Crisis of Infinite Twijacks

Twilight adjusted her apron for the third time that morning. It was a quiet ritual to steady herself before the rush began. The scent of freshly brewed coffee swirled around her as she moved to her station behind the counter at Celestia’s Caffeine, Ponyville University’s premiere coffee shop. The soft chatter and clink of mugs created a cosy backdrop that did exactly nothing to assuage her jumpy nerves. Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds, then darted away again, even though there was no way anypony inside knew what she was doing. Even so, to cover herself she ignited her horn to grind more coffee beans.

Any minute now.

The door swung open with a cheerful jingle of the bell. 8:30am on the dot. Twilight could set her watch by it, if she wore a watch. which she did not, because watches were nerdy and she was doing her level best to shed the nerd persona she had acquired in high school. Memories of being mocked for genuinely enjoying learning and asking questions in class were a constant hum of cringe in the back of her mind.

That isn’t you anymore. You’re not that filly now. You’re a strong, cool mare who hasn’t spent all morning waiting to see … her.

The golden-maned earth pony who had been haunting Twilight’s daydreams for weeks. Strong, sure and sun-kissed, with a coat the colour of a summer wheat field and eyes like the first leaves of spring.

“Mornin’, sugarcube,” the mare said with a smile that could rival the sunrise. She always said it like they were old friends. Like it wasn’t the first time Twilight’s heart skipped a beat.

“G-Good morning!” Twilight stammered. She reached for her notepad, her magic sparking slightly as she fumbled to hold it steady. She cursed herself for being such a nerd. “The usual?”

“Yup.”

“Large black coffee, extra shot of espresso, five sugars.”

The mare got on her hind legs to leaned one elbow casually against the counter. “You always remember. That’s mighty impressive.”

“I, um, have a good memory,” Twilight mumbled, feeling absurdly proud of herself for such a simple feat.

The mare chuckled. Twilight swore it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She turned away quickly to prepare the coffee, grateful for the excuse to compose herself. Her hooves moved on autopilot as she worked - grind, tamp, pour, steam - but her mind spun.

What was her name? She had been coming in every morning for weeks now, always ordering the same thing, always chatting with Twilight like it was the highlight of her day. She was clearly also a student at the university but Twilight had not yet managed to figure out what she was studying. Nor had she ever heard anypony else say the mare’s name. She always came in alone and left alone. Twilight wanted to know more. She wanted to ask about the faint twang in the mare’s voice, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she talked about the weather, how casual yet purposeful she was in everything she did. Yet every time she tried, the words got caught in Twilight’s throat.

Just talk to her, she told herself. You can do this. It’s easy. Just ask her for her freaking name! Twilight set the steaming takeaway cup on the counter with a nervous smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sugarcube.” The mare slid a few bits across the counter, her eyes lingering on Twilight for just a moment longer than necessary. It made the fur at the base of Twilight’s neck stand on end. “You’re a real lifesaver in the mornin’, you know that? Don’t know how I’d make it through class without this.”

Twilight’s heart fluttered. She wanted to say ‘hey, what class is that? And what is your name? And how do you feel about filly-foolers?’ Instead, all that squeaked out was: “I-I’m just doing my job.”

“Well, you do it mighty fine.” The mare tipped her hat - a weathered Stetson that only added to her rustic charm - and turned to leave. “Much obliged.”

As the door jingled shut, Twilight let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. She thought about the takeaway cup she just given the mare. On the side, in neat, swirling letters, she’d written a message she hoped the mare would notice: My name is Twilight.

It was bold, by her standards, but she was tired of just imagining what it would be like to talk beyond the safe, scripted exchanges of customer and barista. Maybe tomorrow, she would muster the courage to ask the mare her name too. Or maybe she would write something else on tomorrow’s cup, hoping it would start a conversation.

For now, she would settle for watching her walk down the street through the coffee shop window, sunlight catching in her golden mane, her rump swaying hypnotically with each confident step.

Tomorrow, Twilight promised herself. Tomorrow.

