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Randimaxis

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  1. Randimaxis
    (Warning: LONG - GRAB POPCORN)
    [PROLOGUE]
    Widdershins is awesome.  I just wanted to start there.
    There is always a part of each and every one of us that longs to gain approval; whether it be by hook, by crook or by charm; there are rather surprising lengths that someone will go to in order to receive praise, including place oneself in some form of harm, be it physical, social, mental or spiritual.  Doing so is a risk, yes - but the reward of a word or two of kind praise or attention is a siren's call that's sweeter than wine when finally given.
    However... for those with fragile hearts or quick tempers, the risk is the greatest for they are less prepared for something that isn't completely flawless.  That... heh, well... that's where I fit in, unfortunately  Because there are few things I really have true, heart-felt pride in... but the short list of things I DO swell my ego with?  They're like candied poison  to me, because each time I hear something good about an accomplishment of mine, I savor it... and inevitably hunger for more.
    My family of OCs, the Blackwaters, are HIGH on that list of ego-boosting pride treats.
    Though I try not to brag, I'm afraid I sometimes come off as... weeeeeeell, a bit manic?... about them?  Which, I know I know I KNOW just drives folks away, adding what would be considered a negative social score to these characters who I've really worked hard at, and want so badly to share with as many folks as I possibly can.  So, in an attempt to perhaps gain a nibblet or two of praise, I decided that I would put them up for a critique from one of the threads made as such; threads where other fellow Ponyites look over your OCs and tell you what they liked and didn't like.
    And I saw the very thread I was looking for... which happened to be from one of my favorite lurking targets folks here on the forums - Widdershins.
    I happen to be a wooled-in-the-dye weirdo - I even have cards to prove it.  I've been that way for a LONG time, and of almost anyone I've ever interacted with, Widdy-Shinny is one of the few who not only GETS IT... but throws it back with a side order of blueberry turnip fries, hold the motor oil, add anti-freeze.  Or, in other words, WS has gone even beyond what I can (at first) comprehend... and that's a heckuva feat.
    So, when I saw they had a critique thread, I decided to offer them up in all their Blackwater glory, and simply sit back and enjoy what Widdershins would have to say.  Eventually, the response came... and, well... the short version is, I didn't take it very well.
    THE LONG VERSION:  
     
    I had been rather crushed, spirit-wise, because of how I took it.  I didn't even post for the next few days on ANYTHING, because I felt as though I had embarrassed myself.  However, eventually I managed to pick myself up out of the self-pity wallow I'd been in, and actually address the problem directly with Widder.  Mostly because I KNEW I wasn't exactly angry... but I felt that I had to come clean about how I felt - otherwise, I probably would have simply started ignoring WS altogether, even avoiding them.
    Which, as I said before, Widdershins is awesome; I HATED the idea of avoiding them at all... much less for good.
    So, I started a string of PMs with Widdershins, intent at first to simply vent my self-loathing and be done with it.  What it turned into was something FAR more than I had expected.  It turned into an EXCELLENT way for both of our characters to better explain themselves to those who had no idea who any of them were.  I felt that it was a wonderful and highly entertaining moment... and it not only brought me out of my funk, but it taught me some humility, as well as how to look through things to see what are obvious layers - again, because I once knew how.  
    It turned into something I felt I had to share.  So, fillies and gentlecolts... here is the entirety of those PMs, starting with the one I sent first, after the critique and the spiritual pouting were done.
    I dedicate this entire blog entry to Widdershins - a thing among kings.
     
    [THREAD BEGINS]
     
     
    Right.
    First off, I wanna let you know that shortly after your critique on the Blackwaters, I removed their profiles from the EvE database.  Why?  Because you pointed out a number of things that left me quite disheartened, and I simply couldn't even LOOK at them anymore without feeling shame at how absolutely HORRIBLE you said they were.
    Now, I DID copy/paste their profiles for saving in my own personal archives, so I wasn't THAT rash, no... yet I still find myself wholly embarrassed by your observations.  In fact, it was a bit longer than I'd planned to even reply to The Blackwater Quarry RP simply because I'd felt that they weren't GOOD enough.
    It was also the reason I never gave any feedback to YOUR feedback - I was mortified.  I mean, the response I DID give?  THAT was as real as could be; I was so stunned by your words that I simply couldn't reply in a satisfactory manner... so I did what I could, and hoped that would be the end of it.
    But it isn't.
    Okay, before I continue, I want you to know that I am, in no way, shape or form angry at you - not a bit.  I still follow you, and I've been reading some of your posts as well... and I have no plans to stop following you, as you're STILL one of my Forum favorites.  However, I felt the need to actually SPEAK to you (well, message you) about the whole thing personally, and long after my feelings on the matter were calm enough to do so.
    Truth Time: I actually CRIED after reading the second part of your review; not bawling and sobbing, no, but tears had to be wiped away to finish reading it.
    I know, I know... I asked for it.  I had it coming.  And yeah, I suppose my characters WERE rather bad...
    But that kinda crushed my spirit for a minute - something that hasn't been done to me since my school years.  Do understand, I HAVE bounced back from that by now, and I most certainly AM still playing the Blackwaters in their RP; it's a LOT harder to knock me down than it used to be when I was a kid.
    WHY am I saying all of this now?
    Well... it took a bit for me to come to grips with it, and it took another bit of a bit to try to focus my thoughts into words... and, frankly, I kinda had the notion that you would either laugh at me for pouring my heart out like this... or simply hate me for it.  Honestly, BOTH possibilities scare me, as you DO have my respect; yet, after much consideration, I decided that you were most certainly better than that.
    Hence, this message.
    Now, I am NOT asking for you to change ANYTHING; truth, no matter the sting, is truth.  I am also NOT asking for an apology... because, as far as I see it, you simply did what I asked of you.  I suppose you could simply consider this to be my much-belated response in light of your critique... and perhaps, a bit of closure as well.
    Thank you once again for your insight into what I had made... even if I took it hard.
     
    Widdershins 
      Honey. I'm a bleeding heart as well.
      In fact, I've bled out so much that I no longer have a heart. Why do you think my draconequusona is hollow inside?
     
        Go. Go right now, read the Original Post I made in that critique thread. Close down this PM right now, and go read it. Or come back to it after, alt-tab, wossnames it called, ya know?
     
       ...You back now? Or just got impatient and continued reading anyway? Either way, you're adorable.
     That's what I say. I never want anybeing to feel like what they feel is wrong. I spent a huge portion of my life under the thumb of somebody who gaslit & told me that what I thought took a backseat to their opinions. I assure you, what's important is that it's first & foremost your ideas, efforts & feelings. I don't expect my views to change what you do, in fact, I don't want them to. I am only happy to be your audience. That's what an audience is. We put ourselves in your hands and you guide us along, we entrust our minds & souls to you. Sure, we can balk if we don't like the direction things are going like any pet is at bathtime. You know those two cranky old man muppets that always talked trash about the show the Muppets were putting their heart & souls into? Clearly, they don't mean any harm. After all, if they hated it truly as much as they joke about... they could just easily leave or stop paying attention to the show. But they don't, that trash talk is just how they show their love of what's going on, their love of the actors themselves.
       If I say that I don't like what you do, that is merely a reflection of how it feels to me. An opinion is not fact, it's merely just how your world becomes distorted as it is viewed through the reality bubble formed around another.
       Your silence had me concerned. I didn't want you walking away wounded & leaving me with no recompense to assuage whatever conceptions you had come away with. There's things I would consider changing, aspects that have room to grow & become better, but moreso than anything else, I can tell how much time & energy & yourself you put into this.
       There is no "Bad", alternatively, there is no "Good." How many times have we seen some villain deluded by his own depression to where he can only see one path ahead of him, that what he thinks as the only route is the only way to better not only his life, but the world? How many times have seen a "Hero" fall from grace or do evil in the pursuit of good? Take that Superman movie before last where, in his desperate attempts to prevail, winds up doing just as much collateral damage as the villains.
         It's your intentions, your feelings that cannot ever be wrong. It is a product of you, the you that has come from a series of events that could have only unraveled the way it has so far. Another author can come after another to do the same story word-for-word, and yet, it would still have its own inflections, tone & feelings. In fact, the same author can come along after to rewrite the same story and have it be like a whole nother being made it while still carrying the same ideas & world. Because it is, a you several years down the road has grown into a whole separate being with its own dreams & wants.
       You are only ever "wrong" in comparison to other things, which in and of themselves are their own worlds. It is my belief that judging anything, by any extent, is folly.
      I believe the worst thing I could have said is that they are perhaps a bit too... stereotypical. A trope, I suppose you could call it. But that doesn't mean they are bland. I can see what you've done. The way they came out is a way that only you could ever have done it.
      What you create & experience is an extension & reflection of yourself. And yes, that is a good thing. Your characters are like your children, they have their own flaws, but extend from you. They, like so very much else in the world can, and always will, have more room to grow. What a horrible lot it would be to not have room to grow & change.
       Don't censor yourself. Censorship implies shame, shame implies a measurement & judgement in comparison to something else. Do I feel shame for the fact that I cannot literally do anything with my unruly hair? Does that change the millions of years of this world going the way it did to wind up creating something as myself? Or yourself?
      That hurt me. You deleted your works. I cannot think of anything more sad than an idea having died off or forgotten. Like how much knowledge was lost in the burning of the first Library. Treasure your thoughts, your stories, ideas & feelings, for who can tell when they will be thought again?
      I don't mind if you hate me. If anything, I would prefer that. I would never tell anybeing their feelings are wrong. What I don't want... is for you to hurt.
       Can you stand to grow a bit more in certain aspects? Sure, there isn't any shame in growing. And growth, along with living itself, comes with pain.
      Feeling is the only way you can tell things are real to you, I believe. You have to accept things through your emotions to allow it to happen to you. Denying your capacity to feel for something & refusing to react to it stagnates yourself & prevents growth, prevents you from living & being the you that only you can be. Claiming what you have or feel is "wrong" is denying your reality. Denying your reality is you causing yourself pain and I don't want anyone to hurt. Ever.
      
       ...Here... give me your hoof...
    *picks up your hoof and gently waps you in your face with it*
      ...Stop hurting yourself, Stop hurting yourself, Stop hurting yourself, Stop hurting....
     
    Randimaxis  
    *chuckle* Okay, okay... I get it.
    I... actually DID go look it up again.  And it took me FAR longer to find it than I'm comfortable admitting to.  Reading it over again, after the initial burn was healed (mostly), it stung a lot less than before - of course, there's a lot to be said for the resilience of the human soul - or is it desensitization?  
    Either way, I re-read the entire thing... and I think that perhaps you were a bit less scathing as I first surmised.  Of course, there's still a bit of a bite... but it's nothing worse than what I used to get in school.  In fact, stuff like this ALWAYS used to happen in school - any given grade - and I had to learn to make myself into a duck's back to let the waterfall of strife roll off of it.
    But this was different; I really DID put a lot of myself into them... I always do whenever I make a character.  I have actually always, ALWAYS been an entertainer at heart, and I suppose when I saw your critique, it... well...
    Damn it, it just brought much of that ol' hurt tumbling back into my brain-pan.  I felt like I'd just stood up in front of the class and gave my report, only to have the TEACHER laugh uproariously in my face... which, yes, HAS happened to me before.  (School life was... let's go with 'not fun' for me.)
    However, though it took me some time to deal with my personal butthurt, I most certainly did.  As I said, I'm still running the quarry RP, and I've really started taking a good, LONG look at the family's profiles... mostly because it occurred to me that I kinda sorta left a LOT out.
    No, I won't harass you about trying to "reaffirm myself by justifying my characters"... even though I really want to, but I don't wanna sound petulant.
    Oh, by the way, I didn't have to look up maudlin; I know what it means, thanks to M.A.S.H., especially Hawkeye.
    Unfortunately, I actually tend to have GOBS of shame hanging off of me in fat, bloated ribbons of invisible misery... but that's MY albatross to bear.  I'm also one who does their best to keep rampant censorship in check - you'd be stunned by the amount of rather innocuous pictures were censored by staff for something as simple as anthros in bikinis (and THAT picture really had nothing salacious about it; they were just on a beach cavorting happily).  Those of sound mind and capable brainpower should really ALL remain vigilant... mostly because people (not persons, people) can be easily misled and herded like... well, you know the analogy, I'm certain.
    But SELF-censorship?  That's always been a difficult arena for me to fight in.  Mostly due to being such an entertainer, I really, REALLY get down on myself when I feel I've done a sub-par job of it.  My characters are simply another arm of the Cthulhu of Imagination in my skull... and I suppose I'd felt like I'd... well... regardless of your words, I felt like I'd kinda let you down.  And to someone who wears their heart on their sleeve, it can mean more than a simple shrug-and-move-along that much of the world seems to be afflicted with today.
    I'm rambling - forgive me.
    As to the family's profiles, they aren't completely gone - I've erased so much in anger over my younger years that I regret, I find myself hard-pressed to even let go of characters I KNEW were bollocks on toast. I simply have to work them over a bit more, I suppose; I had originally thought they were fine enough the way they were (changes due to developments in roleplay notwithstanding), so as you pointed out each issue, it was like a shot to the solar plexus.  Every time.
    But Life is a bastard; it beats you mercilessly, then expects you to smile and forge ahead even as it plans MORE for your sorry butt.  However, those moments when the light breaks through the clouds... that single, sweet kiss of sunlight on your cheek... well, in my own opinion, those moments are what all of Humanity strive for, whether in vain or not, and they can potentially make it ALL worth the struggle.
    And the human soul is a persistent, persnickety thing - for me, it has never ALLOWED me to give up, even when I wanted to.  Which, I suppose, led me back to you - which is when I sent the first message.
    Oh, and by the way... YOU may buy that bit about being heartless... but this message you've sent back to me tells me the EXACT OPPOSITE; if you truly were heartless, you wouldn't have cared enough to bother sending it, nor would you have put so much of the healing balm of care and concern in it as you have.
    For that, I thank you most deeply.
    And no, as I said, I do not hate you... nor, after this message, could I ever.  You talk MILES of tough, but I can see the wounded, yet gentle eye of soulful substance in that much-projected statue of draconequus stone; don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
    Honestly, I had NO idea what to expect in your response... which, I get the distinct feeling is how you'd prefer it.  But the words above have a melody all their own, and the song they sing to me wraps me in the brightest of colors, a song for my soul to echo throughout my personal solar system...
    I'm... doing it again.  Sorry.
    THANK YOU.  Thank you for your initial critique, as it has led to this conversation - I thought you were wild, wacky and exceedingly brilliant before... and now, I feel as though this convo has confirmed it.
    (My apologies if I'm a bit all over the place; this missive took a few hours to write, due to having two frantically active children and a number of chores to do, amidst the various other things that cast themselves at me on a daily basis.)
    Ummmm... we... can keep chatting, yes?
     
     
    Widdershins  2649
    Replied: July 12 · Report
     Nyoh. We can never, ever speak ever again! You hath offended with all this talk of Albatros abuse and now I just don't think I can deal with an Albatross Abuser!
      Honey! You got kids?! One would think you'd be used to whining, whether or not its inside or out of you!
    Honestly, had you pegged like a fourteen year old. Because, let us be honest here, the whole hatred of yourself & finding your place is a hallmark of teenagerdom. You don't know just how relieved to know I'm not the only one who hasn't grown out of that!
    I kind of consider a Spirit & a Soul entirely two separate things. One wouldn't refer to Willpower & Free Will as quite the same thing. There's having heart and then there's having heart. I want the best for others, I don't want to see anyone hurt... but I know too well how literally anything can happen, so I tend not to do anything of my own. Still, like to think that as cowardly a pacifist as I may be, I would stand up if anybeing was to get bullied in public in front of me.
       I've seen too much pain to allow others to invite it into their lives.
    ...Well, unless we're talking dysfunctional relationships in Rom-Com, then that's just hilarious!
       Guess I'm a Pacifist Sadist! Ooh, like that one, I'm gonna have to remember that!
     
      But back to the topic at claw. I frankly don't remember what I said there. That's how & why I critique. It's my first impressions, me talking about the experience you gave me. And every experience provides more life, I say. Like I was some sort of special, giant changeling leeching off of you. ...Must work on my analogies.
       Who said they were flawed or bad? That's what I was saying earlier about growth. Take your children. I'm no parent but no doubt you've had your moments where you've thought to yourself if you could just duct tape them down to a chair for once so you could get a bloody minute without having to tend to them...
       And I know, because I was one of those kids who wanted to see what Car Cigarette Lighters did or what Magnets did to Computor screens to make that funny rainbow or how fun it was to climb on the easily dented car or threw knives at my sister or...
       If what you do is bad, does not make you less of a person for it. In fact, some thrive on that. (Seriously, go look at some of the first things to come up over on the character lists! Some beautiful examples of clearly intentionally bad!) How many shows are on the television that exist because of some schlubs that are intentionally doing things that give us the sweet release of pointing, laughing & thanking our lucky stars we're not that stupid or unlucky! Comedy since the Three Stooges is built on suffering after all!
      Pain shouldn't be something you ignore or just let go of. It has every right to be apart of you like every other emotion & experience. It's what added to you to allow you to become what you are today. I like to paraphrase: "Harness your pain, make it useful." I would quote Star Trek too, but I can't remember it now. Like some Ship Captain who's seen his shipmates fall, or befall some tragedy like recovering from Borg brainwashing, you take that into account, it allows you to risk assess, learn to care more for others, treasure life.
       That's one thing I always bring up. That one Torchwood episode. (Doctor Who spinoff show... not... what I would say as too spectacular but...eh.) Guy gets some alien device lodged in him & becomes a zombie essentially. He talks down a jumper at some point and gives her advice from a guy who's been forced to give up everything, including literally feeling. That when you can wake up to smell coffee or see a new day dawn, that alone is something beautiful to give you something to live on for. Can we even imagine what its like to be completely disconnected? To see yourself stab yourself in the hand, not feel a thing or suffer any consequences other than needing to push the hole closed. It's experiences that let you live.
       It's something Buddism touches on. Welcome the challenges in your life, they gave you something to live through & become stronger from.
       Was I hurtful to you? Gosh, I hope not, but I'm not you seeing me do that, I won't deny your feelings. Are there things to fix about those things you've spent a good deal of time into, that you thought whole? Maybe, but that still is just me spouting off.
      I don't mean to be mean, but I mean to mean to mean it.
      That's the thing, you can have two people come up to your work of art. It can absolutely exceed the expectations of one who just gushes praise and another can just tell you its garbage and to scrap the whole thing. Really, the only difference between them could be the day they had! (...and, maybe any review is going to get a bit snarkier & critical the longer it goes on...)
       I try to balance out positives & negatives. That's what I said about Harcourt. I don't like his design or his personality... but if he was in front of me, talking to me, I would hand him my wallet as I swooned like a schoolgirl!
       No, really! Honestly! Truly! Do justify your characters to me! Defend yourself! I welcome a new experience! ...that I don't have to leave the house for.. *cough* I want to hear how you see the world you made! If nothing else, even if you get mad, I've been yelled at enough times when I'm being a blockhead to where It's gotten kind of funny!
       I like to think that really, besides me getting to myself about things, the only real way to genuinely insult me, is to say my ideas are dumb & pointless.
      I've played MMORPGs, its kind of hilarious how quick some may Ignore you to just completely cut you off.
      I'd like to see you try and keep me from talking to you!
     
