The Great and Powerful Trixie's Revenge "Wow, Twilight!" Spike said incredulously, "How'd you know what to do with that Ursa Major?"More Like This
"That's what I was doing when you came looking for me," Twilight answered, "I was so intrigued by Trixie's bragging that I was compelled to do a little reading up on them."
"So it is possible to vanquish an Ursa Major all by yourself?" Spike asked.
"That wasn't an Ursa Major," Twilight revealed, "It was a baby, an Ursa Minor!"
"That was just a baby?" Trixie repeated in awe, reminding everypony she was still there.
"And it wasn't rampaging. It was just cranky because someone woke it up..." Twilight continued, glaring at Snips and Snails, who glanced down at their hooves in shame.
"Well, if that was an Ursa Minor, then what's an Ursa Major like?" Spike wondered, afraid of the answer.
Vinyl and Octavia's Pantsing WarVinyl and Octavia’s Pantsing WarMore Like This
By Doctor Cobra
A quiet yawn escaped Octavia’s throat as she pattered softly up the darkening stairs toward her apartment, still dressed in her usual concert attire, heavy cello case in hoof. Feeling drained after tonight’s performance, she was looking forward to a warm cup of earl gray and a celebratory night with her beloved Cobalt. Reaching the door, the gray pony was pleased in her sleepiness to find it unlocked and immediately pushed it open and stepped through.
“I’m terribly sorry I’m late; I sort of got dragged to the after party,” she began regrettably, setting her case to the side out of habit, expecting to find Cobalt, Vinyl or both in living room waiting on her. “Lyrica simply insisted that I…” She stopped, realizing she’d walked into pitch black. Her tired eyes became surprised. It was even darker in here than it had been in the hall outside – all the blinds wer
OctaScratch Pranks: Experimental FiMfic #1More Like This
Read the description first, just to know what you're getting into. Thanks!
CHAPTER 1: OUT OF A PANTSING…
The performance was going magnificently! Absolutely swimmingly! Octavia Philharmonica closed her violet eyes euphorically as she ran her bow across the freshly tuned strings of her cherished cello. The audience was for all intents and purposes enraptured at the delicate sounds of Buch’s Cello Suite Number One reverberating off the maroon velvet cushion-lined walls and high ceiling of Ponyville’s small music hall. ‘This could not be a more different environment than the last time I stood on this stage,’ Octavia thought. It was true; the Grand Galloping Gala had been an unmitigated disaster for Octavia’s whole ensemble.
It was as if nopony appreciated the refinement of classical music anymore. (Even as a filly, Octavia was sometimes teased for her love of it.) But today was so very different.
Despite still getting paid handsomely for their servic