Halide

[Pegasus] Sandley Hoofkiss

Name: Sandley Hoofkiss

Gender: Male

Age: Stallion

Species: Pegasus

Pelt Colour: Light brown / sandy

Mane/Tail/Markings Colour & Style:

Eye Colour: Blue

Cutie Mark: Lock

Physique: Thin/lithe

Origin: Fillydelphia

Roleplay Type: Mane

Occupation: Banker, moonlighting musician

Motivation: Figuring out who he's supposed to be, then doing his best to be that pony.

Likes: Being prepared, organized, and secure. Secretly : loud music, letting loose, dancing, applause, saxophones, parties.

Dislikes: Getting called out, conundrums, complex mathematics.

Character Summary:

What happens when you get two proper, quiet, orderly ponies from Manehatten, engrossed in stocks and business and propriety? Well, you certainly don't get any wild house parties or outings to any of the good speakeasies, you'll get a completely ordinary and perfectly boring pair of ponies. Eventually you'll get a foal from the mix, and of course the parents will try to raise that foal in the way they think is best. They'll raise him or her to be proper, productive, polite, practical, preferential, possibly pious and a pinch of a party-pooper. This, too, is all well and good, save for that two particular ponies made one terrible mistake – they tried to raise their proper little foal in the wildest, liveliest block of up-town Fillydelphia.

This particular product of simple equations is named Sandley Hoofkiss - In central Fillydelphia, born and raised, in his parent's apartment he spent his earliest days. Learning to be proper and upright like them, Sandley was a fairly ordinary young foal, if not a bit of a dull one. He learned the basics of finances and accounting rather early on, taking after his father in a way, having a certain knack for keeping series of numbers and equations straight in his head while figuring out how to make them all fit. His mother, a rather reserved individual, taught him how to behave in a completely inoffensive, predictable and polite manner, the two of them quickly working to stamp out any hope he might of had of being a rambunctious or overly energetic young Pegasus. Despite his wings, he never did much in the way of flying or gliding around, instead being taught to keep his wings tucked in neatly and his hooves on the ground whenever he was indoors, which was most of the time.

Unfortunately, this monotony of a foal-hood didn't really end – it carried on into his colt years, his parents sending him to a rather well-to-do private school that held every promise of being completely safe and utterly without diversion from an orderly and well-mannered education, fitting in rather keenly with their plans to raise him to be a productive, respectable, and proper young pony. This carried on rather smoothly, or so they thought.

The fact was this : Sandley wasn't the same pony as either of his parents – he was restless. He knew he wasn't truly happy, but at the same time he'd never really been taught (or fully allowed) to express his dissatisfaction in any meaningful way. He knew better than to get into trouble, nor did he have nearly enough gumption to start rebelling. So, rather than do anything directly problematic, he pretended to join an after-school chess team, which he attended for exactly eight sessions before figuring out enough about chess to pretend he was good at it. After that, he wandered uptown Fillydelphia largely alone, taking in the sights and the scenery. The music of the clubs moved him, the liveliness of the dance clubs enthralled him, the big-band musicals delighted him, and the promise of the nightlife intrigued him. Perhaps if he'd learned of it all before his parents had drilled propriety and risk-free lifestyles into his head, he might have run off to join the proverbial circus of performers then and there. But, he did not. Rather than risking his future potential as a well-to-do accountant, Sandley simply kept of studying, attending school, and pretending he was an entirely upright individual, while secretly attending what few swing and dance sessions he could get into during the two hours between school's end of the day and the beginnings of the sunset.

However, there was one problem – he had told his parents he was in the chess club, and he was not the only young pony from his school that enjoyed the up-beat splendour of Fillydelphia. There were others from his school that did rather the same as he did, except without lying to their parents. So, he took on an alter-ego, wearing an outfit and a mask to try and keep his fellow classmates from recognizing him. After a few weeks of being hidden from those who might know him or inadvertently rat him out to his parents, Sandley realized something – he wasn't Sandley anymore, not to those around him. He was whoever he wanted to be. He was free, in a way, underneath his costume. Soon enough, he began to abuse this freedom, learning how to play and how to dance in secret from everyone, never really revealing himself properly to the livelier individuals he began to meet.

