Twilight began the last calibration test for the total radiation thermometer. It hadn’t yet been a month since she’d moved to Ponyville, but she’d at least been able to make this library feel homey by moving in all her equipment from her observatory in Canterlot. Home never felt quite like home without a seismometer and a Van de Griffon generator.
One more second, and… done. The calibration was complete. She checked it off of her list, set that list down, and picked up a clipboard and pencil. Her basement was now properly prepared for conducting the experiment.
She pulled out her old pair of glasses from its case. Though the frame had some hairline cracks in places, the lenses still seemed to be functional. She knew better than to put them on just yet, though. After all, this pair of glasses is what had caused ponies to faint from cuteness all those years ago, and Rainbow Dash to give her a smooch just the other day. Dangerous stuff.
However, now was the perfect opportunity to discover why the glasses invoked such curious reactions in ponies. She had friends to administer tests on, and they’d be more than willing to comply, surely. Friends did favours for each other, after all, and being an involuntary test subject wasn’t an unreasonable favour.
The trick was to find a test subject who was not normally prone to showing affection. Rarity was certainly emotionally expressive, and thus most acts of affection were normal for her. Pinkie Pie was wildly unpredictable and had no frame of reference to work from. Fluttershy was known to be emotionally dependent on others, and was prone to soliciting hugs from other ponies, not that anypony seemed to mind.
Rainbow Dash would’ve normally been an ideal test subject in this case, but she’d already seen her wearing the glasses yesterday, and Twilight had neither set up her test equipment nor ran the control part of the experiment. That left only one pony in her inner circle of friends whose results from the test would be interesting.
“Hey Applejack,” Twilight said as her friend came down the stairs and the control stage of the experiment began. She tucked her glasses back in their case for the time being.
“Mornin’, Twi,” Applejack said, tipping her hat. “What’s that hummin’ noise I hear? And why does my skin feel all buzzy?”
“That’s just the electrostatic generator,” Twilight said, taking note of the seismographs. The readings were normal so far. “How’re you feeling today?”
“Right dandy, thanks for askin’,” Applejack said, eyeing one of Twilight’s electronic doohickeys as it whirred away and spat out paper overrun with squiggly lines.
Twilight made a note on her clipboard: ‘Right dandy.’ She tapped the pencil’s eraser on the clipboard as she moved on to the next question. “Are you experiencing any unusual sensations of light-headedness, warm fuzzy feelings in the cardiac region, emotional attraction, or general desires for kisses or other such signs of affection?”
Applejack gaped for a moment, licking her lips as she mentally repeated what Twilight had just said. “Uh, no. Not today, I s’pose.” She tried to shake the confusion out of her head. “I reckon you don’t need help prunin’ tree branches, then? Or is that for later today?”
“Actually,” Twilight said, “I had something different in mind. Just wait one second, okay?”
“Sure thing, sugar cube.”
Twilight turned around, hiding herself as she levitated the glasses out from the thin black case. She was ready to take them off if Applejack experienced fainting, and sitting in the corner was a chaise longue that she had borrowed from Rarity, just in case.
She had no reason to be nervous. She was prepared. Holding her breath, she slipped the glasses on and turned to AJ.
Applejack felt an immediate, profound pull that commanded her entire consciousness towards Twilight, transfixing her. The rest of the world melted away, blurring. Her thoughts, her mind, her body, all distant and suddenly unimportant. She was focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was Twilight’s adorable face.
“Twilight,” she said, her mouth hanging wide open.
Twilight’s eyes were equally wide. “Yes?”
Applejack tried to continue, but couldn’t. What could she say to such perfection, such magnificence, such brilliant eyes and cute ears and unamused little muzzle? “Hi,” she said.
Twilight nodded, making a note on her clipboard.
Applejack lost control of her mind and body, overcome by a strong compulsion. Desire drove her legs, slowly, towards the most adorable pony she’d ever seen. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks in a distant sense, like the rest of her body was far away from everything happening inside. This, in front of her very eyes, was what her life had built up to. This was the one purpose of her existence.
Twilight sat and waited. She made another note on her clipboard: ‘Applejack has become very slow.’ She swallowed as Applejack neared, glancing down at her clipboard. “How are you feeling today?”
