Contagious Contentment

“Hmmmm. Naaaaaah. This doesn’t, y’know… accentuate my… aaaagh. I don’t know, it’s just too droll, y’get what I’m saying?” Beryl hesitated, trying out a new shirt. He raised his eyebrow at the clerk. “Look at this. It’s not bringing any of my… features!.. out. At all.”

The clerk rubbed his chin. He eyed the pegasus up and down.

“Well, you’re certainly an, uhm… promising work-in-progress, sir, if I say so myself,” the clerk concluded. He twiddled with his suit, proceeding to rub his chin some more. “So you’re absolutely positive you want brighter colors?”

“Of course I do! Look at me, I’m—“ Beryl pointed himself. He pulled at the skin of his arm, accentuating the coloration. He chuckled, beaming at the unicorn salespony. He took some time to stop chuckling. “BEIGE! Any more dreary, and I’ll turn invisible. And I’m not a unicorn! I’m a pegasus! Pegasi aren’t meant to be invisible! That’s something you guys do.”

“I… cannot argue with that, no, sir, I cannot.” The clerk gulped. He scratched his neck. “All right. Let us see what we can do for you, then, shall we?”

“Yeah, I need some professional help over here!”

The unicorn’s eyes darted as he muttered ‘Looks like it’ with the very edge of his mouth.

“Whu-what was that?”

“Oh, nothing, sir, nothing.” The pegasus chuckled and waved his hand. The clerk cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll just follow me?”

Beryl hopped up from his seat, spun on his heels and slid on the smooth tiled floor to catch up with the clerk. He absorbed the fashion joint with his eyes as they walked. His wings and hooves twitched and jolted to the distant tune of the radio they had turned up in the main sales area. Two aisles in, and frankly, he was bored.

“Hey, can YOU turn invisible?” he pitched in for small talk.

“Uhhhh… No, sir. Invisibility isn’t something a unicorn needs in my line of work,” the clerk replied. “I, uhm, get by with telekinesis.”

“Sheesh. What’s the point of having a horn if you can’t turn yourself invisible and, like, nab some inventory for yourself?! Isn’t that why most of you fashion guys are hornheads?” Beryl asked, barely managing to keep laughter at bay. When it spilled out, he slapped his mouth to keep it in, producing a terse rippling noise. “Man, it’s like if I didn’t use my wings!”

“…that’s an interesting perspective…” The unicorn cleared his throat. He raised a finger and stopped. Walking behind a curtain into a special orders aisle, he poked back out: “Please wait here, sir. I’ll see what we can offer you.”

Beryl stood at attention and saluted, barely containing himself. The unicorn disappeared, and he was left to his own devices. He hopped onto a couch and reclined, pivoting around on his rump. Spinning wasn’t fun for particularly long. Sighing, he clapped at his knees, hoping time would speed up. Beryl fumed, Beryl drooled, Beryl also snoozed for a short period. He memorized every article of clothing hung up all around the couch he’d been left on, able to recreate the room forwards and backwards in his mind. Then, he did the same with the lame fashion mags on the table.

“Uuuugh!” he shook his fist at the clock. “Move faster!” He then actually looked at the clock. “ONLY three minutes??? What a ripoff. I have things to do! Screw this!”

The pegasus stormed off back into the aisles. While they walked here, he’d memorized the entire layout anyway. He browsed manually, skipping and hoping from hopeful article to hopeful article, knowing what would fit without even glancing at the size tags. He had a good gut for numbers, anyway. That’s how he optimized his work routine.

He spun and posed in front of the numerous mirrors, holding each of the many pieces he’d picked up for comparison. Speaking of optimizing – he quickly threw many of them right back where they belonged, landing every shelf and rack shot (probably). Beige, green and tangerine were tough colors to match, but there were a few unorthodox options in there that really spoke to him.

Beryl did end up just posing and flexing for at least a full minute, trying to catch himself in as many mirrors as possible. By then, the patrons and other clerks had learned to keep their distance. He considered doing the paradise bird mating dance when he remembered he was trying to try on clothes. Grunting and just barely removing his glasses on time to slap his face, he slid back over to the enormous pile he’d left on one of the sitting benches.

