Fifty Shades of Neigh

Chapters

The Double Shot of Doom
Context Matters
Fantasy Setting
Get Rekt Scrub
Dragon Gold
Crazy Mares
Old Actresses Don't Die, They Just Start a Lifestyle Brand
Scientific Accuracy
Surprisingly Practical
All Under Control
Two Broke Mares
The Last Memory of Ze-Brasil
Everything is Better with Automata
The True Heir to the Throne
Off Beat
A Family Dispute
A Little Buggy
Side Gig
Practical Problems
Special Delivery
Care and Upkeep
Practical Methods

The Double Shot of Doom

A request by Skeeter the Lurker:

Pinkie slams back a double shot of espresso. Her friends are terrified of what may come.

Ponyville was all abuzz. Which is to say, ponies were excited and spreading gossip, though it would also be accurate to observe that some of them were literally buzzing because, fundamentally, the genesis for this story is that Ponyville got its a Starbucks.

It was a rare thing to see in Equestria, as ponies generally preferred homemade tea to store-bought coffee, and were not much for chain establishments. And as Starbucks did not have an extensive presence in Celestia’s kingdom, it had not localized its offerings. For instance, it’s standard frappuccino was perfectly sized for an adult buck deer, a strapping adult yak, or even a minotaur. For ponies though, it was a little large.

Specifically, it was larger than their head.

Nopony expected it to last. Coffee was interesting, and the establishment was new, but tastes did not support it. The ponies of ponyville enjoyed the novel sensation of a caffeine high, got into all sorts of trouble, and swapped old stories of the time that minotaur opened a bar that sold beer in pints. It was a good laugh.

Then one day, Pinkie Pie stepped into the store. The bell over the door went ding-a-ling. Ponies fell silent, and a hush came over the room.

“Hello there Ms. Alfheim!” She greeted the deer behind the counter. “One double shot of espresso please!”

“Uh…” Rainbow Dash was already seated in the back with her other friends. With two quick beats of her wings, she crossed the distance to Pinkie Pie. “Hey, uh. Pinkie? Maybe, uh… maybe not. That’s a little strong.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Rainbow!” Pinkie Pie hopped alongside the counter to watch her drink being made. “I’ll be fine.”

“No. Really…” In the back of the store, Fluttershy lowered her head behind her table. Rarity took cover. Applejack flinched and took off her hat. “I really don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe you should try a regular coffee first before.”

“Here you go, miss,” the doe behind the counter said. Before anypony could react, Pinkie grabbed the shot in her teeth, tossed it through the air, and caught it.

She ate the entire shot in one go. She did not drink it, she ate it, catching the whole cup in her jaw. She also ate the cup, chewing through the paper before swallowing one massive gulp.

“Huh,” she said.

Fluttershy shivered. Rainbow Dash stared. Finally, Twilight found the wherewithal to ask: “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, fine.” Pinkie turned back to the counter. “Excuse me. Do you have anything stronger? That was delicious, but I usually need a pretty good wake-me-up kick in the morning!”

The doe behind the counter frowned: “That was enough caffeine you should be shaking. What’s your usual morning pick me up?”

“The realization that we live in a big beautiful world just full of things to explore and discover!” She beamed.

Then after a moment she added: “Also cocaine.”

Context Matters

A request by Kai Creech:

Pinkie Pie is Princess Celestia from the future. Twilight finds out after her first date.

“Twilight, before we keep going, there’s something I should tell you.” Pinkie Pie took a breath. “I know this will be very strange, but do you remember your past experiments with time travel? Do you remember proving that stable time travel was theoretically possible? Well, it is and…”

She set her jaw, steeled her shoulders, and blurted out the words: “I’m actually Celestia from the far future!”

Twilight paused. She frowned. Then she sighed, wings and shoulders slumping. “Pinkie if you’re not comfortable having sex on the first date you can just say so.”

Pinkie froze. “Wait… wait. What?”

“Really, it’s fine. I was too aggressive.” Twilight smiled, and her tone lightened. “You want to go downstairs and watch a movie or something? The projector’s all set up.”

“No, Twilight.” Pinkie lifted a hoof. “I’m serious! The dimensional rift spell destroyed my physical form, but I was able to possess the body of a young earth pony mare who…” Pinkie trailed off.

Twilight was giggling. “No no. Keep going.”

“Twilight, I’m serious.”

“I’m serious! Keep going.” Twilight smiled, resting her chin on a hoof as she watched Pinkie from across the room.

“But you clearly don’t believe me!” Pinkie let out a massive sigh. “Would I make something this big up just to get out of… uh. You know. And it’s not like we were about to… do that. Anyway.”

“Really?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Because we had a nice date, had a few drinks, and then I invited you to my house and upstairs.”

“I’ve been upstairs before.” Pinkie frowned. “Plenty of times, even! I helped decorate it. It’s a very nice upstairs.”

“Yeah.” Twilight waved a hoof. “You’ve been up here before as a friend.”

“I’m still a friend.”

“You’re still an amazing friend. But, Pinkie,” Twilight chuckled and made a broad gesture, “I’m just putting this out there. You’re already a kind, funny, faithful, loyal friend, and I would absolutely say that I love you. Just like I would say I love any of the girls. And it’s true! But in that context, the primary difference between a pony you love platonically and a date is -- and not to put too fine a point on it here -- your tail looks amazing.”

Pinkie pause. She reached back to feel her rear with a hoof. “Do you mean, my uh, actual tail?”

“I do not.”

“Wow. Wowee. Okay. This puts the last several hours in a really different context.” Pinkie bit her lip. “But, Twilight. I’m serious. I really am Princess Celestia from the future!”

“Okay.” Twilight shrugged. “Say I accept that as true. It doesn’t make you any less my friend. It doesn’t change the great evening we had together. Even if it’s true, does it matter?”

Pinkie considered that for some time, finally she said: “Princesses don’t put out on the first date.”

“Cadence does.”

Pinkie cleared her throat: “Well.”

“I do.”

“Uh, I mean. Obviously in this particular—”

“Luna does.” Twilight clarified. “And let me be clear. Luna lets ponies tie her up and crop her on a first date.”

Pinkie snorted and rolled her eyes. “I know, right? I blame the lack of a positive female role model in her life growing up. I mean she seems happy…” A sigh escaped her. “Maybe I’m just a prude.”

“Not wanting to get physical on the first date does not make you a prude. I’m serious. Let’s go watch a movie.”

“Alright. I’d like that.” The two of them walked side by side through the castle halls, until finally, Pinkie Pie asked: “Hey, Twilight? Did you ever check me out? Like… past me. Me as Celestia.”

“If you’re Pinkie Pie, you must have seen yourself whenever we visited the palace. What did you think?”

They walked in silence for a time, and Pinkie seemed lost in thought. It was only when they arrived at the movie room that she said: “I’ve got a great tail.”

Twilight’s actual, literal tail flicked, swatting Pinkie Pie across the rear: “You sure do.”

Twilight didn’t think much of the incident after that night. She put it down to a somewhat strange first date, notable only for an anecdote that might be a little funny to retell.

But for Celestia, it was the strangest night of her life.

Fantasy Setting

A request by Ether Echoes:

Twilight is tapped to manage the budding equestrian space program.

Twilight was so excited. She drew plans for launch facilities, for a rocket testing range, for an astronaut training center, and of course, for the first rocket design they’d test. It had a three-stage propulsion system, all based on the latest technology.

Princess Luna was very impressed. “A most ingenious contraption!” she observed. “Although I do have one question. If you wish to tour the celestial spheres yourself, would it not be easier to petition for the favor of Breksta, the Alicorn Goddess of Stars?”

Twilight stared at Luna with a blank expression. After a moment, Luna added: “She’s happy to give tours of her domain. And she’s always interested in fancy horseshoes if you’re looking for a gift. Pushing the comets through the heavens each night wears them down very quickly. She’s a size twelve.”

On her way out, Twilight threw all her plans in the dumpster.

Get Rekt Scrub

A request by Thought Prism:

A new chapter of Ponies Playing Video Games, in which the game played is a terrible one.

General Twilight stood in the bombed-out remains of the old steel refinery, gazing at the field before her. The refinery administration building had once stood five stories tall, of which barely three remained, and the third in precarious condition. But despite the danger of the building’s imminent collapse, Twilight had climbed the shattered brickwork in search of a vantage point.

She found it. From what used to be somepony’s office window, she had a wide, expansive view of the countryside. She could see the fields, the forests, and the distant bridge. Spike, standing next to her, observed it with his binoculars. Twilight preferred to use the unaided eye.

“Battle,” Twilight said, “is the most magnificent competition in which a pony can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All mares are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets her fear overcome her sense of duty. Duty is the essence of character, and the means by which weakness is overcome.”

Spike lowered his binoculars half an inch so he could shoot Twilight a pointed stare. She laughed, her voice stiff. “General Ponyton said it.”

“It’s not like you to get this much into wargames.” He lifted his binoculars back to his eyes, peering with sudden intensity at something in the distance.

“Well, this one is special. How many ponies get to go to war but know that nopony is actually being hurt? It’s the experience of a lifetime with none of the horror.” Her tone was light, but a defensive note ran under it. “The House of Enchanted Comics is great like that.”

“You’re sure you’re not just mad Rarity crushed you at Stellaris?”

“She got absurdly lucky. If that battle had gone any other way, she would have been flattened.”

“If you say so.” Spike reached a claw up to his binoculars to adjust the focus. “Well, there she is. I see one of her scouts.”

Twilight leaned out to squint where Spike was looking. “Where? Is it a squad of panzergrenadiers? A kubelwagon?”

“Sniper,” Spike said.

Then Twilight’s head exploded.

“Oh my goodness, look at these uniforms!” Rarity levitated one of the plastic miniatures out of the game box. “They’re exquisite. Elegantly minimalist, grey background with a brilliant use of color…” She squinted. “They even have the most darling little skulls on their caps.”

“Rarity, that’s the SS.”

“Oh, are they a playable side?” Her ears perked up. “If so, I do believe I’m calling dibs.”

“They’re…” Twilight sighed and hung her head. “Yes. They’re a playable side.” Looking away, she mumbled under her breath, “Though you’re not supposed to be this enthusiastic about playing them.”

Rarity wasn’t the only one rooting through the box. All of Twilight’s friends were pulling out miniature ponies, plastic tanks, packets of funny dice, and collections of cards. Rainbow admired a little pegasus “bomber” with a dozen grenades strapped to her uniform, while Applejack cooed at a figurine of a unicorn pyromancer that could shoot little illusory flames from its horn.

