A writeblr introduction + "What If" request guidelines!

Just a quick run-down of my policies for what I'm willing to write about for this here ask blog/writeblr sideproject thing here on tumbler dot com.

To begin, this ask blog is a side-project to the two stories below, both of which can be found on Fimfiction.net.

Headline policies:

Additional notes:

Mostly, yeah. My main focus on posting is on Fimfiction though, I'm not as active on this blog.

You ask a thing and I make it weird.

thanks

What If 2.1: What If...

Author's Note:

(Best experienced on the original Fimfiction page.)

Well, let's get this out of the way, shall we?

Of course, you can't have a What If without

a completely

and utterly

broken

F̶͈̅i̵̩̪͌m̶̡̢̔̾f̴̞̓i̵̧͆͜͠c̸̒͜t̴̫̘̽̀ị̸̛͕ȯ̸͇͌ń̶̪͖

the website.

There. Now that breaking the site is done and out of the way... on with the story! And of course, to a brighter tomorrow. The world's scary out there, y'all. But right here? This is our world. And we're gonna build it together.

~~~~~===+++{Twilight's Castle}+++===~~~~~

Twilight gently placed the previous eight years of her life's work onto her shelf, paying special care not to drop the absurdly thick novel of a thousand chapters.

One thousand.

That's as many as one hundred tens. Or ten one hundreds. Or twenty fifties. Two five-hundreds. One singular mill.

She'd come a long way from that day, when she'd frantically searched for something--anything, that she could possibly still do.

But this wasn't over. It never is. So long as there are words to say, experiences to feel, emotions to convey--it's not over. A uniquely permanent thing, ideas are; even as the ones that carry them come and go, swept away by the endless currents of time, ideas will remain. What may have once been tangible then becomes intangible, yet even if its physical permanence may be long-gone, this intangibility, this permanence--will linger on.

And so, the writing must continue. The speaking must continue. The art, the music, the memories both good and bad, the imagination...

They will go on.

Twilight Sparkle lifted a fresh sheet of parchment from the neat stack she'd set up on her desk. It'd felt like eons since she'd done anything like this. But now, staring at the blank page before her, an ink-dipped quill gently floating above its pristine surface...

There was fear.

There... is fear.

Of the unknown, of course; of new beginnings, of endings, of what may be, of what may not be. Of all the little things in life that linger in her mind. Of all the big things in life that she cannot ignore.

In a sense, this fear,

was of life itself.

. . . Unpredictable as always, despite her best efforts.

It scares her.

It scares me.

But we live in the present, and experience the past.

It's said that beginnings and endings are always the hardest.

Twilight furrowed her brows. What would she even write about? How often would she find herself writing once more about something that'd already been written? How many times would she find herself staring again at a blank page, minutes, hours, days of work, all gone to waste?

It scared her. So much.

She felt her heart beating in her throat as she set the quill tip to the parchment.

...

...

No, not good enough.

Not good enough.

Not... enough.

If words could haunt, that phrase would be one of the phantoms to end all phantoms.

And she knew it well.

We knew it well.

They were the words that we whispered to ourselves, or even told by others; sometimes hardly, sometimes often. But rarely, if ever,

never.

. . . Incorrect.

Those words are... incorrect.

Twilight ran a slow hoof through her mane. She drew in a long, deep breath.

It took a lot of strength to say that. Much more than she could've ever imagined.

And no matter how little it may have felt compared to all that surrounded her,

it was enough.

. . . She steadied herself. She had to remember... first and foremost, she was in control. No matter how much it may otherwise have felt, she was the one at the table.

I am the one at the keyboard.

She had to remember.

She did this for herself.

And even then, if not for herself, she made for someone else.

She did this not for glory, or for fame, or for money or for clout or for anything else she could think of.

She did this because she enjoyed it.

Because we enjoy this.

She, the narrator. Me, the author.

You, the reader.

Even if it were only a precious few words on one day, or even no words for a month, what mattered most was that she enjoyed what she did.

She lifted her quill, peering at the minuscule dot she'd made on the parchment. It was like a singular, lonely star among a vast, empty cosmos. A lone traveler in an arid desert. A penguin, lost in the tundra.

She touched her quill on the parchment again, watching the tiny splotch of ink grow beneath the tip.

A little heart, beating for companionship.

There were so, so many things that it could become, that singular dot.

She set the quill upon the page again. That little heart-shaped splotch grew into a line, then another line, then a character, then a word. A sentence. A paragraph.

A story.

This story.

She really had to thank Spike for giving her the idea to write all those years ago.

Twilight stared at the words she had written. All the way down to this very word. There was a great beauty in making something with your own efforts. It didn't have to be big, nor did it have to be grand. It just had to be.

Become.

Befit.

Begin.

And that precisely was what she was doing. This blank slate had become a new beginning. The start of a whole new journey to who-knows-where, accompanied by companions she hadn't even dreamt of making yet, let alone encountered. New and old faces alike would surely be encountered, and more than likely some old characters and scenarios--or even all of them--would continue on, carried forth into this new iteration of her work.

She paused.

Spike peered through the crack of the door, illuminated from behind by the bright lights of the hallway.

"Is this a bad time, Twi? I brought some cookies from Pinkie."

He pushed the door open, waddling in with the plate of sweets.

He placed it at the corner of her desk and took one for himself.

As for Twilight, she continued to write.

"What if..."

What If 1.1000 (1001 post-experiment): a finale?

