Written Off

by Sharp Spark

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Anthology, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Random
Length: 10820

Sixteen minifics that include absurdity, sweetness, darkness, and also absurdity. Also, Applejack invents the Matrix.

24 hours, 16 fics. Prepare yourself for light comedy, experimental prose, and lots of strangely-written Applejack!

These originate from the Writeoff Association's minific contest, in which I and hazeyhooves attempted to write as many stories as possible. Some of them are good! Some of them are very bad! One of them even won the contest!

Now with additional author commentary :raritywink:

Cover art also by Haze

Published 2017-11-02 19:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-02 19:30:06 UTC

Apple Bloom Says a Bad Word

"Excuse me?" Cheerilee said. "Apple Bloom, did you just say what I think you said?"

"Huh?" Apple Bloom said. She looked up from the floor, where she and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were coloring in pictures with crayons. "I was just tellin' Scootaloo not to use all the colors up, cause giraffes ain't even supposed to be rainbowy."

Cheerilee glared at her. "That's quite enough, young filly. I heard you loud and clear, and I think you need to go to the principal's office this instant."

Apple Bloom looked over at her friends. Sweetie Belle shrugged.

"Yes ma'am," Apple Bloom said, and trudged out of the classroom and all the way to the principal's office.

Cheerilee was waiting inside when she arrived. Apple Bloom hated going to a small town school.

"Miss Bloom," Principal Cheerilee said, "your homeroom teacher says that she heard you use very improper language. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I didn't say anythin' bad, I swear!" Apple Bloom said. "I mean, I just said 'swear' right there, but that's not the same thing as swearin', I'm pretty sure. Y'all gotta cut me a break."

Cheerilee gasped. "I cannot believe it. And you are such a promising student! This is going to go on your permanent record, I hope you know."

"Wait, what?" Apple Bloom protested "That ain't fair!"

"No more backtalk, or I'll have you wash your mouth out, little miss."

"At least tell me what I'm sayin' that's bad," Bloom muttered. "Y'all are crazy."

There was a slamming sound as Cheerilee hit the desk with both her hooves. She gave Apple Bloom a look that could have spoiled a jug of milk.

Apple Bloom groaned and sank down into her seat.

Apple Bloom's mouth tasted like soap all the way home. She had three different documents that she was supposed to get a parent or guardian's signature on, as well as sixteen and a half weeks of double-secret-plus detention, whatever that meant.

"Applejack, will you be my ma and sign this?" Bloom said morosely, setting the papers on the kitchen table.

"Sure thing, sugarcube. What all—" She saw 'DETENTION' written on the top sheet. "Whoa nelly, what'd y'all get yourself into this time?"

Apple Bloom bounced up and down. "See? Exactly! They said I said a bad word!"

"Ah see." Applejack frowned. "Thought Ah raised ya better than that. What in tarnation did ya say this time?"

"I just said 'y'all,'" Apple Bloom whined. "Apparently that's not okay anymore?"

Applejack gasped. "Ma always said this day would come."

"Huh?" Apple Bloom said, but Applejack was busy opening the farmhouse's kitchen window.

"Big Mac!" Applejack shouted outside, toward the barn. "Get the shotgun and call the militia, we're goin' off the grid! Big government's here to take our accents!"

"Ee-yup!" he shouted back from somewhere.

"Wait, what?"

"Thay kin' tayke mah ridickyalahs acksent offan' mah dehd bodahy!" Applejack said.

"I can't even understand ya anymore, Sis."

Applejack was already gone, screaming something about pegasus chemtrails and flouride in the water supply.

Bloom was left alone with her paperwork.

"Well, fuck," she said.

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 48/57

I said there'd be absurdity, didn't I? I don't think people appreciated me making Applejack so weird. (Get used to it, it won't be the last time) Admittedly, the punchline is pretty expected though. This still wasn't my lowest ranked fic. That's still coming. Be prepared.

The seed of idea originated quite a while ago when talking to Haze about weird fimfic image tricks, but I think that behavior might not work anymore? Sometimes you just write a thing and it ends up being weird in ways you didn't expect.

Today's Special

Perfect Proofs had headed straight to Joe's Donuts after his long afternoon meeting with the Canterlot Times editorial board, eager for his usual pick-me-up. He was as animated as always upon arrival, dinging the service bell more out of habit than necessity.

"Ya fallin' behind, Joe?" Proofs asked loudly as he grinned. He tipped his trilby towards the board, where 'TBD' was written in chalk. "It's already evening and ya still haven't figured out what you're selling?"

"Don'tcha know what day it is?" Old Mr. Rosehip said, from his seat down at the end of the counter. "Leave the poor guy alone."

Proofs blinked, but Joe had his back to the both of them as he organized a shelf of piping hot donuts. When Joe turned around, he was smiling like always, not seeming to have heard either of them. He nodded at Perfect Proofs. "What can I getcha, P? Same as always?"

"Yeah." Proofs hesitated for a moment, pondering Rosehip's words. "S'all good, Joe?"

"S'all good," Joe said, handing him a fresh bear claw covered in sugary glaze. He bustled off back to the kitchen again.

Proofs left his bits on the counter and trotted down to take a seat next to Mr. Rosehip. He took a bite of his bear claw, letting out a perfect sigh of contentment.

He was just about to press the geezer for info when Mr. Rosehip brought it up himself.

"It's Lost Spirits Night, y'know."

Proofs rolled his eyes. "That's a loada hooey."

"Youngsters these days!" Mr. Rosehip raised his cane, waving it in a general castigation of anyone under the age of fifty. "No respect for tradition or mystery."

"Yeah, yeah. So is it a ghost thing?"

"Is what?"

"The sign. TBD."

Mr. Rosehip harrumphed.

It was Mint Jewelup, another regular sitting in a booth, who spoke up with an answer. "It's a girl."

Proofs's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Sooo romantic," Mint breathed out. "A long lost love who died on this day, right before Joe could fix her favorite dish."

Proofs rolled his eyes. "If ya say so."

"She's not dead," Lucky Bucket said, from over where he was mopping up the floors. "His old flame lives in Whinniepeg. But he don't talk about her none. The way I figure it, they broke up on this day, and so every year he leaves the board blank, just in case she comes walkin' in that door."

Mr. Rosehip grumbled into his coffee, but they all paused a moment in unison, eyes drifting towards the door in idle anticipation.

It swung open and a pudgy purple dragon waddled in.

Everyone let out a sigh of disappointment, and he frowned. "What? What'd I do?"

Lucky helped him climb up onto one of the seats at the counter. When his eyes reached the Daily Special board, he let out a soft, "Oh."

"Ya know anything about it, kid?" Proofs asked.

Spike shrugged. "Ask Joe yourself."

"Ask me what?" Joe said, walking out of the kitchen. Everyone in the diner suddenly seemed very preoccupied with minding their own business.

Joe let out a snort. "What can I getcha, Spike?"

Spike puled a long list out of his pocket, with enough donut orders for at least half a dozen hungry ponies. "Got a to-go order."

