“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! 
“Holy horse apples, dude! I thought you died!” Thunderlane called from across the bar of Sugarcube Corner.
The small bakery was almost packed to capacity with party going ponies, half of which were already tanked on apple cider. The other half were watching the Cutie Mark Crusaders play a high-stakes game of Pin the Tail on the Pony with a tiny colt named Pipsqueak. Little bastard had won four times in a row now, and Scootaloo was looking like she might have a fit if she had to part with any more of her prized hoofball stickers.
Completely throwing any sense of etiquette out of the barnyard door, Thunderlane simply flew over the top of the crowd and pounced, wrapping Jake tightly in a hug that was most certainly super gay. Forehooves, wings, a freakin’ cheeky nuzzle to the neck—the whole lot.
A half-assed “Hey,” was all the greeting the human could muster, but he gave the tearful pony a small pat on the back, all the same. “M’sorry for forgetting about you. Should have went back to untie you.”
“Never mind that—I’m just glad you’re safe!”
The past hour had been a veritable whirlwind of activity. Word had spread of the near miss at an alarming pace, even for Ponyville. Nearly every damned pony in the town had come to see if Jake was alright. Both Twilight and Lyra had made him sit through a ten minute lecture on the importance of the strict adherence to the regulations for safe working conditions, the latter refusing to release him from a hug of death-grip proportions for a full minute afterwards. And Derpy… Christ on a bike, Derpy was nearly in tears when she found out. That had cut more deeply than anything else. Her hug lasted over five minutes, the mare simply refusing to let go.
Of course, they really needn’t have bothered themselves worrying—there wasn’t a mark on him. Somnambula… freakin’ Somnambula, of all ponies, had seen to that.
And what had he done to thank her? Blubbered like a fucking starstruck moron, that’s what. A simple “gee, thank you,” or even a “damn, that sure was close,” would have been great. But, no—he ended up having a full on fangasm because she was sitting on his lap. A fangasm that had turned into something much worse.
“Um, bro? Are you okay? Normally you’d have pushed me away by now. Even I’m starting to think this is kinda gay.”
“It’s nothing,” Jake muttered, downing the rest of his zap apple cider in one go. The fruity beverage burned his throat just the way he liked, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it could have been.
Thunderlane slid onto the vacant stool next to Jake’s, throwing a glance along the empty bar. “‘Nothing’ my pretty plot hole. I know you just nearly freakin’ died, but I also know something else is bothering you. What is it?”
Jake clicked his jaw, levelling his roommate with a glance. Maybe talking about it wasn’t such a bad idea? Thunderlane was one of the first ponies he’d met in Equestria, and certainly one of the closest. He’d understand, right? Fuck it. “I… ugh… It’s just… Somnambula saved me.”
The stallion’s mouth twitched. “I know. I was tied up, not blindfolded.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “No, I mean… It could have been like, literally anypony else, and I wouldn’t have…” he sighed, the sentence completely losing traction.
“Wouldn’t have what?”
A pause, and the dam broke, the words spilling fast. “Dude—I totally freaked out. Like, she’s this super famous icon of Equestrian history and all of a sudden she’s just saved my life and she’s lying on me like a freakin’ body pillow and holy shit, dude, it felt amazing… I didn’t know what to do, or say. I think I might have stuttered some nonsense at her because she started looking at me funny, but then… then I realised…”
Thunderlane’s ears twitched. It was a testament to their friendship that he wasn’t grinning. “Realised what?”
The human’s cheeks burned, the memory of that look of innocent confusion on Somnambula’s face fresh in his mind. “I got hard.”
Thunderlane blinked. “Oh.”
“She didn’t say a thing to me. Pinkie Pie dragged her off before she could. I don’t think they were supposed to be there… Probably for the best, now that I think about it,” Jake muttered, his shoulders slumping. The empty flagon came to his lips again before he remembered it was just that: empty. He placed it back down on the bar with perhaps a tad more force than was necessary.
Thunderlane slowly puffed out a breath, drumming a hoof against the wood. “It’s okay, dude. So you got a little… starstruck. It happens to the best of us. Tartarus, if Som was lying on me—not gonna lie—I’d be growin’ the fifth leg as well, if you know what I’m saying. That mare is beautiful.”
“Yeah, but you’re a stallion. I’m not… I’m not supposed to find mares attractive.”
