Author's Note

Here's perhaps the most "accurate" depiction of femmeboi Flash Sentry, brought to us again by twilitesparkle-plz, featuring Cadance because... it's based on yet another unwritten fic with damnably similar themes. F'naaaaaa. Whatever. It's gorgeous.

Her Time Now Come, An Amazon Sashays Towards Flash to be Introduced

"A dream is a wish your heart makes." Cinderella said that—at least the Mouse version of her did on the silver screen. Flash Sentry always took those words to heart; he adored everything about Cinderella. She wasn't his favorite Disney Princess, of course. That honor was bestowed upon Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but Cinderella came in at a very close second—Flash's side monarch, so to speak. This was so—perhaps—because he felt that he could relate to Cinderella the most. Or—he secretly hoped—someday he would relate to her... to the felicitous joy of being handsomely rewarded for a life of humility, patience, and righteous suffering.

But Flash could never quite relate to her on the dreaming front. This was mostly because his dreams only half came true—even in their conjuring. A "good dream" for Flash was discovering an ad in the classifieds for cheap, pristine, virtually untouched Tinkerbell merchandise. His dreamself hopped into a pumpkin coach and led horse mice all the way to the twinkling destination... only for the road ahead to be torn about by tornadoes or Godzilla or sinkholes or taxes. Usually taxes.

The long and short of it: Flash's dreams always started out with the promise of a happy ending, but they would ultimately sabotage themselves before the subconscious plot culminated. In some pitifully Freudian way, Flash's dreams mirrored his waking existence.

But this evening...

This evening was different. Someone or something had put his brain on training wheels. Flash Sentry drifted peacefully down the silken stream, blinking at all the bright pastels and cool blues and happy pinks dancing playfully on each opposite shore, like a tranquil ride on It's a Small World. At the end, flanked with songbirds and rainbows, was a Burlington Coat Factory. The boat ended at a railroad station, serenaded by trumpets. Chipmunks and deer and egrets playfully nudged Flash out of the vehicle, and within the next blink he was skipping gaily down the fabric aisle, stopping once or twice to wiggle his painted toes in fluffy pink bath rugs.

A pair of married doves flitted past his ear, laying an emerald string of garland like a frilly arrow. Flash's eyes followed it, and he cupped his powdery cheeks with a high-pitched gasp. The line of flowers led his limp legs sliding towards a veritable wall of plush fuchsia. Shelf after shelf of store space had been filled to the brim with shiny pink bed duvets, and every price tag simply read "free for you, sweetie." Flash was already whimpering like a bride by the time his nimble fingers graced the first of many miles of salmon nylon, and as his golden palm sank into the material he felt as though he was being consumed by a cotton cloud. He unfolded the comforter, his bright eyes and brighter teeth reflecting the jubilant faces of cartoon princesses in mid-twirl. They froze long enough to smile at him, to embrace him, to kiss him—he was wrapping the first of many blankets around himself like a joy burrito, and the velvety hush of the fabric filled his sinuses with the tingle of lavender and baby powder. If he sneezed, he knew he might explode. Or laugh. Or both.

He chose to fall down instead. The world caught him. Cradled him. Hummed a lullaby into his ear while nuzzling the nape of his throat as he drifted downward. And when Flash smiled into that warm nebula of sweet-honey'd sighs, he happily whimpered a name... a name that wasn't Twilight's, but belonged to a different Princess... a fairy soul from ancient times whom Flash Sentry hadn't spoken to in nearly eighteen long years. But—like a spectre of the past—he felt her phantom brushing past his lonesome bones. If it wasn't for a pent up sob or two, he might finally have joined hands with her, so that they both might hear that elusive name spoken as well... might have even spelled it out loud.

But—just then—that unnamed Princess vanished in a gasp. The dream had ended countless dusty decades after the vision had begun. And it was an ending—for much to Flash's mixed ecstasy, unlike all the half-visions of his past, this one had culminated in something. Something beautiful... something that belonged to him. That he could almost own. And, for once, the end of a whole thing produced a different kind of trickle from his soul.

As soon as they squeezed out of the corner of his eye, the tears tore his slumber apart like tiny daggers of ice. And it was then that he realized just how incredibly warm... just how unbelievably comfortable his entire world had become.

Something wasn't normal...

