Ch1: Goodbye Blue Sky
When one is as dedicated to the sacred practice known as ‘sleep’ as I am, one needs something more than a simple alarm clock to wake up in the morning. An alarm clock is simply insufficient. Noise is something that can be slept through with the right amount of conviction, and if there is a snooze button within one’s drowsy reach, then the entire device is basically rendered useless. No, one such as I needs a little something more to wake up in the morning. Something that cannot be ignored, or brushed off easily. Something either so incessant and invasive that it simply cannot be ignored, or something so startling that it cannot be recovered from.
That morning, my sister chose to wake me with the latter when she pulled my covers out from under me, sending me sprawling to the floor at her feet.
“I’m up! I’m up, dammit!” I shouted at her, scrambling to my feet and rubbing my arm, which had awkwardly landed on. “For Christ’s sake, Dani, did you have to be so brutal about the wake up call?”
My younger sister stood with a hand on her hip, looking up at me with a bemused expression in her eyes. “Would you have woken up to anything else?” she asked dryly.
I rubbed my temples with my forefingers a little as I sat back down on the bed, snatching my glasses up from the side table. “Probably not,” I admitted. “But what’s the big deal? It’s like... five in the morning.”
“Seven,” my sister corrected.
“Makes no difference to me,” I muttered. “It’s still sleepy time.”
“Not today, it isn’t,” she remarked, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. For somebody standing at about five-foot nothing and only 120 pounds, she had a hell of a grip. I stand a foot and some change taller than her, and yet she can still best me in most physical challenges. I’m all skin and bones, but she’s taken good care of herself for the eighteen years she’s been around. “Today you need to drive me to school. Mom’s not here, remember?”
I shambled into my closet, partially shutting the door behind me, and stripped off my Batman pajamas and fumbled around for a decent set of clothing. My mother and father had been out for the week in the Outer Banks in North Carolina, leaving the two of us home in Chicago. Or rather, the Chicagoland area. We lived thirty-six miles west of the Windy City in a suburb of St. Charles. I had graduated from college a couple months back, and was waiting on a couple of friends to move out to California and rent an apartment together, but my sister Danielle was still in High School for a couple more months. Unfortunately for me, my sister still didn’t have her driver’s license, and that meant that my mother wasn’t there to get her to school.
“What about Angie?” I asked. “Your friend who drove you to school the past few days?”
Dani shook her head, her bob of blonde-dyed hair shaking across her face. “She called me this morning. She’s caught a bug of some kind and can’t pick me up. You’re the only one I can get to drive me now.”
I grunted, quickly shouldering a t-shirt with a picture of Vinyl Scratch over my head and stepping into a pair of sweatpants and athletic socks. I pulled on my old hiking boots, the only shoes I really feel comfortable in, and stepped out of my closet, while scratching my chin. “And I take it there’s no chance I have time to shave or anything?” I mumbled.
Dani rolled her eyes and jostled me out of my room. Pushy little thing, she is. “Come on, slowpoke.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this eager to get to school,” I remarked, running a comb quickly through my short black hair.
“I’m not eager to get to school, Will,” she said. “I’m just less eager to get reprimanded by T for being tardy again.”
I nodded sagely. Dani was going to the same high school I went to, and I remembered Mr. Thomas, or ‘T’ as most people called him, very well. He was a nice guy if you got on his good side, but it was difficult to stay on his good side. And she was wise not to risk invoking the dean’s ire. To do so would be very foolhardy indeed. One does not speak of the horrors the T can bring to you.
“Alright, alright, fine. Let me get my keys and I’ll get you there,” I said, stepping out into the hallway and thumping down the stairs with a yawn. “And get me a Dr. Pepper would you?” I asked her as I stepped into the little breakfast nook of our two story house. “You don’t want me falling asleep in the car or something.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” my sister said, shuddering as she opened the fridge. Her first time attempting to drive, she had accidentally driven the driving school’s car into a ditch. She had since become deathly afraid of getting into car accidents. Hence why she didn’t have a driver’s license.
“Just saying. You’re going to need to get over that sooner or later,” I said.
“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait until after school. Now come on, before I decide to do something nasty to Elvira.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I narrowed my eyes at her.
“You want to try me?” she said with an evil little smirk. That smarmy little...
With a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a yawn, I grabbed up my keys and followed her out into the garage.
