Stinkbug the Unwanted

by kudzuhaiku

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Changelings, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Queen Chrysalis, Adventure
Length: 13125

A changeling drone is exiled from his hive by his Queen Mother.

Stinkbug, a changeling worker drone slated for reproduction purposes once he matures, is exiled from his hive after an unfortunate magical condition causes him to emit a malodorous funk. Cut off from the swarm, tossed out of the hive, can Stinkbug survive the dangerous wilds of Equestria?

Published 2016-04-14 19:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-11-20 00:40:12 UTC

Chapter 1

Author's Note

This is a terrible story that shouldn't be read by anyone. You have been warned. This story is gonna stink so don't complain about any lingering funk. I think everybody nose what is going to happen next. Nostrildamus has made his prediction, this story is going to be a (stink) bomb.

Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here.

Chapter 1

“Stinkbug, there is no nice way of saying this.” Queen Chrysalis turned her imperious stare upon the changeling cowering some distance away from her. A glowing green bubble of magic surrounded her and she made a disgusted face as she spoke. “Stinkbug, you stink!”

The changeling drone recoiled as if struck. “Mother, please—”

“Silence!” Chrysalis shook her head, gagged, and the green bubble surrounding her glowed even brighter around her as she tried to keep the smell out. “Stinkbug, you have the unfortunate condition of having inherited some genes that I thought I had successfully removed quite some time ago. I was wrong. Oh goodness, was I ever wrong!”

Prostrating himself, Stinkbug whimpered for mercy.

“Oh my goodness, my eyes are watering”—the changeling queen took a step backwards and fanned the air with her wings—“for the good of the hive, you must go. I release you from your service. Your status as a drone is now revoked. You are a free ‘ling.”

“But I don’t want to be free… the hive is all I know!”

“Too bad, Stinkbug!” Unable to stop herself, Chrysalis gagged. She coughed, tried to summon even more magic to empower her shields, and then let out a pained cry when she realised that nothing could stop the stench. If the stench could be a famous monster, Stinkbug would be The Smooze. Poor Stinkbug smelled even worse when he felt threatened and Chrysalis was in a hurry to make him go.

“But I’ll starve to death… who could love a ‘ling like me?” Stinkbug turned his compound eyes upon his mother and gave her a pleading, pitiful stare. He had a face that only a mother could love. It was unfortunate that he had a stench that could overcome even the most powerful of maternal instincts.

“That’s too bad!” Chrysalis snapped. “Now go!”

When the connection to the hivemind was severed, Stinkbug gibbered in both fear and mental anguish. Independence? Free will? No constant, soothing presence of the Queen Mother intruding into his mind and smoothing out his troubled thoughts? What terrible torture was this? No ‘ling wanted independence or to be separated. Being separated was death. A changeling’s only strength came in numbers. The idea of surviving as an individual was something that did not exist.

And Queen Chrysalis had just forced it upon one of her own offspring.

“The hive survives on the strength of our unity. You, Stinkbug, represent weakness. You destroy our unity. For the good of us all, you must go.” Queen Chrysalis looked at her cowering offspring and shook her head. He was one of thousands that existed at the moment. One flawed, defective drone. She wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, he had been normal for the longest time and the smell was something that had only appeared just a short while ago.

The stench was so terrible that he became a 'ling that had earned a name. Most ‘lings had a thought or a mental cue that they answered to. Up to the point where he had become super-ultra-bad-nostril-raping-stinky, Stinkbug’s mental cue was a nebulous thought consisting of He Who Whistles and Will Be Pleasant Enough for Sex.

Queen Chrysalis wasn’t quite cruel enough to kill him, at least not by her own hoof. No, the outside world was probably going to do him in. But before he died, he was going to make the outside world smell bad. Real bad. And screw the outside world… what had the world done for her lately? She hoped that Stinkbug found his way into pony territory before he starved to death. She hoped the wretched little pastel equines choked on his unbearable stench. It was time for payback after the great Fling-a-’Ling event that happened on what was supposed to have been the single greatest day in Queen Chrysalis’ life. Oh, how she hated the ponies. How she loathed them. Her hatred of them was projected throughout the swarm. Revenge would be sweet—er, smelly.

“Goodbye, Stinkbug, do not come back!”

Blinking, Stinkbug had a look around. He had never even been outside before. He was a worker drone, a darkling that was never intended to even see the sun, a changeling that never left the hive, a changeling that was slated for reproduction purposes once he had matured. Being a good, upstanding changeling male of viable breeding stock, he would be impregnated with eggs that he would fertilise after they were laid inside of him and he would be responsible for raising the ‘lings that were his. When they were grown, the process would repeat until he expired from old age, at which point he would be broken down and his biomass would be repurposed for the good of the swarm.

Stinkbug had been looking forward to being a good mother.

Now, he had no future. He couldn’t feel the minds of his fellow 'lings anymore. They were gone. Everything was gone and he was all alone. It was quite a shock. His mood fluctuated and with no regulation, everything was far too raw and unfiltered for him to deal with. He was alone, a terrible state of affairs for a 'ling. Overhead was the burning sun, a fabled object that he had only heard stories about. The sky was a shade of blue that he had never seen before.

The world around him wasn’t much to look at. There was sand, rocks, more sand, more rocks, the mountains that had been his home, and more sand. He tried to remember what he knew about the world, what he had learned from the shared mind of the hive. The pony lands were to the north. To the north were the green lands with strange things called trees. He didn’t know what trees looked like.

He also knew that the outside world was dangerous. Wings buzzing, Stinkbug coughed to get his spit production going. He needed armor. The world was full of things that could eat 'lings. He felt his insides burble as his internal organs went to work producing the special spit that made armored outer shells that went over his chitin. It was a goopy, sticky substance that became smooth and hard once it dried. He had a variety of spits that he could create and armor was only one of them.

Glancing back at the sealed entrance, he had trouble believing that he had just been dumped outside and forgotten about. Somehow, he was going to have to survive in this new world. He coughed up a glob of armor spit and applied it to his foreleg. Reaching around, he smeared it along his back and it began to harden almost right away. He spit out a bit more, applied that, and kept going. He buzzed his wings to create the openings they needed in his back armor.

In no time at all, there was a glittering semi-translucent shell upon his back to protect him. He went to work on his legs next, knowing that they needed protection too. The armor goop found good anchor spots in the holes that perforated his body. He was a creature made to survive, his body was the peak of biological perfection, or so his Queen Mother had said. He was perfect in every way.

Except that he stunk.

After armoring his legs, he went to work on a helmet to protect his head. As he crafted his helmet, he wondered how he was going to eat. He had no nectar bearing drones to feed him. He had never fed on love fresh from the source before. He had existed on leftovers; dine and dash brought home to the hive.

As Stinkbug finished up his helmet, a passing black fly dropped dead when it came too near to him. He looked down at it and contemplated his own mortality. When he died, his remains would just rot, or he might get eaten perhaps. He would never be repurposed. He wouldn’t continue to live on with the rest of the swarm through having his biomass repurposed.

Saddened by the thought, his helmet now finished, Stinkbug flew away, never to return to his home ever again. He headed north, towards pony lands, hoping that he could find a meal. The outside world couldn’t be that large and surely he would find food soon enough. Perhaps his exile wouldn’t be so bad. Ponies were soft, stupid creatures, or so his Queen Mother had said. They were food. Stinkbug supposed that he might be able to use his stench to knock them out so he could feed on them.

He had no idea how wrong he would be…

Below, endless sand, rocks, and pebbles stretched in all directions, except north. Stinkbug knew all about sand, rocks, and pebbles; they were the three key ingredients for changeling quick dry cement. Mix them in the right way with changeling spit, and you had an instant structure that could be shaped by drones in no time at all.

Ahead of him, hills rose up from the endless sand, hills that held the promise of green, and he could see what could only be trees. They were strange things indeed. Stinkbug was a swift, capable flyer, which surprised him. All of his previous experience flying had been indoors. Changeling hives maximised the use of space, going up, down, left, and right, making tunnels in all directions. A 'ling spent as much time flying up and down as he did walking along a flat surface. Any 'ling that became so old they couldn’t fly were placed into the repurposing nursery.

