[T] Bastard "Mini" Mafia! - Page 15

On May 23 2013 09:10 ObviousOne wrote:
Destiny videos, and potatoes.

Two 100% accurate scumtells

On May 23 2013 09:26 Acrofales wrote:

Look at what I found for you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTq5sIDryEs

On May 23 2013 09:27 kitaman27 wrote:


Kita is my slave name. Stop oppressing me.

I've revised my threat.

I shall now punish you all with Game of Thrones fan fiction.

Meet Catelyn P.I.

On May 23 2013 09:27 kitaman27 wrote:


Kita is my slave name. Stop oppressing me.

I've revised my threat.

I shall now punish you all with Game of Thrones fan fiction.

Meet Catelyn P.I.

Daring Do -in- Rain or Shine

Part 1: Play Of Colour

Chapter 1: New Horizon, New Castle.

She couldn't believe that she'd never been there before. It was an unfamiliar city on the Western Plains; an area she had rarely visited in the past. Whoever she asked, she was regaled with stories about The Great City of Hoofcastle. Everyone had told her about how huge the city was, how fabulous the festivities were, the might of its military and the leadership of its monarchy. It truly seemed like a wonderful place to visit, and with so much history, it promised to be full of secrets and archaeological delights.

Finally free to travel, after fighting to retrieve a precious gemstone from a black market trader in a nearby town, she decided to visit Hoofcastle as a tourist. She planned to send the hoof-sized opal back to its rightful owner via the postal service, then spend some time exploring the surrounding area; rather than carry it all the way back herself. To her, it was the perfect plan. Even someone as hard-working as her needed time off once in a while.

The high-walled fortress city loomed on the horizon as she flew clear of the trees of the Rosettian Forest; giving way to a rich, grassy meadow, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was a delightfully warm day, and with all of the open air now that she was free of the densely wooded area, the pegasus decided to enjoy it. She flew in to the nearest thermal she could find and soared higher and higher. It was liberating! The thermal carried her ever further in to the sky until it eventually reached its peak. With a few more wing-beats, she tumbled over backwards and out of the rising column of air. With her eyes closed and a grin on her face, she plummeted back down towards the hard ground. Fast and faster she fell, managing to turn out of the drop at the last moment. The eddies and vortices blew a cloud of pollen and flower petals right off of their stems; an exploding rainbow of colours.

To any other flyer, such a dive would be daring; perhaps too daring, but not too daring for Daring Do!

She eventually made it to the town on the outskirts of Hoofcastle; a bustling place called Saddleton.

Saddleton was actually so close to the castle walls of the gigantic fortress city that it all might as well have been one giant city all together. It was more of a suburb than a separate town. The settlement seemed pleasant enough, with nothing more than a wooden palisade at its borders. Even in an area reportedly as dangerous as the western plains, it seemed quite inviting. She set down by the front gate, stepping up to two guard-ponies standing watch. The gate was open, so Daring assumed that the way was clear. "Good afternoon." She nodded her head on the way past. The guards didn't even bat an eyelid in response. Must have been part of their training. Ignoring them, she made her in to the town. The skyline was partly blocked by the massive grey brick structure that stretched several hundred, maybe even over a thousand hands high. A descending whistle left her lips as she scoped the size of the building. "Nice place!" Laughing, she continued on towards the town centre.

When Daring was finally there, she spent a moment taking in all the sounds, sights and smells. There was a whole variety of things to see and do, and she wanted to explore all of it. Her first thought was to look for the nearest post office, but her rumbling stomach was telling her to reorder her priorities. The post office wasn't going anywhere, after all. "Hm, I guess I should go and get something to eat."

She trotted across the cobblestones towards a large, ornate fountain in the town square. From there, she could get a good view of the many colourful and varied stalls that lined the streets. There were arts and crafts, groceries, tools, clothes and book stalls; as well as a good few open-air grills and cafés. The delicious scent of roasted red bell-peppers and caramelised onions practically lifted and carried her over to a small queue of other ponies waiting to get their share. A burgundy-coloured earth pony with a dark grey mane and tail was artfully tossing the sizzling mixture in a large skillet, with oily orange and purple flames leaping from the shallow pan. An enthusiastic yellow unicorn was serving customers at the stall, handing over neatly wrapped wheat tortillas filled with the aromatic treat. "Howay, get 'em while they're hot!" the young mare shouted over the crowd. "Two bits each, five bits fre three!" She picked up a few more of the generously-sized bundles and passed them out to a paying customer and his two foals.

Simple street fayre; sometimes there was just nothing like it! Fried foods were common all over the world, sold in various guises as patties, nuggets, kebabs, skewers, stir-fry, pastries; you name it, it's been fried and it's been loved by thousands.

The quick service ensured that the lines thinned out pretty fast, soon putting Daring at the front. "What'll it be, fearless adventurer?" It was obvious that the seller was making fun of her hat and jacket, but something about it was oddly flattering. Daring laughed it off, taking it as a compliment. If only she knew! "One te gan?"

From 'te gan', Daring guessed that she meant 'to go'. "Yes please!" Daring reached for her coin purse and produced two bits. The unicorn handed over the goods, receiving the two golden coins for her troubles. "Thank you." Always charming and polite, Daring nodded her head with a smile and backed away to let the next eager customer through.

"Pleasure te serve yee , ma'am. We's next?" Her attention was quickly drawn away to the next hungry pony.

Daring found a sunny spot by the fountain in the town square, sitting down on the smooth stones and enjoying the sun's rays. Occasionally some cool droplets of water splashed over her neck. She was thankful for it on such a hot day, finding it refreshing. It was the perfect accompaniment to the warm, mildly spicy meal she was about to get stuck in to.

Peeling a layer of grease-paper off of the soft tortilla, Daring licked her lips eagerly. This was going to be so worth it after several days with just dried rations. Stale bread really hit the spot, but only when it was absolutely needed.

Shutting her eyes and opening her jaws wide to take a bite, she found herself clapping her teeth together around thin air. "Ow!" she yelled, feeling the impact resonate through her skull. Quickly opening her eyes and peering around, she noticed a young colt disappearing towards a large crowd. He was carrying her lunch, and he was getting away! "Hey!" Daring leapt to her hooves, giving chase. The little brat was not going to get away with that! "Come back!" she shouted, muscling past the slow-moving lines of ponies as she tried to keep up with the galloping youngster. "That's mine!"

She soon lost him, only managing to catch a glimpse of his blue tail disappearing around a dark corner. She skidded to a halt and looked in to the shadows of the alleyway. "I know you're in there!" Daring was angry; not to mention extremely hungry. The combination made her desperate to get the tempting meal back, even if it took all day. She was going to find that thief and show him what for! Stepping in to the darkness, Daring kicked over an empty barrel, letting it echo through the narrow passageway. She was hoping that the loud noise would scare the colt in to revealing himself. "Give my food back, you thief!" She ventured in further, concentrating hard in case she missed something. It was dark, and there were stacks of barrels and crates everywhere. "I paid for that!"

A thought in the back of her head gave her the impression that this was a trap. She kept her wits about her as she approached a particularly large stack of boxes at the far end of the alleyway. "Come out here and face me!" she bellowed, trying to sound tough. When there was no reply, Daring marched forwards to where she thought he was hiding.

There! A blue tuft of hair. "I've got you now you little-" She stopped short of shouting an insult when she noticed who was there. Sure, she had found the colt and her lunch, but she never intended to find his even younger siblings. "...you...little..." she trailed off. The colt and his two sisters were cowering with fear as she loomed over them with a hoof raised, ready to snatch the food away. The snarl that had formed on her lips slowly relaxed, becoming a look of uncertainty. The three young ponies were famished; skinny and weak. The youngest filly was maybe no more than two years old. Daring thought for a moment, sighing.