    Randimaxis  
     
    Your ideas are dum-... naaaaah.  I just can't pull that off the same way YOU can.  *chuckle*
    I was always led to believe that the journey of life was constant; the self-loathing and place-finding aren't steps folks ever REALLY get through - in fact, there's not much that actually ENDS in Life, except for drooling and pooping yourself... which, given enough years, we get back to eventually.
    ... Pacifadist?  Sadifist?  There's GOT to be a decent combo-word for that...
    Children are... well, y'know that tired old saying that it's always "different when they're yours"?  Yeah, it's actually true - though I concur, the duct tape thing HAS occurred to me.  MULTIPLE times.  But as I've come to discover over the years, twine covered in Krazy Glue works just as well...
    Sorry; parent humor.
    Yup: Burned a permanent scar into my right first fingerprint with a Car Ciggie Lighter, I didn't kill a monitor - I killed one o' those BIG TV sets that sat on the floor, also due to 'pretty pretty', and I kinda knocked the last two things off that list simultaneously, believe it or not, by throwing the SAME steak knife at the car again and again...
    ... I'm beginning to think ONE of us is from an alternate dimension, and that we seem to be similar enough to count as distant, only-see-you-at-reunions cousins.
    Mel Brooks said it best, as far as suffering and comedy go:  "Tragedy is when I stub my toe; Comedy is when YOU fall down an open manhole and die."  It's all subjective - which, yeah, I should've kept in mind when I read the critique.  But then, we never would've had this conversation, so in its' own way, I suppose it was a good thing after all. *grin*
    And I have to say, I've always been one of those folks who, when asked if there was anything I'd change about my past, I say "nope"; experiences, whether sweet or sour, are the building blocks that help shape the manor house that each one of us is - and to remove even the HARSHEST of these things changes the entire structure.
    I've dealt with a great deal of sexual abuse (from family 'friends'), bullying (remember that whole school thing?), and I have even... well, let's say that one of my (former) best friends did something to me that NO ONE should do to anybody... but each and every moment of shame and pain is like a reforging of the mettle of one's being.  I treasure the fact that I SURVIVED this stuff; there's no way I'd ever trade those victories - and I call them victories because I HAVE survived them.
    (And I know Torchwood too; been watching The Doctor since Tom Baker held the reins.)
    You... actually don't mind if I defend them?  I mean, I was hesitant to do so simply because I didn't want to seem like I was whining over them, but... well, I can if you feel like you can stand to hear me go on about them for a bit, then mayhaps I could-
    YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!
    ...uh-oh.
    YOU!  YOU SLIMY LITTLE DISGRACE TO EQUESTRIA!
    Mother!  NO!
    Oh, I KNOW your kind!  Such a HIGH AND MIGHTY ATTITUDE... how DARE you!  You're nothing more than a BIG WORM in the apple of Celestia's EYE, you SNAKE!
    Get him, Mother!
    OGLEVY!
    YOUUUUUU... sitting behind a screen and CARRYING ON as if my fine family were nothing more than BAUBLESfor you to play with!  I have seen more intellect in the dirt my servants SCRAPE FROM MY HOOVES!  You FOUL, EVILLITTLE TROLL!
    Mother... honestly, that's quite enough of a display, don't you think?
    UNFORGIVABLE!  INEXCUSABLE!  ABSOLUTELY REPREHENSIBLE!
    ... Vylia.
    *huff huff*  Yes, dear?
    Enough.
    But he-... I... OOH!  You CAD!
    ENOUGH.
    *glowers*  I'm not done with you yet, you just keep that in MIND!
    Uh... well, I suppose they want to defend themselves; you up for that?  I mean, if anyone could do so, it'd be the subjects themselves, right?
    LEMME AT 'EM!
    DOWN, Oglevy!
    (I suppose they're literally chomping at the bit to do so...)
     
    Widdershins 
    Sadfist: I could totally punch you, but the thought of hurting you makes me so depressed that I give up halfway through every punch.
       Sadfist totally needs to be an RPG boss! "Ugh... Me really don't wan' tah have to beat you up... I am... dis just not me day to-day..."
      Huh... Pointer finger?... Same hand too...    Well, If I haaad any wibbly, weird fing-things that is!
    Honey Boo-Boo-Pants! This is the Internet! You'd be the oddball-out if you weren't whining like a gigantic man-child!
       Now, now Backwater Treatment Facility Family, Don't rush into assumptions! I'm only part snake & one fourth slimy! You even know how hard it is to moisturize a tentacle? But you is totes right in wormhood. Though that is totes pronounced more like "Wyrm" or "Wiirm" and not like "Worm" or "Wurm" which are ENTIRELY separate things! Here, move your lips like so!  *starts squishing around Vylia's face before catching sight of the youngest and dropping her onto the carpet*
      OOOOEEWH! And aren't you the cutest little runt that hasn't been remembered fully enough by my author in order to give a better description than this!   Mama's pride n' prized piglet, ain'tche?
       *pickys up Oglevy like a large pillow while he keeps talking*
      Just like Lil' Ol' OogieLoves here, you're all just totes adorable lil' filly-willies! Of course your shiny, precious, fun-fun baubledy-baubs to me! Why wouldn't we all be just as such!? If you'ses's mad as all that about it then I don't mind if you pick up that coatrack over there n' run me through a few times! We're all playthings & the world a great big toy chest!
       Haven't the faintest why you'd be against me!  *starts dribbling Oglevy like a large rubber ball before tossing him "lightly" into a nearby wastebasket*  Hah! Five Points! You know, think I've literally been dirt before! Funny, that!
       ...What's the look for? Hurm? Oh, the kid's fiiine! Greenstick Fractures, yadda yadda, they got bones like rubber cement or something.
      So what'd Richy-Rich poney-wones wanna do today? Yelly Game or a round of Hooficuffs? I'm open for anything! If you wanna let offa little steam do with me whatcha will! I'm game for anything
     
    Randimaxis 
    LISTEN YOU SICK LITTLE LIZARD...
    Oh boy.
    ... I believe you vent this needless (and VERY uncouth) vitriol on us because YOU have an INSANE amount of jealousy towards us!  Why?  Well, we just so happen to be PONIES, with many, MANY examples of our own kind everywhere we turn!  And you..?  HA!  
    You are a pointless little tremor of a belch made in the bowels of loneliness, as the ONLY relative I can even consider to be ANY sort of "family" for you is that JOKE of a dragon horse who claims to be the 'Lord of Chaos' - who, in fact, is nothing more than a pompous and sad little mishmash of everything left over from creating all the other, more PLENTIFUL races in this fair land!  
    In fact, I'm fairly certain that you probably fancy yourself ABOVE that walking, talking foal's drawing, don't you?  WELL, you sorry excuse for extra-large fishing bait, I happen to think the fact of the matter is PLAIN for everypony to see; at least that... that... WASTE OF SPACE can turn to the Guardians of Equestria in times of crisis, even if he SURELY doesn't deserve to!  But you?
    You.  Have.  NOTHING... and since I, a fine wife and a wonderful mother, have it ALL, you simply feel so very inadequate - so you verbally tear into those who are BETTER than you, just to ease the burden of being the LEAST CARED ABOUT dracona... drago... WHATEVER... in ALL of existence!
    My proof?  Well, I'm certain you'll simply laugh it off, then proceed to try to refute my statements... or attempt to make light of such... which will do nothing more than PROVE you to be the useless, unloved, unwanted THING you always have been, trying to make light of something you will NEVER have the pleasure of knowing in your entire sad, fruitless and MISERABLE life!
    So go ahead, DEARIE - prove me CORRECT!
    I do believe what was needed here was an explanation, NOT a yelling match, Mother.
    DO NOT CORRECT ME!
    Oh, dear...
    Vylia?  Maaaaaaybe you should try to explain yourself... at least a bit?  Hmmmm?
    And why should I justify myself to IT?
    ... because I asked you to.  Nicely.  Please?
    ... fine.  FINE.  
    I happen to be rather PROUD of my Zebrican heritage, THANK YOU VERY MUCH; only one foal in three generations evergets their stripes in my family, and I was the cream of the crop - the favorite, of course.  And being the favorite, I naturally got PLENTY of attention - enough attention to understand the importance of being a PROPER lady, which I most certainly am, you overgrown leech.
    C'mon, now...
    FINE.
    As for my bow?  It was a present from a DEAR family friend when I was young; it means quite a lot to me, and I wear it better than YOU would - in fact, better than MOST ponies!  But, why am I angry about THAT?  I'm sure you simply despair because you cannot accessorize something as GAUDY and CHEAP as yourself!
    Mother...
    YES, YES... FINE!
    And you dare to call me Bipolar?  Why, one would almost think that you feel a mare such as myself can't have different thoughts and feelings of their own without being 'psychotic', hmmmmm?  If they have more than a single side to their personalities, then they MUST have some sort of mental issue, eh?  Is THAT what you're espousing here?
    *salty laugh* Wake up, noodle lizard; females can have ANY NUMBER of sides to themselves.  It's called "being diverse" and "having a personality", and it would probably do you QUITE a bit of good to research that fact - in a library, of course; I'm fairly certain you would utterly HORRIFY and filly who you might approach with your nasty, vile self!
    And as for my darling husband, LUTHER... well, you could say that tired old line of "opposites attract", but the truth of the matter is that I saw PASSION in him!  Passion for his work, and passion for his quarry, and passion for NOT being so easy to roll over to someone who gets in their muzzle about their business!  There is, in MY opinion, SUCH a short supply of stallions who even KNOW that sort of passion exists - and my LUTHER has that passion in SPADES; far more than I'm certain ANY being has ever even postulated on the idea of you having an iota of!
    And a string of abacus beads is QUITE a compliment for a cutie mark, considering I could calculate circles around you on even my WORST day!  And the pearls... what EXACTLY are you implying?  That I'm not WORTHY of expensive tastes?  That I cannot be as RARE or PERFECT as a quality pearl?  Or a string of them, even?  Truly, dearie - don't whine because you can't have nice things; it makes you seem even MORE pathetic than you truly are... and I find that to be QUITE a feat to pull off!
    And the details of our courtship are, quite frankly, none of YOUR business!  I will state that my LUTHER was a true gentlecolt... and that he and I are QUITE happy together, regardless of whatever nonsense YOU may think of... IF you can rub those two dying brain cells together long enough to spark an idea, you numbwit!
    Okay, ummm... I think we should allow a chance for a re-rebuttal here... as the post is getting lengthy...
    Oh, I AM JUST GETTING STARTED!
    Vylia.  Control your temper.
    I JUST wanted to make sure IT knows I'm FAR mor-
    VYLIA.
    FINE!  FINE.  *ahem*  Fine.
    ... o-kaaaaaaaaay... well, that's, uh... that's Vylia, I suppose...
    Don't hem and haw like that, dearie - you'll seem ignorant.
     
    Widdershins  
     Oh, I think the ignorant & cute part was when she intoned I could "filly" beings. That's quite a fun spell I really must try to work on sometimes! You're adorable when you're angry, you know that? Most everybeing is!
     Hoh, Honey Booples! I never called into question your commitment to each other! I simply wanted to know more and that's plain to see! Why...  Hold on a moment here...
      *some rustling & clattering as it appears Widdershins is grabbing a portion of thin air & holding in front of his muzzle*
      Here... zoom... zoom in on my lips as I say this... there... good..
    Your relationship has been clearly....    Passionate, Fertile & Frrruitful~~*
    Daaang, giiiirrl! Three colts in rapid succession and you can still keep a body that toned? I simply MUUUST know your secrets! Ta-Hoo-Hoo-hooo~!
      Noodle Lizard?! Leech!??! Heavens to Murgatroid, honey,  you say the sweetest things! It's no wonder your husband, Lufa, can't keep his hooves off you! I say, I do, Looter is a very lucky stallion!
        Oh, Lightly-Seasoned Cheese Nips! You can honestly look at the mess I am and honestly think that I think being crazy is a bad thing? One should always have options! I accessorize with my limbs!
       *pulls his tentacle limb out in one full motion to toss it over his back while another one immediately pops right back into place, then uses that new limb to playfully bat Vylia vaguely around the area her muzzle is in*
      Honey Crunches of Stoats! That's what I am after all!
      A useless, unwanted, unloved mess of a being born as a living drawing & concept from a self-tormented Artist's Mind! It was loneliness & hatred that spawned me! Just look at the stuff that makes me up!
      *ripping open his chest with his front limbs in a motion too fluid to intone any resistance or pain the draconequus pulls himself apart like a pair of curtains. The inside appears far deeper than it has any right to be as a dense violet mist, peppered with graphite dust slowly seeps out of the formless, endless void inside his body. The room is immediately drained of color as if the sun was shut off outside and replaced with a sudden, horrific thunderstorm.
       Then, just as sudden, he snaps his body back shut and everything returns to normal.*
       But that's what makes me, and most of what is living, the living contradictions we all are! What we once had but have no more is still as much of us as that which we have not or have yet to be!
      After all, what is you all got, eh what? Riches & Status can be gone in an instant. Say, the stock market shuts down, the mine runs dry... some other enterprising businesspony somehow manages to pull one over on Looker here... you can lose everything in your life so... very... very fast.
       Even your family... *Widershins's constant grin fades just a little bit* Like, who's to know what the future will bring? Every mortal will eventually crumble into dust. Or even before that... Say the beloved child disagrees with his parents, decides to live apart, live a life pretending that he doesn't even have a family.
      ...What do any of us have, but the joy of the present moment?
     That's all I have... you'll wither into dust like everything else that time still listens to, and I'll keep on living on because I have no choice in the matter, because I never was alive. And all you'll ever be is a memory...
      *The draconequus pauses from where he's leaned into Vylia's face a little too closely as his emphasis has gotten progressively more intense.
       ...Then he leans back to his original position to have his face immediately spring back into his usual inane, giddy grin.*
       In that way, Everybeing's Immortal! So play all day, everyday!
                                                ...Wanna pancake?
     
    Randimaxis  
    YOU... I... IT... OOOOOOH!!!!!
    Now, now... you had your shot; back off.
    BUT THAT-
    Mother?  Perhaps I should take this opportunity to make my OWN statement?
    RRRRRGH!
    ... I think that's the closest you'll get to a 'yes', Harcourt.  Go ahead.
    Splendid!
    Now, allow me to address the factoids as you've presented them about myself, hmmm?
    I notice you've simply assumed that when it comes to my thievery, I leave my fellow ponies without a clue, nor a bit left to their names?  I'm somewhat appalled, but such is the way of rumours and the like, I suppose...
    You see, I am NOT in my chosen profession for monetary profit - well, no longer, at any rate.  Those were my younger, more foolish years - I won't deny them, but I endeavor to move past them, all the same.  You see, I never took from anypone who couldn't afford to lose a pretty trinket or two... and for the past number of years, I've simply been doing what I do for the sheer THRILL of such!  
    The more difficult the prize is to obtain, the higher interest I have in it, you see; if I truly wish to become the greatest thief in all of Equestria, I have my work cut out for me!  And so, I test my mettle on each and every "impregnable" vault, fortress and safe that I possibly can... oh, and since my younger days ended?  I merely return the item in question within a day or two - usually in a rather easy-to-notice place.
    Yes, yes... I'm certain that simply sounds as if I'm trying to backpedal... but there's more truth to the tale than anypone dares to realize.  Gully Fluff, my old teacher, instilled a pride in me of my abilities that I find unshakable... and where one has pride, why one simply HAS to exhibit the source of such, do you not agree?  In fact, your own brand of... erm, "uniqueness"... is something you seem quite ready and willing to pour over the heads of those around you and watch as they sputter and wipe the weirdness from their eyes.
    I simply enjoy the chase and the thrill; I haven't needed bits for quite a while - and I see no reason to KEEP the things I take, so I merely return them - leaving the victim a tad wiser for the wear, as well.  Now, I ask you, is that TRULY so terrible?
    Your analogy with assassins is somewhat right, actually - except, of course, in cases where the victim... well, shall we say they've EARNED enough ire to justify such?  Remind me sometime to tell you the tale of how I managed to take a well-guarded pair of golden horseshoes from Prince Blueblood himself - and managed to deface every portrait within his household whilst I was at it!  Ah, good times.
    It almost wounds me physically to call me... what were the words?  *looks at the critique again*  ..."irredeemably villainous", yes.  Why, I have nothing but respect for my fellow creatures - I simply find it impossible to pass up a WORTHY challenge to my skills.  Do I take from those who cannot afford it?  
    NEVER - not even as a young stallion under Gully's tutelage.  I've experienced the good life, and I am quite astute when it comes to scouting my targets; if they seem to be barely able to rub two bits together, I steer clear.  After all, to do such makes one no better than a commonplace thug - something I am most certainly NOT.
    And my coats colors?  I appreciate the compliment - though I assure you, there is not a scrap of aquatic genetics in my entire being... though it IS quite humorous to think of myself as a seahorse... *chuckle*  But my Stealth Suit more than makes up for my coats rather UN-stealthy colorization... not to mention how it shows off my rather trim and fit frame, of course.  The mares DO enjoy my looks quite a bit in that outfit, and who am I to deprive them of such a treat?  *grin*
    And this... 'Lupin The Third' character?  He doesn't sound very effective to me; where are the first two, I ask you?  Then again, perhaps he learned from the mistakes of his predecessors, and therefore has more ability than I've considered - sounds as though he'd be quite a challenge to show up.  Perhaps you could introduce me to-
    Um, Harcourt?  He's... he's a cartoon character.
    Truly?  I may have to see these cartoons for myself, then...
    But as you see, my dear draconequus - I am FAR from the brutish lout you seem to have mistaken me as; do you not think that perhaps, after explaining myself a bit more thoroughly, that this Master Thief is quite a bit more than your initial estimate painted me as?
     
    Widdershins 
      Oh, don't get me wrong Mistress! The rich have a zeal for life, and I wouldn't ever put that down!
    It's like... how do you put it?...
      You still are negatively impacting other's lives though, Half-Court. Am I just as much evil by my constant appeal to engage others? Why, yes! Tis evil that prospers by the detriment of other beings! But who said evil was always a bad? Merely an acceptable level is much more often found! Like any schoolyard bully like that... Demon Tiara lass!
        What is it called? Chaotic Neutral? Still is the fact there that there is still consequences to all the poor embarrassed guards & security companies that got fired from your stunt or the walls you blew up to get in there. Such is the fate when go around constantly impregnating  such tight, personal, well-guarded areas!
     ...What? I'm just returning the phrase!
      Say you steal from a Mob Boss who could easily stand to lose that treasure & didn't really earn it himself anyway. Still, that firefight could have been avoided. But I don't deny you your skill! And, above all else, it's still creative & fun!
     Lupin the Third was, after all, quite a relatable & adventerous ladies' man. Like Bond, but a lot less stuffy & serious! I think Equestria's version might have gone by the codename of... what was it? Oh, yes... Bon.... Bon-Bon.
     
    Randimaxis 
    *sigh*  Well, it was a better reception than Mother's, at least...
    Okay, uh... Luther?
    Very well.
    *levels a look at you*
    You speak of my dark patches; they spot my entire body.  There is more than what is on my muzzle.
    Our family history is only what is known currently, due to... Ex-Management and previous generations.  They have sullied our name; I am trying to redeem it.  It is hard, but I work harder.
    I have not blackmailed.  I have not extorted.  I... may have intimidated, but only to get the job done.  And NEVER threatened violence.  That is not my way.
    I have learned my lesson; I do not care for "friends" among my workers.  I learned that lesson well.  Management had retained pay from others, which boiled their blood - it was a flash of mob temper that led to my... lesson.  One I learned well.  One I did NOT want passed to my son the HARD way - which is why I bade him to fire workers that had a chance to harm him.
    I will NOT watch that happen again.  EVER.
    Management was... crafty.  Management did not CARE about the quarry; I did.  I made that clear when I took it.  It is now MYquarry.
    MY quarry.  MY rules.  NO exceptions.
    *narrows eyes*  Do NOT accuse me of becoming Management.  What was done was to ensure workers knew to stay clear of my son; nothing more.  The lesson was learned.
    There has already been a... "horror"... there.  *glares pointedly*  It was a draconequus.  A vigilant ally disposed of it; it was NOT an easy battle.  But we won.
    Vylia is my wife.  She understands me; that is all I ever wanted, and she gives that to me.  There is love - do not doubt that.  What would be "courtship" was Vylia doing her job, then staying to talk with me afterward.  Feelings and emotions grew until love blossomed.  Then, we were married.
    No.  I am not "fun"; I do not want to be "fun".  I have too much work to do.  Also, I do not care what you think - I do this for my creator.  NOT you.
    Heh heh... um, well - I suppose that covers Luther... sorry he's so... uh, 'brusque'?
     
