Aggro-Culture: The Story of the Brave Little Bug

Chapters

At the risk of a spanking...
A fairy godspider appears
Beyond the doorway of belief
Heroes don't get spanked... do they?

At the risk of a spanking...

No matter what her mother said, Jitterbug wasn’t about to go digging in the garden. Of all the chores she had to do, working in the garden was the worst. The dirt was dirty, there were slugs and other gross, icky things lurking under every leaf, and there was a smell. Something about the smell of the garden on a hot summer day was just unpleasant and nasty. The smell of hot vegetation wasn’t too bad, but when combined with the stench of dung and hot earth—blech!

Even worse, if she worked in the garden, there was the ever-so-dreadful risk of getting a cutie mark related to gardening, garden-work, or farming, which would be the most awfulest of all awful things ever, and then she’d be stuck with a lifetime of boredom and grossness. At night, Princess Luna brought the most awful dreams of the most awful cutie marks, things like hoes, spades, shovels, trowels, and other grotesque gardening gear.

Moving with as much stealth as possible, the little pigtailed filly crept into the kitchen, her pigtails bobbing, and her face was scrunched into an intense scowl of concentration as she planned her clever heist. Tilting her head back, she looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she was after. Atop the tallest tower of the gleaming white mighty fortress of the Mighty Land of Kitchen, there was a priceless treasure: a cookie jar in the shape of a crowing rooster was up on top of the fridge, kept out of her reach.

It just wasn’t fair!

But today she was going to be triumphant, because she had something that her mother, Junebug, didn’t have. Jitterbug had magic, if only she could just coax a little bit of extra oomph from out of her stubby horn. Getting the cookie jar down was quite a challenge, but getting it down without shattering it on the floor was the Epic Quest of Epicness of Epic Proportions. Or something. A devious smile appeared upon the pigtailed filly’s face when she realised that she was thinking comic-book thoughts again.

Forgetting that she was supposed to be stealthy, she began humming to herself, and then burst out into song, singing the sort of music that her mother had forbade her to listen to. The good kind of music, awesome music, the most awesomest of awesomosity—music that was made of Rainbow Dash grades of awesomeness.

“When I see what I want, I'm going to take it… if it's against some law you can bet I'll break it! My need to feed gives me the will to survive… I gotta find it fast… to keep me alive!”

The sudden burst of good mood proved beneficial, and the magic came easy. She felt it, welling up inside of her, a great and wonderful sensation of ticklish glee. A shower of glittery sparks burst from the tip of her stubby, chubby horn and dazzled her eyes, making it difficult to see. But this didn’t stop her, no, she persisted and maintained her concentration, even going as far as sticking out her tongue to aid her in her task.

Summoning a bubble of magic, she willed it to float up to the very top of the shiny white tower where her much-wanted treasure was held captive and protected by the mighty stompy giantess. The glittery blobby bubble of light paused for a moment, not wanting to go higher, and Jitterbug was forced to wonder if it was afraid of heights. Well, if it was, it was just going to have to get over it, because she needed rations to go on her adventure. Straining, she willed it to go higher, but her magic was strongest when it was closest and became weaker as it moved further away.

Distance was the enemy and Jitterbug fought a mighty battle to keep her magic flowing as it went up and up and up. Near the top of the fridge, it began to flicker a bit, and her horn had a most peculiar sensation of weight pressing down on it, making it feel that it might get pushed into her brain. Or something. It was unpleasant and made her think scary thoughts, all while giving her the unwanted sensation of having bubble-guts. Having bubble-guts was the worst because it felt as though your innards would go squirting out. Ew.

Never before had she made her magic manifest so far away. Squinting, her tail twitching, Jitterbug began tapping her right rear hoof against the scuffed wooden floor. A sensation that was very much like brain freeze threatened to overwhelm her, but she persisted in her efforts even with the new pain that appeared behind her eyes. When she ‘felt’ the rooster cookie jar, a surge of renewal shot through her body, and she somehow found the strength to keep going.

She almost lowered the cookie jar, but realised just how stupid that was. Almost biting down on her tongue, she pulled the lid from the rooster cookie jar and began to feel around inside. There were cookies in there, plenty of them, so she grabbed them. There was a loud clunk when the lid fell back into place, but much to her relief, the cookie jar did not shatter or break as she had feared that it might.

Five cookies floated down, five enormous cookies because her mother, a stocky earth pony, detested small cookies. Or small anything, really, when it came to food, and was always going on and on about substantial meals. Everything on the plate had to be eaten, no matter what, and not one scrap of food could be wasted. Those were the rules.

No matter how much Jitterbug ate, she could not stop being scrawny, much to her mother’s eternal dismay. Jitterbug wondered if it was because she was so, well, jittery. It was impossible to sit still, or to behave, or to walk in a reasonable manner. Sitting still was just so boring and it was so much more fun to dance.

With a gasp of relief, she set the cookies down upon the counter beside the fridge and with her magic bubble of trouble still thrumming, she pulled open the drawer beside the fridge. In the drawer were the brown paper bags that her mother used to pack lunch in, and after a bit of feeling around in the drawer, she pulled out a single bag. Once more, she lifted up her haul of hard-won cookies, stuffed them into the bag, and licked her lips in anticipation of what was sure to be a wonderful lunch.

Humming to herself, her tongue now inside of her mouth once more, she pulled open the fridge to find more food. In the bottom, in a bin, there were apples of all colours and sizes. What she wanted wasn’t visible, so she had to dig around until she spotted a bit of green. Gasping, she hauled the fat green apple out and began to drool when she thought about how sour it would be. Her mother didn’t like sour apples, but Jitterbug sure did. According to her mother, sour apples were only fit to be eaten in pies, with lots of sugar and cinnamon.

Her mother, Junebug, had a right to be wrong.

The humming, overly-excited filly also grabbed two big, fat carrots and then slammed the refrigerator door shut. Her fine collection of produce was stuffed into the brown paper sack with her cookies and she set this down on the floor so that she could rest her horn. There was still more work to do however, more tasks that had to be accomplished. Little Jitterbug was a filly in need of weapons, and her mother kept taking them away, which was so rude.

