me, and I feel Penny's hoof in mine.

I'm not the most spiritual pony, but for the first time since my grandfather, now there with you in the Well of Souls, Moody, had said it the Invoke has meaning for me.

"For all we are given," I said, and bowed. They all did the same, and we turned to eat.

As we did the conversation flowed around, and the place was almost as loud as it was during nights we were performing. As I stood to get some more from the buffet table I felt the light move funny, and I looked to the door. There a figure stood briefly before leaving.

I looked to my bouncer Tuff Stuff and he galloped to the door. I would have sent Pink Bunny but he was too busy cautiously cutting his food like a gentlepony, chewing each bite thoroughly. The massive, hulking, brutal form of the bouncer was sweating under the withering gaze of his tiny mother.

Tuff Stuff opened the door. I saw him extend a hoof…and for a second, Moody, I thought it was you he brought within. I'm sorry, but it's true…I know because I almost dropped my plate all over one of Bluegrass's nephews.

The old pony came forward, and those of us who recognized him gasped. It was Midnight Runner.

"I'm sorry tah' interrupt," he said, removing his checkered cap, "I'd totally forgotten that it wer' Blessin's Day. I…I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all!" chimed we four colts in unison.

Many of the families kept talking, not caring about or even noticing him, as he spoke with us, the three other ponies leaning over me to hear him.

"I've been thinkin' about hittin' the road again, and I'mma always's lookin' for new talent for the label. I was here that other night…couple weeks ago. Stallion alive, you colts killed it, ate it up, them soldiercolts were eatin' it up, eatin' it up."

Our pride grew as this legendary figure inflated our egos.

"So…I got tah' thinkin', if you colts would like tah do some recordings…"

That was my dream, Moody, if you remember. To be a big recording star, to tour Equestria, become a legendary performer, selling records left and right.

Here he was, Moody, one of your old associates, he even held his head like you. He was you, I realized, if you'd made a different choice…

"…or come on the road with me and the like, move on up tah' Manehattan."

The room was suddenly quiet.

"Whattcha think, colts?"

I slowly spun in my chair, looking up to the colts. As I did I felt for her hoof, ran my hoof across her foreleg.

I'm your harbor, Taffy. You are safe here, Penny is safe here.

I looked up to the colts, gave them everything they needed to know with one look.

I can't go.

I've made a promise.

This is where I'm supposed to be, I'm home for the first time in my life.

We've done something amazing here.

I won't stop any of you if you want to go, but please, please stay.

You're like brothers to me.

I love you each.

My eyes, if you remember, Moody, are very expressive.

I looked to each of them in turn and got a nod, and then turned back to Midnight Runner.

"I'm sorry…we can't."

He didn't ask why, there was no long explanation of our stance, no counter-offers. He just nodded and turned to leave.

"I mean…we can do the recordings, but we can't move to Manehattan, or tour for years at a time…we're home, here, you see."

He turned back to us, his smile returning.

"Well, 'spose that'd work, yeah…that'd work."

"Won't you join us for some dinner?" Short asked.

"We'd love to have you," added Lucky.

"I've got some stuff that's been wanting to show you since I was a foal," added Bluegrass.

The old stallion ran his hoof through his grey mane, turned and looked at the tables of smiling faces…the little wave he got from Pink Bunny's mother.

"Well," he said with a wheeze and a chuckle, "Beats walkin' back to dah' hotel just tah' eat alone, don't it?"

"Yessir," I said, "Yes it does."

Later I sat with him as he had some desert following his meal. He sat with Pink Bunny's mother as I sat in that towering pony's shadow. I carefully cleared a spot on the table and laid out your album, Moody.

As he gasped and rocked back and forth he spewed forth names and remembrances. He was even in a few of them, pictures from the original Blue Flag, you and he battling it out.

"Dat' Moody Blues, weren't nopony ever better ya' know…"

"I know," I said, "He taught me everything I know about the blues. Showed me how getting tangled up in them would show me my song, perfect it…"

"Did he now?"

I showed him your case, Moody, with your name still inside on the label. I let him hold your first sax, the very same one he had played against on that stage with you two generations ago, and something moved in him. I showed him your altar and he is saddened, but not depressed.

I see what he is Moody. He is you if you'd gone the other way, if you'd made the other choice.

"C'mon, colt," he says, motioning me to stand up, "Let's give this a go."

We stand in front of your altar, Moody, as I lift your old sax to my lips, the colts running for the stage as they see what's about to happen. Lucky taps out a rhythm on the drums, Bluegrass at his guitar, Short takes the base. Our families begin to clap as Runner lifts his fabled harmonica, the one called Tangerine, and belts out the blues as I accompany him.

For three songs I'm able to pretend I'm playing at your original club, the first Blue Flag, and in his eyes I'm you…and he gets to be young again for a moment.

As it ended he looked up to your altar again.

"Y'all got a ladder?" he asked, looking to each of us.

Soon Pink Bunny, Tuff Stuff and I are holding the ladder as the old pony climbs, and we are one and all astounded as he leans in and kisses your portrait, Moody, right on the forehead.