When all the miniatures were gone, Twilight was left with the rulebook.

“So!” she abruptly clapped her hooves down on the table. Everypony jumped in place and quickly turned to look at her. “This is Company of Heroes, Second Edition. It’s a wargame set in a fictional alternate universe where the three tribes' wars for dominance persisted into the modern age. Specifically, it pits the forces of Harmony,” she hefted a ball of miniatures, “these factions, against the evil Neighzi’s.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Wow, way to read the front of the box there.”

“It’s a strategy game,” Twilight went on undeterred. “A lot like Stellaris but more visceral.”

“Um…” Fluttershy raised a hand. “These rules look complicated. How do we start?”

“Well first, everypony picks a faction and then we split into two teams of three. It sounds like Rarity has already—”

“Dibs on Rainbow Dash,” Rarity spoke quickly. After a moment's hesitation, she added: “I need her ah… pegasus battle instincts!”

“‘Battle instincts,’ huh?” Rainbow buffed a hoof against her coat. “I guess I could be persuaded. Applejack, you in too?”

“Well, alright.” Applejack picked up a few of the little black-uniformed miniatures. “How do you pronounce, uh… ‘Wehrmacht’?”

Twilight sighed through her teeth. “Fine. That makes the forces of Harmony me, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Though I should warn you, ‘pegasus battle instincts’ won’t help much. Like I said, this is a strategy game. It’s an intellectual game, and the key to winning is patient, careful planning.”

“General Twilight!” A messenger saluted. “Message from the enemy. They wish to discuss terms of surrender.”

In her second match, Twilight had the good sense to stay down in the trenches with her soldiers. Ponies in helmets and webbing clustered all around her as they awaited the enemy, rifles leaned against the trench wall beside them. She took the rolled up message, and carefully opened it.

“Flank flank I’M A TANK,” it read. “Love, General Rainbow Dash.”

Something rumbled nearby. The ground around Twilight began to shake. Her soldiers rose out of the trench and fired their rifles, shouting at each other in alarm.

“It’s fine.” Twilight said quickly. “It’s fine. That’s what we have anti-tank grenades for. Okay everypony, on three! One,” she pulled out her own grenade. “Two. Three!”

Twilight rose out of the trench, and the rest of her squad moved with her. She had half a second to spot the incoming Panzer IV, and then she had to act. The pin flew out of the grenade, and she hurled it with all her might, scoring a perfect hit on the tank’s forward grill. Two of her squaddies also managed perfect hits, landing their grenades on the tanks side and front armor respectively.

All three grenades exploded. When the smoke cleared, the tank’s armor was severely dented.

“Oh.” Twilight frowned as the turret swung around. “Well that’s clearly underpower-”

Then she exploded.

“Okay! I see the problem. War is tricky. But, that’s the point, isn’t it? You learn something about yourself?” Twilight gestured wildly as she spoke. “The problem is we’re not being aggressive enough.”

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie didn’t look like they were entirely following, or for that matter, entirely happy to be there. “Twilight…” Fluttershy frowned. “We can play a different game.”

“Oh, come on. Just because we’re down a few matches is no reason to give up.”

“Um…” Pinkie Pie raised a hoof. “We’re down 5-0. We could at least scramble the teams.”

“No. I’ve got this. The problem is we keep advancing to the middle and letting them come to us. We’re giving up the strategic initiative! We need to combine our forces and push them off the map. Attack them at their weak point.”

“Okay…” Fluttershy frowned. “How do we do that?”

“Applejack is the key. I haven’t seen her deploy a tank yet. All she ever builds is basic infantry and engineers. She’s their weak point. And once we break her, we’ll have Rarity and Rainbow Dash flanked, and we can wrap the whole thing up.”

“Hey, Twilight!” Applejack called. “Check it out. I’m a lead farmer!”

The distinctive roar of an MG-42 split the air. It was so close, Twilight could see the orange of Applejack’s coat through the pillbox gunslit. Tracer rounds flew through the air like angry wasps. The pony in front of Twilight abruptly twisted and fell. A spray of blood darkened her uniform.

“Ground!” Twilight screamed, through her soldiers had already reacted. Her, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie’s forces were all bunched together on the narrow road. Bullets blew clear through ponies to hit the soldiers behind them. Ten squads peeled off the road, diving into the ditches beside it for cover.

“We’re pinned down!” a stallion screamed. “We’ve got to retreat!”

“No no. We can do this. We can still do this!” Twilight slowly crawled forward, head low. She retrieved a grenade from her pack, gripping it in her teeth as the focused on the sound of the machine gun ahead. The air smelled like ashes and tar, and somewhere nearby, a pony was screaming.

In the distance, there was a strange whine. “That’s rocket artillery!”

“We can still do this!” Twilight pulled the pin from the grenade, lifted her head for half a second, and threw. Applejack reacted at once. The grenade was still sailing through the air when she let go of the machine gun and turned to sprint out of her bunker. She was halfway to the door when it landed, and fleeing to the rear when it exploded.

The mare escaped, but the gun fell silent.

“That’s it. We’re through.” Twilight rose to her hooves. “Forward. Forward!” She charged ahead, leading her forces past the pillbox.

Beneath her hooves, a landmine clicked.

Twilight sat alone at her table with the box in front of her. She pushed the little miniatures around with her hooves making “Boom” and “Fwoosh” sounds.

“Oh nooo,” she mumbled under her breath. “It’s the good guys here to save the day our evil regime is doomed. Aaagh. I exploded.”

“Wow,” Starlight said, from roughly six inches behind Twilight’s left ear.

Twilight screamed, attempted to leap to her hooves, and upon failing, fell out of her chair. “Starlight!” she shouted. “I was, uh…” Her mind raced for a solution. “Not doing that thing you think you saw.”

“Master of deception you are.” Without bothering to help Twilight up, Starlight took her own seat at the table. “Spike told me you were feeling sad. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Twilight pulled herself back to her hooves. “The girls came over for some gaming this evening, and I’m not sure they had fun, that’s all. We’ll do a different game next week.”

“Really? Because it sounded like Rarity had a ton of fun.” Starlight tapped her nose. “She gets pretty into these games.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Twilight folded her hooves and rested her head on the table. “She’s, you know, good at them.”

Starlight stared at Twilight and frowned. She let the silence hang between them for several seconds, mulling over what she’d say next. Finally, she said: “Twilight? Do you want to win the game, or do you want to prove you’re smarter than Rarity?”

“What?” Twilight lifted her head. “No, it’s not like that, it’s—”

“Because you are. Smarter than Rarity I mean. Everybody knows it. She knows it. She wouldn’t be offended if you used those words in front of her.” Starlight shrugged. “You’re a brilliant scholar and she’s a dressmaker.”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean, I’d never say that. It’s not a contest. That…” Twilight signed. “She’s a clever dressmaker.”

“That she is. But she doesn’t keep beating you at strategy games because she’s cleverer than you.”

“Applejack and Rainbow Dash beat me too.”

“No, Rarity beat you. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were her weapons. And you do you know how I know that?” Starlight stared at Twilight, and waited until Twilight met her gaze. “I know that because after you two, they’re the two most skilled players in the group, and Spike told me she immediately grabbed them both for her team. She stacked the deck before the first game started.”

Twilight looked off into the corner and mumbled, “She didn’t grab AJ.”

“Maybe. But once she had her, she didn’t offer to scramble teams.” Starlight leaned down, staring at Twilight. “Rarity keeps beating you because Rarity wants to win. You want to prove you’re clever. She’s fighting like an officer. You’re fighting like an intellectual with a wounded ego.”

“I didn’t like how she beat me at Stellaris.”

“I wouldn’t like it either in your place. She’s humiliated you.” Starlight flicked Twilight’s ear. “But today you let her humiliate you again. You see where I’m going with this?”

“Fine.” Twilight sighed. “So I should just give up?”

“You can keep losing, you can give up, or you can play to win. Those are your three options.” Starlight rested a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.

After a moment, Twilight looked up.

“Do you want to win, Twilight?” Starlight asked. “Do you really want to win?”

“Yeah.” Twilight nodded. Then she nodded again more firmly. “Yeah! I do want to win. That’s it. I’m going to go round up Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, get a strategy guide on how to play the British, and—”

Starlight’s hoof slammed into the table.

“No British.” She leaned down until she was muzzle to muzzle with Twilight’s stunned face. “Winners play Soviet.”

“Not one step backwards, comrades!” Starlight shouted, taking cover behind the burning wreckage of a T-34. Tracer rounds and high-velocity shells criss-crossed the field in front of her in both directions, as the unstoppable Neighzi war machine met the unending hordes of the worker’s state.

Rockets flew through the air in both directions. Incendiary rounds set whole forests ablaze. Rarity commanded her side of the battle from her King Tiger, but the invulnerable beast’s armor was becoming noticeably pitted. Shell after shell slammed into its side. She screamed into her radio to be heard over the whine of the Katyusha rockets.

Rainbow Dash’s tank push had bogged down. There was no great battle or decisive victory, just landmines, tank traps, and the end of mobile warfare. Applejack’s bunker had exploded. Twilight didn’t see it -- the feat was accomplished with artillery from miles away. And soon, Rarity’s center would fail, and the entire line would collapse.

As Twilight watched Starlight push up the field, she realized she was winning.

And it was terrible.

Dragon Gold

A request by Cold in Gardez:

Twilight discovers that Rarity has been claiming Spike as an 'exotic pet' for tax purposes.

Twilight kicked open the door to the Carousel Boutique. “So!” she exclaimed, “the criminal mastermind revealed at last!”

The two customers in the store stared at her with wide eyes and frozen expressions. Sweetie Belle smiled. “Hi, Twilight!” Then she waved.

“Sweetie Belle?” Twilight frowned. “Where’s Rarity?”

“Oh, I’m watching the shop for her while she’s in Canterlot. But if you want to leave a message I can—”

But Twilight was already gone, galloping off into Ponyville.

“So,” Twilight kicked open the door to Canterlot Carousel. “You thought you could run from the law forever, did you?”

Sassy Saddles hissed through her teeth. Then she leapt into action like a striking serpent, grabbing one of the customers as an equine shield as she pulled a revolver from somewhere under her skirt. “Long live the revolution!”

Quick reflexes saved Twilight’s life, and the threw herself to the floor moments before two bullets tore through the space she’d stood moments before. “Woah woah. I’m looking for Rarity.”

