Nothing Loves Meby Cheerful EarfulChaptersWorthlessExcruciatusAce of CakesThe Cutie Mark Crusaders' Wild RideBig HouseStratosphere SerenadeNothing Loves MeI, ScootalooCake SuitWorthlessThe great and powerful Trixie looked herself in the mirror in her wagon, and for the second time that day, saw herself for what she really was. A failure. She'd wanted with all of her heart to be a scientist. She'd wanted to work in laboratories in Canterlot, and make life better for ponies. She'd wanted to use magic for the good of ponies everywhere. But she failed. The Canterlot Academy of Sciences wasn't particularly rigorous, but Trixie was simply not suited for her passion. The mathematics of it eluded her, and the theory she found tedious and boring. She watched her dream slip away before her as her failing grades closed in upon her. She drowned in sorrow. She had taken up performing small acts of prestidigitation for the amusement of foals. That is when she knew her life had hit its rightful niche: rock bottom. She inflated her ego through pomp and showmareship, and she began to forget why she felt worthless. But when she looked in the mirror, and she saw her robe and hat in place of a lab coat and goggles, she could see through her own façade. Deep down, she knew what she really was. Worthless. Excruciatus"No! Wait, come back!" Rainbow Dash cried to the retreating creatures as she realized the boulder had her feathers pinned. They flew off deeper into the canyon, scarcely noticing she was gone. She tried again to free herself, but the boulder was too heavy. She began to panic, tugging harder and harder, but to no avail. She headbutted the boulder in frustration, over and over again until she lost consciousness. When she awoke, it was evening. Her head throbbed, and her wing was cold and numb. She had no idea of how long she had been unconscious for, nor if anypony was looking for her. She looked up to the sky. It was dark, and filled with clouds. Dash thought for a moment until an Equestria-shattering thought hit her: there were no cloudy skies scheduled over Ponyville and the surrounding countryside for another 2 days. Had she really been out for that long? If she was, chances were that nopony was looking for her. But they probably were, right? Right? At first she felt sullen, yet vaguely hopeful that somepony would come to rescue her. The night passed. As the hours crawled by, panic once again began to build up in Dash's mind. What if nopony was looking for her at all? What if she was wrong? Did they even care? The following evening was one of the longest Dash had ever lived. Her stomach seemed to want to claw out from inside of her to strike out on its own for food, and she doubled over with cramps. Her wing felt cool to the touch. She began to cry quietly. Nopony could hear her. Who cared? She gave up all hope of rescue, but shouted out names nonetheless. "Twilight! Please! you're not an egghead! Please!" she rasped as loud as she could, tears running down her face. "Applejack? Please, Applejack, I need you! I love you. Celestia—why?!" "Princess Celestia, please! I was loyal to you, I worshipped you, I did all I—" Her voice ceased to function. Her harsh cries dried into silent sobs, and she soon ran out of even tears. She was dehydrated, and hallucinating slightly. The boulder appeared to her as a stallion. A heavyset, cyan stallion. "Dad?" she asked, her voice healed somewhat after a brief fit of sleep. "Dad, please, you're sitting on my wing." The boulder made no reply, even in her mind. "Dad, come on, stop messing around..." she trailed off weakly. The cyan hallucination turned away. "Dad, I'm sorry I am the way I am, just please... I'll find a stallion, I promise, I'll change, I'll do anything, just get off my wing," she pleaded, sobbing into the ground. She inhaled dusty silt on every breath, but she was too tired and defeated to care. She bashed her head against the boulder again, and there was blackness. It was daytime when she woke up. The sun stung her cracked lips, and a long shadow stretched near her face. She turn to look at what cast the shadow. A small, narrow stone lay not 4 feet from her body. She could reach the little piece of flint. An idea grew in her mind; one born of desperation and nihilism. She reached out and jimmied the flint until she could reach it with her mouth. She picked it up, and tested its sharpness with her dry, swollen tongue. A strong taste of metal stuck in her mouth, her blood. Keen as a razor. She looked at her wing for a long time. She decided it was her wing or her life, and leaned down near the boulder pinned it. She clenched her eyes, bit down hard on the flint, and drove her head forward, cutting her wing open with the stone. A hiss of escaping gas and the smell of putrefaction permeated the air, but Rainbow Dash didn't stop. She wrenched her head