Such is our tradition now...every pony who comes to the New Blue Flag to perform must climb the rickety ladder and supplicate themselves thus.

"You'll come back and play with us sometime, right?" I ask as I see him to the door.

"Of course!" he says, putting his checkered cap back on. He looked at me and smiled.

"Old Moody Blues, he'd be proud of you, Blues," he says, shaking my hoof.

"Thank you," I said, nodding to the grey stallion. He took a few steps back and apparently noticing a sound, turned to look at its source. He gave a slow whistle.

"Ya' even got da' flag right!" he said with a chuckle before walking away, his hooves crunching the fallen leaves.

I returned inside to see the band, my employees, and my parents standing beneath your altar and staring at me. Penny and Taffy came forward, holding my sax, your sax, and its case.

"While the ladder is up," said Lucky, pointing, "It's time."

"What, wait, what?" I asked, confusion reigning down over me as I stared at my, your, beloved sax.

As I look on Bristle Brush and Sweeps, my janitors and the most unfortunately marked ponies I'd ever met, bring forward two immense glass cases and set them on the overhang next to your portrait.

I soon understand what they want of me. They want me to take down the blue flag that our little ship has been flying. They want the waves to wash away the blue band I've painted around it, let it return to a proper ship, ready to make for distant shores.

They want me to take the captaincy.

Penny and Taffy each give me long hugs as I first take the case up, and arrange it so that all can see the label, then close it within the glass.

They both give me another hug, and my parents as well, as I gather up the enchanted sax. I kiss it beneath the bell, place it on the stand, then forever consign it within the glass, sealing it until Celestia decrees otherwise and consecrating it to your memory.

I kiss your portrait, then make my way down the ladder. As the colts take their turn to kiss your forehead I watch the sax shimmer in the spotlight and then turn to those gathered there.

"Well," I said, already becoming emotional as I watched, "That was powerfully symbolic, but it does leave me without a sax…"

"Taken care of," says Bluegrass as two of his nephews bring forward a new case.

All my family and friends gather around as I look at the label. At first I had been worried that Taffy had tried to give me back Moody's second sax, the one I'd told her to give to Penny.

But that, I realized immediately, couldn't be the case…literally. This wasn't the same make as either of Moody's. This was a Grand Persian case, which meant that the sax inside would have to be one of the most perfect instruments made in Equestria.

"How…you, you didn't have to…" I stammered.

"It was in the equipment budget!" shouted back Tax Form, our accountant, hired just that week to manage our burgeoning income.

I swallowed hard, opened the case.

Hello, beautiful.

I lift it up and out, and around its perfect surface are engraved names of ponies I'd held dear, and pictures of my parents, grandparents, and the band.

And you too, Moody, smack dab in the center of the bell…smiling wide.

And…I notice two ovals not yet engraved, but present…ready…and room for many, many more.

"It's perfect…thank you, thank you all so…" I begin, becoming emotional.

"Plaaayyyy!" demands Pink Bunny in a bellowing tone.

I lift it to my lips. It tastes like a mule shoe, thank Luna. I take a breath and…

"Bwargle", goes the sax, a rather traditional sound for me. Not it's fault, as soon I'll be making music with it that challenges anything I'd accomplished with yours, Moody (no offense).

However, my problem at that moment was, if you've been paying attention to my story old friend, was that I had started to cry…yet again.

As I cried Penny and Taffy come forward, wrapping their hooves around me. Soon my parents followed, and my band, then my employees. They join me in these tears, I don't cry them alone this time…these happy tears, these type of tears I'd been waiting to cry for more than two decades.

As I lift Penny up onto my back I listen to the sound of them all, especially Pink Bunny's tearful bawling. I see all of them, my little crew, and realize it's not so bad being…

…painted blue.

I looked to your picture again, Moody.

Like I said, I've been thinking about you a lot recently. If you can see us from down in the Well of Souls, I hope you can see how things have gone in the months since that tearful Blessings Day.

Do you know where I am yet as I scribble this note to you in my own little blue head? Of course you do, I'm being facetious, but do please have a guess.

I'm not in the club, the weather has turned good again, even if it was a hard winter, and I'm very ready to be outside.

It was a hard winter, but for the first time since I was a foal I'd looked forward to the winter holidays. Yule, New Years (which was a blast at the club), even one I had found repugnant and depressing a few years ago, Lovelaced Day, these all took on amazing new meanings for me, now that I had special ponies, ponies I loved, in my life.

It was amazing to me to be able to carry a sleeping Penny up the stairs on a cold blustery night, let her and her mother sleep in my bed while I slept on the couch so they didn't have to fight their way home through the snow. I enjoyed drifting off to sleep listening to the small sounds they'd make as they were sleeping in the next room.

More than once I awoke with Penny laying on my chest, having joined me in the night, and once her mother too with her head resting against Penny and I as she sat sleeping on the floor beside the couch.

When we awoke her the next morning she had a similar experience to what I had months before when I awoke from the same position. Penny and I had to fight from laughing aloud.

I fall more and more in love with that mare everyday, Moody.

It was a hard winter, Moody. The crowds dropped off after the winter really set in, but we've made a very respectable profit every month, and we'll pay off our loans early at this rate. The crowds are picking up again as the weather turned good.