    Widdershins 
      OOOOOH! You're ADORABLE! Isn't he though, Vylia Dear? I can totally see where Ogglevy gets it from! And I haven't even SEEN Ogleby yet!
      Whosa fun lil' filly! You are! Yes you are! You need some teensy little miser glasses! You know, those antique ones? What do you think, Vylia-Dear? Hornrim? Pearl? I'd go with Ammolite myself, but you know how gaudy Aunty Widdy can get! Tee-hehehehehehe!
      Hee! Harumph for me a couple times, Larry! ...or Laurent... Liverwurst, whatever your name was.
     Oh, wait! You actually talked didn't you!??!
      Wow! You can extort, bully, threaten, coerce & blackmail without violence?! Gosh! I never knew that! Learn something new every day, I always say! BywhichImeanthisisthefirsttimeIeveractuallyhave! (That... would probably have sounded more sincere had I been saying that, but...yeah. Kind of hard for me to imagine, but I see you.)
     Gosh Oh Mighty! Didn't know being a beloved boss also involved an iron grip over your underlings to the point where you could fire them off at any momentary whim to suit your own mood! (I... I can't read him any better than you can. How is my character better at sarcasm than I am...? You're adorable, you know that! ...Oh shaddup...) Oh Poopidoo! Makes me want to have my own business now! I'll call it.... Trump Towers! No Idea why!
      Gods help us all... he's getting topical...
     
      There already was a corruption-dug-up-in-the-mine-that-slowly-spread-outwards-Lovecraftian-Idea? Ack-Ack! My idea's been done before!?! I feel faint!...   Well, maybe that was also me. I have a hard time keeping up all my continuities & storylines. Even if my author hasn't exactly written most of them yet.
      Oooh, I say you are fun, boopy! Everybeing loves a bossy-boss! Harumphing like some Trottingham stuffed shirt & wing! I say!
       Besides, I would say... you don't crank out three colts like ya did if you don't know how to be a bit fun with the Missus every now n' again, eh eh? Nudge, nudge, Wink, wink? A nod's as good as a wave to a blind bat, eh what, eh what?
       You two are so totes my favorite Pairing! Eh, the kids I could take or leave, (In fact, might take a few with me as souvenirs before I go, but I digress!) but that's easily solved ain't it? I say! Do me a favor you two lovebirds and pop out another one or four fillies! I do love little ponies! They just have the bestest, most magical Imaginations!
     
        I am... so not comfortable with you being around young children... Imma Imaginary Friiiiend! Oh, drop dead, Fred...
     
    Randimaxis 
    Drop Dead Fred... that was a FUN mo-
    *Luther glares*
    ... um, right.  Well, I-
    HEY, BOZOFACE!
    Oy vey...
    I don't even know who - or WHAT - you are, but I'll bet you're just as idiotic as the REST of those draconequui can be... OH WAIT!  I guess it's just whatever number manages to find their way out of their outhouse hole!  HA!
    Yes, meet Oglevy.
    Yeah, buck-brain!  I'M Oglevy, and you'd better REMEMBER that... of course, if you're too stupid to remember Father's name, then I might be asking too much of your miniscule pea-brain, huh?
    *sticks tongue out*
    Too bad there's no profile on me yet - guess I just get to tell you whatever the heck I want!!!  Yeah, that works for me!
    Okay, turdskull, listen up:
    I've ALWAYS been a great flyer, and ever since I was a foal, I've had wingspan to beat out any other foal my age!  Not to mention that I learned to speak early, learned to trot early, learned to use the commode early - why?  'Cause I've got BRAINPOWER, while YOU have nothing but mush up there!  *flies up, knocks on your head*  HA!  With THAT kinda hollow coconutty, you could play percussion in the Canterlot Orchestra!  You'd be the "Butt-Over-Tea-Kettle Drum!"  *uproarious laughter*
    But seriously, Future Boots, I'm the PINNACLE of my Parent's efforts!  I'm better than Daxie-Waxie-
    ... hey...
    And a WHOLE lot better than Huckster Deluxe over there!
    You little rat!
    NYAH!
    I oughtta make good on that promise to ship your unseemly flank to Yakyakistan!
    HARCOURT BLACKWATER!  You will NOT talk to your brother like that!
    He's INSUFFERABLE, Mother!  How do you expect our family name to ever rise above such a foul little demon!
    Yeah, COME AT ME, Bro - I'll smack ya right in your ugly kisser and SHOW ya what "rising above" means when you go sailing!
    You brat!
    Degenerate!
    Louse!
    Incompetent!
    IDIOT!
    Ooooooh, lookit me, I'm HAR-BORE!  Blah blah blee blah de dah de dah!
    CUT THAT OUT, YOU NASTY LITTLE PIMPLE!
    MAKE ME!
    STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!
    I can easily handle this runaway, Mother, don't worry!
    Mother, don't let this tick continue to hang from my ear; let me deal with this!
    THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH!
    ASININE PILE OF GRIFFON DROPPINGS!
    JEALOUS CRIMINAL FAILURE!
    Oh no... *cowers*
    E... NOUGH!
    *silence for a beat*
    Dipwad.
    Jerk.
    ... yeaaaah, that happens every time those two get near each other.  My apologies.
    Don't apologize to that waste of wordspace!
    *groan*
    Widdershins 
    Futureboots? Bozoface? Turdskull? BuckBrain?
       *whistling inhale*
     He pet names too!             ...I don't think that's quite what's...
       Know what I always say! The quicker the wit & the faster you talk then clearly you have all that much more to say! Just look at how quick he caught on to me! Really got me Life to Rights!
      I'll never know how you caught on that I spent some time living in the Sewage Main Dimension!  
       ...pretty sure that was just a piping system you portaled into...
    And the Mush-For-Brains comment! How did you know I kept spoiled milk inside my skull to ferment into cheese?!!?
    *grabs his head off by the snout & empties it like knocking out a shoe*
      Least I think that's what's supposed to be cheese! Wouldn't know! Haven't had a brain in YEARS!
     Did that too! Granted, that was using the Canterlot Orchestra AS percussion instruments... and I got arrested for that, but still! Believe that song is pronounced as Butthooven's Fifth! 
      But my point still stands! Glad to see the younger generation feeling free to speak their mind & emotions! That kind of courage to grab a body by the face sockets n' really tell 'im what for! A good go-getter! YONG MAN! YEH GO FAR!
     A fine prospect to lead this family company, I say, I say! Turn the reigns over to him! Now! Literally, right now as I'm typ- saying this! This young spawn deserves the attention he so screechingly demands! Tell you what! 
      A growing buoy needs a treat! Kids like treats, so I'll do what I do best!
    *slowly coughs up a missile*
       This here's the Ballistic Pancake Missile! It explodes into enough pancakes for everybeing!
    Put... pu-... p-put that away, Now!
       Nonsense! No worries! I'm at least thirty percent sure it actually has pastries in it this time!
     BLAM!
                       Aww, don't worry. That was me just loudly saying the word Blam! Note how there weren't any asterisks around it!
     
    Randimaxis 
    *peeks out from cover*
    Hey... words can sting too, y'know.  *rueful chuckle*
    Well, now that you've seen ALL of the... wait.
    Dax?
    ... yes, sir?
    I think it's YOUR turn, buddy.
    Oh, no; that's okay... I... kinda get the feeling that he'd just poke more fun at me.  I'm... I-I-I'm good.
    Daxter!  I'm surprised at you!  I would've thought, with how you're always going on about wanting to make friends, YOU would have been far more willing to speak to... that THING.
    Yes, Dax; if ANYPONY could make sense of things, I'd like to think 'twould be you.
    YOU!?  Not wanting to TALK?!?  Are you sick or something..?
    But... b-b-but I-
    Daxter.
    ... y-yes, Father?
    Speak your mind; it needs to be said.
    ...
    C'mon, Stripes - you've got it in you.
    ... well...
    Yes, dearie... SAY something, for Luna's sake!
    ... I guess you can't talk it any UGLIER, that's for sure.
    *deep breath*  O-okay.  May I, Mister Randi?
    The floor is yours, Dax.
    Okay.
    I want to start by apologizing for how... brusque the rest of my family can be; they've been at it all my life, in one way or another.  It's just... how we interact with each other.  We might not be perfect, no - but we're kinda... perfect for each other.  We just... FIT together, y'know?  But that's certainly no call for all that venom to splash onto you OR your colleague.  So... I apologize profusely.
    Now, that seems counter-intuitive to the Blackwater family history, but hear me out - my family's lineage goes all the way back to right after the... um... *gulps* ...the Defeat of Discord by the Two Sisters.  It wasn't so much grand as it was fortunate - in our beginnings, we were a humble, honorable clan - if a bit, uhm... eccentric.
    But we haven't always been bad, is the point I'm wanting to say.  I'm an AVID reader, and I've done quite a bit of delving into my family's records AND tree; in over a thousand years, ALL of the different equine races have been a part of the Blackwater family tree... and even zebras... though no alicorns; at least, not that I know of, anyway.  But I'm PROUD of my heritage - proud enough to realize that the 'bad egg' history we have is only the past number of generations... and NOT the nasty ponies we always get characterized as.  It's simply the current opinion - current, though, being the last few hundred... uhm, years... yeah.
    *clears throat*
    Anyway, I know we aren't bad pones; we're just... well, diamonds - or maybe emeralds? - in the rough.  We're a perfect family because we're IMperfect; flaws and all, we each represent an archetype of what CAN be found in a family unit.  And though we have our different... quirks... we also have our own, strange kind of love for each other, too.
    I know Father only wants to protect me from experiencing what HE went through at Grandfather Erasmus' hooves; he can't even speak his name - he simply calls him Management.  Tell me THAT isn't an unresolved issue... but it's something that toughened him up, as well.  Made him the capable and hard-working stallion he is today, along with the shock of it all making him that much more determined to do what he had to do.  There's something real and everyday about that, and that makes him a deeper soul than just the surface stone might portray.
    And Mother?  She's GOING to tell you she was the favorite because, to her, she WAS.  She ended up succeeding in life on HER terms, marrying the stallion SHE could stand hoof-to-hoof with and STILL find both deeply honest and genuinely caring.  SHE can see through Father's stone muzzle to what he's thinking; that's why the two of them fought - she almost seemed to be second-guessing him, and HE had just gotten the quarry under his control.  He lost his temper - which, because of how love can sometimes be, made her even MORE attractive to him.  
    Daxter... I n-never TOLD you abou-
    Sometimes, there are folks out there who get along WELL like this; functionally DISfunctional, so to speak.  But we really AREN'T bad - we leave that to the other players and their characters to discover for themselves, through expressive storytelling and diverse setting characters, or NPCs, as Mister Randi calls 'em.
    Oglevy?  He's the brat because there really ARE a lot of kids who go through a bratty phase out there; it's identifiable because many folks have dealt with, in some manner or form, at least ONE brat - even if it was themselves.  But he's also a genius, indicative of the same thing that tends to happen as generations pass; the new batch is smarter than the last one.  Now, sometimes they still seem to have to learn things the hard way, of course.  But he's young and resilient enough to bounce back from a lot; something he'll doubtlessly take advantage of often.
    My older brother is also a stereotype; college.  The School of Hard Knocks, yeah... but it's still just as valid a learning institution as any ivy-league university or country-town schoolhouse.  And he's off doing that, along with the pain of what happened between himself and Father slowly healing... heck, I'm SURE he'll make a grand comeback to the quarry someday.  As soon as he's ready to.
    He may bury the hatchet with Father... or he may not... but the animosity between Harcourt and Oglevy is the stuff of siblings around the world.  It plays out well between them, and makes for an interesting moment when the two of them, in separate stories, mention each other - especially for those who might read both storylines.
    It's all a full and rich tapestry of love and conflict - just like any healthy family usually truly is at its' heart.
    And me?  Well, uhm...
    *soft sigh*  I know I was kinda hesitant at the beginning of all this - and truthfully, I still am.. but they're right.  My family, that is.  They know me better than I know myself sometimes, and they do for me what I do for them, in their own flawed, yet loving way.
    But yeah.  Uhm.  I...
    I don't want to yell at you, or say mean things to you - though it seems like you're more the type to do that out of affection more than actual intent to hurt - but that's... that's not me.  I'm the kind who WILL come up to you and ask you if you would... would rather be friends instead.
    Truth is, I do have a few friends - but my young teen point of view is fully evident in how I feel about myself; which is unsure and outcast.  In my case, I'm also the awkward one - so that means I have a chance to turn out to be the one to TRULYchange the general opinion of all of Equestria, if for no other reason than my actions in trying to be friendly despite my natural proclivities to be alone and... well, yeah - kinda mopey.
    But I try to work hard to be something more than a stereotype... I take actions that are outside of my comfort zone... and theseare my actions...
    *walks up to you, looks up and gulps, then speaks shakily as he nervously extends a hoof*
    ... w-would you like to be my friend?  I'd much rather have a friend than a name-calling match, honest.
     
     
    Widdershins 
     See? The one that sticks themself out to be a friend to a Great Mess like me! 
    *limply clasps Dax's hoof with both his tentacle & claw*
      The reaching Olive Branch! The meek that step forth to bridge gaps! TRULY such is the spirit of ponykind and an admirable, and enviable trait in all! 
      *firmer, and genuine, compassionate grasp while his eyes get all big and doe-like*
      But I still hate you most of all, scarecrow! Mostly because your a wishy-washy reader-by-proxy, BUT! I truly only mean that hate in a loving sort of way, I assure you! Just like the family you just described! A little of everything! That's what "realistic" means, in that there's a wide array of what those characters can be, not just confined to the lists of likes, dislikes, traits & tropes! After all, that's why my author has a huge crush on your mother!
      Oh shaddup, you. I just like the color green is all. And red. Among various other options too.
      But that's the reason Young Adult Novels get the bad rep they known for! Teenagers are, almost without exclusion, shallow, angsty & self-centered. A character like that gives off an aura of being a transparent ploy for reader attention, but that doesn't make them any less real! In fact, its my own standpoint that everything is real, while being simultaneously a lie. There is nothing that is fully without merit or worth in and of itself. Every thing big enough to have its own existence impacts lives one way or another and literally adds to every life & existence it rubs up against!
      That's what critics are. When you come to see the negative of things, the biggest thing, and first, that you start looking for worth in is yourself. Take a look around at any critic you find, there is always some modicum of fear & doubt, even the most pompous ones who believe they can end whole careers & establishments that believe that only their opinion matters. That bluster is built so steadfastly as to show they can't live without that. Every critic hates themself. Everybeing can only start from themself as a starting point, and from there compare it to everything else & in turn come to see themself as lacking. ...Some are closer than you'd think.
      Humph...
       It's in learning to laugh at yourself, and KNOW that you're an inexcusable great mess, is what makes you Real.
     And that's what I see in you all! You're all Beautiful, Hot Garbage! You should have your flaws! I wouldn't want it any other way! Perfection is boring! Boredom is stagnation of creativity! If you can't create, you can't grow! Growth is an important factor of life! Living is an Art! ART IS EXPLOSION!!!
    HIT THE DECK, HE'S GONNA BLOW!!!
     
        Well, I mean he always blows, but...          Oy!
     
    Randimaxis 
    Well?  Satisfied?
    Yes, well - I suppose if that's the BEST to expect...
    I have nothing else to say.
    Certainly have to admit, the conversation was NOT dull.  A pleasure, to be sure.
    FLUFFNOGGIN!
    ... I-I'll just... be over h-h-here...
    ... then I suppose they've said their piece.
    In case you couldn't tell, I actually have a great deal of fun portraying them.  They're part of the reason I'm still HERE in the first place - though the folks I've met here are the biggest one, hooves down.
    Or claws.  Or pincers.  Or noodle-like cilia.  Or bacon.  
    ... mmmmmmm...
    Among them, unique little you.  (Or big; I honestly have no real context; use whatever works for you.)
    Thank you.  I truly do appreciate the way you've worked this through with me; sometimes, my head isn't exactly turned the right way, so I see things from a BADLY skewed perspective, instead of a GOODLY skewed one.  Times like that, all you can do is work it out - which this has really been cathartic to me, and apparently I needed that more than I realized.
    Yeah, I know I can come across as sappy and naive... but truly, that's just who I am.  Not saying I don't want to change - I dislike the idea of justifying the retention of my flaws - but it's more like I recognize my flaws, and try not to let them get me too far down.
    The Blackwaters' profiles?  I think I'll leave them down, for now anyway... if I ever gather enough interest in them for folks to ask, I can repost them then... after a slight revision, here and there.  But rest assured, I'm no longer leaving them down out of shame... more like 'laziness', but meh...
     
    Widdershins 
    Of course you don't! The whole point of me is to not have any context!
      I feel I've said that before. You should have flaws, you should be this emotionally invested in what you do. I don't want you to hide, second-guess yourself and refuse to grow. That's a painful road to travel down.
      And, hey... I'm asking. What, do I not count?
     
        ...bacon appendages? I need an example of that. No way you can out-original me!
      Randimaxis 
    I... actually have a question, now that we're through the above stuff...
    I was looking it over and seeing how well-written much of it was, and I was wondering:  
    Would you be willing to allow me to copy/paste the conversation into a blog?
    If the answer is no, that's perfectly fine - we did say a number of things above that were quite personal; I'd be willing to edit out whatever you feel doesn't belong in the public eye, of course.
    I won't do anything like this without your okay, since this was a personal convo between us... all eight of us... and I don't want it to seem tawdry and cheap by publicizing it - but, at the same time, it's so very expressive and fun that I feel like it would be an excellent read for others, as well as being insightful toward not only the Blackwaters, but your own rather fascinating creation as well.
    However, as said, I will NOT do so unless you approve - I'd rather have you as a friend than showboat at your expense.
    What say you?  *winces*  BOTH of you?
     
    Widdershins 
    How could showboating ever be bad?!!?
    Well, let's see, a few things.
     One: You don't know me well enough by now to figure out that I don't bloody well know what I've said already? I ain't gonna go do the extra work of scrolling through all that to edit! 
      Two: I don't really care what impact my previous words could have. I ain't gonna be ashamed of it, and if you post it up I ain't gonna balk at what's already done. Besides, I have a habit of babbling. I often spout off embarrassing details about myself frequently in desperate bids for attention. Nothing I say here can't be any worse or less then what I've undoubtedly done several times before. That's what I say: If I stop to think about what I need to say, I'll never get to say anything at all!
     Three: REALLY? AAAAALL OF IT? YOU MAD, BRUH? (It's okay if you're mad, I'll feel for you, bro!) That's, like, WEEKS of work we done did! All that even gonna fit all on one page?!!?
     Sure! I could I resist potential more attention?!!?
       Sure, go ahead. I don't mind. This is the internets after all, a place to express opinions and shout where it makes the least impact.
        What's the worst that could happen?
     
     
     
    [EPILOGUE]
     
    I really, really just need to remind myself to stop taking me so seriously, and just do what I do - and when I find someone awesome to do that with, enjoy that too.  I have to let go of my ego, so that I can just be weird for a while.  
    Most of all - I gotta hang out more with good folks... because, as they say, friendship is magic.
    Crazy is a bonus.  
     
  2. Randimaxis
    Part Two of "How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Players"

    I'm gonna try to make this a thing I do, since some folks out there actually read blogs; hopefully my experience with roleplaying and game-mastering will be able to help others develop themselves and their characters into dramatic powerhouses... or, at the very least, something more fun than it may already be.

    In the second installment, I'm gonna address a big one: dealing with Mary Sue characters.

    A Mary Sue, for those who haven't heard the terminology, is a character that is so very powerful that they unbalance a game, in many cases simply by being there. They have ungodly amounts of power, are well-nigh invincible, and usually tend to try to make an RP completely about how awesome they are.

