Dear Princess Sunbutt

by 2Merr

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Random, Princess Celestia, Sex, Anthology, Twilight Sparkle, Profanity, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Anon
Length: 33378

Anon takes over Spike’s job of transcribing Twilight’s friendship reports. He does exactly what you’d expect.

Anon takes over Spike’s job of transcribing Twilight’s friendship reports. He does exactly what you’d expect.

Companion fic containing Celestia’s replies up to Letter 120 - To: Anon, From HRH Sunbutt written by Snow

Published 2019-09-27 02:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-12 20:48:26 UTC

Letter 2

Dear Princess Hotcheeks,

Today I learned that—and this is gonna sound crazy, but hear me out—lying is bad. I know, it’s hard to wrap your head around, but think about it for a minute.

I didn’t tell Rarararararararararararararararararara the truth about how stupid her hat looks, so she wore it around town. When people rightfully laughed at her stupid hat, she got offended. I lied to her again, saying they were laughing at how ugly I looked walking next to such a beautiful hat. She believed me because she’s as dumb as I am. When she found out the truth, she felt betrayed and didn’t want to talk to me anymore. This is when I realized that not all good friendships are built on lies. Only some.

Your wannabe buttslut,
Twiggle Pigs

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 3

Dear Princess Cake ‘n Bake,

Today I didn’t learn that I’m racist as fuck. What I did learn is that Anon is way smarter than I am. Just because he’s not a gay midget horse doesn’t mean he’s not as smart as one. I still fail to see any racism on my part for thinking that in the first place.

All my friends are equally dumb and racist because we didn’t give Anon’s genius ideas a chance. When we finally gave in, we acted like stuck up twats about it before being shut the fuck up by the smartest being in Equestria. Humans are clearly the superior race, not that I’ll ever acknowledge it.

Your purplest pony,
Purple Pony

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 4

Dear Princess Perfection’s older sister,

Today I did jack shit and blamed all my friends for not having as much free time as me. They had to work because they’re not trust fund babies like I am, and I was too busy having all my shit paid for by royalty to notice the plights of those beneath me. Maybe one day I’ll develop a natural sense of empathy, but today is not that day.

Your royal leech,
Twat Spackle

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 5

Dear Princess White Matriarchy,

Today I learned that sometimes it really do be like that.

Your home-grown bibliophile,
Twiddle Fiddle

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 6

Dear Princess Smacks-a-lot,*

Today I learned that yelling at people for having a reasonable difference of opinion is not a good way to make friends. It also does nothing to change their minds.

Since I am unable to defend my blind worship of the Daring Do series and its many, many flaws, I resorted to attacking those who pointed out those flaws. I now realize that when someone criticizes something I like, I shouldn’t try to force them to think differently using a combination of science, magic, and questionable ethics.

Your unhinged sociopath,
Tinky Winky

* I couldn’t decide between that and Snacks-a-lot. Point is, you got the fattest ass.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 7

Dear Princess Cellybelly,*

Today I learned that hiding from your problems doesn’t solve them, it often only makes them worse. You’d think I would have learned this from my parents, or maybe some other prominent authority figure in my childhood. You’d also think I would be smart enough to know that zombies don’t just disappear if you pretend you didn’t create them. Go figure.

Your apparently-a-necromancer-now,
Titty Spittle

* I realize that saying you have the fattest ass last time could have been taken as an insult. Believe you me, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Your ass is the second best in the business.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 8

Dear Princess Booty Butt,

Today I avoided all repercussions for my actions by mentioning my status as the student of the Princess.* I’m pretending that I learned something about personal responsibility, but in reality the opposite happened. The only thing I learned is that you can get away with pretty much anything—up to and including kidnapping—if you know the right people.

Your future serial murderer,
Twitchy Squiggle

* She actually said “the” Princess. Her words, not mine. It makes me feel bad for Luna and the lack of respect she gets. Tell her she’s my favorite for me.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 10

Dear Princess Celestia,

Twilight’s out of town for a book convention, so I’m free for the day. I know we’ve had our differences, but I’d like to ask you for a special favor. I’m kind of in the mood to watch a cheesy movie with a pretty mare. And since princesses make their own free time, I was thinking you could ask Luna if she’s interested.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 11

Dear Princess Celery,

Today I learned that doing dangerous shit to show people you’re strong is not a good idea. It doesn’t make you look strong, it makes you look dumb.

My friends were talking about who was the strongest and they all agreed I’m the weakest, which I clearly am. I wasn’t happy with them knowing the truth, so I wanted to prove myself the first chance I got. That first chance involved Applesauce’s barn. She needed help fixing a support beam, so my genius ass thought it was the perfect time to be stronk. I tried holding up the entire roof by myself. No magic. Apple said to use magic, but I am dumb and purple. I’m also injured now, but it’s only a bruised hip. As a side note, we got the barn fixed after I stopped being a dumbass and actually used the bone wand sticking out of my forehead.

Your limping biscuit,
Twiggly Wiggly

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 12

Dear Princess Bunburn,

Today I learned that being jealous of other people’s happiness turns you into an unlikeable ball of anti-fun. On a normal day, it takes me a hot minute to suck the fun out a room, but today I managed to do it in exactly six seconds.

Buttershush and I were supposed to hang out alone at the library today so I could try getting her to mash snatches with me, though I publicly deny such accusations. Anyway, right as I was about to reach second base, in walks Pinka Ponk. She and Butters start having a good time talking about family and shit, so I put an end to that real quick by reminding them I’m the sister of a prince. They stopped talking, and I immediately realized how autistic I am. I did the apology thing and we all had a grand old time.

Your horniest hornicorn,
Tim Tam

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 13

Dearest Princess Celestia, Ruler of Equestria, Raiser of the Sun,

Greetings. It is I, Twilight Sparkle, the Element of Magic. You will be pleased to know that my recent quest to oust a small changeling hive has resulted in complete and total victory for Equestria and its ponies. I have preemptively taken care of all matters relating to the surrounding towns and the potential changeling spies within them. All of the changelings are gone and the ponies are completely safe, so there is no need for you to watch this region any longer.

Your most loyal subject and defender of Equestria,
Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Celestia’s “reply”

Letter 13.5

Dear Princess Celestia,

Sorry, sorry, that last one was a joke. Please call off the guards. Twilight is terrified, which is funny and all, but she doesn’t know I sent that letter. Sorry for the trouble, I didn’t think it would get out of hand so quickly.

Love, A non-changeling

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 14

Dear Princess Toasty Tush,

Today I fucked up. No lesson, no personal growth on my part, just a fat wad of I-made-an-oopsie.

Go Fast hit a tree and got a massive shiner out of it. She had a big flight competition coming up, and she didn’t want to fly in front of everyone looking like she lost a fight, so I offered to fix it. In my defense, she agreed immediately, so we’re both idiots.

Anyway, my forte lies in destroying literally anything. Healing is the exact opposite of that, so I’m sure you can see where this is going. Long story short, she’s blind now. It’s cool, though. It’s only temporary.

Actually, that makes me realize there was a lesson to be learned. Don’t do things you know you aren’t good at, especially when there’s a chance for serious bodily harm.

Your medical malpractitioner,
Booty Butt Jr

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 15

Dear Princess White Hot Tamale,

Today I learned that turning an apple into an orange is not a good counterpoint when someone says you’re comparing apples to oranges. It doesn’t make you right, it just makes you an asshole.

I also learned that you can turn apples into oranges, but not the other way around. I will experiment more with this and probably cause some weird magical fruit singularity.

Your living algorithm,
Twizzlers

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 17

Dear Princess Bighorse,

Today I learned that teleporting a sleeping stallion to use as changeling bait is seen as morally questionable by literally everyone. My basic sense of right and wrong was apparently removed to make room for more books.

One of the rogue changeling queens has been captured, and I’m pretending to regret the methods I used to accomplish this. Shiny Hiney is uninjured, but will suffer from another minor case of extreme mental trauma and will likely never trust again.

Your public safety hazard,
Twisted Sister

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 17.1

Hey Tia,

I don’t know if you told Twi something weird, but she’s trying to convince me to swap bodies with her every other Tuesday from 3:00 to 4:30. Should I be worried? I kind of want to agree just to see what happens.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 19

Dear Princess Outranked-by-a-literal-bug,

Today I learned that not everything has to be sexual.

Flutterhush invited me over for tea because she wanted to show me “something private.” I came as fast as I could and then ran to her cottage, but all she actually wanted was my opinion on a book she was writing. It sucked fat tits, but I wanted to suck hers, so I said it had potential.

(She’s now rambling about how inadequate she sometimes feels, so I’m writing this to pretend like I’m still listening. Blah blah blah blah blah. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. Antidisestablishmentarianism. I had to look up how to spell that one. She’s still going. Wow. This might take a while. I’ll just scribble in the corner until she’s done.*)

Your bluebeaned basket case,
Thotlight Stalker

* Twenty-seven minutes. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say she might have issues.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 20

Hi, Princess Celestia!

Twilight said this candle can send letters like Spike, so I’m writing to tell you that I think you’re great! I’m a big fan of the sun, it’s always so nice and warm. And you have a really pretty mane! I wish mine could move around like that. It would make my bed head WAY easier to deal with.

Tell Princess Luna she’s great, too! She’s so nice, even if she’s usually serious. Nonny likes her a lot! He’s always saying she’s the perfect big titty goth jee eff, with the titty down south. I don’t really get it, but he was smiling, so it must have been a compliment!

Also, please don’t tell Twilight I sent this. She said the candle is for important stuffs only, but you’re always important to me!

Lots of love,
Pinkie Pie

P.S. - Gummy says hi!

Letter 20.1

Celly,

Whatever Pinkie said, it’s not my fault. It was dark, and I had been drinking.

That pic is adorable, by the way. Definitely going up on the board.

“Did you know Luna still keeps her warhammer polished?”

Not gonna lie, that’s kinda hot. Also, it sounds like you’re jealous you’ll never have your own BTGGF(wttds).

And do you actually show these to her? I thought you just passed the message in your own words. That makes things a little awkward.

She’s still my favorite, though.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Twilight thinks I’m writing my own “friendship report” right now, so if she asks, just tell her I learned about not talking over people or something, I don’t know.

Author's Note

Response to this

Celestia’s reply

Letter 22

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that “exploring your options” is not an invitation to probe said options while they sleep.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle*

* Her exact words. Aren’t you proud of me for doing my job right for once?

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 23

Dear Princess 1 of 2.5,

Today I learned that music theory is not the same as actual music. Even more so, I learned I have no musical talent whatsoever.* From now on, I’ll be leaving that to those with the appropriate ass tattoos.

Your former rapper,
T-Wank (feat. Deese Nuhtz)

* Not entirely true. I heard her burp the alphabet once.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 24

Dear Princess Cellophane,

Today I learned that funeral etiquette varies widely depending on who died. Cracking jokes at an old person’s funeral: sometimes okay. Cracking jokes at a baby’s funeral: never okay.

Your maladjusted malady,
Tape Stapler

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 25

Dear Princess Hot Cakes,

Today I learned the salad fork always goes on the left, even if it’s less efficient for the current table setting based on the planned course. I also learned to never question Rarity when it comes to inane bullshit no one actually cares about.

Your unused soup spoon,
Burger Slut

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 26

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that the hokey pokey is in fact not what it’s all about.

I have been mislead my entire life. Everything I have been taught up to this point is now being brought into question. My world view has been shattered. My right hoof will forever remain in—whatever “in” is—never to be taken out.

I will not be attending tea time this week. I need time to think.

Your ~~faithful~~ confused student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 26.1

Celestia,

I don’t know what happened, but Twi’s gone full catatonic. Spike said she was reading a philosophy book when she snapped and started writing equations everywhere. Now she’s staring into a corner mumbling about how she’ll never get her right hoof back. I may or may not be freaking the fuck out right now.

Please fix her.

Love, Anon

P.S. - If she dies, do I get Spike?

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 26.2

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 26.2

Celestia,

I just hit her a whole bunch and it seems to have worked. I’ll do the other stuff too, just in case.

And by “follow her around” do you mean I have to watch her poop? Because that’s nasty.

Love, Anon

P.S. - I’d still like an answer on who gets Spike if Twilight dies.

Letter 27

Dear Princess Sylvestia Stallone,

Today I learned that fat people are people x two, and that they have feelings.

When picking teams for dodgeball, the strategic benefit of picking the largest and least agile person last is heavily outweighed by the social stigma garnered by that person crying and blaming you for making them eat because they always get picked last. I will consider my options more carefully in the future to determine if the person I'm ostracizing is likely to lash out afterwards.

Despite this, I will still be picking Rainblue first every single time. She's easily worth five Pronkies, two Yeehaws, and a paid-off referee.

Your ball magnet,
Tribbles

Letter 27.1

Dear Princess Solar Beam,

Today I learned that you shouldn’t settle legal disputes through dodgeball. Not only because verbal contracts are non-binding, but because injuries incurred while playing will lead to more legal disputes.

Your walking bruise,
Black and Blurple

P.S. - Scoot Poot needs a lawyer. Any recommendations?

Letter 28

Dear Princess Cell Tower,

Remember that apple and orange thing? Well, I have some good news and some bad news.

The good news: I finally figured out how to turn an orange into an apple.

The bad news: The apple is screaming now.

I’ll work out the kinks later. For now, I’m calling this experiment a success.

Your mad scientist,
Tinker Spell

Letter 28.2

Celestia,

So as it turns out, burying the smashed remains of the screaming apple was not a good idea. My bad. There is now a screaming tree on the outskirts of Ponyville. Twilight is getting an axe.

Love, Anon

Letter 28.3

Celestia,

The screaming tree has produced more screaming apples. AJ and her family have rallied together and are defending the tree from harm.

Anon

Letter 28.4

Now the Apple clan is screaming too.

Letter 28.5

help

Letter 28.6

Never mind, we got it.

Author's Note

Celestia's reply

Letter 30

Dear Princess SunnyD,

Today I learned that not all changelings have to be killed immediately.

Anon found an injured changeling named Stupid* while exploring the forest. I wanted to kill it because protocols or whatever, but then I remembered something you once told me: We haven’t used the Elements on a changeling yet.

So I loaded up the Six-Part Harmony Cannon and fired at Stupid. He died.

Now we know what happens when the Elements are used on changelings. Another win for science.

Your executioner-in-chief,
Timmy Turner

* I found him, so I got to name him.

Love, Anon

Letter 31

URGENT - READ ASAP

Big White: Pass to Medium Blue.

Medium Blue,

No time to explain, I need you to make a squirrel constellation appear underneath the moon before morning.

Small Purple

Letter 31.1

ABORT OPERATION: SQUIRREL STARS

THE PLAN IS COMPROMISED. DO NOT SHOW THE CONSTELLATION.

Letter 32

Dear Princess Sundae,

Today I learned you shouldn’t lecture a vendor on the optimal price of ice cream until after buying the ice cream. Otherwise, you risk being charged double and looking like a pretentious twat waffle.

Your six bit banana split,
Twily Two-Scoops

Letter 33

Dear Princess Assoline,

Today I learned that I shouldn’t try to hang out with Anon and Spike on their Bro DayTM. Not only am I a huge nerd, I also lack testicles, both of which disqualify me from being Bro material.*

Bro DayTM is a sacred ritual from Anon’s home world, and I violated several human traditions by attempting to participate without fully understanding its rich cultural history and meaning. In the future, I will be more inclined to check myself before I wreck myself.

Your one-nerd herd,
Book Horse

* We sometimes let Dash join. She’s got bigger metaphorical balls than anyone I’ve ever met, plus she brings pizza and cider. 200% Bro material.

Love, Anon

Letter 34

Dear Princess Forever 21,*

Today I learned that kids can be smart too, especially when it comes to making life less complicated.

Like I do every first Sunday of the month, I was calculating as many new digits of pi as I could. Sweebles asked me why I was doing it, and I realized I couldn’t answer without revealing my power level. Anon thankfully answered for me, telling her something close to the truth: that I was making up stupidly small numbers no one would ever use. She looked at me like I’m stupid because I am and then said, “Why not just round?”

She’s currently on her way to Canterlot to receive eleven different medals of scientific and mathematic excellence. I hope to one day possess a brain as big as hers.

Your underperforming overachiever,
Crylight Sniffles

* Seriously, you don’t look your age in the best possible way.

Love, Anon

Letter 35

Dear Princess Tia and Crumpets,

Today I learned I'm not a good dancer.*

Your social sandpaper,
Purp Twerkle

* She’s underselling just how bad it actually was. Some foals were crying by the time it was over.

Love, Anon

Letter 36

Dear Princess Pegacorn,

Today I learned that casting a transfiguration spell on poison joke before touching it does not nullify its effects.

Your temporary boyhorse,
T-Willy

It was my idea, in case you were wondering. I also touched it to see what would happen. It gave me another butt cheek.

Love, Anon

Letter 38

Dear Chancellor Palpatia,

Today I learned of the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise.

Your young padawan,
Annie Skysparkle

P.S. - I don’t like sand.

Letter 39

Dear Darth Celsius,

Today I learned how to become one with the Horse.

Your hopefully immortal ghost,
Twi-Gon Jinn

Letter 40

Hi again, Princess Celestia!

I tried sending you cookies earlier, but I guess the candle only works on paper. I can't send them through the normal mail because then they won’t be warm and gooey when you get them. I’ll figure it out, don’t worry!

Twilight and Nonny are watching a bunch of old documentaries while they regrow their bones, so the girls and I are taking turns helping Spike keep them comfy. He said it should only take a couple days this time, since Twilight is so good at the spell now.

Anyway, you and Princess Luna are doing great! Keep it up!

Lots of love,
Pinkie Pie

Letter 41

Yo Tia,

I just realized Luna backwards is Anul.

Love, Anon

Letter 42

O Magical Narwhal of the Sky,

Today I learned that unlike books, friendships are irreplaceable. Luckily, I have discovered a way to circumvent this by only befriending books. My collection of friends will never diminish again.

Your extra chromosome,
Purpaderp

Letter 43

Dear Princess Second Bestia,

Today I learned that only good ponies get to sit in the Good Pony Box.

Your furry magical girl,
Twilight “The Spankle” Sparkle

Letter 44

Dear Princess Day Mare,

Today I learned that shoving your hoof into someone’s mouth is not a good way to prove you aren’t “salty”* about getting completely and utterly annihilated in Horse Monopoly.

Your third house on Park Place,
Saltlick Sparkle

* She was so salty I had to get an IV drip to rehydrate myself.

Love, Anon

Letter 45

Dear Princess of the Hour,

Today I learned that handing out clocks is not what it means to give someone the time of day.

Your clock goblin,
Second Hand Sparkle

Letter 46

Dear Princess Chillestia,

Today I learned that drugs* aren’t all bad.

Your stoner poner,
Twi-dye

* It wasn’t my fault, you can blame Cheerilee this time.

Love, Anon

P.S. - She’s not doing anything bad, she’s just very affectionate now. I don’t like it.

Letter 47

Dear Princess Cellphone,

Today I learned that hickeys are a mark of sexual love, and should not be used to show affection for a family member.

Your freak with a streak,
50 Shades of Purple

Letter 48.1

Hey Tia,

Fluttershy publicly came out as straight today. All of her friends have been supportive, and they don’t seem to suspect anything odd about her timing.

Twilight is pretending to have the flu, but she’s just crying and masturbating in her room. I think she gave herself a dick at some point because I keep having to clean up fluids that don’t come from a lady.