Thunderlane shook his head. “And which idiot went and told you that?”
No one had, at least, not that Jake could recall. “I dunno. I guess I just thought…”
“Somnambula is a national treasure. I’d be surprised if any guy, stallion or otherwise, didn’t want to jump her bones, especially if she’d just saved their life,” Thunderlane argued, his eyes misting over and his ears flattening a shade. “Oh, it’s so romantic. A strong, brave mare swooping down to save her stallion.”
Jake blinked, firing the starry-eyed pegasus an incredulous look. “Did you seriously just say that out loud?”
“What? It’s just a nice notion. You know she rescued a Prince, back in the day, right? Saving stallions is kinda her thing.”
“In what fucking universe am I her stallion?”
“This one, silly!”
“Aaaahhh!” Both Jake and Thunderlane yelped, the latter wrapping his hooves and wings around the former.
The pink terror that had just popped up from behind the bar pulled a small alligator out of her mane as though it were nothing more than a simple hair clip. It wasted no time in waddling past the cider pumps, knocking the empty tankard over with its tail as it went. “Hey, Jake. I should probably tell you—Namby’s looking for you.”
“What? Why?” the human spluttered, the bottom of his stomach falling through the barstool, bypassing the floor, and ending up in the basement. Oh, fuck. It was obvious. She was going to call him out for being a pervert. Shit. He had to haul ass. Fast.
“I’m gonna head home,” he muttered, patting the pocket of his jeans. “Ah, crap. Do you have a key? I left mine in the apartment.”
“Bro, I think you should talk to her.”
“And I think you should give me the damn key.”
“And I think you’re too late!” Throwing back her head, Pinkie Pie opened her mouth so wide that any other pony would have dislocated their jaw had they tried to copy her. “NAMBY! HE’S OVER HERE!”
Instantly bounding over the bartop in a fluid motion that flat out ignored several laws of physics, the pink menace somehow managed to grab Thunderlane by the flanks—the stallion giving a loud “eep”—and scuttle away with him securely in her clutches. The tide of partying ponies parted with her wake to reveal not just Somnambula, but all six Pillars of Old Equestria, their eyes freakin’ glued to him now that Pinkie had announced his presence to the whole fucking bakery.
Jake froze like a deer about to get paintrained by a big rig. His face suddenly felt like it was about to spontaneously combust. It was those eyes—he would have preferred to not stare at her like a moron, but they seemed to draw him in. There was no escape. Somnambula took a confident step forward, and another, and another.
The urge to run, to hide, to throw himself over the bar in a hopeless attempt to spare them both the metric fuckton of awkward that was sure to take place in the next few minutes clawed at his idle resolve, but he didn’t do any of those things. No, he just sat there, paralyzed, with that same stupid look on his face.
Somnambula sported a curious little smile, and holy shit, did it make her look damn sexy. The shining green glopaz around her neck, the ancient Egyptian styled, golden diadem on her head, the transparent toga that showed off her gorgeous curves, the shiny golden bands in her tail and around her midsection—all of it came together perfectly to make this pretty pony a sight for the sorest of eyes.
A couple graceful of beats of her majestic wings, and she claimed Thunderlane’s vacant bar stool with perfect precision. “Two zap apple ciders, please, Pinkie Pie.”
Oh... wow. That accent. Gods, it was ambrosia in the form of sound. Such impeccable diction. The most sensuous of delicate shivers swept down Jake’s spine, and he swooned. Freakin’ swooned. Men were not supposed to swoon, yet here he was, swooning away like a nineteen fifties newlywed on her honeymoon. This mare was already dripping with Egyptian sex appeal, but now she’d opened that pretty little muzzle of hers, Jake was nought but a foal in a candy shop on a four-day sugar rush.
Wait, why the fuck was she buying him a drink? Fuck that. He owed her his life. “Ahem, um… H-Hi. Um, I should p-probably get these,” he stuttered, cursing his stupid lips. Okay, just focus. She’s just a mare. A drop dead gorgeous, heroine of ancient Equestria, but a mare nonetheless. “You did just save my ass after all. Least I can do, right?”
Her smile widened, and it flooded Jake with so much warmth, his palms started sweating. Great. “Do not be silly, my little human,” Somnambula purred, that sensual, North African dialect like music to his ears.