~~~~~===+++{Twilight's Castle}+++===~~~~~

After many years of writing, sometimes even breathlessly nonstop at times, Twilight flipped the back cover over. It was done. One thousand chapters. It took nearly eight years to get to where she was now, but she did it. She filled the book. Hit the limit. Quills & Sofas didn't offer enough materials to bind more than a thousand chapters at a time.

Where once she'd had the problem of having nothing left to do, she now faced the opposite.

When would she ever stop doing what she did? There was still so much to write about! So many ideas, and places, and faces, and so, so much more--it frankly felt overwhelming at times.

Where was she in all of this? There was of course Storyteller Twilight, the medium through which her narration was implied, but behind it all, behind everything...

It'd always been her.

It'd always been me, the author. Through good and bad, through thick and thin. Every high, every low, every laugh, every tear.

It's always been you, the reader. Even as some have come and gone, you've been here every step of the way. Left your comments to grow into future chapters. Had fun reading.

And it's always been...

Quiet footsteps skitter up behind my door. Quiet little sniffs. A half-sneeze, followed by a whine.

I stand up from my chair and open the door. Almost immediately, an excited ball of curly white fluff hurtles in, running around my legs. He brings his toys, dropping them in front of me. Staring. Watching.

I pick up his favorite--a blue, bone-shaped toy made of soft rubber. One that'd been lovingly chewed day after day, year after year. And toss it, just a little, to the side. He perks up and turns his nose toward the toy, sniffing the air where his vision has long since faded to milky white.

He whines again, pawing at his toy. It is stuck, wedged in a place too small to fit his head. I kneel down and reach for the toy, holding it instead at face-level for him. I give him a gentle pat on the head. A scratch of his ears. Gleefully, he takes the toy and retreats, sitting in that same old spot by the shelf, chewing.

That same warm spot I thought I felt as I stepped past my bookshelf this morning.

One of the many warm spots he left behind.

When he once basked in the summer sun, migrating with the golden beams of light filtering through the windows, he always left little warm spots--warmer even than the sunlight itself--in his wake.

Where he once slumbered in the quiet nights we enjoyed, exists now only an empty bed, a small indentation the only reminder of where he once curled up with his toys.

The smoke of the incense curls to the sky.

Can you see me, boy?

Can you smell the apples we've left for you, Cody? They sit at the shrine, surrounded by your most favorite of toys, right where you can reach them. We know you like apples. You told us that you did when we found you eating the wild apples off the ground beneath the little tree in our yard.

And even if the apples aren't enough for you when you visit, there are a pile of treats for you, too.

Because of how small you were, we always broke the treats in half. One half for the morning, and another half for the evening. You know that well; it's the cycle we fell into when we had to start giving you those uncomfortable pricks to keep you alive.

Well, now, beside the apples on the plate, you can find eight whole treats. Unbroken and fresh, just for you.

I hope that wherever you are now, you can eat whatever your little puppy heart desires. No longer must you follow that strict diet that the vet gave you nearly four years ago. The diet that once upon a time, saved your life as you lay sickly and weak, undiagnosed diabetes wreaking havoc upon your tiny frame. It's why we had to give you those pricks, boy. I'm sure you'd understand.