from side to side, sawing at the wing until she reached bone. The pain was immense, but determination kept her going. When she reached her bone, she stood up in an effort to snap it. Blood poured from her self-inflicted wound, and she held her breath to keep from fainting. To her horror, the wing broke inside her remaining wing; an area around which she did not cut. Gasping in pain, she dropped the flint. She tried to use her hooves to break the bone, end the carnage, end her suffering. She stomped on the bone, heard a dull, wet crack, and the world went black again. She awoke after a few moments. It was a simple yet excruciating matter to disconnect the ligaments; she bit down on them and gnawed until there was a complete severance between what remained of her wing on her body, and the third that lay permanently trapped under the boulder. She rose, staggered a few steps and collapsed. The blood loss, dehydration, and sun poisoning made her want to die. She didn't think she could go on. The edges of her vision began to go black, the rest blurred. A cloud of purple moved about in front of her. She wanted to close her eyes. Muffled noises assaulted her ears. She felt a gentle force lift her up. Rainbow Dash blinked hard, and the purple cloud materialized as Twilight Sparkle. Dash weakly heaved in sobs of fatigue, but the only sound that escaped her was a harsh whine. Twilight spoke into her radio. All Dash could make out was: "I have her. Celestia help us." Ace of CakesAuthor's note: This was written right after Gabby Gums came out, before Celestia and cake became fanon. It was so wrong... But it felt so good. Princess Celestia shuddered in ecstasy as she felt the warm, moist icing on her tongue. She closed her teeth around the slice of cake levitating in front of her. Her eyes shut in bliss as she clopped her front hooves together, judging the cake's consistency. Not too fluffy, nor too dense; not too moist, not too dry. To the 1000-year-old and well-tempered royal tongue, it was perfect. Beads of sweat began to drip down from her brow, and she felt a sudden urge to remove her necklace and slippers to feast in an... uncivilized manner. She spared a thought for the baker... Pinkamena Dianne Pie would soon be holding a position of power in the Solar Empire's imperial court; the court baker had never produced anything nearly so perfect. Her wings began to flutter slightly, betraying her inner nirvana. She had felt nothing so glorious for millenia. She chewed and swallowed. She took another bite—who cared if it got on her face? She was in her royal gardens, all alone! CLICK! The sudden sound of a camera shutter flashing shut jerked the princess from her ecstasy. She opened her eyes in time to see a flash and hear a second shutter close. By the time her eyes had readjusted from the flash of bright light, she could barely make out a pegasus colt, thin as matchsticks, buzzing away down the road. "Oh, well," she thought. "Let the colt have a picture of his Goddess, however embarrassing it may be... No harm done." She closed her eyes once more, and giggled greedily. "Now... Where was I?" The Cutie Mark Crusaders' Wild RideBased on Crusader's Wagon Ride by DigitalDasherBot. "Slow down, Scootaloo! Don't you think we're going a bit fast?" Sweetie Belle called to the orange pegasus filly from the wagon behind her. They had just come from a disastrous party for a griffon in Ponyville proper, but a harebrained scheme to earn their cutie marks left them careening down a hill. Scootaloo's wings weren't flapping. "I'm trying, I'm trying," she said with as much gruffness as her young voice could muster. She tried to jimmy the handle of the scooter to swerve and bleed off speed, but there were too many obstacles to allow her to do so. It was all she could do to avoid the stumps and shrubs that lined the path. "What's takin' ya so long? There's a darned cliff up ahead!" Applebloom called, more annoyed than anything. Scootaloo dared to take her eyes off the road for a few seconds, and looked back at her friends. The fear they saw in her eyes told them more than her words did. "I can't," Scootaloo said. She turned her attention back in front of her, and towards the rapidly approaching chasm. The fillies were jostled about as the scooter reached, and subsequently went over, the edge of the path, and hurtled towards the miles of empty space in front of them. The ground beneath them was rocky; too rocky to ditch the scooter or wagon. The edge of the cliff grew nearer and nearer. When it became inescapably clear that they were going to go over the edge, Scootaloo turned back to her friends in the wagon. Sweetie Belle was crying softly, drowned out by the sound of the air whooshing around them, and Applebloom had fear etched into her face. "Well girls," she said gravely. "It's been fun. I—" Her words were cut