If I can’t find enough booze to last the week, I'm gonna take her to pony Vegas to get her laid. I’m sure there’s some mare out there with a tramp stamp in pity sex. At the very least, I’ll make sure she’s too busy having fun to think about Flubbadub.

Love, Anon

Letter 48.2

Celestia,

I’ll be brief about this: Twilight got pony syphilis when we went to pony Vegas. She’s got meds already; the doctor said it’ll clear up in about two weeks.

Frankly, I'm disappointed in both you and her. She should have known better than to have unprotected sex while being so purple. I can only imagine what kind of example you must have set for her.

Anon

Letter 49

Dear Princess Sunroof,

Today I learned that treating furniture as a replacement for family members while they’re away is widely considered to be unhealthy behavior. I have publicly vowed to stop talking to my armoire and credenza, but in reality I just moved them to the closet where I can talk to them without receiving odd looks.

Your crooked bookshelf,
Spriggles

Letter 50

Dear Princess Celantro,

Today I learned that “eating the forgetti spaghetti” refers to someone suffering from dementia. There are unfortunately no food items capable of erasing memories yet.

Your main brainlet,
Toaster Sparks

Letter 52.1

Dear Princess Celisbury Steak,*

I’ve moved my hyperfixation away from Butternut. Trixie Bluepoon is my new obsession. Her lack of brains compliments my lack of everything,** plus she’s partially dependent on me until her leg fully heals. Our mutual racism against hairless, elongated chimps will be the foundation upon which our relationship is built.

Your lavender lesbian,
Two-tone Twinkles

* She thinks I’m sending this to Cadance lmao.

** Trixie at least has a nice ass to make up for it. Also, you should see her try walking around with a tiny leg, shit’s hilarious.

Love, Anon

Letter 53

Gummy. O M G.

You will not believe what just the Dans just did. Well, it was mostly Danthony, but Dandrew helped. Anyway, they were supposed to be delivering the rest of Tedward to his mother yesterday, right? But instead of slacking off and forgetting, they actually did it. They made the delivery exactly like they were supposed to. They even knocked on Tedmom’s door. I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life, and I wasn’t even involved. Poor Tedward would be rolling in his grave if he was dead. On the bright side, at least it’s not as bad as that thing Celestia keeps doing. Can you imagine raising the sun on time every single day? It’s disgusting. I’m appalled they still let her around foals.

Speaking of foals, don’t forget to miss our pool party last week. It’ll be just like laser tag, I promise.

Love you dozens,
Discord

Letter 53.1

Whoops, wrong number. Ignore that.

Letter 54

Dear Princess Cell Saga,

Today I learned that having a positive self-image does not magically make your clothes fit.

For pony Halloween, I was going to dress up as Mare Do Well. (You remember her, right? The thing we did that one time with the stuff? Yeah, that.) I tried on my old costume and for some unknown reason I thought it fit. I guess my excessive purpleness is causing me to lose my vision, because the stitching near the waist was screaming for mercy.

Anon kindly pointed this fact out, but I told him he was just trying to be mean (which is entirely unfair on my part, Anon has only ever been a gentleman). I then tried showing off my muffin top to Spike and Trix Ahoy, and they both told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Again, my purple prevented me from noticing their pained expressions as they lied to my face.

Feeling temporarily validated, I tried removing the costume only to tear it in several places. Now this isn’t your normal fabric, this was made to withstand the rigors of being a superhero. But my lipid layer burst through that shit like the Kool-Aid Man. Needless to say, Anon was right, not that I’ll ever admit it. I’ll be dressing as something else this year.

Your too-tight spandex,
Cellulite Sparkle

Letter 55

Dear Princess Tia Khalifa,

Today I learned that “birthday sex” is thankfully not mandatory.* That mare in pony Vegas lied to me.**

Your silly filly,
Teaspoon

* She was worried Spike would try to get freaky with Rarity on his birthday tomorrow. I don’t think he even knows what sex is yet.

** Her name was Mistress Honeysuckle, and she was an absolute angel. She set us up with all the fun girls. Twi was too busy being a virgin at the time to tell the birthday thing was a joke.

Love, Anon

Letter 56

Dear Princess Muh Muh Muh My Corona,

Today Princess Luna told us all kinds of stories about the world back when it was cool.* Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a chariot made from a giant dragon skull?

Your reading rainbow,
Twigglet

* Yet another tally in the Best Princess column.

Do you still have the skull chariot, by the way? It sounds badass. Imagine riding up to the dragon king in the severed head of his ancestor. Talk about a power play.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Is Luna mad at me? She kept slapping me with her tail and pretending not to hear me when I asked her about it.

Letter 57

Dear Princess Celypso,

Today I learned that thinking before acting is usually a good idea.

Trickshot and I were having a picnic near the Everfree because everyone in this town seems to forget about the monsters that keep spawning there. We heard a scream like a banshee come from (surprise!) the forest. Any normal person would run away from the obvious danger, but I’m dumb and purple and I wanted to impress my future lesbian horsewife, so I charged in blind.

It turned out to be a cockatrice mating ritual; they apparently engage in shouting matches before doing the dirty. They both saw me peeping on their foreplay, so I got rock hard immediately. Thankfully, Trix Angel was able to drag me away to the black magic woman without getting stoned herself. Some voodoo happened, and I awoke with a renewed sense of self-preservation.

Your accidental voyeur,
The Grapist

Letter 59

Dear Princess Caesar,

Today I learned that sometimes it’s okay to molest people if you’re scared.

Your spaghetti generator,
Titty Tweaker

Letter 61

Dear Princess Saintlestia,

Today I didn’t learn not to trust demons, even ones summoned by a friend.

Anon and Ponker Po were doing their normal routine—watching Randy cry and eat ice cream—when Pink Ponk suddenly started shaking and speaking in tongues. Anon, that brave, handsome man, shouted a manly call for assistance, but Party Pop assured him all was k. She said she was talking to her new friends, Scribbles the Skinless and Dave from Accounting, who she had summoned earlier to help bake a special kind of strudel.

Shortly after this, I teleported in with Spike, having heard Anon’s manly voice all the way from the library (he has very powerful and handsome lungs). The demons began speaking to us using Ponki’s mane and tail as mouthpieces. Scribbles introduced himself as an “ambassador to the mortals” while Dave just screamed really loud. I trusted both of them immediately because I wanted to prove I wasn’t racist.

Anon sent Spike away to get stuff, then we followed Pank around, talking to the demons about various things. At one point, Scribbles asked for advice on his plan to overthrow the lower realms. You’d think that would give most people pause, but I am not most people. I am the rarest and most dangerous combination of dumb and purple this universe has ever seen.

Before I could finish detailing the flaws in his plan, Spike returned with a bunch of salt shakers, which he and Anon started emptying onto Ponkers. She laughed because “it tickled” and the demons fled her body, fading back into the aether. Anon then sat me down and explained to me how not to be dumb, but I wasn’t listening because I was too busy moping about not getting to finish my lecture on realm-conquering.

If the demons ever try to wage war on us, I will most likely be a hindrance, if not an outright traitor.

Your angle or yuor devil,
Starscream

Letter 62

Dear Princess Capri Sun,

In order to clear my rightfully earned reputation as Twilight “FATNAP”* Sparkle, I’ve decided to host a donation drive for the pitiful non-ponies of Ponyville. Never mind the implications that being a non-pony means you need help.

I will update you on our progress throughout the day.

Your incompetent tryhard,
Twiggie the Poo

* FATNAP = Fuck Anything That’s Not A Pony
But I’m sure you already knew that.

Love, Anon

Letter 62.1

Dear Princess C#,

A group of college students donated some bits and thanked me for being an “ally.” They even volunteered to help.

Tiddlywinks

Letter 62.2

Hey Celestia,

A griffon and a zebra just tried to rob the donation drive. They were arrested, but then the college kids from earlier ripped the FATtest NAP by yelling at everyone around us and blaming society for not being accommodating enough to non-ponies. Because clearly they can’t help but commit crimes if they don’t have ponies to guide them along a civilized path.

Twilight wasn’t going to tell you about this because she didn’t want you to worry.

Love, Anon

Letter 62.3

Dear Princess Celestia,

Anon got into a fight with one of the college students, a unicorn stallion. They were arguing about something involving a rich zebra and a poor pony. I don’t remember exactly. Anon... Well, I’ll just say he has a talent for using vulgarities in ways I didn’t think possible.

He’s thankfully uninjured, but he decided to stay at the library for the rest of the day. Please don’t be mad at him, Princess. The other pony attacked first. Anon may be abrasive, but he’s not violent.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 62.4

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m starting to understand what Anon meant when he said having lower expectations of someone is just another way of looking down on them.

I’ve changed the focus of the donation drive to funding the local homeless shelter. The volunteers left, but we’re getting more support now.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 62.5

Dear Princess Celestia,

We raised over two thousand bits for the homeless shelter.

I learned a lot today.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 64

Dear Princess Sunflower,

I’m really glad I’m friends with Applejack because god damn is she ruthless.

Six months ago, the Apples were all booty bothered because Filthy Rich was building a motel right on the edge of the orchard. The construction would damage dozens of trees, directly affecting their business. Muddy Money offered them a big bag of bitcoin to offset their potential losses, but Little Miss Leather ‘n Lassos was having none of it. She marched straight into town the next day with her own bag of bitcoin, but didn’t say what she was going to do with it. She eventually stopped talking about the construction, so we assumed she had given up.

Fast-forward to yesterday. The motel was mostly finished, so Fruitsnack revealed to us that she had already gone through the process of purchasing three tiny slivers of land around the site. In just a few hours, she had a fence put up, effectively blocking off three sides of the motel. If anyone wanted to stay there, they’d have to either jump the fence or walk around to the rear of the building and then walk all the way back to the front just to get inside. Needless to say, this would heavily deter customers. It was also probably illegal, but we’re going to ignore that.

Dirty Dollar caved like a little bitch and sold the motel at a loss to the Apples. They plan to turn it into a warehouse by next year to store their cider.

If nothing else, ~~I will take this as a powerful example of what can be accomplished through pure spite.~~ I now have a fun story to tell about my friend.

Your permanent purple nurple,
Twice Cream

Letter 65

Hey Tia,

I’m in the hospital again. It’s pretty comfy here, but it’s boring as hell. My throat is swollen to about the size of a straw, so I made up a little game to entertain myself—try to breathe enough to not die. It’s been a blast so far.

Did you know cashews are in the same family as poison ivy? I didn’t. Did you know eating raw cashews is like putting poison ivy in your mouth? I didn’t. Did you know the inside of your stomach can itch? I didn’t. I’m learning so many fun things recently.

In my defense, cashews are delicious and Twilight didn’t specifically mention poison when she told me not to eat them, so this is partially her fault for not watching me more closely.

Tell Luna I’m sorry we can’t have movie night this week. She seemed really eager to finish the Lord of the Rings trilogy, so she’ll probably be mad at me. I’ll figure out some way to make it up to her for me being dumb.

Love, Anon

P.S. - You don’t need to keep making up excuses to skip movie night. I’m not trying to turn it into a date night with Luna or anything. I just want to hang out with my friends.

P.P.S. - These pain pills are fucking great. I can’t even tell where my teeth are.

pppss. - lol pp

ppsspsp hi

Dear Princess Celestia,

Anon wrote five more “postscripts,” but they were either unreadable or contained drawings of things you don’t send to a Princess, so I hope you don’t mind that I tore them off before sending his letter. He was too loopy to notice.

Spike

Letter 66

Dear Princess Solar Panel,

Today I accidentally learned that you can make someone feel slightly better about a terrible experience if you bring it up enough times in casual conversation.

I’ve been letting Anon tag along with me when I travel to the Crystal Empire because he’s fun and I enjoy his presence, and also because he distracts Candy and Shane while I peruse the Crystal Archives for dumb stuff involving illegal magic (probably). On more than one occasion, I’ve heard him joking to Onii-chan about the various times we’ve traumatized him. This morning he said, and I quote: “Remember that time we kidnapped you and you almost died? Yeah, good times. We should do that again one of these days.”

Being as dumb and purple as I am, I expected Shoney’s to have another panic attack, but that was not the case this time. He actually laughed and mentioned how relatively uneventful things had become for him since then.

I was not only dumbfounded, but also purplefounded. Anon’s humongous brain had once again graced our undeserving world with its presence. The continual reintroduction of traumas in a safe environment has slowly desensitized Shinzō Abe to the point where he can now almost look me in the eye.

This was all very clearly planned by Anon from the beginning and was not in any way an unintended side effect of him trying to see if he could get Shirley to piss himself when his wife wasn’t around. Just thought I’d reiterate that.

Your favorite purple unicorn mare named Twilight Sparkle,
Twilight “Twilight Sparkle” Sparkle

Letter 67

Dear Princess Sysadmin,

You said the mirror pool was dangerous and immoral to use because it tears off pieces of your soul, so I’m making a cloning spell instead.

AND!

I’m following all the instructions on proper spell experimentation this time. I asked Squeak ‘n Spell to review my notes, and she said they looked “pretty good, I guess.” I'll get a second review from the alpha nerds at the Mage’s Tower before doing anything else.

Don’t worry, I won’t cast it on myself. I’ll only be using a standard spell dummy within an active containment field inside a pocket dimension. It’ll be like wearing a condom to get a handjob from a sex doll filled with birth control pills.

I’m trying to claim I’m doing this purely for the advancement of a relatively unexplored concept in magic theory, but we all know that’s not true. Whatever ulterior motive I have will likely come back to bite me. I’ll send you a copy of the notes when it’s complete.

Your autism bomb,
Tweinstein

Letter 68

Hello Celestia,

Scribbles is back with a physical form now, complete with a lack of skin. Everything is okay, we’re just chilling in the library. Normally I’d be scared, but he’s been really nice. Demons aren’t evil, they’re just misunderstood.

He said he’s here to offer an alliance with the mortals. Even I can see his genuine desire for peace. Luckily, you’re the perfect person to talk peace with. Please open a dimensional rift to the fifth realm as quickly as possible so he can bring his ambassadors over.

Anon

Letter 69

Dear Princess Heliophile,

Today I learned that planning out sex is unsexy.

I made a schedule for optimal sexy times with Trickster because of course I did. I even spaced out our favorite sexual acts for maximum variety. Thankfully we’ve reached the point in our relationship where she can just smack me and make me realize how dumb and purple I’m being.

Your dumb idiot,
Twibadism

Nice,

Love, Anon

Letter 70.1

Dear Princess Celestia,

The spatial rift reopened shortly after sending the previous letter. My body seems to have suffocated inside. Anon is moving it to a more secluded location as I write. I thank Harmony and all the heavens above that Spike isn’t here to see this.

I’m trying to find someone to cast the cloning spell on my corpse. In theory, no one will die this time. The caster won’t be cloning themselves, so they won’t have to deal with the magical strain of sharing a soul across two bodies. And Corn Cobbler doesn’t count because he’s already dead. Let me know if you have any suggestions for potential candidates.

Your faithful (if incapacitated) student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 70.2

Dear Princess Celestia,

Scratch that last one, we got Trixie to cast it. It just made another dead me. If you could send Princess Luna down to help as soon as she’s available, I’d be very grateful.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. - Is it still necromancy if we’re only trying to return an unintentionally displaced soul to a copy of its original body? The legal definition seems vague enough that one could argue this isn’t technically illegal.

Letter 70.3

Dear Princess Certainly Upset,

Don’t send Luna, we got it. I had Trixie clone my corpse again, then zap it with enough electricity to kickstart my heart. Our motley crew is cleaning up Corn Cobbler and my other two bodies, so everything will be k as long as no one speaks of this ever again. We told Corn Cobbler’s family he wandered into the Everfree and was devoured whole by a manticore. It’s more believable and less tragic than what actually happened.

Your aspiring lich,
Twilight the Third (Fourth?)

Letter 71

Dear Princess Solar Plexus,

If you ever get the urge to cast a spell to extend your neck by three feet for literally no reason whatsoever, keep in mind that the extra length will cause equivalent shrinking in other parts of your body—your legs, to be specific. Also remember to add extra bones and muscles to the neck, otherwise your head will flop around on the ground while you yell at Anon to stop laughing and help already.

Your vampire’s wet dream,
Little Bigneck

I’m laughing so hard I’m crying. It’s like someone combined a giraffe with a corgi and painted it purple. She’s so angry right now, but that only makes it funnier.

Love, Anon

Letter 72

Hey Luna,

I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I realize you were right. Physical attraction doesn’t amount to much when our personalities are so different. Aside from our shared taste in movies and alcohol, we have almost nothing in common. I’m sorry I kept bugging you about a date, but I’m grateful you at least gave me a shot. That’s more than I could have asked for, and definitely more than I deserved, so thank you.

I promise not to be weird about it if you promise to keep giving Sunbutt the sea turtle dream. See you this weekend.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Remember to bring the strong stuff, it’s Tia’s turn to pick.

P.P.S. - Celestia: DON’T READ THIS. Just pass it to Luna.

Letter 74

Dear Princess Ceiling Fan,

Today I learned you shouldn’t yell at children for being short. They can’t help it and their parents will get mad at you for breaking into their house at four in the morning. I also learned that taking the children to a secluded location away from the parents before yelling at them is also frowned upon.

Your friendly neighborhood trauma dispenser,
The Book

Letter 75

YAY!

WOW!

YOU’RE INVITED
(NO WAY!)
TO TWILIGHT SPARKLE’S PITY PARTY!

BRING A FRIEND!

CAN’T WAIT!

SO MUCH FUN!

Dear Princesses Celestia And Luna,

You are cordially invited to Twilight Sparkle’s very first Pity Party! (Woo!) It’s a momentous occasion to mark her transition from independent mare to prisoner in her own home. Everypony’s gonna be there, so you should too!

Location: Wherever Twilight happens to be at the moment. (Probably the library in Ponyville, but who knows where the evening will take us?)

Time: Right now! We’re gonna party until the police shut us down or Twilight’s mom arrives! That only gives us a couple hours, so you better hurry!

Dress code: You can dress up, down, or all around—as long as you’re comfy!

Gifts: Don’t need ‘em! The only present Twilight wants is freedom from her mortal cage, but since she can’t have that, the next best thing is a night with her friends!

Snacks: You bet your pretty princess patooties we got snacks! Cupcakes, pancakes, cheesecakes, jello shots, fruitcakes—you name it, we got it! There’s even gonna be funny fudge! (Woah!)

So what are you waiting for? Come on over, the party’s already started!

Letter 76

Good morning, Sunshine,

Some party last night, huh? I didn’t know you had such a low tolerance for alcohol. No wonder you only drink wine on movie night. You’re a great dancer when you’re drunk, though.

Anyway, I’d like to take you up on your offer to hang out in Canterlot for a week while the fire dies down, but I might need some help getting there. Twilight took my leg bones and is refusing to give them back unless I promise not to leave her alone with her mom. I don’t mind for the most part (I can finally put my legs behind my head), but it makes sneaking out to the train station a little more difficult. Can you send a couple flying dudebros and a chariot to the library? Twilight is too busy hyperventilating in my corner to notice if I leave through the upstairs window.

See you when I get there.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Mrs. Velvet is still asleep, so she doesn’t know Twi took my bones yet. Please don’t tell her.

P.P.S. - You know that bone-growing spell, right? If you don’t, can you get someone who does?

P.P.P.S. - I realize that first postscript makes it look like I’m trying to spare Twilight’s feelings, but I swear I’m not. I just think it would be funny if she had to explain to her mom why there are random bones scattered around.