Flash Sentry's eyelashes fluttered open. His body—frail and delicate as ever—felt like it weighed a million tons... most likely due to how engorged his mind had been from such an intense dream. Had he been asleep for hours? Or epochs? He couldn't tell. In fact, he couldn't see a thing. A stone cold veil hung directly over his eyes—a sheet of some sort. While this should have alarmed him—a strange place and an even stranger burial—Flash had a great deal of trouble moving from that spot. Quite simply put, there was no shaking just how... relaxed he was. Like a second womb had shushed him into an adorable little coma.

Nevertheless, rise from the dead he must, and it began with shifting one leg... then the other. His lungs tingled—as did his spine. He felt like he was wrapped in silk. The bedsheets were smoother than satin. When he pushed his limbs out from where they had been laying, the fabric kissed him with glossy coolness. When he panicked and shriveled back into a fetal position, he felt reversely cocooned in glorious warmth. It was almost as if the bed was reading his mind and the sheets were playing delightful games with his senses.

Flash flexed whatever muscles he could in the bold effort of sitting up. It was a herculean effort on the petite boi's part, and his feathery gut produced a trilling sound... like an exhausted kitten. At last—with a modicum of fussing—Flash wriggled and flapped until he was birthed from the satin sheets. He sat up—too stunned by the world around him to gasp.

He was in a bed. A large bed. A spacious canopy bed that had to have been bigger than a few third world countries. The sheets were a creamy cool blue, so glossy and shiny that they almost reflected the trim of dangling lace that gracefully bordered the wooden posts stretching overhead. One could easily fit an elephant in this bed—an elephant who shopped at Victoria's Secrets. The metaphor didn't stop there, for Flash gazed beyond the frames of the satin sea he was deliciously drowning in and spotted dark mahogany furniture: a wardrobe the size of a milk truck, a lounge chair draped with random pastel laundry, an ottoman dotted with at least three different fake leather purses in perfectly casual disarray. Across the room—past an imposing black footboard—Flash saw an effeminate young man looking back at him, blinking when he blinked, perfectly reflected in the tall oblong mirror of a fancy vanity covered from top to bottom in makeup, hairbrushes and shiny accessories.

Flash Sentry breathed.

He was in a woman's room.

Flash Sentry breathed harder, clutching the sheets to his chest, careful not to graze his poor little nipples.

He was in a woman's super womany room.

His nostrils flared with anxiousness as he recalled the sullen gray events that led him to that moment—or at least to the last moment he had the faculty to own. Like a poor idiot, he had allowed himself to faint in public on the Canterlot High courtyard. And now—like an even poorer idiot—he had become the kidnapped treasure of some goddess-forsaken psychopath... most likely played by a young Kathy Bates. Had he been a tad bit luckier, he would have frozen to death there beneath the horse statue. At least then Magnolia could have eventually come to collect his ashes for sprinkling in Mother and Father's coffee. Or something.

"Uhm..." Flash gulped. "Hello?" The boi huff and puffed and attempted bellicosely reciting something he had once watched on a Youtube video about self-defense. "Whoever you are, I-I've got a black sash in Tae Karate Fu!" his voice cracked adorably, and that's now he had become the poorest idiot.

There was no response to that, thank Goddess. However—much to his palpitating heartbeat—Flash discovered that the door to the bedroom had been left ajar. There was a hint of light from the corridor beyond... and an even fainter hint of movement.

Flash squinted. He gently rubbed his eye with a balled-up fist... then rubbed it again. It was no use. The room and furniture were too ginormous—and Flash too tiny in the forest of it all to make out much from where he treaded bedsheets. So, with the courage of a honey badger, he peeled the velvet blueness off him and clamored towards the edge of the bed.

It was precisely at this moment that Flash realized he was naked.

"Aaa-aackies!" He rolled back into a little golden ball beneath the sheets and shivered. Hyperventilating, he looked down at his precious self.

Well, he was mostly naked. Whoever or whatever had taken the time to strip him of his garishly bulky sweatclothes had left the boi in his tight white briefs. It was one sliver of civilized mercy, at least, and for a brief tremble in time Flash's fears had been partially dissipated.

Nevertheless, there was now the awkward predicament of having to navigate a strange abductor's house in nothing but his undies. Flash swore—even if he was scrambling across a sinking steam ship surrounded by jagged icebergs—he would still throw on a modest trenchcoat before braving a frigid death. So—in quiet, mulling desperation, the boi looked around for something—anything—that could cover his tender frame.