Joe let out a low whistle. "Looks like you're keepin' me busy tonight!"

"You know it!"

Donut Joe's always closed at 3 A.M. on the dot. Sometimes, this meant kicking out the occasional stragglers still a little sugar-drunk, but the diner's patrons were friendly, and almost always everyone had a friend to help them on the way home.

Tonight, everyone was gone a few minutes early, even. Which meant no one saw the neon 'Open' lights still on at 3:05. And then 3:11. And then 3:17.

That was when she arrived. The bell above the door dinged as she stepped inside, struggling under the weight of the guitar case on her back.

Joe grinned, but knew better than to offer to help. Instead, he went and turned the 'Open' sign off. She was sitting at the counter when he was done.

"What can I getcha?" he asked.

She smiled. "How about a strawberry-maple?"

Joe put on a shocked expression. "What do ya know! That's today's special!"

She giggled, as Joe trotted over to erase the Specials board and write in 'Strawberry-Maple.'

"Sorry I'm late, but the concert ran long. You know how it goes."

"Yep," Joe said. "Still liking life on the road?"

"You know it, but this is still my favorite stop every year."

Joe nodded. He brought over a strawberry-maple donut and a cup of coffee, two sugars no cream.

She took a small bite and her face lit up. "Great as always, Dad."

Joe leaned on the counter. He always had a smile for his customers, but this one, this one was a little special.

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 1/57

This won the writeoff! It has been very very slightly expanded from its original format. This one is also the one with the clearest connection to the round's prompt, "TBD." Many of my other ideas I had floating in my head prior to the writing day, but this one I came up with on the spot.

Everyone thank Horizon for that. He was doing a little writeoff-day coffeeshop q&a, whilst working on his own very good story that didn't make it into the contest but did deservedly well on fimfic.

me: What character in MLP doesn't get the attention they deserve in fics?
H: To keep with today's coffeehouse theme I'm going to say Donut Joe. There's so much unexplored backstory there.

(Also, this is also related to the reason fidgetfic mentions apple kombucha)

Make Twilight's Butt Great Again

Twilight's butt was good but not great. I mean it had some bounce, some chubbiness, some softness, but it just was all over the place, yaknow?

I mean, think about Fluttershy. That is a phat butt right there, squeezable like charmin, the kinda thing where when she walks through town, everypony in the street gets an all-you-can-see buffet. She's got four anacondas, and they all want some, because she's got buns, hun.

Or Rarity, who doesn't have as much natural ability (if you know what I mean) but she got it together and brought it back to ya. That yoga stuff is keeping it high and tight. Wowzers.

And of course, Applejack what with all the kicking trees and working out and oh my Celestia, one time I bounced a bit off dat ass and I think it landed in Cloudsdale. (Oh and geez, speaking of Celestia, she may be a Princess and not a Queen, but that's one fat-bottomed girl that makes the rockin' sun go round)

Anyways, I'm losing track. See, the problem is Twilight's butt is too wishy-washy, too indecisive. If it worked on any particular area it could really shape up, be something worth writing a rap song about. Instead—

"I'm not reading any more of this," Twilight said. "Ugh. Gah. Blechhhh!" She continued through a whole range of disgusted noises, reprising several she had already unconsciously made whilst working her way through Make Twilight's Butt Great Again.

"See, much better, right?" Rainbow Dash said. "I think I'm onto something here."

"You can't—" Twilight screwed her eyes shut. "Okay, let's start with the minor problems because I think language has not developed far enough to describe the enormity of the larger problems. First, why are you using first person, as the narrator?"

"Well, you told me that I couldn't do second person, remember?"

"Look," Twilight said icily. "This doesn't fix any of the things I identified about the first draft." Twilight shuddered, remembering that experience. "You don't have a narrative arc at all, and I told you to fix that a hundred times."

"Nuh uh," Rainbow Dash said, a wicked grin on her face. "That's not what you said. Not exactly."

"Yes it is," Twilight rummaged through the desk, looking for the paper. It was easy to find, seeing as how the entire page was covered in red ink from corrections. "See? Right… Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No!"

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth and said—

Twilight set the pages down, unwilling to finish. She let out a huge sigh. "Rainbow Dash, why does your story include me talking about your story?"

"It's meta!" Rainbow Dash said proudly. "People love meta in the Writeoff!"

"No!" Twilight yelled. "They don't! I mean, occasionally something can cleverly use it to accomplish some core story goal or supplement the narrative."

"So you're saying I need it to be more meta? Maybe I should have a line that—"

"Absolutely not! Calling attention to the fact that it's meta isn't in itself even interesting!!"

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. "I think someone's just annoyed that Single Caress didn't understand her metaphorical fic about boning Princess Celestia and left a bad review."

"That's not what it was about!!"

"I told you you should have been more straightforward."

"We're talking about your story now," Twilight muttered. "Ugh, though I wish we weren't."

"But hey, I got a great ending line this time!"

"No you don't! That joke is awful and tired!"

"I know, I pointed that out in the meta part, right above."

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE."

Twilight's head thudded down into the desk, as Rainbow Dash grabbed her most recent draft and began reading.

"Make Twilight's Butt Great Again. Let me see… Ah, right here at the end: Needs more plot."

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 35/57

No, this also wasn't my lowest ranked story. Whoa.

Rewritten some from the original version (and using some different fimfic formatting), which might actually make it worse. But clearly this was the story I needed to spend time perfecting. You're welcome.

Yes, I only wrote it because I thought of the title.

Black / Flightcamp

Hardly anyone dies at flight camp.

Windy Willows flew frantically through the trees, the sharp limbs grasping at his wings and scratching into his sides.

Hardly anyone dies, or at least that's what Spitshine said last night. But then Spitshine was always trying to scare Windy, or make fun of him, or beat him up.

Windy was pretty far off the training course now. The counselors wouldn't have intended for him to be flying through this much underbrush, for sure. It was the middle of the day, but the thick canopy of trees blocking out the sky overhead, plunging everything into creepy shadows. Windy pressed onwards, ignoring the twinge of pain in his wing.

Spitshine used to live on the ground, a fact he reminded everyone of regularly at Cloudsdale Flight Camp. That's why he said he knew all about the monsters that lived there, the ones that would chase and eat scared baby pegasi.

When Windy paused for even a second, he could hear twigs snapping behind him as something pursued him. He put on another burst of speed, almost crashing into the trunk of a huge oak, desperate to put more space between them. Then he heard the cackling.

The worst of all was the gruesnipe, Spitshine said. It would track down, torture, and kill foals for fun, not even because it was hungry. Though of course the more scared they were, the better they tasted. And when he said this, he stared directly at Windy.

Windy could have flown upwards maybe, tried to break through the branches above and get into open sky, but he knew that the only advantage his weak wings had was in their agility, not strength. He bounced from branch to branch, careening through the undergrowth and falling closer and closer to the ground.

At least Spitshine couldn't pick on Windy at flight camp the way he could at school. The counselors watched them too carefully. It was almost a relief, actually getting to eat his lunch. Not worrying about being shoved into a thundercloud. Not having to make up excuses for the bruises to his parents.