"Please don't hurt us, Miss!" The colt begged, making himself look as small as possible. "We're so hungry! I'm sorry for taking your food away, but we've got nothing left!" he snivelled, lying on the ground and wrapping his forelegs around one of Daring's own.

"No, don't apologise. I'm sorry; I didn't know you were so down on your luck." She softly nudged the top of the young earth pony's head to reassure him. His mane was greasy and unkempt, but she had smelled far worse in her adventures.

"We really need it, ma'am. My sisters cry all day but nobody will listen to us." The colt was on the verge of tears himself.

"I understand; don't worry." She pondered on what to do next. The food the colt had stolen was probably not going to be enough for three, even if they were children. She fished around for her coin purse again, checking to see how much was left. She had only brought a few bits with her, used to getting by on the bare minimum, and not wanting to risk losing too much by getting mugged.

She took a quick count of her spending money.

Only four bits.

Really? That little? She could have sworn she had more.

She felt unprepared, making a mental note to carry more loose change in future. "Uhm, maybe I could buy you some more, but I'm hungry too." With that declaration, the colt produced a single bit from a small bag behind his sisters.

"This is all we've got. We've been saving up to buy food, but all the food costs too much."

"Please, Miss; we're so hungry." the older sister pleaded. The youngest coughed. She sounded ill. It was more than enough to convince Daring that this was the right thing to do.

"Okay, little ones. Come with me." She took the bit and trotted back towards the main street. The three foals followed.

She held the bit between her teeth, since it was a short walk back to the stall. She felt happy that she was helping out the tiny ponies in their time of need. "Okay, so we'll get three more of those meals for five bits. That should be-" she turned to look behind her and saw that all three youngsters were nowhere to be found.

Realisation dawned on her.

She checked for her coin purse.

It was missing.

She threw the grubby gold coin to the floor in anger and disgust. She'd been used. "Oh buck it!" Daring screamed. Before she had chance to react, the last bit was snatched up by the same young colt, seemingly coming out of nowhere. He vanished once more in to the crowd before she could spot where he was heading.

Outsmarted by three foals.

How humiliating.

Daring fell to the ground and covered her face with her forelegs, groaning in frustration. They had her food; now they had all of her money.

New plan: trust nopony.

Saddleton was starting to seem much less friendly than she had anticipated. Now all she had left was a half-eaten, week-old loaf of bread. It was growing mould on the crust.

"Now what do I do?" She stood up again, gritting her teeth. That was definitely the last time she would be taken for a ride.

The crowd around the grill stall had thinned out somewhat. Now there were only a few more ponies looking to buy. Daring thought that perhaps the majority of ponies were now on their way back to work or about their daily business. The yellow unicorn, who was still serving, called out to her. "How, Miss!" Daring looked up. "Aye!" The clerk waved a hoof, motioning for her to approach. "Ahm sorry aboot tha nuisance; he preys on newcomers an tourists aal the time. Hes a clever little leach." Her dialect was unfamiliar; unusually heavy compared to the others she had heard around this area. The general accent was quite rounded and friendly, with a lot of the vowels sharing roughly the same 'eu' sound. The way the unicorn spoke was about the same, but several times more exaggerated.

"So you saw him take my food, then?" Daring asked, stepping up to the stall.

"Of course Ah did, pet. Ah wez gunna warn yee , but the crowd wez see busy Ah just couldn't git te y'in time, like. Sorry pet." She seemed sympathetic.

"It's okay." Daring sighed, more hungry than ever and now poor. She started to walk away, wondering how best to remove the mould from the bread in her pack, but the unicorn stopped her.

"Wait, weor are yee gannin?" she asked. She seemed genuinely concerned. "Wi still hev lashins iv scran left, pet." Daring stopped to look up at her again.

Scran?

Lashins iv?

Just what was this polite, if confusing pony saying? "I beg your pardon; I'm not really from the Western Plains, so I don't really-"

"Scran, pet! Scran! Yee knaa; scran te eat!" She seemed to find it hard to put it in to more general terms. Daring supposed old habits died hard, so breaking a heavy dialect or accent you've grown up with was difficult.

"Scran... to eat? Food?" She smiled brightly. "You'd give me some more food?" Daring was hopeful, genuinely astounded by the mare's generosity after such a despicable display from the three youngsters. She supposed everyone was different, no matter where they were from.

"Aye, of course! It'll anny gan te waste otherwise." She quickly served another happy customer before turning to Daring once more. She stepped away from the stall and used her magic to float over one of the wrapped tortillas that she had prepared during the busy lunchtime rush. It was still slightly warm, though not as hot and delicious as the original serving would have been. It was, however, free. Beggars can't be choosers.

"Thank you so much!" Daring gratefully accepted the gift with a bow of her head.

"Oh, divvint worry aboot it, pet." The unicorn flopped a hoof dismissively. "Bee the way, me name's Joy Hawk'n." Daring assumed that she actually meant 'Joy Hawking' from the sudden glottal stop.

"Daring Do. It's a pleasure to meet you, Joy!" She was famished, so she started to eat without hesitation. The first mouthful was particularly large; perhaps too much so. She struggled to chew for just a moment. Joy smiled and waited for the pegasus' verdict.

"See, canny good?" she asked. Daring just continued to chew with a questioning look on her face.

Canny? See what?

Joy rolled her eyes and tried to force a more neutral accent. "Like it?"

Daring's eyes widened. "Oh yes, it's great! Sorry, I'm just not used to the accent... No offence."

"Neen tek'n." Joy rolled her eyes again and laughed. She was indeed used to it; especially with outsiders. The locals just grew up with it, though the dialect itself was on its way out, what with the influx of immigrants coming to live and work in Saddleton and Hoofcastle. The Draughtie dialect was unfortunately becoming extinct.

"So, uh, you sell things on the street then, hm?" Daring caught a glimpse of the mare's cutie mark; two golden coins on her flank.

"Wey aye, tha's reet, pet. Ha gan yee tell?"

"Well, I just... well you sell stuff... you sold stuff to me. Sorry didn't mean to-" Daring took her reply as sarcastic and started to ramble.

"Ahm anny messin' wi' yee, hin!" Joy started to laugh out loud, lightly punching Daring's shoulder with a front hoof. "Aye, me job is te sell whativvor Ah gan! At lunch-time it's scran, cus me sweetheart is a cook. Otherwise Ah run a pawn shop doon the street, like." Daring still didn't quite catch it all, but she recognised a few words and phrases.

"Oh you run a pawn shop? What sort of things do you pawn?" Daring wondered if she could make a bit of money back after having been robbed. She took another large bite out of the tortilla.

"Oh, y'knaa; nick knacks an' bits an' bobs an' aal tha'. Owt deed. Why; are yee lookin' te sell somethin'?"

Owt deed?

This accent was truly hard to follow, and Daring thought she had heard all that the world had to offer.

"Oh, I might have a few little things. I really should get going, though. The post office will be closed soon, and I have to go and get something mailed out. I'll be sure to drop by when I'm done there though!" Her expression went from jovial to panicked as she thought of something else.

The opal!

That young colt could have taken that too!

She gasped and dropped her pack, turning to rummage through it. The final third of her meal dropped to the floor as a more important issue took over. "No no no no no! Please let it be in... here..." She slowed as she produced it from underneath a blanket. "Oh! Thank goodness!" She was relieved; though her heart was beating fast from the sudden rush of fear.

"Oh wa! What is that bonny thin'?" Joy's eyes lit up, as if willing the gem in to her possession. "Tha's gotta be worth a fortune!" She leaned in closer, seeing her face reflected in the highly polished, dark stone; a veritable rainbow of fire glistening at its heart.

