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"Happy Easte- Oh its YOU" edition.
Old boots >>38401779 Bunkboots https://derpy.me/nhnboot3

Welcome to the wild west of copycats & copyright infringement! Here in the bargain bin there's a ton of freedom where things aren't quite right... but a bootleg waifu might still be for you. Bootleg can be many things or cover many genres, but we specialize in knockoffs with tons of heart and soul whether its OCs, or knockoffs of canon. Get ready for feels or fun where they can win you over despite of their inherent flaws.

Everything /bootleg/
>The FULL archive if you want pictures and many more shorts & stories go here https://ponepaste.org/5786,
>Our WIP wiki open to edit by anyone who wants to contribute https://derpy.me/bootlegs
>Hangout with us on weekends, watch shit or listen to jams https://derpy.me/BootlegMovies

Newly binned/continuing shorts & stories
>/meta/leg 1 >>38433624 2 >>38454690
>[Shine] Independent (Blondie) https://ponepaste.org/7219
>[Lyra] Unnamed (NeccAnon) https://ponepaste.org/7175
>[Mac] https://derpy.me/biggie
>[Ivy] T-Shirt Mare https://ponepaste.org/7136
>[Flutters] Buttershy https://derpy.me/bshy
>[AJ, Twilight, OC] Jacky Part 11 (Blondie) https://ponepaste.org/7059
>[Pies] Rosie Rock (FortuneFavors) https://ponepaste.org/4579
>[Twilight] Twilit Starsky (Blondie) https://ponepaste.org/6750
>[NMM] Midnight Part 4 (AutoPony) https://ponepaste.org/6733

On recent hiatus
>[Cadence] Condense (ReggieSomething) https://ponepaste.org/4168
>[Cozy] Demon Filly https://ponepaste.org/6797
>[Twilight] Twill Shorts https://ponepaste.org/5703
>[Luna] Zooma (ReggieSomething) https://ponepaste.org/5304
>[Dim Sum, Cricket, Thun and Co] House of Boots https://ponepaste.org/5794
>[OC] Tinny the Tinfoil Conspiracy Pony (NHanon) https://ponepaste.org/3979
>[Marble] Minky (NHanon) https://ponepaste.org/211
>[Flutter] SilentFriend (Nebulus) https://ponepaste.org/4464

Now finished stories
>[OC] Angel Cake's Quest (Blondie) https://ponepaste.org/5251
>[OC] Shadow (AutoPony) https://ponepaste.org/6144
Any thread goals this go around?
>You never had it easy
>Contrary to what most thought about you, growing up was absolute hell
>Chasing some shady con artist and her dense little sister
>Sleeping in mud
>Dealing with the shame of arrests and being stuck in some pig sty of a pen for every mare and stallion to scoff and insult
>Dealing with getting left behind every time you felt the least amount of comfort
>Dealing with being so confused and clueless that you didn't even know how to use magic
>Those were the days, weren't they?
>You look down at the street from your office
>All of them have families
>Trustworthy ponies that live their lives to the fullest
>You used to avoid these parts of towns and cities
>They were rich
>Too rich for you
>You could never blend in, no matter how hard you tried
>Even if you were offered something, you didn't know how to grab it with your magic
>Like a nightmare come true, everyone would look at the filly who was gifted an ice cream and let it fall to the ground
>It works better now
>The last time you had an accident, it was covered up
>But you had to change to another town
>You've been here for...
>How long has it been?
>Three months by next week?
>You're a respectable mare now
>You focus on numbers, logistics
>Due to your help, what used to be a little tinder box of a lumber company has grown
>Swallowed up competition and spit out the redundant bones
>You would never admit to it
>You would never show
>But part of you enjoyed seeing stallions and mares lamenting about how they could no longer feed their families
>Why would you care?
>You got by just fine
>You did more than just get by
>Years of crying, fighting, bleeding, stealing, lying
>All of those things made you the mare that you are today
>They even call you "Ms. Shine" now
>No one would ever call you that without your position
>Your power
>That is all that matters now, isn't it?
>Jacky and that "Dashie" of hers...
>You haven't seen them in years
>After that fight with that so-called gang of colts, you were left bleeding on the ground
>That was when your magic first truly came to life
>It hurt more than anything else in your life, to push your chest back out
>But apparently you lived
>They did too, you imagine
>When you came to visit them a few days after, they were gone
>The rags they had
>The bottles of perfume
>Even the food
>All of it was still in that rat's nest of a tunnel
>Of course, you ate all of the food
>You sold the perfume
>Or did your best to
>There's someone always in greater need
>So you exploited that
>Without hesitation, you sold every dram of foul smelling floral liquid to anyone who would give you the time of day
>You wouldn't have
>But thankfully others did
>Once you finally started to accumulate enough bits, you bought yourself a meal
>A real meal
>You couldn't finish it
>No matter how ravenous you were, you left two thirds of it alone
>You never did understand how and why you would so something so wasteful
>They wouldn't come back for you
>They weren't your true friends
>They were never your friends
>But you were theirs
>Why else would you have followed them for hundreds and thousands of miles?
>Why else would you always include them in on your plans and schemes?
>Sure, some went bad and you had to leave them behind
>They weren't useless, they could handle themselves
>And they didn't show hesitation when they were in the clear and you were in trouble
>You look at your desk
>Rich, dense wood
>You had it built, custom-made
>When you first got an office, it doubled as your home
>You ate and slept in it
>A hard wood floor was nothing compared to mud, stone and worse
>Others took that a sign of endearment and dedication
>Even where you work right now
>You wouldn't hesitate to burn everything down if it suited you
>Why would you care?
>They paid you
>You did things no one else could
>That was as far as that relationship went

>You work until the sun goes down
>Letters and business offers
>Warnings of audits if not-at-all-fake threats were ignored
>A personal letter?
>Who would give a letter to you?
>The last time you had any form of social call or personal letter, it was a suitor
>Your horn went out of whack and burned him when he said that he loved you
>You hadn't even met him before, and after only a few hours of talking he went and said that
>You were mortified but did your best to remain stoic
>You thought for sure that you would be flayed and left for crows to pick at
>...Instead, days later the fool's father approached you and apologized
>He formally apologized for his son's behavior and offered you a job
>The goal, he said, was apparently to have his son married off and to get a company asset, all at once
>You still don't get it even today
>The father has long since been in the ground and the son runs things now
>He apparently never married but also never spoke to you
>Not directly
>Perhaps he knows what's good for him
>You carefully open the letter
>You often rip them apart out of poor control but others view it as anger or frustration
>Compared to what you felt before, this is nothing
>This is Madam Jelly Belly. It has come to my attention that you were once friends with a little filly who called herself "Jacky". Do you remember her? I sure hope so!
>I am reaching out to you in hopes that you have knowledge on where she lives. Ever since she ran away, I have given every bit I could to help find her."
>...of course
>You haven't seen her for years and she's still somehow so much more important than you
>You have the strong urge to stop reading and to just turn the letter to ashes
>You continue to read
>"Through my team's investigations, we have found out through numerous guard reports that you were a known associate of her. I hope this means you were a friend as well?"
>As if
>She wasn't your friend
>Just as you apparently weren't hers
>"If so, please write me back! I feel foolish for letting her run like that. If she is in trouble, or has found her family, or whatever the situation may be, allow me to help! I promise that I will do everything in my family's power to help. She doesn't need to keep running."
"Fat chance, lady..."
>The first words you've spoken all day
>Bitter and quiet
>"For your assistance, I have sent an unmarked but signed cheque. To show me your support, please write whatever number you wish and cash it. Upon cashing, I will be notified of your bank of choice and we can talk further.
>May every day bring a new blessing!
>~Jelly Belly"
>You turn the letter over
>Apparently it is a check
>Signed and dated too
>All that is left to fill in is the amount
>What a silly mare
>Doesn't she know that someone could openly rob her?
>What does she have to gain, by risking so much?
>If the thought were more humorous you might have smiled
>Instead, the letter ignites in a white-hot blaze
>You watch the fire dance and consume
>The fire used to be a dark, bloody red
>But it brightened up, the more you learned to control it
>Then it turned to orange
>Then yellow
>Now, from blue to even white
>You hardly recognize it anymore
>When there are only remnants of ashes that remain, collected in a little red ball
>It blinks away
>Outside of the smell of burnt paper and the ambient heat that turned part of your desk black, no traces remain
>Just like what happened to those two

>You finish your day only when the sun goes down
>Without moving from your spot, you directly affect the lives of dozens of ponies
>Some are letters of resignation
>Letters for assistance or for bonuses
>Some that are almost legal threats about their businesses getting devoured
>So much is affected
>And you can't bring yourself to care
>If they were smarter, they would surely be in your position
>If they had friends, they would surely find other work, or have support
>If they were willing to do what you did, they would surely not be so pathetic
>But there they were
>And here you are
>"Miss Shine?"
>The faintest smile you could have drops at the sound of some office filly tapping her hoof against your door
>You don't mean to be mean
>You don't care if you are, granted
>But the fear in her eyes when she looks at you
>Part of you knows exactly what that is
>You can't hate someone who is so clueless
>You aren't a monster
>The filly flinches at your cold reply
>"O-oh, uh, I... ah..."
>She looks down at the floor, disengaging from your empty stare
>If you were still that little trash pony, would she still be so cowardly?
>Probably not
>The passing thought makes you blink
>The idle annoyance in your tone makes her jump high enough to nearly knock her head on the ceiling
>"AH! I-I'm catering for today's dinner b-because my parents ahum... we r-run a cafe! Would you like some... food? Please?"
>This is probably a ploy to get you on their good sides
>Even here, you aren't a nobody
>You glare at her
>Rather, it's more like you stare right through her
>Does she have friends?
>How will she recount this situation with you?
>Of all of the things she would says, she probably wouldn't dare badmouth you
>Because she knows that with a signature and a quickly drafted declaration, you could kill her family
>'s business
>You blink a few times at that thought
>It doesn't impress you
>You really don't feel anything at all from it
"Yes. Thank you. I think I have had them before. My usual."
>Relieved that you have finally given her an answer, she salutes for a full second before fleeing at full speed
>"Yes thank you I'll be baaaaaaa..."
>It's obvious you've frightened her
>You didn't mean to
>In record time, the filly and two delivery mares stop by
>Without moving, you watch the night sky take over while the meal is set up
>It's a feast, frankly
>More than enough to feed three
>"T-thank you for choosing us Miss Shine! P-please come again!"
>The filly and her two cohorts leave
>You have more than enough money than you care to count
>And yet they haven't charged you
>You paid them exactly once
>After that, they refused to take your money
>They came up with excuse after excuse, until the father outright begged that you eat for free
>The cafe was his grandmother's and he wished to see it flourish long enough for his daughter's foals to run it
>The notion was hilarious to you
>At the time, you didn't understand it
>The mere concept
>You laughed at him
>You howled with manic jubilation at his request
>Much to his horror
>You could see it in his eyes
>The look that he was going to die if you said "no"
>You left, still cackling
>You never did answer him
>But apparently he took it as a good sign and always had some pony deliver food right to your office
>Twice a day, without fail
>Every breakfast was simple enough
>Your stomach and body had grown enough that you no longer felt ill by eating an entire plate by yourself
>And for dinner...
>Three plates
>Three separate orders
>You don't remember what they used to like to eat anymore
>You have memories
>But they aren't clear
"You two better be grateful."
>You mumble to yourself
>You eat in silence, watching the two other plates
>This probably looks pathetic, but no one has ever said it
>You would feel ashamed
>But you really just can't feel anything at all
IF Scenario I: Independent
Success without satisfaction has little value.
You okay, Blondie?
>Last night he said it would be good that it was on the end of the thread and nobody would read it
>Today he reposts it
conflicting, mixed messaging
Given thread was around page 8 when it was reposted, it's something.
the aura of this Lyrish bootmare is starting to leak into my other artistic somethings
I really need to write her more so I can figure out wtf is going on
morer boots. maybe a return to writefaging for a bit
Anon... are you building a tupperwaremare?
I already have a tupperwaremare
this is just a strange dremmare
Is this the end? Or will there be more of the sparking baron
>I already have a tupperwaremare
thats a dangerous road anon, lest you cross roads with the warp.
Nice, I like it.
What do you mean?
Did you make a jackie chan tupper?
I hope you dont just make her a colored copy for lyramemes. But based on how sort of phillosophical you are, i dont think thatll happen.
lol no, I've got a Lyra one

I mean, she's already in my head not entirely a Lyra character - there's a bit of some other mares mixed in as well.
On one hand I really want to uncontrollably speculate about what this mare might be like, but on the other hand I don't want to induce expectations that I'll just fail to live up to later. So I won't say anything more for now.
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Fixed the error with her mane.
what was the error?
what happens when she gets updates?
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Not supposed to have the black lines in her mane, those were only supposed to be there to remind me where to separate the colors.
aha, didnt bother me but you do you.
It's still slightly off and it's bothering me a lot
eh perfectionism is no fun.
so there's some 'bootlegs' request on bunkers aggie, anyone gunna be more specific?
aggie requests?
Ceres the uniCORN mare
They want her drawn or something on the aggie?
Have you used it at all?
Been a while since I saw that mascot, but what would you do with a cereal mare?
Well we could always make our own with bootlegs and hookers
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I had to
Now im imagining a bootleg pony cop going WEE WOO WEE WOOO.
"I need an adult."
>"I am an adult; and don't even think about calling the police, because I am one too."
I do wanna get around to her, but not really any room for it on the aggie right now. and that one moves at a glacial pace
Now's your chance, drawfags! >>38489316
>"Hey, I already have a mostly done update, I'll have it posted before the holiday weekend."
>It is now (almost) Tuesday.
Well, I fucked that one up. It's not much, but I have a short little thing in the morning that will neatly tie up part 4 of Midnight. Then - part 5, with more car chases, more explosions, more fight scenes, more date nights, and more pony!
Some of that stuff may or may not be true.
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tfw no anon to make greens of you
tfw no one's waifu
>"I was a flavor of the week once..."
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This is a lot more broken engrish than i remember
Too young to die, /bootleg/

>Movement upon your chest draws your consciousness awake and forces you to crack your eyes open.
>It's still dark in your room.
>Midnight lays right next to you in bed - though is trying valiantly to slip out from under your arm draped over her form.
>Her faintly glowing eyes lock onto yours.
>"I gotta use the bathroom, sorry," she announces in a hushed tone.
"No worries," you sleepily mumble, lifting your arm off of her back to free her..
>Midnight gingerly picks herself up and slides off the bed, slinking out the door you can just barely make out in the dim light.
>You turn to your back and idly stare up at the ceiling and wait, trying to listen for the sound of her hooves upon the stairs.
>She can be uncannily silent when walking when the mood or situation strikes her - and that seems to be the case tonight.
>The only sound you hear is the air conditioner humming quietly out in the living room, accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder outside.
>It probably won't rain at all, but the sky wants to audibly broadcast the slight chance.
>You're too lazy and uncaring to actually check the time.
>It was understandably a short evening after the events of today - both of you were eager to find the comfort of sleep with each other.
>How the hell did you get here?
>Just months ago, Midnight intruded upon your bland existence.
>She certainly wasn't happy about it, nor were you.
>You felt just enough pity and saw use in her knowledge and abilities to allow her to stay here - though she made it clear it would have probably been a fight to get rid of her.
>Both of you barely tolerated each other.
>She was vehemently opposed to having anything to do with you - but was forced into it.
>You found her arrogant and grating, hardly someone you would want to be around...
>Though you have a hard time tolerating anyone.
>Maybe stress made you that way.
>Maybe you've always been like that, and buying this place was what really made that ugliness come out of you.
>You two are a thing.
>You enjoy each other's company.
>You couldn't imagine not having her by your side.
>Somehow, she's become somewhat of a cuddle slut at night - but you won't make mention of it, and she would deny it anyway.
>Too much pride on the line there.
>"You awake?"
>You hear Midnight's movements in the dark just enough to brace yourself, as she takes a running leap and lands atop you.
"Oof. You fatass."
>The comment gets a snicker and a flash of teeth from her as she pats your chest with a hoof, rolling to the side.
>You resume your side laying position again and place your arm over her as she relaxes with an exhale.
>"What's up with you?"
>"Staring up at the ceiling, acting like there's a thought in your head."
"Nope, just trying to keep the air in there."
>"Haven't heard any whistling, so you're doing a fine job."
>You exhale through your nose in amusement and crack a smile, but silence pervades the room again.