I found a drawing Lucky had made of a brand new New Blue Flag, a massive club that can hold 5,000 ponies at a time. Colt's got dreams. Short though…I think he's thinking military. Doing his part. Whatever his decision, I support him. Bluegrass is happy no matter what, looking for a mare of his own though!

We had one really big crowd that winter, the weekend that Midnight Runner came to play with us. The joint was packed to capacity. He kept his word, and he was magnificent.

He died two weeks later in Fillydelphia, you know, before he was able to start a new tour. Our place is now famous as the last place he played. I assume you've met up with him there. Please tell him that we miss him already, and that Tangerine already has her own place of honor on his own altar.

Tell him I look forward to playing with him again someday.

Just not very soon.

Which brings us back to you, Moody.

Moody, I'm telling you these things because I've been thinking about you a lot recently.

You see, I think I've figured out what happened.

You sacrificed yourself, didn't you?

You simply stopped. Walked away from the fame, the club, everything. I've wondered why you'd done that, why you never told me about your life before we met.

It wasn't simply that you were an iced tea enthusiast, was it? You had a reason to be on that stoop. You knew, somehow, that someday some poor unfortunate pony was going to come walking down that street with his head held low, bouncing off of garbage cans and street performers.

So, thinking that saving that pony was more important that your own fame and fortune, you just walked away. You just walked up those stairs, flipped on that porchlight, and spent the last decades of your life waiting for me.

That's what you meant, isn't it, when you told the old sax "ya' gotta be for the colt"…isn't it? You had been waiting, watching, preparing for the instant I would come down that street. By Celestia's will, I realize it now.

Have you guessed where I am Moody? I'm standing with Penny and Taffy as we watch the most amazing meteor shower I've ever seen. They are huge, audible as they crackle through the atmosphere. Penny clings between Taffy and I as we watch, she tips back and forth, trusting, knowing we're both there to catch her.

The child is so much better now, stronger, more alive than when I first met her. As the meteors are falling I see enchantment on her face, and in her mother's I see calm, certainty…hope, love.

You left bits and glamour behind because you knew doing so would, in time, save that child, one you'd never meet.

You gave up having your name in the entertainment magazines because you knew that I'd pull Taffy, a mare you'd never see, out of her fearful loneliness.

You essentially buried yourself alive in that rowhouse knowing that doing so would give me nights like this, Moody. I know that now.

I'm told by very wise ponies that there is no greater love than to sacrifice ones self for ones friends, Moody, and I see that's what you did. Even after you'd met me, even after you'd passed on your horn and got me tangled up in blues you still stayed on that porch for those last years…years and change, of your life waiting to see if I'd be coming back that day…to be sure that even if I was tangled up in them that they wouldn't choke me.

You sat there in the rain so that some day I could reach out to Penny and fall in love with Taffy.

You sat there in the snow so that someday I could meet the colts and have my own club where ponies flock by the thousands.

You sat there in the beating sun so that the losses of my apartment, Seafoam, Cake, and Cherry wouldn't beat me.

You sat there instead of in a club of your own, getting more and more famous and wealthy, and chose to wait for weeks on end for me come so you could help me through them, help me learn from my tribulations, add them to my song so that it "had gotten da' right mellow to it" as you would say.

And all that you asked in return was to play that song along with me a few times…and that I be your friend, the last one you ever made as your life slowly but certainly ended.

Had you waited for me, that last day? Had you sat on your porch as the taste of copper entered your mouth? Did you look down the street one last time to see if I was coming as your left foreleg went numb? Did you flip on the porchlight as you struggled into your house and up the stairs one final time in case I came late?

Your love goes on, Moody, through my song. Your love goes out to Penny and Taffy, to the colts, my parents, my friends like Big Mac, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie, even my employees…

… yes, even Pink Bunny is the benefactor of your benevolence.

Do you know you are my very best friend, Moody? A stupid tiny little inconvenience like you being dead doesn't stop that, our relationships we forge in life continue onward in cascading spirals for decades, even generations after we are gone. We can never know the number and magnitude of the lives we touch with our love, and the Pony of Death can only remove the veil of flesh and carry it to the Fountainhead, but from the Well of Souls we continue to draw our strength for as long as we live…and through those we touched ever after that…

You sat and played the sax with me Moody, taught me that it was alright to be painted blue. I am forever your friend, Moody, and eternity rings with your kindness and love as clearly and as loudly as a saxophone sounding out into a darkened club as glasses tinkle and ponies stare into each other's eyes.

That, Moody, I think is the type of thing that's possible when friendship is magic, and while Procer Celestia Invictus and Procer Luna Revenio continue to guide their charges across the Equestrian sky.


Comments ( 136 )

Aaaaaaah. I remember reading this a while ago when I found it on Equestria Daily.

One of my favorites. Great job with this.


deep, touching, well thought out, well written.

Stories like these keep me coming back and looking for the gems.....


