1-2. school daze
3. the maud couple
4. fake it 'til you make it
5. grannies gone wild
6. surf and/or turf
7. horse play
8. the parent map
9. non-compete clause
10. the break up breakdown
11. molt down
12. marks for effort
13.
the mean 614. a matter of principals
15. the hearth's warming club
16. friendship university
17. the end in friend
18. yakity-sax
19. on the road to friendship
20. the washouts (episode)
21. a rockhoof and a hard place
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Thanks! I haven’t done anything like this before, just running with it by the seat of my pants. It started out purely off the cuff and I’m trying to roll with that and not get too far up my own cavity, but not let quality drop off either. It’s a puzzle to try and weave these things into one narrative without layering too many complications. Things kind of necessitate a “slow burn” approach with a few minor changes each time, which is fine by me. The “pretty” stuff was a carry over from that weird customer telling her she was pretty, but her clothes and name weren’t. There was some kind of influence going on there!
Thanks! What can I say? You’re making some fascinating stuff, and the meta-thematic spin on generative AI’s weakness is a creative use of chaos. The first one really inspired me to give that generic pony a story. Then I saw the older pic looked mostly consistent and decided to retrofit the story onto it. In for a penny…
Still trying to stay with the spirit of the material, the overall theme, and also having to watch what I add to match the ratings tags. I also don’t go in for the more grim “bad end” stuff so at least on my side there are places I’m not quite willing to take it.
[ METAGAMING REMOVED ]
Wonderful, thank you. The teasy commentary is top tier, and Lexi being haunted by pretty is great. This is everything I want from silly reality bendy TF minific.
Part 1 unofficial story here: https://derpibooru.org/images/3285568#comment_19017
Part 2 continued here: https://derpibooru.org/images/3267499#comment_10804778
“They’re Pretty,” Lexi retorted defensively. “Besides, didn’t you throw a fit when I came in with baggy pants and a tee yesterday morning?” she pointed out. Was that really a day ago? She could barely imagine herself wearing stuff like that.
“Lassie, yer gonna go into the old wing and rummage through the Lost ‘n Found fer somethin’ less pertentious or we’re gonna have words,” the bearded old creep said with finality. “Givin’ up before the week is out? Betchoo don’t rem’mber our deal. Guess ya don’t want that old name back.”
“Old name?” Lexi’s ears snapped forward at the threat. Did she used to have another one? She knew “Lexi the Magical Unicorn” wasn’t a Pretty name, maybe the old one was Prettier. More to the point, if there was something the shop had changed about her then she wanted it back, whatever it was. And the last thing she wanted was another day of missing memory for arguing with Creepy Boss. “Okay, you’re the Boss,” she acquiesced. “Which way is the old wing?” she inquired, wondering how a shop this size could even have ‘wings.’
“Jus’ keep walkin’ back past the stock room, you’ll find it. An’ don’t be to long, I ain’t coverin’ for you all mornin’. ’Sides, anything stays in Lost ’n Found too long, it tends to get lost and NOT found,” he added menacingly.
“Who are you?” Lexi blurted out in a panic.
“I’m me!” the impossibly animated thrift-shop fodder replied in its multitude of simultaneous voices. “Who’re you? Are you lost too? Did you find me? Are we going home?” the all asked excitedly in unison.
“L-Lexi the Magical Unicorn, Lexi for short!” the prone hybrid blurted out. “I just needed some work clothes, I’ll be out of here-”
“Need work clothes?” the voices interrupted. “New outfit? Where! Where do you work!?” they inquired giddily.
“T-toy store, uh, creepy old guy…”
“TOY STORE!” the colony of clothing shouted with furious excitement. “MAKEOVER!” it announced before crashing down on Lexi like a tidal wave. She was swept up in a swirling maelstrom of fabric that slithered, pressed, fluttered, and fully enclosed her. She couldn’t see. She could barely breathe. She hoped nothing would snag on her horn. And the voices surrounded her with frenetic giggles that eventually seemed to change into a raucous conversation. As she was held firmly in the writhing mass, the chipper voices peppered her with commentary.
That dress is too formal for work attire = Toy stores are fun! = Casual Friday is every day = Stores are work, need freedom of movement = the 80s called, they want their prom dress back = too high contrast, muted palettes are in =
Every square inch of her body was trapped in the chaotic motion, as if she was in a tumble dryer full of angry snakes made of cloth. She was thrown this way and that, unable to see, hearing only the pixie-like chatter about her look, her sense of touch overwhelmed.