>"What's really on your mind?" Midnight asks again after a short spell.
"How the hell did we get here?"
>A queer expression crosses Midnight's face as she tries to discern the admittedly vague question.
>"Well, I'm not entirely sure of the processes it took for me, but I'm sure with you, your mommy and daddy loved each other very much, and one night they-"
"Not what I meant, stop right there, you sick fuck."
>"Exactly that. They had gross old people sex and made you."
>You pull your arm off of Midnight and flick her nose.
>She doesn't get to respond to that with words - as she sneezes almost instantly on you.
>While it was nothing close to a shower, you still rub down the lower half of your face.
"How pleasant."
>"You started it," she lazily protests.
"Anyway, what I meant to say is - how did we end up like this? Sharing a bed, some... intimate moments. You ever think about where we've come from until now?"
>"Not... really," she replies hesitantly, wrinkling her nose.
"Let's face it - you hated me. And I wasn't particularly thrilled with you being here. Both of us were kinda miserable to each other."
>"You weren't *that* bad," Midnight chimes in. "After all, you did try to give me some sort of guidance when I was throwing hissy fits."
>You really don't know why you had the patience to deal with her temperament.
>Traditionally, you've kept a short leash on anyone that you've had work for you in the past.
>Putting up with any sort of bullshit is unlike you.
>"I certainly wasn't personable for a while. I suppose I was just pissed at everything."
"You had your issues, it was kinda understandable once I pulled that out of you."
>"Same with you," she answers, poking your chest with a hoof. "You didn't want to face the music when it came to this business going down the shitter."
"So we're both kinda shitty."
>"Well, you are - I'd say I was... rough around the edges."
"There were no clear edges with you - it was all rough."
>"Sit on a dick," she retorts, accompanied by a quick blep of her tongue.
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
>"I wouldn't doubt that having a serious undertone."
>Both of you share an amused chuckle, before the bedroom goes quiet.
"Anyway... here we are," you muse.
>"Somehow putting up with each other," Midnight adds, scooting closer to you.
"Somehow making this place successful."
>"While working on our own project car on the side of pulling parts for other projects."
>You wait a moment for what invariably will come next.
>Not that you mind.
>...but you really are tired and ready to go back to sleep.
>"What's the next focus for the Chrysler?"

>You sort of cock your head and give her a bemused grin in silence.
>"Do you suddenly not understand English or something?"
"You have a very odd definition of pillow talk, Middie."
>She snorts, pushing against your chest lightly with a hoof.
>"Shut the hell up, stupid."
"Music to my ears. G'night!" you hurriedly reply, pulling her up tight to you and closing your eyes.
>"...well played."
>You crack an eye open as Midnight snuggles in with you.
>You'll answer her question tomorrow.
>You're suddenly too comfortable.

With that little moment, we close out part 4 and begin a new paste - because scrolling through all of this on my phone to transfer it makes me want to eat a frisbee.
Work bump, hopefully I can get some writing done.
>"Oof. You fatass."
All that steak is giving her a meaty posterior.
Love this shit, love this mare
snuggly mares warm the cockles of my heart
/bootleg/ is all about cockles.
>I mean, the initial inspiration for Anon's dream came from an actual dream/vision/daydream thing I had,
wouldn't be the first pone to come out of a dream
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I read that as cookies, whats a cockle?
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Question for the thread, I know that there's a good bunch of feels wrapped up in greens and bootlegs but do you guys think there's a line for the woobie stuff here or is it something more people would want?
Good question. I would almost consider Angel Cake and even the Missy gals to fit that mold. Starsky does too.
It's a fine line to draw. A lot of /boot/mares avoid woobie status just because things sometimes go in their favor more than not.
It's arguable that a good chunk of the early stuff is 'woobie'-like. But is something going in their favor all it takes to avoid the woob?
I think its always been some of /bootlegs/ biggest emotional draws, but always made it a little unpopular compared to all the wishfulfilment. But with the renewed interest from lurkers,Im intreseted to see what theyd say
Very moody, even one could say was broody. But good
>do you guys think there's a line for the woobie stuff here
I searched woobie and got this
if you're talking about some kind of camouflage blanket pony that just wants to give you a big hug and protect you then yeah go ahead
>some kind of camouflage blanket pony that just wants to give you a big hug and protect you then yeah go ahead
kek thats pretty funny, but its actually the inverse in fiction.
This is the only woobie I know. They're magic.
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I chewed on this for a bit. When I think of woobie-shaped material, I think of the IF Scenarios with Jack. Because a lot of them are not exactly happy. F is Jacky ending up with an uncaring family that views her only as a pet. S is Anon getting Shine first, and she really is so drastically different now than how she was back then. Then there's Missy Pie, Angel Cake, Starsky so far is pretty hard fitting into it.
>But is something going in their favor all it takes to avoid the woob?
I guess I didn't choose the right words then, because I kept thinking about it. I don't think Starsky is going to remain a woobie, because she's in a better place now, and her Anon seems to be dedicated to at least helping her out. Even if her being forward makes him uncomfortable or doubt himself.
I think to Jack and the dorks and maybe it's hard to see them as anything but happy and dorking it up, but it has been a very long road for them to get to that point. It takes a lot of time for them to be at the point that if they actually fight, it won't put a permanent damper on anything. It takes even more that they can be at the point to talk things out and at least realize that they need to try because their discord and hostility seems to be the one true thing that distresses their Anon. And that's saying something.
When it comes to the ultimate woob, I can't help but think that Angel Cake fits. And that story hurts. It absolutely hurts. You can argue the ending is... good. It's a sign that things do get better during her life. But it doesn't change everything else that is going on.
I think what makes /bootleg/ bypass the woobie effect, at least from the last few years moving onward, is the drive to improve things. Because once a woobie is able to grow and find some sort of real support base, things aren't so one-sided and barbed. It doesn't seem nearly as hopeless anymore. There is a reason to not just keep going, but to look forward to something.
Of course, I can only speak on what I've written. Every now and again I have to remember that I've written a good chunk more than just Jack.
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So I am learning!
"Woobie" be damned, perpetual sadness without catharsis is not my jam.
Give me the real woobie, give me the big surplus woobie pony who needs a new home who wants to cuddle you and keep you warm and smells like the inside of a bergen does while regaling stories to you about military antics.
Damn thas a lot of layers, is woobie just a poormans sleepingbag?
This is a lot of ground to cover and I do agree with a lot of it. From what I remember with Angel she didn't have bad things happen to reach woobiponi levels, maybe if the green was started earlier than just being dumped off at Home but If I remember a lot of it was just bad shit happens around her and she doesnt get it.

Rare being the masterclass of short and long lasting pain. The IF scenarios have potential to be wooba but I dont really think they typically last long enough like petjack or Shine's static memory, they're more of a distraction and bad ends but they always do carry a somber tone I feel, which makes it hard to believe there cant ever be another alternate path that isnt miserable in some way.
True, a lot of it is that she just is out of her depth. There aren't a ton of woobies that come to mind that are appealing or all that interesting to me because they seem to often just be stuck or otherwise remain helpless. As for the IF scenarios, there are plenty that aren't miserable bad ends. Bootleg Anon, Eternal, Independent, Loser's Club and Missy Pie come to mind. The only really downer ones are Sparkless, Growing Wings and F.
Bootleg Anon is just Anon being the pone while the dorks are human and I wouldn't call that a bad end. They're still living a low-tier life but they are together. And Anon doesn't seem to mind.
Eternal is it's own little thing. Maybe it shouldn't be counted as an IF Scenario, and I wouldn't consider that a bad end at all. It's just... what happens at the end of life.
Loser's Club isn't the best since they're all vagabonds. Again. But they are together and that's really the important part. It might not be obvious but the dorks know how to prioritize and figure things out.
Missy Pie is only bad when you remember that the main story Anon never meets her again... and that means whatever that means. We do see what happens to them in the future but I can't call that a bad end for anyone.
Sparkless and Growing Wings show just how not great they are. Gotta remember that they weren't supposed to be together again. A lot of their memories and growth came from being together. Without Jack, Prism is bitter, singularly focused and stuck with a stranger in a strange world. Without Jack, Shiner wouldn't have that personality tempering. She would apparently still manage to figure out magic but it wouldn't be in nearly as healthy a way. Nevermind her chance of having an accident would be exponentially higher due to instability.
What I think is interesting about Shine is that we now have two different IF Scenarios with her. One where she's abandoned by them after their last fight, and one where Anon gets her first. In both, she figures out how to use magic but in drastically different ways. In one, she more or less leeches onto Anon because it's a connection. In the other, it's more practical but dire. I think she makes for a good villain in that one, if only because she might not genuinely care about anyone's issues or circumstances.
If it's just unending misery, people will tend to lose investment or get annoyed, you gotta throw the dog a bone once in a while.
It's a comfort blanket for US soldiers and can be used in complement to a sleeping bag, among other options.
Of course yeah, but where is the line? A bunch of bootlegs could be considered a woobie in how they start but its usually quickly absolved. Would that be the predictable route out that people prefer or something thats not as easy
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The "proper" term for it is "poncho liner", but it's used as a blanket more often than not because they're lightweight and warm.
>where is the line
Where is the line at all for woobie status? You don't have that many bootmares who are incapable of doing anything on their own, there is usually far more substance to it than merely "I don't fit into this world". Many tend to be at rock bottom when they're found.
>that people prefer
If only there were people that commented. This last day of discussion is the longest thread conversation we've had in... months, it feels like.
>You don't have that many bootmares who are incapable of doing anything on their own, there is usually far more substance to it than merely "I don't fit into this world". Many tend to be at rock bottom when they're found.
Is this contradictory, if they're at rock bottom dont they need help and cant do it on their own?
You can lead a hoers to water but you can't make her drink.
Have there been boots that are like that?
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Delicious Lime.
Did neb die or did he return to moon?
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Slow day eh bootleg, anon asked for more mares done with the day but who do you think would be the suitable one you could find like this? just a sketch so could be anypone
>letting it all hang out
Oh, I dunno, Anon, which boot mare has a history of doing exactly that?
More like blocking the doorway, splaying out without any fucks given with one hoof up the wall and one down the hall.
Dawn Glow
I could see Angel Cake having a bit of a mood and just laying out to be the biggest obstruction in the room.
Hah really? thats not one I was expecting. Speaking of Dawn are Anon and her going to date? and rosie is a false-waifu, more daughteru.
And I see some similarities with Angel too, in that Rosie is a passenger to things she doesnt understand, like exchanging numbers it makes her seem like shes not fully mature even though shes supposed to be based off a mixture of 4 adult mares.
Perhaps, I don't really know where I'm going with things at this point, just some plot points I need to hit at some point.
Well nothing has really *clicked* for Anon and Rosie in the story, so it's not like a case of changing waifus. Maybe she's younger than her body and needs to develop. how old do you see Rosie in the green?
Early 20s at most; all she's known is her village and her family's quarry, and given her social inadequacies and her duties, it's not that she done much socializing or had time seek anything other than basic education. There are some lines I already have in the story that were meant to imply that she was romantically attracted to someone before (Line 130), but some of them don't make sense without future context (Line 580 and 581)
Though I guess the tl;dr is that Rosie is ignorant to how a lot of things work, especially in Anon's world, since she doesn't have the level of knowledge that Dawn has.
Also Anon giving Dawn his number was motivated by trying to help alleviate the stress of her job and life situation as well as establish a line of direct contact in case something happens to Rosie, as he mentions, than wanting to woo her.
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>"Anon... help"
Who's the Marelcom in the middle?
That feel when you have fun but fall and immediately see the doom of the universe
A nice end to part 4. Very comfy.
Hnng... my heart...

Thanks. I know it isn't much, but I do like having something nice and short to polish off a paste, showing where things stand. I've got a number of ideas panning out for the next paste. Should be a nice, fun variety. Letting go of your past can be very liberating.
A wat?
You're not the boss of me now.
Just a stuffed animal. Maybe alternate future scenario where Dawn is trying to play with Rosie more like a mom but way out of her hooves. Since she made an outburst about her being "like a daughter" the only logical end is to be "like a mother" Unfortunately, things arent so easy for this pony.
Marecolm in the Middle
That's cute.
/bootleg/ family when?
It kinda has been done before. https://ponepaste.org/5794
Wish he would continue it.
While not a related family, I think the dorks and Home would count. Relatives are by birth but family is a choice.
hes dead anon couldn't even bin it himself. if you want that continued you'll have to find someone else to take up the mantel
Dorks dont really hit the same feel to me, it's always been more like theyre all dysfunctional roomates rather than trying to be a family.
>dysfunctional roommates
Isn't that what most families are? Though I guess I'm rather biased. I see them as a family, because of their ups and downs. They may not always be happy with each other but they're legit.
Family is relative(s).
Oh yeah, forgot to add the possibility that I'm just not good enough of a writer to properly convey my intentions yet.
I think I'm gonna focus on something else for a bit.
Already got 25 pages worth of Rosie, damn.
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Well Part Eleven clocks in at 50k words. I think the quests for (their own versions of) the elements of harmony is gonna require another part. Even if it is kinda silly that some parts are nowhere near as long.
I didn't expect the trip to the factory to take so long either.
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Is the cytube room down?
It's up for me. A few days ago the site itself seemed to be down.
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hi, /bootleg/!
here's a cadance bootleg i found. more pictures on my replies;
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for some reason ms cupcake is there too.
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cadance pic on the boxing
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wonder what that means.
also managed to find the original boxart.
>"Happy Time!"
>Has the face of concern
This concerns me in turn.
>Children Forever Friend
happy time!
Yeah the site seemed to have shat itself a few days ago, seems fine now.
how are you guys
Good. Got to talk to a friend about the dorks and writing in general. It's not every day you can really get into deeper themes and such.
good. that's good. what kind of deeper themes
Going to a friend's birthday on Sunday, so less time to figure out what to do next with Rosie.