Yes, I posted this a while ago, but I'm moving towards placing all of my stories here. I'm very glad you found it, and enjoyed it so much!:twilightsmile:


Thank you, that means a lot to me. I worked for a very long time on this one, nearly a full month, and it seemed ponderous at times. I'm very glad that you found it worthwhile. :pinkiesmile:

Manly tears. Also, you've enstilled in me a tremendous desire to dig out my old Lead Belly albums. Bravo.

Only four comments?!?! Bullshit. I was only planning on reading one chapter, but ended up reading the whole fucking thing in one sitting bro. I wish I could write something half as good as this. It was sweet, sad(I mean parts almost made me shed manly tears) and triumphant, it blended all those elements into a a fine paste and sprinkled it with great pacing, great grammar and amazing character development. Well, enough ass kissing, thanks for making this and normally I'd end a gushing comment with movie casting choices, but I'm stumped, so kudos to you.


Thank you so much!:twilightsmile:


Wow, such wonderful praise. I tried very hard to make sure that Blues came out as a believable character...I'm very glad you think it worked!:twilightsmile:


A beautiful story, marred only by some tense changes here and there (and also one or two missing apostrophes and the like).

I must commend you for fitting so many of Blues's in-show appearances into the story. I rewatched several relevant scenes with a renewed appreciation. Also, loved the running gags ("the most beautiful mare I've ever seen", and all the Deus Ex Machinas).

Excellent work.

I'm very glad that you enjoyed those gags. I worried over them terribly!:twilightsmile:

I apologize for the errors. This is my longest fic, and like all of them I don't have an editor or proofreader (except for the most recent). All of these first stories have that problem, and I'm not proud when I find one.:fluttershysad:

Thank you so much for reading and commenting!:pinkiesmile:

This. This right here *sniff* is awesome. I shed many a manly tear while reading. As a musician who's firmly rooted in the blues, I really want to thank you for doing the 'history'/'legacy'/'gravitas'/'aura' justice here. You rock!

Thank you so much! I'm not a musician myself but I have worked with many and I had hoped that I had caught the feeling of "road weariness" and the connection to the music they all report to me. I'm very glad that you think I did and that you enjoyed the fic!:twilightsmile:

I laughed, I cried, I listened to blues playlists. This story is brilliant, just brilliant. To put the emotion of the blues so well into a written medium... Good work, Descendant.

Thank you so much! I really appreciate it! This is my second most important fic, and that it's still receiving such favorable feedback almost a year later means a lot to me!:twilightsmile:

I read this a couple months ago. Favorite fanfic. Touching, meaningful, insightful.

Could you give some music suggestions?

Well, the story title was based on Tangled Up in Blue by Bob Dylan... umm, apart from that I'm sure that any sort of classic bluesy jazz would fit the bill!:twilightsmile:

I'm glad that it has meaning for you!:twilightsheepish:

Very glad to have you as a dedicated reader!:twilightsmile:

You probably won't find all of my works to your taste (nobody does, as they are so different from each other), but I'm very glad for all and any feedback you might want to give. Let me know if all of the "Thanks!" messages get annoying...:twilightblush:...

One of my favorite background character fanfics. Like a few others, I wound up creating my own playlist as I read this...Sidney Bechet for the sadder chapters at the beginning, and Fletcher Henderson and Glenn Miller for the latter chapters.

I'm rather appreciative of the fact that the story is good enough that you'd take that extra effort.:pinkiesmile:

As a musician that plays music from the heart rather than structure or theory, this story has a special place in my heart. It definitely holds true that emotions can be expressed, relieved, and even overcome with music. After 6 years of playing bass and rhythm guitar I can finally pick up an instrument and play something that doesn't make ears bleed anymore. :twilightblush:

Your character development throughout the story was very progressive as well as definitive. From a lost colt looking for his mark in life to one that has built off of experiences to a well rounded and respectable being. Nice guys may finish last, but the wait is always worth the turmoil it took to get there. His struggles are believable as well as hitting close to home with what he went through with his first marefriend. It never feels nice to know that you've been cast aside for petty things such as looks. It has been almost 2 years for me, but I have faith that fate is holding something good for me down the road, so to speak.

A spelling mistake I noted in (I believe it was) 2 of the chapters you used "base" instead of "bass" for the part of the band. Bass in music verbally sounds out like base, but is spelled like the word used for the fish. I forgot to take notes as I was reading, so I can't be of any more help here. :eeyup:

Overall this is one of my favorite stories I've read on here. The character can be related to easily and it hits on several emotions for life events that I have built off of myself, including going off to live on my own in several places and unfortunately having heartache from those I've held the closest. I found the dryness leaving my eyes as I read a few of the chapters. Keep up the excellent work!

I've received a lot of compliments about this story from musicians, and it does make me feel good to know that I have created something that resoantes with people in a certain craft.

I'm glad Blue's character development was well done in your opinion. Oh, and I can sympathize with your experience... I really can...

Thanks once again for the grammar catch. I had thought I'd caught all of those but, like the baffling tense-changes, I can't seem to weed them all out!:raritydespair:

I'm glad that the work had meaning for you on multiple levels. Thank you so much for taking the time to read ad reply!

I look forward to your thoughts! Thanks for reading and commenting!:twilightsmile:

I commented on this way back when on EqD, but I think this is still worth my leaving my thoughts as memorial to this tale.

