Little Thoughts

by paperhearts

Rating: everyone
Tags: Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3824

A small but ever-growing collection of micro-horsewords and horse-poetry.

A collection of microfiction and (occasionally) poetry, covering a range of themes and subjects, and featuring (maybe!) lots of your favourite ponies and pony pals. Collated from various flashfiction contest entries and blog snippets, but with new and fresh content arriving periodically too.

Basically, I don't have as much time these days to write larger pieces of fiction, but you might enjoy this shorter stuff anyway I dunno...

Published 2021-08-27 21:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-02-22 23:03:35 UTC

... and You'll Never Work a Day in Your Life (Sassy Saddles)

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth, and sighed.

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth and mismatched orders, and sighed.

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth and mismatched orders and incorrectly stitched garments, and sighed.

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth and mismatched orders and incorrectly stitched garments, and late night customers, and sighed.

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth and mismatched orders and incorrectly stitched garments and late night customers, and with a grumbling tummy, and sighed.

Sassy Saddles sat on the floor of Canterlot Boutique, surrounded by unsorted cloth and mismatched orders and incorrectly stitched garments and late night customers, and with a grumbling tummy and an unsubmitted annual leave request, and sighed.

Happily.

Author's Note

I can't even remember what this one was submitted for... I think it was a Flashfic Group contest circa 2018/19, but the specifics elude me.

At any rate, Sassy Saddles is a great character, and I had a little fun with repetition to capture the seemingly endless chaos of working for Rarity and Sassy's apparent enjoyment of being busy.

Other Paths, and Other Paths' Passengers (Marble Pie)

The letter had been buried beneath textbooks and dust-crusted tools—an intentional prison, if a weak one. Blunt statements of facts and forecasts, dressed in rough curls and the imagined scratch of Limestone's voice, reached Marble Pie anyway.

The farm is fine. Short on hooves though. Gonna be a graft to meet orders.

For a moment, the sound of her dormmates getting ready filled the air; listening, Marble tried to pick out any sense of duty or obligation lurking beneath hopeful plans for the night ahead—familiar fears to draw comfort from.

Pa's better after his injury. Be easier once we build up the savings and get some hired hooves in.

Marble met her reflection's gaze, judging eyes framed by her eyeliner—the curves of the latter as delicate as her submission portfolio.

Limestone wasn't mad. She was just speaking of facts and acceptance and duty.

Marble's curves sagged anyway.

Author's Note

Basically: Marble Pie goes to university.

But yeah. University can be rough. Particularly when you come from a financial background that means it's an investment. That carries a lot. And, more often than not, it's a pressure one can do without.

Written for the Sept 2021 contest, to the prompt of: Meanwhile, Down on the Farm. I'm mulling over developing this into a larger piece of flash fiction, but at the moment my lifestyle isn't allowing me any timeframes. It might be written, but I'm not sure when.

Time Flies (Smolder, Yona)

Smolder lay sprawled across the rug, limbs and claws entwined in dense yak hair. Her scales had become uneven shimmering planes, given their fleeting new life by the light of the fireplace. There, prancing tongues lived and died erratically, the only concession to the passing of time.

"Hey, you see the moon from there?"

The flames crackled for a few moments before Yona stirred. Smolder could almost sense the yak's furrowed brow.

"Yona not astronomer. Let's just say it's tomorrow already so Yona can go back to sleep."

Smolder grinned. "Cheater."

"Yak not always best at things." This time Smolder could almost sense the smile, broad and earnest. "Sometimes yak must learn from others."

"That must have hurt to admit."

Yona blew a raspberry. "Not really. Yaks best learners after all."

Smolder elbowed her, but a chuckle escaped her lips regardless. The earlier suffocating anxiety had almost completely ebbed away. Her body felt like her own again, lungs and stomach untwisted and no longer trying to pull her apart.

She twisted a strand of Yona's hair between her claws. A treasure for her hoard, perhaps the most important one. A treasure that had transitioned from idle daydreams to painful wishes to a tangible reality.

"So, assuming it is now, uh, tomorrow..."

"Yes. Assuming is good."

Smolder nodded. "Assuming it is now tomorrow, does that mean that we get to tell the others we've been dating since last year?"

