Author's Notes:

...

I'm sorry...

...

No, I'm just lazy.

With any luck, last couple chapters won't take several months. Though I don't think I'll have time to do them this week... I'll have them as soon as I can though.

http://pastebin.com/uQHQ0UKE

Princess Celestia knew it couldn't last. For more than a thousand years she'd been sovereign to the kingdom/country/state/hodgepodge political body that was Equestria, and not once had she ever had more than a week of peace. Were it not for her eternal patience (sometimes being an alicorn was awesome), she'd likely have gone mad from the constant glut of ponies who'd somehow developed social issues in her utopian society. Of course, the last few years in particular had been somewhat of a step above the usual brand of disturbance, what with the return of several apocalyptic demons and ascension of a new quasigod, and, to be honest, she appreciated the refresher. A thousand years of peace and minor emotional episodes had done wonders for her ponies' contentment, but a year or two of mild chaos had done wonders for her personal enjoyment. Her old joints and creaking bones felt loads better after a few workouts staving off sentient ooze and magical storms. The conversion of an old enemy, return of her sister, and emergence and birth of some new immortals hadn't hurt either. The question always nibbled away at the back of her mind- to continue the slowly-escalating trend of disaster for the sake of mixing it up, or to take preemptive action and return to an era of quiet? These last few years had been some of the most exciting of her existence, surely the populace wouldn't mind a tad more... but no. Her ponies deserved a leader who wouldn't endanger them for the sake of her dull immortality. Celestia, being an entity with lifespans measured in millennia, had no real frame of reference, but she was pretty sure these were not what most of her subjects considered normal problems.

As such, it was with mixed feelings that she received a haggard noble dashing into her throne room, sputtering about some emergency or another. Knowing her court, he could've dropped a tailored suit in the mud and called for the Royal Guard, but perhaps if she was lucky, it'd be some magical creature with which she could crack her proverbial knuckles and go a few rounds. In any case, she complied with the marquis's demand for her presence.

Emerging from the South-Southeast balcony and into the warmth of the sun, Celestia was surprised to see a large and rather irate crowd of ponies assembled by the castle's gates. A riot. By the Tree, she hadn't dealt with one of those since... 389 CE, the Rainbowhibition. She reflexively let out a small sigh at the memory of that fiasco. Despite the rather creative if anatomically unlikely cries of the Rainbowhibition protestors, she'd thought it was a good idea. The execution, on the other hoof, had lost a good few ponies their jobs and mainly served to vitalize a widespread and dangerous industry of home-brewed Rainbows.

In any case, Celestia only spotted a few protest signs amongst the mob and they'd yet to descend into chanting and pitchforks, but they were still causing quite a commotion and a fair bit of rowdy noise. Best case scenario was to deal with this quickly and have the crowd disperse peacefully. The funnest scenario would, of course, involve a gorgon and several beakers of Peat Moss's Perturbing Potion, a dark part of her mind gleefully announced. She did what she usually tried to do and ignored it, instead opting for a quick display of power.

In a flash of lustrous gold light, Celestia teleported in front of the assembled ponies. Towering almost twice as tall as even the lankiest stallion, with her wings outstretched and her mane shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, she made for a radiant, imposing figure. She couldn't see herself to confirm it, but given how the ponies' cries of discrepancy quickly faded away, her sudden appearance seemed to have served its purpose.

"Ahem," she began. "My dearest subjects, while I support your right to lodge pertinent complaints with my government, to do so in such an uncouth and disruptive manner is not so encouraged. If somepony could give me a quick explanation of your shared grievance, I'll do my best to resolve the situation at once, provided that you disperse this boisterous gathering."

She gave a quiet smile as the assembly took a moment to itself before a well-groomed unicorn stepped forwards. "Your majesty," he bowed, addressing the Princess. "We came here today in order to formally request that the government show a bit more transparency, especially in regards to the recent economic crisis."

Economic crisis? Celestia almost asked aloud, before she caught herself and clamped her muzzle shut. No, she very much did not want to look ignorant of any issues here. Instead, she widened her smile a fraction before responding. "Rest assured, my ponies, the economics department takes all financial issues very seriously and is working tirelessly to return the situation to the status quo. If you feel that more communication between government and public would assuage your concerns, then I'll have a press-release prepared instantly. In the meantime, simply know that the Equestrian government will have the problem resolved as soon as possible, and I thank you for showing awareness of the greater situation of Equestria."

This seemed to appease the protestors, who were for the most part making to leave, or exchanging brief snippets of discussion. Contented, Celestia turned and began the stroll back to her castle, intent on repairing whatever damage had come to the economy. That is, as soon as she figured out what had gone wrong in the first place. The economics department had some explaining to do.