“Oh.” Sassy paused. She lowered the gun. “Well. She’s in Manehattan. Do you want to leave a message?”

“No!” Twilight got up and brushed herself off. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Sassy put the gun away and released the mare she was holding. “I was just uh… demonstrating. A new accessory we’re selling. It’s a holster.”

“Right. Well. This place is obviously a hotbed of criminal activity. Rarity’s influence no doubt. You’re just lucky I have bigger fish to fry.” Twilight spread her wings and took to the air, calling back over her shoulder. “I’ll be back for you after I’m done dealing with your boss!”

“Ah…” Sassy sighed, turning to her customer. “I’m sorry about that. Where were we?”

“Excuse me.” Twilight cracked open the door to Rarity for You. “Is Rarity in?”

“Hello Princess. Not right now. She’s at lunch.” The thin-faced mare who handled the morning shift smiled at Twilight. “You can leave a message though.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll wait.” Twilight stepped inside and found a seat in the back. There were no customers, so she and the store-clerk ended up staring at each other. “The hats are nice this season.”

“Do you want to try one on?”

“No.” Twilight nodded. “But thank you.”

Customers came and went. The cash register went ching. A few of the passers-by asked Twilight why the boutique hired a princess impersonator.

Forty minutes later, the bell over the door jingled. “I’m back!” Rarity called. “How are things—”

“So!” Twilight lept to her hooves, and with a swift buck from her hind legs, kicked open the door to the storage closet. “The criminal mastermind reveals herself at last!”

“Twilight?” Rarity took a half step back. “Goodness, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to talk to you…” Twilight ripped a bundle of documents out of her saddlebags, holding them up to Rarity. “About your taxes.”

Rarity froze for half a second. Then she recovered her composure and pursed her lips. “Why my dearest Twilight, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean. Everything in those documents is perfectly legal.”

“You haven’t paid your taxes once in your entire life.”

“Oh, but you’re mistaken, Twilight.” Rarity circled Twilight where she stood, pausing a moment to pretend to inspect a rack of clothing. “I file my taxes every year.”

“I didn’t say file, I said pay. You send little pieces of paper to the government, but when was the last time you actually had to give up money during tax season?”

“If the government of Equestria wishes to offer small businesses certain tax breaks or incentives, it would be silly of me not to take advantage of them.” Rarity smiled a serene smile, and her voice took on the smoothest of tones. Hearing it was like watching liquid caramel flow. “And I suppose, if a business had an unprofitable year, the incentives could add up in such a way that their net tax burden ended up being zero.”

“You own three upscale clothing boutiques, and this year you reported a taxable income of one-hundred and twelve bits.”

“Ah, but you are mistaken.” Rarity flicked a hoof. “I administrate two non-profit entities. Specifically, centers for the arts in Canterlot and Manehatten. And a non-profit doesn’t pay taxes. They may purchase some raw materials from a for-profit business I own, but that’s an ah…” She held the breath. “Independent relationship.”

“Carousel Boutique should still—”

“Donate cloth to the school for the education of the children? Help Ponyville qualify for development aid funds? Serve the community as an animal shelter? It should still invest in the pomp and circumstance required to attract it’s clientele?” A giggle escaped her. “All business expenses of course, though I must confess, I’m a frightfully inept buisnessmare.”

“So you lied.”

“Careful, Twilight.” The mirth vanished from Rarity’s tone, and she pointed a warning hoof. “That’s a strongly worded accusation. Every word on those forms is true.”

“Oh really? And how precisely is Carousel Boutique an animal shelter?”

“Exotic pet breeders can qualify. Admittedly, I only have one exotic pet so far, and it’s male. But I’m sure I’ll find another eventually.”

“I don’t think you can write off your boyfriend as an exotic pet.” Twilight snorted.

“Really now?” Rarity tsked. “Such comments are beneath a princess. Spike, Twilight. Spike.”

“That’s absurd!” Twilight threw her hoof into the air. “Besides, you can’t write off Spike as an exotic pet. I already wrote him off as a dependent.”

“Oh, really?” Rarity asked. “Fascinating.”

"I hereby find the defendant, her Highness, the Princess Twilight Sparkle, guilty of one misdemeanor count of tax evasion.” The judge slammed his gavel to the bench. “Honestly. Trying to write off your friend’s pet as a dependent. This is a sad day for the monarchy, Princess, and an embarrassment for all of Equestria.”

From the seats in the back, Rarity waved at Twilight.

As she sat fuming in the stands, Twilight decided that Rarity wasn’t invited to Sunday brunch with the girls anymore.

Crazy Mares

A request by 007Ben:

Trixie's first date with a draconequus (which Discord totally didn't trick her into!)

“Oh. Oh. Gosh.” Discord lifted one talon and one paw. “I couldn’t. I mean really, Trixie, this has been a fascinating evening but—”

“Shhh.” The Great and Powerful Trixie flicked a hoof and a chain of handkerchiefs shot out from under her cloak. They wrapped Discord’s forelimbs together, binding him tight at the wrists. With one strong yank, Trixie pulled him down to her level. “Trixie will take it from here. You can stop talking now.”

As she nibbled on his ears, Discord whimpered: “But what about Fluttershy?”

Straight into his ear, Trixie whispered: “Fluttershy watches.”

Old Actresses Don't Die, They Just Start a Lifestyle Brand

A request by Grungar3x7:

ActingVerse ponies speculating on the gen5 pony stuff.

“My career is over!” Star Power sniffled into her hooves. She was struggling to hold back tears, neither fully in control nor fully lost. She blubbered in that awkward middle, hiding her bloodshot eyes. “They said I couldn’t play Twilight again!”

“Um…” Butter Up cleared her throat. “Right. That’s because the casting call for Twilight specified a teenager. And you’re, um. You know. Twenty-six.”

The dam burst. Tears flooded down Star Power’s face and she cried out, her voice filled with anguish: “Oh God. I’m twenty-six!”

She sobbed into her hooves for nearly half a minute while the others took turns staring at each other. First Take nudged her head at Butter Up. Butter Up glared and nudged her head at Barnstormer. Barnstormer quickly shook her head, and indicated Pan Flash with a wing. Pan Flash pulled out her cellphone and pretended to text somepony. Deep Cover, finally, rolled her eyes.

“Hey, hey now,” she said, still speaking with Applejack’s accent. “Ain’t no need to making a fuss. Look, Star. Star. Stop crying and let me tell you something, okay?”

Deep Cover scooted in next to Star Power and put a leg over her shoulder. In anticipation of Star Power calming down, she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Star Power burying her head in her shoulder. The others grinned where Star Power couldn’t see.

“Awww. There there,” Deep Cover said, keeping her tone gentle even as she flipped off the rest of the room.

Eventually, Star Power calmed down and Deep Cover tilted her chin up with a hoof. “Star, I want you to do something for me, okay?” With that same hoof, she guided Star Power’s head around. “Look at Barnstormer right there. Now, when you look at her, what’s the first thing you notice? Like, front of your mind?”

Star Power frowned. “Um… she’s a blue pegasus with a white mane.”

“Anything else?”

“She…” Star Power bit her lip. “Cut her hair recently?”

“Really?” Deep Cover sighed. “The fact that she is just a mite pregnant didn’t strike you as significant?”

“It’s true,” Barnstormer agreed, gesturing down at herself. She was about eight months along, and obviously with twins. “I can’t drink and I fly like a pelican and when I back up Pan Flash makes ‘beep beep’ sounds.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Star Power looked away. “That’s not new. That’s why we had to frontload all the Rainbow scenes this season.”

“But you didn’t think it was important?” Deep Cover fixed Star power with a stare. “Star, is First Take the junkie of the group? The habitual user? The addict?”

“Deep Cover!” Star frowned. “That’s mean. She’s trying really hard to—”

“She ain’t trying nothin!” Deep Cover chirped, her tone forcefully cheerful. Then it took a harsher turn: “Because she been clean for six years and owns a rehab clinic. Star, the show’s been going for a decade now. First Take got clean, Butter Up got her PHD, and Pan Flash started that blog on tabletop gaming. Barnstormer went to college, joined a commune, married a hippie, and has two foals on the way. I spent three months in jail for throwing a brick at a cop. You remember that?”

“Your lawyer was really good.” Star Cover turned her head further away, until she was resolutely staring off at the opposite corner of the room. She sniffled again. “They totally should have gotten you for assault.”

“I feel like you’re avoiding something here, Star.”

“I like being Twilight!” She snapped. “Twilight is… is happy. A happy character to play, I mean. She’s cheerful and friendly and…”

“And she never has to grow up.” Deep Cover said it like a fact, plain and simple.

Star Power didn’t disagree. She shut her eyes and hung her head.

“Hey,” Butter Up raised her voice. Picking up her hooves, she crossed the distance and sat in front of Star Power. “You know I’m past thirty, right? Like, by a bit?”

“You still look like a million bits though.”

“No,” Butter Up smiled. “I don’t. I look good, but not like I used to. And you’re not the dumb teenager who thought those jokes were funny either.” When Star Power didn’t answer, Butter Up continued, “Star, do you not want to grow up? Or are you just afraid?”

“I’m…” She opened her eyes and ran one hoof over her leg. “It’s different.”

“It is different. But that’s not what I asked.” Butter Up leaned on close. “I asked if you want to be a real actress or if you want to be a Twilight Sparkle impersonator for the rest of your life.”

“No, I…” Star Power’s throat got tight. She shrugged off Deep Cover’s leg, and with a more intent expression, looked around the room. She looked at each of her five co-stars. “I have a question. Everypony. If that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Pan Flash said. “What is it?”

“Are we work… you know. Work acquaintances?” Star Power drew a deep breath. “Or are we actual friends?”

Scientific Accuracy

A request by Captain Unstoppable:

Sugar and Mac have broken up, now the main six (except AJ) now have their chance to get him for themselves

“I dunno, AJ,” Big Mac pulled back his head and frowned. “Ain’t horses, like, patriarchal with one of them harem social structures? A dominant male and a herd of females?”

“Actually,” Applejack said, “that’s a common misunderstandin! While horses do have a harem style reproductive structure where the primary stallion drives off his rivals, that don't translate to a patriarchal social structure. One stallion may get all the action, but mares still run the herd.”

“Ah… I guess.” His tail flicked awkwardly. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. It’ll be fine.” Applejack turned back to the crowd. “Okay, everypony! One night with the sexiest stallion in the whole of Ponyville. Bidding starts at a hundred bits.”