Hanging on a hook that stuck out from the white plaster wall was her weapon, her trusty spatula with the worn wooden handle. It was big, it was long, it was metal, and she had made a few kills with it already. Of course, her mother was quite disgusted by all of this, and wanted her to cut that right out, but Jitterbug refused to listen. There were gross things that just had to be smooshed with the big, heavy metal spatula. It was a fantastic, fearsome weapon, and it was a real pity that Jitterbug’s mother just couldn’t see it that way.

Reaching out with her magic, she claimed her weapon and held it aloft over her head. For a moment, it was almost as if she could hear strange music playing, but that was probably just her overactive imagination. Now armed with her trusty weapon, she needed her shield, and that was easy enough to get. Opening the cabinet door with her hoof, she crawled inside where the pots and pans were stored. Pushed up against the back was her mother’s enormous stock pot, a cooking vessel so big that Jitterbug could be boiled alive inside of it. Thankfully, her mother didn’t use it to cook boisterous fillies, which was a relief. The massive pot was used when her mother canned stuff from the garden so that they would have food for the winter.

Grinning, she plucked the shiny steel lid from the pot, and this magically transformed into her trusty shield. Her mother would protest, but a filly needed her shield when leaving home to go on an adventure, and her mother would just have to get over it. Now that she had what she needed, she backed out of the dark, dusty cupboard space and into the well-lighted kitchen.

Equipped with spatula and shield, Jitterbug felt ready enough to take on anything. One day, she was going to be a mighty hero, like Twilight Sparkle, or Rainbow Dash, or maybe even like Mister Teapot, but her mother had forbidden her from speaking to Mister Teapot, so she could not listen to his wonderful stories of glory. Getting caught listening was pretty horrific, because it usually got her grounded to her room or even worse, sent to bed early without dessert, which was pretty much the worst possible thing that could ever happen. Even worse, her mother would go chasing after the marvellous Mister Teapot and lecture him almost to death.

Being an adventurer had to be tough, because one had to deal with irate mothers.

In the garden, sitting among the tomato plants, Jitterbug saw her mother. With luck, she might be able to slip away without her mother’s notice. Strapped to her side was her schoolbag, which was heavy but reassuring, and inside of it was her lunch. Her spatula was slipped through her strap and her shield was secured on with a loop.

The hosepipe was on, because a tell-tale stream of water went spurting out of the faucet where it was connected. There was a bluejay atop the outhouse, saying whatever it was that bluejays had to say, and a few butterflies fluttered in and about the garden. Jitterbug slipped down the back steps, moving with slow caution, and eyeballed the rear gate.

For some reason, the filly had forgotten that she could slip out the front door unnoticed.

Adventure lay beyond the gate and Jitterbug would not be deterred. In near-silence, she slipped down the creaky wooden stairs, avoided the treacherous flagstone that wobbled but had never been fixed, and then crept along the path to the gate. Remembering that the gate needed oiling and had a bit of a squeal to it, Jitterbug opened it up just enough to squeeze out without it telling on her. Grinning with glee, she slipped away for a grand day out with her mother none the wiser.

Author's Note

I would never do something bad to a cheerful, innocent filly. Relax. :trollestia:

A fairy godspider appears

The city of Ponyville… Jitterbug knew what a pony was—she was one after all—but she had no idea what a ville was. There was also some confusion on how to pronounce it too, after learning a bit about language in school. Ville could be pronounced with an ‘el’ sound, sure, but there were plenty of other words that didn’t have that sound, like ‘tortilla.’ What if everypony was saying the name wrong and had been for years and years and years?

Was everything a lie?

Maybe.

Bearing a face-aching grin, Jitterbug pranced through Ponyville, her pigtails bouncing, and her eyes gleamed with mischievous curiousity as she headed towards the west side of town. The White Tail Woods would be thoroughly explored today, every available inch, every tree, every mossy boulder, every rotten log… well, some of them. She planned to walk the full route that was taken during the Running of the Leaves, which was quite a long walk by her standards, but it was okay because she packed a lunch.

She wished that she had a butterfly net, but she was still saving her allowance, which was slow going because she kept skipping out on her chores… such as working in the garden. Having a butterfly catching cutie mark might be fun, but it was also a bit ho-hum, because really, catching butterflies wasn’t that hard if most foals could do it. Such a thing just wasn’t all that special. A cutie mark for magic and spellcasting might be interesting, but that would mean many boring hours of study with dusty, sneezy books, and boring stuff was just so… boring.

There was a whole wide world to see and it was hard to see it from inside of a classroom or a library. Sitting still was hard and she was always catching trouble from Miss Cheerilee because of how squirmy she was. Jitterbug, as her namesake suggested, was a creature of energy. She was a high-strung frenetic filly finally free to find frenzied fantastic fun.

The great unknown awaited.

A dragonfly buzzed around the bridge and Jitterbug followed after it, wide-eyed and curious. Why was it called a dragonfly? Did it breathe fire like Spike and Boomer? Would it burn down the woods? Why was it so colourful and rainbowy? What made it shimmer, glimmer, and shine? Her hooves clopped against the stone bridge as she ran around in circles, trying to follow after the dragonfly, which seemed to have a problem making up its mind about which direction it would go.

Chasing bugs was certainly better than digging around the dirty dirt-filled garden. Sure, the garden had bugs too, but they were gross bugs, like slugs. Were slugs bugs? Was a slug a bug? Jitterbug came to a skidding halt—her hooves scraping over the stone—and recoiled in disgust when she thought about the glistening snot trails that slugs left behind. Snails were gross enough, but slugs were super grosstacular things. When one thought about it, without shells, slugs were just really homeless snails—hobos—and her mother insisted that hobos were disgusting and dirty. Not garden dirty, but untouchable dirty, the sort of awful dirty that one just didn’t talk about, like bathroom habits and politics. Ew.