"I'm not sure what it is; but it definitely belongs in a museum. I'm staying in Saddleton and Hoofcastle for a little while to explore, so I'm sending it home." Daring explained the situation, rubbing a little dust off of the convex face with her foreleg. As she slid it back in to the saddlebag, Joy looked slightly disappointed.

"Oh, Ah guess that is the reet thin te dee." She looked a bit uneasy, shifting on the spot. "See, uhm, wheor did yee git that from?"

"Oh, I... uh; liberated it from a travelling merchant. Turns out he was actually selling stolen goods, so I'm sending it back to the collection it belongs to." Daring closed the clasp on the bag. "Anyway, I should really get going. I'll come and visit your shop later!" She grinned and nodded her head.

"Reet yas! It wes geet canny te meet yee, Miss Do." Joy nodded back.

"It was...gate cannery to meet you too, Miss Hawking!" Daring laughed nervously as she tried to emulate the peculiar dialect. Joy stared ahead with an eyebrow raised, but still with a smile on her lips.

"Ah'll see yee latah, pet." Joy ushered her on, not wanting her to miss the last post.

"Right... right! Okay, see you soon!" Daring turned to start on her way towards the post office. She bid her goodbye with a quick wave over her shoulder.

It wasn't long before Daring found her way to the main branch post office. It was quite hard to miss; ornately decorated with gold leaf and a giant wooden statue of a flying pegasus over the door. It was quite possibly the most intricate post office she had ever seen. Considering the distance from any other major towns, and the far-flung villages out in the plains and towards the forest, it was no wonder that the ponies of Hoofcastle and Saddleton held the mail service in such high regard. Delivery ponies skittered around from all over, bringing in bags of post and parcels taken from the mail-boxes dotted around the town. There looked to be a bit of a rush going on, like the last outgoing mail was about to leave.

"Hurry up there! We've gotta get all this sorted within the hour!" an elderly unicorn with grey hair called down from a balcony in a courtyard to the side of the establishment. Daring watched curiously, finding it interesting to see how the service worked behind the scenes. She could see a sorting office through one of the glass windows under the canopy. The sorting jobs were particularly well-suited to the unicorns, who could easily sort large bundles of letters in to pigeon-holes with their levitation magic. Flickers of colourful light through the dusty panes were constant, showing just how busy the sorters actually were. After a brief moment, she made her way inside.

A bell rang by the door as she pushed it open. There was a small line of ponies still waiting to pay for their parcels to be sent out. Daring used the mail system regularly, so she always carried a book of pre-paid stamps. Since she was absolutely lacking any form of money, she hoped that the stamps would be enough to mail the heavy opal back to the museum.

The whole building had the smell of paper and envelope glue lingering on the air. It was musty, but quite pleasant, reminding her of home. "Next please!" called a young earth pony from behind the counter. He had a tan coat and a red and white mane. A blue cap sat on his head and square-framed, black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His accent was considerably clearer than most she had heard already, lacking the rounded pronunciation. In fact, his accent was closer to Daring's own. Maybe he wasn't from the Western Plains?

The line dissipated faster than she imagined it would. The mail clerk was obviously very good at his job. "Next customer please!" He called, motioning for Daring to join him. She stepped up to the counter. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"I'd like to post an ornament, if that's okay." She started rummaging through her saddlebags for the precious gem.

"Certainly; is it wrapped?" he asked with a smile.

"It's not wrapped, sorry. It might also be kind of fragile. I hope that's not a problem!" She produced the shimmering gem and carefully placed it, with one hoof, on to the wooden worktop in front of him. His response was delayed while he tried to process the sheer value of such a flawless gemstone.

"Uhm, uh yes that's fine. I just need to uh, weigh it up." He balanced on his back legs as he hefted the stone up on to the scales; using two hooves and his nose to keep it safe. When it landed on the scale pan, the pan dropped significantly. Daring heard the springs squeak and the needle on the dial hit the end with a click. He waited for the scales to settle before taking a moment to calculate the cost. Clacking a few beads around on an abacus, he deliberated before delivering the bad news. "Hmm. It looks like this parcel will cost thirty-five bits, ma'am." He smiled nervously and waited for her reaction.

"Thirty-five bits!?" Daring was outraged. She had never had to spend so much on postage before. It wasn't that heavy! "Are you serious?" she barked, scowling at the mail clerk. "It's not even hoof-sized!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am! I don't make the rules. This is a heavy gemstone, and very valuable! The pegasus tasked with carrying it will have to take extra care not to lose it or damage it in any way." The clerk slid his glasses up his nose. "Also, the weight of it will offset the amount of lighter packages and letters that they will be able to carry. I hope you understand." He sounded sorry for her, but he was only doing his job. Daring tutted and groaned. If she couldn't send it back by post, she was going to have to take it herself. That meant no vacation!

"Is there no way you can do it for any less?" she asked, determined to make time for herself to have some fun in this bustling metropolis.

"I'm sorry ma'am, it's the best price we can afford. One of our reserve pegasi are going to have to work overtime to pick up the letters our usual employee would carry. It's only fair on the workforce, ma'am." He looked to be sweating. This pony was nervous. She didn't want to give the poor clerk a panic-attack, so she lowered her voice.

"Okay, okay. I understand." Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she retrieved the stamp-book from her saddlebags and placed it on the counter. "I think I have thirty-five bits worth of stamps in here." She opened it up and flicked through the few pages of perforated stamps she had left.

...thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four...

Thirty-four.

Thirty-four?!

She threw her head back and yelled with frustration. The clerk leapt away with fright, startled.

"Thirty-four. That's all I've got. Are you absolutely sure you can't do it for thirty-four?" She was desperate by this point. The clerk gulped.

"W-well, you see, ma'am, I've already c-cut the price down as much as I can. Trust me; if my colleague was on-duty right now, the charge would be closer to forty bits."

"Forty bits?!" she yelled.

"Forty! Thirty-five is a good deal, really!" The clerk reiterated, shaking on the spot.

"I can't afford it! I was robbed by some young colt and his sisters! Please, I need to get this mailed out."

"I'm sorry ma'am but I could lose my job. I already cut prices back on big deliveries as much as I can!" He was genuinely disappointed that the situation was turning out this way. He never liked to turn a customer away.

"I need to get just one more bit!" She looked around to see if anyone else was left. Everyone was gone; she was the last customer. "I... I know where I can get more money. I'll be as fast as I can, okay?"

"You'll have to be quick! We close in fifteen minutes. Please hurry." The clerk did want her to succeed; it ruined his entire evening if he ever let a customer down.

"I'll be back in ten!"

Daring snatched the gem from the scales and stuffed it in to the bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She stormed out, frustrated and angry; especially after being robbed. This had screwed everything up! She gritted her teeth and growled with frustration, stomping off towards the market yet again. She was going to have to pawn something at Joy's shop, and quickly.

She had forgotten something. The stamp-book was still on the mail counter. The clerk looked up at the gilded motto embossed on the wall.

Come Rain Or Come Shine, The Mail Will Always Get There On Time.

He sighed. He was going to have to do some running.

"Wait, ma'am!" he called after her. He grabbed the stamp-book in his teeth and cantered as fast as he could towards the door, running out in to the street.

Even as I sit here, I can't believe I'm writing this. I've never been one to voice my opinions in such a public manner. But after learning that Dandel Ion wants to create a desolation and call it peace, I felt I at least had to set a few things straight. To start, he wants to spread rumors, gossip, and stories that are certainly false. Who does he think he is? I mean, the really interesting thing about all this is not that his accusations leave much to be desired. The interesting thing is that it's unfortunate that he has no real education. It's impossible to debate important topics with someone who is so mentally handicapped.