Yona's laugh erupted from her mouth. "Yes! Yona like that statement. Both true and a joke. Duality is important to yaks."

"Duality, huh?" Smolder closed her eyes as she tossed the word about in her head. Yona's scent was both sweet and musky in her nostrils, just like it had always been. A fuel for the relief Smolder now felt, but also for her rising regret of not attempting to claim, and thus enjoy, her treasure sooner.

She craned her head and blew hard, snuffing out the dance of the flames in the fireplace. Then she buried herself into Yona's hair. Within seconds Yona's foreleg was hesitantly wrapping around her, stealing a beat from Smolder's heart in the process. She almost gasped at the audacity of it, but pressed a grin into Yona's side instead.

"Duality is important to dragons, too," she murmured.

Author's Note

I'm back, apparently. Have a lovely new year, folks, if it's something you celebrate. :twilightsmile:

Comforting Sounds (Berry Buckles, Sassy Saddles)

The moonlit room pulled in every direction at once; a weightless void, yet it pressed so firmly against Berry Buckles’ head. The shrill cries of the baby she cradled gave her lurching a purpose. Berry hummed to her daughter as she walked to the gramophone.

Orange eyes blurry, the baby pushed Berry’s head away with a cerulean hoof. Berry sighed. She always missed her father when he was away.

Berry missed her father too, especially during moments like this. Even now she couldn’t work out how he had coped.

She reset the needle. Her father’s voice crackled into life over a laughing audience. A poor substitute—how had his terrible jokes made him that famous?—but it was enough.

“Plaid my pommels, I ever tell you the one about the seamstress and the cowpony?”

Berry looked down. “Well, Sassy, did your grandfather?”

Sassy stopped crying and started to giggle.

So did Berry.

Author's Note

Found some old Flashfic entries from my old account.

Sassy Saddles was pretty rad.

They Always Find a Way to Rebel (Celaeno)

Despite harbouring a glittering maelstrom, the city passing beneath the ship appeared safe, homely. Captain Celaeno’s claws dug into the wooden taffrail as she peered down.

It made her feathers itch.

Macaw’s Landing had been safe, homely. When she was first taken to the Silver Sea Fete, she had clutched her corsair doll and glared. Streets framed by ribbons and lamplit stalls, laughter catching the star-studded sky. It's perfect, everyone had said.

It’s boring, Celaeno had said.

But when the pirates sailed by, their skirmish shattering that perfect night with smoke and song, Celaeno’s feathers were soothed. She knew then she'd always be the white crow of her family.

Until now.

She spun as claws skittered across the deck, sweeping up the giggling chick. Her most precious treasure.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Mam?”

“The land below. Boring, right?”

Gazing down, her wide-eyed daughter scratched at her feathers.

Always the white crow.

Author's Note

One of those snippets that at one point was going to see the light of day as a longer story. Hopefully it's still a decent way to spend a minute.

Prospects (Smolder, Ocellus)

"What superb entries we’ve had tonight! Next up, a first timer—Ocellus—with a poetry reading.”

Smolder ignored the disquiet in her stomach as Ocellus stiffened beside her.

“W-What!? I never… How!?” The changeling turned to Smolder, eyes growing wide. “Y-You? How could you?”

Smolder shrugged. “How many times have we come to this open mic night now? Step up already!”

Ocellus looked from the crowd to her notebook. “When. I’m. Ready!” she hissed.

“You. Are. Ready! You think I'd have done this if you weren’t?”

“Yes, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself!” Ocellus snapped, before stomping towards the stage.

Beside Smolder, Gallus laughed. “Wow, stress out your friend doing something she loves. Way to ace those friendship lessons.”

“She’s awesome, but she needs this.” Smolder gave Ocellus a thumbs up. As the changeling replied with a mouthed ‘I hate you’, doubt and sadness began to press against her lungs.

Author's Note

More Flashfic drama from way back when. Pretty sure this one started my journey of all things best bug and best dragon. As small as it is, I probably wouldn't have written Proximity had it not been for this snippet.

BUT YES, said Death (Gilda)

“Boreas’ blood! No—Please no! I—I’ve got a newborn chick!”