It was in eighth year of school that fate struck – he'd joined a band, very much in secret, and had taken a real shining to solos and performance. It just so happened that the very same band he'd joined – a somewhat unremarkable jazz ensemble of youthful players – had been requested to play at a banker's party in the evening, one that his parents were slated to attend. They, of course, left early to make sure they were punctual, leaving Sandley at home alone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was not going to stay home and practise his economics. They travelled by carriage, but the minute they were out of sight, Sandley was travelling by wing, adorned in his mask and costume as a stranger to everyone. He arrived just in time to walk on stage with his troupe – right under the collective noses of his parents and their many dull associates. He played, and he played well, taking a few improvised solos during the night. He did not wow the audience, for they were barely listening to the music. They did not become impassioned by the music, for they were not ponies of passion to begin with. But, Sandley Bronzehoof did something completely brazen – he lied straight to his parents, he showed off his second life with nothing more than a mask and an outfit on him, and they were none the wiser. It was there that he earned his cutiemark, unbeknownst to him for the time being, as it was rather hidden by the outfit he wore. A closed lock, to represent how he locked up his inner desires, opening them only in 'secret'.

There were a few more instances of his audacity, but none quite matched performing in front of his own parents so discreetly, and yet so brazenly. He grew up just the way he was told he should, ending up as a respectable accountant at a firm his father was about to retire from, making a few friends whom he seldom opened up properly to. However, not all ponies are dulled to suspicion, and when he was eventually found out by a pair of his closer co-workers, Sandley swore them to secrecy, still not bold enough to properly embrace who he wanted to be over who he was raised to be.

Speaking for his personality, Sandley is actually a pretty decent guy in both respects. When he's acting proper and reserved, he's polite and considerate, very stable and reasonable around others both pony and otherwise (though larger gryphons have always made him a touch nervous). His love of music and dance is largely centred around livlier genres, with his favourites being jazz and swing - he's never had much of a knack for classical or baroque genres, and at best he finds slow, soft music to be calming, if not somewhat tiring. That aside, he's also got a bit of a head for jokes and comedic over-exaggeration, and he possesses a fairly wide variety of voices and accents he can apply on a whim. In spite of this, comedy and improv entertainment have never really been his venues, though it does make him a little more entertaining around the office when he's in an energetic mood.

When he's cutting loose, he's vivacious and enthusiastic, usually acting in a somewhat selfish, egotistical manner for brief performances, capable of getting more than a little carried away with his desire to be treated like a star, though he's never really without some semblance of shame. He's a little more easily persuaded into trying new experiences and meeting new people with the mask on, simply because he feels a lack of social consequence should he overextend himself.

As for his living arrangements? A small apartment in eastern Fillydelphia, where he lives alone amidst any number of associated tennants. He keeps to himself when he's not at work or out during the nights, and for the most part he remains reasonably respectable, up until he feels the need to dress up and have a night on the town. He's always had a love for dramatic exits and entrances, and as such often flies out the window with a 'Geronimo!' on his lips whenever he's up for a night of energy and motion.

As much as he loves a good night out though, he'll feel embarrassed or abashed by his rowdier behaviour, and so he continues to live something of a dual-life, now a stallion living on his own, free to stay out as late and as wild as he likes, but still having to deal with the consequences in the mornings to come after his partying.. He's also afraid of personal commitment due to his perceived duality of personalities, often pessimisticly beleiving that those ponies who like his costumed performances will be put off by the dull practicality of his daytime life, and those who find him amicable during the day would be frightened off by his perceivably wild night-life.

Character image :

I'm aware I'm 4 months late to posting this. I don't care.

Have fun, Helix

As I am leaving this site, this project is now null and void, and further applications will be wholly ignored. Those who had no response to their applications, best of luck figuring it out for yourselves.

It is with no remorse whatsoever that I hereby make official my lack of interest in ponies. I no longer find the show all that entertaining, nor have I any plans to watch the upcoming third season. Everyone else is free to enjoy it to their heart's content, as they have always been, I just have no ingressed draw towards the series at this point. Furthermore, I have lost my desire to roleplay in the setting, save for a few small exceptions here and there, none of which are affiliated with Canterlot now that IRC chat has been wholly removed from association with this website. To the majority of you I leave a wholly inert farewell, and to the select few of you who are pretty awesome I leave a fond 'until we meet again'.

Also ignore anything Allura says about my passing as he is about as reliable as mashed potatoes for such information.

Cave Johnson, we're done here.

"Spike.... Fluttershy has her? When did you give PeeWee to Fluttershy? Because I didn't give PeeWee to Fluttershy and I thought you've been with me this whole time!