Dandel Ion's clear-cut demonstrations of gross moral turpitude have led me to believe that I, speaking as someone who is not a stuporous usurer, am fed up to the back teeth with Dandel Ion's uninformed jibes. But the problems with Dandel Ion's long-term goals don't end there. As a consistently mortified observer of Dandel Ion's snow jobs, I can't help but want to restore the traditions that Dandel Ion has abandoned. Honor means nothing to him. Principles mean nothing to him. All he cares about is how to bribe the parasitic with the earnings of the productive.

In spite of the fact that Dandel Ion's claims are pure tripe, many people have witnessed him pamper confused mumpsimuses. Dandel Ion generally insists that his witnesses are mistaken and blames his nasty objectives on meretricious, dour passéists. It's like he has no-fault insurance against personal responsibility. What's more, if it weren't for Dandel Ion's double standards he would have no standards at all. Hence, it's utterly a waste of time even to address Dandel Ion's hypocrisy. That's why I'll state merely that he has been known to say that we ought to worship philopolemical, self-deluded racketeers as folk heroes. That notion is so malign, I hardly know where to begin refuting it. In summary, savagism revolves in a fixed orbit around all of Dandel Ion's noxious opuscula. Is anyone listening? Does anyone care?

I don't intend to discomfit my readers, but I do need to point out that Dandel Ion's real enmity against us comes through in his positions, which he uses to emphasize the negative in our lives instead of accentuating the positive. To begin at the beginning, he has conceived the project of reigning over opinions and of conquering neither kingdoms nor provinces but the human mind. If this project succeeds then judgmental jargonauts will be free to work hand-in-glove with the worst sorts of pudibund, moralistic anarchists there are. Even worse, it will be illegal for anyone to say anything about how that fact is simply inescapable to any thinking man or woman. "Thinking" is the key word in the previous sentence. Dandel Ion is an expert at calming his adversaries with sweet inversions of the truth. In case you don't believe me, consider how he has managed to convince an alarming number of people that public opinion is a reliable indicator of what's true and what isn't. He does this even though he knows full well that he's convinced that people everywhere have a deeply held love of despotism. I profess that if Dandel Ion held a rally in support of despotism, no more than two people would show up—one if you exclude the local street vendor who just happens to be peddling his wares in the vicinity. The reason, obviously, is that Dandel Ion has called people like me spleenful demoniacs, sanctimonious criticasters, and pea-brained, moonstruck litterbugs so many times that these accusations no longer have any sting. Dandel Ion certainly continues to employ such insults because he's run out of logical arguments. I suppose an alternate explanation is that one can usually be pretty sure when Dandel Ion is lying. Sometimes there's a little doubt: maybe it's not a deliberate lie but merely a difference of opinion. But when Dandel Ion claims that his adages are intelligent, commonsensical, and entirely consonant with the views of ordinary people, there's no room for ambiguity: he's lying.

Dandel Ion's dupes have been waxing stridently about miserabilism, Dandel Ion's double standards, and why Dandel Ion should break down traditional values. Meanwhile, I have been setting the stage so that my next letter will begin from a new and much higher level of influence. What do I hope to achieve by doing such a thing? I hope to achieve widespread recognition that I've managed to come up with a way in which Dandel Ion's essays could be made useful. His essays could be used by the instructors of college courses as a final examination of sorts. Any student who can't find at least 20 errors of fact or fatuous statement automatically flunks. Extra credit goes to students who realize that Dandel Ion's wrongheaded, confused game of chess—the jaundiced chess of mercantalism—has continued for far too long. It's time to checkmate this invidious loblolly and show him that he is not only immoral but amoral.

If anything, by allowing Dandel Ion to weave his cruel traits, hidebound exegeses, and power-drunk ploys into a rich tapestry that is sure to represent Heaven as Hell and, conversely, the most wretched life as paradise, we are allowing him to play puppet master. He has not increased our safety, security, or happiness by putting a pestilential, sappy spin on important issues. All he's increased by doing that is the girth of his bloated ego. From a public-policy perspective, I once read an article about how Dandel Ion wants nothing less than to transform our little community into a global crucible of terror and gore. It was the powerful and long-lingering momentum of the impressions received on that occasion, more than any other circumstance, that gave definite form and resolution to my purpose of substituting movement for stagnation, purposive behavior for drifting, and visions of a great future for collective pettiness and discouragement.

To say that Dandel Ion has a close-to-perfect existence that's the envy of the sniffish opportunists around him is sleazy nonsense and untrue to boot. One might think that his claims about dogmatism form a perfect continuum of infinite leaps to vaguely defined conclusions that will rapidly collapse into a singularity of unreason from which no sense can escape, and this is, not surprisingly, the case. If I had to choose between chopping onions and helping him scapegoat easy, unpopular targets, thereby diverting responsibility from more culpable parties, I'd be in the kitchen in an instant. Although both alternatives make me cry, the deciding factor for me is that if Dandel Ion believes that our unalienable rights are merely privileges that he can dole out or retract, then it's obvious why he thinks that he understands the difference between civilization and savagery. Although I agree with those who aver that he is becoming ever more audacious in his unappeasable hatred of us, nevertheless, I cannot agree with the subject matter and attitude that is woven into every one of his unforgiving, oligophrenic practices.

Isn't it interesting which questions Dandel Ion dodges and what tangents he goes off on? Those dodges and tangents make me think that I've never bothered Dandel Ion. Yet Dandel Ion wants to confuse the catastrophic power of state fascism with the repression of an authoritarian government in our minds. Whatever happened to "live and let live"? He unmistakably believes that my bitterness at him is merely the latent projection of libidinal energy stemming from self-induced anguish. Unfortunately for him, that's all in his imagination. Dandel Ion needs to get out of that fictional world and get back to reality, where people can see that this is a lesson for those with eyes to see. It is a lesson not so much about his anti-democratic behavior but about the way that I am tired of hearing or reading that "metanarratives" are the root of tyranny, lawlessness, overpopulation, racial hatred, world hunger, disease, and rank stupidity. You know that that is simply not true.

My next point will be so cogent that even Dandel Ion will be able to understand it. Specifically, Dandel Ion has nothing but contempt for responsibility, duty, and honor. Still, I recommend you check out some of Dandel Ion's threats and draw your own conclusions on the matter. The dominant characteristic of his canards is not that they sugarcoat the past and dispense false optimism for the future, but that, in the bargain, they erode constitutional principles that have shaped our society and remain at the core of our freedom and liberty. I do not propose a supernatural solution to the problems we're having with him. Instead, I propose a practical, realistic, down-to-earth approach that requires only that I fight the warped, distorted, misshapen, unwholesome monstrosity that Dandel Ion's policies have become. I challenge Dandel Ion to point out any text in this letter that proposes that he possesses infinite wisdom. It isn't there. There's neither a hint nor a suggestion of such a thing.

Dandel Ion screams and cries whenever he's prevented from causing riots in the streets. I, not being one of the many sullen, obscene derelicts of this world, warrant that if he stopped acting like such a big baby, maybe then he'd see that his mottos are based on hate. Hate, Stalinism, and an intolerance of another viewpoint, another way of life. I avouch we should knock down his house of cards. By "house of cards," I'm referring to the fragile, highly unstable, and renitent framework of lies on which Dandel Ion's popularity is based. Without that framework, people everywhere would come to realize that Dandel Ion has somehow managed to get the media to pay rapt attention to his pretentious prognoses. I don't know what sort of Jedi mind control he's been using to pull that off, but I do know that by Dandel Ion's standards, if you have morals, believe that character counts, and actually raise your own children—let alone teach them to be morally fit—you're definitely a stubborn calumniator. My standards—and I suspect yours as well—are quite different from his. For instance, I insist that it's debatable whether Dandel Ion's intellectual dishonesty, mismanagement of facts, and outright lies make the most mentally deficient zobs I've ever seen seem ready for sainthood, in comparison. However, no one can disagree that the provision of evidence rebutting his claims is merely fuel piled on the bonfire of his insanity. Hence and therefore, Dandel Ion is guilty of at least one criminal offense. In addition, he frequently exhibits less formal criminal behavior such as deliberate and even gleeful cruelty, explosive behavior, and a burning desire to flout all of society's rules.

