No Catchphrase for This

by applezombi

Rating: teen
Tags: Equestria Girls, Rainbow Dash (EqG), Profanity, Slice of Life, Human, Iron Will, Rarity (EqG), Drama
Length: 3453

Iron Will knew what was coming. That didn't make it any easier to figure out what to do next.

Sometimes, watching those we care about suffer can hurt more than anything.

Iron Will doesn't sit down and take pain in stride, though. He's gotta fight back. Like an angry bull. So when the ignorant jerks up at the state capitol decide to be idiots, he has to figure out a way to make things right again.

Only sometimes, there's no perfect catchphrase for the job.

First place entry in the Quills and Sofas Transgender contest.

My entry for the Pride and Positivity event. Please consider donating to one of the following charitable causes:

Transgender Law Center

Palestine Children's Relief Fund

Sewa International (Indian charity collecting funds for COVID relief)

Cover art was a gift from a friend, applejackofalltrades! Thank you so much!

Much gratitude for my fellow Q&S members for their support/suggestions/prereading: applejackofalltrades, themoontonite, Undome Tinwe, The Red Parade, Silvermint, Bicyclette, wishcometrue, The Hat Man, Vis-A-Viscera, and Atom Smash.

Additional editing/prereading provided by ninjadeadbeard, Jarvy Jared, and Arkane12

Published 2021-07-02 21:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-07-02 21:10:00 UTC

Chapter 1

There’s a comfort to routine, to the familiar. I should know. Everyday is a strict schedule for me. It has been since I was ten.

Six AM? Out of bed and get showered. Early Risers are Early Achievers!

Six thirty? Breakfast makes one Fast!

Seven AM? Start the day with exercise, you’ll find your problems are downsized!

The sayings started with my own mom, the first Iron Will. I don’t mind that I’m named after her; she was a strong woman, and she raised me right! I’m proud to bear her name and to continue her habit of pithy catchphrases! Though instead of leveraging them into self-help seminars, which had been my first instinct, I’m content to pass them on to my students.

Canterlot Wondercolts, the best group of athletes in the state!

I look at my clock. It’s six-oh-five. I’ve spent five minutes woolgathering. I hurry into the shower, glancing at the radio I keep in the bathroom. Singing in the shower is a must, some days. Really brightens the spirit. But I don’t flip it on. Radio means the news, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face that yet.

Don’t avoid your problems, CHARGE THEM!

That’s one I tell my students. They find it hard sometimes. So do I. But I leave the radio off, for now.

After a quick shower, it’s breakfast: a blueberry spinach kale banana smoothie with hemp and flax seed. I glance at my old, unused coffee maker with a sigh. I quit the stuff years ago; I can’t take it black, and the sugar was just too much. I down my smoothie and start my stretches.

My phone buzzes. It’s Principal Celestia. I don’t look at the message. It’s a little cowardly, maybe. Not like me. But I’m still not ready yet. I set the phone aside and carefully stretch each muscle group. I take my time, reveling in the burn of tension as I work each muscle. Then I snag my bluetooth earbuds and phone and step outside.

It’s still barely light outside. The chill of winter clings to the air like a tackle dogging a quarterback right before he fires off a pass. I ignore the cold brushing against the bare skin of my legs. I’m wearing shorts, and I refuse to concede the point to the cold. It’s March, not February!

I’m reluctant as I push my bluetooths into my ears and turn on my phone, flipping through screens until I find the live broadcast of KCAN 91.3, Canterlot’s only public radio station. Part of me still hopes for a good outcome, but Momma Iron Will didn’t raise a fool. I know a bad situation going south when I see it. I turn on the feed and start to run, my shoes hitting the sidewalk as I make my way to Canterlot High. I haven’t driven to work in a decade, and even a bad day like today’s probably going to be no reason to change routine.

“...in their final session before their spring recess, the State Legislature voted one-hundred and two to sixty five to pass House Bill One-One-Seven, sometimes called ‘The Fairness For Our Kids Act’. Governor Sombra is expected to sign it into law in a ceremony this afternoon. Several groups, including the Canterlot Civil Liberties Union and the state teacher’s union are already preparing challenges, though...”

I mean to listen longer. I really do. But my arms move on their own as I rip the bluetooth speakers out of my ears. I’m madder than I’ve been in a really long time. Madder than I’ve been since Momma died, madder than when the doctor told me my busted rotator cuff meant I wouldn’t be able to go pro. Those idiots. Those mashed-potato brained morons! I want to howl. Maybe charge something. I feel like an enraged bull, stuck helplessly in a pasture while the rodeo clowns all taunt me. I want to smash my head into something.