    Sadly, many of them don't even realize how LAME they truly are.

    Characters have flaws; it's a part of life. NO ONE is perfect, which is a portion of the reason they make these characters - to be the surrogate avatar of perfection they wish to be themselves. Though that might sound cool, in practice it's a total MESS. Mary Sues tend to ruin fun for everyone else because they're too busy trying to have their OWN fun; a good RP is about SHARING the spotlight, not stealing it every chance you get.

    DEALING with a Mary Sue can always lead to headaches and TONS of butthurt, but I can give you a few ideas to ponder about how to work them down to an acceptable point.

    Now, I will state that the techniques I'm going into here are for dealing with MATURE people; when dealing with children and immature morons, all bets are off.

    The Situation [cue suspenseful music]:

    You've had an RP going for a while, and folks enjoy it. In the OOC Thread, you converse with someone who says they'd like to try, and you agree... but instead of adding a character rich with RP possibilities, they instead add a Mary Sue that begins PROMPTLY sucking all the fun out of the story for everyone else, causing people to complain and threaten to leave.

    Solutions [heroic trumpet-laden fanfare]:

    First and foremost, remember that it's YOUR game; you have every right to toss them out unceremoniously on their asses if they think they'll just take over the RP from you - and staff will back you on it, if need be. Don't put up with RPirates.

    That being said, a true mark of a Damn Good DM is how they deal with Mary Sues. There are a few ways to do this, and if you're lucky? The player will see their OP-ness hanging out, and will try to put it away before anyone else has to see it... just like college.

    What about this: FIRST AND FOREMOST, TELL THEM. Believe it or not, most players with Mary Sues don't even realize they HAVE one; they'll tell you, 'oh, no - I'm not invincible; you just have to get through the magic shield, the inches-thick armor, the Danger Sense and the spell that makes them immortal... then they can be killed'. Look, let me break reality down for you Mary Sue types: If there are more than TWO steps required to make your character hurt (physical, mental OR spiritual), then there are TOO MANY SAFEGUARDS - ditch some, and we'll talk. Bottom line, folks: COMMUNICATE with your player and tell them that their character is OverPowered, and they should tone it down. If they listen, great! If not, well... that's what the other suggestions are for.

    What about this: Work the character into an important position that requires self-control. Oh, that Mary Sue is simply doing whatever the Hell they want to, with no semblance of control? Then GIVE them something to keep them occupied, like a shiny new position of importance. Maybe, since this character is so powerful, they are charged with the safety of a group of children? A baby? A delicate pet? Make it seem like a BIG responsibility, and keep them active with it. Don't give them time to think - just like REAL children. You can keep them juggling for as long as you want to, but make sure to toss some NPC praise at them every now-and-again for maintaining control.

    What about this: Steer them into the parts of the RP that can handle it. You've got the equivalent of the Mane 6, but the Mary Sue is trying to be Celestia, Luna AND Discord, all at once. The power levels are WAY out of proportion, and your players are getting peeved. Well... if the Mary Sue wants to play, then send them to the proper ballpark. They wanna rival alicorns? Let them meet alicorns and start a frigging fight - as long as it's away from the rest of the group, it won't bog THEIR plot down with the MS's posturing.

    What about this: Give 'em a taste of their own medicine. That Mary Sue is quite a bastard/bitch to deal with, aren't they? Well, if your players feel the same way, then perhaps turnabout is fair play after all. Gather a consensus with the other players FIRST and let them know your plans ahead of time; they'll appreciate the heads-up, and they'll probably be looking forward to seeing the MS get theirs. Then, create a new NPC - and make it better than ANYTHING the MS can do, effectively showing them what it's like for everyone else to play with their MS. This option comes with a warning, however - make SURE your other players are okay with this first. If you simply toss another OP character into the mix without warning, they'll assume it's how you want the story to go... and will probably quit. Plus, if you do this - STAY LEVEL HEADED; Mary Sue players tend to pitch a fit when this option is used on them, so there's no need to make it worse with petty arguments; just do it long enough to make your point, then exit the OP NPC, stage right.

    What about this: Give the other characters the win. The Mary Sue is making your players feel useless? Well, then give your players a situation where ONLY a non-OP character can succeed - and feel free to fudge it as much as you like. The Mary Sue tries to vaporize the villain? Nope - that was a clone; the REAL villain is in hiding, and they won't deal with ANYONE... except the other characters. The MS is monopolizing the thread? Then have the entirety of conversation happen through a telepathy spell... that the MS isn't invited into. Keep it up, and they'll either take the hint and change, or leave. Both work just fine.

    Oh, and the bottom line? If all else fails, then toss 'em.

    You're trying to have fun with other REAL roleplayers, and you DO NOT have to put up with immature, overbearing and selfish players. If you can't fix the problem, then DITCH THEM. If you have a massive missive to write to them about their behavior, do it in a PM to them; on the OOC Thread, keep it classy and simply state that they are being removed from the RP. Don't bring drama to the OOC; just inform the players of the change, and PM the Mary Sue gamer your issues.

    Nobody likes Mary Sues... hopefully, this will help those players to straighten up and put their OPness away.
  3. Randimaxis
    Allow me to begin by saying that I am weird; remember that.
    I've been on this site for many a moon, and I have experienced a number of joyous moments, a small hoofull of sad or trying ones, a great amount of fun ones and even one or two angry ones.  All those moments, do understand, will live on in my mind for as long as I can remember to hold down the [RESET] button before I turn my mind off each time I manage to sleep.  There are a surprisingly large number of individuals who have become fun and fine friends during my time here; some have left, and one of two have even ascended to Cloudsdale, so to speak.  There's a number of dopey, silly and just plain embarrassing things that I've contributed to during my time here, and there's even more moments I've shared with folks here that I shall treasure for the rest of my existence.
    But that's not why I'm writing this.
    I have to tell you wonderful folks a few things; I have to get you to see things from my perspective, if you ever want to understand why things are the way they are.  Because with three, you get eggroll.  And this is only a single, passing point on the map before reaching five.  Because five is right out, you see - they said so in the film, and I'll not be one to begrudge them that, since they did it before I did this.  I figure it's a fair cop.
    But that's not why I wanted to write this out for you fine, wonderful folks; that has little to do with it, but it does have some bearing as to what I'm engaging you about.  It doesn't matter one whit about stuff like the above wasted paragraph, because the subject of this particular blog entry is one of the heart.  And possibly of the stomach.  Maybe even in the colon; we don't know - the lab boys say they'll get back to us on it.  And they will, too - as they say in the Main Hall; no work, no eat.  Those bastards got lazy and complacent during their time in college; I say we mow 'em down with 300 things at once on their first day; that way, if they still manage to do it, you know they're a keeper.
    Still, I have to tell you why I had to finally sit down and write out this blog entry; I mean, it's not like I'm just sitting in bed, playing my XBOX One in between Overwatch matches and RP replies, y'know?  Okay, that's the way it was when I didn't have a job, mayhaps... but that's not important at the moment.  Well, semi-important, at best.  Maybe a bit more than I give it credit for, sure, but not as much as folks tend to make such a fuss about... and trust me, people will make a fuss over anything.  LITERALLY.
    But I'm getting off track, here - the idea is that I'm supposed to be telling you about something that's been on my mind for quite some time now.  It's something that affects you, that affects me, that could possibly affect everything... but, most likely, it won't affect a thing, and my personal horror and paranoia is all for nothing.  Still, gotta keep an ear out for such possibilities; hunt them down when they appear, and show up with my rubber TOMY water-gun.  Show 'em all who's Boss then, am I right?

    No, no... I should stay on track.  There's too much to say to not take the opportunity to say it.
    At any rate, I just wanted to make sure to communicate my point here, so that in the future, it can be clearly told that I wasn't any sort of compliant accomplice of anyone else's agenda here.  What I do, I do of my own free will, my own choice, my own pinkie toe, my own liver, my own 5th vertibrae; the actions I take are nobody's but my own, and I will end up owning up to them, as I don't believe in owning down to anyone.  That's just dumb.
    But to be completely honest with you all, I can't ever seem to be able to spell out loud, verbally.  I mean, typing or writing?  Eeyup, I have those down PAT... but verbally?  No way.  It's like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube with your sense of smell alone.  Still, you give me a writing utensil and a dry scrap o' paper, and I can take over the world!  I mean, really, do you have ANY IDEA what folks actually talk about around you?  Listen in on the right convos, and you can even get passwords and pin numbers - and being clever is being quiet as you gather those all up, and send them off to whomever you please... possibly even someone who washes behind their left knee only on every seventh Thursday, back behind the school bleachers, in the middle of the day, because it was hot and she was pretty, okay?  It wasn't MY fault she had a 'wardrobe malfunction'!
    Still, I think it's finally time for me to approach the crux of this blog post, at long last.  I don't think I want to stall any further. *sigh*  Here goes:
    To all of you who have loyally and completely read the drivel above, I say thank you; the title of the blog entry was nothing more than bait to bring you here, so that you would intently read the chaotic ramblings of an old smartass like me, just to see what 'dire' news might have followed.  For those of you who have made it this far, this entry was written; I have no plans to leave this site any time soon, but now I'm amused that you read through all that silliness above just to get to this point.  I say unto you: April Fool's.  Consider yourselves pranked, and you're welcome.
    I warned you at the very beginning, didn't I?  
    Thank you to everyone who ever communicated, reacted or even just passingly waved at me; I love each and every one of you, and will remember many of you for a long, long time.  Keep up the good work, Forums - excelsior!
     
  4. Randimaxis
    My wife threw me out back in November of 2018.
    The reasons why were irrelevant - I was no longer welcome in the embrace of the woman I'd known since middle school, and my kids were now living somewhere I was not.  Something like that can sandblast the will to live out of someone with the force of a balefire bomb, and at the time, I might not have been suicidal (I've experienced it from the side of losing a dear friend; I won't do that to anyone if I can help it), but I was at the bottom of the proverbial barrel.  I felt that there was nothing left for me, and that I was doomed to spend the remainder of my existence in abject misery.
    So naturally, as I do when I oft get sad, I read.  I read all the books I owned at least twice, and even borrowed a few from good friends... but there's always more to read.  Lately, I'd finished scouring FimFiction, and had enjoyed finishing last year's great find for me - Fallout: Equestria.  LittlePip and co. were wonderful additions to my mental roster of characters and stories, and I had noticed that there had been more stories.  With all that had happened to me, I was more or less just skimming the 'recommended' section... and found Project: Horizons.
    What the hell... with all my pain, what more could it hurt?
    The next few weeks saw me reading the damn thing at every chance I got.  It DEVOURED my attention; I even neglected some of my work here on the forums, my mind eagerly delving into the world of Blackjack and her intrepid allies.  I even began, internally, to draw parallels between BJ and some of my own tribulations.  But the most important part of this introduction is to tell you that one line, like a freaking mantra, kept repeating over and over through the length and breadth of the entire tale...
    Do better.
    And I took that to heart as thoroughly and tightly as I possibly could.  It made a difference.  It made a WORLD of difference, as I started to push to mentally grab my depressed self up off the floor and make steps toward doing better than I had been. 
    I did better by drying my tears of self-pity.  I did better by forcing myself out of bed each and every day, accomplishing even the smallest thing just to prove I wasn't beaten yet.  I did better by fighting my mental demons, and seeking the truth instead of the seductive lies my paranoia was trying to feed me.  I did better by keeping a regular laundry routine, instead of letting it pile up into a living creature of dirt, sweat and loose threads.
    I DID BETTER.
    So, just like that, Project Horizons took an important place in my heart as a story I took HOPE from.  Natch, with this sort of affection for the story, I decided this year that, with the final BronyCon coming up, I was not only going to attend... but I endeavored to find myself a Blackjack plushie, so that I could have a tangible reminder of all the better I'd done because of that checkerboard-maned Security mare.  I even tried to budget out enough for a leniency of $80, just in case.
    Two days into the convention, and an unforseen bill slammed its' way into my account, cleaning me out and leaving me with a negative balance.  I didn't even have enough cash to buy a can of soda, much less a plushie.  So, even though it mentally stung me worse than a bugbear sting to the armpit, I had to let go of the idea that I'd be able to afford one at this convention - hell, I was trying to figure out how I was gonna get home.
    Still, walking through the dealer's hall, I could admire other works that befit my likes.  I saw a number of AWESOME Discords, cool buggos, stupid smexy Nightmare Moon dakimakuras, and adorkable chibi Twilys.  But there was one shelf that had a remarkably detailed and hand-painted vinyl Blackjack on a stand.  I smiled, as it was even complete with that self-confident smirk I could imagine her with, and as I looked it over, I was joined by someone else who admired it.  Natch, I began talking (as I can be a chatty bugger), and he inquired if I liked Fallout: Equestria's Project Horizons.  Of course I said yes.
    He thumbed over his shoulder and said, "Yeah? Well THIS guy wrote it."
    I turned to where he had motioned, and there was just this average, normal-looking fellow there, maybe his mid-thirties, bespectacled and friendly-like.  He lifted his hand in a slight wave and, almost as if narrating while I read it on his badge, "Hi.  I'm Somber.  Nice to meetcha."
    I... *sigh* I totally fanboyed.  I will not lie.
    I gasped, might have even given a squee, and instantly shook his hand before hugging him and shaking his hand again.  I couldn't believe it - the author of the story that had given me the inspiration and strength to carry on in one of my lowest points in life.  I mean, I wasn't fan-sessed, no... I did manage to relate a Cliff Notes version of the above story to let him know how much Blackjack's journey had meant to me.  I wanted to let him know how important it was to me.... aaaaaaaand hopefully not drive him off with my fan-gasming.
    To his credit, he never even looked fazed, and was even pleasantly surprised when I told him what it had meant to me.  He thanked me for reading, and when I mentioned I'd been trying to find a BJ plush, he grinned and said, "I know where they've got 'em - follow me, man."  So, agog and still internally squeeing, I went along with him and his friend (whose name I forgot, please don't be upset, but I mean COME ON), and we traveled through the swarm of Bronies that were there to find their own treasures.
    I was so stunned by meeting him that I didn't even realize he was taking me to buy a plushie I had no money for.
    Arriving at the booth, he gestured to a small pile of Blackjacks that were adorably minky and well-made, complete with removable Security barding and little PipBuck!  They were totes dorbs, as my daughter would say, and Somber asked the guy behind the counter how much they were.  The gentleman replied, "Sixty bucks."
    My heart crashed as the realization came home.
    I kinda... mini-panicked.  Eyes wide, I grabbed one of the booth's business cards, swearing I'd order one online and that it wouldn't take more than a single paycheck to do so, and that I'd really not expected things to go as they had for my budget for this trip, and was very earnestly trying to convince the friend that I was going to do my utmost best to get this plushie...
    Somber?  He just reached over, picked one up, pulled out his wallet and bought one.  Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sharpie, removed BJ from her plastic bag enough for him to pull off the back bootie (it gave her legs that cyber-look), and that's where he wrote:
    To Randi
    From Somber
    Hang in there.
    And, with a smile, he handed it to me.  "There," he said, "now you have one."
    I cried.
    I also thanked him about a dozen times, hugged him twice more,and shook his hand with BOTH of my own at least four more times.  Even though I was fangushing at level 11 at this point, he simply smiled and took all my thanks and praise humbly, wishing me a good rest-of-the-con as he and his friend moved off into the crowds again.  I'm pretty sure he was still smiling as he faded into the gathering of Bronies and Pegasisters, all here to celebrate this wonderful show that has spawned so much from so may people.
    There are a lot of folks who'll tell you that meeting a 'hero' is never all it's cracked up to be; they're arrogant, or money-grubbing, or egotistical to the Nth degree.  But sometimes, fillies and gentlecolts... sometimes, meeting a hero is exactly everything you hoped it would be, and then some. 
    To Somber himself, I say excelsior - your greatness is the massive shadow you leave behind the humble, decent man you are stretches farther than you ever imagined.  Thank you for your hard work, your insight, and your story - it's helped me to do better, and I'm sure Blackjack herself would be proud of that.
      
  5. Randimaxis
    I'll be moving soon.
     
    The biggest problem with this is the fact that, as of this writing, I have NO idea where we'll be moving to.
     
    You see, my family and I have until December the 31st to find another place to live, secure it, and move our stuff into it - including ourselves. This came on somewhat short notice, and there's no butthurt or anger involved; it's simply one of those kinds of situations where nobody's really at fault.
     
    Frankly, it sucks - I kinda wish I DID have someone to point all my frustration at and unload... but the fact remains that I don't. Oh, and we still have to move. Of course, it would help if we could find a place first.
     
    *sigh*
     
    One of the things that's weighing on my mind aside from moving (and its' foibles) is the fact that we have NO working computer, and there's no telling when we'll be Internet capable again... which, of course, means that I won't be able to visit the forums until we do.
     
    That gives me quite a nasty knock; I've stayed on this forum for longer than I have any other online social gathering, and you folks are like my extended family... how will I get by without you all?
     
    Well, I mean... I could find a library nearby wherever we'll be and keep touch in one-hour stints. Granted, not ideal by far... but still a possibility.
     
    The computer we DO have is currently DOWN... and, as much as my wife claims she's going to get it fixed, I know she's a bit of a procrastinator. It could be QUITE a while until we're able to even AFFORD to do so, never mind that we'll have plenty of expenses pop up between now and then.
     
    I could go through friends... but honestly, doesn't it bug YOU when you've got a friend who's constantly asking to use your stuff? Yeah - I do NOT wanna be THAT guy.
     
    Begging for help or money? No, thank you - I don't like the idea of folks avoiding me because they think I'll ask 'em for stuff; I'd rather have friends than money, anyway.
     
    That leaves me in a nebulous spot, a place where I have NO idea if I'll be back to these wonderful forums anytime soon...
     
    Anyway, the last day I will have any sort of access to the Net of Inters will be December the 31st; after that day, I'll be communicating from elsewhere than where I am at this very moment... if I can get access, that is.
     
    If not, well...
     
    ...
     
    ... no. I'm not gonna say good bye HERE; it'd feel cheap to me. If it comes to that point, I'll make a post about it and give my 'So Long And Thanks For All The Ponies' speech there.
     
    This blog is more-or-less just me venting my fears and frustrations.
     
    I do hope we manage to get Net set up before we leave, so it'll be as if I never left here - that'd be grand, I know it.
     
    But wish, crap, hands, fill, dot dot dot.
     
    *sigh*
     
    Anyway, I suppose I'll just quietly bide out my remaining time here. I might be missed for a moment, maybe a week... then, it'll be just like I was never here. That's not me crying or whining or being depressive - it's a simple fact of life for almost everyone.
     
    See, people pass in and out of one's life like busboys at a restaurant; maybe there's a connection, but when they walk away, they're quickly forgotten to make room for the next restaurant, the next busboys.
     
    It just happens - we can try to keep up appearances, or act as though we're still as buddy-buddy as we used to be... but time progresses forward, not reverse.
     
    Still, that leaves absolutely NO reason why we can't have fun together while I'm still here.
     
    So, until the end of the year, I'll still be here, doing the thing.
     
    Granted, if I end up getting re-connected almost instantly, then all this huster and bluster will be worth absolutely ZILCH, and I'll be the one with egg on my face over this blog. Still, it does feel at least a little better, now that I've gotten it out.
     
    Stop by and say hi, sometime. At least, while you still can, that is.
  6. Randimaxis
    Hiya, folks.
     
    By now, it's no secret as to what we've been dealing with since this month started, and there have been a lot of hurt feelings, anger, and understandable fear due to a lot of things that happened while we weren't even paying attention.
     
    I don't mean simply staff, either - I mean all of us.
     
    Now, suddenly there are all sorts of folks leaving here - supposedly for good - and many others standing in a state of shock, worried as to what might come next.
     
    Well, as far as it goes with just plain ME? That's what this particular blog is for.
     
    Let's start off with my general opinion on the whole matter.
     

    WHAT I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THE SITUATION WITHIN STAFF:


     

    ...


     
    ... and that concludes it.
     
