/mlpol/ - My Little Politics

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Writefag Support Circle: A Gathering of Based Gentlemen Who Smoke Pipes.
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Hello. This is the second thread of the writefag circle, here: >>299458 →

Basically all that is said in that OP applies to this one but I'll go through the 'rules' of this thread here as well.

So, the main point of this thread is to facilitate and enable Anons' writefagging; in a similar way pride facilitates and enables aids.;^P The Anons in this thread can be seperated into two camps: Anons who wants help with their writing project(s) and Anons that feel inclined to help those aforementioned shrek-colored skinheads.

Crafting and beta-reading is what we do here, any critique of literature not made by a guy submitted for this thread should be incidental; it should be when you —as a beta-reader of fics posted ITT— make a comparision between the fic your reviewing and some other story for the sake of demonstrating your point, whatever it is.

This is NOT: A review thread for unsolicited rants about random media which does not fall into the mold for how to use a refrence in this thread described in the above paragraph. Meaning if you're not using —like, let's pick something arbitrary— Naruto for a comparision in your critique of someone's writing itt, then don't bring it up. I understand that tangents can happen and if it's like a few exchanges with a pair of posters; then it's fine. However, don't make this a pattern and also move whatever off-thread-topic discussion to a more fitting board/thread. There's after all no problem with finding someone to converse with and share perspectives on a subject you care about but just take it to an appropriate thread. Sidenote: Nigel, these rules applies to you in a stricter fashion because I would not have to detail them with this much precision if it weren't for you.

I hope that I haven't scared anybody off. This is still suppose to be a chill af thread. Funposting is very much allowed and encouraged. It really is more that some type of posting —like, things that are completely irrelevant to the thread— does not belong here. I know, rocket-science and a rule that is seldom seen and highly unique for this thread. Perhaps you could call it a... Novelty. (You) intelligent lurker, obviously get the subtext of this OP so you probably won't need to worry about any of this. I'd say if you're unsure if what you're about to post belongs in the thread, then post it anyway. The worst that can happen is that someone tells you to move it to another thread and you get a better insight of what post belongs in thread. If you consist on fish and chips, however, I'd sugguest you think twice on what you're posting and perhaps even ask beforehand if your rant about lefties and Undertale belongs here.

If there are any questions on the OP, ask away?
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Pulp magazines contained some of the best literature America ever produced. If you like these sorts of stories, you might want to check out Raymond Chandler's novels. The Long Goodbye, The Little Sister and The Lady in the Lake are my personal favorites. Dashiell Hammett is good too.
Thanks! Speaking of writing...


I wrote a fairly basic story for something, but a choice I made early on... I think it left the character with too much baggage to be her own person.

>be villain
>create artificial life form
>fill her head with 20 years of artificial memories and propaganda
>send her after the hero and tell her the hero is evil and must die for the good of the world
>they fight, collateral damage from their fight threatens innocents, they stop their fight to save lives and go "wait wtf you're a good guy too?"
>villain says "drat, foiled again"
>she turns good and kicks the villain's ass after 7 awesome levels of videogame action

I know it's basic. I'm not aiming for complicated. But I think that choice to make the villain basically raise her for 20 years from her perspective made her connection to him too strong to make her choice to betray him believable. If she just loses those fake memories or writes them all off as fake and feels nothing from them, that feels cheap. But if she's going somewhere with this idea, struggles with these feelings, that's inappropriate for the intended tone. I'm trying to make this less introspective, a previous draft was too long-winded, air pun unintended. Perhaps it is better if there are no fake memories. Perhaps she's not born due to him, just saved due to him, she's just given cybernetic enhancements and she's told to kill, she fights, she realizes she's a baddie and changes sides, and the baddie says "Well... That wasn't supposed to 'appen". No reason to ever call the villain dad in that case.
Taken as a literal story this isn't much of a story. Things were bad until humans made the thing that made things good and there was loss along the way.

But it's intended to be a metaphor for global warming. The dragon is "global warming that kills gorillions" and anyone in the way of that is "helping the global warming dragon eat people". It's not really original. It even rips off The Emperor Has No Clothes by making a kid the first one to speak up about the bullshit.


What can be learned from this writing?
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Btw, GG, I won't be able to write anything to our project before jan 21. So you don't have to stress out something now or anything, just an fyi.
just a ranom pone
Good to know, I won't stress out then. to be perfectly honest I haven't gotten anything done on the next chapter yet, so that works out. I am going to try and write some this week.
How do I write a man to be sexy? I have no idea.
Also thanks for not being faggots. This is a good place for writing talk.

I asked "What Fire Emblem 3 Houses characters feel like they're in the wrong house?" On a FE site thinking "they're familiar with the story, they'll have smart answers" but they chimped out because they thought I was daring to criticize their shit.

Edelgard's story is about shit that only matters to less than half of her squad, and a few characters who aren't in her squad but should be.

Edelgard's story is about opposing the evil alien dragon's world-controlling Church, Nobility, secret underground jewish dubstep mole people with ICBMs and a proxy war on the church, Hereditary magic supergenes and the eugenics obsessed caste society that resulted from this. That's way less important in the stories of the other houses so any character defined by any of this is in the wrong story and wrong house unless they're with Edelgard.

Edelgard saw her family die, they were test subjects for experiments to give her a second Crest. Dorothea is the only commoner in the class and life sucked for her because she was poor but then she became beautiful and she's terrified she may one day lose this and have to go back to poverty. Bernadetta was abused by her father to make her a better more submissive wife but it just made her a paranoid shut-in prone to spaghetti spewing panic attacks. Caspar was denied his rightful inheritance due to lacking a crest but he doesn't let that get him down and calls Edelgard a faggot when she tries using a conversation with him as a chance to solioquize about her hatred of Crests. And the others... are there. Massive missed opportunity to explore sociopolitical conflicts through these characters. Hubert was Edelgard's simp ever since he was six, this ruthless cold schemer tries hard to seem edgy but is good hearted. Ferdinand is a good hardworking noble guy who fancies himself Edelgard's rival but she's got better shit to do. Linhardt's a lazy nerd who likes sleeping and researching crests but he has no personal stake in the subject unlike based Hanneman. Petra's a foreigner who is not having the good grasp on speaking goodly.

Meanwhile Sylvain of the Blue Lions is a flirt who takes what he wants from hoes and dumps them when he gets bored or they ask for something he doesn't want to give. He has zero respect for hoes because he's used to them being status-seeking moneygrubbing whores who only see him for his Crest and what it can do for their bloodline. And in the early chapter dedicated to "crests bad, nobility bad" it's Miklan, Sylvain's older brother, who became the leader of a band of thieves after being disowned for lacking the Crest Sylvain had. Miklan robs a tomb to get a Holy Weapon only the Crested can wield, is transformed into a monster for lacking a Crest and dies. Sylvain keeps the lance.

Lysithea of the Golden Deer is fucking dying because of the immense power of having two Crests forced into her. Whoever told me to give Silver Star a terminal case of dying, you're a motherfucking genius. It's intensely tragic. This little girl is trying so fucking hard to be a big girl and be seen as a big girl. She wants to leave her parents enough money to live comfortably before she dies. She doesn't want to feel like a burden. That's so fucking beautiful and sad! And if the player doesn't know to recruit her she blames the Adrestian Empire instead of the jews controlling its Emperor.

These characters are defined by shit that doesn't matter at all to Dimitri's gay quest or Claude's "oh shit we writers shoehorned Claude in at the last minute because Three Houses sounds more marketable than Two Houses and we forgot to make him matter to Dimitri and Edelgard's war. Better give him a different storyline entirely about killing the underground jews and their bonesword-bearing baritone bara boss since the other storylines are too long to spend any time addressing the underground jewish problem" mess of a story.

This whole story is a gay mess. Ambitious with dark mature themes but fumbled execution in a lot of places. Maybe route splitting early on was a mistake, clearly they didnt have the time or money to flesh out all four fucking routes plus a fifth from DLC.

How could the Black Eagles be improved, if the goal was to give each character a personal stake in seeing the underground jews killed and their medieval setting reformed for the better no matter the cost?

Ha ha ha! Good shit! Writer comedy.
Christ I've gone so far up my own ass with this writing shit I could call my large intestine the director and my sphincter the co-writer, with special thanks to the protein cookie and berry smoothie I ate for breakfast.

"I want to save the white race by making a turn based strategy game about burning and zapping and drowning Orcs and slashing them to pieces with giant swords and blowing them up with pipe bombs and magic plants. How do I make the writing subtly, and with plausible deniability, introduce basic unpozzed logical western thought to those who have never heard a nazi speak in their lives outside of jewish fiction and explain the obvious falsehood of the holohoax to horny chuunibitch weeaboos so desperate for masculine western media and male role models they latched onto blue haired ladyboys in tights surrounded by fat anime tits for seeming like high status men worth emulating and imitating?"

I'm a rookie writer.

And I'm trying to do something that has never been done before, probably.

There is no book on how to write based pony fanfiction or based medieval era fanfiction or based fantasy novels that can stand on their own as something unique while also redpilling viewers.

Every analysis video I can find for any piece of fiction that was ever good and popular was written with a leftist slant to some degree.

Can't watch a video praising Avatar's handling of the Big Bad Evil Guy or Magic System without some faggot calling the Fire Empire "nationalist" for being forced to fight and die for the Fire Lord's ambitions. Oh sorry, Fire Nation. They should have called it Fire Empire.

Brandon Sanderson seems like a smart guy but he did not write a video series explaining the basics of turning horny anime lovers who want to ride centaur hoes and warm snake whores from the inside and play esoteric digital board games into nazis who understand why it is morally wrong to flood white nations with third world sewage and oppress anyone who doesn't notice almost as hard as you oppress anyone who does.

Whenever the topic of politics in fantasy comes up in multi hour youtube analyseses the guy either says obvious advice like "Dont be bad. Dont be obvious. Dont be annoying" or retarded alien jewish advice like "to ensure the readers dont think the evil organization is cool and worth idolizing despite how much evil shit it does to kittens, puppies, blind crippled orphans, and the heroes, make sure that it is a mean rude anti individuality organization that treats its evil underlings like shit and doesnt let people express themselves because that is truly the highest evil".

I have absolutely no fuckmothering idea what I am doing. I need to scale my ambitions down and make something quick and small so I can learn from feedback instead of trying to make my first work the magnum opus of my career.
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Dumping this autism I wrote for a request in another thread, because it doesn't really fit the topic of that thread but would probably be fine here since this is just a general writing thread. Fair warning, this is going to be a lot of autism, and it is mostly just being sharted out on the fly with little to no editing. If anyone wants me to stop just say so, I can move it to ponepaste or hackmd.