Principal Celestia says sometimes I resemble the tattoo I have on my back a little too closely. I think the pair of bull’s horns fits me perfectly, to be honest.

Instead I use my oldest method of anger management: exercise. Don’t get mad, get busy!

My feet hit the pavement in a steady tempo, filling the quiet neighborhood with the sounds of my jogging beat. I would turn on music or something, maybe something with a screaming vocalist and guitars so loud that you can barely hear them. But I’m too mad to reach down and mess with my phone or my headphones right now.

I’m sprinting, I realize. My muscles burn with effort. I should slow down, pace myself, but I’m so angry I can’t. A bit of extra effort every now and then never hurt anybody. Besides, there were showers at the school.

When I reach Canterlot High, I’m out of breath. My legs and arms burn with effort, the happy sort of hurt that comes with strenuous exercise. If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not playing hard enough! But I resist the urge to simply move right to the showers; instead, I veer behind the school, to the right of the faculty lot, towards the outdoor track. It took a while, but it looks like the scars from the Friendship Games are finally gone. I’m glad to have my track back, no longer dodging around the holes and scars left behind by magically charged carnivorous plants.

Nobody is there yet, though I do see a familiar battered sedan in the faculty lot on my way past. I purse my lips with amusement. Vice Principal Luna won’t be happy.

On the track, I do finally manage to slow myself enough to do four gentle laps. It takes me another few minutes, enough to get a handle on my own feelings. At least a little; I’m furious, sure. But given who was parked in the faculty lot, somebody needs me to be a coach right now, not an angry hothead.

Once I’m done running, I do some quick stretches before making my way to the gymnasium. I can hear the sounds of somebody already hard at work inside—the squeaks of shoes on the polished floor; the impact of a basketball bouncing off a rim; the judicious use of the sort of language I never really listened to, but could get a student in deep trouble with the Vice Principal if she heard.

I pull open the door and slip inside. As expected, Rainbow Dash is there. She’s dressed in her team uniform, and it’s already drenched in sweat. She’s been here a while, then. Vice Principal Luna was skeptical when I asked her to give Dash a key to the gymnasium, but I’m glad she did. Especially now. Dash needs a sanctuary.

She stops when I enter, grabbing the ball she’d been dribbling with both hands. “Hey, coach.”

“Hey yourself, Dash. Hard at work already? Nice.”

“Sure,” she spits out, with enough venom that I know she’s heard the news, too. Dash isn’t going to talk about it easily, and I’m not going to ask. But on my first day as coach, Principal Celestia told me that being a high school sports coach was sometimes like being half teacher, half babysitter, half coach, and half shrink all at the same time.

I’d had no idea how right she’d been, at the time.

“What you working on?”

“Does it matter?” Rainbow Dash snarls back. I raise one eyebrow, and she shrinks. “Well, does it?”

“Whining or winning; pick one!” I shout. She snorts.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dash mumbles. “I guess I’m working on my threes.”

“Sounds about right. The other teams are so busy looking for a way to keep you from driving into the goal for layups that they leave you wide open on the outside. Get out there, Iron Will's gonna pass the ball back to ya.”

Years of being on my various teams has ingrained in Dash a willingness to follow my instructions, regardless of how she was currently feeling. She makes her way out to the three point line, dribbling the ball as she goes. Without hesitating, she straightens up, guiding the ball with her left hand as she pushes with her right, arching the ball high and towards the net, where it bounces high off the rim and out.

“Shit,” she snarls. I give her another taste of the eyebrow as I catch the ball. This time she doesn’t recoil. “What? You gonna tattle on me, coach?”

I ignore the question, passing the ball back to her. “Your long game is weak, Dash. You’re at your best when you’re in the middle, being mobbed by three or four other players. You’ve gotta hit where they’re not guarding, and that means practicing your threes. A player’s only as strong as their weakest skill.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” she mumbles.

“What was that, Dash? Say something?”

“No, coach!”

“Too much talking, not enough practice!” She blinks a few times, then shakes her head violently. I can tell she’s trying to focus, trying not to think of things. She coils her knees and springs again, firing off another shot at the basket. Another rim, this time sending the ball hurtling through the air to my right. I jog after it, snagging the ball and winging it back to Dash. “Again.”

She doesn’t argue this time, dribbling twice before firing off a third shot. This one reflects off the backboard.