* * *
The drive to my sister’s school was uneventful. Dani reminded me that I’d have to take her to her Tae Kwon Do class later that day as well. My sister is a third degree black belt. No joke, I swear. Five-nothing and a hundred and twenty pounds, and from her face it’d be hard to tell she wasn’t still in middle school, but she can kick a person’s ass from here to Tuesday. She started taking the classes when she was only about eleven. Now, seven years later, she was probably one of the best in the class, and, in only another year or so, would get her fourth degree and would be able to be legitimately called “Master Dani.” She was particularly excited about that.
Elvira was running beautifully that morning, as always. Yes, Elvira. My blue, 2003 Ford Crown Victoria. My uncle sold her to me for fifty bucks and I love her. She’s the best, most dependable car in the whole world, and nothing any of you say will ever convince me otherwise. And yes, her name IS Elvira. I know you’re thinking about that whole “Mistress of the Dark” character, but that’s not what it was a reference to. It was a reference to an old character I made up for a story about a superhero with a sentient car. It was a hobby of mine, making up stories. I hoped that one day I’d be able to make it into a career.
In any event, the ride to the high school was utterly uneventful and, after dropping my Sister off at school, I soon found myself all alone with Elvira, driving back through the wooded roads of the suburbs back home. I sighed to myself. It was shaping up to be a long, boring day. I had been woken up earlier than expected, and there was no way I was going to get back to that beautiful state of sleep I was so ruthlessly pulled out of now. I pulled into my driveway and turned off the car, striding through the garage and into the laundry room, where I was summarily attacked by two heavy balls of fur throwing themselves against my ankles.
“Hey, girls,” I said brightly to my two cats. I leaned down and scratched Isis behind her ears and patted Artemis’ side with my other hand. “Having a better morning than I am, I hope?” I joked at them. Isis mewled at me happily while Artemis looked at me out of the corner of her bright green eye with that little bit of contempt that cats always look at you with. Artemis was a big Savannah. A type of cat that has ancestry in some kind of jungle cat. Can’t remember which one. She’s a big thing, weighing almost twenty pounds, and she can leap from the floor to the top of the fridge in one jump. She does it all the time too. I think she’s just showing off how much better than us humans she is.
Isis, on the other hand, was a tiny little thing. She was an Abyssinian; a short haired cat originally from Egypt. Hence the name Isis after the Egyptian queen of the gods. My family has this weird thing where they name all of our cats after mythological beings. Before these two, we’ve had the likes of Pandora, Selene, Circe, Argus, and Siguna. Kitty-God rest their souls.
Little Isis couldn’t have weighed more than eight pounds. She was a playful little thing, and even though she was already three years old, she still insisted upon acting like a kitten. She followed Artemis like a big sister and had even learned to jump almost as well as she could. It was really cute.
I picked up Isis in my arms and strode into the living room, inspecting the mail slot on the way. Nothing new had come for me yet, though it looked like there were a few letters from Dani’s future college in there. I set them at her place at the table and strode to sit in the old leather recliner we have, still holding Isis in my arms. I stroked her for a little bit, as Artemis decided to throw all of her bulk onto my lap.
“So what’ll it be today, girls?” I asked the pair. “How about a change of pace? Instead of ‘absolutely nothing,’ how about we play a game of ‘jack-squat?’” I sighed. “I’ve really got to find something to do sooner or later. I think I’m getting cabin fever just sitting here on my arse, waiting for the guys get me out of here.” I looked down, scratching Isis’ chin a little. “At least you two are here to listen to me, right?”
Artemis sneezed then jumped off my lap. Isis took that as her cue to hop off too, following loyally after ‘big sissy.’
I sat there, rolling my eyes. “Well, same to you two!” I called after them. Sighing, I rested my face in my hand. The severe lack of things for me to do was really starting to get to me. I guess it’s true what they say about idle hands being the devil’s workshop. If I didn’t find something to do with my time, I’d go crazy and end up using these two hands to strangle myself. Maybe I should go get a job for the couple months that I was to remain here in Illinois? I could see if there was room for me down at the comic store down the road.
Of course, my inherent compulsion to be lazy would make sure that didn’t happen. Not today, anyway. I reached for the remote and clicked the TV on, changing the channel to the Hub. The Super Hero Squad Show was on. Ugh. Grumbling, I stood up, turned off the TV, and went back upstairs to find my laptop. At least on my laptop I had quick access to every episode of Dan Vs., Friendship is Magic, and Transformers Prime. I’d figure out something to do with my time today.
By noon I was bored again. That’s a bad sign, you know? When you actually get bored watching episodes of your three favorite cartoons? The restlessness must have been running deeper than I thought. I shook my head, taking my earphones off, then put Khan to sleep. Yes, my laptop is named Khan. I named it Khan so that every time it screws something up or gives me an error message I can shout “KHAAAAAAAAN!!!”