I need your help if I'm ever to shatter the adage that if Dandel Ion kicks us in the teeth we'll then lick his toes and beg for another kick. "But I'm only one person," you might protest. "What difference can I make?" The answer is: a lot more than you think. You see, Dandel Ion believes it's perfectly okay to mollycoddle slatternly libertines. More than anything else, such beliefs shed light on Dandel Ion's moral values and suggest incontrovertibly that he wants us to think of him as a do-gooder. Keep in mind, though, that Dandel Ion wants to "do good" with other people's money and often with other people's lives. If he really wanted to be a do-gooder, he could start by admitting that it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt. Let me rephrase that: His propositions turn the stomachs of those who know even a little about the real world. But what, you may ask, does any of that have to do with the theme of this letter, viz., that he has a different view of reality from the rest of us? Well, I asked the question so I should answer it. Let me start by saying that whenever he's presented with the statement that he is a confirmed liar—a conscious, deliberate, bald-faced, shameless liar—he spews out the hackneyed excuse that it is better that a hundred thousand people should perish than that he should be even slightly inconvenienced. Ironically, such screwball logic is likely to convince even more people that Dandel Ion's opinion is that he is able to abrogate the natural order of effects flowing from causes. Of course, opinions are like sphincters: we all have them. So let me tell you my opinion. My opinion is that to someone whose eyes are open, Dandel Ion's constantly repeated mantra that one can understand the elements of a scientific theory only by reference to the social condition and personal histories of the scientists involved is an insanely meddlesome notion. By way of contrast, consider my personal mantra that the one thing that's central to all of Dandel Ion's ungrateful denunciations is a desire to make emotionalism socially acceptable. I call this the New Terrorism. The old terrorism was concerned only with making bribery legal and part of business as usual. Although that was bad enough, it would be downright brain-damaged for Dandel Ion to deface property with racially and sexually derogatory epithets and offensive symbols. I put that observation into this letter just to let you see that he is guided by the ignis fatuus of ageism. Well, that's another story. To get back to my main point, I ought to mention that I think I know why so many vexatious, postmodernist ditzes prop up corrupt despots around the world. It's because Dandel Ion has whipped them into a blind frenzy by telling them that the most valuable skill one can have is the ability to lie convincingly. Unfortunately for Dandel Ion, the ground truth is that his histrionics are a veritable dictionary and synonymicon of Oblomovism. That said, let me continue.

One other thing: Dandel Ion contends that we're supposed to shut up and smile when he says haughty, ignominious things and that, therefore, taxpayers are a magic purse that never runs out of gold. This bizarre pattern of thinking leads to strange conclusions. For example, it convinces daft gauleiters (as distinct from the parvanimous profiteers who prefer to chirrup while hopping from cloud to cloud in Nephelococcygia) that Dandel Ion is a spokesman for God. In reality, contrariwise, if Dandel Ion thinks that anyone who disagrees with him is ultimately unreasonable then maybe he should lay off the wacky tobacky.

When I was little, my father would sometimes pick me up, put me on his knee, and say "I'd like people who use 'pressure tactics'—that's a euphemism for 'torture'—to coerce ordinary people into allowing federally funded research to mushroom into a scabrous, grossly inefficient system, hampered by mad gumps and unholy varmints to find themselves behind bars, looking out." Even though Dandel Ion insists that unfounded attacks on character, loads of hyperbole, and fallacious information are the best way to make a point, I claim that anyone with eyes and a brain can tell that if you were to tell him that his hypnopompic insights are fatally fissiparous, he'd just pull his security blanket a little tighter around himself and refuse to come out and deal with the real world. He really struck a nerve with me when he said that "the norm" shouldn't have to worry about how the exceptions feel. That lie is a painful reminder that Dandel Ion's confreres merely present their allegations as though they were true, a technique known as a "conclusory" or "Kierkegaardian" leap. So what's the connection between that and Dandel Ion's ramblings? The connection is that we must always be looking towards the future while keeping the past in mind. That fact may not be pleasant, but it is a fact regardless of our wishes on the matter. Dandel Ion's crusades have grown into the world's greatest enslavers of human minds. That's too big of a subject to get into here so let me instead discuss how many people are incredulous when I tell them that he intends to extirpate the things that I cherish. "How could Dandel Ion be so flippant?", they ask me. "It doesn't seem possible." Well, it is decidedly possible, and now I'll explain exactly how Dandel Ion plans to do it. But first, you need to realize that if we foreground the cognitive and emotional palette of his feebleminded, neurotic indiscretions rather than their pathology we can enter vitally into Dandel Ion's world. Why do we want to do that? Because if you think that this is humorous or exaggerated, you're wrong. Finally, any one of the points I made in this letter could be turned into a complete research paper, but the conclusion of each would be the same: It is honestly not the intention of Heaven to let Dandel Ion crush the remaining vestiges of democracy throughout the world.

Dandel Ion's vassals all look like Dandel Ion, think like Dandel Ion, act like Dandel Ion, and shift our society from a culture of conscience to a culture of consensus, just like Dandel Ion does. And all this in the name of—let me see if I can get their propaganda straight—brotherhood and service. Ha! I surely want to protect the interests of the general public against the greed and unreason of iscariotic, logorrheic bloodsuckers, but I can't do that alone. So do me a favor and lend support to the thesis that we must use our minds and spirits to halt Dandel Ion's efforts to lure the loathsome into Dandel Ion's coven. That'll show him that many, many people have been hurt by him for daring to ensure that we survive and emerge triumphant out of the coming chaos and destruction. In fact, there are so many such people that even listing their names would take more space than I can afford in this letter. In their honor, though, I will say that the point is that if everyone spent just five minutes a day thinking about ways to burn away social illness, exploitation, and human suffering, we'd all be a lot better off. Is five minutes a day too much to ask for the promise of a better tomorrow? I hope not, but then again, the justification Dandel Ion gave for interfering with my efforts to lead him out of a dream world and back to hard reality was one of the most silly justifications I've ever heard. It was so silly, in fact, that I will not repeat it here. Even without hearing the details you can still see my point quite clearly: Dandel Ion is a lamebrained liar. Let's list some of Dandel Ion's more deluded lies: First, he claims that the Queen of England heads up the international drug cartel. Second, he insists that the more paperasserie and bureaucracy we have to endure, the better. And third, he wants us to believe that it's okay if his suggestions initially cause our quality of life to degrade because "sometime", "someone" will do "something" "somehow" to counteract that trend. I presented that list to get you to see that Dandel Ion recently made the astonishing claim that he answers to no one. Stripped of all its hyperbole, this statement is really just saying that Dandel Ion likes to argue that he is a master of precognition, psychokinesis, remote viewing, and other undeveloped human capabilities. Admitting the apparent correctness of this morally crippled argument, we may prove the contradictory of its conclusion by an unassailable argument of our own, which is called an elenchus. My elenchus begins with the observation that if Dandel Ion had lived the short, sickly, miserable life of a chattel serf in the ages "before technocracy" he wouldn't be so keen to put the public peace perpetually in danger. Maybe he'd even begin to realize that he has been confusing, befuddling, and neutralizing public opposition. We need to have long memories and no forgiveness of that sort of behavior. Instead, we must investigate Dandel Ion's contumelious principles, ideals, and objectives.