Anyway, for context, here is the anon's original prompt:

>>357169 →
>A (multi)crossover:mlp:fim+sign(1and2)+zootopia+Beastars+Seton Academy: Join the Pack!.,
>(Maybe some: Pokemon,Avengers, Harry Potter, Power Rangers,MiB,Monsterverse,Rick & Morty, Monster Hunter, Jurassic Park, ThunderCats,etc.)
>Genres: noir, comedy, steampunk, teslapunk, magicpunk, etc., AU

And now, without further ado, I give you:

Twilight Sparkle's Magical Crossover Adventure

Chapter 1:

Twilight Sparkle stared silently at the black casket in the center of the room, piled high with flowers. The mourners around her were all sobbing openly, but Twilight could only stare. She had no more tears left to shed.

The lid of the casket was closed. It wasn't hard to imagine why. To their credit, the Canterlot Police had hired the best in the business to see to it that the body was handled cleanly and respectfully. But even the best in the business could only do so much.

Next to the casket was a photograph of a blue hedgehog in police dress, which she imagined bore little resemblance to whatever was left of him inside that box. He was smiling so brightly in that photo. He looked so full of life. But even that image didn't do him justice. Her partner had been one of the best cops she'd ever known.

Twilight looked at the casket again and shook her head. Poor Sonic. He was so fast, but he wasn't fast enough to outrun that train.

The eulogy was suddenly broken by a loud, anguished wail from the front of the congregation. It came from the widow of the deceased, a pink hedgehog named Amy Rose. As ever, it was painful to watch.

"Well," said PewDiePie, once Amy had quieted down. "That's it for my eulogy. Don't forget to like and subscribe. If the family and friends of the deceased would like to accompany us to the graveside for the interment you're all welcome to do so, otherwise there are refreshments in the hall."

Twilight watched as the casket was wheeled out of the room, trailed by a howling Amy and a somber procession of Sonic's closest friends and relatives. She didn't want to attend the graveside ceremony. She didn't think she could handle that scene. This was enough. She'd paid her respects.

She trotted out into the hall, where a table laden with snacks had been set up. She helped herself to a doughnut and some coffee.

"Pretty sad funeral, eh Sparkle?"

She recognized that shrill, harsh voice.

"All funerals are sad," said Twilight simply. She turned around to see Rainbow Dash's fat ass scowling at her.

"Hitler's funeral wasn't sad," she scoffed.

"How would you know?" replied Twilight. "Were you there?"

"Of course not!"

"Then I guess you wouldn't know if it was sad."

"Oh, come on, Sparkle! He was literally Hitler!"

"So? Just because he was Hitler, that means no one was sad when he died?"

Twilight's voice was hollow. Ordinarily she wouldn't let a two-bit has-been cop like Dash get to her, but today grief had made her numb.

Rainbow Dash just grinned, and not in a nice way. Dash was a butch lesbian, and was attending the funeral with her wife Gardevoir, who was trans. Dash had been all muscle once, but a couple of years of desk work had turned her soft and pudgy.

"Your partners have a way of dying on you, don't they Sparkle?" said Dash, changing the subject. "This is...what is this? Your fourth? Fifth? Funny coincidence, all those bodies that keep piling up around you. Ponies around the precinct are saying you're bad luck to work with. Is that all it is, Sparkle? Bad luck?"

Twilight said nothing. She refused to let this tubby-ass pegasus mare bait her. When she saw that her taunts weren't working, Dash rudely shoved her out of the way so she could grab a doughnut.

"Anyway," continued Dash, chewing noisily as she talked, "I don't think anyone wants to be you right now, Sparkle. The Chief's gonna have your badge over this. How long do you think you can keep getting away with these kinds of stunts?"

Twilight said nothing. Dash swallowed the last of her doughnut and grabbed another one.

"Well, whatever," she mumbled, spitting crumbs as she talked. "You just watch your back, you hear me Detective? You've got a lot of eyes on you."

Twilight watched silently as the fat pegasus waddled away.
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Chapter 2:

As Dash had predicted, Twilight was called into Chief Luna's office first thing on Monday morning.

"You wanted to see me, Chief?"

Chief Luna scowled.

"Sit down, Detective!" she commanded. Twilight did as she was told. "I don't suppose I have to tell you what this is about?"

"Is it because someone wrote 'for a good time call Chief Luna' along with your phone number on the bathroom wall? Because I swear it wasn't me."

Luna scowled.

"Can the jokes, Sparkle, I'm not in the mood to laugh. And you shouldn't be either. Sonic the Hedgehog was a good cop."

"Sonic the Hedgehog was the best cop that ever walked a beat," replied Twilight flatly. "And who's laughing? I'm certainly not."

"Are you >implying that I am?"

"I'm not >implying anything."

"You sound like you're >implying something."

Twilight said nothing. Luna narrowed her eyes.

"Come on, Detective, out with it," she snapped. "If you've got something to say, then say it! I'm not in the mood for any song and dance."

"Sonic was set up," said Twilight bluntly. "And whoever did it tried to frame me. You know it and I know it."

"I don't know anything, Sparkle," snapped Chief Luna. "All I know is that you've had five partners in five months, and all of them are pushing up daisies right now."

Twilight said nothing. Luna sighed heavily and opened a desk drawer with her horn magic. She levitated a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Twilight.

"Thanks," said Twilight. Luna lit both of their cigarettes, and then turned to stare pensively out the window. The city below them was dark and cold and merciless. Also, it was populated by cute little ponies, who were also dark and cold and merciless.

"You're a good detective, Sparkle," she said finally. "You've closed more homicides than anypony else on the force. But you take too many risks. You're a loose cannon. A liability."

Twilight blew out a puff of smoke.

"So is this it?" she demanded. "You've finally got your chance to eighty-six me, and you're gonna take it? You must be thrilled. You've been after my badge since day one."

"I know that's what you think, Sparkle," said Luna bitterly. "But believe it or not I'm the best friend you've got around here. You know how many times I've run interference for you behind the scenes? If the Commissioner had her way you'd be out on your ass faster than you could say Jack Robinson. But you're a damn good cop, Sparkle, a damn hell ass good cop, and maybe the only honest cop I've got. So I'd like to keep you around."

She sat back down at her desk and did a line of cocaine.

"Want to do a line of cocaine?" she asked. Twilight shook her head.

"No thanks, I had one with breakfast."

"Suit yourself."

Luna did another line of cocaine.

"Anyway," she said, "As it turns out, it's not up to me anymore. Word came down from up above. You're being reassigned."


"Yeah. This guy will be able to explain it to you."

Suddenly, a portal to another dimension opened, and a man stepped through. Twilight was so surprised that her cigarette fell out of her mouth and set the drapes on fire, but fortunately Luna put them out.

Chapter 3:

"Nice to meet you, Detective Sparkle," said the man, who was wearing a black suit with a black tie and black sunglasses. "I'm Tommy Lee Jones, head agent or something with the Men in Black. My name isn't really Tommy Lee Jones, it's something else, but I don't remember it."

"You don't remember your name?" asked Twilight Sparkle.

"Yeah," said Tommy Lee Jones. "We use that memory flash thing a lot, and I'm pretty sure I've suffered brain damage from that."

"What memory flash thing?"

"Don't worry, you'll find out all about that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to step through this portal with me into another dimension."


Twilight looked at Chief Luna, who was puffing her cigarette and watching with a sullen expression.

"This comes from above us, Sparkle," she growled. "My hands are tied here."

"You don't have hands."

"Well, neither do you. But if either of us did, they would be tied. Even Commissioner Celestia has no idea where this order comes from."

"That information is classified," said Tommy Lee Jones. "At least I'm pretty sure it is. Like I said, I have a lot of brain damage. Anyway, what did I just ask you to do again?"

"Step through this portal into another dimension?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, let's do that."

Twilight Sparkle didn't really want to step through a portal into another dimension. The last time she'd gone through a portal into another dimension it had gotten her partner killed. Not Sonic the Hedgehog, a different partner. Dash was right, she really does have a lot of dead partners. At some point I'm going to have to make a list so I can keep track of them all. But anyway, just then, she didn't see as how she had much of a choice. These orders came from the top.

"Alright, let's go," she said.

And together, she and Tommy Lee Jones stepped through a portal into another dimension.
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c33AE (1).jpg

Chapter 4:

Tommy Lee Jones and Twilight Sparkle emerged from the portal in the main headquarters of the Men in Black. I remember there was some kind of giant air vent thing in the lobby for some reason, but I could be wrong about that. It's been a long time since I've seen that movie and I never saw any of the sequels. Anyway, they went through the secret door that I'm pretty sure is in there somewhere, and then they ended up downstairs in the secret government area with all the aliens and shit.

"Here is our secret government area," said Tommy Lee Jones. "It's where we keep all the aliens and shit."

"Neat," said Twilight. She was really beginning to regret not taking Luna up on that line of cocaine she had offered. "What exactly is this assignment anyway?"

"That's classified," said Tommy Lee Jones.

"You said that already," Twilight pointed out. "But even if it's classified, don't you have to at least tell me the mission? Otherwise I won't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Oh, right, that actually makes sense. Sorry, I really do think I have brain damage from that flash thing."

"What is this flash thing you keep talking about?"

"Oh, that? Here, watch."

And with that, he took some kind of magic penlight or whatever the fuck out of his pocket and put it in front of Twilight's cute little edgy detective-horsie snoot, so close that he almost booped her. But instead of booping her, he pressed a button, and there was a bright flash. Twilight blinked.

"How do you feel?" asked Tommy Lee Jones.

"Uh, pretty much the same as before," said Twilight. "Only I don't remember how to do long division."

"Welcome to my world, then. Thanks to this stupid thing, I've forgotten more things than you'll ever remember. In fact, doing that to you just now made me forget my social security number."

"What is it? Some kind of CIA brainwashing device?"

"Probably. I'm pretty sure that information is either classified, or is part of the large number of things I can't remember. Anyway, what were we talking about?"

"My mission."

"Oh, right, that. Yeah, here, step into this room."

Tommy Lee Jones opened a door, or maybe he pushed a button and the door opened itself because it was one of those science fiction doors that moves up when you push a button. It goes "woosh" and all that. Inside the room was a black guy who was wearing a suit. He looked just like Tommy Lee Jones, except he was black and not as old. Actually, he looked more like Will Smith than Tommy Lee Jones.

"This is Will Smith," said Tommy Lee Jones. "Until last Tuesday, he was one of our most important agents. However, he is no longer able to go on missions."

"I no longer have time for your trivial missions, Agent K," said Will Smith.

"Agent K, that was my name in the movie," said Tommy Lee Jones.

"Right. And I'm agent J. I checked Wikipedia. Anyway, that's no longer important. Point is, I am no longer able to go on alien-hunting missions for you."

"Yes, I know that, but thank you for clarifying the exposition for our protagonist here."

"Happy to oblige."

Tommy Lee Jones turned to Twilight Sparkle.