Squeeeeeeeeeeee-NO. Stahp it. He cleared his throat, banging fist to chest, voice deepening several tones. “No, really, I never got a chance to thank you properly. So, yeah. Thanks for saving me. I appreciate it, I… I’m Jake, by the way,” he added, the forecast awkwardness arriving right on cue.
“Somnambula,” she replied, as if he didn’t know exactly who she was already. “You should never have climbed that flag pole. It was foolish of you.”
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot in the past hour,” he muttered, spotting the pink one slinking around the bar. Fishing around in his jeans pocket, he pulled out a small pouch of bits, but Pinkie had already vanished in the split second he’d glanced down to pull the drawstring, two fresh tankards of cider sitting on the bartop.
“You do not owe me a thing, Jake.”
The damned shiver hit him again. The way she said his name just oozed sex appeal. Hell, she could probably read from a dictionary and it would still sound lewd.
“But… I would certainly appreciate your company this night.”
The pouch of bits hit the floor with a clink, the mare’s softly spoken words prompting a highly inappropriate image to form in his mind’s eye. “W-What?” he mumbled, struggling to shrug off the woefully lewd display. That’s not what she meant, you horny fuck!
Quick as a whip, the mare swooped down and grabbed the pouch with her teeth before Jake even had a chance to move. Slowly rearing back up, she placed a gentle hoof over one of his thighs, leaning in close. Oh, god… It looked as though, just almost for a second, that she might nuzzle him, but she instead dropped the pouch of bits into his breast pocket, her face just inches from his own.
“I… have a small confession to make,” she said, pulling back to reclaim her seat. The absence of her hoof on his thigh left an almost frigid coolness that hadn’t been present before.
Jake blinked, dumbfounded by the alluring scent she’d left behind. Gods, it was simply captivating. Was that some sort of perfume? Cologne, perhaps? She smelled like happiness. And roses… but mostly happiness.
“I… what?” he muttered, her words finally getting through to him.
The mare paused, taking a delicate sip from her tankard before continuing. “Pinkie Pie asked me to sneak a peek of the party planning with her. I think she intended to use me as a means of escape in the event we ran into that… Spoiled Rich mare.” Her muzzle twisted liked she’d just taken a sip of two-week-old milk, and Jake couldn’t help grinning. “Of course, I agreed, and would have either way, but I must confess that I had hoped to catch a glimpse of you during this small endeavour.”
Another blink, and the human overcompensated the dryness in his mouth with a large gulp of cider. “Me? But, why?” he gulped, the sudden influx of alcohol making his head spin a little.
“I had hoped to meet you,” she softly spoke, giving him a wistful once over. “I never thought I would see another human again. It is… truly fascinating to see what the male counterpart looks like.”
It took a couple of seconds for the cogs to tick. “Wait—there’s another human here? Where?”
Her expression slowly faded with his words, a blank stare taking its place. “She has been dead for nearly a thousand years… the same as most of the ponies I used to know.” The mare took another sip of cider. “Only eight from my memories of old Equestria remain,” she muttered, lower lip curling between her teeth. “Everypony else is a mystery. Including you.”
Jake gave her a empathetic smile. “I know that feel,” he murmured, the memories of his old life trying to surface. He fought them back, as had become the ritual. There was no use living in the past.
Somnambula gave him a knowing smile, her eyelids lowering to levels of questionable motive. “I find it is better not to dwell on what we have lost, but instead focus on what we have to gain.”
No. Don’t. That wouldn’t be smart. Don’t you say it, now. No. Do naht… Nu! Stahp! “Oh, yeah? What’s that, then?” Jake gambled, taking another swig of cider in an attempt to hide his reddening cheeks.
Somnambula’s eyebrow only raised a fraction of an inch or so, but it was enough to murder the fuck out of the little bit of swag that had prompted such idiocy. What did I tell you? Fucking moron…
Thankfully, Scootaloo chose that moment to try and strangle Pipsqueak with the disembodied ponytail. “YOU SON OF A MOTHERLESS GOAT! HOW DO YOU KEEP WINNING?”
The soft caress of light-scarlet feathers on Jake’s shoulder snapped his gaze back to Somnambula in an instant. She was smiling again, ears primed, eyelids low, and there was a certain twinkle in her eyes that had seemingly emerged from nowhere. “How about another drink?”