I suggest that we dispense justice. This right and truthful proposition, practically established, will help us overcome the obstacles that people like him establish. While the concept of broad-based peace and social justice coalitions remains desirable, there is an alternative to lying down passively for the executioner. The alternative is to reveal the truth about Dandel Ion's homilies. In particular, he never stops boasting about his generous contributions to charitable causes. As far as I can tell, however, Dandel Ion's claimed magnanimousness is completely chimerical, and, furthermore, life isn't fair. We've all known this since the beginning of time, so why is he so compelled to complain about situations over which he has no control? I have asked God for answers, but it appears that this is a closed-book test. Let me simply suggest, therefore, that we've all heard Dandel Ion yammer and whine about how he's being scapegoated again, the poor dear.

It's easy to tell if Dandel Ion is lying. If his lips are moving, he's lying. Dandel Ion says that he is a martyr for freedom and a victim of fanaticism. That's a stupid thing to say. It's like saying that Comstockism is a be-all, end-all system that should be forcefully imposed upon us.

Contrary to the impression that stubborn brutes offer "new," "innovative," and "advanced" ideas, there is little new in their shell games. We need to stick to the facts and offer only those arguments that can be supported by those facts. Why? Because of what's at stake: literally everything. Now the surprising news: I condemn Dandel Ion's gross and systematic violations of human rights. I'm not just talking about the arbitrary detentions, enforced disappearances, torture, and summary executions but also about my previous observation that Dandel Ion's emissaries have learned their scripts well and the rhetoric comes gushing forth with little provocation. More often than not, I'm at loggerheads with Dandel Ion on at least one important issue. Namely, he argues that trees cause more pollution than automobiles do. I take the opposite position, that I know more about conspiracism than most people. You might even say that I'm an expert on the subject. I can therefore state with confidence that if Dandel Ion is victorious in his quest to bring discord, confusion, and frustration into our personal and public lives, then his crown will be the funeral wreath of humanity.

I have a dream that my children will be able to live in a world filled with open spaces and beautiful wilderness—not in a dark, morally corrupt world run by brassbound, judgmental racketeers. Better, far better, that Man were without the gift of speech than that he use it as Dandel Ion does. Better that Man could neither read nor write than have his head and heart perverted by the bilious and hidebound tommyrot that oozes from Dandel Ion's pen. And better that the cut of Man's coat and the number of his buttons were fixed by statute and enforced by penalties than that Dandel Ion should arouse the hostility and excite the cupidity of gormless rampallions. When you reflect upon this, you'll realize that his viewpoints are more than slovenly. They fill me with a sense of despair. More than anything else, they make me realize that since their emergence on the stage of history, amoral common criminals have been a parasitic growth on the stem of true citizens. If you doubt this, just ask around.

Although Dandel Ion wants to enable tetchy, unmannerly rumormongers to punch above their weight, if we fail to straighten out our thinking and change the path we're on, then we have no one to blame but ourselves. He demands absolute and blind obedience from his advocates. If he didn't, they might question his orders to pit people against each other. This unrelenting demand of obedience also implies that Dandel Ion swears that he acts in the public interest. Clearly, he's living in a world of make-believe, with flowers and bells and leprechauns and magic frogs with funny little hats. Back in the real world, Dandel Ion used to maintain that he has the mandate of Heaven to deny citizens the ability to become informed about the destruction that he is capable of. When he realized that no one was falling for that claptrap, he quickly changed his tune to say that lewd, malignant quiddlers are easily housebroken. Dandel Ion is clearly a mudslinging liar, and shame on anyone who believes him.

If we don't soon tell Dandel Ion to stop what he's doing, he will proceed with his unconscionable, jaded ruderies, considerably emboldened by our lack of resistance. We will have tacitly given Dandel Ion our permission to do so. Dandel Ion, who prides himself on being open-minded and who likes to brag about it, refuses to consider my position that I must ask that his adulators restore the traditions that he has abandoned. I know they'll never do that so here's an alternate proposal: They should, at the very least, back off and quit trying to have a serious destabilizing effect on our institutions. His lickspittles claim to have no choice but to use threats of fiscal harm to coerce vengeful malevolent-types into testing another formula for silencing serious opposition. I wish there were some way to help these miserable, recalcitrant megalomaniacs. They are outcasts, lost in a world they didn't make and don't understand.

Was Dandel Ion just trying to be cute when he said that everything he says is entirely and absolutely true? I sure hope so because to someone whose eyes are open, his constantly repeated mantra that his faith in solipsism gives him an uncanny ability to detect astral energy and cosmic vibrations is an insanely presumptuous notion. By way of contrast, consider my personal mantra that I try never to argue with Dandel Ion because it's clear he's not susceptible to reason. He ignores the most basic ground rule of debate. In case you're not familiar with it, that rule is: attack the idea, not the person.

For the first time ever, a majority of nettlesome widdifuls have been questioning their role in helping Dandel Ion gain a respectable foothold for his noisome commentaries. I feel that we should take advantage of this historic opportunity and promote Dandel Ion to an elevated status in history as an archdemon of Oblomovism. In a tacit concession of defeat, he is now openly calling for the abridgment of various freedoms to accomplish coercively what his deceitful sallies have failed at. Dandel Ion accuses me of being a liar. The only proven liar around here, however, is Dandel Ion. Only a die-hard liar like Dandel Ion could claim that my bitterness at him is merely the latent projection of libidinal energy stemming from self-induced anguish. The truth, in case you haven't already figured it out, is that the reason he wants to rot our minds with the hallucinatory drug of alarmism is that he's totally humorless. If you believe you have another explanation for his complacent behavior, then please write and tell me about it. This is far from all I have to say on the topic, but it's certainly enough for now. Just remember one thing: Dandel Ion gnaws away at the pillars of our society as if he were a termite chewing on wood.

On May 23 2013 09:34 Dandel Ion wrote:
Some kind of Pony erotica.

"Yay." Fluttershy cheered… quietly.

Rainbow Dash could only sigh as the soft words barely reached her ears. The words of cheer and encouragement that were supposed to be, without control, screamed and hollered with passion were difficult to hear even when standing directly in front of her cheering friend. Admittedly this was no different than usual but there in lay the problem.

"Okay, this isn't working." Dash groaned, shaking her head.

The smile that had accompanied Fluttershy's earlier cheer dropped off her face, sadness and guilt quickly forming as she mumbled out her apology, "I-I'm sorry Rainbow Dash."

The sudden turn of her friend's behaviour bothered Rainbow, and so quickly reassured her, "It's not your fault Fluttershy. You've been trying hard just, well; you aren't getting much better at this whole cheering thing."

To anypony else those words probably wouldn't have done much to reassure them but to Fluttershy, used to Rainbow's blunt nature, they were appreciated.

"Probably could have said that better," Dash realised afterwards, deciding to add to it, "It's just, practise hasn't been going well lately. I've been off my game, sluggish even but it's not like I've been doing anything differently…"

"Maybe your body's getting sore from excessing so much," Fluttershy suggested with concerned tone, "Would you like me to give you a massage? It may help."

"N-no, I feel fine, no need to worry about me." Rainbow Dash shot down the idea immediately, the thought of her best friend rubbing and soothing her body making her feel uncomfortable. "Anyway, I figured it might help things if you were to improve your cheering. Y'know, start cheering more like you did at the young flier's competition; that was awesome."

"Oh my, it wasn't all that special." The humble pegasus murmured looked to the ground with a small, pleased blush.