Letter 78

Dear Princess Cell Division,

You know I respect you more than I respect myself (even if that’s not saying much), so don’t take offense when I say please never invite me to Blueblood’s birthday ever again. I was two “my aunties” away from asking one of the griffon ambassadors to chew my ears off for me. I’ve made golems out of mud who were more fun to talk to, and they could only gurgle. And you know the funniest thing? He is somehow—somehow—more socially oblivious than I am. If my friends have to put up with a fraction of that kind of shit from me, I truly don’t deserve them.

The only good thing about the party was the abundance of alcohol, but looking back, I’m glad I didn’t get too smashed. I wouldn’t trust Blueblood with a drunk me. Hell, I barely trust me with a drunk me. If I was writing this myself, this is the part where I would mention the time I tried getting it on with one of WinRAR’s mannequins. Sadly, Anon is writing for me, so you’ll never hear about that incident.

Your ten-proof tap water,
Tweineken

Letter 80

Dear Princess M’lady,

I met someone new today. He’s a donkey and he’s fucking insane. Not the “haha look at Twilight trying to steal teeth from the dentist” kind of insane, this guy is legit nuts.

His name is Donkey Xote (pronounced hoe-tay, don’t ask me how), and he ~~claims~~ seems to truly believe he’s a knight of Equestria. He wears a bike helmet and carries a broken rake everywhere he goes, trying to fight buildings. He keeps losing.

He even tried to fight the library so he could “save the fair maiden from the dragon.” That was the final nail in the insanity coffin—he thought I was a fair maiden. What a nutjob.

Anyway, dude’s gonna move on to terrorize some other town soon, and that’ll hopefully be the last we see of him.

Your literary litmus test,
Twerp Slurple

Letter 81

Dear Princess Hot Pocket,

Buckle the fuck up for this one. Trixie has somehow managed to do something even I couldn’t: she achieved full retard.

To preface this, I’ve recently been teaching Trixie teleportation because she wanted to incorporate it into her show. Think about that for a minute. She’s so bad at real magic that she had to resort to stage magic, but she’s so bad at stage magic that she needs to use real magic to make it look like she’s doing fake magic. And we’re not even at half retard yet.

While I was teaching her, she did pretty k. On her first attempt she didn’t go anywhere, but she did disappear for half a second. I wanted her to sit on my face, so I called it a successful teleport. She decided she was now good enough to do it on stage, so she didn’t need any more practice. One “success” and she was ready to do it live. And we’re still nowhere near full retard.

On the big stage, in front of literally tens of people, Bluedini tried to remove her own spleen by stealthily teleporting it out. She actually succeeded. Much to her surprise, she then began hemorrhaging profusely. 90% retard.

Instead of rushing to the hospital where people know how to reattach spleens, she tried teleporting it back into her body. She succeeded again. It went inside one of her lungs. 95% retard.

By this point, someone had already gotten a medic. He ran over to try fixing the unfixable, but Trixie was determined to die. Before he could reach her, she cast the cloning spell on herself, thus achieving full retard.

As expected, the new body was a perfect copy, including all the mortal injuries—still hemorrhaging, spleen still in the lungs, still named Trixie. Also as expected, the old body exploded into a Brazilian pieces, showering the crowd in blood and Trix Mix.

The medic* was a fucking trooper, though. Dude must have been a soldier or something, because he didn’t hesitate for a single second before working his magic to unfuck Trixie 2. And unfuck her he did. She somehow survived, despite dying once already.

Now, there are only three things in this world that get my jibbly bits quivering every single time: traumatizing children, reading, and dangerous misuse of magic. Needless to say, Trixie and I had hot lesbian horse sex for hours afterward. Everyone in a half-mile radius could smell the girlmusk. Anon and Spike will be staying in a hotel room until the library is fumigated.

Your second loosest screw,
Spergles

* The medic’s name was Amber Lamps. He was pretty chill, said he’s seen worse before, though I didn’t get a chance to ask him about the “worse.” He dipped out as soon as he was sure Trixie was going to live. If I find him again, I’ll see if I can get him to sit down with me for a drink so we can swap stories.

Love, Anon

Letter 81.1

Author's Note

Response to this.

Letter 81.1

Your Highness,

Anonymous is oddly enjoyable to speak with. He’s shared a great deal about himself, including his many interactions with “the mare up top with the booty that don’t stop.” Those were his words, not mine, and he specifically told me he was referring to you in a positive light, so I humbly ask that you postpone my execution for the time being.

On a more serious note, I am requesting authorization to share “stories” of my E and D-Class assignments (with Anonymous exclusively, and the necessary changes and redactions made, of course). Becoming familiar to him—and by proxy Twilight Sparkle—would allow me to more closely surveil their activity.

I would also request permission to discuss my assignments abroad, under the guise of me having been a traveler in my youth. I’m better at telling half-truths than whole lies, so I believe this would mitigate the risk of Anonymous noticing inconsistencies.

A.L.

Letter 82

Dear Princess Cell in a Hell,

For some unknown reason, it took my genius ass until now to realize professional wrestling isn’t real.

People have been paying money for a lie. This can’t be allowed to continue. There should be a disclaimer on every advertisement, every ticket, and every piece of merchandise. The people have a right to know. Never mind the fact that they’re all fully aware already, I’m more concerned with making everything more boring and transparent for my own sake. I can’t waste precious brain cells thinking about what I’m seeing, I need to be explicitly told when things are exaggerated for entertainment purposes, otherwise I might get sucked into the magic of the moment and start enjoying myself.

No fun allowed,
The Purple Plague

Letter 83.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 83.1

Tia,

Oh thank god. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I used to scratch Sweetie Belle on her chest, so when I found out the truth, I was scared the police would knock down the door at any moment and arrest her for letting me do such a thing. I’m glad she won’t go to jail, but I’m still never touching anyone’s chest again, just in case. Since I now know it’s a spot for committing lewdity, that’s all I’ll be able to think about while touching it. And according to what you said, me thinking it’s lewd is what will make it lewd. Ponies make less and less sense the longer I live here.

At least I don’t have to live as a hermit. I had this whole plan where I was going to write you a tearful goodbye before venturing deep into the Everfree to build a new life. But before completely cutting myself off from society, I was going to confess all my sins, like how I was the one eating all of Luna’s squeeze cheese, but I kept telling her it was you; or how I used to call Luna the best princess because I was trying to get a reaction out of you; or how I played down Twilight’s body count because I didn’t want you to lock her away; or how I was getting Discord to retrieve human movies for me in exchange for acorns; or how I would sometimes steal Spike’s food gems to bribe Rarity into making Sweetie Belle wear a bunch of cute outfits; or how I haven’t paid any of my horse taxes for the money I make selling weird plants from the Everfree.

But since everything is k, I don’t have to tell you any of that.

I’ll be in Canterlot with Twilight visiting the museum tomorrow, so we can talk in person after that. If you need me to hang around in the palace until you finish princessing, I don’t mind.

Love, Anon

P.S. - I really hope you didn’t tell Luna. I don’t want her to turn me into a frog again.

Letter 83.2

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 83.2

Tia,

I never mentioned a relationship, that was all you. I understand you want my hot monkey bod, but you have to control yourself for the time being. You're a princess, after all. You can't just throw yourself at someone without first getting to know them on a deeper level. You need to set a good example for your midget horses.

Love, Anon

P.S. - "No Expectations" is my middle name.

Letter 84

Dear Princess Cellybration,

Today I learned you shouldn’t pry into your friend’s secrets, no matter how concerned you are.

Hypothetically speaking, if you hear crying at night coming from underground near your friend’s home and they keep telling you to ignore it, you should ignore it. If they tell you multiple times to stop trying to dig under their barn, you should stop trying to dig under their barn. If you dig anyway and find a chamber containing a locked iron vault the size of your ass,* you should not open it. Not only would this betray the trust of your friend, it’s also pretty common sense. Fortunately, I was able to learn this lesson without doing any of that.

Your magnet for crazy,
2Spooky

P.S. - If ghouls are immune to starvation, dehydration, and suffocation, is it more or less ethical to keep one chained and locked away in hopes of one day curing it? Is it even possible to cure one? If not, what would be the best way to convince your friend to allow you to destroy the ghoul? Hypothetically speaking, of course.

* In Equestrian standard units, that equates to about ten cubic feet, or two sunbuns.

Love, Anon

Letter 85

Things to maybe call Tia (add to bottom of main list):

Sunscreen - already used, but it’s cute

Ivory Eye Candy

Vanilla Valentine - probably not; doesn’t work with Hearts and Hooves

Tiananmen Square - she won’t get it

Things to probably not call Tia:

Incelestia - 900% sure it doesn’t apply

Summer Sun Celibate - same^

Princess in the front, ghetto in the back

Snow White and her seven asses - lol no

Things to call Tia’s butt:

Royal Rump/Rear

Booty with a Cutie

Mounds of Moria (MoreTia?)

Flaming Ball of Ass - probably not

Cake Storage

Palest Posterior - eh

Superior Posterior - less eh

Alabaster Ass

Gluteus Maximus Maximus (v1)

Maximus Gluteus Maximus (v2)

Dairy Derrière - also eh

Milky Money Maker

Land of Milk and Honey (milk and flour?)

Booty Blast from the Past - because she’s old; maybe don’t use

Omnibutt

Holy Hindquarters

Booty of the Colossus

page 1 of 17

Letter 85.1

shit

Letter 86.1

To the Equestrian Princess Celestia,

I am the changeling now known as Stupid. I write to you in order to express my gratitude.

My previous existence was one of endless struggle. I was cast out from the hive due to my defective nature. A changeling unable to change cannot effectively harvest love, so I was seen as a burden upon the rest of my family.

Outside the hive, I lived in a constant state of hunger and fear. This is no longer true, for I am now able to gain nourishment from food. For the first time in my life, I do not crave love. The experience is indescribable.

I have been given an opportunity to live life anew. I swear to you I will not waste it. Your Elements of Harmony have freed me of my curse. I have finally changed, and for that I am forever grateful.

Stupid

Letter 86.3

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 86.3

Hey Tia,

Stupid took your suggestion and changed his name. He’s now officially Stu Luck Pid. We call him Stu. He says he’s a drone, which I assume is about as much of a dude as a changeling can be. I might see if he’s up for Bro Day™ some time soon, depending on what Dash says. Spike is already k with it. Twi is still mad she can’t be a Bro.

After a lunar assload* of tests, the hospital discovered Stu has slightly less than infinity allergies. I blame you for indirectly cursing him with a nerdy name. He was way cooler and less allergic with the name I gave him. His diet is basically going to have no dairy, no cane sugar, no grains (including flour), no red 40, no fun, and no kiwis for some reason.

Pinkie was devastated when she found out. She put together a whole “Welcome to Ponyville / Congrats on Successful Time Travel / Congrats on Eating Your First Food / Welcome Back from the Hospital” party, but Stu couldn’t eat anything she made. She promised to throw a new party with edible food when we get back from the Tower of Neckbeard. I told her to invite you and Luna to this one because Stu wants to meet you in person, but he’s too scared to ask. Again, I blame you for making him weak with a nerdy name.

The train ride has been uneventful so far, but Stu is being entertaining in his own way. He keeps running back and forth from the food cart to show me all the things he can eat. Most of it is the same three fruits cut into different shapes, but he either can’t tell or doesn’t care. Spike is following him around in case he tries eating something fun.

Twilight took enough sleeping pills to kill a lesser being, so she’s behaving for now. The rest of the Elements are also asleep except for Rarity, who is currently reading through a stack of smut books she brought and refuses to share. So much for Generosity.

Anyway, we’ll let you know how the experiments go when we’re done.

Love, Anon

* One lunar assload is the number of squeeze cheese cans Luna goes through in a month.

Letter 86.4

Hey Celestia,

I’ve got some good news, some not good news, and some bad news.

Good news: Twilight figured out a way to recreate the effects of the Big Gay Laser without the involuntary time travel.

Not good news: We’re banned from the Mage’s Tower for life.

Bad news: Your mages suck. Those assholes spent half the time sucking each other off about how smart they are while Twiggy and the Shits did their jobs for them.

To start off, Stupid almost died three times in the first two days. The first time was partially my fault for not supervising him and partially his own fault for not thinking before shoving things in his mouth, but the other two times were completely the mages’ fault. “M’Lady’s most elite magical researchers” didn’t tell their coworkers that a changeling would be in the building. After the first rando freaked out and attacked, most people would have issued some sort of announcement about Stupid not being a threat, right? Not these guys. They’re too smart for that. Second attack happens, and guess what? Still no announcement. They kept on magically reinforcing their chastity belts, barely acknowledging that they almost got Stupid killed twice. Twilight had to take matters into her own hands and go from floor to floor handing out memos (she loved that part, even if she denies it). And no, the irony of Twilight “Fuck the Living” Sparkle trying to avoid unnecessary death is not lost on me.

Day three rolls around, and still no progress was being made. They hadn’t looked at the Elements even once yet. It turns out, they had been drafting their scientific papers the whole time instead of doing any actual science. Twilight locked them in the Purple Dimension when she found out and then gathered some interns to start the real work.

I’m sure you know the phrase “taking charge,” so I want you to imagine exactly what that looks like. Twilight didn’t do that. She grabbed charge by the balls and starting beating the everloving shit out of it. If charge was a person with two kids, those kids would have been broken and bleeding from the proxy damage their DNA took, one paralyzed for life and the other in a coma. I have never seen her get serious about something that didn’t directly involve death, but I now feel privileged to have witnessed it firsthand. One of the interns actually passed out from the stress. (So did Fluttershy, but she once passed out from sneezing too hard, so that was expected.) Spike was the only one who kept chugging along like everything was normal, which made him at least twice as helpful as everyone else combined.

By the end of the fourth day, she had succeeded in recreating the effects the Elements had on Stupid. To use scientific terms, she did a magic on some doodads and made a thingamajig that works the same way.

By morning of the fifth day (today), she figured out the time travel part and removed it. So now we have a totally-not-a-gun that shoots magical fixy bullets. We’re going to test it on one of the changeling prisoners you don’t officially have when we get back. Stu* made everyone promise to only use it if the other bug says it’s k, but I’m not sure I can hold Twilight to that.

She would have written you herself, but she’s currently catching up on all the sleep she missed. I think she was up for almost three days straight. Good ol’ Twigs.

Pretty much everyone is exhausted right now. Apple and Fluttershy are worried about their apples and animals, Rarity is worried about Sweetie Belle, Pinkie is worried about the party she has to put together for Stu, Stu is worried about his siblings not wanting to change, Dash is worried about not being fast enough, and I’m worried about not having something to worry about.

Anyway, I’ll see you in a few hours.

Love, Anon

P.S. - *I forgot his new name is Stu while I was writing.

P.P.S. - I just realized we forgot to let the mages out. I don’t know if they can breathe in there.

Letter 87

Dear Princess Sun’s Out, Buns Out,

Today I learned that telling Anon to do something will sometimes cause him to have an uncontrollable urge to do the opposite of that thing. It’s a rare medical condition he was born with it and it’s very tragic. As such, his refusal to pay his horse taxes is my fault and mine alone. Any and all legal repercussions should fall solely upon me.

Your faulty fall guy,
Tinkles

Letter 87.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 87.1

Tia Smia Bo-Bia,

Horse taxes are horse theft. I paid them what they deserve.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Remember, this is Twilight’s fault. I can’t help it.

Letter 87.2

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 87.2

whats happening why can I see time what the fuck help me

Letter 87.3

Dearest Celestia,

After an extended conversation with your ~~thugs~~ ~~professional thieves~~ ~~dumb idiots~~ Accounting department, I have been miraculously cured of my condition. I can now pay my horse taxes unhindered. However, since I’m low on funds at the moment, Twilight will be footing the bill until I can pay her back.

Love, Anon

P.S. - I’ve shut down my business, Anon’s Weird Plants, Erotic Novels, & Ink Sketches Emporium, so I will be receiving no future income. Your horse tax collectors can’t steal my money if I don’t have any. Checkmate.

Letter 88

To the Equestrian Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express great sorrow.

It seems the Neato Burrito my friend Anonymous speaks of does not exist in this world. I have dreamed of tasting such a thing ever since learning of it, yet those dreams are now shattered. I have never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss before. I struggle to find the words to properly express this pain.

Anonymous tells me that life is full of many such revelations. In your countless years, I cannot fathom how many times you have gone through this same experience, and yet you stand as an idol of fortitude for all to admire. I can only hope to one day posses an inner strength comparable to your own.

Stu Luck Pid

Letter 88.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 88.1

Hey Celestia,

What did you tell Stupid? He grabbed Pinkie and took off, saying they were going to “gather the neatest ingredients at the behest of our great princess.” I’m not too worried about his health since Pinkie always carries his list of allergies with her (literally always, she got it laminated), but I would really like to know what the hell they’re doing.

Love, Anon

Letter 90.1

Yo Tia,

Ignore that last thing. Spike sneezed while on the shitter and sent you some toilet paper. He’s freaking out, but I’m laughing my ass off. He said he didn’t use it, but imagine how funny it would be if he did.

Even without that, just think about the fact that someone could send you toilet paper at any point in the day. Let’s say some snobby crustmuncher is whining at you about how awful it is to chew his own food, and then BAM! Toilet paper.

I would never do that, of course. That would be rude and childish, and we both know I’m above such things.

Love, Anon

Letter 92

Dear Princess Cellymelon,

Today I learned that painting stripes on yourself does not allow you to freely use the Z-word.

Your purple barcode,
Stars and Stripes

Letter 93

Dear Princess Celestia,

I strongly urge you to make a decree as soon as possible stating all future burials taking place in Ponyville must first burn the body, regardless of one’s culture or tradition.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 94

Dear Princess Sunsei,

Today I learned that when someone says they’ll be too busy to attend your thing, they usually mean “fuck that, I don’t want to go, you're dumb, go eat poo.” Using this knowledge, I now realize that you shouldn't ask to see their schedule so you can help them make room for your thing, as this will only lead to more awkwardness. They will either have to tell the truth about how they feel (an impossible feat), or have to endure the thing they didn’t want to attend in the first place. Letting people have their harmless lies, even if the truth is obvious, is often better than confronting them.

I briefly considered having a heartfelt discussion with my friends about how they shouldn’t worry about sparing my feelings—I need to be spoonfeed social cues, anyway—but then I realized something: That would be a reasonable thing to do. I can’t have my position as Equestria’s number one tardnugget compromised like that. Instead, I’m going to incorporate an increasing number of lies into my own interactions because all the cool kids are doing it.

Your little purple lie,
Eggplant

Letter 95

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m worried about Anon’s health.

I asked him if he was free tomorrow, and he responded by yelling, and I quote, “[Expletive] yeah, I am. You essay, you essay, you essay,” and then running around with his fists in the air. I’m not sure if calling me an essay was supposed to be an insult, but it was nonsensical at best.

I asked him about the meaning of his behavior, but he said I wasn’t “free enough” to understand. His wording made be believe he had taken some manner of hallucinogenic drugs. When I asked if this was true, he replied with, “The only drugs I’m on are liberty and justice for all.”

In light of this, I would like to request a subtle investigation into the possibility of a new drug or drugs in Ponyville. “Liberty” and “justice” appear to be the recreational names. If my fears are proven right, Anon may be in need of an intervention followed by rehabilitation, depending on the effectiveness of the former.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 96

Dear Princess High Beams,

Today I learned that “treating everyone equally” does not mean giving a blind kid a picture book for his birthday, even if that’s what you give everyone else his age.

Your insensitive ignoramus,
Whylight

Letter 97

Hey Tia,

I couldn’t say this in the opera house because public image is kind of your whole thing, but that was fucking awful. I appreciate you inviting me, I really do, but how the hell can you stand that noise? I genuinely don’t understand it.