short as she felt the ground drop out from beneath the scooter. All three fillies screamed in horror as they felt imminent death pushing them down towards the ground. A shadow passed over them, obscuring the sun. Big HouseApplebloom liked it when Applejack and Macintosh and Granny Smith took her to go see Ma and Pa. She liked it even though it was noisy, and some ponies yelled or whistled at them. She liked it even though she was only 3, and she wished she'd get to see them more often, but seeing them a little was better than seeing them never ever. Sometimes Applejack cried. Applebloom didn't like that. She didn't like the glass, either. The concrete floors weren't clean, and the ponies that let Ma and Pa into the room didn't look like very nice ponies. They could only talk for a little while, then Ma and Pa went away. The big stallion in the blue clothes with the shiny gold shield on his chest talked a lot about 'mudda,' and Applebloom wondered what her mother had to do with anything. One day Applejack told Applebloom that they couldn't see Ma and Pa anymore; that they had gone far away. Applebloom was sad at first, but then she was happy. Applejack asked why. Applebloom said because then we can go an see them someday. Applejack smiled and nodded, but Macintosh held her and cried. She'd never seen Macintosh cry. She'd never felt Macintosh cry. Mac, why are you crying? Stratosphere SerenadeThat had sealed the deal. She was planning to do it anyway; her trip to see Rainbow Dash was her one gift to herself to see that maybe life was worth living. She was certainly shown otherwise. All her life had been droll expanses of mediocrity punctuated by periods of torment with the occasional fleeting moment of Dash making her feel like she was somebird. Gilda flapped higher and higher, above the clouds. HIgher and higher, until her wings ached. Until her lungs gasped for thin air against her will. Ice crystals began to form on her wings and body. She kept flying against the pain; none of it wouldn't matter in a few minutes, anyway. She looked down towards Ponyville, her mind heavy with all the emotion the town held for her. She began to black out from oxygen deprivation. She came to somewhere around the upper layer of nimbus clouds, keeping her wings tight in to her body. Her eyes streamed tears, and she cried without shame. None of it would matter in a minute, anyway. Downward she tumbled, buffetted by cold northern winds. After a few moments, her feathers and fur were warmed by thermal updrafts, melting the ice. Her whole body was wet from melted ice. She didn't care; none of it would matter in a few seconds, anyway. Something happened, though, that she did not intend. She heard screams. At first she thought she was screaming involuntarily, but... It wasn't her. She opened her eyes to look for the source, and saw three fillies not far from her plummeting towards the earth. How they'd gotten there, she didn't know. She briefly entertained the idea of letting them die, too, accompanying them to the grave. Something deep inside of her, though, roared at her to save them. Save them. SAVE THEM. She spread her wings and tried to slow down. No joy. There was no stopping at an altitude this low. Not at this speed. She maneuvered herself over towards them, and scooping them up in her talons, positioned them on her stomach. She flared her wings out even farther to slightly alter their angle of attack, hoping that maybe blunt impact could be avoided. She got them to a steep glide, but there was no way to avoid a crash. Gilda desperately searched around for a lake or pond to splash down in, but there was nothing but forest for miles outside the town. The three fillies, one creamy yellow, one white, and one orange, kept screaming, but held onto her tightly. She wrapped her arms around them, hoping that maybe she could cushion their impact with the ground. A quick glance at the horizon told her that she had only a few seconds before impact. She put her head up to shield the three from anything they might hit upon impact, and pulled her legs up to curl around them. Then it happened. She felt a blunt impact on her back, and a brief moment of shock and nonfeeling. Then she felt the fur and skin on her back begin to tear off from skidding along the ground. The fillies screamed louder as she squeezed them. The pain was excruciating; as rocks and friction ground her spine down, her nerves became exposed. A large craggy rock severed her spine completely. She could feel that only the hide on her stomach and sides was holding her two halves together. The last thing she felt was her abdominal cavity filling up with earth. As things went went white, she had a final realization. Her death was the best gift she had ever given the world, and herself. Nothing Loves MeThe moon undulated on the surface of the small reflection