FanFicRepliesby OnTheMoonChaptersThe Buccaneer BlazeHarmonicDiscord Days: Lyra and Bon-BonA Loving QueenWhat is Real?Blueblood's not so BadLunaloneAn OrchardWeapons of WarTrixicornThe Buccaneer BlazeFrom the image CRISIS: Rainbow Dash, by StarlightSpark. *** Rainbow Dash could taste the lightning on her tongue. That was the thing about controlling lightning: it got everywhere. You could kick a cloud and get a little jolt in your feet and up your legs. Hell, the Wonderbolts let it trail along behind them during some of their performances. But when you were controlling it, really taking it by the reins and making it yours, lightning flooded your entire being. There was no better feeling to Rainbow Dash. Not pulling off a wicked trick, not a kiss from a long-time crush - even the Sonic Rainboom (old hat now for Equestria's Number One trick-pony) was second-best to lightning. Snow flakes were whipping through the air around her. Rainbow could feel the cold biting at her wings as she dropped. Winter was the best time to try for lightning. Something about the cold made the electricity flow better, made it more squishable, or something. Rainbow had tried to explain it to Twilight, but the egghead'd lost herself in a book trying to figure out what Rainbow meant. The pegasus laughed to herself, sparks dancing across her teeth. Twilight meant well, but books were no help up here. Flaring her wings wide, Rainbow pulled up out of the dive and soared back into the clouds. Darkness pressed in on every side, the clouds angry and bursting with frost and electric force. Above the storm now, she looked over the rippling waves of black and grey, and grinned. She'd built up an intense negative charge on several passes through the storm, and now it was time for the finishing move. Rainbow pointed her hooves, tucked her wings in, and fell. Gravity caught her almost immediately and her organs gave up trying to stay inside her. She loved the thrill of falling, of knowing that there was nothing between herself and certain death but her own two wings. Clouds burst around her as she plummeted into the storm. Her mane and tail were crackling behind her, and she knew just what to do. She spread her wings and legs, letting as much of her body touch the sky as she could. Electricity flowed into her like water into an empty glass, filling every part of her completely. It was pulsing in her hooves, pounding in her eyes, dancing between her feathers and then back to her tail. No more waiting. No more preparing. A cyan streak in the sky, the mare fell again, this time clear of the cloud layer and towards the ground. Almost there, she thought. Wind streamed over her, coat bristling with static. Almost there! She hit halfway between the ground and the storm and flung her wings out wide, bringing herself to a complete halt. The charge, built up to impossible levels, now had a place to go. Several bolts coursed out of her and fled towards the ground, sending up huge plumes of dirt where they struck the empty field. Another arced across the sky to strike a tree, which burst very suddenly into flame. Still more went back up into the clouds, disappearing with a roar of thunder into the place that birthed them. And all at once, it was over. Rainbow, her ears deaf and rose-colored eyes blind, corkscrewed down to earth, wings catching random gusts and twisting her body here and there. Fear tried to creep up out of her gut, which had suddenly decided it was inside her after all, but Rainbow squashed it. This was all part of the trick. In a moment, her vision cleared and she landed crazily (but safely) on the ground. She sunk down into the ground and let the snowflakes land on her back. There wasn't a single part of her that didn't ache, that didn't cry for the warmth of a blanket and the softness of her cloud bed, but Rainbow didn't move. It was a hard thing, controlling lightning. It needed a certain finesse, and willingness to risk everything, to throw yourself on the mercy of the storm. It took a lot out of you. In a minute, she would get up and walk back into town, find Twilight, or Pinkie Pie, or even Rarity, and spend the night there. She'd tell them all about this tomorrow. Pinkie'd probably throw a party for her. But for now, she let the wind and fury of the storm wash over her. HarmonicFrom the image Knowledge is Power, by FoxInShadow *** The chalk was dry, and dusty, and using it kicked flakes up into the air that tickled Twilight’s nose, but she scraped it along the ground under the guide of the ruler and connected one side of the octagon to the other. Finished, she set the chalk and the ruler off to the side and stepped into the center of the shape, careful not to disturb any of the lines she’d spent the last two hours mapping and tracing. She had double- and triple-checked every other piece, and now she was ready. The basement was dark, the only light coming from a half-dozen candles. She’d pushed all of her scientific machines and extraneous equipment to the edges of the room to clear out a space large enough to work in. Spike was gone, off for the time being at Rarity’s, with specific instructions to stay gone until she called him back. Twilight had never done a spell this large before, and there was no telling what might happen if it went wrong. Her horn lit up, a purple glow enshrouding it and a yellow and brown book. She lifted the book to face level and opened it to the middle. In the months previous, Twilight had prepared several of the spells from this book, spells to turn water into sarsaparilla, to change apples into pears (Applejack hadn’t been too happy about that), as she slowly worked her way up to this. Transformation magic was difficult enough as it was, but causing a permanent change, one that wouldn’t revert at midnight, was impossible without the additions the book described. “Remember to whisper,” she reminded herself, and then she began to read. The book was written in turformen, the cursive script of the High Equestrian language, but Twilight was well-versed in the language and had already prepared a translation. “Listen to me,” she said quietly. “I have looked into you. I understand you. I ask this of you.” Light poured into her horn from within her, causing it to glow and release a burst of energy that snuffed out the candles. The room went dark. Her horn glowed again, and the words in the book echoed in response, the shapes and lines lighting up with their own purple streak. Beneath her hooves, the lines she had etched in chalk flared purple, starting in the center and racing outward until they reached the edges of the octagon. The symbols surrounding the shape took up the color as well. Though she could not see them, all over the tree, triangles, circles, and hash marks flared with purple light. Twilight nodded, confident that her preparations had been adequate, and continued. “You are small,” she said. “You have lived much, and yet you are small. Listen to me, and grow.” The patterns in the book lifted up, separating from the page to float in the air. With a thought, Twilight pushed them until they were orbiting around her in two concentric circles. The spell was ready, everything in place, the entire tree thrumming with contained energy, and Twilight said one more word: “Grow.” Like a dam bursting, power rushed out of Twilight and into the ground and air around her. It soaked into the walls, speeding up into the trunk of the tree, out through the branches and ending in the leaves. Through her magic, Twilight was connected to every part of the tree in which she resided. With a nod of her head, Twilight activated the spell, forcing her magic into the tree. But then the tree pushed back. Blue light entered the symbols she had drawn, a cyan wave sweeping over her own magenta. It rushed down into the basement, where it slowly converted the purple into blue. With a gasp, Twilight pushed to counteract it. The book fell to the floor, forgotten, as Twilight tried to stem the oncoming flood, but she failed. The blue light struck her, knocking her from her feet, and darkness overtook her. Opening her eyes, Twilight could see the floor of the basement, bathed in blue light. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up with her hooves. There was a foreign presence, an “other” magic that was clashing strongly with her own. “I don’t get it,” she said out loud. “If the spell failed, why is there still magic present? What’s going on?” She reached out to try to touch the alien force, but her hoof went through the chalk outline and sunk into the floor. ”What?” She held up a hoof in front of her eyes. She could see the scattered electronics right through it. And there, on the floor, half in and half out of the octagon, was her own body. A nervous twinge went through her body, but she held firm against it. “What’s going on?” All of a sudden, something pushed her from below, and she flew up into the air. She shut her eyes tight as the ceiling loomed close, but when she didn’t feel her body strike the solid roof, she opened her eyes. Ponyville was gone. There were no buildings, no fountains, nothing that would signify that anyone had ever lived on this expanse of land. Even her own treehouse had disappeared. Only grass, long and green, remained. Twilight stared over the scene, floating high in the air. Nothing, the emptiness of a boundless sunny day over a field of green. And then, a sprout. Something had budded out of the ground. A thin yellow stalk with wide leaves peered back at her. There was a brief sensation, as though wind were ruffling her coat, and time began to flow. The stalk grew and grew, bursting at the top with a riot of leaves and color that died each fall and bloomed again in the spring, and widening at the trunk each year until it was huge. Then, around it, other things began to appear, at first a single house with a small plot of farmland, then another, and another, until a dozen houses had joined the first, dotting the countryside with the tree at the center of it all. As the tree grew, so did the town. Twilight watched as a train track appeared, with a station and a market, and houses that grew out from the center until she saw Ponyville as she had first seen it from the back of a pegasus-driven chariot. And there was her tree, just as proud and tall as it ever was. Purple light appeared on the tree, shining out from the windows, replaced by blue. Ponies watched in shock at the magical battle that was taking place inside the library, and then everything stopped. Apparently, Twilight had caught up to the present. ”I think I understand,” Twilight said. The tree hummed in response, its blue light rising and fading and rising again. “You’re part of this, part of Ponyville. You take things at your own pace.” Though the tree did not answer her, Twilight felt that it agreed. “I tried to force you to grow. And I’m sorry. That was wrong. ”But I need a bigger home, and I’d like that home to be where it’s always been, in the center of your trunk. So now, can I ask you, will you grow bigger? Please?” The tree was silent, and Twilight thought that, however illogical the idea might be, that the tree was pondering her request. She waited quietly, staring down at it, until the tree pulsed, its light expanding and growing. Twilight shut her eyes against it. When she opened them, she was back on the floor of the basement, and the lines were glowing purple once more. Closing her eyes, she levitated the book and pushed the magical script from the pages. “Let’s try this again.” Once more, Twilight connected with the tree, but when the rush of blue came, Twilight welcomed it, pulling it into herself. Blue swirled with purple, and Twilight felt a rush of power such as she had never experienced before. She was one with the tree, every part of it was a part of her, and together, they would grow. Twilight flexed a muscle, and roots ripped into the ground, growing and expanding into the soil to provide the nutrients for the larger tree. With a thought, the trunk spilled out like someone inflating a balloon, layer after layer of bark growing, dying, and splitting as the wood bulked out underneath it. New leaves popped into view as branches lengthened, stretching themselves out over the neighboring houses. The inside of the tree shifted as Twilight took the opportunity to carve rooms out of the new wood. Somewhere above her, a bookcase fell over. She would fix that later. When she felt the tree grow to a sufficient size, she stopped. “Thank you,” she said. The tree’s