Twilight’s words faded into sounds. “I think I’m havin’ those cardinal desires or whatnot, Twi,” Applejack murmured, like she was lost in a dream.
Twilight turned as Applejack approached, hoping to redirect any kisses to her cheek. Instead, Applejack swung her arms around Twilight’s nape, pulling her into a hug and nuzzling her neck.
They stood there like that for a minute. Then two. Three. Applejack seemed perfectly comfortable where she was. Twilight took a step to the left, and Applejack followed. Another step left, then a step right. Twilight walked around the room, and Applejack was more than happy to follow her wherever she went.
Twilight took notes on her clipboard. There was most certainly an adverse effect of these glasses—it induced heightened levels of sentiment. She had observed smooching from Rainbow Dash yesterday, and now hugging from Applejack, not to mention swooning when she was a filly, although the ‘attachment’ aspect of it was new.
Perhaps it varied from pony to pony. She’d have to try this on the rest of her friends. Other ponies as well—those who didn’t already know her. She set the clipboard down. “All right, Applejack, you can go now.”
“Okay, sugar cube.” Applejack sighed. She shifted a little, but didn’t let go.
Right, probably because of the glasses. Twilight tried to lift a hoof up to her face to remove her glasses, but her shoulders were restrained by Applejack’s powerful arms. She grunted. “Applejack, please let go. I can’t lift my arms.”
“Shhhh.” Applejack said, nestling against Twilight’s warm fur. “No talkin’. Just hugs now.”
Well, this wouldn’t do. The experiment was over, and she had obtained all the readings she needed. She and Applejack couldn’t stand like this forever.
If she couldn’t use her hooves, she’d have to use magic. Twilight hesitated, though. Her glasses were old, and so she wanted to be careful not to break them. However, she didn’t seem to have a choice at this point, so she wrapped the glasses in a magical aura and slowly lifted them off her face.
Except the glasses didn’t budge. She tried again, with an equal lack of success.
Perhaps she wasn’t lifting them correctly, or they were wedged on her nose and she wasn’t pushing hard enough. She tried once more, this time with more force. She yanked and tugged, but they wouldn’t come off.
Okay, forget testing her friends. First, she needed to know why the glasses were stuck. She walked to the other side of the room to a mirror, Applejack blissfully holding fast. Twilight saw she was still wearing the glasses, so she hadn’t been imagining things.
Or maybe she was. She needed a second opinion. “Spike! Spiiike!” she called out.
Thump. Some shuffling. A full minute later, the upstairs door opened. “What do you want?” he said.
“Get down here!” Twilight yelled as Applejack clung to her, unfazed by her shouting. “Now!”
Spike plodded down the stairs, yawning. He rubbed his eyes as he mumbled, “Geez, Twilight. I’m more than happy to do my chores later, but for now I’d prefer to—” His eyes widened as he saw Twilight, and he froze on the steps.
Twilight felt her stomach turn. Spike was entranced. Perhaps it wasn’t too late and her voice could snap him out of it. “Spike, I need you to take these glasses off.”
“Why would I do that,” Spike said, shuffling down the stairs as he stared at the most cuddly darned thing he’d ever seen. “I just want a hug.”
Nope, too late. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he held his arms out straight in front of him and dragged his feet on the floor, his eyes shimmering and his mouth wide open. “Hugs,” he said, completely hypnotized.
Well, as long as her experiment was running, she might as well keep gathering data. Twilight made a note on her clipboard. “How are you feeling today?”
“Hugs,” Spike mumbled, climbing on to Twilight’s back and snuggling. “Huuuugs.”
“Right,” Twilight said, making a note. “Well. Neither of you are going to let go, aren’t you?”
Spike and Applejack let out a simultaneous “Mmm.”
“And neither of you are going to help me take these glasses off.”
“Mmm.”
“Great,” Twilight said, letting the clipboard slump in her magical grasp. “Super. Wonderful. Well. We’re going upstairs, then, where I can figure out how the hay to remove…” She glanced around her. “…well, all three of you.”