I was ready to jump off the balcony after the first act. I've heard more pleasant sounds come from Spike after he accidentally swallowed a plastic ruby. I would have preferred listening to Blueblood talk about himself for three hours. It was pure agony wrapped in wigs and makeup.

Just to be clear, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the concept of sound for allowing opera to exist. Sorry for ragging on something you enjoy, I just really needed to get that off my chest.

Love, Anon

Letter 98

Dear Princess Whitesnake,

Here I go again. No matter how many times I get burned, I just keep shoving my metaphorical hands back into the fire. The summary of this letter is as follows: I’m dumb and did a series of dumb things. What started as a piece of fruit lodged in a windpipe quickly spiraled into at least one death and a plague of semi-sentient, omnivorous, vomiting clouds. No, that’s not hyperbole. I’m talking clouds in the sky eating whatever is nearby and spewing it back out as vomit.

I’m sure you have several questions, so I’ll do my best to explain. Get comfy, this is a long one.

The gf and I were on a picnic, right? Eating food, holding hooves, touching butts—typical gay picnic stuff. Trixy Stix thought it would be romantic to feed each other, so she floated a couple grapes into my insatiable maw. When it was my turn to feed her, I grabbed a plum and rammed it to the back of her throat before she could even chew.

You might be asking yourself, “Twilight, why on earth would you do such a thing?” The answer is simple: I’m dumb. The horse gods gifted me with the magical equivalent of retard strength, and most of the time I’m pretty k at keeping it in check. Today, however, I lost control because I was hungry. I wanted Trixie to get back to feeding me, so I tried speeding up her side of the process.

To the shock of absolutely no one (except maybe Stupid, bless his soul), you can’t breathe with a plum lodged in your throat. I immediately tried rectifying my mistake in the only way I know how. Can you guess what it is?

Drum roll, please...
...
...
...
...
Experimental magic!

That’s right, Princess, good job. You win nothing.

When I realized Trixie was choking, I cast my unfinished vomiting spell I had been working on (don’t ask). The plum, along with the rest of her stomach’s contents, was ejected from Trixie’s mouth hole, covering our picnic in bile and partially digested food. Sounds like a mess, right? It got worse.

As we’ve seen before, Omnitrix has an uncanny ability to die whenever she’s in the process of being saved from dying. She had already begun casting the cloning spell before I made her spew. She exploded before the plum even hit the ground.

If that isn’t proof that we’re soulmates, I don’t what is.

So Trixie 3 (aka Hat Trix) was k. Our picnic was ruined, but that didn’t matter to either of us. At this point, I can hear you asking, “But Twilight, what about the cloud vomit?” I’m getting there, Princess Impatience, hold your horses. So rude.

We were in the process of cleaning up the squicknic when I noticed something. There was a lot more bile in Trixie’s vomit puddle than there should have been. After doing some non-invasive scans—the invasive ones came later—I realized she didn’t just throw up, she had expelled every ounce of liquid and semisolid matter in her stomach.

That’s important to note, okay? All the stuff in her stomach was now out of her stomach. That gave me an idea. And I know what you’re thinking, “Twilight, you’re dumb and your ideas are dumb,” and while those are both valid points, I’ve never been one to care about the quality of an idea until after the damage is already done.

My idea was to create a way to deal with rogue clouds from the Everfree causing unscheduled rain over Ponyville whenever the weather patrol missed one. If I modified my (still unfinished) vomit spell, I could use it to get all the stuff inside a cloud to go outside the cloud whenever and wherever I wanted. In other words, I could make the rogue clouds blow their loads before reaching town, eliminating the problem entirely.

As luck would have it, one such group of clouds was heading our way. If I had another couple of brain cells, I might have modified the spell and then cast it. In some alternate universe, that might have actually been the case. I would also be significantly less purple in that universe.

Basically, the spell was keyed specifically to cause the target to expel the contents of its stomach. Clouds don’t have stomachs, so the spell gave them one, complete with bile and random food bits, which they then began to spray across the treetops. In addition to the stomach, the spell also seemed to have granted them a minor degree of sentience. Don’t ask me how any of that happened, I genuinely don’t know. Luckily, the clouds emptied themselves before reaching Ponyville. Unluckily, their stomachs were now empty, meaning they were hungry. They sunk low to the ground and started sucking up plants, animals, our picnic—pretty much anything in their path, they didn’t seem picky.

I could have tried breaking the clouds apart before they did too much damage, but I don’t think I need to remind you just how dumb I am. Seeing as they were now technically living beings, I had some reservations about ending their lives. It’s weird, isn’t it? I only seem to care about the morality of killing when the beings in question aren’t capable of rational thought. If they could think and feel, you bet your ass I’d tear right through them without hesitation.

Anyway, the cloud herd passed overhead and started vomiting their recent meal all over Ponyville, then went back to giving everything the big suck. A couple buildings lost some shingles, but that was about the worst of it in terms of structural damage. We also lost half a dozen carts, two market stalls, and one of Pinkie’s hidden party stashes to the cloud vore, but those can all be rebuilt fairly easily.* They were puked back up just outside of town, so that part of the cleanup was way more convenient than the houses covered in plants and forest animals (all of which were mostly uninjured, by the way).

One thing I forgot to mention: the weather team tried kicking the clouds into pieces, but they kept reforming from their semisolid cloud-stomachs. It was fascinating.

They eventually blew over toward the west, so it’s not our problem anymore. The spell might fade, but I’m not sure if it’s gaining some sort of magical energy from temporarily consuming things. I hope not. Otherwise, there’s gonna be a herd of vomiting clouds roaming across Equestria for the foreseeable future. That would suck.

Your upchuck fuckup,
Twience Fiction

* I also lost the kite I was trying to fly, but she didn’t think that was important enough to mention. It was the kite Luna bought for me when she was drunk-ordering stuff from a catalog. I miss that kite.

Love, Anon

Letter 100

Dear Princess Celestia,

There's no delicate way to put this, so forgive me for being blunt.

With your permission, I’d like to further my necromancy studies, either on my own or under the tutelage of Princess Luna if she’s willing. I'm not asking because I enjoy it, I'm asking because I know I can do good with it.

Magic is neither good nor evil. It's a set of tools. I’m the first pony in centuries to expand upon established magic theory solely because I learned how to use a tool everyone else wanted to forget. And I'm still only an amateur. If I can master this tool, the knowledge I could apply to other fields of magic is invaluable. Even if I'm completely wrong and my knowledge of necromancy turns out to be useless for other fields of magic, I can still do good with it. I'm already doing good with it.

The Apples make their own fertilizer. They have a small compost bin behind the barn where they deposit some of their food wastes. The waste decomposes into a mulch they can spread over their crops. Decomposition is the final death of the body, so I've come to understand the process intimately. It's not much, but I was able to use this knowledge to enchant the bin such that it now alters the decomposition rate depending on the materials inside, resulting in a richer fertilizer.

Fluttershy spends the first two weeks of every spring looking for animals that didn't make it through the winter. Animals with young will sometimes starve themselves to ensure their offspring can eat. If the offspring are too young to fend for themselves, they will remain next to the body of their parent, eventually starving or being preyed upon. These are the bodies Fluttershy searches for. She takes in the orphaned animals and raises them until they reach maturity. I was able to help her this year thanks to my understanding of necromancy. The biological process of decay has a unique magical frequency, one I've become very familiar with. This familiarity allowed me to locate every recently deceased animal in Whitetail Woods in a matter of hours. Fluttershy now has twelve new mouths to feed, more than she's ever recovered from previous winters.

They’re little things, yes, but they serve as examples that necromancy can be used for good. And if you're still not convinced, remember that for a long, long time, teleportation was considered unethical due to it utilizing a process not too dissimilar to my cloning spell. Safe teleportation was thought to be impossible, but one stallion kept trying. He teleported over and over and over, tearing small pieces of his soul away until he had a complete understanding of how spatial displacement worked. He used this knowledge to create a new teleportation spell, a safe one. He took the tool everyone else threw out and did something good with it.

So I ask you again, Princess. Please, let me learn. I want to turn this into something good.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 100.1

Fee Fi Fo-Fia,

I wanted to fuck up that letter so bad, you don’t even know. Twi was staring at me the whole time, though.

Frankly, I’d cast my vote in the “let purple horse have fun with bodies” hat. We both know she isn’t gonna stop (not that I’d even try to stop her), so I say relax and see where she goes with it. I doubt my input matters, but I’m telling you anyway because fuck you I do what I want.

Love, Anon

Letter 100.2

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 100.2

Dear Princess No-one-is-allowed-to-have-any-fun-ever,

(In the midst of my frothing shitfit, I am somehow able to communicate well enough to tell Anon what to write.)

I understand and respect your reasoning, and will cease all necromantic activities effective immediately. No further monitoring or inspections are needed. I am telling the truth and could not possibly be lying, for I never lie. You can trust me.

Your normal, law-abiding citizen,
Twi-lied

Letter 101

Dear Princess Cellybean,

Today I learned two very important things. First and foremost: According to Rarity, a lady does not get drunk, she gets fun. There is a subtle but significant difference between the two. Being drunk means you have an excuse for making poor decisions. Being fun is the same thing, but you're a slut.

The second thing I learned is not to trust Ponkus Badonkus with large sums of money, especially when visiting new places. I put her in charge of buying supplies in Rockwell before we set out for Arimaspi's Ruin, but she spent half of it on a bottle of super fancy wine,* which she and Rarity drank in a single sitting.

If we cut corners, we could have bought enough supplies with the other half of our original amount, but unfortunately Rarity was fun. She "dragged" Pinkie (I doubt she put up much of a fight) to a club where they threw the rest of our money at exotic dancers. Rarity was then kicked out for getting grabby with one of them.

Anon had to burn through the emergency fund you gave him to buy food and tents for us so we wouldn't all die in the wilderness. There's no guarantee we won't die anyway, so here's hoping the rumors about the gargoyle prove false. If we live, I'll have to give you the full rundown in person. We don't have enough money to buy any more parchment.

Your purple Red Ranger,
Spark Plug

* To be fair to Pinkor, the label was really colorful and buyable.

Also, I skimped on some of the supplies and kept about a third of the emergency fund. If we need to fix some hurty boo-boos, I'd rather not trust someone to work for free with the promise of payment from the crown later. You never know.

Love, Anon

Letter 102

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express great joy.

We gained a Chromosome today. Our party of adventurers recently saved a city from the hypnotic clutches of an evil wizard. We accomplished this with minimal bloodshed thanks to the quick thinking of Lysanderoth, a fire mage who wanted to help us free his home.

After peace was restored, Lysanderoth requested to join us in our quest to vanquish evil across the land. I was overjoyed to hear this, and the party voted to accept him. Boo Cow does not trust him, however, so I have been tasked with keeping a close eye on him. I am not worried, though. He has already proven himself to me.

My thoughts cannot help but wander back to Orc Mercenary. I held these same feelings then, and tragedy struck shortly thereafter. I have been chastised for my optimism before, but I know things will only get better with Lysanderoth here. He is kind and charismatic and strong. I am sure our friendship will last a long time.

Stu

Letter 103

Dear Princess Sunny-Side Out,

Today I learned that ~~the earlier you introduce a child to drugs, the more likely they are to grow up cool~~ kids are as dumb as your ass is fat.

I was substituting for Cheerilee this morning so she could attend a seminar on how to be a better judge of character. She gave me a bunch of old safety videos for the little gremlins to watch, which made my job easy wheezy apple queasy. I popped in the drug video and we watched it.

You know how those videos work, right? They show some kids dressed like every punk stereotype combined, the kids offer drugs to a normie kid, the normie bitches out of answering, everyone tells little Billy how drugs won’t make him cool, the punks offer Billy drugs again, Billy says no, everyone cheers while the punks act pouty in the background, group hug, freeze frame, fade out, roll credits. It’s the same formula they’ve been using since before Granny Smith was born. They make the punks look like “cool” kids, then try to show how that kind of coolness is bad. They spell things out so blatantly that even I could understand it.

Problem is, these kids are fucking retarded. Well, some of them are. It was like four, but I didn’t learn any names. Anyway, this group of quasi-purples took everything at face value. They started talking to each other about how they’d finally be cool if they just had some drugs.

As a good person, I knew I had to do something. So I disguised myself and offered them drugs when they were alone. And before you get your titties in a teapot, it wasn't real drugs. It was a carefully crafted, nonlethal poison made to look like drugs. I'm not so irresponsible as to give real drugs to kids.

However, I knew making them sick wouldn't be enough to deter them entirely. I needed to dispel the idea that their peers would give them more respect for taking drugs. To that end, I gathered the rest of the class and instructed them to mock the now-sick kids. The plan worked seamlessly, but it remains to be seen whether or not the desired effect has been achieved. If I discover they still have an interest in drugs, I may need to take a more proactive approach. I hope it doesn't come to that.

Your typical substitute,
Toilet Stain

Letter 106.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 106.1

To Princess Celestia,

As stated before, I know in my heart that your forgiveness is unconditional, yet it still brings me great joy and relief to read it from your own hoof. I thank you.

If you wish to play Ogres and Oubliettes, I am sure you would enjoy it. The game can be fun on its own, but playing with friends is where I find the true enjoyment lies. Even on days where our game goes poorly, I would not trade a second of it, for it was something we experienced together.

As for my thoughts on the role you would play, I feel you would best fit the role of a paladin of Sol. They are pure and incorruptible, fearless in the face of evil, showing love and mercy to those who do not deserve it, even those who would be cast away and abandoned by everyone else. Their kindness is matched only by their strength and wisdom. But that is merely how I see it. The decision is ultimately yours. Regardless of the role you choose to play, I know you will do well.

You inquired about the quality of my time in Ponyville thus far. I must admit, it has been a different kind of struggle. I find it difficult not to burst into song every morning. Each day brings a new experience that I treasure deeply. I have not felt true hunger since my time in the forest. I can now sleep for many hours in a row. My wings have healed and can once again fold against my chitin without discomfort. I no longer lose fangs when biting into hard food. In fact, my most recent set of fangs has lasted over two months. I often wonder if this is all a dream that I will eventually wake from, but even if it is, I am grateful to have dreamed it.

Anonymous recently told me that misdirection can be humorous when used to express positive emotions. I hope I did not cause you undue distress if my attempt at humor was structured improperly. I assure you, my life is truly better than it has ever been, and I can only see it getting better.

Per your suggestion, I will consult with the hospital regarding first aid instruction. My friends frequently injure themselves, and I would give anything to ease their pain in whatever manner I could. If I can help them even a fraction as much as they have helped me, I would consider that a blessing beyond measure.

Stu

Dear Celestia,

First of all: I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but they’re a goddamn liar.

Second: That was entirely uncalled for. I don’t call you names, so why would you say such a thing about me? I know you think it’s funny to be rude sometimes, but that genuinely hurt my feelings.

Love, Anon

Letter 106.2

To Princess Celestia,

I have consulted with the Ponyville hospital regarding first aid instruction, but I have received mixed responses. I sought out Doctor Redhoof first. He has taken care of me and my friends many times, and is often the one to help me after I have eaten the wrong food. He informed me that it would be an easy matter to arrange and provided me with a form to fill out. When I tried to give the completed form to Mrs. Mildberry, the receptionist pony, she said the hospital no longer offered first aid instruction. I was confused by this. I told her Doctor Redhoof had given me the form himself, and she promised she would ask him about it. When I later returned, she said the Doctor had been mistaken and that I could not receive first aid instruction from the hospital.

While I am saddened by this news, I have not yet given up. Twilight Sparkle has found a number of instructional books for me, and has even offered to teach me herself. We cannot begin immediately, however. She said it would take a few days to procure a good enough license in case someone questioned her. I admit I do not fully understand, but I am grateful she has chosen to help. I am not as close with Twilight as I would like to be, so I hope our friendship will grow stronger through this experience.

Stu

Letter 108

Dear Princess Solaroid,*

Today I learned that shrinking yourself down to the size of a baby does not make it acceptable to suck your girlfriend’s tits in public, nor does it give you an excuse to throw a screaming tantrum when told to stop said titsucking. I will be more discreet with my public indecency in the future.

Your sucky-sucky for good lucky,
The Nippler

* A solar Polaroid. You guys don’t have Polaroid here.
Earth: 1 | Ponyland: 0

Love, Anon

Letter 109

Dear Princess Dawnbreaker,*

I found a zombie deer in the Everfree. Yes, I FOUND it. I have no idea as to its origins, which is why I’m ~~writing~~ making my fuckmonkey write.

Here’s what happened: I was being a creepy little shit by walking into the Everfree at three in the morning. I apparently wanted to take some sketches of the night sky to see if there were any significant changes to the constellations when viewed in low-magic areas. Before I could find a good spot, I heard sticks exploding. There’s no other way to describe it. Imagine you have forty sticks and you put a tiny firecracker in the middle of each one. Now light them all randomly. That’s what it sounded like. If I had more brain space for fear, I would have done the normal thing and run away. Instead, I walked straight in the direction it came from.

What I found was a lone deer standing in a clearing with a bunch of sticks scattered around it. The deer looked really young; male, but not old enough to have antlers. It was just standing there, completely still, staring at nothing.

I stayed hidden for a while until a timberwolf suddenly jumped out at it. The deer went whatever the deer equivalent of apeshit is (deershit?) and tore that poor puppy to pieces. I heard the same exploding sticks sound as before, and I realized: all the sticks in the clearing were actually from timberwolves. This thing must have killed a dozen of them already.

The deer made short work of the timberwolf, not even taking a scratch. After that, it went right back to just standing in place, unmoving, unblinking. When everything seemed calm, I walked out and tried to introduce myself, because fuck self-preservation. It went deershit again, so I activated cheats and made a bubble around me. Now that it was closer, I finally noticed the smell.

My first instinct was fire, but I remembered you said not to burn things without thinking, so I thought about burning it. Then I thought about how bad it would be if I didn’t burn it. Then I realized it had run off while I was thinking. I tried tracking it, but I’m pretty shit when it comes to actual skills, so I went back home.

The deer zombie had been fairly fresh, judging by the lack of small wounds one would normally see on a creature that can’t heal. The lack of wounds also points to it being an intentional creation, rather than a byproduct of cursed land, meaning there’s a high likelihood the source is a necromancer or a demon.

So yeah. There’s a zombie deer running around in the Everfree. If you’ll allow me to capture it, I can more easily trace where it came from, but I understand if you want me to wither away and die because you hate me and you hate fun and you only want me to suffer. I’m cool either way.

Your professional creepazoid,
Spark and Span

* It’s funny because Luna is the one who deals with undead problems.

If we catch the zombie deer, we’re naming him Zambie. This is non-negotiable.

Love, Anon

Letter 110

Dear Princess Celestia,

If you ever find yourself in the Cameroons, please ignore any and all references to the Meat Mare. It’s just an urban legend they made up as a way to shift the blame for their civil war.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 111

Dear Princess Teacakes,

I’ve been reading about interplanar law recently because I’m a nerd. It seems that impersonating either you or Luna on another plane of existence is illegal, which makes sense. However, there was no such law against impersonating Cadance, probably because ~~no one would ever want to be Cadance~~ she’s not as stronk.

I’m not saying that’s a good or bad thing, I’m just pointing out that impersonating Cadance and traveling between planes is not illegal. I doubt it will ever come up, though.

Your off-brand candy,
Purplemint Pattie

Letter 113

Author's Note

Letter 103 for reference

Letter 113

Dear Princess Tea Cellar,

Remember those kids I poisoned? This morning I wanted to check on them to see if the conditioning worked. It did. I disguised myself again (using a different disguise from the first time) and offered them drugs. They beat me up and called me names.

