Doing Loving Thingsby HeideKnightChaptersTalkingHer EyesPettingComplimentsLoveMarriageTalkingYou stand behind an earth pony, another link in the chain waiting outside Starlight’s office. You stroke the wooden box in your pocket. Your palms are slick. You’d will them dry, but it’s difficult to focus. You’ve been like this all morning. The line moves forward a pace. That’s good, at least it’s moving. You move forward, too, then check your watch. It will be noon soon. You look behind you. There are another six creatures behind you. Strike that, another stallion walks into line. Seven. Starlight will miss lunch at this rate. It’s no wonder she’s always hungry when she gets home. “Do you even go here?” the gryphon behind you says. You look at him. Starlight told you her students’ names. This one was… Gallus? You shake your head. “Pfft, figures,” he says and rolls his eyes. “Well, can you step out of line? The councilors’ office is for students only.” You squeeze the box. Gryphons are confrontational and unconcerned with size or age. But you’ve waited long enough. You need to do this before you lose your nerve. You tell him you have business with Starlight. “Look, buddy, these are school hours,” Gallus says. “Don’t make me get the headmare involved.” Heat radiates from your collar. This little parakeet is pushing it. You raise your hand, about to give him a good lecture, when you hear a click. You look. Starlight is standing halfway out the door, her eyes on a clipboard. “Wild Berry is next?” She says and looks to the filly at the line’s head. Then her eyes snap to you. She looks worried. She laughs nervously. She’s cute when she does that. Then her eyes soften. “What are you doing here?” Her words are light, and her tone says “I’m glad to see you”. She looks across the line and frowns. “Just a sec,” she says, then pops away in a flash. The students mutter to each other. “Oh great, now we’ve got to wait even longer,” Gallus says. “Hey, everycreature’s really busy here. You’re messing up our flow.” You’re about to tell him to shove off, but hear murmurings of assent from the rest of the line. You look around. All eyes are on you. “That’s it, I’m getting the headmare,” Gallus says. You’re about to acquiesce, but you hear a crack. The line’s attention turns forward. Starlight is standing, looking apologetic. Beside her stands Fluttershy, one eye hidden behind her voluminous mane. “I have to step away for a bit,” Starlight says, “so professor Fluttershy will be your substitute guidance councilor until I get back!” Fluttershy looks up and flashes a smile. The students mumble, but none object. Starlight looks at you and motions to join her. You look around, then to her and nod. You leave the line and follow her down the hall. You hear a huff behind you. You turn and wave at Gallus. He grimaces. Her EyesStarlight tells you about her day as you walk through the empty, marble halls. She says her line is always long. In fact, today is relatively light. You’re enraptured by her voice. But as you rub your hidden box, your heart rate climbs. You need to find somewhere scenic you can be alone with her. You ask her if you can see the lake. Starlight rubs her muzzle. “I guess that would be alright, but it’s back the other way.” You both turn and walk the way you came. You look to her. You smile involuntarily. You’re glad her eyes are forward. You’re sure you look silly. “Starlight?” Twilight’s voice startles you both. She walks out of a large double door. You assume it’s her office. She nods at you, then looks to Starlight. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” Starlight’s ears droop. “Oh, uh, yeah. I didn’t either until a few minutes ago.” “It’s alright to have visitors, but I’m sure you’re quite busy.” “I, uh.” Starlight glances to you, then refocuses on Twilight. “Fluttershy is covering for me.” Twilight tilts her head and hums. You can sense she’s going to tell Starlight to return to her duties. You clutch the box and step forward. “Yes?” Twilight says, turning toward you. You swallow, then ask Twilight where she’s going. She seems surprised by your question. “To lunch?” You look at your watch, then nod. Starlight has gone weeks without a lunch break, you say, and despite that being against EEA regulations, she has done so without complaint. Both mares look shocked. You continue. Surely, you say, Starlight can take a little time today. A guidance counselor needs a break as much as the head mare. “I, well…” Twilight breathes, then straightens. “Yes, alright.” She smiles at Starlight. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you later.” She nods to you, closes her office door, and leaves. Starlight’s eyes follow her, then she looks at you. You puff out your chest, feeling somewhat proud for standing up for your marefriend. Starlight’s disbelief sticks. “What were you thinking?” Your pride ebbs. You frown. You thought you were helping. “Twilight is my boss,” Starlight says. “And a princess. Do you have any idea what it means to talk to her like that?” You’re starting to get an idea. You lift your hand, ready to apologize, but Starlight presses her nose into your stomach. “It means you’re almost as reckless as I am,” she says. She looks up and meets your gaze. Her eyes shimmer. More beautiful than the ocean during sunset, you think. “Come on,” she says and tugs your hand with her magic. “Let’s go see that lake.” You follow dutifully. PettingYou and Starlight sit on a bench by the lake’s edge. The sound of waterfall is calming and nerve wracking. Starlight watches the water, tail around her hooves, and smiles. You suck air. You want to ask her. You grasp the box in your pocket, but stop when she looks into your eyes. Your courage fails. “What’s wrong?” Starlight asks. You’re sure your face was steady. You were too focused on your expression, in fact. But she detected your feelings anyway. You’re transparent to her. It’s one of the many reasons you’re with her. You release the box and withdraw your pocketed hand. Nothing, you tell her, but she looks unconvinced. You look down. She places her hoof beneath your chin and lifts. She locks eyes with you. You know it’s inescapable. Starlight is worried about you. She’ll drill you until you admit what’s on your mind. You’ll have to distract her. You smile. Her expression is unchanged; she continues searching your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything,” she says. You miss a breath. You nod, then reach out your hand. You tuck your fingers into her mane, then drag them through her ponytail. She stiffens and drops her hoof. She flushes. “W-what are you doing,” Starlight asks. You caress her mane, then drag your fingers across her neck and cup her cheek. She lowers her head and hides her expression. You slide closer and brush your thumb against her face. She looks up at you. Her eyes are shy. “Wait… stop,” she says, but leans into your touch. She nuzzles your palm and closes her eyes. You think yourself lucky to know her. You withdraw your hand and she whines. She looks disgruntled, but melts when you wrap her in your arms. She’s trembling. You trail your fingers up and down her back. She shivers. You withdraw an inch and look at her. She’s staring up at you, too. You lean in toward her lips, movements deliberate and slow. She leans in, too. Brrrriiiiiiiing You both jump. Starlight separates from you, ears back, eyes on the school. The doors swing open and students swell the grounds. Many are holding paper bags and trays. They settle in groups on the grass and along the lake edge. You look at your watch. 12:15, lunch time. You look at Starlight. She’s facing away, but you can see her cheeks. They’re red. You both sit in silence while the school buzzes around you. ComplimentsAnd in silence you and Starlight walk the halls. You feel like you’ve been kicked in the gut. You’ve missed your chance. Sure, you can ask tonight when she returns home, or tomorrow, or a week from now, but you suspect you’ll be as unconfident then as you are now. You came to her workplace today because you’d convinced yourself the time was right. You turn the pocketed box in your miserable fingers. You look at Starlight. Her gait drags. The red in her cheeks has receded, but you preferred embarrassment to melancholy. You decide regrets can wait. Your marefriend’s feelings matter more. You both enter Starlight’s office. The line is gone. You assume the students are at lunch. Starlight slumps behind her desk and rests her head. You sit on the couch. “Ugh, I’m in so much trouble if anypony saw us,” Starlight says. She mimics Twilight’s voice and says, “You know we don’t condone that kind of behavior during school hours, either from students or faculty.” She groans. “I’m the worst guidance counselor in history.” You remain silent. You’re sure that’s untrue. You went to human schools, where guidance counselors are