The Excellent Adventures of Cloud Inkwell

by Poet_Flame

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character, Comedy
Length: 9472

Cloud Inkwell is a journalist living in Las Pegasus. This is his life.

Cloud Inkwell is a straight white male. No, seriously! His coat is as white as snow, which makes his feminine pink hair stick out like a sore thumb. He's definitely male, despite the appearance. Please note that he also has a female partner, proving he isn't not straight. Also, don't mention that blank flank of his, he doesn't like to talk about it.

Published 2015-04-17 15:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-29 20:37:34 UTC

A Day at Home

I buck the sort-of-silky blankets off myself and leap out of bed. I feel fresh as a daisy, and I look rather flowery come to think. I trot, beaming like a lunatic, into the living room of my apartment that doubled as a kitchen. I unfold my wings and flutter them as I frolic around the room in glee.

"No work! Oh yes!" I squeal like an excitable colt, breaking into a bounce. My girlfriend would be arriving soon with sugar cookies soon enough. Man, Leisure Day is AWESOME!!. I look out the window at the cloud city outside. The bustling city of Las Pegasus, the most famed city in the skies in all Equestria. I can already see Grapevine's dark, purple-red mane bobbing up and down on the sidewalk made from clouds. She makes a turn and enters the building. I notice a white-coated, red maned mare leaning against the side of the building. From the way some ponies stop and stare at her as if she's offending them, she isn't hanging around near an alley for no reason. One of the downsides -- and maybe upsides for some lonelier ponies -- of Neighvada is that there are a lot of mares willing (and some not so willing, but that's a touchy subject) to get money by even the dirtiest means. There's a knock on my door and I instantly zoom across the room and open it. There is Grapevine, my long time best friend and girlfriend. She's holding a plate of sugar cookies and I instantly feel ravenous.

"Come in, place 'em on the table." I say, licking my lips and smiling. Her cookies aren't great or anything but I'm damn hungry.

"Want me to make you some coffee?" she asks, trotting inside and placing the cookies down.

"Sure. Make yourself some too." I reply, helping myself to the cookies. I turn the radio on and kick back on the sofa. Ahh, sweet Leisure Day.

"Okay everypony, DJ Pon-3 here and that was Daft Luck with Get Punky. Next up is Rather Not Be by Pristine Vigilante. " comes the voice of a disc jockey pony from the speakers. As the angelic voice of the lead singer begins the song, I and Grapevine begin bobbing our heads and tapping our hoofs to the music, humming along. Eventually, the singer's voice fades out as does the song, and so I and Grapevine jump onto the sofa. I wrap my left wing around her and we begin eating the sugar cookies she brought, listening to DJ Pon-3 ramble on about this week's chart toppers. I feel so relaxed today. Today I can walk around without having to wear those scratchy trousers and shirt to cover up my tragically blank flank. I don't need to deal with seven sleazy stallions at once mistaking me for a mare and wolf-whistling at me, or those who do know that I'm a guy calling me homophobic names. In my little apartment with one of my best friends, I am free to be myself. Free to sit here and just say whatever comes to mind.

Grapevine notices that I'm looking rather deep in thought, so she taps me on the back with the tip of her hoof, asking

"Cloud, are you alright?" I look over at her, flattening my ears as I reply

"I've just been thinking about, you know, everything."

"What specifically about everything?" Grapevine asks. I begin tracing the pattern on the plate that the cookies came on as I give my answer.

"Everypony in Equestria has a purpose, at least after they get their cutie mark. Your purpose is to carry on the grape trade that your family has continued for years. My colleague's purpose is to make our magazines and newspapers look better through graphical design. When you're a foal, you're excused from having a purpose because you aren't ready to contribute to society. But when you're my age, when you're a fully grown stallion..." I stop, feeling it pointless to continue. Grapevine pats me on the back empathetically, then says

"The difference is that you aren't terrible at everything, you're decent at everything. You just haven't found something you're best at compared to everyone else. Or maybe your cutie mark is all white and it just doesn't seem to show up because of the rest of your coat." I shake my head and dejectedly debunk her theory, explaining

"My doctor says I don't have white fur, really. It's a light grey."

"Well then, " says Grapevine, "maybe your cutie mark is that same light grey."

"Seems unlikely." I say in a monotone, my pessimism plainly beginning to annoy her.

"Whatever the case, don't think you don't have a purpose. Think of Pearl Necklace, her special talent is supposedly something to do with jewellery -- although I think otherwise. How crappy must it be to have such a boring special talent? Anyone can sell or wear jewellery, just as anyone can drink or sell grape juice. That's why I don't exactly adore my own special talent. We can't all be Spitfire or Rainbow Dash."

"Rainbow Dash?" I ask, confused.

"She made a sonic rainboom at a young flyer's competition a while back in Cloudsdale, near Canterlot. It was all over the news. Her special talent was reported as being able to be the only pony to fly fast enough to create such a phenomena."

"Lucky her." I say. Grapevine rolls her eyes and smiles at me.

"You'll find your special talent, Cloud. Just don't think about it so much."

"I don't want a special talent. I just want it to not be such a big deal."

"It doesn't have to be a big deal." Grapevine suggests.

"But it is. I can't change the fact other ponies had such extreme personalities. The jeweller is greedy, the baker is kind, the news reporter has a nice voice."

"I doubt his special talent is 'having a nice voice'." Grapevine says, rolling her eyes.

"Trust me, I met him for an interview. There was literally a sound wave on his flank." I insist.

"That could be referencing broadcasting."

"And that's so much cooler than a 'nice voice' cutie mark."

"It's a good skill to have."

"Better than no skill." I answer glumly. Grapevine snuggles closer into me and I smile slightly.

"You have plenty of skills." she practically whispers. I have no idea as to why she continues to lower the volume of her voice but I forget about it when she steals a quick kiss.