Maybe you already had a taste of heaven when you went on vacation with us last summer. You traveled on a plane for the very first time. Tasted seafood and chicken, prepared in more ways than you might've possibly ever imagined. If we could, we would've let you have a taste of so, so much more then.

But now, as the incense burns, you can do just that. I hope that, through that photo of you, happy on the swing set in the park, you can forever smell what we cook in the kitchen. Watch every meal be prepared before your eyes, and share in the taste as we gather for dinner.

It'll be hard to not be able to call you to the table anymore if we drop something, whether it be intentional or not.

It'll be hard to not be able to feed you pieces of carrots and tomato, fresh from the counter, like we always did.

Once upon a time, thirteen years ago, you came to us, a shivering ball of fluff on a cold December's evening. You were even smaller back then, and yet you still managed to scramble up the stairs all on your own. Somehow, you grew even fluffier, a near-solid mass of curls that kept you warm in even the coldest of nights.

I'm sorry we didn't have time back then to play with you as much.

I'm sorry that for many days, you'd be out in our backyard, alone with your toys while we were at school, and our parents were at work. Or stuck indoors, with only a piece of cardboard marking where you could relieve yourself when the weather was too cold.

I'm sorry that it was only after we moved--after I began high school, after almost half of your life had gone by--that we finally had the chance to let you roam free, no longer confined to a single floor of the house and the backyard. We should've been better to you back then.

I hope that we made up for it after we moved. After the backyard no longer connected to the dreary basement, but instead to the kitchen. No longer were you stuck, waiting for someone to open the door from the unfinished basement to the bright lights of the main floor. You actually lived with us then.

And you thrived.

Before, we would let you roam after we'd returned home for the day. By then, sometimes, you were already asleep. Sometimes, you were even still outside, howling at the moon. We joked that you were a little white wolf back then, when I was in elementary school.

You stopped howling after we moved, and I'm still not quite sure why. Now, you no longer slept in the basement or the yard. You slept with us. On rugs. On carpets. On your bed. On bare flooring. On socks and your toys and your treats and in the sun and in the moon and wherever and whenever you wanted to.

I'm sorry it took so long for us to finally be able to express our love for you in full and unrestricted.

I'm sorry you could only experience that love unfettered for three years, before those nasty eye infections left you nearly blinded in both eyes. Before your diabetes developed, and led to those itchy cataracts that took almost everything else that was left.

I hope you can still run through the grass with me in my dreams. Before you became afraid of tripping on the dirt, or having your eyes become irritated along the way. When we once played hide and seek among the towering trees in the park.

I hope you still can return to those warm spots you left behind.

The incense burns low, ashes silently scattering into the pot below. Your shrine sits beside the shrine of the Ground Spirit. We hope that they can guide you on to your next life, whether it be heaven or in reincarnation.

If there is anything I could do if I were to go back in time, it would be to hug you, one last time.

On your final night with us, you slept quietly on my lap as I stroked your head. You were old and tired then, and your poor little heart was giving out.

You knew your time was near, didn't you, boy?

In your final days, you refused to eat that special diabetes food that the vet had prescribed you. You wanted only the best for yourself then--peas, carrots, and chicken. Sometimes, a little tomato or apple, as a treat.

You knew, when your slow, lumbering steps became a frenzied rush up the stairs, that your time had come.

And yet you waited for me.

There you sat, at the very top of the stairs, watching me climb after you.

You held off death itself to make sure I could be with you one last time. It was only after I joined you at the top when you stumbled off, barely holding on as you laid down one final time.

Almost precisely thirteen years after you came into my life, just as you came, you left on a cold December morning in my arms.

I know you tried hard, Cody. I know that it took every ounce of strength to keep yourself going after that climb. To gasp those precious last few breaths of air as I beat your ailing heart for you.

You don't have to be strong for us anymore.

You can rest now.

You can close your eyes now, Cody.

You're safe now. Always and forever.

And I know that you're proud of me. Of us.

On the night of your passing, you came to me in a dream, silently watching as I gave it my all to keep you with us. You watched as I tried, over and over, hoping with all my heart that I could feel yours begin to beat on its own once again.

But you knew you had to go by then. We all pushed that inevitable day back as far as we could, together. But, just as time itself cannot be stopped, so comes your mortal limits.

You can close your eyes now, boy. I know you were watching me in your final moments. Rest now, you're okay now. No more pain. No more needles. No more blindness.