"This is a classified government secret so I'd appreciate it if you didn't go spreading it around, but Will Smith is single-handedly responsible for every rap song recorded since 1995," he explained. "We created rap in the late seventies to counteract the rise of Japan. Japan later responded by turning several generations of our children into weeaboos. Part of your mission will involve fighting Japan."

"I still don't know what my mission is," said Twilight Sparkle.

"I'm getting to that. At least I'm relatively sure I am. Anyway, Will Smith usually handles this sort of thing, but he's currently unavailable for missions."

"You're damn right, Agent K," said Will Smith.

"I'm damn ass hell right, Agent J," said Tommy Lee Jones.

"Right," agreed Will Smith. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to Los Angeles to record Dr. Dre's new album Holy Jeez I Jes Shat Me Britches."

"Godspeed, Will Smith," said Tommy Lee Jones. And then Will Smith left the room.

"Was there a point to that?" asked Twilight Sparkle.

"Who knows? I sure as hell don't."

"Well I sure as damn ass hell don't either."

"All right then. Now, Detective Sparkle, if you will please follow me."

And then they left the room through another one of those sci-fi doors that go "woosh."
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Chapter 5:

Tommy Lee Jones led Twilight Sparkle into a room with a big screen and switched on a projector.

"What am I looking at?" asked Twilight, wondering what she was looking at. It turns out that what she was looking at was a crime scene photo, which was a normal enough thing for her to be looking at, considering she was a detective and all. However, this particular photo happened to be of a rabbit wearing a police uniform, who had also been disemboweled. And if that's not edgy enough for you, I can also mention that her eyeballs had been torn out and replaced with baked potatoes.

"They also drew a giant cock on her face using her own blood," explained Tommy Lee Jones. "Although one of our investigators wiped that off."

"You still haven't told me what I'm looking at," said Twilight.

"What? Oh. I thought the narration cleared up most of that."

"Not for me."

"Oh. Well, okay then. This is Officer Judy Hopps. She was killed last Tuesday."

"Should I know her?"

"Not unless you spend a lot of time in Hogwarts-Digimon Universe #4. Now, on to the next slide."

He pressed a button and changed the slide.

"This is Lion-O, from the Thundercats. Or at least it was, until some sick bastard decided to shove an entire honey baked ham down his throat and suffocate him."

Twilight sat up alertly.

"Wait, I know that guy!"

"No you don't. At least you don't know this version of him. This version has a mustache."

Twilight squinted at the slide.

"But he doesn't have a mustache."

"Well, he doesn't anymore. Whoever killed him desecrated his corpse by shaving it off."

"Bastards! Wait, what was that about him being a different version? And what does all of this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that, Detective. How much do you know about crossover fanfiction?"

"Uh...nothing. What's crossover fanfiction?"

"Oh damn ass hell! Aren't you the Twilight Sparkle who likes books?"

"No, I'm the Twilight Sparkle who solves mysteries and swears a lot. You damn bastard. Also, there's only one of me."

"That's what they all say. Well, if you don't know then you don't know, but this makes my job a bit harder."

He took a deep breath.

"Crossover fanfiction is when characters from one universe are brought into a different universe to go on adventures with the characters who live in that universe. Alternatively, some crossover fics will involve characters from multiple universes going on adventures in a universe alien to all of them. There are many directions you can go; the only rule is that in order to be considered a crossover, characters from two or more unrelated universes must be included."

"That sounds pretty gay."

"It's extremely gay. However, quantum theory or something like that probably states that any idea that can be imagined springs into existence as its own separate universe the moment it's conceived. The advent of crossover fanfiction has given rise to a countless number of exceedingly complicated universes, all of which need to be policed by a covert government agency for some reason. That is the job of the Men in Black."

"I thought the job of the Men in Black was to fight aliens and stuff."

"That's the Men in Black from the Men in Black universe. We're the Men in Black from the universe where Hercule Poirot is an exotic dancer, and Atticus Finch is Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan."

"Those last couple of references weren't quite autistic enough for me, do you have some better ones?"

"Yes. This is also the universe where Tony Stark and Peter Parker are in a common-law polygamous marriage with Legoshi from Beastars, and Stark is also a trans woman who fights crime as Iron Ma'am."

"That's better."

"Anyway, here's where it gets interesting."

He switched slides again.

"I believe you know this hedgehog?"

A brief pain shot through Twilight's heart.

"That's my partner, Sonic," she said. "Or at least, he used to be my partner. He was killed in a train accident two days ago."


Tommy Lee Jones switched slides again.

"This is Sonic's partner. She was the one who was killed in a train accident two days ago. In Steampunk Noir Equestria #5."

Twilight gasped, because she was looking at a photo of her own murdered corpse.
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Chapter 6:

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Twilight Sparkle, pointing towards the thing of which she wanted to know the meaning, which happened to be the picture of her dead and deceased murdered body.

"We were hoping you could shed some light on that, Detective Sparkle," replied Tommy Lee Jones. "And also please write it down, because I have trouble remembering things."

"There's nothing to write down," said Twilight. "I don't understand this at all."

"Good. You passed the test."

"This was a test?"

"Yes. We had to make sure you weren't one of them."

"One of who?"

"The Japanese."

"Who are the Japanese?"

"You can tone it down a bit, Detective, you already passed the test."

"Okay. But I still don't know what this is all about."

"Well, I'm going to tell you."

"Are you about to tell me right now?"


"Okay then, I'll stop talking."

"Thanks. Anyway, here's the deal. These murders all have the same M.O., and we've found similar clues at each crime scene: hair follicles, fingerprints, and a calling card left at each crime scene announcing that the murderer is a secret agent working for the Japanese. We believe we're looking at a serial killer who travels across different crossover universes murdering different characters. What we don't know is why."

"That's some fine detective work."

"Thanks. Now, here's where you come in."

Tommy Lee Jones pressed a button and the slide changed. Twilight was now looking at a picture of what looked like Canterlot, except it was covered in dense fog, all the buildings looked fancy and old, and the ponies were all wearing old-fashioned coats and top-hats.

"This is Canterlot, but not the Canterlot you'd be familiar with," said Tommy Lee Jones. "This is Canterlot from Steampunk Equestria #4,287. We have intel suggesting the killer will strike here next."

"And you need me to infiltrate this version of Equestria because I'm from a different Equestria and would be able to fit in?"

"No. We need you because you don't hate the Japanese, or even know who they are. All of our agents hate everything Japanese with a livid and fiery passion. Especially anime. That hatred clouds our judgement, and in a case where we're facing an adversary this Japanese, we can't afford to take any risks. So we need somepony neutral."

"Why are you so convinced the murderer is working for the Japanese?"

"Because he left a calling card, explicitly stating that he was working for the Japanese."

"Couldn't that just be a red herring?"

"No, I don't eat fish."

"Oh. All right then, I guess I could use a vacation. When do I start?"

"Not so fast, hot shot. We had the Canterlot P.D. fax over your record, because it's 1997 here and we still use fax machines. You've got citations and demerits up the ass. You're a loose cannon, Sparkle. That's why we're pairing you up with one of our agents for this mission."

He pressed the button again, and the slide changed.

"This is Special Agent Harry Potter. He's going to be your partner for the course of this investigation."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am serious. And don't call me Shirley."

"I didn't."

"Oh. Well, good. Because I'd genuinely prefer it if you didn't. Anyway, you've got a partner now and you'd better get used to it."

"But Harry Potter sucks millions of dicks!"

"Exactly. With the mission you're going on, you're going to need a partner who sucks millions of dicks."

"That doesn't make sense."

"No, but it might make dollars." He pressed a button on the intercom. "Agent Potter, would you come in here please?"

The science-fiction door went "woosh," and in stepped a fourteen year old boy wearing round glasses and a British-looking school uniform.

"Hey, man," he said, in a spaced out voice. Twilight noticed his eyes were a little red, and his tie was crooked.

"Twilight Sparkle," said Tommy Lee Jones, "Meet Special Agent Potter. He's going to be your partner for the next few weeks."

Tommy Lee Jones shut off the slide projector, and put his hands down on the table, staring at them with a serious expression.

"Now you listen here, Sparkle," he said. "You've got a reputation for trouble, and I don't want any funny stuff. The two of you are going to do this one by the book. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Sir yes sir!" said Twilight Sparkle, completely out of habit.

"Uh, sure man," said Harry Potter.

"Good. Now the two of you had better not screw this up, or I'll have both of your badges. Now get to work!"
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Chapter 7:

Twilight Sparkle and Harry Potter stepped through the interdimensional portal, emerging on a train platform somewhere in the Equestrian countryside. Twilight was now dressed in steampunk fashion, with big ostentatious goggles and all that kind of shit. Harry Potter had taken off his school uniform and was now wearing a Cypress Hill T-shirt.

"Alright, Potter," said Twilight. "I don't like you, and you don't like me. But we've got a job to do, and the chief wants it done by the book. So let's put our differences aside, and maybe we can--"

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry. "I think I just figured something out!"


"You're a talking horse!"

After this he laughed hysterically for eight solid minutes. Twilight raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, I've been meaning to ask you about something," she said. "You're a little bit...uh...different from what I was expecting."

"Like, how, man?"

"Well, for one thing, you keep using words like 'dude' and 'man' and laughing all the time. Isn't Harry Potter supposed to be a wizard-in-training, or something?"

"Oh, yeah. That's 'cause I'm not Harry Potter, man."

"You're not?"

"Nope. I'm Harry Pothead. I'm a cheap knockoff from a stoner parody universe."

Twilight scowled.

"Well, doesn't that just beat all," she said. "On top of everything else, Tommy Lee Jones gave me the wrong partner! Now we have to go back to the Men in Black universe, and--"

"No, the assignment's correct, man," said Harry Pothead. "Agent K wanted us both on this mission. It was, uh...hold on, what did he say again...?"

He fished around in his pockets for awhile, eventually producing a wadded up piece of notebook paper. He uncrumpled it and squinted at his spidery handwriting.

"Oh yeah, that's what he said. He said that he wants you and me together on this assignment, man, because it's a suicide mission and we're both expendable."

Twilight Sparkle kicked a pebble.

"Well, doesn't that just beat all," she said again. She could almost hear Rainbow Dash's fat ass laughing at her from the shadows. "Oh well, let's just get this over with. What's our mission supposed to be again?"

Harry fished around in his pockets again and pulled out another wad of paper. He skimmed over his various notes and scribbles.

"Uh, it looks like we're supposed to go to..uh...Cramberlot? Camembert?"


"Right, man. We're supposed to go to Canterlot and pose as students at Celestia's Academy for Gifted Wizards and Whatever."

"What are we supposed to do there?"

"Look for the murderer I think. The guy who's supposed to get murdered next is named...uh...hold on, man, I think it's on another sheet of paper."

He fished around in his pockets some more until he found the right note. Twilight tapped her hoof impatiently.

"Looks like the guy's name is uh...oh, shit. That's pretty crazy man!"