As a musician, there's a certain magic to the craft, something that is completely foreign to non-musicians, but anyone can feel it when it's there. Artists from Beethoven to Clapton and back have had it, the ability to make you forget where you are, to exist for nothing but the music for the brief span that it's playing. It's the ability to make emotions real, to make pain tangible and bearable, to make joy live and moments last forever. I don't know that I've ever captured that myself, but it's the goal we all try for. It's the language with no words that everyone in the world speaks.

You managed to accomplish that feeling in words, which is just phenomenal. Every time Blues stops the action to think, to feel out who he is and (especially!) wonder if Taffy is ready to accept him, the whole story just stops, and you're so in the moment that you can almost feel it yourself. This story is so sad and awesome and tragic and hopeful; it's just pure catharsis. I actually feel cleansed when I finish it, every time. THAT is the same magic.

Mares, man... mares... :raritywink:

I recommend you start with the birth of the blues masters:
Hubert Sumlin, JJ Cale, Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Robert Cray, and BB King, to name a few.
That should get you started. ;)
For some modern stuff, check out Hugh Laurie's piano jazz/blues album. Yes, seriously.

I think that I remember a comment very similar to this one back on DA, as you said you saw and replied to it there first. It means the world to me that you are still moved by this story all these long months later. The story celebrates it's first birthday in two weeks, you know!:raritywink:

You used such poetry in that comment, thank you so much for taking the time to write such an eloquent bit of praise. I truly, genuinely appreciate it. :twilightsmile:

How the hay did I miss this background pony story??????:applejackconfused:
I'm guessing this is the Old Dance Hall and Blue mentioned in A Sweet Taste Of Cake?

It most certainly is... The New Blue Flag is the rebuilt dancehall that Carrot and Cuppy first met within and a decade later, the same one that they were on their way to when "other thoughts" went through their heads. This story was my first to be placed on the "Recommended Stories" section of TVTropes if you have any interest... :twilightsmile:...

I just can't believe this one and A Cup Of Joe has been up since November and out of all the
views that they have, that they have 160 thumb ups between them, and some actually thumb
downed them!! And A Sweet Taste Of Cake only has 65????:pinkiegasp::pinkiegasp:
Personally I'd like to see more background stories, but your the writer, I'm just a reader,
and it's your choice not mine!:twilightsheepish::twilightsheepish:

I just sat down and read this story in one session.

I just sat down and experienced the life story of Blues.

Everything about this story just breathes life. It's depressing, uplifting and downright hilarious at times. I could spend the rest of this night breaking my head trying to scramble together the words to describe how much I enjoyed this, and completely fail to do so. The emotions you managed to convey are just astounding... The messages true and honest. The gags, hilarious.

But like I said, I simply do not have the ability to properly tell you how this made me feel, so I will leave you with this:

You are a master of words. This story genuinely moved me and I dare say I feel a better person for having read it.

I am extraordinarily happy that you took a day to read this work. It is indeed very important to me, and I'm very, very glad that you feel that it accomplished it's task of telling his story. Thank you so much for taking the time to read, the time to comment, and especially for the praise!:twilightsmile:

Damn, I knew I should have waited untill weekend before i started reading this. One does not simply stop reading a good story. :ajsleepy:

On a side note this is not the type of story i normaly read and therefor my judgement is not to be taken seriously however i did find it very entertaining, which is the main point of a story in the first place. :twilightblush:
For example I really enjoyed Rainbow Dash and her reaction after she crashed into Cake. I imagine her running in place and looking back and forth similar to how she does in "May the best pet win!" after she gets stuck in Ghastly Gorge.:rainbowderp:
I can sympathise with Blues at this point aswell, I know the feeling of having a bad day and when you finaly find that little something that makes everything good again something out of hoof comes and ruins everything and you end up just staring, too crushed to even cry. :applecry:

However I 'think' I noticed something amiss here, Penny got her cutie mark here in the last chapter but i have a faint memory that Blues said she had gotten her cutie mark earlier in a monologue around chapter 5? I may have missread or my mind may be playing tricks on me however. Also a thumb-rule of mine says a story should never have to end with 'end' or 'the end' because if the reader doesn't understand that the story ends here without these then the story doesnt end in a good way. There is, however, exceptions to this of course. :ajsmug:

// Sphex

I think that what you're seeing is how Blues begins his mental letter to Moody by telling him that Penny got her mark, but how it takes through chapter seven to explain how it happened. :raritywink:

I'm very, very glad that you found some scenes so vivid! Thanks for taking the time to let me know, and I'm sorry to keep you up on a weeknight!:twilightsmile:

Well T.D., it's 2 AM in Korea, I'm wide awake for some damned reason, and sleep seems bound to allude me for several hours yet. Sounds like a re-read to me.

Yet another fantastic story, T.D. Your characterization of the OCs was written beautifully. The story-telling was fantastic. Again, as with A Cup of Joe, words fail me when it comes to trying to describe how much I enjoyed this.