“Oh yeah, of course none of this feels right!” he scolded himself, taking off his polo shirt. “Yeah, now this will—“

He then heard the shuffling of curtains, coming from the special orders zone. Beryl picked up what few favorites he could find and used his discarded shirt as a slide-board to get to his faithful assistant before the poor unicorn got worried.

The clerk just stared at him as he arrived. His eyes slowly moved from the bare-chested pegasus to the stack of hoodies, shirts and pants over his shoulder. He nervously fitted his necktie. His pupils shrunk as he saw that Beryl was standing on top of his own shirt.

“Sir,” he acknowledged Beryl’s existence. “I don’t think we have anything that quite… fits… your parameters… but we could-

“Yep, see, so, while you were out there, I thought I’d browse around myself? See what’s what? Mind giving me an unbiased third-party look-see?” the stallion asked, slapping the stack on his shoulder.

“Well, I suppose I might, but your…” The unicorn flexed his neck and sucked in a breath. “…unusual qualities do call for unorthodox design decisions that we could only—“

“Aaahhhh, we’ll resolve all that in a bit, now, how about—“ He threw most of the would-be clothes onto a nearby chair and had one of the shirts on before the unicorn could react. ”How ‘bout this? Don’t it match my wings? Look at these shoulders!”

“Uhhh- Ummm… Sir…” The unicorn exhaled and raised his hand. “It… IS a very aerodynamic item, but it seems to hug your physique somewhat… uncomfortably… And your wings. Ohhh…”

“Okay! Now, how about this?” He put on a pair of baggy, loose pants. Right above his old pair. “This sits SO naturally!”

“I… would have erred on the side of our a-athletic templates? You seem to—“

“Oh, how about these, then?” Beryl posed in a set of tight, squeaky, technicolor workout pants that rained sparkles all around him as he moved.

“W-well, you may have o-outgrown this particular line, but—“

“Wow, look at THIS!” Beryl flexed , stretching a chaotic comic book pattern street hoodie. He tugged at the hood laces, popping his snout in and out. “This REALLY matches my eyes, don’t it?”

The unicorn put his palms up against his face and breathed. He then cleared his throat and approached the stallion. Beryl’s pupils shrunk as he saw his finger subtly shifting to hover over the security button on his suit.

“Sir. All of the clothes you brought for evaluation are from our mares’ section.” He put his hand on the stallion’s shoulder and walked him to the mirror. He removed his hand as soon as he could and nervously motioned towards it. “And to briefly explain the exact reason I suggest special ordering… You, u-uhm, are aware of the correct criteria for a proper fashion purchase, but, the issue is…”

Beryl stared at himself. Then, he tore the hoodie off. He approached the mirror.

“Y-you’re heterochromic,” the unicorn listed nervously. He gingerly walked to the mirror’s side and motioned at Beryl’s eyeline. “Your wings are a very rare dual-color palette – v-very now, very chique! – a-and, the rather irregular pattern of pastel pink present on your coat…”

“Harmony,” Beryl said. He scared himself with his voice – low, scratchy, breathy and incredibly quiet. He shook his head and slapped himself on the cheeks. “I… I didn’t—“

“Oh, and please don’t take it the wrong way, but you are positively TONED, but I cannot help but see peculiar… p-peculiarities in your body mass distribution, so I suppose-“ The clerk paused, catching his breath. Beryl could hear something about ‘paying’ and ‘for this’. He didn’t really care. His flanks itched. “-it would be best if you followed me so we can have your measurements.”

“I… i…” Beryl stumbled away from the mirror. He stared into space, the AC blowing against his exposed coat. He stared at his wings, torso and into his eyes. His head hurt. “I think I’ll… visit another time… Nnno. H-hahah. Aaaah, I’ve got to run!!!”

His left eye was tangerine. His right eye - cerulean. Between his pecs, a whole patch of pink. A splotch above the left hip, on his upper arms, his neck. All of his primary feathers, pink as well. His permanent sixpack, now… subtle. And he never tied his hair today. It… bounced, curly strands touching as low as his nipples.

