A series of concepts brought about by three am (and other awkwardly timed) ramblings with fellow bronies and pegasisters most will be one shots and contain quite a lot OC's if not exclusively OC's. I am really just sticking my foot in the fanfiction waters for the hay of it so if you think any of these random bits are interesting and want to see them expanded by me or if you want to do it yourself feel free. If you think they stink say so and tell me how to improve them. (just don't say they suck with no explanation to your reasoning) Not all of these OC's will be ponies these will mostly be in a POV sort of way and could be set anywhere in Equestria really. Now that I've told you what you're getting into this is now your last chance to turn around and find something else to read if you don't like this idea...

You still here. Let the concepts begin.

The undertaker pony

Our family had been in this business as far back as our history can remember. We ran funeral parlors and the name synonymous with death. We were and shared our last name with one of the most dreaded type of dragon in equestia the Deathwings the mere utterance of our name gave ponies chills. It was an interesting childhood to say the least. I grew up with the dead I remember being a stubby little thing looking into glazed large eyes of the dead sometimes they were peaceful other times horrified. I always helped dress them for their big day. Like life-sized dolls I used to say not realizing how utterly morbid it was.

When I was old enough I would dig graves and help with the burials. I would always mutter to the corpses talking about how nice or not so nice their family and friends had been during their passing. When it was time for me to take over the business I was feared even more than predecessors for one particular reason. I had been born an alicorn making me seem like a god of death rather than just someone who got saddled with a morbid job.

What most didn't know was I was so grossly terrible at magic that I barely levitate a shovel,not to mention I was afraid of heights so aside from hovering down the street when my feet hurt my wings may as well have been a pair of fake costume ones. They did look pretty regardless of their disuse shiny black with dark purple undersides. My horn looked dangerously pointy my hair was wispy and curled like an apparition as it had since i was a filly with its ghostly white hue. My Black hat older than even my oldest living relative always present carrying the traditions of my family in a squashed looking once ridiculously tall top hat on my head. Trailing behind me the shroud that hovered perfectly millimeters from the ground making me look ghostly as many a fearful pony put it.

I remembered many a day where I was avoided like a plague my smile looked malicious even when it was sincere I think it was my narrow eyes mixed with my strange raspy voice. It was rather depressing, I often found myself wondering as I looked down at a pony what it would be like at my own funeral when my children and grand children would add me to our family graveyard. Would I have any friends to mourn me or would it all be family. As I strode into the next town I could already here ponies calling as they saw my spread wings shadow fell across their square in the setting sun.

"The Undertakers coming"

As far as the were concerned Undertaker was my name...I was not Misty Deathwings if that was even my name anymore. I walked in on a grieving man with his two full grown children sobbing like a pair of baby fillies. This old woman looked well into her hundreds I could never truly understand the pain and regrets of these ponies. That's what happens to those who live in the shadows of death.

"Hi I'm Undertaker, I am sorry for your loss." I said no true expression in my eyes but it mimicked sadness well enough for them.

I looked down at the pale dear who had passed the night before. Her fur was silver in its age her hair a barely present shade of a once vibrant orange.

Mentally I had planned out a whole funeral just by stepping into her humble yet amazingly fragrant home. It would be modest but the flowers had to be extravagant and flamboyant. I gently touched a rare flower that was not truly so but it was so hated that most destroyed it on sight.

"Those were her favorites" one of the daughters choked out.

'You shall look most beautiful in a bed of the poison joke you love with that pale orange mane of yours.' I thought. I made note to bathe in its antidote seeing that i had gone and touched it not that i cared how i would look it was for the sake of the deceased body.

How I loved making these dead bodies beautiful again. It was a blink of an eye that the funeral had come and I watched my work in the background apparently working with all that poison joke only gave me mild fuzzies though it had been a pain neutralizing the effect of so many of those flowers. They would be buried rather deep so they probably wouldn't grow to surface for some time if at all. Shame really.

"I made her look beautiful again didn't I." I smirked talking the long gone spirit of my father before me the gentle breeze that followed my question made it feel like he was right there with me. "I only hope my children can do the same for me. I sat down outside in the sun scaring away a few fillies with my mad grin for a kick before dosing off to visit, for a moment, the land of the dead.

This was inspired by the undertaker from black butler a friend showed me him as a pony. Made me wonder what it would be like for an undertaker pony in equestria. Had half the mind to make it sound like one of the mane six or some other popular pony had died but I didn't feel like dealing with butthurts. Stupid name is stupid,yay for magically incapable alicorn...I thought it was funny.

*edit* broke up the text wall a little