Tall Tales' Not-So-Secret Shipfic Folder

by Tall Tales

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Braeburn, Rarity, Caramel, Big Macintosh, Random, Shining Armor
Length: 7444

A collection of bad fan fiction prompted by the Twilight Sparkle's Secret Shipfic Folder game.

My entries to Twilight Sparkle's Secret Shipfic Folder's Bad Fan Fiction Contest.

Published 2014-06-28 10:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-28 10:20:03 UTC

Knocked Up [Shining Armor/Cadance]

Of course, there was another, somewhat urgent reason the wedding was so sudden.

— Untitled

Cadance’s room felt like her in many ways. There was her perfume in the air and her touch in the various pink accents of the furniture, of course, but more than that it had wide windows that let air and sunlight in. Her warmth was a constant and reassuring thing. Whatever happened between them, Shining was sure they would get through it.

Now, however, those same windows had their curtains drawn and the door was closed and locked. The owner of the room stood near her bed, waiting for him to collect himself.

Moments passed. Shining licked his lips. It wasn’t awkward, but it was tense. They knew whatever was going to be said was important. One of them opened their mouth to speak.

“I have to tell you something. I’m—I’m pregnant.”

There was silence, a heavy moment waiting for the other pony to acknowledge the information.

Finally, Cadance sat down on the bed. Her voice was soft, unbelieving. “Shining... you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Cadance closed her eyes and breathed heavily. There was a momentary stab of fear in Shining’s heart, but he dismissed it almost instantly. Shining knew Cadance would understand. She just needed time to adjust.

“Are you sure?” Cadance said. “I thought we used protection.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe one of my protection spells failed....”

“Or maybe one of mine did. I know you, Shining. You wouldn’t make a mistake with a protection spell.”

Cadance sighed and Shining stepped forward to sit on the bed and embrace her. Cadance leant into his touch and Shining felt her weight settle on him. She had been so stressed lately and he felt guilty that he was adding to it, but he didn’t think there would be a better time to tell her.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” Shining said, voice somewhat muffled by Cadance’s hair.

“I know,” Cadance said, and there was a hint of amusement in her voice when she continued, “I should be the one comforting you, you know, considering you’re the one pregnant.”

“But you’re the one who has to deal with the politics. I’m just a guard, but a princess....”

“A princess has responsibilities.” Cadance settled deeper into his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Hah, look at us. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. We should be happy.”

“And we will be. I know we will be. It’s just that, well, everything has to be so complicated. We weren’t expecting this. Then there’s the politics.”

“Even without the politics, it’s intimidating. To be a mother... I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Celestia has been giving me more and more important roles and we barely see each other as it is. I worry.”

“Don’t. I’ll be here with you. Princess Celestia will understand, and I know you’ll be a great mother.”

“And I know you’ll be a great father.”

They rested against each other, feeling the other breathe. It was moments like this that Shining cherished, when he could most feel Cadance’s warmth and love.

“You know what this means though?” Cadance said. “We’ll have to get married soon.”

“Soon?”

“There are rules for this sort of thing. I didn’t think we’d ever have to worry about them, but we have to be married by the time you give birth. Just one of those things that don’t make much sense but we still have to do because it’s tradition.”

“Well,” Shining said, “we knew we were always going to be married. This just means we’ll have to hurry it up a bit.”

Cadance smiled and slid down, letting her head rest against Shining’s stomach. They would be alright.

Author's Note

Card: My Little Shotgun Wedding, with tribute to Unexpected Pregnancy

Dude (Looks like a Lady) [Aloe, Lotus, Caramel]

"Do you not think we are going too far?" asked Lotus. Aloe chided her, "Non! Caramel shall be the most beautiful stallion in all Equestria!"

— Caramel Sweets

Aloe and Lotus circled Caramel, eyes inspecting every inch of his body. They prodded their hooves into his flank and swept them over his coat, even going so far as to touch Caramel’s teeth and feel the firmness of his hooves.

Caramel bore with the situation, letting the sisters do their work. He had asked for this after all. The spa’s preparation room was comfortable, designed to make a pony relax and give them a feeling of privacy. It was also intentionally well-lit so the sisters could see what their client needed, quite unlike most of the spa’s dim atmosphere.

Finally, the two sisters finished their scrutiny and stepped back.

“So?” Caramel asked nervously. “What do you think?”

“Well, Caramel,” Lotus began, “there is nothing wrong with your appearance. You look perfectly fine.”

“I must agree with my sister,” Aloe said, “I do not see anything wrong. And your hooves are as immaculate as ever. We really should have another sleepover to discuss hoof care tips, Caramel. You do not visit often enough.”