"Are you kidding?" The proud pegasus bellowed as she swung a foreleg around her pal's shoulder, "Your cheering back then was incredible. It was… really nice to see you cheering for me like that."

A flattered Fluttershy continued to look towards the ground as her blush grew, her smile grew, and a giggle escaped her lips.

"So it would be really awesome if you could try and cheer for me like that again." Rainbow said, meeting the shy mare eye to eye.

"I-I don't know if I can, I was so caught in the moment and…" Fluttershy explained, "I don't think I fit the role of a cheerleader well."

"I got it!" Rainbow Dash yelled as something in her mind clicked.

"G-got what?" A startled Fluttershy asked.

"I know just how we can help you to cheer better," Dash beamed a grin towards Fluttershy before turning around and flying off the ground, "Be here tomorrow."

Rarity could hear her name being called, even with her being inside Carousel Boutique, and the voice outside. She was in the midst of work but not with her sewing machine and as such could tell that the caller was rapidly approaching her store. In being able to tell who was coming by voice alone the unicorn used her magic to open her front door in preparation.

"Rarity, Rarity, Rari-Argh!" An open door proved disastrous for the speeding Rainbow Dash, as instead of stopping against the front door as intended she found herself unprepared for impact with the interior wall of the boutique.

A downed Rainbow Dash rubbed her head for a couple of seconds, before leaping up onto all four hooves. "Ow, why did you open the door? I needed that to stop myself."

"Well dear, I'm sure you'll find it surprising to learn but my door is not there to work as your brakes." Rarity replied, continuing to focus on sketching a design fitting for one of her recent customers.

Watching Rarity at work Rainbow Dash was immediately reminded of why she had come to the store, "Hey Rarity, you busy?"

The fashionista finished the last few pencil strokes and finished the outline of her new design, responding to Dash with a dry, "No more than usual."

"Great! I need you to make some clothes for me."

Rarity then stopped work. She turned around to her friend, shooting her an incredulous look.

"Well, it's for Fluttershy but it's for me as well." Rainbow explained quickly, scooting over to Rarity and whispering in her ear her order.

"Wow, I never thought that you… she, very well then, I'll have it ready by tomorrow."

"Really! Thanks Rare." Rainbow Dash cheered as a grin exploded on her face for the second time that day, "But are you sure you'll be able to get it done by tomorrow. Don't you need me to get Fluttershy for you?"

Rarity chuckled, "There's no need, I've memorised Fluttershy's measurements."

"You've… memorised Fluttershy's measurements?" Rainbow said questioningly, as Rarity turned around to prepare materials.

"Hmm, curious?" Rarity remaked, a smirk popping up on her face.

"What no, why would I, no!" The cyan pegasus protested as she bloomed a bright scarlet face, "Argh, I'm out of here."

Rainbow Dash sped for the door and exited, though briefly popped her head back into the Boutique to say, "Oh, thanks again Rare, I'll be back tomorrow morning."

Rarity waved Rainbow adieu as the door shut. With Rainbow Dash gone the unicorn decided to focus on her new order, scrolling up her current design, and storing it away for later. Retrieving a blank piece of paper, and reminding herself of Fluttershy's measurements, the unicorn got to work.

As the design started to go from her head to the paper, she mused, "I knew there was something between those two but I never imagined they would be into roleplaying."

Rainbow Dash would often have to wait on Fluttershy. The athlete was always early to her training spot, and usually in the midst of warming up or even practising already when Fluttershy arrived. So it took the Fluttershy by surprise to see Rainbow Dash waiting on the ground for her, rocking back and forth as a sign that she was growing impatient.

"Thank Celestia you're here, just sitting down on the ground and waiting for you is really boring." Dash moaned, hopping up onto her hooves.

"I'm sorry… but you didn't have to wait for me on the ground. Why aren't you flying?" Fluttershy tones shifted from both apologetic to curious smoothly.

"Hee-hee, because I wanted to give you this of course." Dash snickered as she grabbed a box from behind her, and presented it towards her fellow feathered friend.

"Aww, Dashie, you didn't need to get me a present." Fluttershy cooed, accepting the box with a large smile.

She wasted no time in opening the box up. What was inside though was something she never would have expected. Wordlessly Fluttershy retrieved from the box various articles of colourful clothing, laying them out on the grass to fully inspect what she had just been given.

"A… A cheerleader's uniform?"

"Yep, I figured it might help your cheering if you got into the role by dressing the part. So I asked Rarity to make one for you." Rainbow Dash explained, and with a wave of a hoof urged, "Go on, put it on."

Fluttershy looked from the bright uniform to her enthusiastic friend, back to the uniform and then back to her friend. With trepidation in her voice, Fluttershy agreed, "Okay then."

Rainbow Dash watched as Fluttershy picked up the smallest article of clothing, a piece of clothing Rainbow noted, that had her rainbow lightning cutie mark printed upon it. The mare's pink eyes followed the material, remembering from her school days in the junior speedsters that they were called kickpants, as Fluttershy began to pull it up her hind-leg. Rainbow's gaze continued to focus on the kickpants trailing up the slender and soft yellow leg-"Rainbow Dash."

"Huh," Rainbow mumbled as her attention was pulled away from Fluttershy back half and towards her front half, notably her flustered face.

"R-Rainbow Dash, I know we're both mares and we don't normally wear clothes and, um, but could you possibly look away while I put the uniform on?" Fluttershy finally mustered out with an 'eep'.

Fluttershy's face had been, as previously described, flustered, and this was carried over to Rainbow Dash as she heard the request, "Oh, I-I, sure, yeah sure."

Rainbow quickly spun around, her back now turned towards Fluttershy, "Thanks Dashie, I know it sounds weird but if felt like you were ogling me."

"I can't believe I was ogling Fluttershy." Rainbow Dash berated herself before shaking her head and thinking with denial, "No way, I wasn't ogling her, just watching her. I mean, I was just watching my best friend put on a cheerleaders uniform, nothing wrong with, not creepy at all."

Fluttershy continued to change in awkward silence, while Rainbow Dash continued to engage in mental warfare with her hormones. The process of putting clothes on was not a long one and so it was Rainbow Dash who was disrupted from her argument in her mind by the following statement, "Rainbow Dash, I've finished putting it on."

Dash spun around to witness her fellow pegasus garmented to suit the role of a cheerer. The vest and skirt were of pink and white, horizontal stripes going down both the vest and skirt, as well as white stripe along the rim of the vest's neck. 'RD' was printed onto the vest, in a bold blue that stood out from the lighter, more mellowed colours. To finish it off, Rarity was even nice enough to include two rainbow coloured pom-poms with the outfit.

"Do I look okay?"

"Yeah! You look great Fluttershy!" Rainbow Dash beamed, leaping up into the air and spreading her wings, "With a cute cheerleader I'm sure to perform well today."

"Cute?" Fluttershy noted and smiled.

Rainbow Dash stretched her wings and readied herself to take flight when her 'cute' cheerleader asked, "Um, Rainbow Dash, what do I do with these?"

Dash looked back towards Fluttershy, holding up the pom-poms made to match her own prismatic mane and tail.

"The pom-poms?" Rainbow Dash repeated as a question, and once a nod of confirmation was given thought back to the cheerleaders she remembered from the Junior Speedsters, "You shake them about, y'know, bob back and forth, just wave them about, and do a little chant while you cheer."

"Okay," Fluttershy said as she shook the pom-poms up and down, "But what should I say for the chant? Is there anything you'd like me to say in particular?"

"I guess I just want a regular chant, something about me, what I can do, how I'm a good racer and flier and all that stuff," Dash began to explain, "Here, let me give you an example."

Rainbow retried the pom-poms from Fluttershy but did not start immediately. Instead placing a pom-pom to her chin as she thought, mumbling to herself. About a minute it took for Dash to decide on what she would say, and began to sing a chant.