Windy almost slammed into the ground when it rose up in front of him, but beat his wings backwards just in time, still getting a mouthful of dirt for his trouble. His right wing screamed in agony, and Windy knew flying any more would be impossible.

That was the wing that Spitshine had broken, several months ago. It never had healed right. The doctor had said it was probably going to be a permanent problem. He wasn't sure if his parents believed the excuses that time, but he made them anyways.

Windy scrabbled through the dirt, looking for shelter. He saw the cave—well, hardly more than a hole, but close enough—and galloped towards it, his wings twitching painfully as he still tried to use them to speed himself along.

After Spitshine had broken his wing, he had explained exactly why Windy wasn't going to say anything about it. He had talked very clearly about what he would do if Windy squealed. Not to Windy, no. Windy already faced the worst that Spitshine could do on a nearly daily basis. But Windy could still taste the blood and vomit in his mouth as he laid in agony, looking up at Spitshine's cruel smile as he described in detail exactly what he would do to Windy's little sister Violet.

Inside the cave, Windy's hooves found the rock, heavy and sharp along one edge. He let out a breath. His lips absently found a smile as a new sense of clarity settled around him. He didn't feel particularly scared any more. He didn't feel much of anything.

An equine silhouette appeared at the mouth of the cave, peering around as it made growling noises in between snorts of laughter.

Windy waited for the right moment.

The camp counselors were in a total panic by the time Windy finally dragged himself back to the clearing where they were supposed to meet, several hours late. When they saw him, covered in dirt and scratches and even some dried blood, they were horrified but also relieved. He explained how he had gotten lost. When they asked him if he had seen anypony else out in the woods, he said no, and they sent him on to the nurse.

The search teams started looking for Spitshine that night.

Hardly anyone dies at flight camp. But sometimes, every now and again, a kid goes missing.

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 6/57

This is the fic I am most ambivalent about, because I don't think it accomplished what I intended, but then I realized I didn't have a clear idea about what I intended.

It's changed very very slightly from the Writeoff version but in a way that's pretty substantial. The implications are much more intentful now. But this is not meant to be a celebration of revenge or something that you should feel good about. This is meant to be a unsettling story about something dark that's going to haunt everyone involved.

I had the hardest time thinking of a title. Eventually I chose a reference that no one would get (and which is very different in tone/content).

Discord Channels the Wisdom of the Sages

"DISCORD THE ORACLE," the sign nailed up above Fluttershy's cottage read.

Twilight groaned. All she wanted was to find Spike for a nice day of paperwork filing. But he had disappeared that morning, and when she went into Ponyville to find him, she ran right into a queue of ponies winding all the way to Fluttershy's door.

Inside, the cottage was dark and smoky with incense. A jar near the door had a sign labeled "TIPS IN GEMS APPRECIATED" on it. Twilight slunk into the shadows, frowning as she watched.

"...and that's my problem," Mrs. Cake finished.

Discord didn't move. He stared forward into a crystal ball.

"Why are all of my foods so labor intensive?"

Mrs. Cake gasped. "You're right! We spend too much time baking complicated treats, and then run out by mid-morning. We should do more simple fare, such as cookies and muffins. Oh, thank you!"

She trotted away, only to have A.K. Yearling take her place.

"My next book sucks," she said flatly. "What do I do?"

Discord stared.

"I'm a bad writer. Someone slam a door on my fingers."

A.K. blinked. "You mean... I'm being too hard on myself?" She winced. "I suppose you're right. I am my own worst critic."

Colgate was after her. "How do I convince ponies to pay more attention to dental hygiene?" she said.

"Having impacted wisdom teeth is the worst. But I guess it could
be worse. My best friend had five wisdom teeth, all impacted."

Colgate's eyes grew starry. "Yes. That is the worst. That gives me an idea for an advertising campaign..."

As soon as she had left, Pinkie Pie was there.

"Why am I here?" Pinkie wondered aloud.

"Someone hug me."

"Of course!" Pinkie chirped, launching herself over. She sproinged out of the cottage.

Scootaloo was next. "I want to be totally radical and extreme, but am worried that doing so will alienate me from my peers and/or get me in trouble with authority figures. How do I rebel against society while also conforming to its standards, without fear of the dangers that true individuality brings?"

"Hot topic."

"That store at the Ponyville Mall? Awesome!"

Twilight stared as more and more ponies filed through seeking advice.

Mr. Waddle.

"It’s a medicine to treat worm infections"

He blushed a little and wandered off.

Doctor Hooves.

"You need to compute infinite derivatives."

His eyes lit up and he left smiling.

Screwball.

"Please take comfort. It’s not so bad once you accept it and start
sinking into the pleasant hollow of your personal madness."

Her eyes spun in slow circles and she left, smiling.

Cranky Doodle Donkey.

"That sounds borderline racist"

He nodded vigorously. "That's just what I said!"

Diamond Tiara.

"Blood pact. Next question."

"Okay, that's enough!" Twilight cried, leaping out. "Just what's your game, Discord?"

Discord stared into his crystal ball.

"I always thought you were an egghead."

Twilight's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't realize the worst part of drug use would be the ads wormed into yur brain."

Twilight took a deep breath, then let it out. "No, you're just trying to get to me. You always try to throw me off with something insane. Not gonna work this time. You know what I want?"

"A cheeseburger with bacon, mushrooms, and jalapeno peppers. With fires. Fries."

"Exactly." Twilight's mouth watered. "I mean no! I want an explanation!"

"Critics are just out of touch with our emoji-based
communication. They use typewriters or something."

"What?"

"When my TI-84+SE from over a decade ago finally died I replaced it with an -89Ti. I kind of want to tinker with it."

Twilight marched forward, intending to shake Discord until he made sense. That's when she realized that she was talking to a cardboard cut-out.

"Dubscon is a scam and William Antonelli is a fraud."

"Discord!" she yelled, loud enough that everyone in Ponyville had to have heard.

With a poof, Discord appeared, sitting in a tub and covered with soap bubbles. "How rude! I was in the middle of something." He pointed over at the cut-out. "I left my answering machine on, couldn't you just leave a message?"

"Petition to rename Discord to "Dicksword." In all situations where the word is used."

He hastily snapped his fingers. "On second thought, let me turn that off."

"But... Then who set all this up? Who—"

Twilight whirled around, just in time to see a purple tail disappearing out the cottage's front door. The tip jar had also vanished.

"Spike!"

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 19/57

Here's a joke that will be lost on most fimfic readers... All of the strange things Discord says are lines taken verbatim from the Writeoff Discord channel. Trust me, it's funny because of that.

One minor change and reformatting from Writeoff version.

Counterfritter

"I just don't trust her," Applejack said.

Twilight looked at the celadon-green earth pony in front of them. Her poofy mane was tied up with a ribbon, and she was still harnessed to a cart full of piping-hot pastries. She also looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

"Applejack," Twilight said firmly. "You let everyone into the Apple Family Reunion."