I hope that we gave you the best life that we could.

I hope that wherever you are now, you're free of everything that held you back.

I hope that, as the final wisps of smoke drift away from the smoldering incense, you'll still be with us in spirit.

Thank you, Cody, for being with us.

And to you, the reader,

Thank you for reading.

Author's Note:

Well, here we are.

The final chapter.

I didn't think that it'd come to this, in all honesty. Both 1000 chapters and... well... I'm sure you already know what recent events have transpired in real life for me.

I started writing this fic when I was in 8th grade. Back then, I was horrendous at writing, and the trio of stores that'd come before What If are a testament to that notion.

When I first started writing What If, I planned for it only to work off "serious" suggestions based in canon. Something that, in my mind, would've followed the progression of the show, and ended with the finale of G4. Perhaps one chapter per episode, or something of the sort.

...That certainly didn't last very long.

Almost from the beginning, you, the readers, began to suggest increasingly deranged chapters. Somehow, we'd gone from Starlight Glimmer not holding a grudge against Twilight to breaking Fimfiction itself in increasingly creative ways. And that's beautiful.

Never had I imagined in those very first chapters of this fic that such a wild community would grow around pitching strange story ideas around the way that you all have done. Nor did I think that some of you would begin to build upon each others' ideas to construct large, multi-chapter story arcs that had their own lore and recurring characters.

It's the beauty that comes with community, I suppose.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to fully put into words the gratitude that I have for you all. I know that some chapters were vent-y. That a good number of those "IRL chapters" probably served far better as blog posts in hindsight, but what's done is done.

You can't change the past. You can only work to make the present and the future better, both for yourself and the ones that you love.

I know this chapter probably isn't the massive celebration that you might've expected.

It's a quiet, somber chapter, with faint echoes of how it all began, intermixed with a long, heartfelt letter that I can only hope may somehow reach my dog, Cody, wherever he is now.

I've teared up so many times now as I've written out this chapter. Every precious memory I have, from when we built you that doghouse (that you ended up using more as an outhouse) to when you once wiggled free from the yard. We thought you were lost back then, never to be seen again. But thankfully, you'd only escaped into our neighbors' yard, curious as ever to explore.

I should stop making this chapter so much about you. I know I have regrets, especially of how lonely you were before we moved.

But I hope you found happiness after we did. After we finally had the means to spend more time at home and with you.

And I hope you found peace in the end as I cradled you one last time in my arms.

It hurts. So much. But it's a pain that I'll accept.

I know this chapter isn't what you, the reader, might have wanted. It's not the chapter that I might have wanted.

But it's the chapter I needed. For this one last time in this edition of What If, I'm making this chapter about me. Or more specifically, about Cody.

In your memory, the shrine will remain.

Let the Ground Spirit know how you like to be scratched behind your ears.

And once again, to you, the reader:

Thank you for understanding. I didn't think that it would end this way, but just as life happens in the most unexpected of ways, so too can death.

I look forward to your upcoming comments, when What If starts anew.

And I hope that, somewhere out there, Cody knows that we'll remember him.

November 2010 - December 2023

We'll miss you, old boy. One last ear scratch for the road.

And to another that we've lost this year, Level Dasher.

I hope you've found yourself a new friend up there. Thank you so much for all you've done, whether it be leaving comments for chapters here, or helping me wrangle the chaos of the 500,000th story on this site, or simply being an all-around great guy.

And once again, to all of you, the readers:

I love you all.

What If 1.942: Spike had Ravioli breath? (Able to breathe Ravioli)

Spike looked at his translucent claws, and then at his surroundings. All around him were endless fields of puffy white clouds and clear skies.

"My child," a heavenly voice boomed. "It is time."

"Aw heck," Spike grumbled. "Am I dead? This is the fifth time I've died this week and I'd really like to get back to my co--"

"You are not dead, my child."

Spike plopped down on the cloudy ground, folding his arms. "Stop calling me that."

Slowly, the clouds around him began to take on a more yellowish tint. Spike's frown grew deeper as splotches of red began to surface. Was this blood? This had to be blood. There was no way it wasn't blood. Oh dear Celestia, he was in h--

"Spike," the spaghetti ground began to rumble. "It is time you unlocked your full potential."

Okay, not that place then.

Spike fluttered his wimpy little dragon wings. "But I already got my wings."