Stinkbug wondered why his Queen Mother hadn’t just had him repurposed and been done with it. A swift, merciful end would have been better than this… this slow death that he was sure to suffer. He supposed that his remains would have smelled bad too.

His armor would need to be reapplied. He hadn’t done as good of a job as he had thought. Parts of it were already crumbling and falling away as he flew. With time, he supposed, he would get better at it. The thick armor also protected him from the merciless sun, keeping the sun from shining with direct force upon his chitin. The armor’s reflective, glittery surface helped to reflect the sun away from his black, somewhat rubbery chitin.

Flying was also depleting his energy. He wondered what it would be like to starve. He needed emotions, if not love, than a meaningful, bubbly friendship as a snack. If not friendship, something syrupy, sugary, and energy dense, something like tree sap perhaps. He tried to dredge up stories of survival from his collection of memories that were left in the depths of his mind. Changelings could eat things, they had to. Nectar was was more than love, it had other things in it, sugars, proteins, much of it made from repurposed changelings.

A changeling could survive on basic, simple foods, but Stinkbug knew that without love, without complex, positive emotions, his magic would grow weak and things would start to happen to him, but he wasn’t certain what those things were. None of his memories held any clue what the symptoms might be.

Wings buzzing, soaring through the sky, Stinkbug came upon a most amazing sight…

There was a massive wall of falling water that fell down the side of a cliff. It created a fine mist, which in turn created bands of beautiful illusory colours. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. He had never seen anything quite like it before, and his collection of memories held no information on what it was, but it was beautiful. Seeing it, taking it all in, seeing the gorgeous colours in a perfect, arching band that rose up out of the water made his inevitable slow death almost seem worth it.

As he approached a flock of birds took wing and flew off, squawking in protest at the sudden foul smelling funk that had appeared from out of nowhere. Other creatures were fleeing the watering hole as well. Hovering, Stinkbug kept a wary eye out for danger. He looked all around him, he looked above him, and with a worried glance, he tried to look down into the water to see if anything was lurking.

Satisfied that he was safe, he landed near the water and had himself a drink. Water and other liquids would help to refill his internal chemical reserves. He would need to dissolve some rocks with acid soon and slurp up the sizzling mess so he could continue to make the armor he needed.

He drank as much water as he could, so much water that he sloshed when he moved. He had never been this full before and it was a novel sensation. Previous to this point, he had always taken just what he had needed, but now, with his future uncertain, he wasn’t sure when he would see water again. He didn’t know where the drones who brought water to the hive found it; perhaps this was it. If so, it seemed like quite a way to fly to get water.

Stinkbug sat down in the grass and started to groom himself. He began eating what was left of his armor, drooling a helpful, dissolving acid upon it, breaking it down, consuming it, and repurposing it. He was in a tough spot and nothing could be wasted. He gobbled down his backplate and thought about how he might do a better job when he made the next one.

The watering hole was peaceful, serene, and nothing with a nose would dare to molest Stinkbug as he sat eating and repurposing his armor. He studied the world around him, trying to take it all in, wondering if things had names, like the colours that shimmered in the air as the sun shone through the mist rising up from where the waterfall spilled into the basin. The air was cool and damp. Before Stinkbug had arrived, the air had been scented with the pleasant aroma of wildflowers that grew where there was water.

To the south was desert and scrub. Stinkbug had once heard his Queen Mother call it ‘The Badlands.’ Now, he could see why they were so bad. To the north, an endless expanse of green awaited. To be this green, it had to have a lot of water… and if it had a lot of water, then it had to have lots of illusory bands of colour everywhere. It was, in Stinkbug’s mind, a land of literal happiness and magic. No wonder the ponies were such happy, frolicking, lazy creatures. And they were lazy—the Queen Mother had said so. They were wretched, lazy creatures with no work ethic, no sense of industry, they were prey creatures.

Now freed from the influence of his Queen Mother’s thoughts, Stinkbug, who felt a growing sense of resentment, wasn’t sure if he believed her. Perhaps approaching them in a peaceful manner might be good, but there was the matter about how he smelled. He couldn’t smell himself, not in the slightest, so he didn’t know how bad the stench was.

Ponies were smart and smart creatures could be reasoned with. Ponies had princesses and all ponies lived in castles, massive castles where they lazed about all day doing nothing—castles were structures that had to be constructed. A castle was like a hive, but with a more defined shape, with towers, walls, and halls where ponies held endless feasts so they could grow fat. Stinkbug had a hazy image of Canterlot in his mind, a shared mental image brought back to the hive and distributed.

Stinkbug had a most peculiar thought; his Queen Mother had tried to take over Canterlot. If they took over Canterlot and lived in a castle, wouldn’t they become no better than the ponies? Fat, lazy creatures who lounged around in a castle all day sucking the love and life out of the ponies they had conquered?

The now thoughtful little drone unhinged his lower jaw and extended his chewing mandibles so he could remove the armor from his leg. Acidic saliva dribbled down his chin and the droplets sizzled upon the grass.

As he sat there, removing his armor, the very thing that protected him, Stinkbug heard a voice. Hearing the voice startled him, so much so that he almost swallowed and choked upon his own mandibles. He sucked them in and popped his lower jaw back into place as he looked around.

“Forgive me for saying so, but you smell mouth wateringly delicious…”

Chapter 2

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Chapter 4

Spread out before Stinkbug was a vast plain that had brown grass with patches of green, rocks, a few trees, and patches of near desert scrub. The land was a little dry. Far off in the distance was Appleloosa. All of Stinkbug’s senses sang to him, food was near. Delicious food. Something wasn’t quite right for Stinkbug, it was getting harder and harder to think or to do anything. He needed food. He could sense the ponies on the horizon. Just to be near them, to feel them, to sample their emotions.

Oh, and there were apples too. Apples were sweet and sugary. In a pinch, eating a few apples might be a good idea. Far off to the south, there was a massive dust cloud that rose up into the sky as the buffalo roamed. Stinkbug could sense them too. He could feed on them if he had to, but ponies had stronger, more easily absorbed emotions.

“Look, just stay back and don’t change into a pony. If we’re honest and straightforward about who and what we are, they’re bound to accept us. Ponies are good creatures, they’re kind, and I’m positive that we’ll be able to earn their trust. But staying back might be good and you should stay out of sight while I try to talk to them. I love how you smell, but they might take exception.” Celaeno, who was perched upon a tree branch, tilted her head off to one side as she looked down at Stinkbug.

“I stay back. I be good.”

“Stinky, I’m getting worried about you. Is something wrong?” Celaeno flapped her wings and leaned over on her branch as she eyeballed the changeling below her. “You seem like you’re getting… well, stupider.”

Uncertain of how to reply, Stinkbug stared up at his harpy companion. Words were tricky and troublesome. If only he shared a mind link with her. He could just broadcast this thoughts and she would know what was wrong. He was really starting to notice his weakness now. It was getting difficult to keep flying, because flying took magic. He didn’t know how it took magic, but it did. He had been flying, using his magic, and all sorts of other things and he hadn’t had a chance to feed in quite some time.

“You need to be around ponies so you can feed, don’t you?” Celaeno hopped around on her branch and flapped her wings. “Well, we should go and see if we can make friends. Just stick close. Everything will be fine.”

There was a lone pony roaming through the outer apple orchards. Stinkbug couldn’t make out many details, but the golden pelted pony had a hat and a bright red spot on their backside. Stinkbug guessed that it was an apple. His vision fuzzed in and out of focus and he realised that it took magic for his eyes to work. His powerful and sharp vision was starting to fizzle. He could sense the pony, he could feel it in his consciousness.

The pony was singing, but Stinkbug couldn’t make out the words. They were still too far away. He and Celaeno crept closer, she was with him in the tall sun dried grass as he moved from rock to rock, stump to stump, and tree to tree.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggum! Something shore ‘nuff has a staaaaaank!”