-----

"So you're telling me that for the past week, we've been experiencing an influx of perfect counterfeit bits in such quantities that it has already begun to effect inflation levels, and I'm only being notified now?" Celestia kept her voice stern as a number of deskworkers cowered before her, covering their eyes with their hooves, their desks swamped with a deluge of paper, frayed quills and empty jars of ink littering the floor. "May I ask why that is?"

It was a few moments of nervous trembling before the Princess received an answer. "Your highness, ma'am," one of the analysts, a pegasus, began. "It was a small problem at first, just a couple hundred thousand bits, and, well, the last time a problem like this emerged you were incredibly disappointed in us, so we thought, well, we can fix this quickly, it's just a little problem, only then it suddenly wasn't such a little problem, and you still hadn't been informed, and all I could think about was the disappointed face you'd make, and how it reminded me of how my mom wanted me to play hoofball but I couldn't make the college team and then I had to sit him down at dinner and explain it to her." The pony let out a small squeak as he caught sight of Celestia's expression. "Yes, er, ma'am, that's the one."

Definitely leave it for a few years. I'm not the only one who could use some real problems to worry about, the Princess of the Sun thought to herself as the pegasus withered under her maternal disapproval. "Very well, then," she groaned exasperatedly, feeling frustration well up within her. "Have you at least made some progress on fixing the issue?"

"Some, your majesty," another economist answered. "We've managed to track the flow of false bits to what we believe to be its origin point, somewhere in Ponyville. As for the bits already in circulation, well, we're doing out best."

"Ponyville," Celestia muttered to herself. Ponyville was Twilight's hometown. How could she allow such illicit activity to go on. Unless...

Celestia adopted a determined expression, a bizarre mixture of resolve and incredible annoyance. "I'll deal with the counterfeits," she announced. "In the meantime, I want you all to work on repairing our financial state and I want solutions. I'll be back soon."

"As you wish, Princess," a pony replied.

"And I'd like to remind you that this incident is going on all of your permanent records."

"Yes, Princess," the same pony sighed.

-----

It was a bad day to be Temmie.

"NOOOooooooos!" the little mammalian monster wailed as a government agent confiscated the assorted junk she'd bought over the week, boxing old gloves and worn ribbons and huge piles of cloudy glasses. "Not the clod glass! Tem always wanted the clod glass!"

"Temmie, you've broken the law," Princess Celestia warned as she stood next to the distressed creature. Throughout the dilapidated mess that was the Tem Shop, Equestrian government workers were repossessing the mounds and mounds of items Temmie had paid for over the last week in false bits. Apparently, business had been booming; already a line of carts stretched down the street outside Carousal Boutique, each filled with boxes of miscellaneous knickknacks. "Buying merchandise with counterfeit bits is illegal, no matter who the perpetrator is."

"Temmie already told you, gold wasn't counterfeit! Tem runs legitimate business. There no sign of embezzlement, forgery, or back-alley dealings in Tem Shop. Some Gold Laundering, but Tem wanted gold to be clean."

Celestia's left eye gave an involuntary twitch. By the Sun, I'll turn into Twilight if this keeps up, she thought, before turning to Temmie. "The fact of the matter, Temmie, is that the bits you were giving your customers were not produced by the national mint of Equestria. They might've been exactly like the ones in the national mint. They might've been the ones the mint was going to distribute next year, but they weren't bits that were put in circulation by the Equestrian mint and unless you can prove you acquired them legitimately, that makes them counterfeit."

"Princess demanding impossible," Temmie muttered darkly. "No pony understand Temmie. No pony see world how Temmie sees it. Not even Temmie understand how Temmie sees world. World works, so Temmie doesn't question it."

"I wouldn't say that your world works, when it results in a spike in inflation after only a week in business. Enthusiastic as you are, you've nothing productive to show for it. I support your entrepreneurial spirit, Temmie, but I can't allow you to singlehoofedly wreck the national economy."

"Pony princess... have no faith," Temmie moped. "No trust Temmie."

Celestia almost twitched again, but she wrenched back control of her face, maintaining her serene mask. She turned to see her agents scurrying to pack away all the belongings Temmie had bought over the past week. One stepped forwards to address her.

"We're just about done here, your highness," she said. "We'll be departing shortly so that all these items can be returned and the false bits collected."