I'm also of the opinion that this and A Cup of Joe are criminally underappreciated on this site. Both are excellent stories, full of depth and emotion rarely found in stories. Yet neither has many views or thumbs. A shame, that. More people should read these stories.

Sorry that I only just caught your comment. I hope you eventually got some sleep, and that you enjoyed the re-read!:twilightblush:

I have to admit that I've never read Two Ponies, but if you're suggesting it then it simply must be extraordinary, and I will try to find the time.:pinkiesmile:

I'm very glad that you enjoyed this as much as you did A Cup of Joe! Writing for the background characters seems to be a "sweet spot" for me. My suggestion would be to try A Sweet Taste of Cake next, if you're looking for something similar. I'm very glad that you enjoy my storytelling style, as my narratives are what I consider the background of my work.

You're not the first to say that they're surprised by the relatively small audience these stories have, and I've come to accept that. My writing style isn't for everyone. I'm just glad that almost everyone who reads my works enjoys them. Thank you for taking the time to read and to comment!:twilightsmile:

Lovely, just lovely. :twilightsmile:
I really enjoy your work. I think this one was another I read on Fanfiction.net oh so long ago. It just felt like an old friend as I read it through and cried along with Blues a few times.

Could you mean DA? I don't have a FanFiction account. Either way, I'm very glad that you got re-united with this old friend. Thanks so much! I'm glad it remains emotionally powerful after multiple readings as well!:twilightsmile::twilightsmile:

That was so beautiful it hurt. As a blues man myself I gotta tell you you caught the spirit of the blues perfectly

Aha! Praise from an bluesman! I believe that's considered good luck!:twilightsheepish:

Read this a while ago when Chris's blog covered it. It's actually one of the few stories that I can remember the details of very clearly, which speaks to how much I enjoyed it. Didn't like the fact that you were tying in plot-points, but I certainly can't blame you for playing to your crowd on that count. Really didn't like the ending—I felt it really gutted the strength of the journey—but I still loved that journey nonetheless.

Weird. The more I think of it, the more little bits I remember I wasn't so keen on, yet my memories are still overwhelmingly positive. Is it plausible to have nostalgia for something you read about six-or-so months ago? I guess it's just been that kind of year, but anyway, thanks for this one, I truly enjoyed it (even if I apparently tried not to).


I have to admit that yours is perhaps the most intriguing (and baffling-ina good way!) comment I've received on this story!:twilightblush:

Could it possibly be that a story, like life, is a combination of parts that we enjoy and dislike, but in the end, we're just glad that it has happened? In any case, I'm very glad that, despite whatever qualms you may have had with it, that you have fond memories of reading the story... and I'm especially glad that you took the time to comment today and get in touch! Thanks!:twilightsmile:

A wonderful piece of work. Thanks for sharing it.

I was very glad to! Thanks for reading and commenting!:twilightsmile:

Heh, indeed... they are only funny in retrospect...

another great story. I really like how it is written more from blues own thoughts than if he wrote it by hand... hoof? :rainbowhuh:
there are elements that you know that he would only subconsciously include, and the disconnected musings really add to that feel.
you were able to successfully make me feel very sympathetic for his sorrow and happy for blues at the same time Congrats!:twilightsmile:

I am very, very happy that you felt that Blues came off as an authentic character. While I personally never thought about how he was actually recording these thoughts, I'm glad that you enjoyed reading them!:twilightsmile:

I've read lots of mlp stories ( two hundred forty two exactly... yes I keep track of the stories I've read, author, word count and whether or not I liked the story in a excel spreadsheet ) obsessive... maybe... :twilightsheepish: but my point is that while most of your stories aren't necessary long I really do like your writing style and that's why I'm slowly getting around to reading all of them amidst school, work my project bucket list and all my other "read later" stories. :twilightsmile:

I have finished reading this amazing story a few days ago and since then I wanted to leave some kind of comment here. And I have a huge problem. :pinkiesad2: Because I feel that no matter what I say, no matter how sophisticated words I use, it simply won't be enough to properly appreciate the brilliance of this story. So now I'm just going to write what comes to my mind. :pinkiecrazy: I may regret it later, so please bear with me.

Let me start off by saying that Tangled up in Blues is not really my kind of story. Because it's one of those slice of life biographies that I wouldn't otherwise give a sh*t about (sorry about that :twilightblush:). Not only that, it's not even about one of the ponies that we all grew to love, but about an OC. And, to top it all, it's written in first person. Wow, a lot of difficulties to overcome.
And yet, despite all that, you marvelously managed to keep me interested in the beginning of the story. How? I won't dwell much on your skills in creating OCs, because they are very apparent - each of the characters is distinct with a very clear personality, each pony has their own traits and faults, each have dreams to fulfill and obstacles to overcome along the way. Let me just say that if anyone wanted some pointers on how to create an OC, they should just read this story. :raritywink:
But no, this is not what kept me reading. What did the trick was your ingenuity in craftily intertwining Blues' early adventures with the events showed in the episodes. Like how he had moved to Ponyville and had met Fluttershy (I have to agree with Blues here - she definitely is the cutest filly :rainbowkiss:), how Pinkie had wanted to throw him a party (practically throughout his whole stay in Ponyville) but had missed all the occasions, how he had taken part in the famous winter wrap up,
how he had met mane 6 back in Appleoosa (incidentally, isn't it Appleloosa? :trollestia:),
how he had battled Darkloids in the dark corners of the Undernet...
Wait, that's a different Blues. :rainbowlaugh:
Back on the topic: the way you interjected all those tiny bits into his story is simply genius. Seriously, I have no words on how amazingly you managed to execute it. It's just... God, it's brilliant! Seriously, while I read the first part of the story, I kept looking forward to seeing which scene you would use next, which of the mane 6 Blues would meet... Though this cameos were few and far between, they were enough to give Blues canon credibility, while at the same time not overloading his amazing backstory with useless scenes. I still can't believe how brilliantly you managed to keep that perfect little balance. All of my kudos to you, sir.