"Neigh, there is an even fuller potential in store for you. Do not forget, Purple One, of your heritage. Your... purpleness."

Spike made a noise that was as close to the auditory representation of a singular question mark that anyone had ever heard.

"Thanos. Purple Guy. Grimace and his accursed milkshakes. Barney the Dinosaur--" the voice boomed in his ears. "The Great Purple Ones now grant you their strength."

Spike felt himself begin to lift into the air in a whirlwind of spaghetti and pasta sauce. "Wh--" he teetered mid-air, flipping over himself aimlessly. "What's happening?"

"Shhh, just let it happen."

"And so that's how I gained the ability to do this!" Spike took a deep breath, then began to violently cough up whole pieces of ravioli.

"Ewwwww!" Apple Bloom ran away.

What If 1.923: Twilight and Pinkie's elements were stitched? 

"Star balloons!" Pinkie gasped as Rarity made the final stitch. "Ooh, this makes me so nervexcited!"

"Pinkie" Twilight chuckled, "this is just to celebrate the first ten books read in our book club. It's not that special."

"Every party is special, silly!" Pinkie slipped away from the counter. "You don't have to celebrate anything big. Sometimes a party can just be for yourself, for getting up to face another day! Ten books is still a LOT of books to read when you're all grown up and have to do things like work, and taxes, and taking care of yourself, and getting groceries, and--" she took a breath. "--a WHOLE lot of other things! So why shouldn't it be special?"

Twilight smiled.

What If 1.926: the shrunken Celestia was evil the whole time?

"Muahahahahaaaaa!" Tiny Celestia cackled from deep inside Twilight's pockets. She crossed out Ponyville in thick red marker, grinning devilishly from ear to ear. "With Ponyville gone, the defenders of Equestria too will be obliterated! And then, I shall be sunstoppable!"

"Dontcha mean unstoppable, boss?" a gruff earth pony waddled up beside Tiny Celestia in her tiny lair. "And why--"

"Silence!" Celestia stuck her hoof over the earth pony's muzzle. "S u n s t o p p a b l e."

"Or you could just bum me another bag of hay chips," Tiny Luna lobbed a crumpled-up bag at her sister from the couch. "Takes energy to be evil, y'know." She flashed a fanged grin, her pupils becoming narrow slits for a split second before returning to their drowsy selves.

"You'll get your hay chips--" Celestia stamped her hoof on the floor "--when we become sunstoppable!"

"Again with that stupid pun," Luna groaned. "I swear, 'the night will last forever' is INFINITELY cooler than your whole 'sunstoppable' thing. And why are we even in here, again?"

"Because," Celestia loomed over her sister. "Rent is too high, and evil doesn't pay enough to survive in a world of hypercapitalism."

"We're the Princesses of Equestria, Celly. We don't pay rent."

"...Oh."

And so Tiny Daybreaker and Tiny Nightmare Moon burst out of Twilight's pocket and took over Equestria. Even though they already ruled it. Tiny Dale remained stuck inside the pocket.

What If 1.925: Twilight was just a figment of Princess Celestia's imagination?

"Twilight, could you go deal with Tirek II for me if you so please?" Celestia rung a bell.

A spectacled Raven Inkwell sighed, kneeling at her Princess's hooves. "As you wish, my Princess. I must remind you, we have no records of this Twilight Sparkle that you refer to myself and my sisters by."

"Alright, Twilight," Celestia shrugged, swallowing another bite of her cake. "Oh, and could you remind your babysitter that the Crystal Heart needs to be watered thrice daily as well?"

Raven saluted. "One of my sisters has already communicated with Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. There is no issue to report regarding this task."

Celestia tapped a hoof idly against the arm(foreleg?)rests of her throne. "Ah!" she suddenly burst, "That reminds me, how's that brother of yours, my dishonorably-discharged-for-medical-reasons student? He still making googly eyes at Cadance?"

Another Raven stepped up beside Raven and whispered something in her ear. Raven stiffened up, nodding at Celestia. "Prince Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire has been married to Mi Amore Cadenza for years, Princess. They have already produced children."

"Grandchildren!" Celestia cheered, clapping her hooves together in excitement. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Twi? Fetch me my guards, I must attend the baby shower at once!"