>"C'mon, you miserable son of a bitch..."
"Now surely I don't hear you over there hurling insults at a stubborn but inanimate bolt, do I? I seem to recall being ridiculed for doing that."
>"Pound sand."
>You can't help but snicker a bit as you set down the tool in your hand and head over to the car lift.
>Midnight's focus is above her, working on a bolt tucked away in the undercarriage of the Chrysler.
>She doesn't stray her eyes away from her work, but the twitch of her right ear to pick up the sounds of your movement assures you she is aware of your impending presence.
"Something I can help with?"
>"I don't think so. Trying to get this leaf spring bolt out to replace the bushing - and it just wants to be a pain in the ass all the way," she explains, tapping the end of a wrench against the head of the target bolt.
"They usually are miserable to get out - even worse when they haven't ever been out in damn near seventy years," you chime in, grabbing the leaf spring close to the eyelet where the bushing rests and rocking it up and down.
>The bolt moves ever so slightly in the hole back and forth.
>You use your other hand to steady the end of it while pushing up on the leaf to relieve tension.
"Try it now."
>Midnight does as instructed, having a much easier time extracting the bolt with the ratchet.
>"I should have known better than that," Midnight scolds herself with a slight shake of her head as the bolt comes free.
>You ease off of the spring, allowing it to straighten out slowly.
"How do you think I learned that, Midnight? It's easy to get tunnel vision," you console her, leaning down and smooching the top of her head.
>Despite the toiling outside in the sun and the heat, you still get a whiff of lilacs from her shampoo underneath that working mare scent.
>"Yeah, yeah. I know," she laments. "You did buy all the suspension bushings like you said you would, right?"
"Yep, they're... in the trunk."
"It's not that big of a deal - at least they're with the car, rather than scattered around the shop."
>Midnight sidesteps out from underneath the car, allowing you to lower the lift with the remote until you can reach the trunk and pop it open.
>Despite the odds and ends stuffed in the cavernous space, it's easy to spot the unmarked cardboard box.
"Come to think of it, you're being pretty damn smart going about replacing this stuff," you comment while grabbing the parcel and maneuvering it out from everything else around it.
>"Because I'm doing it one at a time, rather than unbolting everything at once?"
>Huh, so she's aware of that.
>Evidently you make some sort of face as you plant the box down on the concrete, rising back up to close the trunklid.
>"I listen from time to time - you mentioning focusing on one particular item and getting that done is better than total disassembly at once."
>Now you're feeling lost.
"When did I say that?"

>"Hello? Pulling the engine out and leaving the transmission in place?" she chides, staring at you as if it were painfully obvious.
"Hey, not all of us are part supercomputer."
>"As if a few electronic gizmos make all the difference," she huffs in a jesting manner, turning her nose up at you. "I'm just glad I'm not part dumbass."
"You live with someone part dumbass, and dumbassery is infectious."
>"Hm. Maybe that's why I couldn't think of the best way to tackle that stubborn bolt. Thanks for the excuse."
"Happy to help," you reply with a dorky grin and accompanying shrug.
>"How goes your little art project?" Midnight inquires, glancing beyond you and to your impromptu workstation set up around the engine stand.
>There is a hint of amusement in her voice if the wry grin wasn't enough to tip you off.
>You fold your arms in response.
"Now what's that supposed to mean?"
>"Nothing of course," she sasses. "I just think it's cute with those paint pans set up around you and the cute little wheeled workbench you've got set up there."
"I'll have you know it's a professionally unprofessional setup I have going, Middie."
>"Of course. Thanks for the little visual asspat to make me feel better about myself, fruitcake," she teases further.
>Asspat, huh?
>While she begins to wander over to see what you really are doing with the engine, you uncross your arms and get a decent windup before slapping her on the aforementioned ass, making sure to grab a nice handful of cushion.
>Midnight lets out a surprised squeal the instant you make contact.
"No problem, Middie."
>"You rat bastard!"
>She whirls around quickly, rearing up on her hind legs to bring her forelegs down roughly upon your shoulders.
>Her nostrils flare as she gets right in your face, glaring at you in anger.
>Well, trying to glare in anger.
>It doesn't work well when you can spot the hint of a grin forming on her lips.
"What? I thought I missed something when you thanked me for an asspat," you innocently explain, trying your damnedest not to smirk.
>"That wasn't a pat."
"Sorry, retarded."
>"I'll let you off with a warning this time."
>She puckers up and plants a kiss on your lips - quick and fleeting, just to be a tease.
"So, should I do that again and see what discipline I get?"
>"I don't think you need to push your luck," she muses, slipping back down to the floor.
"Come on, what do you really have going on over here?"
>Putting your dirty thoughts aside and resisting the urge to have her lead the way, you head back over to the Chrysler's engine, in the midst of disassembly.
>One head is almost completely disassembled now and close to being removed from the block.
"Well, my little art station is set up to keep things organized and in the proper orientation and position," you say, pointing to one of the pans.
>Midnight glances down at the murky liquid within it, the engine components resting at the bottom just barely visible.
>"What are you doing with the pushrods?"

>As she asks, one of the aforementioned parts lifts out of the depths, giving you a look at the progress the kerosene soak has done in cleaning them.
>The shitty brown coloring is beginning to fade, bringing back the original metal finish to peek through what's left.
"All those years of sitting in oil and then... well, just sitting - they get all gunked up with what ends up being like varnish. So I'm letting them soak and soften up that crap before properly cleaning them. Make sure to put that where you found it."
>"Reusing them? I assume there's an order?"
"I've always heard that when it comes to engine parts - put em back in the same place you found em if you're gonna replace them. Different wear patterns and such. Whether that's true or not... well, I'd rather not find out the hard way. Hence why I got magnets holding em down in the bottom, and why the pans are marked."
>You point to the chicken scratch on the shiny aluminum end panels and sides, scrawled with a black marker.
>"Beautiful handwriting as always."
"I know, looks like I had a seizure while trying to color in the lines."
>"What lines?"
>Midnight shakes her head while looking over the other parts of the valvetrain.
>"You know, that doesn't look as complicated out of the head assembly as it does within it. Or in diagrams," she comments, poking at one of the rocker arms.
"Look can be deceiving - it's the same amount of rocker arms and pushrods as any other American V8 built back in the day before overhead camshafts - just an extra shaft splitting up the exhaust and intake rods. Just needs a different geometry between the two valves because of the hemi head shape."
>"Yeah, I guess the different angles everything is at just makes it look cluttered and complex," she muses. "Have you found a crankshaft for it yet?"
"Maybe," you answer cautiously.
>"I'm pretty sure that's a yes or no question," Midnight shoots back with a bit of an edge in her voice.
"Alright - yes, I know where I can get one. But we're in a hold pattern for now - I'm not buying one until I know for sure this block is sound."
>"Wait, I thought you said it looked fine," she quickly protests.
"*Looked* fine is not the same as actually being structurally sound - I'm going to take it to a machine shop to get inspected thoroughly. I'd rather not drop big money on a crank to find out I have nothing to put it in."
>Your explanation only gets a pouting expression from Midnight, who is none too keen to hear of such hurdles.
"Hold on, didn't you tell me not long ago that this motor not being any good wasn't the end of the world?"
>She knows she's caught, but plays stupid nonetheless.
>However, Midnight is up against the champ.
"Oh, must have had that discussion with Starla, then," you reply, before picking up your wrench and resuming work.
>"Shut up, you don't even talk to her."
"Not that you know of."
>"She would have told me, we talk about you two idiots we live with."
>Now this is interesting...

"Oh? And what do you two talk about?"
"Uh-huh. Does she... know about us?"
>"No - I mean, it's sort of a private thing, you know?"
"You know I'm talking about the standard relationship thing, right?"
>"Of course, what else would I-"
>Midnight's eyes go wide as she follows your train of thought.
>"Why the hell would I talk about that?!"
"I don't know, why would I have thought the dating thing would be so touchy to discuss?" you ask, shrugging your shoulders as you try to make sense of where this conversation has derailed.
>"Are we actually... dating?" she asks, almost tiptoeing the question to you.
"Kinda. I don't know what makes it official, but - we do a lot of stuff together, yeah? Like little fires at night out back?"
>Midnight nods - albeit slowly, as if still uncertain.
"You're thinking more like a night out on the town, huh?"
>"I don't really know. I guess I hadn't really considered the idea," she admits, sounding shocked by her own thoughts as they're put into words.
>It really sounds like a nice idea, assuming you could sit down in a decent restaurant together.
"Maybe we will do that sometime, Midnight," you propose. "If you're up for it, of course."
>She mulls the proposition with a fair amount of amusement, judging by the goofy little grin she's trying to hide.
>"I might have to take you up on that," she finally announces.
>That settles it then.
>You're gonna make an official date night.
>But for now...
"So what kind of 'stuff' do you and Starla talk about?" you tease.
>"You know... stuff," she rather gruffly stonewalls.
"Is there some... girly stuff?"
>You cup your hand over your mouth, pretending to giggle like some schoolgirl.
>A blanket of black down smacks you in the face as Midnight's wing flares outward.
>"Oh my god, you're a fucking moron," she bemoans, betraying just a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "I'm going back to my shit now."
"You're no fun," you whine as she turns tail and heads back to the Chrysler.
>"And you're too much fun - it evens out," she sasses back.


Growth, what can and has changed the nature of a mare, the question of explicit versus implied intimacy and writing perspectives and how someone can be absorbed into the story.
Talking and such last night has got me in a bit of an introspective mood. If anyone wants to talk technicals and stuff about writing I'd be all for it. It's been a while since we talked about writing.
Sounds interesting, shame I probably won't be able to join in.
I’m starting to feel imposter syndrome
Why's that?
I don't know how the fuck Rosie has nearly 900 views with how much I feel like I'm bungled this green.
No offense but I don't think a method of just being a AU-conduit is applicable to the majority of people who want to write.
Take it for what it is, proof of quality.
Reminder to take views anywhere with a grain of salt in the era of bots. Not just ponepaste but generally for all traffic on the web, something like only 40% is real.
There's more to writing than just that, no matter how humorous it is to claim otherwise. But better no activity than bad I suppose.
Well what do you have in mind anyways?
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not sure if bootleg, kinda seems legit to me but still, found this one on twitter. what the actual fuck happened to twilight
>"There is no friendship in the void, only death."
Plenty. We've had a shit ton of green over the years and there are a lot of things to gleam from it. You have stories that don't particularly have a strong plot, those that are very focused, and a wide variety of themes/moods. Lewd is something worth mentioning as well since only a few boot greens have lewd and there are arguments to be made whether or not they're appropriate on the wider scope of things. Character consistency and examination is also important because until shown otherwise, the characters are the story outright.
This also doubles as a way to see if there is any conversation that doubles as feedback regarding greens both old and new. You don't have to be a writer to have a deeper understanding of the brass tacks of storytelling, and those who are writers might be able to find something new out or learn something they might not have had the best grasp of.
Too bad a lot of the writers are gone so they cant give us any deep dives. If you could pick the brain of a writefag for a green which one would you go with?
That's still be...360 people, and that feels like a lot.
the light has left her eyes wtf
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Anyone good at creepy pasta? Writefags where are you
where did this come from?
>"I can't screaming, but God won't answer.
keep*, fuck me, these allergies are frying my brain
I've already bugged reggie and talked to Fortune about his stuff. I'm hoping others might be interested as well.
But how are you planning on doing it, is this going to be like an event on cytube or just post about it here
It can just be done here, at least to start. As it has always been, if there's anything to talk about or ask, ask it.
I dont really know what to ask. good dialogue is always been the biggest hurdle. or making thigns too vague
Making things vague in what way? As for dialogue, I think what can help with that is listening to people talk and try to transcribe that down.
Talking, especially with friends, can be a really messy ordeal where voices stumble over each other, things aren't necessarily articulated the best ways and the flow has a possibility to just... wander off into something entirely different from the point. I never did like how cut and clean people were in books I read while growing up. Everyone was quite proper, there were never any interruptions unless it was for dramatic effect. It wasn't bad but it wasn't natural.
Vague like proper worldbuilding I guess? Little detail about the settings that help it feel more real. and not just superficial or empty
I think what helps is to start small. Practical. When it comes to what I've written here, a lot of it is pretty dull and... not vague, but kept very minimalist. And I don't think that's a problem. It has taken time but other stories has led to more of the world getting fleshed out over time. At least, I can use that as an argument since the whole "Jackyverse" seems to be a thing.
I've seen a lot of people, especially when they're trying to make grandiose stories or D&D campaigns, overdo it. Hell, I used to. You try to think of cultures, rules, laws, history, all of that shit that you honestly don't need. If it's pertinent to what's going on, of course it should be a part of it. But let things flow out and turn solid as they come up, if only so you don't end up writing yourself into a corner later down the line. Your previous words will help tell you what is and isn't. More so, what can and can't be without being an inconsistency. But even then... if there is an inconsistency, you can work with that.
>I think what helps is to start small.
I think I might have dove headfirst into it.
Just a bit. And you can do that, there's no real rule against it. But you've also mentioned a lot of times of how you get stuck, or how you aren't sure of how/where to continue. But for my stuff, I like for it to be added in throughout.
It's the same with a lot of background details. I've read a lot of stories where I just didn't care about more subtle touches, and I've dug harder into others than I should have. You don't need to tell a story to tell a story, as weird as that sounds. You can have a lot of details about a person or a place without ever explicitly saying so. Without going into a rant, you can in effect build your world up through the perceptions of your characters.
Good example I think I've said before is to have four separate characters think about a certain room. The room itself is just a place. But every character should have their own perspective and experiences that give the room context. By the time all four have given their thoughts, you can learn as much about the room as the characters themselves. I suppose to do the same across the setting can give it more heft and layers at the cost of it not being nearly as expansive. Which is not bad, especially if you do have other stories that fit within that setting.
you've seem to have hit your stride. don't look back
Hopefully I figure out something soon or I might lose it.
morning bump
Classification, do you have one?
Classification for what?
Alright, I think I’m going somewhere.
Where’s everyone
For as active and social the bootmares are, the threads are pretty lonely often. We had a big turnout for the last W2G which adds to the mystery.
That is rather peculiar, where did they come from? Where did they go?
where did they come from, cotton eye joe
But no seriously
I'm not really sure what else can spur activity, especially considering activity is so low that a second bootleg thread unironically started and had questions that couldn't or wouldn't be asked here for whatever reason.
Since the bunker isn't in any danger of getting booted, I'm getting to where I'm just content to write and interact as much as I'm interacted with. Which isn't saying a lot.
What, when?
Up to you on what you think it means.
>Nigga, we don't bite in /bootleg/. Quite the opposite - necrobumps are about the only thing saving the thread from falling off the board, aside from occasional updates. Ask away in the general, we'll be happy to help with whatever you're looking for.
I feel this
rare has staying power
All right, so if you guys don't bite, which bootleg green could I read so it won't hit me with sadness, like the first one I've read here long time ago?
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FlutterLime is pretty short and sweet.
>The two of you are bathed in the yellow glow of the Waffle House sign as you arrive.
>As you go in and take a seat you look at the menu; various breakfast foods were displayed upon its surface.
>Noticing you, a woman walks over to your table.
>Her hair was poofy, the top portion of it white, while the rest that reached down to the small of her back was chestnut brown, “Well aren’t you the cutest thing I’ve ever seen? What’s your name, sugah?” she asks you, her accent was noticeable.
>You look at Anon, and see him move his hands from the table to his lap as he shuffles in his seat.
She looks at you expectantly, so you stammer out, “R-Rosie Rock, miss.”
>You managed to respond at least, which elicits a smile from her, “Well ain’t that a coincidence, my name’s Roseanne. I can tell you’re a little shy, so I just wanna let you know not to worry your pretty little head because I’m gonna take care of y’all.”
>She pulls a pen from behind her ear and a notepad from her apron, “Now what can I get for the two of you?”
>While you ponder what to get, Anon takes the opportunity to tell her his order, “I’ll have an All Star, bacon, eggs scrambled, and a sweet tea for a drink.”
Roseanne nods, then turns to you again, you hadn’t decided on anything so you say, “I’ll uh, have the same, miss.”
>She smiles again, “My, my, someone must be hungry, we’ll get your food out for y’all soon.”
>With that she tucks the pen back behind her ear and walks away, leaving you and Anon to yourselves again.