"I have plenty of them alright. Too bad I'm not good enough to have a symbol of one of them on my butt." I insist pessimistically, determined to prove my dejectedness.

"Cutie marks are overrated anyway." Grapevine says, almost sleepily, resting her head on my crossed forelegs. I rest my own head on hers and we stay in this position for a while, silent. Finally, Grapevine says

"Don't let this take over your life, Cloud. There are plenty of creatures that don't have cutie marks that lead successful lives. If they can do it, so can you." She talks to me as if I'm a little foal, a late bloomer amongst a class of aptly tattooed flanks. I remember being bullied. I remember fighting the bullies. I remember the suspension that I and the bullies promptly got. I remember them taking me to a cherry forest after school on our first day back, beating me up and calling me names. I remember them leaving me there, too sore to move. I remember finally getting back home and being sent to the hospital as soon as my mother saw me.

Grapevine sits up abruptly.

"Cloud, are you crying?!" She gasps. I bury my face in a pillow, silently letting the waterworks flow. Grapevine extends her right wing and gently rubs my back, attempting to console me. I feel so weak to be crying now. I feel like some soppy mare crying over a trivial matter, even though I myself know that it's anything but trivial. "Cloud, it's okay. Cutie marks aren't important!"

"It's not just that!" I snap. I instantly regretted my sharpness. I soften my tone and say "It's the mane, too. And my body."

"What's wrong with your mane and body?" Grapevine says a little too innocently.

"I have a girly, pink mane and the build of a mare."

"But that's very fashionable." Grapevine says, again far too innocently.

"Yeah." I say sarcastically. "FOR A MARE! In case you haven't bucking noticed, Grapevine, I'm a bucking stallion!" Grapevine recoils at my excessive swearing. My ears fall flat against my head. "I'm sorry, I just remembered a bunch of things that really upset me." Grapevine hugs me sympathetically and I hug her back.

"I love you Cloud. Please don't do this to yourself." she says. I nod and say

"I love you too." I begin pulling away, but Grapevine pulls me back in for a kiss. It's brief, but it brings me out of my misery immediately. We resume our snuggling from before and continue listening to DJ Pon3. I begin getting sleepy and I rest my head on Grapevine's forelegs this time. As I drift into sleep, I smile slightly, grateful to be able to talk to somepony about this.

Leisure day is awesome.

Author's Note

This may have sounded like a shipfic so far, but it's not. This is ONE DAY in Cloud Inkwell's life. More to come :D

A Day at Work

"CLOUD! Get your rear out of bed this instant!"

"No."

"You lazy so-and-so. Come on, you'll miss work. I made you coffee!"

"Give it here." I say, raising my hoof and beckoning for Grapevine to place the mug in my hand.

"It's in the kitchen. Get out now or you'll miss your cab!"

"You can't 'miss' a cab, Grapevine."

'Ugh, just get up!'

"Fine." I reluctantly surrender, heaving my body out of bed. My wings ache like crazy and my mouth is as dry as the carpet. My girlfriend, Grapevine, has gotten dressed for work and is in the living room of our apartment, reading the newspaper. I take a seat at the counter and sleepily sip my coffee. I feel Grapevine come up behind me and ruffle my pink mane before getting milk out of the fridge. My horrible, girly, cotton candy coloured mane. Grapevine dumps my clothes on my lap as I sip away and I place my mug down, slipping into my pure cotton suit that conceals my blank flank. I feel so sleepy now, with the warmth of the coffee and the suit combined. My eyelids begin to slip when suddenly Grapevine shouts in my ear

"Cloud! You're going to miss work!"

` "How late is it?" I ask frantically.

"Eight-oh-five!" Grapevine replies. I swear and run into my room, grabbing my briefcase, using the tips of my wings to hang onto the handle. Before I can run out the door, Grapevine halts me and manically brushes my mane with a comb. She moves down to my tail and once her TSA-esque pat down is done, I race out the door.

As I rush out of the building, I'm shocked to see my best friend and frequent cab-puller, Steam Bolt. Usually I'm early, and he always arrives in front of my building at 7:30 to take me to work. By now, I should be at work, and he should have picked up somepony else.

"Steam, how come you're here?" I ask. Steam raises an eyebrow at me and says

"How come you weren't thirty minutes ago?"

"I slept in. You didn't have to wait for me, if that's what you're doing." I say.

"Well I have. Now get in, you're late for work." Steam says, lightly tapping the cab with his back hoof.

"Thanks, buddy." I say, jumping onto the seat of the taxi. I lay my briefcase down on the seat beside me as Steam began pulling the cab off of the fluffy pavement and into the non-existent road. You see, in Las Pegasus we have no roads, because all our vehicles are made to float on air, so their's no need to waste all that cloud on roads when there's no need to. And so, I like to look down onto the city of Applewood, Los Alicornes. You can't see much since we're so high up, just the buildings as well as a bit of the Applewood sign. I used to think someday I'd be an Applewood agent, promoting budding actors left and right. I thought I'd get to meet the big time actor Midnight Twinkle, best known for her role as Bucky's girlfriend in the Buck to the Future movie series. Boy, is she a looker.

Thirty minutes later, we're outside my office building and I'm half an hour late. I thank Steam and grab my briefcase between my wingtips, racing through the double doors into the lobby of 'Quilltip Inc.'. It's so quiet after Eight. Everypony else is working, and here I am standing like an idiot in an almost empty room, later than a pregnant mare's-- uh, nevermind. I enter through a door that leads to the staircase to my floor. I work for the moderately popular astrology magazine 'Twinkle', which means I occasionally interview astrologists. Despite the obvious night and darkness themes that it holds, we have yet to be important enough to interview Her Majesty Luna. We were lucky enough to have the former unicorn Twilight Sparkle, in her pre-princess days, send us a letter detailing her experience with the Ursa Minor. That issue got a lot of attention since Miss Sparkle, although not yet royalty, had saved Equestria from eternal night. As I get to the second floor, I stop climbing the steps and go through another door that enters the Twinkle lobby. Each floor is for a different magazine, and since Twinkle is the least popular magazine, we're on the first floor -- of the seven floors solely for different magazines and not including the lobby -- and Wonder Weekly: The Official Wonderbolts Magazine is on the seventh, being wildly popular all around Neighvada. I carefully tiptoe to the conference room and push the door open ever so slightly. The head of Twinkle, Sapphire Sky, looks over at me and furrows her brow.