"Looks like the guy's name is...Harry Potter."

"Oh, what the shit! Are you sure you're reading that right?"

"That's what it says, man. Here, take a look."

He passed her a crumpled up sheet of paper covered in scribbles. The handwriting was very hard to read in places, but the name "Harry Potter" was clearly visible next to the word "target." She sighed heavily.

"Oh, whatever. Let's just get this over with."

She skimmed the rest of the document quickly.

"Alright," she said. "According to this itinerary, our train should be arriving soon. We're supposed to board it at platform nine and three quarters. Do we have any idea where that is?"

"I'll go ask this dude," said Harry Pothead.

He approached a tall and statuesque pony wearing steampunk goggles and a top hat.

"Hey man, do you know where platform nine and three quarters is?"

The steampunk-pony looked at him disdainfully.

"Platform nine and three quarters? Are you trying to be funny?"

"What? No, man. You see, me and my unicorn friend need to get on the train to the magical castle, man. I'm gonna be a wizard!"

He began to giggle hysterically. The steampunk pony grunted.

"Fuck off, stoner," he said. "I don't have any spare change."

And with that, he turned around and fired up his steam-powered jet pack, because that's a thing here and he has one. He put on his goggles and flew away. Then, a train pulled up.

"Oh, wait, here's platform nine and three quarters," said Twilight. And then they boarded the fucking magic train to the fucking magic school at the goddamn magic castle.


...and that's all I've got so far. This was pretty much all written in one long sitting and this is the first time I've read through it. Hopefully someone finds it funny. I will continue it later, probably.
This is excellent so far! I like how the elements that make up these sorts of stories are parodied. In an infinite universe, no one organization or alliance of organizations could ever police it all. Even dedicating their organization to spreading out through the multiverse and getting more branches in more universes to make more branches dedicated to making more branches that branch out, even if the organization tried to spread like a virus it would never affect all of the infinitely expanding multiverse. Or even a significant portion of it. Their quest to homogenize the universes would never affect enough of them to matter. If a new universe exists for every idea ever, and any new universe can be made by any new idea by anyone in any universe, any effort to control the exponentially expanding multiverse would be worth less than an atom in a flood. The MIB would be a transparent plot device even if they didn't answer "why?" with a joke, and that's the sort of plot device these stories rely on. The most popular crossovers don't cleverly blend stories or their themes, they just combine iconography and names and cliches. Like a lobby full of VR Chat characters from various media properties.
>Be (You)
>You're also known as Anonymous.
>Today is a great day.
"Gettin' paid an' rubbin' down the hoers. Yeah, gettin' paid an' rubbin' down the hoers."
>"He's getting paid just as his forefathers did."
>"Turning every town to a gushy zone!"
>"He's going to give them his-"
"I'm going to give them my-"
"Thanks every pony we wrapped it up under a minute, cards will be available at the princesses' garden tea party with the expert fornicator Anonymous."
>Horsy cheers arise as the song and dance leads into your practiced advertisement.
>Hearing 'em sing praises of your rod of power-
>-that means your dick-
>-gets old fast as the singing and dancing get more daring.
>The lawyer department made certain that anything under the effect of the horsy singing and dancing is near unassailable legally.
>Ponies sure love to party in every way.
>Especially the big pony in charge, speaking of big pony-
"Your highness."
>Taking a bow for the solar mare Celestia the big booty bombshell busting open the royal wallet for the citizens and her fellow royal princesses.
>She gracefully repositions her tail.
>"Anonymous are you ready for tonight's entertainment?"
>She is really asking if you can bust a nut.
"You betcha plasma pony. Fully loaded just for the occasion."
>Training in horseland actually works far better
>something something magic genetic resonance
>down time is lowered, viable cum loads enhanced, and things tend to go better when you're in the groove.
>"Excellent, I'm sure you know how excited my former student is about this get together."
>Wet enough to replace all the lakes.
>Walking side by side with Celestia so you don't get lost and admire her personal moons.
"Is it ponysonal?"
>Sometimes even your 'tisms can't be contained with this place's magics.
>"Oh Anon you're a barrel of fun."
>You're pretty sure she's contemplating the last couple of times you and her and that one maid assistant did pony twister.
>Saddly this is not to be. A moon princess horsie bursts through the haree than strone walls of the castle.
>"It is time Anonymous for the main show please awaken whwn you're ready."
"Time to fuck ass and chew bubblegum. And I'm all out of gum."
>You wake up, it's pitch black in the cake.
>Going over recent events calms the mind and flesh.
"Who's ready to party!"
>"We are! Hey! That's my line."
Kek, this is absurdism done well and it reminds me of Internet Historian's storytimes. I like that you included Harry Pothead as well.
Oh hey! I've been looking for threads like this one, althugh by the looks of things it seems like you guys alredy have a fair bit of your own writing projects in the proccess already.
I was hoping that I could offer my old CYOA drafts that I haven't touched in a long time to make into proper stories or maybe even the CYOAs they were meant to be? I'd be happy to post them once there's enough interest shown in them.
I believe GlimAnon seems to have suggested the idea of publishing the story to FimFiction? I just might do the same too, if no one objects to such an idea.
>anti-sjw pokemon game where the villain is Antifa, the cops are on their side, and the government is trying to take your guns- I mean pokemon
>your friendly rival is personally involved in the nation's struggle and trying to abandon her heritage won't stop the monsters from hating her
>annoying rich cunt rival joins the villains to assuage his white guilt despite not actually doing anything moral. Instead of giving cash to charity he just becomes a woketard asshole so he can smugly judge others.
>in the final hour it turns out the woman in charge of antifa was just doing what her dad told her
>he's an evil old businessman who strongly resembles George Soros
>he wants her to be a puppet president so he can control her and enslave everyone and rule the Aporue Region
>I fucking nerfed Toxapex

Am I being subtle enough here? I don't even bring up jews or nigger racial crime statistics. The villains are just hypocritical violent cowardly cucks doing what a rich """white""" ballsack man tells them to. Haha I mean business man. I was thinking if I focus entirely on mocking wokeshit and SJWs, people will get on the "owning teh libtards with facts and logic" train and eventually that train will take them to the "jews invented wokeshit and finance it" station.
Sick of the pseudointellectualism in video essays. What the fuck is this shit even supposed to mean? A cyborg is a man with mechanical bits. There's no "lived social reality" in fiction about fucking bitches up with sick cyber arms. The femtard is just waffling word soup to get her fuckwit flock of sheep to nod. Anyone stupid enough to think there's anything smart in this quote (or dishonest enough to pretend there is hoping to appeal to the feminist babykiller for profit crowd) can't have anything worth a damn to say about writing. Fuck this I'm not watching this.
I asked ChatGPT how to write the ultimate story. It gave advice.

>Use dialogue effectively: Dialogue can be a powerful tool for revealing character, advancing the plot, and creating tension. Use it to reveal information, create conflict, and move the story forward.
Fallout Equestria failed at this because dialogue is regularly used for filler or lying to the audience. Characters like Littleshit have no problem taking days off and visiting the spa when they should be searching their tower for a bomb, or taking the time to scour an entire dungeon for loot when their friend is dying of poison and she has the fucking antidote but can't spare the time to heal him because there's loot to loot and a dungeon to destroy.

>Show, don't tell: Instead of telling readers what's happening, show them through actions, emotions, and sensory details. This will help to create a more immersive experience for the readers.
Regularly failed. Kkat likes making characters tell the audience things instead of telling the audience things through narration but this is no better. Calamity has no business flirting with Velvet and calling her "loveably practical and sensible" right after she whines at him for shooting a rapist chasing a mare. We're told too much and what we're told doesn't match what we're shown.

>Use pacing effectively: Vary the pace of your story to keep readers engaged. Use fast-paced action scenes to create excitement and slow down for quieter, more contemplative moments to create contrast and build tension.
Failed. Kkat doesn't know what pacing is. When the clock is metaphorically ticking from a poisoned friend, or literally ticking from a bomb, LP will be her usual self: An inconsistent author avatar with less consistency than the average blank slate a videogame protagonist.

>Create a sense of danger and urgency: The story should be filled with a sense of danger and urgency that will keep readers on the edge of their seats. This can be achieved through the use of suspenseful music, sound effects, and descriptive language.
Still failed. Kkat loves introducing dangers and then immediately neutralizing them. Oh no, Alicorns! Except they can be crushed by heavy objects or beheaded or blown up or killed like anything else. Oh no, radioactive taint! Except it gives LP fucking superpowers. Oh no, instakill lasers! Except it only takes a rib from LP and she gets better.

>Use symbolism and motifs: Use symbols and motifs to add depth and meaning to your story. This can help to create a sense of cohesion and make the story feel more meaningful.
Kkat does not understand symbolism or motifs, he simply transposes modern day Equestria into Fallout land and fills it with evil murderhobos for the designated good murderhobos to kill. 60 years after the bombs fell, after Ponyville became Raiderville, locations like Rarity's store and Twilight's tree library are still recognizable to anyone who watched the show just like Fluttershy's retarded cottage which was being used for slavers to stage death battles between foals.

>Use foreshadowing: Use foreshadowing to hint at future events and create a sense of anticipation. This can be a powerful tool for building tension and keeping readers engaged.
Kkat thinks foreshadowing is when you do whatever you want in the moment and then edit a chapter 30 chapters ago to offhandedly awkwardly mention something existed or possible, if you remember to do even that. The story is so filled with clutter and red herrings that guessing at what Kkat will do requires understanding retard logic.

>Make the stakes high: The stakes of the story should be high, with a lot riding on the outcome. This will create a sense of tension and urgency and make the story more engaging.
Nobody ever thought Littlepip would die halfway through the story she was narrating from the future. She had to be alive so she could start narrating her life story in the weather machine while her friends presumably fought and died and lost lives outside the weather machine. Saving Equestria was a foregone conclusion, and the question of "how" was entirely uninteresting.

>Be consistent: Be consistent with your story's tone, pacing, and characters. This will help to create a sense of continuity and make the story feel more cohesive.
Complete failure on this point.
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Guys how do I use Pokemon for a gun control metaphor where the libs want to make us working class whites to be powerless and make gun ownership a luxury only affordable by the ruling class and their armed guards?
You don't.
But the comparison is right there! It's probably been done a million times with the baddies being the enemy of superpowers and individuality and the lower classes having any means to resist corrupt authority and exorcise it from positions of authority. Talking about the jews in govt and sandniggers invading us is too obvious and talking about rapestein island is too dark for a kids game like pokemon but there are a million things to hate the libtards for and some of them continue to make sense even in a crime free childish utopia like Pokemon land.
Didn't BNHA did something like that? At least the gun control bit.
I haven't seen much of BNHA so far but the way you need a hero license just to be permitted to use a power you were born with always bugged me. Not a generalized safety certification with a mental health test but an explicit pledge to support the government and make this your lifelong career along with firefighting and other hero duties.