"Nuh-uh," she said, "just family. It's right there in the name, ain't it?"

"What about Pinkie?"

"Shoot, she's family. We had a whole adventure 'bout it and everything."

"What about me?"

"Honorary family."

Cranky and Matilda walked up. Applejack gave them a friendly wave as they walked past and headed for the pie-tasting pavilion.

Applejack saw the look Twilight was giving her. "Cranky and Matilda can be honorary family too. Don't be racist, Twi."

"Half of Ponyville is here!" Twilight exclaimed. "I'm not the racist one. You're being… you're being… fruitist."

Applejack gasped, clutching her hat to her chest as she reeled backwards. "Those are fighting words!"

"The only reason you won't let this poor mare in is because she's a Pear."

"Really, um, I'm sorry," Pear Fritter said, her voice little more than a squeak. "Maybe I should just go."

"No!" Twilight said, right as Applejack said, "Yes!"

They glared at one another.

"I'm on perfectly good terms with Grand Pear and the rest of," Applejack sneered, "that side of the family. I just don't trust her."

"What could she possibly do?"

"Maybe she's a changeling. Here to eat all our love or whatever they do."

"They all got redeemed! Or something. I don't remember exactly."

"See, exactly. Maybe there's a bunch of evil changelings out there who eat apples instead of love. The monsters."

Twilight's horn glowed. A pale violet aura surrounded Pear Fritter, who let out an "Eep!"

"There," Twilight said. "Totally not a changeling. Magic: 1, Rural Suspicion and Hostility: 0."

Applejack squinted her eyes at Pear Fritter. "How do we know she's a real Pear though?"

Twilight groaned.

"No, maybe I have a compromise." Applejack grinned. "I will try one of your fritters, suspicious cousin, and if I am satisfied, then and only then can you be admitted to the Family Reunion."

Pear Fritter looked petrified, but she gave a watery smile anyways.

They had the tasting inside Apple Bloom's bedroom, since the kitchen was full of pies and the living room was full of Pies—Pinkie had brought her whole family too.

Applejack closed the door, dragging a chair to the center of the room. "Sit," she commanded, and Pear Fritter clumsily sat down.

"Doesn't sit like an Apple," she whispered to Twilight.

Twilight rolled her eyes.

Applejack took the plate with the proffered pastry and eyed it suspiciously. She gave it three sniffs. "Seems… okay," she said.

"What exactly do you expect? Poison?"

Applejack jabbed a hoof at her. "Fritters are the Trottish claymore of fried-dough-based pastry. If we were talking just a turnover, then sure, maybe I let little Miss Fancyfruits spread her treats all willy-nilly. But I'm in charge and I can't let anyone get hurt."

"No, really, I can go home," Pear Fritter muttered.

"Not so fast." Applejack sniffed the pastry one final time. Then the took the tiniest of nibbles. "Okay, the flakiness is fine. But I think it doesn't quite fit the flavor profile of a good sharp fruit. I'm not sure about pears, but… hm."

Then she took a slightly larger bite.

"Oh, I see. A lot less sweet, but a little more filling. More soft than crisp, but texture is a personal thing. It just… hmmm."

She then she took two more huge bites and the fritter was gone.

"Well I'll be darned," Applejack said. "I guess you are family."

Pear Fritter let out a sigh of relief.

Then Apple Bloom burst in the room. "Applejack! I know I'm gonna get in trouble for this but uh. I stole one of the fritters outta that cart and ate it."

"What am I gonna do with you?" Applejack said, frowning. "I told you that'd ruin your dinner!"

"But— but—"

"You're s'posed to set a good example for Babs and the other kids!"

"But! It turns out all the fritters are actually tiny changelings but they're evil and now they're flying around eating all the apples!"

Applejack froze. Then her head turned to stare at Twilight. A grin broke across her face.

"Told you!"

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 38/57

I know, I know, this doesn't fit Applejack's character at all. And it ends in absurdity and nothing about the premise actually makes sense.

That's the point, yes.

Spoon B4it: The Forks Awakens

Gilded Spoon had arrived just slightly too late again.

The bank robbers were already tied up. The hostages had been released. Even the press was there, ready to take pictures of the newest and hottest hero in Got-Them City.

Not Gilded Spoon, of course. Nope, it was her nemesis: The Incredible Spork.

Perhaps 'nemesis' was meant to be for that one supervillain that you fought and foiled and occasionally strapped you into a deathtrap for a narrow escape over a pit of lava or toxic slime. But even Forks MacKenzie had stopped sending her taunting letters about his next heist targets. She was sure that The Incredible Spork was getting those too and it just wasn't fair.

Frustrated, Gilded Spoon slunk back to her secret base, the Spoon Cave, where she could sulk in peace. Thankfully, her mechanical butler knew exactly what she needed. "Thank you," she said, grabbing the enchanted comics that he had brought her.

"You're welcome, <bzzt> Wesley," he said, and scuttled off to recharge.

She settled into a comfy chair and opened issue #47 of The Adventures of the Popular Pair. Maybe this at least could take her mind off her problems.

Gilded Spoon tossed her braid back, and checked her saddlebag to make sure she had all of her books. She trotted off towards school, and along the way ran into Diamond Tiara, her bestest friend forever.

"There you are, Silver Spoon!" DT said. "Gosh, you were being so slow I thought you were Scootaloo."

They both broke out into giggles.

"But we have a serious problem," Diamond said suddenly, stopping short. "We called them all the names we could yesterday and they didn't even mind! (SEE ISSUE 46: PRACTICE PANIC IN PONYVILLE) At this rate, they're going to win the contest and get to do the routine for the Equestria Games. We can't let that happen! We're going to have to take this to another level."

Gilded frowned. "But we already called them blank flanks! What's worse than that?"

"Divide and conquer, silly." DT grinned maliciously. "I'll focus on Scootaloo and give it my very meanest. You try and catch Sweetie Belle alone, and get on her good side."

"I don't understand."

"See, sometimes you need people to trust you before you can betray them! That's how you destroy someone utterly, or at least that's what my daddy always says."

Gilded Spoon gasped. It made so much sense. If she could look like she was helping the Crusaders, but then wait until just the right moment to laugh in their faces, it'd hurt so much more! Plus the teacher wouldn't get mad at her, she'd get mad at Diamond Tiara for being more transparently mean from the very beginning, and her daddy could always just buy the school a new jungle gym or something regardless.

"You're so smart!" Gilded Spoon gushed. DT preened under the attention.

"Now come on! It's time to put our plan into operation."

A few hours and some cathartic Crusader-taunting later, Gilded Spoon found herself back in her comfy chair, ideas spinning in her brain. She trotted over to the Spoonternet, typing in some commands. It wouldn't be that hard to find a way to contact Forks MacKenzie.

He certainly would be surprised to hear from her. But then, when he heard her plan… It was an offer he couldn't refuse. Together, they could construct a trap for The Incredible Spork that would take him out of the picture. Permanently.