Raven reached a hoof out. The second Raven beside her floated a communicator into her grasp. "Prepare a chariot, the Princess intends to travel. We need full accommodations and a nurse onboard. It is not necessary, but it may be the Princess's preference for the Royal Chef to also be present. As a reminder, all references to the chef must be done by the name 'Pinkie Pie', lest we upset the Princess."

She paused. "Also, notify Mi Amore and Shining Armor of her highness's arrival in advance. They must prepare for yet another baby shower. We already know well what happens if there is not one to attend."

Raven passed the device back to her sister before bowing again. "It is done. Is there anything else that you request from your faithful student?"

"Nope! Just Tirek."

"As you wish."

Raven knocked on the door. She stepped back, waiting a minute. Then two.

She knocked again, checking her watch as she glanced at a third Raven Inkwell that stood beside her--this one a pegasus.

And about half a dozen more of her sisters behind her.

A loud thump emanated from behind the door, followed by a groan. Heavy hoofsteps clip-clopped up to the door.

"Celestia again?" Tirek's tired voice came in muffled mutters. "Doesn't she believe that the all-powerful Tirek is in Tartarus or whatever that place is?"

"The Princess believes that your next-in-line has come to rampage. I have brought my sisters to assist in the relocation. We hope it will not inconvenience you as much as it had the first time."

The door creaked open as Tirek let the Raven Collective enter. He yawned, scratching his side as he watched each mare pass his belongings out into the hallway.

"What about everyone else in the apartment?" he yawned, stepping aside for his sagging mattress to be carried out. "Don't they have to relocate too?"

Raven gave a brief nod as she passed. "You know well the size of the Collective. The other occupants of the complex are also being assisted as we speak."

Tirek watched as his cart of possessions was loaded onto the train. He turned his head, glancing one last time at the unassuming apartment that he'd called home for the past three years. It wasn't too bad of a place, to be honest. Yes, it was drab and dull--nothing like the gaudy mansion he'd been placed in for show the first time around.

Those acting days were over, anyway. The constant need to hire himself and other actors to stage worldly threats to distract the Princess was far more draining on Equestria's resources than it was to simply pass along rumors and demolish derelict buildings. It worked to the nation's benefit, in a sense--the Princess remained placated by her delusions of a student, while at the same time the decaying infrastructure of the countryside could be allocated the resources needed for redevelopment.

His eyes shifted to the line of carts lined up behind his own, each one hauled by four, no, six of the same mare.

He always wondered where they came from.

In the distance, a deafening explosion marked the end of the derelict building.

The Raven Inkwell that stood beside the open doors of the train's cargo truck lifted a radio to her mouth.

He could just barely hear the words she muttered.

"Sparkle has arrived. The target has been eliminated. Report back to the Princess via dragonfire at your assigned time."

What If 1.924: Princess Twilight kept a shrunken version of Celestia in her pocket for advice?

"Twilight!" Spike enveloped the door, absorbing it into his form as he spoke. "Half of Ponyville has been taken hostage by immortal snails that kill anypony that they touch!"

Twilight narrowed her eyes. "What are the snails doing now?"

"Approaching your castle. Slowly."

"Alrighty, one sec--" Twilight rummaged in her conveniently-placed pocket that just kinda was... there. Spike swore she'd genetically modified herself to be part kangaroo for that. She pulled out a tiny Celestia, taking a deep breath.

"PUNY PRINCESS, WHAT DO PRINCESS DO FOR EVIL SNAIL?"

Tiny Celestia winced at the booming voice of Twilight, tapping her tiny hooves against Twilight's own to calm the mare down. "First, do you know at what speed they are approaching, and their current location?"

Twilight looked to Spike.

"Slow as a snail. It'll take them weeks, if not months, to reach us from their current location."

Celestia nodded wisely. "Nuclear airstrike it is."

Twilight saluted as Spike's eyes widened in horror.

What If 1.917: Trixie forged an alliance with an unkindness of ravens?

A shadow flit past the window. Twilight looked up from writing the previous chapter of What If.

Nothing was there.

She returned to her writing.

More shadows. The light in the already dimly-lit room flickered as if it were candlelight at dusk. Twilight slowly raised her head again, eyes widening at the sight of...

Ravens.

So many ravens.

Each and every one shooting past her window in a flurry of darkened feathers.

She lit her horn and vanished.

---

"TRIXIE." Twilight popped out of Trixie's Great and Powerful Easy-Bake Oven, not-so-unintentionally detonating it in the process. "WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME."