magic pulsed again, and the blue pulled away from her, back into the wood. Twilight let her own magic recede. She took a step forward, ready to go upstairs and survey the changes she’d made, when her left foreleg gave out and she stumbled. She felt drained, more exhausted than she’d ever been after a spell. The door from the first floor of the library opened, and Twilight could see Spike looking down the stairs at her. “Twilight!” he said. “I could see the light from Carousel Boutique! Are you all right?” Twilight stood up, her knees trembling, but holding for now. “I’m fine,” she said. “Can you get some paper, though? I want to write the Princess a letter.” Discord Days: Lyra and Bon-BonFrom the prompt, "Discord Days, a collection of short stories concerning the misadventures of the ponies other than the mane six during Discord's brief reign," by Reddit user Nagashizuri. *** “Get out!” she screamed, hurling a rather expensive vase at the unicorn. Lyra ducked, and the vase shattered against the wall. Bits of broken porcelain rained down on the floor, tiny pieces stinging Lyra’s back. “What’s going on?” Lyra said. The pain in Bon-Bon’s voice was clear, and hurt worse than if she’d actually hit the unicorn with the vase. “What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon took a plate from the counter and threw that as well. “You know exactly what’s wrong!” But Lyra didn’t. She thought back over her day, tried to find what she might have done to make Bon-Bon so upset. Today wasn’t supposed to be any different than yesterday. They had said specifically that they weren’t going to do anything very special for their anniversary, just a nice dinner. Bon-Bon had decided to make a nice daffodil salad, and Lyra offered to go out to purchase the ingredients. The two of them had made this same plan dozens of times. What had been different? Well, besides the obvious… *** The first thing she’d done was head to the market. The day was a normal one. The clouds were maybe a little darker than she would like, but they weren’t planning a picnic, so rain was fine. She grabbed an umbrella just in case. Always happy to support a friend’s business, Lyra stopped first at Carrot Top’s stand. The earth pony was sitting behind a dazzling array of the orange vegetables, absent-mindedly tapping a hoof on the table. Her ears perked up when she saw Lyra approach. “Well, how’s life treating you?” Carrot Top said jovially. “You seem chipper this morning.” Lyra nodded, grinning. “It’s me and Bon-Bon’s anniversary. She’s making dinner for us tonight!” Carrot Top nodded approvingly. “Congrats,” she said. “You’re interested in some carrots, then?” She picked out a few of the freshest and knocked some dirt off the sides. “Take these.” She held up a hoof when Lyra took out her bag of bits. “Consider it an anniversary present.” Surprised, Lyra waited a few moments, then said, “Thanks!” She levitated the carrots into her saddlebag. “Hey, come by the shop tomorrow. I’ll have Bon-Bon save you some of those truffles you like.” Carrot Top smiled, but then waved her on. “I don’t like the look of those clouds,” she said, her eyes on the sky. “You should hurry if you want to get home before it starts to rain.” Indeed, the clouds did seem to threaten rain. They were heavier, and had begun to clump into solid formations. Which was strange, since Lyra couldn’t see any weather ponies shepherding them. The air smelled wet, too. Lyra hurried around the market, but felt the tell-tale droplets of water on her back before she was even halfway done with the rest of her purchases. “Oh hay,” she said. She reached into her bag to take out the umbrella to shield herself from the rain, but realized with a start that it wasn’t water at all. She opened her mouth and let a drop fall on her tongue. It tasted like… Chocolate milk? But that made no sense! And the clouds were pink. Was somepony playing a joke? “Achoo!” A loud sneeze echoed behind her. “Achoo!” Lyra turned around to see a pink-coated pony with a darker pink mane. “Berry!” she said. Berry Punch, for that was the source of the sneezes, looked at her. The earth pony’s eyes were red and teary, her nose raw from sneezing, but she brightened when she saw Lyra. “Hey, I just don’t know what’s going on with me today. It must be allergies, or something.” Berry sneezed again. Lyra rummaged though her bag for a tissue, but as she levitated it to her stricken friend, a question about the chocolate milk rain half-formed on her lips, Lyra saw something that made her realize for sure that today wasn’t a normal day at all. “What is that!” Lyra said, gesturing above Berry’s head with a hoof. “What is what?” Berry twisted her head back and forth quizzically, trying to see what Lyra saw. The pepper shaker shook again, and a cloud of pepper fell on Berry’s head. The pony sneezed again, so violently that all four of her hooves left the ground. She rubbed her nose. “Excuse me!” she said, then looked up again. “I don’t see anything. Wait, where are you going?” “I have to get home!” Lyra called over her shoulder as she galloped down the cobblestone street. Something strange was going on in Ponyville. Bon-Bon, she thought, and she increased her pace. *** Getting home proved to be more difficult than she expected. For one thing, every pony in town seemed to have that idea, and the streets were filled with ponies jostling each other, trying to maneuver around the others to find their own house. Cherry Berry actually collided with her at top speed, knocking both ponies to the ground. Before Lyra could regain her wits to apologize, Cherry was on her hooves, shrieking and running away as a herd of long-legged rabbits pursued her. But besides the crowd, the roads themselves were becoming more impassible. No longer flat, the cobblestones had turned to blue linoleum and were bulging and sinking randomly. Lyra found herself climbing instead of walking half the time. When she reached the home she shared with her marefriend, she breathed a sigh of relief. The yellow-thatched roof and brown-trimmed house was undisturbed. Lyra stopped at the door and surveyed the rest of the street. Some houses were upside-down. To the left, it seemed like two houses had joined into one, the smaller slowly sinking into the larger. And plenty of houses weren’t there at all. Lyra opened the door. Perhaps the chaos hadn’t extended to her own home after all. With a crack, a jagged streak appeared in the ground in front the doorstep, and the house was lifted right out of the ground, taking Lyra with it. Lyra flung herself inside and slammed the door. When it felt like the house would lift any higher or fall back down suddenly, Lyra let out the breath she’d been holding. She stood up and looked around. The foyer looked as it always did, dark hardwood floors and hooks for their saddlebags. The smell of cocoa hung in the air. Shakily, her heart still beating quick in her chest, Lyra called out, “Bon-Bon? Are you home?” “Oh,” said a voice from the kitchen that couldn’t possibly be Bon-Bon’s, “you finally made it back. Took you long enough.” Lyra trotted hesitantly into the kitchen, nervous that she would see a ballet-dancing buffalo in the place of her beloved. But the same cream-colored mare was standing at the counter as she always was, bits of chocolate in her pink-and-blue mane. “Thank Celestia,” Lyra breathed, and she dashed to Bon-Bon and threw her forelegs around her, Lyra’s saddlebags falling to the ground with a plop. Bon-Bon tensed, and pushed Lyra away. The unicorn stared back, confused. “How dare you?” Bon-Bon said. “How dare you?” “How dare I what?” Lyra took a step forward, but Bon-Bon took a step back. “I don’t understand.” Rage boiled up across Bon-Bon’s face. “Get out!” she screamed, and the mare picked up a porcelain vase - a wedding present from Berry Punch - and threw it as hard as she could at Lyra. Lyra dodged. “What’s going on?” she said. “What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon took a plate from the counter and threw that too. “You know exactly what’s wrong!” Lyra caught the plate with magic and set it down gently. “I saw you out there, I saw you with her!” With who? Lyra thought. Did she see me run into Cherry Berry? What is she talking about? More objects flew towards her, and Lyra let go of her train of thought. “Listen to me, Bon-Bon,” she said, but Bon-Bon was past listening to her or to anyone. “I hate you!” she screamed, her voice gutteral Tears were coming from the earth mare’s eyes and her body was shaking with sobs. She took a china dish, inherited from Bon-Bon’s own grandmother, and readied it to throw. “Enough,” said Lyra. She immobilized Bon-Bon with her magic, holding her and the plate in place. Bon-Bon strained against the magic, pushing at the bonds with such strength that Lyra knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her long. Lyra walked over to the mare who stared at her with such hatred and anger in her eyes, and touched her gently on the cheek. Bon-Bon froze, and Lyra took the earth pony in her forelegs and sat them both on the ground, cradling her. Bon-Bon was tense, all of her muscles contracted as though the mare was about to run, but Lyra let the magical constraints fade. She sensed that Bon-Bon would make no further movement. “Whatever you think I did,” Lyra said, “I promise you I didn’t.” The window over the sink was open, and Lyra looked through it as she held her partner. Several pies floated upwards into a green sky. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but something about the realness of having a tortured Bon-Bon in her lap kept her grounded. “There’s something really, really wrong going on in Ponyville. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve seen some of the strangest things today. I saw an ear of corn turn into an actual ear! So whatever it is you saw, I can tell you right now that it wasn’t real. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you, for Celestia’s sake!” The mare in her forelegs sniffed. “I just, I was looking out the window and I saw you and you were-” but Lyra shushed her before she could go any further. “It wasn’t real,” she said. Bon-Bon nodded, and her muscles relaxed. She leaned into Lyra, letting the unicorn comfort her. Lyra brushed her hair with a hoof and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. There was a tremendous bang from inside Lyra’s saddlebags. The carrots she had bought earlier spilled out onto the ground and, shifting in shape and color, turned into a pile steaming, yellow waffles. As the two ponies watched, a pair of tomatoes rolled out of the bag, sprouting fingers and wings. The tomatoes clutched the waffles, lifted up into the air, and flew out the window. Lyra and Bon-Bon turned to face each other, their mouths hanging open in shock. “All right,” said Lyra. “What we’re going to do now is get upstairs, go lie down in bed with the blanket over our heads, and wait for Princess Celestia or Twilight Sparkle to sort this out.” Bon-Bon nodded mutely. A Loving QueenFrom the image Chrysalis Hive, by Raikoh-illust. *** This time of the cycle was the most boring. The eggs were laid, resting quietly in the cavities prepared for them. Most of the drones were dead, their purpose served. A select few remained, to bring her food while she recovered from the egg-laying process. These changelings were currently away, scouring the desert that surrounded the hive for small animals to bring to their queen. Chrysalis craved meat right now, protein to replace that which she’d lost to the egg-laying process. And so Chrysalis waited alone in the hive. Movement was difficult right now. Her body was still sore, muscles aching and joints tender, so she usually spent this time lunging on the sponge floor of her royal quarters. This time, though, Chrysalis forced herself to rise, ignoring the screaming of her body, and move. Her room was dark and small, the walls and ceiling punctuated with holes that let in some of the electric-green light from the outside. Chrysalis walked through the circular doorway and into the tunnel. These hallways wormed around and throughout the body of the hive like blood vessels, sloping and squirming up the towering bulk with no guidance from those that inhabited its depths. The changelings made the hive their home, but the hive made its own decisions. Chrysalis stalked the tunnels of the hive, going generally downwards until she reached the egg chamber. The room was expansive, extending deep into the hive, but short. Chrysalis