Worst luck! Gilda paused in the dusty street, watching the griffon back against the wall of his eyrie. Wide eyes appraised her; a pipe trembled in his beak.

She recognised him in the moonlight. Gerhalt, the jerk who had made her school days hell. Looking at his pale face now, she grinned. The wind pressed her black, hooded cloak tight against her feathers. Well, time to get this over with.

She swung the scythe, knocking the pipe from his beak. Making a ‘v’ with her claws, Gilda pointed them first at her hidden eyes, then at Gerhalt's. He nodded, throat bobbing.

Gilda turned and stalked off down the street, her smile becoming a frown. It only increased when another griffon recoiled from her in horror.

She hated fancy dress parties, hated them. Gabby was lucky Gilda was such a considerate friend.

Author's Note

One of my very first Flashfic entries, from a long long time ago (as the quality of the writing shows :rainbowlaugh:)

But still. Gilda! :heart:

Checkmate (Cozy Glow, Flurry Heart)

Cozy Glow pushed the pawn forward. A theatre of conflicts played out across her features before she moved the piece a second time. A predatory smile twisted her lips.

Flurry Heart grimaced, grateful to be distracted from her scolding cheeks.

"Should I even ask if you're sure?"

The smile widened. "A queen is always sure."

"Future queen. Somehow." Flurry Heart massaged her temples. "Anyway, the lesson is about respecting your pawns, remember?"

Cozy Glow rolled her eyes as her sole surviving pawn fell to a bishop. "Even though they're weak and useless..."

"They're an important part of your resources! One of the most important."

"More important than the Queen?"

Flurry Heart allowed the sweetly asked question to echo around her bedroom. "This was a dumb idea."

"Oh don't be like that. I love spending time with you."

Flurry Heart spluttered. "R—Really?"

Cozy Glow giggled. "See? I can respect my pawns."

Author's Note

A new one! First in a while, in fact. Written for the Feb Flashfic prompt, and tweaked a little (whilst still adhering to that contest's word limit).

Had fun with this one. It's a candidate for my occasional dalliance with turning a Flashfic entry into a longer piece of work.

Permanence (Trixie)

Trixie stares at the house, wondering if this is Starlight's idea of a joke. If it is then it's proof she's learned something from their time together, the key dangling from Trixie's mouth an elaborate, expensive prop.

She glances behind at her caravan, for encouragement or perhaps even permission. It offers nothing though, and Trixie's plea becomes a glare.

Trixie knows it was inevitable. The moment she was installed in Twilight's 'school' there was no way Starlight could continue to honour old plans and dreams. Trixie can deal with that. She's sung the melody of the road solo once, and she can do it again.

But Starlight also offered a new melody. A song that lacks legerdemain and chicanery, that offers no chances to live and love by her wits alone.

But it offers Starlight. Starlight and strong foundations.

Trixie places a hoof on the caravan and whispers soothing words.

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for September 2019. The prompt for this was "Bittersweet".

Maybe I'll Catch Fire (Octavia, Spitfire)

"I believe one more will kill you."

That got Spitfire's attention. Octavia watched the mare sitting opposite blink, stare at her mug, and then blink again.

"You think?"

Octavia politely blunted her sigh. She was trying, but this was always so hard.

Spitfire shrugged and chugged the cider down. "Eh, a good captain goes down with her ship. Uh, mug."

"You're a muse to us all." Octavia stared at the clock, mostly to distract herself. "I believe we'll be evicted shortly. Besides, I do have a recital tomorrow."

Spitfire mumbled something.

"You know the routine. Just put it—her—out of your mind. Get some sleep."

"I can't! I live hard and I love hard. That's just how the 'Fire rolls."

"Good grief." Octavia inhaled. "Diminuendo, dear. You'll make up, just like always..."

"Heh. Thanks, 'Tavia, for listening. You're a good friend."

Octavia pretended she hadn't heard.

Her heart wasn't so kind.

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for April 2020. The prompt for this was "So Long and Goodnight".

This one has a somewhat more vague connection, I guess. I took the starting point of "an end to a night out", and then built around it a micro tale of unrequired love. And alcohol. But mostly the unrequited love.