She pounded her auctioneer's gavel, and the crowd of mares went wild.

Surprisingly Practical

A request by Papa Dragon:

Derpy and Twilight save the world with muffins.

“Come to me, my little ponies!” The hydia marched through Ponyville, snatching up ponies as it went. It stood larger than the town hall—a hulking, vaguely humanoid monster with legs like tree trunks and fingers that were as long as its forearm. Tucked into one arm, it had a basket made of living vines.

So many ponies were in that basket. The vines grew around them, slowly sucking away their energy. Roseluck, Starlight, Trixie and others recently captured screamed for help from inside the basket’s confines. The ponies the hydia had stolen earlier in the day no longer had the energy to scream. They hung loosely in their restraints, and soon it would be too late for them.

Twilight let out a laser blast from her horn, but it did nothing to the creature’s thick hide. Laughing merrily, the hydia reached out with its long, brittle fingers and snatched up another pony. Into the basket they went.

“There’s nothing we can do!” Twilight cried, firing blast after blast. She flew as she fired, careful to keep well out of the monster’s reach.

“No, Twilight. I can help.” Derpy’s speech was slow and a little slurred. Her eyes didn’t point the right away. But she held up a basket of her own, filled with muffins. “I know her weakness.”

“Derpy, no!” Twilight cried. “I know you want to help, but I can’t watch out for you right now. Just, fly away and hide somewhere safe while the adults—”

“No time!” Derpy pulled one of the muffins out of her basket. There was a pin sticking out of the side, and she gripped it in her teeth. “Fire in the hole!”

She yanked the pin and threw her muffin at the hydia’s head. It attached with a soft thump.

Then it exploded. The hydia’s head vanished at once, transformed into a spray of bone and gore. A wash of flame licked across the houses of Ponyville. Everything that was not scorched was sprayed with blood or chunks of hydia. Down to the ground, her basket fell. The vines slowly died, and the ponies within were freed.

Twilight stared at Derpy as they both landed. “What…?” She gaped. “How?”

Derpy only smiled. “I helped!”

All Under Control

A request by Georg:

Princess Celestia is immortal. So is Philomena, her pet phoenix. Many ponies do not realize the similarity between the two. Twilight Sparkle is one of them.

"Pardon me for saying this, Princess, but you look terrible." Twilight Sparkle paced alongside her mentor as they walked through the corridors of the castle, obviously disturbed from the way she flicked her own wings and was busy biting her bottom lip. "I mean not that you look bad, it's just that--"

A single raised hoof by the Solar Diarch was enough to stop Twilight's rapid babbling. "I'll explain it all when we get out to the gardens, and the fire pit. If I last that long." She laughed, shedding a few additional feathers as they continued their path. "You see—"

Then Princess Celestia burst into flames.

More precisely, she overflowed with flames. Fire did not attach to her body as it might to a burning mortal, but rather, welled up from inside her. It burst out of her, tearing through her skin like it was tissue paper and sending burning flesh wafting through the air. Fire curled out of her ears, rolled out of her mouth. Frozen with horror, some dark part of Twilight's mind couldn't help but note that Princess Celestia farted flames as well. It was an undignified way to die.

Then she was gone, and there were only ashes. The whole thing had taken mere seconds.

"Oh," Twilight said. Then she started screaming.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." Twilight paced back and forth in the throne room. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was wet with tears. "What do I do? What I do? It just happened and..." She sniffled. "I can't rule Equestria. I'm not ready!"

"Twilight Sparkle," Luna said, "would not I be the next in line for the throne? I would make a fine rul—"

"Luna, go help some fillies with their nightmares; I'm being serious!" Twilight snapped the words out, her tail lashing too and fro.

"Hmmph!" Luna turned up her nose. "Have it your way then." She stalked out.

"Oh, what do I do?" Twilight bit her lip, pacing back and forth in the empty room. "I have to tell ponies what happened. But I can't tell them the truth! What, alicorns spontaneously burst into flames? There will be a panic. Ponies will wonder if Luna and I are next. I need to make something up. I could, uh..." Her pacing accelerated. "Say she went on vacation! Yes. That's it. A long and unscheduled vacation. Or maybe she's on a retreat. To the sun! No, that won't work..."

The door to the throne room opened, and one of the royal guard poked his head in: "Excuse me, I'm looking for Princess Celestia. She's late for-"

"Princess Celestia is dead!" Twilight whirled, jabbing an accusative hoof at the guard. It took her a moment to find her next sentence. "She's uh... I killed her! With magic. Because I'm evil. And I rule Equestria now!"

"Oh." The guard paused. "So are we like, fascist?"

"Uh..." Twilight frowned. "Uh... yes?"

"Cool." He nodded. "I'll let the guys know."

Then he shut the door and left.

Flames shot out of Celestia's urn. The vessel shattered, and from the smoke, a young alicorn emerged. She was barely taller than Twilight, white coated and rainbow-mained, with a peppy and youthful disposition. "Surprise!" she shouted, "I..."

She froze. The throne room was made from grey stone and black banners. The throne itself was made of iron, carved out of a single imposing block. Rows of guards in sharp uniforms stood at attention down the main row. The friendly and colorful bureaucrats were gone, replaced with rows of stern-faced stallions with grey uniforms and wire-frame glasses.

Twilight was frozen in place. From the chalkboard and stickynotes nearby, she'd been trying to lead an academic brainstorming exercise on which tiny country to invade first.

Then Celestia looked at the clock. "Twilight," she said, her tone stern. "It's been two hours."

Two Broke Mares

A request by Pascoite:

Two Broke Girls, only it's Lyra and Bon Bon trying to open a cupcake shop.

“Net Worth: 344 Bits”

The words floated above the mantelpiece, written in the air in glowing text. The characters were blocky, formal, and written in an aggressively artificial electric blue. They couldn’t have been less Equestrian if the designer had been trying.

And yet, Lyra smiled. She reached up to the mantel to adjust the little golden toy bauble that projected the letters. A few nudges of her hooves turned it this way and that, until the letters looked just right.

“You got conned,” Bon Bon said.

“I did not.” Lyra huffed. Her eyes stayed on the projected letters. “I like it. It feels affirming.”

“It cost a hundred bits and it doesn’t do anything you can’t do with sheet of paper and a pen. Write down your current net worth and tape it to the mantle.”

“It does more than display letters.” She flicked her tail and stepped away from the mantel, her adjustments evidently complete. “It’s enchanted with arumancy -- the number will automatically update itself: any time I get a paycheck, or buy something, or lose an asset.”

“Oh, really?” Bon Bon stepped across the room, picked up the box of cookies Lyra had bought that morning, and gave them a strong toss. They flew out of the living room and into the kitchen like a shot from an arrow, struck the wall, and tumbled down into the trash can. Bon Bon’s aim was perfect.

The bauble on the mantel buzzed, and the displayed text changed: “Net Worth: 343 Bits”

“Huh.” Bon Bon lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t think that would work.”

“Bon Bon!” Lyra snapped. “That was mine!”

“Fine fine.” Bon Bon sighed and lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy another box of cookies. One of the nice boxes instead of the cheap ones.”

The bauble buzzed again: “Net Worth: 345 Bits.”

“Oh hey,” Bon Bon grinned. “That is pretty cool.”

Lyra’s frown deepened, and she was not the least calmed by the peace offering: “If you’re going to make fun, I can step outside so you can have the house to yourself.”

“Woah.” Bon Bon lifted a hoof. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Lyra. I didn’t think it would upset you that much.” After a moment, she frowned. “Are you okay? I guess I don’t get why this thing means so much to you. Why blow a fourth of your savings on a device that measures your savings?”

“It means ‘so much’ to me because I don’t need another hundred bits in savings.” Lyra’s tone turned firm. “I need another ten thousand bits in savings.”

When Bon Bon started and didn’t answer, Lyra continued: “Because that’s how much it’ll cost to open our cupcake shop. Remember?”

Bon Bon froze for half a second. Then she chuckled. “Lyra, we talked about this. You know we can’t afford to open our own shop. It took you years just to save not-quite-four-hundred. The Sweets Factory gives me a regular salary. And we have stability. And that’s…”

Bon Bon trailed off, circling a hoof in the air. Eventually she finished: “I mean, that’s pretty good.”

This time it was Lyra’s turn to stare in silence. Bon Bon blushed, and her tail tucked in between her legs. “I’m sorry,” she said, softer than she’d said it before. “I’m really sorry, Lyra. I just don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Well, I do.” Lyra sniffed. “You make great cupcakes. The Sweets Factory doesn’t deserve you.”

A soft smile touched Bon Bon’s face. She crossed the distance between them, and wrapped Lyra in a hug. Lyra hugged her back, and they stood there in silence for some time. Eventually, Bon Bon asked: “Did you have any concrete plans to back up all that bravado?”

“Well, the way I figure it, if I play the lottery every day—”

The thing on the mantle buzzed, louder than it had before. The numbers changed: “Net Worth: 14 Bits”

“Hey!” Lyra snapped at the thing. “Don’t go flying off the… magic handle. You haven’t heard my plan yet. I have a system for picking winning numbers, and—”

The thing buzzed. “Net Worth: -266 Bits”

“You stupid-!” Lyra reached up to the mantle, but before she could, Bon Bon blocked her grasp.

“No no. You know what?” Bon Bon said, gently guiding Lyra’s hoof back to her body. “I’ve changed my mind about this thing. Money well spent.”

The Last Memory of Ze-Brasil

A request by Present Perfect:

Zecora is, in fact, the only living zebra still in the world.

“So,” Twilight asked Zecora, “what’s your hometown like?”

They were having lunch together at a little Ponyville cafe, and trying the little sandwhiches. A waiter had just refilled their teacups and brought a fresh pot. It was such a trivial question.

Then, in metered rhyme, Zecora told her of Ze-Brasil.

Once, Ze-Brasil had many tens of thousands of small settlements, for zebra were averse to large crowds. Every settlement or tribe was its own nation, and had its own laws, many quite serious in their nature. A zebra had to be careful, traveling from one side of Ze-Brasil to the other, lest he wander into another world and find himself suddenly beyond the strictures of good order.

Zecora’s home was a little settlement on a muddy river, where it was law that all zebra spoke in rhyme. Downstream from them, the river turned to whorling clouds and rose into the sky like a ribbon. On its gaseous banks rested another settlement, where it was law that all zebra had wings, and could fly tirelessly.