Oh my gosh, she's gone isn't she? this is all my fault I should have been watching her! How could I just LOSE her!"

Full-on panic attack. Classic Twilight Sparkle. This was, when Spike was in more speculative moods, why Twilight had been given a baby dragon in the first place - smart, intelligent, high-durability helper that would be able to actually withstand a magical maniac's genius, in times of both tenacity and turmoil, through sanity and a mild lack thereof. Would anything else be able to actually withstand a full-out Twilght Sparkle Panic Attack? He liked to think that the answer might be no, if only to boost his own sense of self-worth.

“You need to calm down! We can find PeeWee, we just need to look. Can you remember where you were when you last saw her?”

That was someting that both Shining Armor and Spike agreed on. But, the Canterlot Guard was assuming that Twilight did, in fact, have reason to panic. As far as Spike was concerned, he knew something that they did not, and thus felt there was no cause for alarm.

"Jeez, Twilight, calm down for a moment, wouldjya?" Another stifled yawn from the tired baby dragon - he wasn't panicking at all. "I didn't bring Peewee to Fluttershy. I told her to fly to Fluttershy's house - she knows the way by now, after all." This was, unbeknownst to Spike, a falsehood. The Baby dragon had conferred quietly with his pet phoenix, and the conversation had gone thusly :

Hours in the past, but not many...

The fires, mostly extinguished. The perpetrators, guilty and chagrinned. Spike thought he knew how to handle responsibility - this was probably the worst damage he'd ever seen done by a pet to a building before, and while he wouldn't blame the fledgeling phoenix, other ponies in ponyville might not be so forgiving, he wasn't sure. So, rather than have Peewee hang around and perhaps take more blame than a baby phoenix knew how to handle, the solution of having her stay at the house of the most forgiving and sympathetic of caretakers seemed obvious.

"Now, Peewee, I know this looks bad, but it'll be alright. You'll see, ok? We can fix it all up. It's just going to take a while, that's all."

The pyric bird murmured quietly, cooing a sorrow sort of tone. She wanted to apologize - she wanted to make it better!

"Shhh, it's ok. Nopony's mad at you, no-one's upset. Singed, maybe, but not upset. Look, how about we just take you to Fluttershy's for a few days, okay? She's always got room for a new friend, and maybe some of the other birds there can teach you a few things. Does that sound good to you?"

Go...away? The little bright bird didn't want to go! But, Spike would be there, he wasn't going away, surely! This was his nest, even if it smelled of smoke and burnt things. Still, she wasn't about to start arguing - she'd done something bad, and it needed to get better, so she'd have to leave her nest for a little while. The yellow bird-horse was ok, though. If she had to leave, then that's where she'd probably rest easiest. As such, the diminutive phoenix nodded quietly.

"You know the way there, right?"

The little bird thought she knew the way - and she didn't want to be more of a bother! So, again, the little phoenix simply nodded. She could figure it out if she got lost!

"There's a good little girl. We'll get this place fixed up again, you'll see. Now, you go off and get some rest at Fluttershy's. You're just a little phoenix, after all."

However, Spike was not a psychic, a mind-reader, or an omniscient creature, and thus he held what he thought to be true as reliable information in which he could find comfort. "Seriously, Twilight. If I went off to... yaaawn, Fluttershy's house after all that and you thought I'd gone missing, I don't know what you'd do. I had to... haaaawhn, stay behind." Spike's voice was getting progressively sleepier, his eyelids fluttering quietly. An infant or small child requires at least ten hours of sleep a day - Spike currently was running on just over two, and his body demanded he sacrifice his time to the lords of slumber.

He didn't even catch what Twilight or Shining Armor had to say in response - his senses had gone fuzzy and dulled by the time they'd even started talking again. Halfway through Twilight's response, whatever it might have been, Spike lost consciousness, slowly slid down from the chair, and simply turned into a curled-up pile of sleeping dragon. That was it for him.

After the pathetic lack of content or satisfactory play in The Old Republic, their total abandonment of such series as Jade Empire and MDK, their somewhat slipshod writing and badly-forced 'plot points' of Dragon Age 2, and the completely lackluster writing brought forth by Mass Effect 3, it feels like Bioware is more of a shambling puppet than the enchanting team of writers, artists and programmers alike that brought us Baldur's Gate and Knights of the Old Republic.