Gilded Spoon was just glad that comic books were such helpful pedagogical tools for teaching important life lessons!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 46/57

This one requires some explanation. A long long time ago, ~~in a galaxy far away~~ Everyday submitted a whole lot of fics to a minific writeoff, including five different Spoon Bait stories (I, II, II, II, III). Despite the titles, which refer to the writeoff medal that used to be given to the last-place story in the competition, these were actually pretty good stories, focused on Silver Spoon reading enchanted comics and learning a lesson at the end. Unfortunately, they also referred to one another, which breaks a Writeoff rule about writing stories connected to other works of your own. Thus they were all disqualified.

However, there's no rule about writing a story connected to someone else's work. (This will come up again later...) So I wrote a semi-sequel to the Spoon Bait series that more or less turned the original concept on its head for comic purposes. It's not actually that good, I think, but it was fun to refer to something nearly everyone had forgotten about.

Reflections on the Passage of Time

"Sometimes I have to take a walk in the gardens to remind myself," Celestia said.

The night air was cool but not cold, just the right temperature to allow the shadowlilies to spread open, luminous petals reaching towards the sky. They spread out across the grass like a carpet, right up to the border of the imposing hedges where they made a striking contrast against the dark leaves.

Raven Quill followed behind Celestia, having to make two steps for her every one. Stillness stretched out as a soft blanket, so much so that when Raven broke the silence, it almost caught Celestia off guard. "Remind yourself of what?"

Celestia paused. Her elegant neck arched, tilting as she looked towards the sky, where the moon shone down between a scattering of low clouds. The dark image etched upon the moon's surface was all too familiar, even if ponies had already begun to forget. What once had been loud gossip had faded to whispers, and then simply myth.

"To remind myself of the past," Celestia said. She looked down again, wishing she could still shed a tear for her sister, but that acute grief had long ago dulled into a more sedate sorrow, locked in her heart. Instead, she continued onward into the garden, stopping at the base of a stone statue.

"Discord," Raven read aloud, looking up at the chimeric figure on the pedestal. She shivered.

Celestia's lips pressed in a thin line. This too was a decision that she had to recognize and live with. This too came with its share of regrets and might-have-beens. She could read a lot in the stone fangs of the master of chaos: pride and danger, but also joy and frivolity. "We must all remember the sacrifices we choose, both for ourselves and others," she whispered.

Raven had wandered over to look at another decorative plaque set into the ground. It was so old that dirt and grass obscured the face of the monument, and Raven had to hoof at it to read the engraving. "The Crystal Empire?"

Celestia let out the briefest of sighs. Some burdens were personal and others stretched to encompass thousands within their bounds. When balancing the scales of Equestria, are all ponies lives equal, nameless things to be measured against one another in pure utility? Or are some decisions always wrong, no matter what course is chosen?

Regardless, Celestia made a note to herself to see to the gardener about tending to this memorial. No decision should be forgotten, no price paid without being written in the ledger of her heart.

"Uh, Princess, it's just… Oh, but I couldn't ask…"

Celestia turned to Raven, smiling softly. "Go ahead, my little pony. Please."

"Well, it's just that I've read a lot about history and everything and…" Raven flushed red. "Don't you ever think you put an awful lot of your problems on hold without actually solving them?"

Celestia paused, momentarily stunned. Then she let out a laugh, the crystal clear sound catching Raven totally by surprise.

"I had never… Oh my."

Raven shuffled her hooves, not meeting Celestia's gaze. With one hoof, Celestia raised Raven's head to look into her eyes.

"You may be right, my little pony. And it's precisely that willingness to speak that sets you apart from the rest. I'm certainly glad that I chose you to be my next advisor, Raven Quill."

Raven froze.

Celestia raised an eyebrow.

"Th-thanks, Princess. But, uh, that's not my name."

Celestia blinked. "It's not?"

"Nope."

"Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, that was my previous advisor. Time makes fools of everypony, but that's something you'll learn with age too, Gingersnaps."

Gingersnaps (?) shook her head. "Not that either."

"Sable Spark?"

"Uh-uh."

"Lemony Gem?"

"Wrong."

"Creeping Ivy?"

"That's the gardener over there."

On the other side of the gardens, a pony looked up and waved. Then he got back to trimming the shrubbery sculpture of Tirek, who Celestia had imprisoned in Hades for ten thousand years.

"Uh," Celestia said, eyeing the pony's cutie mark. It was something abstract. Figures. "Um."

With a flash, a beam of light shot from her horn. Suddenly, in place of her advisor was a stone statue of a little pony.

Celestia rubbed her eyes with a hoof. "Oh dear. I should really apologize for that."

She paused, thinking.

"Maybe in another couple of centuries."

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 8/57

Every writeoff needs a story about Celestia being sad and reflective. So here you go! :trollestia:

(Apple) Jacked In

"You're here about the help wanted ad?" Apple Bloom asked.

Silversmith nodded, putting on his most professional smile. "I'm assuming you need help picking apples? Or maybe selling them in town? I can do that too!"

Apple Bloom pursed her lips. "Not exactly. I oughta let Applejack explain. But there's something you should know… You heard that she fell into that ravine last month?"

"Oh yes! I'm so sorry. Is she still hurt?"

"Nah, but ever since Dr. Horse put that metal plate in her head…" Apple Bloom leaned over and whispered. "She's been hearing voices."

"Oh. Uh."

"Anyways, good luck with the rest of the interview!" She gave Silversmith a push, and he stumbled through the door into the farmhouse.

…which had been remodeled into a plain white room. Applejack stood in the center, wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses.

"Welcome, Silver," she said, her voice deep and booming. "I imagine that right now you feel a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole?"

"Who?"

"Do you believe in fate, Silver?"

"What?"

"I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something."

"Huh?"

"This is your last chance. After this there is no turning back." Applejack pointed a hoof, and suddenly Silversmith realized there were two tables, with an apple on each. "You eat the blue apple and the story ends. You go home and believe whatever you want to believe. You eat the red apple and you stay in wonderland. I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

Silver looked at the apples. Applejack was stone-faced behind the sunglasses.

"All I'm offering is the truth," Applejack said, "nothing more."

Silversmith glanced at the blue apple again. It was glowing a little bit. "Okay, uh, I think eating the blue one will give me magic cancer so…"

Applejack smiled. "Good. Follow me."

"Don't I get to eat the apple?"

"The apple is metaphorical."

Applejack had explained as they trotted down to the basement, and from there into a long tunnel.

"I don't get it. You're saying that all of the world is a computer simulation?"

"No. I'm saying it could be."

"Alright, so… How would we know?"

"Again, no. It could be if we make it. Let me introduce you to: the Apple Matrix."

The tunnel opened out into a big cavern. They stood on a walkway above, but below, Silver could see tanks filled with liquid, with apples bobbing in them. The apples were all hooked up to electrodes, wiring running everywhere.

"The Apple Matrix consists of millions of apples, all dreaming together that they're in an orchard, just like the one above. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing softly. All the while, they grow and ripen and mature. Until… the harvest comes."