He strepped back, looking at his hands. His body spun slowly, staring at its many reflections on the mirrors amid white walls. Beige, green, pink. Pink, pink, pink. Some reflections, better than others. Some a lot better. More popcorn in his head. He liked popcorn and all, but not like this.

“Sir?! Sir, hold on, should we call a— Your shirt!“

“YOU CAN KEEP IT! I’M A BUSY MA— STALLION! BUSY STALLION COMING THROUGH!!!”

Beryl felt fine again after he had his usual sit-down, snack and chat at the hotel café. They could keep the shirt, anyway. It didn’t fit him at all. He outgrew it - in every way.

He bought a new bunch of gear at the bit store – less time spent on pickiness, more money to spend on fun stuff.

Electricity surged through the stallion’s body, fueling him with spicy, warm energy, kicking up his limbs and letting his motor functions follow the beat. It felt liberating to let the rhythm and vibration take the driver’s seat. Sometimes it was simply prudent to exchange pilots – there were entities that were far more familiar with all the little buttons. Whatever the heck they played at this club? Not amazing, not totally optimal, but it had its charm. It was good. Why would he be smiling so much if it wasn’t?

Beryl just mingled among the crowd, his body and his senses partnering up to let him drink deep of the party’s sweet nectar. He picked up on every shuffle, every breath, every pattern in the crowd’s dancing motions, he felt the bassy tune in his very bones. He felt everything. To think he caught himself thinking something within him was falling out of touch. His senses were on point. Maybe that constant stinging on his flanks – the stinging that made his gyrations really stand out; thanks, stinging – maybe that was his talent elevating?

He didn’t even wear glasses tonight! Blurry vision is not a problem when your day is itself a blur of fun, stimulating activities. Today, for example, was party day. Who knew Old Town had night clubs? Not him. He acutely remembered never stepping foot in one before now. Well, clearly, he was shaped to party. When he was on his high, his body felt like water.

Beryl didn’t even know what it looked like. He wasn’t aware of what moves he pulled off, what limbs he used, or who he even danced with. All of him was in motion, body and soul and then some. Turns out it’s way more efficient not to bother about how you come off instead of the… ludicrous number of things he formerly spent effort on not bothering with. What were these again? That thought was lost before it was born. He’d had a few drinks.

Besides, this was pragmatic. Being here, amidst the bouncing, sweaty, loud crowd, it was like sticking your fingers in a socket. Only you feed off electricity. Which he was full of. He’d do SO much work after he was home! They’d pay him so much, he’d party all over Equestria after this gig. In fact, maybe he’d even bring that mare along. Not the one he was currently spinning in the air, miraculously hovering in the air with his wings. That weird neighbor of his.

Actually, he started perusing these clubs so he could find her. Maybe get closer with her. She wasn’t all that weird. Well, she was weird, yes… but he was weird too. There was less distance between them than he once thought. And hey, she may have been a big one, but he was definitely gonna be able to support an globetrotting party adventure! He had the money.

Sun and Moon, he remembered laughing for ten minutes straight when he checked his banking app. He was sitting on HOW MUCH again? He laughed so hard, he had to go roof-jump for an hour straight to blow off some energy.

Energy was energy. But then there was hunger. Beryl discarded his dance partner, shared a few hot, dark hugs, bumps and kisses and slithered his way over to the bar. The cravings needed sating. Hungry for far too long.

“Hello there! Fix something up for you?” the bartender shouted over the loud music. He bounced to the beat, much like Beryl did on the stool.

“YEEEAH!” the pegasus replied, spreading his wings with effort, nearly getting someone else’s liquor all over his new shiny star wing slips.

“Whatcha want?”

“WHATEVER’S SWEET AND STRONG!”

“Aight, sweetie, you asked for it!”

The stallion okayed the motion and eagerly caught the glass when it slid over to him. He emitted a loud, hollering screech as the murderously sweet liquid roiled and rippled through his body.

“THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!!!” he proclaimed.

The bartender motioned if he wanted another. Beryl nodded with all available extremities, nearly tripping up a mingling patron.