"Well, well, well. I'm glad you finally decided to join us, Inkwell. Now, could you kindly sit down in the currently empty seat?" she says, pointing her left hoof towards a chair next to a grey and green stallion. I feel like a naughty school colt being scolded for coming in late, the way Sapphire talks to me. I slink over to my chair as Sapphire begins to say

"Now, since Mr. Inkwell is late and has missed a considerable amount of our meeting, we shall revise our topic today. As most of you know, here at Twinkle we take our appearance very seriously. And so, we are deciding on a new colour scheme and logo. Some people have suggested a darker, navy blue for the page colours, and change the text to white to look like stars against the night sky. Many of the group liked this idea, but then Stormy Seas said we should make it silver, gold and navy, representing the colour of the sun, moon and sky. Any other ideas?" She readies her hoof to add onto the list of ideas, waiting for another suggestion. Her red marker pen, attached to a black hoof band, is so frequently used that the writing on the whiteboard is so faint you can barely read it. Hoof bands, for those who have the privilege of having telekinesis, are black bracelets that you put around your hoof and can attach different pens and pencils to. It was first invented by earth pony Quick Quill for non-unicorns to use. It was mass-produced recently to aid those who frequently write and avoid the spreading of germs by halting the use of mouths to write. I can't count the times I've rejected the offer to be lent a pen when I'm missing one because the spit puts me off. The green and grey stallion beside me raises his hoof and Sapphire nods in his direction.

"Why don't we have our colour scheme be rainbow? Space has a multitude of beautiful colours." he says. The other stallions in the room snigger and some of them mouth "nerd". I nervously play along and giggle too. The grey stallion looks slightly dejected and his ears flap against the sides of his head. Sapphire looks as if she'd like to defend him but she reluctantly says

"I'm afraid that that particular idea is already taken by another Quilltip Inc. magazine. That being the wildly popular LGBTQA magazine."

"Speaking of, Mrs Sapphire," one of the many stallions in the group says, smirking. "I believe that my colleague, Cloud Inkwell, doesn't belong in Twinkle. He doesn't seem to have much interest or experience in the subject of Twinkle. Don't you think, giving his, uh, certain attributes, he would be slightly happier in the 'LGBT Weekly' department?" At these words, the room was filled with mean laughter from the males and mostly disapproving looks from the mares. Sapphire smacked her hoof loudly on the meeting table and everyone piped down.

"I shall not have defamation of other colleagues in my department. If you wish to say such things about others kindly refrain from doing it under my supervision." Sapphire snaps. She says everything so fast it takes everyone a few moments to process. This sort of thing happens frequently so I'm not bothered too much by it. When they simply remark that I look girly then I just ignore them or shoot a snarky remark back without much heartache. But sometimes things get personal. Everyone here knows I have a girlfriend, and I've always wanted a girlfriend. But they still like to pretend I'm lying, even when they've seen me with her. All the guys, and a couple mares, like to tease me. Sometimes it's referring to my sexuality and sometimes to the credibility of my being a stallion. I don't like to talk about it. Things like this, just teasing, is fairly normal. It doesn't really hurt me too much. It's only when their accusations get graphic that I begin to heat up. I start blushing from the language they use and want to physically hurt them, but lucky for me I have considerably decent willpower and I have yet to give anyone a black eye.

An hour later, we all leave the meeting room for a snack break and gather in the general break room, where all the employees hang out to relax and chat. I go over to the coffee jug to get myself a mug. I need that extra caffein buzz to get me through the day. Coffee Cream, a 'Monthly Makes' -- the semi-popular cooking and craft magazine -- writer, stands behind me, waiting to get his own mug. He insists on wearing a light brown and white scarf even inside. The guys all call him 'Super Hipster' or variations of that. He wears black glasses with plastic lenses -- he is visually impaired, but so marginally that he wears contacts for the actual sight aiding and wears the thick lenses for appearance -- and interests include making snide remarks about your fashion sense. Despite his clearly flamboyant and unconventional stallion behaviour, he is rarely teased for acting camp. He gets to be called shocking, profound names like "Hipster" and "Narcissist". If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic. I guess it's because he at least looks like a stallion, unlike yours' truly. But enough about me, and more about Coffee Cream. You're probably wondering why I'm mentioning him.

"Hurry the heck up, Inkwell." he says, shoving me slightly. I flick my pastel pink tail in his direction, taking a deliberately long time now to pour my coffee. Coffee Cream rolls his eyes and ostentatiously huffs. I finally have to leave the coffee jug for Coffee Cream once my mug is filled to the brim. Holding the mug in my right hoof, I trot over to one of the sofas and take a seat, sipping the silky, delicious drink. Yeah, I REALLY love coffee. I mean, I love coffee as in the drink, not as in the pretentious pegasus prissily pouring coffee in the corner. He whips his bright vanilla yellow mane like a model strutting down a highway as he trots over to the lounge area too. He takes a seat next to me and waits to be acknowledged by somepony. He places his mug on the coffee table in front of us and crosses his forelegs daintily. I still don't understand how he doesn't have the same insults that are thrown at me thrown at him with this camp, diva-esque behaviour. He adjusts his fake glasses and flips his mane again. Then he looks over at me, raising an eyebrow. I've been glaring at him, admittedly envious that he could get away with such behaviour.