could have scraped the ceiling with her horn if she wanted. The eggs themselves, smell green globes that glowed from within, were scattered about the room. Piles had formed, with ten to fifteen eggs stacked together in a rough pyramid shape. In the very center, Chrysalis could see a pool of liquid that fluoresced the same green as the eggs. The hive created this elixir to nourish the changelings, but after egg-laying, it was all diverted here for the hatchlings to enjoy. One of the eggs was no longer glowing. Chrysalis levitated it up to her face and stared into it. She could make out the dark shape of her child through the semi-translucent shell, black against the green of the egg. In the floating depths, it turned to face her. Chrysalis laughed, the sound louder in the silence of the hive, and placed the egg on the ground. This one was ready. As she waited, a dull scratching noise rose from the egg. It grew louder, more insistent, and then the tip of a black horn, still glistening with embryonic fluids, broke through the surface of the shell. It hesitated, then withdrew back into the egg. After a moment, the horn returned, chipping away at the shell around the hole. Chrysalis watched intently. The newborn changeling, having cut a large hole in the egg, pushed through, squeezing past the jagged edges until it fell unceremoniously to the ground. It mewled weakly, its eyes still shut tight. Its body looked weak, tiny, with no wings and just a stub of a horn. Chrysalis took the foal, slippery and wet, in one leg and walked to the center of the room. She lay down next to the pool, cradling the changeling and cooing to it gently. The queen dipped a hoof into the green liquid and then withdrew it. She held the hoof over the foal and let some of the nourishing juices slide down into its mouth. “Drink,” Chrysalis said, and she smiled wide, showing all of her fangs. The foal opened its mouth and sucked some of the fluid in. Its face relaxed and it stopped crying. Once it had drunk its fill, the foal curled up and slept. Chrysalis let it slide to the ground and stood up. Around her, many of the other eggs had gone dark. Soon, the room would be alive with sound and movement, as newborn changelings stumbled and slid their way towards the pool, where they would drink, and grow. This clutch, the product of Shining Armor’s most powerful form of love, would be the strongest Chrysalis had ever birthed. Enhanced strength, intelligence, disguise, better in every way than the brood that preceded them. With them, her next attack on Equestria could not possibly fail. Chrysalis looked down at the tiny changeling sleeping in the electric-green light of the pool. With her, and her hundreds of sisters, the changelings would defeat the ponies. They would never go hungry again. What is Real?From the question, "What is real?" by Tumblr user drumblastingquilava. *** Twilight took a mouthful of water from the glass next to her. She let the liquid roll around in her mouth, wetting her dry tongue and the insides of her cheeks. She swallowed, relishing the feeling of cool water in her parched throat. It was eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning, and she hadn’t slept since Saturday. “Hello, Twilight! How ya doing?” The unicorn tried to turn towards the voice and gasp in shock, but her exhaustion-addled brain screwed up the signals somewhere along the line. Her head twisted one way and her body jerked another, and Twilight fell over flat on her face. She let out a low groan as the pink pony who had appeared so suddenly let out a snort of laughter. “How do you do that?” Twilight said as she struggled back up to her hooves. She took another drink of water and then put her face down on the table. In truth, Twilight couldn’t really bring herself to care how Pinkie could pop up like that. She needed a huge helping of sleep and food right now, and Sugarcube Corner was the best place to get one of those. Pinkie grinned widely, closing her eyes and showing bright white teeth. “Magic!” she said, still chortling at the joke. “Wait,” she said, calming down now. “You don’t look so good.” There were no mirrors immediately accessible, but Twilight knew Pinkie was right. Her mane and coat were hopelessly disheveled, her tail was sticking out in all directions, and there were bags under her bloodshot eyes. If she weren’t starving, and if Spike weren’t asleep from staying up late to help her, Twilight wouldn’t have gone outside at all. “Why do you look so sleepy?” Pinkie asked, eyebrow raised. “I’m making a spell,” Twilight said. “I’ve mastered a lot of spells, but I’ve never actually created one before.” She winced as she remember the explosion from the previous night. After this was over, she was going to have to do a lot of cleaning. “I’ve been working on it for three days straight and I’m nowhere near close to finishing.” She groaned. “I don’t know what to do. Every single thing I try blows up in my face. None of my books are the slightest help, and even the Princess’s advice is confusing to me. It’s like everything I thought I knew about magic was wrong. I don’t even know what’s real and what’s not anymore.” Pinkie Pie smiled down at her friend. It was a warm smile this time, not coming from the burning fires of passion that Pinkie kept stoked at all times for impromptu party needs, but from the part of herself that remembered her friends’ birthdays and favorite colors and foods and told her when somepony close to her needed a hug. And such a time was now. Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around the unicorn and squeezed her tight. “I’m real,” Pinkie said, “and you’re real, and our friendship is real.” Twilight didn’t say anything, just smiled blearily into Pinkie’s fur. The earth mare smelled like flour. “And…” Pinkie Pie brought up her hoof with a dramatic flourish as she pulled away from the hug, “this muffin is real!” She placed the pastry in front of Twilight, who unwrapped it and immediately dug in. “I put a couple more in this bag here. After you finish that one, you’re going right to sleep.” “But, but I have to finish my work,” Twilight mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. Pinkie narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to take you back home and tuck you into bed myself!” she said. Twilight stared into her eyes for a moment, until she was sure Pinkie was steadfast, and then nodded. “You’re right, Pinkie. I’ll go to bed.” “Great!” Pinkie jumped up and bounced her way to the counter to talk to Mrs. Cake about taking a short break. Twilight took the bag of muffins and tucked it into her saddlebag. “Friendship really is real, isn’t it?” she said, to no one in particular. Blueblood's not so BadFrom the comment, "Considering that the fake Princess Cadence was a huge jerk, too, I'm worried that the real Prince Blueblood is still trapped somewhere in those mines..." by Reddit user q_3. *** He wasn't sure how long he'd been down here. At first, he'd tried to count the days by making a notch on the wall every time he went to sleep, but after twenty marks he realized he was sleeping less and less each time. The notches were still on a rock face somewhere, but he couldn't find them anymore and didn't really care to. It was just another monument to the mistakes he'd made. Blueblood stood wearily and trotted over to the stalactite that supplied him with water. He sat underneath it and let the cool water fall onto his tongue, drip by agonizing drip. At first he could hardly stand the taste, like rolling rocks around in his mouth, but now, he craved the cool sweetness of the water, the only pure thing he had. For food, Blueblood could find mushrooms that grew in the dankest, darkest reaches of the caves. He choked them down willingly, for each revolting mouthful meant another day of life, another moment closer towards the search party finding him. There was going to be a search party, of course, once they realized that thing couldn't possibly be him. She had tricked him, pretended to be a Duchess from Hoofington in Canterlot for the upcoming Gala. He let his guard down for a single night (she had been quite beautiful, and, persistent), let her be with him alone, and then she had turned into a perfect copy of him, right down to the voice. Startled and confused, she'd gotten the drop on him, and in a flash of green flame Blueblood was gone, drawn into the belly of the mountain. Some part of Blueblood still burned to find her, to have his hooves at her throat for what she'd done to him, for the hell he was going through now, but the larger side of him knew it was useless. His mouth full, Blueblood swallowed the acrid water and fell heavily to the floor. No one was coming for him. Then, all of a sudden, a crash, and voices! Blueblood jerked upright in a flash. It sounded like, singing? Who could be singing? Blueblood thought, but rushed towards the noise as best he could in the dim light of the mines. Twisting and winding the path went, until Blueblood came into a massive cavern. Gemstones glittered in the walls and ceiling, and the sound of singing was growing closer. "Hello!?" Blueblood called. "Can you hear me?!" From the opposite side of the cave came a loud bang as a minecart struck a barrier. Two ponies were launched up in the air and over Blueblood's head. Wings outstretched, one pony carried the other to a ledge. "Down here!" Blueblood said, but before he could reach them, the two ponies had teleported, and were gone. Blueblood stared up at the place the two ponies had been, his mouth hanging open. His legs collapsed underneath him. He wasn't very powerful, he couldn't climb a sheer cliff, or teleport that far. There was no escape, now that the only living beings he'd seen in who knew how long were gone. There would be no escape for Blueblood. He only hoped that those above would remember him and think of him kindly, as the generous, caring stallion he had always striven to be. LunaloneFrom the image Alone in the Night, by Jamey4. *** The night was hers to command. With the slightest gesture, she could drop the moon behind the horizon, swirl the stars until the night looked like someone had shaken up a cup of sand and spilled the tiny pieces of glass across the sky. She could see everything the moonlight touched, travel anyplace in an instant on a moonbeam. Dreams were hers, and hopes and loves and furtive secrets whispered in the latest hour. Such power was her, to wield and hold and bear forever, and yet, here she was, on an empty cliff, alone. Ponies didn't sleep all through the night now. Things happened at night, that couldn't happen during the day. There were parties, and discotechs, music and movement that was unthinkable in the mellow light of the day. Her night was loved for the protection it provided, for the chance the night gave to letting one's wildest desires become reality, to letting one's self go and become one with the heavy rhythm of the stars. So many were thankful for the night and what Luna gave, and yet, here she was, with the full moon at her back, alone. The Princess of the Night looked heavenward, at all the beauty of her creation, night stretching on forever, and felt her insignificance in it. She was a small, tiny thing, adrift in a sea of infinite space with nothing to anchor her. She stood up and fluffed her wings, preparing to take off in search of... something. She didn't know what, but she couldn't stay here all night. "Hello?" A voice was calling up to her from far down below. It was timid, searching. Luna stared down and saw a small figure, its shadow long in the harsh moonlight, coming towards her. Even at this distance, Luna recognized the dusky coat and mane of Twilight Sparkle. What was her sister's student doing out so late at night, this far out of the city limits of Canterlot? "Up here, Twilight Sparkle!" Luna called, her voice echoing against the ground and coming back to her weak and distorted. The pony figure raised its head at the sound and saw Luna standing on the cliff. "Hello, Princess Luna! Do you mind if I come up?" "We would be honored!" There was a purple flash, and Twilight disappeared, only to reappear with a bang a second later at Luna's side. "What dost thou desire?" Luna asked. "Why dost thou leave the safety of thy home at such an hour as this?" The unicorn giggled, her voice like the chiming of bells. "I wanted to do some star-gazing, and Princess Celestia said you might be out here. Who better to watch stars with than the one who created them?" Twilight suddenly