middling bureaucrats who sign detention slips. Seeing Starlight like this is a weight in your chest. You tell her you’re sure no one saw you. “We’ll figure that out when Twilight gets back,” Starlight says. Her head remains glued to her desk. You look at your feet. You suspect coming to Starlight’s job was a bad idea. Another in a long line. You stand. Starlight lifts her head, but you avoid her eyes. You tell her you’ll see her at home, turn, and walk toward the door. “Wait.” Your body freezes. You look down. Starlight’s aura surrounds you. You lift into the air, float through the room, and land on the sofa. Starlight meets your eyes. “You don’t have to go,” she says. “I mean… we have time now, anyway.” She smiles. You hesitate, then pat the couch. Starlight nods, then teleports beside you. You wrap your arm around her. She rests against you. You stroke her side as she nuzzles your face. You tell her she’s beautiful. Your words are easy. They escape without thought. Starlight sighs. Rising with the warm tide in your chest is a niggling. Adrenaline. You squeeze your pantleg. It’s time. LoveYou withdraw the wooden box, but keep it hidden beside your leg. Starlight shifts, but seems unalerted. Centipedes scurry behind your rib cage. You steady your breathing and curl your fingers through her tail. She chuckles. You squeeze the box. “I was worried,” Starlight says. You pause. She continues, “When I saw you, I thought it was something serious.” She pushes her nose to your ear. She kisses it. You hide the box beneath your palm and ask what she means. Starlight shakes her head. “You rarely visit here. When I saw you, I thought ‘this is the last thing I need today’.” You chuckle nervously. Your courage is a crumbling foundation. Starlight puts her hoof on your leg. Her eyes are lidded. “I should have known better. You’ve never been a burden.” You slip the box into your pocket and smile. Starlight tilts her head. “But why did you come today?” You choke on your words. Lying to her, even a white lie, is like bile. Starlight frowns. “What?” You stutter disconnected sentences. Her eyes narrow. Your heart is a drum solo. You say the first true sentence that comes to mind. You say “I love you”. Starlight blinks. She opens and closes her mouth. She looks away, then returns to you. She leans forward. She kisses your lips. Your body firms, but she weaves your tension. Her touch, her breath. You relax. When her kiss breaks, you’re calm. She stares into you. You trace your hand up her side. You withdraw the box. She looks at it and gasps. It’s varnished oak. Atop it is engraved a kite. MarriageYou both stare at the box. You look at Starlight. She’s red again. You stroke her back. You had a speech prepared. You’d thought it over for weeks. It changed daily. You refined it, abandoned it, recovered it, and perfected it. Now you’ve forgotten it. These have always stripped the superficial. It’s you and your mare. Simplicity suits you; you’re breviloquent. You lift the box. Her eyes follow it. You press your thumb to the lid. It slides forward. A single, golden ring rests atop a bed of shredded paper. Starlight pushes away. Tears gather at her lids. “No,” she whispers. Your chest drops. Your hand trembles. You will it still, then lower the box. Starlight looks at you, disbelief stretched across her face. She blinks, then her eyes widen. “No!” She repeats. You nod and push the top closed. Her aura wraps your hand. You look to her again. Tears stream down her face. She shakes her head and chokes a laugh. She returns her hoof to your lap. “No, I didn’t mean no,” she says. Starlight lifts your hand. She opens the lid and takes the ring. You see the words engraved in the band. She seems unaware. You hope they remain hidden. They’re foolish. This venture was foolish. Starlight stares at it. She’s smiling, crying still. Your pulse speeds. You dare a hope. She directs her smile toward you. The ring turns, shimmers, and slides down her horn. She presses against you. “My answer,” she says, voice trembling, “is yes”. You put down the box and look at her. You smile. It grows into a grin. It’s unstoppable. You throw your arms around her. She brushes her nose against your ear and then against your neck. You pull from her and look into her eyes. Your living dream. Those are the words inscribed in her band. Later she’ll see them. You press your lips against her horn. She twitches. She’s cute when she does that.
