“To your left… no, your other left.”

“Like this?” Thunderlane meekly asked, still holding his end of the banner just a little too far over to the right. The downdraft from his wings was blowing a nearby cluster of brightly coloured balloons around so much that they were threatening to break free of their tethers.

“Nah, nah, it's still not centered,” Jake murmured, squinting up through the midday sun at his roommate. The thought of just clambering up onto the roof of Sugarcube Corner and tying the thing himself had crossed his mind more than once in the past few minutes, but he doubted he’d get away with such a stunt without some mare trotting over and telling him he was being an idiot.

It was something that happened a lot in this place. Mares in general seemed to be convinced that stallions were dainty, fragile little souls that were best kept in a ‘safe’ environment at all times. Well, with the exception of Derpy, perhaps. The fact that Jake wasn’t even a stallion didn’t really deter them, either. They treated both him and Thunderlane pretty much the same.

“Do you think the pillars will like cake? Wait—they did have cake back then, right?” Derpy pondered, her fumbling forehooves dropping her end of the banner for the fourth time in as many minutes. “Aww, ponyfeathers.”

Why the planning committee had given the task of tying the ‘Welcome Back, Pillars!’ banner to a couple of pegasi was completely beyond Jake. This was clearly a job for a unicorn. Who the fuck ties a knot with their mouth, anyway? Amethyst Star had already taken care of the ‘Well Done, Elements!’ counterpart hanging over Carousel Boutique in about three seconds.

“I'm pretty sure they had cake back then,” Thunderlane said, swooping down to pick the fallen end of the banner up. He passed it back to Derpy with a smile, but it quickly fell right off his muzzle when he spotted a pink-coated, middle-aged mare trotting around the side of Pony Fountain, the distinct curve and pursed lips of her snoot clearly visible even from a distance.

It was a wonder Spoiled Rich could trot in a straight line with that stick up her ass. The constant ‘bitch’ vibe the mare put out might’ve had something to do with the fact that her face looked as though someone had given it a good whack with a frying pan when she was a filly. Either way, She was already shouting in that whiny voice of hers at Big Mac for not positioning the apple-dunk barrel in the ‘right place’.

Jake didn’t typically have a problem with mares being traditional. It could actually be pretty endearing, at times. The way Derpy would sometimes rear up behind him in a sort of one-human-one-pony conga line when it rained just so she could cover his head and shoulders with her wings was pretty adorable. It was entirely platonic, and she never expected anything in return. Even when questioned, she’d just simply say she was being marely. No amount of pointing out she was getting soaked, or offering to cover her with his jacket could get her to stop, either.

He gazed at the mare with a smile, her little tongue sticking out of that scrunched up muzzle as she hovered next to the bakery, fumbling the bit of ribbon attached to the banner for the fifth time.

The whole reversal of expectations between genders was just as alien to him as the world itself, but whilst the ponies themselves had become something like normalcy in recent years, their behaviours were probably going to take a bit more getting used to.

“-further back, idiot colt. It’s just going to be in the way if you leave it there!”

Big Mac kicked the barrel right up against the side of the fountain, his big red hoof going straight through the wood like it was tracing paper. Water gushed out everywhere, something Spoiled was all too quick to scowl at. Her horse lips, now thinner than ever, made a sound not unlike that of a whoopee cushion. Mac didn’t say anything, but then again, he never was much of a talker. Any other pony might’ve told the mare to go fuck herself with the pointy end of a pitchfork.

“Cheese would’ve had this whole thing planned by now. Balloons, streamers, cake, that huge confetti cannon rolled up in the center of town and an apple cider in everyone’s hooves,” Thunderlane muttered, still trying in vain to manipulate the ribbon with his muzzle and hooves. “Mayor Mare should have brought him in, like Pinkie suggested. Either that, or just let Pinkie plan the thing herself.”

Jake clicked his jaw, determined to ignore Spoiled’s angry horse noises. Mac was a big colt. He could deal with her. “Be realistic, Thunder. It was never going to happen with Spoiled on the planning committee. Plus, the party is supposed to be for the elements as well.”

“Yeah, but Pinkie-”

“Quit your muzzle-flapping, colt! You'll never get that banner up with the two of you gossiping all day,” Spoiled cut across the stallion, leaving a glowering Big Mac behind in a puddle of dunk water, picking splinters from his hoof with his teeth.