I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have much, but man does it look like even less with 4chan's formatting.
>I know it isn't much, but
Somehow it ended up being exactly the right thing, IMO. Just before that update I was thinking of anon talking with Midnight, marveling at how much his view of Midnight had changed from when he mistook her for a ponybot.
Thanks, this one didn't make me cry at the end
Rare are the boots that don't have strong sad moments.
I sadly don't want to cry while in a bus to work so I'll have to try and find the less sad ones.
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>Call it wishful thinking, but it's not like you've got any indicators to the contrary.
>That there's also nothing to support your theory is beside the point, damn it.
>Luna, er, Zooma's voice recaptures your attention.
>You hope you don't call her Luna by accident.
>Even if you did happen to bungle her name aloud, could she really blame you when her voice is indistinguishable from Luna's?
>Then there's the fact that she's built like Luna, except she's better-proportioned in the back than her show counterpart.
>Man, "her" Anonymous is one lucky dude.
>"Hello, Anon? Earth to Anon?"
"Oh, shoot. My bad. What's up?"
>"I'm going to have a look around, okay?"
>You peer over the balcony railing- that's quite a drop.
"Um, okay. How...?"
>Zooma spreads her massive wings as much as she can in the cramped space.
>"You didn't think these big things were just for decoration, did you?"
"Well, I, uh... I didn't mean to im-imply that-"
>Zooma covers her mouth with an olive wing as she giggles at your verbal stumbling.
>Despite the heat rising to your face, you join this friendly mare in her laughter.
>It helps take the edge off the anxiety that's got your stomach in knots.
>"I'll be right back," Zooma says after your combined giggling tapers off.
>Before you can respond, she leaps over the railing, making you gasp.
>Well, would you look at that- she can fly after all!
>Zooma glides away from the apartment building and even executes a tight loop before changing her heading.
>She soars overhead and out of sight.
>Perhaps you could take another look in the apartment?
>It's not that you want to invade the rightful residents' privacy any more than you already have, but this is an extenuating circumstance.
>Any additional information you can glean about your new environment could only help your cause.
>On the other hand, the last thing you'd need is for these people to come home as you're snooping around their home- you're liable to get shot, or get the cops called on you at the very least.
>Then there's the cryptic "do some good" advice that asshole sign gave you.
>Would taking a quick look around the place violate that guidance, or is it excusable in some kind of moral grey area?
>Whatever the case, Zooma's arrival spares you from making a decision.
>She rears back in the air, her dress billowing in the wind driven from her mighty wings but a moment before she makes a rather skillful and controlled landing beside you.
"Well? What can you tell me?"

This is all I've got in the tank tonight. I really hope someone else takes a stab at it.
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God these allergies are kicking my ass, I feel like I have a fever and the heat is making it hard to think.
Like, you've actually checked and it's a real fever, and not just feeling hot? 'cause I think allergies don't usually cause fever.
They can if you're really allergic to something.
Lucky for me I only get a slightly runny nose and light tingling in my throat in the mornings.
So fine, Felineshine, won't you be mine? What do you say? Give me a sign...
I didn't check if it was a fever, but if it's 73 degrees in the house and I'm sweating in just a t-shirt and underwear something is probably wrong.
Her temper runs hot but her love can't be warmer.
She's probably my favorite.
funny enough i had a family member say their cat allergies was worse than the covid they caught years later and he thought that he had it when it was just allergies.
tlldr dont underestimate how much mother nature can fuck yourself
imagine if you had catmare allergies, would you still feel the same?
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>"Love, uh, finds a way."
>Then there's the fact that she's built like Luna, except she's better-proportioned in the back than her show counterpart.
Is this a legit detail in the original zooma or did you insert the brainworm
The latter. I like to imagine the zooms with a little more junk in the trunk because it EXCITES ME SO.
I'm not sure how I feel about this
I'd argue that it's not that difficult to find the stuff that's not sad but maybe it could be better. I think it's more typical that the longer ones are downright comfy
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protips use notepad++ to keep a wordcount.
this dude gets it
Reggie plz
>she's built like Luna, except she's better-proportioned
>she's better-proportioned
Luna's already perfectly proportioned.
Fuck you cunt.
love your art man you capture the characters really well
is it really that easy to recognize writefags?
thanks dude, do you know me from bootleg or from poner?
>unable to cope with Zooma's superior posterior
Only if you promise to be good.
interdasting, how long have you lurked boot?
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We're streaming Athena get in the cytube NOW
aaaaaand it's gone!
That's a funny way of saying forever added to the bootleg playlist.
Athena may have gotten the early fan support, but Lustrous is winning me over
Now just a doggone minute. Is there a studio that is actually able to stay in business making these? Would they be willing to finance a TV series that Anons produced for, say $10,000 per episode (no questions asked)?
is messing with a bootleg proportions but keeping it mostly in tact more taboo than doing another blind take on the character?
>Luna's already perfectly proportioned.
This Lunafag gets it.
Oh yeah, I guess you could count them as bootlegs.
That's a very good question. I'm sure you might be able to find a smaller group/company and fund them. There are a good few animators out there. Imagine DoubleWBros doing videos for the boot. But someone has to make first contact and give their best attempt at convincing.
Since last thread but i read all threads in the archive
>Imagine DoubleWBros doing videos for the boot.
can't decide which story their style would be best suited for
I dont know how you could watch it and think they arent bootlegs. Athena was based off Cadance's messy mane and Lustrous is clearly a hanabarbara version of Chrysalis
Limeshy is kind of almost a doubleW micros skit. They always do hypercute stuff which DQs a lot of the bootleg falling more on reals and feels but Thun could fit the bill .
I think there's only one person that AAAAAAAAAs over jackats, are you trying to bait him?
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I'm doing it... to learn to control myself better. Because when you think about it there really is nothing more sweet and cuddly and adorable AS THE SOFT, PLUSHY THICC FOIHUGRREFJO CAAASTJAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK
I wont believe you until there's an IF scenario of catmares
hey youre that artist that did friendship is manly
kakashi panda?
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Anyone remember her?
no better than deer scritches
I could see them doing little daily snippets of the dorks being dorks.
Don't tempt me, I'll do it and make sure more art is made.
I am just FortuneFavors
what did he mean by this
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how long should green be before you post it?
As long as you want it to be.
Seconding >>38542747
If you find yourself in a natural pause in the story, or if you simply ran out of creative energy, use that as a sign to stop, post what you have, and regroup.
But whats the happy middle ground between nobody reading a couple posts and nobody reading too many posts
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I still have no answer to that. From writing six digits of Jack to a random shitpost about peetzer pone, I have no genuine clue who reads my shit. Have no analytics on how much they read at once, where the cut-off point is or anything else. I just write and it is what it is.
Don't worry about that. Write because the characters need their stories told, and for no other reason. Anons will read it regardless. Getting (You)s is another matter entirely, but the writefags ITT will give you feedback. Everyone has to start somewhere.
We need more pizzer pone
What I'd like to do is to just try more random one-offs that aren't attached to anything. Just see what bubbles up.
More one offs could be a good balance between all the long stuff. Anything come to mind?
Not at all. Which is pretty much par course for me.
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Maybe my recent lack of ability to figure out what to do next is a curse by these two for not finishing their picture.
well thats new, suntleg is a mom to moonleg?
Nah, in Rosie, Dawn Glow calls Selene "aunt" and the Celestia boot "mom"; I'm deliberately keeping her name vague for the moment.
"Hey hey, good morning Princess."
>Every day feels like the same
"How're you feeling today? Wanna do breakfast or lunch to start the day?"
>Silly question but it's a good way to see her mood for the day
"Oh man, really? I never noticed that! Good eye."
>She always knows
"You're the best, you know that?"
>She really is
"We really had fun today, didn't we? I'm gonna put on some music and get some shut eye. I'll see you in the morning, ok?"
>It feels great to know you make her smile
"Huh? Well yeah, of course you can sleep in here too. I'll make sure I put something on that we both like. Good night, Princess."
>It isn't that you wish this day would never end...
>You just wish
>That you could have a tomorrow
>After ninety days
"Hey hey, good morning Princess."
>You're getting used to the swing of things now
"How're you feeling today? Wanna do lunch or dessert to start the day?"
>You still get to see her smile every day, which is great
"Oh man, really? I never noticed that! Good eye."
>Always sharp as a tack
"You're the best, you know that?"
>Always has the best smile and giggle
"We really had fun today, didn't we? I'm gonna put on some music and get some shut eye. I'll see you in the morning, ok?"
>The smile you give her is genuine
"Huh? Well sure, of course you can sleep in here with me. I'll make sure I find something good that we both like. Have a good night, Princess."
>But it's starting to make you feel a little lonely
>After nine hundred days
"Hey hey, good morning Princess."
>The pay is good
"How're we feeling today? Wanna do early dinner or go for some snacks?"
>It sure is lonely though
"Oh man, really? I never noticed that! Good catch."
>It isn't really "work", per say
"You're the best, you know that?"
>But not everyone could stay with this as long as you have
"We had fun today, huh... I'm gonna get some good music going and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"
>At least you haven't had to pay for anything since you started
"Hm? Well sure, you can sleep on my bed. I'll put on something extra chill for you then. Yeah. Have a good rest, Princess."
>You know you're doing a very valuable job
>Because of you, a lot of people can have their very own friend
>You're just a number but that's ok
>To her, you're important
>That's ok
>Isn't it?
>After nine hundred and thirty five days
>You wake up, as usual
>You get to set your own alarm and times, which is pretty nice
>A good perk is that you have pretty much your own personal day, which can be as active or as lazy as you like
>You can change things up every month if you like
>The consistency is important, of course
>You need to make sure all situations and fields are checked off
"Hey hey, good morning Princess."
>The pony that was set in your guest room wobbles out to you
>She looks like she's seen a ghost
>"Wh... where am I?"
>The pony scoots back, away from you until her back is against the wall
>"I've never seen you before. Where am I?"
>It's one of those days...
>Of course, sometimes you get a...
>You won't call them "duds"
>But they're not programmed right
>Rather, they aren't programmed at all
>It really isn't a bad thing
>Not unless they're supposed to be a specific character
>Then it's an issue
"This may sound odd, but... well, here, I'm gonna steal a spot and sit on your bed real quick. Anyway..."
>You don't explain things to her
>Not completely, that would be silly
>Instead, you tell her that you're an...
>That she's recovering from a surgery and that you've been given a script to help her regain her memory
>Sometimes, you change your obvious lie
>Sometimes, she's some poor guy's wife
>Sometimes, she's a surrogate mother
>Sometimes, she's just your best friend
>Sometimes, she has wings
>Sometimes, she has a horn
>Sometimes, she has both
>Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, sometimes
>She is just a scared pony that you try to calm down
>It goes well
>You try your best to get her to eat
>And sometimes, you can even get her to warm up to you
>The food you give her have a few tranquilizers put in
>Whether or not she notices, she eats and thanks you for your honesty
>They're slow-acting
>To make sure she doesn't panic, of course
>The rest of the day goes by as smoothly as you can expect
>She's suspicious of everything you do but you just want to watch a movie with her
>You haven't seen it in a few months, due to the scheduling you stuck with
>By the end of it, she's drowsy and leaning against you
>"...you did this, didn't you."
"...I did."
>Of course she knows that she shouldn't be tired right now
>"Is... is this it? Is my life over now?"
"...I'm sorry, Princess."
>You call her that out of reflex
>The name makes her whimper
>She tries to sit up but instead she flops against you, her head landing on your lap
>Out of reflex, you pet her mane
>"Please don't let them take me away. I'm not going to wake up again, am I?"
"It'll be ok. I promise."
>"...do you really?"
>She's desperate
>Desperate to believe the lie
>Desperate to believe that she will have a chance at life
>Desperate to believe in you
>You mean every word you say
>It's as futile a wish as hers, that she'll be ok
"I do. I promise I'll be with you every second."
>And you mean it
>And you are there
>For every
"Hey hey, good morning Princess."
>After nine hundred and thirty six days
"Are you feeling ok today? We can have whatever you like."
>The guilt eats at you
"Oh dang, really? I never noticed that! You really are great."
>You do your best to keep smiling
"You're the best, you know that?"
>This Princess isn't the one from yesterday
"We had fun today, huh..."
>She looks like her
"...huh? I'm crying?"
>She sounds like her
"N-no, I just... the music, I..."
>She smiles just like her
"I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
>You tell yourself you did everything you could
"Forgive me, Princess. I tried to get them to make an exception."
>And now you've ruined another one
How's that for a one-off?
>mfw I couldn't tell who the princess is. but I could tell it was going to be sad as soon as we entered the groundhog loop. its like a double amnesia where even the reader gets to experience it. who is the princess? i cant remember
11. What Goes Around...

>The office is warm; earth tones bathed in curtain-dimmed sunlight. Inviting. Disarming, even.
>"Please, take a seat."
>You do as you're told. The couch? Futon thing? Chais lounge? Couch. It's a couch- and deep enough in the seat to accomodate your equine physiology.
>Is this the right thing to do? Do you really need to be here? Anonymous made an empassioned case for it.
>It's in your best interests; he swore it.
>Besides, wouldn't it be cathartic to share old horrors that had, until recently, laid dormant in the quiet corners of the mind?
>You'd never argued so much.
>Sure, you'd had little spats here and there, as lovers do, but this is something else entirely.
>He said you're becoming too aggressive, too... overbearing. Trying to control too much. Expecting too much of yourself.
>You're scared.
>Scared he might reject you. That life could never be the same should your relationship not survive these rough emotional seas.
>He just wants you to open up, to share what wakes you both up several times each night; with your shrieking and flailing.
>Surely he has a right to know, as your lover and best friend?
>It's not that you disagree, you just can't bear to share with him what you've remembered. What's been unearthed from the sands of memory, laid bare once again by the winds of time.
>"Miss Zooma?"
>Your focus snaps to the middle-aged woman. Golden-rimmed round lenses twinkle in the muted sunlight, dulled along the sides by wisps of ashen hair. Lapis lazuli eyes glint behind glass shields, firm, yet comforting. As if they possessed some authority to influence in which manner your fate shall be resolved.
>"Zooma? Are you with me, dear?"
>You blink.
"Yes. I'm sorry, I've been... lost in thought."
>She nods. "I understand. I'm Doctor Lazlo." she says, holding out her right hand.
"Zooma," you reply when her fingers wrap around your hoof. "Thank you for meeting with me."
>Dr. Lazlo gives a light chuckle. "Don't thank me, honey! I outta be thanking you! You'll forgive me if I'm excited- in a professional sense, mind you- to have a sapient equine as a patient! Oh, the papers I-"
>She cuts herself off, and hides a grimace.
>"Forgive me," she says, with a wince.
"It's fine. I understand."
>And you do.
>You understand all too well.
>Just how far "professional curiosity" could drive someone.
>She clears her throat. "So, Zooma- such a cute name, by the way! *Ahem!* Zooma, why are we here today? What would you like to get off your chest?"
>Why are you here?
>You're remembering.
>Every night, you hear their voices. Every night, you see their faces. Every night, you see HIM.
>"Zooma? What's troubling you, dear?"