TalkingYou stand behind an earth pony, another link in the chain waiting outside Starlight’s office. You stroke the wooden box in your pocket. Your palms are slick. You’d will them dry, but it’s difficult to focus. You’ve been like this all morning. The line moves forward a pace. That’s good, at least it’s moving. You move forward, too, then check your watch. It will be noon soon. You look behind you. There are another six creatures behind you. Strike that, another stallion walks into line. Seven. Starlight will miss lunch at this rate. It’s no wonder she’s always hungry when she gets home. “Do you even go here?” the gryphon behind you says. You look at him. Starlight told you her students’ names. This one was… Gallus? You shake your head. “Pfft, figures,” he says and rolls his eyes. “Well, can you step out of line? The councilors’ office is for students only.” You squeeze the box. Gryphons are confrontational and unconcerned with size or age. But you’ve waited long enough. You need to do this before you lose your nerve. You tell him you have business with Starlight. “Look, buddy, these are school hours,” Gallus says. “Don’t make me get the headmare involved.” Heat radiates from your collar. This little parakeet is pushing it. You raise your hand, about to give him a good lecture, when you hear a click. You look. Starlight is standing halfway out the door, her eyes on a clipboard. “Wild Berry is next?” She says and looks to the filly at the line’s head. Then her eyes snap to you. She looks worried. She laughs nervously. She’s cute when she does that. Then her eyes soften. “What are you doing here?” Her words are light, and her tone says “I’m glad to see you”. She looks across the line and frowns. “Just a sec,” she says, then pops away in a flash. The students mutter to each other. “Oh great, now we’ve got to wait even longer,” Gallus says. “Hey, everycreature’s really busy here. You’re messing up our flow.” You’re about to tell him to shove off, but hear murmurings of assent from the rest of the line. You look around. All eyes are on you. “That’s it, I’m getting the headmare,” Gallus says. You’re about to acquiesce, but you hear a crack. The line’s attention turns forward. Starlight is standing, looking apologetic. Beside her stands Fluttershy, one eye hidden behind her voluminous mane. “I have to step away for a bit,” Starlight says, “so professor Fluttershy will be your substitute guidance councilor until I get back!” Fluttershy looks up and flashes a smile. The students mumble, but none object. Starlight looks at you and motions to join her. You look around, then to her and nod. You leave the line and follow her down the hall. You hear a huff behind you. You turn and wave at Gallus. He grimaces.
Her EyesStarlight tells you about her day as you walk through the empty, marble halls. She says her line is always long. In fact, today is relatively light. You’re enraptured by her voice. But as you rub your hidden box, your heart rate climbs. You need to find somewhere scenic you can be alone with her. You ask her if you can see the lake. Starlight rubs her muzzle. “I guess that would be alright, but it’s back the other way.” You both turn and walk the way you came. You look to her. You smile involuntarily. You’re glad her eyes are forward. You’re sure you look silly. “Starlight?” Twilight’s voice startles you both. She walks out of a large double door. You assume it’s her office. She nods at you, then looks to Starlight. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” Starlight’s ears droop. “Oh, uh, yeah. I didn’t either until a few minutes ago.” “It’s alright to have visitors, but I’m sure you’re quite busy.” “I, uh.” Starlight glances to you, then refocuses on Twilight. “Fluttershy is covering for me.” Twilight tilts her head and hums. You can sense she’s going to tell Starlight to return to her duties. You clutch the box and step forward. “Yes?” Twilight says, turning toward you. You swallow, then ask Twilight where she’s going. She seems surprised by your question. “To lunch?” You look at your watch, then nod. Starlight has gone weeks without a lunch break, you say, and despite that being against EEA regulations, she has done so without complaint. Both mares look shocked. You continue. Surely, you say, Starlight can take a little time today. A guidance counselor needs a break as much as the head mare. “I, well…” Twilight breathes, then straightens. “Yes, alright.” She smiles at Starlight. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you later.” She nods to you, closes her office door, and leaves. Starlight’s eyes follow her, then she looks at you. You puff out your chest, feeling somewhat proud for standing up for your marefriend. Starlight’s disbelief sticks. “What were you thinking?” Your pride ebbs. You frown. You thought you were helping. “Twilight is my boss,” Starlight says. “And a princess. Do you have any idea what it means to talk to her like that?” You’re starting to get an idea. You lift your hand, ready to apologize, but Starlight presses her nose into your stomach. “It means you’re almost as reckless as I am,” she says. She looks up and meets your gaze. Her eyes shimmer. More beautiful than the ocean during sunset, you think. “Come on,” she says and tugs your hand with her magic. “Let’s go see that lake.” You follow dutifully.