Stinkbug froze, realising that he had gone too close. He was still a good distance away, or so he thought, and downwind from the pony. Was his stench that powerful? It must be. He glanced over at Celaeno, who was smiling, happy, and he could feel her emotions.

“I’ve smelled things that have turned over, I’ve smelled things that’ve turned greeeen…”

The pony was singing about stink. Stinkbug looked at Celaeno. What sort of pony sang about stank? Stinkbug was close enough to get a trickle of emotion and it surged through him. Happiness. It wasn’t love, but it would do. It was a sweet, delicious emotion that excited the hunger deep within him.

“But what I’m smellin’ right nooooow…. is a colour I’ve never seeeeeeeen!”

“I’m gonna go and say hello,” Celaeno said to Stinkbug as she spread her wings and took off. “He seems friendly. Maybe he’ll sing to us!”

Sitting behind a tree and staying out of sight, Stinkbug peeked around so he could watch. Celaeno flew low and slow towards the pony, it wasn’t too long before the pony saw her. Stinkbug felt another emotion—fear. It was bitter and it made Stinkbug ache.

“A harpy! I ain’t seen one of your kind in a long time and it ain’t been long enough! Get out of here!” The pony lifted up a stone and held it in his fetlock, then waved it in a threatening manner. “Go on, get!”

“But we just wanted to—”

Celaeno never got to finish her sentence. The pony hurled the rock he was holding and struck her in the head. She fell to the ground with a thump, her wings quivering, and the pony began his retreat.

“I told you to get, harpy… your kind ain’t welcome here! Consider that a warning shot!” The pony, still retreating, shook one hoof at the harpy as he moved backwards on three legs. “When I come back with my friends, you’d better not be here, or we’ll string you up!”

Stunned, angry, Stinkbug wanted to attack. He wanted to vent his rage. He wanted to capture the pony, cocoon him, and drink him dry. He wanted to suck the love and the life out of the pony for what he had done. The sounds of Celaeno whimpering reached his ears.

When the pony was gone, Stinkbug crept forward, slinking through the grass, feeling a strange new fear. As he approached the place where Celaeno fell, he saw blood. A crimson flow gushed from the side of her head where she had been struck and it pooled around her, soaking into the grass, the dirt, and her body.

He wasn’t a healing drone, but like any other changeling, he had his spit. His insides gurgled as he worked up a simple adhesive spit with some basic healing properties. It would stop the blood at least. The harpy’s legs twitched and her wings flapped as she convulsed. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and she was unresponsive, it was as if she couldn’t see Stinkbug at all.

For a moment, he was tempted to run down the pony and drain him dry. He looked down at his fallen friend. Every second mattered. He hawked up some spit and dribbled some on her head, then used his telekinesis to smear it around over the wound. He spit up a little more, spread that, and watched as the terrible gash in her head ceased to spray scarlet.

The harpy’s eyes were all wrong, her pupils seemed to lack focus, and she was in no condition to move on her own, seeing as how her brain had been scrambled. They needed to leave before the pony came back with his friends. Stinkbug struggled to figure out what to do.

This was bad. Real bad. Stinkbug felt a new frantic sense of worry that he had never experienced before. He lowered his head and touched his insectoid muzzle to Celaeno’s breast, ruffling her feathers that were damp and sticky with blood. He was having trouble flying. Taking her away from this place would be difficult. Real difficult.

He struggled to even think. His mind felt slow and kludgy. An idea percolated through his brain, and he knew what he needed to do. His insides burbled and gurgled as he fired up his internal alchemy organs. He needed goop, the rubbery, snotty, tough stuff that was flexible and was used to make cocoons. But he wasn’t going to make a cocoon.

In the grass beside Celaeno, Stinkbug laid out a grid of lines, some going left to right, others going up and down, intersecting each other and forming a weave. When the goop cured, it was like a net. These simple nets were used to transport clusters of eggs around the hive. Using his telekinesis, he scooped up the harpy and laid her upon the makeshift net.

Sucking in a deep breath, Stinkbug began blowing the biggest snot bubble ever out of his mouth. He drew in more air through his nostrils, and filled the bubble, until it was huge. The rubbery goop wouldn’t pop or anything, it was tough stuff. He cast a simple warming spell, something used within the hive to help incubate the eggs. The bubble began to grow on its own as it filled with hot air.

Stinkbug made several connections to the bubble, goopy strands of rubbery goop, and secured those to his carapace with adhesive. He lifted up the net that he had laid Celaeno in and then secured that to his stomach with more adhesive.

His makeshift snot bubble balloon grew larger and more buoyant as it filled with hot air. Stinkbug felt himself lifted, his hooves dragged over the ground as the wind snatched the enormous green bubble, which kept swelling with more hot air.

And then, with a buzzy cry of triumph, Stinkbug was airborne and Celaeno was with him. Somehow, he was rescuing his one and only friend. He hung in the air, at the mercy of the wind, and he looked down at his friend, who was suspended beneath him. He gazed into her face, fearing for her, worried about her soft, squishy head and how fragile she was. She wasn’t armored like he was. She didn’t have hard, tough chitin to protect her soft, helpless body.

In no time at all, Stinkbug was high above the trees, the prairie, and everything else. He had quite a view from up here. He could see Appleloosa in the distance, it was growing smaller and smaller as he drifted away from it, carried away on his makeshift green snot bubble balloon.

He had no idea where they were going.

Author's Note

This might need some editing and or touching up. I decided to upload it anyway. If there are any edits or fixes, I'll upload an updated version later.

I felt awful writing this chapter.

Chapter 5

The world below was huge. For Stinkbug, who had spent his entire life in a hive, the world was mind-bogglingly ginormous. He clutched his comatose companion, not knowing what to do with her, and he found it more and more difficult to think. He had to conserve what energy he had left and his makeshift snot bubble balloon was at the mercy of the wind.

There was a city below him—what had Celaeno called it? Dodge something-or-other. He had trouble remembering anything. There was desert to the south and greenery to the north. They passed through a bank of clouds and for a time, Stinkbug was flying blind, unable to see anything at all. When they emerged from the clouds, he tried to get his bearings, but was unable to do so. The wind was strong up here, maybe even too strong, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

The wind shifted without warning, as wind was wont to do, and Stinkbug’s makeshift balloon was now being blown in a different direction. He gave his companion a squeeze, he was worried about her, but there wasn’t much he could do for her, other than hope that she would be okay. He wasn’t a healing drone.

Worst of all, making the balloon had done something to him. He could feel his mind going. He was losing himself. Without strong emotion, raw, sweet, primal emotion, he was wasting away into nothingness. Soon, he would lose himself, his sense of self would be gone, his mind would be lost, and not long after that, he would die.

If he died, there would be no one to take care of Celaeno in her current state. It made him feel sad, it robbed him of hope, but he was becoming far too stupid to be philosophical about it. His mind was dying. Of course, given Celaeno’s current state, she might be dying as well. The thought of two dead corpses flying on a hot air balloon made of changeling snot might have been funny in a black sort of way, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to be able to laugh about it.

Off in the distance, the soft, white, pale and fluffy clouds became a dark, angry grey. Lightning crackled and the distant rumble of thunder could be heard. Stinkbug had never seen a thunderstorm before, and he had trouble recalling his collective memories. Still, he knew that the storm represented a great danger to both him and Celaeno. They were being sucked right towards it and there didn’t seem to be much that Stinkbug could do about it.

They picked up speed as they were tugged towards the swirling vortex ahead and with what little intelligence that Stinkbug had left, he wondered if this was going to be the end of them both. Panicked, he punctured the snot bubble balloon and allowed the hot air inside to escape in a slow, steady trickle, so they could at least face this storm on the ground.