“Well, thanks. And that sounds nice, Aloe. Sorry if I haven’t been around, I’ve been busy with replacing the Apples’ horseshoes and making sure they don’t stress their hooves too much from all the bucking in harvest season, and you know how the Apples get about that. It would be great to have a break.” Caramel paused, realizing he had gotten distracted. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, Caramel?” Lotus asked. “You asked us to look at you to see if anything was wrong and there is not.”

“But why can’t I attract any mares? They just say they aren’t interested in me. I thought maybe it had something to do with my looks but....”

The two spa sisters looked at each other, communicating silently before turning back to Caramel.

“Ahh, mare troubles,” Lotus said, understanding in her face. “You are wise to come to us. I think we know your problem already.”

“I will be blunt with you, Caramel,” Aloe said, putting her hoof on Caramel’s shoulder. “You are a handsome stallion but there are many handsome stallions. In times like these, it is personality and what you can offer a mare that decide their interest in you.”

Lotus nodded. “And I have found that many mares like a stallion who is dangerous. Mysterious! They want a lover who will earn it, who will seduce them. And you, Caramel, you are....” Lotus trailed off, afraid to aggravate the stallion’s already anxious personality.

“...not any of those,” Caramel finished sadly, shaking off Aloe’s hoof.

The two sisters looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

Eventually, Lotus said, “Caramel, that is only what mares find attractive. We well know that alone does not decide a lasting relationship. It is your personality that will see it through. You are a good stallion, Caramel, and a kind one. That will get you further than you know. I am sure you will find a pony to call your own.”

Caramel smiled at her. “Thanks, Lotus. It just seems so silly now, thinking that there might be a way to make myself more interesting.”

“Well, I would not say that,” Aloe said. “It does not hurt to make yourself look more attractive in the meantime and there is another method we could try.”

Caramel said, “But I thought you already told me there was nothing you could do.”

“Non! I did not say that. I said that you were already handsome and while we could always make you more handsome, it would help little with your situation. But there is another way.”

“Sister?” Lotus looked at Aloe, unsure where this was going. “What are you thinking?”

Aloe smiled and showed them a magazine with an illustration of a beautiful cartoon mare on the cover. “See here.” The mare was standing upright, looking stern at something far-off. Her long silver mane fell in glossy strands that accentuated her green eyes and a tight-fitting leather outfit with silver accents further complemented her appearance and displayed her lithe form perfectly. Most of all, she had a ridiculously long sword that even the whole cover of the magazine couldn’t capture strapped to her back. “Very beautiful, no?”

“Well, yes,” Caramel said, “but I don’t see what this mare—”

“No, Caramel, you misunderstand. That is no mare. That is a stallion.”

“What?” Caramel peered at the magazine, trying to see if what Aloe said was true. Certainly, there were features that looked masculine if you looked closely, but there were also soft features that resembled those of a mare’s.

“It is a Neighpon comic,” Lotus explained. “Characters such as those are common. Aloe is an avid fan, though I do not understand the appeal myself. Nevertheless, there are many who share her opinion.”

“And how do you think this will help me?”

“Why, Caramel!” Aloe said. “Is it not obvious? We will get you in touch with your feminine side.”

“My... feminine side?” Caramel asked hesitantly.

“Of course! Many mares like a stallion in touch with their feminine side. Just look at Rarity. She detests stallions who do not groom themselves and regularly complains to us about it, constantly wishing for a more sensitive and fashionable stallion. And that is what we will do. We will give you... The Rarity.”

Caramel looked confused. “What does she have to do with this again?”

“Not the pony, Caramel,” Aloe said kindly, “but the spa treatment we give her. That is the official name we gave it a while ago.”

“Which you would know if you visited more often,” Lotus added, prompting Caramel to look sheepish.

Aloe ignored the interruption and continued, “It is a lengthy and thorough regimen of everything a pony requires to look their most beautiful. We will have to adjust the treatment to accentuate your natural looks. For instance, I do not think we will be needing to give you a hooficure. They’re already perfect on their own.”

“Though your hair and coat could use some work,” Lotus mused. “Something to make it look softer and give it luster.”

“And, of course, a custom mud facial to help soften the features. Not too harsh, I think, but still deeper than the usual ones we give.”

“I’m not sure,” Caramel said, watching the sisters discuss what treatment to give him. “I mean, this seems a lot to ask of you....”

Aloe shook her head and smiled at Caramel. “We are friends, are we not, Caramel?” She waited for Caramel to nod before continuing. “Then please, let us do this for you. It would be nice to spend time together and this is not as difficult as you might think. You already have the potential within you. We just have to... bring it out.”