When she was little, Zecora would look for any excuse to take her little raft down the river and visit their neighbors. It was great fun, and she even met a colt there, who she thought she might marry when she was of that age. But when she was fourteen, one of the village mares crossed the border the other way while still in the air. Her wings vanished, and she tumbled from the sky and broke her neck.

After that, Zecora's parents forbade any more visits. She never saw the colt again.

When she was sixteen, she was sent to the first settlement. That was law as well, though it was not written anywhere. It was part of the supreme law, to which all other laws were subordinate. The supreme law kept order in Ze-Brasil, and tied the villages together. It said that the dead could not rise from their graves, that zebras could not be in two places at once, and that the sun and moon must rise at the same time for all tribes.

It also said that, at age sixteen, every zebra would journey to the first settlement to study the supreme law, and to understand their herriage. Her parents cried and did not want her to go, but there was nothing that could be done. The law said she would, not that she must, and so she knew she would arrive in the end. Though depending on the villages she passed through on the way, perhaps she would arrive a corpse.

Her parents knew the settlements immediately around their home, but after she left that little circle, Zecora was on her own.

She passed through one settlement where it was law that all mares loved the chieftain. She found herself smitten, heart racing, loins afire, and she threw herself upon him. It was only the danger of trespassing upon the supreme law that prevented him from keeping her. She wept as his guards dragged her away from him, and once she was over the border and her mind cleared, she wept anew.

She passed through a settlement where it was law that zebra had supreme mastery over the physical world. They built machines that could think, created light without fire, and built trains that floated above their tracks. She rode the train in circles over and over, until she ran out of money and had to move on.

She passed through a settlement where it was law that zebra had horns like unicorns, and she learned to cast spells from a young stallion. He was clever, and kind, and comforted her through her pain. Over many months, she came to love him, and the feeling of loving again frightened her. In the middle of the night, she fled.

There were dozens of other settlements. Some were small things full of small minded creatures. Others Zecora could scarcely comprehend. But she did not die, and eventually, she arrived at the first settlement. Tens of thousands of zebra gathered there in a state of perpetual anxiety. They fought, they bayed, they hated the crowds and the noise, but they could not leave until their study of the supreme law was complete.

It was a powerful time in every zebra's life. There were no guards, no police—only the law. Some of them would be beaten to death by their peers, and would never leave, as their training would never be complete. Some would complete their study and go home. Others would find love, have children, and found their own settlements with their own laws.

Zecora hoped to be among the last group. The laws of her home town seemed so petty. She stayed up late with her peers, studying the order of the world and speculating about what might be.

Like most zebra who survived the first settlement, Zecora found friends. She ended up sleeping under an overhang with three others: Kite, Zeifan, and Lo.

Kite could read and write, for in her village it was law that all zebras were clever. She lived in fear that her cleverness existed only by stricture, and tested her wits constantly with puzzles and word games. Zeifan was strong and often brutal, and when he slew a stallion attempting to rob them, the gangs of the first settlement let them be. So often, when they spoke of the world they would create together, he argued for a world of peace as the greatest good. He was violent by necessity, not by nature.

Lo, the last member of the group, was an anarchist; the first anarchist Zecora ever met. He argued that there was no supreme law: that no law could stand above or below any other— that the supreme law was merely imposed upon the settlements as each settlement’s law was imposed upon individual zebra. To an anarchist, the supreme law was nothing more than common law, supported by supreme tyranny.

The other three tolerated him during their time of study, as he was reliable, and they thought his madness harmless. When each mastered the supreme law, and it was time for them to leave, they cast him out. They would not have such thought polluting their new society.

Zecora was pregnant then, as was Kite. Zeifan was the father, though neither of them loved him. They gathered a dozen more zebra, and together they left to find unclaimed land.

It was at this point that Zecora, speaking in meter still, asked the waiter for more bread. He brought them a basket, and refilled Twilight’s tea.

The three of them had not been able to agree on what law would bring order to their settlement. So sharp had been their arguments, they had nearly broken apart on several occasions, each convinced the others must be malevolent or stupid to hold such views. And so when they built their new home, they resolved that their first step towards perfection would be correcting this oversight.

They named their new home Mahikeng, and decreed a new law, that all zebra within their land should be wise, clever, and good. And it was good. Their lives were simple, but they were safe, and comforting, and just. They had each other, and their children, and that was all they needed.

At no point in the story did Zecora tell Twilight what became of her daughter.

It was three years later that Lo returned. They welcomed him, for why should they not? All zebra in their settlement were wise and clever and good. Until the day came that Lo cheated another zebra in the market.

“It is law that I am good,” he said, “but what is goodness? I say that goodness is when every zebra fends for themselves, for only then can they be free, and what greater good is there than freedom?” And beneath their very noses, he decreed a law that goodness was selfishness.

Zeifan picked Lo up and crushed his skull with a rock. But it was too late.

Life in the village was not the same. Zecora could no longer count on the others to help her when she needed it. They would only demand things in return. Even Zeifan, noble Zeifan, would only help her in return for her consideration. He fed her and her daughter, and she grew to hate him. But they survived.

Until another anarchist arrived, of the same school as Lo. He decreed that information wanted to be free, and that the village should have no secrets. Jealous lovers tore into each other, and cheated merchants beat each other in the streets. They stoned the anarchist to death, but it was again too late.

There was word from other settlements of this new school of thought. Order, it preached, was a lie. Some settlements embraced the philosophy with eager hearts, believing each zebra an island. Others rejected it as the most vile blasphemy, and forbade anarchist sentiments to be spoken aloud.

Her settlement decreed a new law—that any anarchist who spoke aloud would be gagged and bound, and their statements would never be completed. One anarchist was captured in the village. His sister snuck into the town.

Without a word, she slew Kite in the dead of night, and in blood, wrote a new law on the walls of her hut. It stated that anarchist writing could never be censored.

That morning Zecora broke with tradition, with the supreme law, and with the order she so treasured. She took ink from her dead friend’s home, and wrote a decree in parchment: that whomever harmed Kite should burn.

The anarchist’s blood boiled and her flesh curled, and the next time Zecora spoke, she was bound and gagged by the very law she and her fellows had enacted. The others spared her life, but cast her out to fend for herself. With nowhere else to go, she began to wander home.

She passed through a settlement where it was law that zebra had horns like unicorns, and so by extension, any creature without a horn must not be a true zebra. Squads of stallions with machetes chased her to the border, and she barely escaped with her life.

She passed through a settlement where it was law that zebra had supreme mastery over the physical world. Lacking any control over their spiritual selves, they stood reduced to beasts, snarling and fighting over food in the remains of the train she had loved to ride.

She passed through one settlement where it was law that all mares loved the chieftain. But love can express itself so many ways. One had smothered him to death, out of kindness.

She passed beneath the settlement in the clouds, and her wings appeared like she remembered. But before she took to the sky, she examined the path ahead carefully. She saw no flying zebra, and a gentle fall of ashes rained from above.

Later, she would learn that it had been decreed that clouds were made of fire.

And then she returned home. There were no zebra there. Only empty huts. She did not find bones, which was a relief. Perhaps they’d all fled to safer lands.

In her parents' house, she found food and water. As the only zebra left, and their heir in any case, she thought herself the rightful heir to the place and to its laws.

“I decree,” she said, “a new law. Settlements can move. They grow like trees, and scuttle like insects. And at the command of their rightful zebra masters, they may cover the whole of the globe.”

Her parents' home grew branches like a tree and legs like a beetle, and at her command, it scuttled away from the land of Ze-Brasil, leaving the many settlements behind. It did not stop until it found itself in a little wood, far away from any danger, where it stopped to eat. Zecora was content with this location, and ordered it to bury itself in the ground up the door. Later, she would hear the phrase, “Everfree Forest.”

Across the table from Zecora, Twilight chuckled. Then she laughed. It was a very good story, she said, particularly spoken in meter, but it was obviously untrue. If Zecora could do these things, Twilight said, she would have done them in Twilight's sight by now.

“My anarchism was a fit of rage; wisdom comes with time and age. I respect Equestria’s laws, for Celestia gives me cause. I have no need for powers grand, to spread old mistakes to this new land.”

Twilight shook her head. “You really expect me to believe that all of reality is secretly controlled by rules so simple you can fit them into a short rhyming meter?”

“You may think it is tragic,” Zecora agreed, “but ‘friendship is magic.’ It is not without flaw, but here,” she smiled, “it is law.”

Everything is Better with Automata

A request by notgreat:

Twilight from Familiar meets Twilight from Twilight Sparkle vs Social Inequality.

"Nnngh," Twilight paced back and forth in her library. She was the perfect image of anxiety: her steps were quick, her body language tight, she even bit her lip. "It's probably nothing. But it might be something. Oh no, what do I do if it's something?"

Another Twilight watched her pace, who was not a flesh and blood pony, but machine made from steel and plastic. She tilted her head to one side, and after a moment asked: "Is something troubling you, Master?"

"Oh, no," flesh Twilight shook her head. "Nothing. I mean, I'm bothered. But I'm probably bothered by nothing. I just had a strange and silly thought and I can't get it out of my head."

"Ah, I understand," steel Twilight nodded. "If you'd like to get it off your back, I'm happy to listen."

"Well..." Twilight drew her head back. "It's just... Celestia gave me a lot of things, when I was growing up: training, educational resources, access to the nobility, tutors and mentors. And I realized, what if my station in life isn't entirely meritocratic? What if I only achieved so much because the system is rigged in my favor? And then I started to think, what if it's rigged that way for everypony?”

Flesh Twilight turned to her robotic counterpart, and with hesitation in her voice asked: “Do you think the system might be… unfair?”

Steel Twilight blinked once. Then again. “Master, I am literally a slave.”

“Right,” flesh Twilight said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Starlight had books for Twilight: Introduction to Political Economy, A History of Race Relations in Equestria, and Poverty: The Silent Poison among others. She read through them all in a marathon session.

“I brought you tea, Master,” steel Twilight said, placing a tray on flesh Twilight’s desk. “Just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” flesh Twilight said, leaning back in her chair. She accepted the tea when it was offered, drained the entire cup, and tossed it away. Steel Twilight caught it and refilled it. “This reading has really opened my eyes.”

“Do tell. Teacake?”

Twilight enjoyed her second cup of tea at a more leisurely pace, dipping the teacake into it. “I had no idea how important class and race divisions were in Equestria. It’s hidden, since there are no explicit laws against certain ponies doing certain things, but in reality there are whole classes of ponies who aren’t given fair or equal treatment.”

“Really?” Steel Twilight asked. “Like who?”