PettingYou and Starlight sit on a bench by the lake’s edge. The sound of waterfall is calming and nerve wracking. Starlight watches the water, tail around her hooves, and smiles. You suck air. You want to ask her. You grasp the box in your pocket, but stop when she looks into your eyes. Your courage fails. “What’s wrong?” Starlight asks. You’re sure your face was steady. You were too focused on your expression, in fact. But she detected your feelings anyway. You’re transparent to her. It’s one of the many reasons you’re with her. You release the box and withdraw your pocketed hand. Nothing, you tell her, but she looks unconvinced. You look down. She places her hoof beneath your chin and lifts. She locks eyes with you. You know it’s inescapable. Starlight is worried about you. She’ll drill you until you admit what’s on your mind. You’ll have to distract her. You smile. Her expression is unchanged; she continues searching your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything,” she says. You miss a breath. You nod, then reach out your hand. You tuck your fingers into her mane, then drag them through her ponytail. She stiffens and drops her hoof. She flushes. “W-what are you doing,” Starlight asks. You caress her mane, then drag your fingers across her neck and cup her cheek. She lowers her head and hides her expression. You slide closer and brush your thumb against her face. She looks up at you. Her eyes are shy. “Wait… stop,” she says, but leans into your touch. She nuzzles your palm and closes her eyes. You think yourself lucky to know her. You withdraw your hand and she whines. She looks disgruntled, but melts when you wrap her in your arms. She’s trembling. You trail your fingers up and down her back. She shivers. You withdraw an inch and look at her. She’s staring up at you, too. You lean in toward her lips, movements deliberate and slow. She leans in, too. Brrrriiiiiiiing You both jump. Starlight separates from you, ears back, eyes on the school. The doors swing open and students swell the grounds. Many are holding paper bags and trays. They settle in groups on the grass and along the lake edge. You look at your watch. 12:15, lunch time. You look at Starlight. She’s facing away, but you can see her cheeks. They’re red. You both sit in silence while the school buzzes around you.
ComplimentsAnd in silence you and Starlight walk the halls. You feel like you’ve been kicked in the gut. You’ve missed your chance. Sure, you can ask tonight when she returns home, or tomorrow, or a week from now, but you suspect you’ll be as unconfident then as you are now. You came to her workplace today because you’d convinced yourself the time was right. You turn the pocketed box in your miserable fingers. You look at Starlight. Her gait drags. The red in her cheeks has receded, but you preferred embarrassment to melancholy. You decide regrets can wait. Your marefriend’s feelings matter more. You both enter Starlight’s office. The line is gone. You assume the students are at lunch. Starlight slumps behind her desk and rests her head. You sit on the couch. “Ugh, I’m in so much trouble if anypony saw us,” Starlight says. She mimics Twilight’s voice and says, “You know we don’t condone that kind of behavior during school hours, either from students or faculty.” She groans. “I’m the worst guidance counselor in history.” You remain silent. You’re sure that’s untrue. You went to human schools, where guidance counselors are middling bureaucrats who sign detention slips. Seeing Starlight like this is a weight in your chest. You tell her you’re sure no one saw you. “We’ll figure that out when Twilight gets back,” Starlight says. Her head remains glued to her desk. You look at your feet. You suspect coming to Starlight’s job was a bad idea. Another in a long line. You stand. Starlight lifts her head, but you avoid her eyes. You tell her you’ll see her at home, turn, and walk toward the door. “Wait.” Your body freezes. You look down. Starlight’s aura surrounds you. You lift into the air, float through the room, and land on the sofa. Starlight meets your eyes. “You don’t have to go,” she says. “I mean… we have time now, anyway.” She smiles. You hesitate, then pat the couch. Starlight nods, then teleports beside you. You wrap your arm around her. She rests against you. You stroke her side as she nuzzles your face. You tell her she’s beautiful. Your words are easy. They escape without thought. Starlight sighs. Rising with the warm tide in your chest is a niggling. Adrenaline. You squeeze your pantleg. It’s time.