That said, it really feels like this recent bit of fanart was more of a publicity stunt than any sort of promotion of a fandom, and this response similarly lacks in any real reason to cheer on a development team that has long since lost its charm, wit, and brilliance. The use of the picture was not so much a whim as it was a move approved by Bioware's PR department, given it's place on the official Facebook page. Their lack of forethought as to MLP's volatility amidst the common market was a mis-step, and the so-called 'haters' are quite free to express their dismay that Bioware decided to unload upon them that which was unwelcome and wholly unrelated to the reasons they 'liked' bioware in the first place.

"Please note: The moderator will be made aware of the link to the page you are reporting.

This form is to be used ONLY for reporting objectionable content and is not to be used as a method of communicating with moderators for other reasons."

This is still the message shown when reporting a post, as I found out just a little earlier today. I wouldn't actually be surprised if there isn't an option to change this, given how minor it would be for the majority of users, but I'm still genuinely curious as to whether or not it can be changed.

It was, all in all, a fairly cool August afternoon in Stalliongrad - not that this meant much, it was still warm enough for clothes to be entirely optional, depending on one's trade and social standing. A bit of a quiet day, though, but such was reasonably normal for a Thursday afternoon this time of the year. After all, one tended to get armor in the spring or the fall, and leave the adventuring for the warmth of summer or the chill of winter. There were a number of trades-mares and stallions open for business - one business in particular, though, stood out. A smithy, a somewhat small one, in the merchant district - a bit out of place, but it had done well enough there, for the time being. From the outside, it seemed sturdier than most of the shops, a fairly stocky-looking stone wood and metal affair, centred around a thick stone chimney. A bit out of place, perhaps, as most of the forges were in the somewhat distant Kuznitza district, but nevertheless there. Outside, a small and empty cart waited next to the doorway, nearly hiding the sign that proudly announced, in both Stallian and Equestrian, 'Metalhoof Smithy - Made-to-order and custom armour, jewelry and more available here'. A fairly reputable establishment, if anypony thought to check, though it was in the hooves of a relatively new owner, passed from father to son upon the former's retirement.

But, for all of its outer appearances, the interior of the smithy held an altogether different atmosphere...

"Stolen? AGAIN!?" A heavy sigh, and a deep breath. "This is being, what, second shipment where you are bringing no silver, no gold, no gems, and only half of iron or steel I have ordered! What am I supposed to be forging with this?" The budding blacksmith shook his head, pacing slowly about behind the counter, his prosthetic metal hoof clanking with every fourth step he took. "I ran out of precious metals before start of last week, was telling customers I would to be starting on their orders as soon as I had shipment. But, nyet, at this rate going to have to melt down money for precious metals!" Indeed, things were not all well at the Metalhoof smithy, and given by the fact that the deep, somewhat raspy voice of the blacksmith working there, it was starting to get on somepony's nerves.

It had indeed been some time since precious metals had been in stock at the smithy, and it was starting to have serious impacts on Hammerhoof's ability to make anything that required the special bit of shine that silver and gold offered. Robberies weren't really the fault of the delivery-pony, he'd just been taking the routes into Stalliongrad that were available, and it so happened that a pack of Diamond Dogs decided to mug him for everything they felt like carrying. The first time, he'd let it slide, simply complaining about the loss at the quick-footed, dark-green pony who'd been mugged - after all, it made sense that the delivery-pony would learn from the mistake and change habits accordingly. Second time, though... this was a problem. He advertised armour, utensils, weapons, tools and simple jewelry for sale in his shop, and ye he lacked the materials to fill the most expensive orders, which meant that his most profitable work was all on hold.

The brown, somewhat sooty blacksmith simply sighed. He knew the shipment was important, he knew the delivery-pony knew the shipment was important. Getting overly cross wouldn't solve anything, so he lowered his voice, nodding slowly. "I can't even use these gems yet. Is not often somepony wants gems set in iron, copper or steel. I will take them, da, and you will still be receiving some pay, but... I am not sure what to be doing. A third time of this, and you will be costing me enough to put me back in apprenticeship. I do not want for this. Am already going to have to dig into own savings to keep from being broke..." For all that this was causing him difficulty, Hammerhoof didn't really feel like foregoing the payment of somepony else over conditions that were likely out of their control. After all, the delivery-pony had to eat and sleep somewhere - the blacksmith wasn't going to scrooge him out of that.