Blinking, Jitterbug tried to remember what it was that she had been doing, and it took her a moment to think of the dragonfly. It was gone now, nowhere to be seen, and try as she might, she could not spot it flitting about. Three ponies approached the bridge, ponies that Jitterbug knew. Conk, Twisty, and Knick-Knack. Good ponies, and sometimes Jitterbug helped her mother foalsit Knick-Knack. They were trusted ponies, ponies that she had been told to go to and find in the event of an attack or disaster, should she get separated from her mother.

“Hiyas!” she cried while she jammed one hoof up in the air to wave. “I’m going on an adventure!”

“You stay safe,” Twisty said in return and beside her, Knick Knack began waving.

“Remember to come home before dark-thirty,” was Conk’s wise, helpful words of advice.

“Sure, you betcha!” Pronking away, her spatula and shield clattering, she began following the gravel and dirt path that wound along the river. “Look at me, I’m a big filly off on an adventure!”

“Toodle-woodle-woo-woo!” Knick-Knack called out in parting, sounding a bit like a train.

If one stared hard enough, wizened, wrinkled faces could be seen in the trees of the White Tail Woods. Knots made for interesting noses, or eyes, and warped hollows made for somewhat spooky mouths. Looking for faces made Jitterbug shivery, but she still did it because it was fun to. Finding shapes in clouds was fun, but finding the faces on the trees felt more meaningful somehow, but she had yet to find an adult that understood what she meant when she tried to explain her reasoning.

Perhaps she had been talking to the wrong adults all along.

Overhead, just above the tops of the trees, Fluttershy went flying past with a collection of songbirds swooping around one another behind her. Fluttershy was another safe, trusted pony that she could go to in times of trouble, but she had trouble getting along with the shy, yellow pegasus, who did not like sudden, excitable, explosive outbursts. Jitterbug was a filly just brimming with sudden, excitable, explosive outbursts which had to come out, sort of like sneezes, but far more verbose.

The path wound away from the river and lead into the wood. A natural archway formed in the canopy overhead and one side of the rutted road was deeper than the other. The mossy trees on either side were wise, patient guardians, and Jitterbug paused for a moment to find their faces. It took some time to see them, but they did have faces and she took the time to look each of them in the eye before stepping into shadow.

Pronking, she clicked all four of her hooves together and then vanished into the woods.

The sun had problems piercing through the thick, green canopy, but when it did it produced spectacular, radiant, crepuscular rays that speared through the thick thatch of leaves and left puddles of beautiful sunlight on the forest floor. Jitterbug bounced from puddle to puddle, as if she was attempting to splash in the sunlight, and she felt as though she was making good time on her journey.

“A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Princess Celestia wants me for a sunbeam,” she sang to herself as her school bag slapped against her side. “A sunbeam, a sunbeam, I’ll be a sunbeam for her. Princess Celestia wants me to be loving, and kind to all I see… showing just how pleasant and happy her little sunbeam can be. Hmm hmm hmm, this little horn of mine, I’m gonna let it shine… and I’ll show the world just what sort of sunbeam I can be!”

“Truly, an illuminating performance—”

“Who’s there?” Jitterbug demanded, disturbed by the sudden, unexpected voice.

“A friend,” the voice replied.

“Show yourself!” Igniting her horn came easy for Jitterbug, and she pulled her spatula free.

From the underbrush at the side of the road a spider emerged, but not just any spider, no: this was an enormous spider, bigger than Jitterbug herself, which left her feeling quite alarmed. Rather than give into her fear, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of and waved her spatula at it in the most menacing manner she could muster.

Alas, the spider did not seem impressed.

“You should be careful with such a weapon,” the spider said as it drew closer, speaking with a strange, unknown accent. “You could poke an eye out!”

When Jitterbug looked at her trusty spatula, it was a spatula no more, but a sword, sharp and gleaming. She almost dropped it when she let out a startled cry, but somehow, she managed to keep her grip on her weapon. Backing away, she waved her spatula-sword at the spider as it approached.

“Who are you?” Jitterbug demanded once more brandishing her weapon.

The spider’s big gross pedipalps waved around beneath what almost appeared to be a mustache. “Why, I am your Aunt Nancy… and you… you are Jitterbug.”

“I don’t have an Aunt Nancy!”

“Oh yes you do!” The spider made a polite wave with one giant hairy leg. “All beings that are good, brave, and true have an Aunt Nancy. And you… you are good, brave, and true. So you must have an Aunt Nancy.”

The spatula, which had become a sword, was now a spatula once more, and Jitterbug’s telekinetic grip made it tremble as she held it aloft. “For an Aunt Nancy you have a deep voice, Miss Spider.”

At this, the spider let out a boisterous, rollicking laugh and danced a little jig. “How little you know, silly filly, but suffice it to say, I am the most masculine aunt that you will ever meet. Most likely, anyhow. But right now, you need an aunt for guidance because destiny will soon have its way with you.”

“Who are you really?” Jitterbug asked as she put away her spatula. There was no sense in being rude, and for some unknown, inexplicable reason, this spider felt trustworthy.

“Well, one time,” the spider began and he dropped into a polite little bow, “I was the keeper of wisdom, and I collected all of this world’s wisdom and I put it into a jar so that I could keep it safe from the foolish and the unwary. I tried to store it in a big, thorny tree, but ran into some trouble trying to climb it, and eventually my own son chastised me about my foolishness. I got so frustrated that I dropped my jar, which broke, and all of the wisdom I had collected spilled out. Now, every creature that talks and thinks is wise because of me.”

Jitterbug’s mouth pressed into a tight, tiny pucker while she thought about the spider’s many words. That wasn’t an answer, but it was intriguing, even if it was probably a lie. Eyes narrowing, she had herself a good long look at the spider, which was decidedly friendly, though she could not say why.

“Really, I am your Aunt Nancy, and I am here to help you. The Aranea Covenant has been torn asunder and is no more. A spy for the Spider Queen lurks in these woods and I have come to find a champion. You seem brave enough, so you’ll do.”

“Why not a responsible adult?” Jitterbug asked.