I was thinking every Pokemon game needs an "evil team" like Team Rocket. There needs to be a morally righteous goal you're working towards as you travel, a goal beyond collecting pokemon for a professor and kicking the ass of thirteen named characters to prove you're the best pokemon trainer now.

Antifa is pure evil and it's dishonest about that. It punches down at censored protestors and thoughtcriminals who can't fight back. It has police and government protection as it attacks innocents those in charge want attacked. It claims to protect the world from the boogeyman of fascism as it behaves worse than the fictional fascists who supposedly arrested innocents. It directly takes orders from glowies, though the glowies would likely claim they are govt informants infiltrating the organization if caught and dragged to any place willing to prosecute and imprison them. In a region where the government wants a monopoly on power, guns, and legally permitted use of firearms, or the pokemon equivalent of that as guns dont exist, these are its enforcers. And its hypocrisy is as obvious as its lies. It's the most perfect candidate possible for a villainous team besides rapey exploding foreigners or cartoonishly corrupt cops in face covering masks.
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>be me
>Ash Ketchum
>50 years old now
>sitting on my front porch when I hear the news
>Pallet Town just passed Prop 44
>it is now illegal to carry a Bidoof in public areas without a permit
>buyers must wait 30 days and pass a (((psych evaluation)))
>I can't say I'm surprised
>I'm bitter
>I'm frustrated
>furious, even
>but the one thing I'm not is surprised
>this has been going on far too long for me to be surprised anymore
>it started off innocently enough
>"we just want some common sense restrictions," they said
>"we're just looking out for the children," they said
>"come on, be reasonable," they said
>I mean, nobody needs a level 60 Metagross for home defense, right?
>a level 90 Rayquaza? are you trying to compensate for something?
>come on, man, when the Founders wrote that Amendment in, they never envisioned trainers would one day be catching Moltres and Registeel
>I mean, come on, man
>come on, man
>come on
>those of us that objected were dismissed as paranoid cranks and conspiracy theorists
>but sure enough, we were proven right sooner than anyone would have imagined
>at first they just came for the legendary and the mythical
>but just a couple of years later they were coming for the common poison and the electric types
>then the rock types
>pretty soon even the grass types weren't safe
>nowadays you can't even catch Magikarp without a permit
>I hear the sound of a passing car and I'm immediately on guard
>Misty is right, I need to relax
>all this anger is bad for my blood pressure
>but I can't relax
>I look around me
>take in the degradation and the squalor
>Pallet Town used to be a nice place to live
>now it's nothing but boarded up houses and crack dens and Popeye's chicken as far as the eye can see
>just last year they bulldozed Professor Oak's old house to build a damn Foot Locker
>another car drives past
>I can almost physically feel my blood pressure rising
>there could be NIGGERS in that car
>there could be NIGGERS anywhere
>NIGGERS carrying Latios and Mesprit and God only knows what else
>somehow, the regulators never seem to go after the NIGGERS' Pokémon
>"Aim to be a Pokémon Master" reverberated the car as it passed, even as the 9 Pokédollar wine coursed through my powerful thick veins, washing away my (merited) fear of minorities armed with psychics after dark
>I feel my old friend rubbing up against my legs in a gesture of comfort
>I reach down and give him an affectionate pat
>he climbs up into my lap
>my oldest Pokémon
>my favorite
>the one who's been with me since the very beginning
>if they think they're going to take this one away from me, well...
>come and take him, you bastards
"From my cold, dead hands, Pikachu," I whisper. "From my cold, dead hands."
"Pika pika!" he says.


It's literally that easy, dude.
Thank you, this is excellent.
Is it too much if the TV demonizes anyone who wants to keep their guns, insisting we need next week's gun control measure while everyone forgets about last week's gun control measure?
The TV could slander the protagonist in a way that is, at first, played for laughs.
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
>be Obi-Wan Kenobi
>need a ship that can get you past the blockade and onto Naboo
>to attempt to fly through the blockade without official documents letting you through would be suicide
>Qui-Gon gets an idea
>let's visit Mos Eisley Cantina to recruit the most dangerous smuggler in the galaxy into our peacekeeping mission gone wrong
>as if this shit wasn't complicated enough already
>finally you make it into the cantina
>Jizzwailers (that's what they're called, I looked it up) are playing a catchy jaunty little tune.
>>Buh-BAH buh-BAH bahana, banana nananana, nananana, na...
>some angry teenager is wrecking everyone's shit in a barfight
>shoots some bug-eyed green alien faggot with a moustache in the face right in front of his bug eyed alien son Greedo
>gets knocked down by some robed faggot from behind
>dazed, angry teenager weakly raises a red baseball bat sideways to defend himself from the robed maniac swinging a metal bar at him
>pissed, angry teen gets back up and swings his red metal bat, smashes the alien's metal arm
>alien screams helplessly as he shows the audience the sparking stump where his metal right hand was
>jizzwailers continue playing
>angry teenager breathes heavy and slow through his teeth as he forcefully chokes the fuck out of this alien fuck
"Anakin Skywalker, I presume?" Qui Gon asks.
"In the flesh", Anakin smirks and flexes his robot arm before punching the alien out and into the jizzwailers, ending their performance. "Mostly."
>his shadow is... strange. Almost as if this charming loveable rogue with two laserguns and a red Rebels-branded spaceball bat is wearing a helmet and cape.
"We need to get to Naboo."
Skywalker chuckles. "Good luck with that. Naboo's under Trade Federation blockade. Nobody's getting on or off that planet until everyone the Trade Federation gets to be exempt from taxes for life. Like that's ever going to happen. If you ask me... I've seen enough jobs go south to know what it looks like when a fall guy gets double crossed. I think whoever seems to be behind this isn't really behind this."
"Interesting theory." Obi Wan looks unimpressed.
"We can't explain why, but we need to get to Naboo." Qui Gon says.
"Why, to warn the Naboos about the army approaching their capital city? Communications blackout or not, by the time you get there, I think they'll already know."
"We have our reasons. We need to get there with your ship. And we have money. Smuggler, if you forge us the documents we need to get past the blockade, we'll pay handsomely."
"Hey, I ain't no smuggler! I'm an honest bounty hunter. And if you want me to... find... some documents that... may or may not be forged... That'll be twelve thousand republic credits."
"That's enough to buy a slave woman." Obi Wan is disgusted.
"You don't say," Anakin rolls his eyes. "Come on, old timer. Cash up front."
"We don't carry that kind of money around."
"What's the matter? Your sad devotion to that ancient religion hasn't helped you conjure up some money? Or given you clairvoyance enough to get some bitches?"
"We will give you all the republic credits we have on us now and pay your full price over again when the mission is over."
"Double that price again, and you've got yourself a deal.
>Obi Wan is pissed. "You can't be serious."
"Deal." Qui Gon knows more than he's letting on.
"What are you thinking? That money isn't ours to give away." Obi Wan is pissed.
"I sense Anakin here needs the money for a noble purpose."
Anakin begins checking the pockets of those he fought and looking for his gun on the ground.
"A noble purpose." Obi Wan scoffed. "What noble purpose could a common scoundrel of a bounty hunter ever fight for?"
"The most noble purpose there is."
"Serving the Jedi way by the book?"
"No. The only force more powerful than the Light Side of the force."
Qui gon means love.
"But Master, there is no such force."
Qui Gon smiles. "I'm sure you'll understand some day."
"Master, that man is dangerous. I sense a dark side lurking within him. He's no Sith, but he's hardly Jedi material."
"If you're done talking about me like I'm not right behind you, I think you've got a flight to Naboo to catch." Anakin grabs his gun from the ground and stylishly twirls his guns before sheathing them.
>Anakin runs back into the restaurant to see a woman in rags washing dishes chained to a sink
"Ey, Ma! Ma! I've found a new job! These two Jedi are paying me enough to buy your contract out twice after I take em to Naboo!"
>there's a tender human moment where this bad boy hugs his beloved mama. Everything he did and does, it's all for her.
>Everyone makes their way to Anakin's ship, its licence plate on the back that says RDV-HTRD which is DRTH-VDR backwards so nobody notices
"I've got a bad feeling about this." Obi Wan sighs.
"I think you two will be closer than brothers in no time." Qui Gon smiles. "I sincerely doubt that."

>screen wipe scene transition

I tried writing a scene in Star Wars The Phantom Menace where Darth Vader aka Anakin Skywalker is introduced right. Not as a child actor nobody likes, but as an angry guy in his late tens or early twenties. How old was Jim Hawkins in Treasure Planet? That's how old he should be in the first one. Make him older for Star Wars 2 and 3 and state he spent the time in Jedi Training. Phantom Menace was so dull and dry. It needed buddy cop movie energy. Obi Wan is the by the book cop who learns to loosen up, Vader is the loveable rogue with a heart of gold, Qui Gon is the inscrutable old sage, maybe remove Qui Gon completely or make Dooku kill him in the first movie and die for that at the start of the third movie. Making Vader the Han Solo of the previous generation and meeting him in mos eisley or a place like it was certainly one of the choices of all time but mixing together two iconic tracks would be worth it for the reaction videos alone.

Your thoughts?
That was pretty funz, even with my cursory poke-knowledge.
>protagonist has friend who sends him heartwarming wholesome news articles periodically
>and cute cat pics and "funny memes"
>white man runs into burning building to save stranger and her dog
>white man helps starving african village
>i has a taco
>smartest african alive is a white boy, uses internet to learn how to build shit the village needs and didn't have for 6900 years but finally has thanks to white
>over time as the story gets darker the news articles go from wholesomebait to dark and serious
>six dead from muslim bombing
>I'm taking a shit and he sends me a news article: twelve dead and nine injured from muslim bombing
>people in nigger land are being killed and raped by savage superstitious lunatics and nobody gives a shit
>woman beaten to death by rape gang after being severely molested
>nigger gang of females beat harmless old man to death
>I'm within earshot of a TV, the news is blaming whites for a mass shooting, the phone dings and my friend tells me the niggers are at it again, and once the TV people hear about it too they go from blaming whites to blaming mental health before swiftly moving on to celebrity bullshit
>meme about how niggers are evil
>famous anti-white nigger got caught grooming white teenaged girls
>each news article the hero gets is another example of him being right about niggers

If the hero walked past this happening on his way to work every day it would seem excessive and if the hero was always in earshot of at least one radio or news station telling the truth it wouldn't seem like the news is against whites. But if the TV news always lied about everything important and the phone news from racists always told the truth it would be just like real life!

That should help my writing feel more true to life, right?