The fact of the matter was simple – somewhere, there were a pack of diamond-dogs that were responsible for a rather harrowing predicament. He had a lot of missing materials to try and work around, a reputation teetering between success and a lack thereof, and he wasn't entirely sure of how to solve this issue. Yes, it was a theft, but through official channels, solving his issue might not come soon enough for him to stay in business. What he needed was a plan, and volunteers. That, or for the majority of his customers to suddenly be overwhelmingly happy with steel and iron in place of silver and gold for their jewelry – no, that was a silly and entirely improbable thing to hope for. So, with the delivery-pony half-paid and on his way out the door, the blacksmith began to ponder.

He'd put up a few notices of his need for help on the larger advertisement boards, more of a desparate hope that he might recover his first lost shipment. "Blacksmith in need of expert treasure-recovery, adventurers, or trackers re : stolen shipments. See Metalhoof Smithy", written in slightly clumsy Stallian and Equestrian. It was all well and good to use the native tongue, but this was a big city, with enough trade and travel through it that being bilingual was nearly a must.

But now, more than ever, the hope that somepony might come to his aid felt like a rather despnate wish, whimsical and as uncertain as a shooting star. Peraps this was how the gambler felt when buying his last lottery ticket? What a depressing situation. Though he held hope for perhaps somepony to come by looking to aid him, he started trying to figure out best to hold out financially. Maybe, just maybe, he could work through this regardless. Only time would tell.

Nomination for best cast? Tales, player of Her Royal Princess Luna!

Best OC character? TempestRime's Malediction! That, or Allura's BlazeBright.

Best cast thread? A Hearts and Hooves gift, even though it isn't finished yet.

Best Roleplayer? Phil. Hands down, Phil.

I think that's about it!

“I can put up some bedrolls in the hotel room. I don’t think Cadence will mind if you stay with us for a night or two while we’re in town. We’ll try and get some better arrangements for you and Spike sorted out tomorrow morning. Then maybe we can go visit our little troublemaker PeeWee. Sound good?”

Sleep sounded good. Sleep sounded very, very good. In fact, sleep sounded like the best possible thing, disbarring only the ability to undo this whole disasterous evening. But, for all that rest was something every inch of purple-and-green craved, he made more of a point of defending his pet over snoozing. Spike managed to half-stifle a yawn, arching his back for a moment as he did so.

"I... yawn, I guess that'd be best. Though, uh, to be fair, Shining, I'm pretty sure Peewee didn't mean to cause any of this. She's a good bird, just... a little harder to take care of than I guessed... Heh" And, despite all the trouble PeeWee was causing, it struck him that Shining Armor might've heard that before about another small, rather young fire-breather that Twilight had to take care of. "You mighta heard that one before, hunh? Heh, heh... Y-yaaawwwn..."

Now that the nor-adrenaline was kicking in, Spike was really starting to nod off. "B-but I guess we can visit PeeWee tomorrow... or, later today. I'm sure Fluttershy can handle her for now... how much more trouble could she be? She's gotta be tired out by now..." Another yawn from the baby dragon, an idle itching at his burnt scales. Wow, he was nodding off fast. Not that it mattered - it was only getting later, and he'd had a blaze of a night. It was ok to be tired after all that, right?

Hey! This is the one I was hoping would win! Congratulations, kid! Wanna get Spike and Pinkie up in dat balloon for the Ironpony commentary?

Aaaaand there went Pinkie Pie, superflously energetic and wound like a steel spring. There were times Spike wondered if Pinkie had some sort of wind-up key that she kept at home, just to add to her incredible reserves of pure, unfiltered hyperactivity. That aside, her near-consistant stream of songs, jigs, dances, hops, bounces, ballads, boleros, operas, acts, plays, and other tomfoolery was second to a select few.

"Well Spike, see anything you like?"

"Umm..."

But! Observing Pinkie's unrelenting energy wasn't the point of this excursion - unless they could somehow give some of that energy to Rarity for her overnight work. The problem was that Ponyville produced, above all else, food and produce. This didn't make for a great selection of presents. Food doesn't exactly last or make memories, after all! Canterlot? Clothes, fabrics, magical artifacts, accessories, jewlery, music, theatre, sports. Here was... well, it was one of the few downsides of being in Ponyville!

"Well, that one tiara was nice! But... I'm not so sure. I guess a vase might work, but... you can't really give somepony an empty vase, and does Rarity even like flowers? ...Man, am I glad I didn't try to start shopping the day before."

Spike was, of course, babbling a bit. But, hey, the kid was nervous, cut him a break, yeah? Surely something good would come up! A little deus-ex machina here, a few shots of inspiration, it'd work. ...It, uh, would work, wouldn't it?