Oh, be quiet. It was funny when I first thought of it.
The whole thing had really begun to bug me. I sat there with the whole day to myself, with no obligations, and yet there was absolutely nothing that I felt particularly excited to do. I didn’t feel like booting up a game, as I’d been playing games for the past week since my parents left town. I could’ve watched a movie, but there wasn’t anything in our movie library that I hadn’t seen enough to know by heart. The same went for my shelf full of comic books.
I sighed once more. Maybe I’d figure out something to do once I got some food in me.
Deciding to go out to eat rather than stay at home and make something, I found myself revving Elvira up once again. I had to let the AC run for a little while so that she’d cool down a bit before rolling out. The air was really hot that day, and the sun shining directly down upon me through the cloudless blue sky certainly didn’t make it any cooler. A few minutes of letting the engine run, and I was cruising down the road under to the nearby Subway, a Meat Loaf ballad blaring at me through the car’s speakers.
As I strolled up to the counter, I noticed the guy behind it grinning at me like a madman. I cocked an eyebrow at that. Most of the people behind a subway counter tend to have a sort of dead look in their eyes. The kind you see from people who have given up all hope in life. Let’s face it, fast food is where dreams go to die and all spirit is beaten out of you. But this guy looked at me like I was some kind of sexy car model that had just handed him the key to a shiny new porsche and two tickets to a Caribbean cruise. It was a little off-putting.
“Can I help you?” he asked. I nodded, placing my order, and grabbing up a bag of barbecued Lays and a large drink cup. After the order was placed and I’d given him my money, he raised a fist up to me and said “Have a nice day, Brony.”
I looked down at my shirt, Vinyl Scratch emblazoned plainly upon it.
That explained that, then.
I smiled a little bit, raising my own fist to meet his and gave him a quick wave as I left the counter and went to fill up my drink cup. It was always nice to meet a fellow brony, though it would have been a little better if he hadn’t grinned like the Joker at me. I was a fan of the show, enough to spend a fair bit of time looking at fanart and fanfiction, and even buy a little merchandise here and there. And I certainly wasn’t embarrassed to let people know I liked it. The brony community is actually one of the best fandoms I’ve ever been a part of. By far more enjoyable than my previous brushes with the Final Fantasy fandom and the Legend of Zelda fandom. Seriously, people pick on Sonic fans, but FF and Zelda have got it really bad too. Bronies have their own set of issues, no joke, but it seemed like most of the brushes with the bad paled in comparison to the good that I saw in the fandom. In the other two fandoms, it was about 50-50. Having filled up my soda with more Dr. Pepper, I nodded once more to the brony behind the counter, who waved back cheerfully at me. Strolling out the door a minute later I unlocked my car once again and got ready to-
“Wait a minute...” I said, peering up at the sky. Something was different about it.
Probably the fact that the whole blasted thing was bright pink.
“..the hell?” I intelligently observed. Really, what else are you supposed to say when the sky turns bright pink on you? It had been blue when I went into the restaurant, hadn’t it? I’d only been in there about five minutes. Setting my food into the passenger seat of the car, I held my watch to my ear to make sure it was still ticking, not that I actually expected I had somehow blacked out for seven hours and it was sunset, or something. And the little tik tik tik of the second hand confirmed that. I looked around. All over the place, people were looking straight up and pointing at the sky. It looked like nobody else around here could really tell what was going on either.
That actually made me a bit nervous. What exactly could cause something like this. Some sort of atmospheric phenomenon? I’ll admit I was no meteorologist, so maybe. Perhaps an explosion of some kind nearby? Perhaps a missile or a power plant or something else that might cause some sort of blanket-effect in the sky? Possibly, but I would have probably heard it go off if it was something like that, so that seemed less likely. Alien invasion? No, not enough screaming. I resigned myself to not knowing what was going on. Knowing the media, we’d probably never get a straight answer anyway. Whatever it was, though, I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to find out if it was dangerous or not. I didn’t want to be out in the open when the sun started giving off cosmic rays or something else that might fry my brainmeats, so I quickly got into my car and revved her up once more.
I was on the wooded road to my house when it happened.
I looked down for what must have been a mere half second to hit the ‘next’ button on my CD player. As much as I love Meat Loaf, there’s one song of his that I can’t stand and always skip over. When I looked up I nearly pissed myself. There, lying prone in the middle of the road, was a woman. I couldn’t make out much of her, but I did know that she didn’t seem to be doing anything to get out of the way, and here I was, speeding along the road at fifty miles an hour. If I didn’t stop, she’d be crushed!
