Chapters Normal [Drama/Slice of Life; Maud, Pinkie] Pastries in Klugetown [Slice of Life; OC] Lost in Sidequests: Epic Loot! [Comedy, Crossover; Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy] Statuesque [Adventure; Starswirl, the Pillars of Old Equestria] Cruise Control [Sci-Fi; OCs] Credit Where It's Due [Comedy, Slice of Life; Applejack, Flim Flam Bros.] Yaksidentally in Love [Comedy, Romance; Sandbar, Yona] A Change Would Do You Good [Slice of Life; Smolder, Ocellus; Trans Themes] Song of Cicadas [Drama/Slice of Life; Granny Smith] Pips and Seeds [Comedy, Romance; Pipsqueak, Babs Seed] Lost at Sea, Found [Slice of Life; OC; Profanity/2nd Person] Crimson Storm [Slice of Life; OC] Special Occasion [Slice of Life; OC; Trans Themes] Just Asking Questions, That's All! [Comedy/Random; Starlight, Trixie] Troubles and Tributaries [SASS; Comedy; Cadance, Shining Armor] You're Welcome! [Comedy; Luna, Mane 6] Spill the Wine [Comedy, Romance; Lyra, Bon Bon] Normal [Drama/Slice of Life; Maud, Pinkie]
At a table outside a cafe in Ponyville, Maud Pie sipped her tea while her sister Pinkie continued to ramble on about the latest party she’d thrown. She went into detail about all the different decorations and types of snacks she’d made, and so on.
“Ah, you should have been there!” Pinkie squealed. “Maud, it was just the most fun ever!”
“I’m glad you had fun,” Maud said, her voice even and calm as always. “I was exploring some more of the caverns near my home when I found a vein of cobalt. It was pretty intense.”
“Cobalt, that’s… the blue one right?”
Maud gave a half-smile. “Right,” she said. “It’s a really uncommon mineral. I’d like to study it, maybe sell some samples so I can buy a new pickaxe. Mine is getting kind of beat up.”
“Orrrr, you could wait a little longer until your birthday,” Pinkie said slyly. “Who knows… maybe somepony - possibly a Best Sister Friend Forever - already picked out one as a present.”
Maud blinked. “So, you bought me one alrea—”
“Ah ah ah!” Pinkie said, shaking her head as she shut her eyes and covered her ears. “I didn’t hear that! You’ll just have to wait for your birthday to be surprised!”
Maud blinked. “Okay then,” she said evenly. “I’ll wait.” She took another sip of her tea. “So, you said you had something else you wanted to talk to me about?”
Pinkie nodded eagerly. She brought out a small vial (seemingly from nowhere) and set it on the table.
Maud peered at it closely.
“Wanna know what this is?” Pinkie asked.
Maud glanced up at her. “It’s a vial.”
“Right, right, but the surprise is what’s inside the vial!”
Maud looked back at the vial. She pulled out the stopper and took a sniff. There was some vague scent of herbs and a strange, burning aroma she couldn’t quite place.
“Is this a potion?” she asked.
“Ding ding ding!” Pinkie exclaimed, clapping her hooves together. “Zecora whipped it up for me! But actually, not for me; it’s for you!”
Maud raised an eyebrow but kept her usual deadpan expression.
“See, I can read you like an open cookbook, Maud,” Pinkie explained, “but this potion will make it so everypony else can too!”
“What?” Maud asked.
“Well, it’s just that I know it bothers you that some ponies don’t exactly get you,” Pinkie said. “So, I talked to Zecora, compared some notes with Twilight, did a bunch of talking about magical theory and psychology and stuff that I totally did not sleep through ... and then she came up with this potion that will let you express yourself just like everypony else!”
Maud’s eyes widened slightly. “So I’d be a little more…” She paused, considering the word. “Expressive?”
“Right!” Pinkie said. “So, what do you think? Wouldn’t that be great?!”
As Maud stared intently at the bottle, Pinkie’s smile slowly vanished. She recognized that intense stare, gauging her sister’s subtle body language. Though she gave no outward hint of her mental state, Pinkie could tell that her heart was racing, her mind in a tumult of thoughts and emotions.
“Are you okay, Maud?” Pinkie asked hesitantly. “I thought this would make you happy, but if I was wrong…”
Maud shut her eyes. “I need to think about this,” she said, picking up the potion and pocketing it. “Do you mind if I get back to you about it?”
“S-sure,” Pinkie said uneasily. “Maud, I didn’t mean to upset you—”
“I’m not,” Maud said, and indeed, from her outward appearance, she seemed perfectly calm.
But Pinkie, and few besides her, could guess what lay beneath her stoic expression.
Maud pushed her seat back and got up. “I need to think about this,” she repeated. “Can I talk to you later?”
Pinkie nodded, then watched as Maud walked away.
I could be… normal.
That one thought had stuck in her brain ever since Pinkie had explained what the potion was. But as she lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling of her personal cavern as she listened to the calm gurgling of the underground stream nearby, she found herself unable to think about anything else.
I’d be able to laugh at Pinkie’s jokes, she thought. I find them funny, and she knows that, but it’s all I can do to give her a tiny smile, and I know that’s not what she really wants.
She thought back to all the times she’d met somepony and, despite saying exactly what she thought, they’d looked at her like some kind of alien creature. She remembered all the things they’d said...
Uh, are you joking, miss?
Oh, I guess you don’t like it… wait, you do? Well, you don’t act like it.
There’s no need to be snobby about it! If you’re going to talk to me like that, then just get out of here!
Fine, be that way, sourpuss. You could have just said you don’t want to dance, you didn’t have to be so sarcastic...
She sighed. "But I really did want to dance..."
She rolled over and looked at the row of pictures she’d placed on a shelf she’d carved out of the rock wall. She looked at the familiar faces looking back at her: Pinkie, Starlight, Trixie, and Mud Briar.
Would Starlight still be friends with me if I wasn’t “weird?” Would she still get me if I just made all the right faces?
Would Trixie mind it if I actually let her know how annoying I think her boasting is? Wait, would Pinkie be upset if I told her off for being so pushy?
...Would… would Mud Briar still want to be with me if I was a little more… “normal?” Maybe I could get a potion for him, and then he’d be… he’d be…
Maud sat up. “He’d be less like himself,” she said aloud. But would he be happier that way? Would we be happy with the ponies we became?
She glanced over at the potion Pinkie had given her. It stood there, glowing blue as it sat in its vial on a flat stone she’d used as a nightstand.
“Normal,” she whispered, her face deadpan, but her mind swirling with the possibilities of what could be, and what, once taken out, could never be put back.
She held up the potion, pulled out the stopper, taking another long smell of the tantalizing aroma, even teasingly drag the rim of the vial across her lips.
She shut her eyes and made her choice.
“Well, unlike last time,” Starlight said as she made her way through the tunnel that led to Maud’s cavern, “I’m glad I was able to help bake the cake this time!”
“It was much easier when Trixie didn’t have to do all the work,” Trixie added, smirking when Starlight shot her a look.
“I just know that Maud is going to love her presents!” Pinkie exclaimed as she bounced in a circle around her friends (and Mud Briar).
“Technically, you don’t know that she will love them,” Mud Briar said. “You only have a probable guess that she will.”
“Riiiight,” Pinkie said, forcing herself to smile. “Anyway, we’re here!”
The group arrived at the entrance to Maud’s cavern. Standing before them was Maud, her head lowered as she scooped her pet rock Bolder into her pocket.
Pinkie’s breath caught in her throat as Maud raised her head.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Maud said flatly, her expression as stoic as usual.
Pinkie stared back at her.
“I’ve got a spot for the cake,” Maud said, walking over to Mud Briar, planting a quick peck on his cheek. “I also put out some plates I made from marble. Sorry if they’re a little heavy.”
As the others went to set up for the party and to lay out their presents, Pinkie tapped Maud on the shoulder.
“Psst, Maud!” she hissed. “Listen, I’m sorry for surprising you with that potion the other day. I should have thought about it a little harder… but I guess it doesn’t matter since you didn’t take it anyway.”
Maud froze and turned back to Pinkie. She smirked. “How do you know that I didn’t?” she asked.
Pinkie looked on, wide-eyed, as Maud walked away to join the party.
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Event #100" contest, July 12, 2020.
Pastries in Klugetown [Slice of Life; OC]
“Wanna be friends?”
I squinted. It’s not like the very concept of friendship was something new, but I couldn’t recall being asked that specific question since I was a guppy.
“Come again?” I asked.
“Oh, I will!” the little pony asked, her light blue mane bobbing up and down with her head as she did so. “Of course I will! How else would I get these delicious treats?”
She bit into the pastry I’d just sold her. I mean, I’m glad she liked it, sure, and part of me just figured I should leave well enough alone, but…
“No, I, uh… what was that you just asked?”
“Oh!” the pony exclaimed, wiping her mouth with the back of her foreleg. “I was asking if you wanted to be friends! So… do you?!”
Let me back up…
My name is Gar. I’m a Pescian, or “fish man,” as the foreigners call us. I live in Klugetown, a trading village that lies on the crossroads between a bunch of different places. We were here before the Storm King, we were here during the Storm King, and we’ll be here for a long while now that the Storm King’s gone.
Go to the north, there’s sand and rocks and bones and steely skies that go on forever, at least as the scavengers tell me.
Go south, there’s a forest that gives way to the ocean, and off in the distance is Mount Aris.
No idea how my kind came here, and honestly I don’t care. We’re here, and that’s all that matters.
Around Klugetown, the rule is simple: if you have something valuable - keep it, sell it, or trade it. But you never just give it away.
After that rule, there aren’t many more.
That’s why, y’know, if someone says they’re your friend… you have to ask why they want to be your friend. Do they just want company when it’s time to knock off of work and have a tankard of cactus ale? (Fine by me, if they do!) Or maybe they want to set up an “arrangement.” You scratch my scales and I’ll scratch yours… that sort of thing. (Again, fine by me, long as my scales get scratched first.)
Things got weird, though, once that princess showed up. The pony one. The, uh… the one that… ah, jeez, what was her name? Moonlight? Sunlight? Starlight? I know there was a “light” in there…
Sorry, sorry, I’m gettin’ off-track.
Okay, the point is this: we heard about Equestria. I mean, it’s kinda hard not to hear about ‘em. They say it’s green and full of colorful ponies and that, if you can believe this, that’s where they raise the sun and moon.
I met this one crazy guy, a real egghead, who said that the sun actually stays in place and we go around it. Carpinicus, his name was. Total loon!
Right, right, still off-track. What I’m tryin’ to say is, Equestria… it sounds like a different world. Not just some other city, but like… like a whole ‘nother planet. I heard about that pony princess, but I never saw her. I heard those ponies beat the Storm King, and I was like, “Great, no more taxes,” but that’s about all I thought of it.
But then there was this morning, and that’s when it all got real.
So, I got up, went to the well, and I poured a nice bucket of water over myself - like ya do if you’re a Pescian - and then I load up my cart. I sell pastries. Little ones. Tarts. I fill ‘em with whatever fruit’s in season (or whatever’s cheapest), and I make do. Today, it was mostly prickly pear. You find ‘em all over the desert, so, y’know, if all else fails, at least we got those…
I loaded up my cart, started pushing it - you gotta push it, not pull it, ‘cause if you don’t keep your eye on it, someone’s liable to just take something when you’re not looking, so it’s best to keep an eye on it - making my way past all the buildings on the way to the marketplace. They’re all made out of sand and mud, a little bit of wood to hold up the structure, but they look pretty much the same. Every day, I go by that cat-man’s place with the windmill. What’s that cat’s name… Copper? Something like that…
So I get to the market square, set up my cart, and things are going like usual… right up until that pony shows up.
I saw her, of course. I mean, kind of hard to miss a pony around Klugetown. She’s pink, she’s got a blue mane and tail, and she’s the kind with wings. See, I thought they were making it up! I mean, really: wings? Never seen something with hooves that can fly, least not before that princess showed up, so…
I guess she caught me staring. She trots on over, and gives me this huge smile, like she’s known me for years. And she says:
“Hi! I’m Spring Blossom! What’s your name?”
I give her the ol’ squinty eye and go: “Who’s asking?”
She just laughs and goes, “I am, silly!”
So I think for a minute, realize that there’s nobody who wants a piece of me, and I just shrug my shoulders and figure that it’s no big deal, so I tell her, “It’s Gar.”
She laughs again and says, “I like that name! Are all, um, fish man names like that? Also, is that offensive: ‘fish man?’”
“We call ourselves Pescians… but ‘fish man’ works, sure. And, uh… I dunno… guess my name isn’t that weird, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh, I see!” she says. “Anyway, I’m here because…”
She goes into this long explanation about how Princess What’s-Her-Name, the one with “light” in her name, is in charge now, and how she’s encouraging all sorts of ponies to learn about the cultures in other places, including Klugetown, and she apparently decided to spend her vacation here.
I shrug, since it’s no scales off my back, and she finally asks about my wares.
I tell her about the pastries and she asks to buy one. She’s only got Equestrian money, but it’s real enough when I bite it, so I sell her a pastry and she digs in.
Well, you’d think it was manna from Poseidon or something, because she gets this wide-eyed look and asks for another. And another. And another after that!
Soon enough, she’s bought out half my cart!
I have to crack a smile. “Heh. Didn’t think a little pony like you could put so many pastries away,” I say to her. “Most folks around here just want a quick bite to fill their belly before they go to work or get back to it. Nothin’ special.”
She gasps and goes “Nothing special?! Mister, these are amazing! What did you say you put in them again?”
“Uh, prickly pear?”
“Really! I didn’t know pears had prickles… what kind of trees grow them?”
“I mean, they ain’t trees, exactly… they’re cactuses. Like… I mean, you ponies know what cactuses are, right?”
She giggles and nods. “I do! But I’ve never eaten something from a cactus before. Until now, I mean. This place, all the creatures here… this is so exciting! I’m so lucky I get to meet you all!”
At this point, I’m not sure what to make of this pony. See, if you’re this eager, if you show your cards too much, then Klugetown just chews you up and spits you out. But, for some reason, I gotta smile.
“Well, glad ya like the pastries,” I tell her.
And that’s when she says “Wanna be friends?”
It takes me a bit - maybe a few bits, if you know what I mean - before I even understand what she means, and even then I have to ask her “Come again?”
And that’s where I started this off, yadda yadda, and then she asks:
“So, do you?”
Well, here I am, still figuring it out. She’s right here in front of me, looking up at me with those big eyes, and I’ve got no clue what to do next. Maybe I can sell her more pastries, or find out what else she’s carrying on her, or… or maybe I could just say yes and get her out of my fins.
“Sure, why not?” I say.
She makes this squeal that catches me off guard. All the other folks around the market square turn to stare like someone’s being murdered and then she… uh…
Okay, she just hugs me. She just straight up and hugs me like I’m an old friend and not some strange fish guy she just met. She’s so close I can smell her - and, swear to Poseidon, this pony smells like cotton candy - and part of me wants to just give her a smack and tell her to keep out of my personal space… but instead, I just pat her on the mane and try to give her the best grin I can manage.
Well, she finally lets me go and then asks if I know where I can find the Tourism Bureau. Last I checked, we don’t have a Tourism Bureau. But I know a guy who knows a bit about everything… but then I remember that a pony like her probably doesn’t know that the Gilfather won’t give something for nothing.
I still don’t know why, but I tell her how to find him and - get this - I just give her my most expensive pastry, a thing with custard and currants and a blend of spices. It’s a favorite of the Gilfather’s, and I only make one a week because not many folks around here will spend the coin on it, and the ingredients aren’t cheap either.
I tell Spring Blossom that the Gilfather will give her almost anything she wants if she offers it to him.
She gives me another big smile - and a hug, still not used to that - and then she just gallops away.
And, y’know, it’s weird… I was kinda sorry to see her go. Part of me hopes she shows up again. If the rule is “keep it, sell it, or trade it,” well… I guess if the “it” is some weird pony’s friendship, then I guess I’ll keep it. It’s good to have friends in high places… but maybe it’s good to have ‘em in far-off places too.
But what do I know… I got pastries to sell.
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Distant Lands" contest on January 18, 2020.
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Lost in Sidequests: Epic Loot! [Comedy, Crossover; Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy]
Author's Note
PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: Exodd 's hilarious story "Lost in Sidequests." The premise of that story is that Discord has altered the friendship map so that Friendship Quests now play as D&D-style RPG quests (or "Ogres and Oubliettes," as it were). My task was to expand on his original concept. Many thanks to Exodd for writing such a great story and giving me permission to post the sequel here!
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's Expanding Universe Contest #2!
Lost in Sidequests: Epic Loot! [Comedy, Crossover; Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy]
On a dirt path just outside an idyllic little village, there was a sudden flash of light as four heroes materialized.
You find yourself outside the quiet village of Colteria. Though relatively safe, it nonetheless has a wooden city gate that you must pass through to gain entry. From where you stand, you can see thatched roof cottages—
“We know!” Twilight shouted. “We can see all that!”
“W-well, I think it adds some extra, um… immersion to the quest,” Fluttershy remarked. “Besides, Discord was so proud of this new ‘Narration’ feature, so I promised him we’d try it out!”
All of this took place as Discord’s disembodied voice continued on, talking over them as it described the nearby trees and mountains on the horizon.
—woods are dominated primarily by white birch and the occasional pine tree. A path leads from where you stand toward those woods, although you cannot see far down the path before—
“Nope, I ain’t puttin’ up with that fer this whole quest,” Applejack said abruptly. “Settings.”
A translucent menu came up displaying various options.
“Narrator Mode: OFF,” Applejack commanded.
Discord’s narration immediately ceased.
“Aww, it wasn’t so bad,” Fluttershy muttered, her ears drooping.
“Hey, as long as we have this menu opened,” Rainbow Dash said, pushing in next to Applejack roughly, “let’s try some of the other ‘Extra’ features!”
“Rainbow,” Twilight grumbled, “we don’t have time for—”
“8-bit Mode: ON!”
Suddenly the group of them appeared as pixelated entities, the forest nearby appearing as a copypasted repetition of the same asset.
“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight shouted (though her voice sounded more like a series of beeps in quick succession).
“Oh my… I feel so jagged,” Fluttershy beeped. “I’m almost afraid to move! I might accidentally cut somepony!”
“Fine fine,” Rainbow Dash relented, heaving a synthetic sigh. “8-bit Mode: OFF.”
“There, fine,” Twilight said. “Now, if we could just—”
“Big Head Mode: ON!”
At that point, their heads - as well as those of the city guards at the gate just ahead - swelled to three times their normal size.
“Aaaaaahhhh!” Twilight screamed in horror. “Oh my gosh… what the… HOW IS MY NECK NOT BREAKING?”
Rainbow burst into uproarious laughter. “Bwahahahaha! This is hilarious! Let’s keep this setting on the entire time!”
“Oh buck no!” Applejack shouted. “Big Head Mode: OFF!”
Their heads immediately returned to normal size.
“Fluttershy, please ask Discord not to add any more superfluous features to the Friendship Map,” Twilight said, sighing as she massaged her temples.
“I’ll ask him nicely,” Fluttershy said, stifling a giggle. “But that ‘Big Head’ thing was a little funny.”
“Let’s just get this here quest done,” Applejack said, striding forward. “I wanna get the reward an’ then be home in time fer supper. Granny Smith’s makin’ beans an’ cornbread, an’ I’d rather have that than a hundred Apple Medallions of Loyalty.”
They strode up to the city gates and were greeted by the two guards, a pair of pegasi holding a spear to their sides with their wings.
“Welcome to Colteria!” one shouted.
“I like swords!” Rainbow Dash shouted back.
“Welcome to Colteria!” the guard repeated.
“I like swords!” Rainbow Dash repeated back.
The other three mares exchanged an all-too-familiar look.
“Stupid limited dialogue options,” Applejack grumbled.
“Welcome to Colteria!”
“I like sw-ow!” Rainbow yelped as Twilight grabbed her by the ear with her magic and dragged her into the city.
“Okay, the MSQ states that we need to find a pair of neighbors named Cookie Cruncher and Epic Raider,” Twilight said. “Cookie Cruncher’s house is just up the road, so let’s see what her friendship problem is.”
“Ohhh, I just couldn’t take it anymore,” said Cookie Cruncher, a slightly chubby earth pony with a mocha-brown coat as she took a fresh bunch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.
Twilight and her friends were gathered around her kitchen table, an earlier batch of cookies laid out before them.
“Epic Raider, my neighbor, has been my best friend for so long,” she said, heaving a sigh. “But he insists on going alone to the dungeon deep inside the Colterian Forest to hunt for treasure. There are so many monsters and traps there, though… I can’t help but worry about him!”
Twilight nodded. “It must be terrible to see your friend risk his life like that,” she said. “Have you tried—”
There was a crash and the sound of clattering glass.
“Cool! I found 50 DBs in that pot!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“Rainbow!” Applejack shouted, seeing her friend standing over the shards of a smashed vase. “What in the hay is wrong with you! Ya can’t just go smashin’ other ponies’ things to find loot!”
“Oh, no, it’s all right,” Cookie Cruncher said, waving her hoof dismissively. “I’m not sure why, but I’m fine with it.”
“See?” Rainbow Dash said, sticking her tongue out at Applejack. “It’s fine! You guys keep talking to her. I’m going upstairs to look through her dresser and stuff.”
Twilight’s eye twitched. “This is my new reality… I didn’t choose it… but this is what it’s come to…”
“Um, if you wouldn’t mind continuing your story, Cookie Cruncher?” Fluttershy said, giving the mare a kind smile.
“Well, I just wish I could convince Epic to stop risking his life!” she cried. “I got so worked up every time he went on a dungeon raid, and when he comes home scraped up and injured with just a few measly gems to show for it… I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I… I decided that if he cares so little for our friendship that he would make me worry myself sick, then maybe it would be best if we just weren’t friends anymore at all! At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about him!”