Now notice I mentioned the first part of the story: the part where young Blues travels around all over Equestria in search of his song. But then (coincidentally with the ending of season 1), he travels back to Manehatten where he not only discovers the fate of his friend and mentor, Moody, but also decides that his young trashing around came to an end and he has to settle down. The reader discovers it along with him, and the change is so apparent that - while the story remains the same and thoroughly consistent - the style, setting, and theeming is totally different. It's a very obvious indication to the reader that the story is about to enter its more serious part. There will be no more scenes from the show, that part of Blues' life (and the story) is over, it's time to get more serious.
And boy, did you deliver there. :pinkiegasp: The story about searching for the meaning of life remains essentially the same, but the approach changes drastically. Through every scene, every word, every letter and character, you make it completely clear that Blues' juvenile search is over and the new journey begins.
By Celestia and Luna, if only mere words could properly convey how amazed I was (and still am) by this brilliant execution. :pinkiegasp:

I also feel the need to write about one last thing that, in my opinion, is the crown jewel of your writing skills. The scene where Runner joins Blues and his team and their families for the Blessing Day dinner. This very scene is the pinnacle of brilliant planning and marvelous execution I have read so far in ponydom. Each little sub-scene is filled with symbolic meaning, each raises the emotional load of the whole scene, each makes the scene deeper and more meaningful. I actually almost experienced a f*cking (pardon the word) out-of-body-reading-experience dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/lolface_Celestia.png there for a while, you know. :rainbowlaugh: I was immersed thoroughly in the story, but at the same time I was able to sort of analyze it from the side.
And what I saw blew my mind! I saw the amazing scene being built like a giant tower of Lego blocks. It was obscenely high, and yet you kept adding little bits and pieces, all the while keeping the perfect balance, not letting the tower topple or even flinch. While I read, I actually wondered how long you will manage to keep it all balanced like that. And you did till the very end! Not only that, you didn't then set the emotional explosion charges to blow it all up to pieces in a single, powerful, emotional break down. No, you graciously left it there, allowing the reader to quietly withdraw and marvel at your brilliant work from the distance. :pinkiegasp:
I hope I'm making any kind of sense, or that what I wrote is at least understandable. :pinkiesad2: If only I were more skilled at using words to express my thoughts. :pinkiesad2:

If I wore a hat I would tip it of to you, good sir, because you're a writing genius. Thank you kindly for sharing such a deep, enthralling, and amazingly-written story. I know giving stars mean next to nothing now that they are merged with tracks, but it's the least I can do to show this story every appreciation it so richly deserves.
I mentioned in the beginning that Tangled up in Blues is not really my kind of story. But reading pony fiction of many of amazing writers taught me to appreciate and properly value written art. I hope I don't need to explicitly say that you are among those that I feel grateful to in that matter. :twilightsmile:


Before I depart, let me make four side remarks:


He was a huge stallion, at least two hands bigger than me.

Hands? As in those hands Lyra is so obsessed about?

2. I see you mentioned some holidays even before they were introduced in season 2: Yule (Heartswarming Eve, right?) and Lovelaced Day (Hearts and Hooves Day, if I got it right). You nailed the Nightmare Night correctly (did the episode air before you had written that part of the story?), however, canon wise it certainly isn't true that the only adult ponies who participate are emotionally compromised stallion-foals who no sense of self-worth and don't care about looking like idiots in public. :raritywink:

3. I almost flipped when I read Blues' pondering about Penny's cutie mark. :rainbowlaugh: I can't shake the feeling that you somehow wanted to mildly criticize or even ridicule the flaws in the whole concept of marks, and why they sometimes seem more tied to the name of the pony rather than explaining their special talent. :pinkiecrazy: So yeah, the way you made Blues devise an overly complex and grossly over-thought analysis of Penny's mark, only to discover that it had more to do with her name than anything else, was simply brilliant! dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Scootaloo_lolface.png
I know you are probably bored right now from my constant use of this word, but it's the only thing I can really say about this story (both as a whole and as every separate part I took the liberty of analyzing :scootangel:). I'm simply amazed.