“Responsible adults have a hard time seeing me,” the spider responded, “and even when they can see me, they have a hard time listening to me, because I am a spider. One simply does not talk to spiders, you see. At least, adults believe this. It is far, far easier to appear to one whose mind is still open to the possibilities of the world around them, no matter how improbable.”

“Are you an imaginary creature?” Jitterbug took a cautious step forward and began to examine the spider, trying to determine if it was real. “You seem real enough to me, but I might be wrong. If I close my eyes, count to ten, and tell myself that you’re not real, will you still be here when I open my eyes?”

“I draw power from imagination,” the spider explained in a patient voice. “You have a strong imagination, so I am very, very strong right now. Stronger than I’ve been in a long time. Strong enough to help you, I think. I was able to turn your spatula into a sword, wasn’t I?”

“That was a neat trick.” Jitterbug found herself nodding, and she sort of understood what her Aunt Nancy was saying. Her mother was always saying something about her overactive imagination. “So there is a spy?”

“Yes, in violation of the Aranea Covenant—”

“What’s that?”

“The Aranea Covenant was a promise made long, long ago. After a fierce battle was fought, the giant talking spiders agreed not to eat pony flesh and the Royal Pony Sisters agreed not to exterminate the giant talking spiders from the face of the earth. The giant spiders, unable to eat talking, smart, magical beasts, many of them became stupid and lost the ability to converse. Many lost their magic. But now they have returned, they have reclaimed their magic, and many of the giant spiders talk again. They are coming for you.”

“You talk.”

“Indeed I do, but I am not actually a spider. I am something else, something beyond your comprehension. I only appear as a spider because my true form is incomprehensible.”

“Oh.” Jitterbug shuffled on her hooves and wished that she had paid a bit more attention in school. “So you are my imaginary Aunt Nancy. Are you like my fairy godspider?”

“Sure, why not.” The spider shrugged, using four of its eight legs and something about it’s almost-mustache sort of seemed like a smile. “The Aranea have aligned themselves with Grogar, who has promised them quite a feast. The ancient elders have crawled out of their hiding places and now lay their eggs. Not long ago, one such elder was killed in your city of Baltimare.”

“So what do I need to do?” Jitterbug asked.

“I need your imagination to flow like a mighty, mighty river, so that I might have magic again, and we must go and deal with the spy. We must capture her alive, and you must take her to the one called Twilight Sparkle. Then, you must tell this Twilight that the Aranea Covenant is no more. Twilight should tell the Royal Pony Sisters, and they will know what to do. I have heard that Twilight is quite smart.”

“She is,” Jitterbug agreed, nodding her head. “She’s an egghead know-it-all and she saves the world all the time and she is the Princess of Ponyville and a super-nice pony.” Smiling, she decided to press her luck once more. “What are you really?”

“I am almost like a spider… I suppose. I exist on a weave of magic that stretches between worlds… other wheres, other whens. I have learned to travel along the ley lines that stretch between the stars. Everywhere I go, I create foolishness and fun. Sometimes, I lure children… or foals into having an adventure with me, like now.”

“Right.” Jitterbug was already feeling the itch, the urge to keep going. “So, where is this spy and how do we find her?”

“Walk with me,” Aunt Nancy said in a smooth, buttery voice of kindness, “and let us go on an adventure.”

Author's Note

Hobo slugs...

Beyond the doorway of belief

“This spider, this spy we are going to capture… if we can capture her…” Aunt Nancy sounded a bit doubtful, but also a whole lot cheerful, so that made everything aye-okay. “She is angry and wants revenge. Her mother’s killer is in Canterlot and his family is right here in Ponyville. This spider, she has been forbidden from taking revenge and she has been made to obey, to follow a plan, which shows a powerful level of organisation that is worrisome. Normally, evil is disorganised and fights against itself, which is why the world has not yet been taken over by evil.”

“So good wins because evil is super-mega-dodo-dumb?” Jitterbug interjected.

“Perhaps!” Aunt Nancy began chuckling as he clambered over an enormous fallen log, the tips of his eight legs drummed against the rotten wood. ”But this evil is organised. It has competent leadership. I like to call them the Trio of Terror, but such a whimsical name does a disservice to the wrongness they are capable of. Catrina, Belladonna, and Dark Desire… they bring organisation to chaos, a dangerous thing indeed.”

Jitterbug really wished that she had paid more attention in school because Aunt Nancy didn’t talk to her like she was a foal, no, he spoke to her like an adult to an adult, and some of what he said was tough to understand. Maybe listening a little more in school would be a good thing, since it seemed one needed a bit of vocabulary and comprehension to be an adventurer—and she was most certainly having an adventure!

The log that Aunt Nancy climbed over proved to be a bit tricky for the four-legged filly, and she had to take a couple of tries to scramble over the top, but she managed. Sliding down the other side, she almost ate a faceful of dirt, but twisted herself around at the last moment and landed bottom-first in the loam floor of the forest. How far were they off of the beaten path? Hard to say, but Jitterbug knew the direction home. She could feel it, though she did not understand it, and she knew that she wasn’t lost.

As far as spiders went, Aunt Nancy didn’t seem too bad. Oh, he was big, certainly, and hairy, and he made weird, gross noises when his chelicerae and his pedipalps rubbed together. His eight eyes were shiny and gleamed with oily rainbows. Most everything about him was a handsome black and brown. Of course, the best part was, he was polite and showed no interest in eating her, which was awful nice of him.

“Stop!” Aunt Nancy froze in place near a hollowed out trunk of a decaying tree. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Jitterbug asked as she came to a stop beside him.

“A wibble,” he replied as he waved three legs about in the air.

This made no sense. “What’s a wibble?”

“Magic sense… concentrate… we have entered into a web that has no webbing.”

Unicorns were supposed to have a magic sense, but Jitterbug didn’t know how to make her’s work. Some unicorns had really powerful magic senses, while others had weak ones, but if you had a magical horn, you had a magical sense, or so it was said. The filly went cross-eyed as she focused upon her horn as a sensory organ, and she thought about the sensations she had experienced earlier when she had pushed the limits of what her magic was capable of.