“Fuck,” she mutters. I have to bite my lip. She’s in a tilt; it’s something I’ve seen before. Rainbow Dash is my best player, probably the best player I’ve ever seen. But when she starts to mess up, her slipping confidence gets in the way and mistake piles upon mistake. I have to pull her out of it soon.

The ball bounces right back to Rainbow Dash, so I don’t have to pass it back. She grabs it out of the air and fires off a fourth, sloppy shot. Air ball. I catch it and toss it back to the fuming teenager.

“You’re getting mad, and you’re getting sloppy. The Brain Game is the Game to Win, Dash.”

“I don’t wanna hear one of your fucking catchphrases!” Rainbow shrieks. She grasps the ball with both hands, spiking it hard against the floor with a scream of rage. The ball goes high enough to bounce off of one of the lights in the ceiling, making it shake and knocking dust loose.

She stares at me, her magenta eyes burning with fury and wet with tears. There must be something in my look, though, because she turns away, sinking down into a crouch. Her arms wrap around her knees as she starts to tremble.

The only noises I hear are Rainbow Dash’s sobs, and the sound of the ball bouncing against the floor. I listen to the dribble until it comes to a stop, then walk over to my best athlete. My own fury from this morning is back; like a bull in a cage, railing against the bars that held me back.

More than anything else, I hate feeling helpless. Powerless. You are the Boss of You! That was one of Momma Iron Will’s favorites. Also, Don’t Be the One Holding Your Own Leash. Or maybe The Only One Who Can Tell You CAN’T is YOU!

It was all about control. Controlling yourself, and not letting others control you. But there were no catchphrases for this. I know. I spent all yesterday trying to come up with them.

I ignore the ball and walk over to my crouched student, standing right above her. I realize I’m not really a bull in a cage, railing against my jailors. I’m like a momma bear, and someone’s messing with one of my cubs. I wanna walk right into the state legislature and scream at them all. I wanna bring them here, look at this poor, sweet, driven girl, crumpled and sobbing on the floor, and ask them if it makes them feel big and strong to make a kid cry. I wanna rub their fucking noses in it. But I can’t do any of that. I can’t, and it hurts.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask. Rainbow doesn’t look up, but she shakes her head. “Okay. That’s fine. But you know it’s not the end of the world, right?”

“Right. Because the stupid government passing a law that steps on all my hopes and dreams is just gonna go away and get better?” she whimpers.

“No. But remember: When Someone Tries to Block, Show Them That You Rock!” She laughs a little. Maybe there is a catchphrase for everything.

“I thought that was about driving for a layup.”

“Hey, it counts for other things too. Iron Will has former students who apply my catchphrases to accounting, to engineering, to public speaking, and to architecture. Why not politics and the law, too?”

“I can’t fight this.” She seems to shrink into herself.

“You don’t have to fight it alone. You know the teacher’s union is protesting it? Who do you think started that up?” Finally she looks up at me, tear stains trailing down from the corners of her eyes.

“You?”

“I’m joining in, but Iron Will didn’t start it. That would be Cranky. He sent out a petition to everybody in the union last week, before we knew it was a sure thing. Beat Vice Principal Luna by only a few minutes.”

“Mister Doodle?” Rainbow’s jaw drops in awe.

“You don’t think the teachers support you?” I scoff. “A bunch of the teachers over at Crystal Prep signed on, too. The Shadowbolts say they want the strongest competition possible. We’ve also moved to sever the Friendship Games from the State Juvenile Sports Board, making it an ‘unofficial’ competition. So at least future kids won’t have to be bound by stupid rules.”

“Whoa.” But something darkens in her face. “That’s nice and all, but…”

“It may take time to come into effect. We’ll do our best to make sure you play out the rest of the season.” It feels weak. She gives me a skeptical look. “You know most colleges won’t care, either.”

“The law applies to state colleges, Coach. I’m screwed. We both know it.”

“Giving Up Before You Try? Don’t Complain When You Suck and Die!” It is, admittedly, one of Momma’s harsher catchphrases, but it makes Rainbow snort another laugh, so I’m going to count it as a point for me. “Iron Will’s gonna fight this as hard as you want us to, Dash. And there’s out-of-state colleges. And so what if we can’t fight it? Is THE Rainbow Dash really gonna give up? Or is she gonna find a way to win anyways? Whatever happens, you’re a Wondercolt, and you’re on most of my teams. Maybe that means you’ll be coaching instead of playing for a bit, but we both know you’re practically doing a better job of it than Iron Will is anyhow.”

She rubs at her eyes with one hand, cleaning her tears with her sweatband. “Really? You’ll let me coach?”

“Iron Will would, in a heartbeat.”