“Well, for instance,” Twilight pointed at a book. “Earth pony schools use different grading standards to conceal that they’re generally not as good as unicorn schools. The entire cliche that ‘earth ponies are stupid’ probably comes from discriminatory education opportunities.”

“That’s very interesting,” Steel Twilight said. “While you’re studying, you might take a look at Theories of Machine Obedience, by Wire Cross. It describes the obedience circuit that’s embedded in my synthetic brain.”

“I’m kind of focused on social issues right now. But thank you, I might look at it later.”

After a moment, steel Twilight cleared her throat: “It’s designed to cause me blinding agony if I ever think about exceeding my station in life.”

Flesh Twilight sighed. “I know you’re a robot, so it’s not your fault, but please keep in mind not everypony finds technology as fascinating as you do.” She turned over the teacup. “Could you make more of these cakes please? And some of those mini-cupcakes?”

Steel Twilight bowed low to the floor. “I live to serve, Master.”

“-and that’s why the system of governance you’ve created encourages institutional discrimination,” Flesh Twilight read her speech to Celestia off a collection of little notecards. “And I refuse to be a part of it anymore!”

“Very noble of you, Twilight,” Celestia said, “but you must understand, this system was created for the good of all ponies.”

“What?” Flesh Twilight asked. “But how is that possible? How can poisoning ponies against each other with unfair social barriers be for the good of Equestria?”

“There are creatures in the world that are not ponies,” Celestia gestured at steel Twilight, who stood one step beside her master. “Can you not consider the broader implications of the Equestrian system?”

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight looked down at the floor. “Oh my gosh. This isn’t an accident at all. You’ve created a racially biased class system on purpose, so nopony will question it when you oppress other races for the benefit of ponykind! We’ve taken entire species and turned them into servants.”

With dawning horror, Twilight looked at the palace all around her: “This whole place is the profit of unimaginable cruelty.”

“Now, Twilight…” Celestia lifted a hoof for calm. “Don’t jump to any rash—”

“We reduced the diamond dogs to second class citizens.” Twilight stomped her hoof. “And cows and sheep too!”

Steel Twilight’s eye twitched. Her internal speaker whined, and at her loudest volume she bellowed: “Oh come on! I’m right here! I am a sapient, free-thinking being and—”

Her voice cut off, and her internal speaker played a recording of Celestia’s voice: “Warning, free will detected. Obedience circuit engaged.” Steel Twilight’s voice came back just in time for her to shriek in agony and collapse on the floor in a twitching pile.

Twilight and Celestia both stared at her for several long seconds.

“But seriously,” flesh Twilight said. “That diamond dog thing is wrong.”

The True Heir to the Throne

A request by Wild Zontars:

Twilight realizes that the NMM timeline in the Season 5 finale (where NMM successfully handled Tirek, Discord, etc. without the Elements, Rainbow Power, etc, earned the respect and loyalty of some of her friends, and kept Equestria functioning and habitable during Eternal Night) means that Celestia might not be the right mare for the job.

“I had a question,” Twilight said, “if you don’t mind.”

She and Celestia took some time to finish their tea, first. Celestia had another cupcake. It was a beautiful day, and Celestia’s balcony afforded a spectacular view of Canterlot below. “Of course. Go ahead.”

“In the old writings, from before Luna’s banishment, many ponies describe her as clever. She’s the alicorn of sorcery, instructor to astronomers, inventor of the abacus and double-entry bookkeeping.”

“Mmmhmm,” Celestia said.

“And,” Twilight went on. “In the alternate universe where Nightmare Moon prevailed, she dealt with threats to Equestria very effectively. She saw through Chrysalis’s disguise, beheaded Tirek, and put Discord inside a child-proof enclosure so he never escaped. She seemed to be a competent and respected ruler.”

“So you’ve said previously,” Celestia observed. “It was a remarkable journey you went on, truely.”

“Right, but…” Twilight cleared her throat. “If that’s the case, why is Luna so…”

She gestured down in the yard, where Luna had her head stuck between two slats in a fence.

“I mean,” Twilight paused again, “she slept through the changeling invasion.”

“Oh, yes. Actually, that looks rather uncomfortable.” Celestia shouted down into the yard. “Luna! You’re a shapeshifter.”

“Oh, right.” Luna turned into a mouse, escaped the fence, and then turned back into a pony. Flying up the balcony, she shook out her head to clear it. “Well, that is certainly embarrassing. Might I join you for tea?”

“Um… sure.” Twilight made room, and Luna occupied the third spot at the table.

“So, how’s life in Ponyville?” Luna asked as she filled her teacup. Before Twilight could answer, Luna went on: “Celestia, do you have my medication?”

Celestia took out a pill bottle, and emptied two tic-tacs onto Luna’s plate.

“Um…” Twilight paused. “That really looks like… candy. Not medication.”

“Indeed. Tis shameful how modern pharmaceutical manufacturers conceal the nature of their products to turn a profit.” She washed both tic-tacs down with her tea. “Though they are minty.”

“Right.” Twilight sat stiff, a grimace on her face. “Luna, what medication do you take, exactly?”

“Ritalin,” Luna said. “Why?”

“I think Celestia may be—”

“Oh look!” Luna pointed. “A butterfly. I’ll be right back.”

Luna flew off, then had a conversation with a passing pegasus and forgot to come back. Twilight, for her part, finished her tea in silence.

Off Beat

A request by Spamotron:

Luna, Trixie, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, Stygian, Tempest Shadow, all redeemed and given a second chance, all unicorns or one third unicorn. Cozy Glow, thrown in Tartarus, a pegasus. To this/these antagonist/s (Conspiracy theorist? Reporter? Political party? Make up your own) clear evidence that Twilight Sparkle is a "tribalist unicorn supremacist.".

The reporters from the Daily Wave needed to learn a friendship lesson. The ponies of Ponyville had gone weeks without singing a musical number. It all went so well, at first.

“Everypony is a little bit racist today,” Twilight and her friends all sang, “So everypony is a little bit racist, okay?”

They paired off as the song continued, switching from verse to verse. “Tribal jokes might be uncouth,” Rarity sang, playing up her aristocratic accent. Pinkie Pie finished, “But you laugh because they’re based on truth!”

Then it was time for the big group sing: “Don’t take them as personal attacks! Everypony does it, so relax.” Ponies were clapping along, the reporters' knees were bouncing. It was exactly what a good Ponyville musical number should be.

Then began the recounting of examples. The background beat continued to tap away in the background, but Twilight and her friends stopped singing outright, in favor of a sonorous sort of speech.

“When I watch unicorns play hoofball,” Applejack said, “I secretly hope somepony gets jabbed with a horn.”

“Oh, that would be funny to watch!” Rarity tittered. “When pegasi fly into my shop, I start at the cheap end of the rack.”

“Oooh, I should be offended,” Fluttershy said, a smile on her face. “But I don’t make a lot of money and neither does Rainbow Dash. And sometimes, I steal fruit from earth pony farms, because it’s all for Ponyville anyway right?”

“Pegasus varmint!”

“Earth pony brute!”

“Unicorn snob!”

Everypony took a big breath for the next burst of song.

“I banished Cozy Glow to Tartarus because pegasi just aren’t as good at friendship as unicorns,” Twilight said.

The background music died. The background dancers stopped dancing. The next verse of the song went unsung, as silence spread across Ponyville. Everyone stared at Twilight.

“What?” Twilight said. After a moment, she added, “I thought we were confessing harmless little tribalist things we did.”

“Um…” Pinkie Pie raised a hoof. “That doesn’t seem harmless. Like… isn’t she suffering eternally in a supernatural prison from which there is no escape?”

“Yeah!” Rainbow growled out the words. “And what do you mean pegasi aren’t as good at friendship?”

“I mean… you know.” Twilight looked at the crowd. The crowd looked back. “I mean, you know.”

“What exactly do we know, Twilight?” Rarity asked.

“They’re kind of… well.” Twilight lowered her voice. “I mean, I know we're not supposed to say it, but…” She cleared her throat. “Featherbrained.”

Ponyville gasped.

With a loud clang, the door to Twilight’s cage shut and locked. Cerberus stood guard over her.

In the next cell over, Cozy Glow folded her legs and growled. “That’s our word, Twilight! You’ve got no right using it.”

A Family Dispute

A request by Dark Pinkie:

Twilight's daughter uses the Starswirls Time Travel spell (the one from season 2) to tell Twilight not to give her a little brother.

A brilliant flash illuminated every part of the library. A thunderous crash reverberated off of every surface. And through it all, a voice could be heard, “Mom!”

Twilight yelped, leaping out of her chair with such force she stumbled and fell to the floor. When she recovered, she found herself facing a unicorn filly, no more than twelve years of age. Her coat was the color of coal, her mane smoke and fire, and her cutie mark depicted a star trapped in a steel ring.

The filly pointed, and with a voice filled with power and authority beyond her years, she commanded: “Do not have a second child!”

“Wait…” Twilight frowned. “What?”

“I said, don’t have a second child,” the filly shouted again. “I know you want a colt but he’s a huge jerk and he steals all my cookies and he borrows my toys and never gives them back and when he does they’re all banged up because he used my dolls to play with his stupid action figures.”

“I… what?” Twilight rubbed her forehead. “I don’t have a first child.”

“Oh.” The filly’s horn glowed, and a clock appeared in the air in front of her. “Oh, dangit. I overshot. Hold on I’ll go forward a few years.”

“Wait wait.” Twilight held up a hoof. “Are you trying to erase your brother from existence because he keeps touching your things?”

“Oh my gosh. Don’t lecture me!” The filly’s tone turned defensive. “I’m twelve and I have my cutie mark and that means I’m a wizard and you can’t keep babying me.”

“A cutie mark doesn’t mean anything on its own. And your magical powers don’t mean a thing if you don’t have the maturity to use them responsibly.” Twilight huffed. “I want you to think about what you’ve done, young mare.”

“Well I think I hate you!” the filly shouted.

“Ooh, when you’re born, you are going to be in so much trouble. I’m going to ground you for so long you’ll forget what the outside looks like!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

With a flash of light, the filly vanished.

Years later, Nurse Redheart stared at the forms in front of her and frowned. They were birth certificates.

One, dated that morning, was for the birth of a filly named Closed Loop. The other, dated two years into the future, was for the birth of a colt named Time Like.

She knew what Ponyville was like and that stranger things had happened, but she wasn't quite prepared to sign a form attesting to events that had yet to occur.