Regardless of your feelings on the methods used, we can both agree this is an absolute win for science. Bruises are only temporary, mental scars are forever. Those four will never want to do drugs again.

Your math dealer,
Tweisenberg

Letter 114

Dear Princess Cushy Tush,

Queen Succubug is on my couch right now. She and three other changelings showed up at the library about an hour ago in full buggo mode—no disguises, no spells (I checked). They simply knocked on the door in broad daylight. If this were any other place but Ponyville, there would have been mass panic, but the general populace here just kinda goes along with anything.

Chryssi apparently heard about the Not-Gun of Fixiness from Juan, so she came to see if it actually works. I told her the ~~victim~~~~target~~ subject had to be willing in order for it to work, otherwise they get a new hole. After some convincing from myself and Stupid, I shot one of the dudes and he turned into a winner. Like winners do, he ate some pizza, showing all the same responses I noted from Juan.

Chrys Chan started questioning Stupid about the changes. When he confirmed his lack of a craving for love, she got very concerned. She’s worried that if I go school shooter on a willing hive, they’ll starve to death because of the culture shock. They don’t have the means or widespread knowledge for gathering and storing food, and they would have no appetite for their primary food source anymore. She wants to have readily available food before agreeing to any large-scale ~~slaughter~~ reformation. She offered to negotiate peace talks to help integrate changeling society into the rest of the world, saying she’ll cooperate with whatever security and surveillance measures you want to take as a sign of trust. Her only stipulation is that the negotiations take place in Ponyville, because apparently she doesn’t trust you that much.

I’m confident I can represent Equestria in this matter, but if you’d like to come yourself, ~~see Anon~~ it’ll speed the whole thing along. The Holey Ho said she’s k with only talking to ambassadors if you’re worried about safety. Either way, if you could send over a couple guards, a blood tester thingy, and maybe one of those anti-magic mcfuckerydoos, that’d be great. I already put like fourteen thousand alarm spells around the perimeter, so we’ll know if she tries anything funny before they get here.

Your almost sexy librarian,
Thighlight Spunkle

P.S. - Kinkbug wants me to warn you she naturally emits a pheromone that makes everyone around her mildly horny, so whoever you send should be aware of that. I found no significant change in my state of arousal, but it’s worth noting.

P.P.S. - Anon will happily volunteer to be one of her personal guards if you need him to. His raw masculinity is more than enough to withstand any measly attempts at seduction.

Letter 115

Poems are dumb
Purple is too
You put up with me
So this is for you

To tell you the truth
You’re more than just k
You’re better than coffee
You light up my day

Voice of an angel
Sweeter than pie
Booty like an onion
Make a grown man cry

Wherever I go
I’m thinking of you
Except in the bathroom
Cause that’s where I poo

Happy Valentine’s Day, Sunbutt
Love, Anon

Letter 116

Dear Princess Sunday Funday,

Remember that thing you keep saying about not giving artificial life a conscious mind? I sure don’t.

I was in the mood this morning to make some more golems because why not. I normally use mud, but I felt like switching things up this time. For the first one, I used cereal and grape juice. And yes, that is absolutely an unholy combination, but I thought it was a good fit thematically.

When it started moving, I thought to myself, “Wow, that was a mistake. Let’s make it talk.” And so I did. It wasn’t very nice. It kept saying, “kill me,” which is rude on multiple levels. One, it was basically saying to my face that the life I gave it wasn’t good enough. Two, it was trying to saddle me with the responsibility of killing it instead of jumping into the disposal on its own. Needless to say, I kept it alive until it dried out to teach it a lesson.

I made the second golem out of oatmeal and goat milk. I named him Goatmeal. He’s not very smart and kind of a dick, but he smells nice. I’m using a preservation spell to keep him from going bad, but I still need to give him a steady supply of goat milk so he doesn’t dry out. He doesn’t deserve such a fate.

Most of his vocabulary right now consists of childish insults, which is objectively funny even though I refuse to laugh. When I have more time, I’ll teach him to read and write, hopefully expanding his lexicon and ruining any fun Anon and Spike were having with him.

Your terrible parent,
Doctor Frankentwi

Letter 117

Author's Note

Inspired by this picture by tjpones

Letter 117

Dear Princess Dayrrière,

I might need to delay our tea time until next week, possibly even later. The reason for this requires a bit of explanation.

I have discovered a way to separate my flesh and skeleton into two distinct lifeforms. I, Twiggy Pig, am the flesh. SkeleTwi technically has no brain, so she’s basically me but smarter. Seeing as I now had what is effectively a second body, I decided to make use of it. I sent my skeleton to do this week’s mandatory socializing in my stead. It hasn’t come back yet and no one I’ve asked has seen it, so I’m incapacitated for the time being.

When I initially planned this out, I was expecting to use magic to move myself around, but I forgot the very important fact that I can't do magic without my head bone. It seems like an obvious connection to make for most people, but you have to remember: I have absolutely no foresight whatsoever. I’m an asshole, and the only sight assholes have is hindsight.

Anyway, I can’t come sip juice with you because my skeleton is somewhere out there with my magic, leaving me flaccid and limp and very, very sad. I hope you’ll forgive my absence due to this unexpected and completely unavoidable mishap.

Your unfunny bone,
Twicycle

P.S. - It’s not necromancy because my skeleton was never dead.

Letter 119

Regarding Iceland:

With all due respect, Princess, I think you may be overreacting to the situation. Most of the landmass is still there, and the inverted section was largely devoid of life anyway. A military investigation on this scale would use far more resources than necessary. We don’t want all of our best minds poking around an island for who knows how long. I suggest appointing a special group of no more than ten investigators helmed by myself. The source of this event was clearly magical, so I believe I am the most capable individual for the job. I promise I will get to the bottom of this.

Twilight Sparkle

Letter 121

H̴̡̛͚͕̣͓̲̫̰̬̪̬̏ͮ̒̉ͯ͐͛̆ͫ̇̅ͥ͟e̷̸̔̈ͥͭ͂ͦ͛͘͜҉̲̘̥̬̹̖̠̮͙̝ỵ̶͓̝̘̳̘̞̤̻͖̠̬ͩ̈̐̚͢ ̂ͪ̋͂̓͋͜͡͏̹͕̙̳̫̞̪̜̲Ţ̵̱̺̮̗̈́͗̌͐̂ͨͪͥ̿͋͗͌̓̾̚͟ͅi̴̧͌͒̑ͩͣ̉͂̂̃ͩͥ̿̋͡͏̫̦̺͙̩̣̼a̐͊͆̒ͧͩ̋̾͗̄̐̓ͦ͢͏̵̯̹͖͇̺̳̩̯͇̬̦͕̬̯̯̤͝ͅͅ,̴̴̣̫̟̟̳̈́̌̊͂̎̊̒̐ͪ̃̂͐ͬ̚͝ ̸̤̥̙̥ͫͣͣ̅̇́͘͜͡

̸̵̘͉͓͇͔̹̖̹̭̯͙̙͔͍̝̀̌̃ͣͪ̅͐͐̿ͧͯͨ̋̅̒̓ͩ̓̏͗̔͆ͤͨͯ̇̎͛̋͢͢͞ͅW̱̠̦̙̺͚͉̞̟͕̦͓̹͍͍̳ͮ̐̾ͮ̀̍̓̍͝͡e̶̜̜̮͉͚͚̺̭̒ͬͭ́̕͘ ̢̟̜̘̝̤̱͉̹͈̜̼͇͙͕ͫ̈́͐̐͊ͧ̄̓̾ͣͦͨ̈́͒ͭ̆͞ͅf̷̓̆̐͛̎͌ͦ͛̓ͣ̋͏̻͖̭͈͓̦̭̙͚̤̮̜̤́́ͅo̷̷̸̡̥̩̖̗̘͚̬̫̗̠͚͖̱͈ͫ́ͣ͋̉ͥ͂͆̂̂̽̌͝u͉̤͉̮̗͎̳͂̽ͬͬ̆̀̅͊͂̍̑ͪ͜͜n̷̻̭͇̠̰̝̹̱͔͙̂̓̍̐͋̈͌͋͂́̃̚͢d̡̜̩͉̙̤̺̬̘̩̥̣͍̯̩͓̿̆͂̇̑͂͜͟ ̷̢̻̰̱̞̠̝̖̦͖̗͊̅͋̎̈́ͤ͐̑ͤ̎̀̃̇̆͐ͤ̓̆̃ả̡̻̖̞̲̣̬̭͙͇͚̗̬̓̇̌͌ͫ̀͘͟ͅͅ ̷̛͍͍̠̭̣̱̜̳͎̩̓ͭ̈́ͮ̄͊̓̆̇̚͞t̛̲͖̲͙̹̫̫͖̮͎̤̼̬̥͈̗̦͙̀ͫ̍ͬ̅̓͋ͦ͆ͤͭͫ̂̎ͬ̓͟͝h͔̤̘̬̯̭͎͍̩̳̩̻̹̥̑͊̿̈́̊ͨ̓ͩ̕͘͟͟͡ì̾͐ͦͯ̿͐̚҉̡͕̠̤̭͔̦̞͉̙̰̻͔͍̺̠͜n̄͋ͭͣͩͯ̋ͩ͊̆͋͆̎̂̒ͥ̋̾̒͏̸̣̯̩͖͚̀͞g̴̢̡̨̜̗̝̯͉͎̩ͥͭ̌ͧ͒̉̽̈́ͮ̐̊̎̍.̨̻̳͍̲͙͕ͤ̾͆̉̌̏̈́̆̄̈́͛̄̂͌́ ̴̨̹̱͈͔̦̞͇͎ͫ̐͗̋̍ͥͧ͌̓̔̀̚̚̚̕͡

Love, Anon

Letter 122

Dear Princess Baewatch,*

Today I learned that there are severe social repercussions for ordering nuggies in a tendie town.

I didn’t even know there was a difference, not that that’s surprising. With my eyes being purple, it’s a miracle I can see at all. It’s both a blessing and a curse. I can see the world, but I can also see myself.

Anyway, I have since learned that tendies are top and nuggies are fake and gay. Despite this, I will still be eating them whenever possible.

Your nugger lover,
Twyrone

* It was that or Daywatch, I couldn’t decide.

Love, Anon

Letter 124

Author's Note

Letter 109 for context

Letter 124

Dear Princess Celestia,

I found the zombie deer again. My initial suspicion about it being an intentional creation has grown stronger, as I will explain below.

This encounter was similar to the first. I found the deer deep within the Everfree around midnight. It was standing motionless in a seemingly random spot. There were no timberwolf remains nearby, but there was most of a black bear corpse. The body was intact, the head was pulverized. Have you ever stepped on an acorn? It looked like that, only if you stomped on it repeatedly until every piece was driven an inch or more into the ground. Needless to say, the deer's legs were covered in blood.

I didn't want to provoke it again, so I chose to remain hidden and observe it as long as possible, which ended up being a little under six hours. Most of that time was spent completely motionless. The only time it moved was to attack something, after which it returned to standing in place. The attacks, while gruesome, allowed me a better understanding than what I would have gained otherwise.

To start, it possesses physical abilities far exceeding any living deer. There were very few injuries on it, and the ones I could see were only shallow cuts and some bite marks that barely broke the skin. This on its own is strong evidence that the magic preserving it must have come from a focused source rather than the weak but widespread magic of a curse.

In addition, there appears to be a set of criteria for what it will and won't attack. From what I was able to gather, it ignores any creature more than forty feet away, even if they are directly in its line of sight. It also ignores anything smaller than a cat, anything bipedal, and anything with more than four legs. Those last three build a disturbing framework where ponies are a prime candidate, if not the intended target.

I unfortunately made the mistake of trying to get closer shortly before sunrise. It attacked the moment I was in range, but I was ready with a shield spell. Just like in the first encounter, it immediately gave up the attack and fled. I was unable to follow it, but I marked the direction. In both instances, the deer fled southeast. I will angle my investigation in that direction and keep you appraised of any future discoveries.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 127

Dear Princess Light Theme,

I happened upon a book today by someone named Lifted Wings. They talked about loss and how it can cling to your soul if you don’t get closure. I haven’t allowed myself to have closure, mostly because I have no lingering emotions for anything that isn’t immediately useful or named Trixie. In light of this, I have decided to hold a number of funerals for those I have lost. They will be held tomorrow, one after the other, because there’s no way in hell I’m pretending to care for longer than a day.

The first few will be for each of my previous bodies. There are probably more I haven’t told anyone about, but those don’t matter. The next two will be for Trixie’s bodies. Hers will be missed the most. The last will be for Goatmeal. After a long and funny life, he finally dried out yesterday. He was starting to stink anyway, and goat milk is expensive.

You and Dark Theme are both invited, but I know princesses are busy, so don’t feel pressured to come. It's okay if you don’t care about your student’s many tragic deaths and don’t want to say anything good about me in front of other people. I understand.

Your self-replicating suicide bomber,
The Priestess of Purple

Letter 128

Dear Princess Sun Tzu,

Today I learned that throwing poop at monkeys is not conducive to gaining their trust.

I wanted to show Anon what Equestrian primates are like, so I dragged him to the Manehattan Zoo. Along the way, he told me he was an expert on primates back in his world. This excited me because I’m dumb and I believed him.

At the monkey exhibit, there were signs saying not to agitate the monkeys or they’ll throw poop at you. Anon told me that monkeys throw poop when they want to gain the trust of a stranger. I tried testing his claim by imitating that behavior. Not only did the monkeys not trust me, they became so enraged that the zoo workers had to close off the exhibit for the rest of the day.

Anon has successfully convinced me that the only reason it didn’t work is because Equestrian monkeys have a different social structure from Earth monkeys. My tiny, wrinkly brain has once again fallen before the might of Anon’s bigger, more handsome brain.

Your gullible grapehorse,
Reese’s Feces

P.S. - The monkey threw first, I was simply returning fire.

P.P.S. - It was the monkey’s poop, not mine.

Letter 129

Almighty Solar Swan, lend your ear to my humble request.

The Book Faire of Canterlot has come once more, and my absence from such festivities tortures me so. Yet all is not lost! By your grace and mercy, I implore you send Scribe Raven of the Inkwells to retrieve the most holy of texts before night falls upon us. The latest endeavor of the great A.K. Yearling has completed transcription, granting favor upon the masses to partake of her literary splendor. There is no doubt the cost will be great, but my coffers are forever yours to employ. Whatever the price, I am more than willing to pay, so long as your blessing falls upon me.

Your lowly disciple,
Purple Prose

Letter 130

Dear Princess Machine Gun Celly,

Today I failed to learn that being “technically right” isn’t as important as not being a cunt.

The anonymous (ha) tip about the unicorn mafia in horse Detroit has proven correct. Their stash of gold has been located in an abandoned recycling plant.* This was accomplished by all of us working as a team, and by that I mean it was 10% Anon with his incomprehensibly large brain, and 90% black magic from Al Caponk. I sat on the sidelines the entire time making useless plans instead of helping, but I'm still going to take credit.

Our team, excluding everyone who wasn't Perky Poof, discovered as a group that a small section of one of the walls was made of a different material. It looked identical to the surrounding wall, being completely flush with no visible cracks, and it was distinctly unenchanted so it was invisible to magic detection spells. I made the small-brain assumption that it was designed so only a unicorn who knew it was there could open it. Anon shut me the fuck up by opening it with a plunger. No one knows why Pink Floyd had a plunger with her, but we're all jaded enough to not think too hard about it.

Anon spent the next few minutes rubbing it in my face about how wrong I was, which he had every right to do since it was undeniable how wrong I was. However, I couldn't sit there and take my comeuppance like a civilized individual. No, I had the uncontrollable urge to sperg out about my exact wording. I said it had been "designed" so that only a unicorn could open it, not that it couldn't ever be opened by a non-unicorn. If I had stopped there, we could have all gone home knowing I was simply wrong. Instead, I kept everyone awake on the train ride home so I could explain the same purple logic over and over again. Blue's Clues eventually snapped and told me I was the only one who cared, and everyone else agreed. I am now pretending to have learned not to let little things bother me, but we all know that just isn't true.

Your sorest loser,
Purplo Escobar

* Even in the world of rainbows and magic, it's comforting to know that Detroit is still a shithole.

The lack of culture in this world is astonishing. None of Ponyland's gangsters are noteworthy. How can you have a normal society without famous criminals to look up to? And you guys don't even have The Dark Side of the Moon, which is a crime in and of itself. You probably think I'm talking about the actual Moon, don't you? That's so sad.
Earth: a lot | Ponyland: less than a lot

Love, Anon

Letter 131

Hey Tia,

I'm starting to worry about Twilight. She's eating and drinking a lot more for no apparent reason, and her nighttime behavior is becoming more erratic. She's woken up me or Spike several times this past week alone. I can't remember the last time I've actually seen her asleep.