Caramel looked dubiously at the Neighpon comic one more time before nodding resolutely. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Aloe guided him into one of the doors leading deeper into the spa before returning to her sister. The two mares looked at each other.

“Sister,” Lotus began, “I have never seen you try so hard to convince a pony. What makes this so special?”

Aloe grinned widely in response. “Sister, an opportunity like this comes rarely. This is a chance to see what we can do. We rarely get stallions and never one who wishes for a complete treatment. And this time, we do not need to limit ourselves to a ‘stallion’ regimen. We can use everything we have to offer!”

Lotus shook her head, somewhat disappointed in her sister. “You would use Caramel for this?”

“No, Lotus, I would never. Caramel is a friend and you know everything I have said is true. He deserves an honest attempt from both of us. But if it also gets me something I want, then so much the better!” Aloe sighed dreamily. “Oh, sister, I can see it now. He will be so beautiful!”

“As beautiful as Braeburn?” Lotus asked somewhat hesitantly, but there was a stronger current of excitement in her voice.

“No, my sister... MORE! AHAHAHAHA!”

Aloe laughed wildly and the spa lights flickered for just a single moment.

“Oops!” Caramel called out from within the spa. “Sorry!”

Lotus sighed. “You read those Neighpon comics too much, sister.”

Later, Caramel would indeed gain the attention of many ponies. Sadly, very few of them were mares, but he soon found that he didn't mind that much.

He didn't honestly care one way or the other, but it was always the boys who somehow seemed to corner him.

— Caramel Sweets

Author's Note

Card: Dude Looks Like A Lady, and Oh, Caramel.

Lived in Bars [Big Macintosh/Braeburn]

His sweet tenor voice cut through the desert air like an eagle’s screech, only more heart-breakingly melodic. And Big Macintosh knew... he was home.

— Passion In Cider

The desert was a place of extremes. Big Macintosh had expected the still heat of its day but not the bare freezing cold of its night. He had expected the sand and how it really did get into everything but not how harsh the wind could blow it around and bury something left outside in a matter of hours. The air sucked up moisture like a hungry dog yet the scarce rains were never a drizzle but always a downpour.

It wasn’t so bad near Appleloosa itself, of course. The town’s location was chosen carefully but the desert was still everywhere he looked. It was a hard place and the ponies were no different. Most of them were settlers and few, if any, had grown up in such a climate. Still, the desert seemed to have a way of leaving its mark on ponies, and everypony in town was long accustomed to such a life.

Big Mac had grown used to it too. He already had a good appreciation for what Braeburn had achieved, but knowing the desert made those accomplishments even more impressive. It was a different kind of place but he knew there was plenty of beauty to find. There was plenty of ugly, too, and in a place of extremes that meant an abundance of bars and alcohol. Except they weren’t called bars. They were called saloons. Big Mac didn’t know what the difference was and he didn’t much care. As long as they kept serving him cider, they could call themselves whatever they liked.

The cider was good, made by one of the town’s local apple orchards. Big Mac sipped his glass, sure that the pony beside him could tell him which orchard, but Braeburn wasn’t in a talking mood. It was rare, but it happened. Braeburn was a good example of the desert’s contrast. He was the most upbeat and happy fellow you could find, but once he got like this it was hard to imagine he was anything but.

Big Mac wasn’t really a bar, or saloon, kind of pony but Braeburn seemed to be. The stallion certainly fit the part: quiet and sullen with a stare intense enough to make the glass of cider he was looking at nervous. Easy enough to imagine the drops of water around the glass wasn’t because of condensation but because the glass itself was sweating under that gaze.

Braeburn had a habit of heading straight towards the saloon when he was like this and Big Mac made sure to always accompany him. Somepony had to make sure he got home safe after all, and the saloon was a nice enough place. It was a cool reprieve from the outside heat and the ponies inside kept to themselves. Any conversation was as soft and quiet as the lights inside.

They sometimes had live entertainment and this was one of those times. It often helped set the atmosphere and was never intrusive. Sometimes a pony just had to sing it out so the stage was open for anypony to use when they needed it. Big Mac didn’t know if Braeburn ever did and he never asked.

On stage, a mare was singing something about leaving or maybe getting left behind. Her soft murmurs and smoky voice made it hard to tell what she was saying, but she sounded wistful and she had passion inside her, Big Mac noticed.