Split second moments like that are always tough to describe accurately. It’s hard to really sum up in words what happens at the speed of thought and the things we end up doing in a blind panic. It always comes out reading like a much calmer event than it actually was. For example; I knew when I saw the woman lying in the middle of the road that I did not have enough time to brake and slow down before I ran her over. Therefore, I instead decided to swerve to the side of the road, onto the grass and into a shallow ditch to keep from having to deal with a manslaughter charge in the near future. Sounds like a rational decision made with a decent amount of thought, right?
Except, at the time, all that was running through my head was “HOLY SHIT THERE’S A CHICK IN THE ROAD STOP CAR GET OUT OF THE WAY OH CRAP I’M NOT ON THE ROAD ANYMORE WAT DO?!”
Coming to a stop in the shallow ditch, I took a moment to breathe deeply. My hands were shaking and my breathing was shallow. Sweat was dripping off my brow as I struggled to regain my composure. That had been a really close call... the sort of thing that makes you almost understand just why my sister, tough and pushy and stubborn and kick-ass as she is, is terrified of trying to drive.
Forgetting lunch, the pink sky, and everything else for a while, I stepped out of the car. I gave it a quick once-over to make sure Elvira wasn’t damaged at all, but she seemed to be perfectly okay. My thoughts then focused upon the woman lying in the middle of the road. Seriously, what was up with that? I could only think of a few reasons why one would lie unmoving in the middle of the road, and none of them were particularly pleasant. Climbing up out of the ditch, I spied the woman still lying in the road, motionless.
“Crap.” I muttered under my breath, as I made my way over to her. As I got closer, I noticed a few key things about this particular woman. The first thing I noticed, was that she was completely nude. Added to the whole ‘lying in the middle of the road’ thing, that was another sign that usually pointed the way to Really Bad Things.
The second thing I noticed was her hairstyle. She had purple hair. Perhaps better accurately described as ‘Blue-Violet,’ if we’re talking crayola colors. It was a voluminous, full, and very flowing style, sweeping down the right side of her face and curling up into a little french curl, and flowing down the other side of her face and down her neck down before spiraling down past her shoulders, coming to a stop just above the small of her back. It looked like something that should belong on an anime character, and yet, despite how hard it was to describe in words, it looked perfectly natural and symmetrical on her. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. She didn’t look much like a punk rocker. No piercings or tattoos. I don’t think I’d seen very many people use this color, really. Guess it was just a thing of hers.
I got closer to her. “Ma’am?” I called out. “Ma’am, are you alright?” She didn’t stir. As I got closer, I noticed a few more things about her. For one, she looked positively gorgeous. I’ll admit, it was hard not to stare at certain... portions of her anatomy. Hey, what can I say, I’m a twenty-something guy. It’s in my nature. But what I mean is that her skin seemed absolutely flawless, despite lying on the asphalt. It was pale, but more in an aristocratic way than a sickly one. It seemed like the kind of pale skin you’d see from somebody of Scandinavian descent. I reckoned that she would not be the type who would tan well. Her limbs were long and slim, but not gangly or stringy, like mine. They looked fit and lean, like somebody who gets a lot of activity in their life. And she didn’t seem to have a single scratch or scar on her hands or feet.
Her face was a visage of pure beauty. Not a wrinkle or worry line in sight. Her eyes, though closed, were large with big lashes and what looked to be a faint trace of eyeshadow on them. Her nose was a cute, natural arch and her lips seemed thin, but had a shape that looked very sophisticated. Her face seemed so perfect, in fact, that it only made the flaw upon it stand out all the more: A long cut on her forehead.
“Jesus.” I muttered under my breath as I ran up to her. I placed two fingers on her neck. Her pulse was strong. I looked closer at the cut on her forehead and it didn’t seem like it was really bleeding much. It certainly didn’t seem life threatening. She might have hit her head on something and knocked herself out, so that at least answered why she wouldn’t wake up. But that still left me with a ton of other questions that I couldn’t seem to put any logical answers to. For example: why was she naked?
Abuse? Could she have been taken advantage of and then dumped here unceremoniously? That didn’t seem to fit well with what I observed about her. She would have had defensive wounds or something on her hands and forearms, and she certainly wouldn’t look so clean or have such well kept hair if that were the case. That didn’t seem to hold up.