And if the protagonist gets invited to a group chat that can react to important shit in the story, sane voices can comment on things and I don't have to draw them or describe what they look like or sound like.
>Be Discord
>You won.
>If Discord paid attention he would have sensed a purple alicorn come through a tear in time. Who then left.
>Then again that would be
*Why He-ll-o there viewer.
~~~ ~~~
[ ] [ ]
[ 0 ] [ 0 ]
[____] [____]
*What a boring place, there's no bear bug beetles or flying honey cogs.
*Tell you what before this timeline collapses I'll send over whatever and whoever you want with the deal that randomly I'll also include someone or something else.
\ /
\ /
*Limit? That's not how this works, it's your risk and reward what you'll bring over.
*Past three things or beings of your choice I'll widen the scope for you. That means from other places such as places you might construct fictional or something unique of what I do.
*If you do bring all of this Chaos Equestria and it's surrounding dimentions I'll include a chocolate box of wishes.
*Each of those wishes, ten in total- bleh ordered details, will do as you actually desire it to work and that you won't regret it.
*If you pick nothing I'll see if the next one wants this deal.
*I'll even include a trip to wherever with whoever and whatever you want if you have them.
*What do you say?
background chaos for Discord.
>As the world begins to crumble under the pressure of the timeline shift Discord gazes far away with a grin.
>A Snap-
Based duck.
Chapter 8:

Steampunk Canterlot was a lot like regular Canterlot, except it was more steampunk. However, since Twilight Sparkle was not from regular Canterlot but Edgy Noir Mystery Canterlot, which also had Sonic the Hedgehog and PewDiePie and whoever else in it for some reason, it was a very different place from what she was used to.

"This is a very different place from what I'm used to," she said out loud. However, Harry Pothead was at that moment toking up and listening to "Hits from the Bong" on his Zune MP3 player, which he had because it was 2005 in the universe where he came from, and so he didn't hear her.

Anyway, they came at last to a huge building, which looked all Victorian and stuff except it was also Equestria, and also there were big gears and other steampunk-looking things on the building, even though they didn't seem to serve any real function. A sign on the front of the building read:

Celestia's Academy for Gifted Wizards and Whatever

"Welp, we're here," said Twilight Sparkle.

They went inside and enrolled in the wizard school, which was actually much easier to do than Twilight expected. As it turned out, in this universe, Celestia's school was basically the DeVry of magic schools, so pretty much all they had to do was give them their email addresses and pay the $50 admission fee.

"We get reimbursed for this later, right?" asked Twilight as she wrote out a check.

"Yeah, probably," said Harry Pothead. "The MiB is usually pretty good about that. I've been writing off bags of Funyons on my expense reports for years."


They went upstairs and got situated in their dorm room. However, no sooner had they changed into their school uniforms when there came a knock at the door.

"That's probably the RA coming to give us our orientation session," said Twilight. "I'll try to get rid of him so we can go search for this Harry Potter kid."

Unfortunately, though, it was not the RA. When Twilight opened the door, she saw an arrogant-looking unicorn with a blond mane flanked by two arrogant-looking flunkies.

"Are you the new kid?" demanded the blond unicorn.

"Uh, that depends on who's asking," asked Twilight.

"What? No it doesn't; either you are or you aren't."

"Oh. Well then, I guess I'm the new kid. I'm Twilight Sparkle, and this is my friend Harry Pothead. We're hoping to learn the ways of magic, and--"

"Twilight Sparkle, huh?" the unicorn cut in obnoxiously. "Twilight Dorkle is more like it."

His two flunkies laughed.

"Where did you get a name like that, anyway, Twilight Dorkle?"

Twilight raised a confused eyebrow.

"Uh, my Mom I guess. And you're actually mispronouncing it--"

"You're actually mispronouncing it!" said the boy in a mocking voice. His two flunkies laughed. "Where are you from anyway, Twilight Dorkle?"

"Uh, well, technically I'm from an alternate dimension, although I'd appreciate it if you didn't go spreading that around--"

"I'm from an alternate dimension and I'd appreciate it if you didn't go spreading it around!" mocked the unicorn. "I'm Twilight Dorkle, look at me, I come from an alternate dimension and I'm stupid and my face is stupid and my Mom gave me this stupid name because she's stupid and I'm stupid too!"

His flunkies laughed.

"Yes, that's basically the gist of what I said, although you took some creative liberties with it there at the end--"

"Listen up, Dorkle!" snapped the unicorn. "We don't like nerds like you coming in from alternate dimensions and nerding up our school with your nerdiness. You'd better watch your back!"

"Uh, okay. Thanks for the advice, I guess."

"I'll see you around, Twilight Dorkle!"

And with that he turned and strode off down the hall, his flunkies laughing alongside him.

"Uh...that was...something," said Twilight. She turned to Harry Pothead. "I sure hope everyone else in this universe isn't going to act like that."

However, Harry Pothead had taken a rather large bong rip and was now lying on his back, listening to 2112 by Rush.

"That was Draco Malfoy," came an unfamiliar voice. "His father owns the land the school is built on, and so he thinks he can get away with murder."

Twilight looked up to see a cream-colored unicorn with a brown mane, wearing the school's uniform, standing in the doorway where the blond unicorn had been.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," said the newcomer. "My name is Hermionei Granger. I have a 4.0 grade point average and am fluent in seventeen languages. I also enjoy really violent sex. You must be the new transfer student I've heard so much about."

"What? Oh, yes. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I just transferred here from another dimension. Although I'd appreciate it if you didn't go spreading that around."

"Yes, I heard you when you told Draco Malfoy the same thing. If it's supposed to be a secret you probably shouldn't go volunteering it to everypony who asks."

"Yeah, that makes sense. I was just never that good at making up cover stories. Let's just say that if anypony asks, I'm actually from Ponyville."

"It's perfectly fine with me," said Hermeioie. "Though if you're just going to make up a town you might want to come up with something that at least sounds real."

"I'm probably too lazy to do that."

"Well, suit yourself then."

"Hey actually, as long as you're here, do you happen to know a student at this school named Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter? Yeah, I know him. What is your interest exactly?"

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you don't spread this around, but I'm actually here to make sure he doesn't get murdered."

"Oh. Well, if that's the case I can save you a bit of trouble."

"You can?"

"Yep. Harry Potter is dead. He was murdered this morning."



"Well, doesn't that just beat all?"

"Would you like to see his body?"

"Sure. Might as well, I guess."
So Hermierm led her down the hall and up some stairs, then down another hall and down some more stairs, and then around several more halls and up a flight of stairs, which led to a hall that had a door at the end of it. Behind this door was another flight of stairs, only this one went in a spiral, and at the bottom of that was another hall which led to three more halls and a flight of stairs. Finally, they came to a bathroom, which was at the end of a hall between two flights of stairs.

"This is the boys' room, so it's a little gross in here," warned Hermomomeri.

She opened the door, and sure enough it was gross. There was a terrible smell, the source of which turned out to be the mutilated corpse of a unicorn with a black mane and glasses. He had been chopped up into several pieces and stuffed into one of the toilets. And if that's not edgy enough for you, his body had also been pooped on.

Chapter 9:

It was at this point that Twilight Sparkle began her investigation into the case of who killed Harry Potter and also the case of who clogged the shitter in the boys' room. She wasn't sure if the two cases were related, but she figured she should investigate both of them for consistency.

Unfortunately, Harry Pothead did not turn out to be a lot of help. Since arriving at Celestia's School for Wizards or Whatever the Fuck, he had done nothing except smoke weed and eat corn chips and listen to prog rock from the 1970s. Twilight was fairly certain he had not left the dorm room even once during the entire three weeks they had been at the school. Well, he hadn't left until now, that is. Now that she needed him, she discovered to her annoyance that he was not there.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Harry Pothead entered the room. Well, at least that was one mystery solved.

"Where were you?" demanded Twilight.

"I had to take a shit," replied Harry Pothead. "You would not believe how hard it is to find the bathroom in this place. Also, the toilet was clogged."

"Wait, do you mean the toilet with Harry Potter's body in it?"

"Yeah. Although his body is pretty much buried under crap and TP at this point."

"They still haven't cleaned that up yet?"


"Why didn't you just use a different toilet?"

"All the other toilets have dead bodies in them too."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, you know that Ron Weaseley kid? The unicorn with the orange mane? Someone decapitated him and stuffed him into the stall next to the one with Harry Potter in it. And the stall next to that has the remains of Neville Longbottom. There's like sixteen stalls in there and they all have dead students in them."

"Dang," said Twilight.

"Yeah, it's really inconvenient. It's getting to the point where nobody wants to take a crap in there anymore."

Before Twilight could respond, Hermemremeir appeared at the door.

"Hello, Twilight," she said. "Are you coming to the special assembly?"

"What special assembly?"

"Professor Dungledorb called a special assembly. He probably wants to talk about all of the murders that have been going on at the school lately."

"Hmm, that sounds like a pretty important assembly," said Twilight. "I'd better come along."

So Twilight came along. The two of them went down the hall, up a flight of stairs, down two more halls, down some stairs, up some more stairs, then they took a left down the hall, then a right, then three more lefts and a right. This led them to a hall which forked off in two directions. They took the left fork, which led them down a long hall, up some stairs, down another hall, down some more stairs, down even more stairs, down several more stairs, then up for a little bit, then down...down...down...and then up for a bit, then down, and then to a hall which led them to the school's auditorium.

A wizard pony with a beard was standing on the stage in front of the podium. The name Star Swirl the Bearded suddenly occurred to Twilight, but she didn't know why she thought that. This pony did not have anywhere near that silly a name; this pony was called Aldus Dimbledong.

However, much to Twilight's disappointment, it turned out that the assembly was not about the murders at all.

"Students," said Professor Dimpledoof, "I would like to introduce you to our newest instructor. This is Professor Snoop, he will be teaching our potions class."

"Hey y'all, snibbidy dibbidy," said Professor Snoop. Unlike most of the other students and faculty, Professor Snoop was not a unicorn. He was actually a tall lanky black guy with dreadlocks.

"He looks suspicious," muttered Twilight to herself. "I had better keep an eye on him."
Chapter 10:

After the assembly, everyone had to go to the cafeteria to be sorted into their houses, because it had been like three weeks already and they hadn't done that yet.

"Hey there, Twilight Dorkle," came a familiar voice.

Twilight turned around to see the blond-maned unicorn, Draco Malfoy, standing there with his flunkies on either side of him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"What house are you trying to get in, Dorkle? You'd better not be thinking of getting into Slytherin. That's the best house, all the best wizards go there, they don't allow nerds to join!"

His flunkies laughed. Twilight made an annoyed grunt.

"I don't really care which house I get into, honestly," she said. "I'm only at this school because I'm investigating the murders that have been going on."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," said Draco. "I'll bet whoever is doing those murders is a total nerd. He probably couldn't even get into Hufflepuff. That's probably the house you're gonna end up in, Dorkle!"