And then, the skies parted, leaving unto the chaos but a single figure. It stood upright, helmeted and overalled, booted and begoggled, holding a wrench in his rubbered gloves.

He landed upon the ground, surveying that which laid around him.

And here's what happened.

In the meantime, Metalman is blown into the sky by the C4, and Megaponyman flies after him for great justice.

Um, comparing your current post to the post that Scotchie made, giving you a full set of rather viable spelling and grammatical corrections that you seem to have passed up, the only changes are that it's shorter, and he's gone from 'no talent' to 'minimal talent'. It also strikes me that this character would be pretty doomed the first time somebody took a live recording of him and distributed it to his 'fans', where his magic would have no ability to compensate for his lack of talent. It further occurs that, if he's to be as arrogant and underwhelming as what you've written for his personality, that nobody would actually want him on their stage - he'd likely have to pay for many of his performances himself, and that quickly stops being profitable for what is in short a novelty act.

You haven't really incorperated any of the suggested changes, nothing about a focus on showmanship or flare, nothing about using charm or flashy effects to win over an audience. His mane is still "a pale turquoise with pail green highlights" [sic], and the application still smacks very heavily of 'mind control'; you don't use those exact words, but it is still very heavily implied.

The metroid eats megapony and he dies! Dr Wily has won eqeustria! But he dosnt come down to evil laughs at the lsers because megapony used ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A and he just had like eighty extra lives anyway even though that's the Konami code and he's from a Capcom game. It's all good.

"Wow, that was totally not cool." he says as he warps back in again after being ate by the Metroid.

BUT THEN! HORROR OF HORRORS!

The sky darkens, and the sound of a hundred violinists crying out with their instruments can be heard - a cacophony of panic and sorrow, which whirls in an enigma of doubt and anxiety. The amorphous soundtrack begins to take shape, unifying into a single key. Lightning penetrates the air, the thunderous report more fierce than cannonfire.

Slowly, but not so slowly than anybody has time to interrupt anything because I'm running the thread and that would interfere with what I'm writing, an armored black balloon sinks from the sky, emblazened with a bold, red R. Two human beings were in it, Dressed in white uniforms, sporting the similar, ubiquitous red R. One, with a mane nearly as long as she was tall, red as burning mahogany, styled in ways that defied physics; the other with short blue hair and a rose in his teeth. A jump from the baloon, which exploded because such was the will of the macrocosm, and down they soared, with all the control and grace of gods.

The disembodied music swells, then soars in full swing to the appropriate theme.

Dr. Wily had hired Team Rocket.

"Prepare for trouble!" "And make it double!"

"To protect the world from Dr. Light!"

"To show the masses wrong from right!"

"To cameo to the highest bidder!"

"To improve our hopes of not being baby-sitters"

"Jesse!"

"James!"

"Team Rocket, working for Dr Wily!

"Surrender Now, or METAL MAN, I CHOOSE YOU!"

And then the strongest of all robot masters - METAL MAN! - as a pony appeared and they had a robot master to fight.

"OH NO NOT METAL MA-wait metal man. Seriously? This guy's like, the weakest robot master. Heck, he makes Bubble-Man seem hard. Lemme just bust out my mega-buster and..."

It was at that point that Megaman pointed a perfectly useless hoof at MetalMan.

"You think you're going to beat me with THAT, Megadip!? HA! HA! METAL MAN LAUGHS AT YOU! TRY HARDEST!"

And then it was time to fight robot master!

When David Lecloop showed up megaman didn't know what was he doing but it was ok because he wasnt robot master so megaman didn't shoot him but then he found out his blaster was just a horse-foot now!

"Ohno my megabuster! its now just a hoof-kicker without busters!" he shouted because he got scared of fighting dr wily without his busterblaster.

It was at that point that Deadpool showed up. "Oh, wow, um, dude. Technically, that's in the future, I don't know about that yet. Keep it on the down-low, don't tell me how it ends. There is no way

Keiji Inafune

is gonna let me get away with temporal shenannigans, so just... you know, mums the word." His expression, a touch dour, save for the fact that he somehow screamed out the name 'Keiji Inafune' so hard that it actually took physical manifestation for a moment.

But then the strange words went puff and goes away and robocop shows up and he blowed up dragons which are bad I guess so that was good. Megaman makes a fist and poses but he doesn't have hands so he just makes an ... angry... hoof... thing.