Perhaps she got high somewhere nearby and it seemed like a good idea to take a nap naked in the middle of the road at the time? That didn’t seem like it had much merit either. The cut on her head suggested she was probably knocked out, not high. Also, people that are high have a certain look and smell to them, depending on the drug. I’d expect her to be twitchy or sweating or something if she had been taking drugs, and she didn’t smell like any illicit substance I’d ever smelled the frat boys using in college. Actually, now that I thought about it, she smelled vaguely of fudge. That was just odd. Fudge doesn’t make much for an illegal drug (though it is addictive as hell), so I scratched that option off the list.
Maybe she was a nudist who got knocked out by somebody offended by her nakedness? I dunno, that seemed a little far-fetched. It was possible, but in this hot sun I’d think she’d probably prefer to stay indoors if she was a nudist. With her fair skin, she’d get a sunburn in minutes, and, again, she wasn’t particularly sweaty, so she couldn’t have been outside for all that long. Where could she have come from?
I considered a number of different other possibilities as I stared at her for a minute or two, but they all had one thing in common: They didn’t add up. Whether it was her lack of dishevelment, her skin, the cut on her forehead or that damnable fudge smell, nothing about the girl seemed to add up.
I could tell two things about her though. First, she was in trouble somehow. And second, she probably shouldn’t stay out here in the open like this. Not in the middle of the road, naked, with the Daleks attacking or whatever. I looked up to the sky. It was still bright pink. No disturbing noises or dogfights or alien lights or anything. Just pink. It was honestly a little more unnerving than if something overtly terrible really HAD been happening. It was like the sky itself had jumped into the uncanny valley.
I sighed. Whatever the case with the sky, this girl needed help. I briefly considered calling 911, but I wasn’t sure if that was necessary. She wasn’t sick or dying, I could tell the much just from how healthy she looked and her pulse. It wouldn’t be fair to stuff a medical bill on her in this economy just for a false alarm if I sent her to the ER. And there was no evidence of a crime, so why call the police?
I scratched my head, growling a little at myself and looking back and forth between the purple-haired girl and Elvira, sitting there in the ditch. I shook my head. “I must be out of my mind...” I muttered to nobody in particular as I slid my arms underneath her neck and knees, lifting her up with a grunt. She wasn’t that heavy; probably only a smidge above 140 pounds or so, at a height of about five-nine. But then again, I’m about the scrawniest guy in existence, so it was actually a bit of a struggle getting her over to my car and then maneuvering her into the back seat so that she wouldn’t bump her head. I fastened her into the seat with the seatbelt, trying my best not to stare at any of her more... enticing regions. It wasn’t easy, though. She was a looker.
I slapped myself. Focus, Will! The girl’s in trouble and needs help. You’re here to provide that help, not to ogle her long, flowing, fascinating hair and her large, shapely, curvaceous-- I SAID FOCUS! I slapped myself again.
Right. Thanks, me. I needed that.
After getting my bearings straight, I climbed back into the front seat and revved up the car one last time that day. After some careful maneuvering out of the ditch, I rolled back onto the road back to my house, where a few minutes later, I carried the woman inside and laid her down on the couch. She looked troubled in her sleep, as though she were having a particularly bad dream. I did what I could to help, grabbing the medkit from the bathroom and cleaning up the cut on her forehead, then bandaging it with a few band-aids. I never got past Star in boy scouts, and that was eons ago, so the resulting bandage was kinda crude. Effective though. She wouldn’t bleed anymore. I used a washcloth to wipe a some of the grit from lying in the road off of her, trying my best to avoid bumping any of her more enrapturing areas, and then wrapped her up in a blanket. Finally finished with her, I wandered back to the leather recliner and flopped down upon it holding a hand to my forehead.
My sandwich lay forgotten on the kitchen table as I sat down in recliner across from the couch, staring at the strange woman who seemingly fell from nowhere, right into the path of my oncoming vehicle. My face held in my hands, I shook my head incredulously. Weird how it takes only about a half hour to make a despicably ordinary day like this into completely whacked out one, isn’t it?
Artemis jumped up onto my lap again, winding me with her weight. She looked over at the woman on the couch and then back up at me, letting out a quiet mrowl.
I chuckled, stroking her. “Well...” I said, “I did ask for something interesting to happen, didn’t I?” She looked at me in that way she always does and sneezed a little. Stupid cats and their unspoken sarcasm. I love them.