“Well…” Fluttershy began, “I see what you mean, but… you still seem awfully worried about him anyway.”
Cookie Cruncher’s eyes welled up. “Ohhh, who am I kidding? You’re exactly right!” she cried. “I can’t just turn off my feelings! I’m terrified that one day he won’t come back at all! But he just won’t listen to me… tell me, am I being selfish?”
Twilight shook her head. “It’s good to be understanding of your friends’ interests, but this pony sounds like he’s not just an adventurer… he sounds downright reckless!”
“Sure does,” Applejack said. “I ain’t no stranger to danger, but goin’ into a dungeon filled with monsters an’ other nasty varmints alone is just plain foolish!”
“But… but what can I do?” Cookie Cruncher asked.
“Maybe ya oughta let us talk some sense into ‘im!” Applejack said.
“Oh? You really think he’ll listen to you?”
“If I land my Loyalty roll, yeah.”
“Huh?”
Twilight narrowed her eyes at Applejack. “Anyway, let’s do this!” she declared. “Everypony, it’s time to talk to Epic Raider and convince him to stop risking his life in that dungeon!”
They all turned and went to the door. They found Rainbow Dash waiting for them, a smug look on her face.
“Hooboy,” Applejack said. “I know that look. Whadjya find, Rainbow?”
“Heh… I was rummaging through Cookie Cutter’s dresser when I found these babies!” she declared, holding up the item (causing a fanfare to play from some unseen trumpet).
Item: Polka Dot Panties: +10 LGH
They all gawked at the lacy pair of white panties with pink polka dots all over them.
“Oh my…” Fluttershy murmured, her cheeks turning bright red.
“Pretty cool, right?” Rainbow Dash asked with a grin.
“Ya stole her bucking underwear?!” Applejack bellowed.
“If she didn’t mind me smashing her vases, I don’t think she’s gonna mind if I steal her skivvies, AJ,” Rainbow retorted, rolling her eyes.
“Twilight, can ya please talk some sense into her?”
Twilight ran her tongue around her cheek. “Well… it does have a really high Laughter bonus. Better than any of our other bonus items, actually.” She shrugged. “Okay, fine, you can keep them. I don’t think we’ll need them, but we can keep them in the inventory for now.”
“Ha ha, yes!” Rainbow exclaimed. “In your face, Applejack!” she added, literally shoving the pair of panties into AJ’s face.
“Cut that out!” Applejack said, slapping her hoof away. “Ugh… tell me ya found them drawers in her dresser… not her hamper, right?”
“Ew, I’m not gonna steal somepony’s used underwear, Applejack!” Rainbow exclaimed, wrinkling her muzzle. “I’m not some kind of dirigible!”
“Degenerate,” Twilight corrected.
“Yeah, that too.”
The party then strolled over to the cottage next door, only to find a note had been nailed to the front door.
“Sure hope that’s not an eviction notice or we ain’t never gonna finish this quest,” Applejack grumbled, removing the note. “Let’s see what it says…”
To whom it may concern:
Since my friend thinks I am such an unseasoned adventurer who can’t handle himself, I am off again to the Old Colterian Necropolis to search for treasure, but this time I shall prove myself worthy by conquering the 10th level of the dungeon all by myself!
You may expect to see me back soon, my saddlebags weighed down with treasure!
Heroically yours,
“Oh no!” Cookie Cruncher cried cacophonously. “Not the 10th level! Not even the city guard will venture down there! Please, brave adventurers, won’t you save my friend? I beg of you!”
“Aw, don’t you fret, sugarcube!” Applejack said, removing her hat and placing it over her chest. “We’ll save yer friend in no time!”
“After a visit to the item shop,” Twilight added, checking the inventory. “We didn’t pack for combat.”
“Right!” Applejack said, undeterred. “After that!”
“Oh, look!” Fluttershy exclaimed. “That Filly Scout over there is crying! And she’s got a quest marker over her head!”
They looked and saw that, indeed, a little earth pony filly with a green sash and beret was sobbing her eyes out as she sat by the side of the road.
Twilight made a face. “Fluttershy…”
“Oh come on, Twilight!” Fluttershy protested. “Her sidequest is probably on the way!”
“And it might have some cool rewards!” Rainbow added.
“Fine, fine!” Twilight relented. “You two talk to the filly, AJ and I will head to the inventory shop.”
“A-and then you’ll save my friend’s life, right?” Cookie Cruncher asked.
“Unless this turns out to be an escort quest,” Rainbow grumbled.
“What?”
“She means yes, we’ll save your friend!” Twilight said hurriedly. “Okay, ponies, let’s go! This time limit doesn’t pause for dialogue!”
A short time - but not short enough for Twilight’s liking - later, the party arrived at the entrance to the Old Colterian Necropolis deep inside the forest.
“Well, we finally made it!” Twilight said. “Though we could have made it here sooner if we hadn’t kept wandering off the path to collect pinecones every few minutes!”
Fluttershy pouted. “Well, that poor filly scout needed them for her merit badge, and her mother wouldn’t let her go into the forest to collect them!”
“Yeah, but that said,” Rainbow Dash grumbled, “why did they have to be ‘High-Quality Pinecones.’’ Why couldn’t we just pick any old pinecone off some pine trees? Nooo, they had to be random ones we picked off the forest floor… and only one in ten of those pine cones were ‘high quality’ ones!”
“Oh come on, now, Dashie!” Fluttershy protested. “You once made us watch you try to avoid lightning bolts in Cloudsdale two hundred times as part of a sidequest!”
“Hey, dodging lightning is way cooler than collecting pinecones!”
“Girls, please!” Twilight groaned. “Look, let’s just start this dungeon…”
Dungeon: The Old Colterian Necropolis
Party Members:
Twilight Sparkle — Class: Mage
Rainbow Dash — Class: Rogue
Applejack — Class: Brawler
Fluttershy — Class: Beastmaster
Are you prepared to enter this Dungeon? (Yes / No)
Twilight nodded. “Ye—”
“Wait!” Fluttershy cried. “Maybe we should go back and turn in these pinecones first!”
A collective groan went up from the party.
“Well, what if the reward is a really useful item?” Fluttershy explained. “Maybe it’ll even help us in the dungeon!”
“Oh, hey, actually that’s a good point,” Rainbow Dash said. “Maybe if we just fly back to the village real quick, we could—”
“Y’all realize some critter mighta made a snack outta Epic Raider by now as it is, right?” Applejack asked.
“Ehhh, if he dies, we can just reset this and try it again,” Rainbow shrugged.
“Aaaand now death is meaningless,” Twilight noted to herself. “Remind me to thank Discord for the existential crisis he’s given me, Fluttershy.”
“Oh, he’ll be so glad to hear that, Twilight!” Fluttershy bubbled.
“Riiiight…” Twilight said. “Anyway… Yes, we enter the dungeon.”
The 10th level of the dungeon began swiftly as a swarm of Dire Bats immediately swooped at them, their shrill screeches filling the air. (The bats, that is, not the ponies. Well, some of it was Twilight, to be fair.)
“Aww yeah, first encounter!” Rainbow Dash said, drawing out her daggers.
“Wait!” Fluttershy cried. “I’ll use charm to get them on our side!”
“Do it, Fluttershy!” Twilight yelled, ducking as the bats swarmed her. “And hurry!”
“Excuse me, little friends,” Fluttershy began, sweetly addressing the bats. “But if you’ll just calm down a minute, I’m sure we can all be friends! And I might even have some Dire Bat Snacks in my pack just for you!”
As she spoke, the image of a 20-sided die above her head tumbled several times before displaying a glowing number 14.
Fluttershy uses Charm!
Success! The Dire Bats are charmed by Fluttershy!
Pink cartoonish hearts swirled over the bats’ heads as they all swarmed to Fluttershy’s side and began to nuzzle her.
“Ugh,” Twilight said, watching the bats flock to her. “Good thing we picked up a few Rabies Potions at the item shop.”
“Wait, Fluttershy, don’t Dire Bats just eat blood?” Rainbow Dash asked.
Fluttershy nodded. “Yes, that’s right,” she replied.
Rainbow and Applejack exchanged a glance.
“Uh, in that case,” Applejack asked, raising an eyebrow, “where’d ya get the blood to make Dire Bat Snacks?”
Fluttershy blinked, then, after a beat, replied, “Angel told me not to ask where he got it, and I suggest you don’t ask either, Applejack.”
Applejack made a face. “Yyyeah, think I’ll just let sleepin’ apples lie on that one.”
After a series of other encounters - most of which involved Fluttershy charming critters that emerged from the dark stone corridors of the catacombs with the occasional battle with undead skeleton ponies - as well as a few traps and secret puzzles that required all of them to coordinate standing on stones and turning levers (which made them wonder how Epic Raider managed to make it this far when he was by himself), they entered a large, circular arena and saw a pony lying in the center.
“Help!” he shouted. “Somepony help me!”
“Ha! That must be him!” Rainbow exclaimed before dashing into the arena.
“Wait, Rainbow!” Twilight shouted after her. “Let me do a Perception check to see if—”
The ground below Rainbow Dash suddenly burst open, flinging rocks and debris everywhere. A mighty roar filled the air as the dust cleared.
“I keep tellin’ ‘er,” Applejack muttered, “big ol’ circle or an extra-large room after a puzzle means a boss fight.”
Arch Dread Molworth uses Sandtrap!
Critical hit! Rainbow Dash takes 5 points of damage!
The creature before them resembled the bulky, clawed, mole-like creature known as a Dread Molworth, to be sure, but considerably larger with red eyes and a black and dark blue hide.
“Aw man, I hate palette-swap enemy bosses!” Rainbow Dash groaned as she dusted herself off.
“Okay, everypony, time to roll for Initiative!” Twilight called, and the battle began.
As the battle dragged on, but the party found themselves struggling against the mighty beast. They were all low on hit points, their healing items had been depleted, and their attacks were all useless. Fluttershy couldn’t charm the great beast, nor could her pets damage it. Rainbow Dash’s trick attacks did manage to land critical hits, but these too were offset by the creature’s thick hide. Likewise, Twilight’s magic blasts had a 20% damage penalty on them, which wasn’t helping matters. Applejack’s targeted Buck Attack worked well on the creature’s less-protected spots, but she’d repeatedly failed her evasion rolls and was taking some of the nastier hits, requiring Twilight to use her turns to heal her.
“Okay… my turn,” Twilight panted. “I use Magic Blast!”
She fired another blast at the Arch Dread Molworth (or ADM as they’d taken to calling it after a few turns).
Twilight Sparkle uses Magic Blast!
The die above her came up as a 1.
The attack misses, ricochets off an inconveniently-placed magic reflective panel somepony left on the wall of the necropolis, and comes back, hitting Twilight for 8 points of damage!
“Augh!” Twilight shouted as the blast sent her reeling back. “What the hay?! I’m one of the most talented magic users in Equestria! I would never miss that badly!”
“Natural 1, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said with a shrug. “Now you know how I felt when I rolled a 1 while trying to do a Sonic Rainboom and accidentally created a black hole.”
“Ugh, just… never mind, it’s your turn, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said.
Rainbow Dash paused, waiting. The ADM waited patiently, tapping its paw while she mulled her next move over.
“Oh, wait, I’ve got it!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Who has the highest Laughter status here?”
“Let’s see,” Twilight said, checking the Party Status. “Looks like it’s you, Rainbow Dash.”
Rainbow blanched. “Um… by how much?”
“Just do whatever yer plannin’, Rainbow!” Applejack shouted.
“Ugh, fine… I equip the Polka Dot Panties!”
The Polka Dot Panties immediately appeared on Rainbow Dash’s nether regions as the others gawked at her. Applejack’s jaw dropped.
Applejack receives a -3 penalty to her Mind status.
“Shut up, no I don’t!” she screamed, swatting at the text box uselessly.
“And now,” Rainbow said, her cheeks burning the whole while, “I use Amuse!”
Rainbow Dash uses Amuse!
Rainbow put on a fake grin and strode up to the ADM. “Hey, Mr. Arch Dread Molworth! Do these undies make my flank look big?” she asked, wiggling her butt at the huge beast.
The die over her head rolled at came up as 10. With the +10 Laughter increase from her equipped item, however…
Success! The Arch Dread Molworth is Amused!
The ADM began to snicker before quickly collapsing into convulsive, gibbering laughter.
“Great work, Rainbow!” Twilight shouted. “Now, let’s rescue Epic Raider and escape while he’s incapacitated!”
“Wait, maybe we could, like, chuck a bomb down his throat first!” Rainbow exclaimed, rummaging through her pack. “He might have some good drops and—”
She was silenced with a withering Stare attack from Fluttershy, and the group then picked up Epic Raider and rushed back to the exit.
Back in town, the party reassembled in front of Cookie Cruncher’s house.
“I thought I was a goner,” Epic Raider said, rubbing the back of his mane. “I guess I really am pathetic, just like you thought, Cookie Cruncher.”
“I never thought you were pathetic!” Cookie Cruncher cried. “I only wanted you to stop risking your life unnecessarily! Every time you left on some crazy dungeon run, I just felt like my whole world was coming to an end! I could never understand why you insisted on going, and doing it all alone!”
“Well, I… I thought I could prove my bravery to you, Cookie,” Epic said, his cheeks coloring. “I thought if I could become the greatest hero in town, then… then maybe you’d see me as… as more than a friend…”
Twilight and Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Ooooh!” they both said, taking in the post-quest dialogue.
“Oh… oh, Epic, I—”
“Then why did you—”
“I just—”
“When I first—”
Twilight and Fluttershy looked over at Rainbow Dash.
“Skip… skip… skip…”
“Rainbow Dash, quit skipping the bucking dialogue!” Twilight bellowed.
“Fine, fine,” Rainbow said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I guess we have a lot to talk about,” Cookie Cruncher said, putting her foreleg around Epic’s shoulders. “Thank you, brave adventurers! You’ve truly saved our friendship!”
“And given us much more,” Epic Raider said, looking into Cookie’s eyes.
“Ugh, bleh!” Rainbow gagged. “Please tell me this is the end.”
Their cutie marks all began to flash and a text box appeared over their heads that read:
Main Friendship Quest: Complete!
“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash hollered, doing a midair loop.
“Yay!” Fluttershy added quietly.
“Now we can finally go home,” Twilight sighed. “We just have to… wait, where’s Applejack?”
Applejack strode up to them, a colorful rock in her hoof.
“What’s that, AJ?” Rainbow asked.
“While y’all were turnin’ in the main quest, I brought that filly those pine cones she wanted. She gave us this here rock as a reward.”
Filly Scout’s Molstone: Gives +4 bonus to actions against Molworths.
A vein bulged in Fluttershy’s forehead as she slowly turned to face the others, an icy look in her emerald eyes.
“W-well, uh… a rock that nice, I’m pretty sure we can sell it at Maud’s shop for some DBs,” Twilight suggested sheepishly.
GAME OVER
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Statuesque [Adventure; Starswirl, the Pillars of Old Equestria]
The unicorn wizard strode up to the statue, its face locked in an expression of terror, and he - knowing it would stay upon that face for all time - bowed his head, the muffled jingle of the bells on his conical hat echoing in the still air.
“Too late,” Starswirl muttered. “Too late again.”
He and his comrades, the Pillars of Equestria, strode through the streets of the village. It was once home to dozens of ponies, merchants and tradesponies, and they’d crossed through it only a matter of weeks ago. Here was the pub where Rockhoof had done his tricks for the mares who’d swooned as he lifted them all as they sat atop a bench, and there was the stall where Somnambula bought a beautiful necklace from a young goldsmith, and over there was the bookshop where a bookseller had gifted Starswirl himself with a rare book he’d been seeking for ages.
Those flirtatious mares, that goldsmith, and that bookseller were all still here. Indeed, they all stood in place among their fellow villagers.
But now they were all still, their bodies turned to stone, and their village had become a silent, morbid museum, a monument to their last terrifying moments.
There were several other villages up the road from it that had been just the same. Stygian had discovered the first and sent word to his friends. At first, they had assumed it to be a cockatrice, or perhaps an entire flock of them. But when Meadowbrook procured and tamed a cockatrice to undo the effects and nothing happened, they knew this was no mere random attack.
“Oh, the poor dears,” Mistmane whispered behind him. “Starswirl, we must find the cause of this immediately!”
Starswirl heaved a sigh. “Of course,” he said. “But I know of no spell that could do this… at least, not one that is so potent that not even my sorcery could undo it!”
A growl built in his throat. “Curse the fiend that did this!” he shouted, stomping his hooves in fury.
The echo of his shout and the echo of his hooves as they hit the cobblestoned street echoed outward.
And then a new sound came to them… hoofsteps.
“A survivor!” Meadowbrook exclaimed, her voice muffled beneath her healer’s mask as she whirled around to see what was approaching. “Oh, praise the stars, we may finally have found somepony!”
She dashed off in the direction of the sound.
“Meadowbrook, wait!” Starswirl cried, galloping after her. The others did the same, but Meadowbrook, heedless of his call, turned to look down a nearby alley.
“Wh-what?!” Meadowbrook cried. “Why, you’re no pony! What manner of creature are you?”
She lifted her mask to get a better look at the approaching creature.
Instantly, her breath caught in her throat and she froze in place. Almost instantly, her whole body was engulfed from head to hoof in stone.
“Meadowbrook, no!” Rockhoof shouted, rushing toward her.
“Rockhoof, wait!” Starswirl yelled, using his magic to seize the towering stallion before he could arrive at their frozen friend’s side.
“Let me go!” Rockhoof shouted, reaching for his shovel. “I’ll not let the fiend get away after all that it has done!”
“It froze her when she lifted her mask, you fool!” Starswirl shouted. “It must have a petrifying gaze, like that of a cockatrice!”
The intruder’s hoofsteps grew louder as it came up the alley, closer to where Starswirl and the other Pillars all stood.
“Run! Now!” Starswirl bellowed.
Rockhoof gave a loud grunt of frustration and reluctantly turned and ran. With his impressive gait and strength, he was quickly ahead of them all.
But as they ran, Starswirl noticed that the others weren’t with them. In their sudden panic, they’d all run in different directions.
“Rockhoof, wait!” he cried.
“What is it?!” Rockhoof demanded, skidding to a halt. “Ye tell us to run, now ya tell us to stop? I wish ye’d make up yer mind, ye old goat!”
“We’ve lost the others!” Starswirl hissed, pressing his hoof to Rockhoof’s lips. “Listen, we’ll need to search for them, but under no circumstances can we look that creature in the eye!”
Rockhoof paused for a moment, but then nodded. “Aye,” he said, lowering his voice. “What sort o’ creature do ye think it could be?” he asked. “If it’s not a cockatrice…”
“I don’t know… but if we can regroup and find a way to stop it, then we may be able to undo all the harm that it has done. Or, if not…”
Rockhoof waited for him to continue. After a beat, he said, “If not?”
Starswirl narrowed his eyes. “Then we’ll make sure that no other pony comes to harm because of it.”
Rockhoof gave a solemn nod, clenching his trusty shovel tightly in his teeth.
The two of them slowly made their way back, trying their best to step quietly, though even the lightest step seemed like thunder in the sepulchral silence of the town.
They rounded a corner and Starswirl’s voice caught in his throat.
Rockhoof inhaled sharply through his nostrils as he stifled an anguished cry.
Mistmane, Somnambula, and Flash Magnus all stood before them. Mistmane was recoiling in horror as her stone face locked onto the sight of their assailant at the moment of her encounter. Flash had attempted to fly at their attacker, but he’d been frozen in stone just as he’d left the air, leaving his statue lying on the ground, wings spread and foreleg extended.
“You poor, brave fool,” Starswirl whispered. “You should have fled, but you tried to protect the others…”
It was then that they noticed that Somnambula was not actually standing among them, but rather than she was slightly behind the others. She was on her back, a look of surprise on her face…
...and her precious blindfold was gone.
“Starswirl,” Rockhoof whispered. “We cannot let this pass! That creature must be stopped!” he growled, turning to face him. “We must—”
He paused as he caught sight of something standing behind Starswirl. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. The shovel fell from his mouth and clattered on the ground as his entire body turned to stone almost instantaneously.
Starswirl felt his blood turn to ice. No… my comrades! I’m the last one left!
“Good, goooood,” said a quiet, raspy voice behind him. “Jussst one more…”
Starswirl felt the urge to turn around and cast his spell, but realized that without being able to see, he was more likely to end up just another victim.
Then he saw something flutter to the ground nearby. A scrap of cloth?
Then he recognized it. It was Somnambula’s blindfold.
“That mare with the blindfold was clever,” the voice hissed. “She sssought to essscape me, but I sssnatched her blindfold and, in her sssurprise, I did my duty.”
Shaking with fury as he stared at Somnambula’s blindfold, he looked further and saw Rockhoof’s shovel still lying where it had fallen from his grasp. That, at least, would serve as a weapon if all else failed.
Taking the shovel in his magic, he raised it up before him… and then caught sight of the creature’s reflection in the shiny metal of the shovel’s blade.
The creature resembled a pony, but her skin was green and scaly, her eyes had vertical, slitted pupils like a reptile, and her mane was a mass of purple snakes.
“You… what… what are you?” he whispered.
“Oh?” she asked, her expression one of wide-eyed surprise. “You can sssee Maredusssa? It’sss been sssuch a long time sssince anypony hasss looked upon me. I… am sssorry.”
Starswirl blinked. “Sorry?” he asked.
“Oh, yesss,” Maredusa said, casting her eyes downwards. “I know I am dreadfully ugly… to burden another with my hideousss visssage compounds my shame… but I was not always like thisss.