"What are you looking at?" he says. I simply reply

"Nothing interesting," hoping to seem as if he was the one being weird, to which one of the other stallions in the room jumps in and says

"Wow, you know you messed up if even queermo Inkwell doesn't think you look good."

"As if I'd take fashion advice from this oddball." Coffee says, literally sticking his nose in the air. The other stallion laughs and trots off. I glare at Coffee Cream distastefully and continue to drink the coffee that isn't being judgemental. I'm surprised when Coffee leans in closer to me and whispers

"Cloud, look. I don't want to be mean to you. I think it's totally phobic of these dudes to talk to you like I hear they do, but I gotta join in to stop them from doing it to me." I glare at him even harder and whisper back

"Well too bad. Either you join them or you fight them. I don't want your pity."

"Cloud, I really do feel bad for you. Celestia knows what they'd do to me if I didn't act like one of them. If you did the same you'd be way more popular." Coffee whispers in reply. I turn away from him and reply before getting up off the sofa,

"I'm not going to stoop to their low, low standards of social interaction. Go ahead and be a pandering pansy, I'm standing my ground." With that I put my now empty mug on the coffee table and walk off to the toilets. I enter one of the stalls, even though I don't need the toilet. But after a stressful morning I just need some chill time, something that even the room designated for relaxation can't bring me. I stay as far away as possible from the slightly filthy floor toilet, not daring to look, even though the flushing system gets rid of all the waste. I hear the door open and freeze. Did someone follow me in here?

"Inkwell? Inkwell? Look, I'm sorry!" comes the distinct voice of Coffee Cream.

"Oh my Celestia, Coffee! You don't just follow a guy into the toilets!" I gasp, realising what he's done.

"Look, I'm sorry I upset you! I just want don't want to be teased!"

"That's fine, Coffee. But you can't follow a dude into the bathroom! Do you know the sorts of looks you'll get?" I snap.

"I don't care, as long as I go to the game every Saturday nobody will bully me."

"Yeah right! I could strut around with full Hoofball gear on, shouting 'GO COLTS!', eating chilli peppers without screaming in pain and punching everyone in sight and they'd still make fun of me." I retort.

"Look," Coffee says, clearly exasperated, "Could you PLEASE come out of there? It's weird talking to a bathroom stall." I finally submit and open the stall door. I walk out and go towards the water trough to wash my hooves. Coffee Cream looks relieved to have gotten through to me.

"So, you forgive me?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess." I say, not too interested and rather annoyed to have been interrupted in my alone time.

"Good. I hope we can be friends, Cloud." Coffee says. I shrug and say

"Maybe. Just so long as you quit joining in on the teasing." I reply.

"Well, it's kind of detrimental to my popularity, but I suppose it's a promise." he says. I notice the oddly soft and quiet tone he's suddenly taken on. A little unsure, I dry my hooves and smile slightly at him.

"Thanks, dude." I say appreciatively. I finish drying my hooves and put the paper towel in the trash can. Coffee Cream smiles back. I'm about to prevent an awkward silence when something infinitely more awkward happens. Swiftly and instantaneously, Coffee kisses me on the cheek and trots out of the bathroom. I stand stock still, shellshocked by the sudden intimacy. I feel sick, stunned and angry all at once. This was incredibly unexpected, and I'm not sure I particularly like it. No, I'm certain I don't like it. I begin to plot a cunning plan to pin all the teasing and bullying on him by telling everypony, but my conscience as well as a realisation that nopony would believe me (or maybe they WOULD but they'd think I liked it, or they'd exaggerate it into something else) stops me from doing so. I have no idea what he was thinking, or what would make him think that was acceptable. To be frank, this isn't the first time something like this has happened. But when it happened the first time it wasn't a colleague of mine and they didn't realise I was a guy. Nonetheless, both times it was rather unpleasant on my part. After a minute of standing still as a block of ice, I walk out of the bathroom gingerly, as if I have just been beaten up and can barely walk. I don't pay attention to anypony, I just stare straight ahead and walk back to the meeting room.

When I get home a few hours later, I'm still slightly stunned. I always thought that Coffee Cream may not act the most conventionally like a stallion, but I never thought he actually swung that way. Grapevine, by now, has returned to her own apartment nearer uptown, but she left me a note before she left. I read it before settling down on the sofa to listen to the radio. It reads:

Dear Cloudie,

I left the last of the cookies in the pantry. Make sure you finish them soon or they'll go stale!

Love, Grapie.

I realise how hungry I am, as I missed lunch to catch up on work, and I take the cookies out. As I begin to snack on them I rub my left cheek for the millionth time that day, as if the constant rubbing still hasn't rubbed away the few spots of saliva from my encounter with Coffee. I wet my hooves and scrub it again, desperate to get the kiss off. I realise it's not something physical, it's something mental that's bugging me, but even if I cracked open my skull and scrubbed my brain the irritation will not go away too soon. I have always been straighter than a steel pole, so it's surely understandable why this bugs me so much, right? It's not like I disapprove of those kinds of ponies, it's just...it's just...

Celestia, I really need a coffee.

A Day in Town

Author's Note

Some people might not understand the language in this chapter because it's exclusive to a very specific dialect of english, so here's a translation.
Camp = Girly or flamboyant.
Backlocks = couldn't think of a name for the back part of a mane, or the opposite of forelock.

A Day in Town

"So, let me get this straight, was it a long kiss or a peck?" Grapevine asks. We are currently walking back to her place with bags of groceries, mostly milk and sugar and other cake ingredients. Grapevine, despite working a wine store uptown, is a frequent caterer. That's how we met, actually. She was catering my friend's party and I, admittedly very intoxicated, began hitting on her. I guess I don't come off as creepy like some guys do and she actually came onto me too. We ended up going back to her apartment and I fell asleep on her sofa. The next morning she drove my hungover self to my place after I told her my address. We exchanged letters and eventually we got to were we are today. Anyway, I told her right after that crazy day at work where Coffee Cream kissed me on the cheek and we've been evaluating that moment ever since. My wings begin to ache from hauling the bag full of party foods.