The remains of the snot bubble made for a decent tent. It had snagged on a branch and with a little work, Stinkbug had made a simple A-frame tent, which he now cowered inside while the storm raged. He held Celaeno close, she was wet, unresponsive, and he had tried to scrub some of the blood off of her. Of course, had Stinkbug been a little smarter, he might have worried about the tree being struck by lightning, but the little changeling drone had never experienced the outside world before.

The storm raged overhead, rain came down in sideways sheets, and lightning illuminated the sky, turning it as green as bottle glass. The bug and the harpy, taking refuge in the crude tent, were spared the worst of the storm, but were still wet. The ground was sodden and turned to mud.

After a terrific clap of thunder, Celeano awoke. She couldn’t move much, or even say much, but she was awake. One eye was swollen shut and the other eye could hardly open. She clung to Stinkbug, and he had his forelegs wrapped around her torso. She shivered against him—Stinkbug had no warm, fuzzy pelt to snuggle against, only smooth chitin. There was little he could do to comfort her, other than continue to hold her as they waited out the storm together.

“What have we here?”

The voice was gruff and a bit growly. Stinkbug was unaware that he had fallen asleep. He was terrified as he clutched his friend and companion. She was passed out again and she was still bleeding. He didn’t know what to do as his snot bubble balloon tent was being tugged on by something.

“Now here is something you don’t see everyday.”

Looking up, Stinkbug bared his teeth at the stranger, his dangerous hypodermic fangs. He let out a hiss as a warning, and somehow, he knew that he was looking at something called a diamond dog. He had never seen one before.

“I mean no harm,” the diamond dog said in a low voice. “My name is Hachikō. I caught a whiff of you quite some ways away and I had to come and find out what smelled so terrible. My curiousity has been rewarded.” The diamond dog bowed his head and then kneeled down.

Reaching out a paw, he placed it upon Celeano and stroked her feathers. He then looked right at Stinkbug, meeting his gaze. Stinkbug, who didn’t know what to do, looked at the diamond dog, but didn’t hiss and he closed his mouth.

“She needs to be stitched up. That’s a wound that will not close on its own.”

“You help friend?” Stinkbug asked.

“Yes, I will help your friend. I give you my word.”

“I use spit to close wound. Rain wash it off. Spit no work in wet.” Stinkbug cursed his stupidity and wished that he had a mind link with the diamond dog. There wasn’t much he could do. Even talking was labourious at this point. He was also out of spit, which didn’t help the situation. For all he knew, he was dying.

“Yam, where are you?”

Turning his head, Stinkbug looked around when he heard the sounds of movement. Gravel crunched. He felt the faint touch of emotions on the edge of his perception, but he was so weak that his range of perception had shrunk.

“Yam has probably gone off to look at something with his companion, Serape.” Hachikō stood up, lifting Celaeno as he did so, cradling her in one well muscled arm. Looking down, he asked, “Do you need some help, friend?”

“Stinkbug.”

“A very apt name,” Hachikō replied as he helped Stinkbug stand up.

He felt a rush of emotions, he felt love as two equines drew near. No, one was an equine, the other was equine too, but spicy. He felt some of his strength returning, but he had a long way to go before he was whole of mind and body again.

“Yam Spade and his companion, a donkey named Azure Serape are some of—”

“I’m a burro!” a voice said in a thick accent.

“Yes, a burro, I am sorry.” Hachikō bowed his head. “Yam Spade and his burro companion, Azure Serape, are some of the nicest folk you will ever meet. They are honourable and good.”

“A changeling. Is he the source of the stink?” A bright orange earth pony stood a fair distance away, unmoving, and he came no closer. Beside him, a grey-blue burro mare with a tremendous amount of goods strapped to her back stood staring.

“I thought you ponies were at war with the changelings,” the burro said.

“We are,” Yam replied, “but look at him. He doesn’t look dangerous at all.”

“No hurt,” Stinkbug said in a halting voice, “outcast. Thrown out.”

“Hmm.” Hachikō examined the wound on the harpy’s goat-like head, his eyes narrowed with concern. The big dog was gentle, kind, and attentive. After having a look, he sat down on a nearby log, held Celeano with one arm, and began to rummage through his supplies so he could fix her up.

There was love here—Stinkbug could feel it. There was the love of friendship, but there was also passionate love between the burro and the pony. He could feel it revitalising him, giving him strength, and he could feel his mind beginning to mend.

“Wow, what a stink,” the burro said as she took a step backwards. “Whew!”

“Smells worse than an Appleloosan outhouse after taco Tuesday,” Yam said in a low, slow drawl. “I honestly can’t remember a time in my life where I’ve smelled something worse. The only thing that comes close was when I returned home after a case after being away for months and opened the fridge. That was quite a stink. All that old takeout food had turned.”

The burro, looking disgusted, took a step away from Yam. “Slob.”

“The bigger mystery here is, why is there a harpy in central Equestria?” Yam blinked his eyes, which were watering, and looked over in Hachikō’s direction. After looking over at the diamond dog and the harpy for a few moments, he returned his attention to Stinkbug.

“She not enemy. She friend. Me not dumb, me was starving.”

One of Yam’s eyebrows rose. “No love for the Sultan of Stench, eh?”

Stinkbug didn’t have the brainpower to have a sense of humour, but Azure Serape brayed with laughter. Yam chuckled at his own joke, but then became serious. He glanced at his companion, who quieted down, and then looked at Stinkbug once more.

“Two of Equestria’s greatest enemies travelling together. Makes a pony wonder what this world is coming to. I’ve been a detective for quite a while now, and I’ve seen some strange stuff, but this takes the cake. Good grief, you stink.”

“Yes.” Stinkbug agreed with a nod.

“Hey, Yam, I think we’ll need some help,” Hachikō said to the bright orange pony. “The skin is very thin. I don’t think my big fingers will do a good job of stitching things together. Do you think you could go and get those two rangers we met a while back? If you run, you might be able to catch up.”

The pony nodded, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, I can go and find them. I can find anything.” He smiled at Stinkbug and winked. “That’s what I do.” He turned to the burro not far away from him, stepped closer, and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, my spicy little chili pepper… you look after our new friends, okay?”

“You stay safe, Yam… it’s dangerous out here near the Froggy Bottom Bogg.”

Stinkbug felt another emotion—worry, mixed with fear.

“If something wants to eat me, it has to catch me.” Yam grinned, smooched the burro again, and then took off at a run, his tail streaming out behind him.

It seemed that Stinkbug’s fortune had changed. He now found himself among friends, those willing to help. He was also near a source of food. There was a steady trickle of positive emotion coming off of the burro. Spicy emotion. It was just what Stinkbug needed to help him recover. Already he was feeling just a smidge better.

Stinkbug now felt a distinct new emotion since leaving the hive. Hope.

Author's Note

I need to update this more. :derpytongue2:

Chapter 6

The tall diamond dog Hachikō seemed to be very kind and had a sincere love about him, Stinkbug could feel it. The steady trickle of love sustained him, gave him strength, and restored his mind. He was gentle with Celaeno, trying to comfort her, trying to ease her pain, and Stinkbug did not know what to think of the situation. He had nothing to draw from, no ancestral memory, he had nothing, only the knowledge that the world was supposed to hate him and it was filled with inferior, weak creatures.

The burro was another creature that radiated love like a furnace. She was of equine stock, she was supposed to be food, but she was so strong. Her emotions were raw, unfiltered, she broadcasted with a force that Stinkbug had trouble dealing with. It was like standing next to the Queen when she was shouting and ranting. Too much volume to take in.

A profound thought lurked in Stinkbug’s mind. They did not feed off of each other because changelings, by and large, didn’t have any feelings towards one another. They had no real thoughts of their own. They had no sense of independence. They were a hive mind, a group entity, and the queen discouraged any sort of emotion or complex thought, as it was disruptive to the hive mind. Sure, there were some feelings there, faint echos of emotion, but changelings were incapable of being self sufficient due to a lack of emotion among themselves.

This was why they had to feed on others. Queen Chrysalis kept them all starving and dependant upon her leadership. If members of the hive had love for one another, had feelings for one another, they wouldn’t need to feed on other species. They would have no need for conflict with the other species. They could keep to themselves. Queen Chrysalis kept them all hungry for the sake of war and conquest.