    When I opened the forums page on the first of this month, I would never in my wildest dreams have imagined what I came across. The first clue was a friend asking if I was leaving too - and I wondered, "what is he talking about", so I investigated.
     
    Twenty minutes later, I was actually crying.
     
    Jeric was one of the folks here who actually managed to bring me out of my little social shell, and he made me feel so very welcome here that I eventually ended up applying for staff. That took guts on my part - Aspergers' plus generally being weird doesn't leave me with a dearth of good experiences within social forums. But even with the scattered conversations we had, it was obvious I was in not only good company, but good hands.
     
    Eloquence was the one who trained me. There was more time taken between myself and Elo for teaching me what to do than any other single member of staff... not that they were lacking; Elo was just the only one who truly prioritized making sure I had a working knowledge of what the heck I was doing. A tall order, as I had NEVER IN MY LIFE been a part of a social forum like this one - but Elo helped me put the intimidating parts behind me.
     
    Seeing they had left felt like someone had suckerpunched me right in the heart.
     
    I started to try to look into the situation, then I remembered a little something about myself: I hate politics.
     

    With a fucking passion.


     
    So instead, I immediately dropped my 'hunt for the truth' and began PMing folks... asking how they were doing, offering an ear or a shoulder, and generally trying to be a field medic in the middle of the fallout. I did my best to let folks know that A: I wasn't leaving, and B: I'm here for them.
     
    I got in touch with EVERYONE involved - BOTH sides - and offered myself as a neutral party to vent, cry, joke or simply talk to... and I didn't WANT any details of what happened, truth or not.
     
    And I STILL don't want to know, don't care to know, and don't feel like prying to find out.
     
    Now, before you simply toss that off as ignorance, allow me to explain to you that, indeed, you're right - it is PURPOSEFUL, BLATANT IGNORANCE. I am consciously making the decision that I truly do not give the first damn about who SAID what, who DID what, or what happened as a result. There's already a lot of folks speaking their minds on the matter, and I'm not much for bandwagons anyway.
     
    This is NOT an act of heartlessness on my part - quite the contrary, it's BECAUSE I wish to maintain a neutral status in this that I REFUSE to find out the truth. I would much rather keep myself available for any and all who might need someone in this less-than-stellar moment for the forums, than color my attitude towards others and deny them the friend they might truly need so very badly in this eclipsing wake.
     
    And that is completely MY choice. I am well within my rights to simply not get involved in the war on ANY side, but to crawl under the line of crossfire and rescue the wounded. With that said, I am here for anyone who feels sad, angry, lost, hurt, distrustful, doubtful or ashamed over the current state of affairs.
    Consider this a public PM to everyone out there in Forumland:
     

    I'm not involved in this incident, and I never will be.


     

    But if you're hurting or even just worried, feel free to drop me a line. I'm always available, and even when I'm not on, I'll reply as soon as I see it. I'll tell you bad jokes, we can swap stories, or even chat about roleplay...


     

    However, I do ask for a bit of respect, and would much appreciate if you would kindly not try to tell me 'the truth' or 'sway my opinion'; as I said, I refuse to get involved in this drama-bomb - mostly because I wasn't even involved in the first place.


     
    For what it's worth, this has hit me hard, and it stings like you wouldn't believe... but at the same time, I feel compelled to do everything in my power to keep something like this from happening again.
     
    I am now making it a matter of public record that the day all of this happened, October the first, I applied for my voting rights within Poniverse - something I would NEVER have done on my own, because I hate politics... but this whole situation has made me feel as though it is a necessary step for me to take.
     
    As far as the rest of you wonderful people go, if you're feeling down about all of this, drop me a line - I have no interest in the politics of it all, so we can both be supportive of each other apart from this whole ordeal.
     
    And the [bLACK ARMBAND] on my status? That will stay as it is for the remainder of the month - perhaps even longer - as I feel that this incident still requires me to show that I miss my friends, even as I gear up to put my nose to the grindstone to try to ensure something of this manner never happens again on MY watch.
     
    Thank you for your time. *bows*
     


    - Matthew S. Grant



    aka Randimaxis


     



  7. Randimaxis
    I can't really help myself sometimes...
     
    I go through the RP section a lot, and there are a number of times I come across some of the niftiest scenarios and characters - the folks who RP here are awesome - and I wonder to myself, "hey... wouldn't it be neat if I could-"...
     
    But that's where I stop. Why? Well, that's a complicated answer...
     
    You see, I've been floating around on this site for over a year now, and I've been a part of a number of RPs here. But many of those RPs have fallen through, even when I tried my best to save them... and it makes me feel downright awkward to get myself involved in an RP that someone else from a past endeavor is already involved in.
     
    It kinda feels like I was in a boarding house with them, and after splitting ways, I see another vacancy in another boarding house... but they're already there, too. It's weird, and it feels... well... it feels like I'd be intruding if I asked to join them again.
     
    It's like I feel them thinking:
     
    "Oh LUNA SAVE ME, not HIM again! Last time we roleplayed, the story fell apart - if he gets into THIS one, the same thing'll happen! I hope to Celestia they turn him down!"
     
    That might not be what they're thinking at all... but it's how I FEEL like they see me, sometimes.
     
    I guess I simply get the thought that folks would rather continue on in their own way, not needing ME coming into the middle of their fun and knocking it askew. As it is, I'm already ensconced in a few RPs of my own; it's not like I don't have anything to do or such.
     
    It just... I dunno... I feel like I'd be intruding. The last thing I'd want to do is become an RP Albatross, folks feeling like I'm basically a brick tied around their necks, weighing them down and dragging the story through the dirt.
     
    The funny thing is, I'm fairly certain that I'm not a drag to RP with... however, between my self-defeating attitude and my somewhat irrational fear of being shunned, I get to the point where I have multiple RPs open to their OOC threads, ready to write a want for joining... and I just close them, thinking "I don't want to intrude - let 'em have their fun."
     
    As much as I'd love to add to many of the other RPs I see here, I just can't bring myself to see it as anything more than my butting-in where I might not be welcome; probably better to simply carry on with my own and maybe brohoof a post or two along the way.
     
    Perhaps someday, I'll even get over myself, eh?
     
    But until then, I think I'll simply let folks do what they do. Easier that way. Besides, this way I don't embarrass myself NOR others who I've RP'ed with in the past. They've already had to deal with me before... which, I know, can be irritating at times (and I apologize for profusely, in retrospect).
     
    Still, so many REALLY cool stories here... and I'd love to add to SO many of them... but it's probably for the best that I stick to my quarry stories - let everyone else have fun their way.
     
    If anyone needs me, I'll be with my OCs, doing my thing. Pardon me.
  8. Randimaxis
    As a kid, I designed a vehicle, driver and power for the M.A.S.K. line of toys (concept on paper, in pencil AND crayon, because I was a creative kiddo), and sent it in to the Kenner Corporation.  I received a letter back from them, stating that they would keep it on file, and they appreciated my interest - a stock 'thanks' letter, in other words.  Several months later, they released a new toy in the line that was, essentially, my design - right down to the mask's power.  The vehicle was named the Iguana (not my name for it, but time has taken the original name from me), and the Mask was Mudslinger.  I didn't want any money or anything... but it would have been nice to make at least a passing mention, right?  *shrug*  Eh, it was a thing, and it's kinda cool to know I made something that a company actually liked enough to build & put out there.  I don't want compensation at all - the fact I know I did it is enough for me.
     
    I am actually on the cover of a famous magazine.  Check out the December 2006 issue of Thrasher Magazine, the one with the collage of pictures towards the bottom.  Among them, there is a dillhole grinning like a lunatic wearing a Security shirt... that dillhole is yours truly, at my security job when the Toy Machine company came through during one of their King Of The Road challenges.  The parking lot of the offices I guarded had what they called the 'perfect sweet rail', and they were getting pics for the magazine.  Being a long time fan of Tony Hawk's Pro Skater, I let 'em do their thing; they were harming no one (except themselves on occasion, when a trick bailed), and they gave me some cool stuff... including a pair of skater socks.  Those socks were the most exquisite pieces of footwear I have ever had the pleasure of putting on my feet.  I wore them 'til they simply fell apart on me, eighteen years later.
     
    My father was a Folk Musician - more 'Kingston Trio', less 'Bob Dylan'.  My mother was... heh... *sigh* she was a topless waitress at a burlesque club in Atlanta, back in the late 60's.  She insisted they have a topless wedding - NO SHIT.  How did I discover this fact?  They told me, right?  HELL no; my parents were so straight-laced, I didn't get to spend a night at a friend's house until I was 13 years old.  A relative, mayhaps?  Uh-uh; all of 'em, so tight-assed, they'd swallow a dollar and shit pennies.  Nope - I found an old newspaper article from the Atlanta Journal about it, hidden among my mother's clippings and scrapbook stuff, discovered while I was being nosy as a tweenager does.  She had already had my half-brothers and sisters, and two of them had children as well (she had me, her last, at 45)... which is why the article about my mother's topless wedding was titled, and I quote:  "GEE Grandma - What Big BOOBS You Have!"  *chuckling facepalm*
     
    During my fourth grade Arts class, our teacher had brought in a batch of paste buckets; Elmer's School Paste.  There were about eight little pails in all (I think, this was a loooooooooong time back... like, the 80's), and he was so pleased he was finally able to let us glue things, like construction paper projects.  As I grabbed one before everyone else did, I noticed a very light, minty smell coming from it when I opened it up.  Natch, I decided that tasting was believing, so I tried it.  It was... strangely delicious.  So, as a conniving little bastard, I hid my bucket behind the supply cabinet at the back of the classroom.  Over the course of that whole school year, I ate that entire bucket of paste... sneaking back for a quick dip from it, hiding it under my chair during art lectures to snack on, such and so forth.  Consider that for a moment: an ENTIRE.  QUART.  PAIL.  Of PASTE.  *chuckleblush*  Eeyup... I was the weird kid.  Hands down.
     
    I had a bicycle accident at the age of fifteen that ruined my teeth permanently, ground flesh off of both knees and opened a hole in my own chin that was deep enough to see my own jawbone.  The first thing I heard when I came to was the guffawing laughter of the neighborhood bully, who was riding passenger with his mom and just happened to be stopped at the red light.  I dragged the bike (bent front wheel) and my own sorry carcass to the pool supply store owned by a friend of the family (Dad's church friends); the guy took one look at me and blanched.  I told him I wanted to see how bad it was, and he said that was a bad, BAD idea.  I insisted (being a teenager), and so he led me to the bathroom.  He stood behind me to make sure I didn't just faint out from the sight.  I looked... turned my head to both sides... stared at the hole in my chin and carefully, oh so carefully, I opened and closed my mouth, making it move around the bone itself.  It actually didn't hurt at all, honestly.  While the family friend was waiting for me to faint, I simply moved my jaw around a bit and said, "cool".  He looked at me like he thought I was now concussed.  (I wasn't; the doctor confirmed it later.)  Eight stitches - to date of this writing, the only time I have ever required poly-thread inside my flesh.
     
    ... there's more, sure... but I wanna save something to talk about later, y'know?  Still, thanks for your time - I very much appreciate it. 
    - R.                                                               
     
  9. Randimaxis
    All of us have a cage.
    It's a cage we build for ourselves, over time.  We build it originally as a safeguard to contain our inner beasts, and the bars are forged from the lessons we learn about acceptability and fitting into the world around us.  This is when the cage contains things like stealing, killing, harming and such; they're things we're taught not to do, so we cage them up using the bars forged from the earliest lessons impressed upon us.
    However, as we grow older, we begin to learn more about the world around us... and, because of such, we have to learn more ways we should curtail our thoughts and behaviors.  This is when we add things to the cage like lying, cheating, greed, bullying and the like; we grow from children into adulthood while assimilating all this data about behavior and what is expected of us.
    This is also where we begin to have things placed in that cage that we don't want to be in it; we can't party all night, because we have school; we can't talk back to our authority figures, because they control everything; we can't live on junk food & video games, because it isn't healthy for us.  Granted, some of us indulge in these things anyway - but we're taught NOT to by the rest of the world.  So, into the cage they go.
    Then, as we trek through adulthood, we begin to discover that society is much more than we ever realized as kids, and we now want to be a part of it in some way, whether to go into it in person or bring it to us via the Internet.  So, we feel we have to adopt certain ways of acting and speaking, in order to "belong" where we've found a place to fit in.  That's when we add labels to our cages, and choose things to put inside like Liberal, Democrat or Republican, and we add other things like gay, straight, lesbian, transgender, bisexual or asexual to the cage, and even trivial things like skin color or author preferences to signify that we cannot even THINK that way, else we get found out and thrown out of this place we've found to "belong".
    By this point, our cages have grown large and complex... effectively making them self-contained labyrinths within our souls, keeping us penned in and preventing us from seeing anything but the view from between the bars.
    Because we also begin to lock ourselves in there, as well.
    When it reaches a point, you begin to feel tired.  Tired of trying, tired of talking, tired of waiting for change, tired of being stuck in the same routine, day after day.  And as you wear down, it just becomes easier to just run on auto-pilot and make it through another Tuesday at the grindstone.  Or it just becomes easier to give up.  Or it just becomes easier to not care anymore.  Whatever the reason, you begin to find more and more reasons to cage up your own words because you feel they might offend... and you no longer have the will nor strength to fight back.  Because you're so damned tired of doing it again and again.
    Those are the moments to remain vigilant of, my friends; they're the things that cage up who you are.
    It is vitally important to keep a steady guard up against falling victim to apathy and becoming jaded, because that's when you lose the key, and wrap yourself in angst and misery because you've grown bitter at all the bars in your cage, unable to see more than a pinprick of light at any given time.  At best.
    Don't try to claim you have no cage; you do, whether you like it or not.  It's there, and YOU built it from whatever you picked up from school, friends and family.  It may be huge, small, thin, thick, anything - but you have one, regardless.
    Self-reflection and self-acceptance can do well here, as they aren't exactly cages as much as they are concepts of ways to monitor & learn oneself with minimal restrictions.  After all, if you know yourself well, you should understand why you react as you do and work towards reaching an understanding of who you truly are within your own mind.  From there, you don't break the cage - NEVER break it - but you learn to allow the bars to soften, with work and patience, into strips of cloth you may then use to stitch together a suitable outcome that has you neither denying your flaws OR your strengths.
    Make the cage into a cloak of personal harmony; work with challenges, not restrictions.  Don't see failure, see chances to learn.  Don't lock yourself away because you feel as though you're stifled from all directions...
    Be your own key.
    You'll always have a cage... you just don't always have to be in it.
  10. Randimaxis
    If EVERYONE has their own opinion, then why do we make such a big deal of having a BETTER one?
    Granted, nobody's perfect - there are faiths that have outrageous rules, societies who exclude all but a few, and clubs who focus on specific groups of people... but still, it seems to have become a national pasttime to tell others how wrong they are, then to parade one's ego up & down the block for all to see.  It's a game to the current generation, to destroy someone's beliefs and then laugh about it.
    What the living Hell, folks?
    Seriously, just because you don't like or believe in something, it doesn't give you the right to tear it down & mock them for it - and it's certainly NOT okay to do.
    Now, with people that are misinformed or are ignorant, those are cases to debate... but there IS such a thing as 'Respectful Debate', and I've seen it make a heckuva difference when presented fairly and kindly.  People listen better when you aren't blasting their thoughts to shreds, and they'll consider your words much more carefully if you approach the subject with respect and Kindness.  
    The idea of communication is to COMMUNICATE - not yell your ideas and stop listening.  After all, YOUR opinion may be flawed, and anyone worth their salt will attempt to fix those possible flaws, because intelligent, mature people would be far more willing to admit a wrong and correct it.  All those people who rant & rave when confronted with the thought that they might be wrong?  Yeah, they ain't changing... not for ANYONE... and it's a waste of time trying to talk reason to them.
    They don't WANT reason; they want to be RIGHT... and getting caught up in being RIGHT is how The Crusades got started, and we know what happened during that.
    Honestly?  I don't mind when folks come to me & tell me they don't believe in what I believe in - variety, after all, is the spice of Life - and there have even been times I've had my own eyes opened to things I never considered.  I choose to remain open to these thoughts, as I'm a work in progress until the day I die; never let it be said that I'm inflexible to change, growth or improvement.
    And that's what I'm getting at here, folks - you can huster & bluster all day & night about how THIS person is wrong and THAT person is stupid...
    But, in the end, you get what you give - and that goes for the Internet, too.  You put out excellent reasoning and heartfelt thought?  Chances are, you'll have a large percentage of friends who are like-minded, and can share opinions and beliefs freely... but if you put out anger, hate and intolerance?
    You are what you type, my fellow Ponyites.
    Endeavor to become a listener.  Choose to question your own beliefs, on occasion.  Use respect when debating a point, especially when it comes to faith or politics.
    For those who want to make the world a BETTER place, I challenge you to strive to become a better PERSON.
    Excelsior, fellow communicators!
  11. Randimaxis
    For those of you here for a Spike fanfic, I am sorry to disappoint.
    Last night, as I sat at my computer and... uhm, computed... I was distracted by the sight of my childrens' sleeping bag, its shape swollen and wriggling, scooting its' way down the hall, headed right for me.  A small blond head poked out, and a different voice from inside the mound said, "No!  Which wayyyyyy!?", followed by the head looking right at me and the blond saying, "He's over here; c'mon!", and the mass of cloth and children slouching toward me.
    At this point, allow me to explain simply that my children are 10 and 12.
    The bloated camping bed stopped before me, and a voice from within called out to me, addressing me as the "Head of the Dragon Council", and presenting their issue.  Apparently, according to the blond one (the 10 year old girl), the dragon body that she was sharing with her brother (the sleeping bag) had become absolutely foul, due to the boy's supposed "HUGE farts" - and the offended party wanted retribution from the Dragon Council on this matter.
    At this point, the other child poked HIS head out and informed me that they had chosen "Dragon Names" for my wife and I (at the time, my wife was at work), and that they were to be our titles for being the heads of this ubiquitous Dragon Council.  I was told by the boy that they had, quote, "respectfully decided" on the Dragon name of FartBreath for me... and PoopHead for their mother.
    How regal.
    And so, to recap, the two-headed dragon/sleeping bag had crawled down the hall to me, wherein the girl-dragon head demanded justice from Lord FartBreath of the Dragon Council for having to suffer the presence of the boy-dragon's brutal flatulence.  I was speechless, honestly - it took me so very much by surprise that I said nothing; I merely laughed and shook my head, returning to the screen from where I had been roused from.  To this, they simply laughed loudly and crawled their way back to their room.
    But of course, the Council HAD to take action.
    I waited for about three minutes, then I slowly crept down the hallway to the outside of the door leading to my erstwhile children, still amidst the joys of make-believe and complete in their total innocence.  I c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y slid my hand onto the doorknob and, silent as a mouse fart, I turned the handle until the mechanism holding it shut was clear.  I then proceeded to await the right moment...
    It came when the two of them, still playing, had gotten into a (fake) argument, and the boy said, aloud, "... and there is NO ONE who can defeat meeeeee!"
    Picture it:
    Suddenly, the door FLIES open, and I burst into the room and yell, in a gravelly voice:
    "FARTBREATH ATTAAAAAAAAAAAAACKS!!!!!"
    ... and proceeded to tickle the living HELL out of my son.  He was the target because of the earlier request, you see; the Dragon Council sometimes takes a moment to respond... but oh, the response was WELL worth the wait.
    The boy almost seemed to instantly dissolve into a writhing, giggling ball of putty, while the girl screamed in fear - which quickly became loud, bright laughter.  It all ended with the three of us in a happy, laughing pile on the floor.  So many times, I hear folks ask me if being a father is worth all the worry, stress, pain and suffering you can go through...
    In my experience, it is COMPLETELY worthwhile; moments like these are things I'll cherish for as long as the Save Game battery in my noggin lasts.
    So says Lord FartBreath of the Dragon Council.
     