Silversmith looked at all the electronics. "Isn't all that expensive?"

"But we have a problem," Applejack continued, ignoring him. "Some apples have realized that their reality is an illusion and they are trying to break free. You know what they say about bad apples. We cannot afford to let this happen. That's why you need to go inside the simulation. You need to be my stallion on the inside, pretending to be an apple, to hunt down the troublemakers and eliminate them. I need you to be my agent, Smith."

"I, uhm."

Thankfully, that's when Apple Bloom rushed in. "Sis! We got a problem!"

"What?"

"You were running too many excel macros in the barn, and it caught on fire!"

"But that's where all the safety systems are! Without those—"

With a *pop*, one of the apples floating below suddenly exploded. Then another. Then, they all began splattering, popping like popcorn.

Applejack fell to the floor. "My plans! My plants! We're ruined!"

Silversmith let out a long breath, thanking Celestia. "Maybe I could help with something else? Something more normal?"

Applejack looked distraught. Suddenly she cocked her head to the side. "Yeah? Yeah! Okay."

Silversmith and Apple Bloom shared a glance. "Uh oh," they said, at the same time.

Applejack walked across the stage, wearing a black turtleneck. Everypony in Ponyville had shown up to watch her dramatic unveiling. Silversmith stood morosely at the back of the stage, ready to whisk away the sheet. At least they had found a use for all the salvageable electronics, he guessed, even if this seemed like an even dumber idea.

"And now, Sweet Apple Acres is proud to announce… The Apple Family iPod!"

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 30/57

Barely missed finals!

Yes, this is another Applejack character destruction piece. Yes, the final joke comes out of nowhere and isn't as good as the rest of the story. Yes, it was only written so I could include the line "You were running too many excel macros in the barn, and it caught on fire!" for Exuno.

Heroism

The problem with Twilight Sparkle being the Princess of Friendship was that she was good at it.

Or more precisely, she was Twilight Sparkle.

Sure, it took her a while to get the hang of how best to resolve friendship problems. And sure, the nature of ponies (and donkeys and griffons and dragons and changelings and yaks and any number of other sentient species) meant that new problems would keep coming up. But even if friendship wasn't an exact science, it was still close enough to a science and that meant you could use control groups and hypotheses and deductions and…

Well, it only took eight-hundred ninety-seven years, five months, and thirteen days for Twilight Sparkle to permanently solve every friendship problem in Equestria. To be honest, it was surprising that it was that long. Once she had gotten everything into exact perfect harmony, and trained every being in the world on proper conflict-resolution practices, she only had one leftover issue.

She was bored.

Thankfully, it was Pinkie who noticed that her friend was having a problem, and gave her the solution. (Gosh, all those trainings worked so well)

"Well, if everyone in this universe are already friends, why not go help another universe?"

And it only took her four-hundred twelve years to sort out the problems in the dimension where everypony had the weird finger things and boot things and lived in a giant high school.

Thankfully, an infinite multiverse meant that she wasn't going to run out of places to go help any time soon. But it also seemed rude to butt into other parallel universes and take charge. So after reverse-engineering the mirror portal, she made a few tweaks such that it would instantly transport her to someplace in the multiverse where she was direly needed to solve a friendship problem.

After tying a rope to Spike, pushing him through and making sure he was okay when she pulled him back out, she decided she was ready for whatever challenges might come her way.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped through the portal. There was a bright flash, and a deafening crack.

And suddenly she was standing in the middle of an unfamiliar room.

Two bipedal creatures stared at her. One of them was dressed in black, with a swirly red cape. The other was wearing brightly-colored spandex and goggles.

The one in the cape recovered first. "Now my minion! Destroy Ultra Man!" he commanded.

Twilight tilted her head, trying to get her bearings. She decided to go with Friendship-Suggestion-Opener #497. "Why would I do that?" she said earnestly. "Can't we all just be friends instead?"

The caped man's hand hit his face. The spandex man smirked.

"Well crap."

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 23/57

Remember what I mentioned before about it not being against the rules to write a story connected to someone else's work?

This is straight up a direct reference to a story that I liked by TheCyanRecluse in the original fiction contest right before this one.

Twilight Sparkle and the Spelling Bee (A Slice of Life Tail)

The Bee had ripped through the picnic like a hunting knife through the soft stomach of a fawn. Pristine checkered blankets were now stained with gore and viscera.

Twilight wandered through the fields of carnage in a daze. On all sides lay ponies with their lives sliced right in half. Some with their tails sliced too.

"Oh, I am a fool," Twilight sighed, ruefully. "I never should have raided that hive. What a disaster my lust for honeyed consonants has brought!" She felt hot tears come to her eyes. "Now all of my friends are dead. And also Spike."

"I'm still alive!" a voice voiced from her side.

"Oh, good," she stated, happily.

Spike climbed up on top of Twilight, as he was tired of his feet getting stuck in the mud that had been churned up from all the blood. "At least Pinkie Pie died doing what she loved."

Twilight paused, momentarily. "You mean singing a song about cupcakes? Or being stabbed in the larynx by a sixteen-inch stinger?"

"The former." Spike shuddered, horrifiedly. "Though I'm going to have nightmares about the sound she made when her neck exploded."

Above them, the Wonderbolts had arrived to do battle with the Bee. Explosions and furious buzzing rung out over the killing fields.

"If we survive long enough to process the trauma of the past hour, I'll make certain you have a good therapist."

Spike gasped and pointed into the distance, declaratively. "Applejack is still alive!"

Twilight rushed over. The Bee above them had grabbed hold of Spitfire and ripped her in half, sending a shower of blood raining down. Twilight's horn lit up as she made an umbrella for her and Spike and Applejack.

"Applejack!" she yelled, concernedly. "Are you okay?"

Applejack groaned. A gash on her barrel showed that she had been stung pretty badly. "Twi… I… I…"

"Oh no, the poison must already be spreading," Spike cried out, analytically. "Letter have some air!"

"Twilight, I just want you to know that I… I love…"

Twilight's heart leapt to her throat as a blush spread across her face.

"Apples," Applejack whispered, quietly.

Twilight turned to leave.

"Oh no I'm… D-E-D"

"What?" Twilight spun around, revolutionarily. "What did you say?"

"I…" Applejack coughed, pitifully. "M. D-E-D."

"Spike, you're right, the spelling poison must have kicked in. But what is she saying?"

"I think she's saying…"

"Is this a clue for how to defeat the bee? Dedicated? Deductive? Spike, go get my dictionary, at once!"

"No, she's…"

"Aaaargh," Applejack died, dyingly.

Twilight frowned, annoyedly. "Oh well. Maybe we can get Princess Celestia to help."

Spike gasped, out-of-breathedly. "I can send her a letter! I haven't gotten to do that in forever. She can fix things. Even if it's just some whispered words of wisdom—"

"Letter Bee!" Twilight cried out warningly.

The bee stabbed him through the abdomen and flew off, his stubby little dragon arms still wiggling as the rigor mortis set in.