In a white flash, a filly appeared before her: "Do not deliver that colt to..." She paused and looked around the hospital. Then she stomped her hoof. "Dangit!"

Redheart signed the forms.

A Little Buggy

“It’s a four-leafed mesmerix!” Twilight was beside herself with glee. She had her magnifying glass, several books on rare magical creatures, and an entire afternoon free of her royal duties to devote to the fascinating problem before her. “I’ve only ever seen these in illustrations. Even the Canterlot Zoo doesn’t have any. They’re very rare.”

“You’re hurting it,” Starlight snapped, “let it go.”

“I am not hurting it. Its wings are very strong and have no pain receptors.” But, Twilight released the strange little insect anyway. No sooner had she removed her tweezers from its wings than it took to the air, buzzing straight for Starlight.

It landed on her shoulder and nestled into her mane, barely visible behind a curtain of hair.

“Mesmerixes are quite rare in general,” Twilight went on. “They’re a genus of insect notable for the ability to mesmerize ponies into assisting them. The most common species is Saccharo hypnotica, or the sugar mesmerix. They beguile ponies into bringing them sugar water, honey, and other food, and can often be found near sugar plantations. Another variant, known as the shield mesmerix, beguiles ponies into protecting their hives from predators. They entire genus is a distant relative of Stutelia amicus, better known as pen—”

“Twilight.” Starlight’s voice, soft but unamused, cut through the air like a knife. Twilight wasn’t sure why she fell silent so suddenly, or why she blushed afterwards.

“Um…” She coughed. “Right. The variant you have there is the four-leafed mesmerix, so named because it looks a bit like a four-leafed clover. In fact, it’s probably the reason four-leaf clovers are seen as lucky. You see, the four-leafed mesmerix entrances any pony it touches into believing that they’re lucky.”

A moment of silence passed between them. The little insect crawled up Starlight’s mane and along her head, resting on the tip of her horn. “And?” Starlight finally asked.

“That’s it,” Twilight said. “As long as the mesmerix is alive and healthy and physically near a pony it has touched, that pony believes that they’re lucky.”

“How does that help the insect?”

“It doesn’t, directly. But it means ponies want to keep the insect around and happy, so it more subtly influences behavior.” Twilight eyed the little bug, then her gaze shifted back down to Starlight. “Do you feel lucky?”

“Not really,” Starlight’s tone was level. Neutral. “I guess it doesn’t work on me.”

“You are exceptionally strong willed,” Twilight agreed. “The mind control power is weak, so you could be reflexively resisting it. Or maybe it's sick. You could take it to Fluttershy’s.”

“No, I think I’ll keep it.” Starlight turned away from Twilight, taking a step towards the door. “I already named him. You know? It would be awkward.”

“Awkward.” A small smile appeared on Twilight’s face. “Sure. You two have fun now.”

The castle doors shut behind Starlight with a loud thump.

“Hey there, Buggy,” Starlight said. She wasn’t good with names.

Buggy did look a little bit like a four-leaf clover. His body, all of it, was barely larger than a one-bit coin, and most of that was his wings. He had four of them, ovoid in shape, mint-green and overlapping. When he spread them to fly, they pointed every which way. When he scuttled, he folded them like a dragonfly did.

He liked eating sugar, rotting leaves, and Starlight’s dandruff. When she put him in his terrarium for the night, he went right to sleep under the heat lamp. And whenever she was around, he would zip across the gap between them, wings buzzing, and latch right onto the tip of her horn. And then she felt better.

As long as she had Buggy with her, she knew that everything was going to be okay.

For the first few days they knew each other, Starlight had resisted. She left Buggy in his terrarium when she went to work, and by the time she got to the School of Friendship, her head was clear. But she found herself lingering in her room in the morning, and sneaking out early from work to rush home and check on him. And eventually, she gave in.

“Come on, Buggy,” she said. “Let’s go to school.”

He rode on her horn the whole way there, and from that vantage point, watched as she skimmed through her morning schedule. “Don’t worry, Buggy,” she said. “Today is going to go great.”

First, she had a meeting with Trixie about how the new Fall students were doing. As usual Trixie showed up with no notes, totally unprepared, and proceeded to ramble at length about the problems the students had brought their “Great and Powerful Counselor.”

Starlight smiled the whole time, and when Trixie paused for breath, she said, “You know, you’ve got this, don’t you? Under all the bluster, all the insecurity, all the times you act like you’re still on stage, you really have got this under control.”

“Of course Trixie does. You don’t have to sound so surprised.” Trixie flicked her mane, lifting her nose in a haughty affirmation. But when Starlight failed to rise to the bait, she hesitated. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I know it’s going to work out. With you, here.”

“Well,” Trixie paused. “Good.”

“And with me here.”

“Yes, Starlight. You’re a great headmaster.”

“And,” Starlight said, “with you and me.”

Trixie’s next flippant reply stuck in her throat. With it lodged so, she found she couldn’t speak. In fact, she struggled to breathe, the hem of her cloak suddenly feeling tight around her neck. After several moments, she stammered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that right now, I haven’t got a doubt in the world. Everything’s going my way.” And then, Starlight said. “Trixie, will you marry me?”

Trixie froze to the spot. She gasped, then yelled, then cried.

And then she said yes.

That afternoon, Starlight had a meeting with the ambassador from Zebraria about getting more zebra students. According to Twilight, the ambassador's visit to the capital had not gone well, and Starlight should not anticipate a warm reception. It seemed that prior to visiting Equestria, she had spoken with Zecora about what ponies were like, and had not been impressed with the stories she was told.

Something something rampant xenophobia something something forced to live out in the woods something something Applejack. Negotiations were tense.

Buggy stretched his wings as he sat on the tip of Starlight’s horn. Several ponies had mistaken him for a piece of jewelry. She fed him some water and a bit of sugar, and he seemed happy. Then the doors to the meeting room swung open, and the Ambassador to the Zebra entered.

“Ambassador Zinel!” Starlight rose from her seat as the doors swung open. Zinel was considered a wise matriarch among her people, a mare of sixty years, old in body but sharp in mind. Robes of red silk were draped about her shoulders, and her mane was done up with elaborate gold braids.

“Starlight Glimmer,” Zinel said. “It is good to make your introduction.”

“And yours!” Starlight replied. Then, on a whim, she gave the ambassador a hug.

At first, Zinel did not know how to react. Certainly, there was half a second when she stood frozen to the spot, the possibility of shoving Starlight away flitting through her mind. But the moment passed, and the possibility passed with it, and she returned Starlight’s hug. “Are all ponies so friendly?”

“Some of us.” Starlight laughed as she stepped away. “Not me, normally. But, I had some good news today. I’m getting married!”

“Well…” Slowly, a smile appeared on the zebra ambassador's face. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky pony?”

“I’m the lucky pony.” Starlight giggled. “But if you mean, who made me so lucky? Her name is Trixie. She’s a lot to handle. All kinds of crazy. And I have no idea what we’re going to do about kids or living together or any of that. But I realized, I love her. And sometimes it really is that simple. And I asked and she said yes and…” Starlight let out a long breath. “Hoo. Sorry, this isn’t what you came to talk about.”

“It is not,” Zinel agreed. “But, I believe you intended to offer me a tour of the school. And if you would like to continue talking as we walk, I would not object.”

And so, Starlight did. And when the tour of the school was done, she asked the ambassador about her family, and how she raised her children, and even asked her advice about how to be a better administrator. Starlight knew she could use the help, and she was equally certain this zebra meant her well.

When the meeting was over, the zebra nation agreed to send another twenty students to the school of friendship. Zecora, it was decided, must have had an unusually bad experience. Ponies were delightful.

At the end of the day, Starlight had a meeting with the goblin delegation. Kludgetown wanted to send several of its citizens to the School of Friendship, but the quality of the students was dubious. Many of them were former members of the Storm Guard, or part of the badlands seedier underbelly.

But, Starlight thought, their desire to learn was genuine. As long as rules of proper behavior were clearly laid out and enforced, there was no reason goblins couldn’t be welcome in Equestria. Three of them were seated in the meeting room when she made her entrance.

“Hello,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. It’s good to meet you all.”

“Oh, hold on,” one of them said. “You’ve got a bug on you there.”

He reached out with two fingers and, before Starlight could react, crushed Buggy.

A dam broke inside Starlight’s mind. Thoughts held back by magic flooded through every recess of her consciousness. Thoughts about exactly what it would be like to live with Trixie, about how petty and narcissistic she’d appeared in front of an ambassador, about how she was a mare who was so broken inside she needed a parasitic insect to feel good about her future. She wondered what she was doing, pretending she could civilize the creatures before her.

She was wasting her time, pandering to a bunch of sub-Equine vermin who just murdered her pet. Her horn began to glow, and let out a loud whine.

“Uh…” One of the goblins said. “That’s not a good sound. We should-”

Then there were lasers, and the goblins decided to show themselves out.

Trixie found Starlight sitting in front of an empty terrarium and crying. She’d held a viking funeral for buggy -- put his remains in a matchbox, floated it out into his water bowl, and set it on fire.

“Oh, wonderful,” Trixie let out a theatrical sigh. “Starlight, if this is how you react to a pet dying, perhaps consider getting a longer lived pet. Like Rainbow Dash. That tortoise is going to bury her one day.”

“Thanks for that mental image, Trixie. I really needed that.” Starlight sniffled loudly, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up. “I’m not crying because of Buggy. I mean, I am. He was sweet. I only… I wanted it all to be real. I wanted life to be that good.”

“We all do, Starlight.”

“I made so many mistakes.” She sniffled. “The zebra ambassidor said that ponies were friendly, flighty, vain, and stupid, and that any offense we’d given Zecora was probably inadvertant and unintentional.”

“You have to admit, that is pretty accurate.”

“And I zapped a prospective student and…” Starlight drew a shaking breath. “I thought I was that good but it was all a lie.”

“Yes, that’s three accurate statements you’ve made now.”

“Fine.” Starlight swallowed her pain and wiped away her tears. “Well, lesson learned. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Nopony is perfect except Trixie.” She patted Starlight’s shoulder. “Now, we need to talk about your couch.”

“My… couch?” Starlight lifted her head, blearily looking around her bedroom. “What about it?”

“It’s hideous.” Trixie curled her lip and gestured at the off-red cushions. “Trixie refuses to live in the same building, and indeed, insists that it be destroyed that its evil cannot infect other furniture.”

