It was another fine morning in Ponyville. The birds were singing many a merry tune and not a cloud stood before the rising sun.

Everyone was caught up in the daily hustle and bustle of their morning routines. Breakfasts were made and eaten. School lunches were made up for hungry yearling tummies. Shops and stands were opened at varying times of the day.

The library of Ponyville’s new castle was rather busy with its extended morning cleaning routine of its rows upon rows of books. The small young dragon was little more than a blur with a feather duster in each hand and a third in his mouth, as his keeper, the recently inducted princess, Twilight Sparkle frantically busied herself cataloguing new books.

“Okay, now these ones go into sections ‘BAC’ to ‘BAR’,” she muttered frantically as she sorted them out into piles. “And these ones from ‘ROA’ to ‘ROM’, and these ones are to go into ‘TAE’ to ‘TAM’, and these ones from ‘EAR’ to ‘EBB’, and…!”

And then she coughed violently as she caught a lungful of dust from Spike’s pass over the older books.

“Spike!” she hollered between hacking fits. “Watch what you’re… (cough)… doing!” She coughed some more. “I can’t… (hack, hack)… work with all this… (cough)… dust in the air.” And then she coughed some more.

Spike stopped on top of one of the bookshelves. “Oufs! Forry!” It was tough to speak with a duster in his mouth. “Sorry about that, Twilight!” Then he added with a rather ironic scowl, “Kinda too bad we don’t have a… um… vacuum cleaner anymore.”

“After what you and Peewee did to it last time? No way!”

“I tried to avoid him! I swear!”

Then the doorbell – which Twilight decided at the last minute of construction should be a standard feature in her castle - rang.

“I got it!” yelled Spike as the three feather dusters very briefly floated in the air where he stood three microseconds ago. Twilight could just barely make out the excited dragon’s form until he made it to the door.

“Hmm. You must’ve been expecting something in the mail,” she deduced as he eagerly signed for a mailed package.

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” he yelped in anticipation as he pranced over to the table with a book-sized box. “It’s here! It’s finally here!”

“What did you get, Spike?”

He ripped off the tape holding the tabs closed, and slid the contents out onto the tabletop. He pulled a chair up to stand on so he could get a better look at the books.

He grinned broadly and squealed with delight as he stifled an urge to burst.

“So what did you get, Spike?” repeated Twilight. She lifted the book to get a closer look… then moaned, “Oh, no! You have got to be kidding!”

Spike was taken aback. “Kidding?! Kidding?!! Me, kidding?!! No way, Twilight! This time, we’re gonna get it right!”

“‘How to Make Your Own Magical Comics’?”

“That’s right! Written by the comics-master himself, Rob Liveryfield!”

“Rob Liveryfield? Yeah… I… uh, read some of his works. I can’t say I approve of his work, especially all those tacky costumes he made!”

“Okay! Okay! Look! Some of those comics… well, they weren’t the greatest, I’ll admit that! I mean some of his script writers, well at least one of them was el stinko!” he conceded as he pinched his snout for two seconds. “But listen! Twilight! We are talking about the creator of the magic comic book, here! Whole new style! Whole new generation of comic-making!”

This was definitely hard to argue. Liveryfield was the main artist of the Power Ponies comic… including the issue Twilight and her friends were trapped in. Not long after the series finished, it was he who actually created the new method for making comic art.

Using live, costumed ponies in an empty, medium-sized room, he was able to capture the action as one would creating movies… except the action would be captured into the panels of the comic. When it was all finished, the panels would be refined and rendered, then coloured, lettered, and finished off. It proved more effective and time-saving.

“Anyways, I just entered a contest, and I want to make my own comic!” He produced a brochure detailing the “Make Your Own Hero Story” contest. In it was a superhero pony flying out of a comic book.

“Oh, you do, do you?” asked Twilight – feigning some degree of interest - as she continued cataloguing her new books. “What’s it called? Who’s in it?”

Spike raced off to the bedroom and pulled out a script to present to the princess. “Check it out! It’s got a villain with super-awesome powers, like mental control over all these totally cool and amazing ninja-robot-dragon-beasts that shoot lasers from their eyes and fire from their swords!”

“And the hero…?” asked Twilight, hoping to keep the subject as brief as possible.