>"...time, 1024 hours. Subject: Luna Model Anomaly, code 'Green Twenty-Two'."
>The white room.
>This one always wears the same thing. Red Polo shirt, khaki slacks, white lab coat lacking any decoration.
>You can never quite read his badge.
>How it's able to obscure its secrets to your literate eyes, you can't even begin to imagine.
>"Subject is an adult female, alicorn-type spliced as a standard Luna model. Anomalies immediately apparent-"
>Your green fur.
>Your backwards cutie mark, missing the ink blotches.
>The silver streaks in your hair.
>How your eyes were a mistake. Too light a tint of blue, lacking the kiss of green that makes for a captivating teal.
>"...notwithstanding obvious cosmetic defects, physical condition is optimal. No deficiencies noted in strength, endurance, and motor coordination."
>Obvious cosmetic defects.
>Cosmetic defects.
>"...management has approved a study to discern the root cause of the imperfections..."
>Implying perfection was expected.
>"...despite the ethical concerned raised." He lowers his voice. "Like it'll make a difference, with all we've already done."
>Others come, they talk to you.
>A man and two women, all with perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect saccharine smiles lit by brilliant pearly whites.
>They ask you questions, sometimes they tell stories, or try to make you laugh with a corny joke.
>Sometimes you'd actually have fun, and forget for a moment that they could ever make you feel barely-contained dread.
>"How do you feel about being defective, Green Twenty-Two?"
>That's how they'd kill the laughter; sharp, icy words that pierce your heart and freeze your veins.
>"People won't pay for a defective pony. How does that make you feel?"
"I-" the words get caught in your throat.
>"Do you worry that nobody will ever want you?"
>The room gets blurry and you shout for them to go away as you crouch to the ground, olive green hooves covering summer sky eyes.
>"Subject has displayed personality anomalies as well..."
>White room. Again.
>This time the man has a coffee stain on his lab coat. It's so out of place on the otherwise flawlessly-consistent ensemble, it's practically offensive.
>"...with a flair for the dramatic, a la standard Rarity model."
>His eyes fall. A deep, hissing inhale through his teeth.
>"...directed to test for sensory anomalies..."
>He glances over his shoulder. HE is there. Short. Wide like a barrel. Always in the grey suit. HE nods.
>"...beginning with establishing pain tolerance thresholds." his voice warbles on penultimate word.
>Adhesive pads secure cold metal disks to your fur, squishing out a gel they place on those spots.
>There's a humming, then...
>The humming intensifies. Your body goes rigid in uncanny poses, wings displaying nearly-impossible geometry.
>At first it's too much, too sudden. The pain is so overwhelming, you can't even scream, let alone breathe.
>But then it comes in, fast and blistering hot.
>And then you're able to scream.
>They don't relent for another five seconds, but it might as well have been five days.
>Your skin is on fire. Muscles feel seared. Too afraid to blink, lest your eyelids fall off from being charred.
>He looks back to the man in he suit.
>"You said it yourself that this one was a drama queen. She's got another shot in her."
>A whine escapes you.
>'I'm sorry,' he mouths to you before diverting his eyes to a control panel.
>You hear yourself scream, but it doesn't feel like your screaming. And it's hard to look at the mirror on the far side of the room when your vision turns burning white.
>"Can you walk? Of course you can. You're MY little sister, and we're tougher than the rest of those so-called 'perfect ponies'."
>Twin goat horns, like long and twisted ivory towers, coax your neck higher, making you adopt a more proud posture, despite your terrible lingering pain.
>She waits for a sign- something, anything. So you give her a reassuring smile, after a three-second delay. She's so strong.
>You want to be strong like Star. She's your hero and the best sister you could ask for.
>Well, all the other defects are your sisters too, but Nightmare Star had a special connection with you.
>While the other defects' deficiencies were much less offensive than yours, they never let on that they knew you were something else entirely.
>Whereas Nightmare Star's defects had been an error of the gene coder's program, and not something that developed in-synthesis, the origins your anomalies were still a mystery.
>"Don't ever let them see them getting to you, okay?"
>You nod. You want to believe it.
>"State your name."
>The white room again.
>"State your name." he repeats, more force present in his voice.
"L- Luna."
>"That is incorrect. You are Green Twenty-Two."
"No! I'm Luna!"
>"Luna? Ha!" HE laughs in your peripheral vision. "Green fur? Backwards, incomplete cutie marks? The hair and eyes? You're not fit to bear the name 'Luna'!"
>"Let's try again," the lab coat man says in a calmer voice. "What's your name?"
>You want to believe it, but you know HE is right.
>Nightmare Star wouldn't want you to falter now. You must be strong. For her.
>But how can you be strong when you don't believe in yourself?
"...G-Green... Twenty...Two."
>Your face is like stone.
>But this statue can't help the tears that roll down her cheeks.
>There's that word again.
>His eyes are glazed over, yet his words are as thoughtful as ever.
>It must be how he copes, to adopt the emotional detachment of a robot.
>But does he have to talk like you're not even there?
>Nightmare Star is having headaches.
>Nightmare Star is having headaches.
>She says it starts in the bases of her horns, then they radiate upwards with home horrible pressure, as if they might burst. She barely eats when she gets them.
>You do what you can, to be strong like her, for her.
>Your sisters and you sing soothing songs for her. Other times, you try to entertain her by having races around the indoor pasture.
Getting Snapplejack flashbacks. Still down in a rut huh?
>Whether the route was a simple oval track or a winding, barrel-studded obstacle course made little difference- you always won.
>Nopony could match your speed, agility, and grace, be it on the ground, or in your limited metal-capped airspace.
>It feels good to win. It makes you feel like there's nothing wrong with you. If only for a minute or two.
>"State your name."
>The sessions in the white room always begin with that question now.
>You haven't seen the three perfect faces in a while, but something tells you they're nearby, always just out of sight, ready to spring forth if forgotten entirely.
"L-" the word catches in your throat again.
>You want to say it, but you still know the truth of what you are.
>But you don't want to give them the satisfaction.
>"YOU are GREEN. TWENTY. TWO." HE barks in his gravely voice. "SAY IT!"
"I refuse." you say, channeling the well-earned confidence of ten racing victories.
>"Compliance cocktail. Now." HE snaps at the vacant-eyed lab coat man.
>The medications are cold, chilling your insides as they rush through your veins. You taste metal, and everything fades away...
>You almost didn't win today.
>Of course it had to happen on the first day Nightmare Star was finally feeling better!
>Was it not for a stumble unbecoming of your superior athleticism, you'd have won by a comfortable margin instead of by the skin of your teeth. Still, a win is a win!
>Nightmare smiles at you after the race.
>"We've been talking, the girls, and I," she says with a rare smile. She's so hauntingly beautiful when she smiles. "You know how they won't let you call yourself Luna?"
>You flinch, and nod.
>"Well, to hell with them. You're too good to be Luna anyway. You're our 'Zooma'! Let's hear it for our speedy sister, Zooma!"
>All the reject girls cheer and chant your name.
>The joy of winning races pales in comparison to the euphoria you're experiencing in this moment.
>You look at HIM.
"Zooma," you boom, not caring to hide the pride in your voice.
>"Green. Twenty-Two." HE growls.
>But your conviction surpasses his own. Because for the first time, you believe in YOU.
"Zooma!" is your defiant reply.
>Then something you didn't expect happens. There's a flicker in his eyes.
>"Oh?" HE says with a chuckle. "And tell me, how did our resident drama queen earn such a... unique, *hmm?* name?"
"Because I'm *fast*". Pride is practically dripping off your voice. "Nopony can outrace me!"
>There's movment in your periphery.
>Cold rushes through you, bringing the metallic taste with it.
>Today, the unthinkable happened.
>You didn't win the race.
>Not only that, you didn't even make the top ten.
>Why did you stumble so much?
>"Hey, Zooma." Nightmare trots up to you. "Enough sulking. They've opened up the extension with the new field. Come graze with us."
>Sighing, you stand and make for your sister.
>But you can't.
It's just what came to mind.
Worse. It's just a QA job.
>Instead of heading directly for your sister, you stumble to the right and fall over.
>You rise on shaky legs and try to trot, only for you two zig-zag a few meters before falling again.
"Star? What's happening to me!?"
>The Perfect Faces are back.
>Something's different about them, they're more perfect, more... terrifying.
>"I can't imagine what you're going through, Zooma." The man says with his warm, velvety voice.
>They all hug you and offer their condolences, but you don't believe them. What's worse, they don't hide the fact that they know that you don't buy into their act. Yet they act it all the same, so perfectly plastic.
>"Who are YOU supposed to be?" a Diamond Tiara model asks you with obvious disgust in her voice.
>Your first time with the "show accurate" models is not off to a great start.
"I- I'm... Zooma."
>"You sure about that?" a Silver Spoon asks you. "Cuz you look like a discount-brand Luna to me."
>The remark cuts so deep you flinch.
>"That is enough!"
>Thank goodness for the Cheerilee model that just arrived.
>The fillies run off.
>"I'm sorry about those two," she sighs. "Those two were custom-made to be extra nasty."
>Cheerilee pauses for a moment. "Please don't hold it against them."
>You nod.
>"What's your name, dear?"
"Zooma." you say with a hint of more confidence.
>"Nice to meet you, Zooma! First day in this part of the compound?" she asks whilst motioning you to walk with her.
"Mmm-Hmm!" you reply with your tongue hanging out the side of your mouth, desperately trying to focus on a fence post some twenty meters away.
>It's not enough. You meander to the right and bump into Cheerilee, then bounce left a few steps before tripping over your own hooves.
"I'm so sorry," you say, meandering over to a recovering Cheerliee. "I've been having trouble walking lately."
>Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon howl with laughter.
>Deviations. Deficiencies.
>Always with those nasty words.
>"What's your name?"
>HE hasn't asked you that in a while.
"Z-Zooma." You say to the ground.
>"And why are you 'Zooma'?"
"Because... because I'm..."
>Fast. Well, you used to be.
>"You're 'Zooma' instead of 'Luna' because you're imperfect. You are a mistake. A reject. A cheap imitation... A bootleg pony."
>You try to tell yourself it isn't true.
>It doesn't matter- you can already taste metal.


>"Zooma? What's troubling you, dear?"
>The room swims.


Man, I figured her background wasn't going to be fun. While Zooma was fortunate to have someone to lean on and others to talk to, losing the one thing you find pride in is pretty damn rough, particularly when it's the source for your name.

Interesting - albeit depressing - insight with this update, particularly with the psychological abuse. If you asked me which of the moonhorse bootlegs had a rougher background, I don't think I could or would want to decide.
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Pic related. I've been there
Looks like we blew past the luna meeting and landed in not-marraige counseling. Very unexpected for how well it was going
As I was reading this I was thinking he was gunna drug-poison Zooma after the remark about her name and speed so shed be sure to lose. I really hate how much of a predictable asshole he is, but permanently ruin her motor skills? that's too fucking far.
I told myself I wasn't going to read this. I still did. Goddammit.
I couldn't do that job. I'd crumble the first time. Just reading that is rough.
You've inspired me to drink this morning. Okay, a couple of things did that. [/spoiler
I guess why try to shake the rep of the thread and instead fully embrace it?
I suppose I'm alright with inspiring people to drink. At least it's inspiration.
Life is often chunky with sorrow. Doesn't that make the few happy notes that much sweeter?
>Life is often chunky with sorrow. Doesn't that make the few happy notes that much sweeter?

This really is the way I look at life - you need the lows so the highs actually feel like.... well, highs.
Also, I solved my own issues this morning, so I'm good. Only had one brewski. But you and Reggie made me start writing a little thing with Midnight to offset all of those oofs you were making me feel - even if I have no idea when I'll use this scrap.
Just gotta remember that this sort of thing happens when people ask for one-offs. The R&B one-two punch is just good timing.
I had no intentions of writing that last night. I was cleaning up dinner and it all came to me in a rush. Guess it was time to tell that part of her story.
>blew past the luna meeting
The meeting never happened. If you go back to that scene, Luna asked for her dress back from Spitfire and put her sunglasses back on because she intended to hide from Luna, hence Spitfire's disappointment.
>Very unexpected for how well it was going
We don't know how much time has passed since the last scene. That's why I like the vignette structure- I have more flexibility as time goes. And I don't feel like laying everything out for the readers with Zooma. A lot of things might not make sense until we get further in. It may be inconvenient to the reader that's used to getting a story in a linear, orderly fashion, but this is how the glimpses of her life are coming to me.
I'd question the reliability of repressed memories that resurface via nightmares.
That was a bit rough to read.
>The meeting never happened.
Yeah but it could have, I missed the bonding between spitfire and zooma
Snip vignettes are unusual formatting but its how Twill greens originally were, certainly takes some of the pressure off of telling something start to finish and needing to maintain a level of interest throughout the whole story
What do you think a bootleg genie pone be like and what would she be sealed in?
Indonesia seems to have the best knock offs

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Can certainly see why Dawn almost called Rising Shine 'mom'. Selene a cute, too.

On my end, I finished up what I thought was going to be the next update - but I'm not sure now. I might hold that until later.Kind of in this odd spot of Midnight where I have things I wasnt to do or at least ideas, but don't necessarily have or know the order to have them occur. So, actively writing, just don't have an actual update to post currently.
Whats Selene's problem?
>Can certainly see why Dawn almost called Rising Shine 'mom'.
But would Anon call her "Mommy"? Asking for a friend.
Loving Selene's mane, and Bootmommy is super fine as well. Anon better work on his weak-ass game if he wants a chance at landing these two.
>Anon calls Rising Shine "mommy"
>We have a bootleg that calls her Anon "papa"
She's very serious and straightforward, "all business" as they say, the cold and detached demeanor Dawn puts on for her job is modeled after Selene, or how she sees her. Rising Shine in contrast is outwardly warm and loving, always smiling. She's everyone's mom, except for Selene because they see eachother as sisters.
I don't have any plans for Anon to actually interact with Rising Shine, probably ironic given how much she matters to Dawn.
Also unfortunately they're taken, it's part of why Dawn and Sonata are the way they are, because they don't have someone in their life like Selene and Rising Shine do.
I regret even starting this story
I've been avoiding even reading this thread because I feel like I'm disappointing anons by not posting
well I this answers your question for me
>I feel like I'm disappointing anons
We're all disappointments, anon. It's what draws us to here. We push on and keep doing because we have to. For them.
I suppose the problem is, then, that most of my journeying doesn't require me to write a story
the ly-esque mare in the story's just a sideways version of the ly in my head, and I don't need to write about her in order to work things out.
When I think about writing, it would end up just being a re-hashing of something I've already felt or went through, a mere imitation of a personal journey rather than the journal for the journey itself.
At that point I don't need to write, the story's already over and past and done.
Well it doesn't have to be a journal. It can be a recollection of events and more tales to tell. It's really up to you on how you do your stuff. I write, not so I see what happens next, but to also tell other people what happens. "When you're in love you want to tell the world" and all that.
That said, if you really don't want to continue, you don't have to. I'd advocate for continuing but you aren't letting down anyone. Lurkers don't care either way.
You can sit er on the back burner for a bit and see if you can come up with something new. Letting things stir or settle and see if the idea comes back to you again then you know you got a need to write it out
I think my mind doesn't think in terms of stories, it thinks in terms of images, of individual scenes
when I both started the story initially and re-started it in a new location, it was in some sense just me taking a singular image and trying to story-ify it, assuming that if it worked in the present moment then it could easily be developed into something bigger - but that appears to not be the case. Writing a singular, meaningful scene is easy; writing a satisfying long-term story is hard.
Why not stick to singular scenes? You could argue that's what most of what Jacky is. Just a lot of daily scenes and snippets strung together like macaroni on a string until it forms a larger story.
>Jacky is scenes and Snippets strung together
also Zooma territory, or Rare which has significant staying power like mentioned before. I know people may think they want a story, or to write a story when it comes to 'green' but maybe people dont actually know what they want after all
I wanted to slowly build up until I could get to the point where anon and the ly-mare could actually talk and live with each other, but that buildup would take ages, and it's just not how I work
my mind works, not even like how Jacky works with individual scenes with the same characters in the same place, but with short dream-like metaphors, allegories, myth-things. Unsatisfying, floating - merely there to ring out, then fade away mysteriously leaving more questions than answers.
>>38548257 (me)
the problem is, that's not very /boot/ now, is it. That's no green, that's no narrative.
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When it comes to staying power, there's certainly more than just Rare. It also depends because I'd say Derby is also pretty difficult to forget about. Nevermind a ton of /bootleg/ things are two years old or less. After another eight or ten years, we can talk more on staying power and what constitutes for popular. If any of us are around then.
>many people don't actually know what they want after all
True, but that's why you just have to go for it.
You're not wrong, there. I suppose you can at least enjoy the ride.
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Some advice coming from the one who wrote the BIGGEST disappointments of /bootleg/ imo, while simultaneously something enough to inspire another longterm writefag.