Her Hoard (Smolder, Ocellus)

Her hoard is radiant; the scalding fragility of the sun and the diamond-hazed mystery of the moon, both cajoling for her reflection.

Her hoard is unyielding; individual pieces that slip and slide, feigning uncertainty, but which nevertheless work as one to smother and surround her, shielding her from the world outside.

Her hoard is gentle; malleable shapes and sounds, a twinkle like laughter, a glimmer like a confession.

Her hoard is beyond time; memories fading into images and sensations, the promises of echoes yet to find their origin. All beneath the skin. All nurturing.

Her hoard is beyond space; an expanse of riches that could bury the world a thousand times over, and yet which has somehow found home in a pair of eyes.

And when those eyes blink, Smolder gets to experience her hoard all over again.

Author's Note

Looking into the eyes of the one you love and seeing in them everything you have ever, or could ever, want or need.

The Beauty and Fear of Everyday Moments (Smolder, Ocellus)

"I sometimes wonder whether I need absolutes in my life." Ocellus fixed her everything on the horizon beyond the window, her chest a mere flutter of existence in the otherwise stillness of the room. "You know, like the—"

"Like the sky," Smolder said, the scratch of her voice denying Ocellus ownership of the moment. The dragon stirred momentarily, her head lifting from her girlfriend's lap. "Like the sky and ground and the sea, but especially the sky, right? We've swam in this magma pool before, you know."

"I just want to break it." Ocellus swallowed, the motion of her throat bringing fragility to Smolder's world. "Or fix it. It's pink and it's yellow and it's red and blue. It's everything and it's nothing and I just want it to be something. I just want it to be."

With a sigh, Smolder sat up. Her eyes focused and unfocused in staccato movements as she gazed at the window in Ocellus' room. The world beyond stared back—an undulating mess of dawn and dusk, of promise and defeat. A half breath of life, both permitted and denied an existence in the echoes of the day. The shattered light nurtured every dream Smolder had ever held dear, but at the same time judged her for every second of fiction she had allowed to slip by.

It was one of those days.

"Absolutes, huh?"

Ocellus grimaced at the statement. "There's nothing wrong with wanting that," she replied, her body tensing.

"I know," Smolder said, and wrapped her arms around her. The world beyond shattered and crumbled and faded, the sun yielding first to the moon, and then to hopes and dreams. There was everything outside, the broken chaos and beauty, and then there was everything inside. Ocellus, and Smolder, and the trembling ruin of their heartbeats.

"You broke it," Ocellus said, her voice a rattle in her throat. "You break everything."

Smolder pressed her snout against her girlfriend's neck. "Not everything."

Ocellus' head turned, her eyes wide and filled with yearning and fear and wonder.

"Not yet," she whispered.

Author's Note

A small drabble that I published a few months back on my blog. It was originally something that was going to make its way into the second run of updates for Proximity, but it just didn't fit the tone or narrative.

Essentially it's just about loving something but being absolutely convinced its going to break and shatter, and how we have to battle to stop our misconceptions from making those fears a reality.

Muse-ic to my Ears (Lyra, Bon Bon)

Lyra Heartstrings paused in the doorway and stared at the piles of dirty bowls and utensils and trays invading her kitchen. It was supposed to be her day off. Bon Bon wasn't working, which meant that Lyra didn't have to work either. And that should have meant pancakes and lazing in the park.

She cleared her throat in the floury air. "Soooo... still not thinking about the Fancy Pants contract?"

Bon Bon's head appeared amongst the clutter. She mumbled something that sounded like an apology. Her wild eyes turned pleading.

Lyra smiled, and swapped her plans for her lyre. She felt a little jealous of Bon Bon. Lyra was a Heartstrings; a muse was supposed to inspire others to reach their dreams, not search for their own.

Still, as she watched her music reached her love, and as panic succumbed to inspiration, Lyra knew she had found a dream anyway.

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for June 2020. The prompt for this was "Dream a Little Dream".

Just a small piece on Lyra being a muse, even though it isn't always what she wants to do with her time. Sometimes our callings find us.