He ultimately resorted to something that lay within reach—or at least within reach of not having to fully expose himself between the bed, the floor, and his target. Reaching out, stretching, squeaking under the strain of his upper body joints, Flash finally grabbed the corner of what he was aiming for. On the edge of the lounge chair was draped an enormous peach-colored blanket. Pulling it to himself, Flash was flabbergasted to realize that it was a shirt. The top half of some woman's pyjamas. He knew this because the article was girlier than cherry-flavored ovaries, a pastel ghost shroud of a flashy thing, with the neck, sleeves, and hemline playfully dotted with double layers of translucent lavender lace. And plastered in the center, big and comical and unapologetically girly, was the frazzled patchwork image of Betty Boop standing in a pink bathrobe with a steaming mug of coffee. The cartoon pinup's "scalp of hair" was bestowed its own miniature ocean of glitter that matched the shine of the top's outer lace. If Flash stared at it too long, he swore he might start burping up flowers.

So transfixed was Flash on the ridiculously cheesy article that he jumped at the sound of a voice echoing far past the doorframe—a chuckling voice. Mature. Matriarchal. Powerful—but with a hint of mystery and spice. The air of the room crackled, as with a million distant firecrackers, and then the distant conversation drifted back into its little pocket of... whatever building Flash was situated in.

He couldn't languish in that spot much longer. Fight or flight or fluff—Flash had to get out of that room and investigate.

So, spelunking, Flash Sentry threw himself into that Betty Boop domain. It truly felt like a cave at first, until the fabric settled, and Flash had to fight his limbs through the laced openings. At long last, his head was birthed through the neck of the pyjama top, and he struck a hand back to thread his silk blue hair out from inside so that it dangled comfortably behind. His first breath flooded his nose with something... something rich... something familiar.

Lilacs.

Lilac blossoms.

Flash looked down at the cutesy top that draped loosely across his slender shoulders and arms. He wriggled a weak wrist through a sleeve and raised it to his button-nose for a tender sniff.

Once again, lilacs filled his tiny nose. The previous user had heavily relied on some sort of delicious bath oil or perfume. That was a given. What's more, Flash finally knew who it belonged to. The shirt. The bed. The room. This whole place. All because of the lilacs.

His fear was immediately gone, although it was sufficiently replaced with confusion, and perhaps a modicum of ire. Nevertheless, the smell was a relieving enough sensation to bring the wind back to his sails. The boi climbed out of the enormous bed—something that proved almost dangerous when he very nearly fell at the end of the venture. Soon, his tender heels plopped down onto a plush carpet. With a liquid fwoomp, the shirt hung in a halo around his naked knees, looking and feeling like a virtual gown around the pixie'd male. Nervously clasping his hands together, Flash deer-stepped out of the bedroom.

There was a frigid coolness trying to seep in from every angle—most likely from the autumnal freeze looming outside the building. Having ventured so far away from the heavenly bed, Flash's fragile body could scarcely handle it. Goosebumps formed along his calves and ankles. He moved slowly so that a draft wouldn't ripple its way up the dangling edges of the dress... or... shirt—and he scuffled his smooth heels against the lush carpet in some subconscious attempt to produce heated friction.

Outside the bedroom was a hallway. The first thing Flash noticed—inescapably—was how frighteningly high the doorframes were positioned. And this wasn't simply a matter of the young man's petite perspective. The doors of the place—along with the tables and the dressers and even the picture frames along the walls—were all set at a significantly abnormal height from the ground, at least for a typical household. Glancing into a bathroom as he shuffled—pigeon-toed—down the curious domain, Flash even noticed that the sink was set uncomfortably high. A poor waif like him would have to stand on his tip-toes to properly reach the faucet.

His observation of these details shifted towards the voice he was hearing from the room up ahead. A dim amber light emanated from what must have been the foyer... or perhaps the living room. Flash Sentry rounded the corner, and a figure beyond materialized, fiery like a star... gentle as the sunrise. She was reclined on a sofa, her gold-kissed skin smooth and immaculate under lamplight. She wore long gray striped yoga pants beneath a white-colored turtleneck that framed her beautiful seraphim face... a face that was smiling calmly... almost mischievously into the starlight drifting in from a cool, frost-tinged window looming just above her. Raising a gentle hand to her scalp, she pushed a bang of infernal threads out from before her ear, revealing a Bluetooth device clinging to her unblemished lobes. She hummed through a smile, a melodic sound that eventually produced information, in as luscious and deified a voice as Flash had long remembered... even in the few scant moments when he was once truly in love with her.

"No, it's not as intense as I thought," Sunset Shimmer spoke. Her eyes were cast to her lap, where she cradled a journal in steady, perfectly-sculpted hands. The nails were painted yellow, the same color as her cutie mark—which glistened at the end of a pen that she used to write down lazy paragaphs of words... all the while multitasking some nebulous conversation with the soul on the other line. "I'm pretty sure. After all, I don't feel so loopy."