There was no need to panic just yet. This was not a problem. As long as she didn’t go outside, she could figure out a way to handle the situation. Besides, there must’ve been a book on this.
She switched off all her equipment and hobbled up the stairs to research something, anything, that might help. Scanning her bookshelves, she levitated out a few relevant titles and got to work.
After researching all the way up until noon, she found exactly nothing on removing glasses that were stuck on one’s face. She read about prying tools, such as crowbars, but had nothing like that lying around. There was a spell that counteracted the effect of glue, but that wouldn’t be useful here. There was a book on explosives, which was tempting to think about, but ultimately wasn’t feasible nor exactly safe. She also read up on a book detailing social faux pas. She tried asking Applejack her age, then her weight, then she read out loud some fairly offensive earth pony slurs from the book, but Applejack didn’t seem to be listening at all.
Just when she dropped that book in exasperation, she heard the door creak open, turning to see Rarity standing at the door. Then, struck with a jolt of fear, Twilight immediately turned away, stooping down and hiding her face with her hooves.
“Rarity!” she said, starting to hyperventilate. Hopefully, she hadn’t succumbed just yet.
“Oh my, Twilight,” Rarity said, noticing Applejack and Spike both bundled around Twilight. She blushed. “I can come back later if you prefer.”
“Yes!” Twilight said. “Don’t look at me. Go away.”
She turned to leave, but halted. “ ‘Don’t look at you’?” Rarity said, cocking her head. “Twilight? Are you all right?”
Twilight took in a deep breath, which wasn’t a very deep breath, nor only one. “Yes, I’m just fine,” she said, smiling behind her hooves. “Everything’s just fine. And completely normal. So leave, please.”
“Twilight, you know I’m your friend, yes?” Rarity walked forward, furrowing her eyebrows at the scene before her. “I’m more than happy to help if there’s a problem.”
“No, Rarity, please!” she said.
“Why ever not, darling? There’s no reason to be ashamed.” Rarity came closer to Twilight, placing her hoof on one of Twilight’s. “You know that I make everypony else look ugly by default. It’s nothing you can help.”
Twilight raised her eyebrows. “That’s actually pretty vain, irrelevant, and possibly deranged.”
“Let’s not let envy cloud our judgement, shall we?” She took hold of one of Twilight’s hooves and tried to peel it away. “Darling, you’re standing up right now whether you like it or not.”
“You’re infringing upon my rights! I’ll sue!” Twilight said, her hooves starting to give way. “How old are you? How much do you weigh?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rarity yanked Twilight’s hoof away from her face. Their eyes met, and Rarity gasped, letting go of Twilight’s hoof and standing still as a statue. Twilight groaned.
“Oh my, Twilight,” Rarity said, slowly approaching her. “Would you… well, might it be all right if I… What I mean to say is, do you mind—”
“Yes,” Twilight said, gritting her teeth. “Very much so.”
Rarity wrapped her hooves around Twilight, brushing up against Twilight’s fuzzy neck. “Oh, thank you, darling, thank you so very much.”
Twilight growled. She paced again, stomping her hooves around the bust in the middle of the room. The two most level-headed ponies in the city were now clinging to her. She jotted down a frustrated note on her clipboard.
Then, armed with a new idea, she squeezed out of the front library door to get the hose. Lifting the end of the hose in her magic, she gave the nozzle three twists.
“Twilight?” Fluttershy peeped.
Twilight dropped the hose and whirled at the voice, seeing a wide-eyed Fluttershy, and was overcome with the horrifying realization that she was outside. She backed away slowly towards the library door. “Fluttershy, don’t move.”
Whump! Twilight fell to the ground, tackled from her left. She recognized the attacker’s voice as Pinkie’s. “Wow! You’re so super-duper snuggly-wuggly today, Twilight!”
“How observant,” Twilight muttered. She struggled in an effort to stand up again, feeling a slow but steady whump whump whump as ponies ambushed her from all sides. Trying to dodge became futile, as she became bound tighter and tighter with every new attack.
Twilight kept still until the whumps stopped. By then, the mob of ponies had formed one big pile of cuddle. It was surprisingly comfy, if a bit dark and cramped and thoroughly inconvenient. And her hose was still running. Great.