The mare trotted up to Jake with the haughty look of superiority he’d come to expect from her. Despite her head only reaching just above his abdomen, she still managed to make it seem like she was looking down on him. “Don’t just stand there like a tin of milk. The streamers still need hanging around Town Hall. You can do the ground level, and you-” she pointed at Thunderlane hovering a few feet above her, “-can do the rest.”

“You realise not everypony has a tongue as dexterous as yours, right?” Jake commented, grabbing a cardboard box labelled ‘streamers’ from the long line of party decoration supplies in the middle of the street.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Thunderlane is weatherpony, and a damned good one at that. The fact you’re opting to have him struggle with something it’s pretty obvious he’s not suited to is just bad management,” Jake explained, setting the box down and grabbing the trace ropes of one of the supply carts. “There are still a few clouds he could be taking care of before the party starts,” he grunted, dragging the cart out of the way in order to get to another cardboard box full of streamers tucked away behind its wheel. “Also, you’ve probably sucked more cock than a gigolo mare with mounting rent arrears and a recent threat-of-eviction notice. Why don’t you climb up there and do it?”

Spoiled’s cheeks inflated, eyes bulging out to super-butthurt proportions. She kind of looked like a pufferfish that had just received an angry hug from a stingray. “How… How dare you! Such crude accusation is so ill-befitting of a stallion! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Yeah, I’m not a stallion, Pan-Face,” Jake snorted, picking up the stacked boxes and throwing a grin to a wide-eyed Thunderlane. “C’mon, Thunder. Let’s get this shit done so we can start drinking already.”

Spoiled grinded her molars together so hard Jake could almost hear them. “I’ll be reporting your foul behaviour to Mayor Mare! Mark my words, colt, you’ll pay for your cheek!”

“Yeah. Great,” Jake replied, his smile staying put. There was going to be a flagon of zap apple cider with his name on it in the next few hours, and man, was he looking forward to it. No amount of dealing with Spoiled Bitch was going to change that.

“I can’t believe you stood up to her like that,” Thunderlane said, once they were safely out of earshot. “That was pretty awesome, dude.”

Jake raised an eyebrow at the stallion. “You should try it sometime.”

“Heh, maybe I will,” Thunderlane said, swooping down to grab a muzzleful of streamers.

Mares like Spoiled weren’t really that common, something Jake was wholly grateful for. But if more stallions had an actual backbone when talking to them, their efforts to sustain this ridiculous subservient-male society could be lessened considerably.

Who would have thought he’d have turned into the male equivalent of a freakin’ feminist? The thought brought a smile to his face. Would it be considered masculism? Was that even a thing here?

The next fifteen minutes saw them covering the vast majority of the Ponyville Town Hall with streamers—a task made much easier for Thunderlane, because he didn’t have to tie any knots, for the most part. The streamers hadn’t been cut, which meant he could just hook a hoof through an entire spool and wrap the coloured ribbon around the flagpoles lining the top balcony in one continuous loop.

Even still, Jake managed to finish decorating both the ground floor support posts and most of the first floor balcony before Thunderlane was even halfway done with the top. It was boring work, but it beat being in the direct vicinity of Spoiled Rich. The brief pause he took to admire his handiwork was interrupted by a loud rattle, and a ruefully muttered “ugh, horse apples.”

“Thunderlane? You okay?” Jake called, already heading up the wooden staircase to the second floor. He spotted the pegasus before he even stepped onto the balcony. Thunderlane was upside-down, hanging precariously from the top of the flagpole by a partially unravelled streamer spool. The poor stallion was well and truly tangled in the stuff, hind legs akimbo, tail askew, and sheath and balls in full view of any pegasus that happened to be passing by overhead.

Jake slapped a palm to his mouth, but it didn’t do much to hold back the fit of laughter. “Oh, shit… How the hell did you manage that?”

“Can you just help me, please? There are mares flying everywhere!” he yelped, the black fur on his cheeks turning red.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your tampons in a twist,” Jake snickered, flicking the stallion’s tail back over his junk. The thing was pretty short, but it still provided at least a small modicum of decency.

Carefully tugging at the streamer, the human succeeded in freeing Thunderlane’s forelegs, but the rest of him was still cocooned. “What the? How did you even? Jeez. Were you trying to wear the thing like a dress?” His fingers pried under the thick gatherings of material wrapped around the stallion’s barrel, but it refused to budge.

“I put the spool around my neck so I could use my hooves to try and tie the end of the streamer, okay?”