Applejack stepped out of Celestia’s Caffeine, the cool morning air biting at her cheeks. She cradled her coffee cup in one hoof, the warmth of it comforting. Yet it did little to calm the anxiety stirring in her chest. Her eyes flicked down again to the side of the cardboard cup and the hornwriting there: My name is Twilight.

Twilight. It was pretty. It suited the pretty barista mare.

No matter how cold the air, it could not dampen the lingering warmth in Applejack from their interaction inside. The way Twilight’s eyes had softened when they made eye contact. The way her voice had faltered just slightly when she said ‘good morning’. When she spoke to her at the counter, everything had seemed to simple and easy. Her flirty words had come out without even trying. But now that she was standing outside with only her thoughts, her nerves were back in full force.

"Okay, Applejack," she muttered to herself. “Tomorrow. That’s a promise. She’s given you an opening now. Tomorrow, you’re gonna walk right in there and just ask her out. Simple as that. You can do this.” She nodded, but even as the words left her mouth, the doubt crept in. “Well, maybe not ask her out right away. You don’t even know if she’s into mares. Just ... talk to her. Get a little conversation goin’. Keep it casual.”

She took another sip of her coffee. Her eyes dropped back to the name written on the side. Her mind drifted back to the way Twilight had spoken; always so precise with her words, so confident in her own skin. It was hard not to notice how effortlessly smart she was. She clearly had the kind of depth Applejack could only dream of.

She had seen the textbooks on the side from when Twilight had been reading them before the morning rush. Twilight was studying Astrophysical Magic; something truly impressive, which made Applejack’s stomach churn with insecurity every time she thought about it. Twilight wasn’t just any student. She was the kind of student who could probably quote Kepler off the top of her head and rattle off formulas with that calm, collected smile on her face, like it was no big deal. It was the kind of thing that made Applejack feel ... well, small.

Applejack was majoring in agricultural studies. It wasn’t a bad major but it sure felt a lot less important compared with what Twilight did. Applejack spent her days in the field, studying crop rotation, soil health and sustainable farming practices. While she loved the work and the connections to the land, it wasn’t glamorous like Astrophysical Magic. It didn’t inspire awe in the same way.

"Why would she ever be interested in someone like me?" Applejack sighed, shoulders slumping. "She’s into the stars, the universe, big ideas and all that. And here I am, stuck with dirt under my hooves, studying the earth itself."

Twilight was smart, sophisticated, and driven. She was the kind of mare who spent late nights in the library and easily discussed complex theories with professors. Meanwhile, when she wasn’t getting dirty in the fields, Applejack was working hard to keep things running back home. Not that it wasn’t important - of course it was - but she could not shake the certainty that Twilight was on a whole different level. A unicorn like Twilight was too good for a plain old earth pony like Applejack

"I don’t even know how to hold a conversation with her outside of asking for coffee. What if I go in there tomorrow and she just looks at me like I’m some dumb pony who don’t belong in her smarter-than-smart world? She deserves someone who gets the stuff she knows. Someone who’s got the same intellectual spark. You’re just gonna make a fool of yourself, AJ. She’s probably got all sorts of brilliant stallions around her. Why would she be interested in a mare like me, who can barely string together a decent sentence without sounding like a country bumpkin?"

But even as she said the words, a part of her could not help but hope. After all, Twilight had written her name on Applejack’s coffee cup.

“Maybe… she’ll see something more than just the farm girl.” Applejack bit her lip, staring at the loopy writing. Her heart thudded juts a bit faster at the prospect. “Maybe... I could ask her out eventually. I just gotta start simple, is all.”

The voice of doubt rose inside her again almost immediately. It sounded an awful lot like Grand Pere. You’re not even in the same league. Why would someone like her look at an apple farmer you? It was the same voice he had used when he found out she was going to university instead of coming to work for him like he had planned.

Applejack sighed again, tipping her hat lower to shield her eyes. She picked up her pace, trying to push the swirling thoughts away, but it was no use. They followed her every step. Could the cutest barista she had ever met see her as more than just a customer with dirt on her hooves?

My name is Twilight.

"Tomorrow," Applejack whispered. "I’ll try tomorrow. I just gotta start simple. Like introducin’ myself.”