So he had another. And then another. And then two more. Then he ordered a muffin, balked at the price, which was egregious even for him. After another shot, the muffin was now acceptable. Needless to say, his enthusiasm for the party and the drinks they served only grew. At a certain point, Beryl loved pretty much everything.

Interestingly, it wasn’t that different from how he felt prior. Really, he was taking it for the taste.

“Hey now! You SURE you can take so many?” the bartender shouted over the music. Beryl wheezed and laughed.

“It’s NOTHING! Gimme mooore!” he squealed.

“They ain’t free!”

“No problem! Tap my c-card!” Beryl waved his wallet.

“Let me set up a tab! You look like you’ll want that discount when the juice wears off,” the bartender informed him. Beryl didn’t hear most of it, but then again, he understood everything, so no big loss.

“WhAAAT?”

“Look, what’s your NAME, sweetheart?” the bartender pulled closer. He raised his voice and repeated: “GIMME YOUR NAME!”

“BERYL!”

“BERRY WHAT?”

“…” The stallion hiccupped. “JUST WRITE ‘BERRY’!”

The pegasus waved the bartender over with his wing, asking for another shot. As he did so, his wing bumped into a patron who’d sat down next to him while he wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey there, beautiful,” a smarmy, blurry voice uttered.

Beryl looked up and hiccupped with laughter. Whoever that was, he liked them. He liked ponies. Ponies were friends. And friends were good.

“Heyheeeyyyyyy,” he replied. He flicked a lock of hair out of his face, revealing his snout.

“Wanna—“ the fellow clubgoer stopped for a hiccup of his own. “Wanna h-hang out?”

“Ooo…” Beryl chuckled, cocked his head and twirled a lock of hair. His wings shuddered and jolted with warm tension. “Whatchu wanna dooo?”

“You look fun…” the patron neared in, breathing a sweet mixture into his face. “Berry, r-right?”

“Maybe I am…” Beryl grinned. He grabbed the fun guy by the collar. “Let’s go see ‘bout that, mmm?...”

The pegasus snagged one last shot with his wing and dragged himself and the patron over to the bathroom.

A bunch of things happened. Sweet things. Warm things. Physical things. Fun things. Very, very fun things. Why process them? He rode the waves. He surfed the fun. He was on top of the world.

Oh yeah, he was on top. He paused. Why did that feel off? Oh. Because the guy he dragged to the bathroom felt off too.

“W-whhuh??? Wha... oh... what’s THAAAT?!” the guy babbled, pointing at Beryl’s lower waist. Beryl wasn’t wearing pants, which was very funny in the moment. He just laughed, on and on, while the fun guy incessantly pointed at the general pelvis region.

Eventually, he looked down to see what was so weird down there. His eyebrows shot up.

“WHAT ARE— WHAT? Holy shit, Berry, I am, like, a-a-ah, I DIDN’T THINK—“

“Oh, those are…” Beryl squinted, looking at the obvious things in question. He did a half-split with one of his legs to observe his flank better. “…those are l-like, oculars. Three, like… optical thingies. They’re sorta—HIC—sorta pink… that’s… huh that’s weird…”

“Look man I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were…. I-I mean, your face, like, wow, like, and your… ohhh Moooooon!.. Just—” The guy muttered from underneath Beryl. The guy was actually less clothed than Beryl. Beryl didn’t have pants on. “I don’t swing that way, dude! You’re r-r-really pretty, I’m n-not implying anything, but-“

“Oh.” Beryl gulped. “Oh f—“ He froze. His body took a few steps back as his head spun. The fun guy kind of evaporated, dragging his clothes along with him. The other ponies in the bathroom laughed their asses off. He felt a little sick. “O-oh f… fudge… I need to go home…”

There was just enough sentience in him to pay off the Berry tab before slipping out and heading off. No dreams that night.

“Hahaha, ahhh wooow! It’s. So. Bouncy. This. Is. In. Sane!” the stallion commented, hopping repeatedly on top of the floaty cloud thing. He altered which limb to land on, and even tried to land on his tail, which collapsed and landed him on his butt. That gave him the chance to look over to his side and wave his hands madly. “You’ve GOT to try this!!!”