"A peck," I reply as we near Grapevine's building.

"Look, maybe he did it in a gay way but not a gay way, you know? Like the way my girlfriends kiss me on both cheeks before they leave," Grapevine suggests.

"So you're saying it was totally platonic? I guess that makes sense, but dudes don't do that."

"Maybe he isn't a dude."

"You think he's a mare?"

"No! Dang, Cloud, you sure do like to jump to dark conclusions. No, I mean, maybe he's not a dude, maybe's he's a...metrosexual...yeah!" Grapevine says.

"What?" I say exasperatedly.

"Maybe he's not 'One of the guys', maybe he's more in touch with his feminine side." Grapevine explains as if it was the simplest thing on earth.

"So you're saying he's camp."

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, that's wonderfully observant of you, Grapevine." I drawl sarcastically. "Anyway, could you take over now, my wings ache like crazy." I pass the bags over to her and exercise my red raw wings just as we reach the door to her building. We walk in and begin climbing the stairs. I'm silent the whole time, concentrating on gently stretching out the aching muscles in each wing. Grapevine takes out her keys as we reach her apartment and unlocks the door. She goes in first as I hold the door open and sets the bags down on the kitchen counter. As I follow her in I look at the new additions to her flat. She has the oddest arrangement of ornaments. She even has a replica of the phallic sculpture that the cat lady from A Clockwork Apple had on her coffee table. I tap it like Clockwork does in the film, smirking slightly.

"Enough of that now, me little droog. Come help me with the shopping." Grapevine says, gesturing to the bags. I go over and begin unpacking.

"So who's this all for?" I ask.

"Pumpkin Diadem. Some rich, snobby mare in the high-end part of uptown."

"What were her parent's trying to go for, the most precious name ever? I mean, Pumpkin Diadem? Seriously?"

"I know right?" Grapevine says, rolling her eyes. "The rich and their names these days. Why did your mom call you 'Cloud Inkwell'?" I stop unpacking for a second, thinking.

"You know, I was told by my social worker that my birth mom only had me for a year and dumped me on them because she didn't think she was fit for taking care of a kid."

"You poor, tortured soul!" Grapevine says sarcastically. "Seriously, could you get any more tragic?" We both laugh and I continue unpacking.

"Well, let's see. I'm a feminine-looking, blank flank, fully grown stallion with a tragic past. I could be a sort of gay batpony."

"You could prance around with a rainbow cape, spreading rainbows and love everywhere! Fighting fashion crime with your sheer knack for spotting things out of style and rehabilitating the offenders by making them over!" Grapevine adds. We burst out laughing as I put the last of the ingredients in the fridge.

"Okay then, what about you? How come you're Grapevine?"

"My parents were grape merchants. Seems understandable enough. It's not like grapes define me, yet I have this lousy cutie mark."

"You'd rather be a blank flank?"

"It's twice as good as getting a cutie mark I don't like."

"Is that even possible? Isn't a cutie mark meant to be what you enjoy, or are best at? Maybe your name's referring how gossipy you are, and your cutie mark reflects that." I suggest comically. Grapevine silently thinks for a second, then replies

"Nah. Anyway, d'you wanna go out? Maybe grab a pizza?"

"Sure. Why not?" I say. "Let me brush my mane quickly first. Gotta look nice if we're going to one of those fancy ones uptown." I say, picking up one of her combs and brushing my fringe.

"I don't mind slumming it in one of the cheaper ones. This isn't a momentous occasion, it's just lunch."

"I feel like some high-quality stuff today. I'll pay." I insist, giving Grapevine a wide smile. She returns it, reaches up and kisses me. This is a kiss I happily return. She takes the comb from my hoof and starts combing her own short, deep purple mane. She walks into the bathroom and disappears for a minute or two before returning with a glossy, freshly styled mane-do.

"I'm ready, prince charming." she says, doing a flamboyant twirl. "Let us flag down a chariot to whisk us away to Tower of Pizza."

***

As Grapevine and I wait for the cab to arrive at the central plaza, our conversation turns for the ridiculous as we start debating on one of the most critically acclaimed movies of all time; Citizen Mane. A story about a pony, Fauster Mane, who dies while reminiscing about his younger years.

"It's a brilliant film, yeah. But I think it's overrated." Grapevine says, crossing her forelegs.

"How could you think something so brilliant could be overrated? It's impossible! If anything, it's underrated." I retort.

"All I'm saying is--" Grapevine begins, but she is interrupted by the cab driver.

"We're here." he says, gesturing to the white, fluffy sidewalk. We both giggle awkwardly, getting out of the yellow taxi just before it drives off. I look up, filled with admiration at the masterpiece that is the plaza. a huge glass and metal building screaming modernity. It's a beautiful sight, honestly. smack in the middle of Las Pegasus. Here, it doesn't matter if you're lower, middle or upper class. Everypony is equal, and in the best way. Not that freaky cult way like the door-to-door Glimmer Witnesses keep talking about. We enter the glorious building, heading straight for Tower of Pizza. It's on the first floor because it's so popular and it wants to be handicap-friendly to keep the customers coming. As we enter the pizza joint a wonderful smell of processed cheese makes me drool like the dumb consumer I am. A perky waiter pops up in front of us suddenly, startling us both.

"Hi there! Welcome to Tower of Pizza! Can I help you?" she babbles.

"Yeah, could you get us a table?" I ask.

"Ooh, I'm afraid we're full up right now, sir."

"You sure there's no space?" I ask desperately.

"I'm afraid--" she starts up, but a familiar milky brown hipster shows up behind her, interjecting.

"Hey, don't worry. These are my buddies, they can come sit with me." Coffee Cream says, tapping her on the back to attract her attention. My mouth hangs open slightly in shock, but Grapevine beams.