She had to calm down and think. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. In response, everypony hugging her let out one big collective sigh of contentment. Twilight would’ve taken more notes, but she’d lost her clipboard at that point.
She began to pace again, albeit slower under the weight of twenty-something ponies and their constricting embraces. She tried to think of all the possible solutions from here. At least the shell of ponies hid her face and she no longer had to worry about newcomers.
This was a very unusual situation, both the hypnotizing effect of the glasses and their refusal to come off. Perhaps some sort of arcane magic was at work here. She snorted. If only she’d thought to research that earlier, when she was still able to see a book in front of her face.
Celestia was an option. She was able to solve the problem last time. But really, all she did was tell her to take the glasses off, and that apparently wasn’t possible now. Celestia was a powerful alicorn, though, and certainly she’d have other spells. She could help, then.
Twilight began the slow turnaround back into the library so she could write a letter to the princess. Then she stopped, realizing that she couldn’t send a letter—Spike was clamped to her back, spellbound and rendered useless. Walking all the way to Canterlot certainly wouldn’t be viable, so she had no way of contacting Celestia.
Perhaps there was a spell for this, though she’d already ruled out the spell that made glue unsticky. Oh, of course! Teleportation.
Gathering up magic in her horn, she willed Applejack to teleport fifty yards away. However, as soon as she was gone, Fluttershy was quick to replace her, draping her own hooves around Twilight’s neck. “Oh, goodness,” she said. “Your fur is so soft.” Everpony else murmured in agreement.
She teleported Fluttershy away too, but then another pony replaced her after that. She continued sending ponies away until she could see the light of day again. However, all the ponies she whisked away kept sprinting back and tackling her in waves of hugs. To make things worse, now that she was exposed again to open air, even more ponies saw her adorable bespectacled face and joined the mob.
Twilight huffed, the pile now twice as large as before. Then, she realized she only had to teleport one pony away. Summoning one more burst of magic in her horn, she cast the teleport spell on herself, sending her to the outskirts of town.
She glanced around. Thankfully, no other ponies were in the vicinity. There was nothing but green grass around her, and blue sky and peaceful white clouds above. She took in a whiff of fresh air through her nose, taking in the pristine silence and all the free space to move around in. Then she shouted, “Get off of my face! Get off!”
She pawed at her face, jerking her head around, trying to shake them off or knock them loose. Bracing herself, she whipped her head down and pounded the glasses into the grass. She no longer cared about not breaking them. She just wanted this to be over.
With one final blow to the grass, Twilight sat back, lightheaded from a possible concussion. Then, the glasses vibrated, glowing with a zappy magical aura. A shadow streamed from the pair of glasses, swirling up into the air. From the smoke, a large being materialized, three times the height of a pony. It stretched its claws into the sky and released a tremendous roar.
His massive black frame heaving, he clenched his fists and boomed, “I am the omnipotent spirit of vision correction, Oculus Spectacre! Behold my indomitable Earthly form! All will cower before me!” He flexed his large, smoky muscles. “My immense power transcends the understanding of feeble mortal minds. At my fingertips are mighty, arcane spells that would make the most heinous offenders in Tartarus tremble in fear and blurry vision.”
He bent down to gaze into Twilight’s soul, eyes burning with bright white flames. “I am life. I am death.”
Twilight blinked. “You were in a pair of glasses.”
His shoulders sagged. “Yes, well. I’ve never had a lot of choice.” With a wave of his hand, Oculus made a small wicker basket appear. “Would you like to share a picnic with me?”
Twilight stared at the basket. This certainly transcended the understanding of her feeble mortal mind. She hated to humour him, but she had to say something out loud to verbally pinch herself. “You’re the spirit of picnics too?”
“I guess,” he said, laying down a red-and-white plaid blanket. “I can’t begin to imagine what I was cursed with in my past life.” He produced two apples from the picnic basket, offering one to Twilight, but pulled it back once he noticed her profound scowl. “Look, if it’s about today, I’m sorry, I just got a little frustrated—”
“What is the meaning of all this?” Twilight blurted. “Why in the name of Celestia’s ancient Romane set of six-sided dice were you in a pair of glasses? Why wouldn’t you let me take them off? What was your plan, here?” She remembered the first time she tried on those glasses. “Were you the reason those ponies fainted when I wore these glasses as a filly?