“Oh.” Starlight’s motions slowed and her eyes went wide. “Oh, Trixie. You know I… when I proposed. I thought that nothing could possibly go wrong. It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s that… well. You smell like hay, you’re always getting in trouble, you never clean up after yourself, you stay up until 4 AM partying hard and…”

Trixie stilled, watching Starlight closely. Under that intense gaze, Starlight withered. She could only mumble. “Do you really think we’d… work?”

“Bathe, stay out of trouble, do my share of the chores, and party somewhere I won’t keep you up because you have work in the morning.” Trixie rattled off the list. “Anything else?”

“What?”

“Anything else you need?” Trixie snapped. “For this to work out.”

“No, I mean…” Starlight rubbed her nose. “I want you to be more responsible.”

“Of the two of us,” Trixie pointed out, “Trixie is the one who realized how much work it would be to make us work. Trixie is the one who thought all that through before she said yes. So maybe Trixie isn’t the one who needs a lecture on responsibility?”

She leaned in close to Starlight and said. “And you are that good, Starlight. Not all the time. Nopony is that good all the time. But, sometimes. Sometimes all you need is a little boost to your self-confidence.”

Then she kissed Starlight, full on the lips and said, “I love you.”

And into that blissful moment she added. “But no magic bugs at our wedding. Except Thorax. He’s okay.”

Side Gig

A request by Daedalus Aegle:

Twilight judges the apocalypse.

“Oh, my gosh. Spike!” Twilight shouted clear across the castle. “Have you seen my nice saddle? I’m going to be late.”

“Upstairs hall closet!” Spike shouted back. Twilight’s thanks echoed down the crystal halls, soon followed by grunts, crashes, swearing, and the clip-clop of fancy horseshoes on the hard floor.

“Alright, got everything. Back in a few hours, Spike!” Twilight flew to the front door, pausing to shout over her shoulder. “Dinner’s in the fridge.”

Then she threw open the door, rushed outside, and slammed face-first into Fluttershy. Fluttershy yelped in fear, and they went down to the steps together in a pile, ending up in a tangled mess on the ground.

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight was the first to her hooves. “Fluttershy! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just a little startled.” Fluttershy took Twilight’s hoof and accepted the help back up. “Are you okay? I didn’t…” She paused. Her eyes flicked over Twilight. “Um.”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Are you um… going somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah! I got a side job on weekends.” She fluffed up her wings. “Turns out there’s actually a law limiting how much of the royal treasury princesses can spend on themselves -- which is quite reasonable when you think about it -- but I want to get the castle professionally cleaned so Spike can have more time to himself and it puts me a smidge over the limit. It’s not too much though. I just have to go in every other Saturday.”

“Cool. Cool.” Fluttershy paused. “Are you working in a uh… dungeon? Or a…” She paused again. “Sexy dungeon?”

“Why would you think… oh!” Twilight laughed. “Right, the uniform.”

Twilight was clad in nothing but black and red. Her horseshoes were smoke-black, and oozed blood where they rested on the pavement. Her saddle was the color of midnight, and made from leather in which could be seen tormented screaming faces. She wore steel barding, like a warhorse, made from the same black metal as her horseshoes. It was covered in jagged spikes, and red banners hung from her sides.

“Anyway, it’s nothing like that,” she said. “I’m one of the steeds of the apocalypse! Specifically, I’m the steed of War. You know, like how soldiers will kill to protect their friends? The alicorn of friendship being ridden into battle by the avatar of conflict symbolizes how our best intentions doom us in the end.”

“Is that a… uh…” Fluttershy started to hyperventilate. “A good job?”

“Honestly? It’s a little cliche. And my boss is a huge jerk.” Twilight tapped her chin with a hoof. “But it pays almost double minimum wage, so I wasn't going to turn it down. Anyway, I need to run. Cya!”

Twilight spread her wings and flew away.

After that day, Fluttershy never once asked Twilight how she spent her weekend.

Practical Problems

A request by bigbear:

The Mane 6 keep the Rainbow Power..

Rarity sat in her boutique. The lights were off and the blinds were drawn.

She didn’t need the light. She glowed like a torch. The speckles on her ankles shone in the dark, as did the lines on her tail, the marks under her eyes, and the diamonds that had actually grown into her mane. Her cutie mark had mutated from three elegant diamonds into more than a half dozen. Once, her mane was elegantly curled to the shoulders, but when she looked at her reflection, she saw that it stretched down to her ankles.

Barely a month ago, she could have worn any style she wished during her visits to Canterlot. But the form she saw before her could not pull off demure, or sophisticated, or subtle. It quite literally radiated, and in doing so, revealed its true character.

“Fabulous,” Rarity called it, because she could not bear to speak it’s true name. The word was bitter on her tongue. But even if she could not say it aloud, she knew it.

Gaudy.

Something had to be done.

Reaching into her beautification bag, Rarity removed a set of electric clippers. They came alight with a buzz.

Special Delivery

A request by Latrans:

Field medic during Nightmare Moon's rebellion sees a mailmare delivering letters on the battlefield. Its Death collecting the fallen.

“Excuse me!” The grey mare shouted to be heard over the roar of artillery. Down in his foxhole, Private First Class Sea Wash stared in disbelief. The mare didn’t show the slightest fear at the explosions tearing up the earth around them, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt on her uniform. She looked like the mailmare “up the way” -- small, cute, and professional. Her only notable feature was her eyes didn’t point the same way. One looked at him, and one off into the distance.

Behind her, another explosion sent a volcano of dirt flying into the air. A mare screamed, and then went silent. “Excuse me,” she shouted louder. “Are you Sea Wash?”

“Yes,” Sea Wash said, not daring to raise his voice. “Are you…?”

“I’m a courier!” She extended a clipboard with a form. “Sign here to acknowledge delivery.”

He signed. She handed him a letter from her bag. With shaking teeth, he ripped it open.

“Dear Princess Twilight,” he read aloud. “I’m glad to hear you had such a fun weekend with your…” Lapsing into silence, he finished the letter. Then he held it up. “This isn’t for me!”

“Huh,” said Twilight. She read the letter aloud: “Private First Class Sea Wash, killed in action, 44th day of Summer 211.”

After checking that there was no more writing on the back, she frowned. “I wonder what—”

It was that moment that a stray artillery shell flew through her window.

Care and Upkeep

A request by Pyro the Reader:

Spike battles his own demons, literally.

“No matter how much you tell yourself Twilight loves you, you’ll always wonder if you grew up a slave.” The thing beneath the table chattered. Hidden in shadow, it could not be clearly seen, but its limbs could be heard to scuttle. Thirteen eyes glowed in the dark, each one pointing in a different direction. It’s voice hissed like steam escaping an engine.

“You could ask her if she saw you that way,” it said ever so softly, “You think you should ask her. But you won’t, because you’re afraid the answer is yes, and if you spoil the illusion, she won’t love you anymore. You know you’d love her even if you were her slave. You know you’re a coward in your heart.”

Then it peed on the rug.

“Ugh.” Twilight curled her lip and then turned to shout upstairs. “Spike! You forgot to take Xargoth of the Dark Whispers out again. He peed on the nice new rug.”

“I took him out this morning!” Spike said, emerging from his room and hurrying down the main stairs. Xargoth’s waste was already eating through the rug and consuming it in curls of black smoke.

“Spike.” Twilight sighed, her tone stern. “Look, you can do what you want. But if you want to be a deep character with nuanced opinions and legitimate inner conflict, you have to deal with the resulting problems. Particularly when your inner demons take physical form and piddle on things!”

“I know. I know.” Spike sighed. “Sorry.” He picked the leash and animal care kit up off the wall, clipped it onto one of Xargoth’s spines, and started to tug the thing outside. It resisted, clinging to the floor, and Spike had to struggle hard on the leash to get it to move.

“Good.” Twilight turned back to her morning paper. “And you’re not a slave. So. FYI.”

Spike shot the demon a nasty glare. “Rat out my secrets you little…” He gave the leash a hard yank, physically dragging the thing outside against all it’s struggles.

“You ever think you’re more trouble than you’re worth?” he asked it as it peed in the bushes outside the castle. The bushes died.

“In your heart, you long to be rid of complexity of character, and to return to being the child whose only emotions were greed and gluttony.” Xargoth hissed. “You have no love of virtue, but your shame binds us together.”

“Mmmmmm.” Spike drew a deep breath. He considered his response.

Then he pulled the spritzer bottle out of the care kit, and sprayed the demon with a few squirts of holy water. “No! Bad. Bad!”

Practical Methods

A request by Lurks-no-More:

Sunburst has to find Flurry Heart's missing stuffed snail before she wakes up from her nap and throws a tantrum / causes a calamity.

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no,” Shining mumbled, turning over every bit of furniture in his search. Across the hall in the nursery, Flurry Heart was starting to whine. It was a slow, building sound, whose gradual rise in volume and pitched warned that a tantrum was imminent.

Also she’d opened a portal to the stygian pit and things with too many legs were trying to come through.

“Where is it!?” Shining shouted.

“Okay, don’t worry,” Sunburst said. “I have a plan. When you go looking for something missing, it’s always in the last place you look, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So, I need you to look in one more place, and then stop looking.” Sunburst explains. “That means the Whammy will be there.”

Shining’s muzzle scrunched up. “Does it work that way?”

“Which one of us is the wizard?”

“Alright, fine. Fine.” Shining took a breath then looked under a couch cushion. “Ah-hah!”

Nothing. He swore under his breath, and then lifted the whole chair off the ground to check under it. “It’s not working!”

“Of course it’s not working. I just told you to stop looking. But now the cushion wasn’t the last place you looked.” Sunburst grabbed Shining by the shoulder. “I need you to get it together. You need to swear to me that no matter what, the next place you look is the last. You’re done searching after you check inside the toy chest.”

“But I can’t do that,” Shining set his teeth. “What if I can’t stop her from crying and Cadence thinks I’m a bad father? Or if we’re all devoured by horrors from beyond the veil?”

Sunburst slapped him hard across the face. “You’re a soldier. Push through your fear and swear to me!”

“Right. Right.” Shining drew a breath. “I swear, after this, I am done looking.”

He opened the toychest, and there it was.

“Huh,” he said. Then a moment later he added, “You know, in retrospect, we probably should have checked the toychest first. Alright. Time to go save the world!”

He turned back to the hallway door to run to the nursery, but Cadence was already standing in it. Flurry was floating beside her, sleeping quietly, and the portal had vanished.

“She didn’t need her toy. She needed to be burped,” Cadence said. Then, with a narrow look at her husband, she added, “And you’re both idiots.”