looked anxious. "I mean, do you have time? You don't have to." Luna smiled. "I have all the time in the world." She sat next to the mare, her friend, and stared up at her stars. The night did not seem quite so infinite anymore. An OrchardFrom the prompt, "Write an Appledash story about how Granny Smith is too old-fashioned to accept a love between two mares and kicks Applejack out of the house," by Reddit user Backupusername. *** “You gotta do it, there, Applejack. There ain’t nothin’ else for it.” Applejack stared into the living room, her hooves unable to take another step. Applebloom was off crusading with her friends. They’d said something about rodeo cutie marks before they disappeared with several length’s of her rope, so Applejack figured they’d be tied up for a while. Big Mac was in town, his turn to work the stall at market, and it being mid-afternoon, the stallion would be neck deep in customers right now. There wasn’t going to be a better time than this. “So why can’t Ah go in there and tell her?” Applejack chanced a peek around the door frame, and sure enough, there was Granny Smith, knitting away at a scarf or sweater or some such. The grizzled mare hummed as she worked, some aimless tune that AJ couldn’t place. The afternoon light was inching its way towards her through the western window, and in an hour or two, Granny would be fast asleep in her rocking chair. There wasn’t any better time than now. Her hooves still frozen in place, AJ watched the scene for a minute, then another, and another. The swath of knitted fabric got longer and longer, and Granny Smith still rocked back and forth, back and forth. A stray breath of wind blew in through the window, catching a glass mobile Applebloom had built in school. The teardrop crystals spun on the string, throwing tiny rainbows across the ground as they caught the sun. Applejack took a deep breath and entered the room. Granny Smith didn’t even notice her granddaughter was there, until the younger pony was standing in front of her, coughing to announce her presence. “Oh, hey there, Applejack,” Granny Smith said. “Yew all done with chores? “You bet,” Applejack said. She grinned wide. Too wide. She pursed her lips together, hoping Granny Smith wouldn’t think the grin was weird. “Ah milked the cows this morning, slopped the hogs, done all the bucking for today.” She had, too. Trying to work out all the nervous tension this moment was bringing, she’d bucked twice as many apples as she’d hoped, and finished what was supposed to be a full day’s work in a couple of hours. Her legs knew it, too, and now Applejack could feel the strength in her legs melting away. Granny Smith must have seen that, because she motioned towards the couch with a flick of her head and said, “Why don’ cha sit down, then? Take a load off them dogs!” The elderly mare guffawed loudly, and Applejack sunk down onto the couch. Granny Smith went back to clicking away with her knitting needles. Sitting on the couch, Applejack breathed in, then exhaled slowly, steeling herself up for what she was about to say. She could smell her own sweat, mixed in with the sharp scent of fresh apples and dirt. It was a comforting smell, one she’d been around all her life. “Ah have somethin’ Ah need to tell you,” she said. Nothing happened. Granny Smith didn’t look up from her knitting, no timberwolves howled, the world didn’t end. The rocking chair squeaked a little. “Ah, uh, Ah don’t rightly know how to say this.” Applejack took off her hat and began turning it over and over in her hooves, feeling the worn leather of the brim. Her father’s old hat. “Well, spit it out, girl. Ah ain’t getting any younger.” “Ah, Ah, Ah like mares, okay?” There, it was out. Applejack braced for the incoming torrent. But there was nothing. When Applejack looked up, Granny Smith was still knitting away. In the dirt outside, Winona yawned loudly. “Ain’t you gonna say nothin’?” Applejack asked. “Ah thought you might, Ah dunno, get mad, or somethin’.” “Ain’t news to nopony but yerself, girl.” “What?” Applejack said. “It’s that rainbow gal from town, ain’t it? Y’all spend ‘bout all yer time together.” Applejack blushed. A memory of a multi-colored mane and the smell of rain crossed her mind. “Yeah,” she said breathily. “It’s her.” A smile rose unbidden to her lips. “Say, Ah thought for sure you’d yell at me at least. Ah’m glad you’re okay with this.” “Ah ain’t said that.” The blood froze in Applejack’s body. Her lungs struggled to inhale. It was like someone had socked her a good one right in the gut. After a momentous struggle, Applejack finally managed to squeak out a “What?” Granny Smith put down her knitting and looked at the now-petrified young mare. “Ah knew Ah’d have this talk with yew sooner or later. Hoped Ah wouldn’t, but knew Ah would all the same.” Applejack waited as Granny Smith leaned back, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. “What’s the most important thing to ya, girl?” “You are,” Applejack answered with some confusion but no hesitation. “You, and Applebloom, and Big Macintosh.” “That’s right.” The old mare nodded, head bobbing up and down like a tree branch, bobbing in the wind. “Family. Family’s what’s important.” Granny’s voice was calm, more collected, stronger, than Applejack had heard in a long time. “The Apple Family, that’s like an orchard. Yer uncle Strudel’s a tree out in Hoofington. Brown Betty and her kids over in Fillydelphia, that’s another tree. Even Braeburn’s a little saplin’ over in Appleloosa. “And ev’ry one of them is gonna grow, each branch grows its own little Apples, and they become the new trees in our orchard. Right here, yew, me, yer sis and Big Mac, we’re our own tree. ‘Tain’t much, just a few small branches. Ah ‘bout thought we were done fer, when yer parents passed. Ah’m old, dried up. Ah ain’t got no more fruit in me. And our tree’s gotta grow, or it ain’t gonna live.” Granny Smith stared hard at her granddaughter. “Yer brother, he’s a kind soul, but he ain’t gonna buck anythin’ that ain’t a tree. And yer sister, still jus’ a filly. What’s she gonna do when she finds out her big sis she loves so much is a fillyfooler? That girl thinks the world of ya, always tryin’ on yer hat, playin’ with yer rope and puttin’ on yer ribbons when she thinks yew ain’t lookin’. Think she’ll want to settle down, have kids? No, by Celestia, this family’s had hard enough times, and this, you’ll be killin’ it.” Granny Smith groped next to the rocking chair until she found her walker. She heaved herself up out of the chair and began moving with slow, steady steps outside. “Ah’m gonna go set in the sun a bit. Yew, go on and think powerful hard ‘bout this. Yew decide yew want to live yer life with no thought to the sweat yer family put into makin’ this farm, the blood yer own two parents poured into these trees. If that don’t mean nothin’ to ya, and yew can let our family die, Ah don’t wanna see yew again. The res’ of us got along well enough when you had that ‘cherry’ fixation a’ yers, we’ll be fine without ya. If’n yew decide you really do love yer family, Ah’ll see you in church tomorrow.” When Applejack joined the other Apples at Sunday service, she said nothing to her grandmother, and her grandmother said nothing in return. And when she and Rainbow Dash suddenly stopped speaking to each other, not even the staunchest assault by her friends could convince Applejack to explain. And when Applebloom asked why Applejack didn’t have a very special somepony, Applejack just said that she hadn’t find the right stallion yet, and left it at that. And life went on at Sweet Apple Acres as it always had, and if anypony wondered why Applejack went inside whenever she happened to see a rainbow, nopony asked. Weapons of WarFrom the prompt, "I need a decent explanation for how a pony could wield a sword. And do so well enough to be on par with a human," by Reddit user TheDarkman67. *** "And then you press this here-" Rarity indicated a small latch on the side of the cuff "-and the blade will pop into position." She held the weapon up to Applejack, who took it hesitantly in her mouth. "Um nah sure abou' thish," she mumbled. The cloth binding of the strap tasted awful, and she fumbled trying to loop it around her hoof. Rarity smiled. "Let me help you with that, my dear." A blue glow encircled the weapon and lifted it gently out of Applejack's mouth, leaving a faint tingling on the earth pony's tongue. "Now hold up your hoof, that's a good filly." Applejack raised her right leg and Rarity fixed the loop around it. Tugging on the end, Rarity tightened the strap and nodded. She stared expectantly at her friend, who was looking at the blade confused. "Well, go on," Rarity said. "Give it a try." Applejack put her hoof on the ground, stomped a few times to make sure it wouldn't come loose, and then pressed the latch. The blade slid smoothly and quickly into position. It was about six inches long. She gave a few quick passes through the air with it. The blade was sharp, and whistled through the air. "How's it feel?" Rarity asked. "Pretty darn good," Applejack said. She reared back on her hind legs and slashed at an invisible opponent. "Excellent. Not too tight, or anything?" Applejack shook her head, still focused on the shadowboxing. "There are just a few things you should know about it," Rarity continued. "It's more of a cutting weapon than a stabbing weapon. If you put too much force onto the point, say, if you tried walking on that leg with the blade out, it'll retract back into the sheath. As soon as you remove the pressure, the blade comes out again. You can stab with it, but if you hit armor or bone, the knife will retract." "Uh huh, yeah, sure." AJ was on three hooves, jumping backwards and forwards and jabbing at the shadowy assailant. "And one more thing, Applejack, and do pay attention now." AJ stopped fighting and turned to stare at her friend. Rarity glared down her nose at the dusty cowpony. "I made that specifically for you," she said. "Don't get it dirty!" TrixicornFrom the image Alicorn Trixie, by KriahFox. *** "What a beautiful day it was today!" Twilight said. She was staring up at the sky. "Don't you think so, Spike? Spike?" The dragon sitting on her back gave no reply. Twilight chuckled. The poor little guy was probably tuckered out. It had been a long day, after all. "Aren't you glad we got all those books back?" she said, still trotting along back towards the library. It was starting to get dark, so Twilight picked up her speed. "I really have to improve the library's history section. It's just criminal that we don't have anything about Ponyville's founding." "Twilight?" Her dragon was tapping her on the back. "What is it?" "Maybe you should turn around." Twilight cocked an eyebrow, but did as Spike suggested. And then she saw what he was referring to. A dark figure was approaching in the sky. It was hard to make out its exact nature, as the shape was silhouetted against the setting sun, but Twilight thought it might be a pony. Rainbow Dash? No, the shape was too large and thin to be Rainbow Dash. The pony approached, making straight for Twilight. Twilight, eager to meet this new pony, sat down and waited. Spike, not paying enough attention, lost his hand-hold and fell with a smack on the ground. "Who do you think it is?" Twilight hissed to her assistant. She wasn't quite sure why she was whispering, but then the pony landed, and all her questions were answered. There was a loud bang, and then a dozen firecrackers exploded at once, showering the street with light and sparks. Pinwheels whizzed overhead, and neon dragons danced through flaming hoops. Geometric shapes formed and morphed and combined to form new figures. They were all entirely illusory. That's some serious magical ability, Twilight thought. She wasn't even sure if she herself was capable of such control. "That was quite an entrance," Twilight said, feeling great admiration for the mysterious pony. "Who are you?" The pony stepped forward, and Twilight could see her for the first time. The oddest thing wasn't the regalia she wore, the crown, chest-plate and hoof-shoes that normally signified royalty. It wasn't even the fact that the pony had wings and a horn. Twilight had seen that before, knew the wings-and-horn combination better than anypony else in Equestria. No, the strangest, weirdest, most confusing thing about the situation was the pony all these things belonged to. "Hello, Twilight," Trixie said. "Still think you're better than the Great and Powerful Trixie?"