"Darn," Twilight groused, grousingly. "Now who's going to organize my library?"

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 53/57

This was my lowest ranking fic. I regret nothing.

Flim and Flam's Freaky Friday

"Okay," Princess Twilight said. "First, why are you in my living room."

    "We need help—"

"—drastically"

    "Dramatically—"

    "Disastrously!
"Disastrously!" they finished in unison, looking up at her with imploring eyes.

Twilight frowned. She walked out and headed down the hall towards the kitchen. She needed coffee if she was going to deal with this.

Flim and Flam followed her, flanking her on either side as they explained the problem.

    "See, early this morning—"

"Yes, it would have to be early since it's only eight A.M. right now," Twilight groused.

"—We awoke only to find that foul magic was afoot!"

"Uh huh. And what could have caused that?"

The one with the moustache rubbed his chin.

    "Well, we did con that old crone—"

"—and defraud the one djinn."

    "And rip off the funny-looking guy in the magical shop that appeared in an alley and then was gone as soon as we walked out with the monkey's paw, but we assure you we have no idea what could have caused our malady, ma'am. We're saints!"

"—innocent—"

    "—blameless—"

"Shameless," Twilight muttered. Their eyes lit up and the non-moustached one tried to give her a hoofbump, but she frowned them both into submission. "Right, but, what actually happened? You look fine."

Moustache groaned.

    "That's just the thing! We've been hornswoggled—

"—hoodwinked!

    "We've somehow—"

"—swapped bodies!"

"Augh." Twilight finally found the coffee machine, and poured herself a big mug. It was gonna be one of those mornings.

    "I woke up with this dead rat on my lower lip—"

"—And I woke up looking like a eight-year-old colt."

They glared at one another.

    "And plus, I'm not used to talking on the right like this—"

"—you're not used to it? Mine is the worst, how do normal ponies handle speaking without a good space?"

Twilight sipped her coffee. "Look, Flam."

    "Flim," Flam said.

"Flim," Twilight corrected.

    "Actually, I guess it's Flam if I'm in his body."

"Flam, then."

    "But I'm actually Flim."

"Okay," Twilight took a deep breath. "First: I don't actually care. Second: go away."

    "But aren't you supposed to be a Princess of Friendship?"

"—You gotta help us out!"

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay, maybe I can come up with a solution. You two are identical twins, right?"

    "Sure—"

"—Absolutely."

"And can you talk differently if you really tried?"

 "I… guess so?—"

  "—It might take some getting used to though."

"Good enough. I don't know anything about curses, but…" She dug through a cabinet, and found a pair of scissors. "You, cut off your moustache. You, uh, don't cut off your moustache, for like a few months. Problem solved."

They looked at one another then back at her. Brief smiles of relief crossed their faces. Then the one with the moustached opened his mouth to keep talking at her.

"Now there's just the matter of my small consultation fee for services provided," Twilight said.

Ten seconds later, she was alone in the kitchen. She took another sip of her coffee, and then decided maybe it was worth heading back to bed.

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 3/57

Yes, this got third place. No, I don't understand either.

This is probably near my least favorite of the comedyfics I wrote, but other people liked it, so diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks!

Minor edits to improve a joke I wasn't entirely comfortable with in the original and got rightly called out about.

Closing Time

The red herrings leap asleep upstream of consciousness, cherry-silver scales gleamily dreaming in the crystal waters. But Moss only flounders around--there's a splash in the depths to keep head in air, e'er towards a shore that he banked on being in breach. Disregard his daring, he needs those herring for his darling, regarding the porpoise for which he was spent.

Dry land! To stand in sand that clung to coat no longer afloat, Moss tosses aside the river. Pushes past the ghast, a skeleton in fleshly disguise. Those eyes. He's never seen a dead stallion still alive and falling, but is this fellingon a skellow or a shadow? She said to beware and wary he is, aworry of the fields he strides, the stream arising behind to see the moon in bloom and—

it's too dangerous. i should have done this myself

--I can do it-- he promises without blemishes, pushes on to his goal but the sleeper slips somber. Wonder why? Tender memories or fearful fantasies, Moss misses the door but adores the missus mysterious. Serious or delirious, the fields feel fallow, shallower than the water but wetter than the wisdom he wants.

you're losing yourself. come back while you still can

Moss cannot retreat a inch in changing niche to herd the figment fragments. Itching edges that puzzle into form, he trained for this in months amidst the shadows and slippery spirals of entanglement dangerously devoid of sense, fracturing fractals of fragmentary psychosis, flowing unflinchingly—

focus. remember what you've learned

Moon.

Field.

Skeleton.

Stream.

Moss moves in tune with the mood of the mind, but the mystery remains. He is lost or the fish misplaced his keys. Isn't that always the ways? Skellington concurs. But are they concealed afield or seem astream? Bone's help is none, and hesitates is lost, self as much as stealth will allow. But if the keys are lost and he's are lost then together they found a new song, strong and long and—

in front of you

Moss almost misses it again.

He has the keys. He ribs the jack for his empty stomach and lone bone gone is the skeleton key, of course. Such a sucker, remora's remorse for fairly failing to understand when this is foal's play for one with his goals. If only the fool was a foal, then this confusion would be conducing delusion. Instead a melange de trois of claws to give pause, leopard spotted but no door in sight.

Hello herring. Laughter brines from Moss's mouth. South to water, fish in fashion fulfills. Stand on the land, and salmon surround, but Moss lunges, plunges in the piscine stream. His key fits fittingly in the clique of lox, outfoxed. To open, a totem of things found in sea not ground, hoping to fall through them all. He's there, the big D.

...

A room of gloom.

The chaos swirls contained outside the circle.

Moss is on familiar ground, and in the center the certain sleeper he seeks.

--Discord-- he says --it's time to wake up--

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 24/57

Okay, this one takes a lot of explaining probably.

A long time ago, there was a writeoff. And some people in the writeoff thought it would be funny to write reviews for a story that didn't exist. And then, later, to delete these reviews and pretend they hadn't ever happened either. This joke came at the expense of one participant, and it ended up being less funny and more hurt-feeling-causing than I think the initial joke intended. (I blame The Mysterious Mare Do Well). The story in question though was called Closing Time. And this Closing Time that I have written is based on years-old memories of reviews that no longer exist for a fic that never existed.

As for the actual story itself... The meaning is pretty opaque, but it's about a dreamwalker working with Princess Luna to go into the mind of Discord and wake him up, but who struggles to hold to his mission and overcome the chaos within. It's written in a manner meant to evoke the disconnected weirdness of a real dream, not like the carefully constructed puzzleboxes of Inception or whatever. In real dreams things make no sense but always feel like they make total sense. If you're feeling ambitious, read it again and see if you can see the outline of that plot, now that you know what you're looking for. (And maybe you'll appreciate the one very punny joke that I'm proud of)

It's Gonna Get a Little Weird, Gonna Get a Little Wild

It was a sunshiny day and Twilight Sparkle was up early, on her way to Fluttershy's cottage to help with some repairs.