The crowd had thinned considerably by the time dusk rolled in to blanket the sky outside the bakery window, the once packed room now holding only a handful of ponies. Having on average more body mass than the average human, some of them could really handle their liquor. The same could not be said for Jake.
“I’m payin’ this tab,” he slurred, pressing a fingertip to the smirk on Somnambula’s muzzle. To hell with marely pride—they were onto their fifth round of zap apple ciders now, and he’d be damned if he was going to let her foot the bill.
“I may have been gone for a thousand years, but I am sure that it is still bad form for a mare to allow her stallion to pay,” Somnambula fired back, bumping his hand away with her snoot. She leaned in close, those huge violet eyes boring into his own. “Now, why don’t you be a good little colt and wait here while I go and use the mare’s room,” she whispered, her words, rich accent, the conviction of her tone making Jake feel as though he was floating a few inches above the bar stool.
Her stallion. She actually referred to him as her stallion! Maybe she couldn’t hold her drink after all… With a swish of that beautiful tail, she hopped down, flashing him a sultry grin before disappearing around the side of the bar.
Jake’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew from the few delicate discussions of pegasi mating practices he’d shared with Thunderlane that Somnambula might just be trying to put the moves on him. The subtle flick of her tail, the idle twitching of her feathers, the way she kept touching him with her wings—all were traits of a horny pegasus, but it just didn’t make any sense. Why the fuck would she want a human?
“C’mon, Thunder, you know you want it as much as I do,” said a mare’s voice, the door of the bakery swinging open.
Jake put his thoughts aside, throwing a curious glance to the ponies that had just walked in. One of them was his roommate. The other was a golden maned, persian-blue coated pegasus mare. Her lilac eyes were glued to Thunderlane with an almost predatory glare.
“If you think I’m going home with you after what happened last time, you can think again!” Thunderlane chastised, before laying eyes on the human. “Jake!” he gasped, darting over to the bar in an instant. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Jake smiled. “I never left, dude. Been here the whole time,” he slurred, taking another glance at the accompanying mare. “Hey, I know you… Cloud Kicker, right?”
The pegasus flicked tongue over perfectly white teeth. “The one and only,” she boasted, her chest puffing out with pride. “Wait—you guys live together, right? Need a mare to walk you home?” she added hopefully, her eyes darting between man and stallion.
“We’re good, thanks,” Thunderlane retorted, climbing up onto Somnambula’s vacant barstool and firing a disapproving glance over his shoulder.
Cloud Kicker’s ears dropped a shade, her tail flicking in agitation. That hungry look in her eyes still hadn’t went away. “Aww, c’mon, Thunder,” she whined. Rearing up, her hooves found the bartop between them, and she levelled the stallion with an unmistakable ‘rut me’ pout. “I’ll make you feel so good,” she breathed, wings springing out from her sides.
One of them caught Thunderlane, but the other landed on Jake’s back, the warmth from the downy feathers penetrating through his shirt almost instantly. Damn, this mare is thirsty. “I can make you both feel good,” she purred.
Jake let out a little snort, shaking his head. Any other night, he might’ve been tempted. Lord knew he needed to get laid. The idea of getting with a pony wasn’t exactly one he hadn’t considered before, but Cloud Kicker… Well, he’d just be another notch on her saddle strap. Everypony knew she’d fuck just about anything as long as it had a cock and a pulse.
“You are impossible,” Thunderlane suddenly snapped, batting her wing away with one of his own. Before the mare could even say anything, he darted out into the night without another word.
“Man, that guy is frigid,” Cloud Kicker muttered. In all of about two seconds, she had snaked her wings and forehooves around Jake instead. “So… Wanna fuck?”
Finishing off the rest of his cider, Jake put the tankard down, slid a hand to the base of the mare’s neck, grabbed a fistful of golden mane and pulled. Hard.
“Oooh, hello sailor~” Cloud Kicker giggled, already attempting to lick his face, wings fluttering in excitement.
“Go away.”
“Aww, but Jakey-”
“You heard me.”
“Ugh. Fine. Whatever,” the mare muttered, dropping down to her forehooves, she too made a beeline for the exit. “What does a mare have to do to get a rut in this town…”
A few minutes passed, during which Jake tried not to glance at the empty hallway leading to the bathrooms too often. Just what the hell was taking Somnambula so long? All he could come up with was the most likely scenario: she had bailed out the bathroom window. It’d be just his luck. The thought caused his shoulders to slump.