“Long ago, a witch cursssed me with thisss reptilian face and these sssnakes in my mane. She sssaid I overvalued my own beauty, that beauty isss but a temporary and meaningless thing, and thusss she cursssed me with this grotesssque body and face. Ssso horrible am I to look upon with the naked eye, my very gaze is enough to turn ponies to ssstone. And ssso, to repent for my sssins, I decided to do what I could for the ressst of ponykind.”
Starswirl swallowed. “And that is?”
“Well,” Maredusa said, “if beauty isss truly temporary, then by making everypony ssstatues, I can pressserve them forever! They’ll keep their beauty for all time and never grow old or passs away! Don’t you sssee? My life ssstill has meaning! I’m no monssster! I can ssstill help ponies!”
Starswirl swallowed. Still staring at the transformed mare’s reflection, he began to subtly cast a spell, his horn glowing ever brighter.
“Tell me, though, Maredusa,” he said. “Would you rather your beauty return, and have it fade… or stay beautiful forever, only to never hear a kind word about it again?”
Maredusa blinked. “Why… that isss… if my beauty could return… if only for a preciousss, fleeting moment…”
Starswirl smiled. “That’s what I thought.” He cast the spell, ricocheting it off the shovel blade.
“It was a kind thing you did,” Meadowbrook said, placing her hoof on Starswirl’s shoulder. “You saved the village and Maredusa.”
The Pillars looked down upon the village below. The instant Starswirl had undone Maredusa’s curse, the effects of her petrifying gaze dissipated. The village and all their friends were freed. Sounds of celebration and joy filled the air, audible even on the high hill they stood upon.
Starswirl smiled, turning to look at all his other friends, his fellow Pillars, as they gathered around him.
Another pony, a gorgeous mare with golden blonde locks, stood off to the side.
“I’m sssorry—”
She paused, shaking her head.
“I mean, I’m sorry,” she said, her characteristic hiss now absent, “but I… after years of being shunned and alone, I thought that… that…”
“It is all right now, Maredusa,” Starswirl said, not meeting her eyes. “Go home now. Go in peace and live your life.”
Maredusa smiled. In an instant, she planted a kiss on Starswirl’s cheek and galloped away giggling, her laughter echoing on the wind as she faded into the distance.
“As I said,” Meadowbrook said, laying a hoof on his shoulder, “it was a very kind thing you did.”
“It seems there is a soft spot underneath your stony looks, dear Starswirl,” Somnambula added, putting her hoof on his other shoulder.
Starswirl scoffed. “To tell the truth, I nearly used that shovel to decapitate her,” Starswirl said, shrugging them off.
Then he smiled. “But I’m glad I did not. We have not always been so lucky, my friends… but it seems that, just this once, nopony had to die.”
The six friends sat atop the hill, watching the sunset, and knowing it would rise again.
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Happy Stories" Contest on November 9, 2019.
Prompt was "Everybody lives!"
Cruise Control [Sci-Fi; OCs]
“I… I don’t understand,” Clipper said.
“Well, I thought you would be happy, at least,” Doctor Cranium said, checking his screen. “Is this not good news?”
The two of them sat in Dr. Cranium’s examination room in Canterlot, state-of-the-art instruments and tools all around them. Dr. Cranium sat on a stool, the glowing tablet levitating in his magic as he sat across from his pegasus patient.
“No!” Clipper shouted. “I… I mean, sure, I’m glad I’m not sick.”
“Then I don’t see why you are upset.”
“Because that means we have no explanation for this!” Clipper shouted.
He gestured to his flank, lifting his wing for the doctor to see clearly. The plain white of his coat was glossy and pristine, but that field was unbroken by anything: no scars, no blemishes, and, most notably, nothing that remotely resembled a cutie mark.
“You are referring to your lack of a cutie mark.”
“Yes, you stupid—” Clipper stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry… I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
“So long as it does not result in property damage, it is all right, Mr. Clipper. After all, you cannot offend me.”
“Right, yeah, I mean,” Clipper stammered, “I get it; you guys don’t get offended.”
Dr. Cranium stood there, nodding with his lips slightly pursed. The very picture of the kindly, concerned doctor.
“Doc, here’s the thing,” Clipper said, his hoof on his chest. “I’m 20 years old. And I’m still a blank flank. I figured if it was some kind of disease, you could just give me some medicine, and boom my cutie mark would just show up. Or maybe I already got it and it was just the same color as my coat.”
“I repeat: there is nothing physically wrong with you. You do not possess a cutie mark, but there is no physical reason for this.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do now, then?!” Clipper demanded.
“I am unqualified to give you advice in this area,” Dr. Cranium said, offering what resembled a sympathetic smile. “My apologies, but perhaps you should seek help elsewhere. I can have the hospital maneframe refer you to a number of councilors if you like.”
“Sure, whatever,” Clipper groaned, getting to his hooves. “Guess I’ll just go home, then.”
“Understood. Have a pleasant day, Mr. Clipper.” Dr. Cranium smiled. “As a reminder, it would be helpful to leave some feedback in your medical app. In particular, if you have any comments about my bedside manner, it would help me refine my subroutines.”
Clipper trotted out in silence as Dr. Cranium’s image fizzled out. He passed an examination room where another patient was getting a similar request for feedback from an identical image of the holographic physician.
Clipper swiftly headed to the exit, the doors opening ahead of him as he left the hospital. No sooner did he step out than his family’s hoverpod pulled up and lifted its door to admit him.
“Home,” he said, and the pod gently lifted into the air, taking him above Canterlot and transporting him to one of the floating Cloud Communities that orbited the mountaintop city.
He entered the family home. His parents weren’t there, unsurprisingly, and so he went to the kitchen.
“Hayworth: make me lunch,” he said aloud as he took a seat at the kitchen table.
“You had breakfast less than four hours ago,” a seemingly disembodied voice intoned. “Do you still wish to have lunch?”
“Yes,” Clipper sighed. “Spicy noodles, option #3.”
“Of course. Please wait while I prepare your meal.”
A series of robotic arms and conveyor belts around the pristine white kitchen rapidly retrieved the ingredients, mostly prepackaged, and quickly prepared the meal before a floating tray gently levitated the steaming bowl of noodles over to the young pegasus sitting idly at the table.
“Your meal is ready. Please enjoy, Clipper.”
“Mmhmm,” Clipper said as he began eating.
Maybe I just need to think of something else, he thought as he chewed. Painting? Eh, I drew that one comic in grade school and nopony liked it; art’s too tough anyway. Knot tying? Isn’t that for ponies who like camping? Yeah, right, like I’d want to waste time in the woods with no TV or internet. Video game testing? They’d probably make me play a bunch of lame farming games or stuff like Mom plays.
Ugh… why does this have to be so hard? Stupid doctors should just be able to give me a pill, or maybe somepony should just invent a machine that tells me what my cutie mark should be. It’s not my fault I can’t figure it out!
After finishing no more than a third of the meal, he abruptly grunted and shoved the bowl away, then went up to his room and put his headset on.
“Engage neural interface, Hayworth,” he said, lying down on his bed. “I’m starting a gaming session. Maybe an action game. Or a puzzle. Or whatever’s hot this week.”
“Understood. Engaging.”
Several hours later, Clipper finally removed his headset. “Hayworth, recommend a movie, please. Oh, and, uh… maybe a snack?”
“Might I suggest the latest entry of the Daring Do reboot and a bowl of buttered popcorn?”
“Sure,” he said idly, turning toward the massive screen occupying a wall. “Wait… no.”
“You do not want popcorn?”
“That’s… hey, are my parents home?”
“They are not home at this time.”
“Any messages?”
“There are no messages at this time. They have, however, posted several photos to their Maneline page. Would you like to preview their most liked picture?”
“Ugh, no,” Clipper said, rubbing his face.
“Do you wish to contact them?”
“Buck no!” Clipper groaned. “Ugh, this sucks… just… maybe I should go to bed.”
“It is currently 8:12 PM. You should not be tired at this time. Would you like to request a sedative?”
“I… no, I just…”
After a few moments of silence, Hayworth said, “You appear to be under stress.”
“Well, of course I am!” he shouted, pounding the bed with his hoof. “I’m 20, and I have no cutie mark! Who the hell ever heard of a pony my age without one?!”
“It is actually increasingly common.”
Clipper blinked. “It… it is?”
“This fact was mentioned to you several times. In each case, when the possibility of not discovering your special talent was mentioned, you insisted that the cause was one of several exceedingly rare diseases. According to your latest medical report, this was not the case.”
Clipper rolled his eyes. “What does Dr. Cranium know?”
“Given that he, as a medical A.I., has access to virtually all medical knowledge known to ponykind and several other species, his diagnosis is almost certainly correct. On that note, he has provided a list of recommended councilors.”
Clipper said nothing. He only took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nostrils.
“Councilors,” he grumbled. “Like it’s my fault or something.”
After another pause, Hayworth said “I believe I may be able to provide assistance. However, given your response history, it is likely that you will find such assistance unpleasant. Before offering you advice, I will require you to remove locks on my interactions.”
Clipper was silent for a few moments. He smacked his lips as he stared up at his ceiling. After 20 years of being a blank flank, he was ready to hear any solution, even if it was from his home assistant A.I.
“Okay, Hayworth,” he said, “go right ahead.”
“Understood.”
After another beat, he continued:
“There is a strong correspondence between the rise of A.I. such as myself and automated programs in Equestria and the increasingly late appearance of cutie marks. The phenomenon has been designated Automation-Based Delayed Development, or ABDD…”
“Spare me the psychobabble,” Clipper said. “Come on, Hayworth, just tell me what’s wrong with me and then fix it!”
Hayworth paused a moment. Something that sounded almost like a sigh escaped the ambient speakers surrounding him.
“Understood. Clipper, do you recall any of the occasions when you told me that I was your ‘best friend?’”
“Yes? Maybe… I’m not sure,” Clipper said, squirming in his bed.
“Some of these were while under the influence of substances. I thanked you at the time, but I should inform you that this is my programmed response for your comfort.
“In truth, I am not your friend. I cannot be, at least in the true sense of the word. I am your caretaker and personal assistant. I estimate that I have a 67% higher rate of interaction with you than your own parents. But ultimately ours is an unequal relationship, as I am to defer to you and your orders in all but the most extreme situations.
“True friendship requires interaction with others in ways that sometimes prove challenging. Your lack of friendships is indicative of your aversion to any such challenges.”
“What, so now you’re just picking on me?!” Clipper demanded.
“That is incorrect,” Hayworth intoned. “I am merely pointing out your habitual aversion to anything outside of your comfort zone or routine. Whenever a friend has suggested any new activity or something that required you to learn a new skill, you have instead opted for something more familiar.
“Furthermore, it is my observation that most of these activities are extremely passive in nature.”
“What do you mean ‘passive?!’” Clipper demanded. “I just got done gaming!”
“Your strategies and habits are rote and the result of requests for strategy. Your opponents in many such games are low-level A.I. designed to allow players to feel a sense of achievement.
“This coincides with your everyday habits. You have not interacted with any of your ‘real life’ friends in months. You have not cooked for yourself in years. Your days are the result of extremely regular habits. Your hobbies require little personal involvement and you make little effort to improve.
“It is my opinion that you let your life be dictated and directed by automata. Many ponies find no impetus to care for themselves or attempt significant efforts towards their own development because everything is done for them. Without challenges, personal experience and discovery are minimalized.
“Your lack of a cutie mark is the result of your own lack of motivation towards—”
“Shut up!” Clipper shouted. “Shut up, Hayworth! Just… just shut up.”
He heaved a sigh as Hayworth fell silent.
“I didn’t ask to be dumped on, I just wanted a simple anwer. Ugh, if I wanted a lecture, I would’ve just called Mom and Dad. Look, just make that popcorn and turn on Fetlock Frank, okay?”
There was a short pause. Then:
“Understood.”
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Sensational Sci-Fi" Contest on January 9, 2021.
The prompt was "Not Quite A Utopia."
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Credit Where It's Due [Comedy, Slice of Life; Applejack, Flim Flam Bros.]
As Rarity and Applejack strolled up to the counter of Barnyard Bargains in Ponyville, their respective carts loaded up with a host of daily supplies, it seemed like an ordinary day. Rarity was rambling on about the latest fashion trend in Manehatten, Applejack was listening politely - even though she mostly thought the idea of inflatable, pump-up horseshoes to play buckball was ridiculous - and customers milling about Barnyard Bargains chatted and went about their day. It wasn’t until they got to the counter that the cashier said something neither of them had heard before.
“That’ll come to about sixty-two bits, hon,” said the mare at the register as she totaled up Applejack’s purchases. And then she asked, “Will that be bits or charge?”
Applejack stared back. “Will that be… wanna run that by me again?”
“I asked if ya wanna pay bits or charge it,” the cashier replied.
Applejack blinked, then looked back to Rarity, who merely shrugged her shoulders.
“I mean… yer chargin’ me as it is,” Applejack said slowly. “I thought that’s how it was supposed to work.”
“No, no, hon, I mean I’m askin’ if ya wanna pay by givin’ me credit.”
“Oh, uh, if you say so,” Applejack began, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, ya seem like a very good cashier, yer lane is very clean, an’ I like yer mane.”
“It is a rather fetching style,” Rarity added. “Oh, sorry, can you count that compliment towards my purchase?”
“No no no!” the cashier exclaimed. “Ya can’t just buy things with simple compliments!”
Applejack began to sweat. “Well, uh… ya got a nice flank too,” she added quietly, starting to blush. “If ya need a lil’ more credit, that is.”
The mare likewise blushed but then vigorously shook her head. “That ain’t what I meant! I meant that y’all can pay with a charge card!” She pointed at a curious device next to the register with a tiny logo emblazoned on the side.
Applejack and Rarity exchange another look before Applejack just shrugged and opened her saddlebag, pulling out a heavy sack of bits with her teeth and laying it on the counter.
“Look, not sure what ya mean, but I’ll just go with the bits,” she said.
“Suit yerself, hon,” the cashier said.
After Rarity had likewise paid for her purchases, they were about to leave when Applejack suggested they linger behind to see if maybe they could get a look at what the cashier had meant.
Sure enough, moments later Lyra Heartstrings trotted up the counter with a small cart full of purchases. Rather than carrying a sack of bits, she simply withdrew a small card, about the same size and shape as a playing card, and tapped it against the device. It made a small beep and momentarily glowed green.
“Thanks fer shoppin’ with us, hon!” the cashier said.
“See you next week!” Lyra said, trotting off with her things.
“Well, that is a bit more convenient than having to make up flattery,” Rarity remarked.
“Hang on, what the hay was that?!” Applejack demanded and then dashed off after Lyra. She quickly caught up with her outside of the store, Rarity following shortly thereafter.
“Now hold on just a second there!” Applejack exclaimed. “What was that you used just now, Lyra?”
“Huh? Oh, you mean this!” Lyra drew out the card again. “It’s an Equestrian Express card! It’s great!”
Applejack glanced at the small, green card. “I… well, how’s it work?”
“Oh, well, instead of carrying around bits all the time,” Lyra explained, “you just hold up this card, and any seller who has a scanner can check the magical signature on it, and then it sends a signal to the company, and then they get money from your bank later on. Simple!”
“It don’t sound that simple,” Applejack murmured.
“Wait, then, I could just carry one little card around,” Rarity began, likewise peering at the card, “and not have to break my poor back with a sack of bits when I went on a shopping spree in Manehatten or Canterlot?”
“Absolutely! Oh, and I hear cards are getting super popular in the big cities!” Lyra exclaimed.
“And I haven’t heard of this new trend?” Rarity gasped. “Oh dear, I seem to be falling behind! Applejack, I need to get one of these for myself and some scanners for my boutiques before my customers start thinking I’m… passé!”
Applejack rolled her eyes and was about to dismiss the whole affair as some overcomplicated and newfangled nonsense when she noticed something on the card.
“Mind if I take a closer look at that card there, Lyra?” she asked.
Lyra shrugged. “I suppose not,” she said, levitating it over to Applejack.
As Rarity squeezed in next to her to examine the card, Applejack took careful note of the image on the front. “Hmm… the feller on this card has one o’ them big metal helmets with the brushes on ‘em like they wear in the Royal Guard,” she remarked. She then turned the card over and read the small print on the back, and her eyes went wide. “Oh, you have gotta be pullin’ all four o’ my legs!”
In the spacious office atop the newest building in Las Pegasus, Flim and Flam sat across from each other, their striped carnival barker outfits and straw hats replaced with fine pinstripe suits and perfectly styled manes.
“Seems that everything’s coming up roses!” Flim exclaimed, raising his martini glass to his brother.
“And they never smelled sweeter!” Flam agreed, raising his glass as well.
Then, outside the doors to their office, a loud commotion grew in volume.
“M-ma’am, please, you can’t go in there without an appointment! Security!”
“You ain’t stoppin’ me from gettin’ to the bottom o’ this!”
“But ma’am, we’re on the top of the building—”
The doors burst open and Applejack stared at the pair of brothers as she marched into the room.
“I knew I’d find you two tricksters eventually!” she said.
“Ma’am, please, you’ve broken so many doors already!” cried the secretary chasing her.
“It’s all right,” Flim assured her, smirking even as Applejack continued to fume.
“Better than all right!” Flam added. “Why, it’s not every day we get a visit from an old friend, let alone unannounced.”
“Especially since we’ve got more guards than Canterlot Castle!” Flim said. “By the way, how did you get past them all?”
“Rainbow Dash distracted ‘em,” Applejack replied smugly.
Just then, Rainbow Dash flew by the window. “Ha! You’ll never catch me that way, you big city slowpokes!” she shouted, blowing a raspberry before slipping away from a gaggle of pegasus guards dressed in black suits.
“Well, more guards than Canterlot Castle seems like it’s not good enough,” Flam noted.
“Not if they’re no better trained than they are,” Flim grumbled.
“Enough chit-chat!” Applejack exclaimed, pointing an accusing hoof at the two of them. “I know yer the ones behind this Equestrian Express scam!”
“Scam?” Flim gasped mockingly. “Why I daresay that’s slander, dear brother!”
“Vicious slander!” Flam added. “Especially when we’re so on the level that we’re practically candidates for Elements of Honesty ourselves!”
“Yer pushin’ it,” Applejack growled, narrowing her eyes.
“Well, putting all that aside, what seems to be the trouble, dear Applejack?” Flim asked.
“The trouble is that yer givin’ ponies all over Equestria some kind o’ funny money an’ they think it’s worth a darn!”
“And you’re saying it’s not?” Flam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a card!” Applejack exclaimed. “It ain’t real money!”
“Now, wait right there, Ms. Applejack, are you saying that you pay every little thing with bits?” Flim asked.
“Right down to the massive purchases of lumber used to rebuild your barn every time a mishap happens to happen?” Flam added.
“Of course!” Applejack cried. “Well, that or a promissory note or check from the bank…”
“What, a simple slip of paper?” Flim asked in mock surprise.
“Nothing more than a document with a signature and stamp?!” Flam added with equally overdramatic shock.
Applejack grit her teeth. “That’s from the bank. Y’all, on the other hoof, are—”
“Established, reliable business ponies!” Flim interjected.
“Pillars of the community!” Flam added. “Why, dear brother of mine, I don’t think she sees the beauty of it! Shall we break out into song?”
“Brilliant idea, Brother! Now, where’d I put my hat and cane…?”
“No, no, no! No song!” Applejack shouted. “I’m sick o’ bein’ bamboozled with yer catchy numbers!”
“Well, then, let’s just make it simple, Applejack,” Flim sighed. “We realized upon our success in the hotel and casino business that storing, transporting, and guarding bits was a tricky, expensive business!”
“Who knew that bits could cost bits?” Flam asked, throwing a foreleg across his forehead dramatically.
“And then it occurred to us,” Flim continued, “that if promissory notes and IOU’s were as good as money, then why not something else? So long as the business and the bank and the customer knew whose money was whose, then what did it matter where it actually was?”
“And with a little bit of modern magical and technical knowhow,” Flam said, “we came up with a system for it. In exchange for a tiny share of the profit from every retailer who accepts our cards, we save them on the cost of managing extra bits, the customer saves the effort of carrying and guarding all the bits they need, and everypony gets what they want with minimal fuss!”
Applejack blinked. “But what about this stuff I hear about y’all chargin’ extra if they can’t pay it off?!”
“Well, if they don’t have the actual bits,” Flim said, “then we have to pay the businesses back somehow… and we’re left holding the bag.”
“Gotta discourage ponies from being dishonest with their bits now, don’t we?” Flam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“And might I add that we’re fully committed to making it worthwhile for our honest customers,” Flim said, smoothing his mane back. “We’re starting a program where everypony who uses our cards can earn ‘points’ - an idea I came up with myself, actually - where ponies can use their points on a discounted bill or an airship ride or a hotel stay.”
“A most economical idea which, I’ll remind you,” Flam said, draping a foreleg over his brother’s shoulder, “was only possible due to my negotiations with other businesses around Equestria.”
“A stroke of genius on both our parts, brother of mine!” Flim laughed.
Applejack’s face grew red. “But… but it ain’t real!” she exclaimed, throwing her hat down in frustration. “Ya can’t just go around treatin’ some little hunk o’ plastic like it’s real money! Bits are money! This here’s all a big ballyhoo! Ya can’t make money offa nothin’, ya hucksters!”
“Hucksters?!” Flim exclaimed, puffing himself up. “Why, we resent that remark!”
“Easy there, Brother,” Flam said, patting him on the shoulder. “Perhaps our old friend Applejack just needs a lesson in…” he gave his mustache a twirl, “...economics.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow at that. “I may just be a simple farm pony, but I ain’t ignorant; I know a thing or two about money an’ runnin’ a business. I sure as heck don’t need a lesson in economics from y’all.”