"Come in!" Fluttershy cheerfully said.

She ushered Twilight into the living room, where there was a big fracture in the side of the stone wall. Twilight looked in her toolbox. She had some Iron Will Brand Concrete Crack-Fix, which had worked wonders on patching up her own castle. Still, she glanced over the instructions, like a responsible adult. It only took a few minutes to spread it over the break in the wall and use her unicorn magic to start the process of setting the sealant.

"Thank you ever so much for coming to help," Fluttershy said. "I've had so many new friends from Everfree, and some of them can get awfully rowdy."

"Aw, no problem," Twilight said, smiling. A cute little puppy ran up and jumped against her leg. "Like this little guy? Isn't he the most adora— Ow!"

Twilight stared at the smoke rising from her coat. She looked at the puppy again. It wagged its tail.

"Fluttershy," she said slowly, "Did your puppy just shoot me with lasers from its eyes?"

Fluttershy's wings flapped nervously. "Oh, dear, Barko Diaz, you need to be nice to our guests, you know that! I'm sorry, Twilight."

"It's… okay."

Fluttershy had walked over to the stairs. "Star, please come down. I think the puppy needs to go outside."

"I mean I'm fine, I've just never seen a puppy shoot lasers," Twilight said. "I…"

Twilight's words trailed off when a pink bipedal monkey girl came tumbling down the stairs. She wore a blue dress and had long yellow hair. As soon as she hit the landing, she popped upright again. "I'm good!" she chirped.

"Twilight, this is Star Butterfly," Fluttershy said.

"Hi!"

"Uh, hi," Twilight said. "Who— What—"

"I'll take Barko Diaz out! Back in a bit, mom!" The girl skipped out the front door, the puppy following behind.

"Wait, mom??"

"Oh, yes," Fluttershy said. "Poor Star lost her parents recently, so I decided to adopt her."

"When?"

"Oh, either yesterday or the day before, maybe?"

Princess Luna walked down the stairs. "Oh, Fluttershy, do you think we should paint Star's room with my cutie mark or yours? Which would make her feel more at home?"

"How about both?" Fluttershy smiled warmly. Luna walked over and they nuzzled one another affectionately.

Twilight stared, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Oh," Fluttershy said. "I guess I forgot to tell you that Luna and I got married, too. Was that also yesterday?"

"Tis our one day anniversary, then," Luna said. "Huzzah!"

"Did you get the—"

"Oh, yes, here." Luna pulled out a package and handed it to Fluttershy.

Fluttershy put on her glasses to peer at the wrapping. "Oh boy, the shipping is a little much." She began unwrapping it.

Luna shrugged and went back upstairs.

Twilight's brain finally finished rebooting. Fluttershy had pulled a wooden cross out of the wrapping and was advancing on the cottage wall with a hammer and nails.

"No wait," Twilight said. Unable to deal with what was going on, she focused on one tiny detail she could at least wrap her mind around. "You can't put that up."

"Now that I'm a mother, I think it's important to set a good example for Star." Fluttershy pursed her lips. "Horse Jesus died for your sins too, Twilight."

"No, I mean…" Twilight jabbed a hoof towards the toolbox. "The sealant! I read the warning label. You can't put wood on it while it's setting or it might release toxic fumes."

"Gosh, Twilight, it's plastic." Fluttershy tapped on the T with a thunk. "You should know better than to get upset about the cross over Crack-Fix when you don't even know the source material."

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 35/57

No one appreciates a good feghoot. :raritydespair:

Or at least a very bad feghoot.

This is ostensibly a crossover with Star Vs., which I irrationally love, but that's not really important to the point of it. There's an easter egg in there for Star fans who are paying careful attention.

"Horse Jesus died for your sins too, Twilight" might be one of my favorite sentences that I've ever written.

How Do Ponies Use a Computer? Just Use Your Imagination, Please

"I just don't get it," Applejack said.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes so hard that she thought for a second she had sprained them. "It's a computer. A magical metal box that lets you talk to people on… gasp. The Internet."

"Not that, featherbrain." Applejack turned her laptop around to the website she was on. "This Kickstarter thing."

"It's a place for—"

"Again, shut it. I ain't dumb."

"Well, you're asking dumb questions."

Applejack sighed. "I mean I set this whole Kickstarter thing up and no one's giving me any money. What's the deal?"

"Let me see," Rainbow Dash scoffed. "You gotta know what you're doing. You need… oh. Huh."

The page for Buy Sweet Apple Acres a New Barn! actually looked pretty professionally done. Rainbow Dash tapped on the video at the top, only to see Applejack, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom all standing out in the orchard. "Well howdy folks!" a tinny voice played from the computer speakers, and Applejack reached over to click it closed, glaring at Rainbow Dash.

"That's embarrassing," she muttered.

Rainbow raised an eyebrow and scrolled down. "Maybe it's the pledge rewards? Let's see, you have… an apple tier. A bushel of apples tier. Good but not great. Oh, wait. Apple kombucha? Zap apple jam?? A whole barrel of Sweet Apple Acres Cider, special reserve???"

"Don't drool on the keyboard," Applejack said smugly.

"This is awesome! Man, I wish I could pledge."

Applejack glanced at her sharply. "Well, why can't you?"

"Uhhh." Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her head. "I, uh, just don't have the money right now."

"Oh yeah?" Applejack's eyes narrowed. "You were spending plenty at Sugarcube Corner last weekend. Where exactly did it all go?"

"I might have, uh. Maybe. Possibly." Rainbow Dash coughed, muttering something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I spent it all on another Kickstarter," she said, marginally louder. "Last night. How was I supposed to know you had your own?"

Applejack sighed. "Alright. Show me which. Maybe that'll give me some ideas."

Rainbow Dash wordlessly clicked over a few times, then passed the laptop back to Applejack.

"Flim and Flam's Fabulous Fidget Flanges," Applejack slowly read. "You've gotta be kidding, right?"

Rainbow Dash stuck out her tongue. "They're cool, okay? This is what all the kids are into these days! Don't judge!"

Applejack rubbed her chin with one hoof. "Hm. That does give me an idea. A really, really great idea."

Three months later…

"This was a terrible idea," Applejack said, frowning as their brand new barn slowly rotated in a circle.

"Eeyup," Big Mac agreed. Apple Bloom tried to push a cart of apples in and it got stuck in the door, the momentum speeding up the rotation and causing her to scream as she hung onto the cart for dear life.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm totally satisfied and not regretting this at all," Rainbow Dash said, "I— ugh. Hmph. Ack. How do I—" She clamped the little plastic thing between both hooves, trying not to drop it. "Do I spin it with my tongue?"

Author's Note

Final Ranking: 14/57

Notes: For some reason people really liked this one, despite the fact that it's about fidget spinners.

To quote myself: "Frig, I could write bad kickstarter/fidget spinner fic. This is the problem with saying bad ideas"

To quote Haze: "Rotate this Barn, Rotate this Barn, 1 2 3 4"