His flunkies laughed. Twilight grunted again.

"Look, I don't really care which house I end up in, but if you see anything suspicious, I'd appreciate it if you'd please tell me. Whoever is doing the murders seems to be targeting males. You could be on his hit list for all you know."

Draco scoffed.

"There's no way some nerd is going to murder me," he said. "If some nerd tried to murder me, I'd just suck his dick in front of everyone. Then everyone at school would know that he was totally gay. Anyway, talk to you later, Twilight Dorkle. And don't even think about trying to get into House Slytherin, they don't let nerds in!"

He walked off, his laughing flunkies trailing behind him.

After that, the students were all lined up for the sorting ceremony. One by one, they were led to the front of the room, where Professor Dingledong would place the sorting hat on their head.

Soon it was Twilight's turn. The hat, which could talk for some reason, began mumbling to itself like an autist.

"Hmm, what have we here?" said the hat. "Yes, I sense great power in you, great power! You could grow to be a famous wizard some day. So, what house would be best for a promising student like you. Perhaps...yes...House Slytherin might do..."

"Um, if it's just the same to you, Mr. Hat, I really don't want to be in House Slytherin," said Twilight.

"Hmm?" said the hat. "Not Slytherin eh? But in Slytherin you could be great...possibly even the most powerful wizard who has ever lived..."

"Uh, well, the thing is sir, I actually don't give a rat's ass about any of this," said Twilight. "I'm just here on assignment. Plus, that Malfoy guy keeps talking about House Slytherin, and I'd really just as soon not get mixed up in whatever his deal is."

"Hmmmmm...interesting...." said the hat. "Well, if that's the case...I will place you in........Gryffindor!"

And the Gryffindor ponies cheered.

Chapter 11:

After the sorting ceremony, they had a big celebration with punch and pie. Twilight was standing in the corner, eating punch and pie, and looking around at the students, trying to figure out who the murderer was. So far she wasn't having much luck with this murder case.

"I'm really not having much luck with this murder case," she said to herself. She turned around to fill her punch cup, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"So, you made it into Gryffindor, eh Dorkle?"

Twilight sighed heavily, and turned to face Draco Malfoy and his flunkies.

"I don't really care that much, but yes; that stupid talking hat decided to put me in Gryffindor, so that's where I am I guess."

"I knew you'd end up in Gryffindor, Dorkle," said Draco. "All the losers get sorted into Gryffindor. I got into Slytherin. That's where all the real wizards are."

"Good for you," said Twilight mirthlessly.

Draco Malfoy reached out with his hoof and slapped at the cup of punch she'd just filled. It spilled all over the floor.

"Oops!" he said. His flunkies laughed.

"What the fuck is your problem anyway?" Twilight demanded. She used her horn to levitate herself another cup of punch, because she was a unicorn and could do that. Actually, I think they're all unicorns. It's getting hard to keep track of this shit. Anyway whatever; she got herself some more punch.

"My problem is dorks like you, dorking up the school with dorkery," said Draco. "This school is full of dorks now; it's like they just let any dork enroll here."

"They literally do let any dork enroll," Twilight pointed out. "All you have to do is pay the fifty bucks for tuition. My roommate Harry Pothead made the Dean's List already, and he hasn't done anything except smoke pot and listen to Pink Floyd records since he got here."

"Back in my grandfather's time, they had standards," scoffed Draco. "They only let pureblood wizards join the academy. Now they just take any muggle that applies. There's muggles all over this school now. My father would be rolling in his grave if he were dead!"

"What the fuck is a muggle?"

"My father owns this school, did you know that, Dorkle?" continued Malfoy as if he hadn't heard her. "He wants to just bulldoze it and make it into a parking lot, or maybe an apothecary or a haberdasher, since this is supposed to be a steampunk world I think. Maybe I should let him; the school is full of muggles now anyway. What do you think about that, Dorkle?"

"I really don't give a shit either way," said Twilight. "Anyway, I really need to get back to solving this murder case--"

"Are you going out for quidditch this term, Dorkle?" demanded Malfoy.

"What the fuck is quidditch?"

"Yeah, you shouldn't even bother. You'd just embarrass yourself. The Gryffindor team hasn't won a game of quidditch in 200 years."

"Good to know," said Twilight. "I probably won't bother with it, then."

"See you on the quidditch field, Dorkle!" said Malfoy, walking away with his laughing flunkies in tow.
Chapter 12:

The weeks went by. Twilight got an A on her potions exam, Harry Pothead made the President's List despite continuing to do little beyond smoking pot and exploring the prog rock of the 1970s, and all the while the bodies continued to pile up in the boys' restroom. The restroom was now so full of dead bodies that it was completely unusable; students had taken to defecating in a nearby broom closet. However, despite all of this, Twilight was no closer to solving the case.

That all changed one afternoon, when Herimimieomnemey came barging into their room.

"Twilight," said Hermeimromomy. "You have to come quick!"

"You want it done quick, or you want it done right?" demanded Twilight, annoyed at being interrupted.

"No, that's not what I'm talking about," said Herimimimy. "Draco Malfoy just made an announcement!"

Twilight allowed herself to be led out into the hall, down a flight of stairs, up another hall, down another hall, up a flight of stairs, down two more halls, down three more flights of stairs, up another flight of stairs, and then out to a fork in the hall, where she took a left, four rights, two lefts, a left, a right, two more lefts, and a right. She now stood in front of a bulletin board.

"What am I looking at?" she demanded.

"Read this," said Hernomimone, pointing at a large flyer that had been stapled over a bunch of missing persons reports.

"'To whom it may concern,'" read Twilight aloud. "'Luscious Malfoy, owner of the Property at 1802 South Polyestrus Way, Canterlot, has decreed that said Property shall be Demolished no later than March the 10th, whereupon a Permit has been granted to construct a Dining and Dancing establishment. Liquor license pending.' Okay, so?"

"So?!?" cried Hermioingenif. "Don't you see what this means?"

"Yeah, they're going to bulldoze the academy. So what?"

"So what? So what?!? This means the end of Hogwarts!"

"I thought this place was called 'Celestia's School for Horse Wizards' or something like that?"

"It is, but that's not the point. Here, read this one!"

She pointed to another flyer:

Attention Dorks and Muggles:

As you all probably know, my father, Luscious Malfoy, is planning to bulldoze your stupid magic school so he can build a gay dance club. Personally I think he should, since this place is all full of dorks and muggles now anyway and it's become totally lame. But I have talked to my father, and he has agreed to offer us a chance to save our school.

On March 9, the day before my father intends to demolish Hogwarts School for Celestia's Magical Horse Pupils and Whatever and begin construction on Club Manhole, there will be a quidditch game between House Gryffindor and House Slytherin. If Gryffindor can manage to beat us, my father has agreed not to demolish the school. However, I have added one condition: Twilight Dorkle has to be Team Gryffindor's captain.

So what do you say, Dorkle? Are you man enough to face me on the quidditch field? Or will you chicken out like you always do? Buck buck buck buck buck.

See you on the quidditch field, Dorkle!

Draco Malfoy

PS - you'd better not chicken out, Dorkle!

Twilight read the flyer and sighed.

"Look, Hermimermier," she said. "I know you really like this stupid magic school for whatever reason, but I really don't want to get involved in this. Plus, I've never played quidditch before. I don't even know what it is."

"That's okay," said Hermeirmeroemy. "I can teach you."

"The game is on March 9," Twilight pointed out. "Today's March 8. We literally have less than 24 hours."

"That's okay. We can do a montage."

"I don't have time for a montage. I have to work on this murder case."

"But that's just it!" cried Hermiomaiemey. "I think I might have a lead on the murder case for you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I've been digging around, and I've found a trapdoor in the East tower that's being guarded by a three-headed dog."

"So? There are trapdoors and three-headed dogs all over this school."

"Yes, but this one is special. This trapdoor is housing the Sorcerer's Stone. It's an ancient relic forged in the fires of Hades, that can grant immortality and absolute power to whosoever possesses it--"

"I don't really give a shit about all that," Twilight cut in. "What does it have to do with the murder case?"

"Well, I've been snooping around," said Hermionoromony, "And I think it's the Stone that the murderer is after. I've got it narrowed down to a couple of suspects, but I'm not sure who it is yet."

"Well, that's the closest thing I've had to a lead since enrolling here," admitted Twilight. "But I still don't see why this means I have to join the quidditch team."

"Because we can use the Sorcerer's Stone to catch the murderer, but we can only do that if the school doesn't get demolished. And the only way to stop the school from getting demolished is for you to become Gryffindor's team captain so we can beat Slytherin."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. What the hell; I'm sold I guess. Teach me what the fuck quidditch is, and then teach me to play quidditch."

Heormeirm led Twilight through a corridor into a hallway, and from there to a concourse, beyond which lay a gallery. This led to a staircase, which went up for several flights, down several more flights, sideways for a little while, then up some more, until they came to a junction. They went left, right, left, left, right, left, up for some reason, through a series of air vents, then down, then forward, then right, then left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, then right. This brought them to a staircase, which went up for a little while and then down, ultimately terminating in a door which led to the athletic field.

Once outside, they did a montage, and Twilight Sparkle learned how to play quidditch.
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Best advice I can give you is that humor and satire are generally better vehicles for political commentary than heavy-handed drama. Try to highlight the absurdities in your opponents' views whenever possible, and prioritize making the reader laugh over browbeating them with your own views. Just aim for creating something funny that highlights the absurdity of a debate over actively engaging in the debate itself.

>That was pretty funz, even with my cursory poke-knowledge.
I actually don't know that much about Pokemon either, I pretty much just relied on general knowledge and Wikipedia. Someone with more Poke-knowledge than I have could probably take this same idea and do more with it, it's just a matter of getting the hang of it.

Not bad. It's a little hard to follow in places, but overall I like the tongue-in-cheek humor of it. I also like that it doesn't devolve into a 90-page rant about Jews or Pokemon or Pokejews the way your writing usually does. You've written a self-contained scene that executes a premise from start to finish without running too long or going off the rails. Nice work here. You should keep doing more short pieces like this and see what you can come up with.
I love that you're giving Quidditch a reason to exist in this story. In the original I suspect it was only there because Rowling saw kids playing Football or Rugby or Rounders in the books about british kids going to boarding schools and thought
>What a silly dangerous game for kids to get so worked up about!
>I'd better invent a sillier and more dangerous game explicitly about avoiding heavy balls that home in on you, smacking heavy balls at enemy players with a bat, and doing all of this miles above the ground on sticks, and...
>oh fuck I don't know how to make Harry Potter a star in a ball game because I'm unfamiliar with sports anime.
>Better make him play a completely different ball game at the same time chasing a little golden nugget to instantly win the game with +150 points.
>Or instantly end the game in a loss if your team is has 160 fewer points than the other team when you catch the Snitch".