And passion was the problem with Braeburn and himself. They seemed like two different ponies, but deep inside, they were similar enough. Both of them were passionate. Both of them had something important to them they dedicated themselves to. Sweet Apple Acres was it for him and Appleloosa was Braeburn’s. Problem was when that passion didn’t have anything left to burn for, when what kept you going didn’t need you anymore, when you needed to find something else to dedicate yourself to otherwise you were left nothing but a howling, a wanting for something to fill the emptiness inside you.

He could hear the mare’s words echo in his ears, about walking through stretches of sand and never finding a glimpse of what you were looking for.

Big Mac didn’t regret his choices. The years had been good and Sweet Apple Acres didn’t need Big Mac anymore. To be accurate, neither of his sisters needed him anymore. They wanted their space so Big Mac gave it to them. He received the regular letter talking about what was happening back at the farm and how the seasons had been treating them and he made sure to send one back but it wasn’t the same. They worried about him, he knew, but it wasn’t anything they could solve. This was something he needed to find for himself.

The mare finished singing the last words of her song and closed her eyes, head turned down. Her shadow was softer, more vulnerable in the dim light of the saloon. The piano continued playing the last few notes before it, too, died down. Polite applause echoed in the room and the mare looked up for a small smile before leaving the stage, stepping back to her table. Alone, Big Mac couldn’t help but notice, but it was none of his business.

Appleloosa flourished. It seemed like it was getting bigger every day, more and more ponies he hadn’t seen before popping up, some of them for a visit and some of them to stay. He’d also seen quite a few of them leave. Braeburn had given his all for the town and Big Mac knew there was nothing like watching something you’ve cared for blossom. But he also knew there was nothing like that inevitable time when it didn’t need you anymore, when it could manage on its own.

Big Mac drank the rest of his cider in one go and tapped his hoof twice on the counter next to Braeburn. Time to leave. A flick of the ear was his only acknowledgment but Big Mac got up anyway, taking out a bag of bits to pay for their drinks before going outside.

Sunset in Appleloosa was brilliant, bright reds and oranges scattered on the sky and high clouds, so opposite of its dull in-betweens. Times like this he liked to look the most, watching the sky change and the shadows grow longer. It reminded him of his own times looking out on the farm, something alive and free soaring in his heart, a longing he knew he’d never be able to express in words.

The saloon door swung open and Braeburn appeared to stand beside him, hat low and watching the same thing he was. He didn’t need to say it to Braeburn, though, because Big Mac knew he understood. They watched the sun go down for a while longer before heading home when it wasn’t too dark to find their way.

They didn’t talk about it but they didn’t need to. Nothing needed to be said. They were in similar situations. Neither of them were needed anymore and now they had to find something else they could dedicate themselves to, to give their wholes to until someday, maybe, they could find their rest.

They’d find it, eventually. They were both stallions who needed to be needed. And right now, they could need each other.

Halfway between home, Braeburn kissed him on the lips and he tasted cider on the other’s tongue.

Author's Note

Card: Braeburn

A Question of Time [Tom/Braeburn/Doctor Whooves]

Truth be told, he had questioned before. Maybe, a dirty little voice in his head kept telling him, it was time to stop questioning...

— New Experiences

Braeburn circled the rock for the seventh time but no matter where he went or how he moved, the pair of sunglasses on the rock stared into his eyes.

“That’s just creepy,” he said and tilted his head. The sunglasses followed him sideways, except it didn’t really follow. Braeburn couldn’t explain it. The sunglasses moved to whichever side he was looking at but Braeburn couldn’t see it move. It was just inexplicably there.

“It’s simple spatial manipulation,” Doctor Whooves said, sitting on top of the rock and kicking his hooves idly. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in Tom when you’ve got me to look at. I’m far more interesting. Not that you’re not interesting, Tom,” he added, patting the rock. “Anyway, come on. We’ve been here for far too long already. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to... well, whatever pony town you were picked up from.”

“I’m Braeburn and it’s—” he reared on his hind hooves “—AAAAAAA-pple-LOO-sa! I’d love to get back home but I haven’t heard any suggestions.”

Braeburn looked around, hoping to see an exit appear but there was nothing except the same endless expanse of blue surrounding them. He wasn’t sure how he got here but, heck, he wasn’t even sure how he was standing on a color. It was far more practical to worry about getting out rather than how he got in. So far, he’d done a lot of walking around looking for anything else but the blue seemed to just go on and on.

There was only Braeburn, Doctor Whooves, and a rock named Tom.

“I already told you my plan, didn’t I?” Doctor Whooves said, hopping down from the rock and sidling up beside him. “We have to kiss.”

“That is not a plan.”

“It is a plan,” Doctor Whooves insisted. “A brilliant plan. I don’t see you coming up with anything.”

