How do I begin to describe how dumb the comments are that you insist on wasting your time in making? It’s an AU. That means Alternate Universe. Of course the characters are not going to act the same as their canon counterparts. They have different life experiences, different relationships between each other, different lots of things. Some threads are going to be similar, but they won’t be the same. If something is reverse of the canon dynamic (and if you read correctly, which clearly you did not, you’d see that’s not really true), it’s because it’s SUPPOSED TO BE.
If you understood this AU at all, these comments wouldn’t need to be made. Not to mention, it’s an AU of a fandom that was built on practically nothing. The grand majority of ideas with these characters are fan-created, as there’s very little canon evidence of personality traits and intricacies of the Felt anyways.
The big thing is: I wrote it for me. I wrote it because I couldn’t keep it in my head any longer. And there are more stories in my head to build off this because mobsterswitched Snowman has barely been touched upon in fanon. And it’s fanon, you silly twit, because she doesn’t exist anywhere else besides in the creations of the fans who decided one day “You know what would be cool? Switching TS with MC and seeing what happens.” So they did, and what occurred has been thus far an interesting interplay of psychology when one character type gets put in an entirely different situation and has to reconcile that with their morals and their experiences, and how those change because GOOD characters change.
As I’ve seen you go through the Intermission tag in AO3 and do the same thing to pretty much every single story, without pausing to consider variables about how 1) humanized, 2) AU, 3) an AU of an AU, it only leads me to believe that you are simply being a troll for you own sake.
This was probably bad timing. I’m tired and cranky. I have had precious little uninterrupted sleep in a week, and I’m going on my 7th consecutive day of work out of 10, and I’ll be on my feet another 8 hours, and then I have more sewing and running to do before bed. I will not have any actual time to write the fic I compose in my head when I’m running, so it will stay there until I have a few free hours to myself. I estimate sometime in April. Oh wait, no, Ad Astra. Gotta prep for that.
[with major apologies to Path and Shaburdies. I don’t even know. I’m so sorry.]
He had only wanted to love her. He was a very sweet colt, but she was not interested. She didn’t want to be mean, because it wasn’t her style. She had other things in her life she was interested in: career, for one. She had a different focus. He simply wasn’t in hers.
The young colt begged the witch to help, to make him be desirable to her. He promised her anything she wanted as long as he could be with her. The mare smiled cruelly, and thought about the colt in her past, who spurned her when he learned of her interest in dark magic. She reared back and cackled, a burst of violet energy from her horn. The colt screamed in agony as his body contorted and shrank, turned wooden and immobile.
The mare picked up the pony life-drawing figure and went into town.
Lengthy Locks had her snout pressed to the glass in wonder. It was perfect. The figure was entirely poseable, and small enough to fit on her desk at school. The filly grinned, and bought it instantly from the pawn shop owner. Finders Keepers nodded with a wink, as everyone always finds what they need in this shop.
“Miss Cheerilee? Can I put my statue on my desk?” the filly asked, already pulling her drawing paper and pencils on her desk.
The teacher smiled, seeing the excitement in her student’s eyes. “Of course you can, Lengthy Locks, but it is music time. The statue can stay there, but keep the pencils on the table.”
The teacher trotted around to the giant monstrosity of an organ, with pipes and tubes everywhere. It had a short keyboard, and lots of buttons and push pedals. “Children, this is on loan from Canterlot. Let’s make the best use of it we can!” Cheerilee nudged a few buttons and stepped on some pedals, making the organ let out a “whoot!” like a train whistle. “And a one, and a two-!”
The children started to sing some version of Yankee Doodle, while Cheerilee sang into some tubes near the front of the machine, making it a giant mouth organ.
I remember thinking “that’s not how sound theory works, those tubes that are shorter should produce higher sound; what she’s doing doesn’t logically make sense.” The other part of my brain spoke up then, louder and more sarcastically, “You’re dreaming about fan ponies. What makes sense here. Wake the fuck up, stupid.” And then I did, and realized that eating late, watching pony videos, and scrolling through Tumblr before bed was maybe not the best idea.
I’m going back to sleep. With any luck, my brain will realize its grave error and fix me up with sexy dreams about the Exalted host as compensation.