Confused, in pain, Stinkbug wasn’t sure if he could endure this troubling thought. It pained him, the realisation hurt him far more than any physical wound. Something strange happened to his faceted, insectoid eyes. They began leaking. Something was wrong with his face. It was leaking. Some unknown vinegary liquid was squirting from the corners of his eyes.

“Aw, there there, cheer up, your friend will be okay,” Azure said as she clapped Stinkbug on the back. “I know it looks bad right now, but it will get better.”

“Eyes are leaking,” Stinkbug mumbled in alarm.

“Yes, you appear to be crying.” Azure wrapped a foreleg around Stinkbug’s back and gave him a squeeze. “I didn’t know changelings could cry. It seems that you aren’t so different from us after all.”

The burro’s sincere and genuine affection did something peculiar to Stinkbug. It left him feeling full. For the first time in his relatively short life, the gnawing hunger in his insides abated and he felt content. An unknown sensation of peace settled over him and he leaned against Azure, not knowing what else to do to express friendship.

“We have trouble,” Hachikō announced as he stood up and pointed at the sky with his paw.

Stinkbug saw them, a whole flock of them. Harpies. The swarm approached and Stinkbug felt a growing sense of alarm. They were quite unlike Celaeno. These harpies were filthy, disgusting, and vile looking. He could feel the hatred they produced, and it made him feel queasy. As the harpies circled overhead, Stinkbug watched as Hachikō tensed. The many emotions that laced this moment were overwhelming.

“Give us our troublesome sister and we’ll let you live,” one of the harpies said as she swooped overhead.

“No,” Hachikō said in a flat voice as he shook his head. “I think not.”

“Suit yourself, meat.” And with that, the harpies attacked. “The dog will make a fine meal and the cricket will be delicious!”

“I want the donkey!” one harpy cried as she pulled out her blowgun.

“Azure… RUN!” Hachikō commanded as he drew his sword.

“I’m a burro!” Azure cried as she galloped away, beating a hasty retreat.

The air filled with hundreds of tiny darts, none of which did anything to Stinkbug. They bounced off of his chitin, making little plink-plink-plink sounds. Wings buzzing, he took to the air, hoping to defend his newfound friends. He went after the harpies chasing Azure. He was not unarmed, he had magic, he had power, he had recently had a meal.

Hachikō was at a complete disadvantage. There was little he could do but take swipes with his sword at any harpy that got too close to him and Celaeno. His body was covered in many tiny darts, and the big diamond dog was staggering around, having a difficult time staying upright.

One of the harpies swooped down, turned her backside towards Hachikō, and with a loud blast of flatulence, she fired an egg at him. The egg exploded on impact, releasing a cloud of noxious stench and knocking Hachikō from his paws. The diamond dog’s sword clattered to the ground beside him as he collapsed into a bloody heap.

Stinkbug blasted one harpy with his magic and she burst into a mess of blood, chunks, and feathers. Her remains rained down from the sky and all around him, the angry cries of her sisters filled the air. He fired upon another and she dodged. He fired again and managed to land a hit, turning another harpy into bloody bits and feathers. An angry shriek could be heard from the flock, and Stinkbug discovered that the entire swarm of harpies had turned their fury upon him.

He was not a combat drone, his ancestral memories reminded him. At best, he was a last ditch defender if something invaded the hive. He was weak, worthless, and small. He wasn’t armored like his bigger, stronger, better suited to combat hive mates. He didn’t have time to think about this though, as the first rock had struck him and left him dazed.

Wings buzzing, Stinkbug struggled to remain in the air. Several harpies had presented their backsides to him, and he knew what was coming. He was too dazed and too stunned to do much about it. The first of the eggs struck him and exploded with enough force to crack his chitin. The second egg hit and blasted off one of his wings. The third egg hit him where he was already weak, already vulnerable, and he knew no more as the resulting explosion blasted away his consciousness.

When Stinkbug awoke, he discovered that he could not move. His body ached with fierce pain. His chitin was cracked and broken in many places. He was missing a wing. An eye was damaged and he had trouble seeing. Inside of his body, his blood burned and he didn’t know what was wrong. Beside him, Hachikō lay unmoving. A growing sense of concern welled up inside of Stinkbug, an alien sensation.

Nearby, a gross looking harpy was sharpening up a wicked looking knife on a stone while humming to herself. He could hear them all around him, cackling, laughing, it sounded like a party. They sounded happy. Wiggling about, Stinkbug looked around, desperate to find Celaeno. There was no sign of Azure either. He hoped that the burro got away.

The harpy, done sharpening her knife, turned her attention upon Stinkbug. She said nothing, but flapped over, and landed beside him. She was covered in filth, her feathers were matted, clumped, and there was a diseased gleam in her eye.

Standing on one bird leg, she set down the sharp knife, picked up a stone mallet, and without further ado, she smashed the mallet down upon Stinkbug’s leg, cracking his chitin. Stinkbug screamed and there wasn’t much else he could do. He couldn’t make his magic work for some reason. The harpy put down the mallet and picked up the knife in her talons, then went to work on peeling away Stinkbug’s protective shell.

An even worse fate awaited Hachikō, as he had to be skinned.

With a wet sounding rip, a wide section of chitin was torn away from Stinkbug’s foreleg. The harpy picked up the mallet again and as she did so, a cry of alarm went up in the camp. With a clatter, the mallet was dropped as Stinkbug’s tormentor flapped her wings and flew away.

Stinkbug felt love nearby… and with it, came hope.

Something horrible was going on. Stinkbug didn’t know what was happening, but something truly awful was taking place. The sky had gone dark, black as night, and clouds swirled overhead. It had begun to rain and hail already, the storm had come out of nowhere. Doing his best to ignore his pain, Stinkbug crawled around as best he could in his bindings, trying to find Celaeno. Just outside of the stone outcropping which jutted out overhead, a hailstone the size of a cantaloup crashed into the ground.

Once more, Stinkbug screamed, not knowing or understanding what was going on. Fearful for Hachikō, he wiggled over, and not knowing how else to grab the much larger diamond dog, Stinkbug sunk his fangs into the thick flesh found on Hachikō’s shoulder. Thrashing his body around, Stinkbug managed to drag Hachikō further beneath the overhang, where Stinkbug hoped his newfound friend might be safe from the storm that had arrived from out of nowhere.

While he flopped around, Stinkbug kicked something, and saw that it was some kind of cage that had been covered in the skin of some poor animal. As the skin fell away, he saw Celaeno in the cage. She was unresponsive and didn’t move. He continued to pull and tug upon Hachikō, determined to pull his friend to safety.

Overhead, the gathering storm wreaked havoc upon the harpies. Lightning speared down from the sky and struck them, electrocuting them, killing them outright on impact. It was a terrible, fearsome sight. Enormous hailstones plummeted down all around the camp, smashing anything they hit, including harpies.

Wind blew rain into Stinkbug’s shelter, soaking him and his companions. He could hear the harpies screaming and he heard voices in the distance. The sounds of battle echoed in Stinkbug’s earholes. The bodies of dead harpies swirled through the air, flung about on dangerous gusts. The sounds of explosions could be heard and Stinkbug knew that the harpies were firing eggs.

In the middle of the storm, a terrible figure flew into view, the mortal enemy of changelings everywhere, an alicorn! Woozy from pain and blood loss, Stinkbug watched as the majestic creature ripped the cruel harpies a new one. His ancestral memory screamed that she would be coming for him next. She would dash him against the rocks in his weakened state, and he would be done for.

The emotion she radiated was overwhelming. The alicorn was a cocktail of love, hope, optimism, and rage. The bitterness of her rage stood out in sharp contrast to her other emotions. Stinkbug found that his senses were overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions, his loss of precious bodily fluids, and the pain that wracked his now ruined body.

The last thing he saw was the majestic fury of an alicorn smiting her enemies as he slipped into darkness.