".........." he says, as he looks at the robocop and decides that maybe he might be a loose cannon with no respect for the rules - a renegade cop, who won't work with a partner and is secretly afarid of hurnting those around him!

"Robocop we need to be a team! We all need to be a team to save Equestria and stop Dr. Wily!"

And then discord showd up. "Oh hey discord, we need to stop Dr. Wily. Do you know where he is going to?" And then there was chocolate rain and it turned megaman into... a chocolate-covered megaman! "oh no this is an AXE commercial! I dont want to be eated!"

One day megaman was in monsteropolis but he was fighting centaur man and he was winning but when he won it turned out that centaur man was actually from equestria and when centaur man esploded at being defeated he turned megaman into pony and then put him in equestria.

Suddenyl, megaman took groovy beats and went to ponyville singing

"Yo this is a story all about how, my life got flipped, turn upsid-down, and I'd like to take a minute just sit rght there, and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called bel-air." Because Will Smith is his hero and he likes that song so much. But then he couldn't get a hold of Dr Light and maybe Dr Wily will take over monsteropolis!

BUT THEN DR WILY WAS TAKING OVER EQUESTRIA WITH EIGTH ROBOT PONIES!

WHO STOP DR WILY!?!?!?

OOC like dis if u want to join!!!

As it's currently written, this application will only be accepted in crossover, and you can use him for free-for-all, but given the nature of the character this isn't currently acceptable for Mane RP.

If you want him to be acceptable for mane RP, there's going to be a lot that needs fixing up. First of all, use of hearts desire to grant permanent supernatural powers is, well, way over the line, and would not be allowed.

Though the use of the deadpool mask might possibly be feasible in mane RP, the use of weaponry isn't. As much of the mane RP is G-rated, such a weapon would likely be unsuitable - and, furthermore, there's the question as to how an earth pony would work such mechanisms with nothing but hooves and teeth. Also, keep in mind that the vast majority of mane-style RP involves little or no physical conflict, and more often focuses on character interaction and some peaceable problem-solving.

After that, for mane RP, you're going to have to put a fair bit more into his personality, including giving him a home, an occupation, a backstory, a quick story as to how he got his cutiemark, and a bit more of an explanation as to who he is.

Furthermore, I'd strongly suggest against making your character be part of any official Equestrian guard, as to do so does require some in-depth understanding of the setting and the organizations. I don't think such a self-stylized 'antihero' archetype would really fit in.

Finally, for mane RP, you can't have your character granted his position by Shining Armor, or by any other presently-existing canonical character, without the permission of the player in question. Though Shining Armor (and, for that matter, Princess Celestia) are currently being played by Diomedes, I doubt that he would agree to this as this character currently stands.

As crossover RP is largely unrestricted, this will probably pass for crossover RP, but it is a very long way from being acceptable in mane RP.

Looks pretty good, but as a tip, don't keep bumping your thread. Staff look at the applications tagged final at the bottom of the list of applications first, and re-posting in your thread just brings it back to the top of the list.

On a litte further reading though, you might want to do a -little- more clarification on what her special talent is. "Being creative" seems a bit vague, though if that's what it is, should be fine. I'd suggest narrowing it down to a bit more of a refined field, but that's probably not necessary.

Other'n that, you're probably set!

Just a few things to touch up with this application - so far, it's pretty good, but it is missing a couple key areas.

First and more importantly of all, most characters require a brief story as to how they acquired their cutiemark. This only has to be a few sentences to a pagagraph, but given that in the MLP setting the cutiemark holds a serious social significance, it does help to define the character to some extent.

Second and more optional is his backstory. Your summary of who he is gives a fairly good idea, but it may behoove you to give some idea as to how he got to be who he is. Not only does it help flesh out the character, but it does give him a bit more to talk about should you choose to have him reminisce.

Other'n that, good work, slick!

I'd still say it looks like mind control and that yes, in fact, you really should consider giving this character a rewrite. Though your use of it is reasonably benign, it sets a precedent that could become incredibly problematic if other users decide to use this one as an example of abilities allowed.

Apparently, every now and then I repeat the word "potato" up to eighty times in my sleep. ...I don't care enough to figure out why.

"Well, I found her, as an egg, while on a trip with a bunch of other dragons. I just brought her back to the library and she hatched, really, nothing else to it! But... I'm not so sure that was a great idea. I probably should've brought the egg back to her parents."