A͚͈̦͔͔̘̠̓̇ͯ̌̏̈́̾t͈͉̲͔̤͔ͩ̇̔̇̍ ̠̟͛́̉ͧͧ̃̑f̼͉̭̻̰͛î̪͕̣͚̀̓ͬr̥̪̍ͯs̖̟̼̲͓̥t͕͙̫̦̩͎ ̤̝̣̌Ȋ̻͍̺̩̚ ͎͓̣͕͈̋ͭ̔ẗ́̍ͦ̎h̔o̹̙̭̖̪ͅṳ̖̙̠̙̬͓͆ĝ͂hͫt̥̫̭ͬͮ̋ ̽̓́i̬ͮt̘̭̹̺̬̘ͩ̓ͣ͒͗͋ͧͅ ͇̾ͪ̔̃̔ͣͨm͙̪̫̠̬̳ͦ̾ͫ̽i͇̹͓͛̆ͣ͌͌͛gh͉̹̦̮̰͆ͅt̘̠͈͙̟ͫ́̓̅ͦ ͪ͗̆ḅ͖̬͙ͭ̈͂͌͒̇ͅèͯ͛ͬ̇ͨ ̝͇͖̟͈̠ͩ͂r̬̲̞̾̏͛̐́̒è̞̿̿͐̄̄̿l̙̤̓ͧͬ͑̎̾ͬa͕̼̟̗̟t̹̭̝̠̮̮ͬë͔͙̫̅d͍̳͇̤̯ͦ̚ ̩̦̗͇̝͚͋̓̓t͆ͭ͑ͣ̃̇̓oͦ͒͆ ̪͉̣͍̽͌ͩ̆ͣț̩̒̈́̑h͈̥̣̦̩e͕̩̫͚̘͒ͧ̈́̎̚ ̻̦͚̩̾ṫ͖̳̥̲͍͈̝ͣ̓͂̾ͨh̟̩̮̲ͦȉ͇̘̝̳ͫͩṋ͔̪̉̓ͦͨ̈́g̮̫͕͙͉̻̑̂ͬ,̝̟̱̻̫͉͊̄͑ͅ ̗͙̺͙͕͇̼̇̽̾͊̽̋̚b͈̞͖̏̂ͬ̋̔uṱ̰̘͈̘̺ I̤͕̙͖͊͋ ̗͍̣͚̙͍ͨ͑̎a̙͚͎̬̖͋͌̒ͩ͆̀͒s̖̣̔̎͌k̰̹̣̭͉̩͂̃͌͌ͣ͒́e͙̫d̘̠͚̼͓͖̭ͥ̔ ͚̗͓̬͔͉̝ͣ̊̅ͩL̯̲̗͋̃ͯ͋̉ͥu̺̣̙̹̫̳͂͊̈́͑͑̽̚n̝͖̈́̃̓̑ͨ͐a̮͚͒̃̉̌̉̊ ̮̋ͭ̽ͪ͆ͤa̻̼ͫn̺ͬ̓̔̋ͨ̚d͎ͦ͋ͣͮ̃ͦ ̣͔͚̳̻ͬͧș̱̜̰͉̬̲ͩ͒ͤ͑ĥ̙̟̱̬̣ͬͭͬ̋ͪͅe̜͙͎͎̮̱ ̱̥̼͉̝ͦ̊̋ͭ͛s͎͙̓ã̫̭̘̪̭̲̈ͦi̻̭͎̳͙͚͕ͪ͂d͇̰͒͐̅̓ͅ ̣̂̋ͯi̤̞̩͇ͯͨt̮̳̦̻͇ ̯̲̗͍̜̠͋ô̘͙̬͊ͤͫ̓̍̚n̄̄ͥ̃ͮl̅y̝̪͔͕͇̅̑ͫ̏ͫͅ ̞͎̥a̳̻͕͉̳͎̻f͉̤̥̤̹̝f͓̮̂̾͋̉ͣe̬͔̮̼̹̓͊c̖͈̔ͦt̠͋̿̈́s̗̰̪͇̹̱͆ͭ̉ ̾y̝̙̥͔̫̣ͥ̂͐oͪ̾ͣu͍͙̥̪̻ͩ̇̊͊ͫ͊͂ ̋̃͂̆͛w̪̆ͧͤͥ̓h͓̪͖̣ͅḭ͎͙͖͓̝ͧ̇̿ͦ́̔̃l͇̞̬̙͗̄̈́̀͛̄̚ẹ̻͚͚ͫ͒͊̒͐́̊ ͦ̏ẙ̭ͪo͖̯̲̦̔̌u͖̯͈͓̤̝ͮͤͩ̂ͩ̅'͇̏͋̌ͫͬ͆r̰͊ͮè͕ ̮̟͉̳̭̮ͨͫ̌̔c͔͇̬̰̖̠̿ǒ̯͉̰̄̏̔̑̓̎n͓̝̘̬̟̿ͨ̿͑͆ͪ̂s̯̤̟̱͂̍c͉͕̻̘̝̮i̲̺̮ͥ͛ͬͯͨ̇o̐̎ͩ̍̔͛u̩̱̫̭̇̿̔s̟̠̈̽̊̿lͨ͊̉y̍ͦ̍ͪͅ ̞͖̫̱̣͎ͩ̈́ͅt͈͇͈̍͂̍h͙͚̦̯͕̮̫i̗̲̼̘̼̞̗ͪͧṉ̦̊͗͋̽͊k̩̼̱̩ͨi̙ṉ̞͉͔͚̖̓g̩̿ͮ̇̋̆ͩ̔ͅ ͔̊̅̉̃ͫ̅a̓b̳̞̺̩̲̒ͯ̂̌̊ͅo̾̔̉̚u̗̐t͒̏ ̹͕͑͌͆͑ͮi̖̯̹͍͕̲ͧ̿̆ͩ̅̉t͔͈̖̲̘͚ͦͥ̋̐̎. ͤT͔̦͍̥̹̓ͫ͒̌ͅw̦̺ỉ͎͓̌̔͗̐ ͖̯̐ͬ͌ͮ͋̇̅t̔̓͗ͩ̋h̠̮͈͕̲̹̽̈͒ͮo͍͍̤̱̪͉̿͋̈́̊͌ȗ̱̩̖͔͕ͩͨg̦͎̣̺̣͈̟̾̂ȟ͕̘̞̪ẗ̻́̍ͦ͒͑͒ ̜͔ͥ́ͥͨ̅ͧͯi͕̳͉̳̍t̉ͬ̒ ͙͙̰̱͎̟͊̇̿ͨͬ́̚w̏a̺͒͐̾̆̈́s͇͖̯̦͐ ̥̝̞̯̈́̅ͬ̄b̬̗͐͌̎ͅo̺̦̬͑͋̽̏ͯr͖͕̮̰̰͔̩̎͗̿ͮ̇ͫ͗i̳̋̌̋͋͗̏̚n̗̗͉̮̿͋̐͒͑̽̚g͈͒͌̇͂̈ ̦̉ͥͥ̂͒̈́͗w͎ͪ͆̄͂ͭh̝͕͂̀ͨē̲͉̇͑̓̔͗n̫̼͌̑̀ ̹̬̖ͯͯŵ͔̟͓͉̦̇͛é̗̘̼̮ ̭̠ͅf̯̝͕̜͚͉̟o̟̥̘͈͛ũ̱̬̻̗̂ͮ͐̔n̘̼͖̣̹̂ͨ̎̃d̤͖͉̼̄̑̾ͫ̈̉ ̠͉͚͎̬̠̦ͥͪ̋̾i͂ͫ̿ṱͤ,͉̐ ̜̬̈́̀̋͐s̫̰o͋̏̔͗̚ ̦̥̬̺̼ͯ̔̿ͬͭI͙͙̮̋ ͪ̉̈́̊̍ͭ̐d̂ͣͬͤ̄ȯ̞͇̭͙̰̞͉̚u̬̝̱̠̿b͉͌͗̚t̞͙͈̮̗ͩ̾̀ͥͦ ͆ͅs̩̽͊ͭͭͦh̫̫̺̮̗̜ͣe͚͕͎̱̅͌ ̜̙̹̋͂t͓̱͔̦ͯ̀ͭͭͦ̿͐hͮ̊̋ḯ́̾̚n̪̐̆ͧk̗͙͆̉̏̔ͬs͉̬̣̖̦͔̖ͤ ̪͚̺̹̮̠̏̈́ͫ̄ͩ͛̚a͙͚̥̐̑̓̆ͦ̄̆b͈͓̞̪̹̾̐̅̅ͫ̚o̬͕̣͑͐̇͑ͫ̔ú͎͓͖ͧt̄̂̐̋ ̖̳̤̺͔̙͇͗ͭ̓̍̊̀i̤̜̙͓̻̟͉ͫͧ͛ͩͣ͑ẗ͉͎͖̜͍͎̰́̔͋̓͋ ̬̳͓̗̿̃t̾̅̾́́ͬ̇o̻͔͓̻̫̝̅ͭͅoͧ̋ͥ̑͒ ̹͕̙̝̹̎̑̇̋͐̐̽m̋̊ͩͫͨ̅ͣu̞ͭ̎͗̓̄̾̆c͌h̪̜͕̮̬̤.̺͒ ͖̘̻̓
͍̳͎̘̰̰̉̏ͦ
I’m not saying this raises any red flags just yet, but you should still tell your definitely-not-spies to keep an eye out at night in case she’s doing weird shit without me.

Love, Anon

To-Do part 2: electric boogaloo

Author's Note

For context:
To-Do part 1 and Letter 117

Twi’s updated to-do lists. These were not sent to Celestia.

To-Do part 2: electric boogaloo

Mirror pool:

study (ongoing)

~~test if clone temperment changes based on origin of soul~~ confirmed

determine exact history of soul used for T-05 through T-09 (shard C or D?)

test effects of larger soul pieces

locate T-06

warn family/friends?

~~clone loop~~ delayed until behavioral variability is reduced

Skeleton:

~~reduce spell duration~~ 2 hour minimum or it’s too weak

~~test if skeleton can cast cloning spell on its original flesh~~ only capable of minor telekinesis; treat as more complex golem

~~test if skeleton can use mirror pool~~ soul pieces failed to attach

Skeleton’s usefulness was greatly overestimated. No further research needed.

Miscellaneous:

~~anniversary gift (~~high priority~~)~~

~~fix Iceland~~ don’t get involved any further

human lexicon (ongoing)

ask Anon if he’s making words up

study Stu’s fun allergy

remember Pinkie

~~visit new bookstore in Baltimare~~ nothing I don’t already have

bone hole

move timeline back

Self-improvement:

hug Spike more (ongoing)

~~apologize to Shiny~~

~~thank Anon for molars~~ don’t mention molars

increase torso capacity ~~(ongoing)~~ success

~~kidney~~

~~intestines~~

1.82 meters removed

~~remove increments of 10 centimeters until digestion is noticeably affected~~ further reduction not needed

~~consider reduction of stomach~~ reduction not needed

~~remove pain receptors to reduce discomfort~~ Bad idea. Fix soon.

haircut

Letter 133

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Letter 134

Author's Note

Letters 109 and 124 for context

Letter 134

Dear Princess Champagne Supernova,

I think whoever made the zombie deer (who I refuse to call by his given name, Zambie) is using your old castle ruins as a base. One of the entrances I remember being open is now blocked by Big “The Rock” Boulder, and looking at the surroundings, it couldn’t have fallen there naturally. I wasn’t able to get any closer because I’m a pussy, and also because I had the gf and my two dudebros with me. Left Twix is the exact opposite of stealthy, and Anon’s hypermasculine aura makes him stick out like a whore’s thumb. I could have gotten in with Spike, but he’s apparently the one thing I have any protective instincts for. Go figure.

I plan to go back tomorrow for “extended reconnaissance” when I’m better prepared. I definitely won’t go exploring by myself in the dead of night because I guess I don’t sleep anymore. As promised (with no crossed fingers whatsoever), I will not engage and will contact Sailor Moon immediately if I encounter the rogue necromancer/demon. P sure it’s a necromancer, demons don’t need shelter unless they’re somehow trapped on this godforsaken plane* thanks to magic bullshit with no chance of ever going home or seeing their family again because even the horrible life they had before was too good for them. Or it’s one with an unfulfillable contract. Either/or.

Your purple paladin,
Right Twix

* I give pony land a C+. The food is meh, and the animals keep talking to me, but being tall is pretty k. Plus, the management is a 14/10 on a bad day. It evens out.

Love, Anon

Letter 134.1

Author's Note

Letters 61 and 68 for context

Letter 134.1

Yo Tia,

I’m mad.

There were so many cool things that could have made Zambie, but it ended up being a byproduct of a byproduct of Twilight fucking Sparkle. Lame. Pinkie was also kind of involved because she was a catalyst for all this. And I guess so were you, technically. And maybe me, I don’t know. I’m so mad right now.

Where do I even begin? You remember those two demons Pinkie summoned, Scribbles the Skinless and Dave from Accounting? You remember when Scribbles came back and you nuked him so hard the universe broke a little (super hot, by the way)? Yeah, that was Act 1 of Shitshow: The Musical.

Act 3 started when Pinkie reused the old contract to summon the pair of demons again. Why did we skip Act 2? Because fuck you I do what I want. Pinkie did her thing, but only Dave was summoned because Scribbles doesn’t exist anymore (again, hot). Here’s where the bullshit starts to appear. Since the contract specifically listed Scribbles and Dave as a pair, it was impossible for Dave to fulfill it by himself, meaning he was stuck here until he or Pinkie died (she’s fine, don’t worry). That’s bullshit, right? It gets worse. Demon magic is apparently as arbitrary as pony magic. You’re not allowed to kill or harm whoever made the contract, but it’s perfectly fine to make it easier for them to die.

Dave may be a demon, but he’s not good at planning demises. He’s an accountant with a minor in culinary arts. His original plan was garbage. But lucky for him, someone else came along, told him he had a garbage plan, and then gave him a better one.

Enter Zambie. Zambie was created to destroy anything vaguely Pinkie-shaped. It wasn't targeting her specifically since it stayed in the Everfree, so it was A-okay according to demon logic. Anything that got in the way was just as likely as her to die. Pretty brutal, right? Do you want to guess who made him? If you guessed Twilight, you’re only half right.

This brings us to Act 2, which is the reason I’m mad. One of Twilight’s mirror pool clones escaped and fled into the Everfree, where she holed up in your old castle and started doing necromancy shit. Our Twilight had no idea her clone was involved, so at least there's that. Yeah, by the way, Twilight has apparently been messing around with the mirror pool this whole time. Did you not know? Me neither. She didn’t tell me. She told Trixie. Not me. I’m so fucking mad.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Dave and the clone are both toaster bath now thanks to Luna. She can give you more details when she gets back since she was the one who did the interrogating, but it might be a while before she finishes yelling at Twilight. In the meantime, she keeps her squeeze cheese in a safe at the back of the pantry. It's behind a false panel on the left side, you'll see it if you look close. 8942 to shut off the alarm, 3496 to unlock. Take exactly two cans and hide them somewhere in her own room, please and thank you. I don't ask for much, but I need this right now.

Letter 135

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express great concern.

I have recently learned of an individual who is widely disliked for reasons which are not readily apparent. Those who speak of him do not use his name, referring to him only as “that guy.” I know very little about him, but several times I have heard it said that one would not want to be him, implying he is not looked upon favorably. I understand the feeling of being unwanted, and it pains me to learn that this feeling is being inflicted upon another. If it is true that no one wants to be him, then perhaps neither does he. If I can meet with this individual, I wish to befriend him.

I have attempted to confide in Anonymous, but he was reluctant to tell me the individual’s name or the reason for his status as a pariah. I believe this is because he holds a concern for my own feelings, because he hugged me and expressed a desire for me to remain pure, as if the knowledge of this individual would harm me in some manner. While I am grateful beyond words to be cared for in such a way, I yearn to extend that care to one who needs it far more. My search has been fruitless so far, but I will not give up.

Stu

Letter 136

Dear

In case haven't noticed, accidentally lost some words. Don't panic, is k. Will wear off soon, maybe days at most. As long as don't talk about, or write to, or talk to at all, really won't even notice missing. Until, focus on duties. Can handle.

Letter 136.1

Could not handle. Need old. Come soon.

Letter 137

Dear Princess Fever Dream,

I had a bad day today. I got made fun of by children this morning. They called my horn fat. This upset me because they clearly weren’t taught proper anatomy. At the very least, a kindergartner could say it’s a protrusion of bone with a thin layer of skin covering it and be technically correct. There’s no room for fat. Why couldn’t they understand this?

I tried explaining things to them, but then they called me a stupid dumb. I almost couldn’t believe the inaccuracies coming from their mouths. I take pride in my brain being my one semi-redeeming feature, so being called stupid was genuinely hurtful. I offered to make an incision along my horn to show them that there was no fat, but then they said they didn’t want to see my fat, ugly horn.

So now my horn was fat and ugly, along with me being stupid. I went crying to Trixie because she’s used to being made fun of, and she told me I needed thicker skin if I wanted to survive around foals. Being as dumb as I am (not stupid), I took this literally and made my skin a half-inch thicker and two shades more purple. I couldn’t blink anymore, but that’s what magic is for. My horn, now actually looking fat, was held high as I waddled back to the park.

They made fun of me again, and I ran crying back to Trixie a second time. I spent the rest of the day undoing my rhino skin instead of what I had planned. About an hour into it, I realized Anon and Dash had snuck in and were throwing darts into my cutie mark while I couldn’t feel anything. They said it was funny because it was, but I made them stop anyway.

The only upsides today were the pity kisses from Trixie and the additional knowledge that artificially thickening one’s skin does not lead to an increased tolerance for emotional pain. Maybe I’ll find a spell for that, or I might need to make one. Either way, it’s a long way out. In the meantime, I’ll just avoid foals like my restraining order says.

Your endangered species,
Twhinoceros

Letter 138

Author's Note

For context: Letters 86.4, 86.5, and 114

Letter 138

Dear Princess Nicecream Fundae,

I just got word from our good pal Chryssi. There’s a changeling civil war brewing down in the Badlands. Apparently some rogue hives have teamed up to take down Mega Milf because she’s been talking about progessive ideas like shooting her people to make the world a better place.

The messenger she sent explicitly stated that she’s dumb and doesn’t want any help. She only wanted to let you know not to attack her bugs if you see them flying south.

Now, I’m not one to make rash judgement calls, but this is the perfect opportunity for genocide. I’m calling it “neutralization,” but we all know what I really mean.

Most, if not all, of the changelings in Equestria will be in one general location, and they’ll all be preoccupied with infighting. It would be so easy. No fuss, no muss, just one big ol’ solar slaparooni and the changelings will be no more.* Even if a queen or two escapes, it still means they’ll be out of our hair for at least a couple centuries, and the Badlands are already near-uninhabitable anyway, so any collateral damage would be negligible. Just think about it, okay?

Your crime against morality,
Twilent Night

* I don’t need to tell you this, but please don’t. Besides, the “reeeeeeeee, don’t help” might be reverse psychology if the changelings are setting up a trap. I think it’s safer to leave them be. Also, Stu was there when the messenger came, so now he’s doing that thing with his eye fluids again. I know your creeper dudes are already watching him, but can you tell them to be extra careful? I’m worried he might run off to intervene and trip on something he’s allergic to, and then I’ll be held responsible. I don’t want to deal with that.

Love, Anon

Letter 58

Dear Princess C. Hansen,

Today I learned that Sweetus Diabeetus is the quintessential loli. I still don’t quite understand what that word means, but according to Equestria’s foremost loliconnoisseur, Anon, she checks every box available. As such, she should not be lewded and requires daily headpats which Anon has so graciously volunteered to give. In addition, any and all food items she prepares must be consumed, regardless of taste or toxicity. My stockpile of antidotes will come in handy.

Anon says her only imperfection is the lack of a bow, but that can be swiftly remedied with the help of the Build-a-Rare Workshop.

Your mare of culture,
Stork Sporkle

Letter 1

Dear Princess Sunbutt,

Spike is off doing dragon shit for who knows how long, so I’m making my fuckmonkey write this for me. Sorry you have to deal with his unfamiliar writing style and dashing good looks. I could very easily write my own damn friendship reports, but I get off to treating everyone around me like slaves.

Today I learned that being a cunt makes other people not like you. Apologizing for your cuntish behavior is the first step to fixing whatever relationships you fucked up with said cuntish behavior. True friends will forgive you. Truer friends won’t act like cunts in the first place, but I’m too dumb and purple to understand that one.

Your failed social experiment,
Twinkle Sprinkle

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 9

Dear Princess Celigula,*

Today I didn’t learn for the second time to not be such a huge racist. I’m alone in my racism because all my friends learned their lesson the first time. Not me, though. Not Twilight “Fuck Anything That’s Not A Pony” Sparkle.

A group of griffons were passing through town, minding their own business. I apparently knew a dickish griffon named Gilda in the past, so you just know I had to start some shit. These new griffons were confused when I yelled at them, so I started yelling louder to prove they were bad. More stuff happened, blah blah blah, friendship, and now the griffons and I are k, despite my rampant racism.

Your pony supremacist,
Sparkass

* It’s a human reference, so you probably won’t get it. But I thought it was funny, and isn’t that what really matters?

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 16

Dear Princess Celestia,

Anon is sick, so I’m having Spike write this. I find it amusing how eager Anon was to permanently take over transcribing for me, but Spike was just as happy.

Today I learned that no matter how hard you try, you can’t help somepony who doesn’t want it, and trying to force help upon them will only lead to conflict.

Yesterday I wanted to help Fluttershy organize her house into something more spatially efficient. In theory, I thought she would welcome more room for animals, but she preferred comfort over efficiency. I didn’t believe her at first, so I rearranged her furniture while she slept. This morning, she spent two hours looking for her snake flakes before confronting me. I relented and helped her return her home to its previous state of minor disarray.

Despite my poor judgement, she forgave me and our bond of friendship remains strong.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. - Anon says to tell Luna hi.

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 52

Dear Princess Cybertron,

Today I learned that shrinking potions are not an effective method to stem a profusely bleeding wound.