"The GREAT and POWERFUL Trixie has done nothing wrong!" Trixie screeched as she was carried away on a living cloud of ravens.

Raven Inkwell walked past Twilight.

Twilight screamed.

Idk.

What If 1.912: Pinkie Pie was secretly not Pie? Like an unholy brussel-sprouts-broccoli-cauliflower amalgamation?

CharonX, what hast thou wrought upon mine eyes?

Pinkie BrusseBroccoCauliflower oozed out of her sickly green shed, reforming herself into a broken memory of the shape of a pony. A moist squelch bubbled up from beneath her slimy hooves as they solidified into a pastier consistency.

"Salutations, Pinkie BrusseBroccoCauliflower!" Discord emerged from the patch of mold Pinkie had been caringly nurturing on the outer side of her left foreleg. "How's the goo, girlie?"

"Sickly!" Pinkie's voice came as a haunting wheeze of wet wind. Pieces of rotting brussel sprouts splattered Discord in the face. "Just the way I like it."

Discord absorbed the debris into himself, nodding. "Excellent, excellent. Listen, how about we bake Celestia the most gruesome cake to have ever been cake'd? Right here, right now."

Celestia was found deceased under mysterious circumstances in a garbage can behind the local Chuck E. Cheese's the next day.

oh hey i already wrote this before lol

What If 1.10: Pinkie Pie became an alicorn?

Pinkie Pie awoke with a jolt. Something felt... off. She couldn't put a hoof on it, but she knew that there was something different. She continued about her morning, completely ignoring the fact that she now had both a horn and wings.

"Why, good morning, Pinki-" Mrs. Cake began before noticing the obviously pink horn and wings that accompanied the mare.

"Whaddaya staring at?" Pinkie cheerfully asked, turning to follow Mrs. Cake's line of sight. Then, she saw the wings.

"Ooh! Yay! I can fly now! Just like how I imagined, too!" She squealed, flipping head over hoof.

Mrs. Cake warily eyed the pink alicorn as she hovered about the room, upside-down.

"Pinkie, you're... an alicorn."

Pinkie shrugged. "So?" She replied as she continued hovering.

"So... you're practically a goddess now."

Pinkie shrugged again. "So? Why am I an alicorn, anyways? I'm fine just how I am..."

"I believe I can answer that," Celestia added as she walked into the room.

"Really?!" Pinkie replied, bumping into Celestia with her tail, "That'll be great!"

"But don't forget, Pinkie, with great power comes great responsi--"

Pinkie took off in a blazing ball of pink fuzz. She proceeded to do an upside-down backwards triple rainboom as she left the building through an open window. Soaring through the light clouds, Pinkie couldn't help but shape a few of them... or all of them, into various inane shapes and patterns. By the time she was finished, she had carefully sculpted the entirety of Ponyville using nothing but clouds.

And then she sneezed.

All at once, the clouds scattered, and not only that, but as she had been an Earth Pony just a day ago, she had absolutely no control over her newfound magical abilities. A blinding bolt of energy shot from her horn, creating a rift in the space-time continuum. From said rift fell an earth pony, of whom looked very much like Rainbow Dash... except she was Rainbow Dash, but from a different time.

In fact, said Rainbow Dash was from an entirely different evolutionary period of ponies. Her mane was much clumpier, and her muzzle was... weird.

Pinkie gasped, and immediately dove after the shocked mare that had fallen from the portal.

"GOTCHA!" She yelled as she caught hold of the pony.

A crowd had gathered in Ponyville's town square from all the commotion. Rainbow Dash, at least, the pegasus one, sped up to the pink alicorn.

"Pinkie!" She exclaimed, pointing at the now unconscious mare in the alicorn's grasp, "What is that thing?!"

"NEANDERTHAL!"Twilight exclaimed the moment her eyes caught a glimpse of the pony.

"Calm yourself, Twilight," Celestia said softly as she landed beside the Princess of Friendship, "This may be quite a... strange event we'll be witnessing..."

Pinkie set the rainbow-maned earth pony on the ground. The mare's chest rose and fell softly to the rhythm of her gentle breathing. Suddenly, she jerked her eyes open.

"W-where am I?!" She suddenly yelled, startling everypony watching. Her eyes nervously darted about, taking in the unfamiliar form of the modern pony. "Who are you?" she followed, slowly backing from the mass of the crowd.