I fumbled with the remote control for a bit, keeping a close eye on the girl and the clock. I hoped that she’d wake up sooner rather than later. It would be a real pain to have to explain this to my sister. She probably wouldn’t have it in her to keep it a secret from my parents, either. And when she told them that I had apparently brought a naked woman home? The questions... Oh, just thinking about the questions they’d ask made my head throb.
Wasn’t much good I could do pondering what ‘might’ happen, however. What was done had been done. Bottom line, she’d wake up, I’d explain how I found her and that I’d patched her up. She’d explain what in the hell happened to her and then the proper steps would be taken. We’d have a laugh, and everybody goes home. Well, she gets out of my home, anyway.
I turned the TV on again. It was about one in the afternoon. Pound Puppies was on. Eh, whatever. It’s not a bad show. Nothing to write home about, but it’s talking dogs. It’s cool. I can dig it. Besides, DHX does the animation, so it couldn’t be all bad. The episode was about the dogs trying to find a home for a sewer alligator. It was actually pretty funny in context.
It was about twenty minutes into the show that Artemis mrowled again, thumping me in the face with her tail. I looked down to see what she was looking at, only to turn to see the woman awake under the blanket and staring at me with wide blue eyes. She looked frightened, and more than a little tense, though she remained absolutely motionless. I guess I couldn’t blame her. How would you feel if you woke up in a stranger’s house with no clothes and saw a scruffy grown man sitting not five feet from you watching a children’s cartoon? You’d probably be pretty uncomfortable yourself.
Still, I had no wish for her remain in such a state of distress, so I quickly tried to ease the tension in the room. Smiling, I lifted a hand in a small wave. “Hey,” I said to her cheerily.
The woman opened her mouth.
...And that’s how I lost my sense of hearing.
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lol, that last line
I second MrBackpack! Awesome job so far! Keep it going!
Yeah, she made him deaf with her screaming. He's gonna have one hell of a hard time calming her down-*Boromir interrupts* "One does not simply calm Rarity down"-Thank you Boromir, now shut up. All I can say is:
weknowmemes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/dis-gon-b-gud.gif
For some reason, no matter how long the chapters are in a story, they always end too soon.
As long as you work on moar, we will be happy.
Or else...
A new chapter!
Oh, wait. I already read this during editing.
Nice to see you ironed out the mistakes.
lol YAY!! more,please?
ow. just ow.
1218506 Sorry, but weren't you brown nosing in our IRC trying to get a better chance at getting Rarity? I find this pretty pathetic, "I DIDN'T GET HER SO I'LL DISLIKE AND TROLL THE GUY WHO DID". Also it IS a collab, doesn't that mean the plot will be carried over.
Troll Level: Ironic Fail
1218506 Curious... Weren't you one of the people who applied for Rarity?
Seeing as you didn't even pass the first hurdle of the application process, I highly doubt you could have come up with anything more "original" than what Dusty has written. In fact, I doubt you could even write something half as good as Draequine's story, and we all know how bad that is.
So, in conclusion:
adscam.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341bfa1853ef00e55375019c8833-800wi
It would be rather ironic (and a violation of this site's rules) if the one down-vote on the story came from a jealous Rarity hopeful who is annoyed that he didn't get the position.
I think I might have a look and see who changed their up-vote to a down-vote on my own story. Wouldn't it be something if it was the same person?
I was reading this and I couldn't help but think, "Seriously? You name your computer?"
Then I read the logic behind it to yell "KHAAAAAAAAN!" everytime it screws up. THAT. IS. FREAKING. GENIUS.
Umm... Why is the description copied over twice? Glitch or something? I dunno, but you may want to fix that.
That being said...
"THE DESCRIPTION HAD BEEN DOUBLED!"
1225792
Take a second look at the description. Look closer than just a few sentences. It might surprise you.
1220282>>1220308
XD Looks like he didn't like being outed as a jealous, butthurt little kid and went and deleted his comment. Thanks for sticking up for me, fellas
1226020
Oh shoot! My bad! Guess I gotta stop skimming over descriptions...
1226052 Because Friendship is MAGIC!
the humor of the last line was top notch.
1226052 Hey, what are editors/friends for?
I'll admit, considering Rarity's usual dramatic antics, her shrieking must be "wake-the-damn-dead" loud.
1226052 You honestly think you rule the day on your high horse? Well I have one more thing to say to all of the Ponyfall writers. And its one last honest opinion before I finish up my business with you guys. I'm going to post it soon here since I don't wanna rejoin a group I don't fancy such as Ponyfall. That's the last thing you'll hear of me. If you wanna read it then check for it where I just notified you to.