“Naw, that was mostly you,” he said, taking a large bite of his apple. “As was that whole hugging deal earlier. But I did have a small part in it, yes. Mainly the fainting. And the hugging. So yes, it was me, but! Your innate cuteness made my job a heck of a lot easier.”
Twilight squinted. “Your job?”
“I live in ponies’ glasses and I make them super lovable, I guess.” He sat back, his wispy legs crossing. “Speaking of which, have you ever thought about wearing glasses again?”
“Probably never again, at this point. Look. What’s going to make you happy?”
“I have to live in somepony’s glasses,” he said, taking one last bite of the apple and tossing the core away. “I think that’ll do it.”
Twilight paced, her mind racing to solve this. “Okay. So you have to live in glasses. Do contacts count?”
Oculus couldn’t quite answer that until Twilight explained what they were. Oculus frowned. “Well, if I was in those, then I would be right on your eyeballs there. That’d be kind of gross.”
Twilight tried to think of all the ponies in Ponyville who wore glasses. Then, she had an idea. “What are the rules? Does it have to be a lens used for vision correction specifically?”
The almighty spirit shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think it just needs to have lenses and be generally glasses-shaped.”
Twilight nodded. “Then I know just the pony for that.”
~ ~ ~
“Thank you so much, Vinyl,” Twilight said. “I really appreciate it. And don’t worry: with the exception of being an all-powerful cursed spirit, he’s harmless. Just remember to take him out for picnics once in a while.”
Vinyl nodded, waving at Twilight as she headed back to the library. That meant another Equestria-scale crisis was averted, or at least diverted.
Vinyl was the perfect candidate since she never took her glasses off. Plus, everypony went wild for her music anyway, so things would likely be no different with Oculus living in there.
Once Twilight arrived back at the library, she shut the door and leaned against it, tossing aside the cause of this terribly bothersome ordeal—her glasses. She yawned and stretched, looking down at the mess of books on the floor from earlier that day. One by one, she floated them back into the bookshelves. She couldn’t remember if lately she’d organized them alphabetically by title, author, or publisher. That could be sorted out after a nap, but for now, the books couldn’t remain on the floor.
She picked up a book, one she had researched earlier on explosives, but it seemed much heavier than before.
“Hey!” A frowning Rainbow Dash hung from the book as Twilight held it in her magic. Rainbow let go of the book and landed on the ground. “I wasn’t done with that,” she said.
Twilight nodded, dropping the book and rubbing her eyes. “Sorry. I’ll clean up later.” She stumbled over her clipboard, picking it up with her magic and carrying it with her to her bedroom.
But then, Rainbow did something that defied prior experimental data. She hugged Twilight. Twilight froze, wondering if the glasses had somehow found their way back onto her face. She was ready to try and smash her face into the ground again if need be, but then Rainbow let go.
Twilight’s mouth hung open as she searched for words, unable to keep her eyebrows from rising.
Rainbow smiled in a way that made Twilight want to smile back. “What? You look tired,” Rainbow said.
Twilight couldn’t think of an articulate response. She felt her heart grow warm for some strange, probably-scientifically-explainable reason.
Sitting back down against the bookshelf, Rainbow smirked. “You’re a riot, Twilight Sparkle.” She picked up her book and crossed her legs, grinning as she read.
On a whim, Twilight grabbed her clipboard and ran up the stairs, shutting her bedroom door behind her. Once she was safely out of sight and separated from any further embarrassment, she sighed in relief.
For the longest time, she stared at her clipboard. Her eyes wandered from the observations column to the conclusions column, and she had no idea what to put down for either. Her feelings weren’t quantifiable—there was just this warm, nice, bubbly little feeling in her chest. She’d been getting hugs all day, but this was the first real one.
Maybe not everything needed to be explained by science. She tapped her pencil on the clipboard a few more times, then set it down. Perhaps Rainbow wanted a reading buddy. The nap could wait.
Author's Note
Thanks to NotSoSubtle and WoolOverYourEyes for prereading.