pool on the outskirts of the royal gardens next to Canterlot Castle. Princess Luna looked deeply into the reflection of her moon, and felt physical anguish at her sorrow. Her withers felt tense, and her wings were pulled in tight to her body. Her neck felt stabs of pain flow through it as she forced herself to remain still, her muscles and nerves resisting the forced positioning. Nothing ever loved her. Nothing ever needed her. Equestria would be just as well without a moon, but ponies needed the sun. Nothing ever looked at her. Nothing. Nopony. She had woken up early, that evening, too early to raise the moon, but too late to share dinner with Celestia. They had opted for a walk in the gardens. Celestia strode out in front of Luna, and the younger alicorn's spirits were crushed. The sunflowers had turned to face her sister, while nothing paid her the slightest mind. Nothing loved her. Nothing. Nopony. I, ScootalooScootaloo fluttered her wings feebly, and she felt her back arch slightly. She felt a little lighter on her hooves, but she couldn't quite get off the ground. She looked pleadingly at her mother, an pegasus orange mare with a brown mane. The mare's expression was hard and impassive. Scootaloo closed her eyes tight, wishing she would stop watching her fail. This was the fifth time she'd failed to fly in front of her mother. She knew what was coming next. Her wings slowed to a stop. She faced the ground, and felt a burning in her eyes. She wouldn't cry; she wouldn't cry. "Oh, Scootaloo, that was a good try," her mother said. "Maybe next time." "I'm sorry..." Scootaloo choked. "Don't be; just try harder next time, ok?" her mother said gently. "I will, mom. I'm sorry, I love you," she said, lifting her head up to face the orange mare. Scootaloo's mother had a gentle expression on her face. "I love you too, honey," she said softly. "Choose." The little filly cast her eyes over the table between them. On it lay a broken broom handle, a belt, and a wrench. She nodded towards the wrench. She was stoic for the first few blows. As her mother beat her with the wrench, Scootaloo berated herself. All of her pegasus friends could fly, and she couldn't. She deserved this. That's why she chose the wrench. Her mother loved her so much. "I love you so much, Scootaloo!" she screamed when she dropped the wrench. Scootaloo started crying. "I love you too, momma!" she cried, tears flowing freely from her clenched eyes. She cowered on the ground, in too much pain to stand, and too anticipatory of more to come. Her mother picked up the wrench in her mouth again. "You'll be a good filly!" she screamed. "You're a good filly!" "I'm a good filly!" Scootaloo shouted in response. "I'm a good filly," she whimpered. She didn't think she was a good filly. 27 times. Some of them in the same places. Fewer than 27 bruises. 2 days out of school to let the welts heal and the swelling to go down. 10 more days until the next time she had to try to fly in front of her mother. Next time she would be a good filly. Next time she would be a good filly. She was a good filly. A good filly. Please Cake SuitBased on this image by csimadmax. It was written a long time ago, when the image first came out. Rarity stretched out, content. Normally, anything in her fur or mane would set her into hysterics until she cleaned it out, but cake was.... Different, somehow. It was sweet and sticky, warm and moist. But it was comforting. The sugar crystals were rather like gems, and she fancied that she could wear the cake batter as well as any dress. The white unicorn opened her eyes slowly, as if to seduce a stallion. She peered down at her icing-encrusted stomach, swollen from the dense confection inside. She felt heavy, but comfortable. She ran her hooves over the taut skin of her belly, reveling in how naughty she felt. She hadn't felt this bloated just before Sweetie Belle was born. "So unladylike," she whiled in her mind. "But I deserve it. Years of keeping up appearances... Surely a little fun in private won't hurt anypony!" She lay her head back, feeling the remains of the cake squish beneath her sugary mane. She gently kicked her hooves in delight. She could only be happier if she was at a fashion show. She brought a hoof away from her swollen tummy, maneuvering it in front of her mouth. Her breath warmed the icing, and she closed her eyes in anticipation. She extended her tongue ever-so slightly, ready to lick the icing off her immaculate white hoof. She heard a slight creak, and jerked up, her eyes opening as fast as lightning. In the doorway stood Pinkie Pie, her mouth open in awe. Out of all the ponies she could have chosen to walk through the door at that moment, Pinkie Pie was high on the list, second only to that dashing jelly stallion she'd had a fling with a few months ago. Surely Pinkie, a baker, would understand...