"Thanks, Coffee!" She says, smiling as she follows him to, I guess is now our table. Coffee sits us down and passes us menus. I'm still slightly aghast. It's not like I know him too well, after all, he works in Trend magazine, so I don't see him apart from break and lunch. I guess our conversation from the other day led him to believe I was enough of a friend that he invited me and my girlfriend to sit with him. It was nice and all, but after the events of that fateful day I haven't been looking forward to talking to him again after that.

"My Pleasure, uh, Grapetree, is it?"

"Grapevine." Grapevine corrects. I just smile slightly and concentrate on my menu.

"I've been dying to meet you. Cloud boasts about you at work a lot. I never hear the end of it!" Coffee says, shoving me playfully. I just continue to stare at my menu determinedly.

"That's so sweet of him! Speaking of which, thanks again for letting us sit with you."

"Hey, no problem. So, Cloud, what are you gonna get?" he asks me. I give up the silent treatment and say

"Probably a pesto and cheese pizza with jalepenos. Do they have those?"

"No, but nice choice." he says. His robotic, gentle tone begins to creep me out a little, and I ask

"What's up with you, Coffee? Where's the pretentious Hipster attitude?"

"I leave it at work on weekends. I'm not like that normally, you know. I just like blending in with the rest of the Trend crowd."

"Seriously? You like being a little bitch all the time?"

"Cloud!" Grapevine snaps furiously. She slaps me on the hoof, shooting me an angry glare. Despite my comment, Coffee Cream laughs slightly and replies

"That's one way to describe it, I guess." at this point, I'm on a roll with the interrogation. However, one question lingers in my mind.

"If the whole faggy hipster thing is a rouse, then how come you planted one on me yesterday?" Grapevine shoots daggers at me, her face a mix of emotions. Coffee merely bursts into laughter.

"I'm from Itaily, dude. It's my thing. Ha!" he splutters, shaking his head. "It's just a thing, I do it all the time with my family and friends from there. As soon as I did it I realised how weird it might have seemed. Sorry, dude." my jaw drops again. There isn't a hint of Itailian in his voice.

"I'm so sorry for Cloud's abruptness, Coffee." Grapevine apologises through gritted teeth, snarling at me. I smile as a wave of relief washes over me and the awkwardness I once had around him washes off like dirt on filthy hooves.

"Oh, man. I though you were gay." I say, laughing at the very prospect now. Coffee is seemingly not offended. He just laughs, slightly less raucously but not awkwardly, at least. Grapevine is slightly annoyed but she rolls her eyes as a waiter approaches us. He has a partially eaten pizza cutie mark on his flank that would imply he's good at making pizzas, but he seems to just be a waiter. This makes me wonder if he makes the pizzas too, or if there's a deeper meaning to it, or he is good at making pizzas but has only progressed in this job as a waiter, or I'm just staring way too much at some dude's butt.

"Well, it's irrelevant in my opinion. We're here for pizza, remember?" Coffee Cream says, still chuckling slightly. "So, what do you guys want?"

"I'll have the olive pizza with raspberry lemonade." Grapevine says sweetly, smiling at the waiter.

"I'll have a tall black americano and some hayburger crust pizza." Coffee says, passing the menus to our server.

"I'll have..." I begin, but then I realise that I haven't looked at the menu properly at all yet, having been so caught up with Coffee's sexual preference (yes, I just said that. I am ashamed too) so I check the pizza section, glancing at each option briefly. "Uuuum....I guess I'll have the hayburger crust too." I say at last, handing over my menu too.

"Good choice, sir. Your order will come shortly." the waiter says, bowing his head and trotting off. Coffee sits back in his seat and waits for someone to say something. Feeling an awkward silence coming on, Grapevine strikes up conversation about food miles and I am immediately disinterested. I begin looking around the crowded room, letting my eyes lazily wander over every individual there, desperate to find something to contemplate. I see a pretty sea green mare sitting on the table besides us with a wavy coral orange mane falling around her face. She has a pair of snorkels and a magnifying glass on her flank and I am quickly interested to know her story. She's mysterious, intriguing and most of all; she's really hot. Her colour scheme, blue and orange (which are complimentary, by the way), makes her stand out amongst a sea of conformists. My journalistic instinct, that I've learnt from my job, kicks in and I'm edging nearer and nearer to her, inch by inch. She's sat by herself, poor thing. I'm about to straight up walk over to her table and sit down next to her, but my conscience mercilessly cock blocks me, making me slither back to my own seat.

***

After a pretty uneventful time at the Tower of Pizza and some seriously greasy but orgasmically delicious pizza, I and Grapevine parted ways with Coffee, headed for the stores. We were headed for the clothing and jewellery sections when a manically smiling, slightly greyscale pegasus approaches us so closely that I feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Hi there! I'm Chainmail Armour! Don't you just hate being different?" he says, still smiling creepily. My jaw drops for the umpteenth time today. I'm about to say something along the lines of 'how did you know?' when he proceeds with "You're cutie mark isn't the same as others, which makes some ponies think they're better than you! Yes, it's true! But the church of sameness and equality can change all that! Sir, madam, please!" We're already walking away, ignoring every word he says. He eventually gives up and pesters somepony else, and Grapevine leads me to a very large store called Mauve. As soon as we walk in I am introduced to purple heaven. The walls are mauve, the floor is a glittery lavender colour, all the clothes and accessories are more or less the same shade of purple, either lavender or mauve. The entire store is scented, including the clothing, so a burst of artificial grape aroma fills my poor nostrils. It's so potent that I almost feel a nosebleed coming, but just at this moment I notice the pretty sea green mare from the pizza restaurant.