Trixie, the only unicorn incompetent enough to resort to using stage magic, tried sawing her leg off with a real saw. Anon, the brave, handsome man that he is, rushed to the scene and poured a shrinking potion he was conveniently carrying onto the wound.

~~In theory, less blood can come out of a smaller wound. It makes sense, right? But fuck logic, I guess. Who needs consistent laws of physics? That shit’s for pussies. Let’s just have everything be a random roll of the die because why the fuck not. In fact, we should ju~~

Trixie is alive and well, but she’ll have a very tiny leg for the next few hours. She’s also terrified of Anon now because she’s as racist as I am.

This is an extremely rare instance where one of Anon’s genius ideas didn’t quite pan out. My friends and I will use this as justification to never listen to him and his giant brain ever again.

Your syndrome of a down,
Tweezers

Letter 18

Dear Princess Permaboomer,

Today I learned that you shouldn’t blindly trust old people when it comes to new technology. I already knew this, but I wanted an excuse to tell you about the bullshit I just had to deal with.

The iFarm household got a new oven because Applebee’s touched the old one and it exploded. The new one has a built-in timer with a buzzer for when the timer hits zero. Granny Smithsonian and her centuries of wisdom said the buzzing meant something was wrong. No matter who talked to her, she was convinced she was right because she had worked with ovens longer than most of us have been alive.

The worst part is Applehat sided with her because “Granny’s older, so she’s more experienced.” Now I’m pretty stupid, but even I’m not that stupid. She “fixed” it with a hammer until the noise stopped.* The rest of it also stopped, so they’re buying another new oven.

Applehat admitted she should have listened to her friends, but we all know she’ll still believe the moon is made of cheese if Granny says so.

Your pro-eugenics advocate,
Twist and Shout

* You should have been there. AJ held the hammer in her mouth, so whenever she missed, she smashed her face against the oven. She missed a lot. It was some of the funniest shit I’d ever seen.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 21

Dear Princess Sunspot,

Today I’m pretending to have learned that emotionally manipulating people* is bad. I’m still going to do it, but I’ll be more careful so I don’t get caught in the future.

Your amoral husk,
Stinky Twinkie

* It’s me or Spike 90% of the time. I don’t know if it’s because we’re the only boys she hangs out with or because we’re not ponies. Either way, I’m glad Spike called her out on it. The little guy’s growing up so fast if he’s already got his own bullshit detector.

Love, Anon

Author's Note

Celestia’s reply

Letter 27.2

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 27.2

Dear Princess Celestia,

It’s honestly not that bad, maybe a Purple 2 at worst. She can handle it. Scootaloo on the other claw... might need help. We’ll see how it goes. I’m not legally allowed to talk about the specifics of what happened, though. Sorry.

Your best dragon,
Spike

Hey Sunscreen,

Fuck yes.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Would it count if Twilight randomly fell into a coma or went to the hospital for a month? Just curious.

P.P.S. - If I don’t make it a full month, can I get a movie night with you instead? I’ll let you pick the movie.

Letter 28.1

Dear Princess Starfire,

The apple is still screaming. Silencing spells don’t work on it because it has no mouth. I’ve got it mostly muffled with some towels inside a locked chest.

Anon bravely offered to smash it, but I’m growing a conscience at the most inconvenient time possible. If it’s alive, what right do we have to kill it?* Would it be a mercy to end its tortured existence? I’m trying my best to not come up with an answer so Anon suffers as long as possible.

Your first fruit wizard,
Buttlight Fuckle

* Fruits aren’t protected under Equestrian law. Even if it’s alive, murdering it is 100% legal. Believe me, I triple checked. I just want the screaming to stop.

Love, Anon

Letter 29

Dear Princess Hot Potato,

Today I learned that wild animals are ungrateful shits, even if your party’s beast master says otherwise.

We found a baby skunk near the stream this morning. Anon came up with the perfectly sensible plan of using a really long net to toss it into the forest. I told him, “no, that’s a dumb idea” because I’m dumb. Instead, I grabbed Stuttercry and made her do something about it. She went bloodhound and started sniffing around for the shitkitten’s mom. Lo and behold, the mom was not happy to have her baby back. For all we know, she left it there on purpose because she couldn’t take the stress of being a mother.

Flutes and I got sprayed, but it’s not entirely bad. I get to rub tomato sauce all over her body now.

Your purpleroni pizza,
Smellslike Barfle

Is there not a destinkifying spell? I didn’t ask Twi because I couldn’t stand being near her any longer than absolutely necessary.

Love, Anon

Letter 37

Dear Princess Porcelain Horselain,

Today I learned that the torture of exercise is less painful when endured with a friend.

Staying motivated is infinitely easier when your butterbooty beauty is cheering you on every step of the way. I've learned that feeling like I want to die afterwards is not something to be ashamed of, but something to be proud of.

My feeble form is being broken down and rebuilt in a continuous cycle of agony and euphoria. With each drop of blood and each gallon of sweat, I grow ever closer to achieving oneness with the Butterstuffs.

I’ll probably give up once I regain the feeling in my entire body, but right now I’m pretty pumped about not throwing up.

Your grape jelly legs,
Big Twig

Letter 48

Hey Celestia,

So Fluttershy is straight. Yeah. Twi’s not taking it very well. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t get to see firsthand exactly how straight the Butterslut is. We kind of walked in on her hilting two footlongs in each hole. Seriously, I knew ponies were stretchy, but holy shit.

Twi ran away immediately and Flutts looked like she wanted to hit the sewer slide when she saw us, but the guys were pretty cool about it. They even offered to let me join, but I declined. I treat my body with respect, unlike Fluttershy.

Anyway, I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone what I saw, so don’t tell anyone I told you. You can tell Luna, though. I think she’d get a good laugh out of this.

Love, Anon

Letter 51

Hey Celestia,

I think some of the Elements of Harmony have been misnamed.

The Element of Loyalty doesn’t really represent loyalty, it seems to represent general hypocrisy and an allegiance to whatever is most convenient at the time. The Element of Honesty represents double standards and apples. The Element of Kindness represents the ability to pleasure twelve dudes at once (which is pretty kind, so that gets a pass). The Element of Laughter represents crystal meth addiction and a crippling need for constant approval from others. The Element of Generosity represents vanity and a sense of superiority derived from pretending to be rich. And the Element of Magic represents being dumb and purple.

For the sake of accuracy, I suggest they be renamed to the Elements of Big Gay Lasers.

Love, Anon

Letter 60

Dear Princess Cellulose,

Today I learned that photosynthesis is an extremely painful process when performed by mammals.

Like I do every year, I was wandering the Badlands before the winter solstice, but I didn’t bring enough food with me. I hadn’t accounted for my total lack of self-restraint when it comes to eating, and as a result, I ran out in the middle of my trip. I didn’t want to eat bugs because I guess I have standards now, so I decided to forsake all laws of nature and turn myself partially into a plant.

However, I remembered what you said about using untested spells, so I cast it on a shrew first. It turned green, grew some leaves, and then ran off, so I thought casting it on myself would be k. It was not k.

The following hours were the most excruciating of my entire life. I was in so much pain that I even tried scraping my own leaves off; that only made it worse. But as bad as the physical pain was, the psychological pain was infinitely worse. My mind had become more plant than pony. Every leaf was a new piece of my soul, and as I tore each one from my body, I began to bleed. Plants were not meant to bleed, Celestia.

The lingering effects will fully subside by tomorrow. I swear I will only use standard spells from this day forward, or until I inevitably repress this memory and go back to fucking around with perverse magic.

Your blight of the world,
Twiggie Smalls

She’s started talking to plants when she thinks no one else is around. I would be concerned, but the topics are hilarious. She’s been trying to comfort Spike’s lima bean because it hasn’t germinated yet.

Love, Anon

Letter 63

Dear Princess Celcium,

Today I learned that your friends won’t always be open with you when something is wrong. A little prodding is sometimes necessary, even if they get upsetti spaghetti at first.

Crayon Sprayon had one of her birdhorse competitions coming up, but she reacted weird whenever anyone mentioned it. Normally she would brag to anyone within earshot about how she could win with her wings blindfolded, but this time she was almost acting like she didn’t want to enter.

Everyone kept asking if she was k, and of course she lied each time. Snapplecrack eventually got tired of it and told her to just not enter the race if all she was going to do was complain about it. This led to a shouting match where the Crayola Condor finally admitted she was afraid of failing. Not the race, she was a shoe-in for that. She was afraid of not getting sponsored even if she won. Apparently a couple bigwigs were going to be there looking to slap their brand onto some horseflies, and RGB Speedwagon was worried because she didn’t have a “marketable personality,” which is bullshit because half of celebrity athletes are assholes by default.

After talking some more, she realized how stupid it was to stress about it. If the moneybags didn’t like her, she wouldn’t want to work with them anyway, so it was no big loss on her part. Plus, another win under her metaphorical belt would draw the attention of better potential sponsors.

All in all, talking good, repressing bad, blah blah blah.

Your friend in read,
Lite-Brite

Letter 67.1

Dear Princess Pencil Pusher,

About that cloning spell I was working on: You know how I said I wasn’t going to cast it on myself, and that I was going to get a professional to review it?

Yeah, I lied about that. Big shocker, I know.

The spell generated a perfect clone, identical right down to that tiny duck-looking scar next to my belly button, so that’s pretty good. It also caused the me who cast the spell to explode, which is less good. In fact, I'd venture to say it crosses into the territory of being bad.

I destroyed all my notes on the subject and briefly considered experimenting on memory alteration, but then I finally realized magical experimentation is the very reason this shit keeps happening.

After we finish burning the rest of my body, Anon and I will be attempting non-magical memory alteration by drinking heavily until we forget this ever happened.

Your replacement student,
Twilight the Second

Letter 70

Dear Princess Pale Horse,

I know you’re busy with the World Summit and all, but we got some Freaky Friday meets Weekend at Bernie’s shit going on right now. My body is currently locked in a spatial rift, so that’s problem number one. Problem number two: my body and soul have separated for some reason. (I suspect the rift only allows physical matter to pass through, so something metaphysical like one’s soul or consciousness would be pushed out. Will research later.) Problem number three: my soul can’t exist in the physical plane without a body, so it attached itself to a pony named Corn Cobbler. Problem number four: Corn Cobbler died last night.

So yeah, sad for him and all, but I’m stuck puppeteering a corpse until I can get my own body back. My only saving grace in this situation is the fact that Anon (blessed be his big, handsome brain) believed me when I explained what was going on. He realized the only other person who moves corpses around semi-regularly was missing, so my story made sense.

My initial plan was to wait it out until the spatial rift reopens, but I have no way of knowing exactly when that will happen since Cornhole here is a mule. Was a mule. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The point is, I don’t have magic, so I’m pretty much humping the line between sanity and complete mental breakdown at the moment.

To top it all off, no one but Anon and myself know Corn Cobbler is dead, so I have to somehow convince people I’m him and not a reverse abortion. That’s going to be tough when my very existence is a slap in the face to God, not to mention the fact that my acting skills suck more dick than Shutterblush.

We’ll figure something out. Maybe. I just wanted to let you know what was happening in case you could sense the accidental necromancy.

Your undead mule,
Corncob Sparkle

Letter 83

Hey Celestia,

I’m not good at apologies, but I need to say I’m sorry. After doing some reading, I now realize I may have accidentally molested you last week.

I was not aware ponies had an erogenous zone between their front legs. It never even occurred to me because your tits and bits are on the back end, so why would you have a funspot at the front? Your species makes no sense.

Regardless, I’m sorry about that. But to be fair, you were lying on your back right next to me and you have a very rub-able chest, so this is at least 3% your fault. (By the way, how the hell can you watch a movie from that angle? That’s nuts. You’re nuts.)

Anyway, I figured I would scratch your fur like I sometimes do. You didn’t say anything, so I didn’t think anything was wrong, and you sort of looked like you were enjoying it, so I kept doing it, but I didn’t know it was that kind of enjoyment, so I’m sorry.

I’m really bad at this, I know.

On the bright side, at least Luna wasn’t there to hit me or call me names. If I do something else like this in the future, please ~~kill me on the spot~~ tell me. I’d prefer the temporary embarrassment over being blissfully ignorant while I touch more ponies inappropriately. Of course, if you’d rather not hang out at all anymore, I understand. Sorry again.

Anon

Letter 73

Hey Celestia,

I've finally come to accept that the natural laws which govern our universe are completely and utterly arbitrary whenever Pinkie Pie is involved.

Magic on its own is already a fat middle finger to physics, Friendship Magic™ is an even bigger middle finger to normal magic, but Pinkie Pie? Pinkie Pie is like God himself took a massive pink shit on the very concept of logic. (Minus the shit part, of course. Pinkie’s pretty k.)

I think I can empathize with Twilight a little better now. I know you told her to give up on understanding pink energy, but I thought you were only saying that because she was being more crazy than usual. But no, she had every single right to take a dip in the crazy lake and swim as long as she wanted. I feel like I’m going crazy myself.

The saddest part is I’m not even trying to understand it. I haven’t tried studying it or even thinking too hard about it. Hell, I’ve been trying to ignore it! But it’s impossible to ignore something when it’s buttfucking your entire perception of reality right in front of your face. And not the fun kind of buttfucking, either. It's the uncomfortable kind; the kind where you can tell neither person is enjoying it, but they just started, so it would be awkward to stop, and it was supposed to be a special thing for their anniversary, but it turned out awful, and you’re forced to watch the whole time because they get off to that kinda stuff, and they both keep giving you weird looks like it’s your responsibility to put a stop to it, and then their kids walk in because they wanted to introduce their new friend from school and they start crying because they have no idea what’s going on, so you try to leave before remembering you’re a quadriplegic, and then the police storm in because someone called in a bomb threat, and your wheelchair gets knocked over and you fall on top of one of the kids, and they start screaming because you’re too heavy, and then one of the police later posts the body cam footage to the internet because he thought it was funny, and then years later you have to sit in a courtroom and watch the footage again because you and the couple were accused of a crime and the body cam footage was the only hard alibi they had.

That kind of buttfucking. It’s not fun.

I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’m taking all the liquor I have, grabbing Sweetie Belle, and sitting in my corner until the world makes sense again.

Anon

Letter 74.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 74.1

Dear Princess Celestia,

After an extended conversation with Anon, I’ve come to understand you plan to hold a meeting with my mother regarding the incident early this morning. Anon has admitted he greatly exaggerated my words in his letter, so I would like to clear up any misunderstandings. Whether it was a prank on his part or a lack of proper communication on mine, the fact remains that I was not yelling at foals for being short at four in the morning. That’s ridiculous, and frankly I’m a little hurt that you believe I would do such a thing.

I’ll address the inaccuracies as they appear in the initial letter (assuming Anon was being fully honest when he told me what he wrote).

I was not yelling, I was explaining things in a heated fashion. I was forced to raise my voice at points because they were being rude and talking over me.

They were not foals, they were siblings of twelve and thirteen.

The focus of my lecture was not to criticize their height, but rather to explain why their height is below average for their age group and why that matters.

Their “parents” are not their true parents, they’re both adopted.

The parents were not mad, they were afraid, then surprised and possibly annoyed when they realized it was me.

I did not break into the house, the front door was unlocked and there was a Welcome mat.

It was not four in the morning, it was three forty-five.

I did not take the siblings to a secluded location, I took them to the Apple’s barn. Considering its proximity to Ponyville, it can hardly be called secluded.

Again, I was not yelling. I simply wanted to make sure they understood how short they are.

Of course, I must reiterate that I have since learned my methods were less than ideal. In the future, I will wait until a more appropriate time to strike up a conversation. I’ve been told most ponies prefer to wait until at least an hour after sunrise, and that conversing over breakfast is a common social practice.

With the above points cleared up, I would humbly request you cancel the meeting with my mother. I’m sure it would cause her a great deal of stress to realize she was summoned by the Princess over a simple miscommunication.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. - Anon wants me to tell you he promises his future transcriptions will be as accurate as before, and that this lapse in professionalism was a one-time thing.

Letter 77

Dear Princess Celestia,

Over the past week, I’ve gone through a number of revelations, the most prominent of which is the fact that my medication has been giving me strong feelings of paranoia this whole time. It seems obvious looking back, but hindsight is always 20-20.

I had fallen into a cycle of refusing to take it because I felt it was harming me, then starting it up again when I was no longer paranoid. Needless to say, I’m now on a different prescription. The new one is something more mild, so it might not help as much, but the side-effects will (hopefully) be less severe.

My mother will be staying in Ponyville for another few days to make sure the side-effects are manageable this time. She says thank you for funding the trip and her accommodations.

When you see Anon, please tell him Spike and I miss him dearly. I’m only kind of insane now, so it’s safe for him to come back.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. - In case it was unclear, I was joking. I don’t actually think I’m insane in any capacity.

P.P.S. - But even if I were insane, most sources I’ve checked indicate I wouldn’t be aware of it.

Letter 79

Dear Princess Mighty Whitey,

Today I showed how small my brain is by trying to disprove Anon's proposed link between dumbness and purpleness. According to observable reality, the more purple the body, the smaller the brain will be, excluding cases where the purple is artificial.

I first attempted to present a counterpoint by bringing up Spike, who is clearly purple, but not dumb. This just served to weaken my argument by revealing my own ignorance of the fact that only ponies have shown a consistent dumb-purple correlation.

My second attempt involved me trying to convince my other friends that brain size is not an accurate measure of intelligence. I got everyone to take a brain scan, which revealed an unhealthy amount of wrinkles in my brain. I then made the claim that people who have small, wrinkly brains are generally more intelligent than people with bigger, less wrinkly brains. This was clearly a desperate ploy to defend my small brain by claiming the wrinkles made me smart. I even pretended to have “sources,” which were really medical journals any random nobody could have written.

Only Shyfly and the Drama Llama believed me. Flapjack didn't trust the machine because it wasn't an Apple product, Pinkeye was too busy trying to get scans of her alligator, and Rainmare said I was lying because she's smart even though her brain looked smoother than your ass.

Despite the overwhelming evidence in support of the dumb-purple correlation, I’m still in denial because my brain is too small to comprehend it all. Perhaps one day I’ll be as smart and handsome as Anon, but science is still a long way away from that.

Your wrinkly brainlet,
Dumb and Purple

Letter 86

Author's Note

Letter 30 for reference

Letter 86

Dear Princess Celestia,

Stupid is alive.

The Elements did not disintegrate him as I initially thought, they instead seem to have sent him forward in time. And that’s not all, he seems to have gained the ability to digest actual food. (A changeling eating normal food!) He is also unable to transform, but says he has been like that since he hatched, so it seems the Elements are unrelated in that aspect.

Stupid has been very cooperative thus far, though I’ve still taken measures to ensure he doesn’t try anything funny. Anon suggested running a rope through his leg holes since he can’t transform, so we’re doing that for now.

This is all so new and bizarre, but the implications could permanently alter Equestrian society as we know it. If we can somehow isolate the appetite modification from the temporal displacement, we might be able to use the Elements to forcibly remove the changelings’ primary motivator for conflict. There’s a high chance they won’t all be willing at first, though I’m positive they’ll thank us in the long run. Even if they don’t, it’s for the greater good.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, we can discuss this in detail later. For now, I’m requesting a military escort for myself and Stupid from Ponyville to the Mage’s Tower. I will not let him escape, Princess. There is so much we can learn from him.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. - Stupid wishes to write to you, so expect a letter from him shortly after this one.

Letter 86.2

Hey Celestia,

We’re gonna hold off on that trip to the Mage’s Tower for a bit. Stupid is in the hospital right now because he tried eating raw cashews. What a dumbass.