A small, tiny smirk crosses her lips, a fraction of her usual attitude. “You gonna pay me for that?”

And with that, I know we’re gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay. It’s not gonna be easy, but nothing worth it ever is. I reach down, holding a hand out to pull her to her feet. She takes it, and I wish I could hug her. Stupid teacher rules.

“Maybe we can work something out with Celestia.” I’m not gonna promise anything, but who knows?

Just then, the gymnasium double doors slam open in an explosion of girlish drama that I know can only come from one possible source.

“Oh, darling, I just heard the most awful news on the radio!” A flurry of teenage energy, cashmere, and mascara catapults herself into the gymnasium, rushing towards Rainbow Dash with so much speed I honestly start considering asking Rarity to try out for the track team this summer.

“What a terrible, wretched thing!” she gathers her girlfriend up in a tight hug, which Rainbow is more than happy to return. “‘Students will be required to play on teams matching their birth gender’ indeed! What sort of backwards, ignorant, idiotic monsters would even consider…?” Rarity can’t even finish what she was saying, because she’s already peppering Rainbow with kisses.

Normally there’s rules about excessive PDA on school grounds. What I’m seeing, though, doesn’t appear excessive at all.

“Uh, hey, Rares,” Rainbow says, glancing at me while her girlfriend continues to shower her with affection. “So you heard.”

“Oh, we all heard, darling. And we’re simply livid. Pinkie and Sunset are already making signs. We’re all going to skip school and join in the protests at the capitol building!”

“Uh…” Rainbow glances over at me nervously.

“Iron Will heard nothing,” I say. “I’m too busy thinking up new plays for next football season’s offensive line.”

“Right. That’s because Coach Will is a gentleman,” Rarity said proudly. “But dear, we all support you, you know.” She pulls a lace handkerchief out of a functional pocket on her sweater, and begins dabbing at Rainbow’s tearstained face.

“Of course I know, Rares,” Rainbow Dash suddenly glances down at Rarity in shock. “Oh, no, I’m getting sweat all over…”

“I don’t care, darling. It will wash out.” Rainbow gapes at her, but Rarity is undaunted. “Today you need all the love you can get. And I won’t hear a word of complaint.”

I see a sweet, subtle little look of affection cross Rainbow’s eyes, and realize it’s past time to tag out. I’ve done all I can do.

I make eye contact with Rarity. She’s not on any of my teams, but in her blazing blue eyes I see passion, fury, and the same sort of momma bear instinct I’ve been feeling all morning. I nod at her. Rainbow’s in good hands. Whatever happens, she’ll get through this.

I feel my phone vibrating, and I snatch it out of my pocket. It’s Principal Celestia. I know what she’s going to want to talk about. And suddenly I don’t want to avoid the subject with her any longer. She’s going to fight it, too, if I know anything at all about her.

“Sorry, kids. Duty calls,” I hold up the phone. “And Dash, remember; ‘Never let your head hang down. Never give up and sit down and grieve. Find another way.’”

I turn to go, but not before I see the fire blazing in Dash’s eyes. This isn’t over. I push the green ‘accept’ button on my phone, and get ready for the start of the next quarter.

Author's Note

Okay. So bit of a political yarn, I know. But I absolutely needed to write something about the frustration and helplessness I feel as an LGBTQ ally. I never know exactly what to say, what to do, to help, especially when it comes to fighting ignorance and bigotry.

First off, that last quote at the end? It was a real quote from baseball legend Satchel Paige, a man who knew a bit about sports discrimination.

Obviously the core conflict here is informed by a piece of legislation. I'd like to talk about that for a bit.

In the USA, nearly half of all states are either considering, or have already passed, laws that ban transgender children from participating in sports teams that don't match their birth gender. These laws have little purpose other than to marginalize the transgender community and to provide certain lawmakers with easy points with their constituencies. They're a 'solution in search of a problem', an easy win for the bigots in a time where they feel the need to flex their muscles and regain lost ground.

In addition, some of these laws come with a rather cowardly rider; they won't come into effect until a number of other states pass similar legislation. In essence, some lawmakers are unwilling to step forward as bigots unless there are others standing at their sides.

These laws are only a handful of legislation in the works that will discriminate against transgender people.

As an ally, what can we do? We can vote for candidates who oppose oppressive and discriminatory legislation. We can donate time and money to groups that fight these things. We can be a safe place for our friends and family. And always, we can widen our circles and just show love. In the end, that's why we're all here in this fandom; to celebrate the Magic of Friendship, even though we may be different.