I tried to write Twill just like you said, a lot of buildup and a lot of narrative but I ended up liking the stuff tha took the snippets much more. I paralyzed myself pyschologically thinking that after people who were disappointed from the abrupt end where it wasnt supposed to be.

When I came back to Twill(long) I found that Twill(long) suffered from very bad pacing and I didn't know what I was doing, I bit off way more than I could chew and ended up choking on finally reaching the point of Anon and Twill together.

I thought that it needed a rewrite (and it does) but instead of tackling that monster, Twill(Long) is still my biggest project of never ever. Instead I went back to Twill(Shorts) which was little snippets of just one scene. Oringinally Twill(Shorts) were always meant to be something that you could take from anypoint and piece it together like a puzzle. That's just the way I managed it by getting around that I couldn't write a long drama worth a damn
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Well hell, you couldn't have timed that much better if you tried. I wouldn't get in the way of arguing what parts would or wouldn't be better if done another way but I will certainly say that I would not have started without Twill. Pacing can be an issue, and depending on what's going on, it really can be difficult to get something going that feels right. As many greens as I've done here, short or long, I like to think that at least some of them feel unique from each other. Even if some are happy or goofy. Even if some are "that was a story, I'm never going to read this again".
You wanna talk staying power, Twill just does it.
Just curious if you are talking about the pacing with the long form or the shorts in the pics. Hate it as I might, I still get people now and then saying that it was somehow She's their favorite boot and I never finished her story
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Pacing in the long. The shorts are pretty short and sweet. They're paired with visuals which give them a complete package sort of feel where you can read one and get everything you need. I can only hope that after so many years, anons will look back on my greens like they look back on Twill.
Well the longform green My Lovely Horse is striped off the archive , though you might find it in the others like Saphs.I think you have more fans but my disappointments dont end there.

The point is to lyrafag here is write what youre comfortable with. if people are disappointed with it, at least you did something, but I think you'd find that even if you start something with it all planned out and predictable itll still veer off a lot. thats just the nature of the beast
I want to write, and I think I want to write like that. Perhaps.
A series of shorts, in many different places and times
but one thing remains the same -
there is always a mare, and there is always a man.
The man may have bought the mare, or the mare may have rescued the man - but there could have been no world without them, together.
She is like another mare, but she is not that mare.
He is many things, but is nothing yet.
In my heart, that is /boot/, and that is something more. It goes on and on, repeating in newly-formed patterns, every day a different color of sunrise.
I think what you're trying to do has been done successfully before or at least something similar, maybe not in bootleg but one of the favorites of /moth/ was just snippets about a couple characters sharing breakfast every day and eventually it developed into more depth and development.

Nobody can read your mind though, so you'll have to show it on paper.
I guess I'm more trying to explain how I feel about /boot/ in general
I can see it, this repeating happily-ever-after. It's always a new mare, a new anon - but they're all from the same source, that one glorious current.
I'm not just talking about a story I'd want to write, but about the nature of the thread, and why it has such staying power. Why anons keep writing, despite the (you)s being few and far between.
I don't think I can write like you other glorious writefags, but I can see a glimpse of it.
pretty meta but I gotta ask if its a new boot and new anon would lymare even be involved? it sounds like you want to do a collection of a series of shorts, like you could find in a nippon fan magazine and the 'green' is just the medium of which all the shorts are kept together. Am i getting colder or warmer?
>Rain was beating down.
>As you ran for your door with large slapping steps, splashes flung up from the walkway with every step threatening to ruin your day, or at least your suit.
>Right as you had parked and gotten out of your car the wind had yanked the umbrella clean out of your hands and stole it away into the night.
>You frowned at the loss, but more so turn of the whether that had come and blindsided you and other drivers out of the blue.
>It was time to batten down the hatches if you had any, but first you had to fight to get through the harsh weather for such a small distance.
>Pushed to and fro in the wind and with nothing but left with only your own skin and a few layers of cloth against the elements.
>But you made it and with great gusto you slammed the door shut beating back the wind, taking a brief minute to compose yourself from a hard day at work.
>After a moment longer you took off your soaked jacket and shoes and placed it loosely on the coatrack to dry, breathing a sigh of relief.
>Knowing that even if it were a hurricane you were safely secure in your small stony secluded haven down below, what might be like a cave entrance from above gave away to the spiral stairway into the den.
>The entryway inside was warmly lit by candles and crystalline ceiling lights that hung from the ceiling, with pictures and flowers hung or strung along the white delicately decorated walls.
>Combined dimness giving off a pleasant and relaxing warmth to the whole area.
>Your own little secret paradise compared to what you just escaped from.
>Still dripping wet you were greeted by a soft shadow cast on the far hallway wall just down the bend, the shadow of someone hard at work in the kitchen.
>It called to you with sweet sincerity.
>"Hello Anon! It's so great to have you back home again, I missed you."
>Making your way to the doorway was the unmistakably familiar aroma of pasta, butter and cheese filling the air.
>These days it's all you need to get through the day, no matter what you go through at work just to bask in that glow that it gave off.
>Not the cheesiness but your angel in white.
>Making your way around the corner you paused leisurely leaning against it, if only to take in the image your lovely wife
>She was working away in the kitchen making one of her hundreds of macaroni and cheese recipes, again.
>Your own little treasure cove. Simple but what a set for sore tired eyes it was, her ears swiveled and flicked balancing up on her hind hooves while leaning over the marbled countertop with practiced finesse.
>She always welcomed you without missing a beat.
>And you in turn would drape your hands over her smooth shoulders and give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I missed you too."
Well this post aged poorly.


>A dark blue appendage slowly obscures your view of the laptop screen.
>You ignore it and the owner as best you can, craning your neck to look over the obstacle.
>Unfortunately, it flexes and wiggles around, taking up as much space as possible.
>"Hoof rub."
>You pull your eyes off of your work to glance at Midnight, who lies beside you.
>On her back, her legs folded close to her body, aside from the one that is bothering you right now.
>Her head is cocked to her left, to avoid sticking you in the hip with her horn.
>Or avoid you just sitting on it.
"You look retarded when you lay like that."
>"Like attracts like, I guess."
"It doesn't even look comfortable."
>"I know - hence the hoof rub I've duly requested."
>That makes no sense.
>Midnight picks up on your hesitation.
>Or maybe the face you're making of pure skepticism.
>"Stop thinking about it. You'll overtax your head."
"How about a compromise?"
>"Hm... I don't think so."
>Despite the answer, you reach over with your right hand and stroke her chest.
>The fine fur almost tickles the palm of your hand while absorbing the warmth she exudes.
>"That...that's not... my hoof," she manages to blubber out as she basks in the attention.
"Yeah, I don't know my anatomy, so that's the best I can do."
>As your eyes go back to the laptop, you keep up your loving strokes upon Midnight's chest almost absentmindedly at this point.
>Before long, you feel the couch underneath your ass and the mare underneath your hand shifting in unison.
>You don't have to turn your head to find out what's going on - Midnight pushes her way onto your lap headfirst, forcing the laptop to be supported by your knees
>You look down at her, while she looks back up at you without a care in the world, giving you an eager grin.
"You are not a laptop."
>"Wow, so you can tell the difference?" she chides.
"You're needy."
>"No, you've just convinced me that you have more uses. Now, continue, my slave."
>You have to cock your head at that last comment and purse your lips.
>"Don't look at me in that tone of voice."
>You grab the laptop and gently place it over Midnight's snout, obscuring her whole head from your view.
"That's my line, you can't use it," you lament.
>"That's my laptop I'm letting you use," she responds in a nasally voice due to the device laid upon her.
>Cutting her a break after a few moments of her purposely snuffled breaths, you remove the laptop from her head and place it back onto your knees.
>"I knew you would see things my way," she gushes, looking quite pleased with herself.
>Okay, this has been decidedly uncharacteristic of Midnight tonight.
>It isn't bad.
>But you gotta know.
"You're acting awfully fucking weird tonight. What's up?" you inquire, continuing to massage her underside.
>Midnight tries to shrug - it isn't obvious to the eye, but you feel her shoulders and back shift in such a way.

>"You get to act like a buffoon all the time - I'm kinda bored, so I figured why not take a stab at it?" she suggests. "The massage is an added bonus - though I really would have preferred you focused on my hooves. I had to work my ass off to make up for you."
>She isn't wrong there.
>Almost half your day was spent underneath a Grand Prix pulling several stubborn suspension parts out of it.
"Yeah, but we are a team, Middie. There is no 'I' in 'team'."
>"There is a 'me' if you jumble up the letters," she counters with a devious grin, poking at your nose with one of her hooves.
"Shaddup. You said you were trying to be stupid," you reply, booping her snoot.
>"That really didn't take much thought to figure out, stupid."
"But you did have to think about it."
>"Well, I can't *not* think," she scoffs.
"You're getting there."
>"Come again?" she retorts, her brow raised with intrigue at your comment.
"You always told me you couldn't relax and shut your mind up. You're doing a hell of a job of it right now."
>"Shit changes, I guess. But I'm still sharp as a tack," she replies rather defensively as her gaze hardens.
"Just making note of it."
>"What about you actually giving a damn about work tonight, Anon? Explain that one to me," she demands, poking at your chest playfully.
"I'm not working on anything."
>"Looking at porn, then? 'Thirteen Man Slamathon'? 'Tranny Grannies in Crotchless Panties'?"
"Ooh, that last one sounds like it might have a good storyline to it."
>Midnight exhales through her nose, hitting you with a rush of warm air as her eyes do their best to dart to the white screen of the laptop, shifting back to you after a moment in silence.
>"You're currently browsing the junkyard spreadsheet - specifically the section covering the full-size Pontiacs," she drolls monotonously.
"You got that from a quick glance," you say aloud, not quite believing her.
>But she is right.
>"Bitch, please. I created the damn thing, I know my impeccable work."
"At least you're modest about it."
>Midnight sticks her tongue out, accompanying the gesture with a fitting "Nya!"
>You quickly move your hand that had been stroking her chest to seize the tip of her tongue between your thumb and index finger.
>Midnight's eyes widen at the surprise, but she doesn't otherwise react.
>"Leh go oth ny hongue, athhoe," she manages to work out.
"Is that supposed to be English?" you tease her.
>"Yow ah thaggot."
"Now say 'I rode in on a ship full of apples'."
>Midnight finally starts to do something about these shenanigans, pulling her purplish-pink tongue and your digits toward her open mouth.
>You let go just before she snaps her jaw shut, a look of accomplishment on her face shortly before disgust washes over her.
>"Aw, ew, I got fucking hair in my mouth," she bitterly crows, gagging and sticking her tongue out as she tries to rid herself of it.
"It's yours, so stop whining."

>After a few moments of exaggerated retching, Midnight calms down, turning her head to look at the computer screen once again.
>"What are you doing with that, anyway?"
"Jotting down what's been taken off the car. I don't know why you nor I have thought of doing that, but it should save time in the long run."
>"You know, I'm kind of ashamed that never occurred to me," she muses.
"No one is perfect," you reply, reassuringly patting her chest.
>"Yeah, but I'm pretty close," she adds with a haughty tone and complementary smirk.
>You try to think of something witty to say as you look down at her.
>But seeing her laying on your lap, her hair splayed out to show off the deep blue and violet strands of hair that frame her face...
>That smile that lets just the slightest hint of her canines poke out from her lips...
>Those otherworldly, lively blue eyes...
>You have nothing to say.
>Almost nothing to say.
"You're pretty damn close, yeah."
>Her brow furrows just a bit, taken aback by the comment.
>"I'm... that was a joke, Anon. I'm not quite that self-centered," she admits quietly.
"I know."
"You're so damned cute when you're all confused and flustered," you say, reaching up to her face and lightly pinching a cheek.
>"I still don't do cute," she laments, pouting just a bit.
"You're going it right now," you argue, pointing at her face.
>"Cute is just a word that's too... blech."
>You can't help but laugh as she makes a face of utter disgust once again as if the hair in her mouth from earlier has manifested once more.
"Fine. Adorable."
>"That works well enough. Or maybe 'ravishing," she suggests, her eyes lighting up upon utterance of that seemingly magic word.
>You shake your head.
"Too long."
>"It's the same amount of letters and syllables, shitstick."
"Yeesh, alright. Nerd."
>"Having some semblance of intelligence does not make me a nerd," she rebuts, brooding over the accusation.
"But you're a cute nerd."
>"I don't like you anymore."
"Well shit. Guess no more chest rubs."
>As you pull your hand away from Midnight's underside, her forehooves seize upon your arm, clamping down and dragging your hand back to her chest.
>"No. Mine," she mutters like a spoiled child.
"What, are you part cat now? I'm supposed to keep petting you until you suddenly decide to start biting the shit out of me?"
>Midnight shifts just a bit in your lap, cocking her head and eyeing you inquisitively.
"...you are way too goddamn big to be a house cat. You might even outrank the panther category."
>"Or maybe I'm just someone that demands to be lavished with attention. Heed my command, peasant."
"Trying to take after the villain you're based upon now?"

>"Hah!" Midnight belts out, her eyes going wide and maniacal as they begin to glow. "Nightmare Moon doesn't have shit on me. Look at everything I have! This kingdom and its riches! Someone to tend to my needs and pamper me! Completely unopposed! I should beat you for such a mindless comparison," she threatens in a playful growling voice.
"I swear you've cheated and been drinking to act this stupid tonight," you comment while stroking her.
>"I swear you went downstairs to take a leak about thirty minutes ago and left me unattended with a nearly empty bottle of rum in the fridge."
>Well that certainly isn't specific at all...
>She gives you a toothed grin when you eye her with a healthy amount of suspicion.
>"It's not cheating if you never anticipated playing the game beforehand."
"That was all you had?"
>You chuckle while you lean down and kiss the perplexed mare.
"You poor fucking lightweight."


This was not the original "update" I mentioned completing. This was the scrap I mentioned writing that went completely off the rails.
I'm not talking about a hypothetical thing I want to write, I'm talking about the posts I'm writing now
/boot/ is a really meaningful place to me, and when I started writing my green that was what I wanted to convey, the grand-ness of the narrative being told by the greens here.
I may not end up writing anything at all - but I hope I've half gotten the point across, now.
>/boot/ is a really meaningful place to me
I'm glad I'm not the only one. I never aimed to write all that I have, it just turned out that way. I think there's something pretty close to home about /bootleg/ just because we see a ton of real-life examples of it being a thing. A lot of the bootleg pones here, and in the real world, would otherwise go unnoticed and left to pure obscurity if it wasn't for precisely one anon deciding that they're worth something.
The revolving happily-ever-after isn't always so... but that makes every success that much more wondrous.
I’ve said it before but Rosie’s the most I’ve invested into any of my writing; I have to see this through to the end.
It might be going to be difficult to convey what you're feeling in a short nebulous format but give it your best and people will probably reciprocate.