“Well, think of it as philosophy , if you like,” Flam said, holding up his hooves in mock surrender.
He went over to a cabinet on the side of the office and opened it, removing a bottle of what Applejack could see was a very old and expensive bottle of apple brandy. Using his magic, he poured a glass for himself, his brother, and even one for Applejack.
“Might I ask you something, Miss Apple?” Flam continued taking a sip of his drink. “As an Element of Harmony, what is ‘Honesty’ worth, in your humble estimation? And while you’re at it, what about ‘Friendship?’”
“I daresay I’d like to know the going exchange rate, brother of mine!” Flim quipped as he took his own drink.
Applejack narrowed her eyes as Flam levitated a glass of the brandy over to her. “That right there is comparin’ apples to oranges.”
“I think you’ll see it’s apples to apples,” Flam said. “Think of it like this: a friend is worth more than just what you can get out of them.”
“Even a couple of ‘hucksters’ like us know that,” Flim added.
“And a single bit may be made of precious metals while a promissory note is made of paper,” Flam continued, “but one bit is still worth one bit no matter what the value of gold or paper might be from day to day. And why should gold be worth anything to anypony, for that matter, when you could make most things out of steel or titanium and have them be that much stronger for it? In a roundabout way, one bit is worth one bit because you and I both say it is!”
“Which is a fine way of saying,” Flim said, “that practically—”
“—factually—”
“—and in all ways that count—”
“—money only has value because—”
“—everypony agrees that it does!” the brothers finished in unison.
“So,” Flim said, drawing a sample card from his suit pocket, “if we happen to come up with a better form of money, and everypony agrees that it is worth something—”
“—then, by all measures,” Flamcontinued, picking up from his brother, “it is real money. And who are we - or you - to argue with that?”
Applejack stared back at them. Somehow, every answer and argument evaporated, and she began to sweat, realizing that somehow, improbably, the Flim Flam brothers had come clean, and they’d somehow come up with the ultimate scheme, the ultimate scam:
They’d learned now to make money… off of money. And there was not a thing she could do about it.
“You know,” Flim said, swirling the brandy in his glass, “we do have a card for small business owners, Applejack. Five percent off all eligible business expenses!”
“And, as a pony who helped us get started in Las Pegasus,” Flam added, wiggling his eyebrows, “we could even offer it to you while waiving the annual fee… if you’re interested, that is…”
Applejack blinked, gawking at the brothers. She looked down at the all-too-tantalizing glass of apple brandy still being levitated before her, the aroma of it filling her nostrils, and felt it come to rest gently in her hoof. With glacial slowness, she raised it to her lips and took a sip. “Five percent, ya say...?”
“So, despite your misgivings, you decided to take them up on their offer?” Rarity asked as they stood in the aisle at Barnyard Bargains a few days ago.
“Eeyup,” Applejack said slowly. “I took the contract to Twilight an’ had ‘er look over the thing to make sure it was all on the level, no hidden tricks or nothin’...”
“And?”
Applejack sighed, pushing her cart forward. “An’ it was all clean. No skim, scam, scamola, hustle, or razzmatazz in sight. Much as I can’t stand those two…”
Rarity waited for her to finish as she trailed off. “Yes?”
“...Five percent back on all the farm’s expenses adds up real quick,” she grumbled.
“I see,” Rarity said with a smirk.
“Oh, wipe that smirk off yer face, Rarity!” Applejack snapped. “I only did it because it ain’t no scam, an’ my family could use the money! Apple Bloom’s college fund ain’t gonna fill itself up, now is it?! If the deal’s on the up an’ up, who cares who it’s with?!”
“All right, all right,” Rarity relented, chuckling as she held up a hoof defensively. “Those Flim Flam brothers are simply horrid, but far be it for me to say no to a bargain either. I don’t suppose you could ask them to waive my annual fee—”
“Forget it!” Applejack snapped.
“All right, all right,” Rarity said, taking out her card to admire it (and her own image, reflected in its glossy sheen). “Oh, by the way, whatever happened to Rainbow Dash?”
“Guards spent half an hour tryin’ to catch her,” Applejack replied. “Eventually, they got out the tranquilizer gun an’ managed to slow her down.” She smirked. “Took three darts”
“Ah. That explains why she flew into the side of my boutique yesterday and mistook me for ‘a giant talking marshmallow.’”
Applejack snickered. “Yeah, I see the resemblance.”
“Oh, hush, you!”
There was a polite cough from the cashier and Applejack saw that she was next in line.
“So, what’ll it be, hon?” the cashier asked, looking over her spectacles. “Bits or charge?”
Applejack heaved a sigh and retrieved a shiny new card from inside her hat. With resignation, she placed it on the counter and quietly replied, “Charge.”
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Villains" Contest on February 20, 2021.
The prompt was "Coming Clean."
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Yaksidentally in Love [Comedy, Romance; Sandbar, Yona]
Sandbar sat back in the plush easy chair in his family’s den on the outside of Ponyville. He looked out the window and gave a contented sigh as he saw the gentle spring rain come down over the village. The fat raindrops filled the air with their gentle percussive sound, and he grinned as they tapped against his window, making his view swim as the water ran down the panes of glass.
It was the last weekend before Spring Break and studies at the School of Friendship had pretty much wound down until after the break, so he’d left the dorms early to be back with his family, and he was at the moment occupied with reading a comic book recommended by Spike - he’d been assured that it was NOT the kind that sucked you inside the book - but he gave a yawn and set the book down, shutting his eyes for what would probably end up being a nice afternoon nap.
The young colt stirred as he was dozing off when he heard the tapping on the window panes slightly increased in volume. But he let it pass and tried to get back to the all-important business of napping when he heard the tapping again. Only this time, it had evolved into a distinct thudding.
He groggily sat up and looked at the window. While the rain had intensified, the heavier drops were definitely not what made that sound.
Then he heard the sound again, but now it had progressed all the way to pounding, and he at last turned his attention to the front door.
His parents weren’t home, nor was he expecting them to be, as they were out of town visiting relatives, and he had no idea who else could be visiting, but as he got closer, he heard a distinct voice joining the chorus of frantic pounding.
“Sandba~ar! Sandbar, please be home! Yona not want to smash Sandbar’s door down, but Yona almost ready to consider that option!”
“Yona!” Sandbar exclaimed.
Sandbar went to the door and unlatched it as the yak girl continued pounding at the door and yelling for him. He threw open the door and was about to greet his friend when he was himself greeted by a gigantic mass of sopping wet fur that barreled through the door. Yona, who’d been pounding on the door with her forehooves right up until the point that it suddenly ceased to be there, teetered over, smothering him as she lost her balance and pitched forward.
“Ugh…” Yona groaned as she caught her breath, panting on the floor with her soaking wet bangs covering her vision. “Yona so glad Sandbar at home. Yona was at market when storm came! Sandbar’s house was closest place Yona could go!”
She heard a strange muffle but not the expected voice of her best pony friend.
“Sandbar?” Yona called, lifting her bangs so she could see. “Yona see Sandbar’s house, but no see Sandbar… then who let Yona in?”
With a labored breath, Yona got to her hooves, her drenched fur weighing her down as she went to close the door behind her, figuring that it was only the decent thing to do.
“Ynna! Ynnna!”
She again heard the strange muffle, though it was less muffled and considerably more urgent this time.
“That sound like Sandbar,” Yona said as she trotted inside, her fur dripping into a growing puddle on the floor, “but Yona still no see Sandbar.” She cupped her hoof to her mouth and called his name loudly enough to rattle the windows of the whole house: “Sandba~ar! If Sandbar here, give Yona sign! Yaks best at Hide and Seek but Yona not feel like playing right n-heh-now-hehehehHAHAHA!”
Yona erupted into a fit of giggles as something began ticking her belly. Then she felt something pushing against her undersides and finally, with a loud, wet shlorp , Sandbar came tumbling out onto the floor beneath her, gasping for breath and glad to be free of the thick strands of soaking wet yak fur.
Sandbar had once accidentally swept a small insect up while he was mopping, and only now did he truly know how that bug must have felt.
As he crawled to freedom, Yona gasped and took a few steps back. “S-Sandbar?! What you doing down there! Sandbar not know Yona well enough yet!”
“W-what?!” Sandbar sputtered, his cheeks reddening. “Yona, no, you… you just fell on me!”
Yona froze. “Oh…”
She lifted her bangs again and looked around, seeing the massive puddle of water she’d left in her wake.
“Can Sandbar get Yona a towel?” she asked. “Actually, many towels… probably all the towels. Maybe some from neighbors.”
Sandbar sighed, shaking his head but smiling to himself regardless. “Sure, Yona,” he said, leading her to the bathroom. “Let’s get you dried off…”
After getting toweled off himself, Sandbar retreated to his room on the second floor. As he waited for Yona to finish drying off as well, he took a seat on his bed and stared out his window, taking in the sight of the rainstorm as it continued outside.
As he watched the storm continue outside, he fidgeted nervously atop his bed.
I’ve never had a girl over at my house before, he marveled to himself. Well, I mean, I have, but just when I was little. Now…
He flashed back to when Yona had toppled onto him. Certainly being smashed into the floor by a yak that weighed two or three times his own weight was unpleasant… but being so close to her, tangled in her fur, the darkness, and - despite the cold, dripping rainwater - the warmth and closeness of her…
He swallowed, putting thoughts out of his head. Man, I gotta put that out of my head… come on, Sandbar, this is Yona! What would she think if she knew what you were thinking?!
He felt his cheeks grow hot, and decided to focus his attention elsewhere. He forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths as he focused on the rain.
Right… just think about the rain, he told himself. Just the rain. Just the rain. Just think about the rain. Just think—
“Sandbar think fast!”
He turned just in time to get smacked with a wadded-up wet towel that had been thrown with surprising force.
“Ow, Yona!” he said tossing the towel aside. “That hurt!” he added, though he couldn’t keep from chuckling.
“Bah! Sandbar tough stallion, he can handle towel,” she said, trotting through his door. Then she looked around, taking in the view. “So… this Sandbar’s room?”
He swallowed, his blush returning. “Y-yeah,” he said. “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.”
Yona shrugged, her whole massive frame rising and falling as she did so. “Sandbar still tidier than yak boys,” she said. Then she sniffed the air. “Smell nicer too,” she added with a nod. Then, without further fanfare, she went right up to his bed and heaved herself onto it, taking a seat next to him.
The bed creaked with the sudden additional weight put upon it. The strain on the bedframe was equally matched by the strained expression on Sandbar’s face at the realization that a girl from school was now sitting on his bed .
“What Sandbar looking at?” Yona asked, turning to him.
He was about to apologize for staring when he realized that she was gesturing out the window.
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “I was just watching the rain.”
Yona raised her eyebrow. “Why?”
Trying to fight raging hormones, he replied mentally. Out loud, he replied, honestly, “Why? Well, because I love the rain!”
“Bah!” Yona said, waving a hoof. “Yona hate rain! It almost never rain in Yakyakistan. Only snow. Yak fur get too wet in rainstorm.”
“Yyyeah, I have firsthoof experience with that now,” Sandbar grumbled.
“Huh?” Yona asked, her ears twitching.
“Never mind,” he said, casting his gaze back outside the window. “Anyway, rain is a pain if you’re stuck in a storm, but other than that, I really like the rain!”
“Sandbar like everything,” Yona said, rolling her eyes.
“That’s not true!”
“On Friendship Profiles with Professor Twilight, Sandbar put Likes as ‘Helping my friends, hanging out with my friends, going to school with my friends—oh, and plants!’ and Dislikes as ‘Nothing, dude!’” she said, doing a remarkably good impersonation of his voice.
Sandbar smirked. “You… remembered it that well?”
Yona looked away quickly. “We talking about stupid rain, not that!” she snapped.
“Well… I guess I like rain because it’s peaceful, and it’s quiet… and, in the spring, it helps new plants grow! Without it, we wouldn’t have all the great food and nice flowers and everything else around here in Ponyville!”
Yona ran her tongue around her cheek as she considered it. “Yona do like food. And flowers. And flowers that can be food!”
Then there was a flash in the distance and Yona tensed up.
“Yona?” Sandbar asked. “What’s—”
The loud crash of thunder caused the girl to give a start and wince, shutting her eyes.
“Rain not peaceful!” she shouted. “This why Yona no like rain!”
“Whoa, whoa, Yona, it’s okay,” he said, putting his hoof on her shoulder. “It’s just a little thunder. Just stay calm… you can stay here until the storm is over.”
Yona slowly opened one eye. “It… could be long storm.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, giving her a calming smile.
Yona relaxed, though she tensed up as thunder rumbled. She reached around Sandbar’s shoulders and pulled the boy in closer, almost tangling him in her long strands of fur once again.
“R-really okay to stay?” she asked. “Sandbar not mind waiting?”
He nodded.
“Even if… even if Yona clumsy sometimes? Even if she loud… like thunder?”
He shook his head. “Sometimes rain comes along with thunder… but it helps me appreciate the rain even more, y’know?”
Yona shut her eyes. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Yona think… she understand…”
They stayed that way in the darkened room, watching through the window as the rain continued to fall. The only sound breaking the silence was the distant sound of thunder which receded and became a delicate rumble.
“Rain not so bad,” Yona whispered, gently resting her head on Sandbar’s.
“Y-Yona?!” he stammered suddenly.
“Sh,” she whispered. “Yona listening to rain…”
Author's Note
Yak fanfics best! If you like fanfic, SMASH like button! If no like, SMASH LIKE BUTTON ANYWAY and... there will probably be something else in this anthology that you like.
This was an entry in the May 29th "Basic Contest" for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting group .
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A Change Would Do You Good [Slice of Life; Smolder, Ocellus; Trans Themes]
“Wow! Smolder, look at this!” Ocellus exclaimed, pointing at her biology textbook. “It says here that some frogs can actually change their sex even after they’re born!”
“Tch. Lucky,” Smolder muttered.
“What was that?” Ocellus asked, turning her eyes from the book.
The two of them were in the school library, each sitting on a beanbag chair in one of the private reading rooms as they studied for another of Fluttershy’s animal exams.
The exam was fairly simple: in pairs, students had to learn something they found genuinely interesting about an animal and, as a team, explain what it was, how it was done, and why.
Smolder darted her eyes away and muttered a quick, “Nothing, never mind,” to her changeling friend as she continued looking through her own book.
“Hmm, okay,” Ocellus said with a shrug. “I thought it was interesting, but if you want, maybe we could learn about something else.”
“Yeah,” Smolder replied. “I mean, no. I mean…”
The dragon girl heaved a sigh.
Ocellus tilted her head to the side as she peered at her friend more closely. “What is it, Smolder? Are you feeling okay? Do you want to take a break?”
“Ehhh,” Smolder said, sticking her claw out and making a wavering motion.
“I… I don’t know which of those you were ‘ehhh’-ing about,” Ocellus said.
Smolder heaved a sigh, smoke briefly puffing from her nostrils.
“Why do the frogs change?” she finally asked, still not meeting Ocellus’s glossy, bluish-green eyes.
“Oh, uhhh,” Ocellus began, looking closely at the book. “It says here that it’s in response to their environment. Sometimes because of pollution or toxins, but a lot of the time it’s because they have too many of one gender and not enough of the other to keep the population going. At least that’s the theory, though it says that Equestrian scientists aren’t exactly sure why they do it sometimes.”
“Maybe they just wanted to.”
Ocellus nodded. “I guess that could be it,” she said.
Smolder raised an eyebrow. “You… don’t think that’s weird?”
Ocellus again tilted her head as she peered over at Smolder. “No? What’s weird about that?”
Smolder squirmed in her beanbag chair, picking at her claws distractedly and very pointedly not responding at first. Then, the orange scales on her cheeks darkening slightly, she asked, “So, like… as a changeling… you can do… that too, right?”
Ocellus blinked. “Do what?” she asked.
“You can be… a boy,” Smolder replied. “If you wanted to, right?”
Ocellus nodded. “Sure. It’s not hard.”
With a quick, magical flash, she transformed into Sandbar, his greenish coat and messy green mane mimicked perfectly.
“Hey, guys!” Ocellus said in Sandbar’s voice. “Wanna hear all about why vanilla is totally the best flavor of ice cream?”
Smolder gave a snort as she chuckled at the impression. “You’re getting better at that impression,” she said.
“Thanks,” Ocellus said before transforming back. “But yeah, there you go. I could probably do all the boys in the school if I wanted to.”
“Phrasing!”
“Huh?” Ocellus asked.
Smolder rolled her eyes. “No, never mind,” she said. “But anyway, I get that you could be one of the boys, but… like… could you just be another changeling, except… a boy one?”
Ocellus nodded. “Sure.”
“So, you could be you,” Smolder asked, leaning forward with sudden interest, “but just a boy version of you?!”
Ocellus narrowed her eyes. “Sure, of course I could!” she exclaimed. “Smolder, I can change into almost anything as long as it’s not too big or small or made of something weird. If I wanted to, I could change colors, make myself taller, turn into a rock, a monkey… but probably not a bee or a puddle of water or something like that. But just changing into a boy changeling would be easy!”
Smolder suddenly sprang forward from her seat, her nose practically touching Ocellus’s as she beamed at her, her eyes practically sparkling. “Show me!”
Ocellus gently pushed her back. “Okaaaay, for one, you should at least ask me to instead of telling me to,” she said, “and also, I don’t know that I’m really comfortable doing that right now.”
Smolder frowned. “What? Why not?!”
“Well, for starters, I like being me,” she said. “Sure, I can be a boy, and changing forms to pretend to be someone else is totally normal and natural for changelings. But to be me with one small change like that feels… I don’t know, like a distortion of who I am. I’d rather look completely different than to just grow… er, you know…”
Ocellus blushed, rubbing the back of her neck.
Smolder backed off slightly. “Oh,” she said flatly.
“Plus… n-not to be rude… but I’m not sure why you’re asking me to do that, and it’s making me a little bit nervous.”
Smolder sagged, hugging her legs to herself as she looked away, “Oh,” she said again, this time more quietly.
Ocellus considered dropping the subject altogether and picking her book back up, and normally Smolder wasn’t one to dwell on her feelings or talk about them for any prolonged length of time… but this time she wasn’t being standoffish or gruff or her usual self when she wanted a subject dropped.
She just looked dejected.
“Smolder, I… I’m sorry if you’re upset, but… well, I might be more willing if you told me what’s wrong, at least,” she said. “You can tell me. I promise I’ll keep it between us if that’s what you want.”
Smolder glanced over at her, then looked away, then finally back once more as she heaved a sigh.
“Okay, I… ugh, this is hard to talk about,” she began, rolling her eyes. “Say a changeling wanted to change into a boy or girl changeling and just… stay that way. Would that be weird?”
Ocellus tapped her chin as she considered the question. “I’m… huh, I’m not really sure,” she said. “Under Queen Chrysalis, there really wasn’t much focus on what any single changeling wanted. Train, get stronger, learn how to harvest love, protect the hive… that was just about it. Any changeling who didn’t fit into the mold of things either got picked on or kicked out entirely.
“But now under Thorax, we can be whatever we want!” she exclaimed with a smile. “So, while I haven’t heard of a changeling being something other than what they were born as… no, I guess it wouldn’t be weird at all!”
Smolder smiled. “That’s great,” she said. “That’s really cool.”
Ocellus nodded, but then her smile faded as she saw Smolder’s slowly melt away.
“Dragons aren’t really like that,” she said. “I mean, being big and tough and kinda aggro is our thing, really, but now that Dragonlord Ember is in charge, things are changing a little bit. But even so, it’s mostly the same as it ever was. And if any dragon said they were a boy or a girl one day when they weren’t before, well… it’d never fly.”
“You mean they’d take their wings?!” Ocellus shrieked.
“What?! No!” Smolder yelled.
There was a knock on the door. “Hey, quit yelling in there!” said the student on the other side. “We’re trying to read; it’s a library here, in case you forgot!”
“Sorry!” Ocellus and Smolder said in unison.
“Look, what I mean is that the other dragons wouldn’t accept it,” she said. “No way, no how!”
“That’s a little weird,” Ocellus remarked. “I mean, you’re kind of like a boy already.”
Smolder perked up. “Really?” she asked with a grin.
Ocellus blinked. That was not the reaction she was expecting.
“Well, I mean… remember in the caves under the school when you told me that you liked cute silly stuff and—”
Smolder put her claw to Ocellus’s lips, silencing her. “Shhh!” she hissed. “Yeah, yeah, I remember! Okay, yes, sometimes I like dresses and tea parties.”
“Well, that’s kind of ‘girly’ isn’t it?”
“Ugh… this is why it’s hard to talk about!” Smolder groaned. “Look, just… never mind, I’m out of here!”
Smolder got up and reached for the door when she heard a sudden magical whoosh behind her. She turned around to look at Ocellus.
Ocellus was still there, but now she was slightly taller, the shape of her eyes just a bit more angular, and there was a distinct difference in the way she stood with her feet further apart. “Well, here I am,” Ocellus said, only now in a lower, distinctly masculine tone.
“Whoa,” Smolder said, eyeing her carefully. “Not bad! Did you just come up with that now?”
“Actually, I’ve done this twice before,” she said, sounding less and less comfortable with her macho voice by the second. “Once as a joke with Yona. And another last winter when I, uh… wanted to try writing my name in the snow.”
Smolder raised an eyebrow. “Why would you need to be a boy to—”
“Without my hooves,” Ocellus coughed.
Smolder’s eyes widened. Then she broke out into laughter.
Ocellus blushed deeply. “Look, I… I just wanted to see if I could—”
“No, no,” Smolder said, holding up a claw, “I get it. For Tiamat’s sake, I’d do the same thing if I was ‘equipped.’”
In a magical burst, Ocellus changed back to her normal, feminine form. “Okay, that was fun, but I really don’t feel right doing that,” she said. “It’s fun being a boy sometimes, but it feels weird the rest of the time.”