4. A technical question: can you please explain to me why you have switched so freely between telling the story in past tense and in the present? It's the first story I have seen like that. Usually the writers stick to one tense and build the story accordingly. Now, I won't lie here: it was kind of confusing at times, especially in Appleloosa. But with the writer of your caliber I am positive it's a deliberate tactic. Let me apologize if what I'm asking is something very obvious, but you see, I'm not a native English speaker and I'd very much like to know the reasoning behind it. :twilightsmile:

And, finally this time, let me once again thank you for sharing this genius story (I learned so much while reading it! :pinkiehappy:), and for reading this windy comment (if you have made it this far, that is dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Applebloom_lolface.png ).

Karach, if you had trouble finding words to describe your appreciation for the story, then I'm at a total loss to find ways to thank you for such an excellent review. I'm very, very happy that I was able to produce something that you found so moving, and I'm held aghast by a review of this order of excellence. You have my thanks for it.

To answer your questions:

1.) "Hands" are the traditional measure of height in horses, and I incorporated it here for a taste of the equine. It's kinda like how the character use horseshoes and saddles as decoration and as costumes for no reason whatsoever.:twilightsmile:

2.) I began revising this story whenever a new piece of canon came out, but I've fallen behind. I added Nightmare Night instead of what was originally there, but I have yet to change the name of the other holidays. In reality, I'm just lazy... :pinkiehappy:...

3.) Funny thing, isn't it?:raritywink:

4.) My intent here was to draw the reader into specific situations, to take the reader out of the first person and let the see the event transpire. The outcome was entirely different, confusing the reader. It was this issue alone that prevented the story from obtaining five stars on Chris's reading blog, and it is the "original sin" of the story.

Thank you, once again, for the great comments!:twilightblush:

Imagine that! I come back here because, being the forgetful dumb f*ck I am :twilightangry2:, I totally forgot to favorite the story despite saying so :facehoof: (no worries, I totally fixed it just now, though :pinkiecrazy:) only to find that you have ninja-replied to my comment. :pinkiegasp:

I'm glad my humble review managed to convey a fraction of my appreciation of your marvelous story. :twilightsmile: And I have to admit I am surprised that this whole tense play was not deliberate, although now I know where the confusion came from. :raritywink:

Also, I would like to commend you on the consistency of your own head-canon shown in most of your stories. Having read a few of them by now, I now understand why you mentioned in a comment under your recent blogpost that even a slight hint in the show, that Sister Sovereigns were, or could ever be, anything less than goddesses, would be damaging to your fanon. Celestia Invictus and Luna Revenio are mentioned in nearly every one of your stories (that I've read so far, at least :twilightblush:) and are always portrayed as such - the powerful goddess, wielding the powers of Sun and Moon, and rulers of Equestria. Coincidentally, my vision of Equestria is pretty similar, that's probably why I can relate to yours with such ease. :twilightsmile:

Also, what I noticed (and again totally forgot to mention earlier :facehoof:) was your brilliant (if a bit dark) explanation of the mare-to-stallion ratio in the populace of Equestria. Truly, wars would be a good excuse to send many a fine stallion on the battlefields, thus creating this very obvious gap between the number of mares and stallions, for example in Ponyville (which we can see in every episode of FiM). On this very topic, a little question, if I may: what are Sister Sovereigns warring (is that even a word? dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Sweetie_Belle_lolface.png ) against? Do you have an idea behind it in your head canon? Or maybe you have mentioned it in some of your stories that I have yet to read?

I'm glad that you can see the consistency in my "personal fanon". It means a great deal to me, and it only gets bigger. Certain things certainly add to it, like Discord's reign, (I don't recall immediately if you've read "Hello" in my Fever Dreams), and others have the power to detract (Shining Armor is the captain of the royal guard, instead of a captain? Bullshit!)... it's all quite fragile. Oh, if only I had the power to sway canon! Why can't I go back in time to 1994, make money off the Internet boom, and buy Hasbro stock during the merger!? Why? Why?!

Anywho, as I see it, Equestria has been fighting The Wars for centuries (A Cup of Joe), as races, nations, and clans keep pressing into Equestria as they try to escape the growing power of a certain darkness... that is, the Witches who are ever-so-slowly waking from their millenia upon millenia of death-like dreaming into which the sisters cast them (Heart of the Mountain), and the living blackness that surrounds them, the Smooze.

That's probably the most I've eve given away in a comment, so don't tell anyone else!:raritywink:

Why can't I go back in time to 1994, make money off the Internet boom, and buy Hasbro stock during the merger!? Why? Why?!


OK, Heart of the Mountain has just been promoted to my read-immediatelly-and-I-mean-right-now list. :pinkiehappy: Which probably means I will read it at Monday. :pinkiecrazy: You have mentioned the Withes in The Silent Shore, which I read just yesterday. And boy, did you show the power of Sister Sovereigns there. :rainbowkiss: Incidentally, I still have to visit the story page and drop a comment there. :pinkiehappy:

So, by now I get that this Smooze thing is a gooish substance from the previous (or earlier) generation shows. Do the Witches come from before G4 also? Please consider this question of no importance if you explain it in Heart of the Mountain. In that case I will just read and see. :twilightsmile:

don't tell anyone else!

Your secret is safe with me. :trollestia:

damn, this is a damn good fic. moody never died in vain, he died so blues could make his own blues.:pinkiesad2:

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