“…well, I have, when I just took up the job. It gets a little mundane,” the park ranger asked, scratching the back of her neck. She smiled nervously. “And at this kind of altitude, it’s somewhat unsafe, so how about you take it easy on the bouncing?”

“Pfff! Unsafe! I’m a pegasus, I can fly! So are you! C’mon, what even IS ‘mundane’ anyway? ‘Mundane’ is a state of mind!” he declared, continuing to bounce as their clouds navigated through the twisting treetops of good old Everfree Forest. “Everfree is also preeeetty dangerous, so what, do we lock it up?!”

“My JOB is to keep it locked up!” The ranger sputtered with laughter. “Yours too, kind of! Now you can stop bouncing?”

“…” He did indeed pause. He sat on the cloud, his hooves hanging off. He shrugged. “Yeah, sheesh. Well, back in the day, it was wide open and things we fine! You people are boring. Like Everfree ever did anyone any harm! Any real harm, anyways.”

“Yooou’re an interesting stallion, Beryl,” the ranger said, pulling up her phone to tap through to something probably not that important. “Very… interesting. What are we getting? I’ve got—“

“Oh, can it, you silly. It’s on me. We’ll just have some food in your cabin!” the stallion procured a plastic bag containing numerous other plastic bags that together housed an enormous amount of food – mostly pastries. The ranger stared at him with pinprick eyes. It was adorable, he couldn’t help but smile.

“That… can… work?..” the mare replied, slowly nodding. He could almost hear her gears churning, trying to figure out where he got that bag from. The trick was not to think too hard about boring things.

But that was a very advanced technique, and it was a while until she could be educated in such ways. He took a while too. She was promising, though, quite promising – they’d been hanging out for a while now. It started out as catchups on his morbidly tedious work, but his natural charm was doing its job. His heart bled streams of sweet juicy nectar at the thought of that poor mare’s lonely life, watching the tamed, lame, boring Everfree Forest for hours and keeping park-goers from accessing the places that were actually fun. At least HIS job involved those areas! Beryl wept at the injustice in the world.

She was also quite moved, especially on their past few meetups. That mare certainly felt SOMETHING. You don’t stare at the stallion you’re hanging out with in such implicative ways unless you’re feeling SOMETHING. He hoped it wasn’t anything romantic, though. He had entirely too much love to spread, budding up within him. She did ask a whole lot if he was feeling okay and if he wanted to see a doctor, which may have been her way of showing that?

When that happened again after he’d swallowed his fifth donut without even chewing, he knew it was time to press the question.

“Beryl… That does NOT look healthy. The cragadiles in Area 5 do this with rocks, and I have to clean their teeth. Manually.” The ranger rubbed her forehead. She was way too prudey of late. Even made sure to sit on the other end of the needlessly long table in her cabin. “And Area 5 is where we were looking into the possible infestation from the Restricted Area. You DID see a doctor last week, right, Beryl?”

“Healthy? Healthy-shmealthy. It’s delicious and I need more of it and honestly, if I can’t feel something so deliciously sweet with every last particle of my being, sometimes I just need to take the shortcut and skip the boring parts! With all the toothy clacks! I like the sound it makes, but ponies get mad sometimes. What, you don’t?” he fired off, twirling a donut around his finger. The ranger, meanwhile, ate mostly out of courtesy. “That’s how life should be!”

“But you said too much activity makes you less efficient! Then, next week, youre... Next week, you tell me you have mood swings!” the mare tried to explain. “These are extreme! I mean, I know what mood swings are, I-I’ve been to high school – but I’m just saying, you’re the expert, you should be able to see that—“

“Oh, should I?! Good grief! Every time we hang out! Go do this, go do that, you should think of this, you should think of that! Gaaaah! I’ve done things MY way and I’ll have you know my project is nearly complete!” He made triumphant gestures with his hands. The ranger slowly dragged her own chair back. “Yes! I’ve got everything figured out!”

“Beryl...”