The Buccaneer BlazeFrom the image CRISIS: Rainbow Dash, by StarlightSpark. *** Rainbow Dash could taste the lightning on her tongue. That was the thing about controlling lightning: it got everywhere. You could kick a cloud and get a little jolt in your feet and up your legs. Hell, the Wonderbolts let it trail along behind them during some of their performances. But when you were controlling it, really taking it by the reins and making it yours, lightning flooded your entire being. There was no better feeling to Rainbow Dash. Not pulling off a wicked trick, not a kiss from a long-time crush - even the Sonic Rainboom (old hat now for Equestria's Number One trick-pony) was second-best to lightning. Snow flakes were whipping through the air around her. Rainbow could feel the cold biting at her wings as she dropped. Winter was the best time to try for lightning. Something about the cold made the electricity flow better, made it more squishable, or something. Rainbow had tried to explain it to Twilight, but the egghead'd lost herself in a book trying to figure out what Rainbow meant. The pegasus laughed to herself, sparks dancing across her teeth. Twilight meant well, but books were no help up here. Flaring her wings wide, Rainbow pulled up out of the dive and soared back into the clouds. Darkness pressed in on every side, the clouds angry and bursting with frost and electric force. Above the storm now, she looked over the rippling waves of black and grey, and grinned. She'd built up an intense negative charge on several passes through the storm, and now it was time for the finishing move. Rainbow pointed her hooves, tucked her wings in, and fell. Gravity caught her almost immediately and her organs gave up trying to stay inside her. She loved the thrill of falling, of knowing that there was nothing between herself and certain death but her own two wings. Clouds burst around her as she plummeted into the storm. Her mane and tail were crackling behind her, and she knew just what to do. She spread her wings and legs, letting as much of her body touch the sky as she could. Electricity flowed into her like water into an empty glass, filling every part of her completely. It was pulsing in her hooves, pounding in her eyes, dancing between her feathers and then back to her tail. No more waiting. No more preparing. A cyan streak in the sky, the mare fell again, this time clear of the cloud layer and towards the ground. Almost there, she thought. Wind streamed over her, coat bristling with static. Almost there! She hit halfway between the ground and the storm and flung her wings out wide, bringing herself to a complete halt. The charge, built up to impossible levels, now had a place to go. Several bolts coursed out of her and fled towards the ground, sending up huge plumes of dirt where they struck the empty field. Another arced across the sky to strike a tree, which burst very suddenly into flame. Still more went back up into the clouds, disappearing with a roar of thunder into the place that birthed them. And all at once, it was over. Rainbow, her ears deaf and rose-colored eyes blind, corkscrewed down to earth, wings catching random gusts and twisting her body here and there. Fear tried to creep up out of her gut, which had suddenly decided it was inside her after all, but Rainbow squashed it. This was all part of the trick. In a moment, her vision cleared and she landed crazily (but safely) on the ground. She sunk down into the ground and let the snowflakes land on her back. There wasn't a single part of her that didn't ache, that didn't cry for the warmth of a blanket and the softness of her cloud bed, but Rainbow didn't move. It was a hard thing, controlling lightning. It needed a certain finesse, and willingness to risk everything, to throw yourself on the mercy of the storm. It took a lot out of you. In a minute, she would get up and walk back into town, find Twilight, or Pinkie Pie, or even Rarity, and spend the night there. She'd tell them all about this tomorrow. Pinkie'd probably throw a party for her. But for now, she let the wind and fury of the storm wash over her.
HarmonicFrom the image Knowledge is Power, by FoxInShadow *** The chalk was dry, and dusty, and using it kicked flakes up into the air that tickled Twilight’s nose, but she scraped it along the ground under the guide of the ruler and connected one side of the octagon to the other. Finished, she set the chalk and the ruler off to the side and stepped into the center of the shape, careful not to disturb any of the lines she’d spent the last two hours mapping and tracing. She had double- and triple-checked every other piece, and now she was ready. The basement was dark, the only light coming from a half-dozen candles. She’d pushed all of her scientific machines and extraneous equipment to the edges of the room to clear out a space large enough to work in. Spike was gone, off for the time being at Rarity’s, with specific instructions to stay gone until she called him back. Twilight had never done a spell this large before, and there was no telling what might happen if it went wrong. Her horn lit up, a purple glow enshrouding it and a yellow and brown book. She lifted the book to face level and opened it to the middle. In the months previous, Twilight had prepared several of the spells from this book, spells to turn water into sarsaparilla, to change apples into pears (Applejack hadn’t been too happy about that), as she slowly worked her way up to this. Transformation magic was difficult enough as it was, but causing a permanent change, one that wouldn’t revert at midnight, was impossible without the additions the book described. “Remember to whisper,” she reminded herself, and then she began to read. The book was written in turformen, the cursive script of the High Equestrian language, but Twilight was well-versed in the language and had already prepared a translation. “Listen to me,” she said quietly. “I have looked into you. I understand you. I ask this of you.” Light poured into her horn from within her, causing it to glow and release a burst of energy that snuffed out the candles. The room went dark. Her horn glowed again, and the words in the book echoed in response, the shapes and lines lighting up with their own purple streak. Beneath her hooves, the lines she had etched in chalk flared purple, starting in the center and racing outward until they reached the edges of the octagon. The symbols surrounding the shape took up the color as well. Though she could not see them, all over the tree, triangles, circles, and hash marks flared with purple light. Twilight nodded, confident that her preparations had been adequate, and continued. “You are small,” she said. “You have lived much, and yet you are small. Listen to me, and grow.” The patterns in the book lifted up, separating from the page to float in the air. With a thought, Twilight pushed them until they were orbiting around her in two concentric circles. The spell was ready, everything in place, the entire tree thrumming with contained energy, and Twilight said one more word: “Grow.” Like a dam bursting, power rushed out of Twilight and into the ground and air around her. It soaked into the walls, speeding up into the trunk of the tree, out through the branches and ending in the leaves. Through her magic, Twilight was connected to every part of the tree in which she resided. With a nod of her head, Twilight activated the spell, forcing her magic into the tree. But then the tree pushed back. Blue light entered the symbols she had drawn, a cyan wave sweeping over her own magenta. It rushed down into the basement, where it slowly converted the purple into blue. With a gasp, Twilight pushed to counteract it. The book fell to the floor, forgotten, as Twilight tried to stem the oncoming flood, but she failed. The blue light struck her, knocking her from her feet, and darkness overtook her. Opening her eyes, Twilight could see the floor of the basement, bathed in blue light. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up with her hooves. There was a foreign presence, an “other” magic that was clashing strongly with her own. “I don’t get it,” she said out loud. “If the spell failed, why is there still magic present? What’s going on?” She reached out to try to touch the alien force, but her hoof went through the chalk outline and sunk into the floor. ”What?” She held up a hoof in front of her eyes. She could see the scattered electronics right through it. And there, on the floor, half in and half out of the octagon, was her own body. A nervous twinge went through her body, but she held firm against it. “What’s going on?” All of a sudden, something pushed her from below, and she flew up into the air. She shut her eyes tight as the ceiling loomed close, but when she didn’t feel her body strike the solid roof, she opened her eyes. Ponyville was gone. There were no buildings, no fountains, nothing that would signify that anyone had ever lived on this expanse of land. Even her own treehouse had disappeared. Only grass, long and green, remained. Twilight stared over the scene, floating high in the air. Nothing, the emptiness of a boundless sunny day over a field of green. And then, a sprout. Something had budded out of the ground. A thin yellow stalk with wide leaves peered back at her. There was a brief sensation, as though wind were ruffling her coat, and time began to flow. The stalk grew and grew, bursting at the top with a riot of leaves and color that died each fall and bloomed again in the spring, and widening at the trunk each year until it was huge. Then, around it, other things began to appear, at first a single house with a small plot of farmland, then another, and another, until a dozen houses had joined the first, dotting the countryside with the tree at the center of it all. As the tree grew, so did the town. Twilight watched as a train track appeared, with a station and a market, and houses that grew out from the center until she saw Ponyville as she had first seen it from the back of a pegasus-driven chariot. And there was her tree, just as proud and tall as it ever was. Purple light appeared on the tree, shining out from the windows, replaced by blue. Ponies watched in shock at the magical battle that was taking place inside the library, and then everything stopped. Apparently, Twilight had caught up to the present. ”I think I understand,” Twilight said. The tree hummed in response, its blue light rising and fading and rising again. “You’re part of this, part of Ponyville. You take things at your own pace.” Though the tree did not answer her, Twilight felt that it agreed. “I tried to force you to grow. And I’m sorry. That was wrong. ”But I need a bigger home, and I’d like that home to be where it’s always been, in the center of your trunk. So now, can I ask you, will you grow bigger? Please?” The tree was silent, and Twilight thought that, however illogical the idea might be, that the tree was pondering her request. She waited quietly, staring down at it, until the tree pulsed, its light expanding and growing. Twilight shut her eyes against it. When she opened them, she was back on the floor of the basement, and the lines were glowing purple once more. Closing her eyes, she levitated the book and pushed the magical script from the pages. “Let’s try this again.” Once more, Twilight connected with the tree, but when the rush of blue came, Twilight welcomed it, pulling it into herself. Blue swirled with purple, and Twilight felt a rush of power such as she had never experienced before. She was one with the tree, every part of it was a part of her, and together, they would grow. Twilight flexed a muscle, and roots ripped into the ground, growing and expanding into the soil to provide the nutrients for the larger tree. With a thought, the trunk spilled out like someone inflating a balloon, layer after layer of bark growing, dying, and splitting as the wood bulked out underneath it. New leaves popped into view as branches lengthened, stretching themselves out over the neighboring houses. The inside of the tree shifted as Twilight took the opportunity to carve rooms out of the new wood. Somewhere above her, a bookcase fell over. She would fix that later. When she felt the tree grow to a sufficient size, she stopped. “Thank you,” she said. The tree’s magic pulsed again, and the blue pulled away from her, back into the wood. Twilight let her own magic recede. She took a step forward, ready to go upstairs and survey the changes she’d made, when her left foreleg gave out and she stumbled. She felt drained, more exhausted than she’d ever been after a spell. The door from the first floor of the library opened, and Twilight could see Spike looking down the stairs at her. “Twilight!” he said. “I could see the light from Carousel Boutique! Are you all right?” Twilight stood up, her knees trembling, but holding for now. “I’m fine,” she said. “Can you get some paper, though? I want to write the Princess a letter.”