“Try this, Jitterbug,” Aunt Nancy said as he reached out and touched her cheek.

At his touch, the world exploded with new sensory input and she could feel things with her horn. For a moment, it was overwhelming and far too strong, but then she adjusted to the sensation—perhaps it was like getting into a hot bath—and then she began to make sense of it. There was indeed, a wibble.

“Magic is a funny thing,” Aunt Nancy said in a low, dramatic drawl of a whisper. “Foals… little ones… children… they are capable of strong magic… powerful magic… and as they grow into adults, this magic weakens and is replaced by something else. The magic of make-believe and pretend… this magic is real, but it can only be so when it is believed in. As you grow, as your innocence slowly slips away, you will lose your connection to this weave of magic. There will come a day when you are all grown up and your memory will play tricks on you and you will believe me to be an imaginary friend.”

“Oh, I would never forget you, Aunt Nancy!”

“But you will.” The spider sighed out these words and raised his four front legs. He began tapping them against the air and there was a strange thrumming sound, almost as if a harp was being plucked underwater. “I once knew two very special fillies, and I was their friend. One was gifted with illusion magic, the very magic of imagination, and I taught her much. I gave her my secrets for trickery and I showed her how to walk the web of dreams. I gave her magic that was beyond ponykind and she found purpose. The sisters struggle to even remember me now… but I suppose that I should count myself lucky that they do remember me.”

Jitterbug started to say something, but her eyes decided to play tricks on her. Something that wasn’t quite there appeared, and Aunt Nancy was drumming his legs against it; the glimmering not-quite-real spiderweb. He was doing something to make it real, to make it manifest, and in total silence she watched what he was doing so that she might learn something.

“Even now, I hasten my own death in your perception… I take you into danger… into a battle where you will no doubt grow up and gain maturity. Some of your foalish nature will depart from you, and I will be harder to understand. With time and memory and the passing of many moons, you will wonder how much of this is real and how much of this you imagined. Before this day is done, I fear you will lose me.”

“But I like you and I want to remember you,” Jitterbug said, and she became aware of some strange growing sense of sadness that existed within her.

“We shall see.” Aunt Nancy rested one foreleg upon a strand of webbing that appeared to be quite real. “Draw your sword, tiny warrior, and believe that it is a sword… summon all of your belief and cut this. It bars the way forward into the pocket plane of protection that protects our prey from the watchful eyes of your many princesses.”

Doing as she was bade, Jitterbug drew her spatula and held it aloft. It was a bright, shiny metal spatula with a wooden handle, but she had seen it as a sword once. Sticking her tongue out, she tried to remember what it had looked like as a sword; the bright gleaming edge, the way the steel glinted, the weight and the heft of it.

Nothing.

“Imagine that it is a sword,” was Aunt Nancy’s soft-spoken suggestion. “It was your magic that changed it, not mine. I merely made the suggestion, but my suggestion has no power unless you give it life. It is how you give me life. I am only as strong as you make me. For all you know, I might be a teeny, tiny, itty bitty little spider, the terror of Miss Muffets everywhere.”

The feeling of brain freeze returned and with it, the unpleasant, uncomfortable sensation that her horn was being pushed down into her brain. Jitterbug slurped in her tongue, gritted her teeth, and thought about all of the fun adventures she had with her toys and dolls. Epic adventures inspired by what she read in comic books and sometimes Daring Do graphic novels. It wasn’t that she couldn’t read, she just really liked the pictures because it gave her mind something to work with, something to bring to life.

The spatula was now a giant pair of scissors, and Jitterbug was quite surprised. They were heavy and felt quite real—they were scissors, no mistake—and she knew that they would cut the web. Stepping forward, she lifted her magical shears up to the strand of webbing, slipped it between the sharp slicing blades, and with a swift snap of magic, she closed the scissors upon it. The strand of webbing broke and the air around her filled with glittering, glowing orbs while her new sense of magic tingled with alarm.

“She’ll know that we are coming,” Aunt Nancy said, “so be ready.”

Armed with a spatula once more, Jitterbug plowed ahead, determined to face the danger. The sun felt different here, muted somehow, the plants seemed sickly and very little of the sun’s warmth seemed to reach the ground. There were many webs here, and things wrapped up in webs. Bones were visible, awful, icky bones. Some of the bones were white and dry, while other bones were wet, glistening, and icky, covered in gross, indescribable colours.

It occurred to Jitterbug that she was in a lair, like how adventurers like Daring Do went into lairs. Mister Teapot had gone into lairs too. He was known as Spider’s Bane and Jitterbug intended to give him a little competition, if she could. This spider would be her first and she was feeling pretty confident that she could give the spider what for. Maybe not alone, but she had her Aunt Nancy, her fairy godspider with her, so anything was possible, like turning a spatula into scissors.

Understanding what was at stake, she imagined that her Aunt Nancy was big and strong. Aunt Nancy was a big, hulking brute of a spider, but he was also kind and good. An ideal friend and a magnificent fairy godspider, Aunt Nancy would protect her from all harm. At least, Jitterbug did her best to believe in this, as she had seen with the scissors, believing in her own imagination did not guarantee desired results.

The enemy had to know that she had company, because spiders knew when their web was disturbed. Sometimes, Jitterbug liked to go out into the back yard and tweak the webs of spiders, just so she could watch what the spiders did in response. If one twanged the web, the spider would come running out of hiding to investigate what was going on. Most spiders were good spiders who ate the bugs that would ruin the garden that she and her mother depended upon, and she appreciated them for what they were.

“Belief is a powerful thing,” Aunt Nancy whispered as the pair pushed ahead, deeper into the spider’s lair. “If you ponies believe hard enough that you are good at something, you get a silly little mark on your bottoms, a visual, visible-to-all reminder of your belief. If you allow some awful, awful being to convince you that you no longer believe in yourself, the mark will vanish and go away, and with it, your belief and your confidence in yourself. All of your kind are only good at something because you believe in yourselves so strongly. This is quite unique, in my experience.”