  12. Randimaxis
    A glass of water, if you please
    An Applejack, for me to tease
    A metric ton of orange snow
    Another season of my show
    A song to start a fire by
    Dilithium crystals (don't ask why)
    A house-sized chunk of cheddar cheese
    A mangy dog, complete with fleas
    A big ol' mug of apple cider
    A Purple Smart, with Spike beside her
    A tambourine that's made of taffy
    A small black duck who goes by 'Daffy'
    Another round of hedge-maze games
    A stuffy Princess (no names, no names)
    A flowering field of Poison Joke
    A Doctor Whooves (one interesting bloke)
    Ten barrels of indigo whipped cream
    A punk, who's simply full of steam
    A Rainbow Dash in such a hurry
    A Rarity, who's fun to worry
    Chocolate milk - an entire sea
    A Fluttershy, complete with tea
    A thousand strands of thread, unspooled
    A million Pinkies, Mirror Pooled
    A giant color-changing lizard
    A better drawing for The Squizard
    A single piece of Celestia's cake
    (bet THAT'LL keep her Highness awake!)
    One schoolhouse full of Zap Apple Jam
    Another appearance for Flim & Flam
    Starlight's cutie-mark switching spell
    (who's the target?  I'll NEVER tell...)
    A coat of arms & legs, so fancy
    An autograph from John DeLancie
     
    ... and all these gifts, I hope you'll bring...
     
    Forget the bells;
    LET CHAOS RING!

    Ha ha ha HAAAAAAAAAAA hahahahahahahahahahahaaa!
     
     
     
     
     
     
  13. Randimaxis
    ...
    ...
    ... I HATE this feeling.
    As many times as I've seen others here wallow in sadness & misery, I think it might be okay to vent here for a bit; not like I'm saying or doing anything original with this, after all.
    And, before I begin, this is NOT a cry for attention, a self-harm warning OR any kind of declaration of 'leaving' these wonderful forums... so no worries, fellow Ponyites - I just need me some good ol' fashioned whine-time.
     
    *ahem*
     
    USELESS.  WORTHLESS.  SHAME.  ANGER.  DESPAIR.  LOSS.  AGONY.  TEARS.  PAIN.
    PAIN.
    PAIN.
    PAIN.
    PAIN.
    ...
    ...
    ... suffering daily has become more of a norm for me this past month than I'm comfortable with. 
    Sure, I have my moments - we all do - but this moment has stretched out for over a month now, and I am SO sick & tired of it.  I feel it creep up on me in the morning, sideswipe me in the afternoon, and unexpectedly slap me across the face in the evening; that's not even mentioning the occasional sucker-punch that comes at random during the course of my waking hours.
    WHY am I so upset?  I won't relate that publicly; those who I've told know, those who I haven't... well, they probably shouldn't know, and it's not something I'd find appropriate to mention during this holiday season.  I do believe in merriment for the holidays... which is why I'm just not going to say it here.
    But the sheer weight of my hurting has reached the level where I have actually found it necessary to blog about it - and speaking about your pain without naming it... well, it's HARD.
    WHY do I keep finding all these rocks of pain in the shoes of my existence?  Can't I simply forge ahead & pretend it doesn't even exist?  I mean, you see folks do it all the time on TV, in movies and books, in those crappy little self-help books - so why is it so fucking difficult for ME to actually accomplish?
    Not only that, but my music... my sweet, sweet music...
    Even THAT hurts me now, with certain tunes I used to tell myself I'd never truly understand.  Music has been an ENORMOUS part of my life for such a long, long time - since I was old enough to remember - and now it feels as though even my fantasy-escape into music can't help me for long; it always comes back to THOSE songs... and I now understand & feel them more than I ever thought possible.
    And it SUCKS ASS.
    Every moment, I have been blasted with my sorrow... which occasionally becomes anger, or hate, or spite, or even outright rage... and it feels as though it will NEVER end.
    Now, I know I won't feel like this forever.  I am well aware that I'm simply hurting, and with time & patience, the pain will lessen, become more manageable, and be just another thing I sigh over when I'm by myself.  I'm not going to end my life just because I feel bad right now - that's not only a foolish thing to do, but it also snuffs out any hope, or change, or growth that I might gain from it all. 
    And far be it for me to gush on & on about how 'no one understands' or 'nobody loves me' - I KNOW folks DO care, and to say those things makes a mockery of the affection & concern they've shown me... so there's no reason for me to claim that I'm unloved.  I know folks care - it just doesn't stop the pain, sometimes.
    Maybe THAT is why I'm venting here: I feel PAIN, and even after talking with others, it just needs to be somewhere besides my own noggin... so, my thought?  If I pour it out onto something else, I can lessen its' impact on my brain, heart & soul - which, in turn, will allow me to heal just a bit more, a bit further, a bit quicker than if I didn't say a single word.
    PAIN SUCKS.  I have always disliked pain; pain of loved ones, pain of others, pain of self.  Pain, though a necessary part of living, takes so many forms, it would be ludicrous to attempt to list out every example, and stupid of me to think of trying to... there's not enough space on the Internet to hold a list of every pain that can possibly be; it's too much.
    BUT...
    As human beings, we have a number of options as to how to not only deal with pain, but LIVE with it.  Distractions such as zombifying medications, topical books written by smug-looking 'gurus', errant shock comedy, illicit substances and the ever-spinning train of alcoholism are just a few of the ways folks can make the pain lessen... but the grand idea of making pain obsolete is a lie, a sham and an outright fib, all rolled into one.
    DEALING WITH YOUR OWN PAIN IS NECESSARY TO GROW.
    I feel like I have to tell folks this fact all the damned time... and a number of them not only don't get it, but they REFUSE to; they would rather fall back into the habit of seeking attention than to face their pain & understand it.  And when people understand their pain better, they don't suffer as much & learn to get through the brunt of it more efficiently & quickly.  It's not a catch-all cure - it's just a part of being mature enough to accept that there WILL be pain... but you don't have to FALL to it.
    Pain hurts.  Hurts so bad I sometimes wonder if it will EVER end.  But I know that it won't be this difficult everyday... and someday, hopefully soon, I'll get through the worst of it, and it will simply be a scar on my heart.  An UGLY scar, perhaps...
    But a scar is a mass of healing... and it means my soul won't bleed forever.
    I'll be okay... eventually... so don't cry for me; I'm doing enough of that on my own.  And each tear I shed washes away at least a tiny portion of pain from me, so tears are okay.
    ...
    ...
    ... thank you, one and all, for your time, your concern, and your love. 
    Excelsior, friends.
     
     
  14. Randimaxis
    [STORY TIME]

    Taki Turtle, Dinah Squirrel and Big Joe Toad were all heading down the lovely little path through the Doodleybob Forest. They were all headed to Shiny the Toy Robot's place for their usual cookies and fruit punch - Shiny threw the BESTEST picnics!
    As they came round the bend, who should they see but Argyle Fox, looking all sneaky-weaky, and he had a box in his paws. As soon as they saw him, the trio of friendly friends slowed from their traipsing gait to a slow walk. That old fox could NOT be trusted, and they knew it - he would try to take them to his den and gobble them up... even Taki!
    "Well hellOOOOooooo, my fine friends! Say, the three of you wouldn't mind helping me out here, would you? I seem to have gotten a lot of cupcakes in this box here, yet it's FAR too many for my little self to eat ALONE... but I'll share them with you!"
    Argyle opened the box juuuuuuuuuust a bit, and motioned to the opening. "Well? Who wants to come over here, riiiiiiiight next to the box, and take a peek, hmmmmmmm?"
    Taki was curious, but was wise enough to know better. "Not I," said the turtle.
    Dinah REEEEEEALLY wanted a cupcake... but she knew that wily old fox was just strong enough to be able to shove any one of them in that box... so she flicked her tail at him instead. "Not I," said the squirrel.
    Big Joe Toad pulled out his chrome .44 caliber pistol and shot the fox right in his motherfucking face. Five times.
    "Ain't SHIT!", said the toad.
    The three friends then continued along the path to Shiny's, leaving that bastard fox bleeding out in the gutter, shitting himself as he died in the most excruciating pain he'd ever known.
     
     
    {Da Moral}:
    Don't fuck with Big Joe Toad.
     
  15. Randimaxis
    Forward.
     
    I am expected to move forward.
    Regardless of whether or not I can handle it.
    Regardless of even if I'm going to make it through.
    Still, the forward momentum is expected.
     
    Alone and weary of my Life's lot,
    I'm apparently to blame for everything that's wrong.
    Statistically speaking, it can't all be me, right?
    Still, the forward momentum is expected.
     
    People I know are dying faster now.
    It feels like everything is winding up to fall down.
    So many faces that I once knew well are gone.
    Still, the forward momentum is expected.
     
    Is this the fate that Life has picked for me?
    If so, I want to make an executive choice, here;
    I don't have to take the abuse from anyone.
    I can move forward without being forced to.
     
    As
    long
    as
    I
    keep
    moving
    Forward.
     
     
  16. Randimaxis
    [STORY TIME]
    "YOU'RE HERE, YOU RIBITTY ASSHOLE!  I CAN SMELLLLLLLLL YOUUUUUUUU..!"
    Argyle Fox looked like poop.  He smelled like it too; he'd not changed his pants since finding Myrna Mole and the message across her apron.  The message that had led to Argyle's slow, deliberate mental breakdown - and boy, had it been a doozy!
    First was the crying, followed by the enraged screaming, a little vomiting, then much throwing and smashing of things around the room (where both Rocky and Stevie took their silent leave of the situation), leading to the crying jag again, followed by the very LOUD swearing, then back to the screaming once more, another round of puking...
    This had gone on for some time; the fox had lost track of such things as minutes, and had no interest in how much time as passing while he raved on and on.  When he stopped to take a breath, however... he noticed it wasn't just pouring rain and booming the occasional thunderclap; it was night outside.  How long had he pitched his little temper-tantrum?  Too long to save himself?  To get away?  To set up a trap or several?  To arm himself with some sort of weapon?
    He now also noticed how... alone... he was.
    So he'd began talking to himself.  At first.  But slowly, the words he spoke went from self-reminders and grumbles, to complaints and creeping paranoia, to all-out lunatic screaming at his imagined (?) opponent.  His coat was matted and disheveled, his face lined and haggard, his limbs trembly-wembly and his tail all floofy-fluffed and quivering like nummy grape jelly cubes.  He was even beginning to nervously shed his limp red fur in small clumps, leaving little patches of pink on his sorry hide.
    "DO YOU HEEEEEEEAR MEEEEEEEEE, FUCKAAAAAAAAAA!?  I'm gonna EAT... YER... BAAAAAAAAWLS!"
    He grabbed a nearby chair and, with a grand stomp, smashed a leg off of it, brandishing it like a little club, his crazed, jittery eyes seeking a target that wasn't currently there... unless it was, then Argyle was screwed.  But the adrenaline that surged through the fox's brain was now granting him as much bravado as it could - though, to outside witnesses, the stench of his soiled garments threw off the whole intimidation factor; made him look more desperate than dangerous.
    "You couldn't kill me BEFOOOOOORRRRRRRRE, you HOPPY GREEN FUCK!  And you knowWHAT!?  Do YOU wanna know WHY I tried to EEEEEEEEAT YOUUUUUUU???  Why would good ol', handsome, charming, elegant old Argyle the Fancy Fox... want to ever EEEEEEEAT YOUUUUU!?!?"
    The look on his muzzle was one that only a mind stretched to the breaking point and snapped could conceive of making the horror of a maniacal expression on his slightly mouth-foaming mug.
    "BECAAAUUUUUSE... I'M A FUCKIN' CAAAAAAR-NI-VOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRE!!!!!"
    Argyle Fox had lost his little mind.
    Suddenly, there was a clatter from the back of the room, and Argyle swiveled to look.  Though there was nothing, the paranoid fox decided there was, and with an incomprehensible scream of inarticulate rage, he charged for that end of the room.  Reaching what he thought was... well, who knew?... he began to swing wildly, each solid thump of the chair leg driving the fox more and more to swat harder and harder.  He continued to swing until the chair leg broke, and he collapsed onto the floor, panting.
    It's over it's over hes dead hes fuckin dead no more toad no more toad no more toa-
    He looked up at his unfortunate target.  It had been the body of Mean Myrna Mole, set up in a chair against the wall.  She was now an unrecognizable mess, so much gooey-blooey jelly all over the floor, the wall, Argyle, the chair, even the ceiling!
    The fox's breathing became even more ragged, more frantic as he tottered up from the floor and began stalking his (possibly imaginary) foe.
    "Myrna... poor Myrna... YOUUUUUU did that, didn't you!?  DID NOT YOUUUU!?!?  You clever... fucking... TADPOLE!"
    Something slammed into the back of Argyle's head HARD, and he reeled as he fell to the floor... however, he was far from crippled, as pure fear drove the neurotic fox to spin and twist to face his attacker directly, ready to destroy who or whatever was there.
    On the floor was Shiny's brain; it had been pulled down from above, and was now sitting there on the floor after having struck the fox.  Argyle could almost hear the robot's mechanical laughter, mocking him as he sat there and shook like a leaf in a hurricane.
    "DON"T YOU LAUGH AT MEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"
    He gave the brain a vicious kick, sending it careening into the kitchen... and making Argyle howl in pain, as the two longest toes on that foot snapped like twigs.  Shiny's brain, after all, was still metal - the fox's toes, however, were most certainly NOT.
    He sat down and screamed in pain while grabbing his injured foot, mentally assuring himself that there was no way, shape, or form that the situation could get much worse.
    Then the lights went out.
    Argyle Fox may have had some pretty nifty night-sight, but he was still as loopy as a bowl of Cheerios - and this new development only further nudged him toward the edge of his sanity, where he already had a feeble grasp, at best.  He rose and, favoring his hurt foot, began to hobble his way back to his shiny throne.
    The throne MY throne I am king here YES I AM king here NO fucking FROG is gonna MAKE a FOOL outta MEEEEEEE...
    But the throne was occupied.  Dinah Squirrel sat in the throne, her eyes wide, cradling her threadbare tail and staring, non-blinking, at Argyle.
    "You earned this."
    There was no expression on her face; her vacant stare almost seemed to belie that she wasn't even really here, in a consciousness sense.  But that stare was directed FULLY at the haggard-looking fox, and the lack of her blinking threatened to send him over the edge into Gibbering Crazy Town.
    "Reckoning has come to you, you foxy bastard..."
    It wasn't angry, nor yelling, nor even pouty - the squirrel's words sounded flat, emotionless... and DEADLY CERTAIN.
    "... and that reckoning has green skin."
    "SHUT UUUUUUUUUP!"
    "You can say you're a big shot... that you're the 'king' around here... but we both know that's a damned lie..."
    "SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUUUUUUUUP!!!!!"
    "... we both know what you are, don't we?"
    He spun on Dinah, murder in his eyes and foam dripping from his muzzle.
    "I'LL FUCKING END YOUUUUUU!"
    Dinah smiled sadly.  "You ain't shi-"
    The fox gave a thunderous howl, and jumped at the poor squirrel - but he was struck right in the middle of his tummy by what felt like a miniature Mack truck.  He flew backwards at an alarming rate of speed, slamming full-tilt into the wall and feeling (and hearing) his left arm give a sharp snap.  Hitting the ground, he wailed in misery and frustration.
    Looking down at his midsection, he saw a long, wet and webbed footprint, right in the center of his mass.
    ... webbed...
    He looked up, and as soon as his eyes locked on the figure standing in front of Dinah and the shiny throne, his ears drooped and his bladder released once more.
    Big Joe Toad was standing there - big as life and twice as sassy.  No longer clad in just a hankerchief and a satchel, Mr. Toad was now wearing a little leather jacket, tiny little froggy shades, little froggy bluejeans and little froggy brass knuckles.  All this was topped off with a little froggy eyepatch, sitting neatly over the eye that Argyle himself had popped with a crowbar.
    His face bore no expression; there would be no negotiation, no pleading, no mercy.  No cutesy little plan to bail him out.  No lackeys to place between himself and his inevitable end.
    "MOTHAFUCKAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" screamed Argyle, flying straight at Big Joe Toad with insanity in his eyes.
    The toad, moving fluidly as if he were underwater, simply sidestepped the charge, planting a very powerful knee into the fox's ribs.  The effort was rewarded with a muffled crack, and Argyle's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he gave only the slightest squeak, unable to scream any more than that.  Flopping over, Big Joe Toad then brought up his webby foot, placed it on the fox's belly button, and pushed as if he were leaping with all his little might!
    Argyle FLEW through the room and out the window, coming to a rolling stop on the cold, wet ground.  The rain felt like it was made of stones, and seemed to pound down on the fox as he lie there, panting and gasping for air.  Slowly, Big Joe Toad opened the door and walked calmly towards the prone fox.  His gait even.  His expression fathomless.  Upon reaching Argyle, he stood over him and stared down, a severe frown creasing his froggy face.
    "Get up."
    The anger redoubled on itself, and Argyle launched himself off the ground, headed straight for that froggy bastard's nec-
    Big Joe Toad brought both fists down on Argyle's shoulders, and the fox felt bones in both sides give way under the hard metal of the toad's brass knuckles.  The headbutt simply sent the fox back to the ground, moaning in pain as he tried to wish his world to stop spinning.  Big Joe Toad looked down at the waterlogged fox.
    "Get up."
    Argyle gave a wet-sounding sob.
    "Get up."
    "FFFFFFFFFFFFUCK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!"
    Argyle leapt up once more, though with his arms hanging limply by his sides, he wasn't exactly certain what he was going to do... but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try.  However, his efforts were completely in vain, as a large green foot slapped him in the muzzle, then held on with a surprisingly firm grip as Argyle's face was shoved down into the mud sideways, the fox feeling mud filling his ear and nostril while the frog's freakishly strong leg pressed down just enough to make the fox's skull bend a bit.  Finally, the toad stepped back, taking the weight off his foot.
    "Get up."
    Argyle began to cry, great racking sobs that seemed to radiate throughout his entire furry body.
    "I can't I CAN'T I CANNNNN'T!!!!!  You won't FUCKING LET ME!"
    Argyle covered his muzzle with his paws and cried like the pathetic coward he truly was, and as he sat there in his own urine sobbing like a baby, Dinah came to the doorway and looked out at the two of them.  Her stare was still vacant and blank... but now, she wore a small smile.  Her gaze came to rest on Argyle, and as the fox looked up, she made sure she had eye contact with him before she spoke.
    "We all just wanted to live our lives in peace and quiet.  In harmony.  We didn't want to hurt anyone... anyone at all..."
    She stepped outside, the rain slicking her fur down.  She slowly made her way to where she could stare down at the bastard fox.
    "... but you had to fuck that up, didn't you shitlips?"
    Her words had no power in them; she called him the name as if she were reciting poetry from memory for a class.  Argyle looked between them both, his breathing now had a reedy, whistling sound to it.
    "B-but I'm... I-I-I'm a... c-c-carn... I... vore..."
    Big Joe Toad stepped up and looked down at Argyle once more, the big green face filling the fox's vision.
    "Get.  Up."
    Argyle, shivering and near-catatonic, let his eyes widen as he stared into the face of his nemesis.
    "I... c-can't... anym-more..."
    Big Joe Toad stood up straight, and now his expression changed - a look of hard disappointment settled into the toad's features, and he reached into his jacket's inner pocket.  Argyle gave the tiniest of whimpers as he saw the Chrome .44 Revolver slide it's way out, swing though the rainy night, and come to a stop with the barrel pointed directly at the fox's face.  Around them both, the other remaining animals had gathered in a circle, watching and waiting for the promise of sweet vengeance to be fulfilled.
    Taki Turtle had his shell back on, and the smoudlering look he was giving Argyle could have curdled lava.  Sherrie Badger was worrying at a patch of Mange as she watched with rapt glee.  Stevie The Stork was rubbing his feathered palms together in anticipation, while Rocky The Rabbit held Shiny' brain in his little paws.  He didn't want their robot friend to miss out, after all.  And Dinah Squirrel now had a wisp of a smile on her lips, watching with anticipation as the fox finally got his comeuppance.
    Big Joe Toad stood there, staring down at the beaten, bloody and broken form of Argyle The Fancy Fox.  He looked right into the fox's eyes and the gaze bore down into his furry soul with that chilling reaper's glare.
    "Ain't shit."
    Five shots.
    Right in his motherfucking face.
     