WorthlessThe great and powerful Trixie looked herself in the mirror in her wagon, and for the second time that day, saw herself for what she really was. A failure. She'd wanted with all of her heart to be a scientist. She'd wanted to work in laboratories in Canterlot, and make life better for ponies. She'd wanted to use magic for the good of ponies everywhere. But she failed. The Canterlot Academy of Sciences wasn't particularly rigorous, but Trixie was simply not suited for her passion. The mathematics of it eluded her, and the theory she found tedious and boring. She watched her dream slip away before her as her failing grades closed in upon her. She drowned in sorrow. She had taken up performing small acts of prestidigitation for the amusement of foals. That is when she knew her life had hit its rightful niche: rock bottom. She inflated her ego through pomp and showmareship, and she began to forget why she felt worthless. But when she looked in the mirror, and she saw her robe and hat in place of a lab coat and goggles, she could see through her own façade. Deep down, she knew what she really was. Worthless.
Excruciatus"No! Wait, come back!" Rainbow Dash cried to the retreating creatures as she realized the boulder had her feathers pinned. They flew off deeper into the canyon, scarcely noticing she was gone. She tried again to free herself, but the boulder was too heavy. She began to panic, tugging harder and harder, but to no avail. She headbutted the boulder in frustration, over and over again until she lost consciousness. When she awoke, it was evening. Her head throbbed, and her wing was cold and numb. She had no idea of how long she had been unconscious for, nor if anypony was looking for her. She looked up to the sky. It was dark, and filled with clouds. Dash thought for a moment until an Equestria-shattering thought hit her: there were no cloudy skies scheduled over Ponyville and the surrounding countryside for another 2 days. Had she really been out for that long? If she was, chances were that nopony was looking for her. But they probably were, right? Right? At first she felt sullen, yet vaguely hopeful that somepony would come to rescue her. The night passed. As the hours crawled by, panic once again began to build up in Dash's mind. What if nopony was looking for her at all? What if she was wrong? Did they even care? The following evening was one of the longest Dash had ever lived. Her stomach seemed to want to claw out from inside of her to strike out on its own for food, and she doubled over with cramps. Her wing felt cool to the touch. She began to cry quietly. Nopony could hear her. Who cared? She gave up all hope of rescue, but shouted out names nonetheless. "Twilight! Please! you're not an egghead! Please!" she rasped as loud as she could, tears running down her face. "Applejack? Please, Applejack, I need you! I love you. Celestia—why?!" "Princess Celestia, please! I was loyal to you, I worshipped you, I did all I—" Her voice ceased to function. Her harsh cries dried into silent sobs, and she soon ran out of even tears. She was dehydrated, and hallucinating slightly. The boulder appeared to her as a stallion. A heavyset, cyan stallion. "Dad?" she asked, her voice healed somewhat after a brief fit of sleep. "Dad, please, you're sitting on my wing." The boulder made no reply, even in her mind. "Dad, come on, stop messing around..." she trailed off weakly. The cyan hallucination turned away. "Dad, I'm sorry I am the way I am, just please... I'll find a stallion, I promise, I'll change, I'll do anything, just get off my wing," she pleaded, sobbing into the ground. She inhaled dusty silt on every breath, but she was too tired and defeated to care. She bashed her head against the boulder again, and there was blackness. It was daytime when she woke up. The sun stung her cracked lips, and a long shadow stretched near her face. She turn to look at what cast the shadow. A small, narrow stone lay not 4 feet from her body. She could reach the little piece of flint. An idea grew in her mind; one born of desperation and nihilism. She reached out and jimmied the flint until she could reach it with her mouth. She picked it up, and tested its sharpness with her dry, swollen tongue. A strong taste of metal stuck in her mouth, her blood. Keen as a razor. She looked at her wing for a long time. She decided it was her wing or her life, and leaned down near the boulder pinned it. She clenched her eyes, bit down hard on the flint, and drove her head forward, cutting her wing open with the stone. A hiss of escaping gas and the smell of putrefaction permeated the air, but Rainbow Dash didn't stop. She wrenched her head from side to side, sawing at the wing until she reached bone. The pain was immense, but determination kept her going. When she reached her bone, she stood up in an effort to snap it. Blood poured from her self-inflicted wound, and she held her breath to keep from fainting. To her horror, the wing broke inside her remaining wing; an area around which she did not cut. Gasping in pain, she dropped the flint. She tried to use her hooves to break the bone, end the carnage, end her suffering. She stomped on the bone, heard a dull, wet crack, and the world went black again. She awoke after a few moments. It was a simple yet excruciating matter to disconnect the ligaments; she bit down on them and gnawed until there was a complete severance between what remained of her wing on her body, and the third that lay permanently trapped under the boulder. She rose, staggered a few steps and collapsed. The blood loss, dehydration, and sun poisoning made her want to die. She didn't think she could go on. The edges of her vision began to go black, the rest blurred. A cloud of purple moved about in front of her. She wanted to close her eyes. Muffled noises assaulted her ears. She felt a gentle force lift her up. Rainbow Dash blinked hard, and the purple cloud materialized as Twilight Sparkle. Dash weakly heaved in sobs of fatigue, but the only sound that escaped her was a harsh whine. Twilight spoke into her radio. All Dash could make out was: "I have her. Celestia help us."