This was fascinating, to be sure. Holding both her spatula and her shield for protection, it felt easier doing this now than it had been. Normally, holding her weapon and her shield was quite a strain, but at the moment, it felt quite natural and easy. She held her shield up in front of her face and peered over the top edge of it. The pot lid seemed larger somehow, bigger, thicker, it seemed more like an adequate means of protection, and less like a pot lid.

“It seems I have visitors,” a voice said from all around them and every strand of webbing vibrated with the sound. “So nice of you to invite yourself into my parlour.”

“Show yourself!” Jitterbug commanded and she readied her spatula.

“In due time,” the chilling feminine voice replied from everywhere and nowhere. “You bring a strange light into my lair, a strange light indeed little filly. Who is it that travels with you that wears the guise of a spider?”

“My Aunt Nancy,” Jitterbug replied as she gripped the handle of her spatula even tighter.

“A curious thing indeed.” The voice sounded both bored and intrigued at the same time. “A parasite that isn’t quite a parasite, but also isn’t quite a symbiote. Not a spider, not even a bug. When I kill the filly and suck her dry, you will cease to be a threat, I think—”

“I have chosen my side,” Aunt Nancy retorted, interrupting in a silken voice that was loud and clear. “So long as your kind feeds upon the fears of the young, I will always be a threat! Reveal yourself, you craven coward!”

“Oh, I shall!” the strange voice hissed in reply, and then the ground began to shake.

Her heart thumping against her ribs, Jitterbug prepared for battle…

Author's Note

Here... we... go!

Heroes don't get spanked... do they?

A truly enormous spider advanced, she was big, even bigger than Aunt Nancy, and Jitterbug raised her shield. The she-spider was chanting strange words and four of her legs were moving in weird ways as she weaved her spell into existence. A ghastly green glow could now be seen and Jitterbug was all too aware of the wibble, because something about the words and the glow left her feeling nauseous.

Aunt Nancy too, was weaving a spell, but his words seemed kind, good, and the light that manifested around his waving legs was a strength-giving blue. Jitterbug ignored her queasy feeling and raised her weapon, ready to do battle with the big, gross, hairy horror. Had she not been in the thick of battle, she might have wondered how spiders cast spells.

The she-spider shrunk, or maybe Jitterbug was bigger, because the world seemed smaller somehow. Yes, her legs were longer, as was her neck, and it seemed to Jitterbug that she was all grown up at the moment. She was big, strong, and powerful… though not as stocky and solid as her mother. Jitterbug had a profound realisation that she did not have time to reflect upon: she wasn’t scrawny, as her mother insisted, she was just a unicorn and not an earth pony.

Yes, she was a powerful unicorn warrior, armed with… a… sword? Yes, the spatula had its own wibble now, it shimmered and warped with a powerful glam. There were times that it was a spatula, but also a sword, and it phased between somewhat ghostly images of both. Armed with a sword and shield, she advanced upon her foe, whose spell seemed to have fizzled out.

“Strike, strike now!” Aunt Nancy shouted, and Jitterbug was all too eager to obey.

As Jitterbug brought her weapon to bear, the spatula-sword decided that it was indeed, a sword, and as she made a mighty downward chop, it sprang into full existence, gleaming in the bluish light coming from Aunt Nancy’s magic. The she-spider lept backwards and bumped into a bulbous wad of webbing. The web sack split open and bones of all kinds came spilling out all over the ground. The sword connected and one front leg on the right was cleaved right off. Greenish yellow ichor spurted out from the wound and the severed leg lay twitching among the spilled bones.

Shrieking with rage and pain, the she-spider gave up its retreat and charged forwards. Fangs dripping some no doubt vile poison could be seen for a moment and then there was a brilliant explosion of blue light as Aunt Nancy finished her spell. Jitterbug raised her shield—it was far bigger than a common stock pot lid—and blocked the leap attack of the charging she-spider.

Heavy, hairy legs thumped against the shield and fangs squealed against metal. The weight was great, almost too much for Jitterbug to bear, but she brought her sword around to make another strike. Unable to see beyond her own shield, she had to rely upon her telekinesis to ‘feel’ for a target, and she made a clumsy stab with her weapon, whose edge grazed up against something.

Yelling with pain and fury, the she-spider lost another leg, which fell to the floor and thrashed around. Aunt Nancy was casting another spell now and Jitterbug pressed her advantage as the she-spider pulled back. Gripping her shield, Jitterbug delivered a powerful shield bash to the face of her retreating foe and there was a sickening crunch, sort of like stepping on a cockroach but with a lot more crunchiness and sticky-icky-ickle-wickle noises that that made all of her muscles tense.

It sounded super-gross.

If one shield bash was good, then two were better, and Jitterbug swung again while trying to recall Mister Teapot’s tips for a good and proper shield smack attack. For the second time, her shield struck the she-spider in the face and the disgusting sound of shattering chitin made her fuzzy-wuzzy ears twitch. Now, as Aunt Nancy’s spell reached a crescendo, there was a very pronounced wibble all about and Jitterbug began to feel a bit woozy as her awakened magic-sense threatened to overwhelm her.

The she-spider made a swift, sudden, unexpected movement and the air was filled with choking dust and fine hairs, which did a nasty number on Jitterbug. About half blind, her eyes watered, her nose and mouth burned, and it was a mighty struggle to draw breath. The pain was almost more than she could bear, and now, Jitterbug was the one retreating while the she-spider got a moment to recover.

Aunt Nancy’s spell exploded in a massive blue burst of blazing light. The strange dark shroud was torn asunder and whatever shadow plagued the area was now gone. Sunlight streamed down, piercing the webby canopy, and Jitterbug felt new strength surge through her big grown up body. The hairs and dust she was afflicted with still plagued her, but she found the means to continue, a way to keep going.

Princess Celestia’s sun was the great equaliser and Jitterbug could feel its warmth seeping into her bones. Raising both her sword and shield, she advanced upon the she-spider, and even though she couldn’t see very well at the moment, she could still feel her way around with her telekinesis.

“Your evil is revealed!” Aunt Nancy hollered. “Even if we fail, the Royal Pony Sisters will come for you! Even now, one of their mighty eyes is upon you! No longer can you hide!”