Thank you! I asked myself what could make the story of Vader interesting and relevant to Luke's story, and I thought making Vader the bad cop in a good cop bad cop buddy cop duo would solve part of that. The dialogue can still keep that mystical otherworldly Star Warsy quality to it, no need to drop that. He can even have douchey moments like the ones Luke had at the start of his third film when he was in danger of falling to the dark side. Probably more of them.
In this Anakin is a reckless dangerous hero with a heart of gold and a fierce temper willing to violate protocol to save lives, take risks, violate the letter of the law for the sake of its spirit. He's done smuggling and bounty hunting to save his mom in slavery, that's cooler than being a podracer boy who blows up a space station accidentally.
I can see a positive growth arc where Obi-Wan becomes less of a stick in the mud and more of a creative thinker like he was in the Clone Wars cartoon, while Anakin calms down and learns to think shit through. The best bits of the Clone Wars cartoon should have been in the movies so more people would see them, it'd be better than trying to follow that retarded cartoon that TELLS ITS STORY OUT OF ORDER WHAT WERE THEY THINKING
Then, when things go wrong, tragically, Anakin starts backsliding into his old self and gets worse as things get worse, and Obi-Wan feels for him because they've really bonded. "Anakin, no!" wouldn't just be a meme any more.
Though there's still the problem that his love story and seduction to the dark side was retardedly artificial.
Maybe if Anakin's wife was a girl Jedi instead of a boring princess to protect, she could do cool shit and the two could bond as they go on epic space adventures.
No need to segregate romance scenes and cool scenes in that case.
Anakin's wife could be a padawan, perhaps. Someone like Ahsoka?
Yeah, combine Ahsoka and Padme Amigdala (i looked her name up) into one character named Padme Amigdala. Former princess of Naboo, she quit to become a Jedi because her mom's an overly controlling asshole and her dad's a powerless spineless cuck politician.
Making her a human woman or exotic orange alien is optional. This could have been THE alien-fucker movie before Avatar.
Though even without that change, one change is needed far more.
A premonition that Padme might die in childbirth isn't enough.
Not enough to justify Anakin fucking speedrunning the downward spiral for vague powers that may or may not somehow save her.
Maybe if Anakin's wife was actually dying of Space Cancer, and the Jedi were all "It is her time. The way of the force, this is. Noble in life, was she. Let's not try to save her. Her death is beautiful and mystical and it'd be a shame to spoil it with risky medical procedures that may kill her on the operating table instead of letting her die in a Jedi temple. Only a Sith clings to life".
Wait, no, that's too much.
It's enough for her to be dying of cancer while the Jedi are just douchebags unable to offer Anakin any words more helpful than "A real Jedi would let go", and the disease is incurable with any kind of modern medicine and Jedi magic, as the medical droids trying their best to save her say...
but then Evil Emperor "Creamy" Sheev Palpatine aka Darth Sideous says something Anakin wants to hear.
>"There is a way. An old Jedi ritual. It is described in this book found in the forbidden Jedi archives only the true masters know of."
>"Those bastards! I knew they were hiding something from me! There is a way to save my wife!"
>"Gather six sinners- I mean Separatists and cast Life Drain to save your wife."
>"Life Drain? Isn't that a Sith technique?"
>"Only when performed by a Sith for ignoble means. You want to save your wife and bring balance to the force by destroying the Separatists, yes? The Force will understand. My spies have discovered where they are. Now defeat each enemy in an epic series of fights that could sustain a whole movie full of epic action, slap these electrocution handcuffs on them when they are defeated, and bring them here."
Anakin does as he is told.
Cleans up the Separatist movement, kills anyone who could have ever ratted out the ballsack man in a black cloak.
Then when Anakin finds out he only sustained his wife long enough to give birth, and used a Sith spell, he is horrified.
Then when she finds out she can be horrified. And instead of dying from a broken heart, or randomly getting choked, she can die because she doesn't want any more Life Draining going on.
And then Anakin and Obi Wan have their duel, because Obi-Wan wants to jail Anakin for law violations.
Maybe one good Jedi got killed along the way for getting in Anakin's way and trying to arrest him even though it would mean letting Padme die.
And that's why Obi-Wan's willing to arrest him.
Fucking "killing younglings" was retarded.
I have no idea how to make that less retarded. Maybe make it a Trolley Problem moment where he has to pick the lesser of two evils, saves the spaceship with his wife on it, then finds out there were kids on the spaceship he didn't save.
Nobody praised this yet but this was the perfect amount of media knowledge to require to understand the story.
Team Rocket's bad, Ash and Pikachu and Misty are good, Magikarp and Bidoof fucking suck, some Pokemon like Legendaries and Pseudolegendaries are strong.
Anyone can be expected to know this or pick it up from context clues.
Even if you had an encyclopedic knowledge of pokemon and obscure pokemon memes and forum exclusive inside jokes, I think this was the perfect way to tell the story without cluttering it up with trivia like the "F.E.A.R. Rattata" strategy or the Prankster Riolu Dig Cheese or the old Skill Swap Slaking trick. And there is no autistic rant about Comfey and Flamigo or Zacian and Spectrier and power creep or how you'd "Give Hoenn a 7.8 out of 10 because it has too much water". Hoenn doesn't have too much water, the continent is a yin yang that's about 50% water and that's beautiful, though some of the later water and underwater routes could have used some improvement, diving underwater through a coral reef would have been epic.
The story lasted as long as it needed to for the point it was trying to make and didn't do shit bad fanfictions do where the author wants to shoehorn EVERYTHING in (Like Fallout Equestria with Mr House and the Geck and the early mission to kill RadScorpions) or namedrop retarded fanon names like Past Sins or set up future sequels for a "Verse" that would never be like Chatoyance's Gregoria story or explain away plot holes like "How does Tenpenny Tower feed itself without existing on trade routes or producing anything?" or "Why doesn't every ninja just use the Teleport and Log Substitution Jutsu technique to escape literally every attack instead of using them sparingly?".
Anyway, GG, no stress or anything just wanna say that I'm hyped in for the next chapter of our collab. I said that I would be busy up to 21 so it wouldn't be too weird for someone to assume that still busy, but I'm not. I'm ready and eager! Willing even.
But again, there's no hurry.
I'm going to try and finish it up this week. I meant to last week, but I had some other stuff going on and I didn't end up getting much of anything done.
That's good good.
>be hero protagonist man who wakes up and works on his parents farm at 6AM with mom and dad
>takes your little sister to school before going to your job and working hard
>best friends are good people
>all the other tables are full of niggers and faggots paid just as much as them or more for doing less work
>whites have to unfuck something the taconiggers fucked up
>the female workers are also bitches
>she reports the hero and tries getting him fired for saving her life because it made her feel like a faggot somehow or something, the inner machinations of the feminist mind are an enigma
>walks his sister home and she complains about the jewshit propaganda at school or how she is being bullied for being white
>goes to his second job at a bar
>talk to barmaid colleague who whines about the sexy maid outfit she has to wear
>he pretends to listen while staring at her gorgeous pillowy mounds of perfect plump fuckflesh. Big bouncy boobies.
>arrive at the bar
>muslims got here first
"Fuck, they blew it up."
>>"Those fucking dicks."
>she calls 9/11
>call boss, tell him what happened and ask if you still have to come in to work when the building is rubble
>he says no
>go home alone and spot a white woman being attacked by a rape gang and shoot the niggers
>ask if she's alright and she screams and runs away
>goes home and feels bad
"Fuck this gay earth."
>he falls asleep listening to bossa nova
>story ends

Am I doing it right? Feels too tragic and miserable.

What if I wrote a basic adventure story's good vs evil plot, but I relied on "lmao libtards are clearly being wrong and stupid again" for comic relief?
And every time the politicians got in the way of heroism or created problems it was because they're dumb libtards or pure evil pretending to be libtarded.
And the party contained a tranny Jar Jar Binks.
Jar Jar Twinks.
Instead of stepping in shit and doing clumsy retard shit in the background he does gay shit in the background and says horny retard shit and nobody in the party trusts him around kids of either sex or the elderly.
>Am I doing this right?
What are you trying to do?
So stealing some writing elements from other free online sources There are four main parts of story.
>Is telling, it's a sequence of events, no engagement required.
Then this happened then this happened then this happened ect.
>Multiple stuff at the same time.
Pretty self explanatory and has other uses.
>The Conflict the Engagment the Required step needed for stuff to occur. It's any challenge big or small.
<But follows after the goal/desire. Such as have a nice day.
I'll type this up so it'll be useful, but my weenis is getting in the way.
>The End result of attempting to resolve a But by engaging or not engaging and what happens. It's Consequence thus Motion thus its Action's Reaction.
I'll type this up so it'll be useful, but my weenis is getting in the way. Therefore I fail as my weenis is still in the way.

If you want your story to be a terrible miserable slog fest sure.
You have the antithesis now what is the solution so the story isn't just grim all the time. You could embrace it in full.
Remember everything follows the Action Curve. That means people's everything is not linear (a straight line). It's like a playground Slide or a water park Slide.
There is the build up, walking up the stairs.
There is the inciting incident, at the top about to take the plunge.
There is the climax, wooshing down.
There is the cooling down period, where a person finds their feet as the experience ends resolved.

Tragedy and miserable also follows this formula. You need the four parts to go higher without burning the audience.
Fact is everything follows that formula and things that don't grate on the subconscious.
There is also one other thing to consider because everything follows this pattern all emotions can cycle giving time for one or more to cool off while experiencing something else.

Just how big is the farm because some are full day commitments starting fuck all early like Three in the morning to late at night. Not all of them it also depends on what is grown and the down time.
I don't know what size the farm is. What farm would be an appropriate size for this? A farming family struggling to make ends meet sends their eldest son to two jobs. He dreams of being a mechanic. But for that he must go to college. He can't afford college. College is a luxury squandered on the leftist """intelligentsia"" with degrees in feminist lies.
Typically Trade jobs have two paths.
On the job training.
Trade school with on the job training.
If it's more manufacturing on a large scale thing it might be an mechanical engineering degree maybe.
I'd suggest researching more about it so it's more accurate. So you can hit real specific problems and if there is a solution.
You could hand wave it away saying it's just not doing well.
Large farms have farming equipment tractors harvesters all sorts of mechanical shit. So good shit is Easy to open up and replace because otherwise crops or animal operations are totally fucked.
If the parents had a farm and lets say it'd their first generation farm they might have had access to the robust shit of the past.
A traditional farm not apartment micro 'farm' bullshit.
Typically this is more of a US thing because land size is big. Farms are by other farms with a small town for local stuff, as in pretty fucking far away. This has two advantages. There should be fewer nonlocal shitskins. The second is you live with your peers.
Admittedly there are lots of bullshit stacked against farmers because they are practically self sufficient.
It can be considered a wide business with multiple pools of knowledge and experience required. But picking it up is viable.
Also school in these rural areas aren't like cities.
I'm not sure how I can explain it. Just like everyone knows everyone, everybody knows everybody.
Sending a kid to school in the city is cruel.
I'm sure you can chalk it up to political laws and stuff in story.