“Wow. That’s a really dumb idea.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“This shit is even wrapped around your wings. Hmm… I could go and get some scissors? There’s a pair in my bedside drawer back at the apartment. Or, I could go and ask Lyra. She probably has some-”

“No! Don’t you dare leave me like this!” he pleaded, irises shrinking to the size of pinheads. “If Raindrops sees me like this-” he gave a shudder, “-sweet Celestia, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, bro? I can’t get this shit off of you without getting like, super gay with your wings,” Jake chuckled, still trying to pull the stubborn ribbon away from Thunderlane’s flight muscles without accidentally touching them.

“Don’t care, dude. Go ahead and cop a feel if you want, just get me the hell down before sompony snaps a pic of my junk.”

“Oh-ho-ho, kinky,” Jake snorted. “Thanks for the offer, but if I ever decide to mess around with a pony, I’d prefer a pony with a cooch.”

“Slut,” Thunderlane hissed, his rump wiggling against the flagpole. The motion only served to tighten the tangled mass of streamer binding his wings and torso. He soon gave up with a “harrumph”.

“What? I’m just being honest,” Jake muttered, grin widening. “A man has needs, you know.” Another full minute and a half of gentle persuasion yielded nothing. Thunderlane was still thoroughly strung up like a large charcoal turkey.

“You better not be getting a wingboner from this.”

“Please, like you could turn me on.”

Jake grinned, but chose to ignore the growing stiffness in the stallion's wings. He knew it was involuntary. “Hold on a sec. I’mma try something.”

Getting to his feet, he stepped up onto the railing. It was plenty low enough to do so with relative ease. All he needed now was a strong grip. It’d be fine, probably, as long as he didn’t look down.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you down, duh.”

Utilising both knees and hands, not to mention a good heave, Jake pulled himself up the flagpole, the physical exertion throwing him a bit. Damn, I need to work out more. The wood was layered with a thick coat of varnish, and was perhaps a little slippery, but he managed to reach the top without breaking too much of a sweat.

Thunderlane had succeeded in tethering the streamer, but it was pretty obvious he hadn’t handled the excess all that well. A couple of experimental pries with a finger just left Jake with sore, throbbing fingertips. “The one time your feathery ass manages to tie a knot properly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just quit yammering and cut me loose, you big ape.”

More prying at the knot, and it felt like Jake’s fingers might snap. It was useless. With Thunderlane weighing the end down, there was no way he’d get enough slack to unravel it. There was only one thing for it. Wrapping his legs around the pole, he grabbed the ribbon and pulled. Hard.

Nothing happened. Well, nothing apart from Thunderlane’s plot smashing into the railing.

“Woah,” the stallion yelped. “Be careful up there, will you?”

Far from being edged with annoyance, the words were actually full of concern. “Heh, relax, dude. I know what I’m-”

SNAP.

“Ahh-fack!”

The sky flipped, Jake’s knees slipped, the balcony railing nothing but a distant memory by the time he thought to reach out and grab at it. All that was left was the hard, unyielding ground below, rushing up at an alarming pace. Shit. This was going to hurt. A lot. His eyes closed before the impact.

SLAM.

The wind was knocked out of him so fast it felt like he’d been thrown into a vacuum. There must have been some rotation during the fall, because the impact came from his side… No, scratch that—he wasn’t even on the ground. Case in point: the ground wasn’t warm, or soft, and it didn’t smell nearly as nice. Oh, fuck! I’ve been killed! Wind rushed past his ears at a damn near deafening pace, the strong hooves of an honest to gods angel lifting him bodily from the land of the living. This was it—time to discover the answer to one of life’s most pressing questions. The tension was unbearable. An unsettling mixture of morbid curiosity and sheer terror forced his eyes open, letting in a barrage of sunlight, strobing behind the powerful beat of a majestic, light-scarlet wing.

Yep. An angel. He was so dead.

Except, he… wasn’t. Barely a moment later, the hooves holding him let go, and the grass met his back with only the slightest of thuds. His panting savior tried to pull up, but ended up face planting into his chest instead, hooves and wings lying limp for what must have been at least a good three seconds after the fall.

“Holy s-shit. I totally almost fucking died!” A full-bodied tremor wracked Jake’s nervous system, making his voice twice as loud as it usually was. Sights, sounds, smells… everything seemed to be amplified a thousandfold.

The pegasus—a light scarlet-coated mare—was still draped over him like a comfort blanket. She pushed herself up on her forehooves, eyes still spinning a bit, and Jake went deathly still in an instant. Holy mother of Tirek.

The Pillar of Hope had just saved his life.

Author's Note

As always, let me know if I derped editing this in the comments below!