“Well, the hero… um… is going to… have some really cool and amazing powers! For instance… um…”

Twilight let Spike stew over that for the moment. “Sounds exciting. Now if you’ll excuse me… Let’s see, these ones will go from ARR to ATM. These ones…” She carried on as if nothing else was happening.

“Hey, Twilight! Wanna be the hero?!” cried Spike… causing Twilight to jump up and knock over her neat piles.

Her neat little piles she had spent hours sorting out.

She slowly turned her angry gaze in Spike’s direction, her teeth grinding, a terrifying scowl across her face. “Spike?” she said menacingly.

A bead of cold sweat cascaded down the side of his temple as he replied very nervously, “Yes, Twilight… er… I mean, Princess?”

He felt himself slowly lift into the air.

“The answer,” replied Twilight. “Is… ‘NO’!”

She opened the library door, then the main door, and took careful aim.

“Okay!” whimpered Spike as he was tossed back and forth. He knew she was going to do something painful. “You can put me down, now! I’ll go away! I swear!”

Regardless of his begging, she violently bowled him down the hall, down the stairs, pinballing him against the banisters, and right out the main door, where he finally settled on his face.

“Go bug somepony else!!” she bellowed after him from the balcony. “And take this with you!” She neatly packaged his books back into the box and flung it after him… right on his noggin. “And would you stop calling me ‘Princess’ already?! It’s getting embarrassing!” She slammed the door and locked it.

Spike nursed his aching head. “She was turned into an alicorn. She was crowned as princess. She got her own castle. And… she doesn’t wanna be called ‘Princess’?” He stewed over that for the next several moments. “Odd. Ah, well.”

Off he went to Rarity’s house.

*******

At Carousel Boutique, Spike skidded several metres out the door from his severe, excruciating, backside-first exit out the door.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he grumbled as he slowly stood, nursing his tender backside. “You could’ve just said ‘No’, you know!”

Rarity very menacingly stepped out. “Spikey, darling. NO!” She hoisted him up very close to her scowling visage, right up close to her eyes. “And if those comics dare to cross the threshold of this business, I will happily create beautiful leather purses and saddlebags out of dragon leather! Do we have an understanding?”

“We do,” he whimpered as he landed on his still tender backside. “No comics in Carousel Boutique.”

“That’s a good little dragon,” she said with a faux, syrupy smile. “Now run along, dear… before I do find customers for those dragon leather accessories.”

With that, it was as though he was never there.

*******

He had no better luck with Applejack, either.

The horseshoe-shaped marks on his butt were a very clear indication.

He moved on… very painfully.

*******

Off to Sugarcube Corner he went…

Where Pinkie yakked and yakked for almost half an hour straight about all sorts of insane plans for being the superest, bestest, most awesomest superhero with the craziest, neatest, wackiest, most unbelievable superpowers on the whole planet.

Somewhere in the back of the little drake’s mind was a mental list. On that list were several names; names of ponies that he figured would be ideal to team up with on this project.

Not five minutes into the crazy pink pony’s little bout of verbal diarrhoea, another name was crossed off that list… over and over and over and over.

That name was none other than Pinkie Pie.

Why? Simple: he wanted to keep this project as orderly as need be. Pinkie Pie had too much risk to cause chaos border-lining Discord’s levels.

It took almost that full half hour before Pinkie suddenly realized she was talking to thin air. Ironically – and by rather pleasant circumstance – she forgot what she was talking about in the first place. Back she went to making pastries, singing silly songs to herself.

*******

Spike, on the other hand, asked Rainbow Dash if she was willing to help out.

No sooner had he explained the project when he suddenly found himself talking to thin air. No verbal response; just a sudden vacuum that followed a trailing rainbow near sonic speed.

“Okay,” he said to the volume of thin air where Rainbow was no longer standing. “I take it you’re not interested?”

There was no verbal response – not that he expected one, anyway.

He sighed. “Might as well see if Fluttershy will turn me down.”

*******

Fluttershy was busy scolding a little robin after nursing it back to health. “That’s what happens when you don’t look where you’re flying!” she said, referring to its careless flight path into the birdbath.

The robin, however, was perfectly fine. He looked over towards Angel flashing a small sign, just out of the pegasus’ view, that read: “She has GOT to be kidding me! Help a guy out, would ya?”

Angel held up a sign that said: “Just roll with it, bud. Trust me!” He flipped it over: “It’s not worth the aggravation!”