Ace of CakesAuthor's note: This was written right after Gabby Gums came out, before Celestia and cake became fanon. It was so wrong... But it felt so good. Princess Celestia shuddered in ecstasy as she felt the warm, moist icing on her tongue. She closed her teeth around the slice of cake levitating in front of her. Her eyes shut in bliss as she clopped her front hooves together, judging the cake's consistency. Not too fluffy, nor too dense; not too moist, not too dry. To the 1000-year-old and well-tempered royal tongue, it was perfect. Beads of sweat began to drip down from her brow, and she felt a sudden urge to remove her necklace and slippers to feast in an... uncivilized manner. She spared a thought for the baker... Pinkamena Dianne Pie would soon be holding a position of power in the Solar Empire's imperial court; the court baker had never produced anything nearly so perfect. Her wings began to flutter slightly, betraying her inner nirvana. She had felt nothing so glorious for millenia. She chewed and swallowed. She took another bite—who cared if it got on her face? She was in her royal gardens, all alone! CLICK! The sudden sound of a camera shutter flashing shut jerked the princess from her ecstasy. She opened her eyes in time to see a flash and hear a second shutter close. By the time her eyes had readjusted from the flash of bright light, she could barely make out a pegasus colt, thin as matchsticks, buzzing away down the road. "Oh, well," she thought. "Let the colt have a picture of his Goddess, however embarrassing it may be... No harm done." She closed her eyes once more, and giggled greedily. "Now... Where was I?"
The Cutie Mark Crusaders' Wild RideBased on Crusader's Wagon Ride by DigitalDasherBot. "Slow down, Scootaloo! Don't you think we're going a bit fast?" Sweetie Belle called to the orange pegasus filly from the wagon behind her. They had just come from a disastrous party for a griffon in Ponyville proper, but a harebrained scheme to earn their cutie marks left them careening down a hill. Scootaloo's wings weren't flapping. "I'm trying, I'm trying," she said with as much gruffness as her young voice could muster. She tried to jimmy the handle of the scooter to swerve and bleed off speed, but there were too many obstacles to allow her to do so. It was all she could do to avoid the stumps and shrubs that lined the path. "What's takin' ya so long? There's a darned cliff up ahead!" Applebloom called, more annoyed than anything. Scootaloo dared to take her eyes off the road for a few seconds, and looked back at her friends. The fear they saw in her eyes told them more than her words did. "I can't," Scootaloo said. She turned her attention back in front of her, and towards the rapidly approaching chasm. The fillies were jostled about as the scooter reached, and subsequently went over, the edge of the path, and hurtled towards the miles of empty space in front of them. The ground beneath them was rocky; too rocky to ditch the scooter or wagon. The edge of the cliff grew nearer and nearer. When it became inescapably clear that they were going to go over the edge, Scootaloo turned back to her friends in the wagon. Sweetie Belle was crying softly, drowned out by the sound of the air whooshing around them, and Applebloom had fear etched into her face. "Well girls," she said gravely. "It's been fun. I—" Her words were cut short as she felt the ground drop out from beneath the scooter. All three fillies screamed in horror as they felt imminent death pushing them down towards the ground. A shadow passed over them, obscuring the sun.
Big HouseApplebloom liked it when Applejack and Macintosh and Granny Smith took her to go see Ma and Pa. She liked it even though it was noisy, and some ponies yelled or whistled at them. She liked it even though she was only 3, and she wished she'd get to see them more often, but seeing them a little was better than seeing them never ever. Sometimes Applejack cried. Applebloom didn't like that. She didn't like the glass, either. The concrete floors weren't clean, and the ponies that let Ma and Pa into the room didn't look like very nice ponies. They could only talk for a little while, then Ma and Pa went away. The big stallion in the blue clothes with the shiny gold shield on his chest talked a lot about 'mudda,' and Applebloom wondered what her mother had to do with anything. One day Applejack told Applebloom that they couldn't see Ma and Pa anymore; that they had gone far away. Applebloom was sad at first, but then she was happy. Applejack asked why. Applebloom said because then we can go an see them someday. Applejack smiled and nodded, but Macintosh held her and cried. She'd never seen Macintosh cry. She'd never felt Macintosh cry. Mac, why are you crying?
Stratosphere SerenadeThat had sealed the deal. She was planning to do it anyway; her trip to see Rainbow Dash was her one gift to herself to see that maybe life was worth living. She was certainly shown otherwise. All her life had been droll expanses of mediocrity punctuated by periods of torment with the occasional fleeting moment of Dash making her feel like she was somebird. Gilda flapped higher and higher, above the clouds. HIgher and higher, until her wings ached. Until her lungs gasped for thin air against her will. Ice crystals began to form on her wings and body. She kept flying against the pain; none of it wouldn't matter in a few minutes, anyway. She looked down towards Ponyville, her mind heavy with all the emotion the town held for her. She began to black out from oxygen deprivation. She came to somewhere around the upper layer of nimbus clouds, keeping her wings tight in to her body. Her eyes streamed tears, and she cried without shame. None of it would matter in a minute, anyway. Downward she tumbled, buffetted by cold northern winds. After a few moments, her feathers and fur were warmed by thermal updrafts, melting the ice. Her whole body was wet from melted ice. She didn't care; none of it would matter in a few seconds, anyway. Something happened, though, that she did not intend. She heard screams. At first she thought she was screaming involuntarily, but... It wasn't her. She opened her eyes to look for the source, and saw three fillies not far from her plummeting towards the earth. How they'd gotten there, she didn't know. She briefly entertained the idea of letting them die, too, accompanying them to the grave. Something deep inside of her, though, roared at her to save them. Save them. SAVE THEM. She spread her wings and tried to slow down. No joy. There was no stopping at an altitude this low. Not at this speed. She maneuvered herself over towards them, and scooping them up in her talons, positioned them on her stomach. She flared her wings out even farther to slightly alter their angle of attack, hoping that maybe blunt impact could be avoided. She got them to a steep glide, but there was no way to avoid a crash. Gilda desperately searched around for a lake or pond to splash down in, but there was nothing but forest for miles outside the town. The three fillies, one creamy yellow, one white, and one orange, kept screaming, but held onto her tightly. She wrapped her arms around them, hoping that maybe she could cushion their impact with the ground. A quick glance at the horizon told her that she had only a few seconds before impact. She put her head up to shield the three from anything they might hit upon impact, and pulled her legs up to curl around them. Then it happened. She felt a blunt impact on her back, and a brief moment of shock and nonfeeling. Then she felt the fur and skin on her back begin to tear off from skidding along the ground. The fillies screamed louder as she squeezed them. The pain was excruciating; as rocks and friction ground her spine down, her nerves became exposed. A large craggy rock severed her spine completely. She could feel that only the hide on her stomach and sides was holding her two halves together. The last thing she felt was her abdominal cavity filling up with earth. As things went went white, she had a final realization. Her death was the best gift she had ever given the world, and herself.