Author's Note

I wonder which alicorn that could be...

Chapter 7

The sound of voices pulled Stinkbug up from the depths of darkness. Groggy, disoriented, he pieced together what little he knew of his surroundings. He was laying on something soft, he was covered by something warm, and his pain felt dulled. His eyes weren’t working quite yet, but as his body awoke, his senses became more and more alert. There were incessant itches in several places on his body, places where he was growing new chitin.

He thought about the alicorn and the harpies. He had been saved from them. Or perhaps the alicorn had spared him for whatever odd reason. Alicorns were strange creatures, fickle, and oh so very dangerous. Feeling a growing sense of caution, Stinkbug lifted his head.

“Oh, you are awake!” a rather excited voice said to Stinkbug.

When his eyes focused, Stinkbug saw the creature of nightmares. The alicorn was here, beside him, and she was smiling, for whatever nefarious purpose she had in mind. Try as he might, Stinkbug couldn’t muster a sense of panic. His body was too sluggish, his mind and senses still far too dull.

“Hi, my name is Twilight Sparkle, and I want to be your friend,” the alicorn said in an overly chipper voice that made Stinkbug’s ear holes ache. “Try not to move too much. You’re safe and with friends. I bet you’re worried, but you don’t need to be.”

With a muffled plop, Stinkbug’s head fell down upon his pillow. He lay there, feeling very, very confused, and not knowing what to do. The alicorn was now inches away from him, peering at him, and there was a wide, disconcerting smile upon her face. There was another pony beside her, an earth pony.

The earth pony was somehow more terrifying than the alicorn. The earth pony was a seething caldera of raw emotion. The love she generated made Stinkbug feel dizzy, dopey, it made his head throb. There were other emotions there as well, but they were broadcast at such a volume that Stinkbug couldn’t tell what they were. She was chaos, that earth pony, at least on the inside. On the outside, she looked sleepy and perhaps a little bit bored. She looked sedate, calm, she showed no emotion whatsoever.

“Your friends are safe and recovering. Your harpy friend is right here in this room in fact. I’ve been working on becoming friends with her. I’ve never had a harpy friend, usually, I have to obliterate harpies to protect my fellow ponies.”

“Not like others,” Stinkbug managed to gasp. It took him several long seconds to realise that he was overstuffed on love, and love-drunk. It was the weird earth pony mare that was messing with his senses. She had a crazy amount of love about her and it left Stinkbug stoned.

“No, she’s not like the others at all, from what I’ve been able to gather.” As Twilight stepped away from the bed, her smile became an expression of concern and compassion. “We’ve been able to help her a lot more than we’ve been able to help you. We know almost nothing about you or your physiology. Celaeno keeps talking about how nice of a bug you are.”

“She’s awake?” Stinkbug asked.

“Not at the moment, she’s napping,” Twilight replied.

“Hachikō?”

“He’s fine. He was poisoned pretty bad, but he’s recovering. He keeps asking about you.” Twilight paused and then a warm smile spread over her muzzle once more. “I bet it feels nice to know that you have friends that worry about you and ask about you.”

“The burro—”

“Azure Serape?” Twilight’s ears twitched as she spoke the two words. “Oh, she’s fine. She made it to safety. She and Yam are here as a matter of fact. They’re with Hachikō, as he recovers.”

“You saved me, why?” Stinkbug looked into Twilight’s eyes. Before she could answer, he added, “It was a pony who hurt Celaeno. Why save us?”

For a second, Twilight looked troubled. “Mistakes can be made. I know I’ve made them in the past. I’ve learned from them though.” She clucked her tongue and then continued, “I just so happened to be in the area because I was called in by Tarnished Teapot, a friend of mine. There was some trouble and he and I were having a little debate about what to do about it when Yam shows up. When we caught up to where we thought you would be, you and the others were gone. We found harpy darts and dead harpies. Azure found us and then we had to track you down and figure out where you went. Tarnish and I saved you.”

“He’s my husband,” the earth pony said in a flat monotone.

“This is Maud, by the way,” Twilight said, introducing her friend.

“Twilight, about what we talked about—”

“Yes, yes, I know, Maud. Pebble wants to meet a changeling. Give him time to get sorted out and I’ll keep my promise.” Turning her head, Twilight looked at Stinkbug. “You have an admirer. Somepony is just beside themselves wanting to meet you. Her name is Pebble and she’s almost a yearling and she’s really quite nice in her own special way.”

Overwhelmed, Stinkbug just lay there, not knowing what to say.

“She likes bugs,” Maud said in a voice that revealed no emotion whatsoever. “She’s in a bug phase right now. We try to encourage her hobbies because that’s what good parents do. I hope you are not offended by being called a bug. If you are, I’ll have a long talk with her about it.”

The enigmatic earth pony was almost terrifying to Stinkbug. Her voice offered no hint of the emotion inside. He had trouble reconciling how her insides and her outsides did not match. There was kindness there, however, and that brought him a little comfort. It made her easier to deal with.

“I’m going to go and check on Pebble,” Maud announced. “It was nice meeting you, Stinkbug.”

Laying still, Stinkbug watched the earth pony go and he heard her hooves tapping upon some hard surface. The alicorn was still here, and she wasn’t a danger, no matter what his ancestral memory suggested. Twilight turned around in a circle next to him, her face now thoughtful. He could feel her worry, but also her optimism. She was excited and happy.

“I feel bad that we couldn’t do more to help you,” Twilight blurted out. “We just don’t know enough about you though. Tarnish cooked up a concoction that neutralised your stink, in fact, you sort of smell like roses now—”

Sniffing, Stinkbug realised that he couldn’t smell much of anything.

“—and no offense, but that makes you a lot easier to deal with. But that’s okay, I’d still be your friend, even if you were stinky. It sure made you easy to find. There’s a few doctors here and they’re very curious about you, and I’ve kept an eye on them to make sure they stay respectful. Not that they would do anything bad, I just want them to remember that you’re more than a curiousity, you’re a thinking, feeling creature with emotions and needs. They’ve been very good so far though and… and… hey, I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

Stinkbug nodded.

“Sometimes I do that when I’m nervous or excited,” Twilight admitted. “Now that you are awake, I’m going to call in the doctors for a little checkup, if you don’t mind.”

Again, Stinkbug nodded.

The little room was now quiet. No more alicorns, no more doctors, Stinkbug lay in his bed and he looked at Celaeno, who was sitting in a makeshift nest beside him. Her head was bandaged, she was woozy, and the odd square pupils in her eyes kept changing size. After all of the hubbub, after all of the confusion, after all of the poking and the prodding, it was nice to have a quiet moment alone with Celaeno, his friend.

“Okay, Stinky, things didn’t quite work out as planned,” Celaeno said in a low, weak voice, “but that’s okay. We’ve still made friends. We didn’t get a chance to prove ourselves to make the ponies accept us, and my foolproof plan didn’t work out so well, but everything turned out okay though.”

Even though he couldn’t express it, Stinkbug was very, very happy to hear Celaeno’s voice. It relieved him and brought him comfort. She was… precious to him, even if he had trouble processing why. She was his friend, but being friends was an odd, almost alien thought to a changeling.

“We still have a chance at greatness.” Celaeno, too weary and weak to keep holding up her head, allowed it to come to rest against Stinkbug’s neck. She settled in, got comfortable, and then let out a contented sigh. “Stinky, we have a chance to become ambassadors to the ponies. Twilight talked to me about it. She wants us to become her friendship ambassadors. She thinks that if ponies can meet us, talk to us, and interact with us, it will make things better.”

“And what do you think?” Stinkbug asked.

“I think it will,” Celaeno replied. “Maybe it’s the concussion, but I think we can make a difference. Harpies don’t have to be gross and evil. Stinkbug, I’m so sorry that you had to see what my kind are like. Now you see why I had to leave them. They’re awful.”