The bird hung his head, and just rolled with it, enduring countless minutes – which felt more like countless hours – under Shy’s tender loving care… and bothersome scolding. In the end, he knew the bunny was right.

Spike casually sauntered into Shy’s back forty where he spotted the situation. “Oh, my, Fluttershy. Who got… ‘hurt’ today?” he queried casually.

The pegasus casually glanced sideways towards the drake, then back at her unwilling charge as she continued with his care. “This poor, silly robin flew into my birdbath the wrong way and hurt himself!”

“Is that… oh, for crying out loud! It is him! Reg!” snapped Spike. “When are you going to learn not to scare Fluttershy like that, guy?!”

The little robin rolled his eyes back and facewinged himself.

“Spike, please! Don’t stress poor Reg while he’s recuperating!”

Spike glanced back at Angel.

Angel held up a sign: “Correction! Don’t stress poor FLUTTERSHY while he’s… ‘recuperating’.”

Reg let out a series of aggravated tweets while he shook his head.

“Reggie, please…!!” cried Shy.

“Okay, hold on, everyone!” said Spike. “For the sake of peace in the neighbourhood, let’s all just stay calm and cool. Okay? Just calm… and cool…”

“Yes! Calm! Yes!” said Fluttershy with a grimace; sharp, heavy breaths siphoning between her clenched teeth.

Spike tactfully decided to wait for several moments so she could actually calm down.

But Fluttershy decided to make the inquiry right there. “So… what did you need, Spike?” She snapped her head towards him as she added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well… maybe I’ll wait until you’re done…”

“Oh, no, Spike!” she offered as she turned back to Reg’s care. “It’s okay! You can tell me… if you wouldn’t mind…”

Spike took a deep breath and asked her, “Do you remember that Power Ponies comic we got trapped in?”

Fluttershy snapped her head back in his direction again. “Oh! My! How could I forget that? When I transformed into that horrible brute!” Then she grimaced. “But, oh, that was because I got so… angry at that nasty Mane-iac for batting that poor, helpless firefly!”

“And you ultimately trashed her big laser gun! That was cool! But, aaany-waaaays…! Let’s get to the real reason I’m here! Remember Rob Liveryfield?”

“Umm… I’m sorry. I just don’t know who that is.”

“He’s the one who did the artwork on that issue.” He continued to explain the comic artist’s role, and the contest he entered. “So, wanna join the contest with me?”

Fluttershy started quivering in fear. “Oh, my! We don’t have to fight that terrible Mane-iac again, do we? I don’t want to be a brute anymore!”

Spike grinned. “That’s the beauty of it: you get to create your own superhero persona. And best of all, you won’t be trapped in the comic. You’ll be making it.”

Fluttershy sighed as she pondered the scenario. “I… I don’t… know, Spike. I just don’t know if… I even…” She trailed off again, trying not to outright say… well, that.

But Spike could tell what she was trying to say. “Please, Fluttershy?” he whimpered as he donned a sad puppy-dog expression.

Fluttershy cringed as she tried to rebuff his pitiful, somewhat heart-wrenching persuasion method. “Spike. Please… don’t…”

His eyes started filling with crocodile tears, his bottom lip started to tremble, and a tiny whimper edged out of his throat.

And that did it.

“Okay!” she shrieked. “I’ll join the contest with you! Just… promise me one thing!”

“Sure,” replied the drake as he grinned smugly.

“Promise me I won’t have to be a brute again! Please!”

Spike chuckled. “No, you don’t have to be a brute if you don’t want to. You do, though, have to create your own superhero. Right, Reg?”

Fluttershy looked back at Reg…

Or rather where he should have been. He was now in the tree.

“Reggie!! Get back here! I’m not finished caring for you!”

Spike left Fluttershy to unsuccessfully try to catch the impish little robin, chuckling at the chaos he knew was taking place behind him.

Author's Note

Okay, bronies and pegasisters; hope you like this so far! This is my first fanfic and I just wanna test the waters a little bit before a newer instalment I've got that's still collecting dust.

And yes, we all know who Mr. Liveryfield is a blatant reference to. And just like in the ponyverse, the folks either love or hate the guy, but is still indisputably deserving of our respect. (Especially here because of the new technique for making comics)

Don't forget: leave a comment! Tell me what you think!!