    [THE END]
     
    {Da Moral}:
    Don't fuck with Big Joe Toad.
     
  17. Randimaxis
    Today.  Is.  The.  DAY.
    The Bro.  The Ny.  THE CON.
    Today, I depart for Baltimore on a Greyhound bus, a trip that will last from 2:30 PM 'til 7 AM the next day...
    I couldn't BE more stoked, right now.
    Since 2016, I've been coming to this site.  I've spent time interacting with the folks here, sharing stories or memes or even just goofing around & being chaotic and whatnot... and those things mean a LOT to me.  As someone who's always felt alone in crowds, I have to admit that my upcoming muzzle-to-muzzle meeting of so many of the folks here - on staff as well as the rest of you wonderful folks - is something that, for once, I feel like I'm really looking forward to.  Despite Aspie worries and awkward moments that will undoubtedly lie ahead, I am confident that the folks I'm going to meet here will be incredible, and that when it's all said & done, we'll all have fond memories of this momentous occasion.
    Well... i-it's momentous to me.
    Excelsior, fellow Ponyites... for Randi is bringing his CHAOS  to you. 

    Personally.
  18. Randimaxis
    Abortion:
    Death Penalty/Prison:
    Freedom Of Speech:
    Guns:
    Economy:
    Gay Marriage:
    Immigration:
    Religious Liberty:
    Transgenderism:
     
    ... y'know those little packets of silica gel that come in shoeboxes?  The ones that say 'Do Not Eat' all over them?  WHY does it always feel like it's a personal challenge?
    I mean, with the current vibe I've gotten from this generation, it almost feels as if I'm kindly being MOCKED for my own stupidity - like the whole 'Caution: Coffee Will Be HOT' thing; do I really need some fancy-pants corporate big-wig telling me that the HOT coffee that was ordered HOT, when handed to me HOT, will STILL BE HOT if I splash it lightly across my face and chest to wake myself up in the morning?  I mean, seriously... I never DRINK the stuff, but it most certainly CAN wake a person the hell up on a cold, crisp morning.
    It's kinda like that with the silica gel; I mean, seriously - this stuff came in a box of factory-manufactured footwear, which has been sitting in a porous little baggie on a store shelf for NO TELLING how long... and they HAVE to tell me not to EAT it?  Really?  I mean, okay, sure - there are times I should probably be told not to put things in my mouth (cigarettes, floor gum, that one guy's left big toe), but there are standards, y'all!  I seriously doubt that the world's levels of common sense are THAT far gone.
    WHY do thy put those warnings on there?  Well... because the world has become SO litigious, that anything CAN and WILL be misinterpreted to be taken advantage of... so in response, us folks who actually aren't looking to make a fast buck off of anyone we can have to suffer with THIS cockamamie crapola.  Seriously, is there anyone out there who DOESN'T feel a little dumber every time they read those little warnings?
    Well, all I know is... next time I see one of those little packets?  I'mma EAT that bastard.
    ...
    ...
    ... *facepalm* Sometimes, I'm too weird even for ME.
     
  19. Randimaxis
    As the folly of my own existence plays out each and every scene in the theatres of my mind, I realize, the slow roil of my emotions beginning a rolling boil, that the seats in particular that I have been sold tickets to temporarily dwell in are firmly positioned behind a massive column of self-doubt.
     
    Is this MY column to deal with? If so, that will be fine; I tend to column like I see 'em, so there will be no doubt as to the dab of indubitable debt's debate. The call is made, the words are yelled, the agreement is reached. The ushers come and, after a fine hip-hop number, they proceed to move the column INTO my seat! Oh, the humina-manity! After the fee of life lessons that I had to learn went to pay for the play of the day, I say there's no way that I shall stay, okay?
     
    They listen not, as they have already lent their ears, along with their other friends, Romans and countrymen, to the performance currently concurrent to the curvaceous currency those curs collected. The show must go on, but were it I at that wicked helm, I should dare say it would be going off.
     
    But it is I that are the eye, aye? This is a pronounced production of pontification to ponder upon, and please pardon the pernicious pun. To feel put upon by a petty pun is preposterous! Still, with myself at the helm, I try to continue on to the sash... or at least the breastplate. There is small hope of a big result, but one must forge on and forget none.
     
    The actors who are meticulously metric in their meters make a mantra of methods matriculating amidst the mayhem of morality and mortality and mononuclei. Man, what manner of minute moment undermines the master of these mutton-headed minions?
     
    Still, their fait is accompli; they move about the sullen stage, stretching the semantics to the straining point. Though their performances are full of vim and vigor, the actual viscous vitality in it is vastly vicarious; how could they ever know what it is truly like when they cannot relate? Or prolate? Or conlate, even?
     
    OH DAMNABLE STAGE! Why dost thou torture me with visions of the life I live, yet refuse to allow me to live it upon my own terms of endearment? Haven't you seen that movie? Where is the yesterday that was promised to me last week? Where is my tomorrow stashed?
     
    The answer was simple, of course - I was in the wrong theatre. Silly me.
  20. Randimaxis
    *sigh* 
    Sometimes, nostalgia hits when you least expect it... and makes you wonder 'what if?'  The first MAJOR roleplay I ever got into on this site was so bright... but now, it sits in the archives, lost and faded.  I happened across a post that reminded me of it, and I had to look it up.  But let's start at the beginning...

    When I first started on this site, I was all sorts of gung-ho about trying to join a roleplay.  I kept checking out other RPs, asking folks on OOC threads, and generally being a total n00b when it came to getting into something.  Still, I searched around for a good, long while until I found one that would let me in - and it hadn't even gotten started yet!  So I took a good look at what the storyline was to be about:
    Sombra hadn't been defeated when the Crystal Empire reappeared; he won.  And afer the public execution of Cadence and Shining Armor, the bastard started to slowly take over city afer city - and what he couldn't have, he destroyed outright.  Little by little, the faith and hope that ponykind held began to dwindle from a sun's worth... all the way down to a single light in the darkness.  Though there were small pockets of refugees, the whole of the Equestrian nation lie inside a shadow...
    Sombra's Shadow
    Our game picked up a number of years later, where we portrayed sneaky refugee ponies who had a beacon of hope for the world.  As the story progressed, we discovered that the Elements of Harmony still existed... and they needed new bearers to wield them.  The first element reborn, as it turned out, was Generosity... and it found a new bearer in my own character.
    Harcourt Blackwater's entire family had been dealing with the villains behind the scenes... but were put down by a rival family, the Darkmanes, to improve their own standing on Sombra's power queue.  Harcourt, who had been travelling abroad for a number of years, came home to find his whole family slaughtered.  With only a single piece of evidence, he knew whom had been responsible... but he was unable to avenge their deaths.  By the time the story started, he was going grey, and was towards the end of his forties.  He was a master thief, and was in the process of teaching his favorite student how to do as he did.
    The story was EPIC, and we spent many hours putting together quite a lovely tapestry of intrigue, action, horror and the occasional tearjerker moment.  It was so good, I even made banners and such to go along with it, and made special ones for each player.  I had my own little possibilities in mind, and made what I feel to STILL be some of my best posts there.  It was glorious.  It was marvelous.
    It wouldn't ever be finished.
    A disagreement between the two co-GMs led to a falling out, and our villain-player dropped out of it.  That started a slow chain reaction of others who fell aside, and soon left only three of us... and, when no replies came from the GM anymore, I knew I had to face the truth... that Sombra's Shadow, one of the best times I ever had doing online RP, was over.
    For about a year afterwards, I had trouble trying to get my head into any other RP; eventually, I managed to move on, and did my utmost best to try to just let go of it.  I got into other roleplays, and with my experiences with the one game, it led me to spread that experience throughout ALL my latter RPs, including ones I ran.  I was reignited, and I then strode forward into the RP world with knowledge that I had done a fine job, and that I was ready to take on all comers.
    That being said, I still never forgot that one incredible roleplay.
    To this day, a part of me wonders if maybe I should try to go back to the original thread and finish it alone.  I believe I'm at least an okay writer, and I've spent countless hours thinking up what could have happened, and how it all would have ended.  Another part of me wants to bug the HELL out of the original folks involved, and BEG for some sort of decent ending to the story we poured so much of ourselves into... even though at least half of that crew no longer comes here.
    But the thought remains.  And still, as early as this morning, I find myself yearning for closure.  Aching for a need that most likely will go unheeded.  Wishing I'd been better, or more active, or even just more supportive to the others... which I hadn't been lacking in, but I could've done MORE...
    Well, for what it's worth, I STILL feel like that story was one of my better attempts at roleplay - especially the nightmare sequences - and my time wasn't wasted there.  I feel like it serves as a reminder that, even if something seems perfect and good, there can always be rain for your picnic.  But even with that thought, there still lies a spark of Harmony's Light that lives on in me.
    And who knows?  Maybe one day, I WILL return to it, and finish it properly.  Only time will tell, I suppose.
    And to the illustrious crew that starred in this incredible roleplay... 
     
    Jonas Darkmane (now Alastor)
    Pucksterv
    Magos Amphrose (now That One Techpriest You Used To Know)
    Count Paradox
    Stardust*
    and ~Octavia~
     
    ... I say unto each and every one of you that it was an honor roleplaying with you all, and I hope that the future brings nothing but good times for each and every one of you.
    For Harmony's Light... excelsior.
     
     
     
  21. Randimaxis
    By and far, as well as sell and close, there is a momentous moment of fortuitous foresight for sights unknowable... unshowable... UNGROWABLE... to the rest of the thrice-blessed mess, I confess.  And yes, my success in besting the chest and picking the noselock free of its booger of confinement is one to be trifled - I mean, it wasn't a very good one, was it?  Don't you remember?
    Regardless of the vested interest, I still managed to find myself in the phone book - and let me tell you, it's a LOT harder to let your fingers do the walking than they ever warned me it would be!  Have you ever had to drag your entire body weight with only two fingers?  DOS DEIDOS, MI AMIGOS!  Aside from really, reeeeeeeeeeally getting some nasty paper cuts, I managed to survive long enough for the buff stuff in my duff to start playing it rough; Hell hath no fury like a sandpaper-blasted hobo with a nailgun and a flaming pickle in his beard.
    He didn't even HAVE a beard - quite a feat, but he still pulled it off.
    And it STUNG... SO... BAD to pull that beard off, especially whisker by whisker; Bucky Shoo told me it felt like a tiny little guy with a posthole-digger, walking across your face and stomping holes out of it.  If I could get him to pay attention to the blackheads, I'd settle for allowing it to continue... but the miniature man might make much more mystery moving mentally, so I taught him telepathy...
    ... well... I meant to teach him telepathy... but I taught him homeopathy instead, and now he insists that I need more mustard every day.  I told him to call the colonel and get a Clue, but he was far too busy Plumbing the professor with the lead rope in the observabrary to even pay attention.  Cheapskate - won't pay attention, homage OR it forward!  Can you believe such a persnickety person provides palatial port-a-potties?  No?  WELL GO SOAK YOUR FEET, THEY PROBABLY HURT!
    Eventually though, all things must come to an end - good or otherwise - and when it reaches that point in the current crazed narrative that I am supposed to stop
     
  22. Randimaxis
    The Blackwater Quarry is a permanent emerald mine located within the Crystal Mountains, a simple mountain road between it and its' closest neighbor, Canterlot.
     
    The quarry itself is surrounded by a large iron and steel wall, standing at an impressive twelve stories tall. A rather modern elevator system is in place for non-pegasi to reach the top quickly, and there are numerous defensive positions that can be taken in the case of an attack - of which there have been zero.
     
    Inside the circle of the massive wall is the quarry itself, consisting of the quarry yard, the gem refinery, two rows of sturdy equipment sheds, the lunch trailer, the sleepover barracks, the Pony Express office, the water tower and the vault. A lot of open ground is in the yard and staging area, due to the need to run minecarts in and out of the Blackwater Mines, located past the sheds and up the hill.
     
    The Blackwater Gem Refinery is a marvel of clockwork and steam technology, using hoofmade machinery to cut, polish and grade precious gemstones - particularly emeralds. Fed from belts at the drop-off end of the refinery, the finished products come out carefully weighed and sorted by grade and type.
     
    The rows of sheds are multi-purposed; one is operating as a home/workshop, and another is the medical services area. A number of them are still used for simple storage, while a few are still mostly empty.
     
    The Pony Express office is actually a two story cottage that houses the quarry's mailmare, and acts as a package delivery service as well as the typical letter/scroll delivery system.
     
    The Blackwater Vault is actually the large boulder sticking out of the ground at the end of the rows of sheds. The huge rock has been hollowed out, and has two strong and THICK steel doors that are magically enchanted to only open for a certain special kind of key. Inside, there are rows of shelves containing all the family's riches, including the famed Blackwater Emerald, a four-story tall column of pure emerald, expertly cut and hoof-carved with runes and scrimshaw.
     
    The sleepover barracks are for miners who either don't have a home to sleep in, or those who work extra shifts. The beds are free to use, and tend to be just comfy enough to get a decent night's/day's sleep, depending on the shifts. Curfew is midnight; any pony cought outside the barracks after hours without permission may be subject to suspension of that worker's sleepover usage rights.
     
    The lunch trailer is a sizable permanent trailer which houses the quarry's staff kitchen. It has a number of modern conveniences, including a walk-in freezer and a twin counter flatgrill. There are picnic tables set up nearby, as well as a condiment cart that is usually kept rather neat, despite the rough nature of the workers.
     
    Along the backside of the gem refinery is a path that rounds the edge of the quarry and heads up a hill to where the Blackwater Manor lies. Completely inaccessible except through the quarry or flight, the manor house is a three story, 55 bedroom mansion that extends back into the mountain itself; roughly one-third of the entire building is completely covered in rock.
     
    The manor house itself is a very stately, subdued home; architects and artists can easily see how the different levels were added at different eras, yet were all carefully crafted to blend in with each other. The resulting architecture is rather a treat to behold, and unique in all of Equestria due to it being built onto again and again as centuries passed.
     
    On the side of the Manor, out of sight, is the garage where the family keeps their modes of transportation. Within it are three carriages, two wagons and a hoof-crafted automobile, as well as the toolbenches that make up the workshop area.
     
    An ivy-grown path leads from the far end of the manor's property and through mountain scrub pines and rocks to the area known as Blackwater Ridge. Surrounded by the rusted remains of what was once a foreboding-looking iron spire-tipped fence, it is the family cemetery. There are a number of beautiful statues and aged tombstones here, as every Blackwater who lived on the property (with certain exceptions) is interred within.
     
    Not too far from Blackwater Ridge is another pathway that leads down into a hidden valley. Sitting in the bowl created by three intersecting mountain peaks, there is an overgrown statuary garden. Amazing statues of the Two Sisters are here, as well as countless other works buried beneath the vines and scrub brush.
     
    These are the basics of the Blackwater Quarry, the biggest supplier of emeralds in Equestria.
  23. Randimaxis
    The mud was the worst part.
     
    There had been nothing but hardship since yesterday, when this whole mess began. It had been quite an issue to begin with, dealing with the other ponies in town while they laughed at him behind his back. He did not care if everypony else told him he was hearing things; Serious KNEW they were mocking him. Not a single pony in the small hamlet he'd grown up in had ever believed there was gold in the mountains to the north; they were foal's tales, many would state.
     
    Yet everything Serious had read and studied over the years told him there was SOMETHING up there - the conditions were too ripe for there to be no crop, so to speak. Yet still, they thought it was absurd for Black to sell his family's cottage and try to invest his entire life's savings in a 'pipe dream'; even the Mayor had told him so. He ground his jaw yet again, the old habit slightly comforting and familiar in the wilderness of the mountains.
     
    Perhaps telling the Mayor that he was a jackaninny for not granting Serious the permits he wanted to start gold mining wasn't the brightest of ideas, but that old nag wouldn't know a sure thing if it flew down and bit him on the flank. And yes, flipping over the Mayor's desk and scattering his scrollwork might have been a bit extreme, but the fool hadn't even considered Serious' claim. And so what if he'd bucked the door off its' hinges as he'd left in a huff - he'd been angry, that was all... the Mayor had told him he was a raging idiot, yet Serious KNEW there was value in the rock here - he could taste it.
     
    The air gave off the tiniest, faintest hint of what Serious considered to be 'the scent of money'; it was what his own grandfather would have followed right off a cliff, if that's what it took to get to the bits at the other end. It wasn't so much that the Blacks were known to be greedy... but you'd have an easier time asking a Hydra for a safe ride through the Everfree in it's mouth than you would have asking a Black for a loan. Of course, it hadn't even been mentioned that roughly half of the entire village had been built with supplies HIS family, himself included, had gathered and prepared - and most of that work had been for free... most of it.
     
    Since his exile (because the Mayor didn't take well to his little display), Serious had found himself dealing with every single little irritation that Nature could have cooked up for him. The bugs had been merciless in the muggy summer heat, there had been roots that seemed to pull at his hooves, and the rain had seemed to center on his general area as if it had been tied to his tail. Still, he kept forging ahead, and he was determined that he would get his hooves on a chunk of gold, even the smallest sliver, so that he could go back to town and put it right under the Mayor's muzzle and laugh.
     
    But the mud... it had been sucking at his hooves for miles, had gotten ground into his thick black coat, and had required thorough wiping from his face a few times, thanks to those puckish roots tripping him to the ground. Serious was in no way adverse to hard work - no Black worth their saltlick was lazy - but he did try to keep fastidiously clean... which the mud, in all its' mucky glory, was proving to be the downfall of all his efforts.
     
    He growled uselessly at the wet dirt squelching underhoof with each slow, laborious step. The muscles in his legs burned, but the cool wet gunk under him did absolutely nothing to ease his troubles - in fact, it was almost as if Serious was taking every incidental slight as a personal affront to his existence.
     
    Of course, Serious Black had always been a touch grouchy, even as a young age. He hadn't played with the other colts and fillies that were his peers, he hadn't been very social as he'd gotten to his adolescent years, and now as a young adult, he was more grumbly than ever. He was in full realization that he wasn't very friendly - and it suited him just fine; he had no aspirations to be any sort of social pillar. He didn't need friends anyway; they simply ended up asking for favors and speaking unkindly about you behind your flank.
     
    When the raindrops began to spatter upon his neck again, he swore loudly - yet another habit that did nothing to endear him to the locals. If he was going to make it through yet another night on this sorry mountaintop, he knew he would have to find some form of shelter from the elements; he was already nursing a wet sniffle, and he didn't want to deal with anything worse than such.
     

    =================================================================================================


    He had made it to the patch of land that he'd used his entire savings to invest in... and knew he'd been taken for a fool.
     
    The shoddy map that had been drawn for him had been sold to Serious with the promise of a beautiful and idyllic spot; this clearing was between two mountain peaks - and looked as though it was nothing more than solid, rocky ground with a few scrub pines and absolutely NO signs of hospitable reprieve. The amount of bits he'd paid for it was phenomenal - and the actual land itself was considerably less than such.
    Again, Serious swore, his loud outburst scaring a number of lollygagging birds into taking wing. With a resigned sigh, he untied and dropped his pack; for better or worse, the land belonged to HIM now, and he was determined that he would find SOME sort of use for the place... after all, he was bound and set against the idea of simply giving up; wouldn't be anything left to do but die, if he did. His own father and siblings had all passed, one by one, into the realm of death... and he'd never known his mother; she'd given her own life for his at birth. But this was long ago, and a burden he'd borne for years - it was hardly worth thinking about anymore.
     