Flash simply stood there, gazing at her from behind, one hand clutching the corner of the hallway and the other simply... clasping at nothing in the air... just as his mind was grasping for answers to this inexplicably gorgeous moment.

"As a matter of fact, I feel it all coming back to me." Sunset's smile widened, and she chuckled breathily, the tips of her painted toes curling up like the teenage girl she once was. All other manner of precocious youth had been long buried beneath a splendidly beautiful adult woman, but small slivers of someone Flash once knew came out in tiny bursts between her curved dimples and melodic sighs. "Ohhhh yes. Full force. Just like in the old days of the portal. I'm telling you... your experiments were completely on point. It's just that... y'know... none of us expected the source to strike so close to home."

She penstroked a few unseen words in the journal. Flash would have craned his neck to see better if he wasn't so suddenly accosted by trembles.

"Hmmm?" Sunset blinked. "Oh. Absolutely. Scooped him up before the worst could happen. Talk about miraculous timing! Just don't worry, alright? Everything's going to be fine. You go and tell the girls that he's perfectly safe and sound and that there's nothing to worry about." A pause. "Of course I mean it!" She smiled at the book in her hand. "In fact... he woke up five minutes ago and now he's standing right behind me."

Flash Sentry's sapphire eyes twitched.

"Yes. Yes, I probably should." Sunset nodded, then "kissed" the amber air of the room before her. "Mwah. Love you too, bae. Ciao." She tapped the light off her earpiece, slapped the book shut, and slowly turned to bestow her little house guest a calm Mona Lisa smile. "Hello, Flash."

Flash Sentry gulped. "Hello, Sunset Shimmer..."

"My oh my." She arched an eyebrow. Her voice was a little deeper than he remembered, but only how a girl scout's voice might evolve into a supermodel's. "How formal. And to think I let you sleep in my bed." She cocked her head to the side, looking the boi up and down. "Nice fashion statement."

"What—?!" Flash jolted backwards, knees buckling as he clutched the infernal gownshirt... shirtgown... Bettyboopstraightjacket. "I... I..." He squeaked. "Did you r-really have to strip me?!"

"Oh please, Flash." Sunset rolled her eyes, snorting back a laugh. "I did not strip you." A wave of the finger. "I... left your undies on. Didn't know you were still a fan of... eggshell."

"When I woke up, I-I didn't know what to think!" Flash rasped, his voice trying to stay deep, resolute, in search of an elusive baritone that never truly existed. "It's... it's j-just startling, y'know?"

"Flash, you were shivering, cold, and drowning in your own tears." Sunset stood up slowly from the sofa. "Mrmmmfff... you're lucky I didn't have to dress you in bear fur to keep you from freezing in that awful, drab getup you had—"

"A-and I thank you for that, Sunset, but I just don't understand how or why—" Flash Sentry's words left him as he found himself looking up at Sunset... and up and up and up. His pupils shrank as his jaw fell to the lacy neckline of the pyjama top. "I... uhm..." A gulp. "Uhhh..."

Sunset Shimmer stood in place, patiently breathing... waiting for the words to dribble out of her former boifriend. She maintained a calm, knowing smile throughout, ready for the inevitable.

Flash stammered to pronounce it. The entire time, his eyes darted back and forth between the top of Sunset's head and the room's ceiling, discovering that there was very little space to spare. "There's... uhm... there's a whole lot m-more of you than I remember, Sunset," there was a slight lilt to the end of that statement, belying the fact—in some obtuse way—that it was a compliment. From an old friend. An old, startled friend imprisoned in a Betty Boop shirt.

"Hmmmm..." Sunset's cheeks rosied slightly, and for a moment she looked like the teenager Flash once knew... albeit a seven-and-a-half foot tall anomaly of a teenager. For the woman's spectacular height, Sunset Shimmer somehow maintained a spectacular frame—or at least something that Flash would have envisioned in his wildest, most lonesome post-high-school dreams. She was shapely, voluptous, with curves that were somehow sculpted when Flash wasn't looking... when he was far too preoccupied with the gray shades of his lonesome existence to bother registering the fates of those he once knew. Whatever phenomenal forces from beyond had toyed with Sunset, it had left her looking far better for it, and her voice miraculously belonged more to the likes of Maureen O'Hara than it did to a genderbent Andre Roussimoff, as a passing stranger might otherwise be pressed to assume upon first glance. "That's simply what years and years of possessing Equestrian magic in this world will do to a young body," she droned, as if that would somehow explain life, the universe, and panties.