“Well, we don’t kiss. There. That’s the plan.”

“Rubbish plan. Mine’s better and will get us out of this dimension.”

“Let me see if I understand. We kiss, and somehow that gets us out of this weird blue place?”

“Yes!” Doctor Whooves threw his arms up in exasparation. “It’s a very simple concept to grasp.”

Braeburn rubbed his chin and pretended to think about it. “...Nope. No kissing.”

“It’s the only way out.”

“I’m still not seeing myself kissing you.”

“Imagine it then, because I guarantee you: we will kiss. Maybe not now, maybe not any time soon. But sooner or later....” Doctor Whooves trailed off, looking at Braeburn meaningfully. His eyes, a paler blue than this dimension’s color, bore into his own. They were beautiful, Braeburn thought, and felt vulnerable. He could get lost in those, could imagine them half-lidded as the pony they belonged to whispered promises into his ear. He could—

Braeburn shook his head and stepped back. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You will.”

Braeburn clutched his hat in frustration. “Can’t you think up a plan that doesn’t involve us kissing?”

Doctor Whooves shrugged. “Believe me, this is easiest. We have to kiss. Why are you so against us kissing? Oh, will I be your first? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s memorable. I’m an excellent kisser.” He put an arm around Braeburn’s shoulders and smirked, eyes still staring into his own.

Braeburn felt himself sweat and his cheeks felt unusually warm. “I’ve kissed plenty of mares, thank you very much.”

“But no stallions? Will I be your first stallion? Don’t be nervous.”

“I—” Braeburn shifted his eyes left and right, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Come now, it’s just a kiss! If you don’t, you’ll never get out of here.”

It was ridiculous but Doctor Whooves was wearing him down. The promise of getting back and never having to face this mad stallion again tempted him. Just one kiss and it would be over... “Alright, fine.”

“Excellent!” Doctor Whooves beamed and drew his face closer.

Curiosity. That was Braeburn felt, a strange mix of curiosity and excitement. He’d never kissed a stallion before, but he’d thought about it. He’d thought about it a lot. Whenever he’d see two stallions together, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. Once or twice, he’d tried to ask a stallion out but never went through with it, changing the topic at the last second.

Before he realized it, Doctor Whooves’ lips were startlingly close and still curled up in an insufferable grin. “Come on, then,” the Doctor said. “Pucker up.”

Braeburn opened his mouth to ask... something, he wasn’t sure anymore because all he could think of was the warm tongue in his mouth and the lips against his own.

“Mmph!”

Braeburn’s eyes went wide, feeling the other stallion on him.

Doctor Whooves kissed with the same excited urgency he had when he spoke, his tongue quick but deliberate, seeking out every corner of his mouth until it felt like there wasn’t anywhere that hadn’t been touched by it. He couldn’t help but respond, his own tongue moving to meet the Doctor’s.

Braeburn could only feel heat. His entire body felt on fire, like he’d been out in the desert sun too long and the heat had enough time to soak into every inch of his bones, warming him from the inside out and dazing him out of his mind.

It wasn’t until a few moments after Doctor Whooves released the kiss that Braeburn realized it had ended, only a faint trail of saliva connecting their two mouths before it grew too heavy and broke.

“There we go!” Doctor Whooves said, licking his lips. Braeburn couldn’t help but stare at his tongue when it darted out. “Had to be thorough.”

Braeburn didn’t respond, still shaky from the kiss. Kissing mares had never felt like that, but maybe it was just the Doctor. He truly was an excellent kisser.

It took another moment for Braeburn to realize they were still surrounded by blue. “Hey—” Braeburn began, but choked when his voice came out more breathy than he’d meant it to. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, I thought that was supposed to get us out of here.”

“And it was! Quite necessary for your mouth to contain my DNA. But now we move on to the next step of my brilliant plan: you have to kiss Tom as well.”

Braeburn blinked, unsure if he heard right. “You want me to kiss the rock.”

“Yes, but you have to do it the exact same time I do,” Doctor Whooves said and waved a hoof at the rock in question.

“Tom needs two operators, you see,” he continued to explain, “and he needs those operators to access him on opposite sides at the exact same time. Some kind of failsafe, I bet, to make sure no one uses him alone.

“The problem is that Tom is picky about who his operators could be. Luckily, I managed to get myself included in that category, so I just need to get another operator. Except there’s only you and getting Tom to recognize you as an operator is too difficult; a pony’s genome is inflexible, which I suspect is in part because of your cutie marks.