Discord Days: Lyra and Bon-BonFrom the prompt, "Discord Days, a collection of short stories concerning the misadventures of the ponies other than the mane six during Discord's brief reign," by Reddit user Nagashizuri. *** “Get out!” she screamed, hurling a rather expensive vase at the unicorn. Lyra ducked, and the vase shattered against the wall. Bits of broken porcelain rained down on the floor, tiny pieces stinging Lyra’s back. “What’s going on?” Lyra said. The pain in Bon-Bon’s voice was clear, and hurt worse than if she’d actually hit the unicorn with the vase. “What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon took a plate from the counter and threw that as well. “You know exactly what’s wrong!” But Lyra didn’t. She thought back over her day, tried to find what she might have done to make Bon-Bon so upset. Today wasn’t supposed to be any different than yesterday. They had said specifically that they weren’t going to do anything very special for their anniversary, just a nice dinner. Bon-Bon had decided to make a nice daffodil salad, and Lyra offered to go out to purchase the ingredients. The two of them had made this same plan dozens of times. What had been different? Well, besides the obvious… *** The first thing she’d done was head to the market. The day was a normal one. The clouds were maybe a little darker than she would like, but they weren’t planning a picnic, so rain was fine. She grabbed an umbrella just in case. Always happy to support a friend’s business, Lyra stopped first at Carrot Top’s stand. The earth pony was sitting behind a dazzling array of the orange vegetables, absent-mindedly tapping a hoof on the table. Her ears perked up when she saw Lyra approach. “Well, how’s life treating you?” Carrot Top said jovially. “You seem chipper this morning.” Lyra nodded, grinning. “It’s me and Bon-Bon’s anniversary. She’s making dinner for us tonight!” Carrot Top nodded approvingly. “Congrats,” she said. “You’re interested in some carrots, then?” She picked out a few of the freshest and knocked some dirt off the sides. “Take these.” She held up a hoof when Lyra took out her bag of bits. “Consider it an anniversary present.” Surprised, Lyra waited a few moments, then said, “Thanks!” She levitated the carrots into her saddlebag. “Hey, come by the shop tomorrow. I’ll have Bon-Bon save you some of those truffles you like.” Carrot Top smiled, but then waved her on. “I don’t like the look of those clouds,” she said, her eyes on the sky. “You should hurry if you want to get home before it starts to rain.” Indeed, the clouds did seem to threaten rain. They were heavier, and had begun to clump into solid formations. Which was strange, since Lyra couldn’t see any weather ponies shepherding them. The air smelled wet, too. Lyra hurried around the market, but felt the tell-tale droplets of water on her back before she was even halfway done with the rest of her purchases. “Oh hay,” she said. She reached into her bag to take out the umbrella to shield herself from the rain, but realized with a start that it wasn’t water at all. She opened her mouth and let a drop fall on her tongue. It tasted like… Chocolate milk? But that made no sense! And the clouds were pink. Was somepony playing a joke? “Achoo!” A loud sneeze echoed behind her. “Achoo!” Lyra turned around to see a pink-coated pony with a darker pink mane. “Berry!” she said. Berry Punch, for that was the source of the sneezes, looked at her. The earth pony’s eyes were red and teary, her nose raw from sneezing, but she brightened when she saw Lyra. “Hey, I just don’t know what’s going on with me today. It must be allergies, or something.” Berry sneezed again. Lyra rummaged though her bag for a tissue, but as she levitated it to her stricken friend, a question about the chocolate milk rain half-formed on her lips, Lyra saw something that made her realize for sure that today wasn’t a normal day at all. “What is that!” Lyra said, gesturing above Berry’s head with a hoof. “What is what?” Berry twisted her head back and forth quizzically, trying to see what Lyra saw. The pepper shaker shook again, and a cloud of pepper fell on Berry’s head. The pony sneezed again, so violently that all four of her hooves left the ground. She rubbed her nose. “Excuse me!” she said, then looked up again. “I don’t see anything. Wait, where are you going?” “I have to get home!” Lyra called over her shoulder as she galloped down the cobblestone street. Something strange was going on in Ponyville. Bon-Bon, she thought, and she increased her pace. *** Getting home proved to be more difficult than she expected. For one thing, every pony in town seemed to have that idea, and the streets were filled with ponies jostling each other, trying to maneuver around the others to find their own house. Cherry Berry actually collided with her at top speed, knocking both ponies to the ground. Before Lyra could regain her wits to apologize, Cherry was on her hooves, shrieking and running away as a herd of long-legged rabbits pursued her. But besides the crowd, the roads themselves were becoming more impassible. No longer flat, the cobblestones had turned to blue linoleum and were bulging and sinking randomly. Lyra found herself climbing instead of walking half the time. When she reached the home she shared with her marefriend, she breathed a sigh of relief. The yellow-thatched roof and brown-trimmed house was undisturbed. Lyra stopped at the door and surveyed the rest of the street. Some houses were upside-down. To the left, it seemed like two houses had joined into one, the smaller slowly sinking into the larger. And plenty of houses weren’t there at all. Lyra opened the door. Perhaps the chaos hadn’t extended to her own home after all. With a crack, a jagged streak appeared in the ground in front the doorstep, and the house was lifted right out of the ground, taking Lyra with it. Lyra flung herself inside and slammed the door. When it felt like the house would lift any higher or fall back down suddenly, Lyra let out the breath she’d been holding. She stood up and looked around. The foyer looked as it always did, dark hardwood floors and hooks for their saddlebags. The smell of cocoa hung in the air. Shakily, her heart still beating quick in her chest, Lyra called out, “Bon-Bon? Are you home?” “Oh,” said a voice from the kitchen that couldn’t possibly be Bon-Bon’s, “you finally made it back. Took you long enough.” Lyra trotted hesitantly into the kitchen, nervous that she would see a ballet-dancing buffalo in the place of her beloved. But the same cream-colored mare was standing at the counter as she always was, bits of chocolate in her pink-and-blue mane. “Thank Celestia,” Lyra breathed, and she dashed to Bon-Bon and threw her forelegs around her, Lyra’s saddlebags falling to the ground with a plop. Bon-Bon tensed, and pushed Lyra away. The unicorn stared back, confused. “How dare you?” Bon-Bon said. “How dare you?” “How dare I what?” Lyra took a step forward, but Bon-Bon took a step back. “I don’t understand.” Rage boiled up across Bon-Bon’s face. “Get out!” she screamed, and the mare picked up a porcelain vase - a wedding present from Berry Punch - and threw it as hard as she could at Lyra. Lyra dodged. “What’s going on?” she said. “What’s wrong?” Bon-Bon took a plate from the counter and threw that too. “You know exactly what’s wrong!” Lyra caught the plate with magic and set it down gently. “I saw you out there, I saw you with her!” With who? Lyra thought. Did she see me run into Cherry Berry? What is she talking about? More objects flew towards her, and Lyra let go of her train of thought. “Listen to me, Bon-Bon,” she said, but Bon-Bon was past listening to her or to anyone. “I hate you!” she screamed, her voice gutteral Tears were coming from the earth mare’s eyes and her body was shaking with sobs. She took a china dish, inherited from Bon-Bon’s own grandmother, and readied it to throw. “Enough,” said Lyra. She immobilized Bon-Bon with her magic, holding her and the plate in place. Bon-Bon strained against the magic, pushing at the bonds with such strength that Lyra knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her long. Lyra walked over to the mare who stared at her with such hatred and anger in her eyes, and touched her gently on the cheek. Bon-Bon froze, and Lyra took the earth pony in her forelegs and sat them both on the ground, cradling her. Bon-Bon was tense, all of her muscles contracted as though the mare was about to run, but Lyra let the magical constraints fade. She sensed that Bon-Bon would make no further movement. “Whatever you think I did,” Lyra said, “I promise you I didn’t.” The window over the sink was open, and Lyra looked through it as she held her partner. Several pies floated upwards into a green sky. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but something about the realness of having a tortured Bon-Bon in her lap kept her grounded. “There’s something really, really wrong going on in Ponyville. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve seen some of the strangest things today. I saw an ear of corn turn into an actual ear! So whatever it is you saw, I can tell you right now that it wasn’t real. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you, for Celestia’s sake!” The mare in her forelegs sniffed. “I just, I was looking out the window and I saw you and you were-” but Lyra shushed her before she could go any further. “It wasn’t real,” she said. Bon-Bon nodded, and her muscles relaxed. She leaned into Lyra, letting the unicorn comfort her. Lyra brushed her hair with a hoof and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. There was a tremendous bang from inside Lyra’s saddlebags. The carrots she had bought earlier spilled out onto the ground and, shifting in shape and color, turned into a pile steaming, yellow waffles. As the two ponies watched, a pair of tomatoes rolled out of the bag, sprouting fingers and wings. The tomatoes clutched the waffles, lifted up into the air, and flew out the window. Lyra and Bon-Bon turned to face each other, their mouths hanging open in shock. “All right,” said Lyra. “What we’re going to do now is get upstairs, go lie down in bed with the blanket over our heads, and wait for Princess Celestia or Twilight Sparkle to sort this out.” Bon-Bon nodded mutely.