"I'm Pinkie Pie!" Pinkie hollered as she hovering gently, her tail flopping over her face.

"...Pinkie Pie?" The strange pony questioned, warily eyeing Pinkie, "Do I know you... darling?"

"What, do you think you're Rarity or something?" Rainbow asked, raising a brow as she trotted closer to the mare, "I mean, you've got the accent and all, but..."

"That thing is most certainly not me!" Rarity angrily replied, stomping up behind Rainbow.

"Wait, wait, wait..." The pony suddenly blurted, waving her hooves in front of her, "So, this pony here with wings and a horn's Pinkie Pie?!"

Celestia stepped up from the crowd.

"Well, yes," Celestia replied, her towering form looming over the now-cowering earth pony, "You did not know?"

The pony shrugged.

"The Pinkie Pie I know isn't so... hyperactive, nor is her mane darker than her coat..."

"You mean this Pinkie Pie?!" Pinkie exclaimed, pulling her ancestor from another rift in time.

"...Yes, darling, that Pinkie Pie."

"Hey, I, uh... never really caught your name back there," Rainbow said as she shuffled past Rarity towards the strange mare.

"I'm Rainbow Dash, darling. I care quite a bit about my fashion choices. In fact, this... Rarity that you speak of, does she too have a strong taste for fashion?"

Rainbow Dash-- the pegasus one, mind you-- stared at her counterpart with a deadpan glare.

"Are you bucking kidding me?"

"Now now, darling, we mustn't be uttering such words, and in fact, you actually look quite similar to myself."

"ARGH!" Rainbow screamed, flying off, "PLEASE TELL ME I'M NOT RELATED TO THAT BUCKIN' PONY!"

The alicorn Pinkie Pie snatched a notepad from her mane, and a pencil from her ancestor's mane. She quickly scribbled down several notes, deep in thought, until her head popped up at breakneck speed.

"You are, Rainbow! She's your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother on your mom's side!"

"Wha-- how..." Twilight began muttering as she grabbed the notepad from Pinkie's hooves, "SINCE WHEN DID YOU KNOW HOW TO TRACE ANCESTRAL TRAITS USING NOTHING BUT STRAIGHT-UP OBSERVATIONS?!"

"I didn't! Pinkie replied, her grin beaming brightly, "I just left a clone of myself to do that while I double checked it's work by traveling through time!"

Rainbow Dash's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother grimaced as her mind failed on several levels to process just the concept of time travel.

"And now, let's bring you back before we start a bigger paradox than what I've been looking at!"

In a blinding flash of light, the ancestors of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were gone.

(i wrote this hot garbage in 2016!)

What If T.11/1.909: Celestia was a Jedi master?

"You are on this council," Master Celestia paused, staring into Twilakin Sparkwalker's eyes. "But we do not grant you the rank of master."

"Fine then, I'll go ask Chancellor Sombra to help me instead!"

Celestia leaned in close to Grand Master Ponkda. "Lolwut."

---

"He has control over the senate and the courts, he's too dangerous to be left alive!" Celestia shouted back. Twilakin's eyes simmered with rage.

"I'm too weak, uh-don't kill me! Please!" Sombra pleaded. "Twilakin, these Jedi are betraying the Republic! They've started a quesadilla factory and refuse to shut it down!"

Celestia's lightsaber clattered to the floor as she was banished to the sun with an unceremonious poof.

What if 1.906: Equestria was saved with cringe?

"Behold! It is I, The Storm ChryssaNightmareTireGlowcordKing! I am here to claim my rightful place as ruler of the world!"

"No!" Twilight shouted back. She Fortnite-danced into an epic gamer choreographed dab with all of her e🅱ic g8mer friends before whipping out a comedically-large fedora. "For you, my incoherent shambling mound of shapes, I wield only my strongest weapon." She whipped out a pair of rusty scissors. "Behold! A relic of a bygone era, when times were simpler! It imbues a power upon me that none have known for a great many eons, and--"

"Twi." Applejack placed a hoof on Twilight's shoulder. "Those are the pair of safety scissors you had to get a tetanus shot for touching fifteen years ago."

"SHUT--"

The Storm ChryssaNightmareTireGlowcordKing decided that this planet was not suitable for one as grandiose as themselves.

idk I haven't written anything in the past few weeks