"H-huh?" Flash lisped. His teeth were chattering at this point.

Sunset saw it. She saw everything. "And you..." She swept effortlessly towards him, her large Venetian feet making the floor beneath them thunder ever so sightly. "...appear to be as tiny and precious as ever." Her next breath funneled through a nostalgic smile as she towered above the boi. Flash's head stood virtually at the undercarriage of her bust, and she knew that they both knew it in that tender, awkward moment. She reached boldly down through it all, toying with a few bangs of his silk blue hair, a gesture that was once shared between them... only now it was devoid of the passive-aggressive cues of that cruel, cruel valkyrie from the past. Her eyes rounded, and her next voice came through both vulnerable and tenuous. "Oh Celestia... why didn't I do this before?"

Flash's lips quivered. He nearly snapped his neck in struggling to look up at her. "Do what?"

She sighed. She fell. The whole room seemed to expand as she shrank into a kneeling position. Right wow—as he remained standing—Sunset's smiling face tilted slightly upwards to look up at him. "I'm sorry for being away for all this time, Flash. But it's okay now."

"Sunset—" And then the boi's eyes widened, for he was being sculpted into a mountainous hug. His tiny self was sandwiched between strong arms and a cloud-soft chest. His confused face found a gentle resting place on her shoulder, and he felt tender fingers stroking through his scalp before liberally cupping the back of his head. Soon enough, her whole womany voice was vibrating through him.

"Everything's going to be okay from now on," she murmured, nuzzling the side of his face like a mother mare. The scent of lilac doubled, and now Flash knew why the bed was so big. For all he knew, he was back in it, suspended somewhere between tender gasps and duvet dreams. "I promise," Sunset breathed, enthralling him. "You're going to be just fine, sweetie."

"I..." He shivered, his confusion ever so slightly conquering his solace. "...what do you mean?"

Sunset didn't answer him. Instead, she parted the hug, speaking with a louder, more assured tone. "First thing's first. You're freezing. Let's take care of that."

"B-but..." Flash gulped. "I'm just fine! Please, Sunset, tell me what's—Guhhh!" His eyes crossed and he clung onto Sunset's shoulder for dear life as he flew towards the heavens.

Sunset Shimmer was lifting the boi up. An infinitely effortless gesture—as it seemed. He watched—more than a little red in the face—as the towering girlfriend he once knew ferried him over to the sofa with the ease of a giant. Before he could protest, he was being seated squat on a soft pile of pillows towards the portion of the couch furthest—and warmest—from the windows. He winced slightly, flinging two hands down to stretch the peach edges of the shirt to their full length to cover his milky thighs.

"Sunset—?!"

"Shhhh..." Sunset smiled. Like a dancer, she flowed around the couch, lifting up and loosening a thick woolen blanket in one singular movement. This—she lovingly draped over Flash's figure, reaching in with motherly gestures to make sure it was tucked securely around the boi. She did not stop fussing until he took her cue and held the soft, insulating fabric around his small self. At last, once the grand pirouette was complete, the young woman returned back to the sofa, sitting by the opposite armrest—somehow dwarfing Flash even more so now that the two were seated a mere foot away from one another. "Now..." She breathed into the breadth between them, and somehow that was enough to heat the moment sufficiently, like a self-contained furnace was in her lungs. The woman brandished a proud, sisterly grin as she reclined casually to the side, resting her sideways face on a shapely wrist as she gazed and gazed at her helpless little house guest. "...would you care telling me what made you collapse in the middle of the old school yard?"

Flash inhaled, trapped in both the blanket and Sunset's shadow all at once. The amber glow of the room electrified her eyes, framing the boi's reflection that stayed forever front and center. This seven foot six inch specimen of estrogen was far... far from the heartless vixen that had once dragged a poor Flash all across the embattled school hallways of Junior year. She was making a show of it—of how different she was, of how different they both were, and how terribly-desperately she wanted to make all the things wrong in Flash's life somehow right.

Nevertheless, he lied as he held the blanket tighter around his tender self: "I guess... I-I just got lost after taking a walk."

Sunset Shimmer arched an eyebrow. Her voice lost its empathetic lilt, if only for a brief moment for her to dryly reflect just how stupid that sounded: "Taking a walk."