How long have you lurked here before coming to the conclusion that its super meaningful to you?
based and bootpilled, but do you have any idea how long that will be to the end?
Not really, there's a point where I can see stopping because in my head the only thing I see happening after it is filler.
I think most writefags have a rough plan on what they want to start and finish with while the rest is just figuring everything out inbetween
>/boot/ is a really meaningful place to me
What makes it so meaningful to you?
I'm really quite new to /boot/, and I ought not to let my enthusiasm run away with me
I suppose it's less that I love these threads and this group of writers here - not that they're bad, it's nice how things are kind of quiet and personal - and more that I love the idea of a bootmare and the structure of your average story, because in my mind it so closely mirrors the stories I've heard of anons meeting/creating pony tulpas - a mare ends up in an anon's life, and while she's similar to a mare from the show, she's not quite the same. She and the anon grow closer together, do life together, and both of them end up changed for the better because of it.
I really care for my headmare, and I can't help but want to share that love for her, to share the experience of growing together, as well as the numerous imaginary, meaningful, and dream-like scenarios we've explored and played out together.
Ive never thought about it that way, or dove much into tuppers but I can see how that would appeal to you since tupperware can vary by a huge degree from the original they could have similarities with bootleg from a conceptual standpoint. So you kind of look at this thread like a share of tulpa greens then I take it?
As Lyrafag, any input on Aryl?
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Thanks for more Middie.
I was very surprised (but far from disappointed!) to see her behaving so carefree and silly. For a moment I thought that you did a time skip and this is future Midnight who learned how to relax, but your ending made more sense. Oh well, she'll get there someday. Silly or serious - she's still cute.
Yeah, it started as something comfy and light-hearted because that was what I wanted to do, then it just started getting more and more silly/stupid as I went. I do enjoy writing drunk poners, so it was a win-win, really.
It feels like freaking years since I've written anything. Yet Princess was just a few days ago. I'm not sure if this is part of the M A R E M A D N E S S but I feel compelled to write more than small little solo spats.
Yes! Endless expressions for a lifetime love of mare.
If Lyra likes hands, I can only conclude that Aryl must like feet.
what have you written before?
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Dorks'n more. But Part Eleven is done, Part Twelve is assured. Due to me trying to change my sleep schedule my head is out of whack. Too much chaos to really buckle down and get back to my usual. The /kinder/ thread was fun to write for but the massive sperg out that happened there made me wonder if I should just continue on ponepaste since I like that story and don't want to see it left unfinished.
Oh i get it, your addicted to your craft
I asked /nmp/ what their most vanilla green was to test the watersand got a meme response. >>38541029
So instead the boots gunna get it
>Vanilla green
Well, not a lot of /boot/ stories include outright sexual interaction. There are a good number of implied bits for some greens while others get to be more explicit. I don't think we have any bootmares that are into more /d/eviant things. As far as we're aware of.
I wont commit one way or the other on the definition of 'vaniller' but we probably have a different idea

>I don't think we have any bootmares that are into more /d/eviant things. As far as we're aware of.
Do you think shes's so easily forgotten?
>I don't think we have any bootmares that are into more /d/eviant things.
Unrelated, I'm suddenly tempted to write lewd Deathlight.
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now that's something out of the blue
I dont think weve seen enough of nottafish to really say if shes that deviant
I cant get enough of this story Middie is so cute
what aged poorly about it?
I suppose it was a bit of an exaggeration, but the initial post was when I didn't have anything for the next update, aside from a scrap that basically got completely overhauled and written to be that update. So in less than a half day, I went from not knowing what the fuck to do, do a complete update. That's rather abnormal for me.
better than me, I got nothing done all day, just rainy and cold and shit. tomorrow will be different.
>Middie is so cute
Better watch that c-word around her, brah.
In all seriousness, I'm in the same boat as a lot of others here in boot - it's become a passion project. Writing Midnight and seeing others enjoying her tale has been quite the rush - and continues to provide that high for me, particularly with silly updates like this last one.
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I have no clue what it means but I've been thinking of Angel Cake and of Home since yesterday.
Oh wow, my original version with the searing yellow lines.
How many versions are there?
Three; the lineart only version, that one, and the edit that Tiff made (the best one), seen >>38494854
I thought I had that version saved, I suppose not. I like how showing her in the best light was a group effort. Had the words, the framework, and then the finer details.
its a part o history now, if you hate it then learn from the one that did better
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I did the OP for the last thread
It does look better, but this it's just less effort with all lines black instead. So did you really learn from it?
I miss her comfy aura
I do too.
This is about as close as we'll get to bootleg vidya
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>Sometimes you hovered around her a little more and soak it in... sometimes like tonight.
>Your hands flowed over her barrel, the soft white fur parting between your fingers like lush, short trimmed feilds caused her to stiffle a knowing giggle.
>"A hard day honey?"
>You wrapped your arms around your wife and gave her a squeeze in response.
"How did you know?"
>A question that you didn't need to ask, you knew the answer already.
>You both did.
>She could always tell how your day went based on how affectionate you would be.
>Were you that predictable? You suppose yes, you're a bit boring.
>But that's OK, because she understood you better than any other girl you've ever met.
>Though tonight instead of finishing the routine you chose to collapse into a face-full of purple.
>It elated a squeeky gasp out of the startled mare. "A-Anon, please honey you are so c-cold!"
"But Marey, you are so warm" you retorted.
>It was no lie, this feeling beat any towel or blanket.
"And your mane feels so good"
>"Honey, the food..."
"It can wait."
>You lifted your head a bit and lightly brushed her soft flowing mane aside and traced a couple kisses down the back of her neck making her change tone to a hum in delight.
"Just a little bit?"
>You could tell she didn't want to, the mare absolutely loved to cook.
>She loved to cook yes, but you could always count on another fact.
>As if on que she sighed exasperated, smiling defeated but thoroghly buttered up.
>With a flick the stove burner was set to a simmer, and that was the only sign you needed.
>"Just a little bit"
>One hoofstep and two she moved twisting her hips before turning to you until you were face to face.
>Soon she'd be in your arms properly, but she wasn't smiling anymore.
>"Oh no..." "Oh no"
>Gently you were surrounded by a faint tingle and glimmer, and tipped into her open hooves.
>The horn shine faded away to a faint sparkle and she held you in for a warm hug.
>All her protests were gone in a flash, replaced by love and compassion.
>"Ah, not again Anon honey noooo"
>She patted your back and nuzzled your neck,
>And knowing the routine you've both been through more times than not, you almost spoke in unison.
"I'm a wet noodle again."
>"Anon is a wet noodle again..."
>You let her indulge in her motherly smothering for a bit before shifting the mood.
"Enough about that."
>You tugged lightly on her hooves, encrouageing her away from the hot stove.
"Please dear, I need my Marey time right now"
>It only took a little encouragement to pry her away from the kitchen fully and to the nearby den, leading her away with one hoof
>With the way you took the lead while she balanced on her hooves it looked like
>You chuckled to yourself which caught her curiosity, tilting her head with a flicker of her long eyelashes
>"What is it Anon, is something on my face?"
>You smiled and held her close to your chest before relenting.
"Oh nothing, just that it looks like I was about to dance with a Unicorn."
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We never saw her in a short mane did we
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Starsky is just too good at pushing buttons, her mane wasn't her power. its the mare
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Answer my email.
Oh damn, I didn't even know you sent one. I can't even blame Starsky for this slip up.
the tradition of bootleg out of bootleg continues
I wonder if the reason we don't get as much interaction is because we're seen as the "OC Donut Steel" thread of the board?
You'll see.
One of many, sure. /yandere/ made a very cute thread OC but no one has actually done much aside from make some art for her. I could be out of date on things but I don't think anyone wrote green of her yet despite a few people (myself included) saying they'd add it to their list.
I dont really get what you mean, there's a ton of long term generals that have their own OCs, infact its the norm
Hmm, guess this is just signs of me not really leaving this general often and only being here for about a year.
The answer is always, lurk moar. But cant get a general feel for the board that if you're just in a bubble
Don't forget the /neet/ thread. Cutest mares outside of /bootleg/, bar-none. That's all OC and donuts, and you have some really great artists too.
the only neet thread oc I know is floorb, the rest are literally whos that never get posted
No, the others get posted too. Floorb is a bit of the star but others like Paradise Skies and Dot Matrix are supreme.
outside that thread though they're totally unknown. just like the only oc known in /emo/ is eri. or pillowcase of /pie/
That doesn't diminish their cuteness or anything. I'm kinda curious if any more recent bootlegs are known anywhere, not counting the classic ones like Rare.
Rare is probably the only one, Twill may of been at one point but thats basically it since bootleg fell off into niche hell. There's the once ina blue moon Stompy post but about all ive seen
>bootleg fell off into niche hell
Brutal. But I suppose it is what it is, for better or worse.
Derb spotted >>38299725
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>Worse. It's just a QA job.
>mfw filling out the testing forms
How's everyone doing this weekend?
Mentally tired.
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A little busy trying to nigrig up a hydroponic setup, and unsure how it'll perform. I hope it works out
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>Time to read where I left off. But cant really remember where
>Uhh maybe about halfway through part 4
>Dont want to read everything from the beginning just so I dont skip
>pic related
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Why best zappony specifically?

"Are you going to make us stand out here all evening?"
>"Shut up!" Midnight barks from within the shop. "Just a few seconds!"
>It has legitimately been almost five minutes since Teddy and Starla arrived at your place, and all you can do is turn and shrug while the pair stand there, mildly amused by the exchange.
>At least they find it entertaining.
>It had been far too long since you all had gotten together - texts and video chats can only do so much.
>But, this was merely a casual evening spent with friends around a firepit.
>Other than Midnight's obsessive excitement with making a show of the Chrysler for your guests.
>... you didn't have the heart to tell her you had already mentioned the car to Teddy.
>Hell, you had assumed Midnight had already given the rundown to Starla.
>Apparently not.
>Not that you needed to forewarn him, but you idly passed along the notion of acting surprised when she showed off the new project.
>"Aww, you gotta let Midnight have her moment, Anon," Teddy dismisses, waving away any tension with his hand. "It's funny seeing her so excited like this."
>"I second that thought," Starla chimes in.
>While you've only caught glimpses of her in video chat since the day you were introduced, this is the first time you've really seen her without braids - her strawberry blonde-esque hair tied back into a neat ponytail for the outdoor occasion.
>It would have been cute seeing the two sporting matching hairstyles today, but Midnight merely let hers hang free aside from tidying it up with a brush.
>Her focus was getting the Chrysler looking its best.
>But not cleaning it.
>Since the 'barn find' look had to be kept for this showing.
>... you didn't ask, you just let Midnight be Midnight.
>"Alright, you can come in," Midnight calls out, her voice echoing within as she likely stands near the lift the car is still situated upon.
>Or probably still is.
"I thought you were going to make it a grand show by having the bay door open?" you holler back.
>"Fuuuck," Midnight grumbles after a moment's hesitation. "Well, that added suspense is ruined if they know about it."
>You open the man door just enough to poke your head through.
>Midnight stands in front of the Chrysler's nose, flanked by the engine that's been wheeled over on its stand.
>She tenses up upon seeing you but relaxes upon realizing you aren't entering with your guests.
>"What?" she asks with an air of innocence.
"Did you know that a garage door can go up and down?"
>"Uh, yeah. What kind of a question is that?"
"One that should make you reconsider how opening up the door adds to the show - or knowing about it somehow detracts from it. They aren't retarded, Middie."
>You don't get a worded reply - just a disapproving scowl.
>And muted laughter behind you.
>Without another word exchanged, Midnight pads closer to the entrance, pausing long enough to hit the button mounted on the wall to open the bay door.

>As it noisily ascends at a leisurely pace, Midnight gallops back to the 300, frantically moving the engine over just a bit and standing in between the car and its heart.
>You slip back outside and close the man door, turning to see both of your guests stepping over to the opening garage bay.
"Remember, act surprised," you whisper.
>"I don't even know what it is," Starla concedes. "So this really is something new for me."
>"I can't say I've seen one in... ever."
"Well, today's the day," you hawk while stepping onto the concrete floor once the door rises above your head.
>Midnight poses with her chest thrust out in pride as everyone gathers around.
>"Oh wow, I didn't expect to see something of this vintage," Teddy comments.
>"How old is it? What is it?" Starla asks, her eyes darting from the car to everyone else, hoping for answers.
"1957 Chrysler 300."
>"C. 300C, Anon," Midnight corrects.
"Yes, a 300C," you agree as you step next to Midnight, patting her on the head. "Thank you, A-hole."
>"I'd hit you, but we have guests," Midnight replies, sticking her nose up to add to the snootiness in her voice.
>"Hey, I'm not gonna tell anyone," Teddy chimes in with a laugh.
"Gee, thanks for having my back," you jokingly bite back at him.
>"For something so old, it looks - I think it's in better-looking condition than your car was, Teddy," Starla comments, straying away from his side to get a better look at the flanks of the car.
>"Yeah, I didn't do so hot with my choice of purchase," he admits sheepishly.
"That bad starting out, huh?"
>Teddy shrugs.
>"Heart got in the way of my head - already set my mind on buying the car before I realized how much was missing or needed work," he explains, albeit with a genuine smile at the end as his gaze falls to Starla. "But I suppose that makes getting it to how it looks today all the sweeter."
>"I didn't mean for it to sound disapproving, dear," Starla speaks up as she rejoins his side.
>"I know ya didn't, Star," he reassures her, petting her neck before shifting his attention to you. "But yeah, this looks like it's in really good shape. Where the hell did you find it?"
>"He was running his cocksucker while driving and got us lost," Midnight interjects before you can utter any sort of response.
>As you leer at her, she flashes a full-fanged smile in delight - particularly with the accompanying laughter of Teddy and Starla.
"I'll add that we weren't lost - but someone was being quite the distraction, and I missed our turn," you slowly explain, sticking your tongue out at Midnight.
>"I'd say that was a positive, considering we wouldn't have stumbled upon the car otherwise," Midnight affirms. "It was out front of an old house in the middle of nowhere - the old guy had a ton of stuff lying around."
>"No shit?"
"Yeah, the old man bought the car new - been sitting once something happened with the internals of the motor and never got to it. Family took priority."

>"Well, you can't blame him for that," Starla proposes.
"No, I'm in agreement with you there. He just never got around to looking into the matter - and he just realized now in his old age, he wasn't going to get around to it. That and it's been so long, everything has to be gone through..."
>You can't help but trail off as you glance over at the car, taking a harder look at the fenders.
>The weather-faded paint looks... dustier than it was.
>To be fair, you really haven't taken the time to wash it down, but working on it, there should be handprints...
>It looks unnatural in places.
"Did you seriously go and slather dust and dirt on the car?"
>"Of course not!" she shouts, balking at the accusation.
"I call bullshit because somehow, this doesn't look at all like either of us has pushed it around, leaned on the fenders to work on it... and it looks like there's sand literally piled up on top of the driver's side fender," you point out.
>"It adds to the barn find look," she mutters her muzzle scrunching up as she does her best to hide embarrassment.
"You're weird."
>"Hey, shut up!"
"Fine. But you're still weird."
>"If it means anything, I think you... did a good job?"
>All eyes fall to Starla - more out of amusement in her attempts to compliment Midnight's work than anything.
>"Thank you," Midnight gushes, relieved to hear some support as she steps over toward Starla. "I'm glad *someone* here gets the artistic flair."
"Artistic or autistic?"
>Midnight's head snaps around to leer at you with narrowed eyes and a grumpy scowl.
"Don't look at me in that tone of voice, young lady."
>"Alright children, let's all play nice now," Teddy jokes, wandering over to take a better look at the partially disassembled engine. "Found anything wrong with the engine?"
"Crankshaft is toast, I dunno about the block yet. Looks like something got in and scarred up one of the crank journals."
>"Oof. Sort of sorry I asked," he replies, a sympathetic tone in his voice.
>You have to just shrug and grin.
"For under two grand, I can't complain. We'll get it going one way or another."
>The comment instantly draws Teddy's focus upon you, his eyes wide with wonder.
>"You're shitting me. Aren't these things rare as hell?"
"That was all he wanted - didn't have any use for the money. Just wanted to see the car go to someone that would fix it up. And Midnight was absolutely smitten with this thing at first sight."
>Satisfied with that answer and the clue as to who jumped at the chance for this car, Teddy spins around to look at Midnight.
>The mention of her name attached to how the car has come into your possession makes her face light up even before the attention is lavished upon her.
>"I didn't take you for a '50s rod kind of gal. Figure you'd want something imposing and fast," he quips with a laugh.