“So we have to do something else when I got this brilliant idea. What if I accessed both sides at once? Even if it’s the same operator accessing him on both sides, Tom will still activate. At least I think he will. But accessing both sides at once is a stretch even for me, so that’s where you come in! If Tom recognizes you as me, then that’s as good as me being there!”

Doctor Whooves beamed, proud of his deduction.

Braeburn sighed and dropped his shoulders. “I don’t understand a lick of what you just said, but I just have to kiss him the same time you do?”

“Essentially, yes. Come now, on three!”

Doctor Whooves moved to Tom’s other side, leaving Braeburn with only Tom to look at.

“One!” the Doctor said.

Braeburn stepped forward, gathering courage. He’d never thought about what kissing a rock would be like, but he’d already kissed a stallion. It would be a day of firsts.

“Two!”

Tom stared at him through the dark lens of his shades, expression inscrutable.

“Three!”

Braeburn pressed his mouth against Tom, a few inches below his shades.

The kiss was odd, but he supposed it wasn’t bad. Just strange. Braeburn licked the rock like he would a block of salt, feeling its coarseness against his tongue. Tom had no real taste that he could tell, except maybe a mild saltiness, but he didn’t know if that was because of Tom or because of what was left from the Doctor’s kiss.

Braeburn licked Tom again, keeping his mouth pressed against his walls. Shouldn’t something be happening? He started feeling self-conscious, kissing a rock, but went to lick Tom one last time when—

BZZZZZAAAAP!

The world turned into a racing blur of color, of streaking lights and whirling sensation. Lightning danced on Braeburn’s tongue and all he could hear was a high-pitched whine before he finally pulled his mouth away from Tom.

He staggered a few steps, light-headed, before collapsing on the ground.

“That was quite an experience,” Doctor Whooves said from the other side of Tom. Braeburn could hear his hooves step on the ground, drawing closer to him. “But look! It worked!”

Braeburn turned his head enough to look up and, true enough, they were out of the blue dimension. Except now they were in a dimension completely composed of the color orange.

“I don’t—I don’t think we’re back in Appleloosa,” Braeburn wheezed.

“A minor miscalculation. Not to worry, we’ll get there eventually! Tom adjusts himself with every trip so we just need to do this a few more times. I’ll give you a few minutes to get your breath back and then we’ll kiss and do it all over again.”

Braeburn waves a hoof and grumbled something out. He wouldn’t admit it, but he looked forward to that kiss.

Author's Note

Card: I Swear I'm Not Gay

Common Burn [Trenderhoof, Rarity]

Rarity quickly decided Braeburn would be exactly the right stallion to go with in that he was basically a much louder, even more annoying version of Applejack, with the added benefit that he wasn’t Applejack.

— Sparks Fly

Afternoon tea was a usually relaxing affair, with delicious snacks and hot drinks. It was even better with pleasant company, which Rarity made a point in having. Sometimes, however, afternoon tea was not for relaxing but rather to provide an atmosphere of relaxation that made it easier to converse about difficult topics.

“You must get over Applejack, Trend,” Rarity said and took a dainty sip of vanilla jasmine tea, its complex aroma and delicate taste a soothing companion to their discussion.

“So you’ve told me.” Across from her, Trenderhoof levitated a fork containing a piece of apple scone into his mouth. He chewed, rolling it around his tongue to fully appreciate its full flavor before swallowing. “It’s not that easy. She was—is one of a kind.”

“I won’t argue with you on that. She’s my marefriend, after all, but it’s simply unhealthy for you to adore somepony who’s already in a relationship.”

Trenderhoof looked at her with exasparation. They've had this conversation several times before. “I know, and yet continue to feel the same. Surely you understand.”

“I do," Rarity said and put down her teacup. "That’s exactly why I’m not holding your infatuation on my marefriend against you. But please, Trend, try to move on. Perhaps see somepony new? ”

Trenderhoof shook his head. “I’ve tried. I’ve certainly felt attraction towards other ponies since then, but I remain fixated on her. It’s not fair to anypony when I begin to compare them to Applejack.”

Trenderhoof, Rarity had discovered, was a romantic. They both were, but Trenderhoof invested much more in the value of sentiment and not the ideal of romance. If he couldn’t give his whole attention to somepony, then he would rather not try.

Which was what made this so difficult.

Rarity mused and took another sip of tea. Vanilla and jasmine was such a delightful blend; both were fragrant and sweet, yet each had its own complexities. They were similar, but it was their subtle differences that set them apart.

An idea struck her.

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way?” Rarity said, putting down her cup of tea. “It’s not that you are fixated with Applejack in particular, it’s that you have a preference for her type. After all, you knew little about Applejack before you were smitten with her.”