Flash tried not to wince. "I haven't been by that side of town in a while. By Canterlot High, I mean." He gulped. "Back in the day—when I had a car—all I did was drive around." He gulped again. "Used to avoid the side streets. Just stuck to the main intersection. You remember, right? When I used to drive us around?"

"I remember you driving me around," Sunset said, running a hand through her long scarlet hair. The woman gazed and gazed at him. "Tell me." A playful smirk. "Do you still sit on two phonebooks to see past the dashboard?"

Flash said nothing.

"One and a half?"

Flash blushed.

"Heeheehee..." Sunset's teeth showed in a reminiscent smile. "It's a fond memory."

Flash muttered out the side of his mouth. "You were fond of teasing me for it at the time."

Her smile left. A slow, guilty breath. "Yes, well..." A finger anxiously traced the back of the couch as her eyes wondered. "I had a really shitty way of expressing the way I felt back then. Even when it came to things I truly... secretly admired about you, Flash."

He shrugged, shrinking more into the blanket and Boop. "It's okay."

"No." Her eyes found him again. "It isn't." Her features softened vulnerably. "And it will never be."

He gnawed on his lip.

Silence.

"But..." The woman sat up straight once again. "...you weren't driving around Canterlot High this time. In fact..." She cocked her head to the side. "I didn't see your car anywhere nearby."

"That's because I sold it."

Sunset blinked. "Sold it."

Flash nodded, gazing at the high ceiling of the room. "Just like I sold my guitar."

"You sold your guitar?!?" Sunset very nearly yelled—a callback to the furious valkyrie who once shook the halls of Canterlot High. Her face sharpened to an angry tinge, but it wasn't aimed at Flash. Not exactly. "Flash, are you insane?!"

The boi struggled not to whimper. "I-I..."

"Music is your passion!" Sunset exclaimed. She was beautiful when livid—as with all things passionate. "It's what you're good at! It's what you've always been good at!" Her tone softened ever so slightly, taking on a motherly murmur. "Why would you give up such a wonderful, creative piece of you, Flash?"

"I guess..." He sniffled, avoiding her gaze. He hugged his knees beneath all the fabric that didn't belong to him. "...I guess I-I'm just stupid."

She leaned back, giving him a patient glance. Stroking her own bangs casually, she let it rip: "I don't suppose it might anything to do with your parents and older sister throwing you out of your apartment like the heartless assholes they are?"

"They're not heartless, I was just—" Flash jolted in place. "!!!" His surprised eyes shot at her as his lips pursed.

She bore a bittersweet smile. "Were you out on the street because you had nowhere else to go?" She framed her immaculate features with a cupped hand as she lovingly gazed at him. "Because you were evicted from your home? And everything you ever owned repossessed unfairly? Without warning?"

"I... how...?"

"You should be free to follow your own calling in life, Flash," Sunset said. "I always knew your folks were jerks—but not to this extreme. Figured it would be enough that Magnolia was following in their footsteps. But they had to drag you down and make you feel like crap for just trying to find yourself?" She shook her head. "It's not fair, Flash. And you especially shouldn't punish yourself by nearly freezing in an old school courtyard over it."

"You..." Flash's teeth were chattering again. "How could you p-possibly..." Just then, his pupils shrank. With a knowing breath, he muttered: "Your abilities."

Sunset Shimmer slowly, slowly nodded.

"Your... that geode thing..." Flash gazed at her turtleneck, noticing the lack of any accessory. "I guess you don't need it to read people's thoughts anymore." He gulped. "Nor do you have to touch anyone..."

"My powers have improved greatly over the past few years, Flash," Sunset said gently. "All of ours have. We don't need the geodes anymore—well." A sheepish smile. "Not all the time, at least."

Flash fidgeted under the comfy blanket, wondering just how long she had been reading his tender, vulnerable thoughts.

"Since the very moment I found you," Sunset blurted, causing him to do a double-take. "Even fainting doesn't cause a person's mind to stop racing."

He winced, his mind darting back to when he collapsed like a wimpy little doll beside the horse statue at Canterlot High. An anxious thought hit him—of how easily he could have been mugged or stabbed or worse before someone like Sunset found him.

"No, don't worry." She smiled, warming his heart. "I found you pretty soon. Guess it was fate that I was driving around town last night. I would never let anything bad happen to you."

Flash shuddered, strung up between feeling safe and feeling naked. He ran a hand up to his silk blue bangs, feeling sorely tempted to clasp a hand over his skull in a futile attempt to keep the exposed thoughts securely inside. Nevertheless, he gave into temptation and asked: "You... j-just happened to be nearby when I collapsed, huh?"