The door of the bakery swung open once more, bringing with it yet another familiar voice. “-suffice to say, I think we can all agree that the night has been an overwhelming success.”
Oh, great. His luck was definitely changing. No glance was needed to know which pony had just walked in this time.
“All thanks to your genius,” said a second, equally familiar voice, and Jake’s eyes snapped to the door so quick he almost gave himself whiplash. Green coat, shitty brown mane and tail, and an attitude so fucked it would make a prison guard blush. Fucking great.
“Oh, hey, look who it is,” the earth pony barked in her signature snide tone, “Jakey wakey trouser snakey,” she sang, prancing over to the bar in a series of small hops. “Isn’t it a bit late for a colt to be out all by his lonesome? Get enough cider in a mare and even your pole becomes a goal, amirite or amirite?” she cackled, throwing a shit shovelling smirk back to her comrades.
Spoiled Rich turned up her snoot, opting to take a seat in a booth at the far end of the room. The remaining orange thestral, however, barked out a laugh that sounded like a moose coughing up an old leather boot.
They weren’t going to get to him. Not this time. “Hey, Shitrus. How’s it going?”
“Aww, giving me little pet names already? Knew you wanted to rut me. Tartarus, I might even throw your lonely ass a free ride someday.”
Jake let out a derisive snort. “I’d rather shove it up a dysentery infected Diamond dog shitter, but thanks for the offer, I guess,” he retorted, rapping knuckles on the bar for the bill. There was no way he was willingly going to sit in the same establishment as Citrus Tart. He could catch up with Somnambula later…
“What is going on here?” said a voice. Speak of the sexy devil…
Somnambula deftly stepped around the bar, ears swivelling, wings bulging, just a hair trigger away from spreading. She levelled Citrus with a curious look, and it bounced from her to the thestral, then to Spoiled sitting in the corner booth.
“Citrus, Mongolia, come and sit down,” Spoiled called, but she may as well have been talking to a bucket of cement for all the response she got.
“I was just considering throwing a pity fuck to this lanky schmuck, unless you want to take the bullet for me, that is,” Citrus snickered, before throwing Somnambula a second glance. “Wait a minute—aren’t you one of those Pillars? What are you doing drinking with this fool?”
Somnambula took a single step forward. A single step that was charged with so much underlying bravado that the green earth mare visibly flinched. Jake had seen Citrus face up to a Timberwolf and not bat an eyelid, but Somnambula’s unrelenting glare had her plot twitching in a heartbeat. Shit was hilarious.
“I do not like your attitude, filly.”
“Oh, yeah? Well… like I care what some has been thinks,” the earth mare retorted, though she looked a damn sight more weary of Somnambula’s proximity.
The weak insult missed the mark. “Do you treat all stallions like garbage, or is Jake just a lucky guy?”
“Somnambula, just ignore her. She’s not worth the shit in an outhouse.”
“Heh, he only says that because he has a secret crush on me, don’t you, Jakey?”
Something hard poked him in the ass cheek, and he scowled, but managed to not flinch, like he knew she wanted. It was so predictable. Citrus always had to get an ass grab in there somewhere. The only reason he didn’t give the mare a good clip around the ear was because… well, she was a mare.
Old habits die hard, and all that.
“Look at him, pretending like he doesn’t love it when I-EEUUGHPH!”
BANG.
The last thing Jake saw was a pair of green hind legs whipping skyward before the door of Sugarcube corner swung closed again. Shit. Throwing his entire bag of bits on the bar, he leapt to his feet, sprinting for the exit. How the fuck had Somnambula even moved that fast?
“Somnambula!” he yelled, desperately searching the night sky for the mare. It took only a few seconds, and he spotted them, enraged pegasus dragging the flailing earth pony vertically by her tail. They got to about two hundred feet, three hundred, surpassed five hundred, even, then she simply… let go.
“Oh, what are you doing?” Jake yelled.
“She is teaching,” remarked the voice of an old stallion from somewhere nearby. Jake didn’t bother looking. Citrus was about to become a fucking pancake any moment now, and there was fuck all he could do to stop it. Yes, she was an annoying little bitch at the best of times, but that didn’t warrant death by spaghettification.