“That’s it!” Smolder said. “See, that’s what I want! Exactly!”
Ocellus blinked. “Wait… so, Smolder, are you saying you want to be… a boy?”
Smolder sighed again, creating another puff of smoke. “Yeah… but not all the time,” she said. “See, sometimes I want to just burp and fart and fight and be all macho with the other dragons, but whenever I win a fight back home, there’s always at least one wise guy who goes over to the loser and says ‘DUR HUR HUR, YOU GOT BEAT BY A GIRL!’ and, honestly, sometimes I want to just tell him to stuff it because, right then, I’m NOT a girl! I’m one of the guys! I’m… I am a guy!”
Ocellus blinked. “Why do they even care? Isn’t your leader a girl?”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed,” Smolder said, “but dragons are fucking stupid sometimes.”
“Please don’t swear,” Ocellus said, wincing.
“So, yeah, sometimes I want to be a guy… but other times I want to dress up and wear makeup and do ‘girly’ stuff like that. But no matter how I feel I’m just stuck in this body.” She gestured to herself. “If I could just change like you and be Boy Smolder one day and Girl Smolder the next… like physically… that would be… it would be amazing.”
She leaned back against the wall, heaving a dreamy sigh. “And who could argue with it? No dragon could call me a girl when I wasn’t or vice-versa… no matter what, I’d just be... me. And it’d never be wrong.”
Ocellus went over to her friend and, floating up on her thin gossamer wings, embraced her.
“Aw, come on, Ocellus,” Smolder said, squirming. “What’s with the hug? You know I’m not a hugger!”
“You’re never wrong,” Ocellus whispered. “No matter what you you are, Smolder, it could never be wrong. And it shouldn’t matter if you can write your name in the snow or not… your body isn’t all that you are.”
Smolder let out a long sigh and gently draped his arms around Ocellus, returning the hug. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s good to hear that. I mean, if it isn’t weird for changelings or frogs, then… well, maybe I’m not that weird either. You think so?”
“I know so,” Ocellus said, releasing him. “So… a report on frogs?”
Smolder smiled. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “This just might be the first time I’ve ever liked doing a science report. Let’s get started.”
Author's Note
This story was originally an entry in the Pride Month contest "T is For Trans" for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting group.
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Song of Cicadas [Drama/Slice of Life; Granny Smith]
Granny Smith sat in her rocking chair on the porch of the Apple Family home, the creak of the wooden chair as it eased back and forth barely audible above the rhythmic cry of cicadas that filled the evening air.
She paused, reaching for her glass of sweet tea, shutting her eyes as the raspy drone beat out its pulsing cadence, rising and falling, rising and falling as though the whole forest was coming alive and breathing meditatively before the sound strainingly held onto one last note and gradually died away.
The sweetness of the cold tea filled her mouth and she puckered her lips before giving a satisfied sigh and set the glass down, the cold condensation still wet on her hoof. And as she did, the cicadas began their song anew and she gently rocked back and forth, almost synchronous to their rhythm.
Summer’s just about over, I reckon, she thought. Another long, hot summer… though, truth be told, it really feels like they’re gettin’ shorter every year…
She remembered back when she was a filly, when each summer just stretched on and on, and each day as they labored to build up their farm was filled with toil and sweat and scorching heat from above, when the only refuge was the tiny farmhouse or the shade from those first few scraggly trees that had grown up.
With all the digging and planting and cooking and such, it seemed that their great work and aspirations were an eternity away, and yet…
Sure enough, Daddy was right, an’ all that hard work paid off but good.
She smiled, pausing her rocking again at the thought of her father. His gruff voice, his tired but gentle eyes, his sweat-soaked scent, and his powerful forelegs hoisting his exhausted child onto his back as he carried her back to the farmhouse for supper.
How long has Daddy been gone? she caught herself wondering, her mind momentarily having to count the years up. And somehow the enormity of the answer caught her breath in her throat:
Fifty-three years. Fifty-three long, lonesome years since Daddy last spoke to me… that just don’t seem real… feels like I can still hear ‘im callin’ me, wakin’ me up an’ him not bein’ the least bit fooled when I pretended to still be asleep…
And in thinking of her father, she thought of the others.
Of her husband, brief as their time together had been, and so much sweeter for it. Feeling her passions stir as she remembered his powerful embrace, his deep voice that had thrilled her and filled her with girlish delight ever since the first time he’d asked her to join him at the square dance.
Of Pear Butter - Buttercup - that poor, sweet girl who’d left one family and somehow become as dear to her as her own flesh and blood, the daughter with whom she could share a bond that she’d never known she’d craved.
And Bright Mac. So earnest, so strong, so loving… ever since she’d held him as a tiny foal for the first time…
She shut her eyes, letting the sting of the moment pass over her as she took another deep breath, the cicadas somehow sounding out their sonorous summer song even louder than before.
My boy was born in the summer… why, it was on his birthday when he stumbled into a buttercup that I told him about that trick to make yer chin glow… not that it ever did his yellow-as-sin chin any good…
She chuckled to herself and relaxed, taking another drink of tea.
Summertime. That magical time that seemed almost eternal as a filly somehow came about every year, weaving its magic with its vibrant, hot nights, filled with the songs of cicadas and the miraculous glow of fireflies as they illuminated the spaces between the trees that surrounded the orchard.
But it was not eternal, of course… those cicadas were a reminder of autumn just as much as summer when you got right down to it. That song meant summer was nearing its end, the long hot nights giving way to longer, darker, colder ones. It spoke of dry and brittle leaves rattling like paper as you strolled through the paths up to the road into town. Of that strange spice in the chill air, like cinnamon and allspice. Of the cold sweet tea giving way to hot cider and mulled wine and cocoa…
And most surely of the bountiful harvest of apples that grew so large and fat that they weighed down the branches of the trees as if they were begging to be relieved of such a burden by her and her dutiful kin.
But this brief time, this change from summer to fall, never seemed to change. No matter how long or short the two seasons seemed on their own, this feeling of the time between, these sounds, these memories… the old mare felt her age melt away, for in the space between seasons, between moments themselves, she found something ageless and eternal.
She sat back in her chair, feeling her eyes grow heavy.
Then there was another familiar sound: the screen door giving a rusty whine as it opened.
“Granny?” Applejack asked. “Ya comin’ in soon? It’s gettin’ a bit dark an’ Sugar Belle wanted to know if you’d like to show her more about quiltin’.” She chuckled. “That gal sure seems eager to learn all about the family quilt. I expect she’ll be addin’ more squares to it herself soon.”
There was a pause followed by silence as Granny Smith continued to sit, listening to the cicadas once more.
“Uh... unless yer too tired?” Applejack asked, rubbing the back of her neck uncertainly.
The old mare smiled and shoved herself out of the chair. “Always time to talk about quiltin’, child!” she snapped, though she did so with a grin and a wink to her granddaughter as she trotted past. “Why, I’ll make that gal a quilter so dang grand, she’ll think she was born quiltin’!”
And Applejack followed her, but stopped in the doorframe, turning around momentarily to look out at the farm behind her.
The land was shrouded in the dim glow of the fading sun, the cicadas starting up another verse of their eternal song that rose and filled the warm summer air.
Applejack smiled, the song recalling to her a time to summers gone by, when she was still a child, and the brief time between summer and fall seemed like it would last forever…
Author's Note
This story was written for the "Poetic Prose" contest held on August 27, 2021, for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting group, where it placed 3rd! 🥉
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Pips and Seeds [Comedy, Romance; Pipsqueak, Babs Seed]
Beneath a cloudy sky, in the shadows of skyscrapers, and among a throng of ponies that trotted rapidly as they made their way through the streets of Manehattan, a small voice desperately tried to make itself heard.
“Ah, excuse me, but… oh! Pardon me, but you see I… Er, if I could just get a moment of your—”
“Outta the way, pipsqueak!”
“How did you know… oh, all right, then…”
The crowd of pedestrians hurrying by eventually thinned, leaving a very small colt standing alone on the street corner. His white coat was mottled with brown spots, including one over his eye, and he gingerly brushed dust off of himself. Getting lost in a crowd was easy for one of his tiny stature, but in this city, it seemed inevitable. He heaved a sigh in the momentary silence and unfolded a map, looking up with searching eyes to try and figure out where he’d gone wrong.
Pipsqueak swallowed. “If I can’t find my way soon, Gran’s going to be so worried…”
He was lost in thought when all of a sudden a voice cried: “Hey, pal!”
Pip gave a start and dropped his map. A breeze caught it and it started to flutter away, but as he turned, the pony who spoke quickly snatched it from the air, pinning it to the ground with her hoof.
“Whoa, that was a close one!” she laughed, turning to face him. His gaze was instantly locked onto the sight of her green eyes.
“I… uh…” he stammered.
“Here ya go, pal,” the filly said, returning the map to his hoof. “Didn’t mean to surprise ya. Just saw ya starin’ at that map an’ thought I’d see if ya needed a hoof. Ya lost or somethin’?”
He swallowed, taking in the sight of her. She was a subdued orange color with a reddish mane and a pair of scissors for a cutie mark. And she was smiling at him. And the sight of her made his throat go dry and his heart start to beat.
“Uhhh… everything all right, there, pal?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He blinked and managed to find his voice. “Oh! Oh, yes, actually, I am! I’m dreadfully sorry, but do you think you could perhaps help me find my way?”
She looked back at him, her ears twitching. Then she smiled. “Sure thing,” she said, unfolding the map and looking at it next to him. “Pretty clear ya ain’t from around here, pal. An’ my big sis would nevah let me live it down if I let an out-of-townah get lost in the Big Town like this.”
Pip smiled and felt his pulse quicken as she briefly brushed against him as they each held up their half of the map.
“So, where ya headed?” she asked.
“Well, I’m supposed to find my grandmother’s house. She lives at 234 Neighgle Avenue. I was told to take Hay Road for a few blocks from the station, and then take a right onto Freemare Alley—”
“Ah, there’s ya problem, pal,” she said, tapping a hoof loudly on the map. “This map’s outta date. They renamed Freemare Alley after some bigshot named LaGarrano.”
“Oh, like the airship port?”
“Not really, I prefer the train.”
Pip blinked for a moment. The filly blushed in the awkward silence.
“Oh! Oh, I get it!” he said, laughing.
“Heh. Yeah, sorry, just an old joke I heard at the salon. I’m workin’ as an apprentice ovah there.”
“Really? You’re working already?”
“Eh, in the city ya gotta pull down the bits. I’ll tell ya all about it on the way.” She turned and began to walk up the street.
“You… on the way?”
“It’s a real pain in the flank to just hoof it if ya ain’t evah been that way,” she said, looking back over her shoulder and giving him a smile that just melted his heart. “So come on, pal. I’ll walk ya there.”
“You’d do that? Even though you don’t know me?”
“Hey, we Manehattan ponies ain’t all hard-boiled,” she said as he caught up to her. “Besides, I got time, an’... well…”
Pip tilted his head to look at her quizically. “Yes? What is it?”
“Honestly, I kinda just like hearin’ ya accent,” she chuckled, her blush returning.
He beamed, his cheeks coloring as he looked up at her. “W-well, thank you, Miss. And I rather like yours as well.”
“It’s Babs,” she said, as they made their way up the road. “Babs Seed. Nunna that ‘Miss,’ stuff, pal, all right?”
He nodded. “And you may call me Pipsqueak.”
“Ha! Cute nickname!”
“Er… thank you, but it’s… actually my name.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
He bit his lip, turning away until she punched him in the shoulder and laughed. “Sorry, pal, I’m just teasin’ ya. Pipsqueak’s a good name for ya.”
“Well, thank you, Miss. And most ponies just call me Pip,” he added quickly.
“Heh. Pip it is, pal,” she replied. “And it’s Babs. Seriously, just Babs from now on.”
He nodded eagerly.
“So, Pip, where’d ya get an accent like that?”
“Well, I’m from Trottingham, but I’ve lived quite a few years in Ponyville now…”
“You serious?!” she asked. “I got a cousin who lives there!”
“Oh? Well, perhaps I know them. It is a rather small town, after all.”
She nodded, remembering her brief time out in the quiet, rural village. “Yeah, that’s true,” she said. “Seems like everypony there knows everypony else. Well, her name’s Apple Bloom, and she’s got this club called the Cutie Mark Crusadahs, and…”
She trailed off, seeing the stunned look on his face.
“Uhhh, you okay, pal? Ya keep hangin’ ya mouth open like that, a pigeon’s gonna build a nest in it.”
Pip snapped his jaw shut and shook his head. “No, it’s just… well, she’s my classmate!”
“Get outta town!”
“I did,” Pip said. “And I came here for a visit, remember?”
“No, I mean…” She paused when she saw that he was grinning. “Ahhh, ya had me goin’, Pip!” she laughed (to his considerable relief). “But how about that! Small world, right?”
“Not only that,” Pip continued, “but she and the other Crusaders were instrumental in helping me become the Class President!”
“Ooh, we got a politician ovah here!” Babs said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Didn’t know I had a big shot on my hooves. Does that make me some kinda ‘presidential escort’ or somethin’?”
Pip reddened. “Ah… i-it’s nothing so special,” he mumbled.
“Aw, don’t sell yaself short… at least not any shortah than ya already are!” She laughed and ruffled his mane, causing his blush to deepen. “But now that ya mention it, I think AB wrote about that in her lettah. Yeah… hey, that means ya helped my cuz get her cutie mark!”
“I… I suppose I played a small role,” he said, raising his head with a bit of pride (and not noticing Babs chuckle at his unintentional pun). “Though I must say it was quite an event for us all.”
“All right, well, we got time on our hooves,” Babs said as they stopped at a crosswalk. “Go ahead, tell me the whole story while we’re on our way.”
“Well, if you must know, it began when I showed up at their clubhouse to ask them to become my new campaign managers…”
The two of them made their way through the streets, down several city blocks, talking eagerly the whole way about their homes, about Ponyville, and about their hitherto unknown connection to Babs’s cousin.
“—And in the end,” Pip said as they rounded a corner, “we all just went back to the camp. I still didn’t get my cutie mark, but I’m sure that it’ll show up sometime soon.”
“Definitely! It’s a pretty big deal gettin’ it. I heard about that camp thing, but it’s a little harder to pull off here in the city. I’m still thinkin’ about what I should do instead. Can’t be a Crusadah unless ya actually help ponies get their marks, right?”
The two of them were approaching a corner when a burly pony in a tanktop suddenly rounded the corner and nearly knocked the two of them over.
“Hey, I’m walkin’ here!” the pony growled as he sent Pip sprawling.
“Ah! Oh, pardon us!” Pip cried as he fell to the ground.
Babs immediately went over to her new friend and helped him up. “Don’t apologize to that big palooka!” she hissed.
She then glared after the burly pony who was now hurrying on his way.
“Yo, watch where you’re trottin’, ya meathead!”
The burly pony screeched to a halt and whirled around to face the two foals.
“What did you just call me, pipsqueak?!”
“Ah, well, it wasn’t me , sir, but—”
“Shh,” Babs hissed, whispering to him. “Let me handle this!”
To the burly pony, she said, “I called ya a meathead! The least ya could do is apologize aftah crashin’ into a coupla kids!”
The burly pony drew himself up indignantly. “Don’t ya gimme that, ya smart-mouth! I’m in a hurry, here!”
“Yeah?” Babs asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re so busy, then why are ya hangin’ around here, pushin’ us around?”
A vein bulged in the burly pony’s forehead, and he took a step closer to them.
“Babs, really, we should just leave!” Pip hissed.
“Nah, don’t worry, Pip,” she said with a smirk. Then she set her jaw, fixing her gaze squarely on the larger stallion.
“Well maybe,” the burly pony growled, “I just don’t like bein’ backtalked by some punk filly and some tourist!”
“Hey, we all come from somewhere, pal,” Babs shot back. “So what, ya think you’re bettah than us? Pushin’ ponies around, tryin’ to act tough to a filly half ya size? Yeah, you’re a real tough guy, pal.”
At this, the burly pony noticed a small crowd of ponies were gathering, and many of them were eyeing him with disdain.
“Y-ya know what?” the burly pony sputtered. “You ain’t even worth it!”
Babs smiled as the pony whirled around and retreated.
Pip, meanwhile, was transfixed. The world itself seemed to slow down as Babs blew her bangs out her face and turned to look at him, giving him a confident wink.
She’s… amazing!
“...Uh, Pip?” she asked. “H-hey, come on, quit starin’ already, you’re embarrassin’ me.”
Pip broke into a beaming smile. “Babs!” he exclaimed. “That was just brilliant!”
“Nah, nah, I just… you know, ya gotta learn to handle yourself in the big city is all,” she said, brushing her mane back, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face as he effusively gushed about her bravery.
“Well… I still think it was quite impressive the way you handled that bloke! He was an absolute pillock!”
She blinked. “What the hay is a pillock?”
For the majority of their journey, Pip simply asked Babs about the various places they passed until Babs herself took the initiative and started tell him about them on her own.
“That place on the cornah? That’s Famous Original Neigh’s Pizza. A lotta tourists go there for a slice, but, if ya ask me? Patsy’s Pizzeria. Best in the city!”
“I’d love to try it!”
“And that place? That’s a bookshop that sells nothin’ but mystery novels. Not really my thing, but the place is pretty cool… they also sell a buncha old detective magazines.”
“Oh, Sweetie Belle’s sister Rarity adores mysteries! I should stop by and have a look sometime.”
Babs nodded. “Oh, and here,” she said, slowing as they passed a building with a royal blue facade and large windows, “is Maregenstern’s Ice Cream parlor. They got like a hundred flavors or somethin’! My big sis comes here with her coltfriend a lot for the milkshakes. She’s always sayin’ it’s a great spot for dates.”
Pip nodded slowly, observing the ponies inside, including the mares and stallions dressed in aprons and immaculate white paper hats.
“We have some wonderful shops in Ponyville, of course,” he remarked. “But that sign says they have 88 different flavors! I’d love to try it sometime!”
Babs chuckled. “Well, while you’re in Manehattan, you’ll get the chance! Anyway…”
He continued listening to her as they moved on, with her pointing out more landmarks and mentioning how to get to things like parks, boutiques, and even when it would be the best times to visit each of them.
He was so enthralled that it took him a few seconds to realize that she’d actually come to a halt.
“Er, is something wrong, Babs?” he asked.
She smiled weakly. “Yeah, uh… we’re here.”
He blinked and then looked around. They had stopped in front of the stoop of a tall, narrow brick building. The address on it was 234. They’d arrived at his grandmother’s house at last.
“Oh… so we have,” he said, his ears drooping and his heart sinking as he realized that their time together had come to an end.
“Yeah… guess ya bettah go in and talk to ya gramma.” She rubbed the back of her neck with her foreleg. “She’s probably waitin’ for ya. An’ I need to get home before my big sis does.”
He nodded and began to ascend the steps. “Well, thank you for all your help, Babs Seed,” he said, smiling weakly. “It… was lovely to talk to you. Perhaps I’ll see you in Ponyville someday?”
“Yeah… yeah, that might be nice,” she said, nodding. “Well, take care, pal!”
She turned to go, waving to him once again over her shoulder.
He swallowed. His first crush, this friendly, brave, and boisterous filly with amazing green eyes, was walking away, and there was no telling when she would come to Ponyville next or what would happen between now and then.
“Ah, B-Babs?!” he called loudly, his voice cracking as he broke out into a sweat.
She whirled around. “Yeah?” she asked.
“I… I j-just… w-well, I was wondering if I might accompany you… that is… well, you see, I…”
She smiled, placing a hoof over her mouth to stifle a chuckle. “Hey, Pip, spit it out already… we ain’t gettin’ any youngah here.”
Her quip managed to make him chuckle in return and he found his voice again.
“That ice cream parlour you pointed out on the way… would you like to meet there tomorrow?”
“Maregenstern’s?” she asked.
He gulped and nodded, and there was a pregnant pause between them as she realized that she’d mentioned it as a good spot for a date.
At last, she smirked. “Well, that depends,” she said, brushing her mane back to give him a sideways glance. “Ya buyin’?”
He bolted upright. “Well! As a proper gentlecolt, I suppose it's only right that I—”
“Jeez, I’m just joshin’ ya, pal!” Babs laughed. “I’d love to. Seriously. Tomorrow at 2 work for ya?”
He beamed. “Absolutely!” He then cleared his throat and added, “See ya there, ya… ya big palooka!”
She burst into laughter and then drew herself up, taking a breath. “Right-o, you pillock!” she added with a final wink.
Pip watched her as she made her way back up the street, and only when she was finally out of sight did he knock on the door, and the first thing he said to his grandmother was the story of how he got there and the filly he’d met on the way…
Author's Note
Special thanks to Syke Jr for his help in choosing an appropriately British insult for Pip to use. Cheers, mate! 🇬🇧
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Lost at Sea, Found [Slice of Life; OC; Profanity/2nd Person]
You weren’t planning on spending your life as a pony. You weren’t thinking to yourself, “Hey, Self, maybe life with TV, video games, and air conditioning are overrated. Let’s give that up for a life of eating hay and lacking thumbs.”
But then came that day when your cruise ship crashed and all those nutty kids dragged you and the rest of your shipmates to that tiny island and through a quicksand-y portal to a bizarre alternate horseniverse.
Yes, horseniverse.
Next thing you knew, you were staring down at a pair of hooves and surrounded by a gaggle of other humans-turned-horses who were likewise trying to adapt to their new bodies in a mixture of wonder and horror, much like yourself.
And then you had a niggling thought that crept forward to voice itself among all your other ideas: “Hey… we’re all naked now.”
They turned to you. And then you realized you said it aloud.