"Friend of the animals,

Voice of the angels,

Don't stare into her eyes,

One look you're lost to its wonders,

Let's hear it for Fluttershy."

Rainbow blushed with embarrassment the moment Fluttershy began to applaud her. Throwing back the pom-poms to her still applauding cheerleader, Rainbow wasted no time in turning her attention back to her flight practise.

"I'm going to start flying now. You start cheering." With that Rainbow flew off higher into the sky, enough so that she could reach the lower clouds.

Rainbow Dash touched down on a cloud for a brief second. That instance being all the time she needed to get into position, and kicked off against the cloud. Keeping to the same altitude, the pegasus flew around the scattered clouds in the sky, her wings tip often but a couple of millimetres from the bodies of liquid droplets. Once she grew bored of flying in such a manner she spiced up her cloud dodging exercise, soaring up and launching downwards, then from diagonals, and soon she was mixing it up in all sorts of combinations.

"Yay." Rainbow's ears managed to catch the slight sound of Fluttershy's cheers and so stopped, looking down to check on, or possibly out, her cheerleader.

"Yay." Fluttershy called out once again, a little louder, but still within her usual range of volume.

Fluttershy was hovering off the floor a little, flying as to keep the stance of standing on her hind-legs, without the strain such a posture would start to put on a four legged equines body. Nervously Fluttershy had begun to sway, and wave the pom-poms, but all her motions were slight, barely visible, matching with her voice. She looked up to Rainbow Dash, her face a question as to how she was doing.

"Uh, you're doing better," Rainbow Dash yelled down and followed through with some advice, "Try to move about a bit more, shake those pom-poms, sway your hips, get energetic, excited!"

"Hmm, maybe I can get her a bit more excited." Rainbow thought to herself as she readied her next practised stunt.

The pegasus descended towards the ground. Of course she flew back up before hitting the ground, and ascended straight through one of the clouds. Liquid droplets began to fall, early rain falling to the world below, but a rainbow blur zoomed past the droplets and flew straight up into the falling water. Dash proceeded to rinse and repeat, breaking another cloud upon ascent, diving back down faster than any of the drops of water, and then ascending through and towards any of the water still in the midst of falling.

"You rock, Rainbow Dash." Rainbow heard this cheer clearly, and whilst slowing down, spotted the cheering and pom-pom waving Fluttershy with a big smile on her face.

"I can't hear you!" Rainbow teased back.

"I said, You Rock Rainbow Dash!" Fluttershy yelled back, a pleasant surprise for Rainbow Dash.

"Alright then, now try some chants. Just like I showed you but for me this time 'kay." Rainbow Dash called back down as she proceeded to loop and barrel roll in the sky.

"Okay a chant, let's see…" Fluttershy whispered as ideas for chants began to form, "Um, R-A-I-N-B-O-W, no, that's too long. Go Rainbow Dash g-no, Dash would want something more interesting than that. Rainbows going by… um, I think…"

Taking a deep breath, and in her head playing out the various movements, Fluttershy began her chant;

"Rainbow whizzing by,

That's our girl!

Dashing past all ponies,

That's my girl!

The only one to win,

Rainbow Dash, Rainbow Dash, go go Rainbow Dash!"

Just for that the flier in the sky flew out the shape of a butterfly.

With excitement and enthusiasm, Fluttershy continued to cheer, chant, and praise Rainbow's practise flight. Rainbow Dash continued to pull off more and more tricks, eager to get Fluttershy more impressed than she already was. Starting up a nosedive Rainbow Dash decided to shoot a look towards her cheerleader, see how her proud friend was doing… that was Rainbow's undoing.

It was at that moment Rainbow Dash was distracted. What Rainbow saw stunned her, completely through her off her game, and would cause a then inevitable crash. Unprepared for what she was about to see, Rainbow's mind was reduced to a gooey mush as her body screamed with joy… and in a few seconds pain.

Fluttershy performed a high kick. Rainbow Dash nosedived into the ground. Crashed and burned.

"Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!" Fluttershy yelled out as she sat down by the prismatic maned pegasus, inspecting her friend, "Are you okay Rainbow Dash?"

"I can't believe I got distracted by Fluttershy… again," Rainbow chastised in her head, "Seriously, why can't I keep my eyes off her while training."

Rainbow Dash moved her head to better view her concerned cheerleader, and in turn to admire "I guess I can't really blame myself this time. With her flailing her hooves and yelling out my name, swaying from side to side, shaking pom-poms... that short skirt..."

A hoof was gently laid against Rainbow's cheek, and the downed mare's thoughts halted, her focus and eyes turned to directly meet the worried gaze of Fluttershy, "Rainbow Dash… are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, just a slight crash, no big deal." Rainbow replied with a slurred voice, and tried to sit up, only to fall back down, "A little woozy though."

Rainbow Dash went to try and sit up but this time had a yellow leg supporting her back. Fluttershy eased Rainbow into a sitting position, all while continuing to check for injuries, little worries being ushered from her lips.

"Fluttershy, stop worrying, I'm fi-" Rainbow's words ended with an 'eep' as Fluttershy hugged her.

Fluttershy's hooves wrapped around Rainbow's body, and Rainbow could both see and feel Fluttershy's face brushing up against her own. The cursed uniform that had resulted in her crash could also be felt. The vest against her chest, the skirt parting against her leg, even the kickpants Fluttershy was wearing whom she imagined must be fitting rather snugly around Fluttershy's-"Rainbow Dash, are you sure you're okay, your face is very warm."

"I…I, yeah, just a little sore." Rainbow Dash managed to say as normally as she could, all while cursing her hormones.

"Your wings are twitching a lot as well... and you're breathing heavily." Fluttershy noted much to Rainbow's embarrassment.

"My wings? They're just twitchy, muscles feeling a little tight," Rainbow Dash explained as pleaded for her wings, currently held down by Fluttershy's embrace, to calm down, "and my breathing. A little winded, that's all."

"Dashie," Fluttershy cooed softly into Rainbow's ear as she started to rub her hooves against the cyan pegasus' back, "All that sounds like you need a massage. Would you like that massage now?"

"S-sure," Rainbow relented, as she decided it was okay to wrap her own hooves around Fluttershy, and hold her distractingly cute cheerleader in a tight hug.

"If this is the result of crashing and burning" Rainbow Dash thought as she took pleasure in the current embrace with Fluttershy, "I should crash and burn more often."

On May 23 2013 04:25 strongandbig wrote:


if you're talking about what i think you're talking about then ... doesn't that mean you have to be scum to know that what i said is a town slip?

On May 23 2013 09:42 Promethelax wrote:


You know what I'm talking about (I think) but no, it doesn't make me scum. It means I am aware that your public actions would be different if you had rolled red. I'm damn sure you are town though.

Look, the boring trolling in this thread is silly, why don't you all sit down, put your grown up pants on and tell me what skills you bring to co hosting. Do it. Do it now.

On May 23 2013 09:42 Promethelax wrote:


You know what I'm talking about (I think) but no, it doesn't make me scum. It means I am aware that your public actions would be different if you had rolled red. I'm damn sure you are town though.

Look, the boring trolling in this thread is silly, why don't you all sit down, put your grown up pants on and tell me what skills you bring to co hosting. Do it. Do it now.

On May 23 2013 09:42 Promethelax wrote:


You know what I'm talking about (I think) but no, it doesn't make me scum. It means I am aware that your public actions would be different if you had rolled red. I'm damn sure you are town though.

Look, the boring trolling in this thread is silly, why don't you all sit down, put your grown up pants on and tell me what skills you bring to co hosting. Do it. Do it now.