“Die!” The she-spider lept for Aunt Nancy, and being a female spider, she was far, far larger than he.

The two spiders collided into a tangle of hairy legs, which thrashed and slapped against one another, and the larger she-spider tried to bite Aunt Nancy. One fang was broken, shattered from Jitterbug’s shield bash, but the other still dribbled awful poison. Jitterbug, who couldn’t see very well, wasn’t sure if she could help Aunt Nancy, and she stood there, feeling helpless.

A rustling sound could be heard as the two hairy bodies slapped against one another, and the sound of thrashing legs created a staccato rhythm. The she-spider stabbed at Aunt Nancy with one terrible fang the length of a carrot while Aunt Nancy struggled to throw the much larger she-spider off of him.

With a scream lodged in her throat, Jitterbug watched, half-blind, as the fight came to a sudden, dreadful end: the she-spider hefted Aunt Nancy around, lifted him up into the air, and then with a terrible finality, she slammed him down upon a sharp spike of splintered wood jutting up from a stump. Aunt Nancy’s legs wiggled and wriggled, he kicked, and his big hairy abdomen seemed to be deflating as his innards oozed out of the horrible gash that had been opened.

The scream lodged in her throat demanded to be set free, and Jitterbug uttered the very first profanity fueled by rage in her young, short life: “Bitch…”

With remarkable speed, the she-spider lept at Jitterbug, who raised her shield to defend herself. But Jitterbug didn’t just block with her shield, no, she swung with all of her hate-fueled might. Mid-air, the she-spider collided with Jitterbug’s shield with a mighty, meaty thump, and then was flung backwards by the sheer brutal force of the blow.

While the she-spider was still in the air, Jitterbug smashed her a second blow with her shield, and the consequences of this impact was downright cruel: the she-spider’s remaining fang shattered and her face, if one could call it that, became a hairy, lumpy, misshapen mess, a grotesque parody of what it once was. The assaulted arachnid landed in the bone-strewn dirt, bounced, and then was smacked a third time with another shield smite.

Jitterbug wasted no time and went to work with her sword. She hacked away on one side, chopping away a plethora of legs, leaving behind ichor-oozing stumps. Another shield bash was delivered to keep the she-spider stunned, and she began hacking away at the surplus of legs on the other side, all while the she-spider let out a keening wail of agony.

With the spider dealt with, Jitterbug turned about to look after Aunt Nancy, only to find that he was gone. The spike of wood where he had been impaled was still covered in spider-slime, and some stringy, ribbony bits of spider-guts, but her fairy godspider was gone. A flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, and her already stinging eyes flooded with tears.

Whirling on the defeated spider, Jitterbug said, “You! You’re coming with me! And if you give me any trouble, I’ll bash you again with my shield! Your wickedness ends today!” As she spoke, the world grew larger, or perhaps she was growing smaller. Her mighty leg-chopping sword had a curious wibble to it and it flickered for a moment to become a spatula for the span of an eyeblink.

Jitterbug could feel herself shrinking, becoming filly-sized once more, but she was not afraid of the she-spider. She wanted to have a good cry, and maybe a hug from her mother, but she had a job that had to be finished. The pigtailed filly waved her weapon at her helpless, battered, legless foe and she felt a curious mix of grief and rage for having lost her friend.

“Twilight Sparkle will know what to do with you,” Jitterbug said as even more of the magic began to fade away, and she failed to notice a teeny, tiny little spider the size of a pea doing a teeny, tiny little victory dance. She was tiny now, the filly that she once was, and the remains of her enemy were larger than she was.

Friendless, Jitterbug faced the grim task ahead of her all alone…

↫Epilogue↬

It was late afternoon when a filly dragging the battered, bulbous remains of a hacked apart spider appeared on the edge of town. The spider was tied up in strands of its own webbing and the filly dragged it along through the dirt, tugging on a long tether of spider silk with her glowing telekinesis. She was armed with a spatula that might never be clean again, it was so encrusted with ichor and coarse hairs that cleaning it might just be a lost cause. A pot lid shield was strapped to her back, which was bent, battered, and every bit as disgusting as the spatula.

The residents of the town stared, but this was not the strangest thing they had seen. No, Ponyville saw all manner of weird things, bizarre events, and peculiar happenstances. But a filly dragging a dismembered spider bigger than she was, well, that was a curious thing indeed. She was a bit weepy eyed, covered in slime, dirt, bits of webbing, twigs, dried out insect husks, and other bits of debris that were impossible to determine.

“I’ll kill you and feast on your guts!” the spider cried as it was dragged through the dirt behind the incredibly filthy filly.

This, it seemed, was the final straw, as the filly stopped, turned about, grunted, and drew her spatula. A flurry of blows was rained down on the lumpy, hairy abdomen, and the filly, Jitterbug, spanked the she-spider into submission. Blow after blow was visited upon the spider’s big, hairy, gross spider-butt, and Jitterbug showed no mercy, even when the spider began howling in pain.

All around, ponies watched, blinking in astonishment.

From the crowd came a familiar figure, and he moved at a brisk, lanky-legged trot. Tall, a bit handsome, and a dark, distinctive shade of chocolate brown, he approached the filly while wearing a cautious, but also amused smirk.

“Maybe I could help you with that?”

After dealing one final hearty spank, Jitterbug looked up at Mister Teapot, who looked down at her. She spent a moment reading his face, noting his smirk, and the total lack of fear in his eyes. He was Spider’s Bane, the Spider Slayer, and she wondered how he might feel about her muscling in on his territory. Not every pony handled competition very well.

“Naw, I’m good,” she said with a sniff, which caused her snotty, slimy nose to bubble.

“Are you sure you don’t need a little help?” Mister Teapot asked.

“Go hunt your own spider if you want one,” she replied while she braced her legs in defiance. “I got mine fair and square. I have to bring it to Twilight Sparkle and warn her that the Aranea Covenant has been broken. The spiders are smart and making armies again.”