"Oh my Celestia! I LOVE this store! I gotta buy EVERYTHING!" Grapevine squeals excitedly. She runs deep into the sea of purple and I am given ample excuse to not join her, seeing as she's so busy with shopping. I walk cautiously over to the lovely turquoise filly and I take a breath in so as to prepare to strike up conversation when Grapevine rockets up to where we are and grabs a purple hat the the mare was about to take.

"This. Is. GORGE! I HAVE to buy it! Oh, hi Cloud. Don't you just love this thing?" she squeals. The pretty mare rolls her eyes irately and reaches up for another hat.

"Uh, Grapevine? I think you kinda...snatched that off her." I say sheepishly, gesturing to the mare. Grapevine stops her ditzy ramblings and looks over to the other filly.

"Oh! Haha, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. Please forgive me." Grapevine explains awkwardly, fiddling with the hat.

"That's fine." the mare says, smiling. She takes a hat for herself and continues browsing as Grapevine speeds off to find more stuff.

"Sorry about that." I say to the blue filly. "This shop was practically made for her. You saw her coat." She laughs and turns round to me, paying me her full attention at last.

"I know. But don't you think mauve suits me too?" she replies, holding up a dress with way too many frills.

"That thing won't suit anypony." I joke, laughing slightly.

"Okay, Miss Fashion-know-it-all." she shoots back.

"That would be Mr, actually...heh" I reply, slightly downtrodden by the fact she thinks I'm a mare just like everypony else looking at me out of context does. I usually don't care, but when a very fortunate looking mare like herselg mistakes me for a chick, it makes it a lot worse.

"Oh...oh, I'm sorry." she says quickly, looking slightly awkward. I knew what she was thinking now. Great.

"Yep. Been a guy my whoooole life. Ever. Since. Birth." I reiterate, dragging out every word, trying my best to get her to take the hint.

"Well...I love your mane colour!" It's so refreshing after seeing like a million dirt brown stallions with the same exact mane cut. Seriously, is that freaky cult taking over already?" the mare jokes, hastily trying to cover her misconceptions. I let it go and reply

"Does anybody even take their dumb fliers and go with them?" I ask, smirking. I have only met one pony who ever agreed with them. His name was Cosmic Dust, a monochromatic red stallion who had been bullied about his cutie mark (a comet with the rock being replaced by a cherry which the rest of the Twinkle crew said was 'totally gay') and wanted to be free from cutie marks completely. Sure, they had tempted me too, but I was smart enough not to get caught up in cults.

"I sure don't. I'm Coral Reef, by the way. What's your name?" she replies, smiling widely.

"Cloud Inkwell." I say, returning the smile. I want to advance in the flirting but Grapevine runs up to us suddenly, shoving a heavy, overflowing and very purple shopping basket filled with various grape purple items including the hat that introduced I and Coral, a scarf, some hairties, a pair of mauve sunglasses, a very small, seemingly tight-fitting dress, and a whole box of purple make-up.

"Somepony's gonna be the town tart." I remark skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Is this about the dress? It's the dress, isn't it? Look, Pumpkin has high standards and those include looking like a prostitute, apparently, since all the pictures of her parties include scantily clad mares. I wanna fit in, Cloud!" Grapevine replies defensively. I hear a laugh almost escape Coral's lips, but she stops it just in time so all we hear is a slight snort from her direction.

"Oh, grow up!" Grapevine says, playfully nudging Coral Reef. "I'm Grapevine, do you come here often?"

"Seeing as this place opened up literally a day ago, it would be pretty hard to. Unless you're one of those weirdos that hang out in construction sites." Coral replies jokingly. I and Grapevine both chuckle mildly as we proceed to the checkout. Coral comes with us, ready to buy the frilly dress and the hat.

"Yeesh, you're really buying that?" I ask, laughing.

"Yeah, but it's a hate gift. Gonna send it to my cousin. That'll teach her for sending a tissue in the mail for my birthday gift last year."

"Nice one. But isn't spending money on a bad dress still showing some effort?" Grapevine asks.

"You don't know her mom. She forces her to wear and use ANYTHING she gets from relatives. She's been boasting about going to the Grand Galloping Gala. I think her mom will put good use to that dress." Coral explains, smirking.

"You must seriously despise your cousin." I say, holding back a laugh again. Coral simply shrugs, not denying my comment at all. I pay for Grapevine's many, many items and she kisses me on the cheek in thanks. Usually I'm happy for her to show affection to me in public, but when we were right next to this pretty little thing, it makes me slightly self-conscious. Grapevine is fairly pretty, sure. But Coral is just...different.

***

Shortly after leaving Purple Hell, Grapevine insists that we go to the record store. I have now idea why until she races in and begins embracing a red and green mare who has been browsing through music.

"One Note! Great to see you! I got your letter. Can't wait for girl's night! Did you pick us a movie yet?" Grapevine squeals, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Got some ideas." the mare, One Note, replies. I've met One Note lots of times before, again in a record store. Her name is apt, because she only likes electronica and will only ever listen to it. She makes music too, and that too is all just very similar sounding electronic music. She's seriously hot though.

"Let's go look at the movie section. We can probably find some perfect movies in the chick flick section." Grapevine suggests, pulling One Note in the direction of an area with bright pink metal movie racks with DVD cases in neon pinks, whites and purples.

"Actually, I was thinking we could get your boyfriend to suggest some good dick flicks. We always watch Bridle Jone's Diary. I wanna watch some mindless action." One Note counters, looking directly at me. I shrug, replying

"I dunno. I don't watch too many dick flicks. I guess there's the new Daring Do movie."

"They're making a movie! Awesome! When's it coming out?!" Grapevine exclaims, being a manic fangirl of the Daring Do series.

"This summer. Next month, actually." I say.

"OMG! We HAVE to watch it! I'll clear up our schedule for ALL of next month so we can see it. What about you, One Note?" Grapevine babbles enthusiastically.

"Sure." One Note says in a monotonous, bored tone, a stark contrast to her usual raspy, playful tone. She seemed disinterested all of a sudden.