As Celaeno spoke, Stinkbug thought about how the harpy had started to crack and peel away his chitin, the uncaring, unfeeling way that she went about it. She didn’t care that he was a living, breathing, thinking, feeling creature. She didn’t care that she was causing him pain. The harpy, he realised, was a lot like his Queen Mother. He shuddered and felt Celaeno move against him. He went still, fearing that he might disturb her state of comfort, and then let out a very pony-like sigh as his eyes started leaking again. The vinegary scent of changeling tears filled the room.

“Twilight is really very helpful. She gave me a long checklist on how to be a good harpy. There’s things on there that I didn’t even think of.” Celaeno shifted her body, settling up against Stinkbug, snuggling up against him. Her feathers fluffed out and she tucked her wings against her body. “Twilight and Tarnished Teapot took a big risk in saving us. We owe them, even if they say we don’t owe them, we do. We have a job to do, Stinky.”

“We do?” Stinkbug asked.

“Yes,” Celaeno replied, “we must become heroes. Once we get better, of course. The only way to pay back this sort of kindness is to go forth and save others, and then tell them that they don’t owe us anything. Then we’ll be debt free.”

That seemed reasonable, so Stinkbug didn’t disagree.

“I’m going to be a real hero someday,” Celaeno said in a sleepy voice as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “And you…” The harpy yawned and let out a drowsy whine. “And you, you’re going to be my conscience.”

“I’ll be your what?”

“My conscience,” Celaeno repeated. “You’ll be my guide. You know how other creatures feel. You can sense their emotions. With you around, I’ll be able to do whatever it takes to make others happy, so I can be a real hero someday. We’ll be able to find creatures who are scared or have broken hearts and help them.”

Somehow, Stinkbug’s chitinous face was able to express his utter confusion.

“The world would be a better place if more creatures had bugs acting as their conscience.” Celaeno’s eyes closed and her goat face lapsed into a peaceful, calm expression. “I have big plans, Stinkbug… big plans…”

It seemed that Celaeno’s big plans would have to wait, as the harpy slipped off into slumber. Stinkbug found something about the harpy dozing against him comforting. She was right, he would be able to sense those who were troubled. Perhaps she had the right idea. He thought about when they had first met, when he had watched her bathing in the water, and how she had expressed the desire to do good, so that they would be accepted.

Would he ever get acceptance? He didn’t know. He thought about the pony that had hit Celaeno with a rock. He thought about his own feelings of rage, his anger, and poor Stinkbug felt his emotions twist into a confusing mess inside of him. That pony didn’t know better. He thought about the savageness of the harpies, he felt the pain in his leg, and then, the most miraculous thing happened.

Stinkbug felt sympathy for the unknown pony that had hurt Celaeno.

Perhaps that pony had experienced the cruelties of the harpies. Perhaps he had seen, or heard stories, perhaps he had an encounter with a harpy that had left him wary. It didn’t excuse his actions, or make his assault any easier to think about, but it did give Stinkbug some sense of understanding.

He and Celaeno had an obligation. They had to show the world that changelings and harpies, enemies of ponykind, could be good. He could be Celaeno’s conscience bug if he had to. He could do his part to bring about understanding. After all, he had the gift to know what another creature was feeling.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised, he could be a hero.

Author's Note

Yes, I think Twilight is the purple fairy in this story.

Chapter 8

The little yearling was timid and shy. Stinkbug had trouble believing that ponies would so willingly bring their young around him. He looked at her and she peered out from behind her mother to look back at him. She was little, brown, and was wearing a turquoise smock similar to her mother’s.

The love available was overwhelming to Stinkbug, who had only known starvation.

“You’re a bug,” the little yearling said in a squeaky matter-of-fact voice.

“Pebble, he’s a changeling and he’s a friend.” The eternally bored sounding mare blinked once and then asked, “Where is your harpy friend?”

“Doctors took her for more tests,” Stinkbug replied.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Maud gave her daughter a rough shove forwards to get her out from underhoof, and the yearling resisted every inch. “This is Pebble. She’s a chip off of the old rock.”

“My name is Stinkbug.”

“You’re hurt.” Pebble tilted her head off to one side as she stated the obvious. “Okay, I’ve seen the bug. I’m ready to go now, Mother.”

“I’m sorry, Stinkbug, sometimes there’s just no helping how she is.” Maud looked down at her daughter, let out a sigh, rolled her eyes as Pebble once more hid beneath her and was once again underhoof.

“Bye, Pebble.”

The yearling paused, turned around, lifted up one hoof, and then waved. She stood there, peering out from between her mother’s forelegs, looking up at Stinkbug in his hospital bed with wide, curious blue eyes. As it turned out, the little yearling had one final thing to say, a few parting words left within her.

“You’re nice.”

“We’ll be meeting again, Stinkbug, when you settle into the Druid’s Grove. It will be a good place for you and Celaeno to settle in, recover, and get adjusted to your new life. I look forward to working with you.” Maud lifted up one hoof, waved, and then with nothing left to say, she turned so she could head for the door.

“Bye, Maud.” Stinkbug was sad to see her go, but he was thankful to be alone again. He was tired and wanted to sleep. Sleep was where he did most of his healing and his body needed considerable time to repair itself.

And with a thump of a wood and rubber stamp upon a crisp sheet of paper, Stinkbug became a citizen of Equestria. A protected citizen of Equestria, with all of the rights due to a citizen in good standing. He and Celaeno both now had this privilege. His name, written in mildly magical ink that Stinkbug had made himself from his very own ink glands, was going to be filed away someplace.

Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, seemed proud to have welcomed in two of Equestria’s most wanted enemies as friends, causing Stinkbug to believe that anything, however unlikely, was possible. Sure, things would be difficult, there would be some trying times, but Stinkbug had faith that things would work out.

“I’m an Equestrian harpy,” Celaeno said as her goat-like face contorted into a grimace. She looked as though she might start crying at any minute. “I belong somewhere. I’m welcomed. I’m an immigrant and I’ve found a home. See Stinkbug, everything worked out.”

Silent, Stinkbug gave thought to his companion’s words. He had been exiled from his hive, come north, crossed the border, faced hardship, almost was killed, and now, this. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. Now, he was a citizen of Equestria and Celaeno’s agent of conscience, a means to satisfy her doubts as she didn’t always know what to do.

“Welcome to Equestria,” Tarnished Teapot said in a warm, sincere voice to both the changeling and the harpy.

“Yes, welcome to Equestria.” Twilight lifted her head high, her ears perked, and her perfect square teeth could be seen in every inch of her grin. “We’re going to help you get settled in, introduce you to some new friends, and we’re going to help you live your dream of being a hero. Well, Mister Teapot here will be looking after that part.”

Feathers all afloof, Celaeno looked excited even as she started to cry.

“When you’ve healed up a bit, I’d like it if you came to Manehattan with me. The central hall for the League of Extraordinary Tolerance is located there and I think that a good start for relations could be found there.” Tarnish, who appeared solemn, looked down at Stinkbug and Celaeno in the hospital bed. “They’ll help you learn our customs, our laws, our traditions, and would be quite excited if you brought any traditions of your own to share.”

“I’d like that, but only if Stinky agrees.” With slow, clumsy movement, Celaeno wiped her eyes with her wings and something almost like a smile appeared upon her face as she wept. “I finally have a place to call home.”

“Only one final form to fill out,” Twilight Sparkle said as she held her pen aloft.

“What’s that?” Celaeno asked.

“Well, I am sorry for any intrusion”—Twilight’s cheeks darkened a bit and she let out a nervous chuckle—“but we kinda need to know if you are a couple. The, uh, the Crown likes to keep an eye on curious crossbreed potential—”

“Oh stars, bureaucracy!” Tarnish’s blurted outburst was a cry of exasperation.

Fluffing out, Celaeno sniffled and stared Twilight in the eye. “We’re uh, we’re friends. Just good friends. At least for now. We’re just friends, right Stinkbug?”

Saying nothing, Stinkbug nodded.

“Besides,” Celaeno murmured, “I’m sterile. All harpies are sterile. We’re made from unnatural magics.”