“Beryl! F-F-Finking! Shmeryl!!!” He hung back and balanced on the back legs of his chair. His hoodie spread open and his thick, voluminous mane spilled into the hood. “That’s not even my name!”

“Pardon?..” the mare half-whispered. He knew she was pulling out her phone.

“Yeah! It’s just a nickname I go by on my… on my… down periods! I mean look at me, is this—“ He hopped up onto his chair. His hooves balanced on its very back, while the chair itself tilted precariously on one leg. He twisted around fashion model-like, showing off his pink wings with their occasional green highlights, unzipping his hoodie to reveal his toned pink chest with cutesy beige dots, and generously waving his head like a mare from the shampoo commercials. His pink curls spun around him in a magical, mystifying fashion, allowing his eyelash flutter to come off in a particularly convincing light. “—is this looking like a ‘Beryl’ to you? What am I, a CRYSTAL PONY? PfffffBWAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

“…okaaay…” The mare put on a fairly low-effort smile. Maybe an F for effort. “Sooo, ‘down periods’, huh? S-sounds like a preeettty nasty, uhm… issue… H-how about I hook you up with a specialist who might—“

“Wooow. WOW. Wow!” The pegasus collapsed onto the chair, crossing his arms on the table. He looked at the mare, firing volleys of disappointment missiles out his eyes. Well, okay, he wouldn’t do that to her. She was kinda nice. Just stuck up. Stuck up ponies… miffed him. “You didn’t even ask me my name! That’s RUDE!”

“…”

He rolled his eyes. Waving his hand at the ranger, he threw a few more pastries into his mouth and squeezed an entire soda can in there to boot. Burping loudly, he exhaled and patted his stomach, squeezing his hips for good measure.

“It’s Berry.” He flung over his hood for lack of sunglasses. “Berry Bun.”

Well, at least it wasn’t a date. Good thing he – an expert in all things scrupulous – knew that he’d win her over. It was just a matter of taking himself to task and measuring the exact amount of cake and cup.

He was good at measuring things. Right?

Maybe not. Maybe he was? He needed help. He needed help.

“Yooouuu… might need some help, Bery... Berry. Y-yes, Berry. Not with your work, no, no, no! No need to go over THAT again! I get it! I mean… you know?.. Some different kind of help?..”

He needed that chubby, energetic, happy, friendly neighborhood mare to help him out convincing the silly ranger lady. She’d help. They had so much in common. Why did his flank sting every time he thought of her?

They’re not listening! They’re not listening, Sun damn it, what’s wrong with them!

The pegasus collapsed over at his kitchen table. He rolled back and forth, feeling the wooden surface press through the fat and to his muscles. A moan escaped his throat. He extended his hand off to the side and groped around, tumbling over kitchen utensils and various food items. Finding an unfinished soda, he guzzled it down in a heartbeat.

What’s the big problem? I’m better than ever! But no, I have to feel… DOWN! Ugh… something in my eye.

The pegasus observed the empty chairs next to him. His ears hurt from perking, trying to pick up on any noise or conversation from the outside. He had to be with someone! With everyone, ideally! That was his talent, right?! Making ponies happy - or, well, being able to tell what’s wrong with anyone at any given time, and then, by extension making them happy. Yes, that was right.

Ugh! You massive dummy. So you don’t want to feel right, huh?! Well, I’ll show you!!!

He climbed out and wandered out into the room proper. His eyes stung, leaking. Beryl raised a hand to fix up his glasses. His phantom glasses. He hadn’t worn those in… What time was it? The pegasus looked around, his wavy, multicolor mane slapping his cheeks. He flexed his wings, rolled his eyes at the door, and climbed out the window.

“Doors are boring. I’m not boring. I’m… not… boring.” Berry nodded to himself as he scaled the gap between balconies. He spun ballet-style as he did so and landed in a superhero pose, flexing his muscles, accidentally punching himself in the chin with a bicep. “Hey, neighbor! Hey-“

This isn’t funny. It’s supposed to be funny, damn it! Be funny! Things were ‘not funny’ before, remember?!