Pathways (Yona)

Yona kept her eyes on the snow-dusted ground as Prince Rutherford's voice boomed out across the valley. Her stomach felt as though it was being stamped on by her entire clan, and for a moment she considered crushing the rocks between her hooves in kind. Yona fought against it, though; smashing the rocks might be interpreted as a sign of strength. But it could also be read as weakness.

Yulia was standing smartly beside her. They had been friends for years, but only one of them would be selected to lead the clan. The other...

Yona swallowed, her heart throwing itself against her ribs as Yulia broke a rock beneath her hoof. Murmurs of appreciation filled the air.

"—Next clan leader will be Yulia. Strong yak, right choice."

Yona gasped, her head spinning. Yulia had been chosen.

Then she grinned. Yes! She would be going to the pony friendship school!

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for January 2020. The prompt for this was "A Near Miss".

Sometimes, a near miss can open doors that you didn't even know you wanted opening.

Was always of the opinion Yona needed more love.

The Ghosts of Tides and Currents (Sea Swirl)

It's a terrible thing to be forgotten.

Her father’s gift was wisdom wrapped in used lessons. Never be forgotten. Never be a ghost.

Sea Swirl watches the flowers drift upstream from the river mouth. Light trembles over lilies, carnations—just enough magic to shepherd them against the current.

Because terrible things happen at sea. Unseen and unheard, unless salt-stained possessions begin to creep ashore.

She studies her cottage—her museum—cowering on the dusky beach. Pulled back from Ponyville by tides better left undisturbed.

It's a small town, she knows this. Small, and yet so easy to become lost in. Talents and achievements spirited away.

But no, she will not be a ghost.

Like every month, the garden's pilgrimage should be strange enough to nurture a moment’s attention for those lost at sea.

And perhaps for the pony tending it.

She shivers under the half-light's scrutiny.

It's a terrible thing to be forgotten.

Sodium (Sassaflash)

Sassaflash pulled her gaze from the newspaper, and scowled at the mug of coffee opposite. Steamy coils framed Caramel's empty chair; Sassaflash sighed, then glanced at the counter before tilting the salt shaker over the mug. Finally, her stomach unknotted.

It was one of those silly couple-y traditions. The first time, Sassaflash had mistaken the salt for sugar, the second time she did it on purpose because she was mad at him. Every anniversary of their first date—the same teahouse, the same prank.

Sassaflash swallowed, then reached towards the mug. She had always wondered just how bad it tasted. Nuzzling the fragile warmth, she closed her eyes and drank deep.

She gagged. Tears burned her eyes. How could Caramel always laugh after drinking that?

Because he was perfect.

Perfect.

The taste faded. The tears didn't. Thankful she couldn't see, Sassaflash turned back to the marriage announcements in the paper.

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for December 2020. The prompt for this was "Pranked".

I was motivated by this prompt to try and avoid a more straightforward use of a prank as the foundation of the story, and instead tried to use a prank as a staging point for a more melancholic reflection.

Schrödinger’s Yak (Yona, Rainbow Dash)

“Look, Yona, I don't wanna stay after class any longer than you, but Twilight needs you to get this. Apparently.” Rainbow Dash looked at the book, bleary-eyed. “Right, so this cat in the box is both dead and not dead at the same time, because…”

“Because subatomic… thing! Yona doesn't know why box cannot be smashed to find out.” Yona beamed. “Yona be gentle.”

“But the point is-”

“Bah! Yona never understand this. Yaks not scientists! Except metallurgy.” Yona frowned. “Maybe architectural engineering.”

“Hey, I can't stand this stuff either.”

“Why are you teaching then?”

“A drunken bet, a hungover friend taking advantage of another hungover friend.” Rainbow shrugged. “Depends who you ask, kid.”

“Aha! Better example.”

Yona completed a fresh exercise sheet and sealed it inside an envelope. “If paper not examined then Yona has passed and not passed. Yona likes odds.”

“Good enough for me. We're outta here!”

Author's Note

Entered for the Flashfic Group contest for October 2018. The prompt for this was "Dead or Alive".

I can't quite remember how I ended up getting from that prompt to the concept of Schrödinger’s Cat to Yona trying to complete a class exercise, but that probably shines a light though the window of my brain circa 2018. :twilightsmile: