Another Speedwriting Anthology

by Decaf

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death
Length: 9377

A collection of speedwrites

Various speedwrites written for Quills and Sofas that, for one reason or another, I don't want to post as their own stories. Entries will have some minor edits, but will mostly be unchanged from the original speedwrite. Each chapter is a distinct story that has nothing to do with the others. Genre, character, and content warning tags will be in the author's notes for each story. Rated T to be on the safe side, red tags will be added if I upload a story that needs one.

Published 2021-01-27 20:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-15 03:30:36 UTC

A Bit for Your Thoughts [Romance]

Author's Note

Tags: [Twilight] [Rarity] [Romance]

A Bit for Your Thoughts [Romance]

Twilight wished she'd never pointed it out to Rarity. They could have kept on walking right past the mechanical fortune teller and kept having a nice day at the pier. Instead, Twilight couldn't resist making fun of it. Who would ever take stock in some mechanical simulacrum of a pony in telling them the future?

Rarity had insisted on getting one. It was only one bit, after all. Twilight didn't stop her. If she wanted to waste her money, it was fine by her.

The deformed robot moved one of its hooves around and opened its mouth. It was probably supposed to say something, but it made a piercing hissing noise instead. A bunch of gears crunched together and, with great effort, deposited a little piece of paper into a receptacle.

Rarity read it out loud.

"You have already met the love of your life."

It was a little more specific than Twilight expected, but still ultimately nonsense. The kind of thing teenagers would giggle about and get them talking about their crushes. If she squinted, she could maybe see some value in it as a conversation starter. So she tried to start a conversation.

"That thing looks like nopony has used it in years. I wonder if anyone even bothers to collect the money anymore."

"Hm. I wonder," said Rarity. The look on her face made Twilight think she was wondering about something else.

"Don't tell me you're taking this seriously," said Twilight.

"You never know."

Twilight snatched the fortune from Rarity and quickly scanned it with a spell of magic detection. "There's nothing magical about this, and even if there was, fortune telling isn't something you can program a machine to do. There have been some prophecies that have come to pass, but they were predicted by the most skilled wizards of their time, and even then were incredibly vague to the point where their usefulness is dubious at best."

"Well, it might not be true, but it's interesting to think about, at least. Do you think I'm compatible with anyone we've met so far?"

Twilight thought for a moment. This was a question she really didn't want to answer.

"Um… does anyone come to mind for you?"

"I'm not sure," said Rarity. "I used to crush on ponies all the time in my younger days, but the last one I can remember clearly is Blueblood. After that, I guess I'd been disillusioned one too many times. Things got busy, anyway. I didn't really have time to seriously consider a relationship with anyone. But maybe… maybe that was a mistake."

A group of fillies ran past the two of them, laughing. It was a nice day. The sun shone down like Celestia personally wanted to make the temperature uncomfortable, but the wind compensated for the rays perfectly. A pleasant breeze wafted through Rarity's mane. Twilight gazed out to the sea.

Twilight found herself yet again in the most loathsome of situations. A friend of hers needed some help and she couldn't think of a way to give it to her. She thought long and hard before responding.

"If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

Rarity gave Twilight a quizzical look. "Help? You? In what way?"

"I just, uh… how do you meet new ponies nowadays? Aside from saving the world together, of course."

"But the fortune said it's someone I've already met."

Twilight tried not to groan. "Seriously? You're still hung up on that?"

"I don't know if it's true."

"It's not."

"But it could be."

"It could also be bunk! It's not falsifiable!"

"I just think it's interesting."

There they went again. At least when dealing with someone like Pinkie, Twilight knew where she stood. That pony believed in strange, unexplainable things. She could work with that.

Rarity, on the other hoof, stood in this hazy middle ground. She never said she believed in all this spirituality nonsense, but she would always stop and consider it. She'd read her horoscope, get tarot readings, consult star charts. To her credit, she never went out of her way to do those things, but when the opportunity came up she always took it. And whenever Twilight was there, she'd ask why Rarity would bother, and she would always give the same response.

She thought it was interesting.

Not true, not false. Just interesting.

It bothered Twilight more than if she had said she believed in it. How was she supposed to argue against that?

Now, thanks to Twilight's big mouth, they were going to dredge up this argument again. Rarity should know by now that it got on her nerves. Why couldn't she take Twilight's feelings into consideration?

Twilight had spent considerable time mulling over exactly how to approach this with Rarity, and decided now was as good a time as any to see if she could make any progress.

"This kind of mindset is limiting you. There are probably thousands of ponies, or maybe even creatures, that you'd be romantically compatible with. I mean, when you think about how many of us exist on the planet, it would be strange if there weren't a bunch of hypothetical prospects out there for you. So, yeah, sure, maybe you've met someone already, but that doesn't mean that meeting a new pony is off the table."

"That's hardly romantic," said Rarity. "What about soul mates?"

"They don't exist."

"How do you know that?"

"Because my sister-in-law is the Princess of Love."

"And she said soul mates don't exist?"

"Well, no, but she implied it.”

Rarity shook her head. "Those are two very different things."

Twilight didn't say anything.

"I think," said Rarity, "That we might both be right."

"How? We hold mutually exclusive views!"

"From one perspective. See, you're assuming that, out of every potential partner for me, I would be equally happy with all of them."

"Is there any reason why you wouldn't?"

"No. But, if I already know someone who I could love, then it's only fair that I consider them first. I'm not the only one in this equation, you know. I don't want to leave some poor soul I'd be perfectly happy with out to dry. Why, I should take their feelings into consideration, at least."

Twilight grumbled. Rarity had a point.

"So, if such a pony, or creature, as you put it, already knows me, and already loves me, then they should get dibs, right?"

"Uh… what?"

"If there are thousands out there for me, then love is arbitrary. So I'll make an arbitrary rule and say whoever I meet first that fits the criteria gets my heart forever."

"Huh."

It was still ridiculous, don't get her wrong, but Rarity did have a way of making Twilight see things from a different perspective. Even if the perspective was stupid and wrong, it was still worthwhile to consider it, at least.

The two of them had reached the end of the pier. The waves crashed against the supports like bulls into a forest.

"So, Twilight," said Rarity. "Do you know anyone who might want to call dibs?"

"No one comes to mind."

"Really? Are you sure you thought of everyone?"

"Well, I don't know all the details of your life. Is there anyone you've met who I don't know?"

"Of course. But those aren't the ponies I'm thinking of."

"So you think that someone we both know is romantically compatible with you?"

"It's something I've been considering. I would like your input."

"Sure."

Rarity sighed. "You can be really dense sometimes, you know that?"

Twilight blinked. "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let me walk you through the logic here. There is only one way you could possibly know if someone was romantically compatible with me."

"There is?"

"Think about it for a second."

She did.

Twilight blushed.

"So, I'll ask again. Do you want to call dibs?"

Twilight hesitated. "There's one problem."

"What?"

"I can't stand making the fortune right. It doesn't deserve to be true. If you're doing this just because you spent a bit on some piece of paper, then you can forget it."

"It just got me thinking. I told you, I haven't really had time to mull it over. But I have had a few stray thoughts that I decided to put in order."

"But we shouldn't have it influence us."

"We are our own mares, Twilight. We do what we do because we want to. So, I'll ask you one more time. Do you want dibs?"

Rarity was still holding the fortune. Twilight grabbed it from her and threw it into the ocean.

"Just remember, this is not because of that robot charlatan."

Twilight kissed Rarity under the setting sun.

The Other Stuff [Sad]

Author's Note

Tags: [Fiddlesticks] [Lyra] [Bon Bon] [Sad]

The Other Stuff [Sad]

Fiddlesticks knew what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She would spend all her days playing weddings.

There were occasionally other venues that would book her services. Graduations, grand openings, a few birthday parties, even. But the one event everyone wanted live music for was a wedding. It could be depended upon in the same way that a tree would grow in the sun and die in the shade.

She'd been on call with a gig company for about a year now, and she didn't really know the other ponies in the band that well. They would all get together the day before the wedding, play the set once, and then do it again the next day.

She needed to learn lots of different pieces for weddings. Ponies were particular about the exact songs they wanted to hear, sometimes incredibly so. Play this song as she walks down the aisle, play this one during the reception, this one when we cut the cake. Some couples would micromanage their music down to a second, and it was Fiddlesticks’ responsibility to keep their wishes in mind.

There was something liberating about merging her sound with others. She didn't know the ponies that well, and they would quickly forget her, but for a moment, they were all together. It was fleeting, but that was the beauty of it.

She couldn't tell you the names of any of the couples she had played for. So when some strange pony knocked on her door in the middle of the night and told her she had played at her wedding, Fiddlesticks couldn't place her.

"I play a lot of weddings," she said.

"Sorry. I'm Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings? I married Bon Bon?"

Fiddlesticks shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"You played The Song of the Satyr after we read the vows."

All of sudden she could see it perfectly in her mind. The wide, open hall. The surprisingly small crowd. They had stopped kissing after the crescendo, as if they had timed it to the music.

"I remember now. Yes, I played at your wedding."

"I need you to play again."

Fiddlesticks blinked. "Why?"

"I'm in some trouble. Nothing to worry about, but I figured a romantic gesture would help. And what better way than bringing a pony who accompanied the most romantic day of our lives to recreate that moment?"

"You should go through the official channels. I don't schedule the gigs. That's someone else's job."

"Yeah, I know. I already talked to your manager. She gave me your address, said you were my best hope."

Best hope? What could she possibly mean by that?

"I don't understand," said Fiddlesticks.

"It's not a traditional gig. I need you to come with me and play now."

"Right now?"

Lyra nodded.

Fiddlesticks glanced inside her house. She'd just finished practicing, and the violin sat on the table. She hadn't put it away yet.

There was only one thing in life she wanted to do. She figured that when she had the opportunity to do it, she should.

"Give me a second," Fiddlesticks said. She carefully packed her violin in its case, then returned to the front door.

"How far away are we going?"

"Not far," said Lyra. "Only a few blocks."

By "a few," Lyra apparently meant fifty. The entire walk over she lectured to Fiddlesticks about the problem she was in. Her and Bon Bon had gotten in some big fight. It started as something stupid, but kept escalating until Lyra snapped, said something pretty nasty to her wife.

"I've never done that before," she said. "Nothing that bad, at least. I mean, I don't think sorry's gonna cut it. So I thought, well, back to our wedding day, and… I guess you know what happened next."

Fiddlesticks didn't pay too much attention to the details. She spent her time going over The Song of the Satyr in her head. The crescendo would be tricky to pull off by herself, but she could manage it. Granted, there wouldn't be as much oomph to the moment, but it should suffice for whatever Lyra had planned.

"I'll pay the normal rate, of course. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. Really, it means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it," said Fiddlesticks, having barely registered what Lyra said.

Some more time went by, and Lyra broke through Fiddlesticks' wall when she said, "Is this okay?"

She gave Lyra a look. "What do you mean?"

"Is this weird? Coming to you in the middle of the night for something like this? I mean, if it's weird, we don't have to go through with it."

"It is weird, but I don't mind."

Fiddlesticks usually had a hard time figuring out other ponies' emotions, but even she could notice the relief sweep over Lyra's face.

"Okay, good. I just didn't want you to think I'm a creep or anything."

She hadn't considered it before, but now that Lyra had said so, she realized this was kind of creepy. She remembered playing at their wedding, for sure, but she knew literally nothing else about this pony who had knocked on her door in the middle of the night and asked her to follow her. Her mind had been on the music.

Fiddlesticks discarded the idea that something sinister would happen. She would play her music. That was enough.

Lyra stopped walking in the middle of the street. Fiddlesticks turned to face the house she stood in front of. It was a quaint little place, isolated on a lonely street. She could see a light on from the window.

Lyra gave Fiddlesticks a nudge. "Start."

She didn't need to be told twice. Fiddlesticks placed her violin case on the floor, and removed its precious contents. Took a moment to tune the strings, then started playing The Song of the Satyr.

It was a pop song, a breezy little thing. Aside from the crescendo at the end of the bridge, it wasn't very interesting. Still, it was the song she had been paid to play. She put all her heart into it, trying to melt into the moment.

At the end of the first verse the second story window flew open. A mare stuck her head out the window.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Bon Bon! This is one of the musicians from our wedding night. It's our song! Remember?"

Bon Bon looked at Fiddlesticks like she was a piece of furniture. She turned her attention back to Lyra.

"Are you serious right now?"

"I didn't mean it!" insisted Lyra. "Please, I don't want you to go to sleep mad at me."

"I already did. It's two AM! You're ruining one of our happiest memories!"

Second chorus, now.

"Don't say that!" said Lyra. "Remember what we were like back then? We knew exactly what we wanted to do, what we hoped for the future. We shouldn't forget that dream!"

"Lyra, you've been reading too many romance novels. This kind of thing is completely uncalled for. Why didn't you just say you were sorry?"

"I didn't think sorry would be good enough."

"You could have at least tried first! How did you know unless you actually said the words? That's the problem with you. You just assume that things won't go according to plan, so you never even try the most basic first step! You always have to do something weird, like this!"

Fiddlestick started the bridge. The crescendo would come soon.

"It's the worst thing I've ever done. If I could take it back I would, but--"

"How, Lyra? How am I supposed to react when my wife tells me that she doesn't love me anymore?"

"I didn't mean it! It's just the fight and the--"

"I would never say that. Ever! Under any circumstances! The fact that those words could come out of your mouth ever, at all… I just don't know who you are anymore."

Fiddlesticks played the crescendo. The sound swelled from the violin, almost drowning out Bon Bon's words.

"And will you stop playing that! This is a private conversation! You never should have brought her here, Lyra!"

Bon Bon slammed the window shut. Fiddlesticks kept playing.

Lyra shuffled over to her. "You can stop now."

Fiddlesticks did what she was told, even if it bugged her to leave the song unfinished. She'd play it again when she got home, otherwise it would bother her all night.

Lyra handed Fiddlesticks some bits. "Here's your money. Thanks for remembering the song, at least."

"I never forget a song."

"I bet you don't." Lyra examined Fiddlesticks in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was like she hadn't really looked at her before, and was surprised to find that she'd been talking to an actual pony this whole time.

"You want me to walk you home?" Lyra asked.

"It's not necessary."

"I… I don't think I can go home tonight."

"There's a good hotel down the road from my house. I'll show you where it is."

"Thanks."

Fiddlesticks led the way. The Song of the Satyr was stuck in her head. Damn, she really wanted to finish it.

"Are you single?" asked Lyra.

"Yes."

"What, uh… what kind of ponies are you into?"

Lyra must be a terribly unsubtle pony for Fiddlesticks to be able to figure out what was going on.

"I'll tell you something," said Fiddlesticks. "If you want to hear it, that is."

"Sure, I guess."

"I've been in exactly one relationship before. It took me months to realize the only reason she loved me was because I was a rebound. I was in the right place at the right time and got to spend six months with her. Then she moved on."

"Oh. I, uh… yeah, it was probably a bad idea. Sorry I brought it up," said Lyra.

FIddlesticks continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I learned something important the day she left. A lesson I think you should take to heart."

Lyra gave Fiddlesticks a quizzical look.

"To be certain of something is the rarest thing in the world. I feel doubt all the time. I can't make up my mind about anything. There's only one thing I am certain about."

Lyra nodded. "Love," she said.

"What? No. I'm certain that music is beautiful."

"Well, yeah, but there are things more important than music, right? I mean, I play an instrument too, but it's not, like, my whole life. It's fun, and I like it, but it's only a part of me."

Fiddlesticks didn't know what to say to that. She didn't have different parts to who she was. It was only music. Nothing else.

It didn't surprise her that Lyra felt that way. Everyone she'd ever meant had felt that way. Whenever she tried to explain herself, she would be met with skeptical looks.

The worst time had been from her mother. She had just played her first wedding, and needed to share her excitement with someone. She'd paid mother a visit, as she had no one else in her life who could possibly care.

Mother, as always, asked how much money she made. Fiddlesticks told her, and mother had given her a scowl.

"You need a real job. Why don't you expand your horizons?"

Fiddlesticks had tried explaining it to her so many times before. When she played music, there was no doubt. She either played the song right or wrong. If it was wrong, she could practice until it was right. It made sense, and it was beautiful.

She didn't know how to love, or talk to ponies, or do the things everyone thought she should do. She'd tried a few times, but it was just so hard. How could she figure out how to live as others expected her to? There wasn't any clear indication when she struck the wrong note. Often, she never found out if she did things right or wrong. How could anyone live like that? Never knowing for sure what the next verse would bring?

Fiddlesticks much preferred to think about music.

Lyra, it seemed, wanted to think about the other stuff.

Whatever. Fiddlesticks focused on the song in her mind as she walked Lyra to the hotel. She pointed it out and turned around without another word. The second she got home she took her violin and played the eternity of The Song of the Satyr.

This time, the crescendo sounded much better. If only she'd managed to play it right, earlier, but those ponies had distracted her. She had trouble focusing on the music.

It bothered her. She couldn't remember the last time music had been hard to focus on.

She played the song again, and this time it sounded even better. She hadn't made any mistakes the first two times. She played it exactly the same. Yet it sounded different.

She played it a third time, and it sounded like the song of an angel. Fiddlesticks didn't realize she was crying until a tear splashed on the instrument.

Quickly, she wiped it off and kept playing.

Music was beautiful. It made sense. It was either correct or incorrect. A song will always sound the same to everyone.

But it sounded different to her.

Who Knows [Sad]

Author's Note

Tags: [CMC] [Sad]

Who Knows [Sad]

"It's a good opportunity," said Apple Bloom. "I should take it. I'd be stupid not to take it. So it's the right thing to do."

"If you already made up your mind, then why are you asking me?" asked Sweetie Belle.

"Because I want you to talk me out of it."

"Why?"

"I don't know! You should be the one telling me why."

Sweetie Belle scrunched her face. A beam of sunlight shone through the only window in the room,, giving the whole place a dreamlike quality.

"Well?" asked Apple Bloom.

"I'll let you know if I think of anything."

"Oh, come on! The first reason should be obvious. You'll miss me if I'm gone."

"Well, duh. That's a given. We'll all miss you. But I'm sure you already thought of that, right?"

Apple Bloom nodded.

"Then I need to think of something better."

"Why don't you tell me that it's the wrong thing to do?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "I can't say that. How could I know for sure? You'll be leaving behind your friends and family, obviously, but there are other things in life that are important. I mean, when it comes down to it, you need to decide between your social life and your career."

"And the right answer to that question should be my social life! A career is good and all, but I don't want all important things to pass me by just because I'm chasing a job I want."

"What are the important things?"

"Life, you know?"

Sweetie Belle furrowed her brow. "Not really?"

"Like… perfect evenings on the farm, surrounded by friends and family, all enjoying each other's company. We all want the moment to last forever, but we're looking forward to tomorrow, because today was so great. I'll miss that. If I leave, I won't have it for a long time."

"It doesn't sound like you need me to convince you."

"But it's such a good opportunity! I might never again have a chance to actually be a professional dancer. I never even thought it could ever happen to me. I don't quite feel lite it's real, that I can go away for a few years and spend the rest of my life doing my favorite thing."

Apple Bloom waited anxiously for Sweetie Belle to say something, but she took her time. She leaned back in her chair, and a beam of light shone on her cutie mark. The three of them had had those marks for longer than they'd lacked them, but Apple Bloom still felt a little jolt every time she noticed them on herself or her friends.

Finally, Sweetie Belle spoke.

"I don't think it's right for me to give you my thoughts."

"Why not?"

"Because I think the same way as you. I want you to stay, even though you should go."

Apple Bloom leaned forward.

"That's why I'm talking to you! You can convince me! Please, tell me I should stay."

Sweetie Belle let out a deep sigh.

"I have the strangest sense of deja vu. I've been here before. I've had this conversation before. But not with you."

She hesitated before continuing.

"Scootaloo talked to me before she left."

"Really?" asked Apple Bloom. It had been long enough now that it didn't hurt, but there was still some scar tissue around that memory. She prodded it, and found it numb.

"Scootaloo came here, to me, and sat where you are now. She asked me the same question. 'Should I follow my dreams, or should I stand by my friends.' I gave her an answer then, and it was the greatest regret of my life. If I could take it back, I would. I refuse to make the same mistake again."

Apple Bloom remembered the last night the three of them spent together in Ponyville. It had been a great time. They went back to all the old haunts of their youth. The clubhouse had stayed standing, though the three of them could barely fit in there anymore. In that moment, all squished together, Scootaloo had started to laugh out of nowhere. It was infectious, and the three of them giggled together like they were fillies again.

Much later, as they all lay on a hill watching the sun come up, Scootaloo had broken the silence as the sun painted the scenery.

"Will we ever get a chance to do this again?"

Neither Apple Bloom or Sweetie Belle answered. They just stared at the horizon lighting up the town. Amazing how something as simple as light could make such a profound difference.

Apple Bloom sent letters to Scootaloo regularly, but hadn't actually seen her since that morning. She'd never brought it up to Sweetie Belle. Something about the look on her face gave her the feeling that her friend found the moment more melancholy than she did.

If the two of them were going to talk about it, now was probably the last chance they would have.

"Scootaloo didn't want to go either," said Sweetie Belle. "I thought it was strange. It had been her life's dream, after all, and she'd tried so hard. But when the acceptance letter came, it made her emotions a mess. She'd been a nervous wreck for the week, barely showing her face in town."

Now that Apple Bloom thought about it, she hadn't seen much of Scootaloo during that time.

"So she came to me, the night before she had to make the commitment, and asked for my advice. I told her to stay. I gave her some reasons for why, but I never told her that the main one was because I would miss her if she left. I clung onto her, and begged her not to go."

And then she did, thought Apple Bloom.

"It seems so obvious, now," continued Sweetie Belle. "Scootaloo had already made up her mind. Of course she would go. She wouldn't have tried so hard just to give it all up when her dreams were finally within reach. All I accomplished with my advice was making the goodbye harder than it should have been."

Sweetie Belle looked her directly in the eyes.

"So, Apple Bloom, I refuse to make the same mistake twice. It's only natural that you will leave. I wish you the best, as I should have told Scootaloo."

Apple Bloom didn't know what to say. Now that she gave it a second thought, she had already made up her mind. What she really wanted to hear from Sweetie Belle was affirmation. And she had given her exactly what she wanted.

Never in her life had she been so disappointed with it.

Sweetie Belle was the only one who could give her a good reason to stay, and she wouldn't. So she would leave.

But where would that leave Sweetie Belle? Rarity barely ever visited, with how busy she was. Aside from a few exceptions, everyone they knew from their hometown had moved on.

It was just a place to her, now. Apple Bloom's family had been so supportive of her that it frustrated her. She knew they loved her, and wanted what was best for her, but the way they were so eager for her to move out rubbed her the wrong way.

Apple Bloom looked away from her eyes.

"We'll have a proper sendoff. Like last time. What's something you've always wanted to do? This is our last chance."

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment.

"Tell me what I should do."

"About what?" asked Apple Bloom.

"About everything. Anything. I don't know."

"Well… uh… only one pony can tell you the right thing to do, and that's yourself," said Apple Bloom. "Just have faith you know what you want."

"But what if I don't know what I want? What if I'm still here in a decade and haven't figured out what my purpose is?"

"We have a purpose. We help others find their cutie marks. You were great at teaching. Why don't you--"

"I'm not going back there," said Sweetie Belle. "I made up my mind."

"You never told me why you quit," said Apple Bloom.

"And I never will."

The words hung in the air like a puff of smoke.

"If I could tell you all the answers, I would," said Apple Bloom. "I want you to be happy, to know what to do with your life. But I can't. You're the only one who knows what's right for you. Trust yourself. Please."

Sweetie Belle let out a long sigh.

"You have your answer. You should leave. It's the right thing to do. If you stayed I would never forgive you."

Apple Bloom smiled.

"You remember the sunrise, the one we saw with Scootaloo?"

She nodded.

"You remember what she said?"

Sweetie Belle nodded again.

"I plan to answer her question. I'm going to see her again, when I leave. It's on the way, and I have the time. If you want, you could come with me. It would be nice for the three of us to all be there."

"I'd like that," said Sweetie Belle.

"And who knows, you might even find an answer."

Sweetie Belle gave the window a ponderous look.

"Who knows."

Exactly One [Comedy]

Author's Note

Tags: [Rainbow Dash] [Applejack] [Comedy]

Bragging Rights: First place in the 70th Panic Fiction contest.

Exactly One [Comedy]

"It would have gone off without a hitch if you hadn't opened your big mouth!" said Applejack.

"Hey, it wouldn't have happened in the first place if you were just willing to rob that train!"

"I won't steal. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Stealing from a thief isn't actually stealing! The two stealings cancel each other out."

"That ain't how it works."

Rainbow scoffed. "Like you would know. You have to do some stealing every once in a while to know if it's bad or not!"

"That's… I don't even know where to start with that."

"And furthermore, selling bootleg merchandise is a kind of stealing."

"It wasn't bootleg! It was an artistic interpretation of its source material!"

"Which just so happened to look exactly like Daring Do with a different mane color."

"I was pressed for time!" said Applejack. "I would have come up with something better if I could, but fifteen minutes is just too short."

"It looked like an infant drew it."

"I ain't no artist! I just needed to have something to sell."

"Just sell apples," said Rainbow Dash. "That always works."

"How many times do I have to tell you apples don't grow in the winter?"

"Well, more than you have, obviously."

Applejack groaned. "Couldn't you just have left me alone?"

"And let you besmirch Daring Do's good name with whatever those t-shirts were supposed to be? Never! It is my duty as a fan!"

"You know Daring ain't gonna hang out with you just because you have a creepy obsession with her, right?"

"Well, she might."

"No she won't."

"But--"

"No. She. Won't."

Rainbow Dash sighed. "I'm just saying that robbing a train would have been the more respectable choice."

"Respectable!"

"It would have been so cool!"

"Rainbow Dash, it is more ethical to sell bootleg t-shirts of copyrighted characters than it is to rob a train."

"Not if the character is cool."

Applejack groaned. "I expect you to chip in with my legal fees."

"What? Why?"

"It's your fault I'm in trouble."

"Well, you were going to get caught eventually."

"I didn't 'get caught.' There was a misunderstanding about the legality of the situation."

"Because you were infringing the copyright."

"I didn't mean to! I just sat down to draw something and that's what came out. Nopony would have noticed if you hadn't shouted at everyone that it was a knock-off. Which it wasn't, by the way."

"Oh come on! Anyone with eyes could see it was just Daring Do in a cowboy hat."

"It's an original character!"

"A cowboy hat isn't a character trait."

Applejack gasped. "You take that back right now."

"Not until you apologize to Daring Do!"

"Not until you apologize to me!"

"Not until… wait, who's apologizing now?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"Say you're sorry for ruining my sales in a tight financial time."

"I didn't ruin your sales."

"You got my booth shut down! You ruined my sales!"

"But you sold some before that happened, right?"

"I sold exactly one t-shirt," said Applejack.

Rainbow Dash smiled. "Well, you know what they say… one is better than none!"

Applejack gave her a harsh look. "I made three bits, and owe the Daring Do estate two thousand. If I hadn't sold anything, the fine would only be one hundred."

"But at least you made some money, right?"

"Rainbow Dash, sometimes I don't understand how your brain works."

"You know, I think better when I'm robbing a train. Or at least, I think I do. I've never robbed a train before."

Applejack slammed the door in her face.

"Unbelievable," said Rainbow Dash.

Used to Rejection [Comedy]

Author's Note

Tags: [Fluttershy] [Rarity] [Comedy]

Used to Rejection [Comedy]

"Sorry, Fluttershy, but I'm not into you like that," said Rarity.

"Like what?" Fluttershy asked.

"Like… romantically, you know?"

Fluttershy blushed. She wasn't interested in Rarity romantically either. Clearly, she hadn't done a good job communicating what she meant.

"No, see, I—"

"It's all right, really. I mean, I know that I'm gorgeous, and rich, and successful, and, well, just me, generally, and I hate to disappoint you, but a relationship must be built from a foundation of trust. Why, if I said yes just because I didn't want to make you feel bad that would only lead to further hardship down the road. Please understand that this is best for the both of us."

"But Rarity, I don't—"

"Know how you could live without me? Obviously it will be hard, and I will help you with the transition, but know that there is someone out there for you. Granted, they won't be nearly as great a catch as I am, but if you put in the effort you could maybe find somepony who’s three or four notches below my level."

"Rarity. I am not coming on to you."

"I certainly hope not, dear, after I've laid it out to you plainly exactly why we wouldn't work together. Why, if you kept at it I might think you somewhat pathetic. You don't want that, really. Please, retain your dignity. If it's any consolation, you gave me the fourth best proposal I've ever received, and the second best was from a griffon prince. I could have been nobility if I had neglected my true feelings."

"I didn't… wait, if that was the second best, then what was the first?"

"Why, that was back in high school. His name was Night Hawk. The others made fun of him mercilessly, as he was an earth pony with a pegasus name. There was this nasty rumor that his mother cheated on his father because pegasus genes are dominant. Absolute nonsense, as you know. It's a flip of a coin if you're a pegasus from one parent or not. But that didn't stop the others from gossiping about it incessantly.

"So it's senior year, and I'm thinking about all the stallions who asked me to go to the prom with them, when this awkward little pony walked up to me in the hallways and asked me to prom. I felt he might collapse, with the squeaking in his voice."

"And you said no to him?" asked Fluttershy.

"Naturally. I have never spoken to him before, and had much better options for the prom. I only learned about him later, after I asked around. So I show up to school the next day and he catches me in a one-on-one conversation. He tells me that this other pegasus had bet him fifty bits that he couldn't convince me to go to the prom with him, and he wasn't really interested in me. He just wanted to use me to win this bet and prove himself to this other pony. He completely understood why I rejected him and said he would never hold it against me."

Fluttershy took a moment to process the story. "But why was that the best one?"

Rarity gave her a knowing look. "Because he is the only one who has ever convinced me to rescind a previous rejection."

"Wait a minute," said Fluttershy. "Does that mean…"

Rarity nodded. "I went to the prom with him, and he split the fifty bits with me. I bought a lovely sewing kit with it. I still have it, actually. I don't use it much, but when I'm on the go, I always pack it with me."

"But why were you okay with that?"

"All the other stallions were jerks. When I went with Night Hawk, at least, I didn't have to worry about him getting all clingy or thinking we were something more."

"Because he had a different motivation."

Rarity looked surprised. "Well, yes, but mostly because he was gay."

Fluttershy didn't know what to say to that.

"You would think," said Rarity, "that being cultured, beautiful, and popular would be benefits. I'm not going to say they're not. Goodness knows how much harder life would be for me if I lacked those attributes. But there are downsides too, and one of those is that I had to learn how to let ponies down easy. Not because there's anything wrong with them, but because I've been down that road before and know what's down it."

"That's all well and good," said Fluttershy, "but I think you misunderstood me."

"How so?"

Fluttershy gulped and tried to think of a good way to put it. "I, uh… I'm not… I wasn't interested in you."

"I expected better of you. Just because you got rejected doesn't mean you need to pout. It's perfectly all right to acknowledge the fact that we wouldn't make a good couple. There's no need to deny your feelings."

"Rarity, do you remember what I said?"

"Of course dear."

"Think about it."

Rarity scrunched up her nose, thinking about it. Fluttershy thought she'd been clear when she walked into the boutique and said to Rarity, "I need some advice on love, you are the only one who can help me."

Finally, Rarity said, "I just cut to the chase, dear. I've heard enough ponies dance around the point until it was far too late. Timing is key, and yours, to be frank, wasn't up to snuff."

Fluttershy took a deep breath. "Rarity, my squirrels aren't getting along."

Rarity blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Nuts are mad at each other, and I don't know why. Usually I know how to handle unruly squirrels, but something must have happened between them. I wanted you to take a look and help me, if it wasn't too much trouble."

Rarity stared at Fluttershy for a good long while.

"So, you weren't… interested in me?"

Fluttershy shook her head.

"I, uh…" stammered Rarity. "Sorry. I'm just so used to it, you understand. If I had an apple for every time a friend wanted to go out with me, I would have some money."

Fluttershy didn't think that's how the saying went, but didn't feel the need to correct her.

"I… huh." Rarity seemed deep in thought.

Eventually, Fluttershy saw fit to break the silence.

"Do you think you could help me?"

"Hm?"

"With the squirrels."

"Oh. Of course. I'm… I'm sure it's no big deal. Nothing to worry about. If you just… just give me a moment."

Rarity sat still, staring at nothing in particular.

"Rarity?"

"Yes?"

"I know what you're feeling. I've not always been the best at talking, and I've made some… assumptions about others in the past."

"Oh, Fluttershy, I'm so sorry. You must think me a self-obsessed fool, blabbering on about all that."

"Not at all. If I may be so bold, I think that maybe you're just not used to rejection."

Rarity scoffed. "Ridiculous. I've been rejected a lot."

"Romantically?"

"Well… no. I've always been the one hit on, or the one who did the breaking up. I've never… huh." Rarity wiped a tear off her face. "I hate to be presumptuous. Let's just focus on those squirrels."

Fluttershy didn't push it. She knew how hard it could be to talk about messing up a social interaction. Rarity would talk about it when she was ready, probably to somepony else.

"I hope there's nothing too serious wrong with them," said Fluttershy.

Rarity lit up, clearly glad for the change of subject.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, dear."

"How come?"

Rarity smiled.

"It's probably just a misunderstanding."

Twenty Gallons [Comedy]

Author's Note

Tags: [Pinkie] [Twilight] [Comedy] [Random]

CW: Blood, Death

Bragging Rights: Tied for first place in the 77th Panic Fiction contest.

Twenty Gallons [Comedy]

"Is that really you?" asked Pinkie.

"Of course! Who else would I be?"

"Didn't you die?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"But you're here, right now. Talking to me."

"That's right."

"Is that normal? I feel like it's weird, right?"

Twilight's incorporeal form scoffed. "Pinkie, ghosts talk to the living all the time."

"Really?"

"Of course! Haven't you ever done it before?"

"Not that I can remember."

Twilight shook her head. "Goodness. Well, I'll catch you up to speed. When a pony dies, they go to Tartarus."

"All ponies? I thought only bad ones went there."

"Pinkie, the afterlife doesn't have the time or energy to make the distinction between good and bad ponies. They all go to the same place."

"Alrighty," said Pinkie, her voice not quite as chipper as she intended.

"Anyway, I figured out how to come back to life."

"Oh, that's great!" said Pinkie. "So you're not dead anymore?"

"Well… right now, I'm still dead. I need your help to get back to life properly."

"Anything for a friend. What do you need?"

"Twenty gallons of blood, seven crow feathers, and nine baby teeth."

"Well it's a good thing I kept all my baby teeth!" said Pinkie.

"Why would you… nevermind. Can you get the other stuff?"

"Crow feathers I can borrow from Fluttershy, but twenty gallons is a lot of blood. Does it have to be a certain kind of blood?"

"I don't think so. Any blood will do."

"Well, if you can wait a few months, I can use my own blood. Get twenty gallons over a period of time."

"I'm afraid that's not going to work. I need to be alive tomorrow."

"What's the rush? Don't you have all the time in the world now that you're dead?"

"The fate of the world is at stake!"

"Again?" asked Pinkie. "It was at stake just a week ago!"

"Yes, again. Bring me back to life now or the world will be devoured by an unending void of darkness!"

"Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do. Just hold tight and, uh, do whatever ghosts do."

Pinkie darted out of the room, desperate for blood. She asked the first pony on the street for some, but she just screamed and ran away. Pinkie decided to bring it up with a friend first. Luckily, she spotted one nearby.

"Twilight! I thought you were haunting Sugarcube Corner."

Twilight blinked. "Why would I haunt anything?"

"Because you're a ghost!"

"Pinkie, I need to be dead to be a ghost."

"Yeah, and you died last week, remember?"

"No I didn't. I was in the hospital with rickets."

"Oh. I thought you were in the hospital for whip-its. If you ever take too many, those things will kill you dead. Not a nice thing."

"I don't take whip-its, Pinkie. I didn't die."

"Then who was that ghost?"

Twilight gasped. "You talked to a ghost?"

Pinkie nodded.

"Pinkie, ghosts aren't real. They're all demons in disguise. It was probably trying to trick you into bringing it over to the mortal realm."

"Oh. Well, good thing I didn't do that, then."

"Seriously! Did it ask for twenty gallons of blood upon the morrow?"

"No, it asked for twenty gallons of blood tomorrow."

"Pinkie, twenty gallons is three ponies worth of blood. It wanted you to become a murderer."

"But Twilight's my friend! She'd never do that to me!"

Twilight held her head with a hoof. "That wasn't me. I'm me."

Pinkie nodded. "I'm me too. We have a lot in common."

Twilight gave Pinkie a look. "Just show me where this ghost is."

"Sure thing!"

Pinkie led Twilight the Sugarcube Corner, humming all the way. The ghostly Twilight floated right where she left it.

"Give me the blood!" the apparition screamed.

"Stop that," said Twilight. "Use your inside voice."

"Blood! Blood! Blood!" the ghost chanted, its head spinning in painful-looking angles.

Twilight sighed. "This is just gonna make my headache worse. Pinkie, you can go home. I have an exorcism to perform."

The ghost flickered like a broken lightbulb, its body contorting into grotesque facsimiles of the equine form.

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"I could go for some coffee."

"Coffee and cake, coming up!"

Pinkie trotted into the kitchen and busied herself with her work.

Another day, another demon.

Easily The Worst [Comedy]

Author's Note

Tags: [Twilight] [Rainbow Dash] [Applejack] [Comedy]

Bragging Rights: First place in the 73rd Panic Fiction contest.

Easily The Worst [Comedy]

"This has got to be the second or third worst contest I've ever heard of," said Twilight.

"It's great!" said Rainbow Dash. "All you have to do is plant the most weeds and you'll win!"

"But why would you plant weeds? Aren't you supposed to get rid of them?"

"Not all types of weed. Some are good."

"Really? And what are these good weeds that you're referring to?"

Rainbow Dash gave Twilight a long look.

"You really don't know?" she asked.

"It's not even a good botanical skill," said Twilight. "Planting as many seeds as possible isn't even how gardening is done. You need to do a little bit of work every day to cultivate something great. Focusing on quantity over quality has got to engender some bad habits."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the fastest."

"Sometimes, being fast isn't good."

Rainbow felt like someone had just insulted her entire family tree.

"You just don't understand the visceral joy of speed," said Rainbow, using a word she had just learned from A Filly's Guide to the Wonderbolts. "There's a thrill in plunging headfirst into danger, not knowing what the next step will bring."

"I mean, it's probably fun, but does it actually help you grow?"

"It helps the weeds grow."

"But that's not what I meant!" Twilight stamped her hoof. "If you just worry about winning contests and being the fastest, then you'll lose sight of what's important."

"What could possibly be more important than being the best?"

"There's more than one way to be the best. You might be the best at doing a good job, while someone else is the fastest."

"But you should be both. That's two bests, Twilight, which is better than one. It's simple math."

"Not everyone can be the best at everything all the time!"

"Don't you know who you're talking to?'

Twilight smiled. "How long does it take you to read a book?"

Rainbow rubbed the back of her neck. It was a bit of a sore subject.

Twilight didn't wait for a response. "It doesn't matter how slow you read, as long as you don't stop. That's the right attitude to have."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," said Rainbow. "Anyway, the important thing is that I beat Applejack."

Twilight groaned. "Of course. It's always about being better than AJ with you, isn't it?"

Rainbow nodded, not noticing the sarcasm. "It's very serious business. I'm only competing because I knew she would."

Twilight furrowed her brow. "But I--"

"There you are!" said Applejack, trotting over to the two of them. "I hope you're ready to eat dirt."

"I am. How else do you expect me to get all that planting done?"

"You can't win a gardening contest against me," said Applejack. "You know what I do for a living, right?"

"If you're so good at it, then why haven't you competed before?" asked Rainbow.

"I heard you were going to try, and I couldn't let that stand."

Twilight scratched her head. "Wait a minute…"

"Fluttershy knows talent when she sees it," said Rainbow. "I'll definitely win."

"Wait, Fluttershy's hosting?" asked Twilight.

Rainbow nodded. "She was going to hire some help to get these weeds planted around her cottage, but Tree Hugger gave her the awesome idea to make it a contest."

"And Fluttershy wants these weeds growing all over her yard?"

"They're mighty fine weeds, Twi," said Applejack. "High quality stuff."

"But weeds aren't… I think the main point is that one of you is going to do all her yard work for free."

Applejack shook her head. "Nope. Everypony is doing it for free. The reward for first place is the satisfaction of a job well done."

"But then why… why would you… what is happening?" Twilight looked like her head might explode.

"We've got a contest to get to," said Applejack. She trotted away.

Rainbow smiled. "I've got a need for speed to plant some weed, Twilight."

Then Rainbow Dash flew off to the weed planting contest. She had a nasty cough the entire time she worked.

Six Minutes [Drama]

Author's Note

Tags: [Fluttershy] [Drama]

Bragging Rights: Third place in the 74th Panic Fiction contest.

Six Minutes [Drama]

Fluttershy had a hard time believing it had been only six minutes. She'd been through a lifetime of emotions in that time. Honestly, she'd lived less eventful years.

The last thing she did before the fireworks started was read the letter again.

Fluttershy,

It didn't work. I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do about it. I did everything I could think of, and it wasn't enough. They're starting construction tomorrow.

Your Friend,
Twilight Sparkle

Usually, Twilight signed her name with a fancy flourish, but the letters were plainly printed on the page. Fluttershy could have known from the way her friend signed her name that their plan had failed.

She re-folded the letter and placed it on the desk. She leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh.

Fluttershy should be used to failure by now. It shouldn't hurt this much. Maybe it was worse since she was so far from home. Manehatten wasn't the kind of place she liked to stay for long visits, and two weeks had taken a toll on her. She missed the birdsong in the morning, the crickets at night. It was hard to sleep with all the constant racket.

The first firework went off with a louder boom than she expected. The yellow lights flickered across the night sky like stars that had gotten too close to the planet. They faded away, leaving only a second of clear sky before the next one continued.

She wasn't sure what the celebration was for.

Despite her best efforts to resist, she unfolded the letter and read it again.

I did everything I could think of, and it wasn't enough.

Strange, she wasn't used to someone saying those words and meaning them. Often, Fluttershy would say that to others after putting in the bare minimum effort. Often, they would believe her. She could weasel out of lots of responsibilities that way. If she hadn't seen the way her brother turned out, she might have continued with it. Instead, life gave her a helpful look into who she would become if she kept it up.

Not that she doubted Twilight, of course. It was just the phrasing that left a bad taste in her mouth.

She glanced out the window in time to see green dissolving into the night air.

In her experience, there was rarely nothing you could do. It would be more accurate to say there is nothing she could do within reason. Of course, that was implied. What pony would put their life on the line just for a few chipmunks?

At the end of the day, she needed to decide her priorities. It simply made more sense that she should let them die. It was a shame, sure, but she needed to pick her battles. She'd be no use to anyone locked away in prison, or worse. Other animals needed her too, not to mention all the ponies who had come to rely on her. Unless she wanted to martyr herself, she should stay in her lane.

I did everything I could think of, and it wasn't enough.

This sentence did not apply to Fluttershy. There were a few things she could think of. She could kidnap the chief engineer, sabotage the industrial equipment, round up all the chipmunks and move them somewhere else.

None of it was within reason. It would only cause more harm than good. It simply made more sense for her to let them die.

I did everything I could think of…

Fluttershy coughed. Smoke drifted into her room from the open window. She closed it, and waited a couple minutes for the air to settle.

Why had that happened?

She craned her neck to see the street several stories down. Some fillies were lighting firecrackers on the street, jumping back from the noise and laughing with each other.

...everything I could think of…

What if they were too scared to bulldoze the chipmunk's habitat? What if they recoiled from it like a firecracker?

She returned to her chair, lost in thought. Yes, she had done something like this before. It could work.

But was it appropriate? It would be quite the escalation. They were going to kill the chipmunks, but…

...everything I could think of…

Once, Fluttershy promised herself that she wouldn't say she had tried everything she could think of unless it was true.

Fluttershy had not done everything she could think of.