The pegasus shivered. Clothes scattered everywhere. Ribbons and balloons. Empty food packs and soda bottles. A mangled bed. A smell of candy, perfume and alcohol. Beauty implements lying on the floor alongside hoof socks and wing slips. This was his room? It was just that similar.

“Hoo-wee, we really are two pods in a pie…” He groaned and sat down at the table to quell his headache. “Heeey! Pinkie! Come on, pop out of somewhere, you’re cool, you can do that, right?!” He sighed. “I need help. I don’t feel right.”

Berry. Cute name! Berry Berry Berry Bun. You’re a pod, I’m a Pie.

His wings stood at attention. He felt compelled to wing-hug himself, his pink feathers shuddering as they stroked his bare torso. Something felt extraordinarily tense, to the point that his abs and pecs arose, steel-tight, from the blanket of chub he concealed them with. More popcorn in his head… He liked popcorn, but not like this. It made him think of things that were wrong. When things itched and tingled instead of feeling right. When things felt like they did now, for some reason.

“Come on, this isn’t very neighborly… Quit playing games!” he whined. With a pained wheeze, he rubbed his eyes. For a moment there, he could hardly see in front of himself. His beautiful cerulean eyes were all bloodshot now. Great.

Whatchu’ asking for? I’m not playing any games. You know that, silly.

“I don’t wanna play hide and seek! Stop messing with my head.” He wasn’t convinced he was doing much of anything right, and really, that was a problem. He squinted and glared at the chairs near him, and despite his proximity vision being blurry, he saw it.

Berry’s wings poofed up. He grinned and waved enthusiastically at Pinkie Pie. All of her. Wow, now he saw so clear.

THIS is me playing games!

“Hiya!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“Hey!” Pinkie welcomed.

“Heeellloooo nurse!” Pinkie swooned.

His eyes pointed in separate directions. His grin was roughly the span of his wings. This was weird. How did he feel?

“You’re a smart pony. You know what’s up, dontcha?” Pinkie asked him, dancing back and forth on her chair.

“This is so exciting! Golly-goo-gaa-gaa, I’d BURST WITH EXCITEMENT! IF I COULD!!!” Pinkie proclaimed, jumping up and down on hers.

“You come to me, on the day of my birth into this world…” Pinkie spoke in a forced, hoarse voice, reclining into her seat. “…and you ask me to help you feel right.” She rocketed forward and splattered herself across the table. “OKIE-DOKIE THEN!”

His eyes hurt. He considered that maybe there shouldn’t be three Pinkie Pies sitting at the table with him. Or that their rooms were identical. Or that maybe a lot of the things he’d buried under food, drink, dance and odd thought were also quite fishy.

Stroking his rumbling tummy, he departed the table, muttering to himself. He crashed on Pinkie Pie’s bed. His laptop was there.

Hi! So you’re probably wondering, what in the actual heckity-heck is going on? Well, you know… You know.

The stallion stared at the OS helper avatar. The pink cupcake glared at him with its googly eyes and cotton candy wad of hair on top. He moused over the message and clicked on it.

Fine, let me help you. You want it, baby!

His work folder popped up. Numerous pictures he’d taken popped up. Entry after entry, record after record. Theories and diagrams. Horrendously boring stuff. Harmony era artifacts… Arcane magical imprints… Changeling magic tests, Sombra magic tests, who knows what other tests… A special file with frantic theories on one particular rock, one ‘contaminated with pastry’. A file he currently couldn’t even remember writing.

That must’ve been back when his cutiemark was still three boring green oculars. When he wore glasses like some kinda nerd. When he limped every time something spooked him. When everything was boring and everything was right… Everything was right back then… It was so boring, but it was right…

There ya go! See? It’s so BORING! Who CARES? I’m not the problem! A certain grumpy pegasus is.

“I... I...“ he choked up. His eyes watered. He looked at facts indicating that rock was part of a Harmony era artifact. An artifact that was shattered. Likely a piece of jewelry. A piece of jewelry that was nearly vaporized and left to rot in the dirt.

His heart nearly stopped. He groaned and shrieked. The stallion knew what was going on this entire time. He was just too… dry, to comprehend it. Beryl was doomed.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW BORING THIS IS!!!” Berry declared. “How could I waste time on this?! Nobody CAAARES! I’m sending in what I got and they’re paying me anyway!”

Berry tossed all the files into a folder and dumped them all into an email. Job complete.

HAAA! There! Now you see it!

“Yes! Thank you!” Berry jumped on the bed. Pink wings hugged pudgy hips, squeezing their owner tight. “I just need to stop… getting this… feeling!.. that I’m not… myself…”

You want it?

“I… I don’t feel right! Of course I want to feel right.”

He felt like this once. He was training for wingless air drops. He did best out of the whole squad. It still scared him. The abyss below.

What sort of boring traumatic memory was THAT?! Where were the bad guys, the explosions, the grotesque torture scenes, the heroic rescues? He didn’t need these memories. They weren’t interesting. The Royal Guard was SO BORING!!!

What about Beryl?

The stallion rolled off the floor. He grit his teeth and slapped his head. Why did he do that? So silly. Acting out like this wasn’t fun. It made ponies worry. And that was exactly what he was trying to fix. Very unproductive.

He rose back up to his hooves and walked to the mirror.

“Hrrrg…” the pegasus knelt next to a pile of bunched up, discarded clothes. Shirts and pants, bland and boring. Gathering dust. His handgun lay there on the floor, half disassembled.

Well of course it did, he didn’t need it. Back in the day, ponies fought bad guys by shoving their hooves up their asses and blasting them with friendship. They didn’t need lame, noisy, stinky firework machines that were an enormous pain in the butt to put together. Beryl would do that to calm down.

Whoever did that kind of dumb stuff wasn’t worth listening to, Berry figured.

So bored… sooo booored. Bored and huuungry! Yes. Yes we are. Come here. You want it.

“But… but what if… I... I am...“ Berry unbuckled his pants. He stepped towards the mirror and leaned against it. His whole body was hot, scalding hot – no, really, it was literally hot. He sweated actual buckets.

The heat came from his cutiemarks. Those baloony things were little power generators all unto themselves. His wavy, curly hair wobbled and puffed up, stroking his abdomen. His back stung as he could feel the old, boring injury go away. His eyes shut and then opened wide, staring into the pure cerulean mirror images of themselves in such perfect clarity. As it should be.

“How do I explain this? My friends… My friends think I’m-“ Berry hung his head. His hand began to pull down his underwear. “A-and I think-“

Overthinking! Something Beryl was quite fond of! A boring downer. What’s worse – a super-duper bad fit!

He couldn’t be happier to do this. It just felt like… like that one time he forgot to take off the gun safety… or that one that rock fell on his back… or that one time he didn’t duck on time and broke his knee… or when they told him he’d need years of effort to have his eyes get better. It felt like bad things. Bad things that weren’t good.

Bad things that weren’t him.

“Bwah, fudge! My eyes! I can see so… so clearly! No, this is OBVIOUSLY working. I mean, sheesh, look at me, deliberating like a total doofus! What the heck! ” Berry stepped back and admired himself in the mirror. He spread his wings proudly, and felt appreciated for it, too. “Everyone is gonna like me! Everyone! I’ll be irresistible! EVERYONE! WILL! BE! MY! FRIEND!!!”

Suuure they will!.. Now just come over here.

Berry laughed and skipped over to the mirror. He was absolutely drenched in sweat. Feverish. Feverish and happy.

About to plunge into the abyss.

Shhh…

He stared into the mirror. She was there, hugging him from behind. Hot, shaking, his heart racing. Her hands stroked him all over. Goosebumps covered his pink coat. Tears welled in his cerulean eyes. He felt heavy. She clung, she clung so tight, nuzzling, hugging, her legs locking around his.

And then it ripped. So sweet and hot and cold and fresh. Twisting, contorting, pulling in. Warmth for two. Space for one. Snug as a bug in a rug.

The abyss stared back and the abyss stepped in. Pink lips caressed themselves in the mirror, pulled out, and dropped on the floor with a ‘whee’ of relief. Not the lips. The pink.