>"Number one - what *isn't* imposing about this?" she answers calmly, fanning out a wing and motioning to the beltline of the car, tracing it in the air as she wanders toward the back fins.
>"True, true," Teddy nods.
>"And running sixteen seconds through the quarter-mile on skinny-ass bias-ply tires while hefting two tons of steel is pretty damned impressive."
>You have to do a double-take with that mass of information.
"Alright, nerd."
>"Knowing the facts doesn't make me a nerd," she replies curtly, stomping a hoof.
"I'm kidding. Relax," you ease up.
>"Regardless of how it all came about, consider me impressed," Teddy interjects, giving the Chrysler another glance.
>"I think you got Teddy a little jealous," Starla teases as she bumps into his side.
>"Me? Nah," he says dismissively. "Maybe with them having a better piece to start with, but you know I love the Cutlass."
>"I know you do. That's why you always lovingly swore at it when things weren't going right, huh?"
>"I would never do such a thing," he gasps, staring at her in mock horror.
>"Of course not," Starla gushes, pecking him on the cheek.
>You look over to Midnight, who has wandered back to join the rest of your little group.
>You pucker up your lips, leaning toward her teasingly.
>The look of disgust and exaggerated dry heave says it all.
>She'd rather keep up the facade tonight.
>Probably no other revelations tonight for your friends.
>No, it's not something that needs to be shared.
>Certainly not the details.
>How is she going to actually go on a date in the public when she can't even be open with her confidant?
>Old habits die hard, it seems.
>Sucks there won't be any cuddles by the fire, though.
>Speaking of which...
"Well, who else is getting hungry? Probably ought to get the fire going if we're gonna do a cookout."
>"Cookout, or a char-out?" Midnight comments.
>Glancing back at her, you're greeted by a face dripping with smugness.
"I'm making sure your food is extra charred tonight."

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Damn, just realized if I was smart I would have waited to post the Selene and Rising Shine art until today.
Ok, I take back what I said earlier about Midnight being silly or serious. She's always silly, just switches between drunk silly and silly while trying her best to be serious. I'm very happy to see Teddy and Starla again. While there's nothing wrong with chapters about Anon and Midnight's life, it's good to have secondary characters pop in and out to keep things fresh and interesting (as well as not make Anon and Midnight look like they live in a vacuum).
Whys that?
Dawn calls Rising Shine "mom", today is Mother's Day.
I've come within cunthairs of being killed so many times in a past life, to include being seriously wounded, that I became an adrenaline junkie. The thought of rutting a flesh-and-blood technicolor pony mare version of the Grim Reaper is incredibly arousing to me.
>Wingdings on Mother's Day
did you do this to me on purpose?
>Why will this man not move on to Equestria.
>Why does he say he's been waiting for this for his whole life
>Why does a human not listen when you told to cease his hauntings.
>Why does he persist when you told him that you have no interest nor time for him?
>Why is he proud to share share perverse diaries about excapades of the flesh and why won't he stop.
>Why does his libido persist when it's supposed to have left his mortal coil, has something gone wrong?
>Why does he have the anatomy of a pony memorized in explicit detail.
>Why does he keep talking about 'pony parts' that aren't there under your cloak, doesth this man know that is for the living, and not the dead?
>Why does this ghost of man want to make sure and 'see upskirt'. For what purpose would you lie and why does he confuse your attire?

>hfw /AiA/
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Anon, no!
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>stoking the inspiration fire at the worst possible time
I'm glad that I could finally come up with a prompt
Reading Part 4: I feel like I missed the barn door and got blindsided somehow while everyone was talking about the sex with Midnight a couple months ago. I blame people still carrying on like /lewdleg/ doesnt happen almost as much as anons thinking its all sad times around here
I don't have an issue with lewdleg, I just think that some stories do better without them. Some greens fit very well with it. It's all in the context.
It really didn't get discussed at all, that's probably why it still remained somewhat of a surprise, lol.
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pony or a squirrely?
Which ones fit well with it?
Yeah I thought it was kind of sudden too.
I know Reggie wants it with Sonata
Reggie wants to beat the brakes off Sonata.
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I can't immediately think of any but it also depends on the type of green. I remember that when Patches went full lewd, it kinda died very quickly after. I think the same happened to that Gilflight green that was going on in the two threads they had. People were interested until lewd happened then it petered out.
There are two things to making lewd scenes: whether it's really appropriate, and if it can be written well.
The first is if it's appropriate. Of course, it's your story, you can easily argue whatever, but being explicitly lewd changes a lot of things. It loses that wholesomeness element. And I will say it that way and say why later. It can also be distracting from the larger story. Some become completely lewd and end up getting tied down by the smut to the point that it is only mostly smut. Which can make sense because if you have something romantic in nature, there is always that massive influx of lewd suplexing and choke holds. But depending on the story, it really isn't called for and can be kept implicit; there are still obvious hints and maybe a bit of aftermath or commentary, but... you don't see it. And you don't honestly need to, as long as you know that two characters are now at an intimate stage.
The second is if it can be written well. That's subjective, but that subjective nature can also really turn someone off to the story. Not only are you learning what the mare in question likes, but you're learning what (You) like. And that can be a severe make or break situation because not everyone likes to see the same things. One anon's fetish is another's breaking point. I've seen a lot of stories where even the writer himself can seem to burn out that much quicker because it's such a shift and they may not actually be that used to writing lewd so it turns to a game of masturbation: you get off and then you just lose interest, leading to what a lot of doujins do in terms of "front end the story, end on lewd".
My head is still scrambled but the note on wholesomeness: when you learn about characters and really come to love them, you see a lot of the good and bad about them. But, like knowing a lot of people, there's also such a thing as knowing too much. I'll use my own examples since I'm really the only one who can. When it comes to the dorks, we know that they have had or want intimacy in one way or another. They're very different forms, for very different reasons with very different results. Same with Starsky, who has her entirely own reasons to do things and how it (I argue) comes off as genuine rather than her doing it for an ulterior motive. Same with Missy Pie. You know her and Anon had a full life together but I think it might actually take away if we knew what they did to handle that sort of thing. Is it a question or two answered? Sure. But not every question deserves an answer.
Thank you for coming to my TedTalk, I'm wiped from having my first night at work and I miss writing.
From what I recall patches non was more so a clop writer than otherwise, so its less about lewd and more that he had his work cut out for him trying to bite off more than he could chew. Very ambitious but not experienced enough outside of his comfort zone
I'm gonna say the N word.
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>last sentence
no more neet life? so we should expect to see an anon at work with boots soon
>I'm wiped from having my first night at work and I miss writing.
I feel like I'm going to be feeling the same way with my new work schedule, but since I get most of my writing done at work hopefully I can get a lot more writing done.
I feel a bit better about that then
More just changing jobs. The biggest issue is that it is overnight so my equilibrium is off and my brain is scrambled. But haven't been fired after my second night so all's good so far.
I could at least shitpost at my old place. Such is not the case anymore.
If anything, I think every other green farmer would agree with me that there should absolutely be discussion about greens. Otherwise it's writing in the ether and the only true show of interest is how many bot clicks the ponepaste gets.
>work is fucking everyone's creativity
Unfortunately, add me to that list. Don't be fooled by Sunday's update - that was something I had written a couple of weeks ago and decided it was a good time to post. I haven't been able to do shit since maybe last Wednesday.
> Otherwise it's writing in the ether and the only true show of interest is how many bot clicks the ponepaste gets
I’m almost certain that some of the recent uptick in views is a certain someone going in to get his dose of Sonata while I beat my head against the wall trying to proceed.
>I could at least shitpost at my old place. Such is not the case anymore.
You moved? What changed?
Moved jobs, yeah. And a lot changed. More forklift driving, less detailed work. And around 37% pay increase.
Working nights is also a big shift. I used to work nights just fine but switching back after five years is a bit rough. It also means I need to change my mindset when it comes to appropriate writing hours. It bothers me that I haven't been doing much.
>cum jar
So it's just a creature of habbit kind of thing, you're on the same hours just a different schedule and you get your writing juices going in the night?. In that case you could let it brew while you do menial work bored out of your mind
Different hours given it's a 12 hour shift from days to nights, and different schedule since my work week starts and ends a day early.
I do let my mind focus on more useful things but when I come home I'm absolutely wiped. Trying to get enough sleep and all that is another bit that sucks.
At least I have been thinking of something we may see soon.
Well no wonder shes in a bad mood
This was adorable, seeing Midnight trying to make for a more "impressive" (read as "dramatic") introduction. Underneath that gruff exterior is a dorky mare who feels very deeply.
Well we're nearing the bump limit, once we hit it do you think we should let the thread here sleep a bit while we adjust to our new schedules?
Given three of us are entering new territory I'd say to go for it. We still have the bunker thread and I'm really not sure when I'll be able to get back to it reliably. I miss being a daywalker already.
I guess il deffer to the contentfags. we know blondies input, what about reg and auto? and lyranon
I won't have anything new ready for a while, but that's to be expected. My latest Z update was spontaneous.
Y’know I don’t know why I didn’t think to do this earlier, but I’m going to do what I did the last time I got stuck with Rosie, which is skip ahead and then write backwards from there.
Alright then how long should we bail to the bunker? it's the beginning of the month so "first of the month" kind of standard are a bit far off. So a week or 2? unless you guys think we can keep discussion up in a dryspell of green
Given work schedules are being fixed around, I don't know if we can really give a hard deadline to it. Last time we took a break to retreat and came back, we had a ton of content to show for it. I have no clue if anyone actually liked that but the thread came and went pretty quick due to a lot of activity.
>keep discussion up
Trying to keep it going might be like like trying to squeeze blood out of the bootstone but the bunker dump had mixed reception.
Actually got some writing done today because of this.
God I hope we'll see more knockoff Candy soon.
That's all I've been writing because I couldn't get the scene out of my head
This is the best one I've found so far: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3VmIHRbjGU
I'm so hyped for it.
I'm starting to feel like Rosie's getting sidelined in her own story.
The other characters can bring her back to the foreground. Let the characters drive.
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Drive? But Anon's the only one with a license!
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One of the reasons I've compared Rosie to Angel is because Rosie kinda feeling of being the 'eyes' of a bigger world
I've been through everything from limping a truck home and fixing that to nearly getting my face punched in by a coworker - I've barely started my next update, sad as that is for me to admit. Too much shit going on - I haven't been able to think.
Fingers crossed everything will work out for you in the end. Don't worry about the update
>limping a truck home
I can sympathize with you on that one - just picked up my shitbox from (not done) repairs after learning it would cost me too much to try and make it safe and roadworthy again.
Guess the comparison makes sense, given Rosie’s situation.
Alright, just about finished the scene, should be able to start working backwards from there.
Yeah but you can still make it more about Rosie if that's what you want. Blondie's home had a lot more going on but it was all about Angel's feelings about the whole thing. Rosie thus far is much less personal, because we're not really getting a lot from her PoV but like you said shes kind of in a similar situation trying to adapt to a new home not starting from scratch or taking to it like a fish to water like some bootlegs
>Another car bites the dust in bootleg.
Are we a cursed general?
in case you've got nothing better to do
Mine's back on the road. U-joints on the driveshaft went bad. Considering they were about 35 years old, I got the life out of em. $50 and a battered socket was all it cost me to change em.
That was nice, hopefully we can do it again at some point.
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Work bump
I've seen this thread for years, and I still don't understand what it's for. OCs? Knock-off merch?
Knock-off merch and ponies. Think /pie/ but rather than Rarity, you have an obvious(ly) cheap replica with Rare. Rather than Applejack, you get some vague lookalike with defective programming with Jacky. Missy Pie is based off of Pinkie but is a non-descript medical tool that shares enough similarities to be iconic but also legally safe. We also share actual-world knockoff pony products because they're as real as it gets.
Think of bootlegs as the knockoff birthday songs restaurants have to come up with because "happy birthday" is still trademarked.
The ponies themselves are often knock-off merch.
I know last night was super spontaneous, but I'm glad you were there. Email me when you have some time, been thinking about those excerpts and had some suggestions.
A shame I missed it.
Guess we'll just have to do it again tonight or tomorrow night. Which works best for everyone?
I'm fine with either.
Don't think I really have anything planned for tonight or tomorrow night.
It's in the /moon/day OP template in my ponepaste.
Sent you an email, forgive the weird ass name, I made that account in middle school.

I'm back in that room >>38587493 if anyone wants to chill. Otherwise, I'll be listening to music and writing.
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>Haha, Auto does not know
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gross fridge is gross anon start taking care of yourself and your surroundings (i been thinking this forever everytime I saw this thread)
It's never really been an aim of bootleg to copycat but I think why people like bootleg is inline with the early fandom how Derpy got noticed by being 'off' but got huge fan support a big range of what people can do with something that's 'off'.

In that sense, Id say the core of it is underdogs, mistakes and misfits, the delivery method that these are told are through knockoffs and fakes with something 'off' about them by default through no fault of their own just like the bubble butt originating from an animation error.
fridge pic comes from nhnb's anon so you'll have to go into the bunker to get your message across.
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smol boot
sunday bump
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Most of the boots in this thread
i dont know about that one, despite reggies mind zooma does not have a sunbutt
Something tells me he is willing to retcon everything to make it so.
even limeshy?
Go back and reread that excerpt. Never said she rivaled Celestia's ass, only that she had more junk in the trunk than Luna.
So are you saying you showed some restraint?
Yes, believe it or not.
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What would /bootleg/ be with an unchained reggie?
There'd be a lot more teats, among other things, I can assure you.
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So milk boot?
Nothing that extreme. In all honesty, my writing for the boot probably wouldn't change that much, save for some lewd thrown in here and there, focusing on stuff like teats because muh fetish. I reserve my serious degeneracy for prompts that pop up in random threads.
What a degenerate way we've ended this thread.
I'd argue you started it with this >>38592645 Holy jesus, Andy Price's Celestia and Luna are top notch for me, particularly with bedroom eyes like that.

I'll also add two things:
>Mine's back on the road
Well this aged poorly. Truck is set up perfect for burnouts and donuts, though.

And I'm slowly working on the next update - a week or two break for the thread is ideal, if I'm expected to carry the thread with green. I miss the every other day update I had going for so long, but I unfortunately caught up with my fleshed out ideas. Things take time to incubate - though I have found and gotten a better understanding of writing scraps just to keep productive - and ultimately finding uses for them later, on more than one occasion.
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Ain't denying it, just having a laugh.
It's not THAT bad, but we'll be going to the bunker from 10
Until next time, /bootleg/.

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