"I wasn't following you around, Flash," Sunset said firmly. "It truly was a wild miracle. I promise." She gulped. "But... the moment I ran up to your body in the courtyard, I felt..." She lingered momentarily, and Flash saw a tiny flicker in her eyes. Like a spark. She cleared her throat, navigating the next few words carefully. "I felt your memories, Flash. I suddenly knew what you had been through."

"You... f-figured everything out?" Flash blinked. "Just like that?"

"Mmmmm... not instantaneously, no," she said, smiling softly again. "The rest took a while to... scan. During which I drove you in the car. Made sure you were warm." She waved a hand. "Brought you here."

His toes curled as he squirmed slightly.

"D-don't worry." She giggled slightly. "All I did was put your clothes in the wash. No funny business." Her eyes narrowed. "What's with the sweatclothes, Flash? Did you buy them at a hobo thrift store?! They're at least two sizes too big on you!"

Flash's lips pursed. He was too busy thinking about his clothes, his phone, and his messenger bag to produce a response—

"They're in the bedroom," Sunset answered him. "Where you were sleeping. I even started charging your phone for you. You can use my wifi later on, if you want."

"You really... p-put me in your bed?" Flash stupidly droned.

"I wanted you to be comfortable, Flash." A devilish smirk. "Why? Is that really such a big deal to you?"

He coughed, trying to shake off a growing blush. Failing. "I... I-I dunno... it's just that... I never... I-I mean you and I never..." He bit his lip. "A bed. A girl's bed. Never thought that I... I-I never meant to—"

She laughed merrily, her voice taking on a sweet, feminine octave. Her divine body rocked slightly, causing the entire sofa to shake. "Oh Celestia, you're so adorable, Flash." She winked at him. "You know that?"

He glanced away, remembering all the times that they had spent together in the past. All the moments she frowned at him... scowled at him... bossed him around and practically did every cruel thing but yank the boi's hair out.

"Yes, well..." She winced, as if each memory of his was bludgeoning her magnificent skull to dust. "I... I always felt that way about you. But... I-I was too much of a friggin' bitch to admit it... to do anything but manipulate and abuse you for my own benefit." She gulped, her eyes moistening slightly. "In every way... I'm even worse than your parents, Flash."

"It's okay," he breathed, gently shaking his fair head. "You weren't that bad, Sunset."

Her eyes took on a gray malaise. "You can't lie to me, Flash."

He winced slightly.

She softened. "And I won't lie to you," she firmly said. "Not any longer." A deep breath, and she sat up, reminding both of them of how tall and strong she now was... or perhaps as she always had been. "I'm going to take care of you, Flash. You don't deserve to be thrown out on the street."

"Is this about making up for how we broke up?"

"No," she half-grunted. "This is about doing what's right. About what you deserve." She reached a hand out and lovingly stroked his shoulder. It felt warm to the touch, and he nearly melted—even more so as her voice continued, melodic and sweet. "Flash, sweetie, you've been alone and helpless for far too long. But that ends tonight. We're gonna get you through this. That's a promise."

"But—"

"No 'buts,'" she insisted. "Forget all the heartless demands your mother and father have made. Forget Magnolia Buckler's cold shoulder. You can even forget about all those college applications right now if that's simply not what's on the table in your life. No more giving up time and food and guitars to make thankless people happy. Do you understand me, Flash?" Her womanly fingers squeezed his shoulder—but not too firmly. It was the nicest gesture Sunset had ever bestowed upon him, and the glimmer in her eyes prophesied even kinder actions to come. It left him feeling shocked, confused, and thoroughly paralyzed by her sympathetic voice. "It's time that you lived life the way that will make you happy. It's okay." She smiled. "The other girls have got your back as well. We all miss you terribly and we would love to have you back in our lives."

Flash's soft eyes looked up at her with awe and disbelief.

"Heh..." Sunset's teeth showed slightly beneath her smile. "Is that so very hard to believe? We haven't been the same without you, Flash. You were always our friend." She stroked the back of his neck. Somehow—between her words and his shivers—she had inched ever so slightly closer to the boi, encompassing his vision. The scant remnants of his lonely little world. "We always held you in the highest regards."