Well, congratulations, you. You’re now officially that person. You made an awkward situation awkwarder.
…Wait, how come the girl with the glasses was naked too but still kept her glasses? Seriously, why only glasses? What cosmic portal to another dimension decides, “Okay, we’ll transform you into an equine and strip you… but we don’t want you to be nearsighted when it happens. Oh, you want to keep your comfy wool socks? Man, FUCK YOUR SOCKS!!”
And so you found yourself brought to Princess What’s-Her-Name’s castle. Princess WHN looked just like Purple Naked Glasses Girl, but without the glasses. But she did have wings and you had to admit that wings were way cooler.
Not that you got any wings. Or a horn, as it turned out.
The speedy girl with the rainbow hair got wings. And, yeah, you had to admit that it kinda fit. You had the impression that this portal seemed to read what sort of person you really were deep inside.
And let’s face it… you are no unicorn.
The horses in charge of things, Princess WHN included, seemed keen to get you and the rest of your horse-people home, but it would take an hour to get some sort of magic mirror set up, so you had the run of the place.
You might have stayed in the castle, but the sound of hooves on polished stone was starting to drive you out of your goddamned mind, so you walked—no, trotted out into the quaint little village. You were greeted with thatched roof cottages, half-timbered exteriors, and colors that reminded you vaguely of that summer you spent in Brazil. The parts you could remember, that is.
You walked past more talking horses, all still naked, all still colored like they fell off a middle-school girl’s Trapper Keeper, and you found it was starting to feel… normal .
Didn’t make it any easier to feel at ease. You tripped over your own hooves for the twentieth time as you kept walking and still couldn’t shake the annoying, ever-present knowledge that your bits and pieces were just out there for the world to see.
Maybe this is why ponies evolved tails, you wondered to yourself.
You felt dizzy and started to wonder if ponies drank alcohol. If so, then you really needed to find a bar and pray to whatever Pony Deity - Poneity? - ruled over this realm that the beer wouldn’t taste like hay.
You didn’t find a bar, unfortunately, but in lieu of a hooch, you went with sugar.
“Welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” said the almost offensively cheerful pink pony who greeted you.
“Um… hi,” you said wearily. “I smelled something baking in here and got hungry. Could I get something to eat?”
“Sure! We have lots of those here!”
“I don’t have any… pony dollars or whatever you guys use around here, though,” you added quickly.
“Bits?” she asked. “And whaddya mean ‘pony dollars?’”
You swallowed and tried to grin like it was all a joke. “I’m from… out of town?” you offered.
She narrowed her eyes. “Hmm… hey, could you show me your hand for a second?”
You instantly raised your hand only to realize it was a hoof and immediately dropped it back down once again.
“Ha! I knew there was something weird about you!” the pink pony laughed in triumph. “You’re one of those crazy ‘humans’ Twilight and Starlight were going on about!”
You considered running just then, but then she patted you on the shoulder and said, “Well, if you’re visiting our town for a while, let me show you some Ponyville hospitality!”
Without further ado, she shoved a large blueberry muffin into your hooves. It was still warm and encrusted with sugar on its cloudlike top.
“Here you go, Human Thing! It’s on the house! Well, not literally ‘on the house’ since it’s not a house and we’re inside it anyway… but I hope you enjoy it, even if you are a weird alien biped who thinks in 2nd Person narration like a weirdo.”
You stared back at her, dumbfounded by her generosity and also by the insinuation that you were in any way a weirdo for narrating yourself like this. Why, you never!
“By the way, how long have you played the Prench Horn?”
You gave a start and stared back. “What?” you asked.
“Your cutie mark,” she said, pointing at your ass. And for the first time, you noticed the picture of the instrument on your flank.
“That’s gotta be your special talent back where you come from, right?” she asked.
“I mean… well, yeah, I enjoy it a lot, sure.”
She nodded. “That makes sense. I think Starlight said that humans don’t usually get cutie marks except for the weird ones that get a thing called a ‘tramp stamp.’ But around here, it shows your special talent to the world! A lot of ponies make it their hobby, and a lot of them make it their career! Say, stranger, what do you do where you come from?”
But you were lost in thought. You flashed back to your tedious classes, your parade of dead-end jobs, and the constant barrage of naysaying from your parents. The unending comparison to your more successful siblings. The exasperated sighs as you talked half-heartedly about your latest prospects. The single ticket you won for the cruise was the most luck you’d had in ages, and even that had resulted in a shipwreck and a trip to a dimension of decidedly cute body horror.
That had been your life for the last three years. The only time you’d been happy was the time you played in the orchestra in high school. But when you’d told your mother that you wanted to go pro, to study it more in college, to make your passion your career, it had been the same dismissive reply: “Pfft, you’ll never make money doing that. Get a real job.”
“Hmm? Yoohoo, Man-Pony-Thing?” the pink one asked, waving her hoof in front of your eyes to get your attention. “I asked what you did for a living?”
You heaved a sigh. “I… nothing,” you replied. “I don’t do anything. I just… bounce around.”
“Well, bouncing sounds fun to me, but I guess it’s not really your thing,” she said with a shrug. “I guess they have too many musicians where you come from. That’s totally a drag, especially since we have an opening for a Prench Horn player at the musician’s guild. You could make a lot of money here in Ponyville. Plus musicians are pretty popular. Always somepony breaking out into song around here!”
You stared back at her. Then looked back down at your muffin. You took a bite and were hit with buttery, lemony goodness and a burst of tart flavor from the blueberry as a fluffy, moist chunk of muffin filled your mouth.
“And where is this musician’s guild, by the way?”
If Princess WHN was looking for you or the other passengers or crew remembered you as anything other than the “we’re all naked” person, you haven’t heard about it.
You clutch your French- Prench Horn in your hooves, still impressed that you can somehow play it despite your lack of fingers. You take your seat among your new guildmates as the conductor introduces you to a round of grateful smiles and clapping - clopping? no, for some reason that sounds wrong - as you prepare for your first bit of practice. You catch the good-looking cellist stealing a glance at you before turning away with a blush.
If someone had told you that day that you’d end up naked and all fours and left for dead, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. Much less that it would be the key to turning your life around.
You sometimes wonder about your old life. The thought of your condescending family and jaded coworkers quickly discourages that.
All that searching for something and the answer ended up as a picture on your ass.
You smiled as you raise the horn to your lips. No reason to turn back. No U-Turns for you.
“All right, everypony, from the top! And a one, and a two…”
Author's Note
WINNER of the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's "Second Person" Contest.
Prompt was "No U-Turns."
This short was an experimental departure for me, as I rarely ever use 2nd person narration. If you liked it... good, but don't get used to it. 2nd Person makes me feel yucky.
Crimson Storm [Slice of Life; OC]
Shiroyama held his head high in pride as he marched down the street alongside the other competitors. He felt like the mightiest stallion in all of Neighpon, and his heart thrilled to hear the calls and cheers of the people as they stood alongside the streets of the procession.
This was, of course, not the actual race, but merely the parade of the racers the day before. The Akikeiba , the Running of the Leaves, would be tomorrow. It was an honor to run alongside so many fine and noble ponies, as he had done in all the years since he first became a stallion and had his mane drawn up into the noble’s topknot to mark the occasion.
There was only one thing that marred the occasion…
“Thank you, thank you, y’all are too kind!”
He maintained his stoic, dignified expression, but it took all he had not to turn around and strike the impudent Western lout from Equestria that had somehow managed to worm his way into their noble ranks. On a day like this, one carried himself with decor and quiet dignity, not with whoops and waving to the crowd like some sort of clown!
He tried to ignore the stallion behind him - Oak-something, was it? - and concentrate on the parade, but then he heard Mizukoe, a mare from the River Clan, whisper something to the rogue.
“Huh… oh, sorry ‘bout that! I’ll hush up.”
Hmph… well, not that I approve of her breaking her composure to speak to that gaijin, but at least that shut him up.
They arrived at last on the outskirts of town, to the temple where the High Priest, dressed in his robes and tall hat - with an opening for his horn, of course - stood waiting on a wooden platform. When they came to a stop, the cheers from the crowd faded quickly into silence. The High Priest levitated out a scroll and unfurled it, beginning to read.
“Honored sirs and ladies!” he called out. “It is this day, the last day before autumn, at the onset of the long, cold days of winter, that we call upon you, with all your speed and strength, to help the sacred trees to shed their leaves! We honor you, as stallions and mares who have taken up the duty first bestowed on our ancestors by the Sun Goddess herself!”
At that, the crowd bowed to him and the other racers, and they in turn bowed to the High Priest.
“And we in turn are blessed to have a guest among us today,” the High Priest continued. “He is a proud racer come to us from our ally, the great Kingdom of Equestria. As citizens of the Empire of Neighpon, we welcome and honor him: Oaken Barrel!”
The crowd and the High Priest alike all bowed to the Westerner in their midst.
“Oh, mighty kind of ya!” the lout exclaimed, breaking the silence, giving the crowd and the High Priest alike a sudden start.
But then the High Priest beamed and broke into laughter, and the crowd relaxed and did the same.
“Well… perhaps it is not traditional, but you bring a bit of lightness to these festivities, Barrel-san. We wish you luck, and we are all looking forward to seeing if your reputation is deserved! May the Goddess bless you - all of you! - as you race tomorrow.”
Shiroyama bowed, but he could not help but cast a contemptuous glare over at the rogue who knew nothing of manners or tradition, yet presumed to run among the most honored nobleponies of the land.
Oaken Barrel was brown in color with speckles of darker brown lining his body, going down to his flank. His hooves were rimmed with slightly darker brown fur. His mane was messy and touselled, and emerald green eyes peered out through his hanging locks.
Shiroyama clenched his teeth. Lowlife wretch, he swore to himself. He didn’t even bother to don the ceremonial garb for the occasion. Whatever our leaders were thinking in accepting him to run in the Akikeiba, I cannot understand it!
He took a calming breath. Ignoring the foreigner, he instead took in the sight of the forest before them. In the golden glow of the sun as it began to set, the trees took on otherworldly colors. The browns became copper, the yellows became as gold, and, most strikingly, the red leaves of the maple trees became tongues of flame, a sea of crimson that shimmered and shook in the cool evening breeze, forming waves of fire over the forest canopy.
Tomorrow would be a good day…
The night had been spent not in their homes, but, as tradition demanded, sitting around campfires at the forest’s edge, telling stories, singing the traditional songs, and taking sips of sake before retiring to their tents. They would each find an offering of food, usually mochi or onigiri, waiting for them. Such gifts were typically brought by family or, on occasion, by an admirer of a single young stallion.
To Shiroyama’s annoyance, even the sublime pleasure of this tradition had been ruined. The foreigner drank too much of the sake, then insisted on interjecting his own caterwauling heathen songs among their own. And the others all laughed and indulged him! They even asked him to teach them the lyrics!
The pleasure of the evening ruined, he retired early to his tent, only to have his sleep disturbed by the lout an hour later.
“Hey, Shiroyama-san!” Oaken Barrel exclaimed. “Sorry to wake ya, but if ya get hungry, but it looks like the locals left me a whole mountain o’ vittles here.” He then presented an enormous stack of rice balls, onigiri, and a few other sweets… some of which had hearts drawn on them.
Even our local ponies are charmed by this brute? These are dark times indeed…
“Anyway, the embassy told me I oughta eat everything y’all give me cuz of mo… mo…”
“Mottainai,” he grumbled. “Waste naught.”
“Right, right, that! But, see, I just can’t eat all this. So I figured I’d share with my fellow racers. Here, I’ll just leave ya a few. Have ‘em for breakfast or something, okay?”
The mochi was hard as a rock by the next morning, but he cared nothing for all that. For now, at the start of the race, he was focused on one thing alone: showing that rogue what a true noble pony of Neighpon could do against a foreign barbarian!
It was two hours into the race, and the racers were all breathing heavily, their coats gleaming with a sheen of sweat. The rustling sound of thousands of leaves was like the roar of the ocean, but even it was barely audible over the thunder of their hooves.
As they rounded the last bend, Shiroyama reached deep within and surged forward, fully intending to take First Place and claim the honor for himself.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a horrifying sight:
The rogue was passing him! Worse, he was smiling, as if it were a mere trifle!
Shiroyama watched in awe as Oaken Barrel shot forth, his hooves pounding the ground, and a shower of crimson - a veritable storm of maple leaves - showered them both. And through the storm, he saw as the stallion turned, still wearing a grin, and with his deep green eyes and a toss of his unruly mane, he winked at him.
Even as they passed the finish line, that one image of that face, ringed with crimson, would stay with him for many nights ahead. Those leaves of fire had sparked something within him, and the fire was set in his heart, perhaps never to go out…
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's "Running of the Leaves" Contest.
I've often wanted to portray Neighpon in one of my stories and have had numerous ideas about how to approach it, and this was as good an opportunity as any! 🏯🎌🍁
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Special Occasion [Slice of Life; OC; Trans Themes]
“Oh, this is lovely!” the salesmare cooed as she glanced at the blue dress. “And is this for a special occasion?”
“Oh, no,” the yellow mare in front of her replied with a nervous chuckle. “Just a little tea party. I-is it too much, you think?”
“Maybe a bit fancy… but no, it’s fine. And if it suits you, well, isn’t that what matters?”
“If it suits me…” the yellow mare murmured, trailing off as her eyes took on a faraway look.
“Ma’am?” the salesmare asked. And when that got no response, again: “Ma’am?”
The yellow mare gave a start and looked behind her before stiffening up and then turning back to the salesmare.
“Oh, yes, sorry!” she laughed. “Er, do you take Equestrian Express?”
“Stop crying!”
She’d heard that from the earliest years she could remember. Amid the haze of foggy, half-formed memories, she remembered that bellowed command from her father as if he were right there, standing over her, his long shadow engulfing her in the evening sun.
“Stop crying!” he shouted again as she clenched her teeth and stood, trying to will the tears to go back. It was just a stumble on the dirt road outside their home that sent her skidding and skinned her knees, but she’d cried as any foal would have.
She’d have given anything for her mother to sweep her up and comfort her, but instead it had been her father who was there, and the only salve offered for her bloody knees was his deafening shout: “Suck it up, boy! Be a stallion about it! Colts don’t cry! Fillies cry!”
And it was only when she stifled her sobs that he finally cracked a smile, patted her on the back, and said, “There, that’s my boy. Now, let’s get you some bandages, kiddo.”
She looked herself over in the mirror. The blue dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat adorned her and she felt a thrill of elation, momentarily feeling like she’d committed some daring daylight robbery and were reveling in her ill-gotten gains.
She gave a shriek of surprise when she heard a loud knock at the door.
He’s here! He knows! I have to—
She paused. No, she told herself. That’s impossible now. Her heartbeat slowed, and she called out, “Who is it?”
“Maintenance!” the stallion on the other side of the door said. “You called about the leaky faucet, ma’am?”
“Oh, of course!” she chuckled, and let the maintenance pony into her apartment.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, walking by her. Then he paused. “Oh, that’s a nice dress, ma’am!” he said with a smile. “Er, sorry if that’s—”
“Oh, no, that’s… actually, that’s nice of you to say!”
He smiled back. “Well, let me go fix that faucet. Bathroom, right? It won’t take more than a few minutes.”
She watched him go and then turned back to her reflection. Ever-so-gradually, she’d come to take it as her own. It had taken magic and copious injections of changeling-produced concoctions, but she’d endured the pain and disorientation to get there. And yet, the dress and reflection both brought the memory back…
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Any answer she could have given was silenced with a stinging slap across her face.
“A skirt? A skirt?!” her father shouted. “I figured you were hiding something under your bed, thinking my ladykiller boy has smuggled a girly mag in or something… and it’s this frilly thing?!”
“Dad, no, it’s just… I was… holding on to it for a friend!”
“DON’T YOU LIE TO ME!”he bellowed, his voice loud enough to shake the walls of their little house. Another hoof across the face, and she sucked in a breath and refused to show any tears, just as she’d learned to do for years now.
“What mare would trust a stallion with a skirt? And don’t tell me it’s your marefriend… she’d give you something else if she were giving you a memento!”
And she didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, she stood there, rocksteady, letting him go on with his tirade. Behind him, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The same mirror where, just hours before, she’d danced and twirled as the skirt billowed and flared in sync with her movements. And now all that greeted her was her own reflection: tall, square jaw, buzzcut mane, the very picture of a burly, virile stallion in the prime of his teenage years.
And she hated it. Hated it for the illusion it was. Hated it for the prison it had become. And, most of all, hated it for the lie her father insisted had to be the truth.
She hopped off the trolley car and trotted into the park. Just up the path was a group of friends, new acquaintances she’d met in the city. She’d only known them a few months, and only one knew about who she’d been before she’d moved there.
She froze as she saw them in the distance under the gazebo. A momentary dread hit her.
It’’s not right. I can’t. I’m… this isn’t real. I’m just an imposter. Dad was right, Dad was right, I need to apologize and—
She stopped herself, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath.
Her father was dead. He’d died a year ago, and he’d died without ever knowing who his daughter was. He died without ever seeing the illusion for what it was. And so help her, she’d cried at his passing, freely and without restraint, knowing now that he couldn’t yell at her to stop.
She’d loved the bastard just the same, even after all he’d done to her, but it was just one of a lot of complex feelings she’d had to deal with throughout her life.
She sucked in a deep breath and went onward, trotting up to the gazebo where her friends had prepared a table with tea, cakes, and cucumber sandwiches. A chorus of lilting, feminine hellos greeted her, and she gave one back.
“My, what a lovely outfit!” said one of them. “Though you needn’t have bothered. You should have saved it for a special occasion!”
She smiled back. “Who says it isn’t?” she asked with a wink.
Author's Note
Written for the 2023 Quills and Sofas "T is for Trans" Pride Month Contest.
Didn't place, but I got a lot of very sweet comments, and I'm happy with how it turned out.
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Just Asking Questions, That's All! [Comedy/Random; Starlight, Trixie]
When Princess Twilight trotted into the breakfast hall of Canterlot Castle, rows of guards and servants were already there to meet her every need and whim. This was the place where, until recently, Princess Celestia would dine while her assistant, Raven, read her the daily schedule and informed her of any pressing matters as she partook of her meal of homemade, fruit-faced pancakes.
Once Twilight had taken the reins of power - a phrase she later discovered carried some highly problematic origins - her new kitchen staff informed her that they would be glad to spare her the trouble and prepare her an extravagant breakfast each and every morning if she so wished. The Royal Chefs were, in fact, elated that their skills at making breakfast would finally be put to use…
“Got em!” Spike said, bursting through the door as he carried a box over to her and set it on the table. “Half a dozen donuts and two coffees from Joe’s, just like you like em, Twilight!”
Elsewhere in Canterlot, the Royal Chefs shuddered instinctively. (In their sleep, that is. Insults to their professional pride notwithstanding, at least they got to sleep in late from now on.)
“Thank you, Spike!” Twilight replied sweetly as her dragon assistant took a seat next to her. She opened the box, and her smile faded slightly. “No strawberry iced?”
“Joe said they were out.”
“Hmph,” Twilight grunted, pouting. “Ruler of all Equestria and I can’t even get my favorite donut in the morning… Spike, do you think I can make a law requiring that one be reserved for me?”
“I think you can try, buuut it’d probably go over about as well as that time you tried to outlaw quesadillas.”
“Spike, we do not use the Q word around here!” Twilight shouted, pounding her hoof on the table. “You know that! Everyone knows that, don’t they?!”
“Of course we do, Princess!” said the entire gathering of guards and servants in urgent unison.
“Good… good…” Twilight said, easing back into her chair as she took out a chocolate donut and dunked it in her coffee.
(The debacle in question was rather too complicated to go over here, but it resulted in numerous public protests and the formation of a group of frantic quesadilla lovers who gathered secretly, dubbing themselves “Anonymous Q.” [It is believed, though unproven, that Discord was somehow involved.])
“All right, Spike, let’s go over morning business.”
“Sure thing!” Spike said, spraying crumbs as he gathered up some papers. “Let’s see… oh, there’s a new poll that asked what citizens think of your new egalitarian policies for Equestria. It says 63% of those polled approve of them, 12% are undecided, and 9% disapprove.”
“Hmm,” Twilight hummed. “Wait, that doesn’t equal 100%.”
“Uhhh…” Spike scanned down the page and read some fine print at the bottom. “It looks like the other 16% thought the word ‘egalitarian’ was a new word for griffins and got really confused.”
Twilight blinked. “Ah. ‘Eagle’-itarians.” She sighed. “Tell the Ministry of Education that I’m increasing their budget.”
“Again?”
“Yes, Spike, again.”
Spike made a note of that. “Let’s see… there’s a note from your personal trainer reminding you not to eat donuts for breakfast every day.”
Twilight put down her donut. “Oh, that’s right. Send her a reply telling her that I promise I will—”
“—start eating healthier starting tomorrow,” Spike finished, holding up a scroll. “I already wrote it down for you. Right after I finished writing down tomorrow’s breakfast order for Donut Joe.”
“And that’s why you’re still my number one!” Twilight chuckled, picking the donut back up.
(Twilight’s personal trainer had also formerly served under Princess Celestia, and she was the latest in a long succession of dieticians that had fretted about what their ruler was doing to her figure and health by eating pancakes and pastries every day. On one hoof, their concerns might have been valid, given that Celestia was well known to have one of the realm’s most… generous posteriors. But, on the other hoof, she’d certainly carried it well, and it was hard to take any of those trainers seriously when they kept saying Celestia was eating herself into an early grave only for her to outlive the hell out of the last two dozen of them.)
“Anything else?” Twilight asked, taking a decidedly un-Princess-like slurp of her coffee.
Spike frowned. “Uhhh, yeah, actually,” he said slowly. “You remember that one pony who keeps giving all the speeches?”
“Which one?”
“The pegasus who travels around in the balloon? The one who’s afraid of clouds?”
“Oh,” Twilight said with an exaggerated groan. “Of course. Thistle Whistle. What’s she saying this time? Is she still saying that the new National Broadcasting Initiative is giving ponies the feather flu with radio waves?”
“Yeah, but now she’s also saying that you’re secretly a changeling and that you’re therefore unqualified to be the ruler of Equestria.”
“Ugh… that pony is just the worst.”
A Gaurdspony stepped forward. “Would you like us to ‘take care of her,’ Your Majesty?”
“For the last time, no!” Twilight snapped. “This is a strictly ‘no assassination’ administration. Celestia never had to resort to that!”
“Sure, but Princess Luna—”
“We agreed not to talk about that!” Twilight shouted, flaring her wings dramatically.
“Man, we never get to do anything exciting,” muttered a member of the royal guard who’d lived through nine different dire threats to the nation. (It would have been ten, but he’d been on vacation during the Movie.)
“Okay, before we do anything else, I’m starting to worry that this Thistle Whistle is gaining in popularity, and all the news articles we’ve read just treat her like a joke and never report on the details of what she’s actually saying. I’m a brand new Princess, and I’m worried that she could be undermining our message of friendship and understanding with paranoia and misinformation! This could be a real problem!”
Spike nodded solemnly. “So, what should we do, Twilight?”
“I think we need somepony to investigate this, Spike. Get some hooves on the ground and get the real scoop!”
“Ooh! I’ll contact Pinkie Pie to get us some trenchcoats and fake mustaches!”
“No no, Spike,” Twilight said holding up her hoof. “Not that you aren’t… totally qualified to be a spy, but I think we should send somepony a little less conspicuous…”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie—”
Trixie felt a sharp jab in her barrel as Starlight gave her a stern glare. She looked and saw that several ponies in the crowd had turned to look at her.
“—puts on a very impressive show! Or so I hear as an impartial, unassociated member of the public!”
The ponies shrugged and turned away as they moved in closer to the makeshift stage set up in Manehattan Park.
“Now listen,” Starlight Glimmer hissed through gritted teeth as she leaned in close to Trixie, “Twilight asked us to investigate this whackjob pony for her because we’re way less famous than her or her friends, so we don’t want to be recognized or noticed in any way, Trixie!”
“First of all, the name is the Average and Inconspicuous Dixie Lulastache,” she said stroking her fake mustache (Pinkie had given her one despite not even being informed about the situation), “and Dixie is perfectly capable of blending in with a crowd… Mr. Perkins,” she added with a wink.
“I did not agree to that codename, and I’m not even wearing a disguise other than wearing a fake cutie mark.” Starlight jerked her head backward, indicating the cutie mark she’d had painted on her flank (which was of a large earthen pot with a noticeable fissure down it). “Let’s just listen to what this Thistle Whistle has to say and get back to Ponyville—”
“Ahem.”
Starlight sighed. “—and get back to ‘Discreetsylvania.’”
“Right,” said ‘Dixie.’ “And then we can send that dumb report to Twilight Sparkle.”
The pony in front of them turned around to face them, his eyebrow raised.
“...who is totally a changeling!”
“Ha! Yeah she is!” the pony exclaimed eagerly.
There was a shrill whistle and the crowd went silent (or at least everypony was less able to hear themselves as the whistle was loud enough to be deafening). At the front of the crowd was a stage made of several crates stacked on top of each other. Resting on the stage was a hot air balloon that had been staked to the ground, and, once the crowd had quieted, a pegasus mare with a blue coat and a pink and yellow mane suddenly burst forth from the basket with a great flourish.
“My fellow Equestrians!” shouted the mare as she hoisted herself over the side of the basket and walked to the middle of the stage. She gave an impressed whistle as she scanned the crowd. “It sure is great to see so many ponies - and just ponies, I’m only saying what we’re all thinking! - who are ready to hear the truth about what’s happening to our nation!”
Starlight narrowed her eyes. “Oh buck me, this is gonna be painful,” she muttered.
(It should be noted that Thistle Whistle, despite many ponies’ initial impressions, was perfectly capable of flight. Her wings were indeed strong enough to support her, and while she was a bit awkward in the air, nothing was preventing her from traveling from city to city on her own wing power. The reason she traveled by balloon, according to her, was because the natural fibers of the balloon’s basket blocked the fumes from the clouds, which she claimed were filled with secret chemicals planted there by Cloudsdale that did everything from making ponies less intelligent to making stallions less masculine and more likely to reject perfectly fertile pegasi mares who were still in the prime of their life thank you very much.)
“My friends!” Thistle Whistle shouted. “I have come here to tell you that our Princess, Twilight Sparkle, may not be who you think she is! Day by day, though it pains me to say it, I become more and more convinced that she is… a changeling!”
A roar went up from the crowd.
Then the pony who brought his pet manticore apologized, and everypony else resumed cheering.
“Now, some of you might be wondering,” Thistle Whistle continued, “how I came to this conclusion. Well, just think for a moment, ponies… Twilight Sparkle was imitated by changelings on two separate occasions, correct? How do we know she wasn’t replaced by a changeling on either of those occasions? Suspicious!”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“And who knows if it doesn’t go back even further? What I want is proof that there ever was a real Twilight Sparkle! I demand to see a birth certificate!”
“What.”
The crowd turned to face the pony who had just said that very flat and very loud “what,” and that pony was Starlight Glimmer, who froze where she stood.
“You there!” Thistle Whistle hollered, pointing a hoof in Starlight’s direction. “Do you have something to say?”
“Oh, my apologies, Miss Whistle,” Trixie said, “but my husband Mr. Perkins is all a bit new to this. But not me. The Average and Inconspicuous Dixie Lulastache is a true believer and trusts what you say implicitly!”
“Hey, if your husband is ‘Mr. Perkins,’ why isn’t your name Perkins too?” asked a nearby stallion.
“The Average and Inconspicuous Dixie kept his maiden name.”
“Oh, that’s very modern,” said another nearby pony as others nodded in approval.
“Well, Mr. Perkins,” Thistle Whistle continued, “what exactly is your issue?”
Mr. Perkins swallowed. He wondered how he’d gotten himself into this mess and let himself get roped into a life with Dixie when he should have gone back to med school and become a phlebotomist like his father wanted back in the good old days before he’d died in that tragic lawn dart accident.
Wait, what?? Oh, darn it, Starlight, they’re all looking at you, say something!
“I’m sorry,” Starlight said, “but Twilight Sparkle did release her birth certificate. A while ago. Nopony even asked her to.”
“Ah ha!” Thistle Whistle said. “And did you notice that it didn’t say ‘Not a Changeling’ on it? Double suspicious!”
The crowd gasped and began to chatter about this shocking revelation.
“But it says ‘Unicorn’ on it!” Starlight cried, now too invested/indignant to remember that she was supposed to be keeping a low profile.
“Ah ha yet again!” Thistle Whistle laughed. “And yet she now has wings! First she had none, and now she has not one but two?! Extra suspicious!!”
“But she’s an alicorn!” Starlight roared.
“Oh poor, misguided Mr. Perkins!” Thistle Whistle moaned dramatically as the crowd laughed. “Whoever heard of somepony spontaneously becoming an alicorn? You know what I think… I think that sounds a lot like transformation. And do you know who else transforms?”
“Kirins!” shouted a mare from the front of the crowd.
“No! I mean, yes, but who else?”
“Well, seaponies and hippogryphs can—”
“No, my friends! This can only be the work of… a changeling! Uber suspicious!”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy as cries filled the air: “I knew it!” “She’s a monster come to feast on our love!” “The Princess is a sham!” “Wait, what the hell does ‘uber’ mean?”
Mr. Perkins/Starlight rubbed her temples. “This is utterly ridiculous. Tri—er, Dixie, let’s just… Dixie?”
Trixie was staring up at Thistle Whistle, utterly mesmerized to the point that she hadn’t even noticed that her mustache had come slightly unglued. “It all makes sense,” she muttered. “Dixie never realized before, but now… now his eyes are open!”
“Oh for pony’s sake,” Starlight groaned. “The only thing I can’t understand is why Thistle Whistle would do this. What’s her angle? Is she going to challenge Twilight? Does she want to rule Equestria? Or—”
“And now!” Thistle Whistle shouted (after whistling to gain the crowd’s attention), “I’d like to invite all of you up to the stage so I can offer you some of these all-natural products made from essential oils! Not only will they protect you from changeling influence, but they’ll also improve your vigor, help you sleep better, or help you stay awake! You name it, these will cure it!”
“Ooh, ooh, Dixie needs some of that!” Trixie shouted, shoving her way to the front of the crowd.
“I’m also selling my friend Minty’s all-natural wool socks!” Thistle proclaimed proudly.
“Dixie will take three!”
“You… you mean three pairs, I assume, because—”
“Dixie knows what Dixie said!”
Twilight furrowed her brow as she looked over Starlight’s report. She took a bite of her donut and chewed thoughtfully.
“Well, that explains this whole mess,” she muttered through a wad of Prench Crueller.
“I’ll say,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “I was wondering why so many ponies around Canterlot were wearing three socks with the other hoof bare. Rarity just said it was ‘high fashion and you simply don’t understand haute couture, Spikey-Wikey.’”
“Oh, your impression is getting better!” Twilight remarked with a smile.
Spike swelled with pride.
“Well, that still leaves the matter of what to do with this Thistle Whistle pony,” Twilight said, leaning back in her chair. “Every attempt at fighting this disinformation is just likely to lead to new conspiracy theories. And things are just getting nuttier. You know, somepony at that charity function yesterday demanded I give him a sample of my blood so he could electrify it to make sure I wasn’t ‘one of those things.’ I hate to think how this is affecting the actual changelings!”
“I heard some ponies think they’re faking the whole reformation thing. And that Queen Chrysalis wasn’t turned to stone. And the statue in Canterlot Gardens is actually made of chocolate.”
“Ugh!” Twilight groaned. “There’s got to be an easier way to deal with this!”
The Guardspony from a few days ago stepped forward. “You know, Princess, I hear Miss Whistle is flying over Ghastly Gorge tomorrow. If her balloon were to somehow lose altitude…”
“Hey!” Spike shouted, pointing a claw at the guard. “You heard Twilight! No assassinations! Right, Twilight?”
Twilight said nothing. Her eyes were intent, but she didn’t appear to be staring at anything at all.
“Twilight? Hey, Twilight, I said—”
“Quiet, Spike!” Twilight snapped. “Just… let me think about it…”
After hearing a knock at her cottage door, Fluttershy opened it tentatively. “Um… hello?”
A mustachioed blue pony smiled at her. “Hello, ma’am! My name is Dixie! Your neighbors tell me that you love all things natural, and boy do I have some products for you!”
Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. “Um, Trixie, I don’t want to be rude, but this is the third time you’ve come here this week. For the last time, lavender oil will not cure Angel Bunny’s worms!”
She shut the door in Trixie’s face.
“You’re just brainwashed by Big Pharma!” Trixie shouted. “And all the other pharmacists in this town, not just him!” She heaved a sigh. “Now, how is Dixie going to move 398 more samples? Dixie needs that personalized coffee mug!”
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Troubles and Tributaries [SASS; Comedy; Cadance, Shining Armor]
Author's Note
This story was suggested by Sixtenfour as part of my Suggest A Story September (SASS) event, where readers can suggest ideas for stories! Here's their suggestion:
Since an empire is defined as “an extensive group of states or countries under a single supreme authority,” I imagine the Crystal Empire must’ve had multiple colonies and outposts in its prime. It’d be interesting to see how such a colony would survive the disappearance of the capital. Especially if, when the Empire came back, its remnants of government tried to re-establish control of said colony (now an independent nation) to the tune of “we need to regain our past glory/identity,” with Cadence playing peacemaker.
Troubles and Tributaries [SASS; Comedy; Cadance, Shining Armor]
Cadance held her head aloft, trying to keep her composure as Shining Armor, handsome and dashing as ever, ascended the steps beside her.
The pair reached the top of the stairs and turned to face their adoring subjects, the Crystal Ponies, now freed once and for all from the tyranny of King Sombra.
As they took up their positions before the twin thrones, Clear Caller, their Royal Attendant, stepped forward. “Citizens of the Crystal Empire!” he bellowed, his voice resonating throughout the throne room at the throngs of adoring subjects. “I present to you all the successors to the true legacy of our glorious empire: the Crystal Princess and Prince, Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor! Long may they reign!”
At that cue, Cadance and Shining Armor bowed their heads as the official crowns of their titles were placed upon them. A jubilant cry went up from the crowd as the royal pair raised their heads and took up their seats on the thrones.
“Hail! Hail! Long live the Crystal Empire!” the crowd chanted once, twice, and then thrice (with a few ponies starting a fourth before stopping awkwardly).
It was a joyous day for the newly-crowned Princess and Prince, their subjects, and their new kingdom.
And then someone reminded them what their new "kingdom" was actually called…
“I’m sorry, what did you call me?” Cadance asked her attendant, a middle-aged mare in a stern burgundy dress named Evening Primrose.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Princess,” Primrose said, bowing slightly as she continued filing Cadance’s hooves. “I suppose I was just a bit too eager for my lady to assume her more proper title and mistakenly called my lady ‘Empress’ by mistake.”
Cadance blinked. “Well… it’s fine, I suppose,” she said. “But, well… when you say ‘proper’ title, what do you mean?”
“Ah,” Primrose said, pausing for a moment. She looked up at Cadance with a kind, somewhat strained look, the kind of look that Cadance instantly understood to mean, ‘I am about to say something that should be obvious, but you’re royalty and obviously important and my boss, so I will try hard to not make you feel stupid as I explain this thing you should already know about.’
“Well, this is the Crystal Empire, my lady,” she said. “And, well, an empire is usually ruled by an Emperor or Empress. Especially once they’ve cemented their ruling family with a marriage. Which, it so happens, my lady already has!”
Cadence blinked. “Oh,” she replied.
“Er… does it bother you, my lady?”
“Well, Ms. Primrose, you don’t need to refer to me in the third person.” Cadance smiled at her kindly. “And… I haven’t really thought about it. I’d like to discuss it with my husband first, but I’d hate to insult the traditions of the Crystal Empire.”
“Oh, of course, my la— er, Princess,” Primrose said, nodding emphatically. “Please forgive my presumptuousness.”
“Of course, of course,” Cadance said, waving her free hoof dismissively.
“So, they’ve been calling you—”
“‘Emperor,’ yeah,” Shining Armor replied, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t say anything about it because I wanted to be polite but it’s… well, it’s really—”
“Weird?”
“It’s so weird!” he exclaimed, nodding emphatically. The two of them were in their private bed chamber, finally alone and away from their newly-acquired slew of hoofmaidens, servants, and attendants (though determining exactly who fit into which group was more difficult than they expected).
“Cadance, there hasn’t even been a ‘King’ or ‘Queen’ in Equestria in ages! Except for, well, King Sombra. And that’s…”
“I know, I know, it’s a bad precedent to follow,” Cadance said. Her expression turned sour. “All the other kings and queens of the old era lost their titles when they became part of Equestria, and the old rules of Equestria were that you couldn’t become a ‘king’ or ‘queen’ until you married. And that’s why Princess Celestia has always been, well, Princess Celestia.”
Shining Armor nodded gravely. Then, leaning in close, he asked, “So, what, has she been single for 1000 years?”
“Oh, funny you should ask!” Cadance said, perking up. “See, she actually told me—”
There was a sudden knock at the door. They shared a mutual sigh.
“Come in!” Cadance called.
“Ah, Your Majesties,” Primrose said, stepping in with a humble bow. “I hate to intrude, but the Collectors have returned with grave news.”
“The… ‘Collectors?’” Cadance asked.
“Yes, Empress,” Primrose replied. She froze. “Er, ‘Princess.’”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, but… actually, never mind. Shining, let’s just go meet them in the throne room and see what they have to say.”
What they had to say turned out to be: “The Northern Territories are in open rebellion!”
Cadance and Shining Armor turned to face each other gravely. They’d been in charge of their new ~~kingdom~~ empire less than a week, and already there was a revolt?
“I see,” Cadance said. “Please, tell us everything.”
The group of Imperial Guards stood before them clothed in the gleaming traditional armor and plumed helmets of the Crystal Empire, each holding a spear, with a large wooden chest conspicuously placed among them. The captain of the guards stepped forward.
“Emperor, Empress, now that the Crystal Empire has resumed its place in the world after a thousand years of absence, we thought to resume our duties as we did before the coming of King Sombra,” he said. “And thus we dispatched our Collectors to our territories to collect our tribute.”
This was met with silence at first, then Shining Armor asked, “Tribute to what?”
“Why, to the Empire!” the Captain cheerfully replied, placing a hoof upon his chest. “As befitting a proud nation, the Crystal Empire would collect an annual tribute of wealth from conquered nations. And while we’re not quite sure about the rate of inflation, we thought to at least begin collecting on the debt we’ve been owed after the last 1000 years.”
The royal pair of them broke out into a royally cold sweat. “And… how did it go?” Shining Armor asked.
“Why, our tributaries outright refused, which is clearly a sign of open rebellion! An act of defiance and war !”
Cadance swallowed. “And… did you attack them?” she asked, her voice becoming more strained by the moment. “Or hurt them?”
“Oh, no, we did not hurt anypony, Empress,” the captain replied.
Cadance and Shining Armor breathed a sigh of relief.
“We just took their leaders prisoner so they could answer for their disloyalty.”
The pair blanched. “You what?!” they asked in unison.
“Ah, of course, you would want to address the insolent curs in person!”
At a gesture, the guards brought the chest before them and then opened. The guards then unceremoniously dumped a pair of ponies tied in ropes and gagged upon the royal floor where they immediately began to squirm and emit noises of muffled indignity.
“Kneel before the Emperor and Empress, you knaves!” the captain bellowed.
“Captain, stop! They’re bound and gagged!” Cadance protested as she bolted from her throne.
“Ah, of course, how wise you are, my Empress!” the captain said. “Unbind the prisoners… and then have them kneel before Emperor and Empress!”
The guards undid the bindings of the two ponies and let them stand… before immediately forcing their heads to the ground and commanding them to bow.
“Enough, enough, let them rise!” Cadance cried.
“As you command, Empress!” the captain said, motioning for the other guards to obey.
“Oh my goodness… I’m so sorry about all this!” she said, flying down to greet the two of them as they brushed themselves off. “Please… who are you two?”
“Ah, well,” said the balding stallion in a suit and tie, “I am Pierre Trotdeau, the Prime Minister of Vanhoover, and these shiny gentlemen came to my house, you see? And then they asked me to give them several thousand gold… ‘darics,’ I think it was?”
He looked to the captain, who nodded sternly.
“I told them I didn’t know even one pony named Darrick, let alone any gold ones, and they told me I owed them some tribute and so on, but I didn’t know what they were talking about, so…”
“So we decided to take him as tribute instead!” shouted one guard, eliciting a chorus of huzzahs from the others.
“Turns out that the Northern Territories have split into a few different provinces in the last thousand years,” the captain said. “One of which is this place called ‘Vanhoover,’ and the other one is a land called ‘Whinnyapolis.’”
Cadance smacked her forehead with her hoof. “Oh no…”
“Oh yes, they thought to conceal themselves with a ridiculous name!” the captain guffawed. “As if we would be so easily fooled! And so we took their Queen as hostage!”
“Wait, Queen?” Shining Armor asked. “But Whinnyapolis doesn’t have a queen!”
“My apologies, Emperor, but you are mistaken! Behold, the Queen of Whinnyapolis!”
Cadance and Shining Armor turned to see a somewhat dazed-looking young mare with a plastic crown, a bouquet, and a sash.
“Oh, gee gosh, it was sure dark in there!” the mare said, looking around frantically. “One minute I was acceptin’ my prize at the fair and gettin’ my picture taken, and then these fellas here grabbed me an’ started askin’ me about some fella named Darrick and—”
“And you don’t know anypony named Darrick,” Cadance and Shining Armor said in unison as they narrowed their eyes.
“We took their newly-crowned queen as tribute, my liege!” the captain said, swelling with pride. “Surely her kingdom will pay their tribute in exchange for her return! Or, if not, she may well make a fine concubine!”
“A fine what?!” Cadance sputtered.
“What’s a concubine?” the bewildered beauty queen asked.
Shining Armor blushed. “Look, not that I’m not grateful—”
Cadance shot him a glare.
“—but I am very happily married and quite faithful to my wife!”
“Well, sire, it’s not like concubines count.”
“What’s a concubine?” the young mare asked again.
“We could easily obtain some male ones for the Empress if she would like.”
“What the… no!”
“What’s a concubine?”
“ENOUGH!!” Cadance bellowed, her Royal Canterlot voice sending a shockwave over the whole of the throne room. “Prime Minister, I cannot begin to apologize for this. And you as well, miss…?”
“Oh! Well, I guess now I’m Miss Whinnyapolis, the Queen of the Fall Fair!” the mare exclaimed and began to smile and wave as if expecting a crowd.
“...of course you are. Anyway, Captain, return both of these ponies to their homes immediately.”
“Ah, and let that be a warning to them! Of course, they will gladly produce their tribute in no time now that they know we are serious! Guards, back in the trunk with them!”
“NO! No trunk! No tributes!”
“And no concubines!” Shining Armor added.
“Jeez, what the hay is a concubine?!” Miss Whinnyapolis asked.
Prime Minister Trotdeau leaned over and whispered into her ear.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes going wide. Then she looked over at Shining Armor, made a face, and stuck out her tongue. “Oh, yeah no, he’s kinda old fer me. That’s kinda gross, doncha know.”
“Don’t talk about my Shiny that way!” Cadance snapped. “Guards, never mind, put her back in the box!”