Trenderhoof had always enjoyed anything that was uniquely different from himself and admitted as much. Rarity could certainly see the appeal in opposites, having succumbed to it herself, but Trenderhoof’s entire lifestyle was dedicated to finding things that were different. When faced with somepony so different, so opposite to himself, it was only reasonable that he develop an attraction.

“That does make sense,” Trenderhoof reluctantly agreed. “So you’re suggesting I try to find somepony like her? That’s exactly what I’ve avoided doing.”

“Which hasn’t been working,” Rarity said pointedly. “All I’m suggesting is that you have a preference for a certain kind of pony.”

“I suppose I could try, but I’ve never met a pony quite like her.”

An idea formed in Rarity’s mind. “I gather you haven’t been to Appleloosa then.”

“Appleloosa? No, I’ve never been there. It’s a recent settlement and I’ve mostly spent my time travelling to older places with more history.”

“Then I suggest you go. It’s a simple town, but I think you’ll find it charming.”

And there’s somepony there I’d like you to meet, Rarity thought to herself. If Applejack was opposite to Trenderhoof, then Braeburn was even more opposite, if such a thing were possible. The stallion was nice enough, but loud and unrestrained.

Trenderhoof made a show of thinking about her suggestion, snacking on another scone.

“I’ll take care of the arrangements,” Rarity offered when Trenderhoof seemed to be undecided. “You’ll have somepony to greet you and show you around town. You can think of it as a vacation.”

“Alright,” Trenderhoof finally said. “I suppose I couldn’t refuse and it would be nice to spend time somewhere I don’t have to write about.”

Rarity smiled, making a note to ask Applejack to send her cousin a letter. Afternoon tea was always so satisfying.

Author's Note

Card: Nothing in Common; Perfect Anyway

Blues in the Night [Blueblood/Caramel]

He’s a cosmopolitan stallion who’s broken as many mares’ hearts as he has bad guys’ faces. His sidekick is a country-grown colt with a pure, naive soul and the determination to make the world a better place. Together they are... The Trottingham Shadows!

— In The Dark of Twilight

Blueblood was no saint, and Caramel should have seen it coming. It still came to a surprise when the aristocrat didn’t hestitate in seducing the mobster they were after and snagging an invite into his home. Guy didn’t have the chance to even get past the door before Blueblood drugged him and left him lying on the floor.

That was the thing about Blueblood: he was unpredictable. Caramel still didn’t know what drove the stallion to do the things he did and they were partners only because Caramel was too stubborn to leave.

They spent maybe an hour in there, tops, before they found the files they were looking for and had enough evidence to put an entire criminal organization behind bars for good. Caramel was quiet the whole while and Blueblood didn’t say much aside from complaining about the decor.

It was only when they got home that Caramel spoke up. “Is that it? We’re not going to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Blueblood said, already shrugging on his sleepwear while Caramel was still struggling with his face mask. Magic made getting out of costume a whole lot easier. “We got the files and we left it for the Guard to find. We’re done.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You told me you didn’t sleep with stallions.”

“I don’t. I was just pretending—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Caramel snapped. “Seducing a stallion is different from a mare and I can tell you’ve got enough experience in both.”

Blueblood sighed and used his magic to take Caramel’s mask off. The cool air felt a lot more soothing against his bare coat. “Look, why do you even care? It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. I just—why can’t you look at me the way you look at them?” Caramel felt tears well up in his eyes and kept his face towards the ground. He couldn’t bear to look at Blueblood, to see what kind of expression the other stallion had on him. “You sleep with all those other mares. Those other stallions. Why am I different?”

There was silence for a long while and Caramel didn’t think Blueblood was going to answer him when he finally heard him speak.

“You—you matter.”

Caramel raised his eyes but Blueblood had already looked away.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Blueblood said softly and went into his room. “Good night, Caramel.”

Caramel didn’t reply, only moving to shut himself in his own room and throw himself on his bed. He still didn’t feel any better, but Caramel had hope. He knew when things were wrong and he was right, and he knew he was right about this.

Author's Note

Card: They Fight Crime

Better with a Man [Braeburn, Pony Joe]

Braeburn looked around the Stallion’s Lodge, at the monocles and mustaches. Sure, there was tea, doilies, and an inexplicable portrait of a dog, but it was all very MANLY.

— Lodging a Complaint

Braeburn was deep in discussion with two other stallions when Pony Joe found him.

“Finally having a gay time are we?” Pony Joe greeted, taking in Braeburn’s bright smile and shining monocle. A far departure from the morose stallion who drank himself to depression before Pony Joe was moved by his plight and escorted him into the back room. “Please excuse us, Shining Armor, King Sombra.”