A Loving QueenFrom the image Chrysalis Hive, by Raikoh-illust. *** This time of the cycle was the most boring. The eggs were laid, resting quietly in the cavities prepared for them. Most of the drones were dead, their purpose served. A select few remained, to bring her food while she recovered from the egg-laying process. These changelings were currently away, scouring the desert that surrounded the hive for small animals to bring to their queen. Chrysalis craved meat right now, protein to replace that which she’d lost to the egg-laying process. And so Chrysalis waited alone in the hive. Movement was difficult right now. Her body was still sore, muscles aching and joints tender, so she usually spent this time lunging on the sponge floor of her royal quarters. This time, though, Chrysalis forced herself to rise, ignoring the screaming of her body, and move. Her room was dark and small, the walls and ceiling punctuated with holes that let in some of the electric-green light from the outside. Chrysalis walked through the circular doorway and into the tunnel. These hallways wormed around and throughout the body of the hive like blood vessels, sloping and squirming up the towering bulk with no guidance from those that inhabited its depths. The changelings made the hive their home, but the hive made its own decisions. Chrysalis stalked the tunnels of the hive, going generally downwards until she reached the egg chamber. The room was expansive, extending deep into the hive, but short. Chrysalis could have scraped the ceiling with her horn if she wanted. The eggs themselves, smell green globes that glowed from within, were scattered about the room. Piles had formed, with ten to fifteen eggs stacked together in a rough pyramid shape. In the very center, Chrysalis could see a pool of liquid that fluoresced the same green as the eggs. The hive created this elixir to nourish the changelings, but after egg-laying, it was all diverted here for the hatchlings to enjoy. One of the eggs was no longer glowing. Chrysalis levitated it up to her face and stared into it. She could make out the dark shape of her child through the semi-translucent shell, black against the green of the egg. In the floating depths, it turned to face her. Chrysalis laughed, the sound louder in the silence of the hive, and placed the egg on the ground. This one was ready. As she waited, a dull scratching noise rose from the egg. It grew louder, more insistent, and then the tip of a black horn, still glistening with embryonic fluids, broke through the surface of the shell. It hesitated, then withdrew back into the egg. After a moment, the horn returned, chipping away at the shell around the hole. Chrysalis watched intently. The newborn changeling, having cut a large hole in the egg, pushed through, squeezing past the jagged edges until it fell unceremoniously to the ground. It mewled weakly, its eyes still shut tight. Its body looked weak, tiny, with no wings and just a stub of a horn. Chrysalis took the foal, slippery and wet, in one leg and walked to the center of the room. She lay down next to the pool, cradling the changeling and cooing to it gently. The queen dipped a hoof into the green liquid and then withdrew it. She held the hoof over the foal and let some of the nourishing juices slide down into its mouth. “Drink,” Chrysalis said, and she smiled wide, showing all of her fangs. The foal opened its mouth and sucked some of the fluid in. Its face relaxed and it stopped crying. Once it had drunk its fill, the foal curled up and slept. Chrysalis let it slide to the ground and stood up. Around her, many of the other eggs had gone dark. Soon, the room would be alive with sound and movement, as newborn changelings stumbled and slid their way towards the pool, where they would drink, and grow. This clutch, the product of Shining Armor’s most powerful form of love, would be the strongest Chrysalis had ever birthed. Enhanced strength, intelligence, disguise, better in every way than the brood that preceded them. With them, her next attack on Equestria could not possibly fail. Chrysalis looked down at the tiny changeling sleeping in the electric-green light of the pool. With her, and her hundreds of sisters, the changelings would defeat the ponies. They would never go hungry again.
What is Real?From the question, "What is real?" by Tumblr user drumblastingquilava. *** Twilight took a mouthful of water from the glass next to her. She let the liquid roll around in her mouth, wetting her dry tongue and the insides of her cheeks. She swallowed, relishing the feeling of cool water in her parched throat. It was eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning, and she hadn’t slept since Saturday. “Hello, Twilight! How ya doing?” The unicorn tried to turn towards the voice and gasp in shock, but her exhaustion-addled brain screwed up the signals somewhere along the line. Her head twisted one way and her body jerked another, and Twilight fell over flat on her face. She let out a low groan as the pink pony who had appeared so suddenly let out a snort of laughter. “How do you do that?” Twilight said as she struggled back up to her hooves. She took another drink of water and then put her face down on the table. In truth, Twilight couldn’t really bring herself to care how Pinkie could pop up like that. She needed a huge helping of sleep and food right now, and Sugarcube Corner was the best place to get one of those. Pinkie grinned widely, closing her eyes and showing bright white teeth. “Magic!” she said, still chortling at the joke. “Wait,” she said, calming down now. “You don’t look so good.” There were no mirrors immediately accessible, but Twilight knew Pinkie was right. Her mane and coat were hopelessly disheveled, her tail was sticking out in all directions, and there were bags under her bloodshot eyes. If she weren’t starving, and if Spike weren’t asleep from staying up late to help her, Twilight wouldn’t have gone outside at all. “Why do you look so sleepy?” Pinkie asked, eyebrow raised. “I’m making a spell,” Twilight said. “I’ve mastered a lot of spells, but I’ve never actually created one before.” She winced as she remember the explosion from the previous night. After this was over, she was going to have to do a lot of cleaning. “I’ve been working on it for three days straight and I’m nowhere near close to finishing.” She groaned. “I don’t know what to do. Every single thing I try blows up in my face. None of my books are the slightest help, and even the Princess’s advice is confusing to me. It’s like everything I thought I knew about magic was wrong. I don’t even know what’s real and what’s not anymore.” Pinkie Pie smiled down at her friend. It was a warm smile this time, not coming from the burning fires of passion that Pinkie kept stoked at all times for impromptu party needs, but from the part of herself that remembered her friends’ birthdays and favorite colors and foods and told her when somepony close to her needed a hug. And such a time was now. Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around the unicorn and squeezed her tight. “I’m real,” Pinkie said, “and you’re real, and our friendship is real.” Twilight didn’t say anything, just smiled blearily into Pinkie’s fur. The earth mare smelled like flour. “And…” Pinkie Pie brought up her hoof with a dramatic flourish as she pulled away from the hug, “this muffin is real!” She placed the pastry in front of Twilight, who unwrapped it and immediately dug in. “I put a couple more in this bag here. After you finish that one, you’re going right to sleep.” “But, but I have to finish my work,” Twilight mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. Pinkie narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to take you back home and tuck you into bed myself!” she said. Twilight stared into her eyes for a moment, until she was sure Pinkie was steadfast, and then nodded. “You’re right, Pinkie. I’ll go to bed.” “Great!” Pinkie jumped up and bounced her way to the counter to talk to Mrs. Cake about taking a short break. Twilight took the bag of muffins and tucked it into her saddlebag. “Friendship really is real, isn’t it?” she said, to no one in particular.
Blueblood's not so BadFrom the comment, "Considering that the fake Princess Cadence was a huge jerk, too, I'm worried that the real Prince Blueblood is still trapped somewhere in those mines..." by Reddit user q_3. *** He wasn't sure how long he'd been down here. At first, he'd tried to count the days by making a notch on the wall every time he went to sleep, but after twenty marks he realized he was sleeping less and less each time. The notches were still on a rock face somewhere, but he couldn't find them anymore and didn't really care to. It was just another monument to the mistakes he'd made. Blueblood stood wearily and trotted over to the stalactite that supplied him with water. He sat underneath it and let the cool water fall onto his tongue, drip by agonizing drip. At first he could hardly stand the taste, like rolling rocks around in his mouth, but now, he craved the cool sweetness of the water, the only pure thing he had. For food, Blueblood could find mushrooms that grew in the dankest, darkest reaches of the caves. He choked them down willingly, for each revolting mouthful meant another day of life, another moment closer towards the search party finding him. There was going to be a search party, of course, once they realized that thing couldn't possibly be him. She had tricked him, pretended to be a Duchess from Hoofington in Canterlot for the upcoming Gala. He let his guard down for a single night (she had been quite beautiful, and, persistent), let her be with him alone, and then she had turned into a perfect copy of him, right down to the voice. Startled and confused, she'd gotten the drop on him, and in a flash of green flame Blueblood was gone, drawn into the belly of the mountain. Some part of Blueblood still burned to find her, to have his hooves at her throat for what she'd done to him, for the hell he was going through now, but the larger side of him knew it was useless. His mouth full, Blueblood swallowed the acrid water and fell heavily to the floor. No one was coming for him. Then, all of a sudden, a crash, and voices! Blueblood jerked upright in a flash. It sounded like, singing? Who could be singing? Blueblood thought, but rushed towards the noise as best he could in the dim light of the mines. Twisting and winding the path went, until Blueblood came into a massive cavern. Gemstones glittered in the walls and ceiling, and the sound of singing was growing closer. "Hello!?" Blueblood called. "Can you hear me?!" From the opposite side of the cave came a loud bang as a minecart struck a barrier. Two ponies were launched up in the air and over Blueblood's head. Wings outstretched, one pony carried the other to a ledge. "Down here!" Blueblood said, but before he could reach them, the two ponies had teleported, and were gone. Blueblood stared up at the place the two ponies had been, his mouth hanging open. His legs collapsed underneath him. He wasn't very powerful, he couldn't climb a sheer cliff, or teleport that far. There was no escape, now that the only living beings he'd seen in who knew how long were gone. There would be no escape for Blueblood. He only hoped that those above would remember him and think of him kindly, as the generous, caring stallion he had always striven to be.
LunaloneFrom the image Alone in the Night, by Jamey4. *** The night was hers to command. With the slightest gesture, she could drop the moon behind the horizon, swirl the stars until the night looked like someone had shaken up a cup of sand and spilled the tiny pieces of glass across the sky. She could see everything the moonlight touched, travel anyplace in an instant on a moonbeam. Dreams were hers, and hopes and loves and furtive secrets whispered in the latest hour. Such power was her, to wield and hold and bear forever, and yet, here she was, on an empty cliff, alone. Ponies didn't sleep all through the night now. Things happened at night, that couldn't happen during the day. There were parties, and discotechs, music and movement that was unthinkable in the mellow light of the day. Her night was loved for the protection it provided, for the chance the night gave to letting one's wildest desires become reality, to letting one's self go and become one with the heavy rhythm of the stars. So many were thankful for the night and what Luna gave, and yet, here she was, with the full moon at her back, alone. The Princess of the Night looked heavenward, at all the beauty of her creation, night stretching on forever, and felt her insignificance in it. She was a small, tiny thing, adrift in a sea of infinite space with nothing to anchor her. She stood up and fluffed her wings, preparing to take off in search of... something. She didn't know what, but she couldn't stay here all night. "Hello?" A voice was calling up to her from far down below. It was timid, searching. Luna stared down and saw a small figure, its shadow long in the harsh moonlight, coming towards her. Even at this distance, Luna recognized the dusky coat and mane of Twilight Sparkle. What was her sister's student doing out so late at night, this far out of the city limits of Canterlot? "Up here, Twilight Sparkle!" Luna called, her voice echoing against the ground and coming back to her weak and distorted. The pony figure raised its head at the sound and saw Luna standing on the cliff. "Hello, Princess Luna! Do you mind if I come up?" "We would be honored!" There was a purple flash, and Twilight disappeared, only to reappear with a bang a second later at Luna's side. "What dost thou desire?" Luna asked. "Why dost thou leave the safety of thy home at such an hour as this?" The unicorn giggled, her voice like the chiming of bells. "I wanted to do some star-gazing, and Princess Celestia said you might be out here. Who better to watch stars with than the one who created them?" Twilight suddenly looked anxious. "I mean, do you have time? You don't have to." Luna smiled. "I have all the time in the world." She sat next to the mare, her friend, and stared up at her stars. The night did not seem quite so infinite anymore.