Twi is practically foaming at the mouth to start her ~~experiments~~ research, so I’m having Trixie keep her busy for now. Once Stupid is feeling k, we’ll head out. Doc said it shouldn’t take more than a day or two.

Stupid says he’s fine with being a lab rat for the Elements of BGL, so there’s no problem there.

Love, Anon

P.S. - I did my best to talk him into a new name, but the little guy just loves being called Stupid. Oh well. At least I tried.

Letter 86.5

Dear Princess Celami,

The Not-Gun of Fixiness worked way better than expected. Bug number one (Anon named him Juan) agreed to be our test subject if he was allowed to go free. The magical fixy bullet phased into his chest and made him glow for a few seconds. I then offered him an apple, which he ate without throwing up. It worked.

Juan is now a very happy boy. He has requested permission to tell his hive about the fun of being a winner, so you will soon receive a release form pending approval from yourself and Luna. In my personal opinion, the danger of freeing a single changeling is negligible when you consider the good that would come from pacifying even a small portion of an aggressive hive. I also need an excuse to shoot more changelings, so it’s a win-win in my book.

Bug number two was a massive dickwad that didn’t want to eat cool foods like pizza and ice cream. He kept trying to bite me through the bars, so I “forgot” my promise to Stu and fired at him. It seems the magical fixy bullets stop being magical and fixy if the target isn’t willing, so it just fired a normal, non-fixy bullet. We cleaned up the cell, don’t worry. I still consider this a win for science.

Stu was talking to Juan at the time, so he didn’t see. I told him the other bug was transferred to another facility a few days ago. He believed me because he’s Stupid.

I also ran a few basic tests on Juan, and it seems he has none of Stu’s allergies. That rules out the possibility of it being genetic. Stu’s nerdy name is the only valid explanation. You did this to him.

Your purple pesticide,
Twyklon B

Letter 89

Dear Princess Tea-Pose,

Today I played horse D&D with my friends. I remember I used to play with Whining Armor when I was little, so I’m somewhat familiar with how everything works, but there have still been some bumps in the road. It’s hard for me to wrap my tiny, wrinkly brain around the idea that a fantasy game isn’t supposed to work exactly like real life. I initially wanted to be a sorcerer, but this game puts reasonable limitations on magic, so I got triggered and rolled up a new character.*

Throughout our first adventure, I learned that being able to teleport in real life doesn’t mean my character can. I also learned the importance of choosing the right class to complement your character’s base stats and abilities. For example, despite having the highest Strength in the party, I am by far the weakest link. It’s k though, my friends are used to planning things with the assumption that I’ll fuck it up somehow.

We will be continuing our campaign for the foreseeable future, so I’ll be a good little nerd and take notes for you. I want to share the fun activities I engage in, something something new experiences, yay friendship, etc.

Your metagaming POS,
Chaotic Neutral

* She made a minotaur rogue for whatever reason and named him Boo Cow. He has a Wisdom of 4, so she’s pretty good at roleplaying him. It’s funny to watch.

Love, Anon

Letter 90

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Letter 91

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in a time of great mourning.

Anonymous and I have been playing a game called Ogres and Oubliettes with a small group of friends. Our characters were to embark on a dangerous task to slay a giant, so in order to better our chance of success, we hired an orc mercenary named Orc Mercenary. Though he did not say much, I still attempted to befriend him. His cold demeanor was unwavering, but I believed he only needed time to open up.

Unfortunately, we did not have that time. Our party soon encountered the giant, and Orc Mercenary charged in courageously. The giant focused its attacks on him; he did not survive the battle.

No matter how much I wish otherwise, I cannot truthfully say Orc Mercenary was my friend. I understand that there was nothing more I could have done, but still my mind is harried by thoughts of what could have been. From the moment we hired him, I had already accepted that he would be a permanent member of The Chromosomes. I believed we would have enough time to become friends.

I only knew him for a brief period, yet I feel his death will forever weigh upon me. I pray time will dull this pain, but for now, I mourn his passing. I mourn for the friendship we never had. I will never forget Orc Mercenary.

Stu Luck Pid

Letter 97.1

Author's Note

Response to this

Letter 97.1

Tia,

It’s a relief to know you hated it too. I was worried you were completely lost to the tastes of high society. And I’m not just “some poor fool,” Your Hineyness. I am the poorest fool you will ever meet, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But honestly, you could have just told me you didn’t want to suffer alone, I would have gladly come along with a flask of “wine” for us to share.

Love, Anon

P.S. - You specifically told me not to spoil anything about any movie we watch after I told you Gandalf comes back (which I only did because you wouldn’t stop crying). Fuck me for trying to do what you say for once. I have learned my lesson. Never again.

P.P.S. - Snape kills Dumbledore.

Letter 99

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that there is a difference between girls and grils. I always thought Anon was saying and spelling the word incorrectly to be silly, but they are actually different words, with grils being a subset of girls in the human lexicon.

Girl retains the definition we are all familiar with; gril expands upon it. In other words, all grils are girls, but not all girls are grils. It depends entirely on one’s familiarity with and attractiveness to the “speaker,” if you will.

For example, there are two ponies that are complete strangers to me. Pony A finds me attractive, and Pony B doesn’t. I would be a gril to Pony A, but a girl to Pony B. If I am familiar with the two ponies, then I would only be a girl to both of them, never a gril, regardless of attraction.

I hope I’m explaining this well. The way Anon’s species uses language is so complex and interesting. I might create my own dictionary of human words soon. I’ll make a copy for you when it’s finished.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 104

Dear Princess Celestia,

I have reason to believe Discord is plotting something.

He woke me up at around 4:00 this morning to ask me for acorns. My first question was why he wanted acorns. He said he forgot, but he knew it was very important. When I reminded him he could gather his own acorns or snap them into existence, he said they needed to be “acorns freely given.”

I wouldn’t trust him even if he wasn’t being so vague, so I refused. He removed his begging face and replaced it with a pouty one before disappearing.

I still have the begging face. It seems indestructible and keeps reappearing when I try to get rid of it. Even banishing doesn’t work. I’ve settled for keeping it on the wall where I can see if it tries anything funny. It doesn’t move or talk, but I refuse to take chances with Discord.

I suggest keeping an eye out for any acorn-related oddities near Canterlot. I’ll be doing the same in Ponyville.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Letter 105

Jingle bells, Stupid smells,
Twilight made a gun.
Shot a changeling in the head,
Because it tried to run, hey!
Jingle bells, Stupid smells,
Trixie almost died.
If you kill yourself to live,
Is it still suicide?

Fluttershy’s a ho,
Everyone else is gay.
Even though they’re dumb,
I love ‘em anyway (don't tell them).

Ponyville is k,
And Canterlot is too.
Except for one tiny thing:
Blueblood’s a massive poo.

Oh, Jingle bells, Stupid smells,
You know what they say,
Tia’s cheeks go on for weeks,
And something something day, hey!

Merry Christmas, Sunbutt.

Love, Anon

Letter 106

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express my deepest apologies.

I have spoken of the Ogres and Oubliettes game in my previous letters, but I have neglected to mention the group of friends I play with. I seek to rectify my mistake through this letter.

Our group consists of myself, Anonymous, Spike, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight Sparkle.

Anonymous is the Game Master. He helps me understand the rules and gives me advice when I feel lost, which is more often than I am proud to admit. He also provides the voices for other characters we encounter, such as Lysanderoth.

Spike plays the role of an earth pony knight named Sir Emerald the Brave. He is our front line, as he puts it. If any of us are in peril, he is always ready to place himself between us and the danger.

Pinkie Pie plays the role of a deer druid named Dusty Gusterson. Dusty can command the elements to do his bidding, though in battle he prefers to transform into a variety of beasts and elementals. He loves to play pranks on the other Chromosomes.

Rainbow Dash plays the role of a griffon monk named Killda. Killda is always looking to fight. It can sometimes cause problems, but she means well.

Twilight Sparkle plays the role of a minotaur rogue named Boo Cow. Boo Cow is very strong.

I play the role of a unicorn cleric named Lamp. I provide aid and healing where needed. I find that I get along the most with Sir Emerald and Dusty, and while I still consider Killda and Boo Cow to be my friends, we often disagree when it comes to matters outside of combat. Perhaps it is because I am not as close with Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. I hope to change this soon.

I apologize once again for my oversight. I know your forgiveness need not be earned, but I feel more at ease after making the smallest of amends through this letter.

Stu

Letter 107

Dear Princess Bunshine,

The full story is boring, so I’ll give you the short version. The orphanage in [insert horse pun] was in a really shitty spot, right? Walls were moldy, windows were broken, ceiling didn’t work; it was all kinds of bad. I tried getting the owner of the building to do something, but she said the insurance money for repairs was being used to buy food for the orphans.

Being the law-abiding citizen I am, I was morally outraged by such a clear case of insurance fraud. However, I do have a heart, albeit a purple one. Instead of reporting her to the police, I checked the insurance policy to see if the building was covered for fire (it was). I knew that if she burned the building down, it could be seen as a different form of insurance fraud, and I refuse to let the law be broken so easily, so I took matters into my own horn and burned the orphanage down myself.

My plan was foolproof on paper. I would pretend to be an angel delivering orphans from squalor by burning down their metaphorical prison, and Miss Fuckshername would use the money to buy a better place. Unfortunately, paper isn’t practice. As it turns out, giving yourself a halo does not automatically make everything you do morally good or legal. I was not aware of this. Said lack of awareness is also not a valid legal defense. Who knew?

If there was a lesson to be learned, it’s currently buried under the ashes of an orphanage. It’s safer there.

Your holy hellfire,
Twilighter

Letter 112

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express my internal struggle.

During our most recent session of Ogres and Oubliettes, I achieved the status of Level Five. This allows me to access stronger abilities. After the session, Anonymous helped me look at the spells I could now use, and I saw that one of them was called Revivify. It would allow me to revive a recently killed ally.

My thoughts immediately went to Orc Mercenary, and how I could have saved him if I had only been more experienced. My grief was such that Anonymous stayed in my room with me because I refused to leave.

We talked for a long time. He spoke of his family, and how they are no longer in his life. He said he misses them greatly, but he has since come to accept that nothing can change the past, so he does not allow it to darken his future.

I will try to do the same in my life, though I do not believe I have the strength to endure these emotions alone. I am more grateful than ever to have Anonymous as my friend.

Stu

To-Do

Author's Note

Twi’s secret to-do lists. These were not sent to Celestia.

To-Do

Mirror pool:

~~locate~~

study (ongoing)

~~learn how to use~~

~~what do I taste like?~~ not good

~~can soul tearing process be bypassed with captured souls?~~ confirmed

test if clone temperament changes based on origin of soul

~~larger soul pieces for more intelligent clone?~~ partial failure

locate T-06

consider even larger pieces

create functional true copy

play chess

establish mental link (AFTER CHESS)

begin clone loop

Miscellaneous:

~~create 21-sided die~~ catastrophic failure; do not fold polychorons

fix Iceland (ongoing; low priority)

human lexicon (ongoing)

~~ask Anon about thots~~ stop asking Anon about words; observe usage passively

new shoes for Trixie (high priority)

~~fix AJ’s mom~~ postponed indefinitely

~~floppy calves~~ success; Anon laughed

~~touch Holder’s Boulder~~ do not touch Holder’s Boulder

study Stu’s fun allergy

visit new book store in Baltimare

bone hole

Self-improvement:

hug Spike more

apologize to Shiny

thank Anon for molars

increase torso capacity (ongoing)

0.8 meters removed from small intestine so far

approximately one-third (1.7 meters) of small intestine can be removed with no noticeable changes to digestion; subject remains unaware

only one kidney is necessary, but would require significant changes to fluid intake

~~merge lungs?~~ inefficient

haircut

Letter 118

Dear Princess Vitamin C,

I did another oopsie.

I tried fixing Manehattan’s alarmingly high suicide rate by casting the want-it-need-it spell on the concept of life. The spell technically worked, so that’s cool. Every living creature in a ten mile radius was filled with an irrepressible craving for life. The making of life, to be specific. It only lasted ten minutes thanks to the scope of the spell, but that’s more than enough time for accidents to happen. Expect a marked increase in the census next year.

Whether this affects the suicide rate is yet to be determined.

Your lack of impulse control,
Plum Bum

Letter 120

Hey Tia,

I’m at the dentist with Twi right now. She refused to go under for the procedure and she’s weirdly resistant to the numbing stuff, so they have her huffing happy gas right now. She’s saying a lot of funny stuff, so I thought I’d write some of it down for you and Luna. It’s word for word. Enjoy.

“Luna’s gotta go back to the moon. I did the math: she owes six a billion bits in taxing back tax evader for a thousand years. She would pay, right? Yeah. She’s a good pony, she pays. But she can’t pay. She has no money because she was on the MOON. And dOoOOon’t even hit me with that, “oh, she invested for a thousand years ago blah blah blah.” I did the research money, I know her money is gone after she got gone away. She can’t pay, we gotta send her back. It’s the only way.”

(A few minutes later.)

“Why does she can go and I can’t? I’m good! I don’t even [unintelligible] and no one even listens about it. I’m good. I’m a good pony, Anon. You’re a good pony, too. I miss Trixie.” (Trixie is in the room with us.)

Now imagine that, but heavily slurred and with a lot of slow, exaggerated gesturing. It’s great.

Love, Anon

P.S. - Trixie says hi.

Letter 123

Dear Princess Third-degree Buns,

Today I learned that it’s better to ask for consent when taking things from others. If the answer is yes, everything is k. If the answer is no, I will likely take what I want anyway, but at least I asked first.

Yesterday I was dealing with a material that I refuse to disclose to Anon or Spike, meaning it's definitely 100% legal. This material is "sensitive to magic" (read: highly explosive), so I had to actually use my body instead of my horn to complete a physical task for once. In order to do this with any degree of dexterity, I was forced to once again acknowledge that humans are better than crayon horses. My hooves are impractical and dumb, not to mention you-know-what, so I didn’t bother using them. Instead, I took measurements of one of Anon’s strong, handsome arms while he slept.

Using this data, I molded my excess flesh into an arm. Just one. It grew out of my neck, right above the clavicle. I couldn't make it as handsome as Anon’s because you can't replicate perfection. I had also forgotten to give it bones, meaning it wasn't as useful as it could be. Growing new bones would take hours, and I didn't feel like waiting, so I just took Anon’s while he slept.

By the time I was finished touching the totally not illegal stuff, it was already morning. Anon woke up and immediately realized his butt-scratching arm was limp. When he found me in the basement, he laughed at how stupid I looked, then gave me a good talking to. He didn't mind that I took his arm bones, but he was very disappointed in me for assuming he wouldn't help if I asked. He said he would forgive me if I grew him some new bones and bought him a top hat. I did just that, and now everything is k.

Your literal middle finger to nature,
Twigh Five

Letter 125

To Princess Celestia,

I write to you in order to express my misfortune.

I was led to believe that it was a “piece of cake” to bake a pretty cake. That phrase means that it is easy. It is not. The instructional video Anonymous showed me clearly stated that if the way were to become hazy, I must do the cooking by the book. It also said to not be lazy and to never use a messy recipe. This is sound instruction, and I have followed it to the best of my ability. However, that is where my understanding ends.

The cook book Pinkie Pie made for me is very detailed. Unfortunately, there are no mentions of the terms used in the instructional video. I do not know what it means to “drop it down” or “back it up.” I am unsure if those are baking techniques or merely human phrases that I am unfamiliar with. I would seek Anonymous or Pinkie Pie to help me understand, but they are away. My intention was to present them with a cake upon their return. It seems that this will not come to pass.

This misfortune weighs heavily upon me. I only wish to repay my friends the kindness they have shown me. I will try to find another way to do so.

Stu

Letter 126

Dear Princess Bunsen Booty,

My purple has reached a shade never before seen in this dimension. I woke Anon up at 2 in the goddamn morning to make him write for me because I’m beyond lazy and I hate seeing others be comfortable. The reason you are receiving this at a reasonable hour is because Anon cares more about your rest than I care about his.

The big hoopla: Why is there a concept of a bottomless pit? If there’s no bottom, it’s not a pit. Otherwise, we could say a donut has a bottomless pit in the middle and it would technically be true. It makes more sense for there to be a topless pit, where a bottom exists and the sides stretch up forever. Whether the “top” is open or covered doesn’t matter, an infinitely long hollow cavity still qualifies as a pit.

Obviously this is impossible without an unsustainable amount of spatial looping, but regardless, I had to let you know as soon as possible. I apparently think this will change something major about how we approach magic theory, but it’s 2 in the goddamn morning and Anon is not in the mood to write anymore about mystical bullshit he’s too smart and handsome to understand.

Your perpetual night owl,
Plumpernickel

Letter 132

Dear Princess Cake and Sundry,

Guess who just got ten bits and possibly stunted the mental development of a toddler? If you guessed me, you’re right! Twi “Not Your Bud” Light is the proud new owner of ten—you read that correctly, Princess, ten—whole circles of metal. How did I accomplish such a feat? I’ll give you a hint: it starts with an N and ends with a Y.

Did you guess “not having any moral qualms about magically altering the brain of a baby?” Wow, right again! You’re really good at this, Princess.

Here’s what happened: Pinkie was babysitting the Cake twins when I stopped by to stuff my gullet. She was doing the thing you do with babies where you cover and uncover their eyes and go “Where’s Pinkie? There she is!” She tried showing me how smart they were by telling me to ask one of them where Pinkie was. I did, and they both pointed to the Pink One.

Being the enterprising mare I am, I bet her ten bits I could get one of them to point at me even when I’m hidden. Pink and purple share a color, so she immediately agreed. I turned myself invisible, then shot a beam of concentrated trauma into Pumpkin. I couldn’t do it to her brother because it apparently only works on unicorns, further proving that magic is bullshit.

She started staring into the spot where I was standing. It wasn’t the normal “I’m a dumb baby” stare, either. This was some nightmare shit. She barely even blinked. I snuck around, and the possessed child’s head followed me everywhere. Behind walls, on the next floor, even across town, Pinkie said her head was always facing me like a compass.

Pinkhorse was freaked out, so I undid it. Pumpkin’s gaze stopped following me, but she kept the thousand-yard stare. I’m sure it’ll wear off eventually.

Your prequel to a horror story,
Twilent Hill

Letter 136.2

Dear Princess Sunshiney Hiney,

Good news! Everything is k now, and with no lasting damage to anything I care about. We'll be arriving in Canterlot tomorrow morning because we're taking the train like peasants. By pure coincidence, this gives us time to wait for the chaos to die down so we don't have to deal with the worst of it. We really wanted to get back immediately, honest. It's just that Luna was so tuckered out from teleporting all the way here and using her old lady magic to break the thing,* and we didn't want to put even more strain on her precious little headbone. It's definitely because of that, and not because Anon bribed her with the promise of sharp cheddar squeeze cheese from the human world if she stayed back with us. Oh well, safety first.

Your mythic rare,
Dumb Whisperer

* I miss the thing. Talking in funny symbols was fun.

Also, I forgot to mention: Twilight is disappointed in you, and frankly so am I. We specifically requested old, and you sent Luna? By herself? What if she wasn't old enough? For shame, Sunbutt, for shame. Because of this, you will only be getting a single massage from me on your day off. That's right, I was going to give you TWO (2) massages, but your selfish behavior has cost you. I hope you learn from this going forward.

Love, Anon

P.S. - And I was going to make a cake for you, but guess what? You're only getting half now.

Author's Note

Context for the thing:
Letter 121
Letter 131