    He began to unload the pack, and set up a tent to sleep in while he stayed here - he wasn't welcome back on Mane Street anymore, so this would have to do as his new home... at least for as long as he lived. Serious had never known a Special Somepony... and with his attitude, he was fairly sure that he never would. It didn't bother him so much - when all you had to care for was yourself, you could manage quite well. It did hold the harrowing implications that Serious Black, last of the Black family line, would never be able to carry on the family name, and was therefore the last of his kind.
     
    He tried not to think about that too often, but when he got deep into the cider, the thought would rip away any stability Serious might have had - he'd spent a few nights crying over how bad things were... but those moments had been in private; the townies all operated under the impression that he was incapable of emotions other than hate, since they'd never really seen him emote in such a way. Not like they'd ever been interested in speaking to him anyway... but, since the feeling had been mutual, and had been for a long time, he didn't care. Not anymore.
     
    Regardless, he made himself focus on the here and now, and began to look over the entire area, seeking out good place to start digging - he might as well try, though he seriously doubted he'd turn up with anything worthwhile...
     

    ====================================================================================================


     
    The emerald vein was thicker than his own barrel.
     
    He'd been here for almost two weeks now, and had managed to put together a regular routine: Wake up, breakfast, pickaxe, lunch break, pickaxe, supper, bathe in the nearby mountain creek, sleep... repeated again and again until Serious could do it by rote. There had been no visitors, no days off, no distractions. And also, no gold. He hadn't actually expected to find anything valuable, though he'd held out for the hope that there would be SOMEthing here...
     
    Of course, precious gems would do in a pinch, he supposed.
     
    The more he struck at the rock face, the more emerald he found; the deposit was ENORMOUS! There was no way of knowing whether or not it was all one solid chunk until he got it all freed from the rock face - but he now had a MUCH better feeling about the property. Why, if this deposit was as big and valuable as he hoped it was, he'd build a home on this very spot! It was secluded, it was peaceful, and it was ALL HIS. He was pretty sure the fool who had sold him the property hadn't ever dreamed there would be something like THIS just under a few feet of rock!
     
    Now, he'd have to either head back to Mane Street in the small hamlet he'd left to make the sale, or he'd have to head to the next closest township; it had been the seat of Discord's reign of Chaos, which had only recently been ended by the Alicorn Sisters, Celestia and Luna. Ponies grateful to the duo were beginning to build up a lot of the area around their castle, and Serious knew it wouldn't be too long before it held its' own city name. There would be traders there, he was sure of it.
     
    He set his forehead against the cool, rough ore and sighed, a tear rolling down his muzzle; he'd actually been successful - the pony that no one thought would ever make any good has finally had their ship come in - and that ship was emerald green, just like his father's coat had been. It was a sign; it HAD to be. Now, he was in charge of his own Fate... and he felt secure in his future as a rich-... no, a wealthy pony.
     
    Who would laugh at Serious Black now?
     

    ==========================================================================================


     
    The pawn shop mare giggled behind a manicured hoof.
     
    "My apologies Mister Black, but 'tis true - emeralds simply do not sell very well. It has been so for decades; the market dried up during Discord's 'Emerald Rain' period, when the lousy things were everywhere... again, I am so very sorry."
     
    Getting over her initial reaction to his proclamation of what he had to sell, she now truly did look sorry to have to pass the news to him. She did genuinely feel bad for him; he seemed so desperate for a win of some sort. And let it never be said that the shrewd pawn broker, Fair Shakes, wasn't a fan of the underdog, as it were. Plus, in his own gruff, brash way, she thought that Serious was cute... seriously cute.
     
    Of course, she had to be somewhat picky in this case - after all, it wouldn't be much longer before her pawn shop would have to go into hock itself; nopony wanted to buy anything - only sell. As a pawn shop makes no bits when bits keep floating out the door in the form of sales, though a few emeralds would bring in a bit of cash - gems always sold, no matter what - but she knew the stallion in front of her was going to be upset. The pittance a few glimmering green rocks paid out wasn't worth much... but she had to make something, and soon.
     
    She sighed, giving him an appraising look before stating, "Well, I suppose 'tis possible I could take a gander... 'twould bring what harm? How far into the mountains is your find, exactly?"
     
    Serious was taken by surprised, but he wasn't about to allow this opportunity to slip through his hooves.
     
    "Well, uhm, er... 'tis north; FAR north - but not too far. Near a quarter-day's journey, to be true."
     
    Serious hadn't ever known anypony who would willingly suffer his company - and he might have never truly taken notice of anypony before, but Fair shakes was just pretty enough to attract his attention. He was internally trying to question himself as to why he was thinking about such a thing now, of all times - but this was a SALE, first and foremost.
     
    "You would... accompany me?"
     
    The mare could see he wasn't expecting any interest in the sale; all the same, he did have a certain... charm... that she found endearing in his pleading eyes... which happened to be the same color as the emeralds he sought to bargain away. And she did have an interest. In the emeralds. Yeah. This deal, she HAD to see through - not that she had any sort of greed; can anypony truly blame another for wanting something just a bit more than they have?
     
    "But of course; thou art a gentlecolt, I assume? I shall be safe on the journey?"
     
    Serious pulled himself to his full height, which was considerable - he had a tendency to slouch, so he didn't seem as imposing. The result of his posture change was impressive - he actually was strikingly handsome when he wasn't slouching, grumbling and holding a sour frown. She now took notice that he had a good bit of muscle... and he had what looked to almost be a negative amount of fat on his sturdy worker's frame. He nodded, trying his very best to appear stoic and able-bodied.
     
    Shakes grinned in that mysterious way mares sometimes have of smiling at somepony, and said, "Then let us be off, shall we?"
     

    ===================================================================================================


     
    "This is... is..."
     
    Fair Shakes and Serious Black stood side by side, looking up at the large chunk of emerald ore he'd managed to unearth. It was as big as a house; it still had chunks or rock stuck to it, but the rest of it seemed to have a bright green glow in the fading sunlight. It was quite a beautiful sight, to be honest... certainly one of the prettiest things Shakes had ever seen.
     
    She turned to look at Serious, her muzzle in shock. "ALL this is yours? Emeralds may not sell, but THIS much would still fetch quite a lot of bits at market - simply for the purity!"
     
    He looked at her and gave her a sly half-grin. "Yes ma'am - 'tis mine, and mine alone."
     
    "Alone?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Thou hast no family? No parents, nor foals or... a wife?"
     
    Serious caught the hesitation in asking about a wife; did she have an interest in him? He pondered the possibility for a moment - if it was so, he dare not rush into things. If being on the accursed stretch of land had brought him wealth, it would pay for itself... but if it had brought him love...
     
    Now Serious was the one who lifted a brow. "Your interest is merely of a professional nature, or is it more... personal, dare I be so bold to ask?" He had a feeling this would be the right question to ask, and now might be the best time to ask it...
     

    ==============================================================================================


     
    The wedding had been somewhat barren, as Fair had only a few relatives who would even approve of the exiled stallion, and Serious had nopony but himself. Still, for what it was worth, the ceremony was short and sweet, and they both came from the simple chapel-house with smiles on their faces, now forever united in mare-trimony... and that included the small fortune they had begun to make by ekeing out the emeralds to the non-local traders' caravans, sending them out into Equestria and possibly beyond. That had been Shake's idea, and Serious had truly grown to love her shrewd business mind; it had begun to provide for them more than he'd believed possible.
     
    He had even managed to get enough time and supplies together to construct a small, yet sturdy house near the rocky shelf above the clearing - it was far enough above the area to see not only down into it, but out across the expanse below the mountain range itself. The cabin had been meticulously made, as Serious was determined his life would be played out upon this stage here, amidst the peaks and scrub trees and emeralds...
     
    And in the company of his smart and wonderfully wily wife.
     
    And, eventually, their six children, as well.
     
    Though Serious Black had originally thought himself to have been completely taken for a fool, instead he discovered that this land was exactly what he wanted, after all.
     

    ============================================================================================


     

    EPILOGUE


     
    The Canterlot Archives show that Serious Black married Fair Shakes, and fathered four colts and two fillies - all of which ended up staying on the property their father had originally purchased, resulting in an expansion on the cabin and more regular digging activity.
     
    Serious Black passed away at an elderly age, and was the first of the family line to be buried in what is now known as 'Blackwater Ridge', the family cemetery. The small and respectable statue on his grave was sculpted by his youngest daughter, the old-world master sculptress, Chisel Black.
     
    In modern times, the ground Serious broke to find the enormous emerald is now the site of the quarry's very modernized Gem Refinery.
  24. Randimaxis
    He looked over the wires leading to the detonation box for the umpteeth-dozen time, nervous energy frittering away at details that he was already 110% certain were properly set and ready. Nothing to leave to chance, one might think - but after so many checks, there was no doubt LEFT in him; it was pure physical habit by now.
     
    Actually, more like a facial tic that refuses to quit.
     
    Pitch had used a lot of explosives in his colthood; he had NEVER used this much all at one time. He wasn't afraid, though - not at all. It was more like the opposite was true; he was so excited, he was about to simply EXPLODE with anticipation!
     
    He had checked the wind, made the precise calculations, and completed the circuits as perfectly as his brilliant mind could focus... when it DID focus, that is. Though he had never really known much in the way of anything 'soft', there was no denying that what Pitch Black lacked in physicality, he more than made up for in brains.
     
    Twisted, addled brains... but brains, all the same.
     

    ===========================================================================================


     
    His grandfather, Serious Black, had been the one to get everything started here, and it had now fallen to him to keep it going. The problem was, there was nothing to keep going WITH; the gigantic emerald that had been originally uncovered by Grandpa Serious had been chipped and whittled away until not a single sliver was left of it.
     
    The resultant emeralds, once cut and shaped, had been of exquisite quality and had gathered a slow, yet steady market for the semi-precious gems. Though there had been many talks of the value of emeralds increasing, Pitch had yet to see it, even once. Luckily, the market was just frozen - not dropping... though it had gotten to losing bigger and bigger chunks of the original ore to make the same profits.
     
    Nothing lasts forever, and the same can be said of giant emeralds; whittled away to nothing, it left the Black family with a bit of a savings... but not enough to last for the rest of their lives. Pitch was the only Black that had stayed here at the family boarding house after the rest had all gotten 'The Wanderlust', and went into Equestria... possibly beyond.
     
    And here was poor Pitch, left to look after the old homestead as it floundered and sunk into debt. Debt that wasn't looking as if it would solve itself anytime soon... and debt that none of the other Blacks would claim responsibility for. It would be up to him to find a way to solve this issue, and hopefully soon.
     
    And a solution was already in his mind.
     
    From an early age, he had always had a fascination with fire, and the things that made fire. Though there were a number of different substances and materials that worked rather well in fire, there was one in particular that had captured Pitch's attention since the earliest days of his colthood:
     
    Black Powder - or rather, the dynamite that contained it.
     
    Pitch's father, Tar Black, had been quite a prospector when he was young, trying to scout the area around the mountain to find anything that was even close to the value of Serious' find; he'd tried for years until he'd simply hung up his gear and became a grumbly old nag who sat around drinking cider and telling stories of how great he had it as a colt. As a result, he had a good bit of quality equipment stored at home -including his stash of prospecting tools, rigging for demolitions, an entire case of dynamite and ragged fuses for each questionable stick.
     
    Pitch found them at the tender age of five.
     
    The first thing he did was blow up a farmhouse.
     
    Okay, NOT on purpose - but that fact didn't seem to matter to the farmer ponies who came charging after him with shovels and pitchforks. He had wanted to test out exactly how powerful these things were, so he'd planned to simply light one and throw it into one of the farm's many haystacks. He figured the hay would take the brunt of the blast; at worst, there would be hay everywhere.
     
    The sheer magnitude of the blast was far, FAR more than he'd expected; the haystack didn't just go all over the place - it was obliterated... along with roughly half of the barn that had been a wee bit too close to the pile of straw. To say the farm owners took it badly was putting it mildly; there had been talk of civil action until the family simply moved away, opting to leave rather than fight the (at the time) rather rich Black family.
     
    Tar hadn't been pleased with Pitch; it had been several months of rock-kicking before the errant colt had been allowed to have a day off... and his siblings had teased him mercilessly. But they were gone, and there was to be no further income from this stretch of land, and Pitch was left here all by himself to tend the land while his siblings roamed Equestria looking for fortune and fame.
     
    He DID miss them; his family didn't actually HATE him - they just had their own lives going on, and they had each sort-of expected him to stay here anyway. Honestly, he had sort-of been expecting to stay, too - he couldn't be mad at them for being right. So, eventually, they all said their goodbyes and went on their merry ways, leaving Pitch all by himself.
     
    All by himself. With a plot of rather useless land. And enough dynamite to blow everything here to Tartarus.
     

    ================================================================================================


     
    If he started with the west wall, then the vibrations from the falling rock should carry along the mountainside, and collapse both sides of the canyon-like mountain area where the emerald had once stuck up from the ground. It would fall in on itself like a box whose sides had been taken away, and the entire plot of land would be buried under rubble, including the boarding house itself.
     
    Which, incidentally, had been insured by Grandpa Serious a long time ago for a LARGE sum of bits.
     
    Armed with this knowledge (and plenty of dynamite), Pitch set about to lining the western-most wall of the mountainside with sticks of explosive doom, wiring them together for maximum effect. Once finished, he stood back from his work and smiled - this was gonna be an ENORMOUS explosion, and Pitch would be the ONLY one to see it... so he could blame it on a rockslide and claim the insurance, hopefully settling his family's debt and maybe even having a bit or two for himself in the end.
     

    =======================================================================================


     
    The handle was calling to his hooves, repeating his name like his mother, calling for him to wake up in the morning.
     
    The explosion will be beautiful, Pitchy; don't you want to SEEEEE iiiiiit?????
     
    He looked back along the mountainside for the twenty-third 'one last time', then could no longer hold back his anticipation - he gave a half-whinny, half-mad-giggle sound that would have made any sane pony think he was insane, and shoved the plunger down into the box with BOTH hooves, grinning like he'd just found his Special Somepony... and her name was Kaboom.
     

    ==============================================================================================


     
    There are a number of things that sometimes simply happen: accidents, mistakes, coincidences, deja vu... they are a common part of life; the unexpected can change your life, if you aren't careful. Sometimes, you manage to get yourself into a world of trouble thanks to a single decision, and Fate laughs cruelly at you as you sit and wonder where it all went wrong.
     
    Then, there are MIRACLES.
     
    When the wall went, it didn't collapse in a line like Pitch planned; it all fell STRAIGHT DOWN, piling up at the front door of the boarding house, yet not even disturbing the rosebushes his sister had planted outside. His plan had failed, and worse? He'd used up ALL his remaining dynamite to arrange this - he'd assumed he wouldn't need to make a second blast!
     
    However, when he looked up at the mountain, his jaw nearly hit the ground.
     
    From one side of the mountain wall to the other were large, warped-looking green stones that seemed to almost thrust into the open air like it had offended them. It was emerald, LOTS of emerald, in several chunks that put Grandpa Serious' find to shame! They jutted out from the wall like jagged, twisted fingers, grasping greedily for the open sky.
     
    At first, Pitch simply stood there, agape at the sight in front of his eyes. Then, he began making his way to the house; he had to send word out to ALL of his family that could be reached by post, and implore those in turn to locate the ones that were out of writing's reach. There was reason to come home now - they wouldn't have to roam Equestria even one more day.
     
    And he wouldn't have to be alone ever again.
     

    ============================================================================================


     

    EPILOGUE


     
    The Canterlot Archives show that Pitch Black never married - yet he remained on the Black property, living in the boarding house there through its remodeling, and was known as a strange, but playful and well-intentioned uncle to his siblings' children.
     
    Pitch Black passed away at the latter end of his middle-aged years due to illness, and was interred at 'Blackwater Ridge', the family cemetery. His headstone marker still has scant traces of child drawings, lovingly made, that depict what looks for all intents and purposes like a colt/filly riding on the back of a stallion whose coloration would have matched Pitch's own perfectly.
     
    In modern times, the area where the mountain wall was brought down is now where the rows of storage sheds are found, though The Blackwater Vault, located at the end of the rows, came later.
  25. Randimaxis
    [STORY TIME]
     
    It was a chilly evening in the Doodleybob Forest, and a number of critters were just getting ready for bed... but not Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie.  He was getting ready for the slumber party he had been planning all week, and his little whiskers twitched with excitement as he busily prepared for his guests.
    There was a lettuce leaf he'd been keeping nice and crisp in the river water, and a stray gumdrop he had rescued from the sidewalk, and a big ol' chunk of oozy, gooey apple dropped from a pie, and a whole thimbleful of cheese cracker crumbs.  All of these were laid out carefully, ready for Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie's guests to arrive.
    The first one to arrive at the slumber party was Shiny The Toy Robot, with his oversized gym sock as his sleeping bag.  He had also brought some screws to nibble on - but Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie politely declined, as he couldn't eat metal like Shiny could. 
    Next was Dinah Squirrel, and she didn't bring a sleeping bag.  "When I lie down, I cover myself with my big, bushy-wushy tail," she explained.  She had also brought some acorn cookies, which Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie knew she would share with him.
    Soon after, Stevie The Stork knocked at the door, with his long and lanky leg.  He had a school backpack with him, and he said it was his favorite sleeping bed, so he just brought it along.  He had also brought along some fresh cherries from Miss Avery's garden, across the way.  They were as big as Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie's whole head!
    Last, but not least, Big Joe Toad showed up.  He had brought an old oven mitt, which fit him perfectly and looked funny, as his big ribbity eyes were all that peeked out of it when he put it on!  He hadn't brought any food, but he did bring a big bottle of grape juice.  Even picky ol' Rocky The Rabbit, who usually grumbled about everyone, had to admit - Big Joe Toad always had some mighty fine grape juice.
    Once everyone was there, they all settled around and began to tell ghost stories. 
    Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie told the tale of the big, black snake that lived near the forest, and the others laughed and huddled in their sleeping stuff. 
    Shiny told them a story about a mad scientist, and they squealed in fearful glee. 
    Dinah told a story about the ghost under the Cobble Street Bridge, and she made scary sounds and faces to go with them.  
    But when Stevie started on his own story about a mysterious knocking at the door, they all jumped and shrieked when there really WAS a knock at the door!
    "I-i-is it a gh-gh-gh-gh-ghost?"  Stevie asked as he shivered in fright.
    "Is i-i-it a m-m-mad scientist?"  Dinah squeaked from behind her tail, where she was hiding.
    "IS IT A BLACK SNAKE?"  Shiny said - he didn't shiver because robots don't shiver when they're scared.
    And Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie was absolutely petrified; he couldn't move a single inch, and his little whiskers jittered and shook with fear.
    But Big Joe Toad wasn't afraid - not even a little bitty bit!  He got up out of his oven mitt and went right to the door, opening it juuuuuuuuust a peek to see who was outside.
    But that was some dumb shit to do.
    Into the home of Mr. Puff-Puff barged none other than Mean Myrna Mole and Argyle Fox!  They slammed through the doorway, and both of them grabbed Big Joe Toad by his froggy neck.
    "PAYBACK'S A BITCH, MUTHAFUCKA!" yelled Argyle as he slammed his steel crowbar across the top of Joe's head, smashing his left eye into a pulp.  Myrna was busily and rapidly shanking Joe's right side with a long, sharp shard of glass.
    The other critters screamed as they watched bloody vengeance being served in the most fucked up way possible - by ambushing a toad at a slumber party.  Myrna howled with laughter as she twisted the glass shard in his side, and Argyle began to curbstomp his amphibious ass.
    Stevie The Stork collapsed into a heap in the corner, pissing himself thoroughly.  Dinah Squirrel began slowly yanking out the fur in her tail as she watched, and kept muttering gibberish as she watched the carnage unfurl.  Shiny simply shut down - but it would take years of corrective programming to fix his roboty soul.
    And Mr. Puff-Puff Mousie just screamed and screamed and screamed.
     
    {Da Moral}:
    Ain't shit.
     
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