“Oh… I’m sorry…” Twilight took a step backwards away from the bed. “I didn’t know… there is so much that we just don’t know… I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be upset.” Celaeno snuggled up a little closer to Stinkbug as Twilight fell silent. “Unnatural creature that I might be, I still chose to do better. I choose to be good, to be kind, to be generous, honest, loyal, and true to any friends I make.”

“Like me.” Stinkbug nudged his harpy companion with his hardened nose.

“Like you,” Celaeno replied. “Do you like me, Stinky?”

“Yeah…”

Celaeno’s ears caused her bandages to crinkle just a little bit. “That means a lot to me, Stinky.”

For Stinkbug, who was certain that he was going to meet his end, everything now felt like a beginning. He didn’t need his Queen Mother, or his hive, or even his fellow changelings. There was a constant, steady flow of love and friendship to sustain him—with the potential for a little more love from Celaeno. It was more than he had hoped for, this was better than survival, this was thriving.

“I have one final request,” Stinkbug said to Twilight Sparkle in a low voice.

“Go right ahead,” Twilight replied.

“I’ll let you study me as much as you want, but I’d like to meet the other alicorns so that I might know them better, since I’m going to be your ambassador and all.”

Twilight’s smile widened and her eyes had a merry, satisfied twinkle to them. “You know, Stinkbug, I think that can be arranged…”

Author's Note

Smell ya later!

Chapter 3

Celaeno was a very peculiar creature. Stinkbug wasn’t quite sure what to think about her, but he followed her. She seemed to have a lot of knowledge about the world all around them, she knew how to stay safe, and she was armed. She had a blow gun that fired poison darts. Stinkbug felt safe with her.

The pair traveled north, into a valley that existed between what Celaeno called the Hayseed Swamps and the Macintosh Hills. The valley was green, just about the greenest place that Stinkbug had ever seen. For whatever reason, nothing bothered them while they traveled, no monsters jumped out to eat them, nothing came scurrying out of the bushes to molest them. Equestria was a much safer place than Stinkbug first believed it to be.

Stinkbug walked sometimes, while Celaeno flew overhead in slow, lazy circles, and at other times, he flew. Mostly, he just wanted to see the sights. Seeing things awakened ancient memories tucked away in his mind, swarm knowledge and instinctual memories.

They came upon a group of creatures that Celaeno called buffalo, but the buffalo went stampeding off long before Stinkbug could even get close. They thundered over the lush green grass of the prairie and their snorting could be heard over the rumbles of their hooves.

Stinkbug and Celaeno almost encountered a group of crackle jackals, the strange, electric dog like creatures that were the bane of so many, but they ran off, yelping, whimpering, and rubbing their faces against the green grass. Celaeno had said that when they barked, they shot bolts of lightning out of their mouths. Stinkbug found that he wanted to see that, but the crackle jackals had fled, leaving Stinkbug sad and disappointed.

For some reason, the deer and the antelope stopped playing when Stinkbug drew near, and not one single creature came over to say a discouraging word. Flocks of prairie birds took wing and flew off at speeds that ornithologists wouldn’t’ve believed even if seen. A large land drake remembered that it had important business elsewhere and took off running.

“You know, I don’t recall Equestria ever being this boring,” Celaeno said to Stinkbug as they stopped and rested near a stream. The harpy bounced around in the grass, trying to flatten an area down into a makeshift nest so she could get some rest.

The sun was setting off to the west, turning the sky orange, purple, and gold. Stinkbug watched it, mesmerised by the sight, for the changeling sunsets and sunrises were magical events that he could not ignore.

“To the north, there is a place called Dodge City Junction. It’s not a nice place, but we might find a chance to be heroes there. To the west is Appleloosa. It’s a quiet place and I hear the ponies are a bit nicer than Dodge City Junction.”

Stinkbug, spellbound by the sunset, sat staring off towards the west.

“We’ll go west, I guess, since you seem to like it,” Celaeno said to her quiet companion.

“Pretty.” For Stinkbug, pretty was a useless concept. Changelings didn’t do pretty. They were creatures of survival. Changelings were black, hideous, and ugly. Stinkbug himself was an eyesore example of his species. What need did changelings have of pretty? Pretty was a disguise you wore but also hated—ponies were ‘pretty’ creatures and resentment for them was strong.

“Beauty is only skin deep,” Celaeno said in a singsong voice, “ugly is to the bone. Beauty only fades with age while ugly holds its own.”

An involuntary laugh slipped out of Stinkbug’s mouth, an experience he still wasn’t quite used to. He looked at his companion and watched as she continued to make her makeshift nest. Celaeno wasn’t pretty. She was a goat headed bird. Something told Stinkbug that ponies would not find her pretty. After watching her for a while, he returned his gaze to the sunset.

“I think we’ll be safe again tonight,” Celaeno said to Stinkbug, “nothing seems to want to bother us while we sleep. Before I met you, everything tried to eat me.”

“What makes something pretty?” Stinkbug asked.

The harpy fluffed out her feathers as she made a low, curious bleating sound, a troubled baa-aaa-haa noise of surprise and confusion. She hopped around in the grass and then, without warning, she lept on top of Stinkbug, surprising him. She perched on his angled back, as he was sitting in the grass. Her talons gripped his chitin and she sat atop him, staring at the sun.

“I have no idea what makes something pretty,” Celaeno admitted in reply. “Maybe colours? Colours can be pretty. Those colours are nice enough, I suppose.”

“But why do we find it pretty?” Stinkbug asked.

“I don’t know.” Celaeno shrugged with her wings and began to look over Stinkbug, looking for any signs of dirt or parasites clinging to his matte black body.

“What makes something ugly?” Stinkbug tilted his head off to the left and watched as the sun drifted a little lower. “What makes us decide what is pretty or ugly?”

“Uh… I have no idea?” Celaeno replied.

“How do we…” Stinkbug’s words trailed off and the changeling struggled to give words to the concept within his mind. “How do we change the minds of others?”

“I don’t follow.”

Stumped, Stinkbug sulked for a moment, not knowing what else to say. It was getting harder for him to think sometimes, and there were moments when his mind felt slow, like now. He felt worn down and tired. “How do we change what they think is pretty or ugly?”

“Oooh…” Celaeno shook her head. “Stinky, I don’t think you can do that. I mean, a critter sees what they see. I don’t know if you can change how another sees you.”

“I could change how I look, but then I wouldn’t be me,” Stinkbug said, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “It would be… it would be… it would be—”

“Lying?” Celaeno offered, trying to be helpful.

“Yes.” Stinkbug nodded his head. “Lying.”

“Well, by that same line of thinking, something telling you that they found you pretty when they really found you ugly would also be lying, even if they were trying to be nice. Sometimes, I think you just have to accept things how they are. Some things can’t be changed. We’re ugly. We might not be able to convince others that we’re pretty, but we can change their minds and make them like us for other reasons.”

“You not ugly.” The words slipped unbidden from out of Stinkbug’s mouth. Mortified, he jammed a hoof into his mouth to gag himself, to silence himself, without even understanding why he was doing it.

“You’re a good bug, Stinky,” Celaeno said to her companion as she sat upon his back. “I don’t think you’re so bad looking either. Just different. You’re a bug horse. So what?” Feathers fluffing, the harpy lept from the changeling’s back and landed down inside of her makeshift nest in the grass. “I’m gonna try to catch dinner in the stream. You just keep watching that sunset, Stinky. It makes you pretty on the inside, where it matters.”

Confused by Celaeno’s words, Stinkbug pondered how the harpy was able to see through his chitin. Perhaps some magical ability that he was unaware of. He didn’t know what he looked like on the inside. He knew that he was made of meat and had specialised organs that were alchemical stills.

He watched as the harpy went tramping through the tall grass, off to the stream so she could catch her dinner. He was hungry himself, but what he needed wasn’t available. Turning his head, he watched the sunset, wondering about what made things pretty and ugly.

Author's Note

This story still stinks.

Seldom is heard a discouraging word.