Bring your friends for an opinion if you want to
To the Ponyfall writers and editors:
This is the guy who you're all looking down upon. The one who you flamed for that last comment I made on "PonyFall: Leather and Lace".
I was greatly supported by a friend to candidate for this collaboration project since he himself was quite assured that I'd get the spot since he thought my talent to make a story fun and interesting would be enough. But when he realized that I didn't get the position, all the circumstances surrounding it and that I got flamed for it, he motivated me to not take it like a bi*** and have my final word which is in this comment.
Now let me get started by saying I'm disappointed in all of you Ponyfall people. I thought you were cool fun loving people that really loved writing these series for the fun of it even though there were some geeky things about you. But there were several things that absolutely ticked me off about all of you that completely struck me! I felt absolutely betrayed by your false intentions of finding awesome people for your team.
Now before you put this on the answering machine being like "You mad, you butthurt, you jelly" well, yes I am quite angry about it. And why shouldn't I be? You didn't even give me a chance! You Didn't even allow me and many more, incredibly capable authors to write their own versions of this fic.
Mr. Slorg proved to me after his last comment that he was a business man who was looking for a "person to employ" that would treat this as work, cutting out all the fun. He prefered to pick out the most nerdy writer that must perform "a job that requires team cooperation to go smoothly". Well let me tell him that this is a nonprofit site and nobody gets paid here! Therefore anybody who treats this as "work" kills all the creative spirit out of everybody else.
All the other Ponyfallians treated me as "a baby who didn't get his lolly". Well let's just say I can't stand nerds who play games all day like children, overdramatize about fictional characters and think they're awesome for staying cooped up in their imaginary world!
Unlike nerds I treat Mlp and fanfiction writing as a hobby for my spare time and do not get too attached to stuff that is fictional. But I am not as hell gonna take it lying down to a bunch of Melvins!
Let me rewrite some of the things I remember writing about the first time I read Dusty the Royal Janitor's fic(with some other things added). I simply cannot believe that some super-nerd took the spot for this story! It seems Slorg chose with his eyes closed and picked whoever was the nerdiest bestest worker! When I read about how Mr. Janitor named his car, computer and about his Batman pajamas, Pony t-shirt (total overkill), I couldn't believe how lame that was! Why does every Ponyfall author has to be a nerd?
I'd like to ask you: Does it has to be this way? Do nerds have to win every time even though they do not deserve it, points being:
They do not take care of their bodies and face and yet have high standarts for girls;
They hate on every other opinion that doesn't match theirs and constantly bend their own rules and principles to their liking;
They pipe up "You suck! Why if I had my way with you!" but then if you raise your fist at them they cringe in fear;
They constantly nag on you with stuff you aren't into (like video games) whether you like it or not... and so on...
So, people of Ponyfall! Why pick a person who acts like the generic nerd pretending to have morals?
That sums up my honest opinion, no trolling intended. And with that I bid you all Adieu! FOREVER!
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PS: Oh, and btw this wasn't about me not getting the spot anymore. It was about putting you nerds in your place
1264380
Okay, first off, I don't know about you, but my definition of "acting like a bitch" is opposing a comment which is entirely justified and misconstruing its meaning. Might I remind you that you actually removed your comment after being told why you were wrong. If that's not a sign that someone knows they were wrong, I don't know what is.
"your false intentions of finding awesome people for your team" So, you're implying that you are awesome, and the rest of us are not? You are incredibly pompous and hypocritical. I bet you thought there was no chance you could lose, that you were the best applicant by far. This was probably one of the reasons you weren't chosen.
"You Didn't even allow me and many more, incredibly capable authors to write their own versions of this fic." You do realise this is a collaboration, right? You could be J.K. Rowling for all we care, but if you don't get along with the other authors, what hope is there for you actually working with them?
We want this collaboration to run as smoothly and efficiently as possible, so a working environment helps that along. And who says we don't have fun doing it? We only ask you post consistently, but we aren't ruthless. We won't force you to do it if you have a good reason not to.
Let's face it; you are acting like a "baby who didn't get his lolly". You're just further proving it with actions like these.
"Well let's just say I can't stand nerds who play games all day like children, overdramatize about fictional characters and think they're awesome for staying cooped up in their imaginary world!" You are on a fanfiction site for My Little Pony. By your standards, you must hate yourself quite a bit.
"I'd like to ask you: Does it has to be this way?" First of all; have. You've just given another reason why you weren't chosen. And yes, it does. We are all nerds. Why would we read stories about big, tough bullies acting the way they do towards the mane six? It's realistic, but it's not something people want to read.