Right before the gnarly pony-splat, Somnambula dived like a supersonic torpedo, flaring her powerful wings at the last second to spare the Ponyville guard the job of scraping up bits of jock-mare from the ground the next morning.
Will a dull thud, the pegasus dropped the unconscious Citrus into a shallow hay-bale, tried to pull up, failed, and ended up careening into a stack of empty cider barrels with a sickeningly loud crunch of splintering wood.
“Shit, Somnambula!” Jake scrambled over to the mare, gently pulling her to her hooves, but she just ended up falling against his chest when he tried to let go.
“That was certainly one of your more foolish ideas, Somnambula,” remarked the same stallion’s voice from before.
Starswirl the Bearded casually sat on his haunches near the bakery door, puffing away on a long, thin wooden smoking pipe and observing the jelly-legged pegasus with skeptical eyes. “You know flying and alcohol don’t go well together.”
“Worth it,” was Somnambula’s simple reply.
“Typical,” Starswirl muttered. Stowing the pipe in his robes, he carefully levitated Citrus Tart from the hay bale. “Don’t expect me to cover for you again.” With that, he followed the floating mare into the bakery, slamming the door shut behind him.
Jake moved to get up, but a soft hoof swept over his shoulder, pulling him in close. Somnambula’s cute little muzzle drew nearer, a raging inferno burning in those pretty eyes. Oh, crap… Was she going to nuzzle him? He closed his eyes, cheeks tingling as the warmest, softest wings, way softer than Cloud Kicker’s had been, furled securely around his back. The feathery appendages were a lot stronger than they looked, effectively pressing his chest to her fluffy barrel. Oh, my… It was a feeling quite unlike any other. Her hind legs shifted, and she reclaimed the position she’d had just after saving his life.
As if on cue, his cock had the exact same reaction as had then, though this time, he was pretty sure she didn’t mind. Even through thick denim jeans, the warmth of her nethers spread to his skin. Oh, gods… He waited for the nuzzle, yearning for it, craving it, even, but a nuzzle was not what he received.
Her heavenly, marely scent clouded the overwhelming swarm of emotions already running rampant through his mind, so much that he barely even felt her lips press against his. It was only when her tongue took the initiative, invading his mouth, that he realised he was passionately making out with a pony… A pony that most definitely wanted a lot more, if the strange behaviours of mares in this world were to be considered.
Oh god. This totally a thing that is actually going to happen. “I… I don’t have any c-condoms,” he stuttered, breaking the kiss. Yep. He was back to stuttering again.
“I only went into season last night,” Somnambula breathed, giving his neck little nuzzles, licks and gentle nips with her teeth. “A contraception potion should still work.”
“You… You’re in heat?” Jake exclaimed, his voice breaking with the strain.
The mare paused her affections, but only for a second. “Yes.” Lick. “... Does that turn you on, my little human?”
The lewd pony’s breath chilled the wet skin of his neck, his cock throbbing with each of her slow, deliberate exhalations. Server error 404. Denial not found. “I… I…”
“It is a shame I already took the potion,” she purred, wings, forehooves and hind legs gently applying a comforting pressure to his back, shoulders and hips respectively. “You could have put a foal in me.” She paused to trace a few wet circles at the base of his neck with her tongue. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, gods, y-yes,” Jake whispered, the pressure of those soft, warm wings encapsulating his frame like a warm, feathery vice. He probably wasn’t even able to get her pregnant, but gods, was the dirty talk appreciated.
He knew exactly what she was doing. Thunderlane mentioned that pegasus mares like to wrap their mates in their wings, as a symbol for the safekeeping they could provide. It was a concept that had seemed ridiculous at first, but now… now it just made him feel safe.
Just where the fuck had his man card disappeared to, exactly?
With a very manly grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, lifting Somnambula up with him. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, seeing as she was about as heavy as he was, but with a bit of effort, he prevailed. Somnambula’s puzzled expression only lasted a few seconds before she began to slowly flap her wings, the vast majority of her weight vanishing instantly.
“You are an odd stallion,” she mused, giving him a small peck on the lips.
Jake smiled, beginning the short walk back to his apartment. “I get that a lot.”
Author's Note
“Son of a motherless goat” was not my idea. I just found it hilarious when I read it in the story Floored.
Let me know if I derped editing this. 