Nothing Loves MeThe moon undulated on the surface of the small reflection pool on the outskirts of the royal gardens next to Canterlot Castle. Princess Luna looked deeply into the reflection of her moon, and felt physical anguish at her sorrow. Her withers felt tense, and her wings were pulled in tight to her body. Her neck felt stabs of pain flow through it as she forced herself to remain still, her muscles and nerves resisting the forced positioning. Nothing ever loved her. Nothing ever needed her. Equestria would be just as well without a moon, but ponies needed the sun. Nothing ever looked at her. Nothing. Nopony. She had woken up early, that evening, too early to raise the moon, but too late to share dinner with Celestia. They had opted for a walk in the gardens. Celestia strode out in front of Luna, and the younger alicorn's spirits were crushed. The sunflowers had turned to face her sister, while nothing paid her the slightest mind. Nothing loved her. Nothing. Nopony.
I, ScootalooScootaloo fluttered her wings feebly, and she felt her back arch slightly. She felt a little lighter on her hooves, but she couldn't quite get off the ground. She looked pleadingly at her mother, an pegasus orange mare with a brown mane. The mare's expression was hard and impassive. Scootaloo closed her eyes tight, wishing she would stop watching her fail. This was the fifth time she'd failed to fly in front of her mother. She knew what was coming next. Her wings slowed to a stop. She faced the ground, and felt a burning in her eyes. She wouldn't cry; she wouldn't cry. "Oh, Scootaloo, that was a good try," her mother said. "Maybe next time." "I'm sorry..." Scootaloo choked. "Don't be; just try harder next time, ok?" her mother said gently. "I will, mom. I'm sorry, I love you," she said, lifting her head up to face the orange mare. Scootaloo's mother had a gentle expression on her face. "I love you too, honey," she said softly. "Choose." The little filly cast her eyes over the table between them. On it lay a broken broom handle, a belt, and a wrench. She nodded towards the wrench. She was stoic for the first few blows. As her mother beat her with the wrench, Scootaloo berated herself. All of her pegasus friends could fly, and she couldn't. She deserved this. That's why she chose the wrench. Her mother loved her so much. "I love you so much, Scootaloo!" she screamed when she dropped the wrench. Scootaloo started crying. "I love you too, momma!" she cried, tears flowing freely from her clenched eyes. She cowered on the ground, in too much pain to stand, and too anticipatory of more to come. Her mother picked up the wrench in her mouth again. "You'll be a good filly!" she screamed. "You're a good filly!" "I'm a good filly!" Scootaloo shouted in response. "I'm a good filly," she whimpered. She didn't think she was a good filly. 27 times. Some of them in the same places. Fewer than 27 bruises. 2 days out of school to let the welts heal and the swelling to go down. 10 more days until the next time she had to try to fly in front of her mother. Next time she would be a good filly. Next time she would be a good filly. She was a good filly. A good filly. Please
Cake SuitBased on this image by csimadmax. It was written a long time ago, when the image first came out. Rarity stretched out, content. Normally, anything in her fur or mane would set her into hysterics until she cleaned it out, but cake was.... Different, somehow. It was sweet and sticky, warm and moist. But it was comforting. The sugar crystals were rather like gems, and she fancied that she could wear the cake batter as well as any dress. The white unicorn opened her eyes slowly, as if to seduce a stallion. She peered down at her icing-encrusted stomach, swollen from the dense confection inside. She felt heavy, but comfortable. She ran her hooves over the taut skin of her belly, reveling in how naughty she felt. She hadn't felt this bloated just before Sweetie Belle was born. "So unladylike," she whiled in her mind. "But I deserve it. Years of keeping up appearances... Surely a little fun in private won't hurt anypony!" She lay her head back, feeling the remains of the cake squish beneath her sugary mane. She gently kicked her hooves in delight. She could only be happier if she was at a fashion show. She brought a hoof away from her swollen tummy, maneuvering it in front of her mouth. Her breath warmed the icing, and she closed her eyes in anticipation. She extended her tongue ever-so slightly, ready to lick the icing off her immaculate white hoof. She heard a slight creak, and jerked up, her eyes opening as fast as lightning. In the doorway stood Pinkie Pie, her mouth open in awe. Out of all the ponies she could have chosen to walk through the door at that moment, Pinkie Pie was high on the list, second only to that dashing jelly stallion she'd had a fling with a few months ago. Surely Pinkie, a baker, would understand...