Braeburn watched the other two leave to indulge in a short five-cent ride on an animatronic mustache before replying, “Indeed I am, Pony Joe. Never have I seen such a gathering of tailored suits and polished monocles. I’ve received many mustache grooming tips since I’ve arrived and cannot wait to try them.”

“We do have a mustache parlor,” Pony Joe recommended, pointing a hoof in its direction. “It’s right next to the wrestling room. I’ll show it to you later. For now, I am pleased to see you in better spirits.”

“Yes, and I have you to thank for it. When my marefriend left me, I thought I would never find comfort again, but you showed me otherwise.”

“I told you as such, did I not? When things get hard,” the word is whispered directly into his ear before Pony Joe stepped away to address the whole room, “then what you need is a stallion!”

Stallions all around the room nodded in agreement, murmuring their agreements before bursting into polite applause.

“Quite.”

“Indubitably.”

“Hear, hear!”

Braeburn felt his monocle fogging up and his mustache moisten. Never had he felt more at home in his life.

Author's Note

Card: Quite.

Lack of a Better Name [Royal Guard Hank, Twilight Sparkle]

Day in and day out, Hank the Pegasus Guard watched the beautiful protege of the princess and he yearned... but he knew she could never love a pony named Hank, which is a terrible name.

— Hank’s a Big Stupid-Head and Should Give Twilight Cookies When She Asks

Hank the Pegasus Guard had been in the Crown’s employ for nigh upon a dozen years. He had endured hundreds of ceremonies, stood placid and unmoving in the face of complaints by both angry nobility and foreign dignitaries alike, and held the record for most pastry binges by Princess Celestia weathered.

Few was the occasion where he was tested severely. The work of a royal guard was tedium, not danger. But danger was what greeted him in the hallway to Princess Celestia’s chamber, smiling widely and eyeing the plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies Hank held steady on one wing.

“Can I have a cookie?” Twilight Sparkle asked. She blocked the way before him, just enough that he would have to brush against her to pass. The mare drew closer, muzzle opening in anticipation.

Hank resisted the urge to give in. She might have been Princess Celestia’s protege but these were Princess Celestia’s cookies! It would be upon his head should it be discovered that even one of her treats were missing.

“I am sorry,” Hank said, voice gruff and steady, honed by years of practice and repetition, “but these are not for you.”

Twilight pouted but Hank resisted. A bead of sweat gathered on his forehead, hidden by his helmet. He could not afford weakness. Not when the income was so generous and the work easy.

“Come on, just one! Pleaaaaaase?”

“No.” Hank moved forward, pushing down all temptation. “Please excuse me,” he said, moving past the mare with the plate of cookies on the side opposite to her. Twilight cried out a protest but Hank did not look back. To do so was to ensure his downfall.

“You—you big stupid-head!”

Author's Note

Card: Royal Guard Hank

Someone You'd Admire [Spike, Rarity]

“Oh, Rarity..." Spike looked down at his claws, tears welling up in his dragonfire eyes. "Why can’t you see what you’re doing to Equestria? I have to believe that love can save you. I have to." The teardrops dropped to the ground, sparkling in the last shaft of sunlight. He had to hope, but sometimes... it just looked bleak.

— Of Ponies and Peril, Chapter 5

Spike huddled near the fire, trying to save as much warmth as he could. His spear remained close, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. Nights were cold on the road, when you had to find what shelter you could in the wreckage around you. Sleep was often uncomfortable but Spike had gotten used to it. It was getting to sleep that remained difficult.

He couldn’t stop thinking. Memories and thoughts repeated themselves in his mind, unfinished plans and things that could never be. Rarity remained a constant feature, how she used to be and how different she was now.

Spike still held on to the hope that she would go back to being the old her. He knew things would never be the same, but maybe they could get better. He had to believe it could get better especially when everything around him grew worse.

There were moments when he looked at what Rarity had wrought to Equestria, and something burned inside him. Spike didn’t want to say it was hate, so he called it righteousness. He just wanted to see the world better. More beautiful, the way Rarity once told him she wanted to do and dedicated her whole life to doing.

She wasn’t doing it now, Spike thought, and curled closer to the fire.

If she could only see what she was doing, if he could just show her—show her how she made the world ugly then Spike was sure she would change.

And if she didn’t? If Rarity could turn a blind eye to that?

Then she wouldn’t be the Rarity he knew.

Spike shivered but it wasn’t because of the cold. He didn’t want to think about it, but he’d have to do what he could to stop her. It’s what she would have wanted.

Author's Note

Card: Road Warrior Spike