"Other than that...Lord of the Horseshoes? I guess that's more fantasy, though. Uhm, Demolition Mare?" I suggest, struggling to think of movies.

"That's a good dick flick." says an all-too familiar voice, surprising me for the second time today. Coffee Cream bursts into the conversation, several vinyl records in their cases in a shopping basket clutched between his wingtips. "Plenty of mindless brutality and swearing with an interesting philosophical message about censorship. A nice balance of brains and brawn."

"I guess we have our movie then," says One Note, smiling at Coffee Cream. Grapevine rolls her eyes and insists

"Fine! But we need to rent Mean Mares too, just to balance it out."

"Deal." One Note agrees, shaking hooves with Grapevine. They both go over to the DVD section, leaving me with Coffee.

"So, you like vinyl?" I ask.

"Yeah. Well, I'm having a '1000th Issue' party for the guys and gals at Trend at my place, so I need to make it look as pretentious as possible. What better than vinyl records I can never use anyway?" Coffee replies comically. I chuckle slightly, smirking as well.

"So what you got in there?" I ask, peeking into the bag. Coffee opens it and starts pulling the fragile relics out.

"Let's see. Buck Berry, Johnny Bits and, of course, The Ponies." he recites, listing off the titles with ease.

"Am I the only one who thinks that name is kind of dumb? It's not like they need to specify what species they are, we know that they're ponies." I say, looking at the album cover.

"How dare you insult one of the most overrated bands of all time!" Coffee replies in a mock-offended voice. We both laugh as he replaces them into the shopping basket, picking it up again with his wingtips. "Are you coming?" he asks, referring to the party from what I can assume.

"I'm not a member of Trend." I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"But we work in the same building. Still counts." he counters.

"I guess. But what about the other guys?"

"They're coming too."

"Then I'm washing my mane that day."

"Ha! Look, you don't have to come I just need at least two people I can actually have fun with, and that's you and Grapevine."

"Maybe." I say, beginning to browse through the CDs. Luna, I sound like one of those annoying fillies that play hard to get. Only now do I get this revelation, and thus I man up and say "Actually, buck those guys. I'm coming if I want to, and they aren't gonna stop me. I'm not scared of them. I avoid them all the time because I can't be bothered to fight them, but that shouldn't stop me from going to a bucking party. Consider me in."

"Nice! Tell Grapevine she can come too." Coffee says enthusiastically.

"Will do. Well, looks like she and One Note are done. We gotta go now, see ya, Coffee!" I reply, trotting off to join Grapevine. I beam at her as she packs up her DVDs and she returns the smile. We say bye to One Note and leave, headed for the plaza exit.

***

When we finally return home, this time at my place, Grapevine insists that she model her new outfit for me. I reluctantly agree and prepare for 3 hours of waiting for her to get ready. Sitting down on my sofa, I turn on the radio and let DJ Pon3 talk me to relaxation.

Half an hour later, I'm bored.

"Grapevine! Would you hurry up in there?" I shout, banging on the bathroom door.

"Give me a min! I'm almost done!" Grapevine replies, slightly muffled by the door and walls. I wait a minute and she STILL isn't finished. Incredibly frustrated now, I go to knock on the door. However, Grapevine beats me to it, opening it to reveal herself, fully made up.
She's got her tight mauve dress on, the bottom of which just reaches the floor. It's shiny and smooth, creating a gelatin-like sheen. Her make up is all deep purple, but very lightly applied so she doesn't look clownish. When she blinks you can see the shiny purple eye shadow for a split second. Her mane is done up so that her backlock forms a spiral shape, kept in place by a hairband. Her forelock is poofy and bouncy, kept in such a manner by manespray, it seems. Flecks of hair coming off here and there create a half messy, half classy look. It's gorgeous. The scarf she got isn't on her, but I'm sure that when she's out in the open, on her way to Pumpkin Diadem's party, she'll look stunning in it.

I simply stand there in awe for a bit, stunned by her ravishing makeover. All of today I've let my eyes wander onto other mares, even shamelessly flirted with some. However, seeing Grapevine like this makes me want to slap myself in the face for being so unfaithful. Then again, something nags at me even more. Does Grapevine really have to prove her beauty simply for me to like her? Is that how superficial I am? First I jump to wild conclusions about some guy who was just being friendly and get all homophobic, then I start hitting on other mares, and now I'm seeing Grapevine merely as a hot piece of flank? What's wrong with me?

"So what do you think then? Too much purple?" Grapevine asks, seeing my now horrified expression.

"No..no. It's fine." I say, slightly distantly. I shake the thoughts out of my head and correct myself. "I mean, lovely. You look beautiful, babe. I mean, darling. I mean--"

"You okay? You're acting super weird." Grapevine asks, raising an eyebrow. I stare hopelessly at her, not entirely sure what to say. She keeps staring, clearly puzzled, at me. Finally, I simply say

"I know. I'm just stunned by your dazzling beauty."

"Ew, I can FEEL the sap. Come on, Cloud. Since when were you one for cheesy lines?" Grapevine replies, shaking her head in disbelief and laughing. I laugh along with her, agreeing that it was mostly exaggeration.

"I guess I was just thinking over some things. I guess when you get in a skimpy dress I remember why we're together." I confess, shrugging.

"Well maybe that's the answer to all those broken marriages we've been hearing about in celebrity news. Just parade around the house scantily clad and the men will start sounding like Cherry McGuire." she replies, smirking. "I need to keep it clean, though. So I'll just go undress again before dinner. We eating in tonight?"

"Yep. if that's cool with you. I have some carrot pie in the fridge. We'll cook that up as soon as you're done." I say, smiling widely as Grapevine walks back into the bathroom. As she closes the door, I smile more softly, fondly remembering our first official date (which happened a week after the night we met). Everything comes back. I love Grapevine. She's my girlfriend, and my best friend. I love her to bits.

Right?