"Well done," Celestia complemented. She was more than eager to leave the slapdash remnants of the Tem Shop- after weeks spent in her immaculate castle, this messy place was grating on her nerves. "Temmie," she called, the little monster returning a bitter look. "I'd like for you to continue living a happy life here in Equestria, but know that if this trend of disruptive incidents continues, there will be consequences." She turned and left the back room of the Carousal Boutique.

Consequences. As if I actually have any leverage on that little furball, Celestia's traitorous thoughts reminded her. Given that Temmie was immune to the Elements of Harmony and seemed to rebuff any efforts to imprison her conventionally, there wasn't much she could dish out in the way of discipline. She seemed to care about her shop, or at least the items she'd had confiscated; perhaps that was a potential handle. Celestia resolved to ask Rarity about it later; no doubt the fashion-minded unicorn would have a better understanding of Temmie's strange mind, given that she'd been living with her for a week.

In the meantime, she thought, I've got my work cut out for me. Returning all these items and retrieving the fake bits, sorting out the tangled knots the economy's tied itself in. I'm going to need some coffee.

-----

Temmie made a small, sad noise as the last pony left the Tem Shop, leaving her alone again. Her little cardboard countertop was stained and a shelf behind her was coming loose. A sign nailed into the wall behind her proclaimed that the Tem Shop would no longer buy used items, on order of the Crown. Just like that, a week of business tossed away, like a village buried beneath a tidal wave.

A little knock echoed through the small room. Temmie opened the door to find Rarity standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Hello, dear," the unicorn greeted her, fidgeting nervously. "Is this a bad time?"

"...Temmie not sure," the monster eventually replied. "Temmie not sure of much right now."

"I see," Rarity said, somewhat pointlessly. There was a pause, then, "I'm sorry this had to happen."

Temmie gave a little smile, but even she felt it was somewhat forced. "It fine. Tem... sore about lost progress. Doesn't like moving backwards."

"I can understand that," Rarity agreed, thinking of her own efforts in the world of business, when she was just starting off her fashion career.

There was another period of silence before Temmie again spoke up. "Tem Shop... not open today. Temmie taking vacation day. Glad job come with benefits." The furry creature moonwalked out of the room before Rarity could reply, hoped on the banister and slid up the stairs, up to her room.

"I... thought she didn't like moving backwards," Rarity murmured to herself, before she turned to get back to work.

Upstairs, Temmie tried to convince herself that she'd meant everything she'd said downstairs. It was the objective things that hurt, the destruction of good business progress and imposing of limitations, she told herself. On other days, she'd be able to shrug that off without issue, replacing regret with enthusiasm, but today... well, the government handicapping her business wasn't the first piece of bad news she'd gotten this morning.

A letter sat on Temmie's little writing desk, immaculate cursive on sturdy parchment, and it was very straightforwards in its response.

Miss Temmie,

We write to inform you that we have elected to decline to publish your anthology of short stories, titled tEH misAdvEnturs uF tea aDORBs huMAN naemd bRIAn by tEEMIE!?!! The main reasons for this decision are as follows: you lack any reasonable grasp of the Equish language, rendering your manuscript little more than a blunt collection of misspellings and grammatical belly-flops. Your characters are so one-dimensional and uninteresting that the mere mention of their names can make hyperactive foals drowsy. Your plotlines are more muddled than a procrastinating college student's dormitory and less grounded in reality than most clouds. If you wish for your work to be published, we recommend that you attempt to portray a more realistic narrative with characters whose motivations are clear and relatable, and to please take any form of Equish class you can.

Sincerely,
Prim Quill Publishing House

It was the letter that had left Temmie in such an emotionally tumultuous state, so dismissive in tone and unyielding in its message that she felt she'd sooner move a black hole than please the publisher. The sum total of all the work in her admittedly small recollection and it barely warranted a paragraph from the experts. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful they wrote that much or embarrassed that she'd been so confident they'd accept.

Enthusiastic as you are, you've nothing productive to show for it. The words played through her head like a wheel rolling down an endless hill. Since her arrival in Equestria, what had she done? What had she produced? She'd bought a bunch of stuff she'd always wanted only for it to be returned. She'd written some words and had them quickly rejected. She'd lived awhile in a world of stone she could only observe, but if the land were petrified again, would she notice a difference?