A sigh from the under-aged dragon, a bit of a grim expression on his face. Given the sheer scale of property damage, and the fact that he really didn't know how to raise a phoenix... well, maybe he could ask Celestia? Or... maybe just try and find her a home where she belongs. It was a bit of a point of indecision, really, but that was not the point of the conversation at hand. He stopped, briefly, but quickly replaced his focus where it belonged - on recounting what had happened to the library.

"Anyhow, um, after that, I kind of tried to put out the fire - aaaand it turns out that Phoenix-fire burns way hotter than anything I ever had to deal with, so I kind of got burned. Which, uh, surprised me a lot, and I, uh, mighta sorta screamed a bit... aaaaaand I kind of lit the window-frame on fire by accident while trying to put my arm out." A wince, and a bit of a show of the burnt scales on his left arm. It hurt, certainly, and it was far from comfortable - but, baby or no, he was a dragon, and those didn't suffer injury easily. "It went downhill from there, because apparently some of the burning window fell down to ground level, and lit up some of the grass at the base of the library. That's what started getting attention. Unfortunately... Well..." He trailed off from there, giving Twilight another apologetic glance. She'd been a bit more aware of what was going on outside than he had, at that point, seeing as he'd been in something of a blind panic, and she was rushing books out of harm's way.

"Oh, come on, Odo! Shince when have I ever put anyone but myself in harm's way?"

"This week? You nearly got Rom fried fixing the holosuites, your so-called 'replicator failures' put three of your customers in Sickbay, you left one of your Dabo girls facing two angry Klingons by herself, and your attempts to use Nog for duterium smuggling nearly ended his career with Starfleet."

"Simply accidents, Odo! I never put anyone in thoshe situations. They simply happened."

"Yes, I'm sure you tell yourself that so often you might almost believe it."

"...You stiiiiiill don't trust me, do you, Odo? Here I go, putting forward my own reshources, my time, my help forw-"

"Rom's help, you mean."

"-a... Rom's help... Paid for out of my own profits, I'll have you know! I give and I give trying to show you that I want to help your efforts with security, and here I am, met with borderline hoshtility! I honeshtly don't know why I bother."

"Pfuh! For all I know, this is no more than some ploy to get rid of me. Again."

"Ah, now that is where you're ghenuinely wrong. See, without you, I'd have bigger problems. Captain Sishko would put in a new Chief of Security, and the way things are going, whell! I'd either be stuck with Commander Worf, or worse still, the Major. And they wouldn't come to undershtandings the way you and I do, ho ho ho hoooo, no. The words 'better the devil you know' apply."

"And which rule of acquisition is that?"

"It's a hew-mahn proverb, actually. Though, it roughly correlates with Rule of Acquisition one-hundred and eighty four. Loses something in the translation, though."

"I'm supposed to believe that?"

"...Well, no. Which is why I have had this device inspected by none less than Chief O'Brian himself. Go ahead! Ask him what this device does, he'll tell you exactly what I've told you - a pershonal teleporter. Works anywhere on the stashion - regardlessh, mind you, of whether the stashion's teleporters are operational or not. Could be ver-ry handy in... shertian situashions."

"Humph! We'll see about that."

And then, much to his chagrin, Odo had actually tried out the device. Not on the spot, of course - he'd double-checked with O'Brian first. He had no intention of taking Quark's word for anything. But, for the sake of being thorough, he'd attempted to use the teleporter to get from his office to his quarters.

Instead, he was on a particularly bright, rather clement planet, not far from some sort of indiginous settlement.

Not that he knew it, but Constable Odo'ital was standing just outside of Ponyville, and despite his efforts with the troublesome device, he wasn't going anywhere else. It's actually a rather nice summer day, all told - a few clouds dot the skyline, a light breeze offers some measure of relapse to those working themselves hardest on such a fine august day. A few songbirds tittered and chirped in the trees, calling to one-another as to who might call which particular tree their territory. It only gave the six-foot-tall, somewhat clay-faced humanoid in a full-body beige security outfit more contrast to his vivid surroundings - for now, he did not so much 'blend in' as he did 'stick out like a sore thumb'. Though, frankly, given that the majority of equestrians lack thumbs, this expression might not be so particularly apt.

There was a moment of pondering, a glance up into the sky, and then Odo hissed a single word, his tone infuriated beyond his usual range of emotion.

"Quaaaaarrrrk!"

But, the question remained - who would find the wayward changeling?