By all means, write your own Ponyfall-like story.
Will it be good? Who knows. Based on your description, probably not.
Have fun with what ever it is you're doing.
1264380
I'm neither a writer nor an editor for the collab. In fact, if your comment hadn't been so vitriolic, I would've simply kept on going. However, when your personal feeling of insult towards others turns into generic stereotyping and insulting of a very large group of people, it's simply ridiculous. I won't go into detail on some of the really obvious flaws, such as saying that flinching is "cringing in fear," even though it's an instinctual reaction for self-preservation, but I will comment on one bit: "pretending to have morals."
By your words, nerds pretend to think harming people indiscriminately is wrong, even though you're the one threatening them with such harm? They pretend to be respectable human beings that don't throw insults left and right? They pretend to back away from fighting because it would just cause a heap of unnecessary trouble? What I find immoral is that you would take such a bold attempt to dehumanize them by stripping them of their morality, thus freeing you from feeling any sort of empathy toward them.
1264380 I just saw this, and I must say you prove once again why you weren't chosen.
Over thirty people applied for Rarity, meaning at least thirty people were rejected. At least twenty four didn't get to the interview process, just like you. Out of all those people, you are the only one to throw a tantrum and reduce yourself to a babbling puddle of infancy by hurling grade school insults our way. Why weren't you chosen? Because I could immediately tell that you were full of yourself and would not get along with anyone. You have proven me correct time and time again.
At +83, -2, it looks like I know what I'm doing when it comes to choosing writers. Congratulations Dusty for not only being a skilled writer, but also being a pleasant individual. I called it right.
Now, back to you, danail24. You claim I wanted someone who would treat this as work. Incorrect. I'm the only one who has to treat anything like work, because as this is a collaboration, it takes a fair amount of work to ensure everything runs smoothly. I also don't see Dusty complaining that I'm cracking any whips or forcing him to do anything he doesn't want to do. While your supposed concern for my writers is appreciated, I should remind you that I am more than capable of taking care of them. Thanks anyway.
Your next statement seems to imply that all the other PonyFall writers are nerds for calling you out on your bullshit. Some of them probably are. We're on a website dedicated to writing about ponies. No shit that's going to attract nerds. By attempting to use that term as an insult, you've just insulted the vast majority of the fan base. Nice going, Sherlock. This nerd right here happens to be happily married with two children and pulls in over $50,000 a year, so I've earned the right to sit on my ass whenever I want and play games or write about ponies. I can do that in-between sessions of working out and making out with my amazing wife.
The next bit of your comment seems to just be more incoherent rambling about nerds in general. Apparently they don't take care of their bodies and run in terror if you raise a fist at them or something. I can only assume you're still in school, because the real world doesn't work like that. There's no point even discussing this part because of how utterly ignorant it is.
TL:DR - You're precisely the person I thought you were, and that's why you weren't chosen. Have fun being angry over fictional ponies.
*Facepalms* Why can't people stop whining about a fanfic and just enjoy it?
1296397 Long story man, long story
YOU'RE a cool guy to read about, I like you guy. But your house in my mind looks like one of those Biker safe-houses in Grand Theft Auto 4.
Gears of War fandom is full of assholes, and i'm one of 'em. But Brony fandom is best fandom.
1264380 You... you make me sick. I am a writer like you, however I can also be categorized as both a brony and a nerd. First off, flinching is a natural reaction, and you do not scare me nor intimidate me. Hating is pointless so I will simply say this; Not all 'nerds', as you call them, are weak. I have taken extensive combat training, and yes, I am a nerd. I pity you, as a pathetic person. Make your own ideas
I can feel his pain when Rarity starts screaming. Somehow managed an ultrasonic scream when I hit my hamstring on a glass door. My cat came running in from outside and gave me one square in the face. I think he might, might, heard it.
Anyhow. I love how you started the story. It is really funny.
I read through the comments and have to say, you really had a lot of patience and good will with that danail24 guy. He sounded like the biggest baby I've seen in a long time. I wish you, that you'll never have to deal with such a jerk again. All of the Ponyfall collab team. You make good stories and don't deserve to be treated like that. I feel foreign cham because of that guy. Yes it's that bad.
Wish you the best for the future of the collab.
Dragon
Story: "stare at certain... portions of her anatomy"
Me:
1264380 *makes sure to avoid at all costs* sheesh... talk about being a pussy.
Wow. I'm reading this and I unintentionally ripped you off. Wow.