Her eyes fell again across her writing desk, but not on the abusive handwriting of the letter but the well-used quill that sat beside it, laid atop a stack of lined paper. Years ago, a tiny seed had fallen from a tall stalk, and wormed its way into the rich soil. For days it had bathed in moist water and fertile nutrients, until a hand of green had reached towards the sun and taken its first breath. Like a towering skyscraper it had raised itself upwards, till it had outreached even the ponies who had planted it in the first place. It had born seeds of its own, who'd embarked on their own personal adventures, traveling across valleys and hills to exchange hooves at markets farther away than its progenitor could even conceive. It had found itself in the body of birds, beautiful animals with long, princely feathers. Its very atoms and molecules had been made into art, arranged and rearranged until it was no longer a kernel but rather a well-used quill in the paws of another struggling artist.

Temmie could see them, the trails and destinations of the particle heaps around her, pieces of her world that each had worlds all their own. She knew where they began and where they ended and the stories they'd experienced in between and it was poetry and literature. What was an author if not a source of worlds in their own right, a weaver of thought and idea instead of mere matter. What was a quill but the instrument of the divine, a mortal device with an immortal legacy. The stories of mass and mind were the same, and she was both a brilliant inventor and a cog in the machine, and, by God, it filled her with Determination.

-----

"Noe!' was SOLestia's answer 2 BriAn's ernest request. "Y would i evrar let someting liek U marry my precshus sister!?''

But princess, sHE LoveS meh!" brian cride, very tron up aboot Celesta's rejection. Hed conTACTed teh ruler of EqueSTRIa and tride to get hur blessnig in his imMMINent marrage wiv prinCESS LUXna. Saddley, tho, it seemd that the ALcorn didn't aprove of there loving onion.

"Mai sistre is only 3402 years old! Shees far too young 2 mary," Selestia sed.

"Butt Celestia, R U Sure?' Luna askd.

Yes, my sister, cELEstia said, 'U R 2 precshus and innocent to B marreed."

'Wut about thet 1 time she tried to conQEr Equestria thouh? Brain sad. "cAN she reely be calld innocent?

tEH 2 sisters gasped in sock and hororr. "Brian, how dar U?" celESTia harumphed. 'Remindnig swet lova8le woona uf her unhapy tiems. So rude!

'ive decided,' Luna annOUNCEd. "I dont liek you anymor, brIAn. Leaf my site atonce!

Brine waz heartbroknen at this sudan betrayall. h'ED lovd lUNa aNd now shed abadonned him. aLL these daark, btoodiNG fellings bubbeld inSIDe him. hE FElt his happness drane away, rePLACed bai cold, chURnnig HAte. thE WOrld wuz no longer a happi plase, nd the brite sun disgustred him with it;s dumm cherryness. he HAted it ALL!!?!!!!?!

i cAN't B brIAn any more, brIAN thought. briAN was a week fool. he TOOk no 4 an anser. hE leT those sily ponIES controll his lyfe. no More!

bRian went nd died his hare bLACk. thAt it wus allredy black did;nt matter. hEE went on an epic QWEst to find th legnedary TRIPLe EDGEd SWORd, nd pulld it from the corps of a deceased eldRICH monstrosity. hE paINTed his batmAn costume which hed almost forGOTTEn he wus wareing completley bLACk, liek teh deepst night. The nIGht could nevre be as deep, howevrar, as his SAD FEELINGS.

"EYE wiLL Destroy equesSTRia!" he said. "I woll slay Celestia + t8ke lUNA as mai bride in MisEry. I must have a new Name... yes.............. I... will call.. myself.............. DARK BRIAN!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHHHAHAAHAHAHAHREHUuigbUIDOHFGUIROHSOEIO:LEGIURSB

-----

Temmie was running out of ink.

More emotions! Drama! Tension! her thoughts screamed. Create a world. Clear plots and interesting characters. Suck the reader in. Her paw ached as the quill zipped across the page, frantically scribbling words as soon as they entered her mind. This will be... crowning work! Dark!

The final well was drying up, just a small spot of ink still wet at the bottom. Pages were strewn about her, covered in scrawl, words written on both sides. Temmie remained determined.

Call my characters one-dimensional? I'll show you how many dimensions they can-

Something snapped. A noise like shattering ice echoed through Ponyville, resonating in a way that bordered on physical impossibility. A scream somehow pierced through the shrill screech, and Temmie rushed to the window.

He was dressed in a cloak of deep night, two pointed ears sticking up from his dark cowl. His hair was at least twice as black as it should be, and he carried a long, oversized sword that somehow had three edges. His vision panned across the Ponyville Town Square, taking in everything in view, surveying his new surroundings. He grinned, and let out a laugh that was for some reason both cruel, maniacal, and humorless.

"REHUuigbUIDOHFGUIROHSOEIO:LEGIURSBAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaha! Prepare yourself, Equestria! Dark Brian... gonna KILL! Gonna KILL YOU ALL!!!"