An OrchardFrom the prompt, "Write an Appledash story about how Granny Smith is too old-fashioned to accept a love between two mares and kicks Applejack out of the house," by Reddit user Backupusername. *** “You gotta do it, there, Applejack. There ain’t nothin’ else for it.” Applejack stared into the living room, her hooves unable to take another step. Applebloom was off crusading with her friends. They’d said something about rodeo cutie marks before they disappeared with several length’s of her rope, so Applejack figured they’d be tied up for a while. Big Mac was in town, his turn to work the stall at market, and it being mid-afternoon, the stallion would be neck deep in customers right now. There wasn’t going to be a better time than this. “So why can’t Ah go in there and tell her?” Applejack chanced a peek around the door frame, and sure enough, there was Granny Smith, knitting away at a scarf or sweater or some such. The grizzled mare hummed as she worked, some aimless tune that AJ couldn’t place. The afternoon light was inching its way towards her through the western window, and in an hour or two, Granny would be fast asleep in her rocking chair. There wasn’t any better time than now. Her hooves still frozen in place, AJ watched the scene for a minute, then another, and another. The swath of knitted fabric got longer and longer, and Granny Smith still rocked back and forth, back and forth. A stray breath of wind blew in through the window, catching a glass mobile Applebloom had built in school. The teardrop crystals spun on the string, throwing tiny rainbows across the ground as they caught the sun. Applejack took a deep breath and entered the room. Granny Smith didn’t even notice her granddaughter was there, until the younger pony was standing in front of her, coughing to announce her presence. “Oh, hey there, Applejack,” Granny Smith said. “Yew all done with chores? “You bet,” Applejack said. She grinned wide. Too wide. She pursed her lips together, hoping Granny Smith wouldn’t think the grin was weird. “Ah milked the cows this morning, slopped the hogs, done all the bucking for today.” She had, too. Trying to work out all the nervous tension this moment was bringing, she’d bucked twice as many apples as she’d hoped, and finished what was supposed to be a full day’s work in a couple of hours. Her legs knew it, too, and now Applejack could feel the strength in her legs melting away. Granny Smith must have seen that, because she motioned towards the couch with a flick of her head and said, “Why don’ cha sit down, then? Take a load off them dogs!” The elderly mare guffawed loudly, and Applejack sunk down onto the couch. Granny Smith went back to clicking away with her knitting needles. Sitting on the couch, Applejack breathed in, then exhaled slowly, steeling herself up for what she was about to say. She could smell her own sweat, mixed in with the sharp scent of fresh apples and dirt. It was a comforting smell, one she’d been around all her life. “Ah have somethin’ Ah need to tell you,” she said. Nothing happened. Granny Smith didn’t look up from her knitting, no timberwolves howled, the world didn’t end. The rocking chair squeaked a little. “Ah, uh, Ah don’t rightly know how to say this.” Applejack took off her hat and began turning it over and over in her hooves, feeling the worn leather of the brim. Her father’s old hat. “Well, spit it out, girl. Ah ain’t getting any younger.” “Ah, Ah, Ah like mares, okay?” There, it was out. Applejack braced for the incoming torrent. But there was nothing. When Applejack looked up, Granny Smith was still knitting away. In the dirt outside, Winona yawned loudly. “Ain’t you gonna say nothin’?” Applejack asked. “Ah thought you might, Ah dunno, get mad, or somethin’.” “Ain’t news to nopony but yerself, girl.” “What?” Applejack said. “It’s that rainbow gal from town, ain’t it? Y’all spend ‘bout all yer time together.” Applejack blushed. A memory of a multi-colored mane and the smell of rain crossed her mind. “Yeah,” she said breathily. “It’s her.” A smile rose unbidden to her lips. “Say, Ah thought for sure you’d yell at me at least. Ah’m glad you’re okay with this.” “Ah ain’t said that.” The blood froze in Applejack’s body. Her lungs struggled to inhale. It was like someone had socked her a good one right in the gut. After a momentous struggle, Applejack finally managed to squeak out a “What?” Granny Smith put down her knitting and looked at the now-petrified young mare. “Ah knew Ah’d have this talk with yew sooner or later. Hoped Ah wouldn’t, but knew Ah would all the same.” Applejack waited as Granny Smith leaned back, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. “What’s the most important thing to ya, girl?” “You are,” Applejack answered with some confusion but no hesitation. “You, and Applebloom, and Big Macintosh.” “That’s right.” The old mare nodded, head bobbing up and down like a tree branch, bobbing in the wind. “Family. Family’s what’s important.” Granny’s voice was calm, more collected, stronger, than Applejack had heard in a long time. “The Apple Family, that’s like an orchard. Yer uncle Strudel’s a tree out in Hoofington. Brown Betty and her kids over in Fillydelphia, that’s another tree. Even Braeburn’s a little saplin’ over in Appleloosa. “And ev’ry one of them is gonna grow, each branch grows its own little Apples, and they become the new trees in our orchard. Right here, yew, me, yer sis and Big Mac, we’re our own tree. ‘Tain’t much, just a few small branches. Ah ‘bout thought we were done fer, when yer parents passed. Ah’m old, dried up. Ah ain’t got no more fruit in me. And our tree’s gotta grow, or it ain’t gonna live.” Granny Smith stared hard at her granddaughter. “Yer brother, he’s a kind soul, but he ain’t gonna buck anythin’ that ain’t a tree. And yer sister, still jus’ a filly. What’s she gonna do when she finds out her big sis she loves so much is a fillyfooler? That girl thinks the world of ya, always tryin’ on yer hat, playin’ with yer rope and puttin’ on yer ribbons when she thinks yew ain’t lookin’. Think she’ll want to settle down, have kids? No, by Celestia, this family’s had hard enough times, and this, you’ll be killin’ it.” Granny Smith groped next to the rocking chair until she found her walker. She heaved herself up out of the chair and began moving with slow, steady steps outside. “Ah’m gonna go set in the sun a bit. Yew, go on and think powerful hard ‘bout this. Yew decide yew want to live yer life with no thought to the sweat yer family put into makin’ this farm, the blood yer own two parents poured into these trees. If that don’t mean nothin’ to ya, and yew can let our family die, Ah don’t wanna see yew again. The res’ of us got along well enough when you had that ‘cherry’ fixation a’ yers, we’ll be fine without ya. If’n yew decide you really do love yer family, Ah’ll see you in church tomorrow.” When Applejack joined the other Apples at Sunday service, she said nothing to her grandmother, and her grandmother said nothing in return. And when she and Rainbow Dash suddenly stopped speaking to each other, not even the staunchest assault by her friends could convince Applejack to explain. And when Applebloom asked why Applejack didn’t have a very special somepony, Applejack just said that she hadn’t find the right stallion yet, and left it at that. And life went on at Sweet Apple Acres as it always had, and if anypony wondered why Applejack went inside whenever she happened to see a rainbow, nopony asked.
Weapons of WarFrom the prompt, "I need a decent explanation for how a pony could wield a sword. And do so well enough to be on par with a human," by Reddit user TheDarkman67. *** "And then you press this here-" Rarity indicated a small latch on the side of the cuff "-and the blade will pop into position." She held the weapon up to Applejack, who took it hesitantly in her mouth. "Um nah sure abou' thish," she mumbled. The cloth binding of the strap tasted awful, and she fumbled trying to loop it around her hoof. Rarity smiled. "Let me help you with that, my dear." A blue glow encircled the weapon and lifted it gently out of Applejack's mouth, leaving a faint tingling on the earth pony's tongue. "Now hold up your hoof, that's a good filly." Applejack raised her right leg and Rarity fixed the loop around it. Tugging on the end, Rarity tightened the strap and nodded. She stared expectantly at her friend, who was looking at the blade confused. "Well, go on," Rarity said. "Give it a try." Applejack put her hoof on the ground, stomped a few times to make sure it wouldn't come loose, and then pressed the latch. The blade slid smoothly and quickly into position. It was about six inches long. She gave a few quick passes through the air with it. The blade was sharp, and whistled through the air. "How's it feel?" Rarity asked. "Pretty darn good," Applejack said. She reared back on her hind legs and slashed at an invisible opponent. "Excellent. Not too tight, or anything?" Applejack shook her head, still focused on the shadowboxing. "There are just a few things you should know about it," Rarity continued. "It's more of a cutting weapon than a stabbing weapon. If you put too much force onto the point, say, if you tried walking on that leg with the blade out, it'll retract back into the sheath. As soon as you remove the pressure, the blade comes out again. You can stab with it, but if you hit armor or bone, the knife will retract." "Uh huh, yeah, sure." AJ was on three hooves, jumping backwards and forwards and jabbing at the shadowy assailant. "And one more thing, Applejack, and do pay attention now." AJ stopped fighting and turned to stare at her friend. Rarity glared down her nose at the dusty cowpony. "I made that specifically for you," she said. "Don't get it dirty!"
TrixicornFrom the image Alicorn Trixie, by KriahFox. *** "What a beautiful day it was today!" Twilight said. She was staring up at the sky. "Don't you think so, Spike? Spike?" The dragon sitting on her back gave no reply. Twilight chuckled. The poor little guy was probably tuckered out. It had been a long day, after all. "Aren't you glad we got all those books back?" she said, still trotting along back towards the library. It was starting to get dark, so Twilight picked up her speed. "I really have to improve the library's history section. It's just criminal that we don't have anything about Ponyville's founding." "Twilight?" Her dragon was tapping her on the back. "What is it?" "Maybe you should turn around." Twilight cocked an eyebrow, but did as Spike suggested. And then she saw what he was referring to. A dark figure was approaching in the sky. It was hard to make out its exact nature, as the shape was silhouetted against the setting sun, but Twilight thought it might be a pony. Rainbow Dash? No, the shape was too large and thin to be Rainbow Dash. The pony approached, making straight for Twilight. Twilight, eager to meet this new pony, sat down and waited. Spike, not paying enough attention, lost his hand-hold and fell with a smack on the ground. "Who do you think it is?" Twilight hissed to her assistant. She wasn't quite sure why she was whispering, but then the pony landed, and all her questions were answered. There was a loud bang, and then a dozen firecrackers exploded at once, showering the street with light and sparks. Pinwheels whizzed overhead, and neon dragons danced through flaming hoops. Geometric shapes formed and morphed and combined to form new figures. They were all entirely illusory. That's some serious magical ability, Twilight thought. She wasn't even sure if she herself was capable of such control. "That was quite an entrance," Twilight said, feeling great admiration for the mysterious pony. "Who are you?" The pony stepped forward, and Twilight could see her for the first time. The oddest thing wasn't the regalia she wore, the crown, chest-plate and hoof-shoes that normally signified royalty. It wasn't even the fact that the pony had wings and a horn. Twilight had seen that before, knew the wings-and-horn combination better than anypony else in Equestria. No, the strangest, weirdest, most confusing thing about the situation was the pony all these things belonged to. "Hello, Twilight," Trixie said. "Still think you're better than the Great and Powerful Trixie?"