“Oh.” Mister Teapot sounded quite calm at this news, and Jitterbug marvelled at how cool and nonchalant he was. “Oh my, that is significant news indeed, Jitterbug.”

Perhaps, if she was lucky, he would teach her his spider-slaying ways, and she wouldn’t be grounded for the rest of her life. She gazed up at her idol with unabashed adoration, all while feeling a flood of emotions. She was still pretty sad about losing her Aunt Nancy, sorrowful even, but she was also feeling joyous and triumphant about her victory. Fear of her mother’s anger lurked in the back of her thoughts, and she was still pretty angry at her spider captive for killing her Aunt Nancy. Thinking of his awful death, Jitterbug brought her spatula down in another punishing spank right on the spider’s bruised, lumpy spider-butt.

“OWIE!” the she-spider howled as she writhed around in agony.

More ponies gathered around to have a look at Jitterbug’s prize, but she failed to notice them. Hearing the flap of wings, Jitterbug looked up and saw Twilight Sparkle approaching, with Spike riding on her back. Mister Teapot remained close, and she could not help but notice that he had one eye on her spider. She was going to have to have a chat with Mister Teapot about that, sure enough.

Twilight landed, stumbled a bit, and very nearly dumped poor Spike right into the dirt. The little dragon clutched at her mane, tugging and pulling on it, which made Twilight’s eyes go wide. She pranced in place while making a pained face, and this continued until Spike finally let go.

“Remember, Jitterbug, play it cool if you want to impress the princess,” Mister Teapot said, dropping a helpful hint. “Don’t get overexcited. A warrior must remain professional when dealing with their princess.”

A warrior? Jitterbug had to swallow a squee before it could escape and an enormous happy-sad smile spread over her muddied, somewhat slimy muzzle. Holding her weapon at the ready, she was fully prepared to spank the spider silly if it sassed the princess. Stiff legged, Jitterbug tried to stand at attention.

“What is going on here?” Twilight asked as she approached and Spike followed. “It isn’t every day I get panicked reports of a filly dragging the corpse of a spider into town.”

“This spider isn’t dead,” Jitterbug replied and she wondered if she should bow. Did a warrior bow? Mister Teapot wasn’t bowing, but he was Twilight’s friend. What were the rules? “This spider is alive and she talks. She can also cast spells, but she doesn’t seem to be much trouble right now. I am supposed to tell you that the Aranea Covenant has been broken.”

Twilight’s face scrunched into a thoughtful expression. “Who told you to tell me this?”

“A really nice giant spider… my Aunt Nancy. He was my fairy godspider and he helped me to fight this big, mean spider right here. She was spying on Ponyville and had evil plans for the ponies of Ponyville.”

“Fascinating.” Twilight seemed utterly calm and composed. “She speaks?”

“Some spiders speak, Twilight.” Mister Teapot’s ears stood tall as he spoke. “I heard this one cry out in pain.”

“I know of the Aranea Covenant.” Twilight lowered her head down a little closer to the bound spider, and she began to examine it. “Some spiders retained their magic and their speech through other means, better means. Some reformed and went on to do good. Some refused to change their wicked ways and went dumb. Still others it seems have been plotting. You have the stink of evil about you, Spider. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The spider said nothing in reply and Jitterbug threatened it with her spatula, but Mister Teapot shook his head. She withheld her blows, but remained at the ready if she spider tried to do anything foolish with Twilight being so close.

“Spike, when we get back to the castle, I want you to send a message to Princess Celestia and inform her that we’re at war with the spiders. She probably already knows, but let us be thorough.”

“Sure thing, Twilight.”

Lifting her head, Twilight let her magnificent, regal expression shine down upon Jitterbug. “I don’t think I can save you from your mother, Jitterbug, but I can give you my most sincere thanks. All of Ponyville is indebted to your bravery, your valour, and dauntless courage.” Looking Jitterbug right in the eye, Twilight bent her long, slender neck and bowed her head.

“Your mother is going to have fits,” Mister Teapot said in a low, soft, amused voice. “Especially when she sees your new cutie mark, I just know that she is gonna let me have it—”

“I got my cutie mark?” Jitterbug whipped her head around to have a better look at her own hindquarters, and she began to turn in circles as her backside ran away from her. Her small hooves drummed against the dirt of the road and Mister Teapot’s chuckling filled her ears.

It was hard to see, mostly because her backside wouldn’t hold still long enough for her to get a good look, but there was something there. A sword could be seen, and surrounding the sword was a glittering swirl of magic. Beside it was a shield, also surrounded by wisps of magic. After everything that had taken place, after all she had endured, after the painful loss of her fairy godspider, Aunt Nancy, her new cutie mark was everything she could possibly hope for. Much had been sacrificed to attain it.

“I’ll take our prisoner back to my castle and see that she is cared for,” Twilight said as she backed a step away and then she looked up at Mister Teapot. “Tarnish, could you see that Miss Jitterbug is escorted home—”

“But her mom is gonna kill me, Twilight! She calls me a disturber of the peace!”

Clearing her throat, Twilight continued. “See that Miss Jitterbug is escorted home and remind her mother that the world needs heroes. Please make sure that Jitterbug is allowed to explain to her mother what has happened. Junebug is a good pony, but she’s also a homebody that is not open to new ideas or changes, so this is bound to be quite hard on her.”

“I’ll do my best, Twilight,” Mister Teapot promised.

Turning to face Jitterbug, Twilight bowed her head once more. “Again, I thank you. Once I have our prisoner situated and secured, I will be by later, so we can add your cutie mark to the registry. Also, I think your schooling situation may need to change, and we can talk about that later.”

Beaming, Jitterbug could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Beside her, the spider moaned in pain and the stumps of her legs wiggled beneath the ichor-stained webbing she was bound in. Twilight Sparkle sounded proud of her, and there was a chance that she might get into Twilight’s school. Surely her mother would be pleased about that.

As Jitterbug looked up at Mister Teapot—prepared to follow him to her home—she failed to notice the itsy-bitsy spider hitching a ride in her mane just behind her ear…

Author's Note

And so it ends... for now.