LoveYou withdraw the wooden box, but keep it hidden beside your leg. Starlight shifts, but seems unalerted. Centipedes scurry behind your rib cage. You steady your breathing and curl your fingers through her tail. She chuckles. You squeeze the box. “I was worried,” Starlight says. You pause. She continues, “When I saw you, I thought it was something serious.” She pushes her nose to your ear. She kisses it. You hide the box beneath your palm and ask what she means. Starlight shakes her head. “You rarely visit here. When I saw you, I thought ‘this is the last thing I need today’.” You chuckle nervously. Your courage is a crumbling foundation. Starlight puts her hoof on your leg. Her eyes are lidded. “I should have known better. You’ve never been a burden.” You slip the box into your pocket and smile. Starlight tilts her head. “But why did you come today?” You choke on your words. Lying to her, even a white lie, is like bile. Starlight frowns. “What?” You stutter disconnected sentences. Her eyes narrow. Your heart is a drum solo. You say the first true sentence that comes to mind. You say “I love you”. Starlight blinks. She opens and closes her mouth. She looks away, then returns to you. She leans forward. She kisses your lips. Your body firms, but she weaves your tension. Her touch, her breath. You relax. When her kiss breaks, you’re calm. She stares into you. You trace your hand up her side. You withdraw the box. She looks at it and gasps. It’s varnished oak. Atop it is engraved a kite.
MarriageYou both stare at the box. You look at Starlight. She’s red again. You stroke her back. You had a speech prepared. You’d thought it over for weeks. It changed daily. You refined it, abandoned it, recovered it, and perfected it. Now you’ve forgotten it. These have always stripped the superficial. It’s you and your mare. Simplicity suits you; you’re breviloquent. You lift the box. Her eyes follow it. You press your thumb to the lid. It slides forward. A single, golden ring rests atop a bed of shredded paper. Starlight pushes away. Tears gather at her lids. “No,” she whispers. Your chest drops. Your hand trembles. You will it still, then lower the box. Starlight looks at you, disbelief stretched across her face. She blinks, then her eyes widen. “No!” She repeats. You nod and push the top closed. Her aura wraps your hand. You look to her again. Tears stream down her face. She shakes her head and chokes a laugh. She returns her hoof to your lap. “No, I didn’t mean no,” she says. Starlight lifts your hand. She opens the lid and takes the ring. You see the words engraved in the band. She seems unaware. You hope they remain hidden. They’re foolish. This venture was foolish. Starlight stares at it. She’s smiling, crying still. Your pulse speeds. You dare a hope. She directs her smile toward you. The ring turns, shimmers, and slides down her horn. She presses against you. “My answer,” she says, voice trembling, “is yes”. You put down the box and look at her. You smile. It grows into a grin. It’s unstoppable. You throw your arms around her. She brushes her nose against your ear and then against your neck. You pull from her and look into her eyes. Your living dream. Those are the words inscribed in her band. Later she’ll see them. You press your lips against her horn. She twitches. She’s cute when she does that.