"We... never talked much after... after Camp Everfree, Sunny..." Flash squeaked out his ancient nickname for her at the end of that, surprised—perhaps even ashamed—that he had resorted to an address he hadn't used since they dated. The moment was just too tender. And, to his continued flabbergastedness, she didn't snap at him like the female dog of old. "I mean... that was years ago, and... and I thought—"

"You're right," Sunset said defeatedly, her eyes sad. "We never did talk. I couldn't see into your thoughts like I can now, and I... I made the mistake of assuming, Flash." She gulped. "I assumed that you wanted your own space. And—even worse—I assumed that you would be better off that way." There was a hint of a whimper in her otherwise strong, adult tone. "I am so... so sorry for that... so sorry for abandoning you..."

"You didn't abandon me..."

"Flash..."

"You and the girls were busy keeping the world safe from wayward magic and I didn't want to b-barge in on—"

"Flash... sweetie..." She was stroking his soft chin now. The space between them dwindled by the second. "All the magic in the world isn't worth harnessing if it means that you're lost."

"I..." Flash stammered, his voice squeaking weakly. Delicately. "I-I..."

"Shhhhh... but it's all good now..." She stroked his face. Hair. Drawing him close. Inward. "You're not lost any longer."

He clenched his eyes. He shook.

"Just let it happen, honey," Sunset hummed, enfolding him in two arms now. "Don't try manning up against it. It never works. Not for you."

She was right. It didn't take a mind-reader to know how frail he was. The dam broke as easily as it ever did when he was around her. Only this time—Flash somehow knew—she wouldn't rebuke him for it. Not until that moment did he realize that it was something he always wanted from her... the girlfriend that he always had, and yet never had, until now. Years later after universal fate and circumstance had drawn them as distant as their heights had magically varied. The boi went limp, and he let the strong valkyrie do the rest, holding him tightly as he draped against her large frame, weeping tenderly and quietly into her bosom.

"That's it..." She leaned down and kissed his silken crown, running a hand through his long blue hair. "Let it flow, Flash. Never bother locking things away. You're too precious to hold it all in."

"I-I c-can't ever stop it..." He whimpered, sobs muffled against her turtleneck. His tears stained her ample bust, but she didn't seem to care. So he didn't care, and the river behind his eyes rippled true and truer. "Oh goddess, I-I'm such a little s-sissy," he wept.

"Hmmmm..." She stroked his back, smiling. "Yes you are," she said. "And it's adorable." She tilted the boi's puffy, tear-stained face up and gazed nose-to-nose with the shivering thing. "So much emotion... so much sincerity, all bottled up in a delicate little package. You've always been one of a kind, Flash. Beneath the weight of the world, it's only natural to squeeze some of that priceless beauty out. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You just need someone there to collect it all... to make sure your feelings find their way back to where they belong."

He sniffled, lips trembling. "Did... d-did you always feel that way about me?" He choked on a sob. "I thought that you hated me."

"I hated myself," Sunset said, brow momentarily furrowed. "And I punished everyone around me for my shortcomings. Most especially you."

He buried his face in her shoulder. "I m-made it easy for you."

"No. You made it easy for me to love... but I never took the opportunity. It was my failing, Flash. Not yours."

"We..." He hiccuped and shuddered between tearful waves. "...we really c-could have had something?" A whimper. "You think?"

"Hmmmm..." She held him the closest she had since they had sat together. Her voice rose through her chest and caressed the boi's wet face. "I think we still can."

His eyes fluttered open upon hearing that, strung between confusion and something else. Something that made his beleagured heart race. "But... but Sunny...?" He tried looking up at her. "I thought... I-I thought that—?"

"Shhh..." She kissed his forehead, stroking him. "No more thoughts. Not right now." A smile. "How long has it been since you had a good cry like this? Hmmm?" A wink. "I know how much you needed them from time to time. Even if you never admitted it before."

He merely whimpered, neither confirming or denying the truth. She grasped it well enough for the both of them.

"Heehee... there he is." She patted his shoulder, allowing him to deflate further. "Just let it out, sweetie." She reclined slowly, bringing him with her until his tiny body was draped against her grand amazonian frame. A stealthy hand reached back and stretched his blanket out, so now the both of them were sufficiently covered as she held him snugly to her upper body, holding him close so that he couldn't go anywhere but inward... a deliciously bittersweet implosion anchored in place, laced with tears. "I'm going nowhere. And neither are you."

She was right. Flash Sentry was a prisoner of her embrace... her house... her silly cartoon shirt. He had no choice in the matter—even if some part of him or all of him attempted to fight her.

And he was perfectly okay with that.

Something crossed his tear-stained face, something close to a smile, but he hid it in her shoulder as he lay there against her and continued ever so gently to cry. A good, long cry, and the melodic humming coming from Sunset's voice as she held him through it all only christened the toasty moment into sleepy perfection.