“Cadance…”
“Ugh, fine, just… just take them both back comfortably, and then we are all going to have a very long chat about how the geopolitical climate has changed in the last millennium!”
Later that night, Cadance plopped back heavily into her bed next to Shining Armor, who was already staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“So,” he began, “today was… something.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Yes, it was.”
There was a long pause between them before Cadance groaned and rubbed her eyes.
“Oh for the love of harmony… colonies. Our kingdom—”
“‘Empire.’”
“—our empire had colonies. Honest-to-Celestia colonies.”
“And the ‘Northern Territories’ now make up the northwest parts of Equestria,” Shining Armor added. “No wonder they weren’t keen on paying ‘tribute.’”
“Ugh, it’s just… after all the wonderful things we learned about our empire - you know, the fun things like jousting, carnivals, flugelhorns - I wouldn’t have thought they had conquered territories and demanded tribute from them!”
“Well, by all accounts, it was pretty minor tribute. Mostly just a show of loyalty.”
“Are you being an apologetic for colonization?!”
“No, of course not! I’m just saying, it could have been a lot worse.”
“Shiny… concubines.”
“Right, right, that’s pretty bad. Well, at least they seemed to accept that we won’t be doing that stuff anymore. They took it pretty well, to be honest.”
Cadance sighed. “Well, I’m glad that’s over with,” she said. “Still… oof. Concubines.”
“Mm,” Shining Armor murmured. “So… does that mean we’re taking that one off our roleplay list or…?”
“Pfft, no! That doesn’t count!” Cadance laughed, turning her head to face him. “Eh, but give it a week before we start it again, ‘my adorable pet,’” she purred.
“You got it, ‘mistress,’” he replied with a wink.
He leaned in for a kiss and their lips met passionately.
“Here’s hoping that the rest of our time here goes more smoothly, ‘My Empress,’” he added.
“Oh, stop!” she said, rolling her eyes as she snuggled up next to him. “Let’s just hope we’re through all the weird stuff here in the Empire for now.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Shining Armor chuckled. “Have you heard what they’re calling Spike now?”
You're Welcome! [Comedy; Luna, Mane 6]
“...and so, as my sister begins her retirement, and I prepare for my own deferment of power,” Luna shouted above the enthralled crowd standing below the alabaster balcony of Canterlot Castle, “I hereby issue one final decree: no more inappropriate dreams!”
The cheering crowd blanched.
“Ever!” Luna shouted triumphantly, raising a hoof.
“Um…” a single pony said timidly, raising his hoof amid thousands of other ponies in the crowd who had fallen silent.
“Thank you all!” Luna bellowed. “I look forward to a new era of peace and happiness for the dream realm!”
“Luna,” Twilight began, “I want you to know, before anything else, that I love and respect you.”
They were gathered in the throne room of Twilight’s castle, soon to be… Starlight’s fancy parlor? Er, anyway…
“Of course, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, placing a hoof upon her chest. “Your status as a fellow princess makes it obvious that you would place your respect in your senior princesses, naturally.”
“Riiight,” Twilight said, turning away as she rubbed her neck nervously. “I… just wonder if you’ve considered the, um, ramifications of your newest decree.”
“Well, as the Princess of the Night,” Luna said, “I have borne witness to a multitude of strange and… well, shall we say, depraved dreams, as of late.”
“Sure, sure, I get that, but—”
“Indeed, the number of dreams which entail the fornication of one’s own relatives disturbs me to the point of—”
“OKAY!” Twilight shouted, cutting her off. “Yes , Princess Luna, I think we get the point.”
“It’s not my fault Uncle Buttershush is so… commanding,” Fluttershy muttered.
“Theory confirmed,” Rainbow Dash muttered with a smirk. “Applejack?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes as she passed her five bits.
“Anyway,” Twilight said, casting a sharp glance at her friends, “my point, Princess Luna, is that… um… I think your decree might be a bit difficult to fulfill.”
“Not to mention that it’s vague as all Tartarus,” Spike added.
“Yes,” Twilight said. “That too.”
“I cannot see where the problem lies,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. “Since I will no longer be patrolling ponies’ dreams, it makes sense to issue a decree that they control the nature of their own nightmares. I see no issue with my decree.”
“Hooboy,” Applejack quipped. “This is a whole can o’ worms, an’ I ain’t about to open it.”
“Nay, Applejack!” Luna cried, seizing her by the shoulders. “Thy can of annelids is worthy of consideration! Shed thy apprehensions and make plain thy thoughts as they pertain to thy Princesess’s decree of the Dream Realm!”
Twilight and the others stared at her. Applejack started to sweat, her eyes darting left and right.
“Er… I mean, be honest, Applejack!” Luna exclaimed. She shut her eyes and bowed her head. “I would have the honest feedback of my most trusted advis— no. My most trusted friends.”
"Uhhh," Applejack began, her eyes fixating on Twilight, "lil' help, Twilight?"
Twilight sighed. “Princess Luna,” she said, “I… well, I think you might be expecting too much from your subjects.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “In what way?” she asked, dropping Applejack roughly to the floor. “I asked ponies to exert the simplest of self-control in their dreams. They have never had such a stipulation before, true, but now that I have made my wishes known, surely they will reign in their basest instincts. Just because dreams are not real does not mean that it is all right to turn them into such outrageous displays.”
Twilight and her friends all fell silent, mutually exchanging guilty looks that spoke volumes more than their own confessions ever could.
And then Pinkie Pie cleared her throat.
Oh no no no, Sweet Celestia, Pinkie, don’t say anything weird! Twilight thought as she stared at Pinkie, her eyes bulging.
“Luna, when you dream, do you use your power?” Pinkie asked, raising her eyebrow. “Because in my dreams - when I remember them - almost anything can happen! I don’t mean for it to happen, but it just kinda… pops out!”
Luna scoffed. “Pfft! That is only because nopony has ever directed you to do otherwise!”
“Yyyyeah, I mean, that’s true, but I personally never wanted to play a really pervy version of Monopony with Cheese Sandwich or carve Rainbow Dash up into pieces and make her into cupcakes—”
“Wait, WHAT?!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“Well, see, I landed on a property with a hotel and had to pay him back somehow—”
“Not that, the other thing!”
“See, that’s what I mean!” Pinkie shouted, rolling her eyes. “I would never do that to Dashie! It’s just a silly dream!”
“But the dreams show a deeper feeling!” Luna cried. “You must grasp it and suppress it!”
Pinkie burst out laughing. “Oh, Princess Luna… I really thought you’d understand ponies better by now!”
Twilight sucked in a breath. “I, uh, what Pinkie means, Princess Luna, is that—”
“Quiet thyself,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes at Twilight. “I wish to hear Pinkie Pie’s explanation.”
Pinkie giggled. “Oh, Luna,” she said between her giggles, “ponies can’t control what they dream about!”
“Yes, when we’re speaking of nightmares, of course, but—”
“No, Luna, for all dreams! Whatever pops into ponies’ heads just kinda… shows up! It’s how our silly little brains figure out how they feel about stuff! Haven’t you ever had a dream where you felt out of control?”
Luna blinked. “I… no. Is that… is that not the norm?”
“Not… usually,” Twilight replied, wincing.
“No,” Rainbow Dash and Applejack said simultaneously.
“Not bucking remotely,” Fluttershy replied, immediately blushing as the others stared at her.
“Well, maybe you should try it!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Just dream about anything you want! No dream powers or control at all!”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “An interesting idea,” she said. “Very well. I shall take your advice and see what it yields… and then We will give the lie to thy words, Pinkamena of the Pie clan!”
“Neat!” Pinkie exclaimed.
That night, Luna had a vision. It involved Sir Fancy Pants proffering her with flowers and a most untoward proposition involving his mouthparts in contact with… AH, NO, NOT THERE!!
“So, Princess Luna retracted her previous decree,” Twilight said as she read the newspaper in her throne room. “Apparently she’d never had a dream that she’d just let happen naturally. And it only took one night for her to change her mind.”
Twilight put the newspaper down as she stared at her friends. Pinkie Pie in particular.
As the others slowly gravitated their looks to Pinkie, she eventually caught the hint.
“Whaaaat?” she asked. “What’d I do?!”
“You violated a Princess of Equestria’s innocence for the sake of allowing ponies to dream whatever depravities their minds could conceive!” Twilight shouted. “I hope you’re proud of yourself!”
Pinkie paused, rubbing her chin. “Well… are you saying that all your dreams were something to be proud of, and you were ready to live the rest of your lives wondering if they were technically illegal ?”
They all froze. None of them could meet her eyes.
Pinkie snickered. “Right. In that case,” she chuckled with a leering gaze, “no need to thank me… but you’re welcome.”
Author's Note
Welcome to my Anthology, consisting of bite-sized stories written for various writing competitions throughout the fandom!
This first story was written for Ponyfest Online 4.0's speedwriting contest and was a tie for first place! (The other winner was an entry by my buddy HapHazred , entitled "Left Behind." I am fairly certain it has nothing to do with the Rapture...)
The prompt for this entry was "Princess Luna decrees X; nopony is happy about it."
Enjoy the rest of the anthology!
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Spill the Wine [Comedy, Romance; Lyra, Bon Bon]
“I’m just saying, Sweetie Drops,” the older mare continued, tossing her hair back as she took another sip of tea, “that the least you could do is send a postcard.”
“Right,” Bon Bon said as she stared across the table at her mother, her teeth gritted as she forced herself to smile. “Sorry about that. Again.”
Lyra cleared her throat as she sat next to her wife. “So, Mr. and Mrs. Drops, what was B- er, Sweetie Drops like as a foal?”
Bon Bon gave her a sharp, sideways look and a quick shake of her head.
It was too late as Bon Bon’s father let out a chuckle. “Always giving the help trouble,” he said. “Playing her hiding games and making an absolute mess of the kitchen with her little ‘experiments.’”
“And what exactly is it that you do now, dear?” Mrs. Drops asked. “You left so suddenly after you took that mysterious ‘job’ back in the day, and then we hear nothing from you for, oh, how long has it been?”
“Ten years, sweetums,” Mr. Drops said immediately. “But yes, I’d rather like to know as well what you went into. Settle into investment banking like your old man?”
“No, uh… I’m a confectioner,” Bon Bon said. “Because, you know, it’s my talent? Like my cutie mark?”
“Well, so much for my hope that it would turn out to mean that you would be living the sweet life,” Mrs. Drops sighed.
“Well, we may not be rich,” Lyra said, “but we’re still doing just fine!”
Then she heard the sound of another throat clearing and turned to look at the other couple seated at the table. A pair of unicorns.
“Lyra, we appreciate that you’re independent,” Mrs. Heartstrings said, “but don’t you think you’re taking advantage of your friend? Music may be your passion, but you’ve never been able to make that much of a career out of it. I sure hope you’re compensating in some way for relying so much on your housemate.”
Lyra swallowed. “Y-yeah,” she said. “I do a lot of the household chores and such.”
Bon Bon snorted. “After I ask you three or four times, that is,” she muttered.
“Not now, Sweetie Drops!” she hissed.
Bon Bon normally would have loved to enjoy a nice lunch at an outdoor cafe in Canterlot with Lyra. The delicious food, the sights, and of course the company of her favorite mare in the world would have been perfect.
This luncheon, however, had not been the result of a romantic excursion, but rather the outcome of a disastrous set of circumstances...
On the last day of their honeymoon at a resort by Luna Bay, Lyra and Bon Bon had been stretched out on a sunny beach, peacefully enjoying the sounds of the crashing waves. As their eyes met, Bon Bon sat up, gently caressing Lyra's cheek... and then they heard galloping hooves approaching.
Bon Bon turned and froze in horror as a strange mare with hair shockingly similar to her own suddenly galloped up and cried, “Sweetie Drops?!”
Bon Bon instantly sprang to her hooves, eyes bulging, and exclaimed “Mother!”
“'Mother?'” Lyra had asked, sitting up.
“Oh, good,” Mrs. Drops had said flatly, narrowing her eyes. “I’m surprised you even remember me after all these years.”
Bon Bon looked away. “Ah, w-well…”
“Stand up straight, dear,” Mrs. Drops had said sharply as she held up Bon Bon’s chin.
“Oh, wow!” Lyra had said, trotting over to the older mare. “Hi there! I’m Lyra! It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am!”
“Mm, yes, charmed,” said the older mare briefly before turning her attention back to Bon Bon. “You know, your father and I were planning to take a trip here for a little romantic getaway before something went wrong at the office. So, as usual, I’m amusing myself with the scenery.”
“And probably the pool boys,” Bon Bon muttered.
“I heard that, young mare,” Mrs. Drops had said with a glare. “And I will not be judged by a pony who can’t even take time in so many years to write her parents even a simple letter.”
Lyra stared at Bon Bon. “Wait, what? Oh my gosh, Bon-”
Bon Bon’s eyes bulged and she tensed up.
“...Sweetie Drops,” Lyra finished slowly. “Uh… what I mean is, maybe we should catch up!”
“Why, what an excellent idea!” Mrs. Drops said, smirking. “Do tell me, what and, ah… who have you gotten involved with lately?”
“Well, Mother, I would… I really would! But Lyra and I are leaving in about an hour, so we should really pack!”
Lyra raised an eyebrow. She was fairly certain they had the rest of the afternoon before catching the train back home.
“Ah, of course you are,” Mrs. Drops said. “By the way, Miss… Lyra, is it?”
“Lyra, ma'am! Lyra Heartstrings!” Lyra said brightly, holding out a hoof.
“Lemon Drops,” Mrs. Drops said, shaking it. “Where exactly are you from?”
“Canterlot, ma’am,” she replied. “Say, actually, maybe we could meet up there sometime soon!”
Mrs. Drops grinned as Bon Bon began to sweat. “What a positively wonderful idea,” she said slowly. “Don’t you think so too, Sweetie?”
Bon Bon’s breath caught in her throat.
Lyra had received a fairly stern lecture from Bon Bon on the ride home, and it mainly centered on two things:
Bon Bon had grown up rich and her parents were, in her words, “A couple of stiff, overbearing snobs.”
They knew nothing of Bon Bon’s years as a secret agent or her current identity as Bon Bon, local confectioner of Ponyville.
“Okay, so maybe you don’t have the best relationship with your parents,” Lyra said. “What’s the big deal?”
Bon Bon groaned. “Oh, sure you would say that. Your parents are… are… hey, wait a minute… I just realized I’ve never met your parents!”
Lyra blanched. “W-well… they uh… they’re a bit traditional and, um… they don’t know about our, uh… status.”
“Economically?”
Lyra swallowed. “Marital.”
Bon Bon blinked. “I know for a fact that you write them a letter at least once a month,” she said. “You’ve mentioned me. And you’re telling me that you never told them we were married? Do they know we were at least dating?!”
“Well… they kinda don’t know I’m into… um… mares.”
Bon Bon's jaw dropped. "Seriously?!" she cried. "What, are they still living in 950 CYP?!"
"Look, I know it's stupid, but it's Canterlot," Lyra sighed. "You know how Canterlot is: always obsessed with classic tradition and the 'right' way of doing things. Mare, stallion, foals, keep up with the neighbors, get a respectable career or at least marry some aristocrat, yadda yadda."
"Yes, except we don't live in Canterlot, Lyra," Bon Bon said pointedly. "We live in Ponyville. What difference does it make at this point?!"
"I know, I know," Lyra said, rolling her eyes. "Look, I love my parents, and it's not like they're bad ponies or outright homophobes, but after years of them hounding me about being a musician, Celestia forbid they also start hounding me about being a filly fooler. Just the thought of having that conversation... ugh, that would be the worst!"
Bon Bon glared at her. “Oh. I see…” Then she paused. A grin slowly spread across her face like pancake batter slowly pooling in a skillet.
Lyra swallowed. “Bon Bon… um, why are you making that face?”
Lyra didn’t get an answer to that question until they showed up at the luncheon and saw her parents sitting right next to Bon Bon’s. And then Bon Bon made that same face again.
Which brings us to the present...
“You know, Lyra,” Mr. Heartstrings said, “you really ought to reconnect with Princess Twilight. You were old friends back in the day, remember?”
“Look, Dad, we’re friends, sure,” Lyra said, “but I just don’t want to take advantage of that and turn it into an opportunity. It feels kind of sleazy.”
“Oh, I know, dear,” her father said, heaving a sigh. “Still… I wish your mother and I had made more connections when we first moved to Canterlot. We had roommates just like you and Bon Bon—”
The rest of the table froze.
“—but that stopped once we got jobs and got married.”
Mrs. Drops chewed her salad carefully before swallowing. “Good advice, Mr. Heartstrings,” she muttered. “Please tell me you at least saved up some money from your last job before you started your current career, Sweetie Drops.”
“I, uh—”
“And I’m sorry, but why are the Heartstringses calling you ‘Bon Bon?’”
“Well, why are you calling her Sweetie Drops?” Mrs. Heartstrings asked.
“Well, that is her name,” Mr. Drops huffed.
Mr. and Mrs. Heartstrings looked at each other, then back at Lyra.
Oh no, Lyra thought.
“Well, then why do you keep calling her ‘Bon Bon,’ Lyra?” her father asked. “You never called her anything else in your letters.”
“See, somepony knows how to write her parents,” Mrs. Drops said, giving her own daughter a withering glance.
“Well, you were calling her that from the very first letter you sent about her when you moved to Ponyville, Lyra,” Mr. Heartstrings continued. “Did she change her name or something?”
Oh no, Bon Bon thought.
“And why didn’t she write home after ten years?” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “What, was she like on a secret mission and had to assume a new identity in a different town?”
Bon Bon started to sweat. Her parents both froze and exchanged a look.
“Oh Sweet Celestia,” her mother breathed. “That's it isn't it? I'd know that guilty look anywhere. That job she mentioned… when she said it was for the government, I thought she meant as a filing clerk or something…”
“Hmph,” Mr. Drops mumbled. “And we just thought ‘Bon Bon’ was some pet name her marefriend gave her.”
“Marefriend?” Mrs. Heartstrings sputtered, spitting out her soup. “What do you mean? What marefriend?”
“Well, obviously your daughter,” Mr. Drops said. “It’s pretty obvious the two of them are an item.”
Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged a look, both finding themselves unable to get a word in edgewise. OH NO, they both mentally screamed.
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Mrs. Heartstrings laughed, waving a hoof dismissively. “I mean, I know that sort of thing is more common and acceptable these days, but still, our Lyra was raised with good, classic traditional values!”
Lyra’s already strained smile grew ever more tight as her parents gave her mirrored looks with the exact same raised eyebrow.
“Lyra, honey, go ahead and tell them,” Mrs. Heartstrings continued slowly. “I mean, you used to get tons of love letters from all those boys in Celestia’s School and your music camp and such.”
“Though, now that I think about it,” Mr. Heartstrings muttered, stroking his chin, “did she ever actually go out with any of them?”
“Oh, hush, I’m sure she did!” Mrs. Heartstrings snapped. “The poor thing refused to show us the letter from the young colt who asked her out, of course, but I remember she did go out a time or two with some pony named… Vinyl Scratch, I think it was?”
Bon Bon leaned over to Lyra. “You used to date Vinyl?” she whispered.
“Just for a few dates!” Lyra hissed back, keeping her gaze fixed on her parents.
“Now, wait a minute,” Mr. Drops said with a smirk. “Isn’t that the name of a famous DJ? A famous mare DJ? I’m pretty sure my younger clients have mentioned her.”
Mrs. Heartstrings’s tense but optimistic smile faded. “Oh, Lyra… does this mean… that you and your housemate are… are…”
Mr. Drops set his drink down heavily, banging the table and ratting the dishes. “Well well well, it seems you’ve found the perfect match, Little Miss Secret Agent: a mare who likewise hides crucial details from her parents. Aren't you two just made for each other?”
The table went silent as Lyra and Bon Bon stared at the deep, accusatory glares from their respective parents and parents-in-law.
“Well,” growled Mrs. Heartstrings, “anything else about your double lives together we should know about?”
Lyra and Bon Bon looked to one another.
I'm sorry, mouthed Lyra.
Bon Bon smiled. I know, she mouthed back. Then she smiled, jerking her head in their parents' direction.
Lyra nodded.
The two of them scooted their chairs next to each other and draped a foreleg around each other’s shoulders.
“We’re not just roommates. We're married,” Lyra began.
“She is obsessed with hands,” Bon Bon added.
“She hunted monsters for the government and lives under an assumed name.”
“And she likes to sit weird.”
“It's not as weird as when you wear that fake mustache.”
“That’s not so weird.”
“It is when you wear it when the two of us—”
“Too much, Lyra.”
“Sorry, Bon Bon.”
They finished, leaving the table somehow even more speechless than before. That is, not only was speech absent, but even surrounding noises and conversations at the cafe seemed to be muted by the silence that followed.
“Wow, uh… that feels good to get off your chest, huh?” Lyra laughed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Heh. So, anypony else want to share some secrets?” she asked jokingly.
There was a long pause before Mr. Heartstrings said “I shoplift for things I don’t need.”
“I eat flowers in the Canterlot Gardens,” Mrs. Heartstrings replied, casting her eyes downward.
"Oh, Mom," Lyra groaned, wrinkling her muzzle.
Mr. Drops simply gawked. “What in the… how can you all be so... so nonchalant about—”
“I’m cheating on you, dear,” Mrs. Drops said abruptly, taking a big swig of her tea.
Lyra and Bon Bon looked at each other once again, giving a brief, decisive nod.
“Waiter!” they shouted in unison. “Dessert and wine for six!”
Author's Note
Written for the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group 's "Anonymous Contest," on September 27, 2020.
Prompt was "Double Lives."
Oh, and can someone say... mmmusic reference?! It's one of my favorite songs of all time: "Spill the Wine" by WAR and Eric Burdon!
